Let the Church Say Amen (4 page)

J
ONATHAN
J
ACKSON STOOD
at the front door of the place he’d called home all his life. He had mixed emotions about going inside. On the one hand, he really wanted to see his mother. But on the other, he just didn’t know if he was ready to deal with his father yet.

After a few more minutes, Jonathan decided there was no sense putting off the inevitable. He gently placed his key into the lock, turned it, and walked inside.

“Well, looky here.” Simon jumped up from his recliner and quickly walked down the hall toward his son as soon as he saw him standing in the front door. “My boy! Loretta, get out here! I got a surprise for you!”

“Yes, dear.” Loretta came out of the kitchen. She was holding a wooden spoon in her hand. “I really need to get dinner finished. I …” She stopped talking when she saw Jonathan standing in the doorway, his father’s arm proudly wrapped around him.

“Hi, Mama.”

“Thank you, Jesus!” Loretta proclaimed. She raced over and took her son into her arms. “Jonathan! Oh, I’ve missed you so much, son! Why didn’t you call and let us know what time you were getting in? I would’ve picked you up from the airport.”

Jonathan set his bags down, leaned in, and kissed his mother. “I wanted to surprise you. Besides,” he leaned back out the front door and waved, “Kevin dropped me off.” Simon looked out at the young man sitting in the black Mustang GT parked outside. He’d been Jonathan’s best friend since junior high school. Kevin waved, then sped off.

“Come on in here and sit down,” Simon said, closing the door.

“You sure do look good. Atlanta has been good to you,” Loretta said.

“Yes, Mama. The city is really great.” Jonathan had graduated from Morehouse College the past spring with a divinity degree, but he still had to finish a class for his minor in sociology. Now that he had completely finished, he decided to return home until he figured out what he was going to do.

“My boy, the college graduate.” Simon beamed. The whole family, with the exception of David, had driven down to Atlanta when Jonathan got his degree. Simon and Rachel had argued the entire trip, but Simon had never been happier as he watched Jonathan walk across the stage.

“So, have you given any thought to seminary school?” Simon asked.

Jonathan walked away from his father to study the new pictures of Nia and Jordan sitting on the fireplace mantel.

“Yeah, I thought about it. And I’d really like to go. You know I would love to follow in your footsteps, Dad.”

Simon didn’t give him time to finish. He walked over, grabbed Jonathan, and pulled him into a tight embrace. Jonathan knew now was the time to draw back and give his father the “but” part, only he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He knew how much Simon was counting on him. Maybe there was some way he could make his father happy and become a preacher. He just hadn’t figured out how he would do that.

Simon pulled Jonathan into the den. “Just leave those bags; we’ll get them later. I want to catch up with you!” He was filled with enthusiasm. “Loretta, can you please get us something to drink, some lemonade or tea or something?”

Loretta, who was following behind them beaming, nodded. “Yes, dear. Lemonade it is. I’ll be right back.”

“Maybe you can preach next Sunday, get you some practice,” Simon said.

Jonathan laughed nervously. “Whoa, Dad; slow down. I just got here. I think I’ll take back my old position of choir director. That is, if it’s still open. I know when we talked a few weeks ago, you told me you hadn’t found anyone for it. So maybe I can start there before you throw me into the pulpit.”

Simon didn’t respond. He was too busy smiling.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” Jonathan asked.

“I’m just so proud of you, son,” Simon responded. “Tell me, did you finish your class okay? Have you found your future Mrs. Jackson?”

Jonathan knew he would be bombarded with questions the minute he walked in the door. He loved his father to death, but sometimes he could be so overbearing. The plane ride from Atlanta had been exhausting. He would’ve given anything just to go lie down right now, but he knew that would be next to impossible.

“The class went fine, and now I’m officially finished with school. And no, I haven’t met my wife yet.”

“Boy, you mean to tell me all those lovely women at Spelman, and you ain’t found one worthy of being called Mrs. Jackson?” Simon asked.

Loretta returned and handed them each a glass of lemonade. “Simon Jackson, would you leave that boy alone? He just got in the door and you are trying to make him a preacher
and
a husband,” she said, laughing.

Jonathan smiled at his mother. Saved by good old mom. He definitely didn’t want to get into a conversation about his love life with his father.

“Sweetie, are you hungry?” Loretta asked. “I made your favorite, smothered pork chops and rice, with a side of my green beans and potatoes, just the way you like it.”

“Ummm, I am hungry, Mama,” Jonathan said. “But I’m sorry, I don’t eat pork anymore.”

“You what?” Simon said. “Boy, you were raised on the pig.”

“I know. I just don’t eat it anymore. It makes me sick now if I try.”

“So, you a Muslim?” Simon asked, concerned.

“No, Dad, I’m not a Muslim. I just don’t eat pork.”

A worried look crossed Loretta’s face. “Oh, baby, I wish I’d known. Now, what are you goin’ eat? I can try and fix you up a steak or something right quick.”

Jonathan got up, walked over and kissed his mother on the cheek. “No, Mother, no need to do all that. I can just eat the vegetables and be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Loretta asked.

Jonathan smiled lovingly at his mother. She had always pampered him. “I’m sure. But first, I’d like to change out of these clothes and into something more comfortable.” Jonathan had on a pair of gray slacks, a long-sleeved, crisp white dress shirt, and a tie. He didn’t know why he’d worn a tie on the plane; habit, he guessed. He’d been wearing them since he was in high school. He even walked around campus regularly in a shirt and tie.

“Okay, baby,” Loretta responded. “You go get changed and I’ll get your plate ready.”

“Thanks, Mama. By the way, where are Rachel and David?”

At the mention of David’s name, Simon turned up his nose and mumbled. From his reaction, Jonathan knew things weren’t much better between his father and brother. The last time he was home, six months ago, they’d committed David to rehab for his drug problem. His father was so angry then that he didn’t join the rest of the family to check David in. It was an ordeal and Jonathan had been anxious to get back to school. David’s stay in rehab was the reason he missed Jonathan’s graduation.

“I suppose they’re at home,” Loretta said. “Rachel will probably be by later. And David …” Loretta looked at her husband.

Simon huffed and said, “David isn’t welcome here.”

Jonathan debated whether to ask for the latest on his brother, but decided against it. He knew it would start a whole other conversation, or even an argument, and he had already spent the last week arguing with the love of his life, Tracy. He definitely wasn’t in the mood to go down that road again.

“Well, I’m going to get changed. I’ll be back down shortly.”

Simon dropped David from his mind, and he smiled. “Everything is just as you left it, son,” he said.

Jonathan managed to return his smile. His father had such a look of admiration on his face. He hated to think that eventually, that look might change forever.

R
ACHEL SAT
in the front passenger seat of her mother’s blue minivan. Her bottom lip was poked out like she was a pouting six-year-old.

Her mother continued swaying her head to the sounds of Mahalia Jackson on the tape player. Either she was oblivious to Rachel’s frustrations, or she just chose to ignore her.

Rachel shifted in her seat and let out a loud, long sigh.

Loretta smiled.

“What’s so funny?” Rachel asked.

“You.” Loretta went back to singing and swaying.

“Why am I funny?”

“Because you always want somebody to do something for you, but you never want to do anything for anyone else.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “That’s not true.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Loretta answered in a lighthearted tone. “That’s why you’re sitting over there now acting like a child.”

“No, I’m not,” Rachel protested. “I just don’t understand why I have to go with you to visit the sick and shut-in. Half those folks don’t even like me. The other half don’t even know me.”

“Well, if you put it that way, I don’t understand why I have to babysit every weekend.”

Rachel sucked her teeth. She hated that her parents constantly threw babysitting in her face. It’s not like they didn’t enjoy spending time with their grandkids. They just wanted to blackmail her.

“It’s good for you to get out and give back. The Lord has given you so much.”

“Oh, gimme a break.”

“No need pouting about it. We’re here now.” Loretta pulled into the driveway of Mattie Broadman, a longtime member of Zion Hill.

Mrs. Mattie was eighty years old and chronically sick, and her only daughter lived three hours away. Rachel couldn’t understand why they didn’t just put her in a nursing home. Loretta explained to her that Mrs. Mattie made both family and friends promise to let her live out her last days at home. Her husband, Cecil, had been abused in a nursing home, so Mrs. Mattie swore she’d kill herself before she went to one.

“I still don’t understand what good it does for us to be here. She’s mean and hateful every time we come by,” Rachel said as she stepped out of the van.

Mrs. Mattie had been Rachel’s Sunday school teacher, and the meanest woman she’d ever met. She seemed to get meaner the older she got.

Loretta motioned for her daughter to get moving up the walkway. “I told you it does you good and despite the way she acts, it does Mrs. Mattie good as well. It lets her know her Zion Hill family cares about her.”

“But I don’t care about her.”

“Rachel,” Loretta snapped and turned toward her daughter, “that’s your problem. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. And Bobby.” Loretta’s expression turned serious. “Have you ever thought that maybe that’s why God isn’t delivering you the blessings you want? Because you’re so selfish. Lord only knows how I raised such a selfish child.” Loretta shook her head, turned around and rang Mrs. Mattie’s doorbell.

A few minutes later, a scratchy voice yelled from the other side. “Who’s there?”

“Mrs. Mattie, it’s Loretta and Rachel. We came to visit and we brought you tea cakes.” Loretta held a bag up to the peephole.

Mrs. Mattie mumbled something they couldn’t make out, then started unfastening what sounded like fifty different locks on her front door.

The door swung open. It seemed to Rachel that Mrs. Mattie had aged since the last time they were there a month ago. Her beige duster hung from her small, frail frame, and her completely white hair hung to her shoulders. It was so thin, you could see right through it. She looked Loretta and Rachel up and down, a scowl plastered across her face. “Well, don’t just stand there; you letting the flies in.”

Rachel turned up her nose as she stepped inside the house. A stale, mothball smell permeated the air.
It looked like the flies were already in,
Rachel thought as she made her way down the foyer of Mrs. Mattie’s Victorian-style home.

The two-story brick house may have been at one time a truly beautiful place, but the house had been neglected since Mr. Broadman passed away four years ago. The ceiling in the front room was sagging and looked like it would cave in at any minute. A thick layer of dust seemed to cover every piece of furniture in the house. The walls were a dingy yellow and the swinging door from the dining room into the kitchen hung on its hinges.

Loretta leaned in and gave Mrs. Mattie a hug. “How are you feeling today?” she asked.

“I’m alive. I guess that counts for something.” Mrs. Mattie stared at Rachel as if she expected a hug from her, too. Loretta turned toward her daughter and slightly thrust her head toward Mrs. Mattie. Rachel didn’t understand and threw her mother a confused look before realizing what she was asking. Rachel silently cursed, took a deep breath, leaned in, and hugged Mrs. Mattie. The woman didn’t return her hug.

“Well, long as you here, you might as well make yourself useful and go wash the dishes in the kitchen sink,” Mrs. Mattie said to Rachel.

Rachel looked at the elderly woman like she had lost her mind.

“How’s the grandkids?” Mrs. Mattie asked, ignoring Rachel’s icy stare.

“They’re doing fine. Jordan is getting so big,” Loretta responded.

Mrs. Mattie turned back to Rachel, who hadn’t moved. “What are you waiting for, gal?”

Rachel looked to her mother in protest.

“Just go do it, Rachel,” Loretta pleaded. Rachel couldn’t be sure, but she could’ve sworn there was a smirk on Mrs. Mattie’s face.

Fine, Rachel told herself. At least she wouldn’t have to sit in this dusty front room and pretend like she was interested in Mrs. Mattie’s conversation.

Rachel huffed, then turned and walked into the kitchen. It looked bad. The countertops were clean, but what looked like three months worth of dishes were piled in the sink. A ceramic chicken cookie jar with a broken beak was turned over on its side. A teakettle sat on the gas stove. It looked like tea had boiled over and never been cleaned up.

I know she don’t expect me to clean all this up
. Rachel looked back toward the front room, contemplating whether she should tell her mother cleaning this kitchen was out of the question.

Mrs. Mattie and Loretta walked into the kitchen.

“Have a seat at the table,” Mrs. Mattie said, pointing to the rickety kitchen table that was being supported by a phone book on one end. “I’ll make us some coffee to have with these tea cakes.”

She turned her attention to Rachel, who was leaning against one of the counters, pouting. “Gal, rinse out that teakettle and boil us some hot water.”

Again, Rachel wanted to protest, but her mother’s sharp look stopped her. Rachel huffed, snatched the teakettle, and emptied out the brown liquid that had probably been sitting in there for weeks. It was bad enough she had to play Hazel the maid, but then they were bringing their conversation into the kitchen, where she would be forced to listen.

Mrs. Mattie sat down across from Loretta at the table. “What about Pastor Jackson? How’s he?”

“He’s doing fine. He’s at the church right now,” Loretta replied.

“Lord, every time I talk to you that man is at the church. Doesn’t that bother you?”

Rachel filled the kettle, placed it on the stove, then turned the fire on as she leaned back. She wanted to hear her mother’s response to Mrs. Mattie’s question.

“No, I’m okay with it.”

Rachel let out a long sigh.
How could anybody be okay with never seeing their husband?
she wondered as she poured dishwashing liquid and began running hot water in the sink.

“Now, Loretta. You must not forget that I was married for fifty-one years to a minister. And I never did get used to the time he spent in the church.” Mrs. Mattie leaned in and lowered her voice. “Maybe if he had spent more time at home, you wouldn’t be dealing with such a fast one over there.”

Loretta snickered. Rachel wanted to turn around and throw a plate at Mrs. Mattie. Despite the fact that Mrs. Mattie lowered her voice, Rachel had the strangest feeling Mrs. Mattie could care less whether Rachel heard her or not.

“Simon is there enough for our family,” Loretta said.

“Hmph, no, he’s not,” Rachel muttered as she scrubbed what seemed like two-month-old beans from a plastic bowl.

“Uh, excuse me,” Mrs. Mattie interjected. “This is grown folks’ business.”

I am grown, Rachel wanted to say. But for the life of her she just couldn’t bring herself to say anything smart to Mrs. Mattie.

“As I was saying,” Mrs. Mattie continued, “kids need both of their parents full time, especially boys. Speaking of boys, how are them boys?”

“Jonathan is home now,” Loretta replied.

“Oh, that’s wonderful. That’s a sweet boy if I ever seen one. You all must be so proud of him.”

Rachel wanted to gag. If she never heard another pro Jonathan comment in her life, it would be too soon.

“As for David,” Loretta kept talking, “he’s still going through some things. You know the devil is at work on him.”

“Umm-hmm,” Mrs. Mattie tsked. “And from what I hear, the devil is winning.”

Loretta’s voice softened. “I’m staying prayerful.”

“Well, I guess that’s all you can do. Just make sure at the top of your prayer list, you put that one there,” Mrs. Mattie said, pointing at Rachel. Rachel was getting just about fed up. Here she was, elbow deep in nasty dishwater and this woman was talking about her.

“You’re a better woman than me,” Mrs. Mattie continued. “I had to put my foot down and tell Cecil he was goin’ have to spend more time with us and less with that church.”

Rachel stifled a sarcastic laugh. That would be the day. Her mother putting her foot down, yeah, right.

“Oh, I could never do that. I believe in letting Simon be the head of the household.”

Mrs. Mattie shook her head sympathetically. “Chile, it’s one thing to let your husband lead and another for you to follow him blindly.”

Finally, Rachel thought, Mrs. Mattie said something that made some sense.

“I would never say Simon is leading us blindly.”

“Take it from me, I’ve been there. All you have to do is look at your children. I know Simon, been knowing him since he was knee-high to a pup. Knew his daddy, too. The difference is the elder Reverend Jackson knew how to say no. He knew how to delegate to others so it didn’t take away from his family. You see out of eight of that Jackson clan, near ’bout all of ’em doing well. I don’t know why Simon is so gung-ho on the church. He lets everybody tell him what they need him to do, then them folks go home to their family.”

Loretta sighed. “Mrs. Mattie, I stopped long ago trying to figure out what was the driving force behind Simon’s desire to make Zion Hill the best church in the country, which is his ultimate goal. Personally, I believe it has something to do with the fact that his father lost his church when Simon was a teenager.”

Mrs. Mattie nodded, recalling the story. “I know that hit Reverend Jackson hard. He loved that church. My sister went there and I remember her telling me the members had voted to get rid of Reverend Jackson because they said the church wasn’t prospering under him. His health deteriorated after that, he was so distraught.”

“I know,” Loretta continued. “And when he finally died of heart failure on the day of Simon’s high school graduation, Simon was devastated. I believe my husband is now trying to accomplish what his father could not. But Simon would never admit to that. He won’t even talk about his father and the church. Always just changes the subject.”

Rachel listened on in awe as she moved a plate into the other side of the sink to await rinsing. She had never known that about her father. She knew her grandfather was a minister, but she had no idea he had lost his church.

Loretta tried to shake off the melancholy look that had crept up on her face. “Whatever the reason, my husband is happiest when he’s giving his all to Zion Hill. I know that the kids have a hard time accepting that, but I’m hopeful at some point we can find a happy medium.”

At some point?
Rachel wanted to scream. They were all freaking grown now. What difference did it make now whether he came around? Anything her father tried to give them now was too little, too late as far as she was concerned.

Mrs. Mattie took Loretta’s hand.

“You can try to kid yourself all you want about it not making a difference, but it’s hurting your family. And I know you well enough to know it’s hurting you, too. I just think you’re too stubborn to admit it, because you gotta be a good and supportive first lady.” Mrs. Mattie released her hold, her expression turning deadly serious. “You better get your husband straight before your children are too far gone, if they ain’t already.”