Preacher's Boy

"I went up to the cabin again. I'm afraid she's gone—cleared out. There's nothing to suggest that anyone has been there for the last day or so."

I didn't sleep well that night. Why should I have to feel responsible for Vile? She wasn't my care. She wouldn't want to be. I'd nearly got myself killed trying to save her life, and was she grateful? It was plain she didn't want me or anyone else trying to

help her. I tossed over to the other side, sending a pain through my skull. She'd come in the middle of the night to ask me for help.... But I was hardly in my right mind when she was begging me so pitiful, and she sped away as soon as she heard Pa coming. I really hadn't had a chance to say or do anything.

I turned over again. I must have been groaning out loud, because before long Pa was sitting beside me, putting a cold compress to my forehead.

"Shh—shh. It's all right, Robbie. Just try to lie still and the pain will go away."

His hand felt warm and healing on my head. I wanted to grab it and hold it there, but it seemed a baby—an Elliot—kind of gesture. I kept my arms stiffly by my sides.

After a while he leaned over and kissed my forehead, just as Ma might have. "Can you get back to sleep, do you think?"

I wanted to beg him to stay with me. Instead I said, "Yessir," and he went quietly up the stairs.

Morning came at last. Pa was down as early as Ma, dressed in his Sunday suit. "I'll just take some bread and tea," he said to her. "I have to get on my way." He came over to the daybed before he left, but I pretended to be asleep. He was gone before I realized that it was important that I know where he'd gone.

Carefully, I propped myself up on my elbows, trying to avoid those sudden movements that sent my head to clanging. "Where'd Pa go?" I asked.

"Oh, Robbie. I was hoping you were still asleep."

"Pa. Where did he have to go?"

"To catch the early train," she said.

"Is somebody in the hospital?" Somehow when you're sick yourself, you tend to forget that things happen to other people at the same time. I'd forgot that Pa still had parishioners to think of.

"No. No one's sick. They've called him to testify."

"Testify?" A picture flashed in my head of a big prayer meeting in the city, where Pa would get up like Deacon Slaughter and make announcements about what God was up to. "Testify in Tyler?"

"About the kidnapping," she said gently. "Dr. Blake said you weren't well enough to be a witness yourself, so they called on your father."

"Oh." I lay back down slowly. I had to think. Even Pa thought Zeb had kidnapped me. Well, the bum had nearly killed me. What was the difference? Thou shalt not bear false witness.

I reasoned that Pa wouldn't know it was false. He'd only say what he believed to be true. But I knew better.

And Vile, wherever she was, knew better. She'd never forgive me if I let my pa send hers to prison for kidnapping. Why hadn't I told Pa the truth? I let out a sigh as long as a train pulling into the depot.

"Are you feeling all right, Robbie?" Ma asked.

"Yeah," I said, my voice strangling in my throat.

I watched the rest of them eat their oatmeal, my head whirling even though I was flat on my back. Was I to be the cause of my father lying in court after laying his hand on the Holy Bible and swearing to tell nothing but the truth? He doesn't know what the truth is or isn't. A voice came into my head powerful as though it had come down from Mount Sinai. But you know the truth, and you let him bear false witness.

I managed to choke down a little oatmeal with a lot of maple sugar and cream.

"Will you be all right if the girls and I go to the sewing circle this morning, Robbie? We missed it last week—"

All of a sudden it seemed God was clearing the way. "Sure," I said. "I just want to nap this morning, I think."

"If you need anything, just send Elliot down for us, all right?"

I waited until I was sure Ma and the girls were well out of sight of the house. Elliot was on the porch, where Ma had told him to stay in case I needed him. He was playing paper dolls, it sounded like, from the way he kept switching his voice from treble to bass. "Elliot!" I called.

He came at once, running in his lopsided way to my bedside. "Wha's a matter, Robbie? You need me t' get Ma?"

"No. Something else. Will you go upstairs and get me my Sunday suit and cap and my shoes and stockings?"