This is part one of a two-part series. Stay tuned to see what Jimmy decides to do!
“Who goes there?” asked a trembling voice out of the darkened shadows of a city alleyway. At the sound of the voice, a small hooded figure turned beneath a street lamp and peered into the darkness. This was not his alley. No, he was supposed to be somewhere else. Yet the tremulous voice from the shadows paused his hurried journey and caused him to forget his destination.
“Who calls?” he asked, unable to see beyond the street lamp’s dim circle of light. He heard a shuffle and watched as a lump of rags emerged from the darkness.
“Ain’t nobody ‘s been down this-away in so long, I done forgot what it was to see a person,” answered an old woman. Her clothes draped around her hunched back in many tattered layers and her ragged hair rendered her face invisible. “Who’re you?”
“I’m Jimmy,” answered the boy under the lamp. “Where you hurryin’ off to child?” She shuffled closer to peer at his face.
Jimmy tensed, feeling wary as her eyes pierced him from under her grimy hair. She would’ve been frightening to Jimmy if she wasn’t so frail.
“The churchhouse.” It was an answer that seemed to deter every curious passerby. This woman was different, however. He was the passerby, and she was the current resident of this forsaken alleyway.
She inched even closer until she stood not more than a foot from his face. Jimmy stared at her uncomfortably. With one quick motion, she reached up and flicked off his hood, revealing his face to the feeble glare of the lamp. Jimmy inhaled quickly and took a step back. This old woman with her dim alleyway, intriguing voice, and unsettling stare was not helping his nerves.
“Mm, mm,” she said to herself. “Just what I’s thinkin’. You’re one of them people.”
“What people?” He asked, beginning to think he should not have stopped. He glanced up the road, hoping he wouldn’t be late. This was taking up time and he was feeling very disturbed.
“You’s from the churchhouse,” she said decisively.
“I already said that,” Jimmy began.
“Yes, yes, but you didna say what kind.”
“What kind?” he repeated, confused.
“Yes, you’s ain’t the kind that thinks o’ the likes of me. You’s just wants me to let you be. You’s ain’t even thinkin’ of how lonely this place gets to be. You’s thinkin’ o’ the places you oughta be, mm? ”
Jimmy shuddered, wondering if it was because this woman read his mind, or if the muscles in his legs were sending him the message to be off again.
“Look ma’am, you’re right about me needing to be somewhere else. I said I’d be there, so it would be wrong if I didn’t show up, but I’ll come back to you tomorrow,” he was anxious to be off.
“We’ll see, we’ll see,” answered the old woman retreating slightly.
Jimmy took that as his permission to leave.
Reverend Mark was waiting patiently when Jimmy arrived.
“Good evening, Reverend, I brought the book,” Jimmy said as he entered. He was returning a book from one of the Reverend’s borrowers. The Reverend kept a library in the church and lent books to various people. Jimmy ran errands to pick up the books when it was time to return them.
“Good,” answered the Reverend. “I was beginning to think you would not make it.”
“I apologize. I got distracted.” Jimmy said, lowering his head slightly. He knew the Reverend did not take kindly to procrastinators.
“Oh?” asked the Reverend curiously, reaching his hand out to accept the book that Jimmy retrieved from under his cloak.
“There was an elderly lady on the street who stopped me. I talked to her for a moment.”
“What did you say to her?” The Reverend turned and motioned for Jimmy to follow him to his study where he placed the book on a shelf.
“I didn’t say much, just my name, and that I needed to come here…” he trailed off and shuddered again. It wasn’t that the alleyway was a bad memory or a nightmare, it simply had the feeling of a hazy dream. Why had he stopped to talk to that woman?
The Reverend cleared his throat. Jimmy jerked his head up, startled. She had affected him more than he thought. The Reverend regarded him silently for a moment. “She was just another beggar on the street wasn’t she?” he asked. “You look a little flustered. Did she disturb you?” Jimmy looked into the Reverend’s eyes and wondered those same questions within himself. She was just like every other poor person he’d seen on the street. Her rags, her unkempt hair, her primitive speech– he’d seen them all before. But what she had been missing, he realized, was the empty eyes. She was not in despair as those other poor people were. She was brimming with knowledge and questions.
Questions.
Yes, it was the questions, and the conclusions she had made. Those things were something he had not seen on the street. No one there asked questions or introduced themselves. They just ducked their heads in acknowledgment of another person, and walked on, forgetting who they passed in their busy lives. “She wasn’t empty like the other beggars. She was alive and…” Jimmy paused, struggling for the words. “And challenging.” He nodded emphatically, pleased that he had found the right word. “That is odd,” said the Reverend. “But not unheard of. Perhaps the evening shadows have played games with your head.” Jimmy looked askance at the Reverend. Was that true? Was it simply a trick of his overactive imagination? “I hope so,” he finally said. “When will you need me to pick up another book?”
The Reverend smiled. “In two days.” The Reverend handed Jimmy a sheet of paper holding an address. “Have it here before sundown.”
Two days later, Jimmy arrived at the churchhouse with another book. It was late afternoon, and there were still several hours before sunset. He delivered the book and stood before the Reverend eager to be dismissed so he could get home in time for supper. “Have you thought any about the encounter you had the other day?” asked the Reverend with an arched eyebrow. Jimmy frowned. “I thought you said it was a trick of the shadows.” Why would the Reverend bring that conversation up again?
“You were so willing to take my advice and ignore the matter. Did you not even attempt to prove my statement true?”
Jimmy felt puzzled. “No, Reverend. I bypassed that alley.” “And you thought nothing of your conversation with the woman?” “I strove to forget it, Reverend.”
“Hmm,” said the Reverend thoughtfully. After a moment, he took a breath as if changing his train of thought. “Well, I have a small gift for you as a token of my gratitude for your services to me.” He pulled from his cloak, a fruit cake wrapped in smooth paper. It was made of dried fruits, honey, and oats fried together. “Thank you, Reverend!” Jimmy said enthusiastically. “Now, this is important. You must choose what to do with it.” The Reverend handed the cake to Jimmy and ushered him out the door of the churchhouse.
Jimmy stood in the street wondering what the Reverend had meant by choosing what to do with the cake. Wasn’t it for eating? Wasn’t he supposed to eat it on the way home? Now the Reverend had him questioning the most logical decisions. Then, unbidden, the woman’s words came back to him. You’s ain’t the kind that thinks o’ the likes o’ me. She was right. He hadn’t questioned the Reverend’s obvious solution of his mind playing tricks on him in the shadows. He should have questioned. Again, another memory floated through his mind. I’ll be back tomorrow, he had said. What a lie! He had never meant to do that.
He stuffed the cake in his pocket. There were no dark shadows today. Today, he would find out what he thought he had seen. It was time to question his first decision and find the truth.
