Chapter 12
An Unexpected Reunion
"Bessie, maybe I should stay home from school today and help with the house work," little Mary offered graciously one Monday morning. "I don't think you can get all this spring cleaning done without help."
"Thanks, Mary, for your concern, but I'll make it. You mustn't miss a single day of school unless it's absolutely necessary. You are doing great work, far ahead of what I could ever have imagined, and you must keep it up. Besides Mary," her voice took on a note of sadness, "as long as I can stay busy it helps to occupy my mind, I feel very lonely at times."
"You still miss Alton, don't you?" Mary queried.
"I'm afraid so, more than I like to admit. But I have no regrets in breaking off with him. God's ways are always best."
"Know something, Bessie?" Mary asked with a twinkle in her eye. "I think Daddy likes Rachal Greene. I see them talking to each other at church quite often," she confided.
"Oh Honey, they're just good friends. Both of them are interested in Alton, and that gives them something in common," Bessie assured her. Reaching for Mary's lunch pail, she handed it to her. "Here Dear, take this and hurry and catch Sue and Katie before they leave you far behind. Have a good day, Dear." She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek as Mary went out the door.
"Bye now, Bessie. Don't work too hard," Mary called as she trotted off to catch her sisters.
After Mary had gone, Bessie got started on the spring cleaning. There were the windows and screens to clean, the walls to scrub, and the quilts and mattresses to sun, besides all the regular house work.
She sighed. "Dear Alton," she whispered his name. "I should never have gotten so attached to him. God only knows how hard it is to forget him. But I must put him out of my mind once and for all."
She scrubbed hard at a dark spot on the wall. Hearing a knock at the door, she dried her hands and hurried to answer. Who would be calling this time of morning?
Opening the door, she exclaimed, "Why Uncle Jack, what brings you here so early?"
"I came to ask a favor of you, Bessie, but I see you're quite busy." He was looking beyond her, at the scrub bucket and detergent on the kitchen floor.
"What would you like me to do, Uncle Jack?"
"After you left this morning, a man came to see me. He told me that his newborn baby had died, and though he wasn't a church-going man, yet he wanted his baby to have a proper funeral. Mr. Spikes, from the funeral parlor, suggested he look me up to conduct the funeral. Well, I thought if you could come and sing a song, it would really help out. The man wants the funeral at three-thirty this afternoon. Do you think Jim would mind if you would quit work at noon today, so that you can assist me?"
"I'm sure he won't mind under the circumstances, Uncle Jack. He would want me to put God's work first. I'll leave the cleaning until another day, but I will have to prepare something for Jim and the children to eat when they get home. Then I'll come on about noon. O.K?"
"That's fine, Bessie. I knew I could count on you."
The funeral was a pathetic affair with only six people in attendance. They were Uncle Jack, Aunt Mae, the baby's father, its grandmother, and Sarah and Bessie.
"The baby's ma is very sick," the man explained as they met at the church. "This here is my ma. She lives wid me an' Alice." He gestured toward the lady who was with him.
"Pleased to meet you," Rev. Delaney greeted her. Looking at the man again, he asked, "Do you live around here some place?"
"We live 'bout twenty-five or thirty miles out of town, in a little place called Goldonna. Ma and me have ta hurry and git back to the old lady. The woman that is stayin' wid her can't stay long. She jes' 'bout died when this here baby wuz born."
"I'm so sorry to hear that," Rev. Delaney patted his shoulder. "Was this your only child?"
"Yeah, we thought we wud neva have no kids and--and--now this had to happen."
"Are you a Christian?" Rev. Delaney asked the man. "Naw. We don't go ta church if that's whatcha mean," he answered, turning nervously to find a seat.
Rev. Delaney walked to the front of the church and opened the service with prayer. He prayed especially for the bereaved family, that God would comfort their hearts and touch the sick mother at home. He asked God to help them to prepare to meet Him, that this present grief would be the means of leading them to know Him. After the prayer, Bessie sang a song, fitting for the occasion. Then Rev. Delaney read a portion of Scripture and said what he could to comfort them. He pointed them to God as the One who is a help in time of need and admonished them to give their hearts to Him. The grandmother kept wiping her eyes all through the short service. After another prayer, the little procession left for the grave site. There, Rev. Delaney spoke a few words, then all went their separate ways.
"The poor things," he commented as the two of them drove off in an old beat-up jalopy. It smoked, jerked, popped, and sputtered as it slowly disappeared down the street. "I wish I knew some way to help them," he added sadly.
"What did he say his name was?" asked Bessie.
"I think he said 'O'Banion,' but I can't be too sure. I believe he called his wife 'Alice'. Well, I guess they are gone out of our lives forever. How tragic!"
The next afternoon Bessie was still busily engaged in house cleaning when the children came home from school She decided to let them help.
"Tell me all about the funeral, Bessie," Sue chatted as she worked. "Were there lots of people there?"
"No, Dear. In fact, there were only six in attendance. They were very poor people. The man's trousers were patched and faded, and both he and his mother, who also attended the funeral, looked undernourished. I have not been able to get them off my mind. Bless their hearts! I wish I knew some way to help them."
"Do you know their name and where they live?" Mary, who had been listening to the conversation, asked her.
"Uncle Jack said he thought the man's name was O'Banion. He might know where they live. I didn't ask."
"Let's pray for them, Bessie," Mary suggested. "Maybe God will save them."
"Yes, Mary, I've been praying. I just can't forget them."
After the supper dishes were cleared away that evening, the family gathered together for family devotions. Daddy read from the Bible and then each took a turn to pray. Mary seemed especially burdened as she prayed, "Dear Jesus, help the O'Banions. Help them to get saved and give them some food and clothes."
When they arose from their knees, Daddy asked, "Mary, who are the O'Banions? That name sounds very familiar, but I just can't seem to remember where I've heard it. O'Banion!" he repeated with a puzzled look on his face.
Mary related what Bessie had told them about the funeral and the deceased baby's relatives. Daddy's look changed to one of amazement.
"Oh yes," he exclaimed as if something had just dawned on him, "That's who Alice married, an O'Banion. Did Bessie tell you where they live?"
"She didn't know, Daddy, but maybe Uncle Jack does. Why don't you go over and ask him?"
"That's a good idea, Mary. I think I will. You children will be all right with Jimmie 'til I get back."
Though darkness had already settled, Jim made his way to the parsonage. Rev. Delaney was quite surprised when he opened the door a little later.
"Why Jim, what's wrong?" he questioned.
Jim quickly related the children's conversation. "My niece married an O'Banion. I've been praying for them and have asked God to please help me locate them. Did he say where they lived?" Jim asked.
"Only that they lived about twenty-five or thirty miles out of town in a little community called Goldonna."
"Then, Lord willing, I will go to Goldonna and try to locate them," Jim told him. "The poor girl doesn't have any family except us, and I'd sure like to get in touch with her again. She lived with my family for a few months once. My children loved her like a sister. Poor Alice," he sighed.
"Alice! That's her name, Alice," Uncle Jack cried exc
itedly. "The man spoke of his wife' mostly as 'my old lady,' but once he said something about 'Alice,' I'm quite sure."
"Then it must be my niece and her husband," Jim exclaimed.
As always, Rev. Delaney offered his assistance. Jim, gratefully accepted. So they planned to start their search early Saturday morning. Jim did not have to work on Saturdays.
When the children heard of the plans, they begged to be allowed to go along. They talked incessantly of the surprise it would be to Alice, and imagined the happy reunion.
"Maybe Alton would like to go along," Sue suggested. "We haven't seen him in a long time. He never comes to see us anymore."
"Alton has left town, Sue," Daddy informed her.
"Why?"
"He just felt it was best. His parents are very sad about it. They love Alton and depend on him so much. I'm glad Rachal is home with them now. That helps."
"Daddy, do you like Rachal?" asked Mary.
Daddy smiled. "She's a very sweet lady, Mary. I enjoy her company."
Uncle Jack arrived at seven on Saturday morning to pick up the Reids, and they were soon on their way to Goldonna with high aspirations. Maybe they would find their dear cousin, Alice, at last. They had never seen her since the day she left with John.
After traveling about twenty miles toward Goldonna, they caught sight of a little log cabin off the side of the road a ways. A lady was outside milking a cow. Uncle Jack stopped the car and got out. He was greeted by a barking dog.
"Shut up, Lepp," the lady yelled as she stopped milking. She picked up a stick and threw it at the dog. "Git back ta the house and shet your mouth," she scolded him.
The dog tucked his tail between his legs and slunk away.
"Say, can you tell us where Goldonna is?" Uncle Jack stated his reason for stopping.
" 'Bout three miles up the road,' she answered, wiping the milk off her hands on her already dirty apron. 'You folks mus' be strangers in these here parts.' "
"We live in Batesville," Uncle Jack replied.
"Oh, I see! City folks, eh?" She started toward the car. "Who do ya be huntin' at Goldonna?" she queried. "I know 'bout everybody who lives there. It ain't a big place."
"We're trying to locate some people by the name of O'Banion. Do you know them, by any chance?"
"Do I know them?" Her mouth gaped open and her eyes flashed as she put her hands on her hips and stopped in her tracks. "Who don't know that sorry piece of humanity? Why the way he drinks and carries on disturbin' ever'body in the country is a disgrace. I tell ya he beats up on his pore ole lady 'til it's a wonder she's living.' No wonder that baby died. Miz Slater said she heard that pore ole woman hollering way up to her house a week before that thar baby wuz born. When that brute gits drunk, he is crazy as a bessie Bug. He oughta be arrested, but nobody wants to mess with him. If we git him on outs with us, no tellin'--".
"Thanks for your information, Ma'am," Uncle Jack said politely. "We'll be on our way now."
"Ya ain't apt to find a welcome," she warned them as Uncle Jack turned the ignition switch to start the car. His face was pale and his hands trembled noticeably.
Jim sat silent for a few minutes, not trusting himself to speak. When he did speak, he quoted a well-known Scripture. "Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." This was his pay day for his part in that marriage. He knew John was no-good when he brought him home with him and got him interested in Alice. Well, all he could do now was pray that God would help them some way.
Seeing another house, Uncle Jack very reluctantly pulled over and got out. Walking to the door, he knocked, and a man opened the door.
"Sir, can you please tell me where the O'Banions live?"
"Go on up this road about one-half mile, turn to your left and go another mile. There's only one house on that little lane so you can't miss it."
"Thank you kindly, Sir," he said, turning to leave.
"Are you the sheriff, Sir?" the man asked following down the steps.
"No, Sir, I'm a minister."
"A minister? You don't say!" The man looked shocked.
"Surely there must be some good in that man," Uncle Jack said as he got back into the car. "May God help us to find it."
The car soon stopped in front of a run-down shack that they concluded must belong to the O'Banions.
"Hello," Uncle Jack called as he walked upon the porch. A moment later, a lady, whom Uncle Jack recognized as Mr. O'Banion's mother, appeared in the doorway.
"Good morning, Mrs. O'Banion. Remember me?" Uncle Jack greeted her with a smile.
"Yes, I remember you," she answered coldly. "Whata ya want?"
"I--I--brought someone to see your daughter-in-law, Mrs. O'Banion. I think it will be a pleasant surprise for her."
"I don't think Alice needs no surprises, Sir. The girl's had anuff of 'em in her life." She was backing up with her hand on the door trying to close it.
"But Mrs. O'Banion, I'm sure Alice will like this sur--"
"She ain't able fer no company." The door closed in his face.
Uncle Jack turned and walked slowly back to the car.
"Now what?" His face revealed the hopelessness of the situation.
"Let me try," Jim offered and got out of the car. Walking to the door he called, "Alice, it's your Uncle Jim. May I come in?" When no one answered, he continued, "Mrs. O'Banion, will you please let me come in and talk to you? I've been wondering about Alice's whereabouts for years. Now, that I've found her, won't you let me visit with her?"
"Look, Sir, John don't 'low no visitors, so you'd betta leave." Mrs. O'Banion informed him from inside the house.
"But I'm Alice's uncle. You probably remember Jim Reid, don't you? We once lived in the same neighborhood."
She opened the door a crack and with a scornful voice, she said, "Yes, Jim Reid, I certainly do remember you. You're the one who drug my boy John off and drunk wid him and neglected yore pore family and let 'em 'bout starve to death. Yes, I remember ya well, Jim Reid."
"I'm sorry I was such a poor influence on your son, Mrs. O'Banion. I've changed now. God has forgiven my past life and cleaned me up. Will you please let me see Alice for just a few minutes? I promise I won't tire her."
"Never would I do it, Jim Reid," she said as she opened the door wide enough for him to enter, "but I fear she's dying' and I don't wanta have that on my hands. Come on in, but make it short and sweet 'fore John gits back. He'll be fit to be tied if he finds out we 'lowed visitors."
Jim entered the little shack and looked around the darkened room which was sealed with cardboard and newspapers, and blackened by the smoke from the tin heater. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, he saw the bed in the corner, propped up on one end with bricks. Walking toward the bed, a ghastly sight met his gaze. Could there still be life in such a poor, decrepit looking being? There lay Alice. Her hollow eyes were sunk back in their sockets, the thin cheeks were drained of all color, and her stringy hair reminded him of the pine needles under the trees in the yard. Her bony arms lay limply beside her on the dirty sheet. Jim felt nauseated as he looked down at the pitiful sight. She reminded him of Lola the night he came home and found her on her deathbed. The memories overwhelmed him until for a few moments he was unable to speak. Laying a shaky hand on Alice's thin hand, he said in a husky voice, "Alice, this is your Uncle Jim."
She opened her eyes and stared up at him, looking very frightened.
"Alice, God has saved me and changed my life. I no longer drink and neglect my family. I want to ask your forgiveness for helping to push you into a marriage that you weren't ready for. Will you forgive me, Alice?"
She did not answer, but only stared in that frightened manner.
"I want to pray for you, Alice. Jesus has power to touch and heal you."
Without waiting for permission, he led out in prayer. "Lord, I'm asking You in Jesus' name to come into this home, lay a healing hand upon our dear Alice and restore her to health. Tou
ch her husband with conviction and touch Mrs. O'Banion as she ministers to her. We're trusting You for needed help. Amen."
Since Alice still did not speak, he leaned over and kissed her forehead and turned to go. As he passed Mrs. O'Banion, he extended his hand to shake hands with her. Very reluctantly she shook hands, saying as she did, "Ya'd betta hurry and git outta here. John's due any minute and if he ketches ya here, it'll be too bad."
Following him outside, she glanced toward the woods and exclaimed in dismay, "Look, here he comes. Ya'd betta hurry and git gone. Oh--h--," she moaned in dismay, "no tellin' what he's gonna do ta me and Alice."
"I'll just wait and see him, Mrs. O'Banion," Jim told her.
"Ya'll rue this day," she warned him.
As John approached them, Mrs. O'Banion was visibly shaken. What would he do? To her amazement, he grinned and stuck out his hand to Uncle Jack who stood by the car.
"Well, if it ain't the preacha. What brings ya here, Sir?"
"I brought Alice's Uncle Jim to see her. Mr. O'Banion meet Jim Reid."
"I know him, Sir. Hello, Jim. Why, I can't b'lieve it. How've ya been? Come in, come in and see how pore folks live." He slapped Jim on the back and guffawed loudly.
"Guess we'd better be going, John," Jim answered. "I've already gone in and spoke to Alice and she's not strong enough for company."
Reluctantly Jim and Uncle Jack followed John into the house. Jim instructed the children to remain in the car.
"I neva 'spected ta see ya with a preacha, Jim," John continued the conversation. "Are ya still on the bottle?"
"No, John. The Lord has saved me and delivered me from the bottle. It really had me shackled down for years but I'm free at last. I had bought a bottle just before God got to my heart, and after He saved me, I took my hammer and shattered it into hundreds of pieces. I no longer care for the kind of life I was living when I was running with you."
"Izzat so? Why, who'd eva thought ole Jim Reid would git religion. Maybe ther's hope fer me." He threw back his head and laughed loudly.
"John." It was Alice.
"Well, whatta ya know? I b'lieve she kin talk. Hit's 'bout time ya wuz gittin' betta," he told her as he walked over to her bedside. "Whatta ya want?" He asked in a stern voice.
Alice was speechless as he loomed over her. She closed her eyes and did not answer.
"Answer me, woman," he demanded. "Whatta ya want?"
When she still did not answer, he doubled his fist as if to strike her. "Speak up, Woman." he demanded. "Whatta ya want?"
When she still did not answer, he doubled his fist as if to strike her. "Speak up, Woman."
"Please, John, please. Not that again. Can't ya see she's turibly sick?" his mother pleaded with him .
Jim stood to his feet. "Wait a minute, John, that's my niece and she's very ill. Don't you lay a hand on her."
"Sez who?" John's lip curled in a sarcastic gesture. "Git outta here and take this here preacha and all that bunch of trash in the car wid ya. Nobody asked ya ta come here and butt into my business." He lunged at Jim, swinging his fist, but Jim ducked and he missed. Furiously, he reached for his gun.
"Please, please, John, not that," his mother begged, catching hold of his arm. "They ain't did no harm. Please don't shoot. Ya'll be strung up fer murder."
"Shut up," he hissed at her, shoving her backwards with his elbow. Pointing the gun at Jim, he demanded, "Well, are ya leavin'?"
"Yes, John, we'll leave, but remember my prayers will be with you."
Trembling from head to foot, they hurried to the car as John followed with the gun pointed in their direction. At the sight of the gun and the frightened men; the children became hysterical.
"Shut up, ya idiots and git gone as fast as ya can 'fore I lose my temper." John had stuck the gun nozzle in the window of the car and was acting like a wild man.
Uncle Jack's hand was trembling until he had to make several attempts to get the key in the ignition switch. Starting the car, he backed up to turn around, leaving John brandishing the gun. Before they could get to the end of the lane, they heard a shot. Looking back, they saw that he had shot up in the air. As they sped down the road, Jim commented, "You can't tell what a drunk man will do. He had such a wild look on his face."
The wide-eyed children fired a dozen questions at them until Jim told them that they did not want to discuss it any further at the present time. His heart was so heavy that he did not care to talk anymore.
Sometime later, Uncle Jack stopped his car at the Reid's. Extending his hand to Jim, he tried to console him. "Don't be discouraged, Jim. God will help us some way. He never has failed one of His children. As has been already proven, prayer changes things. If the devil tries to ride you over all this, just remind him how God helped you to find your children. Besides that, He has helped you find Alice, and I believe He will keep His hand on her and work everything out for His good and glory. Let's exercise our faith in God regardless of the unfavorable circumstances."
Jim smiled sadly. "Thanks for everything, Brother Jack. I deeply appreciate all you've meant to me and my family. We will keep praying. Surely God will work in our behalf." Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a bill. "Here, Brother Jack, take this for your gas."
"Thanks, Jim, but you don't owe me anything. I delight in helping people."
"I know that, Brother Jack, but I insist you take this money." He stuffed it in his shirt pocket.
"Good-bye, Jim."
"Good-bye, Brother Jack."
The remainder of the day was spent doing only the necessary chores. Gloominess permeated the atmosphere. Poor Alice was in everybody's thoughts. Would she get better? Or was she going to die in her awful condition with no hope of a better hereafter? Did she even want to live? What did John do to her after they left? Would he dare to beat her, and her so sick? No doubt he would vent his hostility on somebody. These and other thoughts tortured Jim throughout the day. He tried to follow Jack's admonition and resist the devil's suggestions, but he was in a very discouraged state of mind by the time the children went to bed that night. He sat alone by the window, thinking of his drinking bouts with John and remembering how he had encouraged him to make a play for Alice. He could visualize her yet on her wedding day as she hung on to Lola and cried before she left with John.
"All I could think of was that there would be one less mouth to feed," he condemned himself. "Oh, what a sorry, no-good man I was. I wonder how God ever showed mercy to someone like me. He could have let me drop off into hell and been justified."
Dropping to his knees, he began to pray brokenly, "Dear Lord, I want to tell You again how sorry I am for my past life. I'm so sorry for my part in this mess that Alice has to put up with. Oh God, please hold onto her some way. Don't let her die and go to hell after such a wretched life on earth. Will You heal her completely for Your glory alone? Oh God, it seems I will never be able to forgive myself if she dies. Have mercy on her soul. And get to John's heart some way, Lord. Thou art a God of the impossible."
He was completely overcome once again as the devil tormented his mind about his past failures. "Oh God," he moaned, "Will I ever be able to forgive myself? I'm so sorry that I ever brought John into my house and encouraged that marriage. How could I ever have been so heartless? But Lord, You can overrule all the wrong that's been done and somehow get glory out of it all from here on out. Deal with their souls. Deal with poor old Mrs. O'Banion. Surely she has some good in her, the way she pleaded for Alice and for us. Dear God, wilt Thou call them from darkness into Thy marvelous light? Thy mercy is from everlasting unto everlasting. Hold onto them. Don't let a one slip off into hell. Oh God, deal with each one this very night. Let them feel awful conviction settle down on their souls. I'm believing You, Lord, to do the impossible."
Hour after hour he groaned and prayed to God. Finally, around three A.M. the burden lifted, and he dressed for bed and was soon asleep.