Mama B - A Time to Dance (Book 2) (13 page)

Soon as I asked,
he said, “I don’t know, Mama B. Let me see if I can get off early enough to go
to Home Depot, get the supplies, get to her house and build it, then get back
to your house by six.”

“Okay. I’ll wait
for your call.”

We all sat and
waited in Henrietta’s room for Derrick to let me know.  Henrietta had the
television on one of those court shows, and she just hooted and hollered every
time the judge went at the defendant.

“Serves ‘em
right!”

Me and Rev.
Martin just looked at each other. Henrietta was definitely back.

When Derrick
finally called me, he said he’d gotten permission to leave at twelve, so he’d
have plenty of time to put the ramp in place. But he wanted to know, “Isn’t
Henrietta the same woman who slapped me?”

I stepped out
into the hallway to answer his question. “Yes, she is. And she called me some
ugly names, but that’s all in the past.”

“So…you want me
to take off work early and lose money to go build a ramp for a person who hit
me?” he summed up his protest.

“Yes, I do.”

“You’ve got to
be kidding me.”

“No, I am not.
And you, of all people, need this lesson. There’s nothing more humbling than to
help somebody who done slapped you in the face. Now you know how Twyla feels.”

My nephew built the best wheelchair ramp
I’d seen in all my life. I mean, he got that board flush with the ground, had a
gentle slope on it, and as sturdy as though it had been built with the house. I
was so proud of him.

And he did it
all before five-thirty!

Even Henrietta
remarked, “Boy, you some kinda handyman?”

“No, ma’am. I
work at a credit union,” he replied.

To which she
smacked her lips and said, “I do believe you done missed your calling.”

Derrick had to
rush off, and Rev. Martin realized his time was finished as soon as we got
ready to take Henrietta back to her room so she could get some rest.

“Be sure to call
me if you have any trouble, Henrietta,” the reverend said on his way out the
door.

Ophelia and I
changed Henrietta’s clothes, fixed her a meal, and got her comfortable in bed
just in time for Lanetta to take over.

“Mama, I’m
home!” she called from the front door.

We all gathered
around Henrietta and said a prayer, thanking God for His power and for
continually healing Henrietta. Then Lanetta walked me and Ophelia outside to
the van.

“Thank y’all so
much for taking care of her. You know she talks about you two all the time. Miss
Ophelia, she absolutely loves your long, pretty hair. And Mama B, my mother
thinks the world of you. Your clothes, your cute little car, your family, how
you open your house to those in need—really, everything about you. If I
didn’t know you two were friends, I’d think she was jealous.”

“My, my, my.” I
suppose, at some level, I knew all this. But to hear Lanetta say it really
touched my heart, especially seeing as I would probably never hear those words
from Henrietta’s lips.

The Lord’s keepin’
me so well must have made Henrietta feel like a neglected stepchild.

Ophelia and
Lanetta talked a bit more. Seems the folks at the tax-help organization had
gotten the city to delay further action until Henrietta could recover enough to
enter some kind of plan to pay a portion of the taxes back.

“Praise God,” I
commented, though I wasn’t givin’ their conversation much attention.

When me and
Ophelia got in the van, I asked her, “You think God’s got favorite children?”

“Yep. Just like
me and you do,” she said, turning on the ignition. “And don’t you go feelin’
guilty ‘cause you got more than most.”

“But I love my
kids all the same,” I said. “I provided for all of them just the same.”

“Hmph, so did
I,” she agreed. “But I remember one time, I gave Lester all the money he would
need for his lunch for the week on a Monday. By Thursday, he said he didn’t
have no more money left ‘cause he’d spent it on extra ice cream and chocolate
milk and such. So, it wasn’t that I didn’t provide. Don’t mean I didn’t love
him. Just means Lester wasn’t a good steward of what I
did
gave him. No
sense in me givin’ him too much at once ‘til I could see he’d matured enough to
oversee extra money.”

“But you didn’t
let him starve,” I challenged her.

“Naw. I packed
him a peanut butter sandwich and a thing of juice. He was my child. I had to look
out for him even when he didn’t look out for himself, seein’ as he was bearin’
the Pugh name and all.”

I giggled at her
analogy. “So, you sayin’ me and you is Henrietta’s peanut butter sandwich?”

“Yeah, and we
the good, chunky kind—with the peanuts in it.”

We laughed and
praised God for using us all the way home.

Derrick didn’t
sleep the night before he was to appear before the judge. I know because, every
five minutes, I’d hear him running water or closing a door. Around three
o’clock, I heard him pacing in the living room.

I thought about
getting up to pray with him, but the Spirit in me vetoed the notion; told me to
stay put while the Lord dealt with Derrick. Some things be like that.

A few hours
later, I was up getting dressed. We ate at the table in silence. Well, I should
say I ate because Derrick didn’t take one taste of his oatmeal.

“You might want
to put something on your stomach,” I advised.

“Naw, Mama B. I
can’t eat.” He squeezed his eyelids closed. “Today is…like…D-day for me. If the
grand jury really thinks there’s enough evidence to convict me, this is…crazy.
I don’t have money for a
real
lawyer to go up against a federal charge.
The one I got now is cheap. Practically useless.”

“Where did you
find this so-called lawyer?” I questioned.

“Somebody at the
barber shop told me about him,” Derrick admitted.

“Chile, if I had
known that, I would have had Son find an attorney for you. He knows people.”

Derrick sighed,
“If I get indicted and this case goes to trial, I’ll need a
real
lawyer
who can do a really good job of defending me. If he or she does a good job and
I don’t get convicted, I’ll still be broke afterward. Doesn’t seem fair.”

My nephew’s
entire body frame seemed smaller. Shorter. Like the whole world landed flat on
his slumping shoulders.

“So, if they indict
you, does that mean you go to jail today?”

“Probably not,
but there’s always a chance. Depends.”

“And if they
don’t indict you?”

“Then I’m free,
nothing on my record. Clean slate.”

“I like the
sound of that, Derrick.”

“Me, too.”

Couldn’t get much else out of him that
morning. We drove on to the assigned county courthouse in my car, since Derrick
wasn’t sure whether he’d be coming back with me or not.

The proceedings
were private because it was a case involving a child, so I couldn’t go into the
courtroom with Derrick. I sat outside on a wooden bench, just watching people
carry on with their business like my nephew wasn’t on the other side of those
wooden doors contending for his life.

That’s when the
Lord dropped a song in my spirit.

Mercy, mercy,
mercy

Lord, send
your mercy

Whisper mercy
to the jury

Mercy from the
chairs,

Mercy from the
testimony.

I sang it,
hummed it, and rocked myself into a peace that I knew could penetrate those
closed, solid doors.

Folk kept right
on buzzing by, but I kept my mind on Derrick, knowing the Spirit of the Lord
could go places I couldn’t.

Thought my eyes
was playin’ tricks on me when Twyla came sweeping through the building’s
revolving doors. Almost instantly, she spotted me and rushed toward the bench.

“Have they
started?” she gasped, her eyes apparently damp from crying.

“Yes. No one can
go in at this point. All we can do is wait.”

She smashed her
back against the bench. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I’m even here.”

“I can.” I put
one hand on hers. “Been praying for you.”

“I hope you’ve
been praying for Derrick, too, because he needs it way more than me,” she
drawled.

“You’re probably
right,” I agreed.

“Thank you.”

“So, what’s your
prayer for Derrick?”

She looked at me
quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“He’s
your
husband. Can’t nobody pray for him like you.”

Twyla raised her
eyebrows smartly. “I prayed for him to stop going to the club, stop staying out
late, stop playing so many video games when he is home.”

“Well, you off
to a good start. But it sound like you been prayin’
against
him more
than
for
him. Have you prayed for Derrick’s destiny? His soul? For
Christ to be glorified in his life?”

She snarled.
“No. I mean…no. What destiny?”

“Oh, honey,
Derrick’s really something to the Lord. God’s gonna raise him up to be full of
love and wisdom. We been studyin’ the Bible together.”

Twyla leaned to
the side and swept me up and down with her eyes. “Really?”

“Yep. That
Derrick can really read those scriptures well. Sound like he ought to be on the
radio.”

She pursed her
lips for a moment. “Yeah, but can he
live
‘em is the question.”

“That’s what you
help him do, honey. You make him better, stronger. Build him up. Speak life
into your husband, and speak it into yourself, too. You know what they say,
behind every good man is a good woman.”

“I wouldn’t
exactly call Derrick a good man.”

“Maybe that’s
because he ain’t never had a good woman like you really standin’ behind him.
But all that’ll change when he sees you cared enough to come support him.
Twyla, you a real Proverbs thirty-one woman to your husband,” I spoke into her
life as well.

Twyla got real
silent.

I went back to
hummin’ my tune while she sat there chewin’ on my words.

“Mama B, do you
really think our family could be, like, a good family after all of this?”

“Fear not. Only
believe,” I heard myself whisper Jesus’ words to her.

Mercy, mercy,
mercy

Lord, send
your mercy

Whisper mercy
to the jury

Mercy from the
chairs,

Mercy from the
testimony.

When the
mahogany doors parted, me and Twyla immediately stood. And out waltzed Derrick,
shanking hands with his lawyer, with the biggest smile on his face. No question
in my mind how the hearing went.

Thank you,
Father.

Twyla ran toward
him. He scooped her up as she wrapped her arms around his neck. They stood
there, locked in the embrace, crying on each other’s shoulders.

Looking at those
two, I couldn’t stop my own tears from falling.
Bout to mess up my makeup
,
Jesus
. I kept a little distance so they could have their moment.

Derrick pulled
back enough to gently kiss his wife. “Thank you for coming, Twyla. You don’t
know how much it means to have you here. And I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry,
too,” she confessed. “I should have been—”

“Twyla, you
haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve been selfish, self-centered. Just stupid. And
I’m sorry. Let’s pray.”

She sniffed,
obviously taken back by his suggestion. “Right now?”

“Yeah. 
Right here, right now.”

He cupped her
hands inside his and bowed his head. “Father, thank you for delivering me from
this trap. Thank you for my beautiful wife. God, as the man of this family, I
rededicate me, Twyla,
and Kionna
to you. Help
us and teach us to walk in your way. Keep us, God, like You said You would in
Your word. Help me to be the man You created me to be. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

“Amen,” Twyla
chirped. “But you left somebody out.”

Derrick asked,
“Who?”

Twyla touched
her stomach. “Well, I don’t know the name just yet, but we’re definitely adding
one more to the Jackson family.”

“Are you
serious?”

She grinned.

“Woman, I love
you.”

“I love you,
too, man of God.”

He hugged her
once more.

Twyla looked at
me over his shoulder, winked at me, and mouthed, “Thank you.”