Mama B - A Time to Dance (Book 2) (3 page)

“That dog’s
older than me
and
you in canine years. But I bet he’s got some female
friends somewhere,” she meddled again.

“For goodness
sake, Libby, I see you ain’t gon’ let this rest until I call that man back,
huh?”

“No, ma’am, I
won’t,” she admitted.

“Is he paying
you or something?”

“Don’t be silly.
He likes you. And he sent you flowers. Least you can do is call and tell him
thank you like someone with some decent home training.”

I reminded her,
“I sent him a text.”

“Call him, B.
What have you got to lose except a few hours’ rest on Saturday nights maybe?”

“My body
needs
rest.”

“Your body will
get all the rest it needs when you die,” she fired back. “Just call him. I dare
you.”

Still pumping my
arms, I looked at her sideways. Libby’s white-blonde curls bounced around her
earlobes. Why she liked to dress up before our walks I’ll never know, but she
always managed to color coordinate everything and slap on a layer of rouge for
effect.

“Libby, you
worrisome, you know that?”

“B, you know I
wouldn’t be buggin’ you if I hadn’t already prayed about it. Now I got to
double
dog
dare you to call him.”

My arms dropped
to my side as I laughed out loud. “And what do I get if I take you up on it?”

“Uh, how about
one of Peter’s cinnamon rolls?”

She got a
thumbs-down from me.

Soon as I got home, I took my shower and
spent some time with the Lord in Bible study. Then I decided it was time to
turn on my phone and see what folks been trying to reach me, if any.

That dinger went
off three times and I wondered if something was wrong. I don’t usually have
that many callers before ten in the morning. Looking at the screen, I could see
they all come from Henrietta.

The Mother’s
Board meeting was scheduled for Tuesday, so I figured she was just calling to
tell me she couldn’t make it, which wouldn’t be a surprise. Henrietta kinda
sometimey. Good thing is, when she in one of those bad mood spells, she usually
keep to herself.

I pressed the
button on my phone to hear my messages.

“B, this
Henrietta. Call me back.”

Delete.

“B, this Henrietta
again. I know you’re up. I’m trying to reach you.”

Delete.

“This Henrietta.
Since you ain’t gon’ call me back, I’m gonna leave this message for you and I
want you to hear me loud and clear. Everybody know you been tryin’ to get next
to Pastor since Geneva first went into the hospital.  And now you cookin’
special meals for him and whatnot. It’s a shame and a disgrace before God. I,
for one, can’t be a part of no Mother’s Board led by somebody who hussyin’ up
to the pastor. I want you to know I’m boycottin’ the Mother’s Board until this
matter is settled. Good-bye.”

I had to replay
that message twice to make sure I’d heard her right the first time. Sure
enough, she’d accused me of being a hussy.
The nerve!

Lord knows, I
could hardly sleep Monday night with Henrietta’s message on my mind and my
heart. I know she wasn’t doin’ nothin’ but flapping her gums, but a part of you
gets disturbed inside when somebody falsely accuse you of something. Just the
fact they pointin’ the finger make you look at yourself and ask: Did I do
something wrong?

Thirty minutes
before the Mother’s Board meeting, I met Rev. Martin at the church house. He
opened the doors and let me in so I could start setting up. I always wondered
how he got free in the middle of the day, but somebody said he works on the
Internet.

I guess.

“Morning, Mama
B. How long do you expect this meeting to last?”

“Oh, shouldn’t
be too long,” I assured him. “If you need to leave, I can lock up after we
finish.”

“No, ma’am.
Pastor Phillips would have my hide if I left you ladies alone in this building.
Too much happening these days.”

What he meant
was too much happening since the incident with Nikki’s boyfriend terrorizin’
the congregation. I had done explained to them over and over again we were never
in any danger, from my spiritual view, but I suppose Pastor got to keep the
church from being liable.

Rev. Martin left
me to myself in the fellowship hall while he went on back into his office. Sunlight
streamed into the room, casting a heavenly glow like God Himself was saying
“hello” to me personally.

For the larger
auxiliaries, this place could hold up to forty-eight people at it’s twelve
tables. Even more if they put more chairs at the ends of the tables. Back in
the day, I’d led plenty of women’s meetings and stuffed plenty gift bags.

I set three
copies of the agenda on a table in preparation for the ones who were coming.
Then I checked underneath the seats to be sure there was no trash or crumbs
since yesterday evening the youth department had some kind of gathering. Kids
will be kids, you know.

A few minutes
later, Rev. Martin poked his head back into the room. “Mother Henrietta called.
She said she won’t be at the meeting, and you know why.”

I tried to fix
my face to keep from giving Rev. Martin a hint about this silliness. “Thank
you.”

“Is there
something I need to know?” he inquired.

Guess I didn’t
mask my feelings well enough. “No, sir. Nothing we can’t handle by ourselves.”

Just like
Henrietta to get something going around the church.  If she’d mentioned
her feelings in a roundabout way to Rev. Martin, stands to reason she’d already
done told her version of things to whoever she could find to listen.

But before I let
myself think another bad thought about Henrietta, I had to shift my mind. This
wasn’t Henrietta, this was the enemy workin’ through Henrietta. Just like he
was tellin’ me she had done lost her mind, he was tellin’ her I was losin’ mine,
too. That’s how he work, you know.

 The second
I stopped thinkin’ bad thoughts about Henrietta, seem like a wave of compassion
came into me. Henrietta always wanted to be married but never was—not
legally, anyway. She got kids, but I believe she been pretty much lonely all
her life. Sad. Maybe she saw Pastor Phillips as her last shot to get a man, and
I was a threat to her seventy-something-year-old dream. Honey, who knows what
all kinda lies the devil been feeding her throughout her days? This lie he told
her about me was just one more way of making Henrietta feel like life’s passing
her by.

Well, I, for
one, wasn’t gon’ be a part of his scheme to pit us against one another.
Lord,
please open Henrietta’s eyes to the fact that You love her. And let her stop
lying on me. Amen.

Mother
Ophelia Pugh
arrived first.
“Ooh, B, you look so cute in your white linen!” she complimented me while
giving me a hug and a holy kiss on the cheek. Ophelia always got something nice
to say about the way I dress.

“Thank you,
love. And I likes that hat! You lookin’ like a
young
woman!”

She grabbed the
rim of her rhinestone-studded baseball cap. “Chile, my granddaughter left this
at the house the other day and I been wearin’ it like it’s going out of style.
Got to keep my hand on it, though. This wind is something fierce today.”

“You sure right
about that, my sister.”

She looked around
the room and then whispered to me while we were still standing close,
“Henrietta call you?”

“Yes, she did.
And I ain’t got no comment.”

“Me neither,”
Ophelia agreed. “We gon’ pray for her, but she can stay off the Mother’s Board
for as loooooong as she wants to, you ask me.”

“Well, I ain’t
gonna ask you, then,” I said.

“Good thing,
too.” She winked at me.

Mother Ruby
Simon’s sweet daughter rolled her into the room by wheelchair. “Morning,
ladies!”

“Hello Victoria.
Thank you so much for bringing your mother,” Ophelia acknowledged.

“No problem,
Mother Pugh.”

Victoria bent
down to lock the back wheels in place. She threw her hair back as she heaved
upward. Just then, I noticed how much weight the girl had put on lately. Looked
like caring for her sickly mother was getting to her. Shoot, by the time you
get finished talkin’ to the doctors and arguin’ with Medicaid, it’ll just about
drive you to a strawberry shake. I done been there, done that.

 “I’ll have
your momma back around noon,” Ophelia said to Victoria.

“Yes ma’am. I’ll
meet you at the house.”

Even though our
meetings was down to three people—well, two, really, because Mother Ruby
Simon’s mind wasn’t all the way there all the time—I still wanted to do
things right. “Let’s open in prayer.”

But before we
could finish talking directly to the Lord, here come Henrietta waltzing through
the doors. “Amen,” she caught the tail end of the prayer.

“I decided to
press my way on to church,” she announced to the three of us.

I heard Ophelia
whisper under her breath, “That really wasn’t necessary.”

Can’t imagine
Henrietta didn’t hear Ophelia, too. She probably just ignored the comment. Her
problem wasn’t with Mother Pugh.

Since the only
available seat at our table was right next to me, Henrietta sat herself down
within two feet of me with her lips stuck out like a duck.

Lord, we too
old for this.
I used to
think once people hit a certain age, they’d act better. Now I see that ain’t
always the case.

“The first item
on our agenda is our Christmas project,” I began. “We need to decide if we want
to do the shoe boxes again or sell dinners to raise money for the WorldVision
charity.”

“Why we always
gotta send stuff somewhere else? Plenty people right here in Peasner, Texas
needin’ stuff,” Henrietta snapped.

Ophelia
countered, “We already narrowed it down to these two at the last meeting.”

“Well, I’m
changing my vote,” she argued. “I say we find some people right in our
community. Somebody bound to need their light bill paid or a coat for their
baby.”

“Henrietta,” I
said calmly, “if you want us to bring in another charity, it will have to wait
until next year.”

“What’s wrong
with now?”

“Ain’t nobody
stopping you from givin’ to somebody in need,” Mother Simon spoke up.

Praise God.
Every once in a while, her mind clicked
back on. The three of us listened for her wisdom.  “Henrietta, you welcome
to help with overseas charity
and
some places in Peasner, too. People
need help year-round. Knock yourself out.”

“Well,”
Henrietta struggled to speak.

My goodness,
before I knew it, Henrietta was about to start crying! “I’m talking about
people like
me
who is livin’ on social security. We didn’t have no
husbands with vet’rans benefits, none of our kids got no money to take care of
us. Seem like an awful shame we helpin’ all these people overseas when I’m
right here in Peasner and I can’t afford to get my hot water heater fixed.”

Mother Ruby
Simon waved her thin, wrinkled hand in the air. “Child, please. I can see you
ain’t never been on no mission trip. The folks we sending help to would be glad
to get cold water, dirty water—
any
water.  Maybe if you stop
spendin’ your social security on jackpot tickets, you might come out better.
Now that’s all I’m gon’ say about it. I vote for the shoe boxes.”

“Me, too,”
Ophelia chimed in.

I agreed with
them, which meant Henrietta’s vote didn’t count either way—not that we
were even supposed to be re-voting.

“I can see where
this meeting is going,” she said between sniffs. “Y’all all on her side, huh?”
She jerked her thumb in my direction.

“Ain’t no
sides,” I said.

“You
would
say
that. I’m gonna wait up at the front for my niece to come back from borrowing
my car.” With that, she stormed out of the fellowship hall.

Me, Ophelia, and
Mother Simon sat there for a minute, wondering which one of us was going to try
and talk some sense into Henrietta.

“In the name of
all that’s good, I’ll try,” Ophelia finally offered.

Five minutes
later, she came back, shaking her head. “Henrietta got problems bigger than
this Mother’s Board. Let’s finish up the agenda.”

“Okay,” I
seconded her orders. We worked through the other items: baking cakes for the
fall carnival, our contribution for the church anniversary, staying in
fellowship with the Mother’s Board at our interim pastor, Rev. Dukes’, church.
Last thing we had to tackle was a calendar for the Samaritan’s Purse shoebox
collection, filling, and drop-off. 

With no
opposition, we made it through the meeting in record time. Me and Ophelia took
Mother Ruby Simon out for lunch at our favorite buffet, and I was back home in
time for a few judge shows.