Under the Peach Tree (17 page)

“So, how's church, Hope?” she asked, snapping me out of my reverie.

My palms were sweaty; I felt my resolve threaten to shatter. I took a step forward, feeling lower than I had felt before she began antagonizing me. But it was Dante who spoke. He walked past me, meeting Momma's burning eyes with his quiet confidence.

“Church. It's funny you mentioned it. Which church do you attend?” he asked Momma.

Momma was dumbfounded. “I don't go to church.”

“Hypocrite?” he asked, but it was more accusing than anything. “The Bible says, ‘How can you say to your brother, “Brother, let me take the speck out of your eye,” when you yourself fail to see the plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye.' Luke 6:42. Do you know what that means?”

Momma stood there, insecure under Dante's gaze. I'd never noticed the amount of influence Dante had over people. I'd never realized his strength until now. Faith even watched Dante with admiration. “What does that mean?” Momma asked.

“It means don't degrade another for the same faults you have. Fix your errors and then correct theirs. I've never met someone as beautiful and blessed as Hope, and she doesn't see her own worth because her mother told her that she'd never be anything good. I brought her all the way out here to seek forgiveness and to share the Lord with you, but how can she when you're so bent on holding on to the past? Maybe it was a mistake bringing her out here, but we'll continue to pray that God softens your heart. We'll also pray for your salvation.” Dante turned around to me. “Let's go.”

He started walking away but I stayed, planted to the ground. I wasn't done. There was something I needed to say, something that had been burdening me. Momma needed to know.

I stepped closer to my mother, the woman who gave birth to me. The only person whose love I would've cherished more than anything. To hear her say she loved me would've been the best thing in the world, but I knew it wouldn't happen today. Instead, I'd show her how much I'd grown, how far I'd come.

“I'm sorry for what I did with John. I'm sorry I ruined your relationship. I'm sorry I was never as good as Faith in your eyes. I'm sorry I failed you so many times. And for all the times you've never said it to me, I'll say it to you and mean it from the bottom of my heart. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

I thought I saw a moment of passion in Momma's eyes, a moment of clarity, one that would mean we'd just reached a milestone, but as quickly as it had come, it vanished, and her eyes were as hard as stone. She looked at me as if I was a piece of trash.

“Get her off of my property!”

Dante grabbed me, pulling me away from the house, but my eyes never left Momma. They pleaded with her to forgive me, to say those three words back to me, but they never came out of her mouth. Dante sat me in the car and buckled my seat belt. He had been talking to me, but I tuned him out. My eyes stayed locked on Momma, who still stood on the porch, staring at me even when Faith had gone back inside. A part of me wanted to believe she still stood there because she loved me. I wanted to believe it; I needed to. As we drove off, and I kept mumbling the same words over and over until I fell asleep from exhaustion.

“Momma, I love you.”

I meant it, even if she never would.

I stood beside Momma May's hospital bed, brushing her silver hair the way I did every morning when Dante and I came to visit. She loved that part, being pampered. I'd also massaged the bottom of her legs and feet and propped them up on a pillow so that the circulation would be better. She wasn't able to walk around as much since she'd been in the hospital, so I promised myself that I'd put her at ease whenever I visited. Besides, I didn't know how much longer I'd have with her.

She was already starting to look thinner, weaker, worse than the last time I'd seen her. Her hands were nothing but bones and skin. The lump on her leg grew larger and could be seen from under her covers. I'd noticed how her eyes squinted shut whenever she was in pain, and that happened often, but she never complained. Not once.

All she did was thank God.

“Oh, God is good, isn't He?” she said, as I began to massage her feet.

I looked up at her. “How can you say that when you're in so much pain?”

“Long suffering. Waiting patiently for the Lord to bring me home. I'll take the pain because the worse it gets, the closer I get to finally seeing Jesus' face. And in that, I am thankful.”

“How are you so faithful in Jesus? How can you be happy and praise Him even when you're in pain?” I asked. I didn't understand. If I was in pain, I'd probably be angry with God, not happy. As a matter of fact, that's how I'd spent most of my life, in pain, hating God.

“Baby, it's something that takes awhile to master, to fully understand. You're young, Hope. Still a baby in Christ. It'll take knowledge and experience and fasting and prayer to understand God the way that I do. But you'll get there. I have faith in that,” she said, closing her eyes. I knew the pain was hitting her.

Could I ever praise God through my pain? Could I ever understand the way she did? I made sure to make a mental note to pray about it.

“You never did tell me how it made you feel to forgive your momma, Hope.”

The first thing I did, as I began brushing her hair, was tell her about my trip to Momma's house. Momma May was very proud of me and said that it was Jesus working through me and that I wouldn't have been able to forgive Momma by myself. I wasn't sure if I even truly forgave her, but it was a start.

“I felt a weight lifted off of my shoulders but I also felt sad because she never said she loved me back.”

“She will. One day, Hope. God works on us all in His own time. She's a little slower than some of us, but God will get her there. It may take months, even years, but keep faith in knowing that the Lord will show her the errors in her ways. He will fill her heart with compassion toward you. You two will be able to hold hands and walk into a church together, praising God. Together.”

I smiled. “I doubt it, but I'll pray about it.”

“You do that.”

That next day, Momma May beat the side effect of her medicine, which caused drowsiness, and was able to stay awake long enough to tell me stories about her childhood. I always loved those moments: being able to see into her life. I was able to see how God used her, even when she hadn't realized He was doing anything. I got to see how God took her problems and brought nothing but good from them.

“I never really had a mother because she died when I was young,” Momma May began. “My grandma raised me on nothing but strict discipline and the Bible. I wasn't allowed to go outside and play with the neighborhood kids. I had to come straight home from school and study the Bible. She punished me by making me learn Bible verse after verse and, afterward, writing paragraphs on what those verses meant.

“I got to the point where I hated the Bible and God. I thought He was just like my grandmother, all sternness and no fun. Always watching, waiting for me to mess up so that He could scold me, like my grandmother. I was a lot like you, Hope. I ran away from God because my grandmother used Him as a means to break me. When I was sixteen, I ran away from my grandmother's house and found work with the mayor and his wife. I didn't find God again until I was blinded.”

“Shouldn't that make you hate Him more?”

“You'd think, but at that point, I realized I needed Him more than anything. God had turned her harsh punishment into good. If my grandmother hadn't been so strict on me learning the Bible, I would've never been able to step into ministry the way I did. It was also another thing that attracted my husband to me. He prayed to God for a woman who knew His word like the back of her hand, to help Him to minister to the people. God gave him me. I was that woman.

“Do you understand the point of this story, Hope? God can take any bad thing and turn it into good to glorify Him. So whatever pain you go through that you don't understand, know that God is working something out, and one day, you'll be able to look back and understand why you went through so much. Your testimony will be great.”

And I believed her. My testimony would one day change lives. Momma May was right; we were a lot alike.

 

 

Norma came over to the house that weekend, reeking of alcohol. Dante had made it a habit of staying the night and he made sure to sleep on the couch downstairs. If Momma May knew we were in that house alone, she'd kill us both. Dante made it apparent that we weren't to do anything disrespectful, and he followed through.

We were sitting on the couch, watching a movie we'd ordered, when Norma burst through the door, almost falling to the ground. She saw us sitting on the couch and stumbled over to us.

“What y'all doin' in this house un
sooo
pervised?” she slurred, sweat dripping from her forehead. She looked as if she'd run here. Her clothes were wrinkled and hanging off of her and her hair was falling shamelessly in her face. “Well since ya here, I gotta . . . ask ya a q . . . question.”

“You're drunk,” I said.

Norma gave me a disgusted look. “What would ya do if ya grandma was dyin'?” she asked me.

“Spend more time with her,” I answered.

She shook her head and directed her attention on Dante. “I need some money,” she barked. “Give me some money.”

“You're drunk,” he said, but at this point it was already obvious.

“Well, obviously I am, and what that gotta do with my money? I need some money. You gonna give it to me?”

“What do you need it for?” Dante asked.

“Why I gotta tell you?” Norma asked. “I need some money! Give me some money.”

“If you want money, you're going to have to tell me why you need it, Norma,” Dante firmly stated.

“It ain't none of your business why I need it! If you ain't gonna give it to me, I'll just take it from Momma's bank.”

Norma clumsily turned toward the staircase and began climbing it. I looked at Dante, trying to figure out what money Norma was referring to. He jumped up, running upstairs after Norma. I jumped up, following, trying to figure out what was going on.

We found Norma in Momma May's room. She had removed a large picture from the wall and was trying to break the combination to the safe hidden inside the wall. She cursed when she couldn't open it.

“Pastor May had me change the password, Norma. She knew you'd been getting into her money when she had me sit down and count it all after she got out of the hospital the first time. Ten thousand dollars was missing, and that's not even including the thirty thousand dollar loan you took out on her property. She knows about that, too, because I told her. She also knows about your drug problem. I gotta admit you hid that one well, too.”

I was completely surprised, not knowing Norma had a drug problem. I had noticed something slightly off about her but was never able to put my finger on it. Now I understood why she stayed gone a lot since I'd taken over helping Momma May. She hadn't brought the kids over in a while, either.

Norma screamed in frustration, running a shaky hand through her hair. “I know I got a problem, but I need that money. I need it, Dante! Give it to me.” She ran over to him and tried checking his pockets. He gently pushed her away but she was persistent. “Give me the money!”

That was when I jumped between them, pushing Norma back. Her eyes blazed as she looked up from where she landed on the floor. “You little . . .” She tried to jump up, but fell back on the ground. She decided to lay there with her hands covering her face and she moaned.

I turned to Dante. “I didn't mean to make her fall but she was getting crazy.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Help me get her up. She needs to sober up before she overdoses on whatever she took.”

“Ain't she just drunk?”

He shook his head. “She's been doing coke on and off for years. Looks like she's back on it now. Probably because of the stress of Momma May. It's good to have sharp eyes, Hope. I used to watch her take Momma May's mail but I didn't understand why and so I left it alone. Makes sense now, she was probably hiding delinquency letters. She probably took a lot of measures to keep Momma May from finding out. Come on, help me lift her and take her to the bathroom.”

I walked over by her feet as Dante stood by her head. He lifted her by her shoulders, instructing me to grab her feet. Together we carried her into the bathroom and sat her in the tub.

“Undress her and run cold water over her. I'm going to get some ice water for her to drink,” he said, and left the bathroom.

I struggled with getting her wet clothes off of her body, but I managed and covered her with a towel by the time Dante returned with the water.

“Lift her up,” he said.

I looked down at Norma, who started shaking under the cold water while mumbling words between consciousness. I sat her back and tilted her head so that Dante could pour the water down her throat. At first she struggled and choked as we forced her to drink, but then she began to welcome it. Maybe it was her body telling her that she needed it. All along, I didn't stop praying for God to heal her sickness. I wouldn't wish addiction on any soul.

We stayed that way for a half hour, forcing her to drink water. Eventually she threw everything up and passed out in the tub. Dante and I carried her into my room and left her to sleep it off. I eventually crawled into Momma May's bed and fell asleep.

When I woke up the next day, Norma was already gone. I went downstairs and found Dante still asleep on the couch but he had changed his clothes since last night. He looked peaceful, like an angel. Maybe he was an angel in his own way.

If someone would've told me the day I first met the boy with no fashion sense or rhythm, who had freckles and a shy disposition, that I'd marry him, I would've died of laughter. But looking at him now, seeing how much he'd grown over the last few months, how fond I was of him, I could believe it. I loved him, in my own way. Looking down at him, with my heart beating wildly in my chest, I could guess I was beginning to fall in love with him.

Dante opened his eyes as if he'd sensed me watching him. He smiled sleepily. “Happy birthday!”

My mouth dropped open. With everything going on, I hadn't realized today was my seventeenth birthday. I'd grown accustomed to never really caring about that day, since Momma never did anything special for me and I didn't know how to feel about it now.

Dante sat up. “Did you forget today is your birthday?”

I nodded.

“Who forgets their own birthday? I know people who plan birthday parties months in advance.”

“Well . . .” I sat next to him. “I never celebrated my birthday so it was always just another day where Faith got presents and I didn't.”

He smiled. “Well, we have the rest of your life to make up for it. Get dressed, we have a big day ahead of us.”

My eyes widened. “What? A big day? How?”

He stood up, stretching. “Don't ask questions, just go get dressed.”

 

 

Turned out, Dante had woken up at five in the morning, got dressed, and let Norma out. He said she was sober when she woke up and barely said a word due to embarrassment. He then got dressed, lay back on the couch, and slept until I woke up.

We started our day off as normal. We went up to the hospital. Dante played checkers with Momma May, as usual, and I waited until it was my turn to go back and see her. We preferred to have our individual space with her, but some days we'd visit her together. When I arrived, Momma May had a box, wrapped up in beautiful paper, sitting on the table.

“Happy birthday, baby,” she said.

“Thanks.” I felt joy at knowing people actually cared about my birthday.

“There is a box on that stand. I had Dante do some shopping for me. Go on and open it.”

I sat down in the chair beside the bed, holding the gift in my hand. I almost felt undeserving to receive the gift. I could hear Momma in my head telling me that I'd probably done something and shouldn't deserve it. I ran through the most recent actions and events in my life, trying to find a reason to feel bad. It was natural for me. I didn't know how to feel anything but.

I started unwrapping the silver wrapping paper until I was left with a white box. I slowly opened it, cherishing each moment.

A beautiful pair of earrings shimmered inside. They looked like diamonds, but I knew better than to believe Momma May would spend that much money on a pair of diamonds.

“They're beautiful.”

“They're real diamonds,” she said. “Every girl deserves a nice pair of diamond earrings. I remembered when my husband bought me my first pair. I wore them for three weeks straight. Dante picked them out, does he have good taste?”

“More than good,” I said, eyes watering. I didn't know how she could afford diamond earrings. “I don't deserve this much love.”

“Yes, you do, baby. Yes, you do,” she said. “Now don't cry on your birthday, be happy. Thank God you've lived to see one better than anything you could've imagined. Thank God, baby.”