Mama B - A Time to Speak (Book 1) Page 2

  She smacked her lips, whispered so Cameron wouldn’t hear us. “Mama B, you know my daddy don’t talk to me.”

  Son said the same thing about her. I could tell Nikki didn’t really want to talk about her father. “How’s your mother?”

  Her face smoothed back out again. “She’s fine. You know my Momma—off seeing the world. She went on a cruise with some of her friends to celebrate their fiftieth birthdays.”

  “She know you’re here?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I glanced behind Nikki and saw four bulging suitcases parked on my wooden porch planks.

  “Sweetie, you planning on staying in Peasner for a spell?”

  She looked up at me with her slanted, brown eyes—same as my husband’s and her father’s. Real fast, she darted those eyes away from me. “Mama B, I’m in a really bad situation right now. We need to stay with you…for just a little while.”

  Freeze.

  I done heard that one plenty of times before. Peoples evicted for not paying rent, wives leavin’ their cheatin’ husbands, teenagers not getting along with their parents. Every time, I listen. Wait for the Holy Spirit to tell me what to do because I don’t want to call myself trying to help somebody, but end up hindering what God really wants to do in their life. Some folk need a few good homeless, hungry, sleepless nights to make the voice of God real clear. Other folk need a soft bed and a warm meal before they can hear Him. He knows, and He has to let me know, too.

  Now, I have to be honest and say the first thing came to my mind wasn’t nothin’ from the Lord. I was thinking about me and all the stuff I didn’t want to have to put up with like an eight-year-old running around my house and a twenty-something year-old doing whatever it is they do. Share my TV. Plus I gotta cook for three now. I know Nikki old enough to cook for herself, but I might as well go ahead and cook for everybody long as I’m in the kitchen already.

  What else? Gotta wait for some more hot water before I take my shower. Water bill, power bill, gas bill higher.

  All this is coming from me, now, and I’m waiting on the Holy Spirit to agree with my thoughts. He didn’t. And since the Lord didn’t co-sign on my veto, I had no choice except to put myself aside; wait until He say something different. Wasn’t for Him and Albert’s life insurance, I wouldn’t have a place to rest my head, either. Thank You, Lord, for a home that I can share.

  Unfreeze.

  “You and Cameron get those suitcases and come on in here. I’ve got something for us to eat all ready.”

  “Thank you, Mama B.”

  I should have known the first words out of Cameron’s mouth would be pertaining to food. “What’d you cook?”

  “Turkey stew.”

  He had the nerve to draw up his face. “Turkey stew?”

  “Yes, sir, with lots of vegetables. Chocolate cake for dessert.”

  A big smile spread across his chubby little face; cheeks just begging for a kiss and a pinch. “I like chocolate cake.”

  I can tell. “Only after you finish your stew.”

  At my word, they followed me to Debra Kay and Cassandra’s old bedroom. Since I mentioned dessert, apparently Cameron became my best friend. “Mama B,” he said, breathing hard as he rolled suitcases down the hallway, “does the cake have frosting?”

  “Sure does. Chocolate on chocolate.” Wouldn’t be no extra food to give away so long as he was around.

  After they set down their suitcases, we all washed up and met at the kitchen table to eat. I blessed the food and asked the Lord to make Nikki’s time with me profitable for His sake. We all said, “Amen” and started eating.

  I love my grands, but letting people move in with you always bring some kinda problem. Might be a big problem, might be a little problem. But it’s always a problem, that’s for sure.

  Chapter 4

  Angela Freeholt took me up on my offer and come knocking on the door at eight-thirty the next morning. I could tell by the look on her face something wasn’t right.

  “Y’all come on in,” I said, holding the screen door open for them. Seein’ as this was business, I switched on my proper, professional words. “Would you like some tea?”

  “Oh, no ma’am.” The gentleman, wearing a white button-down shirt and a pair of khaki pants, sat on the edge of the love seat. Obvious to me, he didn’t plan on being in my house too long.

  Angela sat next to me on the couch. “Mr. Colbert, this is Mrs. Beatrice Jackson. Like I said, she’s a church mother. Do you mind telling her what you told me?”

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jackson. And you can call me Dustin.”

  He raised his behind off the chair a tad so he could lean over and shake my hand. His appearance matched his name - dusty red hair and a dusting of blotchy freckles.

  “Good to meet you, too, Dustin.”

  He started his talk, “I’m afraid there’s going to be a delay in the processing of the church’s insurance claim.”

  “I don’t understand. We pay our premiums in a timely manner.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Jackson, you’re correct. Unfortunately, the last several cases of church copper theft in this area turned out to be inside jobs. We need to conduct an investigation in conjunction with the local police department to be sure this claim is genuine.”

  So, they thought one of us stole it. Ain’t that somethin! Pay all this money all these years, and the minute you want some of it back, they got to make sure you ain’t the crook.

  “How long will it take to conduct the investigation?” Bet not take us into the heat of July.

  “Roughly ten business days, Mrs. Jackson. Depends on the communication between our office and law enforcement.”

  I certainly wanted to give Mr. Dustin Colbert a piece of my mind, but I knew better. This man had a job to do at work and probably mouths to feed at home. I reckon his boss probably had done told him they was losin’ too much money behind these copper thieves; had to slow down what’s going out ‘till they could get more to come in.

  Well, wasn’t no use in me getting all riled up and actin’ all ugly on behalf of Mt. Zion and Jesus Christ Himself. Couldn’t have Dustin going home and telling his wife the worst meeting he had that day was with the people of God.

  “Dustin, Angela or me will be calling you to check the status of our claim on a regular basis. Right?” I nodded at her, she nodded back. No harm in letting him know we meant business.

  “I welcome your calls,” he said, standing and pulling out two business cards. He gave one to me and one to Angela.

  “Thank you, Dustin. Angela will talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  We walked him to the door and let him out. As soon as he backed out my driveway, I had a few words with Angela in the kitchen. “You call him every day so he can be sure and keep our folder on top of his stack.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And, sweetie, why didn’t you call Rev. Martin so he could be in on this meeting?”

  She shook her head, shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I really didn’t think I needed him here.”

  These young girls got to learn, but I guess it ain’t their fault if nobody ever showed ‘em what all a man is good for. “I know you smart and you perfectly capable of handling business. But don’t underestimate the power of a man looking another man in the eyeballs when it come to stuff like insurance and used cars, hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she said. “Mama B, since it looks like we can’t meet at the church for a while, can you call the Mother’s Board members and tell them to cancel until the building opens again? I’ll get in touch with the other groups.”

  “Well…” I sighed. “I suppose the Mothers can meet here. Matter fact, all the women’s groups can meet here ‘til the church gets fixed. Maybe one of the brothers will open up a home for the men to meet. No need in stoppin’ everything on account of the enemy’s work. Can’t give him what he wants.”

  “You’re right, Mama B. Thank you. You are so helpful.”


  I caught a little twitch in her voice. “What’s the matter?”

  “Seems like since I became the church secretary, we’ve had all these issues. You think maybe I’m a jinx?”

  “First of all, these ain’t issues. When the church had a skunk family in the attic, that was an issue. Second, honey, you a child of God. Jesus lives in you, you live in Him, can’t be no jinx in you.”

  We caught hands and prayed, asking God to oversee the claim, help the church get situated in the meanwhile and, most important, give Angela a clearer revelation of who she is in Christ. How much He love her, what all He done for her on the cross.

  She left the house and I went back in the kitchen for my study. Added her name to my prayer list. Jinx my foot! I wish a jinx would come up in my house. Be a whole bunch of ugly! Made me mad just thinking about how the enemy done deceived her with all this jinx foolishness. Also made me think maybe she’s dabbling in some stuff she ain’t got no business. Horoscope, tarot, palm readin’, or listening to a bunch of superstition, God forbid.

  Soon as I finished my quiet time, here come Cameron’s little feet shuffling into the kitchen. Rubbing his eyes, stretching. “Morning, Mama B.”

  “Morning, Cameron.”

  Though he and I hadn’t spent much time together at all, he came right over and hugged my neck like we’d been doing this every day of his life. And I hugged him back just the same. He scooted right up next to me, looked down at the papers, pens, and books I had spread out across the table.

  “Whatchu reading?”

  “Oh, the Bible and a little book about patience.”

  He yawned. “You writing too?”

  “Yes. I keeps a journal.”

  “Whatchu write in there?”

  I tilted my head to one side. “Sometimes I write stuff I want to remember from the Bible or a book. I write stuff to God, and I write down what He tells me back.”

  Cameron’s eyes got big as saucers. “God talks to you?”

  “All the time.”

  “What does He say?”

  “Well, He answers questions. Prayers. Tells me what to do. What not to do. Who needs help. Such and thus.”

  Then his eyes squinched up, suspicious-like. “Mama B, are you telling me the truth?”

  Lord knows my BigMomma would have knocked the fire out of me for questioning her, but I got no problem answering kids so long as they ain’t disrespectful. “What make you think I’m not tellin’ the truth?”

  He leaned over my arm, cupped his mouth and whispered into my ear, “’Cause I already know about Santa Claus.”

  “Aaaah.” I sat back, winked at him. “Well, trust me on this one, Cameron. Santa Claus ain’t even in the same category as God.”

  A little bitty dimple showed up in his smile, made my heart all warm inside.

  Son was missing out.

  Cameron switched to his favorite subject. “Whatchu got to eat?”

  “Let’s see. We could make oatmeal.”

  “Okay.” He hopped up from the table and followed me to the cabinets.

  “Bend down there and get me a big pot.”

  Before I knew it, Cameron was sprawled out on the floor, reaching all the way back for my good, slow-cooking pot. This child coming in handy already.

  Cameron loaded his hot cereal with almonds and cranberries. Said he’d never seen brown sugar before, but he wanted to try it. We had almost finished eating before Nikki got out of bed and made her way in.

  “Morning,” she mumbled, pulling her robe closed.

  “Hey, Nikki-Nik. You want something to eat? We got a little oatmeal left.”

  “Nosiree. I don’t eat breakfast. I’m trying to lose this weight.” She patted her behind twice. She hovered over Cameron a second, then bent down to kiss his forehead.

  “Nikki, the last thing you need if you tryin’ to lose weight is a empty stomach. Sit down here and let me make you some oatmeal. Fiber keep you full all day.”

  Nikki laughed and plopped herself in a chair. “If anybody knows how to keep it together, it’s you, Mama B. Still got your shape, your smooth, even brown skin. Your hair is gray, but it’s that pretty, shiny gray. You live on your own with no help. What gives? And how do you stay so small?”

  “God’s been gracious to me. But I don’t know if I’d call a hundred and sixty-five pounds small, seeing as I’m only five seven.” I stirred a little water and a pat of butter into the last of the oatmeal and turned on the fire.

  “Mama B, I haven’t weighed a hundred and sixty-five pounds since I was in junior high.”

  I turned from the counter and faced her. “Chile, how tall are you?”

  “Five six.”

  “And how much you weighin’?”

  “Two-ten, two-twenty.”

  “Ooh, yes, that’s too dadgum big.” Lord, forgive me. Had to reel my face back to the neutral zone and try to keep from making her feel bad.

  “Well, you sure doing a good job of hiding it. And you cute as a button, Nikki-Nik.”

  She laughed again and put her chin in between her plump palms. Looked up at me with those brown eyes like I was her long, lost momma. “You know you’re the only person who can talk to me like this. Go ahead, though. Tell me the secret to looking like a model all my life.”

  I told her, “I haven’t always shopped in the regular section of the store. Had those four kids, packed on the pounds in my thirties and forties.

  “But when I hit fifty and my friends started going down with heart attacks and strokes and going to dialysis three times a week. I took my big behind to that group weight loss program over at the First Baptist. Thank God He let me live long enough to change my habits ‘cause, honey, I done seen the end of a lifetime of wild eatin’ and I tell you one thing, it surely ain’t pretty.

  “Anyway, that’s my secret.”

  “What’s your secret?”

  “Eat right and exercise.”

  She smacked her lips. “That’s no secret, Mama B.”

  “Folks act like it is. But then again, folk act like reapin’ the benefits of livin’ by the Book is a big surprise, too.”

  Chapter 5

  Soon as I got off the phone catching up with Debra Kay – she the only child I really need to talk to if I want to know what’s going on with all my kids – I heard Libby Maxwell’s car pulling up in the driveway. Got myself up from the table and joined her outside.

  One thing about Libby: she was always on time or early. Made sense, though. She didn’t have CP time, seeing as she wasn’t colored. She went by whatever it say on the clock.

  That was one of the first things I didn’t like about Libby. And she said she didn’t like how I come draggin’ into the weight loss meeting right at the stroke of ten, but she overlooked me and I overlooked her. We ended up making friends with each other while we was shrinkin’ down to a healthy size.

  That was over twenty years ago. We’d been walking Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings ever since, weather permittin’.

  Libby wore a pink jogging suit and white tennis shoes. We almost matched except my shirt had a little blue on the sleeves.

  “Hey, Libby.”

  “Mornin’, B.”

  She motioned toward Nikki’s green Chevy truck. “Look like you got company.”

  “My granddaughter and her son.”

  “Nikki? The one we prayed about last week?”

  “In the flesh,” I laughed.

  She took off walking, swinging her arms, I joined right in step.

  “How long she stayin’?”

  “Can’t rightly say. We haven’t had the talk yet. Right now I’m trying to see where she is in her head. Said she’s coming from a bad situation.”

  Felt my heart rate increasing and I stretched my stride a little wider. Libby got us up to doing a mile in twenty minutes. We walk from my house to hers and back, or vice versa when I drive over to her house every other time. Two miles altogether.

  “Well, at least you finally get to
see her. You talked to Son?”

  “Not yet. He might not be too happy about her being here. You know he thinks everybody always out to take advantage of me.”

  “Guess we better pray the Lord work on his heart next.”

  She asked about Geneva Phillips.

  “They still got her up in that fancy cancer place in Oklahoma. Rev. Martin don’t know much.”

  “Well, sometimes no news is good news.”

  We got to talking about Libby’s family, too. Her baby girl, Macie, just finished her Master’s degree in nursing. Jeremiah, her grandson, hurt his leg real bad playing soccer. Said they’d probably have to put a pin through his bone.

  “Bad thing is, he’s only thirteen. Need the Lord to heal him in a way that won’t stop him from growing right,” she said.

  “Amen and amen.”

  By the time we got to the middle of our walk, we were both a-huffin’ and a-puffin’. We made a pit stop for a drink of water at Libby’s house. Her husband, Peter, come in with the Dallas Morning News in one hand, a cane in the other.

  “Morning, B.”

  “Right back atcha, Peter. Any good news in the paper?”

  He hugged me and shook his head. “Now, B, you know better than that. Way better than that.”

  Libby grabbed the paper from him. She didn’t like to see him without a free hand since he took a fall the year previous. Libby always did her best to make sure Peter got everything he need. Always making a fuss over him, and he let her. That’s how it was with me and Albert, too.

  “How are things at the Mt. Zion?”

  I didn’t want to advertise the enemy’s work, but since Peter asked, I told him the truth—starting with the good news first. “Well, we got an insurance policy, so everything’s gonna be fine. But somebody stole the copper out the air conditioning system.”

  He straightened up a bit. “Don’t say?”

  “Sure did. They gon’ fix it in a little while, though. We just got to figure out a way to have our meetings and whatnot ‘til they get it together.”

  “B, you know the doors of First Baptist always open if y’all need the building for somethin’,” he offered kindly. Nice to have a friend whose husband is a pastor.