The Prophet of Paradise

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

FERGUS MCKENDRICK MADE a bold move when he hired a young Muriel Hudkins as his bookkeeper. The civil rights movement was in full force then. But it made little difference in the daily lives of most people in Crutchfield County, black or white.

Three candidates applied for the bookkeeper job. It was clear that Muriel had the best qualifications: a two year degree from a business school in Richmond, three years experience as bookkeeper for a furniture store there, excellent references, a polite and professional manner, and, because of her recent marriage and move back to Crutchfield County, the need for local employment and a consequent willingness to work for the modest salary Fergus offered.

Over the next four decades Fergus and Muriel shared a cramped office and a productive working relationship. Their interaction away from the shop was limited. Each made visits to the other’s home on special occasions, and each felt equally uncomfortable.

Muriel not only applied her financial skills to keeping McKendrick and Sons’ books in perfect order but she applied the same discipline to her personal finances. She and her husband Ben saw all four of their children graduate from college. Two of them went on to earn advanced degrees. All four got well away from Crutchfield County.

As a widow living alone Muriel’s attentions became even more focused on the AME Church of Paradise Gap. She was stuffing prayer cards into the programs for Sunday’s service when Ryman called.

“Muriel, I’m sorry to bother you at home, but I figured you’d want to know right away. My father’s had a heart attack. His chances don’t look very good.”

“Oh, my dear Lord.”

“Me and Bar are at the hospital now. He collapsed at the shop shortly after you left. The paramedics got there quick as they could, tried their best. But they didn’t sound too encouraging.”

“Sweet Jesus. Mister Ryman, I’ll start praying for your father right now. And I’ll get the church prayer chain started. There’s wonder-working power in prayer. Yes there is.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. Well, I appreciate that. I’m sure it will help a lot.”

“Mister Ryman, you let me know what else I can do. How’s your dear mama holding up? Does she need anyone to come sit and pray with her?”

“Ma? Ah…no… I reckon Ma will be fine. Mister Billington’s bringing her to the hospital now. I’ll buzz you back when I have more to report. Meanwhile, y’all get that prayer thing going.”

“I’m already calling on the Lord to sustain you and your dear mama. And asking that He be merciful to your daddy.”

“Right. Thanks.”