A Cotton Mill Town Christmas

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Suzie Young and her mother Karen shared the dresser mirror in their two-bedroom house on Third Street. The daughter watched her mother as she carefully applied her pale pink lipstick, the only makeup she usually wore. Suzie was brushing her long blonde locks. Both were dressing for the Thanksgiving service.

“Momma, I can’t believe the churches cancelled the joint Thanksgiving’s service.”

For years the two churches had alternated hosting the celebration. The pastor from the visiting church would provide the service, while the choir from the host church would supply the music. This year, though, the two pastors decided to hold separate services. This was a very difficult decision because Pastor Hamm of the Baptist Church and Reverend Lyons of the Methodist Church had been friends for years, but the church boards had made the decided. The third church in town, Pastor Young’s church, which the blacks attended, had never been invited to join in the joint service, so their service went on as always.

“I’ve always like it when the churches do services together,” Suzie said. “That way I can do the things I enjoy at the Baptist church, but do youth group with Herbie at the Methodist church.”

Karen looked down at her daughter, who at thirteen was almost as tall as she was. She got her father’s height, the mother thought to herself. Karen put her arm around Suzie’s shoulder and hugged her.

“Yes honey, I know it’s hard to understand why adults act the way we do sometimes.”

“Why do we go to the Baptist Church? It seems like all the people there dress better than us, and most of them are bosses in the Mill. I feel more comfortable with the kids at the Methodist Church.”

“I guess because my parents and grandparents always went there. Your great-grandfather, my grandfather, was actually a big boss in the Mill. The company had brought him up from Winston-Salem when the Mill was first built.”

“Did Daddy go to the Baptist Church before you married?”

“No, your daddy wasn’t much of a church-goer before we married. It took me about six months to talk him into going to church with me; then he began attending maybe twice a month.”

“Was Daddy a Christian? Will I see him in heaven? He never talked much about being a Christian.”

“Suzie, some people talk about being a Christian, and some people live their life as a Christian. Many times, he came home from a three-day haul without a dime, and had missed his last meal because he ran into someone at the truckstop he felt needed his meal-money more than him.”

“I think I’d do that too.”

“I know you would. Your daddy gave his life to the Lord the day you were born, and he lived the rest of his life as a Christian.”

“The very day I was born? Why then?”

Karen was silent for a few seconds. The mother had often thought about the day she would have this discussion with her daughter.

“Okay, sit down and I’ll tell you while I finish my makeup. I’ll tell you what happened. I’ve waited until I thought you were ready. I guess this is a good time but we’ll have to make it quick.”

Suzie, baffled by the gravity in her mother’s voice, sat down.

“I went into labor with you a month early. I knew something was wrong, and when we got to the hospital, the doctors knew you were in distress. They thought your cord might be wrapped around your neck.”

“That means I could have died?”

“Yes, they thought you might. They felt the only way to save you was by doing a cesarean. Do you know what that is?”

“Of course, Mom. I’ve read all about it.”

“Oh, okay,” Karen sighed, not sure she wanted to know just how much else the girl had read. “So they did the cesarean. Honey, when they took you, your face was as blue as…” Karen pointed to the sofa, “…as that afghan.”

Karen’s voice trembled, and Suzie took her hand.

“Wilson was and he could tell it was bad. I kept waiting for Wilson, but it was almost fifteen minutes before he came in. I could tell he had been crying, but he tried to convince me everything was fine.”

“Yes, daddy always had a way of making me feel better about everything.”

“So, for a day and a half, they had you on oxygen. Then they came to us, and told us you were all right, and would live. Your daddy and I hugged each other so. We had never been happier in our lives.”

Suzie began smiling at the thoughts of her dad and mom hugging. She could still recall how much she used to love to watch her father come home after making a haul. He would first pick her up and swing her around in circles, then he would take her momma, and dip her, hugging and kissing her like they do in movies.

“That evening, the Pastor at the Baptist church came by. His name was Pastor Lineberry. Wilson sat there, but didn’t say much.”

“He left, and then Pastor Young came by to see us. Wilson took him to see you. Wilson told me later Pastor Young had a smile from ear to ear. You were so small; he could have held you in one of his big hands.”

Suzie beamed. She had always loved Pastor Young, or as she called him “Uncle Buster.”

“They were gone for almost an hour, and then Pastor Young came back to say goodbye. He and Wilson had these huge smiles, After Pastor Young left, I asked Wilson why he was smiling so.”

“He said…,” Karen began to cry. She took a deep breath. “He said he had made a promise to God when the doctors came running out with you that if God would let you live, he’d serve Him for the rest of his days. He had gotten Pastor Young to lead him to Christ. To answer your question young lady, yes, if you stay the same wonderful girl you are now, one day many years from now, you will be seeing your daddy in heaven.”

Suzie knelt down and hugged her mom around the waist.

“Thank you for telling me this, Momma.”

“Your father used to tell me to hear you call him “Daddy” was like heaven on earth.”

Karen knew she needed to tell the complete story.

“But the doctors told me I would always have problems delivering, and should not get pregnant again, so I had an operation. They tied my tubes to keep me from having any more children. But your daddy said this would be fine, because no other kid could ever be as perfect as you.”

Suzie smiled, lifting her head to look at her mom. Karen put her hands on both sides of her daughter’s face.

“Your daddy would have been so proud of you.”

Suzie stood with her head pressed to her mother’s chest for a few minutes, then decided to lighten the moment.

“Who did you vote for, Herbie or Mr. Armbrister?”

“I didn’t vote for either one. I wrote in the name of Suzie Young for mayor.” Karen winked at her daughter as she grabbed her purse. “Now you get ready to go, or we’re going to be late.”

“Which church are we going to tonight?”

“To be honest, I haven’t even decided. I thought God might answer that for us before we get there.”

When Karen got to the door, a light drizzle had started to fall. She looked to the sky where several large, ominous black clouds were cloaking the stars. It was at times like this she wished she had a car.

“Oh, we’d better go back and get our rain coats; it’s going to rain.”

After slipping on rain gear, they started back outside. A familiar black Ford Fairlane pulled up. It was Herbie Bourne and his wife.

“Hey,” Herbie called out, rolling down his window. “I didn’t want the two prettiest gals in town to melt in this rain. Hop in and we’ll give you a ride to church.”

“Herbie Bourne,” Karen exclaimed, laughing as she opened the rear door of the car, “Ellen will pull your hair out flirting with other women.”

“Well, now that’s why I said ‘gals’,” Herbie laughed, as he patted Ellen’s hand. “Cause she’s the prettiest ’lady’ in town.”

“Mind if Suzie and I go to church with you tonight?”

There was a minor auto accident with an ensuing scuffle when a Methodist and Baptist both approached the last on-street parking spot at the same time. When the Baptist pulled up alongside the car in front to park his 1969 Buick Riviera, a Methodist in a ’65 VW Bug sneaked headlong into the space. The Bug lost a front headlight, and the Buick lost a tail-light lens. The Baptist lost a coat button, and the Methodist suffered a torn shirt pocket.

Chief of Police Smith was not in attendance at the beginning of services. His police car idled in the alleyway between Main and Vaughan Streets. About thirty minutes after the services started, a familiar Chevy pickup truck turned off Hilltown Road, losing a couple of beer cans as it turned right onto Main Street. It slowly drove down the car-lined street. Spunkie turned into the adjacent parking lot. As he did, Sergeant Smith shifted the police car into drive and eased out of the alley. Once Akers drove out of sight, Bruce pulled onto Main and slowly made his way toward the parking lot.

Apparently Spunkie either saw the police car, or decided there weren’t any cars warranting his attention. He continued through the parking lot and out First Street, merging back onto Main at the west end of town, and then left. Bruce followed him to the town limits, then turned around at the river overlook, and returned to town.

The members of both churches spent time before and after the service discussing the election, and what could be done to ensure the right person, that is to say, their person, was elected. After all, it was Divine Intervention a true man of their God should be leading the town. Both congregations came up with the same idea. By the next day two separate petitions had been started to “encourage” the existing town council to select each church’s endorsed candidate. Veiled threats hinted if a council member did not heed the petition, that member might find himself defeated at the next election.