The Impressionist (10 page)

While the five other whites consoled Lewis, Jim Ed and Bo stood silent in the background. They’d thought about running, but figured they didn’t do anything wrong. Plus, where’d they run to anyway? Within what seemed like a few seconds, two police cars whipped in the parking lot and three deputies hopped out with guns drawn. Without even asking the first question, they pushed Bo and Jim Ed to the ground, jerked their hands behind their backs, and clamped the handcuffs down on their wrists. “You’re under arrest,” they shouted.

“For what?” Jim Ed hollered back.

“Assault and battery, instigating a riot, trespassing and disturbing the peace,” the deputy answered, shoving Jim Ed’s head into the ground. Under his breath the deputy mumbled, “Stupid niggers.”

The two were thrust into separate police cars and whisked off to the jailhouse, while the police never laid a hand on any of the other guys. Blood was running from a gash beneath Jim Ed’s eye and the salt from his sweat caused it to burn. It was only a short distance to the police station, yet the ride seemed to last forever. People walking down the street and driving by gaped at them like they were criminals and were the scum of the earth. But all Jim Ed and Bo could think about was Willie.

They were locked up in a jail cell that reeked with the stench of alcohol and vomit. Rights were virtually non-existent—no phone call, no visitors, nothing. Lying on that stone-cold bunk all night Jim Ed’s soul ached for the loss of his friend and his mind brooded over the injustice of it all. Bo cried himself to sleep. It should have been clear to anyone with a kernel of sense that they were innocent and Willie had been murdered in cold blood.

After spending the night in jail without talking to anyone except each other, to their surprise, around ten the next morning the sheriff swung open the jail door and told Jim Ed and Bo to get out.

“So, that’s it?” Jim Ed asked the sheriff. “What about Lewis? You know he killed Willie in cold blood. Everybody saw it!”

“Now that’s where you are wrong. Eyewitnesses said there was a fight plain and simple.” The sheriff grabbed Jim Ed’s arm and squeezed it tight. “Son, because Mr. Boyd said you boys weren’t lookin’ for trouble, I’m letting you go. If you know
what’s good for you, you’ll just keep that big mouth of yours shut because I can easily put you right back in that cell and lock the door. You hear me? Hell, I’m doing you a favor, son. You ought to be thanking me.”

For the next several days, Jim Ed couldn’t talk to anyone about the incident, not Christina, not Mama Porter, not Bo or anybody. He was out of his mind with grief and rage. But it was when he saw Willie laying in his casket that he cracked. And upon hearing the wails of his people when they put him in the ground, Jim Ed knew what he had to do.

The rest of the afternoon, during the post-funeral dinner at the church, Jim Ed quietly contemplated his plan. Christina realized that something was up and it was more than just grief over losing Willie.

“I’m so sorry about Willie,” she said. “It was such a tragic thing and I know you are hurting, Jim Ed.” She put her arm around his waist and pulled herself close. The two walked out of the fellowship hall into the yard outside. Despite the sadness all around, kids were running around playing.

“Not that long ago Willie and I were doing the same thing,” Jim Ed said, glancing at the kids.

“What are you thinking?” Christina asked. “It’s like you’re in another world and won’t let me in.”

Jim Ed stared at her coldly. “My best friend was murdered, Christina. Of course I’m in another world.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” she said caressing the back of his head with her fingers. “I just want to help you.”

“You can help by leaving me alone!”

“Jim Ed, I know you, and I know that’s not the real you speaking. You’re up to something and I have an uneasiness in my spirit about it.”

As they walked, the sun began to set. Soon it would be dark and Jim Ed could move ahead with his plan. “Did you know that Willie saved my life one time?” he asked.

“You never told me that,” said Christina.

“Yep. He sure did. I was eleven and a bunch of us was swimming over at Miller’s bluff. We liked to jump off the bluffs into the water. The water was muddy and when I jumped my foot rammed right through this rotten log under the water. It bruised and cut my foot, but worse, my foot was stuck and the log was set deep in the mud. I flung around underwater trying to free myself, but my foot wouldn’t budge. I gave out of air thinking I was going to die, but right when I could sense my body fading out of consciousness, I felt somebody’s arm. He shook the log over and over. Finally, my foot slipped free. It was Willie. He had jumped in to rescue me. If he hadn’t done that, I would have been buried long time ago.”

Christina didn’t say a word, but squeezed him tightly.

“Willie deserves justice and the law is sure not going to give it to him. So somebody has to. I owe him.” When Jim Ed said that, he immediately realized he’ d given too much information.

“Jim Ed, what are you thinking?”

“Look, Christina, I really have to go now. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, pulling away.

Christina jerked him back to herself. “It’s not like you to just up and leave. Something’s up and you need to tell me right now before you do something you’re gonna regret!”

“Don’t feel like talking right now.” At that Jim Ed ripped himself out of Christina’s embrace and walked briskly toward his old truck in the field where the cars were parked. Christina followed.

“So, you’re just going to leave me like that?”

“I have to go. You can get a ride with your daddy.”

“Jim Ed, I’m worried about you—about what you’re thinking of doing! No good’s going to come of it!”

“Don’t worry, Christina, I’ve got a plan.”

“A plan? You’ve been planning?”

“I know what I’m doing. Sometimes a man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do. It’s that simple!”

“Jim Ed!” she screamed through tears. “You don’t know what you’re doing! You’re not thinking right! You need to cool down!”

“Oh, I’m perfectly aware of what I’m doing.”

“Listen to me! You can’t fight evil with evil! Evil will win every time.”

“Well your God sure doesn’t do anything! That’s for sure! Where’s the justice for Willie? Answer that. Why didn’t God do something?”

“God didn’t kill Willie, Jim Ed, an evil man did!”

Christina latched onto Jim Ed’s arm and jerked him to a stop. He looked down at her indifferently. “Jim Ed,” she pleaded in desperation. “You can’t do this. Please, if you love me. You won’t do this! Please…for me.”

By now, others in the church yard had turned to see the commotion they were making. With thoughts of Willie in his mind, Jim Ed simply turned back toward his truck. Christina released her grip and took her engagement locket from her neck.

“Here,” she said in a whisper. “I can’t marry you. If this is the man you are, if this is who you’ve become, then I won’t marry you.” The locket fell from her hands into his. She collapsed to her knees and sobbed. Jim Ed opened the truck door, slid inside, and drove away.

Jim Ed’s story was like watching a movie or reading a novel. Though my neck and shoulders were beginning to get stiff, I wasn’t moving until the man painting my portrait finished his story.

Grinding the gears on his truck, Jim Ed sped away toward his Mama’s house. Once there, he jumped out, darted up the steps, through the screen door, and pulled out of a pillow case the old Smith & Wesson revolver handed down to him from his father. Lewis lived alone in the woods about five miles outside of town. The plan was to park his truck some distance away, hide out in the woods and wait as long as it took. When Jim Ed was sure no one else was around he would go up to his house and confront him face to face and take justice into his own hands. He couldn’t just shoot Lewis from a distance. It had to be up close and personal. Jim Ed wanted him to see his pain. He wanted to, he needed to, watch him suffer. Lewis had to pay for what he had done to Willie.

As Jim Ed sped along, he was bent on killing Lewis; but then, totally unexpected, in a split second, something happened that could only be described as a miracle. When he left the church, nothing was changing his mind, not even his beloved
Christina. Yet as he turned on the gravel road that led to Lewis’ place, a light shone on Jim Ed. A strange and awful uneasiness came over him and then a Voice spoke from deep inside his core, “If you do this, Jim Ed, your life is over. There’s a better way. This is a turning point for you.” The inner Voice was so strong it seemed almost audible. Jim Ed couldn’t explain it other than God because he knew it wasn’t coming from him. He hadn’t been thinking like that. The Voice was contrary to his state of mind. It was clear—he had the power to choose, and that choice would determine his destiny.

His whole body began to tremble and his heartbeat became rapid. Sweat oozed from his pores. Jim Ed slowed down and eased the truck off to the side of the road. Parked there, he gazed down at Christina’s locket lying on the seat next to him while the words she’ d spoken over the past year came flooding into his mind. He adjusted the rearview mirror so he could better see himself.

“Jim Ed, look at what you are becoming,” the Voice said. “You were willing to hurt Christina and your family, possibly endanger them and go to jail or get killed, just to satisfy your rage. Is this what Willie would want if he were alive? Is this what you really want?”

At that moment, right there in the truck, the fog lifted and Jim Ed’s mind became crystal clear. The light was on. The darkness was revealed and dispelled and he knew that Christina was right. God’s grace poured over him, washing him, filling his soul with peace. A plan was laid out before him. Yes, it was his duty to fight the terrible injustice and evil of prejudice, but not by responding with aggression and violence. Getting even with Lewis would only bring judgment on him and his family.

Jim Ed had to turn his anger over to God and somehow, with God’s strength, fight evil with the power of good, by becoming the best man he could, developing his faculties and striving to be the man God made him to be—a warrior fighting injustice by proving they were wrong and by making progress despite the struggle. That is what he would be held responsible for. He would become the man God created him to be, for Willie’s sake, for Christina’s, and for himself.

Jim Ed’s head dropped down on the steering wheel and he wept. He wept hard, long heaves, emptying himself. “God,” he cried. “Take me and all my hate! If You are really who Christina says You are, then please forgive me and fill me with strength to fight and help me do the right thing!” He opened the revolver’s cylinder, dumped the bullets in his hand, and tossed them out the window. When the bullets left his hand, Jim Ed released a long, drawn-out sigh of relief and it felt as if a ten-ton weight had been lifted off his back. He turned the truck around and headed back to the church.

On the way, Jim Ed met Mr. Kenyon and Bo who were racing to find him to try and talk some sense into him. They pulled their vehicles side by side. Through wet eyes, Jim Ed explained to them his experience and was now headed back to the church cemetery and then on to see Christina.

“It was the Holy Spirit, son,” said Mr. Kenyon. “As soon as Christina told us you’ d gone, everybody at the church gathered and prayed that God would intervene. I believe He did.”

Back at the church cemetery, it was dark and Jim Ed stood beside Willie’s grave alone among the flowers, red clay, and mosquitoes. “Willie, my brother,” he said. “I’m sorry for letting you down and for not covering your back. Please forgive me. You
know that I want justice for you with all my heart, but I’m seeing that the best justice I can give is to fight this thing with goodness and being the man God made me to be. I promise you, Willie, I will live this life for the both of us and make you real proud. I promise. I will see you later, brother. That’s a promise too.”

When he turned into Christina’s driveway that night after visiting Willie’s grave, she was waiting for him on the front porch swing. She had heard the news from her daddy. The moment she saw him she flew off the porch to meet him. Leaning against the truck, they held each other tightly. Then Jim Ed took the locket out of his pocket and slid it back over her head. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you today. I was wrong, and I never want to treat you like that again.”

“I’m so proud of you, Jim Ed,” Christina said through tears of joy.

Jim Ed pulled her face close to his. “You have to help me do this, Christina. Help me to fight the good fight and be the man God made me to be. I can’t do it without you.”