Three Stories

By Edward Gilchrist Wright

About the Book
Three Stories tells the lives of people in American landscapes of the 20th Century.
Devotion tells of an overbearing preacher who attempts to manipulate the lives of those around him, but his younger second wife has a mind of her own, as does a rebellious son from the preacher’s first marriage.
Eleanor Packard is a young woman whose childhood was marred by an abusive father and an illness which left her lame, making her transition to adulthood difficult.
This Sad Time reveals the fates of two different fathers, each betrayed by a ruthless child.
About the Author
Edward Gilchrist Wright was born in Raleigh, NC. Raised in the country, he has lived in San Francisco for many years. His greatest influences have been the European and English authors of the 19th and 20th Centuries.

• Language: English
• Publisher: RoseDog Books
• Release date: Nov 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798890275394

Book preview

Devotion

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The population of Page (3,621) was surprised when Reverend Phil, a widower for nearly six years, married a woman half his age.

Philip Fairfield, a graduate of Faith Seminary, had been the head of red-brick Page Methodist Church since 1948, upon the demise of the beloved Reverend Balcolm. Reverend Fairfield, or Reverend Phil as he was affectionately known to parishioners, had come to Page accompanied by his wife April Mae and their six-year old son Dickie. Unfortunately, the former April Mae Bunny died in the spring of 1952, leaving Reverend Phil to raise a ten-year old boy and supervise a 90-year old institution alone. The cause of April Mae’s untimely death was uncertain, though there were medical assumptions, everything from bad heart to exhaustion. The town was undecided. As it turned out, Reverend Phil didn’t exactly retire to a monastery after April Mae’s death. Instead he had a long relationship with widow Shirley Lee Shawnsee, a relationship only vaguely comprehended in Page, a town of limited comprehension.

Mrs Shawnsee was a faithful member of the Page Methodist congregation and supported Reverend Phil in his many projects. She was an amateur artist and had completed a day-glo reproduction of the Last Supper, which Reverend Phil pronounced Wonderful! Beautiful!. The Page Methodist Church had no refectory so Shirley Lee’s masterpiece was placed over the inside entrance of the church, just under a small rose window, where it could be admired by the parishioners when they congregated as well as by the choir when it essayed hymns from behind the altar. This group, the faded, the atonal could gaze at the false daVinci while they sang:

"And he walks with me and he talks with me

and he tells me I am his own;

 And the joy we share as we tarry there

 None other has ever known!"

Now, don’t even suggest it! The love here is ethereal love, and the suitor is the Son of God himself. And don’t question why this deity would be prowling around a garden while the dew is still on the roses. He seemed to have an affinity for gardens. The choir never questioned the lyrics, and certainly Reverend Phil never did. They may seem transparent to some, but to Reverend Phil’s parishioners, over-fed and under-read, the lyrics meant one obvious thing: they were loved.

Hands clasped behind his back, head cocked, beaming, blinking, that was Reverend Phil. But behind the rustic façade rested a fierce Republican nature. When a celebrated actress betrayed her husband (with an Italian!) Reverend Phil denounced her from the pulpit as a shameless hussy, warning his flock not to support her latest ballyhooed Hollywood production, an epic in which she played a saint — a saint, no less!

He also thought electrocution was too good for the Rosenbergs. They should be dragged into a public square and slowly stoned to death. His flock bent its collective head and nodded, like sheep awaiting the ax. Needless to say, the Reverend worshipped the administration, both the President and his Vice President. Good, honest guys, Reverend Phil decided.

Standing a block and a half from the Church grounds was the manse, built in 1910 for the comfort of Reverend Balcolm, inherited by Reverend Phil when he took over his clerical duties, a two-story wooden structure painted white and consisting (on the ground floor) of a living room, a dining room, an adjacent kitchen, and a puce-hued study where Reverend Phil composed his sermons on an ancient Remington. Upstairs included four bedrooms, and in the basement there was a furnished apartment. There were three comfort stations, one on each level. A screened-in porch enclosed half the house, one door of which served as entrance from the kitchen to the small garage. Reverend Phil owned a 1950 Ford.

It was the assumption of Shirley Lee Shawnsee that she should be moving into the manse as Reverend Phil’s second wife, but alas! this was not to be. In the spring Reverend Phil had attended a Don’t Drink Rally in the capital and there he had met dark-haired Elizabeth Dawson and her dark-haired brother Anthony. Betty and Tony had been orphaned (at 25 years and 23 years respectively) when their parents died two weeks apart, one from emphysema, the other from heartbreak. They both lived in the capital, Betty in an apartment house near Hamilton Square, Tony in a dorm on the campus of State, where he was a student working under a state scholarship. Betty held down a job in a fashionable ladies’ store on the main street, the Élégance. Reverend Phil was quite impressed by the youth and sincerity of the two assumed prohibitionists and invited them to dinner at the manse one Friday evening (Mandy serving her classic and greasy fried chicken), then to a service at the Page Methodist Church one Sunday morning (Topic: Why Alcohol is Bad for our Boys and Girls). From there it was just a matter of days before Betty (only) was escorted to a Sunday School picnic and later to a Bible study meeting. It soon became evident that Reverend Phil had evolved into a suitor, and Betty could see that he had not only an awed reputation but a very comfortable home. She became acquiescent. Except for Shirley Lee, the Methodist matrons and maidens of Page began hovering around Betty, seeing her as the future power behind the pulpit. And sure enough in the lovely month of June Betty became the second Mrs Fairfield, Reverend Phil’s friend Mr Jones, a Justice of the Peace, performing the ceremony, which was held in Reverend Phil’s church, the chapel bursting with rosebuds, the organ cranking out Mendelssohn, a supervisor from Élégance serving as matron of honor, lanky flop-haired Tony as best man, shifting from foot to foot.

Standing aside, completely uninvolved, could be seen a somewhat thin pale boy beneath a stained glass representation of a fable from Luke depicting an elderly man dressed in scarlet and gold embracing a half-naked youth. The boy observer himself was wearing a dark suit and a white shirt buttoned at the collar. The idea of crisp jeans or a short-sleeved plaid shirt was out of the question. After all, this was Reverend Phil’s son Dickie, hair carefully clipped, living in moral superiority to all other sixteen-year olds. It should be explained that Dickie was not a sobriquet, it was the son’s birth name. The former April Mae Bunny had wanted to give her boy a cute friendly name so that people would like him. Well, Dickie had the name but no one particularly liked him. With his chilly stare and cold ripostes Dickie was not exactly what the citizens of Page considered a proper pastor’s son. Now he stood and watched his father marry a twenty-six year old girl who was probably a fool and had no idea what she was headed into. Dickie knew.

Hey, Dickie, Reverend Phil called out, signaling to his son, come on over here and kiss your new mama. Dickie strode over, gave Betty the kiss of ice, and disappeared into the congregation, not even glancing at his father or his new brother-in-law.

Perhaps the Reverend thought it would be in bad taste to hold the reception at the manse. At any rate, it was held at Roy’s on the outskirts of town, the guests driving there and parking in the adjacent lot, beneath the big kidney-shaped sign. Mandy, of course, could not be a guest, but she and two of her friends were compensated by helping Roy’s employees arrange the boo-fay and set up the lemonade and root beer counters. On the lawn outside were placed tables and straight-back chairs and here the guests hunched forward, gossiped, and spilled food.

Betty the Bride and her Beloved retired to the manse to begin their lives together. After all, Betty had to learn her new responsibilities, and she did. First of all, she learned that Mandy may be the cook but that the new bride was the dietary chef and therefore decided what was bought at market and placed on the table. Two of Mandy’s relatives came in once a week to clean the manse (twenty-five dollars a week, to split between them) but Betty had to supervise the washing, dusting, and polishing and if anything was lacking the girls were told. Also, Betty took dictation from Reverend Phil, sorted his mail, typed up his notes and made sure the sermon was ready for Sunday morning. If everything wasn’t ready Betty was told. As for her position at Élégance that was gone. No wife of Reverend Phil’s was going to work, not in the proletarian sense. Mrs Phil had enough to keep her busy.

Betty bided her time, waiting until two months after the wedding to take her wifely prerogative: she suggested to Reverend Phil that it would be a good idea if Tony moved from the dorm on State campus and lived in the basement apartment, an arrangement the siblings had been discussing for a month. For bed and board Tony could offer $100.00 a month, and it would be really convenient for everyone.

Reverend Phil pulled off his spectacles, stared at her for a few moments, then said: But, Sweetheart, the basement apartment is for Gritz.

Gritz? Who was Gritz?

Gritz was George Fairfield, the Reverend’s elder brother, elder by seven years. Gritz lived in a boarding house in the capital, but it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to move around and also to pay his meager rent. He had had to relinquish his custodian job at a local wholesale drug company in April and his bank account was ebbing. Gritz had not been invited to and therefore had not attended his brother’s wedding, and Betty had never heard of him till now.

But there he was. Gritz moved into the manse a week before