Everybody Say Amen (11 page)

R
achel rubbed her eyes and tried to focus on the bright red numbers on her digital clock. Three A.M. Was that someone banging on her door? Lester was snoring softly and didn’t seem fazed by the loud noise.

Rachel threw back the comforter and stepped out of bed. She grabbed her robe and slipped her arms in it, before making her way into the living room. Whoever was at her door was losing their mind, banging like they were crazy.

Rachel tightened the belt on her robe. “Who is it?” she called as she stood on her toes and stared out of the peephole.

“It’s David! Open the door.”

“Boy, what is wrong with you?” Rachel asked as she swung the door open. Then she remembered a similar scene several years ago when David had showed up at her parents’ house being chased by drug dealers and quickly closed the door again. “Don’t bring any of your drama up in here.”

“It’s Tawny!” David huffed, out of breath. “She’s at the hospital about to have the baby.”

“And? Shouldn’t you be there with her then?” Rachel asked.

“I was on my way, but my car won’t make it. It overheated as I was going down 59. I barely made it here. I need to use your car.”

Rachel looked at her brother like he’d lost his mind. “Use my Benz?”

“Come on, Rachel. I need to get to the hospital.”

Rachel cocked her head. She was not about to let him take her car. “I’ll take you.”

“Whatever, let’s go.” David looked like a nervous wreck.

“Can I at least just throw on some sweats?”

“Just hurry up!”

Twenty minutes later they were pulling up to Ben Taub Hospital. David barely gave the car time to stop before he barreled out. Rachel parked, then headed up to the labor and delivery unit.

She looked around for David and was directed to the NICU. He was standing in front of the window, tears in his eyes as he lightly fingered the glass. Rachel slowly walked up to him.

“Which one is yours?” Rachel softly asked.

David sounded like he was about to choke on his words. “The little boy in the middle. I have a son.”

Rachel stared at the tiny brown-skinned baby with a head full of curly hair and wanted to cry herself. He looked like he couldn’t weigh any more than three pounds. The baby was shaking and there were all kinds of tubes connected to him. Rachel immediately thought about Jordan and Nia when they were born. They both had been plump, healthy babies. Nothing like this. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Crack,” David solemnly replied. “He’s a crack baby.”

“Oh, my God. I thought you said Tawny was clean.”

“She was, for a little while. I begged her to stop but she wouldn’t. She started using again.” David wiped away the tears that were running down his cheeks. “Look at him, he’s so little. He’s fighting for his life. And for what? Because his mama wanted to get high.”

“Why is he shaking like that?”

“He’s feenin’, going through withdrawal.”

Rachel was speechless. She had never seen her brother like this. And she had never seen a sight like this poor little baby. “What does that mean? I mean, is he going to be all right?” she asked.

David shrugged. “I don’t know. I should’ve gotten back together with her. She begged me to take her back. At least then I could’ve kept an eye on her.” David put one hand over his face and began sobbing.

Rachel hugged her brother. “Come on, David. This is not your fault.”

He pulled away. “Yes it is. I knew how she was. I knew what she was doing. I just didn’t think about…about this.” He turned to his son.

Rachel looked again at the baby who was now wailing like he was in excruciating pain. Even the nurse had tears in her eyes.

David swallowed and tried to regain his composure. “I named him D. J., David Jr. Tawny said she didn’t care.” He sniffed.

“Did you stop and see her?”

“No, I came straight here. I don’t know if I can see her right now. I might hurt her.” David didn’t even try to mask his anger.

Rachel gently rubbed his back. She knew her brother had struggled to stay clean since their mother died. Even though she gave him a hard time, as far as she knew, he had done well. His only addiction now seemed to be to Tawny.

“I need to let the nurse know my baby’s name.” David put his hand on the window again before turning and heading down the hall.

A small tear trickled down Rachel’s cheek as she watched her brother walk off. She turned her attention back to the baby and her heart sank. How could anything be so powerful to make a mother put her child in a position like this?

Rachel couldn’t understand it, but she did know, judging from the look on her nephew’s face, that he had a long, long road ahead of him. She found herself thinking the worst. What if he didn’t make it? It was a thought that made her mind go back to Jordan. Yes, he’d been difficult lately, but she was so blessed to have a healthy son. Even though Jordan had only been at Bobby’s for a week, seeing D. J. fighting for his life made her want to bring Jordan home, hold him, and just tell him how much she loved him.

Rachel gently put her hand on the neonatal window and said a small prayer for D. J., then headed to Bobby’s to pick up her son.

R
achel had made up her mind, she was going to help her brother whether he wanted her to or not. She knocked on Angela’s door. She knew she shouldn’t be here, but this was ridiculous. If Jonathan couldn’t handle his business, she would. Seeing David with D. J. had made her want to see Jonathan reunited with his son even more.

Besides, devoting her energy to her brothers’ lives would help her forget about her own troubles. She’d brought Jordan home two days ago—against his will—but she wanted him with her. Besides, Bobby seemed like he had a lot of stuff on his mind and Jordan wasn’t doing anything over there but playing video games. Both Rachel and Lester had sat down and talked to Jordan about his behavior and the very next day he went to his new school and got into a fight. She had an appointment with the counselor tomorrow. Hopefully, they’d be able to get to the root of Jordan’s problems.

Right now, though, she was going to do whatever she could to get Jonathan and his son together.

Angela slowly opened the door, staring at Rachel suspiciously.

“Hello, Angela,” Rachel said.

“Hello, Rachel.”

“May I come in?” Rachel asked. She was going to try to be reasonable, appeal to Angela as a mother.

“I’m just about to head out.”

Rachel gently pushed past her and walked inside. “This won’t take but a minute.”

Angela sighed and closed the door. “Look, Rachel, if you’re here to argue your brother’s case, don’t bother. I’m not changing my mind.”

“Angela, have you prayed about this?” Rachel wanted Angela to see that she was sincere. “I know you are a deeply spiritual woman—or you used to be, at least. I’m sure if you ask God for guidance, He will show you that what you’re doing is not right.”

“And what your brother is doing
is
right?”

“I know Jonathan hurt you, but one of the core issues in the Bible is forgiveness.” Rachel sat down in the wingback chair in the living room.

Angela looked at Rachel like she was crazy. “My sister told me you were a first lady, but you’ll have to excuse me if I have a hard time sitting here listening to you spout the word of God.”

“Do you still have a relationship with God?”

“Huh? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because if you did, you would see what you’re doing isn’t right.”

“
Isn’t right?
You want to talk to me about right? Talk to your gay brother.”

Rachel fidgeted in her seat. “While I don’t condone Jonathan’s lifestyle, he’s still my family; there’s nothing I can do about that. It’s not up to me to judge him.”

“Well, you can turn the other cheek all you want, but I can’t do it.” Angela sat down across from Rachel. “You married Lester Adams, right?”

“That’s correct. He’s the pastor at Zion Hill now.”

“So can you honestly say to me that if you found out Lester was gay, you’d wish him well and go on about your merry business?”

Rachel almost laughed. She’d kill that fool dead. But that was beside the point. “I’m not talking about what-ifs. I’m talking about reality. And the reality is that Jonathan has as much right to see his son as you do.”

Angela stood. “It’s obvious you will never understand my decision. But it is
my
decision.”

Rachel stood as well. “I’m trying to stop this before it goes to court. Before things get ugly.”

Angela spun around with such an evil look on her face Rachel couldn’t believe it. “Rachel, honey. If Jonathan tries to get his grimy little paws on my child, I’m going to show him what ugly really is,” she spat.

Rachel stepped closer. “Let me warn you, Angela. At one time, I was the baby mama from hell. I know all the tricks in the book. My family and I will pray real hard that this works out—then do whatever it takes to make sure it does. My brother
will
see his child. By any means necessary.”

Angela didn’t look fazed. “Consider me warned. And let me warn you.” She pointed an impeccably manicured finger at Rachel. “You and the rest of that Jackson clan have no idea who you’re messing with. My family can get in the gutter, too.”

Rachel nodded. Angela had gotten a little spunk in her over the years. “I will advise you to seriously think about what you’re doing.”

“Thought about it. Stand by it. Now, get out of my house.”

Though Rachel smiled at Angela as she made her way out, she knew that from the looks of things, Jonathan getting joint custody wasn’t going to be easy.

T
oo bad you can’t choose your family
. Angela watched everybody arguing at her parents’ kitchen table. She knew they were all just trying to help, but honestly, they were getting on her last nerve. Her parents; her brother, Darryl; her cousin, Buster; and Buster’s mother, Mrs. Brooks’s sister Georgia, were gathered in the kitchen talking about ways to keep Jonathan from getting any time with Chase.

“Look, we only need one person to talk at a time,” her father said, trying to regain control of the family meeting. “Now, Buster, you said you have a plan.”

“Excuse me,” Mrs. Brooks interrupted. “You all didn’t give me a chance to finish detailing my plan.”

Angela sighed. “Mother, for the one-hundredth time, we are not going to frame Jonathan for murder.”

“Why can’t we frame him?” Mrs. Brooks asked. “That way, he’d get sent to prison or something for a very long time.”

“Well, Ma, there’s just one problem with your plan,” Darryl interjected.

“What?”

“We’d have to actually murder somebody first.”

Mrs. Brooks just stared blankly at Darryl. “Well, I didn’t say I had worked out all the details.”

Mr. Brooks shook his head. “Buster, I hope you have a better plan than your aunt here. We’ve had the private investigator following that boy for weeks and nothing. All he does is go to work, then to his father’s house, then back home.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he was holding someone captive in his apartment. That’s why he doesn’t go anywhere or do anything. They’re probably tied up in a closet or something, or maybe chopped up in the freezer,” Mrs. Brooks muttered.

Angela stared at her mother.
Where does she come up with this stuff?

“Look,” Buster said, “I already got it under control. One of my boys will handle this.”

“Oooohhhh, you gonna rough Jonathan up?” Mrs. Brooks asked, a little too eagerly. “Send him a severed thumb as a message?”

“Lynn, no more
Sopranos
for you,” Mr. Brooks said. Angela was glad somebody was trying to be a voice of reason, because her mother was totally going off the deep end. “Besides, even if we do rough him up, how will that stop him from still trying to see Chase when he gets better?”

“Would y’all let Buster finish telling us what his plan is?” Aunt Georgia said. “Since y’all didn’t like my idea just to say Chase wasn’t his.”

“Because you want us to make my child out to be some kind of slut who sleeps around and doesn’t know who her baby’s daddy is! I don’t think so,” Mrs. Brooks snapped.

“Plus, DNA would quickly nip that plan in the bud,” Mr. Brooks added.

“Would y’all just listen?” Buster said. “I told you I have a plan.”

Angela leaned back in her chair. Buster had done hard time for armed robbery, so he definitely had all the connections to do something illegal.

“As I was saying,” Buster continued, “my boy got some hook-ups. He can get some people to drug Jonathan, then arrange some pictures for y’all to give the judge.”

Drugs?
Angela wasn’t sure she wanted to go there. What if something happened and he overdosed? She would never be able to live with herself.

“Look,” she said, rising from her seat. “Why do we have to have a plan in the first place? Can’t we just have faith in the system?”

“The same system that acquitted O.J. just because the glove didn’t fit?” Mrs. Brooks snapped.

“They acquitted the Juice because he didn’t do it,” Mr. Brooks snapped back defensively. “It was a setup if I ever seen one.”

“Mmm-hmm, that’s why he wrote a book called
If I Did It
,” Mrs. Brooks mumbled.

“If!” Mr. Brooks responded. “
If
he had done it. Not I did it!”

“Helll-ooo,” Angela said, waving her hands. “Can we stay focused and not digress?”

Buster leaned in toward his mother. “What do ‘digress’ mean?”

Angela took a deep breath. “This is ridiculous. I can handle Jonathan on my own. I don’t need a plan. I don’t need anyone to do anything to him. Yet, anyway. I thought I wanted to play dirty, but I just want this to be over with.” She plopped back down in her seat.

“Baby, sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures. And these are desperate times,” her father said sternly.

“I understand that, but this…this is all making my head hurt.” Angela rubbed her temples.

“Well, sweetie, you go lie down,” Mrs. Brooks said. “We’ll figure out a plan. Come to think of it, it’s probably better you don’t know what’s going down anyway.”

Angela stared at her mother, who had turned into someone she didn’t recognize. She then turned her attention to her other family members. They were all taking a sick pleasure in plotting Jonathan’s demise.

Watching all of them sitting there, hatching their evil plots, made Angela wonder if her whole quest to keep Chase away from his father was going to spiral into something she would end up regretting.