The Quaker Café (43 page)

“Jitters was dead. When his box fell off the bench on the float, one of the cats saw him and grabbed him. I got Jitters away from the cat, but he looked so bad I didn’t want you to see him or think somehow it was your fault. I wanted you to remember him the way he looked when he was alive. That’s why I made up a story.”

Evan looked hurt
. He thought for a minute and Chase and Liz waited before opening the car door. “You saw Maggie when she looked bad after she died,” Evan said.

“You’re right
. I did,” Liz agreed.

“And the Judge?”

“I did.”

“Did you cry or feel like it was your fault when they died?”

“Yes, actually, I did, sort of,” Liz admitted.

“Are you sorry you saw them that way?”

“No,” Liz paused a moment before she spoke, “I’m glad I was there for them when they needed help. I hope I did some good.”

“And so will you remember them looking awful?” 

“No, I will always remember them as very much alive; as wonderful people who were both good friends.”

After a thoughtful pause Evan said, “What did you do with Jitters, Mom?”

“I buried him.”

“Where?”

“In our back yard.”

“In the silver box?”

“Yes.”

“I should have been there,” Evan said.

“You should have,” Liz agreed. “I made a mistake. If you like, we can go out to where I buried him and I’ll show you. We could say a little prayer together in appreciation for all the joy he gave us.” 

“Okay,” he said, accepting his mother’s apology
. Liz marveled that as quickly as that she had been blessed by the simple, unconditional forgiveness of a child.

Chapter Forty-two

              Grandpa and Grandma Hoole sat on the front row of Jerusalem Baptist Church with Chase and Liz on one side of them and Sophie and Jack on the other. Nat had driven up from Charlotte. Lexa remained at the house with Nicholas, Evan, Estelle, and Stin.

             
LuAnne Perry sat on the opposite front bench between Johnson’s two children, Felicity and Alex. Felicity resembled her Aunt LuAnne, about the same height and round in all the same places, but without the excess weight or lines that came with age. She was dressed modestly in a white blouse and burgundy pants suit. Several silver necklaces draped around her neck and fell halfway down her blouse accompanied by a dangling pair of silver earrings. She wore a pair of spike heels for fashion and additional height. Carefully coiffed, straight, thick black hair rested on her shoulders.

  Alex wore an army uniform, starched and pressed, with spit shined shoes
. He towered over his sister. Repeatedly he crossed his long thin legs and then uncrossed them, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He seemed unable to find a place to accommodate his arms; first by his side, then across the back of the pew, then bent forward with his elbows on his knees.

LuAnne’s jaw was set. Her eyes focused straight ahead. She wore a long sleeve blouse and a corduroy black jumper with no waist. A coat was draped over the back of the pew. Cousins and friends filled the space on either side of them. Liz regretted that she knew the names of so few in the black community. She knew that Maggie would have been able to speak to everyone. Chase recognized most.

             
A young man played a keyboard to the right of the pulpit and Reverend Broadnax walked to the front rows and leaned down and spoke first to LuAnne and her nephew and niece before walking over and speaking to Grandpa. “May God give you strength,” he said, placing his large hands on Grandpa’s shoulder. Grandpa nodded.

             
Reverend Broadnax stepped up to the elevated pulpit at the center of the front of the church. He wore a clergy robe of Ghanaian kente cloth with a gold cross woven into the front. The Jerusalem Baptist Choir entered the sanctuary down the center aisle and up to the choir loft behind the pulpit singing “Walking in the Light of God.” A large reproduction of a painting of Jesus praying at Gethsemane hung on the wall above them. The congregation stood and joined in. After the hymn, Reverend Broadnax offered prayer and then welcomed guests.

             
“We are fortunate to have many joining us from our community today. This is an unusual morning. It will be an unusual service. A service you will remember, because today we will make history in our town of Cedar Branch. We will turn the page on a chapter from our past and we will begin to tell a new story; a story of promise, a story of opportunity, a story of commitment to something better. Before you walk out of this church today, you will be inspired. You will have new hope. You will believe in the power of good over evil. We will be changed. Do you believe that?” 

There were a few
Amens
, which did not satisfy Reverend Broadnax.

“I SAID…..DO YOU BELIEVE, because if you don’t you might as well go ahead and walk out right now
. This is not an easy story to tell. It’s gonna make you mad, maybe as mad as you’ve ever been before, but being mad isn’t what’s going to turn this story around. Being inspired to do something, something GOOD, IN THE NAME OF THE LORD. I SAID….DO YOU BELIEVE?”

             
A boisterous YES resounded from the congregation. “SAY IT AGAIN, one more time so I know that you are sure. DO YOU BELIEVE, MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS, WE CAN LEAVE TODAY WITH A WAY TO TURN A TRAGEDY INTO A NEW BEGINNING?   If you believe, then holler out to the Lord, I BELIEVE.”

             
“I BELIEVE” burst forth in unison. .

“Brothers and Sisters, we come together today to publicly acknowledge for the first time a terrible injustice inflicted upon one of our members over five decades ago
. Fifty six years, my brothers and sisters… fifty-six years have passed and finally the truth will be told. As Paul wrote from his prison in Rome to the saints in Ephesus:
“…laying aside falsehood, speak truth each one of you with his neighbor, for we are members one of another.
Members, one of another,” he repeated.

             
“
Nathan Hoole is with us today. Many of you know Nathan. I have worked alongside him as members of numerous committees throughout the past years. I have known him as an honest man. But like many he has lived within his own prison wall concealing a long hidden truth. Today he has come to speak the truth and in so doing, to redeem the name of Isaac Perry in the eyes of the entire community and history. Nathan…” 

             
Reverend Broadnax stepped aside and sat down in the chair behind the pulpit. Grandpa rose. All eyes in the church were upon him. There was no rustling of church bulletins, no shifting in seats, no shuffling feet. No one coughed, opened and closed a pocket book or quieted a restless child. The word had already started to spread. Today the members of the congregation would hear for themselves. Nathan made the only sounds in the sanctuary as he climbed the six steps to stand in front of a jury of his peers.

             
As he raised his eyes and looked across the room, Grandpa realized for the first time that members of the Quaker community sat scattered throughout. They had not assembled on the back few benches, nor come to sit directly behind him and his family members. Instead, all fifty-six members including a few from meetings in Virginia Beach and Greenville sat throughout the church, sitting among the black membership.

The first one he saw was Leland, his black round hat visible immediately
. There was Anna and Kate, Dana, Duncan with his wife and other white faces throughout. Timmy Bates sat next to Miss Ellie on the back row, along with Frank Busby. Grandpa’s mind paused a second in recognition of a fourth figure beside them, Helen Truitt. To the right, a flash of pink caught his eye, and he recognized Billie and Gill at the end of one aisle. Momentarily overcome, he raised his eyes to the ceiling to regain his composure. Then in a voice loud and clear he began.

“Fifty-six years ago I committed adultery with the wife o
f Corbett Kendall. When Isaac Perry arrived unexpectedly, I was ashamed. I ran and hid in fear of what might happen to me. In so doing, another man’s life was tragically taken and his family ostracized for a crime he never committed. I am told his son has never come to terms with this injustice and struggles to this day with the hatred that keeps him behind bars…a consequence I could have possibly reversed if I had spoken sooner. I come before you today to tell you the truth as I know it, not in order to seek forgiveness for myself, but to re-claim the name of Isaac Perry for his family and to attest to his innocence.”

Grandpa took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead, then, step by painful step he retold the story in its entirety
. At the end, he paused before saying, “I am unable in any way to restore to the Perrys their great suffering and loss. I pray that God will have mercy on my soul.”

             
Grandpa returned to his seat. LuAnne had begun to weep at the first mention of Isaac’s name, and her nephew and niece cradled her in their arms, holding each of her hands in one of their own. The Jerusalem Choir rose and sang “The Storm is Over Now.”

             
As the choir concluded, Reverend Broadnax rose to the pulpit as if he were Icarus rising towards the sun. His arms stretched out above him to the heavens. He had a plan, and he wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass. His powerful voice thundered through the church.

             
“WE ARE A COMMUNITY, a community I tell you!  Black, white, yellow or brown, we cannot deny our interdependence. We cannot deny our shared history. We may grieve, and our Lord knows we have plenty to grieve about, but out of this grief must come action.”

A few “
Amens” began to resonate for the first time in the service.

“What good does it do
to drift along on human error? None, none whatsoever!”

A
“pop” from the drummer alerted everyone that preachin’ time was upon them.

The congregation remained
attentive. Tears had dried and people readjusted their posture, straightened their backs and moved to the edge of their seats. They could tell that what came next would require up and down action.              

“What is our common goal here? Our common goal is to create from this tragic history some good. Our goal is to redefine the legacy of Isaac Perry so that he will be remembered, NOT as a VICTIM, but as
an instrument of God’s work
here on earth. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?”

As h
eads began to nod, there was scattered applause.

“We have two grandchildren of Isaac Perry sitting with us today
. Felicity, Alex, will you please stand.” 

Felicity and Alex looked a bit taken back by the Reverend’s direct request, but they stood obediently
.

“Felicity is seventeen, am I correct?” 

Felicity nodded.

“And Alex is twenty-one
. These young people are on the brink of heading out on their own. Alex, here, is already serving his country in the military.” 

There was applause.

“They have been deprived of a father most of their lives. Their mother is ill, staying with friends in New Jersey. I spoke with her on the phone, but she was unable to be with us here today. But she supports whatever we are able to do to help her children. WE ARE A COMMUNITY.” 

Another pop of the drum, and
Amen
was heard through the church.

             
“We are a community! As I look around our church this morning, I see members of the Quaker community who have joined us. Friends, thank you for coming. I know you have come to support your brother, Nathan, but I also know you have come to support LuAnne because you believe as we do that WE ARE A COMMUNITY.” 

Several
Amens
resounded.

             
“I see Ellie Cartwright in the back row, and Frank Busby. Thank you for coming. Timmy Bates is with us. Timmy, you are always welcome in our church.” 

              A big smile stretched across Timmy’s face and he rose and did a partial bow to everyone.

“I see the lovely Miss Billie McFarland and her husband
. Billie often volunteers her time at our Senior Center. Thank you, Billie, for coming.”

             
“And then, we are honored to have our newly elected commissioner with us today, Commissioner Truitt. Commissioner Truitt, I’m going to offer you the pulpit in just a few minutes. We’d like to hear from you.” 

Helen flushed. She had come that morning as a personal request from the Reverend
. Completely unprepared to speak, she had assumed it would simply be a political gesture on her part.

             
“Brothers and sisters…” the Reverend lowered his tone, and the congregation leaned forward. “Do we as a community have a responsibility to help these grandchildren of Isaac Perry? To give them the educational opportunities that Isaac wanted so much for them to have?”