Kent Haruf - Benediction

Frank held himself rigid in his father’s arms and finally Dad let him go, then Dad hurried out of the barn, stumbling across to the house into the bathroom and was sick and then went back to the bedroom, his head aching and throbbing now. When he was lying in bed he turned his head and looked out the window. The sun was going down. His eyes welled up and he straightened his head on the pillow and folded his arm over his face in the darkening room.

After a while he heard Frank enter the house and climb the stairs to the second floor. He could hear him in his sister’s room where he must have been hanging up the two dresses in the closet, and putting away her underwear, then he heard him cross the hall to his own bedroom and he thought he could hear the bed as he lay down, and he thought he must be touching at his cheek now, fingering where the welt was.

At suppertime Mary stood beside the bed in the dark downstairs bedroom. Are you awake, dear?

I’m awake.

Can you get up for supper?

I don’t want anything.

You don’t sound good. Are you all right?

He nodded slightly.

Okay then. But you seem sicker than you did this morning. Call me if you need something.

In the kitchen she sat down with Lorraine and Frank and she noticed his face immediately.

Honey, what happened to you?

I ran into a post in the barn.

It must hurt. You need something on it. Let me look at it.

He pulled away. Leave it alone, Mom. Never mind.

DAD CAME OUT from the bedroom through the hall in the hot still summer afternoon using his wood cane, with Mary following behind, her hands held out in case he needed help, and they came on into the living room where the preacher and Lorraine were sitting together on the couch. Lyle had said not to disturb Mr. Lewis if he was sleeping but Mary told him she’d go back to see if he was awake yet. Now Dad moved across to his chair and sat down and put his cane in place on the floor, looking up at Lyle, who rose and stood next to him and touched him on the shoulder and reached down to take his hand. It’s good to see you, he said. How are you doing today?

Getting slower. Going downhill more.

Are you in pain?

No. They got that taken care of.

I won’t trouble you for long. I just came to see how you were feeling.

You don’t trouble me. Sit down a while if you care to.

Lyle turned and sat again beside Lorraine. Mary seated herself in the rocker as Dad glanced out the window at the sprinkler that was throwing rings of water onto the grass between their house and Berta May’s.

What’s the weather doing out there today? he said. Too hot again?

They say it’s going to rain, Lyle said.

It might. It’s turning off dark right now.

The farmers won’t like that, will they, Daddy? Lorraine said.

Not if they’re trying to cut wheat. The guys with corn won’t mind it.

Sounds like a mixed blessing, Lyle said.

Dad looked at him. Yes sir. Lots of things turn out to be blessings that got mixed up.

You’ve seen some in your lifetime here.

I was raised out on the west plains in Kansas.

You’ve seen some changes.

One or two. He looked out the window again. The sprinkler had moved on its cleated wheels. He looked back. This was the only house on this street when we bought it. Isn’t that right, Mary?

It was nothing but prairie and wind and dirt, she said.

The wind still blows, he said. That doesn’t change. You got to have some wind.

It doesn’t have to blow on my account, she said. I’m tired of it.

They never paved our road over. I don’t guess I’ll see that. If they ever do.

What about people you’ve known? Lyle said. Do you think people have changed?

People?

Are we any different now?

I don’t know. He stared at the preacher. We got more comfortable. We’re not as active or physical. We don’t even go out as far as the front porch as much as we used to. We sit around and watch TV. TV is what’s become of people.

My folks always used to sit out in the evenings in the summer, Mary said. I remember that so well.

We did when I was a kid too, Lorraine said. When Frank and I were still little, before junior high. Do you remember?

Frank’s your brother, I understand, Lyle said. May I ask about him? I hear his name mentioned.

No one said anything. After a while Dad said, You can ask about him but it won’t make no difference. He left here a long time ago. Two days after he finished high school, he took off.

That’s pretty young to leave home, Lyle said.

He only come back twice, Dad said.

But he’ll come back now, won’t he.

Back here?

Yes.

Why would he?

To see you. He’ll want to say good-bye.

He won’t come back for that, Dad said.

Honey, he might yet, Mary said. Oh I want to think he will.

He doesn’t know I’m dying. He won’t be coming back.

Haven’t you told him? Lyle said.

We don’t know where he is.

But would you like to see him?

I’m not waiting on Frank so I can die. If that’s what you’re getting at.

Most people want to see all their family before they go.

I got my family right here.

No, this is not all of us, Mary said. Don’t say we’re all here.

As far as I’m concerned we’re all here, he said.

No, we’re not, Daddy, said Lorraine.

He looked hard around the room, at each face, then pushed himself up from the chair and bent over and picked up his cane and stood still to get his balance. Lorraine came across the room and put her arm around him, holding him, and kissed him on the cheek.

Don’t leave, Daddy. Stay and talk to us. It’s all right. Don’t go, please.

He looked at her face so close to his and looked away and closed his eyes and stood for a long time and finally sat down. She took the cane and set it on the floor, bending over him, kissing him again, putting her cheek against his old age-spotted gray face, and sat down once more beside Lyle. There was silence for a while.

Daddy, why don’t you tell Reverend Lyle about some of the preachers we’ve had, Lorraine said. Like that one you always talk about.

Which one is that?

The one that the woman saw Jesus standing on his head.

He looked at her, then at Lyle. All right, you asked about changes, have people changed, you said. They have in church. Church used to be a long serious affair. None of this bell ringing and people’s dogs getting blessed down at the altar and kids dancing around during the service.

Sounds like a good time for a nap, Lyle said.

I had me some good ones on Sunday mornings. That’s a fact. Anyway, on one of those long hot Sunday mornings there was this woman that was visiting town. Who was it she was seeing, Mary?

The Thompsons, Mary said.

That’s right.… But you tell it. I won’t remember it right.

Yes, you will.

No. Go ahead. Why don’t you.

She was visiting the Thompsons, Mary said, and while the preacher was giving his sermon this woman, she was only a little thing, didn’t weigh as much as a cat, all of a sudden she jumps up from the pew and starts wailing and crying. The preacher, it was Reverend Cooper then, wasn’t it, interrupts his sermon and this tiny little woman cries, Glory! It’s the Lord Jesus! Praise God Almighty!

Reverend Cooper says, Yes, ma’am. Can I help you?

He’s right there over your head! Dressed all in white and walking in the air!

She shoves her way out of the pew and comes running down to the front of the sanctuary and starts shouting how she’s changed this very hour. On account of what she’s witnessed. Oh heavenly days! Hallelujah! Then it’s like she faints out or has a spell, she kind of sinks down in front of the altar and Marla Thompson rushes down and lifts her up and hauls the poor thing back to her pew.