41
Sister Betty slowly hung up the phone. Its ringing had startled her, waking her from a deep sleep. The last person she'd hoped to hear from when she was too tired to talk or think straight was the Reverend Tom. He'd called for an update and to just chat.
She hadn't meant to tell it all but she did. Actually, she'd spilled her guts as soon as the reverend asked, “How are things going?”
It wasn't until Sister Betty had told everything that she'd wanted, and finally stopped speaking, that the reverend had a chance to talk.
“Wow!” That was about all the man of God had said. He didn't quote a scripture or whisper a word of prayer. Instead he'd finally added, “My goodness, Sister Betty.” Reverend Tom was totally surprised. “You actually thought about killing someone?” It was as though that revelation trumped all the other news she'd shared.
Sister Betty had repeated the story twice before the Reverend Tom fully understood all the craziness that accompanied it.
“The way I see it,” the reverend said, “we have a couple of miracles that occurred.”
“What would they be?” she'd asked, because in her mind, she hadn't seen anything but confusion. Didn't God say He wasn't the author of confusion? So what was the miracle?
“The fact that it took many years to happen, but Mother Pray Onn finally got saved.” He chuckled to take away his obvious implication, before adding, “And a dying man has found a daughter who obviously needed to find her family.”
“I can see your point.” She was actually too tired to see it but he was the pastor, so she went along. Her heavenly line to God had become somewhat static, so she wasn't about to disagree.
“Of course, the ultimate miracle is that Mothers Blister and Pray Onn have not shut down the Luxor like they almost did the conference center.”
Sister Betty suddenly realized that perhaps she'd not told every detail. She'd left out the part where the two mothers nearly shut down the casino. Somehow the reverend hadn't discerned that bit of information.
They finally got around to praying. Both had accepted the fact that perhaps God had used the reverend in His ultimate plan to send Sister Betty to Las Vegas. She was somehow supposed to be a part of the glue that would hold all the situations together. And then there was the status of her spirituality. She'd discovered she wasn't quite as saved as she'd thought.
There was almost a week left before she was to return to Pelzer. Sister Betty wondered if she'd return as saved as she was before she left.
After the reverend hung up, Sister Betty turned down the air conditioner in the room. She'd worn the same clothes for the past twenty-four hours and she was beginning to smell a bit overripe. A shower was definitely in order.
Opening the closet, she took out a change of clothes. She noticed a stain on her white skirt and to her it seemed almost prophetic. She'd never worn a white outfit with a stain. And now she would. Much like her present life, where she seemed to find a rebuke at every turn, she thought her spirituality was stained with her disobedience. Sister Betty knew that obedience was better than sacrifice. All the tithing, praying, witnessing and such, they meant nothing if she would still disobey God. It seemed that lately all she did was repent.
For years, Sister Betty was so wrapped up in her own opinion of her salvation, she'd obeyed the letter of the Lord's Prayer but not its spirit. “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.”
While Sister Betty was upstairs in her hotel room showering and praising God for revelation, Chandler, Zipporah, Bea, and Sasha were just arriving back at the hotel.
No one had spoken during the ride back from the hospital. Chandler had looked back every so often making sure Zipporah was all right. Bea had gently taken Zipporah's hand. When Zipporah hadn't resisted, Bea had squeezed it to comfort her.
Sasha had taken her sunglasses from her bag. She'd donned them and pretended to nod off. All the while she'd watched Zipporah, still trying to see any resemblance to the baby they'd left in Amsterdam, New York. Aside from the apparent leaf birthmark and the uncanny resemblance to her other niece, Ima, she couldn't. But Jasper had known for years, it seemed, and it was now a done deal.
Chandler helped each of the women from the cab. Weariness prevented Bea and Sasha from saying an unkind word during the ride. Everyone's common concern for Zipporah outweighed any silly arguing. When Chandler offered to escort Bea and Sasha to their rooms before taking Zipporah to hers, they declined.
“Get some rest, June Bug,” Bea ordered. “Sasha and I will be just fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“We'll be okay,” Sasha replied and pointed to Zipporah. “You take care of Zipporah.”
Sasha's reference to Zipporah surprised them. It was the first time in Zipporah's presence that Sasha had acknowledged her existence.
Zipporah shuddered a little when Sasha said her name. Why she had, other than the fact that up to that moment the old woman had ignored her, she didn't know. But she was too tired to respond. So much had happened and she had the beginnings of a migraine.
Mercifully, the elevator door opened at Bea and Sasha's floor. The two old women said their good-byes as they exited, yawning loudly as they did.
“You think he's gonna stay with Zipporah?” Bea asked.
“How would I know?” Sasha snapped. “I certainly hope so.”
They watched one another closely as they started to inch toward their rooms.
“I think I'm gonna just lie down and pass completely out.” Bea yawned again and tried to stretch. Her back gave out a loud crunching sound as if it snapped back into its normal C-shaped form. “Ouch!”
“You're up to something.” Sasha stopped walking. “I know you, Bea Blister. You don't try to stretch unless you getting ready to battle.”
“Sasha, you're too suspicious.” Bea looked away quickly to avoid Sasha's scrutiny.
“Okay, maybe I'm just too tired.” Sasha moved ahead of Bea, tapping her cane as though she were using it to feel her way. “I'll see you later.”
“Okay,” Bea said as she again yawned. “You lie down and try to relax.”
Ten minutes later, Bea and Sasha bumped into each other at a nearby corner near the Luxor. Not wanting to be seen, each had sneaked out to hail a cab. Not noticing each other in the crowd, they'd almost knocked each other down vying for the same cab.
Sasha's accusation was straight to the point. “You're a sneaky something.”
“What would you call what you're doing, Sasha?” Bea asked as she slapped Sasha's hand away from the cab door.
“Handling family business, that's what I call it.” Sasha grabbed at the door again and this time she made it. But before she could give the driver directions, Bea had entered through the other side.
Fortunately for the cab driver the women were going to the same place, so they didn't have to argue about that. Unfortunately, for the cab driver, it was Bea and Sasha he carried.
Â
Â
Chandler, for the second time that day, escorted Zipporah into her suite. This time he sat quietly, preferring she speak first if she wanted to talk. She hadn't spoken a single word since he'd placed her into the cab.
He watched her as she went into the other room. Surprisingly she hadn't closed the door completely. He could hear her moving about. There were sounds of a closet door opening and closing as well as a dresser. Perhaps she was changing out of her clothes to lie down.
Chandler took out the letter and the pictures again. He reread the letter slowly, drinking in the words as though somehow they'd nourish his mind for the next step. He didn't know how he was going to reveal all he'd discovered to Zipporah.
He thought about what Sasha had said earlier. According to Sasha, Jasper had known all about Zipporah when he'd shown up at her sister Areal's home a couple of days ago. Sasha had thought that Areal had called him to let him know that she'd discovered something disturbing in Las Vegas. But Jasper sat there and never said a word to Areal.
Sobbing came from Zipporah's room. By the time Chandler reached her room, she was balled up like a fetus. He didn't know whether to go to her or just back out of the room and let her tears flow. Perhaps, she needed to cry over what she didn't know and what she was soon to learn.
Chandler's cell phone rang out, dictating his next move. He backed out of the room, closing the door completely behind him. He looked at the phone and saw Alicia's name. He quickly pushed one of the phone's buttons, sending it directly to voice mail. Knowing Alicia probably would call Zipporah, too, he took her phone off its hook.
Chandler dragged one of the chairs over to the bedroom door and sat. Zipporah's crying tugged at him. He was so angry and frustrated. That time it truly had nothing to do with what he wanted from Zipporah.
As bad as that moment seemed for Zipporah, Chandler was grateful that he hadn't brought Sasha and Bea along. At least those two old women were asleep in their hotel rooms and out of his way, he assumed.
Chandler couldn't have been more wrong. Bea and Sasha were wide awake and entering the Las Vegas hospital at that very moment.
42
Bea and Sasha had finally agreed to call a halt to their bickering for the sake of Zipporah and because they had run out of nasty things to say. They paid the cab driver, Bea giving him a dollar for a tip.
Bea and Sasha had rehearsed their lies in the ride over and convincingly got passes to Jasper's room. They weren't aware of his earlier setback as they entered the unit clutching their Bibles and looking pious. So when one of the nurses seated at the nurses' station smiled and indicated they could enter Jasper's room, they thought their plan was working.
Though neither Bea nor Sasha was much younger than Jasper, when they entered, they were shocked. When they saw all the tubes, IV lines, and heard the persistent whirring sounds of the machines, they almost had heart attacks. Coming eye to eye to their immortality hadn't occurred to them.
And that's when they both flipped open their Bibles and started reading from the first book of Psalms. An hour later they were still standing in the middle of Jasper's room reading aloud. Neither woman planned on touching or speaking to Jasper until they'd reached the 150th psalm. They knew that David was a murderer, a liar, an adulterer, and so much more; and if he were still a man after God's own heart, then they would take their lead from reading his psalms. They didn't think there could be much of a difference between David and them.
Of course, neither of those old battling mothers thought about reading from Ephesians 6:11. “Put on the whole armor of God so that you may withstand the wiles of the devil.” They'd much rather have compared their walk to that of David's, and with good reason. The only thing they hadn't done like David was to tend sheep, but they sure loved to walk in sheep dip.
Â
Â
Sister Betty's attempt to fall back to sleep after showering, failed. She tossed and turned, sending covers to the floor and nearly twisting her arthritic legs into pretzel shapes. Finally she gave up trying.
Looking at the clock, she realized that most of the morning was gone. Surprisingly, she wasn't hungry. She tried to push away thoughts of the mess she'd become involved in with the other mothers. She couldn't.
Sister Betty dressed, ignoring the small stain on her white dress. She drank another cup of cayenne tea, her second since she'd gotten up, and called Chandler on his cell phone. She was almost surprised that he answered, thinking perhaps he might've been busy.
“Godmother,” Chandler whispered into his phone, “are you okay?”
“I'm fine, June Bug.” Sister Betty wondered why he whispered. Perhaps they had a bad connection. “I was just checking in on you.”
“Everything's about as good as can be expected. What can I do for you?” Chandler needed to hurry Sister Betty off the phone. The only reason he'd bothered to answer was because he thought something might've happened. His nerves were just that edgy.
“I don't need anything,” She should've let it go at that, but she just had to ask. “Any further news from Bea and Sasha?”
“They're in their rooms, probably knocked out.”
Sister Betty's knees started jerking as they always did when something evil was amiss. “Are you sure?”
“That's what they said when I last saw them.” A feeling of heaviness started creeping into Chandler's shoulders as though a boulder had just dropped on them.
“And you believed them?” Sister Betty took her free hand and pushed hard on her knees to stop them from jerking. She couldn't.
“Oh, God,” Chandler blurted, “I just hope they didn'tâ”
“Didn't what?” By then Sister Betty's left knee was about to knock out her right eye. It was jumping just that high.
Sister Betty quickly decided she didn't want to know anything more. She slammed down the phone hoping she hadn't hurt Chandler's eardrum. She couldn't even go to the bathroom without hopping. That's how unstable her legs became.
Chandler had shut the cover to his cell phone about the same time Sister Betty had hung up. He hoped he hadn't hurt her feelings but he'd about had enough drama. Zipporah was in the room whimpering. Alicia was trying to track him down for what, he didn't know. He was trying to keep his godmother in the dark, although if she called him June Bug once more, he was going to scream. And now he was too nervous to find out if Mothers Blister and Pray Onn were actually in their rooms.
Deep inside, he knew the old women weren't. But whatever they were up to, far too much time had passed since he'd left them, to stop it. So for the second time in two days, Chandler prayed.
Â
Â
Meanwhile at the hospital, Bea and Sasha kept up the charade.
Although they'd told Chandler that they thought it was best that Zipporah be told the truth, they personally weren't convinced. With that in mind, they'd decided that Jasper was in need of some personal prayer and the laying on of hands. Neither knew that Jasper was so medicated he couldn't have felt anything or hollered even if he were on fire.
With the last psalm read, they went to work on Jasper. They might've gotten away with snuffing him out if Bea's chubby paws hadn't become entangled in a mess of wires that fed his digital monitor. She wasn't really trying to kill him as much as trying to convince him to stay away from Zipporah and to remain quiet.
Sasha, in the meantime, was supposed to be the lookout. She reasoned that Bea already had her fingerprints in the penal system from her time spent in lockup for various crimes against society.
“Is he convinced yet?” Sasha asked sharply as she peered through the half-opened blinds to the room for uninvited company. It was code for “Is he dead?” Depending on who asked, should it ever come up at trial, it could be explained another way.
The old women were turning their spirituality off and on as though they only had a limited amount to use. They were trying to save their own butts and extinguish Jasper's.
But Jasper's alarm had silently gone off at the nurses' station. When Sasha saw white uniforms racing toward the room, she stepped out of the way, her tiny body hidden behind the door. In the meanwhile, when the first of several doctors arrived, they found Bea with her hand caught up in the mesh of wires and tubes feeding life to Jasper.
Sasha kept her cool. No one saw her, head bowed humbly, creep out of the room without one tap of her cane heard. She fled, leaving Bea behind and caught holding the wires.
No one but Bea Blister could've bluffed her way out of what was obviously a hot mess. As soon as the doctors burst into the room and she saw where she couldn't extricate her hand from the entanglement in time, she started babbling. She'd dropped her head pretending to be praying, but it still sounded more like babbling.
“I bind these wires that have ensnared this poor brother,” Bea declared. “You shall have no power over this man.” She yanked her fist to show them and the devil she meant business, and of course, it pulled out the main plug to Jasper's oxygen tank.
The alarm on the oxygen tank sent a high-pitched sound throughout the ICU. That wasn't supposed to happen because, after all, there were critically ill people there and quiet was essential.
One of the doctors had the presence of mind to rush behind the unit and push the plug back in. The other two doctors worked on releasing Bea from the grip of the tubes and wires. They hoped none of what they'd done placed the patient in more danger.
“Ouch,” Bea winced, and with her free hand balled up, she accidentally hit Jasper in his chest instead of the other doctor.
Jasper's quick spurts of internal activity would've gone unnoticed because of all the noise, but the machine monitoring his vitals started beeping wildly.
“Jesus.” Jasper woke and called out, “Lord, help me.”
The doctors tugged at Bea's hand again. This time it came loose. They pushed her to the side and went to work on Jasper.
“Thank you, Lord.” Jasper's hoarse voice grew stronger. “I thank You, Lord.”
“Just hang on, Mr. Epps.” The doctor was trying to keep Jasper from saying anything more while they replaced his mask.
“I healed him!” Bea screamed. “It was me that healed him.”
The alarms stopped and the beeping sounds from the monitors became steady. There wasn't anyone in the room, with a medical degree or not, who could refute her. Somehow, with Bea's craziness, she'd managed to wake Jasper, who had enough drugs in him to make Rip Van Winkle jealous. They took his outcry for a good thing.
Either he'd been healed by Bea or he was just that stubborn and was going to see his child no matter what. Either way, Bea was asked, in a very polite manner, to leave so the patient could recover.
Bea said she would and as she backed out the door, she balled up her fist and then threw him a quick warning sign. Using two of her fingers, she pointed first to her eyes and then toward his.
Sick or not, Jasper couldn't misread the ghetto sign for “watch your behind.” She was showing him that there was more where that came from. The alarm went off again as Jasper struggled. The way he was struggling the doctors thought that he was trying to get out of the bed to get to Bea.
“Ya'll need me to heal him again?” Bea asked sweetly, stopping just short of opening the door.
“No!” the doctors responded in unison.
“Okay,” Bea replied. She threw Jasper one last eyeball-to-eyeball sign and left.