Mama B - A Time to Dance (Book 2) (8 page)

He put a hand on
my shoulder and gently pushed me aside, so he was standing between me and
Henrietta. “What seems to be the problem?”

“I tell you the
problem. She’s two-timin’ the pastor! I heard tell you was out with some man.
Same one who took care of Geneva in the hospital. And now you gon’ cheat on
pastor with the woman who
didn’t
save his wife’s life? B, I always
thought you was hidin’ something underneath all that holy happy Jesus and Mary
Magdalena pretendin’ act. And now you done proved it!”

Chile, if I’d
never heard the devil’s suggestions before, I certainly heard them
that
day. He wanted me to reach past Derrick and snatch that hat and wig up offa
Henrietta’s head. He wanted me to retch back into my before-I-was-saved days
and say some cuss words. But one thing I know: when I feel my insides boilin’
over, that’s my cue to snap my mouth shut tight ‘cause the enemy tryin’ hard as
he can to pull me into his trap.

However, I rolled
my eyes when I left her standing there with Derrick. Then she got louder
– tried to chase me around my own house with her voice. I couldn’t make
out all of what she was saying. Probably a good thing, too.

I
did
hear Derrick threaten, “Miss Henrietta, if you don’t get off this back porch,
I’m going to get Pastor Phillips.”

“You can’t scare
me with my own pastor!” she barked. “I got a good mind to pop you!”

Next come a loud
yell from Derrick. “Why’d you hit me?”

I done had
enough of her, Lord.
“I’m calling the police!” I warned from the kitchen.

“No, Mama B!” I
heard him slam the door shut. He came running back in to find me. “No. There
can be no police activity at this address.”

I set the phone
back on the charger. Took a good look at the fresh red handprint forming on my
nephew’s face. Henrietta need to quit! Just ‘cause she old don’t give her no
right to go around boppin’ people. ‘Specially not when she still strong enough
to leave a mark.

“She’s gone,
anyway. It’s over.”

He sat down at
the dinette. I stood over him, took his chin in my hand and turned his face to
the side so I could get a better look. “Boy, she slapped the fire out of you.”

He shook out of
my grasp. “What is she so mad about?”

“She thinks I’m
stealing Pastor Phillips from her. But truth is, I don’t want him, he don’t
want me, and he sure as the sun rises don’t want her, either.”

Derrick
squinched up his eyebrows. “I don’t know. Henrietta might be onto something.
Your pastor looked our way throughout most of the sermon. And you do look nice
for, you know, an older lady. No offense.”

“Pastor Phillips
is like my brother. Me and him and Geneva and Albert go way back. Ain’t nothin’
to what you and Henrietta talkin’.”

“So, who’s the
other
guy?”

“You sure are in
my business!” I turned my back to him and stepped over to the crockpot to check
on my turkey stew. Cameron had turned his nose up about eating it the first
time I gave it to him, but he “disliked” it enough to eat two bowls full. I
chuckled at the memory.

“Sounds as
though you really like this new friend of yours,” Derrick said.

He must have assumed I was thinking about
Dr. Wilson.

“You worryin’
‘bout the wrong thing,” I turned the tables, shaking my spoon at him.  “I
saw how all those young ladies looked at you today at church.
You
the
one attracting folks’ eyes. Where’s your wedding band at, anyway?”

“Twyla kept it.
She says I don’t deserve to wear it.” His eyes got all fixed and glassy. “What
am I gonna do?” Then bent over and hit his head on top of the table a few
times. “I was so stupid.”

I had a mind to
let him sit there for the next ten minutes beating himself up, literally. But
the Holy Spirit reminded me of Romans 8:1. No condemnation to those in
Christ. 

“Derrick, stop
beating your head on the table.” Now it was my turn to put my hand on his
shoulder and stand between him and all the shame and guilt the enemy wanted to
bring. “You done wrong, but God knew you would do it before you even thought
about doing it. And He still came into your heart despite you. Why don’t you
pray and then give Twyla a call. Invite her and the baby over for dinner, we
got plenty.”

He winced. “She
won’t even talk to me. There’s no way. I messed up big time. Maybe I should let
her go, you know? Start over. Just chalk this first marriage up to a life
lesson, move on and do my best to be a good father to
Kionna
if Twyla will let me.”

I asked him
point-blank, “Is that what you want to do?”

“No,” he quickly
replied. “But what choice do I have if Twyla doesn’t forgive me?”

“She ain’t gon’
have a reason to forgive you if you don’t let her know you still care.”

“But what if
she’s still mad?”

“What you think
– she’s supposed to be
happy
you cheated on her? She supposed to
sleep on it and wake up feeling better about it the next day?”

“I didn’t cheat
on her…technically,” he tried.

I put a hand on
my hip and stared him all the way down. “No such thing as I didn’t cheat
technically
.
You cast somebody else in a role that only your wife should play—honey,
that’s cheatin’ whether you sleep with the other woman or not.”

He sighed.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I know I’m
right.”

My doorbell went
haywire, suddenly, and I knew exactly who to blame. That Cameron brought a
smile to my face before he even skipped into the house. I knew Son had a key,
so I waited for a few seconds before my great-grandson come bounding into the
kitchen, “Hi, Mama B!”

“Hey there,
Cameron!”

He wrapped his
chunky little arms around my waist and squeezed for dear life. I squeezed him
right back. Seemed like we had a contest going on there for a second. Hmph!

Finally, he
pulled away and asked, “What’d you make for dessert?”

I should have
known.
“Well, for the
meal
,
I made turkey stew, a small salad, and I’ve got cornbread in the oven.”

Worry wriggled
across his fat cheeks. “No dessert?”

“Of course, I
made dessert. Sweet potato pie. Made it yesterday so it would taste even better
today.”

He pumped his
fist into the air. “Yes!”

“You make me a
pie to take home?” Son asked.

“Sure did.
Sittin’ in the microwave.”

“Thank you,
Mama.” Son hugged me and said hello to Derrick.

“Where’s Wanda?”
I inquired about my daughter-in-law.

“She was going
to come, but she wasn’t feeling well. She didn’t even make it to church this
morning. I think she’s coming down with something, so I decided Cameron and I
should stay clear of her.”

“Hmmm. I’ll give
her a call later and pray with her. Did you pray for her, Son?”

“Naw.” He
shrugged. “She didn’t ask me to.”

“She ain’t got
to ask. You the man. You the spiritual covering, ain’t nobody in a better
position than you to pray for your wife. What’s going on with you men today?”

Cameron,
Derrick, and Son sat there speechless. Looking at me like I’d asked a million
dollar question. I dunked my tasting spoon into the sink and washed it. “God
knew what He was doing when He created Eve, ‘cause y’all
definitely
need
help.”

I hung the
dishtowel over the faucet. “Y’all wash up. We’ll eat as soon as the cornbread
is finished.”

I went back to
my bedroom to recollect myself in the Lord.
Father, forgive me for being so
snappy today. Ever since I discerned the attack on Derrick’s marriage and
Henrietta come over her talkin’ foolishness, I guess that set me off on the
wrong foot. Thank You for Your forgiveness.

And I pray
for Son. Lord, continue to remind him how to be a godly husband. And I pray
that Wanda’s health be restored. Thank you for Cameron and his sweet, sweet
personality. I pray that Son will be a good role model so his grandson can be a
wonderful husband, too, when he grows up. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Then I got the notion to call Twyla and invite
her and the baby over to eat with us. I searched through the top drawer of my
nightstand and found Derrick’s house number. His Mother gave it to me a few
years back, so the family could get in touch with one another in case of
emergencies, you know.

When Twyla
answered the phone, I could hear the baby crying in the background.

Ooh, I
remember them days!

“Twyla, this is
Mama B.”

“Hi Mama B!” her
voice swung up high. Then she must have put her hand over the phone receiver
‘cause I heard her muffle-like saying, “Shut up. Now. Stop all that cryin’
before I knock you into next week.”

Now, I know she
probably didn’t mean it, but my heart nearly broke to hear a mother talking to
her baby like that.

“Sorry, Mama B.
I’m back.”

But the child
kept crying, like Twyla ain’t said a word. I remember that part, too. 
With my kids, all I had to say was, “You keep that up and I’m gonna tell your
father when he gets home.” Daddy puts an end to all foolishness. If Twyla was
having this hard a time with the baby at three years old, ain’t no tellin’ what
was gonna happen when the girl hit twelve. She needed Derrick more than she
knew.

“Sweetie, I just
called to invite you over for supper. Derrick would love to see you and
Kionna
, and so would I. I haven’t seen the baby in so
long.”

Silence. Then she
said, “Mama B, do you know
exactly
what Derrick did?”

She had me.
“Can’t rightly say I do.”

“Well, no
disrespect, but if you knew, you wouldn’t ask me to share the same breathing
space with him. I gotta go.
My worrisome child
won’t stop crying. Bye.”

She disconnected
before I had a chance to pray with her.

Well, whatever
Derrick done to Twyla was gonna have to get ironed out after he went to court
because the authorities advised him he’d better not be away from my house after
five o’clock again or he would find his behind under the jail.

Ophelia called
me later on that week to ask me if I’d given any thought to what we might do to
help Henrietta with her taxes.

“I’m still
praying on it,” I summarized. I’d been praying about Henrietta, alright, but my
prayers had nothing to do with helping her catch up with bills.

“B, I hear the
tone of your voice. I know she done got on your last nerve. She already called
and tried to give me an earful, but you know I wasn’t hearing it ‘cause me and
you both know once Henrietta get something set in her mind, she stick to it
like super-glue.”

I nodded as
though Ophelia could see me. “Yeah, I understand that. We been knowin’
Henrietta’s ways for a long time now. But I got to be honest with you, I got a
hard time asking my heavenly Father to change my heart to help somebody who
done called me everything
but
His child.”

“Well, if you
decide you don’t want to help, I understand,” Ophelia dramatized.

“I didn’t say I
wouldn’t help. I’m just sayin’ it’ll be hard. You got to give me a few days to
get some scriptures on overlooking offense to steer my mind back on the right
path. The way Henrietta carried on the other day, she was in rare form. I ain’t
never seen her go off like that.”

“Hmmm…you think
something’s happened to her? Blood pressure up? Sugar? Stress?”

“Might be all
three,” I had to agree. My Albert could get downright ornery when he ran out of
blood pressure pills. It got to a point where I took over managing his
medications just so we could have peace.

“Well, let’s
pray,” Ophelia suggested. Then she took off on a five-minute prayer with the
Lord that nearly made me late for my Wednesday walk with Libby. Looking back,
though, I realize we needed to keep Henrietta’s name before the Lord’s face as
long as possible.

Me and Libby had
a little discussion about how to help Henrietta and the situation with Derrick
and Twyla during our exercise time, but you know all she really wanted to talk
about was Dr. Wilson. She asked me all kind of questions that got me all riled
up inside: What was I gonna wear? What kind of dancing would we do? Do I think
he’s gonna put his arm around me?

“I haven’t the
slightest idea how to answer to your questions, Miss Nosey Pants,” I teased
her.

“Well, you owe
me an update when it’s over. Plus I’d like to know if it’s good exercise. Maybe
I can get Peter interested.”

We both laughed
at the idea. Peter wasn’t bit more thinking about exercise than a man on the
moon.

But what if he
did want to go? Wouldn’t that be a double-date? I know Peter and Libby would be
holding hands most of the time. Me and Dr. Wilson would feel so awkward walking
behind them with our hands stuffed into our pockets. No, this wasn’t the plan.