Authors: Pat G'Orge-Walker
Somewhat Saved (12 page)
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A small hum emitted from Sasha's hotel room air-conditioner. It was a low sound that somehow had joined in harmony with a whirring sound coming from the bathroom. Sasha could've stopped the annoying bathroom sound but she didn't want to sleep without a light. Keeping the one on in the bathroom was the least invasive but she'd have to endure that buzzing sound.
It wasn't hard to fall asleep the first couple of nights in Las Vegas. Sasha's tired body had claimed sleep the moment her head hit the oversized pillow, but not tonight.
She couldn't sleep because she'd seen the same thing Bea had. There was no doubt about it. The young girl working in the casino could've passed for her niece's twin.
Sasha's mind raced back to reclaim memories. Some of those memories were forgotten on purpose and others due to aging.
Sasha, in her youth, had lied to save the honor of her family. Back then, if an unmarried girl became pregnant, it meant unbearable banishment by the community.
And, if a church girl became pregnant, then she was banned from all church activities as well. It would start by her being called out by the pastor or the mother of the church. Each auxiliary would follow the lead and as they called it back then, she'd be “sat down.” As the months would pass, her belly swelling with the promise of life inside, the woman's heart would fade and shame would surely kill her slowly.
And so shame came to Sasha's family and it came without apology.
Sasha Hellraiser wasn't the oldest child but she was the tiniest of the three girls and one boy, and she had the most gumption. Even back then, almost sixty years ago, in Anderson County, South Carolina, her nickname was T.T. They'd called her Tiny Terror and she tried effortlessly to live up to the nickname. Whenever trouble came to their doorstep, she'd answer the knock, armed for battle.
By the time she was a young adult, her temper was well known in the church, too. Had the Hellraiser family members committed acts that should've had church doors shut in their faces? Of course, and no matter how destructive their behavior, they always did it with style. Hardly anyone was permanently hurt by their little acts of indiscretion. A little embarrassed or inconvenienced, perhaps, but never physically hurt unless deserved. However, nothing was ever done that actually caused them the embarrassment of being asked to leave the church. Until . . .
Sasha's hands grabbed at the bed sheets as she tried to turn over. Her tiny body ached from lying in one position so long. It also ached from knowing that if she didn't do something quick, a secret could come out. But what if she was wrong and it was a coincidence that the young woman looked like her niece, Ima? What if she was losing sleep for nothing?
Sasha could feel her heart beat faster. She could almost hear it as it joined the combined chorus of the air-conditioner and the whirring sound coming from the bathroom.
To her surprise, Sasha got off the bed and heard herself praying aloud. “Lord, what can I do? I haven't heard from You in quite some time, but I need to hear Your voice, now.”
For the first time in quite a while, Sasha actually knelt to pray. She'd not done so in the past few years. She used her various ailments, specifically arthritis, to deprive God of His most humble due. But this night, trouble could come in such a manner as to cause Sasha to skip rope, double Dutch, if necessary. She needed to hear from heaven and true to her tenacity, she'd not get up until she did.
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Down the hall, Bea looked over at the clock with the huge numbers and too many buttons. She saw that it was almost two o'clock in the morning. She'd lay down around midnight and two hours later, she still couldn't sleep. The only thing she'd managed to do was run to the bathroom a few times. But that's something she'd do whether she'd been sleeping or not.
It wasn't the strong resemblance between the young girl in the casino and Ima Hellraiser that bothered Bea. She'd always heard that everyone had a twin somewhere. But this girl looked so much like Ima that even a blind person would've agreed with her. So why did Sasha lie and then walk off? Sasha's denial was what caused the sleep to stay away.
Two more hours passed and the alarm clock buzzed as it struck four o'clock. Why Bea hadn't heard the alarm the past two nights, she didn't know. She struggled to find the right button to turn it off. It was two more trips to the bathroom and several more tries before she was able to disarm it by pulling out the radio power cord from the wall socket.
Bea's mind was kidnapped by Sasha's lie. Sasha lied; that was nothing new. But why this lie? They were in Las Vegas, miles away from Pelzer. No need for Sasha to lie about something as small as a family resemblance.
Suddenly, Bea sat straight up in the bed, no easy task for her curved spine.
“There's a family resemblance!” If she weren't absolutely sure about it before, she was then. There was no reason for her to speak, or shout it out, since she was in the room alone, but she had. Just hearing those words sent her mind into overdrive. She didn't know how yet, but she was determined to see that young lady again.
A sly grin appeared on her chubby face. Of course, that meant she'd have to revisit the casino. A good detective always went back to the scene of the crime.
18
The next morning came and neither Bea nor Sasha showed signs of tiredness. They even decided to share a cab to the conference center. But they rode in silence, not out of anger but a need to gather their thoughts. Each had a mission and one had nothing to do with the other.
“Mothers, please take a seat.”
Standing at the podium in the conference room was an elderly woman with a lemony complexion and teeth to match. She rocked side to side trying to adjust the microphone. The woman, named Mother Lizzie J. Borden, was dressed in yellow, which was the color for the morning, so she thought. She wore thick glasses that made her look like an owl tangled in a sunflower patch as she continued her fight with the microphone.
“I'm trying to get this thing adjusted,” she laughed nervously, as she finally positioned the microphone.
“This morning, I'd like to thank all of you, again, for coming. As you all know, this morning we must finish the nominations for the Mothers Board presidency positions for all churches involved. And, we will also vote for a national president.”
The rest of the mothers did the appropriate amount of clappingâthirty seconds and no longer, along with the appropriate amount of two “hallelujahs.”
Had they been at their home churches, no doubt, there'd be two or three of them shouting. The shouting would be followed by a good amount of them just passing out from sheer exhaustion, although they'd claim to be in the spirit. But today, they were in Las Vegas. Most of them just wanted to get on with the meeting so they could go and witness the other sinners downstairs inside the casino. Of course, there were some passionate Bible toters who had their tithe money and a little extra inside their Bible. The money would be folded neatly and prayed over as it lay in the nineteenth chapter of Numbers.
Bea and Sasha had arrived together but sat seats apart. Counting them and Sister Betty, they were the only three from Crossing Over Sanctuary Temple. Yet they all sat as far apart as possible. There wasn't a hint of fellowship between them.
Each woman had an excuse. Bea and Sasha didn't want to sit next to one another. That was their excuse; they just didn't want to.
Sister Betty, on the other hand, told herself that she'd be more comfortable seated in one of the cushioned folding chairs. She was still in denial and growing bolder in it, day by day.
“As you know,” Mother Borden announced, “we're doing a new thing this year. The home pastors have nominated the person they wished to see as president of their respective Mothers Boards.”
Mother Borden lifted a typed sheet of paper from the podium and stepped out. She began to call off names.
Sister Betty heard the words, “I decline.” She recognized the voice. After all, she should know her own voice. But she felt like she was having an out of body experience. She was supposed to say, “I accept.” That's why Reverend Tom sent her. More importantly, she knew that's what God wanted her to do.
Disobedience was out of character for her and yet, her own will had interfered with the plan. All she could do was rush from the room in tears. Again, like Jonas in the Bible, she just didn't want to deal with the likes of Bea, Sasha, and some of the other board members of her home church.
The truth was, she'd become too comfortable, physically, financially, and spiritually. She just didn't seem to have the old soul-winning, demon-fighting energy and driving determination God had given her years ago. And she couldn't remember when it'd stopped.
Sister Betty had barely left the room when the buzz started.
“Hmm,” one of the mothers whispered. “I always thought she was just too good.” Her comment was one of many that echoed throughout the conference room. Women who'd have never said anything bad, aloud, about Sister Betty suddenly seized the opportunity to do so.
The moment was all that Bea and Sasha could've hoped for. Sister Betty had embarrassed herself. They were poised to take advantage of such a situation whenever it would occur. Yet, at that very moment Bea and Sasha only wanted to do one thing. Each, separately, wanted to walk out of the meeting and look for the young woman working in the casino.
So in silence, they slipped out. Not together but with the same purpose, they headed to the casino.
19
The elevator door on the Jaeger Conference Center's fourth floor opened. It took Sister Betty by surprise when Chandler walked on.
Immediately, Chandler saw signs of tears and his smile left. “Aunt Betty,” he said softly, “what's wrong?” Except when she was praising God and overjoyed about it, he'd never seen her cry or get too upset. She was everyone's Rock of Gibraltar. She was the go-to woman of God, the one who God used for everything.
Chandler's stepping onto the elevator caused Sister Betty to lose control. Until that point, she'd only had tears in her eyes. His appearance brought about sobs.
Chandler immediately ushered Sister Betty off on the next floor. Fortunately it was the same floor as his office, so he took her there.
“What's wrong?” He was grateful that Mandy wasn't there and no one from the human resources office had arrived to take her place.
Sister Betty couldn't speak. Her small shoulders heaved and her spiritual wall built of “God is good all the time and all the time God is good,” collapsed.
“I'm just tired.” She said each word as though it were made of concrete and just too heavy to carry. “I'm just tired.”
“God's always given you strength.” Chandler didn't know why he said that except it was what came to mind. “You've been saved, sanctified and filled with the Holy Ghost for as long as I can remember. I've never seen you like this.” His concern was genuine and seeing her like this was unsettling. If her burden was heavy enough for her to throw in her spiritual towel, what chance did anyone else stand? After all, God had called her personally.
Chandler didn't ask any further questions. Instead, he took her small hands in his and lowered his head. He found himself doing something he'd not done in quite some time. Chandler prayed. He didn't pray the quiet little prayer that some would out of habit or custom. Chandler prayed like he'd heard his grandmother, Ma Cile, do when rough times visited.
When Chandler finally finished praying both he and Sister Betty were exhausted. He'd even gone so far as to lay one hand on her head and invoke God and heaven to come immediately to her aid. He didn't pray for himself, only for her.
And, Sister Betty felt her strength and resolve start to return. Her complexion appeared brighter as though it had visited heaven and returned with its light.
Chandler's complexion appeared the same. The feeling he now felt was a familiar one. It was an emotion he'd not experienced since leaving his prayer life back in Pelzer, South Carolina. Like so many others, he'd grown up in the church. His home life was rich in spirituality. Between the guidance of his grandmother and Sister Betty along with several other church members, he should've never succumbed to the bright lights of the big city. Yet he had.
“You look different, June Bug,” Sister Betty finally said as her color returned to normal and the tears dried up.
“So do you.” Chandler's handsome face beamed as the Sister Betty he so dearly loved returned. He laughed and shook his head knowing that it was of no use to mention that she'd promised to not call him June Bug in public.
He would've continued laughing but Sister Betty's expression had suddenly changed. He quickly turned and looked toward the office door. He was shocked to see Zipporah standing in the doorway.
“I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Lamb. I'll wait outside.” Without waiting for Chandler to speak, she turned to leave.
“See what praying will do?” Sister Betty whispered. “She's very pretty.”
“I think that's evident,” Chandler said as his sudden smile betrayed the words he spoke. He hoped he sounded professional and aloof about her observation.
“Too bad, though,” Sister Betty said softly, “it's really too bad.”
“What is?”
“She looks just like Mother Pray Onn's niece.”
“So she looks like her niece? So what if she does?”
“I've forgotten you've been gone from Pelzer for quite some time. You've probably forgotten about Ima Hellraiser.”
At the mention of Ima's name, Chandler fell back in his chair. “No way!” Even if he didn't want to admit it, he suddenly realized that there was a strong resemblance to the woman who'd made life miserable for so many.
“It took me a few minutes to see it but the resemblance is very strong. Heaven knows we don't need two Imas.”
“We really don't need the one we have,” Chandler added. “Her name is Zipporah and I believe that's a Biblical name. So you know there's no connection to the Hellraiser family.”
They laughed a while longer. They'd forgotten Zipporah was seated in the outer office.
But she wasn't seated for long. She'd heard the mention of her name and the laughter that followed. She didn't know why they were laughing, but it had to be about either something she'd done or the way she looked.
So Zipporah left feeling Chandler was no different than the other people she'd met. As for the old woman who sat with him, the Bible clutched in her hand, she could care less about what she thought. The old lady couldn't be much of a “woman of God” if she gossiped and laughed at people she didn't even know.
Zipporah tried to convince herself that she didn't care, but she did. Her face was a mask of anger as she dashed onto the elevator. She moved so fast she couldn't stop herself from stepping on Bea's foot.
It was Bea's thimble-shaped pinky toe. The pain shot up from the toe through her thick thigh, straight up the curve in her spine and almost knocked her eyes from their sockets.
“What the . . . ham and cheese!” Bea yelped. “Lawd, help me!”
Zipporah's eyes widened and the apologies flew. She couldn't stop apologizing all the way down to the casino floor. A part of her apology was because she was truly sorry for stepping on Bea's foot. The other part was because she was afraid she'd now lose her job if anyone found out that she'd assaulted one of the patrons. And the fact that it was the same old woman she'd seen cause a ruckus from the first day wasn't lost on her.
Bea's mind fought to gain control over the pain. This was an opportunity she couldn't resist. She'd never have imagined she'd have to suffer to make the young woman's acquaintance, but if it gave her leverage on Sasha, it was worth it.
“Oh, honey,” Bea said softly between the grimaces from the pain, “it was an accident. I shouldn't have been standing all the way against the back wall, minding my own business, when you ran onto the elevator.”
Since Zipporah was fifteen minutes early for her shift, she figured she'd use the time to humor the old woman. She needed to keep her job.
“I'm still so sorry,” Zipporah said. “I don't know what else to say.”
“Well, you started off the right way,” Bea explained. “You said you were sorry.” Bea suddenly smiled and added, “Ima would've never apologized.”
“Excuse me?” Zipporah's look of confusion suddenly turned to fear.
What if this old woman was truly dangerous? And who is Ima?
What if this old woman was truly dangerous? And who is Ima?
“I didn't mean to call you that,” Bea said politely. “I'm Mother Bea Blister from Crossing Over Sanctuary Temple out of Pelzer, South Carolina. You remind me of someone I know.”
“No, she don't!” The words were as welcome as a fox in a hen house.
It was Sasha. She'd just arrived in time to hear a little of Bea's explanation. Sasha chose not to explain her outburst. Instead, Sasha just waddled her little hips down the aisle of slot machines. As she turned the corner she looked back at Bea with a warning stare.
Bea shot back one of her own that read, “Heifer, please.”
Zipporah's shoulders slumped slightly. Her head swung between Bea, standing with a look of joy on her face, and the other old woman's tiny hips swaying as though inviting a kiss.
Bea would've continued her inquisition but nature called. “Honey, where's the nearest bathroom?”
Zipporah pointed toward the bathroom. She issued another apology and walked away quickly, before Bea could respond.
Whatever was going on with those two old women, Zipporah didn't want to be in the middle. She was about to come to the conclusion that perhaps she was working in a nuthouse. Everyone seemed a little off center. And, the little snickering she'd heard coming from Mr. Lamb's office sealed the conclusion that she and he had nothing in common. And they never would.
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