Mama B - A Time to Mend (Book 4) (2 page)

His face beamed. “I like
pancakes.”

“You’re welcome to come over,
too,” I invited his mother.

“No, thank you. I’m sorry you
had to deal with him this morning.”

I waved my hand. “Please.
Your son was perfectly—”

“He’s not my biological son,”
she corrected me. “It was nice to meet you, Beatrice. He won’t bother you
again.”

I shook my head, leaned down
into the car and looked her square in the eye. “Kids aren’t
bothers
.
They’re
blessings
,” I delivered my not-so-subtle rebuke.

Her knuckles turned white against
the steering wheel. She took off down the street like I’d just slapped her.
Well, maybe I
did
slap her—with the truth. Somebody needed to slap
her, considerin’ the way she handled Jeffrey.

But when I got back in the
kitchen and settled down again with my Heavenly Father, my heart broke for
Julia and Jeffrey. I’m sure he was a handful. Even though his mind wasn’t all
there, seemed like his body was intact for the most part. He was probably
giving her all kinds of trouble, hormones changing and all. Special children
require very patient parents. Anybody can lose it with a normal teenager, let
alone one who needs extra help and guidance.

 I repented of getting
angry with Julia so fast. Lord knows being quick to anger sure ain’t a fruit of
the Spirit. Not the Holy Spirit, anyway.

No sooner than I had added
Jeffrey and Julia’s names to my prayer list, he come beatin’ on the door again.
Harder this time. And callin’
my
name. “Mama B! Mama B!”

I skipped to answer his call
again, wondering how he’d managed to get out of the car ‘cause that Julia was
headin’ to take him straight back home.

When I opened the door, the first
thing I seen was a big red knot on the boy’s forehead. “Jeffrey?”

Chile, he passed out cold
right there on the ground.

Chapter 2

“Nine-one-one, what is the
location of your emergency?”

“2304 Silver Oaks Dr. My
neighbor, he passed out on my back porch.”

“Is he breathing?” the
operator asked me.

“Just a minute,” I said as I
struggled to open the door. Jeffrey’s knees and legs hindered me. I had to get
down on the ground and push him back so I could get to him.

With the phone still on my
ear, I put my hand to his mouth and felt his warm breath.
Thank you, Lord.
“Yes, he’s breathing.”

“Can you feel his pulse?”

I pinched his wrist. “Yes.
His heart is beatin’. He’s a special needs child. And he’s got a knot on his
head.”

About this time, my wits
returned and I figured whatever happened to Jeffrey had something to do with
Julia. “He was in the car with his step-mother,” I told the operator.

“Is she with him?”

“No. I’m about to see what’s
goin’ on with her.”

“May I have your name?” I
answered the operator’s questions while thinking through my plan. Instead of
tryin’ to get past Jeffrey to go back into the house, I retraced the same path
I’d taken a few minutes earlier, back through the gate to the front yard. I looked
down the street and already a crowd of people had formed around Julia’s wrecked
car. “Look like his Momma done had a wreck. The front of her car slammed all up
on a tree! My God, help us!”

“Paramedics have already been
dispatched, ma’am,” she assured me. “Stay on the line.”

From what I could tell, there
was enough people at Julia’s side, so I headed back to the house for Jeffrey. I
wanted to hang up and call Frank, but the lady on the phone didn’t want me to,
so I obeyed.

Jeffrey was still unconscious
on the ground. His mouth was wide, not one muscle in his body moving. He was
still breathin’, but I didn’t like him laying there lookin’ all dead.
“Nine-one-one,” I told the lady, “I gotta put you on speaker, ‘cause I need to
put this phone down and pray.”

“Okay, ma’am. Stay on the
line.”

It’s a good thing she agreed
‘cause I wasn’t gon’ have it no other way. I laid my hands on the baby’s head
and chest. “Father, I bring Jeffrey before You. Oh, God, You made him and You
know the very number of hairs on his head even now, Lord. In the name of Jesus,
I come against the destruction assigned to him on this day. I reverse the
effects of this accident in Jesus’ name. I command every bone in his body,
every tissue, every cell, every muscle, and every nerve to be healed by the
blood of the Lamb. Lord, raise him up to give You praise all the days of his
life. In the name of Jesus I pray, Amen. And it is so.”

The operator agreed, “Amen.”

About that time, I heard my
doorbell ringing. I moved Jeffery’s legs again so I could get back in the
house, then made my way to the main entrance. I swung the front door wide.
“This way.”

The paramedics followed me to
the back porch, where Jeffrey was just starting to sit up on an elbow.

“Glory to God!” I praised.

“Ma’am, you said he was
unconscious,” one of the emergency men said with a tinge of an attitude, like
he didn’t appreciate the fact Jeffrey was better without him havin’ somethin’
to do with it.

“He
was
passed out,” I
said, “but look like the Lord got here before
you
did.”

We helped Jeffrey into the
house. Now that human help had arrived, the 9-1-1 lady got off the phone. I
sent Frank a text message and he called me within a minute.

“What’s going on, B?”

I filled him in on what I
knew.

“What about his mother?”

“Now, that I don’t know. I
got to get back out and see.”

“You need me to come home?”
he offered.

“No, I’m all right,” I turned
him down, though maybe I shouldn’t have. One thing I know about husbands: They
sure do like to be needed. So I tacked on, “I’m okay for now. I’ll call you
back if anything changes, honey.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

We hung up.

I wanted to ask the
paramedics about Julia, but I knew better than to do so with Jeffrey still in
the room.

They put some ice on his
forehead and started asking him questions—what year is it? Who is the
president? What’s his address? What’s two plus ten?

Jeffrey had trouble
answering, of course, so I pulled that funny-actin’ emergency man to the side
and said real soft, “He’s a special needs child.”

“Oh,” he nodded and spoke
loudly, “Is he retarded?”

Jeffrey looked toward us,
frowning. Obviously, he didn’t like that word. Neither did I. I stepped in
closer and whispered, “I’m not sure what his diagnosis is, I just met him this
morning. I’m new to this neighborhood.”

“Well, how can you be sure
he’s slow?”

“I’d have to be slow not to
know he’s slow,” I answered. Tell you what, this one here was about to make me
pray over his stanky attitude.

“Oh. Are you the maid?”

I know he didn’t!
“Would a maid be standin’
here in a house robe?”

The nicer paramedic jumped
in. “Pike, call in and let them know we won’t need a bay at the hospital. This
guy’s gonna be fine.”

Pike’s partner saved him from
a good tongue-lashin’.

“I don’t know what’s wrong
with your buddy,” I said, “but he ain’t got no business helpin’ people in a
time of need if he don’t have better bedside manner than that!”

Later on that night, while I
was tellin’ Frank about the whole ordeal over dinner, he told me not to take
Pike personal. “People like him are adrenaline junkies,” Frank explained. “He
was probably disappointed that his skills wouldn’t be utilized. No blood and
guts.”

I rolled my eyes and took
another bite of my mashed cauliflower. I took a look at Frank’s plate. He had
already gobbled up all his cauliflower. He’d made a comment that he wasn’t sure
what I’d done to the “the potatoes” but he liked them.

 “Well, I’m glad Julia’s
going to be okay,” Frank remarked. “She’s young. Her broken leg should heal
well.”

“I hope her husband can stay
home with her more,” I said. He was the last one to make it to the hospital.
Julia’s mother and her sister came clear from Fort Worth before he showed up,
and his office ain’t that far, according to Julia’s mother.

“Well, She’s in good hands
with David.”

“Who’s David?”

“Dr. Grieb,” Frank clarified.

He talk about doctors like
they regular people, I forgot. “You been knowin’ him or a while?”

“Oh, yes. David’s an
excellent doctor. He takes good care of his patients, keeps good records. I
know exactly what I’m working with when I get one of his.”

“That’s nice,” I commented.

“But if we had more people
like you prayin’, me and David would be out of business. And Pike would hardly
ever get to use his skills.”

 I concluded, “Well, I’m
happy God used yours and David’s hands, but that Pike—he need to go work
at the dog pound or somethin’ ‘cause he ain’t cut out for workin’ with hurtin’
people.”

Frank laughed so hard he had
to take a drink of water to keep from choking. “B, you need to write a book.”

I had to laugh at myself,
too. “A book on what?”

“A book of wisdom,” he said.

“We already got that book.
It’s called Proverbs,” I reminded him. “Besides, I ain’t got time for writin’
no book. I’m still a newlywed.” I batted my eyes at him.

“Is that right?” Frank played
along.

“Yes, sir. And my husband
requires a lot out of me. Cooking. Cleaning. Kissing. Dancing,” I listed.

Frank licked his lips. “You
must be pretty good at all those things.”

“I am, if I may say so
myself.”

“Let me see what you’ve got,”
he challenged. Frank lay his napkin by his plate and scooted his chair from the
table. He walked over to the entertainment center and selected a CD.

I couldn’t see from where I
was sitting what he’d chosen. With his collection of music, wasn’t no tellin’. He
had everything from 1955 on up to the present, seemed like. When I heard the
familiar bass and scratchy sound of The Drifters’
Under the Boardwalk
, I
had to smile.

Frank and I had learned a fun
routine to the song at our dance class when we met a little more than a year
ago. Shoot, I didn’t think I’d remember the moves. But when Frank took my hand
and led me to the area between the dining room and the foyer, my legs seemed to
catch on again. Frank’s feet moving back, mine moving forward. We swayed side
to side, linked hands while he spun me around.

He-he!
We was dancin’ like we was
on a TV show somewhere tryin’ to win a prize!

And when the song was over, I
thanked God that I had already won the prize in Frank.

Chapter 3

Me and Libby still met up for
our morning walks on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. She kept me up to speed on
what was happening in my old neighborhood.

“Patsy and William moved to
one of those independent senior living places,” she panted toward the end of
our second mile.

“They real nice, I hear.”

“Yep. This one got light
housekeeping. And serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner, just like on a cruise
ship, ‘cordin’ to Patsy,” Libby said.

“Well that’s a good thing
‘cause Patsy sure can’t cook,” I spoke the truth even though I probably
shouldn’t have said that. Everybody ain’t got the cookin’ gift.

Libby laughed but took up for
Patsy. “Now, B, Patsy
is
good at keeping up her garden.”

“You right. Forgive me for
talkin’ ‘bout people behind they back,” I repented. “God got a plan to help
everybody overcome their weaknesses. William’s gettin’ to be a handful these
days. Probably best they move into one of them kind of places.”

“Yeah,” Libby agreed. “Peter
and I have been thinking about it, too.”

I huffed, “Really?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Not
now. Maybe in another couple of years, when he retires from the church.”

I ain’t never heard of no
such thing as retiring from the Lord’s work except when you hit them pearly
gates. But I think white people do things different. They got parsonages and
stuff, so I didn’t say nothin’. Black folks, we use our ministers ‘til they
can’t hardly stand up straight no mo’. They be bent all over the podium, barely
breathing, and we put ‘em up to preach so long as they got a mind to. I don’t
know what’s better. Guess it don’t have to be one’s better than the other.

“How’s it going in Frank’s
neighborhood?”

I told her all about Jeffrey
and Julia’s incident. Told her how the Lord intervened on the boy’s behalf and
asked her to pray for Julia’s recovery. “With that broken leg, she gon’ have a
hard time keeping up with him now.”