Mister Snake Gets Religion

Ruth came to live with Aunt Alice due to unfortunate circumstances brought on by Mama’s death. Aunt Alice had married up and shed her family when Ruth was ten. Uncle Bill’s family owned the biggest farm in the county. They didn’t much approve of Aunt Alice, but she became the faithful wife and daughter in-law going to church every time the doors opened. Before long she was one of them high and mighty, church-going women, and folks forgot her roots. They didn’t even notice when she took in an orphan girl from across the tracks, an orphan girl with Aunt Alice’s eyes and a real hankerin’ to be a hairdresser.  Aunt Alice silenced Ruth, explaining that girls from the other side of the tracks never amounted to anything but maids and laundry girls. Ruth refrained from reminding Aunt Alice where she came from, but the seed was sown.

The whole incident began the hottest afternoon of that summer. The air was so thick a soul could slice it with a knife, and here came Uncle Bill stumbling in the house after a long Saturday of drinking at the local roadhouse outside of town. Aunt Alice had gone to some church function all dressed in fancy clothes. Ruth heated water on the coal stove to wash the cooking dishes. She did all her Sunday cooking on Saturday because Aunt Alice insisted she attend church every Sunday.

“What are you doing there, Ruthie?” She ignored him. And, he continued as if she weren’t really standing at the kitchen sink pumping water into a large tub. He chose a big wooden spoon from the counter, scooped a spoonful of scalding water, blew on the steaming liquid, licked his lips, and slurped it down. “That’s mighty fine soup, Ruthie. No one can cook like you, missy.”

She yanked the spoon from his hand. “I guess so. You ain’t never ate anything Aunt Alice cooked. You’re drunk. Get on out of this kitchen!”

He laughed and slapped his knee, nearly falling. “You know Alice. She should have married a preacher or became one herself. You know she wasn’t nothing like that when I met her. She was the prettiest girl I’d ever laid eyes on, and not afraid of a thing.”

His bony arm didn’t resist her tug. “Go sit.” Poor Uncle Bill. He was a good soul. She guided him to one of the two rockers, where he stumbled and fell missing the rocker only inches. She poked at him with the toe of her shoe. “Aunt Alice will be madder than hell when she sees you laying out here in the sitting room.”

“Go on, child. Go back to that soup. It’s burning.” He rolled on his side; his breathing turned heavy and changed to loud snores.

And, fate being an old friend, picked that time to send Aunt Alice’s car into the yard; she swung the door open and emerged with a purpose in her prissy step. There lay her loving husband, now quite comfortable on the wood floor in front of the fireplace, and held her heart, stamping her foot with a petite little tap. The passenger, dressed in black, a dark wide brim hat placed on his head, unfolded from the car.

Aunt Alice did a dance, two steps toward Uncle Bill, and four steps back to the man, who fast approached the door. Ruth removed the stained apron and smoothed her housedress, noticing how the pattern disappeared into a bland description at best.

“Pastor Parker, you must excuse my husband. He is quite sick. So, sick we made him a pallet in front of the fire.” Aunt Alice’s voice climbed three octaves with the last few words. Ruth rushed to the rocker, grabbing a lap blanket and cushion, tossing the blanket over Uncle Bill in a hap-hazarded way. She pulled his too long hair, threw the pillow down, and slammed his head on the floor, missing the pillow.

“Ah, Ah…”

Ruth knelt down beside her uncle. “Now, Now, you just rest.” She watched the so-called pastor. Never had she ever laid eyes on such a fine looking man.

Aunt Alice, hands fluttering, panic wrinkling her face, stood in front of Uncle Bill. “Ruthie light a fire!” She looked at the Pastor. “What a fine thing for you to see. He’s not catching. He just has these spells. It runs in his family.”

Ruth smoothed the blanket. “You’ll feel better soon. We’re praying for your soul, and I’m making you a nice hot fire.” She smiled at the pastor. Aunt Alice relaxed her shoulders.

Ruth went to the shed to gather some of the firewood left over from winter. How could she believe in a god that made aunts like Aunt Alice? How could she believe in a god who took away her dream but gave women like Aunt Alice everything they wanted? She walked around acting like she was the Queen of Sheba, but actually all she needed was someone to show her history. It was like Mama always said: once a mule, always a mule. Ruth stacked the wood in the crook of her arm, small round pieces of the old apple tree. The snake lay curled on the last piece, in the sun; he raised his head with an irritated look. Then, it came to her, clear, like them visions the Catholics talked about all the time, the Virgin Mary standing in the air, hovering, small children witnessing. Ruth’s vision was just the same, holy, glowing around the edges. The snake was curled into Aunt Alice’s Garden of Eden. He wasn’t nothing but an old chicken snake, wouldn’t hurt a flea, but he was good and long, lazy in the warm sun. He wiggled a bit, twisting and turning, when she scooped him into the feed sack.

The flames leapt into the growing heat, the sweet scented wood filled the room. Sweat beads popped out on the good pastor’s forehead. Aunt Alice tried to ignore the sweat stains showing under her arms and down the back of her blue cotton blouse.

Ruth brought a tray with two glasses of tea, warm, probably sour and some three day old peach tarts, tough crust with too much sugar. She placed the tray on a small coffee table, yelling over Uncle Bill’s snoring. “Here’s a nice treat for you sir.” His eyes were clear blue, too blue for a pastor muddled with his congregation’s problems.

Aunt Alice swiped at drops of sweat on her upper lip, beading in the fine blonde mustache. “Thank you so much Ruth.” She turned her attention to the preacher, touching his hand with a finger. “Ruth came to us from a good family, who lost their family money at the gambling tables.”

Ruth contained the spreading heat in her chest. “Will there be anything else?”

Aunt Alice smiled sweetly. “Yes dear, check on William before you leave. I think he needs another blanket so as to work that fever out.”

It really was quite simple, this vision: She rolled the feed sack into the folded blanket, making the snake good and mad. Carefully she spread the blanket on top of Uncle Bill, opening the feed sack. “The devil is behind this.”

“What? What did you say?” Aunt Alice watched her.

“I said the devil is behind the Mister’s fever and sickness.” The blanket moved. “Maybe if the pastor prayed over him, maybe he would be healed of the spells.”

“You’re stepping out of place, Ruth!”

The pastor sat his glass on the table. “No, No, the young lady is correct. I will pray.” He smiled and dropped to his knees.

“My mama always said the devil finds our weaknesses and chips away at us.”

The pastor closed his eyes. “Dear God in Heaven heal this fine man of his affliction.” The flames licked in the fireplace. “He is a good man, married to a beautiful saint of the church.” Aunt Alice, kneeled, smiled behind closed eyes. “The devil has found the weakness in this family. We know not what that weakness is. Only the soul with the weak faith knows.” Ruth watched Mister Snake slither free of the blankets. “Lord God!” The pastor raised his closed eyes to Heaven. “God cast this evil from the unfaithful soul!” Mister Snake scooted across the floor and lay on the tail of Aunt Alice’s skirt as she kneeled near the pastor. “Heal this man oh God!”

Aunt Alice stirred, opened her eyes, and caught sight to the three foot chicken snake. “Oh God!” She struggled to her feet. Mister Snake latched his teeth in the hem of her skirt and swung with her. “Oh my God! Help me! Help me!” Aunt Alice grabbed the pastor by the hair. “Help me you stupid fool!” She twirled around in an attempt to release the devil from her.

Uncle Bill picked that very minute to wake up. Ruth liked to think God chose this moment to gain retribution on Aunt Alice’s soul. Uncle Bill wiped sweat from his forehead. “It’s hotter than hell in this  house! What is going on?”

“Oh God, help me!” Aunt Alice twirled around like a horrible ballet dancer, pure terror written on her face.

The laugh built in Ruth’s chest. The pastor pushed a chair over scrambling to his feet, pushing Aunt Alice away from him. “Get away from me you devil!”

Uncle Bill laughed. “By God, Alice, I don’t think I’ve seen you dance since you were a teenager.” He stood unsteady on his feet. “I think we all need a good stiff drink.” He stumbled forward.

Aunt Alice took one last twirl, screaming. Mister Snake released himself in midair—floating in what seemed like slow motion—and slapped around the good pastor’s neck, skin against skin. “God in Heaven!” The pastor looked around, crazy eyed, just in time to see Ruth breakdown in giggles. He ran from the house, his hands pulling at the devil wrapped around his neck.

When Aunt Alice settled down, Ruth would speak with her concerning that beauty college down in Tifton. She heard it was real good.

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