Mama B - A Time to Mend (Book 4) (5 page)

Lord, don’t let me dwell on
this.
The
Father knows if I get to thinkin’ about what folk say about me, anger start
building up in my heart. Besides, Nikki was probably just sayin’ what a lot of
folk was thinkin’. Don’t matter no way. Don’t none of them pay none of my bills,
and ain’t none of ‘em gon’ stand beside me to help give account on Judgment Day.
His love in me is too good to let my heart get hardened.

Wanda filled me in on the
details about her new job as an executive something-or-another. Said she was
going to have twelve managers reporting to her. Soon as she finished talking, I
told her what came up in my spirit. Told her the situation sounded a lot like
Daniel in the Bible and she needed to ask the Lord to watch her back. “Everybody
ain’t happy for your success, but you don’t let their feelings rob you of your
happiness. Hear?”

“Yes ma’am,” Wanda said.

The timer on the stove
buzzed. Cameron must have been tuned in with his ears the whole time ‘cause he
come running in the kitchen, “Are they ready?”

I got up from the table,
laughing to myself. That boy sure could eat. I could see maybe it was time I
stopped givin’ in to his sweet tooth, though. The way his hind parts stuck out
the back of his already-husky jeans when he bent over to look into the stove
told the story. “Only two cookies now, Cameron. I’ll pack up some and give them
to Wanda and your Grandpa so we can be sure the cookies make it back home
safely.”

“But Mama B, you made these
for
me
,” he fussed.

“I sure did. And I want you
to take your time this week and enjoy them. Two at a time.”

His face got so long you’d
have thought I told him the truth about Santa Claus.

Soon as they was cool enough
to eat, he sat down at the end of the table furthest from me and slowly
cherished each one.

Everything was going fine
until Son came in and grabbed four cookies off the plate.

“Grandpa!” Cameron shrieked.
“Mama B said only two at a time!”

Son looked at me and Wanda
like he wanted to know if the mandate was serious.

“You heard your mother,”
Wanda warned.

Son dropped the extra
cookies. “Cameron, why don’t you go on into the living room and watch
television. I need to talk to Mama B about something.”

Cameron scooted out of his
seat.

I gave him a second
directive, “And when you get in there, ask Mr. Frank to come on in the
kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Son sat down and whispered,
“What do we need
him
for?

“He’s my
husband
,” I
spelled it out for my oldest. “We make major decisions
together
.”

“But this house has nothing
to do with him,” Son argued quietly.

“If it has to do with me, it
has to do with him, too,” I countered. Maybe I should have prepared Son about
including Frank. I don’t know. But Son wasn’t about to talk me into the habit
of living like a single lady.

“Momma, Frank has his
own
house.
This
house is
yours
. He—”

“Frank,” Wanda announced as
my love walked into the kitchen.

Me and Son clamped our lips
as Frank joined us all at the table.

Son stretched his neck on
both sides.

I gave my grown child the
Momma-eye and started the conversation. “Son, if we gon’ let your Aunt Ida Mae
move in here, we got to have some rules, and them rules got to be followed.”

“Rules like what?” Son asked,
shrugging. “I mean, so long as she pays rent on time—”

“That’s rule number one,” I
agreed.

“What else?” he asked.

Seeing the confusion in Son’s
eyes reminded me: He don’t know Ida Mae like
I
knew Ida Mae. She had
done got herself in so many jams that me and Albert had to get her out of. Just
ratchet! If you ask me, Ida Mae always took advantage of her big brother, and
Albert always had a soft spot for his baby sister. But me and Albert didn’t get
the kids involved in grownup problems. And to be honest, as crazy as Ida Mae
could act with us, she never mistreated our kids. Far as Son knew, she was his
dear sweet aunt who needed a place to stay.

I bit my tongue, partly
because I hadn’t really prayed about the matter. The other part was not to
slander my sister-in-law to Son, who I had to remember was her blood nephew.
Unless the Lord Himself had changed her—which I doubted by the sound of
her letter—it wouldn’t be long before Son found out for himself what kind
of person Ida Mae was. Then it wouldn’t be slander—it would be his
first-hand understandin’.

But I ain’t no fool. In the
time it took Son to find out the truth about his aunt, my property was on the
line. I needed some safeguards in place to make sure his lesson didn’t cost me
no money. “Frank had a good idea about hiring a rental property management
company. They could be the go-between. Make sure the lease, the rent, the
upkeep and whatnot is handled properly.”

“They’re not expensive,”
Frank added. “Maybe eight to ten percent of the rent.”

“If we set the rent at five
hundred dollars, that’s fifty dollars a month. Times twelve, we’d basically be
giving up a whole month’s rent for nothing,” Son calculated.

“Yes,” Frank reasoned calmly,
“but you also have to take into consideration the time and effort it takes to
collect rent, respond to tenant concerns, schedule annual
maintenance—there’s more to being a landlord than people think.”

I knew from experience when
Albert used to rent houses that Frank was tellin’ the gospel truth.

Son sighed. He raised an
eyebrow and said to Frank, “With all due respect, I think this is a
Jackson
family matter.”

Lord, help us
. I thought I was doin’ the
right thing, paintin’ Frank in a good light with Son by mentioning Frank’s idea—plus
tryin’ to be an example for Wanda—but Son took it the wrong way.

Frank sat back in his chair.
Nodded at Son like he wasn’t gon’ interfere no more. One thing about Frank: He
likes peace.

I like peace, too. Especially
peace with the man I’m sleepin’ with every night. “Son, I’m not gon’ sit up
here and let you disrespect Frank or his ideas. I think Frank is right. And I’m
tellin’ you
myself
—the only way your Aunt Ida Mae is moving into
this house is with professional help.”

Son set his elbows on the
table.

Wanda rubbed his leg, I guess
trying to calm him down.

“I knew this would happen,”
he muttered.

“
What
would happen?” I
asked Son.

“
He
would change you,”
Son said, pointing at Frank.

“I beg your pardon?” I slid
my neck to the right.

“Your mother has a mind of
her own,” Frank assured my child, though I’m not clear why someone who lived
with me for twenty years would need such a reminder.

“How can you deny it, Momma?
You’ve always opened your home to people who needed help. You did it for Nikki,
for cousin Derrick, and for some lady you didn't even know just last year. But
now, for Aunt Ida Mae, suddenly you’ve got a new policy. The only thing that’s
different now is you’re married to
him
.”

“Son, trust me. I’m not
different. The
situation
is different.”

“How?”

“I’m not gon’ go into all
that with you. I sure don’t appreciate you questionin’ my sanity,” I struck
back.

Frank tried again, “Son, I’m
only—”

“Don’t call me son,” Son
snapped. “
You
call me Albert from now on.”

With that, Frank got up from
the table. He said to me, “I’m going to let the two of you talk this out.”

Now, y’all know, the way Son
was sittin’ there poutin’, might as well have been Cameron in the kitchen
whining about how I done lowered his ration of cookies. Son was jealous,
protective, afraid he was losin’ me, and probably missin’ his daddy, too. He
put up a good front, but he really ain’t nothin’ but a big teddy bear.

When Frank was out of
earshot, I laid into Son. “That was rude and uncalled for.”

“I agree,” Wanda backed me
up.

“I don’t care what either of
you think. Frank is putting his nose where it doesn’t belong,” Son said,
tapping his index finger on my wood table. “This is family business.”

“Frank
is
family now.”

“Well, he might be
your
family, but he ain’t
mine
, he ain’t
Aunt Ida Mae’s
, and he
darn
sure ain’t Daddy’s.”

Lord Jesus, look like he gon’
have to learn the hard way.
Son always been as stubborn as the day is long. Straight from the
Jackson family tree. I had a choice to make, but I couldn’t make it without
praying.

Me and Frank left the house
without coming to an agreement with Son. We still had a few days to let Ida Mae
know, so Wanda talked Son into giving me some time to think it over.

On the way back home, me and
Frank talked about the situation.

“I ain’t got a good feeling
about Ida Mae movin’ in,” I admitted to Frank.

“Is it because you think
something bad might happen or because you’re holding on to hard feelings about
her?”

Now, how he gon’ jump
straight to a point like that?
“It’s because of her
character
,” I said. “She shady, she
irresponsible, and I don’t think anybody who knew her would want her stayin’ in
their property whether they had a history with her or not.”

“Honey, I know you’re a good
judge of character, especially seein’ as you agreed to marry me.” Frank grabbed
my hand and kissed the brown side twice. He got such a way with making me smile
and feel good even when I’m struggling with something inside.

“The big question is whether
or not you want to be right or keep your relationship with Son,” Frank posed.

Still holding Frank’s hand, I
looked out the window at the beauty of the last of the summer flowers and green
trees, and the birds flying in the sky. None of those things had worries, even
though fall was on the way, according to the Word. No need in me having any
either. “You’re right, honey. Son done dug in his heels about this. I know he’s
still getting adjusted to our marriage. Sometimes, look like he can’t believe I
sit so close to you.”

“Let’s pray about it tonight.
He’ll answer,” Frank proposed the perfect solution.

“Amen.”

When we got home, we took it
before the Lord, along with the other things on our prayer list: his cousin
Vesta who was battling pneumonia, one of Franks patients who wasn’t responding
well to treatment, Peter, and of course the Allens.

Ooh, that Frank could pray! I
sure loved to hear his voice talkin’ to the Father, praying the scriptures,
too. And I’d just kneel there and agree, “Yes, Lord...yes, Father…hear Your
servant, God…honor your Word, Lord.” We made a good team.

Two days later, me and Frank
both felt in our hearts it was best to let Son handle the house the way he
wanted to, for the sake of peace. And we’d even let Son keep five percent, in
good faith. With God overseeing this situation—and we knew He
would—He’d make sure things didn’t get too out of hand. Sometimes doing
things God’s way make you look and feel like a fool in the beginning. But He
always have the last say, and His say is always good.

I thought about writing Son a
“Rule of One” letter, where I tell him one good time what I think. But I
couldn’t do so without bad-mouthing his aunt. Ida Mae was the last of Albert’s
siblings left. Son’s last aunt. And in all honesty, Albert probably would have
let his sister move in.

So, I had to sit there and
allow a mistake that I knew was gon’ come back to kick Son’s rear end. Every once
in a while, parents have to do that. The only comfort I had was knowin’ God has
to make this same decision every day with His children. Some of us just be
beggin’ to learn the hard way.

Chapter 7

The Spirit nudged me to put
some extra turkey bacon strips on the George Foreman grill and toast two more
pieces of whole wheat bread. He already knew that not too long after Frank left
for work, Jeffrey would come knocking on the front door in his panicked-style.

“Just a second.”

As though I had been
expecting him, I opened the door wide and stepped back so he could come inside.
“Good morning, Mama B.”

“Good morning, Jeffrey. How
can I help you?”

“Do you have food?” he asked
in a squeaky voice.

“I sure do. Made it just for
you.” He followed me back to the kitchen island. “I make breakfast every
morning before Doctor Frank goes to work. You’re welcome to stop by and get
something any day.” I set the turkey and toast on a saucer and served it to him
with a glass of orange juice.