Tambourines to Glory Read Free

mind. I hope you will, though, and listen to my advice. Girl, with your voice, raise your fat disgusted self up out of that relief chair and let’s we go make our fortune saving souls.
    “Remember Elder Becton? Remember that white woman back in depression days, Aimee Semple McPherson, what put herself on some wings and opened up a temple and made a million dollars? Girl, we’ll call ourselves sisters, use my name, the Reed Sisters. Even if we ain’t no relation, we’re sisters in God. You sing, I’ll preach. We’ll stand on the curb and let the sinners in the gutter come to us. You know, my grandpa down in North Carolina was a jackleg preacher. And when I get full of wine, I can whoop and holler real good. Listen to this spiel.”
    Laura jumped up from her chair with gestures. “I’ll tell them Lenox Avenue sinners,” she said, “you-all better come to Jesus! Yes, sinning like hell every night, you better, because the atom bomb’s about to destroy this world, and you ain’t ready! Get ready! Get ready! I say, aw, let Him take your hand. Yes, sisters,brothers, He’s got mine! Let Him take yours and walk with Him. Now, sing with me:
    “When the darkness appears,
Precious Lord, linger near.
When my life is almost gone,
At the river I stand,
Guide my feet, hold my hand.
Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me on
.
    “Grab the chorus, Essie. Sing it, girl, sing!”
    Essie’s voice rose full and persuasive, so persuasive, in fact, that melodically she persuaded herself and Laura, too, that they ought to go out into the streets and move multitudes.
    “I sure wish I had me some more wine,” sighed Laura when they had finished singing.
    “The Wine of God is all we need,” Essie said. “Laura, I’m gonna pray.” She knelt down with her arms on the chair where she had been sitting. “Lord, I wish you would take my hand. Lead me on, show me the way, help me to be good. Help Sister Laura, too. And help us both to help others to be good. That I wish in my heart, Lord, I do.”
    “Amen!” cried Laura with her hand on her empty glass.
    “‘Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,’” murmured Essie.
    “And never catch up with you unless you get up and do something yourself,” said Laura.

2
BLUE MONDAY
    T he next morning, which was a blue Monday, when Laura could hardly scrape together enough change to combinate a number and put a dime on the lead, Essie said as she washed the percolator top, “I prayed again this morning for what we was talking about last night.”
    Laura, who had left her bed unmade down the hall in Number 7 to tap on Essie’s door in the hope of a hot cup of coffee, looked puzzled. “What?”
    “That church we gonna start,” said Essie. “I believe God answers prayer. In fact, that church is started.”
    “Started? Where?”
    “Right here in this room with you and me.”
    “Then lemme pass the collection plate,” said Laura, “becauseI dreamed about fish last night—782—and that is a good number to play. Here, put some change in this saucer, and I’ll put the number in for you, too.”
    “I said I was
praying
, Laura, not playing. If we’re gonna save souls, have I got to save you from sin first?”
    “Oh, you talking about starting a church?” said Laura, her mind clearing of sleep a little. “Well, as soon as the weather warms up a bit, we’ll buy a Bible and a tambourine and plant our feet on the rock of 126th and Lenox and start. But right now, I want me at least forty-five cents to work on these numbers. Suppose
fish
jumps out today? If it did, and I didn’t catch it, I sure would be mad. Girl, pour me one little drop more of that coffee. If I could just find that old Negro who’s liking me so much, so he says, I might could maybe get a dollar or two. But he never does come by here on Monday.”
    “Laura, you oughtn’t to be encouraging that married man to be laying up with you.”
    “He encourages his self,” yawned Laura. “Can I