“How did the cross burning go the other night?” Fancel asked.
“It’s called a lightin’, a cross lightin’. It ain’t right to burn a symbol of our Lawd Jesus H. Christ. I would think you knowed that by now.”
Fancel sighed. “What’s the H for?”
“What?”
“The H in Jesus H. Christ, what’s it for?” She picked some pepperoni from a crease in her house dress.
Fondle paused to regard her with his head cocked. “Why, it stands for, um, heaven, that’s right.”
“Jesus Heaven Christ? That don’t make good sense.”
“What would make sense to you?” Fondle asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Herschel, maybe.”
“Why?”
“It’s a nice name and it’s a name. Heaven ain’t no name.”
“It’s the name of a place, so it’s a name. In fact, the place is named after our Lord,” Fondle said, his eyes narrowed.
“Why ain’t the place just called Jesus or Jesusburg?”