Latter Rain (15 page)

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Authors: Vanessa Miller

BOOK: Latter Rain
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29
He left the hospital with his mind set on showing Nina that he could put things behind him. He could let stuff go. JC's funeral was scheduled for one o'clock. If he did fifty miles per hour up Salem, he'd make it to Wheat Funeral Home at about ten or fifteen after. Nina was too goodie-goodie. Always more concerned about others than herself. JC's trifflin' mama and daddy didn't need no prayer. They needed a butt whupping.
Isaac parked his car in the funeral home parking lot at about seven minutes after one. He got out of his car, took a deep breath and walked toward the entrance. Before he could get inside the funeral home, he passed by a couple of disgruntled family members. They were mad about having to chip in their last twenty dollars to bury JC when he still owed one of them fifty dollars.
Isaac shook his head. “Too trifflin' to get an insurance policy for their son,” he mumbled as he opened the door and stepped into the lobby area of the funeral home. Thugs and gold-diggers littered the lobby. They were laughing and high-fiving one another, talking about the last funeral they'd attended and how they went to the graveyard and toasted their boy with some Cognac.
Two ushers timidly entered the lobby with their index finger to their lips. “Shhhhh.”
“My fault, man,” one of the gold teethed thugs told them.
“The service has started. Can you please take your seats?” the usher said.
One by one, they all filed in like a cop had just picked them up for outstanding warrants and they were lining up for mug shots and fingerprints.
A teenage girl was singing, “Going Up Yonder” when Isaac took his seat in the back. The smirk on his face said that he didn't believe that JC was going up yonder. Why didn't they just tell the truth? Somebody needs to come up with a song that says something like,
I ain't right, I ain't never been right. I died like a fool and now I'm in hell
. But they probably wanted rhymes and rhythm, rather than reality.
Cell phones were going off two at a time. Black folks were leaning over in their seats or stepping out to answer their phones like they were some kind of tycoons making billion dollar deals that just couldn't wait until the end of a pesky funeral.
Isaac spotted Lou in the seventh row from the front. Lou waved and Isaac nodded in return. Mickey would have most likely sat next to him if he wasn't on lock-down right now. That's how Mickey and his crew got down. They'd kill someone, go to their funeral to watch their family mourn, then they'd go to the cemetery and spit on their grave. In the end, a bullet and disrespect was all a hustler had coming.
The song ended and Pastor Paul O. Mitchell took his place behind the podium. His hair was freshly trimmed. His black double-breasted suit emphasized the grief stricken expression on his face. Putting his Bible on the podium, he lowered his head. The congregation watched, Isaac watched, but still, he said nothing.
Shaking himself, Pastor Paul looked toward the people and said, “I am so tired of this.”
Isaac was struck by the sincerity of the man before him. He knew of Pastor Paul, had heard of the ever growing Revival Center Ministries on James H. McGee Boulevard. He had heard about the revelations that God gave this young pastor. He'd even heard about Pastor Paul's dynamic preaching style. But he'd never heard a word about Pastor Paul coming from the streets. Pastor Paul had not been a hustler like he had—but his sorrow showed that he cared nonetheless.
“I don't want to do another funeral like this,” Pastor Paul continued. “I don't want to lose another young man to the streets.” He moved from behind the podium and addressed the congregation. “How many of you out there are drug dealers?”
Isaac smirked. Like they are just going to wave their hands and say, “Here I am, Mr. Policeman, come and get me.” The smirk left Isaac's face when numerous hands went up.
“How many of you are prostitutes or drug addicts?” Again, hands flew up all over the building. “Now how many of you want to be free? Pastor Paul screamed the word
free
, and the place exploded with praise to God as one person after the next stood. Pastor Paul unbuttoned his jacket and threw it off. “All your life people have told you that you weren't going to be anything. You wouldn't be able to get out of the hell you're living in. But I came to tell you today ... that devil lied!”
Isaac's mouth hung open. Never had he heard a man preach with such authority and power. Did Pastor Paul truly believe that these people could change? Isaac had to ask himself why he didn't believe it. Why had he turned away from these people instead of reaching out and showing them the right way?
“Mike, come over here,” Pastor Paul called out to a young man seated on the platform with him. As Mike walked toward him, Pastor Paul told the congregation, “This young man is one of my armor bearers. But before Jesus changed Mike's life, he was doing so much crazy stuff in the streets that he tattooed the word ‘Thugon his arm.” Pastor Paul handed the microphone to Mike and told him, “Tell them a little bit about yourself.”
With his head held low, Mike took the microphone. He shook his head as he stood there for a moment. Lifting the mic to his mouth he told the people, “I was snorting about five grams of cocaine a day. Smoking, drinking, sexing up a lot of women—doing all kinda nasty stuff, but God saved me anyhow.” He lifted his head as a holy boldness rose in him. “Now I just want to be right. I found out that if God is for me, He is more than the whole world against me.” With that, Mike handed the microphone back to Pastor Paul and took his seat.
“My God can change lives,” Pastor Paul shouted. “Isaiah 59 says,
Behold, the Lord's hand is not shortened that it cannot save, neither his ears heavy that he cannot hear—but your iniquities have separated you from your God.
“But don't give up hope my people. Because another verse in the Bible goes on to say,
All day long I have stretched forth my hand to a gainsaying and disobedient people.
If you know that God has been stretching out His hand to you while you have been disobeying His laws, I want you to stand.”
Isaac looked around. Along with numerous hustlers, JC's mother and father were standing. He looked toward the back of the room and surprise gripped him as he not only saw Eloise, Mickey's mother—but he saw her stand up and raise her hands to God.
“If you really want deliverance, all you've got to do is stretch yourself toward God. Remember, His hand is not too short to save. I'm going to pray for you all and then I'm going to get back to the business of eulogizing JC.”
By the time Pastor Paul finished his message, Isaac was ready to let JC rest in peace.
30
Back at the hospital, Isaac went into Nina and Donavan's room, burdened down by the fact that he had gone against God's will when he attacked Mickey. Pastor Paul had opened his eyes to real ministry; helping to bring others up, rather than leaving them behind. He'd received that revelation at JC's funeral. He just didn't know what he was going to do with it. Walking over to Nina's bed, he checked to make sure she was really asleep. Then he lifted his Bible from Donavan's nightstand and turned to Psalm 119.
Isaac felt like a fraud, like one of those jack-legged preachers that Nina often spoke of. How could he sit down and open this Bible after what he had done? Bottom line, he had failed God. That knowledge wore heavily on him.
But how was it that he still felt God's call on his life? Why would God want him? Plagued by questions that received no answers, he read God's precious Word.
How can a young man cleanse his ways? By taking heed according to Your Word.
With my whole heart I have sought You; Oh, let me not wander from Your commandments!
As Isaac continued reading the Word of God, the breath of life was being blown back into him. This particular Psalm had 173 verses, but Isaac didn't care. He kept reading:
I long for Your salvation, O Lord, and Your law is my delight. Let my soul live, and it shall praise You; and let Your judgments help me. I have gone astray like a lost sheep; seek Your servant, for I do not forget Your commandments.
He bowed to the Lord and prayed. “Against you only, Lord, have I sinned and done this wicked thing. Create in me a clean heart and renew a right spirit within me. Let my soul live, Lord, and I will give you praise.”
His gaze swept the room and found his son. “Lord, I know I have no right to ask. You've already shown me more mercy than I deserve, but please, Lord, allow my son to live.”
He stayed on the floor for another hour, praying and petitioning God. “Lord, I'll never stray from your will again. Thank you for forgiving me.” He rebuked the demonic forces that were trying to place strongholds over his life and his son's. He rebuked 'til his rebuker was worn out, and God was listening. Isaac was sure of it.
Isaac lifted his eyes and saw tears flowing down Nina's beautiful face as she silently prayed. Maybe she was praying for him. Thank you, Jesus.
Donavan's right arm jerked. He squinted once, then twice. Isaac ran to get the nurse. “Look, something's happened,” he told the nurse, as he explained what he'd witnessed.
After standing over Donavan for two minutes without seeing any movement, the nurse told him, in a very calm voice, “It might have just been reflex motions. Come and get me if something else occurs.” She walked out.
Isaac smiled over at Nina. “It wasn't just reflex. He's waking up.”
Nina looked heavenward. “I sure hope so. She picked up her Bible.
This was Donavan's fourth day under. Isaac and Nina spent the night praying, pleading, and crying.
Massaging his son's arm, Isaac spoke his heart. “I can't wait 'til you wake up. I want to show you how important you are to me.”
Isaac sat and watched Nina read her Word. She was the sun, moon and the stars to him. Everything that is beautiful. If only she knew it. “What are you reading?” he asked her.
She looked up and gave him a half-hearted smile. “I'm searching the scriptures for verses on forgiveness. This has been harder for me than I could have imagined.”
Isaac nodded. “Hard on us all.”
Nina's head fell backward, her lip twisted downward. “I'm working on forgiving myself. I think that will help me to forgive the person who shot us. It's hard, you know. I mean, even knowing that my baby is in heaven, I still live with the guilt of being the one that sent him there.”
Isaac could relate. He had sent a lot of brothers in the opposite direction. Guilt like that didn't go away overnight.
Isaac stared deep into Nina's hazel eyes and asked, “What about me, Nina? Can you forget about some of the mistakes I've made, and trust
me
?”
Nina was silent. Trust was a big word. Too many issues between them. She wanted to respond, give him a glimmer of hope. But the words wouldn't come. Thankfully, Keith strutted into the room at that awkward moment.
“Hey, black people,” he called out to them.
Nina smiled at her friend. Her rescuer, whether he knew it or not. “It's about time you showed your ugly face around here.”
Keith rubbed the well-groomed mustache on his honey-coated face. “Woman, you know I am far from ugly. Now, if you had been talking about this guy,” he pointed at Isaac, “I could understand. Women hate to look at him.”
“I know,” Nina said, laughing. “I suffer every time he comes over.”
“Okay, okay, enough jokes on me. How'd you even get back here? This is a restricted area, Isaac told Keith as he pointed towards the door. “Go back out there and wait until we get bored enough to be bothered with you.”
“Man, I got tired of waiting. I told that nurse that I had to get back to Chicago. Bishop Sumler's blowing up my cell phone. He says that one of us has got to see this building project through. But I wanted to see my godson before I left.”
“Unnnn.”
Isaac, Keith and Nina each heard the unintelligible sound. But comprehension did not set in until the next, “Unnnn.”
“Oh, my God!” Isaac leaped to Donavan's side. His eyes were open.
“He's trying to say Uncle Keith,” Keith said proudly.
“No, he's not, Isaac said while rolling his eyes, irritation clearly in his voice.
“Yes, he is.” Keith walked over to the bed and smiled down at Donavan. “Boy, if I'd have known that you were waiting to hear my voice, I would have busted through security sooner.”
“That loud mouth of yours probably disturbed his sleep,” Isaac said in a disgruntled manner. Truthfully, he didn't care what did it. His son was awake. Let the rejoicing begin. “Thank you, Lord!”
 
 
Three days later, after having numerous tests run on both Nina and Donavan, and finding them to be in good health; they were thrown out of the hospital. Isaac moved into Nina's guest room, which doubled as a sewing room. “I'm staying, and that's that,” he told Nina, when she tried to protest.
A nurse came to the house once daily to bathe Nina. For the next week, she was bedridden. Donavan needed little help. Once he woke up, he was in rare form. Isaac made him rest a few hours each day, but for the most part, Donavan was feeling very little pain. It seemed that God had him in a deep sleep to totally heal his body. When her week of confinement was over, Isaac fluffed a couple of pillows on the living room couch and sat Nina down with some magazines and the book
Jezebel
by Jacquelin Thomas, one of Nina's favorite authors.
Nina tried to settle in, but Isaac and Donavan were in the kitchen. She could hear them arguing over something Isaac had fixed.
“I'm not going to eat that,” Donavan told him.
“Boy, you better eat everything on your plate. Don't nobody have food for you to waste.”
“Mama,” Donavan yelled as he ran out of the kitchen. Actually, he walked kind of fast; healed though he was, running was out of the question for awhile. “Look at this, Mama.” He dangled a dark piece of toast in Nina's face. “It's burnt and Daddy says I've gotta eat it.”
Isaac walked out of the kitchen laughing. “I guess you've never heard of a burnt offering. Boy, go bless that food and eat it.”
Donavan stomped back into the kitchen while Isaac handed Nina her breakfast. Nina grabbed Isaac's arm and asked him to sit for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”
“What's up?”
“What you're doing for me and Donavan is wonderful, but don't you think you need to go find your father?”
Here we go again. “Look, Nina. I'm grateful for what you're trying to do, but you've got to give me some space on that one.”
“All I'm saying is—”
Isaac held up his hands. “I tried, Nina. Okay?” He stood up and paced the room. He didn't want to tell her about the time he went to Usually Wrong's house. That would just be another strike against him. Running his hands through his hair, he looked back at Nina. “Do you remember that movie,
Antwone Fisher
?”
Nina nodded. “It was a good movie.”
“Yeah, well I could only watch it once, because it really got to me. The part that hit home for me was when he was in Denzel's office, talking about how he felt as a kid.” Isaac walked over to the window and looked out. “Antwone Fisher said something about rainy days, and that for one kid it rained too much.” He turned back to face Nina and sat on the window ledge. “That's how I feel when I think about my childhood. The rain never stopped. And every time I try to go back, I just get drenched all over again.”
Isaac looked like a little lost boy. Nina wanted to take him in her arms and rescue him from the rain, from the pain, and the unfairness of it all, but that was God's job. At that moment, it was as if God had opened her eyes so that she could see Isaac. Not for who he was today, or yesterday. She saw the man he would become. It impressed her; made her look a little deeper. It caused her to speak of things only God could have imparted.
“Isaac, there is a latter rain that will fall on you. It will wipe away all the pain that life has brought to you. Trust God, Isaac. Your latter will be greater than anything you've ever known. She'd recently told their son about his latter days being greater than his beginning. She believed with all her heart that father and son would grow in God and handle the mantle placed on them with grace.
“If only God could be that merciful,” Isaac said with sorrow etched on his face.
Nina stared at the man seated before her, trying to understand his complexities.
Who is he, Lord? What is he destined to be
?
Great in my eyes,
she heard the Lord whisper into her spirit.
Isaac stood, pointed at her ham, eggs and toast. “I hope yours isn't too burnt. I've never been much of a cook.”
Subject changed. “Well, when I get off this couch, I'll have to teach you a few tricks.”
He devoured her with his eyes. “I'd like that.”
They allowed themselves to get stuck in time for a moment; back to a time when they mattered to one another.
But it was so long ago, and so many things had happened to them since, Nina couldn't allow herself to linger. She turned her head and examined the eggs. “I'm sure this will be just fine. Thank you, Isaac.”
He sat next to her and adjusted her pillow. “That's what I'm here for. Do you need anything else?”
She wouldn't meet his gaze. Couldn't look up. He might be smiling, and she'd have to see those dimples that used to drive her wild. “I'm fine.” She waved him away. “Just go see about your son, and stop fussing over me.”
Please!

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