Eula waved away his concern. "I've never felt better in my life. Besides," she added, "Brother Yo tells me it's a sin in this world to go counter to my own nature."
Cleav's eyes widened in shock. "Since when has Yohan Crabb become your spiritual adviser?"
"I am my own 'spiritual adviser,' young man," his mother snapped. "Now, if it shames you to see me with my hands in God's earth, say so."
Disconcerted, Cleav answered contritely, "Of course I'm not ashamed. Mother. If you truly enjoy gardening, certainly you should do it," he answered her honestly.
Giving his mother a kiss on the cheek, he started back toward the store, wondering if he could have said the same thing a few months ago. Somewhere in the last few weeks the demons that had plagued him since his days in Knoxville had gotten misplaced.
Even when trying, he could hardly conjure up any concern at all about the opinion of people who hardly knew him.
With Eula otherwise occupied, Esme was called upon more and more to help out in the store. She didn't seem to mind; in fact, she seemed to thrive on talking and joking with the customers, sorting and stacking the merchandise, and delighting herself with a difficult sale.
On Thursday and Friday, she'd worked right beside Cleav from daylight until dark, even spelling him when he left to take care of the fish.
Cleav worried that she was working too hard.
"Your father could lend a hand down here," he suggested gruffly.
Esme shook her head. "Pa's just Pa," she told him. "We've got no right to expect him to be anything else."
Cleav looked at his wife and thought about his mother.
"That's really the way you feel, isn't it?"
Esme looked at him curiously. "That's the only way there is," she told him honestly. "People are just who they are. The only one you can change is yourself, and it takes a good deal of sweat and worry to even make inroads there."
Cleav reached over and pulled his wife into his arms. Tenderly he brought his lips down to taste the sweetness of her own.
"Ain't it a sight!" Denny hollered to Tyree, who dutifully squinted at the embracing couple.
"Who's it?" he asked.
"The newlyweds!" Denny yelled back.
The revival'sfinale on Saturday night had all the makings of a true camp meeting. A half hour before the singing started, every seat under the brush arbor was filled, and all around the space outside families sat together on blankets covering the grass to hear Reverend Wilbur Boatwright's sermon.
Eula, who had arrived early to visit and gossip, saved half a pew for the rest of the family.
Esme and the twins had hardly sat down before Mrs. Tewksbury approached them. "Have you seen Sophrona today?" she asked.
Esme was momentarily startled. "No," she answered. "Well, maybe," she said thoughtfully. "She might have been in the store this morning. I'm not sure. Why?"
"Oh, no reason," the preacher's wife said. "She left early this morning to visit a sick friend. I just expected her to be back by now."
"Who's sick?" Agrippa asked tactlessly. "I ain't heard of nobody sick with the revival in town."
"I'm sure she'll be here shortly," Mrs. Tewksbury replied, carefully dismissing the question as she turned to return to her seat.
Esme's curiosity was piqued, but after several nonchalant perusals of the crowd, she gave up. Sophrona was probably there, she decided. She just had the good sense to get some visiting in before the sermon started.
The sermon did start, on time. And to Esme's mind, it ran on forever. It was clear, almost from the start, that the evangelist was not in his best form.
As is sometimes the case, the freshest, clearest, most important sermon can be presented at the wrong time and fall flat upon its face. Esme was quite sure that that was what was happening.
The crowd stirred restlessly. Babies cried. Toddlers whined. Several boys in knee-pants were called away from the service by fathers, presumably for a visit to the woodshed.
The crowd out on the grass, who would have had trouble hearing the best of orations, quickly lost interest in this one and began to visit among themselves. The low buzz of consistent whispering soon escalated to a clatter of voices that even distracted the "amen corner."
