Mama B - a Time to Love Read online

  She took a deep breath, looked me up and down. “Well, looks like it’s working for you. But I can’t be on a strict diet. I can’t be on a strict anything. I’ve got to live my life the way I want to. That’s one thing losing my husbands taught me. Tomorrow’s not promised to anyone. You’ve got to live every day like it could be your last. And if that stuff I ate at Libby’s was my last supper, I can assure you, I am very disappointed.”

  The expression on Eunice’s face was so funny—eyes bucked, lips puckered—I couldn’t even get offended. I could see now how she won over people she’d never met. Maybe because she didn’t have no hidden agenda, didn’t pose no threat, people didn’t have a reason not to open up to her.

  “Well, when my great-grandson, Cameron, comes over, I do have to indulge him.”

  She looked around again. I assume taking in the grandfather clock, the china cabinet, the custom drapes and heirloom quality furniture, all the results of God’s blessings set on Albert’s hard work and good money-sense. “You live in this big house all by yourself?”

  “Yep. Just me and Jesus.”

  “And you don’t want a man like Dr. Wilson living here with you?”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek, thinking about her question. “Naw. Can’t say that I do. I guess if God says different, I’ll take a husband. But other than that, nope.”

  She gave an exaggerated frown. “I don’t blame you. Men have all kind of problems. They leave facial hair all over the sink.” She held up one finger.

  “Ooh, tell me about it,” I raised my hand in agreement.

  She shot up another finger. “They still think gross stuff is funny.”

  “You got that right, too.”

  “Now, I’m not trying to be vulgar, but my second husband used to fart so loud and hard, one time I thought somebody was knocking on the front door. And girl, I said, ‘who is it?’”

  Lord knows I don’t normally sit up and talk about this kind of unlady-like stuff, but she sure was telling the truth.

  “And don’t get me started on the snoring.” She threw her head back on the couch, gaped her mouth open and started honking through her mouth and nose like…well, like a man!

  “Eunice, stop!” Whoo! My eyes got to waterin’ from laughin’ so hard.

  “Graaaaaaw, uuuuuuuuh, graaaaaaw, uuuuuuuuuh,” she inhaled and exhaled.

  “Girl, you need to quit!” I couldn’t hardly see her no more for the tears, and my stomach had started aching, thanks to her perfect re-enactment.

  Then she leaned over and began laughing at her act, too. Only her giggles led to a coughing spell she had some trouble coming out of.

  “Eunice, you alright?”

  “Water,” she croaked.

  I rushed to the kitchen, grabbed a bottled water from the ice box, and rushed back to her side.

  She took a few swallows. “Mmm, thank you.” Eunice coughed a few more times. “I haven’t laughed like that in a very long time.”

  “I don’t see why not. You’re a comedian,” I told her.

  “No. I just call it like it is. Men give us plenty to joke about, if nothing else.”

  Eunice yawned, and I took that as my cue to lead her to the spare bedroom she’d be using. “You ‘bout ready to retire for the night?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Eunice rocked herself up from the couch and followed me down the side hallway to my daughters’ old room.

  Hadn’t been too long since my granddaughter, Nikki, and my grandson had used that room to escape her deranged ex-boyfriend. And shortly after that, my nephew, Derrick, had stayed with me while he was on judge-ordered lockdown.

  Now, I know the Lord would definitely have me open my doors to family members. But that night, as Eunice and I worked together to spread out the fresh sheets on Debra Kay’s old bed, I had to listen and let the Spirit minister to me. See, it’s easy to feel obligated to help your own flesh and blood. Even though Derrick was my nephew by marriage, he was still blood-kin to my late husband and my kids, so I expected myself to be there for him.

  However, Eunice was different. She was quite literally off the streets. Even though she was only staying for the night, I knew this was a big step for God and me.

  Thank you, Lord, for giving me a heart to share Your love with people I don’t even know.

  At the time, I didn’t realize exactly how much love-showin’ He had in store for me.

  Chapter 6

  The Lord got me up extra early Saturday morning and took me through First Corinthians. Took a whole page of notes in my journal—some on division within the church, wisdom from His Spirit, the apostles, immorality in the church, marriage, food, freedom in Christ, love, and the gifts of the Spirit. His word is so rich!

  Individually, the notes made sense, but taken together, it seemed like a hodgepodge. But I know He’s purposeful in all His ways, ‘specially when He’s training up His children. I bowed my head and prayed in the Spirit for a while, but no extra revelation pertaining to those verses transferred into my mind. Instead, I found myself praying for Eunice and her son, whatever problems they got between the two of them.

  I also felt led to pray for my pastor and for my fellow Mother’s Board member Henrietta’s continued healing following the diabetic coma. So far, her long-term memory was perfect, and her speech was almost back to normal. I laughed and told the Lord I wished He’d made her a little quieter, but I know He didn’t really want a shy, soft-spoken Henrietta. That ain’t the way He made her.

  Still, I wasn’t clear on what exactly He wanted me to meditate on or see in First Corinthians. So, I ended our quiet time with a prayer for my own understanding. “Lord, I know you gon’ make it all clear to me, so I’m just gon’ wait and see what You want me to hear from Your word. I know You are faithful to teach me, and I praise You in advance. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

  I checked in on Eunice. She was sprawled out on the bed like somebody who’d collapsed after spending fifteen hours working in an underground mine. I mean knocked O-U-T, out! If it hadn’t been for her belly heaving up and down to show her breathin’, I might have gotten worried.

  Gently, I closed the door and thanked God again for allowing me and Libby to help Eunice. No telling when was the last time she spent a night in a bed, let alone a bedroom all to herself.

  I left her to sleep for a little while longer. Didn’t have nothing on my agenda until noon. I could get to Libby’s, to Mesquite, and back to Peasner within two hours, so there was no particular rush.

  After all the time I’d spent in the Word, I really wasn’t hungry. Praying first thing in the morning fills me up, but unless I’m fasting, I do make a practice of eating breakfast to get my metabolism going. That’s one thing they taught me and Libby back when we met in the weight loss class: you got to keep your metabolism working like a big dog until a few hours before you to go to bed. Otherwise, it’ll take off work early and leave everything you eat to turn into blubber.

  Eunice had already made it clear she didn’t like to eat healthy stuff. Normally, I wouldn’t contribute to somebody’s deathly habits, but since she was probably all healthed-out from Libby’s cooking, and since she was only an overnight guest, I decided to whip up some old-fashioned pancakes. Just so happened, I had some real butter left over from when I made the 7-up cake for Cameron the previous weekend. (I thought he was gonna eat himself sick!)

  I threw a little salt and pepper on some turkey bacon and left the yolks in the scrambled eggs. A little low-fat cheese topped off the eggs—with the right brand, nobody can tell the difference about cheese.

  A few minutes after I’d finished all the cooking and rinsed off the last skillet, I heard Eunice’s cane tapping up the hallway. She’d changed from the one-size-fits-all muu muu I let her borrow back into the clothes she’d been wearing the day before, fanny pack and all. “Morning, B.”

  “Back atcha.”

  “Smells so good in here, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

  I chuckled, “Well,
if heaven smells like bacon, my late husband is rejoicing right now.”

  I noticed how Eunice took a look at my Bible, then sat clear on the other side of the table, as if the Word might bite her.

  “You hungry?”

  “Most certainly,” she squeaked.

  Decided I’d sit on Eunice’s end, keep her company. Soon as I set her plate down, she tore into it. Bless her heart, probably only used to eating pre-packaged, cold meals.

  As usual, I said a blessing over my food and then took a bite of pancake.

  “Just so you know, my mother taught me to pray over my food, too. I’m no heathen.”

  It tickles me when people who were brought up the right way as children apologize for strayin’ from their home-training. Their conscience be confirming the promise of God. It’s just a matter of time before they come back to their training, according to the Word. “You alright with me, Eunice.”

  She angled her forehead toward my study area. “I’m only saying, since I see you’ve been reading the Bible, now you’re saying grace and all. I say grace in my heart. Thank God every day for my life and what little health I’ve got left.”

  “He is good,” I affirmed the praise. “Do you get to church often?”

  She shook her head emphatically, her jowls jiggling accordingly. “No way, Jose. I don’t do church.”

  “Why not?”

  “I like God and Jesus just fine, but I don’t like rules.”

  “What kind of rules?”

  “Can’t do this, gotta do that. Can’t wear this, talk like that,” she griped, emphasizing her words with a swing of her fork. “But when you catch them breaking their own rules, they start preaching about forgiveness. Huh! Church is a farce.”

  Now, y’all know I love the church. Me and Albert donated the land for the church I attend to this very day. Next to Jesus and my family, the church is my heart. “Not every church is like that.”

  Eunice rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You and I both know if I walked into any church right now wearing these shorts and this shirt, the people would stare me down.”

  I wouldn’t say it out loud, but people were probably staring her down every place except the homeless shelter. Not too many women with her shape were brave enough to wear a fitted T-shirt anywhere, let alone a church. “That may be so, Eunice, but you can’t throw out the baby with the bath water.”

  The corners of her mouth tightened. “B, you’re a fun person. You’ve got your life and I’ve got mine. Let’s leave it at that.”

  Seeing her struggle to rise to a standing position, I grabbed the empty plate from her hand so she could push herself up.

  “Thank you.”

  “Sure thing. You ‘bout ready to head to Mesquite?”

  “I’m gonna take a smoke outside first before we leave, if that’s alright with you.”

  “No problem.”

  Eunice helped herself to the front porch while I finished getting dressed for the day. I unfastened the rollers from my head, let my silvery gray curls fall, then swept them over to the side with a wide-tooth comb. At my age, I couldn’t help but thank God I still had a head full of hair.

  Next, I dusted my face with powder. A little ruige on my cheeks, eye brow pencil to fill in the rest of my arch. I picked a peachish-red lipstick and pressed my lips together to spread the color out.

  I’d already laid my clothes out for the day. White eyelet blouse with a pair of denim pants, a little dressier than jeans but not too formal. Leopard-print ballet slippers added a little spunk to my attire. I took in my whole presentation in the full-length mirror handing on the inside of my closet.

  Not bad, sister.

  I reckon my gettin’ ready took all of fifteen minutes. I still hadn’t heard Eunice come back in the house, but since I have no earthly idea how long it takes to smoke a cigarette, I didn’t get a notion to check on her for a bit longer.

  Chile, by the time I went outside to see about Eunice, she was nowhere in sight.

  “Eunice?” I called for her.

  No answer.

  “Eunice!”

  My neighbor’s dog barked in response.

  I stepped off the porch and around to the side of the house. Then, I checked the other side. No Eunice. With hands on my hips, I stood in my front yard and took a whole three hundred and sixty degree turn. Still, no sign of her. “Lord Jesus, where did she go off to?”

  Then my mind got a wild thought—did somebody kidnap her? Snatch her right off my porch? “Lord, protect her, in Jesus’ name.”

  Unsure of whether I should call Libby or call 9-1-1, I swiveled to go back inside. That’s when I noticed the greenback sticking out from under my flowerpot. I lifted the bright orange container and retrieved a fifty dollar bill. On it were three words written in blue ink: “Thank you, B.”

  Chapter 7

  I called Libby right away. She didn’t seem too surprised. “I told you her son said she’s basically a grownup runaway, B.” Nonetheless, Libby promised to try and leave a message for Eunice’s son so he’d know his mother was on the loose again.

  I was glad to know Eunice hadn’t been taken against her will, and I appreciated her token of gratitude, but the whole situation didn’t sit right with me. I done seen people run away from a lot of things. A safe ride home with a caring person wasn’t amongst the list of reasons.

  The situation with Eunice bothered me so, I couldn’t pay Ophelia and Henrietta no attention on the ride over to Hope Temple (which we now called our “sister church”) for the fourth-Saturday women’s fellowship.

  “B, you alright back there?” Ophelia asked, eyeing me through the rearview mirror.

  “I’m fine.”

  Henrietta countered, “Yeah, you quiet as a church rat.”

  Now, everybody knows the saying is church mouse, not rat. Sometimes, I couldn’t tell if Henrietta was trying to make fun of me on the sly, or if she really was confused.

  “Don’t mind me none,” I told them both.

  Ophelia and Henrietta had done got closer since Henrietta had the stroke. Since they lived a few blocks away from each other, Ophelia had made it her ministry to tend to our sister when Henrietta’s daughter couldn’t.

  “How your great-grandson doin’?” Henrietta asked.

  “Oh, Cameron’s fine. He should be over again in a few weeks.”

  Henrietta could switch subjects on you in a split second. “You know, my cousin’s boy been in and out the hospital.”

  “Really?” Ophelia prompted her to continue.

  “Yeah. They say he got autism of the mouth,” Henrietta informed us with an authoritative nod.

  Both me and Ophelia been around long enough to know that when somebody’s mind is slippin’, it don’t do no good to try and correct ‘em all the time. That just make ‘em agitated. They already know something ain’t right. No need in makin’ the announcement.

  The meeting with the women of Hope Temple would, hopefully and prayerfully, be one of legacies the Lord let me leave behind. Our church already had a Titus 2 wives’ ministry going strong. While we were fellowshipping with the other ladies, we were also helping them get theirs started. One of their preachers, Rev. Dukes, had been the interim pastor at Mt. Zion while Pastor Phillips was tending to his wife during her last days on earth.

  I had some issues with Rev. Dukes and his wife, Cynthia, at first. But the Lord saw fit for us to come to a resolution and work together. Ever since then, we’d had it on the agenda to join forces with the young and old at both our churches to try and teach the things women used to pass on in each other’s homes, back before we all left our houses and started workin’. I got nothin’ against a woman having a job outside the home. But we all foolin’ ourselves if we believe it ain’t costin’ us something.

  “I hope they gon’ listen to us good,” Henrietta swapped the subject again. “I ain’t got time to be wastin’ on no hot-tailed, hard-headed young folk. My days short enough as it is.” She started chewing on her bottom lip, rock
ing back and forth gently in the seat.

  “Well, even if they don’t, Henrietta, God knows your heart. He’ll reward all we do in His name,” Ophelia calmed her.

  “Yeah,” Henrietta agreed, “God got the record. And you know what? It sure was warm in my house last night.”

  “Is that right?” Ophelia kept with the flow. “What’d you have the temperature on?”

  “I had it on twenty milligrams,” Henrietta declared. “But you know, sometimes doctors don’t know what they’re talking about. I bet his house ain’t warm at night.”

  “I know that’s right,” I could only agree. Inside, it made my heart sad to hear Henrietta’s jumbled up thoughts. I had to keep praying for restoration, and keep thanking God that at least she could still walk and talk and go to the restroom all by herself. Some people can’t even do that much.

  As I helped Henrietta get out of the car, I noticed she was wearing a pair of thick black socks with white, dressy church shoes. I stole a glance at Ophelia. She shook her head and I knew right then this must have been something Henrietta insisted on. We both let it go.

  Cynthia and the rest of the women in attendance from Hope Temple gave us all big hugs. Then, she opened up with in prayer and passed out the agendas. Our Titus 2 leaders, Janice Jamerson and LaTonya Wilcox, were first to share. They, along with two other women from Mt. Zion, had four tables set up in four corners of the fellowship hall. Then they led a speed-learning class. Kind of like speed-dating, they said.

  Chile, I ain’t never heard of no speed-dating, but if that’s the way they meetin’ up these days—spend a second saying ‘hi’ and then move on to the next one—no wonder folks havin’ such a hard time stayin’ married!

  Anyway, there was one station for learning how to make a graham cracker crust, one for making natural cleaning products out of lemons and oils, one for twisting natural hair, and the last one for how to get stuff for almost free by matching coupons with the circular ads. In half an hour, the women from Mt. Zion had rotated all twenty or so of us through the four stations.