Mama B: A Time to Speak (2 page)

Chapter 2

“Let the church say…”

“Amen.”

My feet took off toward the doorway.
Father forgive me for rushing out of Your house, but we need to get this copper back first thing in the morning!

The only fellowshipping I did after the benediction was with Angela Freeholt, our church secretary. Poor child must not have gotten the word that the church would be hot. She had on an unseasonable black, long-sleeved dress with stockings and closed-toe shoes.

“Angela, I just want to make sure you have all the numbers you need to call the insurance company tomorrow. If not, you can get ‘em from Rev. Martin, need be.”

She wiped moisture from under her glasses and nodded as we both crossed the church threshold and entered the sunlight. Same temperature outside as it was inside. “Yes, Mama B. I’ve got them.”

“Okay. And if you need to sit in the cool of my house while you talk to ‘em, just come on through.”

She slowed for a second to give me a genuine thank-you. “We may need to do that, hot as it is out here. You take care. Stay out of this heat.”

“You know I will,” I assured her. “You have a blessed week.”

“Same to you.”

With the insurance business well under way, I booked it on across the church lawn, passed through the gate, and entered my own back yard. All my flowers seemed to be hiding. “Where y’all at?” I whispered to them. You got to talk to plants and flowers, you know?

When my kids were little, we had a swing set in the back yard. And a couple of dogs—Blackie was Son’s dog (that’s what we call Albert, Jr.); Co-Co was Otha’s. Wish I had a dollar for all the scrapes and cuts and fights my two sons got playing outside. My two girls played and fought, too, except Cassandra was a tattletale. She always ran inside to tell me they was fighting the minute she started losing. And Debra Kay would come inside when she got a little dirt on her pants. She never was one for getting all messy. Takes after her momma.

Soon as everybody moved out, Albert and I pulled up the swing, filled in all the holes the dogs had dug, and turned the back yard into a little piece of heaven. Well, I shouldn’t say Albert and
I
did it ‘cause mostly it was him.

He’d been gone for almost eight years and I didn’t have a mind to keep it up like he did. Got me a yardman to come out and cut the grass every couple of weeks. Didn’t plant no more flowers, though. Whatever flowers I had just shot up out the ground and surprised me whenever they got good and ready.

Made me feel like Albert was still giving me flowers.

Concrete stepping stones led me another fifty feet, through the grass and up to my back porch. Few months earlier, Son had advised me to start locking my back door. I had agreed because I didn’t want to hear him fuss, but every time I had to fish my key out of my purse, I wished I hadn’t. Especially not that day, when my throat was screaming for a glass of iced water.

Finally, I found my key and let myself in the back door.
Thank You, Lord
. The cool rush of conditioned air welcomed me home along with the smell of onions and other vegetables simmering in my crock pot.

One good thing about living alone is you don’t have to worry about what other folk want to eat. You feel like eatin’ turkey stew in June, you eat turkey stew in June. Nobody there to complain they don’t want a winter meal on a summer day.

One more good thing about being by myself: I still had a good portion left of the chocolate cake I made Friday. Ooh wee! My kids and my husband used to tear through a cake in less than twenty-four hours. Now, it’s all mine. Took so long to eat it sometimes I walked over to the church and gave part of it to the children’s choir when they finish rehearsing. Better to give it away than be wasteful.

The screen door swatted my behind and I shut as well as locked the door behind me. Son would have been proud.

Walked through the kitchen, making sure everything was in place. Didn’t expect no problems, just habit, I guess.

The den’s wood-paneled walls were
my
family wall of fame. All four of my kids’ high school graduation pictures, Son’s military picture, mine and Albert’s graduation and a shot of us standing beside our wedding cake, too. I know people on the decorating channels don’t hardly put photographs on their walls no more. I feel sorry for ‘em. Covered all up with wallpaper or just plain old white paint to make it look “clean”. Hmph. Clean and lonely-lookin’ if you ask me.

The kitchen and dining area, off to the right, brought in all the sunlight. Plenty good cookin’ and good times in there.

Three bedrooms all down the left hallway. One bathroom there, too. Kids used to fight over that bathroom something awful! Albert and I had our own bathroom in the master suite. We added that in ’78 because soon as Debra Kay hit the teenage years, I knew for sure I couldn’t share a bathroom with her. Take her thirty minutes just to put her hair in a ponytail.

All the back part of the house was just as I’d left it. Last thing to do was walk through the front parlor. Nobody ever went in the room, but every once in a while somebody would slip a prayer request or a thank-you note through the mailbox and I’d find it laying there on my floor.

A quick look through the front room showed me something more than a little card had arrived for me that day.

Chapter 3

Through the sheer part of my curtains, I could see two figures sitting on my porch bench. A woman and a little boy. I paused for a second, had to think of who they might be.

Then I caught onto her voice as she fussed at the child. “Cameron, this is the last time I’m going to tell you to tie your shoes correctly. You don’t want Mama B to think you eight years old and can’t even tie your shoes right, do you?”

“No ma’am.”

Cameron. Nikki.
I should have known something was going on with those two as much as the Lord had been bringing them up in my Spirit. My mind didn’t even have time to ask the questions before I found myself outside again, on that porch hugging them.

“Mama B,” she nearly cried as she pulled me into her embrace, “I’m so glad to see you.”

“Me, too, Nikki-Nik!” Inside, my heart was bubbling over with joy. Nikki, my oldest grandbaby, come to Peasner to see me.

“And look at you, Cameron! Oh, you look so much like your grandfather, it’s a shame!”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there with a little shy smile on his face.

My granddaughter looked good. Like she’d been taking care of herself. Light brown skin, just like her Daddy, button nose like her mother. Got the kind of hair can straighten out with just a blow dryer. Toes done, nails done. Been taking care of herself.

 Cameron looked well, too, though he was still holding on to quite a bit of baby fat. No matter, I’d rather have him too plump than too skinny any day.
Thank You, Lord, for keeping them in Your care.

After all our greeting, I took a step back from them. “Does your father know you’re here?”

She smacked her lips, whispered so Cameron wouldn’t hear us. “Mama B, you know my daddy don’t talk to me.”

Son said the same thing about her. I could tell Nikki didn’t really want to talk about her father. “How’s your mother?”

Her face smoothed back out again. “She’s fine. You know my Momma—off seeing the world. She went on a cruise with some of her friends to celebrate their fiftieth birthdays.”

“She know you’re here?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I glanced behind Nikki and saw four bulging suitcases parked on my wooden porch planks.

“Sweetie, you planning on staying in Peasner for a spell?”

She looked up at me with her slanted, brown eyes—same as my husband’s and her father’s. Real fast, she darted those eyes away from me. “Mama B, I’m in a really bad situation right now. We need to stay with you…for just a little while.”

Freeze.

I done heard
that
one plenty of times before. Peoples evicted for not paying rent, wives leavin’ their cheatin’ husbands, teenagers not getting along with their parents. Every time, I listen. Wait for the Holy Spirit to tell me what to do because I don’t want to call myself trying to help somebody, but end up hindering what God really wants to do in their life. Some folk need a few good homeless, hungry, sleepless nights to make the voice of God real clear. Other folk need a soft bed and a warm meal before they can hear Him. He knows, and He has to let me know, too.

Now, I have to be honest and say the first thing came to my mind wasn’t nothin’ from the Lord. I was thinking about me and all the stuff I didn’t want to have to put up with like an eight-year-old running around my house and a twenty-something year-old doing whatever it is they do. Share my TV. Plus I gotta cook for three now. I know Nikki old enough to cook for herself, but I might as well go ahead and cook for everybody long as I’m in the kitchen already.

What else? Gotta wait for some more hot water before I take my shower. Water bill, power bill, gas bill higher.

All this is coming from me, now, and I’m waiting on the Holy Spirit to agree with my thoughts. He didn’t. And since the Lord didn’t co-sign on my veto, I had no choice except to put myself aside; wait until He say something different. Wasn’t for Him and Albert’s life insurance, I wouldn’t have a place to rest my head, either.
Thank You, Lord, for a home that I can share
.

Unfreeze.

“You and Cameron get those suitcases and come on in here. I’ve got something for us to eat all ready.”

“Thank you, Mama B.”

I should have known the first words out of Cameron’s mouth would be pertaining to food. “What’d you cook?”

“Turkey stew.”

He had the nerve to draw up his face. “Turkey stew?”

“Yes, sir, with lots of vegetables. Chocolate cake for dessert.”

A big smile spread across his chubby little face; cheeks just begging for a kiss and a pinch. “I like chocolate cake.”

I can tell.
“Only after you finish your stew.”

At my word, they followed me to Debra Kay and Cassandra’s old bedroom. Since I mentioned dessert, apparently Cameron became my best friend. “Mama B,” he said, breathing hard as he rolled suitcases down the hallway, “does the cake have frosting?”

“Sure does. Chocolate on chocolate.” Wouldn’t be no extra food to give away so long as he was around.

After they set down their suitcases, we all washed up and met at the kitchen table to eat. I blessed the food and asked the Lord to make Nikki’s time with me profitable for His sake. We all said, “Amen” and started eating.

I love my grands, but letting people move in with you always bring some kinda problem. Might be a big problem, might be a little problem. But it’s always a problem, that’s for sure.

Chapter 4

Angela Freeholt took me up on my offer and come knocking on the door at eight-thirty the next morning. I could tell by the look on her face something wasn’t right.

“Y’all come on in,” I said, holding the screen door open for them. Seein’ as this was business, I switched on my proper, professional words. “Would you like some tea?”

“Oh, no ma’am.” The gentleman, wearing a white button-down shirt and a pair of khaki pants, sat on the edge of the love seat. Obvious to me, he didn’t plan on being in my house too long.

Angela sat next to me on the couch. “Mr. Colbert, this is Mrs. Beatrice Jackson. Like I said, she’s a church mother. Do you mind telling her what you told me?”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jackson. And you can call me Dustin.”

He raised his behind off the chair a tad so he could lean over and shake my hand. His appearance matched his name - dusty red hair and a dusting of blotchy freckles.

“Good to meet you, too, Dustin.”

He started his talk, “I’m afraid there’s going to be a delay in the processing of the church’s insurance claim.”

“I don’t understand. We pay our premiums in a timely manner.”

“Yes, Mrs. Jackson, you’re correct. Unfortunately, the last several cases of church copper theft in this area turned out to be inside jobs. We need to conduct an investigation in conjunction with the local police department to be sure this claim is genuine.”

So, they thought one of us stole it. Ain’t that somethin! Pay all this money all these years, and the minute you want some of it back, they got to make sure
you
ain’t the crook.

“How long will it take to conduct the investigation?”
Bet not take us into the heat of July.

“Roughly ten business days, Mrs. Jackson. Depends on the communication between our office and law enforcement.”

I certainly wanted to give Mr. Dustin Colbert a piece of my mind, but I knew better. This man had a job to do at work and probably mouths to feed at home. I reckon his boss probably had done told him they was losin’ too much money behind these copper thieves; had to slow down what’s going out ‘till they could get more to come in.

Well, wasn’t no use in me getting all riled up and actin’ all ugly on behalf of Mt. Zion and Jesus Christ Himself. Couldn’t have Dustin going home and telling his wife the worst meeting he had that day was with the people of God.

“Dustin, Angela or me will be calling you to check the status of our claim on a regular basis. Right?” I nodded at her, she nodded back. No harm in letting him know we meant business.

“I welcome your calls,” he said, standing and pulling out two business cards. He gave one to me and one to Angela.

“Thank you, Dustin. Angela will talk to you tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

We walked him to the door and let him out. As soon as he backed out my driveway, I had a few words with Angela in the kitchen. “You call him every day so he can be sure and keep our folder on top of his stack.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And, sweetie, why didn’t you call Rev. Martin so he could be in on this meeting?”

She shook her head, shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I really didn’t think I needed him here.”

These young girls got to learn, but I guess it ain’t their fault if nobody ever showed ‘em what all a man is good for. “I know you smart and you perfectly capable of handling business. But don’t underestimate the power of a man looking another man in the eyeballs when it come to stuff like insurance and used cars, hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said. “Mama B, since it looks like we can’t meet at the church for a while, can you call the Mother’s Board members and tell them to cancel until the building opens again? I’ll get in touch with the other groups.”

“Well…” I sighed. “I suppose the Mothers can meet here. Matter fact, all the women’s groups can meet here ‘til the church gets fixed. Maybe one of the brothers will open up a home for the men to meet. No need in stoppin’ everything on account of the enemy’s work. Can’t give him what he wants.”

“You’re right, Mama B. Thank you. You are so helpful.”

I caught a little twitch in her voice. “What’s the matter?”

“Seems like since I became the church secretary, we’ve had all these issues. You think maybe I’m a jinx?”

“First of all,
these
ain’t issues. When the church had a skunk family in the attic,
that
was an issue. Second, honey, you a child of God. Jesus lives in you, you live in Him, can’t be no jinx in you.”

We caught hands and prayed, asking God to oversee the claim, help the church get situated in the meanwhile and, most important, give Angela a clearer revelation of who she is in Christ. How much He love her, what all He done for her on the cross.

She left the house and I went back in the kitchen for my study. Added her name to my prayer list.
Jinx my foot! I wish a jinx
would
come up in my house. Be a whole bunch of ugly!
Made me mad just thinking about how the enemy done deceived her with all this jinx foolishness. Also made me think maybe she’s dabbling in some stuff she ain’t got no business. Horoscope, tarot, palm readin’, or listening to a bunch of superstition, God forbid.

      Soon as I finished my quiet time, here come Cameron’s little feet shuffling into the kitchen. Rubbing his eyes, stretching. “Morning, Mama B.”

“Morning, Cameron.”

Though he and I hadn’t spent much time together at all, he came right over and hugged my neck like we’d been doing this every day of his life. And I hugged him back just the same. He scooted right up next to me, looked down at the papers, pens, and books I had spread out across the table.

“Whatchu reading?”

“Oh, the Bible and a little book about patience.”

He yawned. “You writing too?”

“Yes. I keeps a journal.”

“Whatchu write in there?”

I tilted my head to one side. “Sometimes I write stuff I want to remember from the Bible or a book. I write stuff to God, and I write down what He tells me back.”

Cameron’s eyes got big as saucers. “God talks to you?”

“All the time.”

“What does He say?”

“Well, He answers questions. Prayers. Tells me what to do. What not to do. Who needs help. Such and thus.”

Then his eyes squinched up, suspicious-like. “Mama B, are you telling me the truth?”

Lord knows
my
BigMomma would have knocked the fire out of me for questioning her, but I got no problem answering kids so long as they ain’t disrespectful. “What make you think I’m not tellin’ the truth?”

He leaned over my arm, cupped his mouth and whispered into my ear, “’Cause I already know about Santa Claus.”

“Aaaah.” I sat back, winked at him. “Well, trust me on this one, Cameron. Santa Claus ain’t even in the same category as God.”

A little bitty dimple showed up in his smile, made my heart all warm inside.

Son was missing out.

Cameron switched to his favorite subject. “Whatchu got to eat?”

“Let’s see. We could make oatmeal.”

“Okay.” He hopped up from the table and followed me to the cabinets.

“Bend down there and get me a big pot.”

Before I knew it, Cameron was sprawled out on the floor, reaching all the way back for my good, slow-cooking pot.
This child coming in handy already.

Cameron loaded his hot cereal with almonds and cranberries. Said he’d never seen brown sugar before, but he wanted to try it. We had almost finished eating before Nikki got out of bed and made her way in.

“Morning,” she mumbled, pulling her robe closed.

“Hey, Nikki-Nik. You want something to eat? We got a little oatmeal left.”

 “Nosiree. I don’t eat breakfast. I’m trying to lose this weight.” She patted her behind twice. She hovered over Cameron a second, then bent down to kiss his forehead.

“Nikki, the last thing you need if you tryin’ to lose weight is a empty stomach. Sit down here and let me make you some oatmeal. Fiber keep you full all day.”

Nikki laughed and plopped herself in a chair. “If anybody knows how to keep it together, it’s you, Mama B. Still got your shape, your smooth, even brown skin. Your hair is gray, but it’s that pretty, shiny gray. You live on your own with no help. What gives? And how do you stay so small?”

“God’s been gracious to me. But I don’t know if I’d call a hundred and sixty-five pounds small, seeing as I’m only five seven.” I stirred a little water and a pat of butter into the last of the oatmeal and turned on the fire.

“Mama B, I haven’t weighed a hundred and sixty-five pounds since I was in junior high.”

I turned from the counter and faced her. “Chile, how tall are you?”

“Five six.”

“And how much you weighin’?”

“Two-ten, two-twenty.”

“Ooh, yes, that’s too dadgum big.”
Lord, forgive me.
Had to reel my face back to the neutral zone and try to keep from making her feel bad.

“Well, you sure doing a good job of hiding it. And you cute as a button, Nikki-Nik.”

She laughed again and put her chin in between her plump palms. Looked up at me with those brown eyes like I was her long, lost momma. “You know you’re the only person who can talk to me like this. Go ahead, though. Tell me the secret to looking like a model all my life.”

I told her, “I haven’t always shopped in the regular section of the store. Had those four kids, packed on the pounds in my thirties and forties.

“But when I hit fifty and my friends started going down with heart attacks and strokes and going to dialysis three times a week. I took my big behind to that group weight loss program over at the First Baptist. Thank God He let me live long enough to change my habits ‘cause, honey, I done seen the end of a lifetime of wild eatin’ and I tell you one thing, it surely ain’t pretty.

“Anyway, that’s my secret.”

 “
What’s
your secret?”

“Eat right and exercise.”

She smacked her lips. “That’s no secret, Mama B.”

“Folks act like it is. But then again, folk act like reapin’ the benefits of livin’ by the Book is a big surprise, too.”