Heaven Forbid (7 page)

Obadiah’s movements were slow as he made his way to the hall and down the steps. He could hear his wife humming from the kitchen, even as the smell of collard greens and candied yams wafted up to greet him.
She’s gonna be mad as all get-out. But I’ve got to tell her.
“Probably knows already,” he mumbled as he reached the bottom stair.

Mama Max looked up briefly before placing the pan of freshly made biscuits into the oven. Just because service started at 8 a.m. was no reason for her not to make breakfast as she had almost every morning for the last fifty years. As she turned to flip the sausage, her mouth fixed into a frown from what she’d seen when she glimpsed the reverend: a fine man looking as spiffy as ever. Mama Max wouldn’t even try and lie to herself by saying the doctor wasn’t a handsome man of seventy-two. For one, he looked ten years younger, especially dressed up as he was now in his Sunday go-to-meeting clothes. Two, unlike other men his age, Stanley Obadiah still stood an unbent six feet tall. All of that preaching had kept his paunch to a minimum, although he put on some pounds with his sicknesses a while back. But he still had a head full of gorgeous gray hair, eyes that twinkled, and except for a crown and bridge on the back right side, all of his own teeth. Yes, her husband still cut quite a swath. Unfortunately, she knew she wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“Coffee’s on,” Mama Max said over her shoulder while reaching up in the cabinet for the sorghum molasses.

“Um.”

So you ain’t gonna tell me, huh?
Mama Max began to hum as she set a bowl of sugar and a carton of half-and-half on the table.
Jesus keep me near the cross. There’s a precious fountain…

“Somebody might be at church this morning,” Obadiah began in his deep, raspy voice. “You ain’t gonna like it if she shows, but I want you to know she might be there.”

“Who is it?”
The wicked witch of the south?
“I know you’re not going to say Dorothea Bates. Ain’t no husband of mine would have the nerve to come in here and tell me that.”

Obadiah sighed heavily before taking a drink of coffee. Mama Max pulled the biscuits from the oven and slammed the tin down on the stove. Obadiah jumped.

“Now, Maxine, I’m telling you so you don’t go off. She wants to come praise the Lord, thank him for bringing her through some things. How could I deny her the right to come to God’s house?”

“Why can’t she praise Him somewhere else? What’s she doing here, Obadiah?”

“She’s here to see Jenkins—the two of them have been…courting.”

This news stunned Mama Max into silence for a moment, and she decided she’d have to digest what she’d heard before talking about it. “Then why ain’t she heading to his church this morning?”

“First Baptist don’t have early morning service, and Jenkins has been a little under the weather, or so I hear.”

Mama leaned back against the counter, crossed her arms, and glared at her husband. “You heard it from Dorothea, no doubt. How long have y’all been communicating, Obadiah? And why did she feel the need to tell you her business?” In her anger, Mama Max began wiping off an already clean counter. “She’s got nerve, coming in my face.”

“Maxine, what happened between y’all was a long time ago. Let it rest.”

Mama Max brought over a homemade sausage biscuit, piping hot, and set it in front of Obadiah. “I’ll let it rest, Stanley Obadiah. Question is, will you?”

An hour later, Mama Max sat next to Nettie on the front pew. She swore to herself that she wouldn’t turn around, but rather, she’d watch her husband. If Dorothea Noble Bates showed up at church this morning, the news would be written all over Obadiah’s face.

The headline came across his forehead about thirty minutes later. Any other time, Mama Max would have thought it funny how Obadiah tried to keep his face neutral. But she saw it: how his eyes narrowed, just the littlest bit, and how his lips went into a hard line. There weren’t that many people at early morning service; she guessed around a hundred. So it wouldn’t be hard to see Dorothea when the chance to turn around came. Not that it would have mattered, Mama Max thought wryly.
Could have been a thousand people in this here building and Satan would still stick out like a sore thumb.

The choir stood as the offering was lifted. Nettie resisted the urge to cringe. She knew that the Lord could use anybody, but the truth of the matter was, most of the good voices had been swept out of the church with Obadiah’s broom. Those in the stand now were the ones who wouldn’t have had a shot when Nate was around. “It’s all right anyhow,” she said with fervor, as the off-key soprano soloist began a Baptist classic:

People began fanning even though it was forty degrees outside and no elbows showed. A few children giggled and were quickly shushed by stern looks and a couple open palms meeting chubby cheeks. The choir, such as it was, joined in with the chorus:

Mama Max almost smiled when she saw her husband rise from his chair and gesture for the microphone.
I knew he wasn’t going to let them butcher one of his favorite songs.
Then she remembered who was in the audience…watching.
Humph. Sucka probably just showing off.

There was no denying Obadiah’s powerful voice. A few parishioners stood and raised their arms toward heaven. Nettie joined in with her vibrant alto, and soon Mama Max was swaying and singing along with the rest of the crowd. They’d almost gotten through all of the verses, when a strong, pulsating soprano rose above the rest of the voices:

Mama Max gritted her teeth, resentment and jealousy jumping into her heart before she could stop it. She remembered the woman who’d chased her man in Dallas: tall, buxom, with long, thick black hair, plush red lips, and velvety light skin. And that voice. It was as strong and melodious as it had sounded forty years ago, as if an angel had come down from heaven to serenade. Mama Max could feel the presence of the Spirit, even through her annoyance.
Bless your enemies. Do good to them that persecute you.
Mama Max gave her head a little shake, trying to tune out the voice of God.
She needs your forgiveness. Give it to her.

As Dorothea continued to sing, Mama Max slowly turned her head toward the sound, along with the others. Her eyes widened briefly before she forced a neutral expression on her face. There, standing in the last row of the church, was Dorothea Noble Bates, a shadow of her former, beautiful self. The thick, shiny black hair that was once the envy of females was now white and thinning, pulled back in a sharp bun. Her face was sallow, with wrinkles and bags that hinted to a story of a difficult life. Dorothea had always been slender, but now she looked almost anorexic, her collarbone protruding from the neck of her dress in a grotesque fashion. But her voice was clear, pitch-perfect. And as she sang the last verse, she opened her eyes, looked directly at Mama Max, and then moved forward to the front of the church. Dorothea looked at Obadiah, whose voice matched hers perfectly, and at that moment, it was as if the two sang only to each other.

Mama Max lowered her head, as if to hide behind the wide-brimmed, bright orange felt hat she wore. But there was not enough lace in Palestine, let alone on the front of this headpiece, to shield her from what was in her own heart. The temporary pity she’d felt for Dorothea Bates had been replaced with intense anger, and she envisioned a scene that included her giving this nervy songbird a good thrashing.
How dare that hussy come to this church and take over the service like I’m not here!
Dorothea sang her heart out, and tears rolled down her eyes as she stood in front of the church. Obadiah remained in the pulpit and finally tore his eyes away from Dorothea to aim them toward heaven. Mama Max would never have admitted it, but the duet was beautiful, and many in the congregation were heartily enjoying Obadiah and Dorothea’s blatant worship of God, and subtle worship of each other.

The last note hung in the air, joined by choruses of “Amen” and “Thank you, Jesus.” A few of the older women got happy, and two nurses hurried over with Kleenex and fans. Nettie, one of only a handful of people who knew the Dorothea/Maxine history, wiped her eyes, even as she could almost feel Maxine’s anger burning the arm that touched her sleeve. Still, she felt the spirit of God even more and waved a hand in the air. “Hallelujah!” she said once, and then again. But those who hadn’t felt the Spirit, or weren’t caught up in their own personal praise, looked with curious eyes between Dorothea and Gospel Truth’s first lady.

Obadiah clearing his throat caused Mama Max to open her eyes and look up. The way he looked at her was hard to discern, and that made Mama Max, who always felt she could read her husband like a book, uncomfortable. She broke the stare with Obadiah and watched as Dorothea began walking to her seat.

“Praise the Lord!” Obadiah said in a booming voice. Various responses were shouted from a majority of the early morning worshippers. “Praise Him again, I say!” A louder chorus of “Amen” and other terms of agreement ensued. “I want to take this time to thank an old Gospel Truth member—well, when the church was Palestine Baptist—for letting God use her and the voice He gave her. Mrs. Bates, would you stand again?”

Dorothea had just sat down, having received a variety of handshakes and arm pats on the way back to her seat. She slowly and somewhat shyly stood up, acknowledging the claps and grins directed at her. She also made very sure not to look anywhere near the direction of Maxine Brook.

“I hope I’m not out of order in announcing this news,” Obadiah continued. “But Sistah Bates is back in Palestine for a happy occasion.” He looked questioningly at Dorothea and when she nodded slightly, continued. “Most of you are too young to have known Sistah Bate’s late husband, but he was a fine, God-fearing man.”

He couldn’t have feared God too much if he married that husband-chasin’ heifah.
Mama Max reached into her purse for a peppermint, hoping that sucking on it would prevent her from cursing this woman out in the sanctuary. She kept a slight, appreciative smile on her face, but Nettie could almost feel the anger pulsating from her friend. She reached over and gave Mama Max’s arm a little squeeze. Mama Max kept sucking and picked up a fan, trying to cool herself down.

“Well, God has once again blessed Sister Bates with a godly man, Reverend Reginald Jenkins.” At this news, a small murmur began, especially among the older members. “As y’all know, Reverend Jenkins has been widowed for some years now. So let’s praise the Lord for his faithfulness, that he can bring love into your life no matter your age. Reverend Jenkins would have worshipped with us this morning but is under the weather. Please keep him in your prayers.”

After nodding politely, Dorothea sat down. So far, the service had gone as she and Obadiah planned. She’d wanted her impending marriage to Reginald announced publicly, and she’d especially wanted Maxine Brook to be there. Dorothea didn’t want there to be any suspicions that the flame between her and Obadiah burned brighter and hotter than ever. Dorothea would have done anything to be near Obadiah, including marrying his one-time rival. Hopefully today’s announcement would put to rest any doubts of why she’d returned to Palestine.

Mama Max listened to Obadiah’s sermon on being thankful and nodded in all of the appropriate places. Anyone observing her would have a seen a dutiful, if not doting, wife. But looks can be deceiving, because underneath the façade whirred thoughts that were more determined than doting. The news of Dorothea’s impending marriage to a man who was closer to dying than living did nothing to lessen Mama Max’s distrust. Like Obadiah, Reginald Jenkins had long carried a torch for his now fiancée, forty-plus years that she knew of. Dorothea had chosen a married Obadiah over a single Jenkins then. Mama Max was determined to make sure history didn’t repeat itself.

“How about you come over for brunch tomorrow?” Princess said, reaching for her laptop. “You know Mama’s famous breakfast casserole is going to be front and center. And the fried turkey turned out delicious!”

“I’m only about ten minutes from your house,” Rafael countered. “I could swing through, grab a fried turkey sandwich now, and we could go hang out. C’mon, Princess, I’ve only seen you once since we’ve been home. And I’m leaving on Saturday to spend a few days in Saint Louis before going back to school.”

“Uh-oh. Are you getting ready to meet the folks? You and Lauren must be getting serious.” Lauren is the woman Rafael told Princess he’d been dating the past year. From what she’d heard, their both being from the Midwest and attending KU was about all Princess thought they had in common.

“No, nothing like that. She just couldn’t believe I’ve never hung out in Saint Louis. She wants to show me the sights, take me up in the arch and whatnot. Besides, I’ve already met her parents.”

“How do they feel about their daughter dating a brothah?”

“C’mon now, what’s not to like? I’m handsome, articulate—”

“Conceited…”

“With a bright future in politics ahead of me. Any mother would consider it a blessing that I grace their daughter with my presence. Just ask Tai.”

“Whatever, okay?” Her voice held agitation but Princess smiled because Rafael was telling the truth. Her parents had both given their seal of approval when she and Rafael started dating her junior year in high school. His parents were long-time members of Mount Zion. King had baptized Rafael and occasionally golfed with Rafael’s father. Tai and Rafael’s mother worked together on Sanctity of Sisterhood regional conferences. The families had been friends for years and had been pleased when Rafael asked Princess to the prom. Both sets of parents hoped it was the beginning of something long-term.

And while Princess liked Rafael’s sense of humor and thought he was cute, she always looked at him more like a brother than a boyfriend. Yes, they’d grown closer after attending the dance together, but aside from tongue dueling and a little touchy-feely, their relationship had not been physical, not that Rafael hadn’t wanted it to be. Princess still felt a little guilty about how she’d used Rafael as a smoke-screen when she started dating Kelvin during her freshman year at UCLA. Her parents had thought the two were carrying on a long-distance relationship, but Princess had been carrying on with Kelvin instead.
If I’d known then what I know now…

“So, what’s up? Am I coming through or what? I’m only five minutes away now.”

“I have to write this chapter, tonight, while things are fresh. We’ll hang out all day tomorrow if you want, promise.”

They hung up a moment later, and Princess slid off the bed and walked over to the desk she’d had since turning thirteen. She plugged in her computer, sat back, and took a deep breath. The glare of the numbers on the digital clock suggested it might be too late to begin writing, but at nine-thirty, Princess was too jazzed to be tired. She and Tai had talked tonight, after King had left to golf off the massive Thanksgiving meal, Michael and Timothy had hooked up with their respective friends, and Tabitha had gone to a movie/sleepover with a group of hers. Princess had been helping Tai put away food and tidy up. Her heart had beat rapidly in her chest as she gathered the nerve to have “the conversation.” But Mama Max’s words had given her strength:
She’s your mother, baby. Ain’t nothing that a mother’s ear can’t hear, and a mother’s love won’t cover.

“Mama, I need to talk to you.”

“What about, baby?”

“About the book I’m writing.”

Tai remained silent having already been told by Mama Max that Princess would be sharing something with her soon. Mama Max had gone quiet, however, when Tai had asked for details.

“Would you like to take a break?” Tai asked Princess. “I can put on water for tea, and we can finish cleaning the kitchen afterward.”

A few minutes later, mother and daughter settled into the well-worn Brook den. Many a movie had been watched while nestled into the soft tan leather of the large sectional couch. Princess pulled on the comfort of those memories as she sipped her orange spice blend.

“The book is an autobiography,” Princess began softly.

“Right, you told me that,” Tai replied in an equally subdued tone. She took a sip of her mint medley and waited.

“It’s mostly about what happened to me during my first year of college…things I’m not too proud of.”

“Most kids who are away from home for the first time do things that they later regret.”

“Remember what you whispered in my ear that day you and Daddy came to the condo and met Kelvin? You said that since I was experiencing grown-folks pleasure, you hoped that I was ready for grown-folks pain. Remember?”

Tai nodded slowly.

“Well…this book talks about the grown-folks pain you warned me about.”

The memories of that tense afternoon flooded Tai’s mind. The day she and King had flown to Los Angeles unannounced and found out their daughter had lied about living with a female friend and was instead living with the son of a woman Tai had despised for years. The day this son, Kelvin, had brought eighteen years of swagger into the room, defiantly pledging his love for Princess. The day King learned that his “little princess” had become a woman, and he’d come precariously close to a beat-down of the man who’d help take her girlhood away.

“You’re no different in that regard, Princess, from a majority of kids. We often listen to life instead of our parents. That’s a part of spreading your wings and coming into adulthood.”

This subtle empathy and encouragement opened the conversational floodgates, and for the next half hour, Princess gave Tai a glimpse into her life as the partying, drinking, weed-smoking girlfriend of the big man on campus, Kelvin Petersen. Princess shared her hesitancy at becoming sexually active, and how she’d thought this gift to him would solidify her place in his life.

“I thought he’d be my one and only, Mama,” Princess said. “Like Daddy was for you.”

Yeah, but I most definitely wasn’t your daddy’s one and only…
is what Tai thought. “Yes, your father is the only man I’ve ever known,” is what she said.

Princess continued, telling Tai about the scores of women who’d constantly thrown themselves at Kelvin, often right in front of her face, and how Princess had been determined to keep her man. Tai had almost cringed then, because some of her daughter’s words could have been her own. She told her mother about the night she’d discovered Kelvin and Fawn screwing in the laundry room while Princess had been partying just feet away. Finally, Princess told her mother the secret she’d not even shared with Mama Max. And then she waited for the rebuke. It never came.

“I’m so sorry,” Tai said, pulling Princess to her chest and rocking her softly. “I wish that you would have told me then and that I could have been there for you.”

“I couldn’t,” Princess whispered, silent tears streaming down her face and soaking Tai’s blouse. “I was so ashamed….”

“We’ve all done things we’re ashamed of, honey,” Tai said, stroking her daughter’s hair and back. “That’s when we have to remember it’s not how often we fall down, but how many times we get back up again.”

The two women enjoyed a silent embrace for several moments. Their tea grew cold. Neither noticed.

“The thought of what happened crossed my mind,” Tai said finally, as both women wiped away tears and Princess sat back against the sofa. “When you went to Germany and didn’t tell anybody, and then came home from college and were so emotionally distant. Remember me asking you about it?”

Princess nodded.

“I knew that you’d gone through something and that it had been deep. I’m sorry that it happened, but I’m glad you told me about it. I want you to know I’m always here for you, Princess, your daddy too. It doesn’t matter how old you get. You’ll always be our little girl.”

Taking a deep breath, Princess placed her hands on the keyboard. Even with her mother’s knowledge about what happened and her approval that Princess share with others the trial that became her testimony, Princess was hesitant about how to begin. The other chapters had flowed easily, how she fell in love with Kelvin, believed his lies, dabbled in drugs, and lied to her parents—in short, how she’d thrown away all her home training for a walk on the wild side. After each incident, however, she’d written about what happened on the other side, the lessons she’d learned and the Scriptures God had used to bring her out of her darkness into His light. Again, Mama Max’s voice came into her consciousness.
Just tell it,
she’d said to Princess, after suggesting the young woman’s journey be shared on the popular TV show
Conversations with Carla.

“That’s what I’ll do,” Princess said out loud. She took a long swallow of soda, said a brief, silent prayer, and began to type: