A White Room by Stephanie Carroll Page B

towered over his wife. His white hair and beard reflected his many years of experience in the medical field. I had finally met the senior physician, but he hadn’t spoken a word to me since John formally introduced us. He didn’t seem to speak to anyone much. I had finally realized why Margaret could get away with anything in Labellum. No one would risk offending the only doctors in town by upsetting her. Their son, Walter, wasn’t in church that day, but on other occasions I’d seen him worship humbly.
    I had hoped church would give me the excuse to meet the famous Olivia Urswick, but she obviously didn’t do things like most people and never attended services. She was becoming something of a legend in my mind.
    I peeked at John to make sure he hadn’t noticed my lack of attention to the hymnal, and then I glanced at the Ripprings. Marcellus always appeared to be distracted during church. He fidgeted throughout and mumbled the hymns. Ida looked tired, or bored perhaps, and oddly unbothered by her husband’s constant squirming. I wondered why Ida had married Marcellus. He offered her nothing, he had the worst manners, and he was far from genteel. Perhaps love? I scrutinized his greasy hair and square chin. Perhaps he’d looked different when he was younger. The hymn ended, and everyone sat down.
    Pastor Tomas delivered a lengthy oration on charity, occasionally pausing to shuffle his notes on the tiny schoolhouse music stand. It was about the importance of selflessness and sacrificing for others. He read from the book of John and described Jesus’ many efforts to help the poor, sinners, and the undeserving. “There are many poor sinners in Labellum,” Pastor Tomas said, “and it is up to those of higher learning and stature to save them.”
    I wondered who would actually heed his call.
    I hoped these people would think of this sermon when John arrived at church alone, his wife having abandoned him. I hoped they would be sympathetic to his plight. I hoped the women would cook him meals and the men would extend invitations despite the embarrassment. He wouldn’t have to endure much, though, as the failed woman would carry the full weight of dishonor. Perhaps they would glorify John for having married such a wretched person. I hoped the people of St. Louis knew this sermon and would forgive me. I knew very well the extent of the consequences I might endure. I would probably die an ostracized spinster like Miss Urswick. She managed. Why not I?
    After the sermon, Mrs. Tomas played an eloquent tune on the piano, and Pastor Tomas called for attendees to come forward if they wished to be forgiven for their sins or recognized as Christians in front of the congregation. Then he bowed his head and everyone sang a hymn as people hesitantly stood and swayed uncomfortably down the aisle. I personally found the altar call unpleasant to behold and experience. Brave souls staggered to the front with eyes on their backs. They knelt and prayed in imaginary privacy. It was impolite to watch, and most people tried to ignore the scene or pretended like me. I tried to focus straight ahead and I sang the words to the hymn, but my eyes frequently darted toward the center-stage worshipers.
    I felt a puff of air next to me. I glanced over and saw that John wasn’t there. He was marching to the front. I stared at the back of his head, his slicked-back hair. He reached the altar. I glanced down at my hymnal but lifted my gaze back up without actually having found the words. I realized I had nothing to sing, looked down, and fumbled. By the time my eyes shot up, John had knelt next to another man in a brown suit. John bowed his head. Why was he up there? Was John a pure man—a man of God? Or was he up there because he was wicked—a sinner? He knelt for several minutes, humbled and defenseless in front of the Lord and his church. The song slowed, and John rose quickly and turned back. I was the first thing his dark eyes landed on. I blinked