Hidden Riches by Felicia Mason Read Free Book Online Page B

history of the church it became acceptable for people to holler at the person standing at the lectern.
    Then he remembered.
    Ana Mae.
    They thought he was crying about the death of Ana Mae.
    He took a deep breath, sent a tremulous smile toward Archer, and pulled out the note cards he’d tucked in his pocket.
    â€œFirst, my sisters and I would like to thank all of you for your prayers and expressions of sympathy. As some of you know, all three of us left Drapersville many years ago. We didn’t stay in touch with each other or with Ana Mae as often as we should have.”
    He paused for a moment and the amen corner encouraged him to “Take your time, son.”
    Clayton glanced in that direction, saw someone he remembered from a long time ago, and lost his train of thought for a moment. Reginald Crispin, an old lover, apparently remained so deep in the closet that he felt safe masquerading as a deacon in the church.
    The hypocrisy galled Clayton. Then the anger started bubbling up again.
    In truth, he didn’t have that much to say about Ana Mae, but he could and would give these people a piece of his mind for his own peace of mind. He opened his mouth to lambaste the hypocrites.
    A throat cleared in the congregation.
    Clayton recognized that particular sound. Archer.
    He met his partner’s gaze for barely a second, and in it he saw what mattered most to him. Clayton smiled, took another moment to compose himself. And with a roll of his shoulders, he let the injustices go. This was about Ana Mae, not about the painful prejudices of his past.
    â€œYes,” he then said, “Ana Mae was the only one of us who stayed. As the presence of each and every one of you here today indicates, that choice she made to stay made this church and this community richer.”
    Clayton talked for five more minutes about Ana Mae, relating a story about the four of them one summer.
    From the pulpit, he glanced down at JoJo and Delcine, then smiled. “I hope my sisters don’t mind me telling you all this,” he said, “but it really illustrates the type of big sister Ana Mae was to us. There used to be a fair that came through town every year. They’d set up in that field on the other side of the old mill.”
    â€œStill do,” someone in the congregation yelled out.
    JoJo and Delcine, both remembering, sat there smiling and shaking their heads at Clayton.
    â€œOne summer, Mama was working and said she would take us over there on Saturday right after she got paid. Well, JoJo and I wanted to go that first night, Wednesday.”
    â€œWhen they give away the free ice cream,” another mourner hollered up.
    Clayton laughed. “Exactly. Since the ice cream was free, we figured all we needed was bus fare or jitney fare to get over there, since it was too far for us to walk.”
    â€œOh, Lord,” Delcine said, to the amusement of the people across the aisle from her.
    â€œAna Mae was where she usually was on Wednesday nights,” Clayton said.
    â€œAt church,” half the congregation said.
    Nodding, Clayton, a natural storyteller, continued. “JoJo and I enlisted Delcine in the plan.”
    â€œYou mean you co-opted me,” she said.
    That earned a laugh from the congregation.
    â€œShe was supposed to be babysitting until Ana Mae got home from prayer meeting. We, er, well, to put it delicately, we liberated some change from ajar Mama kept on the kitchen counter.”
    â€œOh, Lord have mercy,” one of the amen corner residents intoned.
    â€œYou’ve got that right, deacon,” Clayton said.
    â€œWe took what we thought we would need and headed out and over to the Day-Ree Mart to catch a jitney to the fair. Somebody—and to this day I don’t know who—but somebody must have seen us and hightailed it over to the church to report that them three little Futrell kids were running away from home,” he said, his voice taking on the Southern