Jinx on rotary phone next to “Brother Love – a Crossroad” on my Kindle.
I was so impulsive in deciding to quickly “bookize” the serial that I didn’t plan ahead for a launch or promotions. So I begin by repeating my thanks to Sally G. Cronin for announcing Brother Love – a Crossroad at her blog earlier this week.
My weekend post included a give away of an e-book of the novella. I numbered your comments and used a random number generator to select the winner.
Meanwhile, I’ve just done a podcast. The amazing Annette Rochelle Aben hosted me for a fun chat. We discussed “Brother Love” and several other things. I even brought her into my writing process by playing my three things writing exercise during the interview. Flamingos… Click over and learn what that’s about.
When you get to the podcast site, Tell Me a Story with Annette Rochelle Abenat The Magic Happens Radio Network, scroll down to the “Gs.” Interviewees are listed in alphabetical order by last name. Thank you, Annette! I had a wonderful time chatting with you for the broadcast.
Crystal is not so happy about even a picture of a bird being on her scrubbing brush…
Purchase Brother Love — a Crossroad via these universal Amazon links.
Thank you to Dan Antion of No Facilities for letting me use his wonderful photos throughout this series. My heartfelt gratitude to everyone who faithfully joined me at the crossroads for the serial.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.
Thanks for joining me for this walk to the crossroads.
This chapter comes with a couple of warnings.
Warning 1: It’s long. I can hear some of you groaning.
Warning 2: It’s the conclusion, the last chapter. Now I hear the rest of you.
I didn’t know until Monday that Chapter 10 was the penultimate chapter, or I would have… well, I would have warned you.
My heartfelt thanks to Dan Antion of No Facilities for letting me use his wonderful photos throughout this series. Dan went above and beyond the call as my collaborator for this story. He was always ready to get just the right image for each episode. He was proactive, doing all sorts of photo shoots at antique stores, with birds, and at crossroads. Plus, he patiently let me bounce ideas around, no matter how off the wall. Thank you again, Dan.
… And A Special Surprise!
“Brother Love” is now available as a book. Purchase information is at the end of this post. (Photo by Teagan R. Geneviene)
I still have a few reader “things” left over. I apologize to everyone whose “thing” didn’t get into the story. A special shout-out to Adele Marie Park, whose thing “gris gris bag” took me to Birdie’s name paper. I really wanted to do more with that hoodoo angle, but the things brought the story to a close before I got there.
For this concluding chapter, I only used one thing — I’m Walkin’ which came from Dan.
If you need to review the previous episode, click to Chapter 10 A Cut.
Last time.The blood from Tammy’s finger slowed as it passed through the air of that hot August night. It hung there. A stream of red droplets was suspended in… nothing.
Jinx mimicked the sound of a telephone ringing one time. My ears started to ring with the very same sound. However, it went on and on, an endless ring.
***
Without further ado, let’s get to the crossroads for the conclusion.
Brother Love
11 — A Walk
I’m Walkin’
Joe Crow as Jinx the Magpie, by Dan Antion
Shouts of “Hallelujah!” continued to resound through the congregation. It made no difference that there was a scuffle at the choir’s exit, where Sargent Poole arrested Ruth Leiber. It only added to the cacophony of noises. The revival tent was in chaos.
Standing just a step away from us, I saw Brother Love. A moth fluttered past the guitar, which was still slung across his back. His face radiated an angelic smile. His reaction seemed absurd to me.
What if Tammy panicked and ran? I kept a tight hold on her shoulder. If she started running, that would be disastrous for a hemophiliac.
But is she really a free bleeder? I abruptly wondered. Tammy’s dad, the man who died in a fight with Doug… he was a hemophiliac. Yet Doug’s comment a moment before came back to me. Did Doug think he, in fact, might be Tammy’s true father?
Tammy’s eyes darted from Doug to me, to her bleeding hand. Hurriedly she pointed at Doug.
“Miss Birdie,” the girl began in a normal voice.
A faint ringing filled my ears. It grew louder, drowning out Tammy’s voice, but she had stopped talking anyway.
Almost everything around me started to move very slowly. Almost.
Unraveled by Dan Antion
Jinx continued to scratch at the white handkerchief, trying to cover my locket.
Tammy shifted closer to me. Her eyes quickly roamed the stage.
However, those were the only things that seemed to move at a normal rate.
As sluggishly as everything besides Jinx and Tammy, the moth ever so gradually made its way through the air toward the lights above. It was impossible that the insect didn’t move faster.
Brother Love stood still. I couldn’t tell if he was affected by whatever was happening, or if he simply hadn’t moved.
Doug’s mouth made slight movements, like a film where the projector was running down to a stop. Bit by bit his eyes turned to the blood coming from Tammy’s finger.
As I watched, the narrow stream of the child’s blood slowly lifted into the air. The stream of droplets pointed toward Doug.
Then the blood divided into two streams, one of which pointed to me.
Doug’s mouth stopped in an odd mid-word expression.
The moth’s absurdly slow assent completely halted.
Red Spots by Dan Antion
Yet Brother Love stepped forward to stand beside me. He moved the guitar from his back to hold it in one long fingered hand.
My eyes went back to the divided stream of blood. I wasn’t sure if I heard it making a faint hum, or if I felt the quivering of it. Either way, the two streams vibrated at different pitches.
“My grandma always said blood will tell, although she meant it in a hateful way,” Brother Love commented as if in idle conversation. “Like attracts like. At first, I didn’t know if the girl was like us, or if she just had… well, let’s say special mental abilities. But her blood is attracted to its like.”
What did he mean, like us? I wondered.
Although I didn’t have to think about the idea of Tammy having “special mental abilities.” It had been clear the first time I met the child that she was different. I remembered that moment clearly. It had been about the calendar in my kitchen.
Maybe Tammy could have seen into the kitchen window. She looked at the house and then at me.
“I like July better than August too,” she told me.
I wondered if they had the same PanAm calendar that hung on my kitchen wall. How else would Tammy come up with that comment about July and August?
As the Ford got back on the road, I looked toward my kitchen window. The calendar wasn’t visible from the spot where the car had been.
From the branches of the magnolia tree, Jinx started singing “Washed in the Blood” again.
Magnolia, Wikipedia
Gradually, the thin stream of red droplets that moved toward Doug reached him. In slow motion, it splashed onto his shirt.
“That’s where his heart would be,” I murmured.
Jinx had stopped scratching the handkerchief. Instead, he pecked at the locket until it was half open. Carrying the necklace, he hopped over to me.
The other part of the stream of blood continued its inexorable progress toward the spot where Brother Love, Jinx, and I were. Love’s coal-black eyes went to the bird.
“Still not ready yet, magpie?” he asked the odd question. “All things in their own time then,” he finished with a shrug.
I looked at Jinx curiously.
There had always been a magpie. My mother said his name was Jinx. She said her mother gave him to her.
Jinx came and went as he pleased. Now and then he would disappear for a while, sometimes for a long time. I realized it couldn’t be the same bird every time he came back. The magpie would have been more than sixty years old if that was the case. Yet he was always named Jinx.
“They say there’s a secret chord,” Brother Love commented casually. “One that pleases the Lord. I wonder if that’s so.”
Then he strummed an intricate sound on the guitar. I was amazed that he could place his fingers in such a complex position on the frets. I also saw that the guitar had an extra string.
Simone at Pixaby
He strummed the chord a second time, and then a third.
The thin stream of blood became a fine cloud of mist. I felt the minute moisture on my skin, but as quickly as the sensation came, it was gone, absorbed.
I looked at Tammy’s finger. The place where the cardboard cut her finger was completely healed. Not so much as a blemish remained.
Brother Love turned to Doug. He strummed the guitar again. Doug “caught up” with us, though the rest of the congregation, and everything else in the tent, remained immobile.
Doug’s hand shot out to grab Tammy’s. He examined her finger carefully. He made relieved sounds. I thought words were probably beyond him for that moment.
Jinx still held my half-opened locket in his beak. He whistled. Then he dropped it and the name paper fell out.
Composite image by Teagan
The words of the hoodoo protection spell began to unravel. To my eyes, the script seemed to lift into the air, much as Tammy’s blood had done.
In order to make that name paper, words ― intentions had been written over each other nine times. With each intention, the paper was turned clockwise before writing. It made it impossible for me to decipher the decades old script. Previously, I had been able to make out my own name, but nothing else.
As I watched, the letters of my name, Alberta Devovo, lifted into the air. I also saw the name, Jinx.
I looked curiously at the magpie. He perched on the headstock of Brother Love’s guitar. With his head tilted to one side, Jinx intently stared at the words floating in the air.
It was hard to decipher the words as they wavered in midair. I made out “Keep them safe.” However, trying to read the shifting script was making my stomach queasy. One word came into focus ― home.
“How odd that I’d see that word, when I’ve never felt at home for as long as I can remember.”
Birdie Devovo’s house as imagined by Dan Antion
I didn’t think I had spoken aloud, but Brother Love replied.
“There’s a reason for that, Birdie Devovo,” he said with a bright-eyed smile.
Then I saw the rest of that line of the hoodoo spell, “Bring them home.”
Abruptly the nine layers of words began to flow into a connected stream. It swirled, growing larger. My scalp tickled as my hair lifted slightly. I felt it pull at me.
A silent exchange seemed to take place between Jinx and Brother Love.
“Magpie, you just told me that you ain’t ready,” Love protested. “Oh, I get it. You ready for them to be ready, even if you ain’t.”
Brother Love began playing a blues tune on the guitar. The magpie fluttered down to me.
About the time I recognized the notes for a Muddy Waters tune called “I’m Ready,” Jinx started to sing part of the song.
I know you feels like I ain’t nowhere
But stop what you’re doin’ baby come over here
I’ll prove to you baby, that I ain’t no square
Because I’m ready, ready as anybody can be
I am ready for you, I hope you’re ready for me
As the magpie sang, he stepped toward the swirling script from my name paper. I wondered that the spiral didn’t suck the bird away. I could feel it’s pull growing stronger.
A different kind of swirl Dan found
“Are you ready, Tammy?” Brother Love asked the girl.
The child seemed to understand everything that was happening. Although I sure didn’t!
Tammy looked at Doug. He looked rather confused, but not as utterly befuddled as I felt. I thought he had at least some idea of what was happening.
“Only if he comes too,” the girl stated firmly.
Doug and Tammy stood beside Brother Love. Doug took Tammy’s hand. He took a deep breath.
“The first time I met you,” Doug began as he looked into Brother Love’s dark eyes. “I thought you meant to carry me to Hell. Now I see that you’ve given me a great gift, even if only for a moment,” he added as he looked down at Tammy’s tiny hand in his huge one. “If Jesus is calling my child home, then I am ready to meet the Lord too,” Doug pronounced.
“What?” Brother Love exclaimed in shock. “It ain’t like that, Sinnerman. Well, you weren’t never a magpie, but if the girl wants you to come with us, then that’s alright with me.”
At those words, Doug looked as confused as I felt. I murmured my lack of understanding.
Jinx imitated the ring of a phone again. I gazed helplessly at everyone else.
“Birdie Devovo, why do you think the phones rang one time? Why do you think the magpie makes the ring sound?” Brother Love asked in a bemused voice. “He heard the call. He wants to make sure you hear it too, even though you ignore it.”
That didn’t enlighten me at all.
Brother Love played another series of chords on the guitar. Each tone was more intricate than the last.
The ringing sound was overwhelming. The swirling of the words from the name paper grew in velocity. My eyes squeezed shut. I felt myself being pulled into a vortex.
***
Foggy Cemetery, Dan Antion
Abruptly the pressure that surrounded me released. The ringing stopped. We were enveloped in the cool air of a foggy evening.
Through the mist I could make out tombstones in the distance to one side. Turning, I could see the roofline of my house. That meant we were at the crossroads.
“Crossroads are how I travel,” Brother Love answered my unasked question. “My energy comes from them.”
“Are we… dead?” Doug questioned in an unsteady voice.
Tammy chuckled. She still held his hand.
“No, silly,” she told her father. “But now we don’t have to be strange or different,” she murmured as if to herself. “We don’t have to be alone,” she looked up at Doug and told him with a smile.
“We won’t be shunned,” she added as she turned to me.
“What is it with that bird?” Doug blurted out as Jinx alighted on Tammy’s shoulder.
Jinx models a bow tie while perched on Dan’s birdcage
“He’s still a magpie,” Brother Love told him, as if that explained anything.
“Jinx is still a magpie. We were all magpies once. Except for you of course,” Tammy told Doug.
“Well, not ordinary magpies. For certain beings, this particular kind of magpie is a stage of their progression,” Brother Love supplied.
He turned to me when I muttered my lack of understanding.
“Before I became me, I was like you,” Brother Love said. “Before that, I was like Jinx, a magpie. Just not the regular kind. So were you, Birdie ― and Tammy.”
“Jinx should have become like you a long time ago. But for reasons of his own, he is not ready to stop being a magpie,” Brother Love added.
Brother Love stood in the middle of the crossroads. He spread his arms wide. We all moved closer to him.
He had said he used crossroads to travel. He seemed to mean we could go with him. Tammy bounced on her toes eagerly.
The fog drew closer to us. I could no longer see beyond the crossroads. The mist started to shimmer.
“How?” was all I could manage to ask.
“You ain’t got to do nothing,” he replied. “I’ll take care of that part.”
“Where?” Doug asked, equally brief.
“Wherever we need to go,” Tammy told him.
“Yes,” Brother Love agreed with the girl. “There must be a need.”
Joe Crow as Jinx the Magpie — I’m Walkin’ by Dan Antion
Once again, Jinx imitated the ring of a telephone. The tone of the ring sounded the same, but that time the vibration of it felt different to me. It seemed to settle into my skin, instead of bouncing off my eardrums.
I had no idea what had changed, what was different, but in that moment, for the first time I could remember, everything felt right.
Jinx fluttered to the ground. With the bobbing gait of a magpie, he walked toward the shimmering fog. In the distance I heard the faint ring of a telephone. Jinx seemed to be moving toward the sound.
As the magpie walked, Jinx started singing Fats Domino’s song.
I’m walkin’, yes indeed, and I’m talkin’ ’bout you and me
I’m hopin’ that you’ll come back to me
I’m lonely as I can be, I’m waitin’ for your company
I’m hopin’ that you’ll come back to me
I shrugged and followed the magpie. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew it was where I needed to be.
The end.
As promised the “universal” links to Amazon in various countries for Brother Love – A Crossroad are here below the book cover.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.
I haven’t been sure whether it was close or far — the end of this story. It seemed like it was both at once. However, that’s been part of “Brother Love” from the beginning, things not being as they appear, or seeming more than one thing at once.
I didn’t know until after I started writing Chapter 11, that it is the conclusion of the story. So I hope you’ll be sure to get to the crossroadsthis weekend.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.
Dan Antion got a kick out of finding “Jinx” in this antique rug. It reminded me of the recent July Fourth holiday.
Welcome to the crossroads.
To my friends to the north, I hope you had a lovely Canada Day. To those in the USA, I hope you enjoyed the Fourth of July and celebrated our precious freedom.
I appreciate you coming back after my little break last weekend.
Tammy turned to Brother Love, who apparently had not noticed her come onto the stage. The child gasped and stretched her hand toward Brother Love. Suddenly a dark red stain seeped across the bodice of her pure white dress.
Her hand went to the rapidly spreading stain. Tammy sank to her knees.
***
Without further ado, let’s get to the crossroads.
Brother Love
10 — A Cut
Magnolia Leaves, Earthly Bonds, Spaghetti
Three Crows by Dan Antion
Wind through the magnolia leavesmade a ghostly sound outside. Insects of all sorts flew around inside the top of the tent. A trio of crows had managed to get inside. Unnoticed by the humans below, they sat on the topmost trusses, feasting on the bugs.
The crows weren’t interested in the magpie, and Jinx paid them no mind as he roosted on the lowest of the tent’s trusses, closest to the action on the ground.
Jinx gazed curiously at Tammy as her white dress gradually covered with red. He remembered the song he had learned. That was right before the first time he saw Tammy. He knew the song had been about the girl.
The magpie looked at Birdie. He wanted to sing that song to her again, but she didn’t like the hymn. So, he chirped out the song while he watched the drama unfold from the safety of the high tent trusses.
“Are you washed in the blood? In the soul cleansing blood of the lamb,” Jinx sang.
1952 Screen Stars magazine, Ava Gardner
The woman with glittering balls dangling from her ears started screaming.
“My baby! My baby! Somebody, help my baby!” she wailed.
She dropped her fan. She put one hand to her head and flailed the other like a hurt wing as she staggered. Then she flopped down on the floor.
Ever intrigued by the odd behavior of humans, Jinx leaned as far forward as he could. He slipped, but he unfurled his wings and dug his claws into the beam.
“I meant to do that,” he whistled.
He glanced up at the three crows. They hadn’t noticed.
All the people stopped looking at Tammy and turned to see what the woman was doing.
The bird recognized that group of men who wanted Sinnerman to do something earlier. They hurried to the woman.
Birdie sprang up from her seat and darted onto the stage. As Birdie ran, the shiny box she wore on a chain around her neck fell to the floor.
She reached Tammy before anyone else. She knelt beside the child. Doug was there a second later.
The magpie’s eyes were glued to the locket as it reflected the stage lights. He knew the metal box was special to Birdie. She never let him play with it.
Composite image by Teagan
He also remembered the little paper that was covered with strange human scratching. Birdie folded that paper and put it inside the shiny box when she was getting dressed earlier that evening. (Chapter 7 — A Lament)
The paper had a peculiar odor. The humans didn’t seem to smell it. However, to the magpie, there was something familiar about the scent. He just couldn’t say what.
The bird swooped down to grab the locket. He didn’t want the crows or any of the humans to get it. Jinx was quick and there was a lot happening, so nobody seemed to notice him. After he got the shiny box, he darted behind the podium, near Birdie.
***
***
Vintage Medical Books by Dan Antion
***
Momma hadn’t cared one way or the other, and I’d had all I could stand of the gossips and bullies. So, I had dropped out of high school years before that day.
Most of the teachers weren’t any better than the students. However, the first aid teacher wasn’t as bad. I liked her class. It was just basic stuff, but I remembered you were supposed to put pressure on a wound to slow the bleeding.
Tammy’s eyes weren’t simply closed. Rather, they were shut tight. I thought that must mean she was in terrible pain.
“But where is the wound?” I murmured aloud, frantic to do something about the bleeding.
Doug said something in response, but I didn’t hear his words. He gently lifted Tammy’s head enough to feel behind it.
I didn’t think that was a likely place for the wound. Then I remembered what he told me about the fight that sent him to prison. Of course, Doug would look there. The other man’s head got cut. He hadn’t died because of the fight. He died because he was a free bleeder. Doug had “come to Jesus,” plus he had been a model prisoner. His sentence was commuted.
Photo by Dan Antion
“Have mercy, Jesus! Earthly bonds can’t hold the child here,” an old lady keened from the front row. “She’ll be safe in the arms of Jesus.”
Amid gasps of horror, Brother Love’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. He looked at the blood-soaked front of Tammy’s white dress quizzically.
“It ain’t the child what needs healing,” Brother Love stated calmly.
Murmurs of confusion and astonishment rose from the congregation.
I found his words just as confusing as everyone else. However, I was so focused on the little girl that I didn’t take time to process the bizarre statement.
With a sudden thought, my head whipped around toward Doug. When his eyes met mine, it was as if he already knew what I was thinking.
“The man you killed,” I started. “I mean the man who died, the free bleeder. He was Tammy’s father, wasn’t he?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” Doug replied quietly, as his fingers searched the back of Tammy’s head. “When I went to prison, he didn’t have a daughter,” he explained with a slight hesitation. “I had been seeing a woman, and he was her ex-boyfriend. The fight was about her. But she wouldn’t have anything to do with me after I went to jail. I didn’t know there was a child for years, but Tammy’s age is right…” he finished uncertainly.
We only spoke for a couple of seconds. Our attention never wavered from the child.
Most of the blood was on Tammy’s chest, but I didn’t see any tear in her white dress. Cautiously, my hands checked the wet area. However, part of my mind was stuck on what Doug had not said.
“Do mean that you think you might―” I started to ask the question.
Something squished under my fingers. I drew back, disturbed. I touched the spot again with one finger. I felt the same squish, and a lot more blood seeped onto the girl’s dress.
Collage featuring hymnal by Dan Antion. Tomfoolery by Teagan
“Hello! I am Chef Boyarrrrdee,” Jinx whistled and said with in an Italian accent.
Startled, I turned my head. The magpie was sitting on a shelf inside the podium. He had my locket. I hadn’t even noticed it was no longer hanging from my neck.
Jinx saw me looking and started scratching a frayed white hankie to cover the necklace. It was one of the big handkerchiefs like Doug always carried.
Not thinking about my blood covered hands, I lifted one to push back my hair. That’s when I smelled it ― spaghetti sauce.
I put my red coated fingers to my nose. It wasn’t blood covering the girl’s dress. Rather it was some sort of tomatoey liquid.
Tammy’s eyes popped open and she looked right at me. Her gaze was at once fearful and conspiratorial.
“Whaa―?” I began.
The child’s hand went to her cardboard fan. However, my knee was on it. When she pulled the fan out from under my knee, the edge of the paper cut her finger.
“Ow!” Tammy sat up and exclaimed.
That was real blood.
Tammy shrieked. She stared in horror at her bleeding finger.
Every eye returned to the child. Except mine. I saw Ruth Leiber slinking toward the choir exit.
Red Spots by Dan Antion
I stretched up onto my knees, as far as I could and still hold Tammy. I was afraid to let go of her. If there had been some trick going on before, the blood coming from her hand was real. I was afraid she would panic and run. That would be disastrous for a hemophiliac.
Fortune smiled on me and I spotted Sargent Lamar Poole. He must have started toward the podium when pandemonium broke out, because he was almost there.
I yelled his name. With my free hand I pointed toward Ruth Leiber.
“Over there, Sargent! Stop Ava Gardner!” was all I could think of saying that would get my meaning across quickly enough.
Sargent Poole looked at me like he was sure I had lost my mind. Then he looked to the other side of the stage and saw Ruth. Comprehension dawned on Poole’s face. He inconspicuously maneuvered through the crowd. By the time Ruth reached the exit, so did the policeman.
In her distress, Tammy’s fingernails dug painfully into my hand. Ruth Leiber and Sargent Poole immediately left my thoughts.
As I looked down at Tammy, she deliberately raised her bleeding hand. With bulging eyes, she regarded her real blood.
Doug seemed to be saying something to me. His mouth opened and sluggishly changed position, as if he had taffy stuck in his teeth. He made a loud but dull warble of incomprehensible sound.
Paweł Czerwiński at Unsplash
Tammy’s eyes darted from Doug to me, to her bleeding hand. Her hand jerked as she pointed to Doug. The blood was flung out in a stream.
Then the blood slowed as it passed through the air of that hot August night.
It hung there. A stream of red droplets was suspended in… nothing.
Jinx mimicked the sound of a telephone ringing one time.
My ears started to ring with the very same sound. However, it went on and on, an endless ring.
The end.
***
Real World Notes — Chef Boyardee
Chef Boyardee in his first commercial — that was broadcast in 1953. Chef Boyardee wasn’t exactly a fictional character for the brand. He was a real chef named Ettore “Hector” Boiardi, an Italian immigrant. This first commercial features Mr. Boiardi as Chef Boy-Ar-Dee, commonly known now as Chef Boyardee.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.
Summertime is busy for many people. I know it’s hard to keep up with serials. So, I’m even more grateful that you read Brother Love.
In the USA, lots of folks will be taking time off and/or vacationing before, during, and after the Independence Day holiday. (I know, from having been a kid with a birthday during that time, how scarce people are.) I had not planned to, but I’m taking a break this weekend.
Speaking of that, many happy returns to my birthday sibling, Christoph Fischer! It’s almost our day.
Next weekend I’ll be back with more photos from Dan Antion of No Facilities fame, as well as Brother Love, Chapter 10 — A Cut.
To tide you over, here’s a teaser from the next chapter. If you want to play a guessing game, figure out who left (an longer version of) magnolia leaves as a “thing.”
Revival Tent in Pennsylvania, Wikipedia
Teaser for Chapter 10 — A Cut
Wind through the magnolia leaves made a ghostly sound outside. Insects of all sorts flew around in the top of the tent. A trio of crows had managed to get inside. Unnoticed by the humans below, they sat on the topmost trusses, feasting on the bugs.
The crows weren’t interested in the magpie, and Jinx paid them no mind as he roosted on the lowest of the tent’s trusses, closest to the action on the ground.
The woman with glittering balls dangling from her ears started screaming.
“My baby! My baby! Somebody, help my baby!” she wailed, and then flopped down on the floor.
Jinx leaned as far forward as he could. He slipped, but he unfurled his wings and dug his claws into the beam.
“I meant to do that,” he whistled.
He glanced up at the three crows. They hadn’t noticed.
Collage featuring hymnal by Dan Antion. Tomfoolery by Teagan
Like I was saying, I’m taking a break — so comments are closed. Please come back and talk to me next time.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.
Collage featuring hymnal by Dan Antion. Tomfoolery by Teagan
Welcome back to the crossroads.
I think this is an upbeat chapter. You could say it has a good gospel beat. (Winks.) However, the characters experience some uncertainty. Hence the melody in this introduction.
In Chapter 7 — A Lament, Birdie Devovo was reluctant to go to the revival service, even though Dough Armstrong asked her to be there for moral support. When they arrived, we saw Birdie had good reason for not wanting to go. This time Doug has to struggle with something.
Those struggles put me in mind of one of my favorite songs, Hallelujah, written by Leonard Cohen. The song is not about religion, and neither is this story. Even though the song is from a later era, it felt like a perfect fit. I love hearing Cohen sing it himself here. However, my favorite version, the one that cuts to the core of my soul, was sung by Jeff Buckley.
Those of you who know the lyrics to Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show will see that in this chapter I had a lot of fun with the words to the song. If you want to play (or sing) along, here’s a link to the lyrics.
Also, because some of you asked so nicely, I made another narrated snippet. It’s rough, done on the fly, and I make no pretense that it’s professional. Keep an eye out for it during the revival service.
Photos & Things. Of course, Dan Antion, let me use his photographs to illustrate Brother Love. Remember I started naming the businesses in Parliament, Mississippi after readers? This week you’ll find Ginger’s Galley, a seafood restaurant, named in honor of Ginger, aka Murphy’s Law.
This time all the random “things” that drove the episode were from readers. JoAnne Macco sent Bow Tie. Rob Goldstein gave us Speaking in Tongues. I haven’t gotten a comment from her since, but Maggie McLeod left a terrific thing for this setting, Cardboard Fan. Now what the Sam Hill am I going to do with those things? Read on to see!
Chapter 8 — A Confession. Ruth Leiber admitted she is not Tammy’s mother. Then she tried to blackmail Doug Armstrong about his stent in prison. Unluckily for her, Doug’s an open book. However, Ruth wasn’t ready to give up so easily. She insinuated that Tammy isn’t really a “free bleeder” and that the child’s father wasn’t the man who was married to her mother. Can we believe Ruth’s inference? After all, she’s a con artist and skilled at innuendo. Although, even if we can believe her, what does it mean?
Chapter 6 — A Ring. Then there’s that infernal telephone ring. Every time we turn around, somewhere there’s a telephone that rings just once. Jinx had noticed the tone of the ring matched the note of the guitar when the mysterious musician played Crossroad Blues. It also seems to ring when someone makes a decision…
Vintage rotary phone, photo by Dan Antion
Here’s where we left the story.Abruptly the heat of the August night was broken by a gust of wind that blew through the tent. The pages of hymnals and Bibles rustled.
Then to Birdie’s astonishment, Jinx glided down the center aisle. The magpie swooped down to alight on the pew in front of her.
Jinx imitated the sound of a single telephone ring.
Jinx is waiting for us at the crossroads.
Brother Love
9 — A Hallelujah
Bow Tie, Speaking in Tongues, Cardboard Fan
Church pews from back with hymnals, by Dan Antion
The magpie looked right at me. Jinx shifted foot-to-foot where he alighted on the pew in front of me. He whistled and bobbed his head to make sure I was paying attention. Then he imitated the sound of a ringing phone.
That single ring happened at the payphone the day Tammy fell on the sidewalk. Doug was there. He said he had been undecided, but that was when he decided he would preach at the revival.
Then I remembered the pay phone had done the single ring a few minutes earlier that day. It was right after Tammy ran out in front of that car, and tripped. I was sure she would have skinned her knees. With her being a free bleeder that could have been a disaster.
However, the phone rang once and when I turned back to the child, that strange man was there, helping Tammy up and drying her tears. All I could think about was how dark his eyes were. They were black as coal. Then he seemed to disappear the moment I looked away.
Birdie Devovo, photo by Martinlee at Dreamstime
Next, my own telephone rang just once, when I was getting dressed earlier that evening. I had almost backed out of coming, but made myself go through with it.
If the single ring indicated a decision, then what about that first instance. Had someone besides Doug and me made a decision ― insignificant though the choices seemed to be?
I had the kind of strange feeling you get when you glimpse movement at the edge of your vision, but you don’t see anything when you turn. Or you hear a song that you’re sure you know, but you can’t put a name to the tune.
The magpie gave low whistle and bobbed his head. Jinx made a single ring sound, and then flew high up into the tent trusses where he settled.
Tent Trusses, by Dan Antion
I looked from Jinx to Doug, to Tammy and the woman.
Everything became suddenly still. It was so quiet I could almost hear myself sweat. The expression on Doug’s face changed.
“Now that’s nervous,” I thought. “No maybe about it this time.”
I turned to follow Doug’s gaze.
He walked in ― the man I had briefly seen on the sidewalk. The man who helped Tammy up and dried her tears.
As he swaggered closer, I could see his eyes, black as coal. I noticed a guitar was slung across his back.
A name ran through the congregation like wild fire.
“Brother Love!” the murmur cascaded down the pews.
Simone at Pixaby
Other than the tide of his name, the people were silent. It was as if they waited for permission to breathe. That included Doug. The preacher looked like he knew that feeling well.
“But you don’t have to invite them to dinner,” Doug’s words seemed to hang in the humid air.
However, every ear in the place was on the newcomer.
Abruptly the man spoke in a rousing voice.
“Come and dine, my children! Come and dine! ‘Jesus saith unto them, Come and dine. And none of the disciples durst ask him, Who art thou?’ Come and dine!” his voice boomed across the tent.
I wasn’t sure if his words were meant to contradict or complement the puzzling statement Doug had just made. Either way both his words and presence clearly pleased the audience.
The pianist began playing the old hymn, Come and Dine. The choir hurried back onto the stage. They hummed to the music. However, the choir director motioned them to quiet when the man started to speak.
“Would you come and dine, dear sister?” he asked in a respectful tone as he paused his strut and bent over an elderly woman.
Feebly she raised her hand heavenward. Filled with the Spirit, she waved a handkerchief with crochet trim she surely made herself and shouted something that may have been “Praise Jesus!”
Cristian Newman, Unsplash
Doug stepped back as the man with the guitar lithely hopped up to the pulpit.
“Hallelujah,” came a ripple of shouts from the congregation. “Hallelujah!”
“Brothers,” he started soft and slow.
The choir swayed in perfect rhythm to unheard music.
“I said brothers,” he emphasized as if there was anyone in the tent who wasn’t listening.
The choir began to softly clap their hands in time to the song only they could hear. The congregation started to clap along. Brother Love smiled and held out his hands, palms up, toward the people.
“You got yourself two hands. They’re both good hands. Now I want everybody to shake the hand of the person on their right,” he said.
As the congregation turned and began shaking hands and hugging one another, I was relieved that there was no one on my right. It would have been too awkward if the person who was supposed to shake my hand refused.
I looked across the aisle. A man wearing a short-sleeved shirt and abow tie awkwardly met my gaze. The man next to him whispered something with a sidelong glance at me. The bow tie bobbed as the first guy gulped and quickly turned his back to shake the hand of the person next to him.
Revival_meeting_George R. Brunk II in Goshen IN 1950s_Theron F Schlabach Photos at Wikimedia Commons
I didn’t realize that Doug had stepped back down to his seat in front of me where the other preachers sat until he tapped my shoulder. His gaze fell briefly on the man who had just turned his back. Doug looked like he forced himself to smile as he shook my hand. I wondered what had him so upset.
“Now when your brother ― or your sister is troubled,” Brother Love went on just as Doug took my hand. “You got to reach out your one hand to give him. Cause that’s what your hand’s there for,” the soft slow voice continued.
“Bless Jesus!” an old lady shouted, as tears streamed down her face.
Brother Love jumped down from the stage and took the woman’s hand. He helped her sit as he knelt down beside the pew to pray with her.
However, she was determined to go to the altar a few feet away. Two of the preachers helped her to kneel. Half a dozen people hurried to the front to pray alongside her.
In a flash Brother Love was at the pulpit again.
“Yes, my children, and when your own heart is troubled, you got to reach out your other hand,” he proclaimed with the building intensity of a small earthquake.
“Reach it out to the man up there! Cause that’s what He’s there for!” he instructed amid more shouts of hallelujah.
The congregation erupted in chaos. There was singing and shouting, people jumping up to testify. There was everything short of speaking in tongues.
The passion of it all was overwhelming. I felt the vibration of all the sounds. I thought half the valley would shake.
Then Brother Love abruptly down-shifted his pace. He picked up his guitar and started to sing.
Take my hand in yours Walk with me this day In my heart I know I will never stray
***
A completely on the fly, narrated snippet.
***
Swaying and clapping, the choir joined in for a hallelujah-filled chorus.
I saw Tammy in her shining white dress move toward the center of the stage.
Doug’s transfixed gaze was on the child. Then he turned around to me as if he would speak. An expression of epiphany came to his face. He stood and moved toward the pulpit.
Cardboard fans fluttered throughout the tent. They bore a picture of large fishing boat. The fans were advertisements for a local seafood restaurant called Ginger’s Galley.
“There’s definitely something fishy going on with Ruth Leiber,” I thought.
Ruth and Tammy both held fans. Ruth was saying something to the other preachers who still stood nearby. The woman seemed impatient. I heard several voices whisper the word healing.
The little group of preachers began to talk among themselves. They first looked at Doug and then at Brother Love. It looked like they expected Brother Love to do something, presumably the healing.
Meanwhile Ruth drew Tammy away from the men. The woman’s face was fierce as she whispered to the girl. Tammy shook her head “No” in a stubborn looking way. Ruth’s eyes flashed and she put her mouth very close to the child’s ear.
I don’t know what Ruth said, but Tammy’s face bore a frightened expression. She gave a stiff nod. Ruth put her hands on the girl’s shoulders and pointed her toward the pulpit. Then she gave her a gentle, barely noticeable push.
Tammy quietly climbed the few steps to the stage. Her eyes were fixed on Doug. She used the fan she still held to wave at him. Then she turned to Brother Love, who apparently had not noticed her come onto the stage.
Timothy Eberly, Unsplash
The child gasped and stretched her hand toward Brother Love. Suddenly a dark red stain seeped across the bodice of her pure white dress.
Her hand went to the rapidly spreading stain. Tammy sank to her knees.
The end.
***
Real World Notes — Bow Ties
Jinx, on Dan’s birdcage, models a bow tie
Bow ties have an unexpected origin. We can thank Croatian mercenaries of the 17th century for them. The Croat mercenaries basically tied a scarf around their necks to hold together the opening of their shirts. Anyhow, they’ve gone up and down in popularity ever since.
Bow ties resurged as a neck-wear choice in 1957. They were often formal. However, they were also fun, especially since they were available in textured fabrics and modern prints. Those artistic patterns were inspired by the atomic age and by Art Deco styles. Square ends ties, two tone, and butterfly bow ties were all fashionable.
.
***
I’m glad you could make it to the crossroads for Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show! I hope you’ll say hello in a comment.
I’ll meet you at the crossroads again next Saturday! Hugs on the wing.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.
This chapter has two things from Dan Antion, who shares his photographs to illustrate Brother Love. Read on to see how I used Bubblegum and Newspaper in this episode.
The third “thing” that is used to drive Chapter 8 is from Fraggle, aka C. J. Hyslop, who is a marvelous photographer. It’s easy to see what a terrific imagination she has at Fraggle’s Other Place. What was Fraggle’s thing? Camera, of course!
I have to give Dan credit for a line in this chapter. In our discussion about the two evangelists who inspired my Doug Armstrong character, Dan talked about something the preacher from his past said about not inviting people to dinner. Keep reading and you’ll see what I mean.
Chapter 7 — A Lament. Birdie saw a picture of that movie star again, but she had blond hair. Later she saw another blond.
Meanwhile at the revival meeting, the other preachers tried to pressure Doug Armstrong into doing a “healing.” Honest man that Doug is, he resisted, but he saw little Tammy waiting in the wings.
Jinx is waiting for us at the crossroads.
Brother Love
8 — A Confession
Bubblegum, Camera, Newspaper
Bubblegum, by Dan Antion
Bright pink, the ball of bubblegum distracted Jinx. When he picked it up to investigate, it stuck to his beak. The magpie gave a violent shake of his head, and nearly knocked himself over. The gum came loose.
The music stopped and the guitar player chuckled at him.
He turned back around, but the man had disappeared that quickly.
Jinx flew to the revival tent. Even though he couldn’t see the mysterious figure, the magpie was sure that was where the musician was headed.
The bird watched as an old school bus pulled up to the ragtag tent. A man hurried out and met the driver as he climbed down from the vehicle.
The dirty bandana, by Dan Antion
“You’ve missed half the service,” the usher said.
“Man, it’s hotter’n the hinges on the gates of Hades!” the driver grumbled.
He held his cap with one hand, and used the other to wipe sweat that glittered on his bare pate. The red print bandana he used as a handkerchief was smeared with black grease.
“Fan belt broke,” he added in belated answer. “Fixin’ that thing wore me slap out.”
“Shame. Well, grab the old ladies and help them down to the front row. They always get in the Spirit and help get the crowd going. I’ll help pack up the babies and get them to the front too. You never know who might need healing,” the usher added with a wink.
“We all go to the front?” a man with a camera asked.
“Yessiree! Everybody goes. You know Brother Love’s show. Now you be sure and take plenty of pictures for your Gospel Times.”
Polaroid Land Camera circa 1960, by Dan Antion
Jinx flew across to the back side of the tent. The bird settled on a tree limb when he saw Sinnerman below. The big man had just stepped out of the large tent, having followed the woman who wore little glittering balls dangling from her ears.
With his sharp hearing, it was no effort for the magpie to hear their conversation. However, making sense of humans and their words was not always so easy.
“You don’t need any gift of healing,” the woman began heatedly. “Just put your hands on her head and yell ‘Healed!’ or something,” she demanded.
The man’s eyebrows flew down into a V fit for a migratory formation of birds. He didn’t seem to like the woman’s words, no matter how shiny her earrings were. She seemed to realize that too, because her voice quickly changed.
“Please, Brother Armstrong,” she started over, placing a hand on his bicep and murmuring approval. “If you will please just try. I’m desperate for Tammy to be healed. But we can’t stay here any longer. I don’t know how I can ever pay the doctor, but she has an appointment with a specialist that took six months to get. So, we need to leave in the morning,” she added without looking at Sinnerman.
The big man’s shoulders drooped in a defeated way. He turned back toward the tent. The woman smiled behind him. Then he turned back to her, eyebrows making the V again.
“Why would you ask me to heal her, even though I’m not able, when you are planning on going to a doctor?”
Ava Gardner in The Killers, 1946
The buttons on the front of her dress weren’t as sparkly as her earrings, but the pearl-like beads had a sheen that Jinx liked. He noticed when for a quick second she turned her back and undid a few of the buttons at her neck.
The woman wriggled up onto a picnic table and crossed her legs. Jinx liked the gold buckles on the ankle straps of her high-heeled sandals.
“Look,” she began. “There’s no need to pussyfoot around. I reckon we can help each other. I know all about you and the time you did in prison.”
The magpie leaned closer on his hidden perch. The big man’s face had turned the same bright pink of the bubblegum that had stuck to his beak. Jinx thought humans must be the strangest species in the world.
“The haul will be bigger if there’s a healing. It always is,” the woman continued. “I just need one more score so I can get out of the country. I’ll split it with you.”
Her lips tightened when she looked at the expression on the big man’s face. He moved as if he meant to walk away.
“Now, listen here. I know you got out of prison early. If you try to turn me in, one word from me will get your parole revoked,” she threatened Sinnerman.
“My prison time is no secret. You can’t blackmail me with it. And I’m not on parole. My sentence was commuted,” he said. “Yes, I killed a man in a fight. He got a cut on his head. That was all. It turned out he was a free bleeder. He wouldn’t have died otherwise. That’s why I got out early.”
Newspaper in the rain, by Dan Antion
“I know. That’s why I came here,” she told him and was rewarded with his surprised look. “The kid with me is his daughter. Her mother died in a car wreck a couple of years back. I read a newspaper article about it.”
Sinnerman’s mouth moved but no words came out of it. Jinx knew it was hard to make new words. He gave a soft whistle of encouragement, but the humans didn’t notice. The woman kept talking.
“Bless her heart, I couldn’t let her end up in foster care. You know, that mother instinct kicked in. I was able to persuade a judge to let me have her,” she went on and leaned back to look at the sky.
“I tell you what, the money the state gives a poor foster mother isn’t enough to get by on,” she added. “The newspaper articles I found about Tammy being orphaned ― those are good. But the ones about her father having hemophilia? They’re a gold mine! Everybody assumes that the kid has it too.”
She paused and leered at Sinnerman.
“But she doesn’t, does she? And we both know why,” the woman finished with a vulpine smile.
She winked and swung her legs where she sat on the picnic table.
The V returned to the big man’s eyebrows. His mouth again looked like he wanted to say a new word.
Several humans came out, asking them to come back inside. Whatever word the man wanted to make remained unsaid.
***
Church pews from back with hymnals, by Dan Antion
***
My hand lifted toward Doug Armstrong, but the group of men hurried him out the side entrance.
I had to tell him that I recognized the woman. She was the spitting image of the blond Ava Gardner on the magazine I saw the girls drop outside. She was also a bleached version of the face on the fugitive poster ― Ruth Leiber, wanted for grand larceny.
What should I do? Call the police, I answered myself. A church would have an office, and possibly a phone, but that wasn’t the case for a temporary tent. So, that wasn’t an option.
Standing, I turned to scan the crowd. I was relieved to see a policeman in the audience. At first, I didn’t recognize him out of uniform, but I spotted Sargent Lamar Poole.
I started side-stepping to get to the aisle. Then a group of people, followed by Doug came back inside. They stood almost protectively around Ruth Leiber and Tammy.
The preacher who had pressured Doug about trying to heal the child addressed the congregation.
“Sister Ruthann Lear traveled far to ask assistance from the church on behalf of her child here. Just look at the lights shining on those two golden heads ― this angelic mother and daughter. It looks like they’re already awash in the blessing of the good Lord,” the preacher told the crowd.
Stage Lights by Dan Antion
Ruth batted her eyelashes at him, and then demurely looked down at her hands. The preacher sent the ushers around with plates to collect a goodwill offering.
Not a sound came from the congregation. Everyone seemed to expect Doug Armstrong to do something. The other men stepped back away from Tammy.
The child in her pristine white dress all but glowed as she stood under the lights. A murmur arose from the crowd when Doug went up to the podium rather than to the girl.
His facial expression was impossible for me to read. He began to speak of forgiveness and of hypocrisy. My cheeks burned because I thought he was about to say something about the spiteful remarks people made about me when we came inside the tent. I had hoped he didn’t hear them.
However, his ideas seemed disjointed. His train of thought was unclear. Abruptly, I wondered if he was nervous. Or perhaps he was confused about something.
For a moment I wondered if he had also seen a wanted poster of Ruth Leiber, but it didn’t seem likely. Yet he gave the woman a look so hard it made her twitch.
The Last Supper, by Carl Bloch, late 1800s, Wikipedia
“Listen to me, brothers and sisters in the Lord,” Doug said as if trying to explain his fragmented speech. “You have to forgive people who have caused problems for you, but you don’t have to invite them to dinner!” he stated emphatically.
I tilted my head in confusion. What could have rattled Doug so? He had been a good speaker earlier that evening.
Abruptly the heat of the August night was broken by a gust of wind that blew through the tent. The pages of hymnals and Bibles rustled.
Then to my astonishment, Jinx glided down the center aisle. The magpie swooped down to alight on the pew in front of me.
Jinx imitated the sound of a single telephone ring.
The end.
Mabel Amber at Pixabay
***
Real World Notes — Bubblegum
Bubblegum was also a “reader thing” in my Hullaba Lulu serial. It has such a cool history, that I didn’t mind using it again here. In 1928, an accountant invented bubblegum. Walter Diemer, was experimenting with new gum recipes. One recipe was less sticky than regular chewing gum, and stretched more easily. The original bubble gum was pink in color because that was the dye that Diemer had most on hand at the time.
***
I’m glad you could make it to the crossroads for Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show! I hope you’ll say hello in a comment.
I’ll meet you at the crossroads again next Saturday! Hugs on the wing.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.
