Mercy Me Read Free Page B

books that lined the shelves of that little cubbyhole. It showed in his sermons. We got something to think about or to do every time he spoke, and he never lost sight of Jesus. I believe that’s what brought the new high school Spanish teacher to Apostolic. She’d not been born again long, and she drank in that new wine like it was Gatorade. The preacher’s critics would’ve liked to have him lighten up. They would’ve liked for him to clown around in the pulpit like that preacher at Bethel does, but he didn’t. And I, for one, needed that red meat of the Word he gave us.
    I have a notion that Pastor Osborne spent a lot of time on his knees. He sure had a lot to pray about, mainly his wife.
    Like I said before, Betty Osborne was not the same woman she’d been as a bride. I can’t remember exactly how old she was when they came here, but now she was pushing forty, one side or the other, maybe thirty-nine and holding. She bemoaned the fact that they didn’t have any children, and like the kudzu vines taking over the abandoned mill, it was eating away at her, just swallowing her whole. The hardest time for her was when her husband dedicated a baby in church. When one of the Neely boys and his wife brought their twins to the front for dedication, Betty burst into tears and ran out of the service.
    I couldn’t guess whether she had taken them fertilizer treatments or not. She must have, because she had given up on ever having a baby. But I didn’t think he had. Why do I say that? Well, there was a young unmarried girl in the next town who got pregnant once, and her family tried to persuade her to give up the baby. Her parents came to the Osbornes and asked them if they would not like to have the child, seeing as how they were good Christians. Then maybe their daughter might come to her senses and be willing to part with her baby when it came. Betty got all excited, but the pastor said they’d have to pray about it. When the family came back again, Reverend Osborne said no, that it would be cruel to take the baby away from its mama if the mama didn’t want to let go.
    After that, Betty Osborne was not only depressed, she was so mad at him she took her leave and flew off to her mama’s and stayed away three weeks.
    I’d not say this even to Beatrice, but I figured it was probably his fault they couldn’t make babies. That’s the kind of thing can make a man lose heart in himself. Make him so sober he don’t laugh no more, and although Reverend Osborne would smile, that was about it. Must’ve been that medicine they advertise on TV for a man’s problem didn’t work for him, or else he had not tried it. The only doctor we’ve got here is Dr. Elsie, and it might be because she’s a woman that Pastor Osborne goes up to the University Medical Center for his checkups. Dr. Elsie is a good doctor, but she’s getting old. When she retires, I doubt we can get another doctor to come here.
    Well, now, let me get back to Reverend Osborne (my mind takes a notion now and then to wander all over theplace). It’s hard to describe the pastor, but I tell you flat out, he is no wimp. Even back when I first knew him, I could tell he was the kind of man who’d make a good father. Kindness is his middle name, and patience is his long suit. Otherwise he would’ve pulled up stakes long ago and left Apostolic on account of the officers and members he has to deal with here.
    The reason I knew he would be a good father was because he had a good father. One time when he was helping me shell pecans, he told me about his daddy—said they were very poor and that his daddy worked two jobs to make a living for his family. But even so, he found the time to be with his boy—played catch with him, took him fishing and such. But mainly it was the things he taught his son. Pastor Osborne said his daddy taught him how to get along with people, how to make his