Ira didn’t see them for he was on the front row, praising the Lord, with his arms raised and his eyes closed.
Tommy preached a good sermon but kept getting off the track. Nobody minded. We all knew that those sidetracks might be just the right word for some hungry soul.
After church, Ira took me home and he went on over to his place alone. A minute later, another car drove up. There was a knock at the door. There stood John, grinning, with his women.
"Here," he said, waving them off to me.
"Here?" I quavered.
"Tell them everything—woman to woman—Sister Dicey. I’ll be over at the house when they get ready to go."
"Well, well, girls. It’s been a long time. Come on in." I went in the kitchen and opened a cabinet and peered in. "Oh, Lord, please help me with all You’ve got," I whispered frantically. I found some cookies and we sat down to talk.
We sat around the table and talked about the weather. Then it all began to come out.
"Drema, honey, the last I heard of you, your Dad told Ira to get, that you were too young to date. Did he change his mind?"
"No, ma’am, he wouldn’t let me date, but, of course, I was allowed to go to the young people’s meeting at church."
"Oh, I heard about those."
"You did?"
"Yes, Ira went one night to visit, but after he went in the front door, he turned around and came back out."
"The meetings are down in the basement. We go in at the side door of the church."
"Well, he saw that there was someone in the Sanctuary, and he backed out."
"Who was it?"
"You and John."
"Oh, no."
There was a long silence. "But," she ventured, "I don’t understand. How come John lives over there with Ira? Or maybe he didn’t care."
"Oh, honey, he cared all right. He was ready for murder—John, your Dad, you, but then the Holy Spirit came into him and sweetened him up in a big way. He got so he could really forgive and then he started seeing John at work and John needed a place to stay. Isn’t John different now? Does he ever offer to marry you, Drema?"
"Well, it wasn’t just John. He isn’t my boyfriend."
"He isn’t?"
"Oh, no—we had a sort of game. It was someone different each time."
"That’s gruesome. Where was the preacher?"
"He was downstairs leading the games."
"Well, honey, who is your boyfriend?"
"The only man I’ve ever cared for is Ira."
"But if you cared for him, how could you do this to him?"
"To him?" Drema asked in amazement.
"Yes—couldn’t you save yourself for him?"
"Why, I don’t suppose I ever thought he would wait for me. Dad was so strict and accusing me of stuff all the time. Ira seemed older and had his own house. I figured he would soon start talking to someone else."
"Were you in on it too, Debbie?"
"Yes, ma’am."
"Do your parents know?"
"Yes, my Mom buys me the pills.”
"What do your parents say, Drema?"
"Well, Dad says he knew that’s how I would turn out all along. Mom says one mistake doesn’t matter. She wants the baby, to raise it."
I laid my head on the table. "What is this world coming to? Oh, girls, girls...how can you stand it? Looks like you would hate yourselves."
"I can’t sleep good sometimes, Mrs. Dicey, but then I know that all the other kids are in the same shape."
"All of them, Debbie?"
"Seems like it. I really think that it doesn’t matter anymore. Not like it did back in the old days."
"Well, it still matters to God, honey. He hasn’t changed any, and He loves to see His people happy and free and clean."
"I’ll never be that again," they both said at once.
"Pretty things, why do you suppose those angels told the shepherds that they were sent to bring ‘Good tidings of great joy’?"
"You mean when Jesus was born?" asked Drema.
"That’s right. What you girls would really love to hear is some good tidings of great joy. I can tell you the truth—there really is a way to get clean."
"How?" they both asked.
"How? It’s not how, it’s Who. Drema, sweetie, if your baby was a boy and you named him Jesus—do you know what his name would mean?"
"No, I don’t. I have heard that it is the same as Joshua."
"An angel told Joseph to name the baby Jesus, ‘For He shall save His people from their sins.’ Girls, that’s how come l don’t have to drag my sins around anymore. That’s how come Ira is so happy and forgiving. That’s why John is so different."
Silence.
"How do you get it?" Debbie asked.
"Just ask."
"Is it too late for me?" asked Drema.
I laughed, "It’s never too late, sweetie. Girls, if I ask for you, and the words sound right, will you just say ‘yes’ for your part?"
They looked at each other, hesitant, but willing, and they both nodded.
"Oh, Jesus, will You please clean up these girls?
“They need You real bad. They want to live Your kind of life from now on. Amen."
"Yes, Jesus," whispered Debbie.
"Yes...Lord." I barely heard this over in Drema’s direction.
"Children, we’ll have lots to talk about later, but that’s enough for tonight. The contract is made. Now, sleep well tonight."
I went to the door and whistled in my very loud unladylike way. Both boys came right out. They came over and John started his car while Ira walked them down the path.
Chapter 16
"Granny, do you believe in dreams?" asked Ira.
"Believe in them? What do you mean, Ira?"
"You know, do you think God tells us things in dreams?"
"No, not every night, but sometimes I wake up with the feeling that He has been teaching me all night...and I’ve had two or three dreams that were Special. Why do you ask?"
"Well, I’ve been constantly asking the Lord to show me if He wants me to marry or not and there hasn’t been any answer. Last night, I had a dream that was just like real. I’ve been wondering if you are ever supposed to take a dream as a message from God."
"You’ve got me as curious as a ‘possum. Can you tell me what it was?"
"It was short, but so real. This girl and I were walking down a road hand in hand. She had on a long white dress. I thought she looked as sweet as an angel. A tall man came up behind us and tapped me on the shoulder. When I turned around, he gave me a big package, but it was really a baby, all wrapped up in a quilt. I looked over at the girl and she smiled. That’s all there was."
"Goodness, that really might be a Message. Have you ever read and studied about Joseph in the Bible?"
"Which one?"
"Why, the one that married Mary, Jesus’ mother...but, come to think of it, that other Joseph, the one down in Egypt, he was a real dreamer, too, wasn’t he? Say, Ira, you are in a fix a whole lot like Mary’s Joseph. God ordered him to marry her, in a dream. Then later, he had some other dreams that saved little Jesus’ life. Joseph was so humble. He would obey those dreams right that minute."
"Do you think I should lean on it, Granny?"
"Not yet. Search the Bible. The Holy Spirit cannot guide you against the truth in the Bible. Tell you what? Maybe you can check this out by asking the Lord if He would kindly give you a second dream. He knows your heart. He sees that you would obey if you were sure."
"Yes, that’s true. I’m scared of my own desires and will have to be extra careful."
"Have you found the place in Revelation where a special song is sung by those who never touched a woman?"
"Didn’t notice that."
"Well, there’s another place that says that someday there will be false prophets who forbid marria
ge. So you see...you really need your own special direction on this. Don’t lean on your own brains. We can’t ever know how things will turn out."
Ira started putting on his jacket and headed toward the door. "Well, Granny, I’ve got to be getting back. I left some wet cement in a box. I got so eager to ask you about this."
"What are you working on today, son?"
"I’m chinking up cracks as fast as I can. I thought I had it all done ‘til those winds started blowing. Everywhere I can see a little daylight peeking through, I give it another dab of mortar. Look at my fingertips! The sand wears off the treads when I smooth the stuff along the cracks."
"Oh, I wish I’d thought of it sooner, Ira. I’ve got an old pair of rubber gloves. They leak water, but they’ll hold out the sand and help keep the hide on your fingers. I’m not a bit busy. Do you figure I could help you any?"
"Why, yes, thank you Granny. Surely you could do a neater job than I am. Here, you use the gloves."
"I think I have another old pair here somewhere."
I hunted up the other pair for him. They had leather on the palms and up the inside of the fingers.
It really was cold outside, and windy...with a few flecks of snow coming down. I was glad when we got inside his heavy homemade door.
My! How much he had done on his house! Each log had been scrubbed so that they were blonde now instead of brunette. His chinking was a glistening white and neater than I had expected. He had bought some beautiful hardwood flooring. (I knew how costly it must have been.) About half of it was laid. It’s such a slow, tedious job. I guess a few strips every evening would finally see it through, however.
It looked like bachelor quarters, with old sheets and tarpaulins tacked up over the windows. Wind loves to work its way around window sills.
His woodpile was right out in the floor. But who was to care. That fireplace, built by such kids, was drawing beautifully. There wasn’t a bit of smoke coming out in the room. It was really good and warm in there, too. I guess the men had told him how hickory and oak burn so much better than buckeye.
I took off my coat and spent a few minutes bragging on his progress. Then I pulled on my gloves and helped him hunt the tiny hairline cracks that had come since he and John had chinked all the outside. It was satisfying to stop up one little breezy place after another.
"Granny," he asked after we had worked in silence awhile, "do you think a girl would be willing to come here and live?"
"The right sort of girl," I ventured.
He was quiet a few more minutes and then he asked, °’What is the right sort of girl?"
"One who loves you and is hoping to see you happy. One who is proud of you and looks up to you."
"Granny, I get letters from Drema, but her Dad won’t let her receive any letters from me."
"How is Drema, Ira?"
"She’s not so sickly now, but she is kept in the house. She’s gotten so she loves to read the Bible. She tells me things that she finds in there. Her Dad fusses at her all the time, but she takes it. I believe she is growing up a lot."
"Doesn’t she have to go to school any?"
"No, she was sixteen in September. I guess she has graduated—you might say."
"Well, say, where is John?"
"He’s gone to his Granny’s for the weekend. He is going to see if she will come out to church with him. Did you know that my Dad gave him some land? Since it has turned so cold, he hopes to start cutting some logs. It was just about this time last year that I cut my first log."
"So it was! And now John wants to start one? He’s not as foolish now either. He’s helped you enough to know how much hard work is in it."
"That chimney would have stopped a sissy, but you seen how he helped me day after day. Yes, I think he means business."
"It’s getting dark, Ira. I’m going on home. Hope I’ve helped you some. You get to sleep soon, so that you can have a chance to dream again. Will you let me know what happens?"
"Sure will, Granny, and thanks for your help and company."
So that’s how it was that early the next morning, he came over and had breakfast with me. Later we went to Sunday School.
He told me about his dream. "In this dream, Granny, Drema and I were both over there in my house. A baby was in the cement box asleep, tucked in with blankets. Jesus Himself came in and pulled out a long white ribbon. He placed us standing there face to face, and tied us together with the ribbon. As the dream backed off, we both together looked like one person."
"My! My!"
"That’s all the Message I need, Granny. I’m going down there this afternoon and ask her Dad for her."
Chapter 17
Christmas had come and gone and winter had settled in on the creek banks and the ridges.
The miners wore their heavy jackets to work, but pulled them off down at the man station. The same work clothes and long underwear that kept them comfortable in summer were worn down under in the winter. There was one miner down there who was especially quiet, doing his work doggedly, but never joking with the other men. He seemed to be fighting some kind of war inside. Was he winning?
Ira had gone to visit Drema’s Dad that afternoon in November and had been received with a wild, unreasonable, shouting outburst that sent him backing off to his car. "...and don’t come back on my property, or I’ll call the law...."
The letters from Drema were more scarce, but more dear.
When Ira came over to visit, he seemed like an old man. We would throw a few potatoes in the coals and talk while they spit and steamed.
"Her Dad thinks he is teaching her a lesson," Ira commented. "He’s got her in prison, he thinks. Her mother is eager to have the baby to keep. That’s about all I can figure out. But Drema is piecing a quilt and learning to cook. She seems happy, as if she knows how it is all going to turn out."
"Maybe she’s had some dreams, too," I suggested as a joke. "Say, DREMA, that would be a good name for your wife, wouldn’t it?"
"Well, Granny, you’re right!"
"Have you done any more on the house?"
"I’ve worked on it every day on faith. I can’t see how I’m going to get my wife away from her Dad, but when I do, everything is going to be ready."
"She would have fun planning the curtains. Women like to pick out colors and pretty things."
"Sister Dicey, I’ve been reading about Joseph and Mary over and over. That’s how I’ve got it planned."
"What do you mean, Ira?"
"Well, you know how it went. She was disgraced, but he took her anyway. Then he kept her as his own, but never touched her until after the baby came and all."
"That would seem real decent, Ira, if you ever get her at all. Sounds like old Satan has hold of her Dad. Here, when you have a green light from God, then her Dad puts up a big Stop sign. That sounds just like the way the Enemy works. He gets hold of people’s minds and uses them against the Lord’s plans."
"What can I do? It’s been two whole months. I’ve prayed and prayed. I’ve been as patient and trusting as I know how. The floor and kitchen are done and everything is ready except a bed for her and a crib. But I get my next payday soon."
"Ira, Tim and I came to a big snag once on something we both knew was right. If you promise not to tell people that I’ve gone crazy, I’ll show you what worked for us."
Curious, Ira sat up straight from his hearth stool, while I stood up in the center of the room. In a strong, loud voice, I began to give orders:
"Now, Satan, I know your ways. I’ve caught on to how you bind people. In the book of Luke, you had to move over everywhere that Jesus came preaching His Kingdom. On the authority of the book of Luke and in the power of Jesus’ Name, I’m telling you to move off of Drema’s Dad. AND I MEAN IT!"
I stamped my foot once real hard, and sat down, feeling like a fool. But, wanting to set a good, strong example for my young brother, I said
confidently, "You’ll see."
And would you care to believe it?...three days later, Ira stopped his car at my house on his way home from work and came running up my path waving a letter. "Granny! Granny! Look here."
I didn’t recognize the writing, but it had a local postmark.
He jerked it open and began to read, practically hopping from one foot to the other. "...and so her mother and I have decided...Come over anytime you wish...Sincerely yours...."
I began to cry, you might know. And then I hugged him. I had coal dust all over me by the time I got through slapping him on the back, and grabbing his arm, and rejoicing in general.
He left as quickly as he came, eager to clean up and eat his supper, then head off toward her house.
I picked up my Bible and hugged it too. “Oh, thanks...for the truth about things," I muttered with joy.
Chapter 18
It was only a week later that he showed up again, with Drema at his side. (My! She was pregnant!) She looked like a different girl. No green eye make-up. No fingernail polish. She looked as if she were at peace with herself and the world. She could talk to me without giggling or stuttering.
It seems they were planning a wedding! Now, who would have ever guessed it?
"Sister Dicey," said Drema, "we’re having a big argument over what I should wear. Maybe you can help us settle it." She reached over and laid her hand on top of Ira’s.
"Why, kids, I can help you before I even hear what the two sides are," I said in my imitation-brave voice. "Look here." I took their two hands and changed them, putting Ira’s hand on top of hers. "Now, you won’t like this honey," I said to Drema, "but you will find that it will save you a lot of trouble, for it is God’s way. All right now, let’s hear it."
Drema was too puzzled to speak, so Ira began: "Well, Granny, Drema would really like to be secretly married and I don’t blame her for that, but I feel it is important for the whole community to know that I am not ashamed to take her as my wife and that we, as Christians, consider her to be perfectly clean and pure since she has asked Jesus to forgive her. I’m holding out for a real church wedding, with her in a white gown."
"Oh, I see," said I, but actually, I was a little scared of his idea. Yes indeed, Drema had been forgiven and her sins were washed completely away...but what would the other people say?
"Granny," continued Ira, "we need to stand strong on what we believe. Brother Tommy has agreed to marry us, and that church will be our place of worship as long as we live up here, so why not do it publicly and do it right?"