Thirty-three
"Good morning, Wanda Gail."
Fergus Plummet's wife fell back a step. "What'd you call
me?"
"Wanda Gail," Alex repeated with a gentle smile. "That's
your name, isn't it? You're one of the Burton triplets, informally
known as the Gail sisters."
Mrs. Plummet had answered her door with a dishrag in her
hands. Shocked by Alex's knowledge of her past, she took
a quick little breath. Her eyes darted about the yard, as though
looking for artillery backing Alex up.
"May I come in?"
Alex didn't wait for permission, but used the other woman's
astonishment to step inside and close the front door. She
had discovered Mrs. Plummet's identity quite by accident
while idly perusing the pages of the yearbooks over her morn
ing coffee. After glancing past it a hundred times, the classroom
picture had suddenly leaped off the page. She'd thought
her eyes were deceiving her until she verified the name in
the margin. Wanda Gail Burton.
Hardly able to contain her excitement, she'd consulted the
telephone directory for the address and driven straight to the
parsonage. She had parked well down the block and hadn't
approached the house until Fergus had driven away in his
car.
The two women stood face to face in the dim hallway.
Alex was curious. Wanda Gail Plummet was clearly afraid.
"I shouldn't be talking to you," she whispered nervously.
"Why? Because your husband warned you against it?"
Alex asked softly. "I don't mean to cause you any trouble.
Let's sit down."
Assuming the role of hostess, Alex led Wanda Gail into
the drabbest, most unattractive room she had ever been in.
There wasn't a single spot of color or gaiety. There were no
plants, no pictures--other than one of a bleeding, crucified
Christ--no books or magazines. There was nothing to relieve
the cheerless atmosphere that pervaded the house. Alex had
seen three thin, dejected-looking children leave with their
father. She and Wanda Gail were alone.
They sat side by side on a tacky, threadbare sofa that
reflected the overall penury of the house. Wanda Gail was
wringing the damp towel between her hands. Her face was
working with anxiety. She was obviously scared to death,
either of Alex, or of her husband's reprisal should he find
out she had been in their home.
Alex tried to reassure her by calmly stating, "I just want
to talk to you. I accidentally discovered that your name was
Wanda Gail Burton."
"Not anymore. Not since I found Jesus."
"Tell me about that. When was it?"
"The summer after I graduated. A bunch of us--"
"Your sisters?"
She nodded. "And some friends. We all piled into some
body's car and drove to Midland. We were looking for fun,"
she said, casting her eyes downward. "We saw this big tent
set up in a cow pasture on the outskirts of town. There was
a revival going on. We thought we'd go, see what it was
about. We went on a lark, you know, to poke fun at the
people and to laugh at the gospel."
She made a grimace of remorse. "It all seemed real funny,
'cause we'd been drinking and smoking pot somebody had
brought back from Eagle Pass." She folded her hands together
and offered up a brief prayer of repentance.
' 'What happened? Did you have a religious experience that
night?"
She confirmed Alex's guess by briskly nodding her head.
"There was this young preacher there. After the singing and
praying, he took the microphone." Her eyes assumed a
dreamy aspect as she was transported back. "I don't even
remember what he preached on. His voice alone put me in
a trance. I remember feeling his energy pouring through me.
I couldn't take my eyes off him."
Her vision cleared. "The others had had enough and
wanted to leave. I told them to go on and pick me up later.
I wanted to stay. When he was finished preaching, I went
down to the altar with dozens of others. He laid his hands
on my head and prayed for my deliverance from sin." Misty-eyed,
she announced, "I gave my heart to Jesus and to Fergus
Plummet that same night."
"How soon after that were you married?"
"Two days."
Alex didn't know a delicate way to approach her next
question. Out of deference to the woman's Christian conversion,
she addressed her by her married name. "Mrs. Plummet,
you and your sisters . . ." She paused, wet her lips.
"I've heard ..."
"I know what you've heard. We were harlots."
Alex didn't approve of her harsh, condemning estimation
of herself and tried to soften it. "I know that you dated a lot
of men."
Wanda began to twist the towel again. "I confessed all my
transgressions to Fergus. He forgave me, just like God did.
He embraced me in love, in spite of my wickedness."
Alex had a more jaundiced opinion of the preacher's largess.
He had probably wanted a wife who felt privileged that
he had so unselfishly forgiven her, one who would consider
his grace equal to God's.
God forgot sins; Alex doubted that Fergus Plummet did.
He probably kept scrupulous accounts of transgressions and
used Wanda Gail's past as a tool to keep her under his thumb.
He surely made her life miserable with constant reminders
of how lucky she was to have his forgiveness.
It was apparent, however, that whatever had happened to
Wanda Gail in that revival tent had been profound and irreversible.
Her decision that night to create a different life
for herself had withstood twenty-five years. For that, she had
earned Alex's admiration.
"Two of the boys you dated in high school were Reede
Lambert and Junior Minton."
"Yes," Wanda said with a reflective smile, "they were
the two best-looking, most popular boys in school. All the
girls wanted to date them."
"Including Stacey Wallace?"
"The only boy she could ever see was Junior Minton. It
was kinda pitiful, you know, because Stacey was so crazy
about him and he was stuck on Celina."
"And Celina belonged to Reede."
"Well, sure. Reede was, and still is, basically good. He
didn't treat me and my sisters like trash, even though that's
what we were. He was always nice about . . . well, you
know, whenever he took us out. He always said thank you
afterward."
Alex smiled sickly.
"Liked to have drove him plumb nuts when Celina got
married. Then, when she died ..." She sighed sympathetically.
"He acts kinda mean sometimes now, but down deep,
he's still good." She averted her head. "I know he doesn't
like Fergus, but he still treated me nice yesterday."
This woman and Reede were former lovers. Alex looked
at her closely. It was impossible to envision Wanda Gail in
the throes of ecstasy with any man, but especially with Reede.
Her face retained enough of its former prettiness for Alex
to have recognized her picture in the yearbook, but her skin
was loose, her throat flabby. The full, teased hairdo she'd
been sporting in the class photo had been replaced by the
severe and unflattering bun. The eyes that had been dramatically
enhanced with cosmetics for the picture wore no
makeup at all now. Her waist had thickened to match the
dimensions of her bust and hips, which, when she was a
teenager, must have been voluptuous.
Wanda Gail looked at least ten years older than her classmates,
Reede and Junior--even Stacey. Alex wondered if it
had been her previous wild life, or her married life with
Plummet that had accelerated her aging process. She would
bet on the latter. He couldn't be much fun to live with. For
all his piousness, he brought no joy or love to those around
him. To Alex, that's what one's faith should be about. Her
admiration for this woman was tinged with pity.
It became even more so when Wanda Gail looked up at
her and shyly remarked, "You were nice to me, too. I didn't
expect you to be nice, 'cause you're so fancy and have such
pretty things." She gave Alex's fur coat and eel handbag a
wistful glance.
"Thank you," she replied. Then, because Wanda Gail
seemed stricken with self-consciousness, Alex resumed the
questioning. "How did your sisters react to your marriage?"
"Oh, I'm sure they didn't like it."
"You don't know?"
"Fergus thought it would be best if I didn't mix with them
anymore."
"He separated you from your family?"
"It was for the best," Wanda said, immediately rising to
his defense. "I left my old life. They were part of it. I had
to turn my back on them to prove to Jesus that I was forsaking
sin."
Alex chalked up another reason to despise the preacher.