Peaches

The Seventh Day

Then the Lord God said to the woman, "What is this you have done?"

The woman said, "The serpent deceived me, and I ate."

Genesis 3:13

...

It was only Sundays that Jean and her family, the Mooneys, the seven of them all together, would leave the farm. Just a few years ago there was nine of them, but the two older boys, Calvin and Walter, had left when they reached twenty. Yet, it was still the same. They would walk down the only road in sight until they were in town. It took no more than thirty minutes to get to the church but under the red hot summer sun, it felt like hours. They walked in a straight line, with Pa in the front, and Jean in the back. She didn't always want to be in the end, but that's how it always ended up. Instead of focusing, she lingered and kicked rocks against her older sister's pure white shoes. Mama was always afraid that one day, Jean would run off when no one was looking and ruin herself. She still hadn't quite yet.

Each family had their own little row, their own little sanctuary. Jean had noticed quite quickly that the older you were, the closer you sat to the preacher. She thought that maybe it was their way of kissing up to God, because they were closer to death than the rest of them. It was just a thought, but she took the fact that her family was around the back as a blessing.

Jean hadn't even been able to see the preacher until she was around eleven, just because of all the wide rimmed hats and how short she was. After she shot up in height and was able to see all the details of dusty stained glass from back, she then realized how much she liked church. It wasn't the religious aspect or that everyone looked so pretty in their Sunday's best, although dressing up was a factor. She liked it because it was constant, and it seemed that it always was. The town could change, and people could leave or disappear, but the chapel and its preacher would always be there. It would always remain, just as she thought she would remain.

Though the windows and front doors were opened to any breeze outside, the church was still unbearable. Jean loved summer, loved the bright green grass, the hot rain showers, and the smell of the wet air; it was all good. The one thing she couldn't stand was how sticky she could feel. Jean could be wearing nothing but a bandana, but she would still be covered in a light filmy layer of moisture. She laced her fingers into the bottom of her hair and pulled it upwards for a moment of relief. Her hair felt thick and dewy.

She also was just beginning to realize how she must look to everyone else. Her shoes were stained from the walk, the seams of her dress were worn, and she was sure the way her white blonde hair was fluffed around her shoulders made her look like a bird. Jean would never describe herself as a 'pretty girl,' but if she was clean and opened minded, she could consider it. Usually, as she entered the church, people would gather around her and tell her how darling she was. One woman, Mrs. Bernet, would even go as far to say that Jean's dark brown eyes would be would be a perfect antithesis for her son, George Thomas's, blue. Mrs. Bernet would say this so often, that Jean had begun to envision herself actually married to him in one or two years. If she closed her eyes for long enough, she could even see the service. See George Thomas in his tuxedo, holding her hand as he proclaimed eternal love to her. See her dress, which would be so incredibly long and luxurious that she would need three attendants to hold the train behind her. See the yellow roses in her bouquet and the matching bridesmaid dresses. She had envisioned it so vividly that it was almost real. Yet today, as she entered the Church, Mrs. Bernet had lifted a brow at Jean's appearance and ushered her son as far way from Jean as possible.