THREE RIVERS by Tiffany Quay Tyson
Published by Thomas Dunne Books
On-sale July 21, 2015
ISBN-13:
9781250063267 | $25.99 | Hardcover
SUMMARY The
story begins when Melody, on tour with the Holy Rollers, receives a
curt message from her mother, Geneva: “Come home. I must leave. Your
father is dying. Your brother is not able.” Upon her return,
Melody finds her father “rotting while still alive…his skin puddled
around his bones” and her brother, brain damaged from a botched baptism,
left in charge. Geneva’s (once again) abandoned
her family and their sprawling, defunct Three Rivers Farm, to seek
spiritual guidance from her trusted mystic, Pisa. Pisa insists Geneva
break things off with her longtime lover or face terrible consequences.
Geneva ignores Pisa’s advice, but does agree to
harbor Pisa’s son and grandson, Obi and Liam, on her farm. Obi’s
desperate to remain free and protect his son at all costs after a
horrible accident leaves them on the run. The three stories converge as
flood waters rise and Pisa’s predictions begin to come
true, pitting man against nature and propelling them all headlong into
the storm.
EVENTS
Wednesday, August 12—Jackson, MS
Lemuria Books, 5 PM
4465 North Highway 55
No. 202
Jackson, MS 39206
Saturday, August 15—Natchez, MS
Turning Pages Books & More, 2 PM
520 Franklin Street
Natchez, MS 39120
Tuesday, August 18—Greenwood, MS
TurnRow Book Company, 5.30 PM
304 Howard Street
Greenwood, MS 38930
Wednesday, August 19—Oxford, MS
Square Books, 5 PM
160 Courthouse Square
Oxford, MS 38655
_________________________________________________
Excerpt:
Bobby
was eleven when he answered the call of the Lord. It was summertime and hot
then, as it was now. They worshipped in a small, old church while a new
sanctuary was built. The congregation looked to that new sanctuary with as much
reverence as they looked toward God. When Pastor Tuttle announced they would
worship in the new church the very next week, Bobby sprinted up the aisle to
dedicate his soul, determined to be the first body dunked in the new baptismal
pool.
For
the past year, the church had contracted with a nearby hotel to use its pool
once a month for baptisms. It was awkward when guests in town for reunions or
weddings came down on Sunday mornings to swim off their Saturday night
hangovers. Before that, they’d done all their baptisms in the Tallahatchie
River. That’s where Melody was dunked, where she felt the cool squish of mud
between her toes, where she ate sour cream cake and fried chicken while the sun
and a warm breeze dried her hair. It was perfect until little Johnny McPherson
was bit by a water moccasin at his baptism. Plenty of folks said Johnny was an
evil child and the devil had come back in that old familiar form to claim his
soul. That Johnny survived and went on to brag about his brush with death just
reinforced the gossip. Most people, though, knew you could enter snake-infested
waters only so many times without getting bit. Those people began raising money
for a new sanctuary, snake-free baptismal pool included.
On
the morning of the baptism, every seat was filled. People who showed up for
church only at Christmas and Easter were there, wearing their finest clothes.
The new sanctuary was spectacular with gleaming polished oak pews. The choir
wore new rich purple robes with gold embroidery around the neck and arms.
Melody, Bobby, and Mama sat in the third row. Melody’s father could not be
lured to church for any reason. When the choir rose to sing “Just a Closer Walk
with Thee,” Bobby slipped through a side door behind the choir loft. Pastor
Tuttle followed. The choir sang on and on. When they finished, Pastor Tuttle
emerged clad in dark robes. He stepped down into the pool. A soft light
emanated from the water and shone on his face. A microphone was attached to one
side of the pool, and Pastor Tuttle took it in his hands. “Friends and family
in the Lord.” His voice boomed, magnified by the microphone and tiles. When
Bobby appeared behind the pastor, poised to step down into the water, Melody
put a fist to her mouth. She was overcome with the beauty of her little
brother, and not for the first time. Pastor Tuttle stepped to one side and
offered his hand to Bobby. Bobby smiled, turned his head left and right,
drawing out the moment for full effect. He looked heavenward, then reached down
to take the pastor’s hand. That was when it all went wrong.
The
microphone slipped from the pastor’s hand and splashed into the water. Pastor
Tuttle yelped, and disappeared. Bobby’s beautiful face contorted. His neck
snapped back like someone having a seizure. Melody’s mother broke the stunned
silence, screaming, “Let go. Let go! Let go!”
She didn’t need a microphone to be heard. Bobby jerked, spasmed, fell back onto
the hard tile steps. Time passed, though Melody would never know how much, and
the sound of a bleating ambulance grew louder until it was deafening. Sunshine
poured down the aisle of the church as a pair of paramedics rushed in.
The
congregation remained in the pews, some standing, some slumping forward, but
Melody’s mother moved. She sprinted through the door Bobby had entered earlier
and reappeared in the baptismal pool, where she sank down on the top step and
pulled Bobby onto her lap. Her skirt, a beautiful linen the color of butter
pecan ice cream, gaped open, revealing a glimpse of her lavender silk panties,
a disturbing detail that would remain vivid in Melody’s memory for the rest of
her life. Mama stroked Bobby’s hair and seemed to speak to him, though he
didn’t respond. One of the paramedics appeared and reached for Bobby. Mama
reared her head back and hissed. The paramedic stumbled, nearly fell into the
water. He looked confused. “Mama,” Melody said, her voice too soft to be heard.
She spoke up. “Mama, you have to let him go. Let them take him.” Mama’s lips
kept moving; her hands stroked Bobby’s face. It was too much, too intimate a
display for church, no matter how dire the situation. Melody’s face went hot.
“Please.” She appealed to the paramedic. “Please help my little brother.” The
paramedic locked eyes with her and she saw that he was scared and very young,
but he nodded and pried Bobby from Mama’s grasp, checked for a pulse, put his
mouth on Bobby’s mouth, until Bobby’s hands fluttered around the man’s face. He
lifted Bobby, carried him into the main sanctuary, placed him on a stretcher,
and wheeled him down the aisle. A second stretcher carried Pastor Tuttle, who
was still and gray and obviously dead. Finally, they came back for Melody’s
mother, who twitched and cried out some sort of gibberish. No one came for
Melody, who was left to wonder what would happen next.
From THREE RIVERS by Tiffany
Quay Tyson, on sale July 21, 2015, from Thomas Dunne Books, an imprint of St.
Martin’s Press, LLC. Copyright © 2015 by the author and reprinted by permission
of St. Martin’s Press, LLC.