Knowing (22 page)

“My, my, Kim. Somebody’s been praying for you, girl.”

“You know, I just thought of something. Is it all right if I go to church with you and Jackson and the kids Sunday?”

“Anytime, Kim.”

“Truth is, I want to get married in the church and I’ve got to start visiting a church on a regular basis, or join one, before I can ask the pastor if I can have my wedding there.”

“Lots of people get married in churches they don’t belong to. Has Bill asked you to marry him?”

“No, but I think he will. For some reason I can’t explain why, I feel the need to have what my parents share — you know — that closeness. Might even join the church too, like Mama and Daddy did.”

And now Kim’s hopes and dreams of a future together with Bill were like a bittersweet memory.

Like the twilight fringe of the moon floats the dust of stars, and lovers soon to be dust soon become dreams. Dreams are wishes wished silently; desires held inside, visions of tomorrow’s yesterdays, fantasies we hide.

Kim’s eyes filled with tears as the image of Bill marrying another woman sneaked into her thoughts. She pulled her eyes away from the computer screen and rested her head on her folded arms. Tears poured from her heart. All the emotions that had built up from her father’s illness, her mother’s odd behavior, and Bill’s rejection collided like a tidal wave.

Randall peeked inside her office, but seeing the uneven rise and fall of her hunched shoulders, backed slowly away, allowing her privacy.

Early Wednesday morning Mae Thelma made a telephone call. She managed to catch Jackson before he left the house, explaining that she needed to talk to him about Robert Earl. Mae Thelma told Jackson that she’d spoken to Robert Earl and he wanted to know if Jackson would come over and let his car engine run every now and then. He didn’t want the battery to die. That request from her husband, luckily, gave her the excuse for asking Jackson if he would teach her to drive.

Jackson extended an invitation for Mae Thelma to ride along with him to pick up his luggage. He’d give her a few driving tips along the way.

“That was a mighty fillin’ dinner Ginger cooked Sunday,” said Mae Thelma, looking at Jackson’s handsome face as they sped along the freeway toward Metro Airport. “I was so hungry my navel was ticklin’ my backbone. Didn’t know these women from the North could cook good ole down-home food like us southern folks.”

“Yeah, she’s a pretty good cook,” said Jackson appreciatively. “Only thing she can’t cook good is egg custard pies.” He clasped the steering wheel tighter, weaving the truck between the slow-moving traffic. “The filling is good, but she can’t seem to get ’em thick enough.”

Mae Thelma tucked that little information away for the time being. It would be helpful later, when she chose to use it. “I been apraying day and night for Aunt Hattie and Robert Earl. I was glad to hear that she came through her operation all right.”

“Thank you, Mae Thelma.” He uttered a short sigh. “Seems like your prayers were answered for my mama, but not Robert Earl. Little Bubba told me last night he was sentenced to four to seven years in Jackson.”

“Was. Monday morning a week back.” Her eyes were calm and clear; she’d cried for days wondering what she and her boys were going to do. She’d counted on him beating the case, and assumed he would be home before spring. Now she had to find another plan for her and her two sons’ future.

“You were right to ask, Mae Thelma. You need to learn how to drive. Don’t make no sense to have that car sitting in the garage catching dust.” He patted her on the arm. “Don’t you worry none, by the end of next week, you’ll be good enough to drive in the Indy Five Hundred.”

He gave her a smile that left her heart aglow. As she felt the tender magic of his hand touching her, she longed to have his arms around her. For several moments, she studied the richness of his smooth chocolate skin, inhaling the clean scent of his cologne, his full lips, dark and luscious as ripe blackberries.

Sitting beside him so close and alone, she felt the power of his attraction. His muscular body, his sexy voice, his intelligence and maturity all spelled Mr. Wonderful. Mae Thelma rehearsed over in her mind one of her favorite passages from the Bible, which she’d hope would soon bear truth, as she looked into his eyes:

How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights! This thy stature is like to a palm tree, and thy breasts to clusters of grapes. I said, I will go up to the palm tree, I will take hold of the boughs thereof: no also thy breasts shall be as clusters of the vine, and the smell of thy nose like apples; and the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak. I am my beloved’s and his desire is toward me.

She smiled as his hazel eyes met hers for a brief moment. He handed the parking attendant the toll and walked around to open her door. Her long, loose hair was entangled in the seat belt. As she worked to free her tresses, Jackson reached over to help. Mae Thelma felt as if each hair on her head was a living, breathing tentacle of sexuality as Jackson manipulated the silky lengths with his large hands.

She flapped her lashes as though she were about to take flight, uttering a polite thank you when he helped her down from the truck. Her heart stopped short as his breath whipped across her cheeks. At that moment she knew, knew that she needed a man . . . this man.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Aunt Katherine,” Kim said, wiping her reddened nose, “but . . . I knew you’d understand.” She wept into the phone. “Bill came into the office today, and saw me and my friend Randall together . . .”

“And?”

“Aunt Katherine, we’re just friends, nothing more. Randall was consoling me— his arm around my shoulder — just trying to make me feel better. My boss, Mr. Cameron, and I have been at odds lately.” Her voice trailed off with embarrassment. “That’s not completely true,” said Kim feeling the need to confess and rid herself of the guilt she felt.

“What, you and Randall?”

“No, Mr. Cameron and I.” She pressed her balled fist in her mouth, as tears crowded her eyes. “Aunt Katherine, I feel like killing myself, I’ve been such a fool!”

“Kim!” Katherine shouted into the phone, “I don’t ever want to hear you talk like that again! Do you hear me?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean it. I feel I’m being punished . . . punished for the wrong I’ve been doing.” Her words came faster as she spat them out quickly before she could snatch them back. “I should have stopped, I should have resisted, I should have been stronger, I should have —”

“Kim, what are you saying?” Katherine was now concerned.

Kim spoke in an almost childlike voice. “I sometimes feel that it would be easier on everyone concerned if I just wasn’t around.”

Katherine understood so well how she felt. Sometimes life just dealt you a bad hand. Yet she’d never entertain the thought of taking her own life. Her life was consumed with loneliness when she wasn’t with Ginger and the kids. There was nothing for her to do all day. No one to talk to. No one to complain to about her pains and ailments. No one to cook for. No one to love . . .

“I’ve been having an affair with my boss for the past three years.” There, she’d done it. It was out in the open. She heaved a sigh of relief and, closing her eyes, told her aunt about her indiscretion.

“I was weak, Aunt Katherine. It hadn’t happened since I met Bill. I promised myself in order to earn the love from Bill and, hopefully, his proposal of marriage, that I wouldn’t continue the affair. I truly love Bill. Though he deserves better — I’m not ready to give him up. It’s become more and more apparent to me since my father’s illness that I want what Mama and he have. All the screwing around and all the men I’ve been through, trying to avoid a commitment, has stopped. I should have been running toward a relationship instead of away from one.”

“Kim, honey. Don’t judge yourself too harshly. Everyone makes mistakes. Lord knows, I have. Do you think I don’t have a past that I’m ashamed of? I’ve done some things in my lifetime that I wouldn’t dare tell my kids, and wouldn’t want them to find out about either. Even though they’re all grown, they still wouldn’t understand.”

“You . . . Aunt Katherine?” said Kim, amazed at her candor and frankness.

“Yes, me. You got part of my blood running through your veins. We’re creatures of nature. And nature intended for us to be sexual. We don’t always choose the right mate, but we choose by instincts and survival. Sometimes you get caught up in the web of lust and adventure and you don’t even wish to escape.”

“That’s how it was with Mr. Cameron. I was the adventuress scheming to win a higher position in the office, climbing the executive ladder ahead of my colleagues, looking down on them as though they were fools, doing it the hard way — while all the time, unknowingly, I was being finessed by a skilled con man, hip to what I was doing all along. I ended up being the usee instead of the user.”

“But you’ve learned?”

“Yes, I’ve learned the hard way. Bought sense, instead of borrowed sense, like my mama used to say.” She smiled at the thought of her innocent mother, but it quickly faded when she admitted it would kill her if she knew her daughter was nothing more than a high-class whore.

“I don’t care how he threatened you, Kim. If I were you I’d change my job. You’re educated, and Jewel’s shown me all the awards you’ve received from the firm.”

“Mama showed you my awards?” Kim asked incredulously.

“She might not talk to you as much as you would like, Kim, and she’s just too overprotective of you, but she’s proud of you. Always has been. She knows she’s too critical of you, but she thinks she’s too old to change her ways, electing to just be silent. Be still, as they say in the church.”

“Be still. I’ve heard her say that before. Just be still.”

Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.

Stand in awe, and sin not: commune with your own heart upon your bed, and be still. Selah.

But if ye shall do wickedly, ye shall be consumed, both ye and your king.

He that is unjust, let him be unjust still: and he which is filthy, let him be filthy, still: and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still: and he that is holy, let him be holy still.

Why do we sit still? Assemble yourselves, and let us enter into the defended cities, and let us be silent there: for the Lord our God hath put us to silence, and given us water of gall to drink, because we have sinned against the Lord.

O thou sword of the Lord, how long [will it be] ere thou be quiet? Put up thyself into thy scabbard, rest, and be still.

Katherine uttered the verses from the Bible. A heartfelt sigh escaped her trembling lips.

“Aunt Katherine,” said Kim amazed. “I didn’t know you could recite the Bible.”

“My neighbor, Lavern Washington, is a pastor, has been for the last thirty years. He’s recited those same words to me so many times when I came to him begging for forgiveness of my sins. Now I know them by heart — I get down on my knees and pray. Pray for understanding and guidance.” She was silent for a moment with her own prayer.

Why aren’t you listening now Lord, listening to my silent prayers? she prayed silently. Help me through these troubled times of my life, Lord. And dear God, please my niece to glorify your name and cleanse her soul and heart of her sins — Thank you, Jesus. Amen.

Kim was comforted.

Your Precious Love

Sitting at the desk in her bedroom, Kim studied the silver-framed pictures that covered her dressing table. Old photographs her mother had given her. One was of her parents when they were married in 1939. She smiled, admiring their clothing. Her mother looked especially youthful at the tender age of eighteen wearing a beaver coat with a large raccoon collar, her hair done up in crimps and spit curls haloing her narrow face. She was beautiful.

The aged black-and-white pictures had faded to more of a burgundyish brown color. Her father wore a herringbone three-piece suit that fit him more snugly than he would have liked, as he had told her on several occasions. His strong, proud African features were plainly as handsome at twenty-one as they still were today at seventy-three.

When she arrived home from work Kim found her mother in her bedroom, asleep in her rocking chair with the Bible facedown in her lap. She wore an old blue tattered housedress, with a pink fringed shawl covering her shoulders. Fluffy yellow slippers were half on her bare feet. As Kim turned to leave, the scent of a dozen fresh roses overpowered the newly painted room, and she wondered who had brought them.

Kim had brought home dinner for the two of them, planning to surprise her mother with some of her old favorites. After talking to Aunt Katherine, she realized she needed to spend more time with her mother. Dinner at home for a change would be a start.

She’d stopped at Erma’s Soul Food Restaurant on Six Mile Road to pick up her order of turkey and dressing, collard greens, macaroni and cheese, potato salad, candied yams, and a single order of peach cobbler, with a scoop of French vanilla ice cream on the side.