Aubrey's Vigil excerpt # 2

           

             John walked wearily down from a vigil on the hilltop; just before the new year of l956.  Vigils were held every time the ministry made it home to Bennett Holler.  John had spent three frozen nights up on the mountain.   He was forced to erect a tent and build a fire to keep from dying outright, but he kept his fast, not a drop to neither eat nor drink.  He asked God to bless his work, offering physical suffering as evidence of his sincerity.  He stumbled down the last stretch of trail, surprised at the back gate by the parlor piano with two voices in harmony:  Jesus is Coming Soon.  The loveliness of it trembled through his compromised body.   It unexpectedly brought him to tears.   John recognized Lois's voice.  The other was unfamiliar to him:   lively, joyous and masculine. 

                              

                                    Victory in Jesus, my Savior forever.

                                    He sought me and bought me with His                                               redeeming blood.

                                    He loved me ere I knew Him and all my love                                     is due Him.

                                    He plunged me to victory beneath the                                                 cleansing flood.

            John walked to the front of the house.  A late model Cadillac was parked under the pecan tree.  It had a Troup County tag on it.  John stepped up to the front porch, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder.   Lois spied him through the screen, her last, lingering note  tweaked with a disharmonious gasp.  The man at the piano swiveled around, his short, thick body rising from the stool.  As the man told it years later, seeing John Aubrey right then, was like seeing an Old Testament prophet just wandered in from the

wilderness, surely fed on locusts and wild honey.

            "John Aubrey!" snapped Lois. "What do you mean sneakin' up on people like that?"

            John was weak on his feet.  "I jus' walked through my front door –"

            "You were slinkin' around like a thief."  John stared at her.  He couldn't quite read her face, but it looked like guilt upon it.   Sniffing her nose, she said, "Meet Mr. Clayton Ponder."

            "An honor to meet you, Brother Aubrey," said the man.

            "Clayton," said John.

            "Jus' call me Clay," said the man. 

            "I don't know what Mr. Ponder will think of you, John.  You look like a hobo," Lois said, trying to make her voice light.  John stared at her a few seconds.  He looked Mr. Ponder over.  He was not a heavy man, really, but he gave that impression at first.  It was those plump, freckled cheeks, set high on his face.  His hair, oiled back from the forehead was curly, dark and abundant.  His face was shaped younger than his years.  John estimated him to be eighteen, four years younger than Lois, ten years shy of himself.  John reckoned at that moment he must've looked twenty years older than the both of them.

            "Excuse my appearance.  I’ve been up on a prayer vigil.  I'm 'bout tuckered out.  Mind if I sit?"  He sank heavily into a chair.  "Go ahead and play some more.  Sing some more.  Let me hear y'all sing.  This ol' house could use a gospel song ringin' through it.  Where's everybody, anyway?"

            "Your mama has the baby over at Nell's.  Stuart's in town."

            "The baby's at Nell's?"  John asked distractedly.  "Go ahead.  Play somethin’," he said.  In the darkness of the old house at midday, grizzled and probably stinking; hungry an' exhausted, he felt suddenly abashed.  He was a trespasser in his own house.  An intruder among the genteel.  

            Clay chose Victory in Jesus and, then, When I Can Read the Title Clear.   Lois joined him on Precious Memories.

                       

                                    Precious memories, unseen angels,

                                    Sent from somewhere to my soul.

                                    How they linger ever near me

                                    and the sacred scenes unfold ....

            The song caused tears to roll down John's face unabashed.  "Y'all sound real good," he told them, their harmony stirring up unseen angels in John's soul.

            "Don't he play wonderfully?" offered Lois.  John could tell by her manner she was embarrassed by her husband's state.

            "Sounded real good," said John again.

            "I play the guitar, too.  The banjo an' the mandolin."

            "Is that a fact?"

            "His voice is powerful," said Lois.  "A gift from God."

            "I heard you preach," said Clay Ponder.  "In La Grange last month.  I never seen anything like it.  I never felt the Holy Ghost more."

            "What'd I preach on?"

            "The ten virgins with their lamps."

            "That's one of my best."

            "I thought the world was comin' to an end right that night."

            "That's how I wanted you to feel.  Might’ve happened that night.  Who could say?"

            "Felt like it."

            "Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son of man cometh."

          

                 "Amen."
            John looked him hard in the eye.  "Best be ready for it."

            "Yes, sir."

            "John," Lois broke in, "Clay heard we were lookin' for a piano player."

            "I come up here to inquire about the job."

            "I don't know that we can afford us a piano player right now."

            "The pay is the least of my considerations, Brother Aubrey."

            "You ever been on a crusade?"

            "I jus' left Tweedell Ministries out of Baton Rouge."

            "You were on the circuit?"

            "For four months.  'Fore that I played for the Lyle Hough Gospel Quartet for near 'bout over a year."

            John rubbed his hand across his jaw.  "I sure could use a cup of coffee," he announced, casting a glance toward Lois.   

            "I'll have to brew it," Lois said.

            "Fine.  Fix me and Mr. Ponder a cup of coffee.  We'll be out on the porch talkin' business."

            The day had turned off mild.   Clay Ponder sat in the porch swing.  John slid a rocking chair into the sun and dropped into it; stove-up, old and tired.  His clothes hung sourly on him.  By contrast, Clay was smartly dressed in a gray flannel suit, sitting on the edge of the swing.  His hair was neatly combed, his clean shaven face fair, soft of skin.  Something unsettling about him, thought John Aubrey, something in his smile, or in the darting glances he gave John out of the corners of his eyes.

            "You come from a wealthy family, Mr. Ponder?"

            "Please, call me Clay.  Yessir, I do.  My father owns several enterprises aroun' the city of La Grange, one or two in Hogansville."

            "What kind of enterprises?"

            "Feed stores, cotton gin, automobile dealership.  I reckon I should be workin' in his office, learnin' a trade.  But the Lord had other plans for me.  I've always been attracted to music.  Been playin' the piano since I was five.  An' a couple of years ago I got a callin' to be out among the common folk, singin', playin', bringin' the good news to them."

            "You’re not one to hide your money, are you, Clay?  Not with the way you dress, jeweled rings on each hand, those fancy boots, that car out yonder."

             "I wrangled with my daddy for a long time about joinin' up with a tent crusade.  He tol' me I was throwin' away my life.  When he saw I was determined to do it, he give me that car as a ... a donation, kind of.  He said I'd better have me a reliable vehicle."  John leaned over to get a better look at the car.   "He gets them at factory price," Clay added.

            "What'll people think when they come to a revival meetin', poor people, mostly?  What'll they think when they see you up there on the stage playin' the piano, flashin' them rings?"

            "Well, sir, Brother Aubrey.  I tell you.  I don't just wear these rings when I play the piano, sometimes I wear me a cowboy hat.  I wear me a fancy colored coat, sometimes white, sometimes pink, gold, sky blue.  Something to catch people's eye.  Look here, when they see me in all my finery, they're going be struck by the uncommonness of the sight.  They're going go home an' call their sister an' their cousin, an' their neighbor down the way an' tell them what a sight they saw at that camp meetin' last night.  An' what a voice they heard.  An' what fancy piano-playin'.  An' I think they’re go’n’ come back for more, Brother Aubrey.  They go’n’ come back an' they’re go’n’ bring their sister an' cousin' an' neighbor with ‘em."

            "You think so?"

            Clay smiled.  "It works, Brother Aubrey.  It worked on the Tweedell Crusade.  It'll work for you.  Listen, sir, you preach the gospel.  You do the real work, the sure enough true work.  I'm the entertainment.  I do the least work, but it's important.  I give ‘em a show, somethin' they ain't seen the likes of before.  I can work up a crowd for you.  You know what it's like.  You know the difference in preachin' to a happy, friendly crowd buzzin' with excitement as opposed to preachin' to a poker-faced, tired ol' collection of scoffers an' nay-sayers.  I draw ‘em in, an' set ‘em up, then you put the Word on ‘em.  They won't know what hit ‘em."

            John sat back in the rocker studyin' the man.  He'd never come across anybody quite like him.  His enthusiasm engulfed John for a few moments, through the dull haze of fatigue.  Lois came out with the coffee on a fancy serving tray.

            "How do you take your coffee, Mr. Ponder?" she asked.

            "Cream an' sugar, if you don't mind," answered Clay Ponder.

            "Not at all," she said.  John noticed that his wife was excited by the man's zeal, his good-natured energy.  He suddenly envied them both.  They were free of John's bindings.  Burdened by God's hand, he felt a hundred years old.   The sun lay dazzling out beyond the shade of the porch.  The coffee was an exquisite pleasure.  'How could they know?' he thought as the three sat in silence. 'They'll never know.  Not even the least of it; like the dark smell an' taste of this here coffee, the way God has given it to me.  ‘No,’ John decided.  'I don't envy them, their innocence, their lightness.  Load me up, Lord,' he prayed.  'Burden me.  Bury me under the crush.  And thank You, for the little sweets you offer me, the tender mercies.'  John leaned deep in his chair.  He came near to drifting off to sleep.

           

            "John?" Lois called.

            "Forgive me.  I'm tired."

            "That's all right," said Clay.

            "I couldn't pay you much," he said.

            "I don't ask for much.  Money is the least of my concerns." 

            "We leave in less than a week."

            "I've got my stuff in the back of the Cadillac."

            "Where are you stayin'?"

            "Don't rightly know, yet."

            "Well, bring in your suitcase.  We got a spare room or two in the house.  I'll talk to Lester tonight an' see what we can offer you in the way of money.  If you want to join up with us."

            "I tol' you, Brother Aubrey.  I heard you preach.  I want to join you.  It's why I drove up here all the way from La Grange.  I want to help you, sir, reach the unsaved."

            He held out his hand for John to shake.  John searched the man's eyes.  But he held them only for a second.  Clay shook Lois's hand, then bounded off the porch to fetch his things.   Lois showed him to an empty bedroom.  John fell asleep in his chair, the empty coffee cup rolling across the porch boards.