The Waking Bell Page 8

  Brother Frazier Clayton had become minister at the town’s Baptist church. Brother Mize had taken a position at a much larger church in Maryville.

  His text-driven sermons were inspiring; his voice was clear and soothing. One minute he condemned everyone; in the next, he offered to transform their lives with salvation. He held the attention of his audience, and they hung on his every word. Parishioners flocked around him. Soon, the congregation grew.

  He had also become my suitor. I supposed that was what he was. He came over to the house most nights to eat supper. Goldie and Ginny Rose thought so. They both seemed ecstatic, waiting news of our engagement. I, on the other hand, wasn’t as certain.

  “He’s such a handsome man,” Ginny Rose said. “And you, so pretty and all.”

  I had a fondness for Frazier. He was a kind, caring man and the utmost gentleman when we were together. I admired his ability to touch the congregation, intent on saving their eternal souls. I accompanied him as he visited the sick and helped cook and clean for those poor people. It made me feel good helping others.

  A friendship had been forged.

  Yet, despite the attention he had shown me, Frazier hadn’t talked of love or marriage to me. He had never tried to hold my hand, much less kiss me. There was no passion.

  Frazier lifted his hands into the air. Service was over. Ida Jean began playing Onward Christian Soldiers on the piano.

  I rose to my feet as Frazier made his way to my side. After the song, I felt his hand on my waist, directing me toward the door to greet the congregation.

  His magnetic smile plastered on, he shook everyone’s hands in the doorway as they exited. I simply stood by his side. No one expected me to say a word.

  “My, what a wonderful sermon, Brother Clayton. It touched my heart,” Ellie Mae said. Then, she turned to me. “When can we expect to hear wedding bells?”

  Surprised, I stared at Frazier helplessly. I wanted nothing more than to disappear.

  Frazier gave an extra pat on her hand as he shook it. “Why, Miss Ellie Mae, you will be the first to know.” He flashed his smile wider. “To be honest, we want to wait until after this dreadful war is over. It wouldn’t be fair to celebrate such a joyous occasion while they are defending our great land.”

  Ellie Mae clutched her heart. “Oh, Brother Clayton, such a grand gesture,” she said. “Cady Blue, you are one lucky girl.”

  I wanted to nod, but I don’t remember what I did in that moment. I was shocked at the ease Frazier talked about our relationship, especially since he had never said one word about it to me. Thankfully, Martha Gray was behind her and wanted Frazier’s attention.

  After the last handshake, Frazier turned to Elijah Timms, one of the deacons. He had been waiting to talk to Frazier.

  I heard the bells faintly and realized I needed to get away to calm my nerves. I wanted to leave. I sighed when I realized that Goldie had already departed with Otis and Dickie. I had no choice but to wait for Frazier.

  To Goldie’s delight, Otis had found the Lord. His usual interest in religion had been the social gathering at the revival, but Alfie’s disappearance had touched Otis. He had begun to come every Sunday morning and made Dickie do the same.

  I wandered over to the graveyard and found myself at my mother’s grave. I stood at her marker, Naomi Claudill, and said a prayer. Each time I came, I tried desperately to remember what she looked like, but try as I might, I couldn’t recall the details of her face, not even the color of her eyes.

  It seemed strange that my most vivid memory was of her death. Even that was like a dream, so surreal. If I walked through the crevices of my mind, I could recall immense joy of the family with the birth of Dickie. Goldie had been so happy, but the happiness quickly faded.

  A darkness fell on the house after his birth. Momma began to bleed. There were shouts for the doctor, but he came too late. Momma died.

  It was then that I first saw Rudy Tipton. He served as my mother’s sin-eater. I thought he was the devil himself.

  I wasn’t supposed to have seen him, but nobody was paying me much mind. I had huddled beside the cupboard in the corner of the dining room where Momma’s body had been waked. I remembered trying to escape from Dickie’s constant crying. I sat with my knees to my chest and my hands locked over my ears.

  Goldie had lit the room with candles and placed food around the pine box. I soon realized I wasn’t supposed to be there when he walked in, wearing his dark robes and hood.

  I was so scared. I screamed. The next thing I recalled was Goldie’s arms about me, carrying me out of the room. Rocking me, she calmed me and swore she would take care of me. She kissed the top of my head, and I cried until I fell asleep.

  Goldie had kept her word.

  I shared the story with Frazier. He looked at me thoughtfully and frowned. He said it wasn’t the Christian way to follow the beliefs of a sin-eater. I said nothing else on the matter, but realized on the mountain, faith was mingled with tradition. While I held to my Christian beliefs, there were mountain people who feared for their soul and did what they felt they must.

  Their fear may possibly widen, for Rudy still hadn’t returned to the mountain from his own fear of Daryl Walker. I realized Goldie was afraid he might never be able to come home.

  Finishing my prayer, I made a mental note to bring flowers next Sunday. Daffodils had begun to bloom along the roadsides. I glanced over my shoulder. Frazier was still engaged in conversation.

  I began to move from one gravesite to another. I had always had a fascination with cemeteries, imagining the life each soul had led. I stopped at Moria Pritchard’s gravesite.

  The white marble gravestone had been set in place two months back. Inside the cemetery, it was the most beautiful remembrance of a life lost. The single stone tablet dedicated to Moria sat on a large base with a vase on each side and a cascade of flowers carved at the top. Below her name, it simply read: At rest.

  The sight struck me with sadness. Moria looked quite alone despite being buried beside other Pritchards.

  “Did you know Moria?”

  I turned to find a man walking toward me. He looked a little under thirty, well dressed in a navy tailored suit holding a Fedora hat in his hand. His dark-blond hair was cut short.

  His brown eyes surveyed me, and I was immediately self-conscious of my appearance. I didn’t think anything of my dress was out of place. I wore a cool yellow belted skirt with a white button-down shirt. My Calbot hat matched my skirt. Goldie thought the attire perfect for my position on the arm of Brother Frazier. But my uneasiness came with the way he eyed me.

  He was silent for a few moments but stared past me at the tombstone. Once more, he looked at me and repeated. “Did you know my sister?”

  His words startled me. I hesitated and eyed him suspiciously. I hadn’t known Moria had a brother, but there again, I hadn’t known her well. I nodded.

  The man smiled at me as though his perception of me had been confirmed. “I will confess that I know that you are Miss Reeves. I have been wanting to make your acquaintance on this visit but understood that you live a secluded life.”

  The deep somber note in his voice unnerved me. I couldn’t help but feel little liking for him. Though I got the distinct impression he gave my feelings little regard.

  “If I had known you were interested in meeting Miss Reeves, I could have arranged it, Coy.”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I hadn’t notice Matt walking toward us. I hadn’t a clue where he came from because he hadn’t been at church, but I felt an immediate sense of relief.

  “I told you that I’m going to get to the bottom of Moria’s death,” Coy said. “I knew my sister too well. She never would have taken her own life.”

  Matt ignored him and gave me a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry my brother-in-law has waylaid you. He was overseas at the time of Moria’s death and only recently got leave. He is having a hard time with her unexpected death.”

  He extended his hand outwar
dly toward Moria’s brother. “Cady Blue, this is Coy Middleton.”

  “I can talk for myself,” Coy snapped.

  I took a step back. There was obvious animosity between the two.

  “The sheriff told you he investigated it thoroughly. There is nothing more.” Matt spoke with a force, leaving no doubt it carried a threat.

  Coy glared at Matt. “I don’t accept that.” He turned to me. “I only want to know when you last saw Moria.”

  I looked at Matt questionably, confused as to why Coy would ask me. Why would it have been of importance? No one had done so before.

  “It is an easy question,” Coy pressed. “Do you understand what I’m asking?”

  I was irritated and a little angry. I answered coolly. “I saw Moria the morning she died. I was at the Reeves’s house when she picked up Dodie.”

  “Then tell me why Dodie said she didn’t see Moria that day.”

  My mind raced back to that morning. There was no mistake of when I had seen the two.

  “Mrs. Reeves also told me that she didn’t see Moria that morning,” Coy went on. “It’s clear that you people are covering up something. Don’t think I won’t get to the bottom of it. It’s just a matter of time.” Coy turned and walked off toward the church parking lot.

  I was about to call out to him that Ginny Rose hadn’t seen Moria because she was in bed, but she would have had to have remembered the car driving up and Dodie leaving.

  Matt placed his hand on my arm. “Let him go. He’s too angry to listen to reason,” he said. “I have already told him numerous times. Sheriff Brawner told him. It’s hard…”

  I shook my head. “Dodie lied. Moria picked her up that morning.”

  Matt gave me a forced smile. “I’m sure Dodie said what she had to in an effort to calm Coy.”

  It was obvious that Coy was extremely upset about his sister’s death. He wanted someone to blame, but I had never known Dodie to be intimidated by anyone.

  “The truth may be hard, but it’s the best for everyone.”

  “In doses,” Matt said. “Sheriff Brawner speculates that it wasn’t an accident, but that Moria killed herself. Coy can’t accept it yet, but it will come. Until then, Dodie told me that she was afraid Coy would take his anger out on her if she confessed the truth to him.”

  “The truth?”

  He looked at me for a long moment. Pain was evident in his eyes. Then he shrugged. “The truth is Moria and Dodie got into a huge fight that morning. Moria was going to leave Oak Flatt. I had asked for a divorce…a divorce she… didn’t want. She wanted Dodie to go with her. Dodie refused and had Moria drop her off at her parents’ house.” He took a breath and continued, “Afterward, Dodie thought about it and went to the house to talk to her. Moria wasn’t home. It was then that Dodie sought me out at the Pride, the reason I went looking for Moria. Dodie said Moria was extremely upset. Dodie said Moria had said she had no reason to live. I believe Dodie blames herself.” Matt swallowed hard. “Guilt is hard to live with.”

  Confused, I asked, “Why would Coy seek me out?”

  Matt took a deep breath. “After he talked to Dodie, he marched down to Sheriff Brawner, who told him that Dodie had seen Moria…that you saw the both of them together that morning.”

  “No one questioned me about that day.”

  “The sheriff probably didn’t think it was necessary. I had told him what you told me. At the time, Dodie confirmed the story.”

  I felt the urge to comfort him. “I can make a formal statement.”

  He shook his head. “There’s no need. It’s not going to change Coy’s mind.”

  Matt’s words gave me pause. The poor man had been through a great deal himself. “I haven’t told you how sorry I am for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “There are times when I think I have no right to grieve. I had been the source of her pain. Yet, I feel the loss of what could have been. The way I visualized our life before we took our vows.”

  Drifting clouds started to obscure the sun. A breeze picked up as if the wind itself mourned the dead.

  Behind me, I heard the rustling of footsteps.

  Frazier walked up with a broad smile. “I’m sorry, my dear. Mr. Timms had a great deal to discuss.” He took my hand in his and turned to Matt. “Mr. Pritchard, it is good to see you. I’m sorry I haven’t gotten back with you about your request. I believe we can accommodate you next weekend if that is acceptable.”

  “I’m certain the POWs would appreciate it,” Matt said. “Should I tell them Saturday?”

  “Saturday would be fine.”

  We said our goodbyes and made our way to Frazier’s car. I glanced back at Matt, who still stood at the marker, looking forlorn and solemn in his grief.

  It was then that I noticed Coy hadn’t left. He sat in his vehicle, glaring at Matt.

  Turning back around, I found Frazier had graciously opened his car door for me. I gave him a small apologetic smile as I sat but took one more look at Coy.

  Driving off, I wondered if Matt was wrong. Perhaps I should make a formal statement to the sheriff about what I had seen that fateful morning. I feared Coy was convinced that not only was Moria’s death not an accident, but also that Matt had killed her.

  And Coy didn’t seem the sort to stop digging until he had proved it.

  Chapter 7

  On Saturday morning, the sun shone over the freshness of the April countryside. The tulip trees were in full leaf, and buttercups flooded the sides of the road. The world took on the shine of a new season and the promise of hope it brought.

  I found myself sitting beside Frazier in his old black Buick as he drove to the POW camp outside of Oak Flatt. He hadn’t invited me. I had asked to accompany him.

  My intent, if I could work up my nerves, was to talk to him about our future. I had been contemplating it since he had said that we were waiting until the war’s end to marry.

  He had mentioned the matter casually in front of a parishioner but had not said a single word to me. I wondered if he assumed I understood. I hoped we would be able to talk at some point today.

  I glanced over at Frazier, who drove in silence alongside a green meadow littered with the colors of wildflowers. I thought how romantic it would be to stop and enjoy the lovely spring day.

  It was no use expecting Frazier to be thinking the same. No doubt, his thoughts were on the men at camp who wanted to be baptized.

  He smiled over at me. I returned it with the awareness that I genuinely liked him. He was as I imagined a minister should be, loving, caring, and giving to others. He lived what he preached. His whole life was devoted to others.

  The hope today was not only to talk to Frazier about what he had said, but to prove, not only to Frazier, but myself that I could be the wife he desired. I needed to convince myself that, in time, the feelings would emerge within me that one should feel for the man they married.

  A preacher’s wife was one of duty not only to her husband, but the community in which he served. I wanted to display my worth to him and quieten this gnawing feeling inside of me that there was something essential missing between us. Something that, despite my innocence, I realized should be between a man and wife.

  The camp was about a half an hour away from Oak Flatt, but instead of talking, we drove in silence. He turned left and continued on a long dirt road that led to a security gate and small building with a sign that read: Crossville POW Camp. Frazier identified us and told the guard the reason for our being there. It was eerie to go through the entrance of the prison camp.

  I had only seen the POWs from a distance. I wasn’t certain what I expected, but this was nothing like what I had imagined. A fence with barbed wire at the top enclosed the area and U.S. guards, but inside, it reminded me of an ad for a summer camp I had seen in one of Ginny Rose’s magazines.

  We drove and parked in front of the first building on site. We weren’t met with an armed guard to escort us around the camp. The prisoners weren’t bein
g marched from one barracks to another. Instead, men were sauntering in and out of cabins. To my left sat a basketball court where men were playing. Some of our soldiers were even playing along with them. To my right, men in POW uniforms walked alongside other POWs, laughing and joking. My immediate thought was that I hoped our POWs were being treated as well as these men.

  Frazier told me to wait in the car. I would have rather accompanied him. A sudden nervousness gripped me, but it wasn’t long before Frazier returned and opened the door for me. “Everything is set. I will hold a small service for those requesting to be baptized before we head to the water. They have already set up chairs,” Frazier said. “First, though, we need to meet up with Sergeant Blair. He is having breakfast.”

  I stepped alongside of Frazier as we entered the food hall. For me, I was amazed to see a buffet laid out. I saw prisoners’ plates filled with scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits, hot cakes soaked in maple syrup, along with glasses of orange juice. I knew families that didn’t eat this well.

  Then, I felt the eyes on us. I saw the faces of the men, only men, smile. Immediately, I realized they were smiling at me.

  The bells began to ring. I tried to push them back. This was no place for an episode. Pressing my lips tightly together, I reprimanded myself for not listening to Frazier when he had said the camp was no place for a woman.

  A thin, tall officer stood at our appearance. “Good morning, Brother Clayton. So glad you could make it this fine day.”

  Beside him, I recognized a friendly face: Matt Pritchard. I drew a deep breath realizing that I was pleased to see him. He looked good this morning, rested and relaxed.

  Frazier pulled a chair out for me, but I felt Matt’s eyes on me. Perhaps I imagined his lingering gaze, but I felt he was glad to see me also. Shame filled me for being delighted with the thought.

  The realization sank deep within me that I shouldn’t have come. I had been foolish to believe I could support Frazier as I had seen Mrs. Mize do for Brother Mize. She was like a constant shadow of her husband.

  I scarcely paid any mind to Sergeant Blair and Frazier’s conversation. Despite my attempt to silence the bells, they refused to stop. My hands tingled; my heart raced.