The Truth Is the Light (7 page)

Chapter 12

R
everend Walker smiled as Raquel Winston walked over to his table. He quickly stood to his feet.

“Thank you, Raquel, so much for coming, especially on such short notice.” Reverend Walker leaned down and gave the thirty-year-old bombshell beauty a quick and respectable peck on the cheek.

“Better be careful, Reverend. You, of all people, know how folks talk,” Raquel said. She looked around the restaurant and smiled at a few gawking men. She was used to the staring—stares followed her wherever she went. She didn't even fight it anymore. “So what's up?” she said as she sat down and Reverend Walker pushed her seat in for her.

He sat down across from her. “Would you care for anything to drink?”

“I would, but since it's lunchtime, and I'm still on duty, I suppose I must pass.” She picked up the glass of water on the table and took a sip. “I suppose I'll just have to settle for tea.”

“Then maybe you should have accepted my dinner invitation instead of insisting on meeting for lunch,” Reverend Walker said.

“Oh, no.” She shook her head and frowned as she scanned the menu. “Been there, done that. We both know how that all went. Lunch works fine. I'm on the clock, so if you're going to tell me what this is all about, now would be a good time.”

Reverend Walker smiled, and then licked and popped his lips. “Sure. And since this
is
technically work related—” Just then the waiter came and interrupted them to take their orders. Reverend Walker and Raquel were regulars, so they ended up ordering their usual items.

“Now, where were we?” Reverend Walker said, after the waiter left. He scanned Raquel from her head down to where the table stopped him from going any farther.

“Excuse me. I thought you said this was work related.”

He smiled as he stared into her naturally green eyes, then shook his head as though to clear it, and continued. “Pastor George Landris—”

“Not him again,” Raquel said, now drumming the fingers of her right hand on the table.

“Yes, him, again. You really need to check into the goings-on over there at that church. I'm telling you, there are some shady things happening at Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center. And the IRS really needs to investigate them
and
Pastor Landris.”

Raquel sat back against her chair. “So are you registering a formal complaint?”

“I am.”

“Well, then we need to fill out the appropriate paperwork. You're more than welcome to come to my office—”

“I don't want my name associated with this.”

She shrugged. “If you believe something is going on over there, then why wouldn't you want to do the right thing and report it . . . put your name on record?”

“Because he and I are supposed to be brothers in the Lord, that's why. Although I'm not so sure we have the same Father. I'm serving the Lord, the Father of Light. I believe his father may very well be the father of deception,” Reverend Walker said.

“That's a pretty strong accusation there, Reverend. I've never known you to be scared to speak your mind.” Raquel stopped talking as the waiter brought a large bowl and placed it in front of her, and then served Reverend Walker's plate.

After the waiter left, Reverend Walker bowed his head and said a quick prayer. Raquel merely watched him as he did it.

Reverend Walker looked at her as he began to eat the slaw he'd received along with his fried snapper and pilaf rice. “If I wasn't sure you'd find something there, I wouldn't have come to you. Look, write up the complaint. List it as anonymous. I know you can do that. Check him out, and if everything checks out, no harm, no foul. If it doesn't, you could end up famous as the woman who cleaned up religious corruption.”

Raquel smiled and shook her head as she ate some of her onion soup. “Wow, what a sales pitch. You must really hate this guy. What did he ever do to you?”

“It's not about me. It's about the Kingdom of God. And I'm tired of preachers thinking they're above the law.” He cut a piece of his fish and ate it. “Clergy twisting rules and regulations to accomplish personal needs and desires. People are flocking over to that church like sugar ants to syrup. You'll be doing the Christian community a great service. It's not like the IRS doesn't randomly audit. And should you get a tip—”

“A credible tip,” Raquel said, correcting him.

“Should you receive a credible tip, then it's your job to investigate it. If he has nothing to hide or has done nothing wrong, then he'll be vindicated and at least people can feel secure about their giving to him and that church.”

“It sounds to me like you might be a bit envious.” Raquel took a sip of her tea. “Maybe the green-eyed monster has found its way to good old Marshall Walker.” She smirked.

“Listen, green eyes, this could be your big break. You go back to the office, put in a report or whatever you do to get things rolling. Pastor George Landris is nothing to play with. If you find out he's not on the up-and-up, everybody will be praising your name.”

“I don't need praise. In case you haven't noticed, I get it walking down a street or into a room.” She turned and flashed a smile at a man sitting nearby who was about to fall out of his chair trying to look at her. “Well,” she said, finishing her meal. To maintain her ideal weight of 115 pounds, she rarely ate more than soup or salad for lunch. “I'll see what I can do. But if I see there's no merit to this, I'm dropping it.”

“Fair enough. And frankly, it's what I would not only expect but want you to do. I'm not trying to go after this guy. I've just heard so much, especially recently, and I think someone needs to investigate him and put the rumors to bed one way or the other.”

Finished eating, they left together. Raquel walked past a waiter holding up a plate of spaghetti. Gawking at her, the waiter dropped the plate into a customer's lap.

“Why don't you watch what you're doing!” the customer, who now wore the spaghetti, yelled at the waiter as the waiter profusely apologized while trying to help clean up.

Raquel looked at Reverend Walker and laughed as she stepped outside and waited on the valet to retrieve her car.

Chapter 13

“D
addy.” Zenobia leaned down and kissed her father when she raced into his room at the nursing home. “What's wrong?”

Gramps continued to wipe his eyes with his handkerchief. “I can't tell you. Not now, not here. Can we go somewhere more private? Can we go to your house?”

“But I need to know what's going on. Did something happen here? Did one of the nurses do something to you? One of the doctors? Did something happen with one of the other residents? What has gotten you so upset?”

Gramps put his black square-rimmed glasses back on. “I don't know quite how to tell you. I thought I could go through with this at first, but I don't know.” He shook his head.

“Go through with what, Gramps?” Knowledge asked.

Gramps looked from Zenobia to Knowledge. “Where's Clarence? I asked all of y'all to come. Where's Clarence?”

“He's on his way,” Zenobia said. “But you need to tell me what's going on. If you don't, and you continue to be so upset, I'm going to go talk to the nurses and find out from one of them what's going on. And somebody's going to tell me something!”

“The truth, that's what's going on,” Gramps said. “The truth is about to come to light. It always does. I don't care how long it takes, just like a moth to a flame, the truth will always find its way to the light.”

“What truth, Daddy?”

“Let's just wait 'til Clarence gets here, and then I'll tell you.”

Knowledge looked at his watch. “He should have been here by now.” He took out his cell phone and tried calling Clarence. His call went straight to voice mail.

Zenobia took her father's hand and held it as she sat down next to him on his bed. Clarence came rushing in fifteen minutes later.

“It's about time,” Knowledge said, not hiding his annoyance. “Where were you? I tried to call you on your cell phone but it went straight to your voice mail.”

“I was on my way to Bible study when Mom called and said it was an emergency. I turned around and came right over. I suppose when you called, I must have been in a dead spot because I haven't been on the phone,” Clarence said. “So, what's the emergency? Gramps, are you all right?”

“I'm fine. I just need to tell y'all something. But I've changed my mind. I don't want to do it here. It's going to take a little spell to tell it, and I don't want to do it here.”

“Okay, Daddy. We'll go to my house. You can tell us there.”

“I don't mean to be so much trouble, but things are about to change, and y'all need to know what's about to come down the pipe.” Gramps stood and grabbed his hat.

“I'll go sign Gramps out,” Knowledge said, opening the door and walking out. He met them at the front door with a signed paper in hand. “I told them I wasn't sure he would be back tonight . . . just in case.”

When they reached Zenobia's house, Gramps was a bit more settled. They were all in the great room. Gramps sat in the wingback chair while everyone else sat, lined up on the couch, facing him.

“Okay, Gramps, what's up?” Clarence said after no one else said anything.

“I was born November 4, 1909, in Asheville, North Carolina.”

“Yes, Daddy, we already know that,” Zenobia said. Then feeling she might have been a bit harsh, she softened it with, “Remember?” She now wore a worried look.

“Zenobia, please . . . just let me talk, all right,” Gramps said. “In the past, you children, specifically you, have asked me about my earlier life—”

“And you've always avoided talking about it with any of us,” Zenobia said. “You said there was nothing much worth telling.”

“Well, it's time I share some things with you. I didn't have a heap, material-wise, growing up. There were times when I felt like I didn't quite fit in. My folks liked working the land; I preferred working with wood and my hands. But my ma gave me love, and my pa worked his fingers to the bone as a sharecropper, trying to make sure there was enough on the table to eat. It was a hard life, but we colored folks were used to it.”

“It's African-American now, Gramps,” Knowledge said. “The proper term is African-American. We don't call ourselves colored, Negro, Afro-American, black, or any of those
other
terms anymore.”

Gramps cut him a sharp look, then continued to speak. “I met a woman named Sarah Fleming. She and her family were very well-off. They lived in this big fancy home. Mister Fleming hired me to do some woodwork around his house. When I saw Sarah, his lovely eighteen-year-old daughter, we hit it off right away. It was love at first sight.”

“Black folks with that kind of money? That must have been inspiring,” Zenobia said. Knowledge looked at his mother and shook his head, opting not to bother correcting her. She'd already told him she was born black and she would die black, even if her birth certificate did say Colored.

“They weren't colored . . . umm, black . . . African-American,” Gramps said, “whatever y'all want to call it. They were white folk.”

“You fell in love with a white woman?” Clarence said, joining in.

“
We
fell in love with each other. It was a mutual thing.”

“Well, I can just about tell you where this story is heading,” Knowledge said. “A white woman and an African-American man during that time, it's amazing they didn't string you up or shoot you right out.”

“Came close enough,” Gramps said. “Sarah and I were planning to be married. Her father acted all right with it when Sarah told him. But he wasn't; didn't think races should mix. Which weren't nothing but the pot calling the kettle black, since he was in love with Mamie Patterson—a dark-skinned woman just like me. Everybody knew Mister V, Victor Fleming Senior, had his nose wide open for Mamie. Yet, there he was trying to ‘reason' with me to not pursue anything with his daughter. Said he wasn't the one with the color problem, but that society wasn't near 'bout there yet. He didn't want nothing to happen to his Sarah just 'cause she might happen to be with me.” Gramps nodded as though someone had asked him a question. “Could somebody get me a drank of water?”

Zenobia jumped up and quickly went and came back. “Here you go, Daddy.”

He took several sips before setting the glass on the table next to him. He continued. “Well, Sarah was a little spitfire of a woman, and she weren't about to let anybody keep her from what she was bent on doing. And she was dead set on being with me. We started sneaking around after that. I ended up being her first. After Mister V learned we were still seeing each other and weren't planning on abandoning our love affair, her father started acting like he was warming up a bit toward me, like he was okay with us.”

“Yeah, I bet he
did,
” Knowledge said.

Zenobia cut her eyes at her eldest son. “Knowledge, will you just let Daddy talk.”

“I was just making a comment. We all know where this is going. We know the history when it comes to stuff like this.” Knowledge crossed his legs and folded his arms as he sat back against the couch.

“Well, I know it firsthand,” Gramps said. “Mister V came and told me about a job in Richmond, Virginia, he'd lined up for me. They were paying good money, good money. He said I could go, make some money, and be in a position to take care of Sarah and a family. He seemed sincere enough. Assured me he would take care of Sarah 'til I came back for her. Course on my way to this great job, things changed quickly. I can't say for sure whether it was Mister V's doing or not. But I got stopped before I cleared North Carolina's state line good. You two boys don't know
real
fear until you've been stopped by hooded men you know mean you no good.” He drank more of his water.

“Well,” Gramps continued, “they were talking about stringing me up then and there. You talking about somebody doing some kind of praying, I cried out to the Lord, you hear me. Then one of the men said I fit the description of someone that had robbed some folks in the community. He said he was a policeman, and they needed to do things by the book. He took me to jail. They tried and convicted me, even though I was nowhere near that town and there was no evidence proving I was. They sentenced me to ten years on a chain gang. But you know: that policeman actually saved my life. I didn't know it at the time, but he kept them from dangling me from a tree.” Gramps shed his glasses and wiped his eyes with his handkerchief.

Gramps shook his head. “On the chain gang, them folks weren't no joke. When I was close to finishing my ten-year sentence, they said there had been a mistake. I wasn't the one who'd done that crime after all. So they was letting me go early. Six months before my ten years was up, and they come telling me that. No apology, no compensation for time lost. Nothing, but ‘We made an error. You now free to go.' That was it.”

Zenobia got up, went to her father, and put her arm around him. “I'm so sorry, Daddy. I never knew any of this.” Now she was crying.

“Oh, that was a normal thing back in my day. We learned to call on the Lord early. When things start riding your back, you fall on your knees and tell the Lord about it.” Gramps sat back in his chair and motioned for Zenobia to go sit back down. He had more to tell. “I'm just thankful that my fate wasn't like so many other innocent men gone now. So when I tell folks that the Lord saved me, He saved me in more ways than one.”

“What happened after you returned to Asheville?” Clarence asked. “Did you go back and find Sarah?”

“I was going to go look for her,” Gramps said. “But as soon as I got back to Asheville, and my old friend, Pearl Black, heard I was in town, she quickly came to see me and told me I needed to lay low in a hurry. We pretended that I left town just as quick as I'd come. Pearl sneaked me back to her place and hid me out for about a month. She and I grew up together. When we were kids, we were closer than white on rice. Pearl was a tad bit older than I was, but we were like peas in a pod. She was like a big sister. Course, I'd been gone all that time, and both Pearl and I were a lot older by the time I returned. But minds don't seem to age like our bodies do. With us, it was just like it was when we were younger. That was around the beginning of April in 1943. She was thirty-nine; I was thirty-three.”

“And you actually remember how old she was?” Zenobia asked with a mischievous grin. “Most men I know have a hard time remembering their own age, let alone recalling someone else's. And that was a little over sixty-five years ago.”

Gramps remembered because he and Pearl discussed their ages at that time. “You remember dates like that when you have markers, like when you were released from hard labor. Where we were in life was so different from where we thought we would be. Pearl thought she would be married with a houseful of children. And I never thought I'd leave that prison alive.” With his hand shaking, he picked up his glass and sipped his water.

“Pearl had been there with the Flemings,” Gramps said, continuing the tale. “Pearl was a midwife, as was her mother before her. Pearl happened to be there when Sarah delivered her baby. Pearl was the one who helped bring my daughter into the world.”

“Your
daughter?
” Zenobia practically screeched the words as she sprung up.

“Yes,
my
daughter. You see, Sarah was pregnant when I left. At first, Sarah's daddy believed the baby was this other fella's that lived down the road from them. But when the real truth came out and her daddy saw Sarah was more determined than ever to keep her baby and still be with me, that's when he seemed to come around and try to help us. That was the only reason I left her to go take that job. Sarah was having our child, and I wanted to do right by my family.”

“So, I have a sister?” Zenobia asked, sitting down as though she was in shock.

“No . . . yes,” Gramps said, sounding confused. “Okay, you see, the baby
was
born. When I got back to Asheville, the first person I saw was my friend Samuel L. Williams. Sam told me he'd heard Pearl had delivered a baby girl for Sarah, but the baby had died right after she was born. More like, they just let the baby die. It was a mere rumor he'd heard circulating throughout the community, mind you, but he felt it was pretty credible. He said Pearl had been the one to deliver the baby. If I wanted to know the truth, she would know and could tell me. That's when I went looking for Pearl, but she was already looking for me. She said it wasn't safe for me to be there. She got me to make a big show of leaving so anybody who'd possibly heard I'd come to town would think I'd just as quickly left. Pearl then hid me out at her place. She told me the whole story of what happened that day and the little bit she knew about the time afterward.”

“Okay,” Knowledge said, “hold up for one minute, Gramps. I think
I
need something to drink.” Knowledge started for the kitchen. “Does anybody else need anything?” Both Zenobia and Clarence shook their heads. Knowledge came back with the strongest beverage his mother had in her house—a can of soda—and sat down. “Okay, Gramps. By all means, please . . . continue.”