Mama B: A Time to Speak (8 page)

Chapter 14

I couldn’t hardly eat after talking to Cameron. Sat there picking over my food, then finally just went on and gave him the second half of my chicken burger.

Later on, I called Ophelia. “You think we can get the mother’s board together this week? We need to pray.”

She almost whispered to me, “You been thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’ about Rev. Dukes?”

Had to answer, “I’m thinking we need to meet with the deacons, and pretty soon. My great-grandson thinks God is a Sugar Daddy.”

She tisked. “Well, Shantay told me about what happened at the quote-unquote Bible study.”

I confirmed, “I didn’t want to say nothin’ to you about it ‘cause I spoke my peace before they left.”

“Good,” she said. “When you think Rev. Martin be ready to listen to us?”

I thought about Henrietta and a few others who might actually side with Rev. Dukes. “I reckon we ought to pray about it first, Ophelia. I don’t want to do nothin’ to split the church.”

She sighed. “Yeah, you right about that. Pastor Phillips just got Geneva back to town, and she in hospice over at Highland Crossings. Last thing he need is to be worryin’ about the church. He ain’t no spring chicken, either. Got to watch out for his own stress, too.”

This was the first I had heard about Geneva being back. “When you headin’ to see her?”

“Plan to go in the morning. So many folks from the church done been by there already, you know.”

I asked, “What you gon’ take over?”

“Spaghetti and garlic bread. Enough for a few days. Eunice Henderson said they got a sitting area with couches, a refrigerator and microwave and all for the visitors. Can you take some chicken Wednesday?”

“Surely. Good night, Ophelia.”

“Good night.”

Before I went to bed, me and Jesus had a long talk over a nice, tall glass of lemonade and the book of James. I ate the word like it was my dinner because, that night, it was.

After Libby and I finished our mid-week walk, she come back to my house and we made enough chicken, corn, and green beans to feed Pastor and Geneva for a few days. Packed some extra in plastic containers so he could freeze some for later. Then we hopped into my car and drove straight to Highland Crossings. Before we could even get down the hallway, I saw Eunice and Rev. Martin standing by Geneva’s door.

“How y’all doing?” I asked them both.

“Fine,” Eunice replied, looking at Libby like she out of place.

“Y’all remember Libby. First lady of First Baptist.”

“Oh, yes.” Eunice’s face relaxed.

Libby asked, “Is it okay to go in?”

“Yes, go ahead,” Rev. Martin said, holding the door open for me and Libby.

We made our way to the inner room. Now, I done seen plenty folk on their deathbeds, holdin’ on for reasons only them and God know. I took a look at Geneva, her eyes all sunk in, her skin thin as onion paper, and nearly as white. Unless the Lord intervened, it wouldn’t be too long. I don’t know what they done to her at that cancer center, but it sure hadn’t helped. Pastor did the right thing by bringing her back.

He was sitting right next to her bed, holding onto her hand like if he let go, she might fly away. Wasn’t too long before, Pastor lost his mother. She was in her nineties, but it really don’t matter how long somebody gets to live—still hurts when they die. Especially your momma.

“Hi Pastor,” I whispered so as not to scare him.

“Mama B. Should have known you’d be here so quickly.” He struggled to get to his feet. Pastor looked weak, too. I wondered if he even ate the food Ophelia brought him earlier up in the week.

“Yes, Lord. So good to see you, Pastor.” He and I hugged, then I stepped aside so Libby could hug him, too.

Pastor started to thank her again for letting us use their sanctuary, but Libby waved him off. “Don’t even think twice about it. I had my children share things all the time. I reckon God’s no different.”

Pastor offered his chair, but neither of us would take it. I don’t know about Libby, but I was afraid he would keel over if he stood too long.

Geneva made a moaning sound, and all three of us rushed to her bedside. Her eyes rolled open for just a second. Then she said real soft like a song, “Mama B. Libby.”

“Geneva, you decided to come back to Texas, I see,” Libby joked.

“Somebody gotta. Take care Ed.”

We all laughed a bit, glad to see her sense of humor still in place. Just like her to try and keep everybody else going. She was a first lady through and through.

“How’s the church?” Geneva wanted to know.

Lord, I didn’t want to say anything off-color. “We doin’ fine, Geneva. Just fine.”

Easy enough.

But Pastor Phillips pushed, “I’ve been asking Rev. Martin to give me tapes of the sermon, but he said the system at First Baptist wasn’t set up to record sermons.”

Libby squinted her eyes. “Oh, yes we are. I thought for sure Peter told Rev. Martin how to do it. I’ll double-check.”

Right there was my first inclination that maybe Rev. Martin didn’t want Pastor Phillips hearin’ Rev. Dukes messages because I know Peter told Rev. Martin how to tape the messages. I was sitting right there, heard it with my very own ears.

Somebody rapped on the door. “Knock knock.”

“Come on in, Dr. Wilson,” Pastor told him.

In walked the doctor. Tall, gray hair around the edges, and black as midnight. I thought maybe he was African until he said, “Hello, everyone,” with no accent.

We all said hello back, including Geneva.

“May I have a moment with Miss Geneva? I need to take a good look at her.”

“Yes, sir,” Pastor answered, leading me and Libby out to the hallway.

“What the doctors been sayin’?” Eunice wanted to know.

Pastor frowned up. “They don’t know. One minute they say all they can do is make her comfortable. Next minute, they want to try some experimental procedures. Insurance won’t pay for it, no guarantee it’ll work anyway. I don’t want ‘em using her for a guinea pig, but I want to give her every chance.”

I patted his arm. “Doctors don’t know everything, Pastor. That’s why they in
practice
.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” he agreed.

“Let’s just pray right now,” Libby said. She grabbed both our hands and we made a circle outside Geneva’s room and called on Jesus. Thanked Him for His healing power, put our faith in His blood and His finished work on the cross. Asked the Lord to give the doctors wisdom, and give Pastor strength to continue aiding Geneva in Jesus’s name.

We said, “Amen,” and that’s when I heard Dr. Wilson say it, too. Guess he joined in the prayer somewhere along the way.

“No change in her condition, but she is resting fairly well. You can go back in now.”

“Thank you,” Pastor said and he rushed back into the room.

Libby barely caught the door handle behind him.

That’s when Dr. Wilson stopped in his tracks, turned back around and said to me, “Excuse me. I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“Beatrice.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Beatrice.” Got a big, wide smile on his face. I, for one, didn’t see much to be all chippy about. And for two, I know those teeth of his wasn’t real.

“Thank you. Same here, Dr. Wilson. You take good care of my friend.”

“Certainly. And I hope to see you again.” He folded up his laptop and went on down the hallway.

We went back into the room, stood over Geneva with Pastor and sent up another prayer, then Libby pulled one of the plastic containers out of her purse and left it with Pastor. “We got plenty more where that came from. Just let B know when you and Geneva get home. We got ‘em already frozen for you.”

“Sure appreciate you and Libby,” he said.

“Mmm hmm,” Geneva moaned again.

Libby and I decided to make a little stop at the whole food store on the way back. Plenty fresh strawberries, blueberries, and green beans to choose from. I picked up a few squash. Cameron didn’t know it yet, but he was about to float into squash heaven by the time I finished cooking it.

We got in line, waited our turn to check out. Libby come teasin’ me, “Well, B, if I’m not mistaken, I do believe Dr. Wilson was a little sweet on you.”

“Sweet on me?”

“Yes! He asked you for your name directly.”

I smacked my lips. “Libby, that man wasn’t studyin’ me.”

“Yes he most certainly was!”

“Well, if he was, I wouldn’t know.” I turned my nose up.

“Oh, B, why wouldn’t he? Look at you.” She held her arm out, swung her hand up and down like she showing off a washing machine on
The Price is Right
.

I looked past her. “Move ahead, Libby. You holdin’ up the line.”

Chapter 15

Cameron finished all his books before the due date, and Nikki said she would take him back to get more. “While I’m there, I can follow up on a job I applied for online last week. I can’t believe you don’t have an Internet connection in this house, Mama B.”

“Hey, I got an iPhone with my email, and I can look stuff up on my phone. That’s all I need,” I said to her while cutting cantaloupe. That Cameron was a fruit fanatic, eat it all day if you don’t watch him.

Nikki kissed me on the cheek. “It’s alright. I need ta get that book
No Ways Tired
and read it before Saturday’s book club meeting.”

I smiled at her. “Nikki-Nik, you readin’ books now?”

“Yes, if it’s something I’m interested in.” She slung her purse over her shoulder.

“Here. Taste this.” I held out a piece of the fruit on a fork.

She winced. “No. I don’t like cantaloupe.”

“Try it and see.” I pushed it closer to her mouth.

She closed her eyes, all dramatic, and bit into the sample. Her eyes opened, face brightened. “Wow, that was good!”

I winked at her. “You got to get it fresh from the farmer’s market, not the big grocery store.”

She rinsed her hands, grabbed a paper towel and stole a few more cubes from the bowl. “I’ll see you later.”

“Alright. I’m looking forward to this book you’re bringing home. Maybe if you finish reading it early enough, I might get a few pages in before y’all meet so I can talk, too. That title is one of my favorite songs.”

Rev. Martin didn’t return none of my text messages or emails that week. Well, let me take that back. He didn’t return ‘em at a
decent hour
. Look like he waited ‘til he knew good and well I was in bed with my phone turned off before he replied. Even then, he didn’t answer my question. I wanted to know if me, him, a few of the deacons, and Ophelia could sit down that week. Discuss our concerns.

All he kept writing was he had to get in touch with so-and-so, and this one here on vacation, got to wait a little longer. Just stalling while the church go untended. Couldn’t blame him all that much. Since the church air conditioner was still out, not like there was much meeting going on anyway. Ha! Seem like everybody took a break from meeting except all the folks who needed to meet at my house.

Well, we couldn’t get the deacons together, but the Mother’s Board come over early Friday afternoon. Me, Ophelia, Henrietta, and the oldest mother, Ruby Simon. Mother Simon really not always in her right mind since she had the stroke back in ‘09, but me and Ophelia make it our business to make sure Mother Ruby always at the meetings ‘cause…well, mostly ‘cause we hope people don’t throw us away when we get old. You reap what you sow.

I don’t know what on earth possessed Henrietta to invite one of the women from the Dukes’ bunch to our Mt. Zion meeting, but here come some woman in a bright yellow muumuu and some 1980’s jellies walkin’ up my porch steps with Henrietta. Not the kind of jellies that’s done came back in style. I mean, she had been havin’ them actual shoes for over thirty years.

Lord, forgive me for judgin’. This ain’t the Christ in me.
I wasn’t so much upset about the shoes as I was her being there. But that wasn’t her fault, either. That was Henrietta’s doing. I’m sure she put two and two together and figured out why I left church Sunday. She must have known this Mother’s Board meeting wasn’t gonna be in Pastor Dukes’ favor, so she brought somebody along to be in her corner.

“B, This here is Mother Dorcas Powell. She want to join our Mother’s Board.”

She got to join our church, first.
“Morning, Mother Powell. You welcome to sit in.”

“Thank you, B. You have a lovely home.” She looked me up and down first, then checked out my drapes, even craned her neck to get a look down a hallway we was not going to visit.

“Bless God,” was all I could say.

Mother Powell hobbled on past me, but I caught Henrietta’s arm and whispered to her, “She’s not a member of Mt. Zion.”

Henrietta snatched her arm away. “So long as Pastor Phillips is out, we got to make it our business to be hospitious to Pastor Dukes’s church members.”

I clenched my teeth. “He ain’t got no church.”

“Far as I’m concerned, he ought to have a church, or stay and help Pastor Phillips. Since he been preachin’, I done won on almost every lotto ticket—at least a dollar every time. Last week, twenty-five! You can’t tell me God haven’t changed my luck on account of Rev. Dukes.”

My Momma used to tell me all the time, “Book of Proverbs say you can’t argue with foolishness.” She was right, and I know the word is right, so I didn’t say anything else to Henrietta on the matter. Just led her right on into the living room and served her fruit pizza right along with everybody else.

Ophelia had her yellow legal pad ready to take notes soon as she finished with the prayer. She and I had already discussed some things for the agenda, including prayer for Geneva and Pastor, so she started with those items. Then she got to what was chewin’ on both our minds.

“Mothers, B and I wanted to lead a special prayer for our church body, and also discuss the direction the church is going since Pastor Phillips has been out on leave of absence,” Ophelia said. She real good at saying stuff in a way where people won’t get so mad—when she tryin’ to be nice.

Henrietta sat up, squared her shoulders. “What direction you mean, Ophelia?”

“I mean in the direction of preaching the scriptures out of proper context or preaching with no scriptures at all,” she explained real proper-like.

“I, for one, think Rev. Dukes is doing a great job. We got more new people visiting than we ever had,” Henrietta said.

“But some of our
regular
members are skipping
out
,” Ophelia opposed. “Including my own niece, Shantay, and her husband.”

Henrietta mumbled, “One monkey don’t stop the show.”

“What you say?” Ophelia asked, turning her head to the side.

I jumped in, “Well, the purpose of our gathering is to pray and to figure out how to speak our peace with the deacon’s board.”

“I got nothing to say to them,” again from Henrietta. “Rev. Dukes word workin’ for me.”

“Always work for me, too,” Mother Powell added.

I decided to ask our visitor, “Mother Powell, you more familiar with Rev. Dukes than the rest of us. How long you been under his teaching?”

“’Bout two years, since the Lord brought me back in. I spent most of my life doing my own thing—in the clubs, drinking, and smoking. But my daughter started going to church, and she brought me. I heard Pastor Dukes preaching and teaching on the abundant life. Now I go to her church every time I see Pastor Dukes is preaching on the calendar.”

“Your life is certainly a wonderful testimony,” I had to admit. It’s always better to be in the church than in the club.

Henrietta nodded.

I worked up to my real question. “So maybe you can answer this for me. Do he always preach about money and how to get what you want from the Lord? Do he have other things he preach on like, for instance, the fruit of the Spirit?”

“Naw. He don’t talk about food too much.”

Mother Simon sniggered. First peep we heard out of her all day.

“How about holiness? Serving the Lord with your life?”

She shook her head ‘no.’ “He don’t preach on stuff like that, and I’m glad ‘cause I would probably be nodding off in church!” She laughed so big her cheekbones nearly made her eyes shut closed.

Nobody but her and Henrietta thought that was funny. I was beginning to wonder if Mother Powell was a church mother or if maybe she was just
Rev. Dukes’
mother.

When she finally realized the rest of us didn’t find respond to her joke, she straightened up her face. “Listen, I know what you’re trying to say. You all don’t like Rev. Dukes. Y’all think he ain’t good enough for your church.”

“Nobody’s saying we don’t like Rev. Dukes,” Ophelia corrected her.

“No, hear me out.” Mother Powell put up her hand like a stop-sign in Ophelia’s direction.

All I could do was pray to the Lord for a split-second ‘cause one thing I know about Ophelia: she slow to get angry, but once she get there, she definitely there.

“All he doing is trying to get us all to a point where we not struggling anymore. Robbing Peter to pay Paul, choosing between paying for medications or the water bill every month. But by the looks of your house and your high-dollar clothes, and all your kids’ certificates and degrees and so on, I see you can’t understand where the rest of us coming from.”

Once again, Henrietta hissed under her breath, “You sure right about that.”

I realized I didn’t have to answer to either one of them, but, you know, once somebody drag your kids into the situation, now we got a
real
problem on our hands. “Mother Powell, I’ll have you to know my husband and I didn’t have the best education or the best background, but we put God first in everything, and He honored His word. All this you see and all the blessings you
don’t
see, we got by His grace.
That’s
how real prosperity works.”

Mother Powell shook her head and declared, “Not in my book.”

“What book
you
readin’?” I asked. Soon as the question left my lips, the Holy Spirit whispered inside me,
that’s enough
.

He must have said the same thing to Ophelia. She stood up and held out both arms. “Ladies, let’s close in prayer.”

I grabbed Ophelia’s hand on the right. Didn’t have no choice but to grab Henrietta’s on the left.

Ophelia prayed. “Father, You are perfect in all Your ways. Show us Your ways and let us line up with them. And now as we depart, we thank You in advance for Your protection, which You promised in Your word to all who would abide under Your mighty shadow. Help us to abide there. It’s in Your precious Son Jesus’ name we pray, amen.”

“Amen.”

Shame how fast everybody cleared out. Usually, we all sit around talking and laughing. Not this time, though. Henrietta and Mother Powell left while Ophelia was still getting Mother Simon situated in the car.

Once Mother Simon’s seatbelt was buckled, Ophelia closed the car door and said to me, “Well, the Mother’s Board can’t go to the deacon’s board divided.”

“Sure can’t. May be just me and you on behalf of all the folk that’s done already stopped coming to church, and some of the other ones that’s just waitin’ it out.”

“Or maybe we should just wait Rev. Dukes out,” she suggested. “May not be too long before God move one way or another for Geneva.”

I took a deep breath. “I hear you, sister, I hear you. May be the best thing, God willing, for us to wait and see.”