The sight of her did something to him. It gave him strength. His breathing slowed, and the pain started to disappear. He blinked his eyes and felt his heart begin a normal rhythm again.

He didn’t mean to, but he started crying. And it was the only time he could remember crying in front of her. He’d gone so many years keeping his own emotions from the rest of his dependents. She held him. And it was as though they had traded roles. No longer did she belong to him, but he belonged to her.

Another gunshot.

Dogs yelping.

A hound ran toward Paul. It was Judith. The old girl buried her head into his chest. Her whole body was shaking from the sounds of the gunshots.

“There, there,” Paul said. “Ain’t nothing to be afraid of, sweetie. Don’t be afraid. Don’t ever be afraid.”

He wasn’t sure if he was talking to Judith or himself.

Sixty
Family Reunions

It was hot. Very hot. Coot swung a large hammer that weighed as much as a Chevy. He glanced back at Joseph, who was sitting on the flatbed truck, shading himself from the powerful sun with a tarp over his neck and shoulders. He was watching the men work from a distance, stealing sips from his bottle now and then.

Coot worked alongside these men in the bone-melting heat of the day. All the men could talk about was J. Wilbur Chaplain. The men were more impressed with the man than they were with what he said, it seemed. They knew little about his uncanny gift with the spoken word, like Coot did. They only knew of his popularity.

But Coot was glad to be doing honest work for a change instead of cheating people with phony wallets and checks. The sounds of hammers driving the giant wooden stakes into the ground made Coot feel good. He didn’t want to be here, but the free lunch was motivation enough for any man. He’d only eaten three meals in the last four days.

The church ladies had prepared a grand lunch for the men, putting out a spread like Coot had never seen before. One young man who was wearing sweat-laden overalls said, “I can’t wait to shake J. Wilbur’s hand tomorrow night. I’ll probably faint. Been listening to him on the radio near ’bout every week. Even when we’s over in Europe, they played his sermons on base.”

“You big dumb-dumb,” said another man. “J. Wilbur ain’t coming here tomorrow. This tent’s for a small-potatoes revival that raises money for J. Wilbur.”

“Small potatoes?” said Overalls.

“This revival’s only a warm-up. All the towns are having little revivals to get the saints and sinners fired up for when Chaplain comes. And he ain’t coming here, anyhow. He’s gonna be in Saraland.”

“Then who’s coming here?” asked Overalls.