Under the Peach Tree (9 page)

Sitting around a motel thinking about all of the pain in my life was tiresome. I needed something to do. I needed to find a job. At sixteen, there were only a few places I could work and none of them seemed appealing. A thought occurred to me. Maybe May Baker needed someone to help her out. Norma looked tired and seemed to be getting too old to be escorting an old lady around, if that was what she did all day. Plus it was a way to pay May Baker back for her kindness.

I remembered Norma stating that she attended a church called Rising Faith. There had to be a way to contact her. I decided to spend that next day doing exactly that. I started off at the library a few miles away from the motel. I started searching her name and, when that failed, I tried searching for the church. Multiple Web sites mentioned the phenomenal church, noting its generosity and programs for the youth. Although interesting, I chose the actual Web site and found the address located at the bottom. I then put the address in the search engine and found the directions. It was just four miles away. I found the bus route and decided to go down to the church.

An hour later I stood in front of an old white stone church twice the size of the country church Faith went to. It was bordered with black metal gates that remained open for the public. The windows were made out of some type of stained glass I'd never seen before. They held images of Jesus and Mary and of angels that seemed to be looking right at me. All of it was too much. I was instantly stuck in once place, not wanting to move.

I hadn't really thought out my plan once I got to the church. I'd never stepped a single foot in a church and promised myself I never would. And here I was, looking for a blind old lady and questioning whether I should go inside. My stomach turned. I knew I didn't like churches but I hadn't realized churches placed such fear in my heart. I could barely breathe.

I stood there for about an hour, debating, before I decided to stand just outside of the church and wait until she either came or went. Eventually I got tired of standing and began sitting, watching the traffic pass by, wondering what lives those people lived, where they were off to, what mood they were in. By the time nine o'clock came, I realized I wasn't going to see the old lady and decided to leave.

I kept the same routine for three days that week. Sitting just outside of the church's gates, waiting to see the old lady come or go, but nothing. One that third day, around six o'clock in the evening, people began walking inside of the church, dressed in nice clothes, holding their Bibles.

I stood up from the ground when a woman stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. She cocked her head to the side. “Girl, I rode passed the church the other day and saw you sitting out here, and now I'm back for Bible Study and you're still sitting out here? Are you homeless or crazy?”

“I'm waiting for May Baker.”

“Pastor Baker is old and can't move around like she used to. She only comes to church on Wednesdays and Sundays for Bible Study and service. Why don't you come inside? I'm sure she's already here. You might've missed her.”

I hesitated. “Um, no, I'll wait outside.”

She wrapped her blue shawl around her body. “Child, it's chilly outside. You gonna catch a cold if you keep standing out here like that. Come on inside.”

I shook my head. “No, I'm not cold. I'll wait outside.”

The woman looked me up and down, frowning. But she left me alone and went inside. I sank back onto the ground and pulled my arms inside of my shirt for more warmth and waited.

I hadn't realized I'd fallen asleep until a soft voice interrupted me. I opened my eyes to a dark evening and Norma standing over me. May Baker stood on the sidewalk, waiting.

“Girl, why are you outside of the church sleeping?”

I pushed my arms through my shirt and sat up. “I want to talk to May Baker.”

Norma looked back at May and then focused her hard eyes on me. She helped me to my feet and took me over to where May stood.

“It's the homeless girl from the other day, Momma,” Norma said, standing aside for me to be able to talk to May. I hadn't realized Norma was May's daughter.

May smiled sweetly. “God told me you'd be back,” May said, confusing me. I didn't know that God talked to people. Faith said He used to talk to people back in the day. I guessed it wouldn't be any different now. “What is the problem, child?”

“I want to thank you for giving me that money and I want to repay you,” I told her. “Maybe I can help you out through the week? I can come by your house and clean and cook, take you places. I can't drive, but I can learn, and I don't really know the city, but—”

“Hold on, baby,” May Baker said softly. “Let me get this straight. So you're volunteering to help me out around the house to repay me for the money I gave you? Honey, that was Jesus' money, repay Him, not me.”

I thought about it for a minute. “I can repay Him by helping you out. Faith used to tell me that God loves it when His people love each other like they love themselves.”

“Who's Faith?” May asked.

“My twin.” I really didn't want to talk about her, so I changed the subject. “Can I please help you?”

“Momma, the girl seems nice and we could use the help.” Norma turned to me. “We need someone to help out around the house while I'm at work. You can come over in the mornings for a few hours.” She grabbed a piece of paper and pen from her purse and began writing on it. “From nine to twelve, or for however long you want to stay and help. The address and phone number are on the paper.”

I took the piece of paper from her with a smile. “Thank you!”

“No, honey, thank you,” Norma said, and continued guiding May to the car. “We'll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, ma'am!”

That next day, I stood in front of a Victorian-style home. The land was spacious but dying. The grass had brown patches that stretched across the yard. The garden was unattended and messy. The paint on the house was beginning to chip, making the house look slightly haunted. I could imagine how beautiful the house once was, before May Baker was too old to keep it up.

Aside from the work that needed to be done, the house was still beautiful. It looked like a small castle, with a multifaceted structure. The roof pointed sharply to the sky at different locations, making the house look like it held four or five levels. The roof was black, as well as the shutters and front door. And just like Momma's house, this one had a beautiful weeping willow tree that sat in the front yard. I could see multiple trees swaying behind the house in the backyard.

I walked up on the porch, noticing the porch swing to my left and a few chairs with a table to my right. A glass of lemonade still sat on the table with ice floating. Someone had been sitting on the porch not too long ago.

Before I knocked on the door, Norma came rushing out of the house accompanied by two children, a boy and girl around seven years old. She looked up to me absentmindedly and managed a smile when she saw me. She guided the kids down the stairs and stopped to talk to me. Up close, I could see the exhaustion that slouched her shoulders.

“Momma's in the house taking a nap. I stop by every morning before work to check on her and make sure she's taken her medicine and eaten. I left details on the kitchen table. It'll tell you when she takes her medicine and which medicine she takes. Now she's already had her morning medicine and won't be due for more until noon. So every day before you leave, give her the medicine. It's very important. I'll be back around six tonight, so she'll be on her own after you leave, but she's capable of caring for herself. She just really needs help around the house, there is a lot of cleaning she can't do. I left my number on the table just in case you ever need to call me.” She said everything in a rush, but I was sure I had gotten the gist of it. She smiled and turned toward her car, shouting to her kids to buckle their seat belts, and then she was gone.

I grabbed the lemonade off of the table, figuring May forgot it outside, and stepped into the house. The inside was nicer than what I thought. May had a spacious living room with a tan couch set and glass tables. A forty-two-inch flat-screen TV sat against the wall. The channel was broadcasting a sermon from Pastor T.D. Jakes. May sat upright on the couch and had dozed off. I took the opportunity to explore her house. I walked through the living room, taking in the fireplace and the decorated mantel. Pictures of Norma's kids sat atop it, along with porcelain elephants.

I walked into the kitchen, impressed by its size. A nice table sat in the middle of the room. A fruit basket was centered on the table and the note sat beside it. I placed the lemonade on the table and picked up an apple and bit into it. With the other hand, I went through the cabinets, memorizing where May kept her spices, food, and dishes. I opened her refrigerator, staring at all of the food. I picked up a carton of skim milk and quickly placed it back. “Nothing but a bunch of old people's food.” I closed the door and headed into what looked like a nice dining area, with a larger, sturdy table, made of a beautiful dark wood. She had it decorated with nice flowered placemats, and dishware. Fresh flowers sat in the middle of the table and the sunlight from the window reflected off of the crystal chandeliers, painting diamonds on the walls.

I skipped past the bathroom and made my way back to the front of the house and walked upstairs, listening to the steps creak. The first room was locked. I continued past the bathroom and opened the third door, which led to a bedroom with flowered wallpaper, a full-sized white bed, and a brown dresser. I closed the door and headed to the last room.

And then I heard May downstairs coughing.

I left the last bedroom and went back downstairs to check on May, who was still sleeping. I was about to finish exploring the house but heard a knock at the front door. I opened the door, greeted by a boy around my age who was so light skinned his cheeks were pink. He looked shy and smiled at me sweetly.

“Is Pastor Baker here?”

I folded my arms, which was a defensive mechanism whenever I met new people. “She's taking a nap, who are you?”

“I'm Dante, I go to her church.”

“Do you need something?”

He smiled again. “I come over every day to keep Pastor Baker company.”

“Well, she's asleep and I'll be keeping her company today.”

He frowned. “I come over to play checkers with her. It's her favorite game. Do you know how to play?”

“No.”

“Well, she's going to want to play.” He tried to step inside but I blocked him.

“I'll learn,” I said and shut the door. I took a seat in the chair next to May and I, too, eventually dozed off.

I woke up to quiet voices. I stood up, stretched and then walked to the window and peeked out. I had the perfect view of May and Dante outside on the porch playing checkers. I jumped up and walked out on the porch as they were laughing. Dante was first to look up.

May smiled. “I didn't want to wake you up, honey. You seemed so peaceful.”

“What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

“It just turned eleven. Dante made some sandwiches in the kitchen if you're hungry. Can you bring me some more lemonade?” She picked up the glass from the table and handed it to me. I smiled and walked back into the house. As I poured her drink, I picked up the house phone and dialed home. I was beginning to miss Faith with each passing day and needed to hear her voice. I knew she probably hated me, and I didn't blame her for it. I hated myself.

The phone picked up on the third ring. “Hello?” Faith's voice was sweet to my ears.

“Faith.” I didn't know what else to say. I slowly placed the lemonade back into the refrigerator as I thought.

“Hope?” she asked. “Why did you call here? You know Momma will flip out if she found out you called.”

“Faith, I'm—” But before I could finish, Momma's voice shouted through the phone.

“Why are you calling my house? Your sister don't wanna talk to you. Don't call my house again!”

“But, Momma—” I started, but the phone hung up.

I quickly grabbed the glass of lemonade and took it to May before I could break down crying. I held it all in, taking a seat in the third chair beside May. She took a drink of her lemonade and set it down. She felt for her pieces to make her next move. I didn't understand how she could play checkers being blind. I looked at Dante, who eyed me curiously as if he knew something was wrong with me. I narrowed my eyes, showing my attitude. He looked back at the game shyly.

I studied him as he played, wondering who he was and where he came from. I didn't understand how a boy his age found playing checkers with an old, blind woman interesting, but I wasn't going to judge. He seemed slightly nerdish and innocent but he had a boyish beauty that would turn any girl's head. I wouldn't mind staring at his pretty face but that didn't mean I had to like him.

Twenty minutes later, Dante was gone and May was back inside, eating a sandwich so that she could take her medicine at twelve. She was quiet for the most part, probably waiting for me to speak, but I didn't. I was too wounded by the phone call to speak. May sensed it; I could tell by the way she sat staring into my direction as if she wanted to say something.

“You go to church, Hope?”

“No, ma'am.”

“Why not?”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and changed the subject. “Does Norma live with you?”

“No.” If May noticed the change of subject, she didn't mention in. “She lives with her two kids in an apartment on the other side of town.”

“Are you married?”

“I'm widowed with two daughters. My husband used to be the preacher of Rising Faith Ministries but he died many years ago.” A shadow of sadness shaded her eyes.

“I'm sorry.”

She smiled, bringing joy back into the room. “He was a good man. I never thought I'd get married but God brought him into my life after many prayers.”

“He never answers mine,” I mumbled, but she heard me.

“God always answers our prayers. Sometimes the answer is ‘wait' or ‘no,' but He always answers.”

I didn't like where the conversation was going and changed it again. “What all do you need done around the house?”

She thought for a moment. “Is the grass high? It ain't been cut in a week.”

I stood up. “I'll cut it.”

About thirty-five minutes later, I walked back into her house sweaty and tired. May stood in the kitchen, finally taking her medicine. I quickly grabbed the paper and scanned over it, making sure she was taking the right medicine. She smiled and waved me away.

“I've been taking care of myself my whole life, I can manage my pills. Please get me some water.”

I grabbed her glass, washed it out, filled it with water, and handed it to her.

“Why are you homeless?” Her question caught me off-guard. I guess I had been expecting that she'd begin asking questions but did I really want to open up to her? Was I ready to tell someone my history when they already thought highly of me? I didn't want to ruin my newfound reputation.

“I ran away after my mom died.”

She sighed. “The good thing about being blind is that all of your other senses are heightened. I can hear a lie a mile away. It's in the sound of your voice. My momma died when I was young. I know the pain and, child, you ain't got that pain. Don't lie in my house.”

I was shocked and swallowed hard. I could feel the sweat on my forehead. “I don't want you to judge me.”

She turned toward the sound of my voice. “Child, only God can judge. I won't judge you. Ever.”

“Well . . . I got kicked out of my house.”

“Why?”

“I don't wanna say.”

“Child, if you plan on being in this house, I need to know your background.”

I sighed. “Because I got pregnant.”

May almost dropped her medicine. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“And how far along are you?”

“I'm not.” A thousand emotions surfaced, ranging from anger to dread. I suddenly felt claustrophobic and needed to escape. “She beat the baby out of me and then kicked me out.”

May's medicine fell from her hands and at least twenty pills slid off of the table on to the ground. I quickly dropped to my knees, picking the medicine up. They all ranged in color and size. It was impossible to know which pills belonged where but I busied myself with trying to figure it out so that I wouldn't have to stare at May's shocked expression.

“Don't worry about the pills, child. Norma will sort them out when she gets here.” Right after she said it, the grandfather clock came alive, singing. “It's twelve o'clock. You can leave. I'll have more for you to do tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I said, almost too low, and left her house. I was thankful to have finally escaped, like I always did whenever faced with my problems.

I came back the next day just as Norma was leaving. Her kids waved at me as they passed me by on the walkway. She stopped and talked to me, and, by the indifferent look on her face, I could tell May hadn't told her about my miscarriage. It gave me some comfort.

“Thanks for helping out yesterday. I have a new list for you so that you'll know which medicine goes in her cases just in case another incident happens. She also has a list of things written she needs you to do.” She smiled and followed her kids to the car.

She didn't lie when she said May had a big list of work for me. I had to look over the list a few times before it fully registered. I was happy about it because it would keep my mind busy. I started with going out back into her shed and getting a ladder. Spring was around the corner and May needed to get the leaves out of the gutter. She also wanted me to rake the old leaves left over on the ground from fall, organize her shed, and lay soil down in her garden so that we could plant flowers. I didn't understand what flowers did for a blind person but I guessed it was for others to enjoy when they came over.

I was good and sweaty by the time Dante came over. He scared the mess out of me as I was climbing down the ladder after cleaning the shutter.

He tried to hold in his amusement at my reaction to him scaring me. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning the gutter.” I folded my arms defensively. I really didn't know how to take to men, even the ones who barely looked eighteen.

“Need help?”

“Ain't you supposed to be playing chess?”

“It's checkers, and no. I don't always come to play checkers. Sometimes her medicine kicks in before I get here and she goes to sleep so I start helping out around the house. I saw that long list and I know you need help.”

“No, I don't,” I said with an attitude, hoping it'd make him go away. I had no desire to spend time near a boy, not after the heartbreak I'd suffered. “It keeps me busy.” I started stuffing leaves into a trash bag, ignoring Dante's presence.

“It keeps you busy from what?”

I stood straight, facing him. “Can you leave me alone before I go off!”

He laughed, immune to my attitude, and walked away. I began shoving leaves into the trash bag with more speed than before. After I was done with the gutters, I worked on raking up the yard, which took me an hour. After I was done, I set the bags by the Dumpster and began working on the shed.

I lost track of time, but didn't care. It felt good doing things, staying busy. At some point, I started to hum the old Negro spiritual songs I used to sing whenever I sat outside during church service as a child. I hadn't sung those songs in years, and I never did understand why that church sang all of the old songs instead of the gospel songs of that time.