Reverend Ripple$ Building Fund (eBook)

1

Sunday

October 7, 1956

Brianna Ballard and Candaleah Caine were sisters by parents and birth certificates only. Candaleah, the older one by two years, was two inches taller, audacious, and plucky; Brianna was svelte, vivacious, and feminine.

Brianna was a happy, hot-blooded spitfire; Candaleah was the captain of her ship. Both sharply handled rudeness from anyone, and they took no prisoners.

Brianna devoured expensive, designer fashion while Candaleah was always comfortable in tailored western wear, wide black belts with fancy buckles, and black custom made Lucchese boots.

Brianna would do most anything to entice and encourage the attention of their very handsome and extremely popular radio preacher.

Candaleah trusted her instinct and accepted that the sun did not shine on the shady side of The Right Reverend Robert “Bobby” Ripples.

The preacher and Brianna were engaged in small talk after Sunday morning services, standing at the bottom step of the renowned Church of Heavenly Inspiration and Perpetual Spirit.

The Right Reverend was proud of the name he had ordained for the Baptist church, his church, and was thankful a bag of Lay’s played a role. Although the CHIPS’ building fund he had inherited from Pastor Shirley Foote was successfully prosperous, his personal enjoyment of the proceeds had gotten out of hand. The inflated balance in the monthly reports The Right Reverend continued to submit to his adoring congregation had not dimmed their eagerness to stuff his coffers. With cash flowing in – a dollar here, fifty cents there, dimes and nickels, and a President Lincoln now and then – The Right Reverend feared the rumblings of an audit. That would uncover his serious accounting shortcomings and lead to the discovery of other misdeeds. He faced a frightening dilemma.

The moment Brianna told him about her husband, Boudreaux, winning two tickets to see Elvis at the Cotton Bowl in Dallas, The Right Reverend realized one of his most pressing prayers was answered.

The Right Reverend grinned and nodded. “That’s wonderful, Bri. Where was the drawing?”

“Oh, no, no, it wasn’t a drawing. It was a contest on the radio. Ernie Mauldin had the tickets for his Top-Forty program at the station.”

“Hmmm, I don’t remember him mentioning that.”

      “Ernie was playing a secret record, and whoever called in first and said the name of the song and singer would win two tickets.”

“Ah. And Boo won,” The Right Reverend concluded.

Bri nodded. “Ernie played Elvis’ record. The first two callers got the song’s name wrong. Boo was the third caller, but the first to say the name right. People always want to say That’s All Right, Little Mama, but the real name of Elvis’ song is That’s All Right.” Bri grinned. “I have lots of his records. We play them all the time. I know all the words to all of his songs.”

“Are you going with Boo to see Elvis?”

Her long black hair swished along trim, straight shoulders with the head shake. “I want to go, I really do. I mean, it’s Elvis, Reverend Ripples. You know? Elvis?”

He chuckled. “Well, that boy sure is shaking things up right now. Seems like he’s on the radio night and day, so much so I’m afraid he’ll soon be taking over my time slots at the radio station and the sponsors for my sermons.”

“Who’s going to take your sponsors?”

Reverend Ripples turned to the voice. “Oh, hi, Candaleah. Elvis. Elvis might. Brianna was telling me about Elvis at the Cotton Bowl. That Boo won two tickets.”

“My sister’s been crazy about that boy since last March. It was the first time we saw him in person at the Louisiana Hayride.”

Bri huffed. “Well, you are too, Candy.”

Candaleah looked at The Right Reverend and nodded. “I like him, alright. He’s pretty and all, but crazy about him? I’m not so sure about that, but I do like his music. I sing along with him when I hear his records. We danced on Momma’s new rug in the living room when he was on the Ed Sullivan Show.”

“The way he says the words ‘You - Ain’t - Nothing - But - A - Hound - Dog’ made me tingle all over,” Bri admitted.

“You tingle just because you think he’s looking at you from the TV,” Candaleah said.

“Wouldn’t you go with Elvis if he asked you? I would, in a heartbeat.”

The Right Reverend laughed. “Well, you may get the chance one of these days. When is Elvis going to be there, at the Cotton Bowl?”

“On Thursday, the eleventh, at eight o’clock.”

“When are you and Boo going to leave for Dallas?”

Candaleah shook her head. “Oh, she’s not gonna go.”

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry. I just asked her that. I was thinking about something else. All this talk about Elvis in Dallas got me flustered.”

Bri clamped her bright red lips together and pouted before wobbling her head and speaking. “I wish.” She looked at Candaleah. “Me and Candy have to stay here and help Momma with her beauty shop.”

“What’s wrong with Miss Julia?”

Candaleah raised her eyebrows and canted her head. “Gout.”

“Well, I noticed Miss Julia wasn’t in church but nobody told me why she was absent.”

“Momma’s got the gout in her left foot and toes, so she asked Bri and me to run the shop for two or three days,” Candaleah said. “Till Friday, anyway.”

“Boo will be lonely without you, Bri. Shame to waste a ticket to see Elvis,” he prodded.

“Oh, he’s not going by himself,” Bri said.

“Clementine’s going to go with Boo,” Candaleah said. “Murray said it was alright for both of them to be away from the paper for a couple of days. Murray said he’d tell Mister Sorrell they were on assignment for the paper, they could write an article about their visit to Dallas and about Elvis.”

The Right Reverend pressed elbows tight against his ribs to hold his arms from rising in a hallelujah – the Lord had worked in a mysterious way. Boudreaux Ballard and Clementine Caine were the ideal couriers The Right Reverend needed for a special delivery to Dallas.

“Of course. Clem.” The Right Reverend’s grin widened. “Your husbands are two peas in a pod, they are, Boudreaux and Clementine. Perfect. Perfect. Will they drive or take the Greyhound?”

“Train,” Bri answered. “Clem wanted to take the bus, Boo wanted to take the train.”

“They flipped a half-dollar,” Candaleah said. “Clem called tails.”

“Candy and me need the cars to pick up Momma’s elderly customers and bring them to the shop to get their hair done. But we intend to drive over to Dallas and join Boo and Clem.”

“I’m a little surprised Boo will let you drive his pretty, new Bel Air.”

“I drive it all the time, Reverend. And you’re right, it is pretty – all red and white.”

“Bri will drive the Bel Air to Dallas Friday,” Candaleah said. “We’ll do some Saturday shopping and spend Clem’s and Boo’s money at the big store.”

“At Neiman Marcus,” Brianna said.

“And eat at the Luby’s Cafeteria,” Candaleah said. “Luby’s has the best fried liver and onions I’ve ever tasted, better even than the way Momma or Miss Claudette cooks them.”

“Do you think I could burden Boo with a particular package I need to get to Dallas? It’s not really a package, it’s a leather satchel, actually. It needs exceptional handling. Save the church some postage, you know?”

“Of course.” Bri smiled sweetly. “We’d do anything for you, Reverend.”

“Now, I’ve told you two pretty ladies before, when we’re alone, when it’s just the two of us - or the three of us together – you must just call me Bobby.” He opened his arms wide.

Bri grinned; Candaleah managed a polite smile. Bri stepped into his embrace; Candaleah hesitated until his wiggling fingers pulled her arm in.

He held them close. “Um, this is nice. Now, doesn’t that feel real good?” he asked softly, caressing their lower backs.

Both women murmured agreement. Bri wrapped an arm around his waist to pull in tight against his abdomen.

“Well, Preacher done stole our womenfolk.”

Brianna and Candaleah stepped out of The Right Reverend’s hold.

“Your pretty ladies were just telling me you two are going to see Elvis Presley at the Cotton Bowl. That Murray Austin made you reporters to write about Elvis for the paper.”

“Sure are,” Boudreaux affirmed. “Murray said that so Mister Sorrell would be satisfied with our two-day absence to see Elvis.”

“We saw him at the Louisiana Hayride last March and at the Big D Jamboree in September,” Clementine added. “That boy can sing, and he sure knows how to twist his skinny hips.”

“Swivel,” Brianna corrected. Embarrassed by all the glares fixed on her, she quickly...