The Truth Is the Light (11 page)

Chapter 21

A
ngela rang the doorbell of Johnnie Mae's house. Johnnie Mae answered the door almost out of breath, wearing purple fuzzy slippers.

“Angel,” Johnnie Mae said. “What are you doing here?”

“Your page proofs from your publisher came to the church today. Since you took off today and tomorrow, I thought I'd bring them to you.”

Johnnie Mae frowned. “You could have given them to Pastor Landris. You didn't have to drive all the way over here to bring them to me.”

“There were a few other things you really needed to handle.” Angela held up her briefcase. “Gabrielle's paperwork came back for the department head of the Dance Ministry appointment. You need to sign them so she'll get her paycheck on time. Plus, you need to approve the final budget for the Dance Ministry before Gabrielle takes it over.”

“Come in, come in. I'm sorry. I just have you standing out there. I'm trying to get things ready for this evening, and I'm running around like a chicken with its head cut off.”

Angela laughed. “My great-granny used to say stuff like that all the time.” Angela stepped inside. “I didn't want to just send it by Pastor in case you have some questions. Plus, I didn't know if you wanted to sign them now and have me take them on back.”

“You're always looking out for me. Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you?” Johnnie Mae said. “Unfortunately, I don't have time to look at those papers now. If you had called first, I could have saved you a trip and just told you to send them by Landris.”

“Well, since I'm here, is there anything I can help you do?” Angela set down her briefcase and purse next to the large vase of flowers on the glass, round table in the peach-colored, marbled-floor foyer.

“Normally, I would say no out of politeness. But honestly, I could use some help. I'm having guests over tonight. You remember I told you about Ransom Perdue.”

“Yeah, Great-granny's old friend. The man your mother led you to at the nursing home.”

“Can we go in the kitchen while we talk? You can help me finish up in there.”

“Sure.” Angela followed Johnnie Mae to the kitchen. She washed her hands at the sink. “What do you need me to do?”

“Put the petite quiches on a tray and put them in the oven. I thought I'd fix a little something, you know, for them to snack on.”

“Who them?”

Johnnie Mae laughed. “I'm sorry. I'm acting like you know everything that's going on since we talked the other day.” Johnnie Mae scooped the honeydew melon with the melon baller. She glanced at the digital clock on the oven. “I have thirty minutes before they're due here,” she said, scooping faster and putting the melon balls in the bowl with the already-scooped watermelon and cantaloupe.

Angela lined the quiche on the tray as quickly as she could. “Who?”

“Ransom Perdue, his daughter Zenobia, her two sons—I don't know their names—and the rest of her family, which, according to her, includes six grandchildren and a daughter-in-law.”

“Ransom is coming here. Wow, I didn't know that. Somebody from Great-granny's past is going to be right here, someone who knew her when she was a little girl.” Angela put the baking sheet in the oven and set the temperature appropriately. “What else do you need me to do?”

“Yeah, it will be Ransom and his family and Memory Patterson Robertson, Lena and Bishop Jordan, Theresa Jordan Greene, her husband, and their two children.” She stopped a second. “What else can you do? I made some crabmeat appetizers. If you could put the bowl in the middle of that crystal platter and place those Town House crackers around the platter, that would be a big help. The other things are ready except for putting the potato chips in a bowl. I have the coffee ready to brew at six on the dot so it will be fresh. Chicken wings are already on the dining room table. Would you like to stay and meet them? I know you said you'd like to meet Ransom. Today would be a good time.”

“No. I wouldn't want to meet him on a day like this. I'd just like to sit and talk to him about Great-granny. So, no, I'll wait until another time to meet him. This sounds like a family affair.” Angela took out the crabmeat appetizer and, after opening the crackers, took a fork and placed some crabmeat on one of the crackers. “Mmmm, this is great,” she said. She went to the sink and washed her hands again, realizing that she wasn't at home where sampling was acceptable. “Sorry,” she said as she dried her hands on a paper towel.

“That's quite all right,” Johnnie Mae said. “You're helping me out. The least I can do is feed you while you work.” Rinsing and drying her hands, she then picked up the now-mixed bowl of fruit that included black seedless grapes, kiwi, strawberries, cantaloupe, honeydew, and watermelon.

“That looks
good,
” Angela said, singing the word
good
as Johnnie Mae whisked past her.

When Angela took the platter with the crackers and crabmeat appetizer into the dining room, she jerked her head back slightly. “Wow, I thought you said you were doing a
little
something. This looks like a full spread to me. Buffalo wings, honey chicken wings, croissant sandwiches with ham, turkey, and is that one with roast beef also?”

“Yep.”

“Yeah. Brent and I get that tray all the time. We love those sandwiches.” She set the crystal platter down. “Triple-layer fudge chocolate cake.” She walked over to it. “Ah! I absolutely
love
this cake! The only thing is, it's so rich.”

“Tell me about it. That's why I only eat a little piece. I have to watch these hips. And I don't plan on watching them expand outward any more than they have already,” Johnnie Mae said with a laugh. She and Angela headed back to the kitchen to load up again.

“And you still have
more
things,” Angela said as Johnnie Mae took out a turtle cheesecake along with a plain cheesecake with strawberry sauce on the side.

“I think the quiches are ready,” Johnnie Mae said.

Angela found a large red pot holder. “I was just about to take them out.”

“My goodness, where does the time go? ” Johnnie Mae said as she glanced at the clock. “I don't care how early you start, time still seems to get away from you.”

“Why don't you go and change your shoes,” Angela said. “I'll finish putting the other things on the table. In fact, Brent is picking up the children from daycare,” Angela said, referring to their two cute, energetic little boys. Brent the Second was three years old and Shaun was a little over a year old.

“I'm thankful I had the foresight to take Princess Rose and Isaiah over to Marie's house,” Johnnie Mae said, referencing her second oldest sister. “Landris is picking them up on his way home. I'm sure had they been here, I would have really been strung out trying to get this all done.”

“It's because you tried to do too much,” Angela said.

“Maybe so, but I want this to be special.” Johnnie Mae looked around the kitchen. “The chips and the punch . . . I need to put the punch in the punch bowl—”

“Point me to the location of your chip and punch bowls and I'll take care of them. You need to change out of those shoes and maybe tidy up a bit, especially your hair.”

“My hair is
that
bad?”

“You'll see. But nothing a little tightening up won't take care of,” Angela said.

“Well, tonight isn't about me, anyway. It's definitely going to be interesting.” Johnnie Mae left the kitchen and trotted up the stairs to her bedroom.

Chapter 22

T
he doorbell rang. Johnnie Mae glanced at her watch. Five minutes before six.
Someone is early
. Usually, she would have been ready. Maybe she
had
tried doing too much.

“I'll get it!” Angela yelled up the stairs to Johnnie Mae.

“Thank you!” Johnnie Mae yelled back. “I'll be down in a few minutes.”

Angela opened the door. “Hello,” she said, holding the door open as the guests began to stream in.

“Angel?” Lena said. She leaned in to hug her. “It's been years. How are you?”

“I know. The last time we saw each other was eight years ago.” She patted Lena's back as she pulled away. “I'm great.”

“Well, you look good,” Lena said.

“I've put on a
little
weight,” Angela said.

Lena shooed her. “Please. I should be so blessed to be your size.”

Bishop Jordan walked in and gave her a courtesy hug. He didn't know Angela.

“Hi, Angel,” Theresa said, her daughter and son walking close to her legs as she moved. “Go on in, Mauricia and M-double-G.” M-double-G was the nickname for Maurice Greene the Second.

“Oh, my goodness! Look how they've grown.” Angela stooped down and hugged both children. “Mauricia, how old are you now?”

“I just turned eight,” Mauricia said, looking in Angela's eyes without a hint of shyness. “My birthday was September eleventh. I lost a tooth the night before my birthday.”

Angela stroked Mauricia's hair that was braided and strung with lots of white beads. “You did? Let me see.” She looked as Mauricia pointed to the empty space at the top.

“Well, hello there, little man,” Angela said to M-double-G. “And how old are you now?”

M-double-G held up his hand with all five fingers spread wide. “Five,” he said, then he stepped in and ran over to his grandfather.

Maurice nodded to Angela as he stepped past her. “How are you?” he said.

She smiled. “Great.”

Memory stepped up. She smiled as she nodded. “Angela, or Angel, is it?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Angela said. “Either one. Most folks call me Angel.”

“Well, it's very nice to meet you after all I've heard about you. I'm Memory.”

“Please, all of you come on in and make yourself at home,” Angela said.

“Hi, everybody,” Johnnie Mae said as she waltzed down the stairs. She hugged each one when she reached them. “It's so good to see you! Man, it's been a long time.”

“Yeah,” Memory said, embracing Johnnie Mae with a warm hug. “I was telling Lena and Theresa on our way over here that we're going to have to stop meeting like this.”

“So far, it's turned out well in the end.” Johnnie Mae patted Memory's back.

“Yes, it has. Let's hope the trend continues to hold.”

Angela was about to head for the door with her briefcase and purse in hand. “Johnnie Mae, unless you need me, I'm out of here.” She held out a large folder with the contract and budget and an envelope with Johnnie Mae's next novel's page proofs.

“Would it be too much trouble to ask you to take those and put them in my bedroom on my coffee table?” Johnnie Mae asked Angela.

“No, I'll be happy to do that. I'll let myself out when I'm finished.”

Johnnie Mae gave Angela a hug. “Thank you for everything. I really appreciate you. You are such an . . . angel.” Johnnie Mae smiled at her own play with Angela's name.

“God always knows what we need, even before we know we need it. And just think: I thought I was coming over here to bring you something, when God really had me coming to help you out,” she whispered.

Angela took the information, as requested, up to Johnnie Mae's bedroom. Johnnie Mae showed everyone to the living room, which adjoined the dining room (when the French doors were completely opened), and its table and buffet server full of food.

Angela went downstairs and opened the front door just as a young man was about to press the doorbell.

“Great timing,” the man said. “I'm Knowledge Walker. You must be Johnnie Mae.” He held out his hand to shake hers.

Angela switched her briefcase from her right hand to her left to shake his hand. “Hi. Actually, no. I'm Angela Underwood. I'm a friend of Johnnie Mae's.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Knowledge said.

“No problem. I was just leaving.”

“But this is the Landrises' house, isn't it?” an older woman said, carrying a baby in a carrier.

“Oh, yes. Johnnie Mae is inside. She's expecting you. Why don't I show you in,” Angela said, holding the door and opening it wider.

“Gramps is coming. Clarence is bringing him,” Knowledge said to Angela.

“Yeah, Great-gramps doesn't move so fast,” a little boy said.

“Deon, that's not nice,” one of twin girls said.

“I'm Zenobia Walker. This is my son, Knowledge, and his three children. Dante,” she said, raising the carrier up. “That's Deon—”

“I'm five!” Deon said, holding up his fingers to prove it. Angela laughed. “Well, hello, Deon.” She shook his hand. “There's another little boy in there, and he's also five.”

Zenobia nodded toward the twins. “That's Jasmine and Dominique.”

“Yeah, and we're eight,” Dominique and Jasmine said in unison.

Angela laughed again. “Wow, would you believe there's a little girl in there, and she's also eight. Wow . . . what are the chances of something like this happening?”

Angela led them to the living room once the group was inside and handed them off to Johnnie Mae. She hurried back to the door to welcome Gramps and Clarence, excited that she would finally get the opportunity to meet the infamous Ransom Perdue. They were already approaching the door when she returned. Angela looked at the man called Ransom Perdue, and that's when her briefcase fell from her hand to the floor.

Clarence rushed to pick up her briefcase for her. “I got it.” When he held it out to her, he saw her just standing there, staring intensely at Gramps. “Have you two met before?”

Angela shook her head slowly, unable to take her eyes off Gramps. “No,” she said, finally realizing she was visibly staring.

“I'll be. If you're not Pearl Black's kin, then fish can't swim. Have mercy.” He held out his hand. “My name is Ransom Perdue. Now little lady, exactly who are you?”

“I-I-I'm Angel Gabriel, I mean Angela Gabriel,” she said, stammering. “Actually”—she took in and then slowly released a deep breath—“I'm Angela Gabriel Underwood. Most people call me Angel. Pearl Black was my great-grandmother.” Angela continued to stare at him.

“Gramps!” Johnnie Mae said. “Come on in. We're all here waiting for you.” Johnnie Mae looked at Angela. “Are you okay? Now, I told you, if you want to, you're more than welcome to stay.”

“No. I-I-I really need to get home,” Angela said, continuing to stammer. “I'll talk to you later.” She hurried away. Johnnie Mae closed the door after Clarence cleared the doorway. Angela stopped, turned around, and then just stood there. She couldn't believe what she'd just seen. But there's no way what she was thinking right then could be true.

No way.