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Right up her alley. And tomorrow, they’d go to church and talk to Atta’s brother, Wendell Atwater. Maybe he’d know more about Whiskey and his relationship with his sister. As far as the undergarments, he wasn’t sure, but he had a bad feeling about all of it.
Chapter Fifteen
Sunday, October 22
11:35 a.m.
Violet hadn’t been thrilled about going to a church service. She hadn’t attended since she was ten years old. She, John and Tiberius sneaked in as the singing commenced and attempted to slide into the back wooden pew unnoticed.
Not so much.
Violet gazed out the window at the side-yard cemetery protected by a four-foot wrought-iron fence with a large cross monument in the center.
The rain had cleared, and sharp blue poked through the mildly cloudy skies. The sun had stretched out to warm the air, but the breeze remained chilly and somewhat damp.
John sat beside her and Ty on the end. His pinched lips indicated he was as irritated as Violet with their situation. John, however, nestled in comfortably, as if he belonged amongst God’s children. If Violet had that many kids, she’d probably pull a flood and wipe them all out too.
Wendell Atwater, preacher man, stood at the lectern and talked about mercy. God’s mercy and God’s children extending it to others. According to Wendell, mercy was when someone received something they didn’t deserve, and all could come and receive what they didn’t deserve—salvation.
She scratched at the itch inside her chest, cleared her throat and scanned the sanctuary. Families were tidy and paying attention. She recognized a few from last night. Kids colored and whispered and were thumped on ears to hush up and listen.
The crumpling of candy or cough drop papers rattled, a purse zipper zzzz’d and sporadic coughs barged in on the preacher’s words. Wendell himself was tall and lithe with pale blond hair parted neatly. Clean-shaven face and blue or maybe green eyes. Hard to tell from where she was sitting.
He wore a pale gray suit with a clip-on tie and no wedding band on his left hand. He ended in prayer and an invitation to come to the altar and find mercy from God. Violet ignored the “every eye closed and head bowed” part and surveyed that no one was coming to the event at the altar. Maybe no one wanted mercy or felt they needed it.
Or maybe they were too ashamed to publicly declare they did. Like Violet.
The lady who looked older than God Himself began playing the piano, and everyone stood instinctively and sang. The child Violet had sent with Ruby was standing on the pew sandwiched between Mother and Wanda. Mother stroked his hair. He was dressed in a blue T-shirt and denim overalls. Knowing Mother, she kept a clothes pantry on her back porch. She’d have SALT-OF-THE-EARTH engraved on her headstone, no doubt. One that was already picked out in this very cemetery. But Loretta Boyd and Ruby were absent.
“Everyone is welcome to stay for the monthly potluck. Brother Charles brought his cornhole, so you fellas remember the sermon. Show some mercy.”
Everyone laughed and began filtering out.
Violet and John swam upstream, heading for Wendell Atwater.
Mother blocked the aisle. She wore her hair long and wavy past her shoulders, a soft navy blue dress with a pink shawl around her shoulders and shoes like a Shoney’s waitress. Her lips were painted a soft shade of pink.
“Ruby told me what happened last night at the Swallow.” But it sounded like Swallah. “Thank you for seein’ the child to safety. He’s well-tended now.”
The little boy looked up at Violet. “I know you.”
Violet rustled his dark cap of hair. “I know you too.” She returned her gaze to Mother. “Any news on...” She let her sight trail to Mason.
“Not yet but I’m sure everything’ll be fine. She’s probably sleepin’ it off. Like Ruby and Loretta.” Wanda took Mason’s hand. “Let’s go get some fried chicken and cake.” The little boy nodded. He didn’t have the cowboy doll this morning.
“Is this behavior normal for Bella Dawn?” Violet asked Mother.
“Leaving Mason in a bar to fend for himself? No. But sometimes she takes him there. He’s usually seent to. We try to look out for and take care of one another. Not judge. Show some mercy.”
Guess Violet’s judgment on taking a child to a bar was showing.
“Y’all stay and enjoy a good lunch. We know how to fry some chicken and maybe even a rabbit or two. Sit around the people with no underlyin’ reason. They might be more willin’ to open up to you.”
Violet planned on staying. “I will. I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“I’m sure you do,” she said as if she already knew what it would be about. She patted Violet’s arm and slipped down the aisle. John was in line to talk to Wendell. Ty had split during the invitation and hadn’t returned. She met John at the stage as the last woman left.
They introduced themselves. John shook his hand. “I know you’re busy, but we need a few minutes.”
