The singing slowly faded to silence as Armon reached the front and spoke a word to Brother Wilbur, who seemed as surprised as everyone else. Sophrona stood in the background looking distinctly ill at ease, avoiding a glance to the side of the room, where her parents sat.
The preacher nodded at the younger man several times during their discussion and then stepping away from him, raised his arms. "Brothers and Sisters," the preacher began, "this young man has come forward this evening, wishing to address the crowd."
The stunned silence was broken by a whispered flurry of voices, each asking the person beside him, "What does it mean?" "What's this about?" "Young Hightower getting saved? Unbelievable!"
As the rustle of quiet questions began to fade, Armon gave a hasty glance at Miss Sophrona before stepping forward.
The handsome young man cleared his throat nervously. "Lots of you folks were here on Monday," he began. "And those that weren't, well, I suspect you heard that my granny got up here to ask you all to pray for the salvation of my soul."
There were nods of agreement throughout the room.
Armon's darkly attractive good looks were enhanced by the bright blush of embarrassment that flushed his cheeks.
"Truth to tell," he admitted, "I never really thought much about getting saved. It always seemed kind of contrary to my nature."
A chuckle of agreement was heard from the "amen corner,” and Esme gave her father a disapproving look.
Running a worried hand through the thick hank of hair that crept toward his brow, Armon forced himself to scan the crowd bravely.
"I've been studying on it a bit more lately." His eyes stopped at the sight of the bent and aged woman who sat on the far-right end of the second pew. "Granny," he said, his voice lowered slightly in tenderness, "I know you been praying for me, steady, for a lot of years now."
He swallowed visibly. "I want to thank you for that. And for everything else I got in this world," he added. "You done kept me clean and fed most of my life. And that ain't easy for a widow woman, and we all know it."
Catching his upper lip between his teeth, he rubbed his hands together as he contemplated his next words.
"I'd like to tell you, Granny, that I've done made a decision for the Lord," he said. "But it'd be a lie."
A ghost of a smile curved his lips as a memory wafted across his thoughts. "If you remember, I promised you years ago, when you told me your old arms were too tired to take a switch to me no more, that I'd never lie to you again."
The old woman smiled back at him with love.
"I ain't been saved yet," Armon declared honestly.
A strange sigh went through the crowd, as if a hundred people had been holding their breath.
"I'm thinking on it, real serious," he said. "And I want you, and everybody else here, to remember me when you're a-praying to God. I'm sure going to need all the help I can get."
Another chuckle filtered from the "amen corner,” and Armon, himself, was able to bring forth a slightly jittery smile.
"The good Lord seems to know that," he continued more calmly. "'Causing he done sent me the best kind of help that a man can have."
Turning his head, he gave Sophrona a glance.
"I ain't been saved," he told the crowd. "But I have decided to change my ways."
With a warm smile he held out his hand, and Reverend Tewksbury's daughter stepped up to his side. The big-bosomed beauty was flushed and pretty as she shyly kept her eyes down, holding Armon's hand tightly, as if for strength.
"I done give up being a wild hill boy," he announced. "No more liquor, cards, or ladies for me. Now I'm just another dour-faced old married man."
Sophrona grinned broadly.
"I want you all to be the first to meet my new bride, Sophrona Hightower. We was married in Russellville this afternoon."
If the boys in knee-pants on the back row had been waiting for excitement all evening, they got it now.
Granny Hightower clapped her hands above her head and cried, "Hallelujah!"
The Crabb twins screamed in harmonic horror.
