Chapter Twenty-Five: Storybooks & Stories

In church, the atmosphere is filled with tension. My family and I get dirty looks the second we pile into the pew beside the Masens. I sit on the end so I can be next to Rowdy in his wheelchair.

"Don't pay them no mind, Cotton," Papa says, leaning across my sisters. "Half of them folks that were on television were church members and now they're angry you told the truth. People don't like hearing the ugly parts about themselves."

He's right. I feel like the only smiles we receive are from the Reverend and his wife Maggie. Rose Charlotte gives me a tiny wave from the choir stand. Usually service opens with song, but for some reason, Reverend Weber is standing at the pulpit.

"Congregation, I've got some good news to share with you. One of our own, Edward Masen, is starting his treatment tomorrow. From what Esme shared with me, he'll be admitted into the hospital to begin the plasma exchange process. By the grace of God, blessings are coming for that family, amen?"

Only a few scattered amens are repeated throughout the church, and Reverend Weber frowns. He turns around, whispering a few words to Deacon Biers and handing him his Bible. "Choir, you may sit down. I think church is going to go a little different today."

Everyone whispers as the puzzled choir members take their seats.

"Cotton Swan, come to the front please."

Er, no.

I think I'm okay right here.

Rowdy laughs at me underneath his breath and Ma gives me with a threatening look that says I better get my behind up there or she's going to make me.

I clear my throat, standing up on shaky feet. I'm not Catholic, but I feel like saying a couple of Hail Marys and making crosses on my chest like they do.

Reverend Weber steps down from the pulpit and stands up front with me, putting his heavy hand on my shoulder. "Church, we've got a lot of ill-spirited hatred running through the pews this morning. You know who you are. I ain't one to condemn or judge; I believe you've already done that yourselves. But this here young lady gave y'all a word that she felt in her heart. You can flip through that Bible all you want, but the living and breathing truth is right here."

"Speak it, Pastor," Miss Sue shouts out.

"Cotton, you're a strong young lady. Not a lot of folks would have done what you did. But I'm giving you the opportunity to say anything else you need to say."

Reverend Weber hands me the microphone and I accept it with trembling fingers as I look out to the crowd. These people hate me now. I don't want to be hated. I don't want the Masens to be hated. I just want everyone to get along.

I glance back at Rose Charlotte, who nods her head to encourage me. I say the only thing that comes to my mind.

"I love you."

The church members look side to side and several of them cock their heads as if they didn't hear me.

"Say it again, Cotton," Reverend prompts me. "I don't think these Baptists are listening from their pedestals."

I repeat myself, only louder, "I love you."

And that's how it starts. Mrs. Hale stands up, walks to the front and gives me a hug. Jessie can't help herself so she runs too, squeezing me tightly around the waist. Even the man in the overalls who claimed Rowdy could spread his condition takes a hold of his wheelchair and rolls him to the front. They all embrace me and each other until there's not a filled seat in the church. Only the Weber girls stand off to the side, glaring with jealousy.

Rose Charlotte breaks out into song and the church sings and claps. Reverend Weber wipes the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, and I feel love and God all over the place.

We end up singing three songs until the pastor tells us we can all go back to our seats.

Papa kisses me on the forehead and everything's different now. People can't stop hugging and all of the bitterness has seems to disappear. A few members even hug the Masens, and they whisper to Rowdy that they'll pray for him.

"You see church? That's what God is all about; he's about love and forgiveness, kindness and compassion. I don't even have to preach today. Miss Cotton's done said it all. So thank you for teaching others how to be understanding. Why when Christ hung Himself on the cross and died for our sins-"

Suddenly there's a tearful, agonizing cry that sweeps through the church. It takes me a minute to realize it's coming from Jessie.

"Shhh," Ma says, trying to calm her down. "Hush Jessie. Why are you crying for?"

The Reverend stops speaking and everyone turns around to see what the matter is.

"BABY JESUS IS DEAD? YOU KILLED MY BABY JESUS?"

Oh lord.

Jessie's little chubby finger points accusingly at the pastor.

"Little Jessie, Jesus was a grown man at the time of his death," he explains. "But there's hope!"

Jessie looks up with wide eyes and desperation. "There is?"

Reverend Weber smiles. "Of course. Jesus may have died on earth, but He rose again and He lives in your heart!"

It just makes Jessie wail louder and run from her seat, hollering at everyone.

"YOU KILLED MY BABY JESUS! MURDERERS!" Jessie runs back and forth, her layered dress floating up behind her. "What have you done? This ain't love! Oh my heart. My little heart!"

Ma runs to the middle of the aisle, trying to catch her, but Jessie backs away. "This is your fault, Ma! You made me eat taters and now Baby Jesus is dead! He's dead!"

Jessie falls to the floor dramatically, kicking and screaming and clutching her chest as if she's dying from a heart attack. Harley Gene wakes up and starts crying.

Jasper snickers, Esme whacks him on the arm, and Papa shakes his head from embarrassment.

We depart church that day with Jessie still sniffling and refusing to speak.

But the hatred and hostility is gone, as is everyone's pride.

The only thing left on the fifth pew was a children's storybook Bible and one lone naked Barbie doll.

.

.

.

"Aren't you nervous?"

Rowdy takes my palm, kissing and licking each individual line as if they were made for him. I sit on his lap in the sunroom, while the rest of our folks are scattered throughout the house. His tongue tickles my hand and sends chills up and down my spine.

"Naw," he answers honestly. "I'm finally going to get better."

Esme explained the process while we were all in the living room. Rowdy's first round of therapy will be inpatient for a week while they monitor his progress. Afterwards, depending on how it goes and if the process works, he can just go to the hospital for sessions. It only takes less than 2 hours a day, while they hook up several tubes that transfer his plasma. The worst part, she warns, isn't the treatments, but the side effects of feeling sick.

Secretly, I wonder if it'll be successful. I'd hate for him to have all this optimism pulled right from underneath his feet.

Rowdy takes his time kissing my hand, kissing downward until his lips are pressed against my wrist. "Will you be there with me?"

I don't know why he asks these things. He acts as if it's even a choice.

"Why would I not be?" I question.

He shrugs, finally dropping my hand. "I reckon I'm just waiting for the moment you decide it'll all be too much for you."

"You're fretting over matters that ain't ever going to happen. I'll be there," I promise.

He smiles that crooked grin of his and butterflies float all through my belly. "All right."

Rowdy kisses my cheek just as Jessie walks in, her chubby cheeks flushed and her eyes red from all of her fussing. I stand up from Rowdy's lap and walk towards her, kneeling down on the floor. I grasp her tiny hands in mine. "What's wrong now, Jessie?"

She starts a new stream of tears and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. "J-Jasper said that J-Jesus w-won't even real, so I-I shouldn't even be cryin' t-t-that He ain't a b-baby anymore…"

I glance back at Rowdy, who frowns at his younger sibling's behavior. Jasper should know better. He knows how sensitive Jessie can be.

"Jessie, come here." Rowdy reaches his arms out from his wheelchair and I let go of Jessie's hands. She walks right over to him and using every bit of strength he has, he lifts her into his lap. "Can I tell you a story?"

Jessie loves stories, so she nods enthusiastically and peers up at him with innocent, wet eyes.

"There was once a little girl who lived with her father. The mother died long ago when she was born, so it was always just the little girl and her daddy. The girl loved her father very much. They'd do everything together, like ride bikes until the sun went down, or go fishin' in the creek. When that girl got to be around your age, she became very sick."

"Like you?" Jessie asks.

Rowdy grins. "Sort of. But hers was worse. She had a heart condition and she had to take medicine every day so she would feel better. Every morning, she would forget and her daddy would ask, 'Did you take your pills?' She'd shake her head no, smile, and run to take her medicine."

"Her told her that every day?"

"Yep. So eventually, that little girl grew up and went off to college. She received a sad phone call early in the morning and she had to hop on a plane as fast as she could. When she was on the plane, she was crying so hard she could barely breathe. A stewardess came over to her and said, 'Ma'am, did you take your medicine?' The girl looked up at her in shock. 'I have a heart condition and I take pills to make me better. How did you know?' The stewardess shrugged. "A man in the back of the plane told me to come remind you. He said he was your father.' The girl begin weeping even harder."

Jessie gets a puzzled look on her face. "Why was she crying?"

"I was just getting to that," Rowdy continues. "So the stewardess asks, 'Ma'am, what's the matter?'. The girl wipes her tears and looks at the stewardess. She says, 'My father died last night. I'm on my way home to prepare for the funeral'. With shaking hands, the girl digs into her purse and takes her medicine."

Jessie's bottom lip quivers. "Wow. How did the daddy do that if he was dead?"

Rowdy smooths down the loose strands of Jessie's pigtails. "He just did. Love doesn't end just 'cause someone dies. It goes on forever and ever. Jesus is like that, Jessie. He loves us all. And it doesn't matter if He's a baby Jesus or a man Jesus. He loves you and takes care of you, even though He ain't living anymore."

Jessie wraps her arms around Rowdy and he kisses her cheek. "Thanks Rowdy. I'm glad you're alive, and not just 'cause of Emmett."

Rowdy appears confused as I laugh, wiping away a tear.

Jessie scoots off of his lap and skips towards the doorway. She glances back momentarily. "Rowdy? You said that Baby Jesus loves everybody. How do you know He loves you if you're so poor and sick?"

Jessie speaks with the brutal honesty that comes from being a child. She's not being rude, she's just trying to figure out how the world works. But Rowdy isn't the least bit offended.

"'Cause He gave me your sister." Rowdy winks and leans forward to whisper. "And besides, when you're sick, you don't have to eat gross things like potatoes."

Jessie spends the rest of the day screaming to everyone that Baby Jesus loves her so much, He gave her a "heart edition" and that's why she can't eat any more taters.

A/N Credit: Rowdy's stewardess story (though edited) originally comes from Chicken Soup for the Soul. Yeah, I read other stuff too, ya know...