Mama B - a Time to Love (6 page)

Eunice smashed the butt of her cigarette
on my concrete and then nearly fell trying to bend over and pick it up so she
could dispose of it properly. Maybe I should have felt sorry for her, but I
ain’t never had no ashtrays around, and I didn’t plan on startin’.

“How was church?” she asked as she
followed me into the house with a limp.

“Just fine,” I smarted off.

“Well, pardon me for asking,” she said.

I shook my head, trying to erase all that
foolishness with Henrietta out of my brain so I could keep good manners toward
my houseguest. “I’m sorry, Eunice. That woman who was pointing over here at you…oh,
never mind.”

“Yeah. I could tell she wasn’t too happy
about me being on your porch, for some reason,” she chuckled.

Her laughter helped me to calm back down
to myself. “Can you help me out in the kitchen?”

“Surely. I was going to finish up the
potato salad, but I know better than to mess around in another woman’s kitchen.
That’s one sure way to lose a friendship.”

Even though I didn’t agree all the way
with her philosophy, I was a little glad to hear her call me friend.
Considerin’ the fact that she didn’t really have nobody to call on in need, my
guess was she didn’t have many friends. And after the way Henrietta had treated
me, look like I was down to just two friends, myself—Libby and Ophelia.
Not that me and Henrietta ever saw eye-to-eye, but I knew she would never leave
me out on the streets.

Despite Eunice’s arms being all bandaged
up, she was a help in the kitchen. She got busy spooning the chocolate chip
cookie
dough on the metal cookie sheets
while
I finished the redskin potato salad.

“You sure are cooking quite a bit, here.
Are you expecting company?”

“Oh, no. Well, yes. Company at the
church, not here. We’ve got friends and family day at the church this
afternoon,” I informed her, thankful for the chance to invite her to my other
home.

“That’s nice,” she said real quick-like.

We were both working on the counter space
on either side of the sink. She didn’t bother to look at me any more once I
mentioned church.

Help me, Holy Spirit
. “I’d love for you to come to the
service.”

“Now, B, I already told you, I don’t do
church.”

“I see,” I said. Not missing a beat, I
requested, “Retch me a fork out from the drawer.”

Eunice took a step back so she could open
my utensil drawer. “Here you go.”

“Thank you. Mind if I ask why you don’t
do church?”

“I was raised in the church. My mother
made us go every major holiday,” she bragged. “Every time we went, she gave us
a dollar to put in the offering plate. Still, the people looked at us as though
we were Martians who’d dropped out of the sky. Scary.”

Me and Eunice musta had two different
ideas about what it means to be raised in the church. Raised in the church, to
me, mean goin’ to service at least three times a week—more than that
before desegregation. Not to mention choir rehearsals and other business
meetings.

But she was right about one thing: Church
folk sure do look visitors up and down when they come in the building. We ain’t
never meant no harm by it. Don’t you look at people you ain’t never met? I, for
one, ain’t never considered myself a stranger in
any
house of God. But I
see how we could make somebody feel funny comin’ to church with all our starin’.

“I’m sorry you felt that way,” I
apologized on behalf of the all churches everywhere. “But if you get there
early, like I do, people don’t get to look at you so hard. They might not even
notice you.”

“Another thing,” Eunice added, dumping
the last spoonful of dough onto the second cookie sheet, “what’s with all the
money stuff?”

“Money stuff?”

“You know.” She twirled her spoon in the
air. “Give ten percent, give to the building fund, give offering? It’s no
wonder church people are always the poorest ones in the bunch. I think if God
wanted some of my money, He’d just give me less.”

“Giving is always up to you,” I came back
at her. “The Bible says give with a cheerful heart. If you don’t have a heart
to give, you shouldn’t do it. But don’t let that be the reason you stay away
from church. God would much rather have
you
in church than your money
any day.”

“Maybe God would, but I’m sure the pastor
wouldn’t.”

Hmph.
I know a rebellious spirit when I hear it. I ought to
– I used to have one. Didn’t want nobody tellin’ me what to do, least of
all my husband, even though I knew he was only lookin’ out for the good of our
family. But one day, I overheard myself telling my youngest child, Otha, “If
you would just do what I tell you, things would work out so much better.” And
no sooner than I said it, the Holy Spirit whispered in my heart:
That’s what
I’ve been tryin’ to tell you, B.

From then on, He give me a check in my
heart to let me know when I’m actin’ up. I don’t always listen, but at least I
can’t say I didn’t know.

I’m still prayin’ for Otha. Look like I
was gonna have to pray for Eunice for this, too. “When you get to know Jesus,
you do what He asks you to do because He lives in you. You love bein’ who you
are in Him. He’s better than the old you.”

“No disrespect to Jesus, but I like me
and I don’t want to change. I’d like to end this particular discussion, if it’s
all right with you. I don’t like to talk politics, religion, or child-rearing.
It’s a no-win conversation because everybody already thinks they’re right.” She
dunked the empty bowl into the hot, soapy water in the sink.

Normally, I would have had a come-back
for Eunice. I would have tried to convince her that I understood church ain’t
all perfect, but it also ain’t all bad. But inside me, I heard a familiar
phrase:
Be quiet
. Of all the stuff the Holy Spirit tell me, this usually
be the hardest one to obey.

I put the final touches on the potato
salad, then hung my apron on the nail right beside my refrigerator. “I’m gonna
lay down for a spell before the afternoon service. Can you take the cookies out
in ten minutes?”

“Sure thing. And don’t mind me,” Eunice
said. “I’ll be taking another pain pill in a bit. That’ll put me out for quite
some time.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “You
hurtin’ a lot?”

“With a broken nose and thirty-seven
stitches, anyone would be.”

The bruises beneath her eyes were
certainly the kind that looked worse before they got better. I happened to look
down at her legs and noticed that the bad one appeared to be swollen and a
little darker color than the good one. “Your leg okay?”

“Aaaah,” she scoffed, “it gives me a
little more trouble every once in a while.”

I figured she knew her own body, so I
left it alone. Sure enough, by the time I got up again for church, Eunice was
fast asleep.

I changed into a black maxi dress with a
silver belt and a flower print jacket. These young folk tickle me thinking they
really doin’ something new with the flower print fabric we wore in the 60s and
the 80s. Sometime, I put on something older than
them
and they say I’m
in style.

Frank showed up at two forty-five dressed
in a gray Miami Vice lookin’ linen suit with a green shirt and a multi-color
paisley tie. I know it don’t sound like a fashionable outfit, but Frank pulled
it off well. Probably too well. Even though I looked good for my age (if I do
say so myself) him wearin’ that suit made it seem like we had more than seven
years difference between us.

“B, beautiful as usual,” he said, barely
crossing the threshold into my house. He stood with both hands behind his back.

“Come on in,” I waved for him to follow
me. “I need your help getting some things over to the church.”

“My pleasure.”

Frank and I packaged up all the food and
headed out the back door. Lord knows, I really hadn’t thought that one all the
way through because the very first person my eyes met after I locked the screen
behind me was Henrietta. She took a step out of her car and got an eyeful of me
and Frank coming out of my house.

Even from a far distance, I could see the
shocked expression on her face. I sped up to get in front of him and run
interference. Every one of Frank’s steps made two steps for me, so I had to do
double-time to get ahead, but I had no choice. No telling what Henrietta might
say to him if I didn’t threaten her with the shut-up eye first.

Me and Frank walked past her without
incident, thanks to her picking up on my body language. Really, though,
Henrietta was not the first one who didn’t know how to take Frank. “Oh, Mama B,
I didn’t know you had a
friend
,” and “Where you been hidin’ him?” and
“You been’ holdin’ out on us, Mama B,” they remarked between winks.

I suppose they all found me and Frank
quite comical, but I didn’t, this being the very church my deceased husband
built and I was coming into my second home with another man. And then I
wondered where Frank was gonna sit. He wasn’t on the Mother’s Board. And he
couldn’t sit with the deacons, like Albert used to.
Why didn’t I think of
this earlier?

All those nervous feelings attacked my
stomach, just the same as they did when I first went out with Frank.
Lord,
help me
.

Me and Frank made it through all the
little observations of my church family and took the side door into the
sanctuary. Thank God, the seat behind where I normally sit was open. At least
I’d be in the same area, and we wouldn’t be shoulder-to-shoulder with
Henrietta.

I’d never been so happy for Clive to
start playing than I was that day. Finally, all eyes switched from me and Frank
to the choir as they marched through the main doors. Maybe they weren’t
all
watching us, but it sure felt like it. I had some empathy for Eunice now.

The choir sang one of our old-time
favorites, “Do Not Pass Me By.” Lord knows I wasn’t tryin’ to measure Frank’s
church-goin’ experience, but after Eunice gave me a new definition of what it
means to grow up in church, I needed to test and see if Frank had some kind of
church background. Otherwise, we might have a mismatch of understandings.

I snuck a peek at his lips to see if he
actually knew the words. “Hear. My. Hum. Ble-cryyyyyyyyy,” the choir sang. To
my relief, Frank’s lips moved in unison with the rest of us.
Thank You, Lord
. 

By the third song, the church was close
to packed. Every time I turned around to see the crowd, I noticed another face
I hadn’t seen in years. I certainly didn’t want to bring attention to myself,
but when people waved, I had to wave back or blow them a kiss. So nice to be
around people you know and love and worked alongside in the Lord’s Kingdom.

Angela gave the welcome, followed by a
response from one of the members of the St. Luke Baptist. Ophelia read the
occasion and introduced Rev. Dukes as the MC. Then, to my surprise, Pastor took
the pulpit.

“I was glad when they said unto me, let
us go into the house of the Lord,” he started, to which the church replied with
an agreeing ‘amen.’

“To the Mount Peasner church and to our
friends and family, again, I want to publicly thank all of you who have been so
gracious to me in my time of bereavement. I received so many cards, so many
encouraging notes, so many offers and shows of help from so many of you since
my lovely wife, Geneva, passed away. Again, I want to say thanks.”

“Mmmm hmmm,” from all of us.

“I also see the good Dr. Wilson present
today.” Pastor gestured toward us. “Thank you for taking such good care of my
wife in her last days.”

Frank nodded.

Pastor cleared his throat. “But there’s
one thing I’ve learned in all this, and that is to give flowers while they can
be smelled,” he continued.

“Amen.”

“Once a person is gone, you won’t have
the chance to thank them.”

“You right,” Henrietta barked.

“Now, I know we’ve never done this at Mt.
Zion Baptist Church, but I have to tell you that when I called around to make
several personal invitations to the Friends and Family Day program, so many
people asked about one person in particular that I knew beyond the shadow of a
doubt we needed to honor this long-time member.”

Immediately, I started thinking about
Ophelia. She’s always helping with the programs and stepping in when people
back out for whatever reason. And she do so much stuff that people don’t even
know about, like how she been so good at taking care of Henrietta. I could
hardly wait for Ophelia to get her moment in the spotlight!

Pastor said, “She has meant so much to
the church. Literally, she and her husband donated the land we worship on
today.”

Goodness, he’s talking about me!
My heart got to skippin’ so fast.

“And so today, we want to take some time
to honor a faithful member of Mt. Zion Baptist Church of Peasner, TX. Mother
Beatrice Mama B Jackson, also known as Mama B.”

Folks got to clappin’ and standin’ while
they was lookin’ my way. Frank stood up, too, and smiled at me. Then he held
out his hand to help me up, and Lord knows I needed his help because my knees
was a-shakin’.
Me
?

A flood of love washed through my heart
and came spilling out of my eyes. I grabbed Frank’s hand and held onto it in
plain confusion. In fact, I dragged him all the way to the end of our row
before I realized I’d been holding onto him.

Clive started playing the graduation song
as I joined Pastor on the level below the pulpit. That Clive can be so silly
sometimes, but I love him, too.

LaTonya from the wives’ ministry placed a
bouquet of flowers in the crook of my elbow while Angela gave me a gift bag to
occupy my other hand. And Pastor read off a letter from the city of Peasner
decreeing the following Monday to be Beatrice “Mama B” Jackson day.

Y’all, I know there’s more to what
happened when they honored me, but I was so shocked by it all, I don’t remember
half of it. I just remember I could hardly see the whole thing from all the
tears in my eyes. All those hands clappin’, all those people hollerin’ for me.
People coming up to the podium saying ‘thank you’ for helping me raise my
daughter, for saving my marriage, for bringing me food, for praying with me,
for the card I sent, for the money I gave—most of that stuff was done in
secret. It was, I hope, a preview of what it will be like to hear Jesus say,
“Well done my good and faithful servant.”

I know it will mean more when He says it,
but it was nice to hear on earth.

After all the hoopla, I returned to my
seat. Frank set my gift basket on the floor and winked at me. That little wink
was awful sweet.

But soon as I settled back down,
Henrietta turned her head around and hissed, “You ought to be ashamed of
yourself, acceptin’ that award when you know you shackin’ with this here
doctor. As if you ain’t rich enough already. Shameful.”

She whipped her head back before I could
respond.

Frank must have heard her accusation. He
gave me a quizzical stare. I shook my head in response. “I’ll talk to you
later.”

We managed to make it through the rest of
the reunion service without incident from Henrietta. I did my very best to
steer clear of her path. When we all moved to the fellowship hall for dinner, I
waited behind, talking to people, so Henrietta could be far away from me.

Of course, in the process of staying
behind to chat, everyone wanted to meet Frank. A few people already knew him
from his work at the hospital, but most of them were just impressed with the
fact of him being a doctor.

Sister Inez, who always got some kind of
ailment, took the liberty of rolling up her sleeve and showing him a big, nasty
boil on her elbow. I mean, that thing look like the devil himself tacked it
onto her. “Whatchu think I oughtta do, Doctor?”

“I think you need to go to your doctor,”
Frank advised.

“Uh hun,” she said, “that’s exactly what
I told my husband, but he don’t think nothing’s wrong with me. I’mma tell him I
got a
professional
opinion. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

We finally made it to the kitchen. Pastor
made room for me and Frank at his table, right alongside the Dukes’s and Rev.
Martin. We ate, talked, and laughed so much that I forgot about being all
jittery with Frank around my church family. Truth be told, I had been worried about
how people would receive Frank, seeing as so many of them adored my husband.
But they actually seemed to kind of like the idea of me and Dr. Wilson. I had
gotten my nerves all worked up for nothing.

The younger ladies forbade me to help
them in the kitchen. Shooed me slamp out the way. “We got this, Mama B. You go
on and entertain your male
friend
over there.”

By this point, I figured I might as well
go on and get over their teasin’. I snapped my fingers. “I most certainly will,
thank you very much.” Couldn’t help but laugh at myself.

“Woooh!” Janice cooed. “Go on, then! If
anybody deserves to be happy in love, it’s you.”

I waved off her words and returned to the
table wondering,
Is that what they think? I’m in love?

Most of the peoples was gone out the
fellowship hall by then. Our table was clear except for Cynthia, seeing as the
other menfolk had excused themselves and gone back to the business office for
something or another. One of Frank’s old buddies pulled him outside to catch
up. 

I figured I’d stay inside until they
finished washing the empty containers so I could retrieve mine. I love the
church folk, but I don’t trust nobody to return my good Pyrex bowls after a
potluck.

Now that it was just me and Cynthia
sitting at the table, I noticed a certain coolness about her. Come to think of
it, she really hadn’t had too much to say to me. She’d talked around me, but
not to me.
Must be something on her mind
. “Cynthia, sweetie, you
alright?”

She blinked, picking at something on her
skirt. I followed her hand motions and saw that there was absolutely nothing
wrong with her skirt.

“Seem like something’s bothering you.”

She took a deep breath. “Mama B, I really
don’t know if I should say this.”

I felt my forehead crinkling up as I
witnessed the troubled expression on her face. “Well, if you don’t know, I
won’t press you.” If it’s one thing I hope I done taught women, it’s to keep
your mouth shut until God give you the words.

But she blurted out, “It’s…Dr. Wilson.”

She had done let the cat out the bag,
now. “Oh? What about Frank?”

“Just…be careful with him. He hasn’t
always been the kind, thoughtful,
faithful
man he’s presented himself as
today. Leopards don’t change their spots.”

Woman-to-woman, I knew what she was
hintin’ at.

Pastor, Rev. Dukes, and Rev. Martin
mozied on back in the fellowship hall just then. In a way, I was glad because I
didn’t want to encourage Cynthia to keep talkin’. On the other hand, I wanted
to know the details. How exactly did she know Frank? How exactly did she know
about his faithfulness, or lack of it?

Well, if I was anywhere close to hopping
on the “in love” train with Dr. Frank Wilson, I had reason to check my ticket
twice now.