Mama B - A Time to Mend (Book 4) (3 page)

“My goodness. Why wasn’t he
in school anyway?”

For the first time, I
wondered the same thing. “I don’t know. It was a weekday. Maybe she had him out
that day. Doctor’s appointment or something, ‘cause I doubt she would keep him
home with her if she didn’t have to.”

“Hmm. I’ll put them on the
women’s prayer list,” Libby said.

“’Preciate it.”

“Now, have you decided what
to do about your house?”

Libby kept her blue eyes pointed
straight ahead, probably because she knew I didn’t want to talk about this
again. Her white hair bounced around her ears as she picked up the pace for our
last block.

“I still don’t know. Son and
Otha don’t want me to sell it, but the girls say they already have everything
they want from the house, so it doesn't matter to them.”

“You could rent it,” Libby
suggested.

“Ooh, chile, I ain’t got time
to be foolin’ with no tenants. Chasin’ ‘em down for late rent, puttin’ ‘em out
on the street months later, takin’ ‘em to court for damaging my property,
paying contractors to come do repairs between tenants. Rent houses ain’t
nothin’ but headaches, you ask me!”

“Well, whatever you do, you
know Son’s always gonna be the protective one,” Libby warned. “He’s only tryin’
to make sure you always have a place to stay.”

“I wish he was that noble,” I
said, “but Son just tryin’ to make sure I don't end up stayin’ with
him
.”

Libby laughed. “B, what makes
you say that? Son is good to you.”

“I know. He good to himself,
too. He ain’t foolin’ me. I can’t blame him, though. It’ hard living with your
parents. I couldn’t do it,” I admitted. “When my Grandmother got up in age, we
had to almost lock her in the back room to keep her from wandering away. She
forgot who we was, calling the police and sayin’ her family was intruders. She
got to where she was danger to herself and everybody else.”

Libby slowed to a stop. We
wasn’t nowhere near the end point, though. “What you stop for?”

She let out a desperate yowl
and covered her face with her hands. “Peter is losing his mind.”

My Lord!
I pivoted on my heels and
turned around to hug her. I’m sure we was a peculiar sight standin’ on the
sidewalk. “Libby, what’s happening?”

“He…he put his shirt on
inside out. He put the ice cream in the pantry and it melted all over the
place. And Sunday, he got lost on the way back from church,” she cried into my
shoulder.

My heart just broke right in
two ‘cause I didn’t want to believe what Libby told me. Peter always been
sharp. Read the paper every day. He the last one I ever thought would lose his
mind.

“Jesus. Jesus. Jesus,” I
whispered His name. He didn’t call the Spirit the Comforter for nothin’. While
me and Libby was standin’ there sobbing, felt like He come and put His arms
around us both and wept with us. He understands.

“Has he been takin’ his
medication right?”

Libby lifted off me and wiped
her eyes. “I think so. I mean…I don’t know. I don’t watch his medications. He’s
always been so good at taking care of himself.”

“Well, don’t get too beside
yourself, Libby, until you see his doctor. Sometimes, they just need to up a
dosage on blood pressure medicine or take another one down. Don’t claim Peter’s
goin’ down right now,” I advised.

“I know,” she sniffed and
pulled herself together. “The Bible says we all gonna leave here one day, but
He
didn't
say we all had to leave here sick or senseless.”

“Amen,” I encouraged her.
“Now, let’s finish up this last part.”

Libby pumped her arms again
and I followed suit. We hugged again and she left me at my old house. Soon as I
got inside, I fell to my knees at the couch, feeling like a big fake. I had
helped put Libby back on the right track, but in my heart, my faith on this
particular matter was as weak as the disciples before Jesus calmed the storm.
It’s one thing to cheer somebody up. Another to actually believe what I said.

“Jesus, not Peter! He done
gave his whole life to you!” I cried out to Him. “Please, Lord. Spare his
mind.”

When I was speakin’ those
words, sound like they was comin’ from somebody else ‘cause they wasn’t nothin’
like what I had prayed for Jeffrey. When that boy was on the ground, I had
faith to move a mountain. But it was different with Peter, I guess ‘cause I had
done seen my dear grandmother go down that memory-loss road. Everybody I knew
was prayin’ for her, yet she didn’t get no better.

I was scared for Peter and
Libby. Wasn’t no need in me praying in fear for them, so I asked the Lord to
increase my faith so I could stand in the gap for her ‘cause prayin’ in fear
ain’t never helped nobody.

My knees creaked as I rose to
a standing position. There was a big pile of mail under the slot, so I sat on
the couch picked through the envelopes, separating the junk from the bills.
Since I hadn’t been living there, the water and electricity was lower. Taxes
was higher because folk had started moving out to Peasner. Lookin’ at that
paper, my property value had jumped sky-high.
Whew!
If Albert was alive,
he’d be grinnin’ ear-to-ear to see our house worth close to six figures.

At this rate, wouldn’t be
long before my tax bill would eat a nice chunk out of my income. Son was a long
way from letting the house go, though. Maybe a tenant was in order. I’d have to
pray about it.

There was quite a few
envelopes with wedding cards and gift cards in ‘em. “Congratulations, Mama B
and Frank!” and “May God Bless Your Union!” they wrote. I know people was kinda
laughin’ at us old folk gettin’ married. Tickled me sometimes, too.

Sittin’ there readin’ the
cards brought a smile to my face…until I got to one with a name on the back I hadn’t
seen in nine years. My former sister-in-law, Ida Mae Jackson.

The card itself was nice
enough. Had a white couple on the front holding hands, though with my
sister-in-law, I never could tell when she was actin’ funny. The note inside,
however, explained her sudden kindness:

Dear B,

Congratulations on your
getting married for the second time. I hope you and your new husband will be
very happy. I hear that you have married a young doctor. How lucky for you! You
always did know how to get over.

Since you have moved on with
your life and are no longer holding on to the cherished memories of my dearly
departed brother, I was wondering if I could move into the house. You know I am
living in an area of Dallas where I would not want my mangy dog to live . And I
am sure my brother would not want me to live here, either, if he was alive. I
have enough to pay some rent with my Social Security.

Albert always said you was a
good, Christian woman. So I am asking. I hope what he said is true, even if I
never saw it.

-Ida

I didn’t think twice before I
threw that one in the junk pile.

Chapter 4

Tell you one thing, I
certainly forgot what it was like to be married to a problem-solvin’ man. Sure
as Frank got home and we sat down for dinner, I told him about the cards we
got. Told him about the note from Ida Mae, too, and he said, “That’s good! You
can rent out the house until you and the kids decide what to do with it.”

I chewed up my broccoli real
fast. “Frank, did you hear the part where I said me and Ida Main ain’t never
got along?”

“Yes, B, I heard you. But
this is business. You don’t have to live with her. And besides,” he debated,
“she loved Albert. Unlike a total stranger, she may actually have respect for
her brother’s house.”

“But she don’t respect
me
,”
I tried to make him see my side.

Frank chewed his turkey. “You
can hire a third party to manage the property. They’d collect the rent, contact
you on her behalf if something needs repair, conduct an annual inspection. It
won’t cost much.”

I could not believe this man
sittin’ up here…well…makin’ a whole lotta sense, despite my objections.

Frank backed off, “It’s up to
you, B.”

How could I argue with
someone who made sense, though? I knew the time was coming when I’d have to
make some decisions about the house. It was just sittin’ there. Three bedrooms,
two bathrooms, perfectly fine home. And if it’s one thing I know about the
Lord: He don’t bless us so we can turn around and be stingy to folk.

Renting it out for a while
would probably make all my kids happy. And I wouldn’t have to be a mean
landlord if I hired a company to be my bad-cop ‘cause Lord knows I don’t have
it in my heart to kick folk out.

I take that back. I could
kick
Ida
Mae
out.

Lord, forgive me
.

“Let me talk to Son
tomorrow,” I told Frank. “See what he got to say.”

Me and Frank both jumped at
the sound of beating on the back screen. I knew who it was already. Frank got
up to answer. I listened from the dining room.

Jeffrey said Julia was hurt.
In the bathroom. Crying.

“Do you know your father’s work
number?” Frank asked.

“Yes.”

Frank didn’t invite Jeffrey
inside, but stepped into the back yard as Frank tried to contact Mr. Allen at
work.

I stepped out to join them
just as Frank finished talking to the man.

“Your father says he’ll be
home in thirty minutes,” Frank said.

“Thirty minutes! We can’t
leave the woman on the floor for half an hour,” I said.

“Mr. Allen doesn’t want us to
call paramedics. And I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to
go—she’s in the bathroom.”

“Frank, you’re a doctor.
You’ve seen plenty naked women—”

Jeffrey giggled all
goofy-like.

“It’s not that simple, B.
She’s conscious. This is not life-threatening.”

“But she’s
hurt
,
Frank!”

Frank shook his head. “B,
people will sue doctors for anything.”

“I’m going to check on her as
a
neighbor
,” declared. “Make yourself useful and at least call David.”

I grabbed my purse and
stomped to the garage thinkin’ about all the times I watched movies and people
hollered:
Is there a doctor in the house?
I thought doctors had to step
in no matter what if somebody was hurt. What good is all the medical sense if
you can’t use common sense on top of it?

“Come on, Jeffrey.” We got in
my car and Jeffrey showed me the way to his house. Wasn’t even half a mile down
the street. I parked in the Allen’s driveway. Their home was a two-story
stucco, modern type building. Pretty French doors and a little balcony above
the main entrance. Jeffrey led me straight through the front door, which he’d
left unlocked.

Chile, I came so close to
throwin’ up when I walked in that house. Piles of clothes, books, old albums.
Knick-knacks, boxes with tape on ‘em,
more
clothes, stacks of papers,
magazines, shoe boxes. I couldn’t take it all in! I mean stuff
everywhere
!
Look just like one of them hoardin’ shows on TV! And had the nerve to have a
little path cleared with a plastic runner, like that trail was some kind of
magic!

Lord, Jesus!
I hadn’t never seen nothin’
like that in my life, in person.

I heard Julia calling real
loud, “Jeffrey! Where are you?”

“I am here!” he yelled back.

He looked at me like
come
on
.

I looked back at him like
nuh-uh
.
No telling what kind of avalanche I might find myself in.

Jeffrey clutched my hand,
though, and pulled me toward his step-mother’s call. I realized then that he
didn’t have no clue it was a sin and a shame before God for this big ol’ house
to be filled to the brim with all this junk.

Help me, Lord
.

Jeffrey guided me through the
maze. His parents’ bedroom door couldn’t open no more than half the way with all
the stuff on the other side.

He announced, “Mama B is here
to—”

“No!” Julia screamed,
piercing my eardrum. First they hurt my eyes, now my ears.

I ignored her objection and
made my way to her in the bathroom, which was so cluttered I don’t know how she
managed to put on her makeup and get herself together every morning. I was
afraid to put my purse down for fear I wouldn’t be able to find it again, or
worse yet, something might crawl inside.

“Julia, I’m here to help you,”
I said firmly.

“No. Leave.” She spoke in a
voice just as firm, yet refused to look at me.

She was down on the floor,
with towels and foolishness all around her. The silver crutches were out of her
reach. She had on just a shirt, and her underpants was half-way up her thighs.
The cast went from her right knee all the way down to her foot. She must have
fell trying to use the restroom, but with all that stuff around her, I see why
she had such a hard time grabbing onto something and pulling up.