Though He Slay Me

By Joyce Hardegree Duckett

www xlibris.com/ThoughHelayMe.html

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 11, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450079525

Joyce Hardegree Duckett

Born into a middle class family in Georgia, the fourth of five siblings. Received early and high school education in Metro Atlanta, Georgia where she was an above average student, specializing in commercial subjects, in high school, which equipped her for secretarial and administrative positions. Graduated mid World War II and employed by the Navy as secretary to a Naval Officer. until the war was over. Afterward she continued in various secretarial positions and, finally at her own expense, graduated from law school, receiving both an LLB and an LLM degree in law. The next ten years was spent working in the legal field until she married and became the mother of three children. Later to help provide for their educational expense she worked for the IRS, taking all tax courses they offered and upon leaving the IRS she began an accounting and income tax business which she owned and operated for twenty years. It was a successful endeavor and she sold the business and retired. Joyce met and married her soul mate and became the mother of three children, two sons and one daughter, who have grown up to make her very proud. She and her husband built a retirement home at beautiful Lake Arrowhead (pictures taken from the deck and on the back cover of this book) and lived there until he died from a heart attack. She has continued living there for twenty one years Since early childhood she has been interested in writing and during part of these twenty one years has written this novel “Though He Slay Me”

Book preview

This is a riveting story (which will have wide appeal, including but not limited to religion). It is about the life of a young girl born during the Great Depression. You will be captivated as you travel with her through life experiences—as she copes with, poverty, happiness, sorrow, sadness, disappointments, rejection, success heartache, an attempted murder, love, marriage, death and a world war. It reveals what those on the home front contributed to help bring the war to a close.

Through it all you will see deep faith as the catalysis that brings her through, culminating in complete VICTORY. That is why in the end she said, ‘THOUGH HE SLAY ME, YET WILL I SERVE HIM.’

Joyce Hardegree Duckett

Though

He Slay Me

Copyright © 2010 by Joyce Hardegree Duckett.

THOUGH HE SLAY ME, a novel

A nondramatic literary work

Library of Congress Control Number:

ISBN: 978-1-4500-7952-5 (ebk)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s Imagination. Any resemblance of names, characters, places and incidents or actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Scripture quotations from King James Version of the Holy Bible

Txu 955-159

Effective Date of Registration 5/4/2000

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

79292

DEDICATION

In loving memory of my beloved husband,

James Preston Duckett, Jr., and Susan Burke Duckett,

my beloved deceased daughter-In-law;

and

My children: Charles Preston Duckett, and his wife,

Terri; and Michael Joel Duckett, Diane Duckett Gentry

and my Granddaughters, Emily Cuellar, Leah Gentry and

Haley Allyson Duckett

and Devin Keith Cuellar and Bella Hope Cuellar, my great grandson and great granddaughter

The photographs on the front and back cover of this book by Margaret Harris Bailey

(in loving memory)

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

In appreciation to my neighbors, Al and Betty Short, who patiently instructed this retired first time author, how to operate a computer. This resulted in the skill to use word processing in preparing the manuscript.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

APPENDAGE

CHRONOLOGY OF EVENTS

Chapter One

DAYS OF INNOCENCE

Day was breaking in a small Georgia town near the Florida border. It was Sunday and most of the town was still sleeping. The streets were quiet. Traffic had not begun to stir. Only the sound of the early morning freight train penetrated the silence as it whistled by.

It was April. The nights were still cool but the days were beginning to be warm—sometimes sultry. The year was Nineteen Hundred Twenty Seven. The economy of the entire country was beginning to fall apart. The Great Depression was soon to begin. Everyone was already feeling the financial crunch, even though the crash was almost two years away, but none could foresee the depth of the impact it would have.

These were the circumstances into which Bernie Mahaffey was about to be born.

At first observance, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary at the Mahaffey residence on this morning. But soon an automobile turned the corner; came down the tree-lined street and pulled to the curb in front of the little white frame house and stopped.

A stately austere man nattily dressed and carrying a black bag, opened the gate to the picket fence and walked up the walkway to the front door. The door swung open before he had time to knock—Hank Mahaffey had been waiting for him.

Both men disappeared into the house. He was the doctor who had been summoned to the bedside of Jewell Strickland Mahaffey, Hank’s wife, who had gone into labor with their second child.

Dr.Goldsmith had been the town doctor for sometime. His reputation was impeccable and the Mahaffeys knew they were in good professional hands. The doctor busied himself with the usual accoucheur’s procedures in preparation for the birth. His demeanor was impressively mollifying as he spoke softly and reassuringly to Jewell, performing his duties as he spoke to her. Everything looked good. The pains were coming sporadically. Then suddenly he looked over the top of his dark rimmed glasses and announced: the child will be here soon—try to cooperate all you can, the pain will soon be gone now.

Jewell, at the doctor’s instruction, with one last effort obtrusively began pushing, screamed out from the excruciating pain, and then she felt the baby expelled from her body. Bernice (Bernie) Mahaffey had just made her entrance into the world with a gusty cry. The delivery was normal and unremarkable. The baby was normal and healthy. Everything had gone well for both mother and the baby.

Jewell cuddled the little newborn close to her. A rush of gratitude and praise welled up inside her. She was happy the ordeal was over; but at the same time, was ebullient with love and joy for this little red creature and the love literally exuded from her eyes. It was an incredulous experience. Jewell’s maternal instincts were impeccable—she was a wonderful mother.

Bernie appeared healthy in every way and from all outward appearances was a very ordinary baby. However, she was everything but ordinary. The world would soon know that this little person was not to be merely ordinary—she was destined to be a phenomenal person from the beginning and would remain so for the rest of her life.

The next few months were uneventful. Nothing exciting was happening in the little crossroads town. People were concerned about the approaching Depression as many were being laid off from their jobs.

Hank and Jewell had moved here three and a half years ago with their first child, Jordan. They came for economic reasons.

At the time they had moved here people everywhere were without jobs and the times becoming more and more difficult. Jordan was only three. Now he was four years of age. Hank had transferred with his company to retain employment. It was not a move they would have sought. Their roots were established in Georgia farmlands two hundred miles North. Both had been born and reared there.

Hank grew up on a farm owned by his father, Melton Mel McAdams Mahaffey. Mel’s first wife had died when Hank and his siblings were small. Mel married again just months following his wife’s death. The kind woman Mel had taken for his second wife was very solicitous of the children’s needs and proficient in homemaking. Hank had adored his stepmother, who was the only mother figure he could remember.

They all worked hard cultivating the farm, growing bountiful harvests of vegetables, fruits, meats, nuts and feed crops for the farm animals.

Since he was needed on the farm during growing season and harvest time, and the little one-room schoolhouse was so far away, Hank had been deprived of a good formal education. His only means of transportation to school was by foot. The winters were severe, the red Georgia clay roads often impassable. The ruts were muddy and slippery and on the coldest mornings one could see long frozen prisms of icicles protruding from the red clay banks.

In spite of this deprivation, Hank excelled under the tutelage of both his father and stepmother. He possessed a brilliant, keen mind and therefore acquired an abundance of practical education in the school of common sense. His good upbringing and rich heritage proved to be a great asset; even though his formal education was only through the third grade.

Mel exercised strict discipline with his sons. The Mahaffey children’s reputation in the community was remarkable in their obsequiousness to their father. He was a civic-minded church going man, who, among other things, sang in the church choir. His rich baritone voice harmonized with the other choir members from the community. Sunday morning without fail, Mel was faithful in bringing his family to church and making certain they were well versed in the Bible.

Hank inherited his father’s rich baritone voice and developed it in coming years. The Mahaffey family enjoyed an extraordinarily remarkable reputation in the community and everyone knew the Mahaffey family could be counted on to do their part in whatever the community needs might be.

The community consisted of vast acres of farmlands. These lands were owned by landlords who operated the farms, using labor of family members and of sharecroppers. The modest little sharecropper homes dotting the horizon along the outer edges of the cultivated fields were not always in the best of repair. Families occupying these shacks were a balanced mix of whites and blacks. Most of them had been displaced from their jobs by the economic decline, which preceded The Great Depression.

Jewell’s background was similar. She was brought up in the household of Judson Jud Strickland, her uncle. Jewell lost both her parents when she was an infant to a disease that was prevalent at that time and unresponsive to treatment. Her grandparents had taken her into their home and provided for her until the feebleness of old age prevented them. At that time, she went to live with Jud and his wife and their growing family. It was here she had lived until she and Hank married. The Strickland family was decorous and also known for their magnanimity but also for their lack of opulence.

Jud Strickland was indeed a saintly man. Those who knew him best knew him to be a person with unusual discernment. In fact, some believed he possessed a modicum of prophetic abilities. His style was grandiose.

Jewell made her home with them from a very early age. Hank and Jewell grew up as very close friends. The two families were good neighbors. As Hank and Jewell reached adulthood they became aware of their mellifluous love for each other and soon married and moved from the farm to the city. It was here their first son, Jordan, was born shortly before the job transfer to South Georgia.

While away from home they kept close contact with their families back on the farm.

A year and a half after Bernie’s arrival the economy grew worse. The stock market in New York crashed. News venders on America’s streets were harking their incredulous stories of businessmen jumping from skyscraper windows to their deaths on the pavement below. They had lost their life savings and found themselves in deep shock. The circumstances were simply incongruous to what they were accustomed, and, therefore; they were simply unable to cope. Banks were going belly-up everywhere; many had lost their jobs. Children were hungry; soup kitchens sprang up. There was hopelessness written over their faces as they stood in long soup lines just to get enough food to keep from starving. No one could remember times more devastating.

Hank managed to keep his job for the preceding years prior to Bernie’s arrival. Although the Mahaffey family had fared better than most, opulence was not a word descriptive of their existing condition.

Early in December l928 Hank had driven his A-Model Ford home at the end of the workday, parked it in the drive and came into the house.

Hank was a ruggedly handsome man, bronzed from working outdoors. His frame was prodigious, towering above most everyone. He was an impressive gregarious person with a jovial grandiose style. He was liked instantly by almost everyone he met.

Hank’s greeting upon returning home at the end of a work day was always first to give Jewell a big bear hug and an affectionate kiss—then he turned his attention to Jordan and Bernie who were always standing in line clamoring for his attention. Jordan was first today. And how’s my big man today? Hank said as he hoisted the little fellow up to his big shoulder. Before Jordan could respond, Bernie was clawing at his leg to get his attention. There was a strong bonding between these two and Bernie naturally thought she was the apple of Hank’s eye—his favorite child. Jordan also shared these feelings, thinking he also was the very favorite child. Hank had a way of making each of them feel as if they were his very favorite.

Jordan slid down Hank’s big body to the floor and Bernie climbed into his arms. She clung close to him. Hank gave her a tremendous bear hug as he injected his response into her loquacious conversation, I love you, Bernie. She was very happy.

Something was different today about Hank’s greetings. He appeared almost mechanical, as if detached or deeply troubled.

Jewell, being a discerning wife, detected Hank’s mood immediately. She realized something was very wrong, and escorted him to the recliner and lovingly half shoved him into it. You look tired—why don’t you just rest there a bit before dinner. After dinner you’ll feel more rested and after the children are in bed, we’ll discuss what is troubling you. We need to talk. I can tell.

They never discussed problems in the presence of the children. They desired them to have an innocent childhood free of all incongruities.

Jewell, by Hank’s standards, was an incredibly impeccable wife, mother, homemaker and cook. Her tendency was to overdo. Her fetish was to keep an antiseptically clean home. She had worked hard at this all day. Hank knew she had, for she looked tired but the house sparkled.

He looked at her now thinking to himself: what would I possibly do without her. She is my life. Oh, how I wish I could give her more—make life easier for her. Hank always seemed to feel guilt-ridden because he could not give her more conveniences to relieve the pressure of the hard work she performed.

At least he had been able to keep a job. That is until today, he was thinking.

Jewell always had a delicious dinner prepared when Hank returned home from work. They looked forward to sharing mealtime with their family. Mealtimes at the Mahaffey home was a time of sharing; a time of special family fellowship. Jordan and Bernie were taught exemplary manners. No exceptions were made today.

Jewell, breaking the silence, said: Hank, I know you must be starved, why don’t I get dinner on the table while you and the children wash up. Afterwards we’ll relax and spend some time with the children—but not a long time tonight. We’ll get them to bed early. Sounds like a winner, Hank absent mindedly replied, as he arose from the recliner and headed to the bathroom.

Soon they gathered around the table, said grace, and began serving their plates. Meals were served family style with the children getting help as necessary with filling their plates. They knew that they were to wait until everyone was served before eating.

Table conversation tonight was sparse except for the usual loquacious but mellifluous conversation initiated by Bernie, of course. She was an inquiring child with an exceptionally keen mind, never satisfied unless engaged in exploring one question after the other. Tonight was not a good night for this, but Hank and Jewell exercised extraordinary patience with her, trying never to discourage her in her pursuit for knowledge.

Jordan was a very brilliant child, as was Bernie. However, Jordan possessed a completely different personality. Their personalities, though different, blended well together. The fact is, they adored each other. Being the oldest, and with a personality bent toward protectiveness, Jordan had become Bernie’s self-appointed protector early on, and he had filled this appointment throughout his life.

Tonight, Jordan was absorbed with satisfying his ravishing appetite. His conversation was confined to the business of making sure food was passed to him. Hank was grateful tonight for not too much conversation for he was not in the mood for conversation.

When the meal was completed, Hank arose from the table. He lavished praise upon Jewell for the well—prepared meal, as was his custom. He moved back to the den and the recliner. The children joined him. Jewell remained in the kitchen to do the dishes, I’ll be with you all shortly, just as soon as I finish the dishes, Jewell said.

Bernie had already selected her favorite book and scrambled up into daddy’s lap. Please read this one, she exclaimed, as she handed the book to him upside down. Hank drew her close to him and began to read. He really didn’t need the book. He had read it to her so many times he could recite it in his sleep, he thought. Bernie’s favorite book was the same one over and over. The pages were dog-eared and worn.

Jordan sat patiently in the floor playing with a toy tractor making motor noises with his mouth—he knew his turn would come. He waited patiently—patience always was one of Jordan’s virtues.

Jewell joining them from the kitchen said: this is a cozy scene. I hate to end it, but I want you, Jordan and Bernie, to bed early tonight. Daddy and I have something we need to discuss.

Fortunately, the children were exhausted from a rigorous day at play. They did not offer any protest tonight and retired to the bedroom. Hank and Jewell tucked them into each of their beds, as usual, said prayers with them but tonight decided to forego reading Bible stories.

Bernie snuggled in her flannel gown and scooted under the covers, adjusting her head on the pillow. Me first, she said. Jewell and Hank hovering over her began the words Now I lay me down . . . Before they finished the words, Bernie had drifted off to sleep. As Bernie grew older, they would progress into bedtime prayers with greater maturity and involve the children in meaningful personal conversation with God.

Jordan, patient as usual, waited his turn. Hank and Jewell moved to Jordan’s bedside and embraced him as he began his own prayer:

Dear God, please bless our home, Daddy, Mommie, Bernie and me. We thank you for all your bountiful blessings. We ask you to protect us and keep us safe through the night and guide and protect us tomorrow and help Daddy with his problem, Amen. Jewell and Hank pulled the covers up, tucked him in as if he were a most precious possession and said Good night to him. The bedroom was not heated and the nights were sometimes chilly. Jewell’s handmade quilts kept them quite comfortable and would keep them snug tonight.

They retired to the den. The fire was glowing in the fireplace. Hank sank back into his recliner. Jewell sat down on the floor in front of him and rested her head on his lap and began trying to start the conversation in a little lighter vein than she felt it would end. She asked, and, how did your day go? There was no immediate response. She continued: Elsie came over this morning for a visit. She’s such a kind person, a wonderful friend to me. It’s so comforting to have her next door. I don’t know what I would do here without her.

I know Hank responded: I’m glad you two hit it off so well. I think she enjoys the children. That’s good, since they have none of their own.

Hank was glad Elsie was next door for Jewell’s sake. He was aware that Jewel had suffered loneliness since dislocating so far from their lifelong surroundings. He was also aware that Jewell