Mercy Me (15 page)

He didn't say anything.

“We've all prayed for Maria to live, but to tell the truth, I don't think she will.”

He still didn't say anything. Some preachers would've ripped out a sermonette about how we must have faith, and that if we didn't have hope, then we didn't have faith because faith and hope go together. All of which I have understood since I was knee-high to a grasshopper.

But Pastor Osborne isn't like that. He's not what you would call a professional preacher with a fancy D.Min. behind his name, out hobnobbing with the country-club
set. As much as I look up to the man, I feel as close to him as I would to the son I never had. I can dump on him my worst feelings and know he'll only talk to God about me.

“Pastor, you know about my husband, Bud, getting wounded in the war and all?”

He nodded.

“Well, when he went off to war, I prayed my heart out that no harm would come to him. It was a bitter pill to swallow when he come back a basket case. But I didn't give up. Every day and night I prayed with faith and hope that God would give us a miracle. But we never did get one.”

Pastor Osborne knew I was asking for help; still, he didn't hurry to oblige. He took the newspaper out of my hand and swatted at a fly. “Did I get him?”

I didn't know, or care. I wanted him to go ahead and tell me what he thought.

He handed the paper back to me. “ Esmeralda, these things are hard to understand. . . . My daddy always told me that we must let God know some things we don't know. . . . He said if we knew everything the Lord knows, then he wouldn't be God.”

“I've thought of that,” I said. “But . . .”

He shifted in his chair to see me better. The way the sun was coming in the window, the light was circling his head and I could hardly see his face.

“You know what's helped me, Esmeralda? Jesus. He never performed a miracle just for himself . . . never used his power for his own advantage . . .”

I'd thought of that many times too. I'd thought about him fasting forty days and then the old devil coming to him, tempting him to turn stones into bread. As a child, I'd wished he'd shown the devil a thing or two, just up and made hot rolls for himself—with butter and jam!

I wasn't sure what Pastor Osborne was getting at, but I was beginning to see a glimmer.

“Esmeralda, I know you know this—you know that Jesus could've called down legions of angels that night in the garden when they were arresting him, but he didn't. He just never used supernatural means to escape suffering. I hope I'm making sense.”

“No,” I said, “but go on.”

“Well, what I'm trying to say is there were purposes to be served by the things Jesus suffered, and that's why he didn't interfere by using supernatural power.”

I still didn't see where he was going. Maybe I was just too tired to think.

“There are purposes served by the things we suffer too.”

“Name one!”

He smiled. “Well, the Bible says Jesus learned obedience through the things that he suffered.”

I was ashamed of myself. “I'm sorry I spoke out like that, Pastor. It just popped out. . . . What you're saying is . . .”

“What I'm saying is that maybe the best thing we learn from suffering is obedience.”

Well, I thought we'd gotten way off the track from why the Lord was not sparing Maria.

Pastor Osborne stretched his long legs in front of him and put his thumbs under his suspenders. “I don't mind telling you, Esmeralda, unanswered prayer is the hardest experience of my life, and there are times when it's awful hard. The thing that helps me is to remember that Jesus once prayed that that cup would pass from him—but it didn't.”

Maria groaned. I got up to see about her. She was all right.

Pastor Osborne sat there a long time before he said anything more. But we were both still thinking. We must've been thinking along the same line, because he spoke, as much to himself as to me.

“Faith for a miracle is easier to come by than trusting the Lord when no miracle happens. . . . I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, am I?”

“No, you aren't, Pastor,” I said. “With Bud, things didn't turn up roses, and though it took some time, I got to the place where I was willing to trust the Lord that he loved us and that he had some reason for Bud's not getting well.”

Lucy came back in the room just then, rubbing her eyes. “Hello, Preacher Bob. Esmeralda, that nap felt real good. Maria looks quiet. Why don't you go in and have a little siesta now?”

I glanced out the window. “The young people are eating out under the tree. If you'll excuse me, Pastor, I'll go in the kitchen and fix Elijah's lunch.”

“Oh, I've got to be going,” he said as he stood up. “Is there anything I can do for you ladies?”

“You've already done a lot for me, Pastor,” I told him. I felt like giving him a hug, but I didn't.

Elijah was on the back porch. I told him to go in the bathroom and wash up. When he came back to the table, I handed him a plate and asked him to choose whatever he wanted from the casseroles I had put out. He looked them over, kind of sniffed, then asked, “Missy, where's the grits?”

I laughed and put on a pot. “How 'bout I fix you some sausage and eggs to go with those grits?”

“Oh, Missy! Would you do that for me?”

I stopped what I was doing, put both hands flat on the table before him, and looked him square in the eye. “Elijah, there ain't nothing in the world I wouldn't do for you.”

“I know, Missy. I know.”

Dr. Elsie had promised to let me know the results of the tests. I thought she would call me when they came back, but the next morning her car rolled up in my driveway. I met her out on the porch.

She took a seat on the glider, then patted the seat next to her. “Esmeralda, what we have here is a full-blown case of AIDS—the last stages. There's nothing we can do but make Maria as comfortable as we can.”

“AIDS?” Well, I couldn't say I was too surprised. “What's the danger of our catching it from Maria?”

Dr. Elsie shook her head. “Quite unlikely,” she said. “The virus is transmitted through bodily fluids, but casual personal contact is not dangerous. If you had a cut and got her blood on it, you could contract the disease that way. Sharing infected needles is another way.”

“What about the children?”

“We'll have them tested. That, of course, is real cause for concern. With vaginal deliveries there's danger, and breast milk can transmit the virus too. Let's just pray that they test negative. If they don't, well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

She stood up and went inside to check on Maria. I waited on the porch and worried about those precious children. Even if by some miracle they weren't born with the virus, there was every reason to believe they could get it by being in such close contact with their mama. All I could think of was those little boys kissing Maria. If only I had known . . .

My mind was running around in my head like a merry-go-round. I'd had it all planned that the Osbornes would adopt the children. But if the poor little things were going to have the virus, it would be too much for the Osbornes to take on.
Oh, Lord, have mercy!

Dr. Elsie was coming out the door. “Esmeralda, Maria won't last much longer. That means we must not waste any time taking care of the business this situation poses. Right now, we don't need to worry about expenses, the hospital and funeral; that's the least of our worries. Lucy says Maria isn't a citizen of this country, so there's red tape involved in anything we may do relative to her or the children. I'd like to keep them out of foster care as long as we can, but if Maria should die suddenly, some bureaucrat might even send them back to Guatemala.”

I could feel my throat tighten. I did not like the sound of that one bit.

Dr. Elsie put her hand on my arm. “I want Lucy to find out everything she can about Maria. I know she said all
her family was killed in an earthquake, but Maria didn't have these babies by herself, you know. Somewhere there's a father. We have to track him down.”

“We'll get on it right away,” I told her, but for the life of me, I didn't know the first thing about tracking down a man whose name we might not ever know. Especially if Maria had always been a loose woman with many partners.

16

Maria had a bad night, but after it was over, she rallied remarkably. I'd told Lucy everything Dr. Elsie had told me, and she said she would try to get as much information out of Maria as she could. Hospice was coming that day, and I had called Thelma to come, too, so I felt they could spare me for a few hours while I drove up to the county courthouse.

After being shut up in the house for so many days, it felt good to be driving up the highway by myself. With my cruise control set at fifty-five, which was the speed limit along that stretch of the road, I was breezing along, thinking about the business up ahead. Just outside the city limits, I heard a siren and glanced at my rearview mirror. Lo and behold, a cruiser was on my bumper, the blue light flashing!

I pulled over on the shoulder, wondering what was wrong with my car. None of the lights on the dash were lit up. It didn't feel like I had a flat or anything. I rolled down the window and waited for the officer. Then I looked up and saw who it was. Horace Thigpen!

Without looking at me, he asked for my driver's license. I felt my face growing red as I searched for it. My pocketbook was always a bottomless pit. I finally dug out my wallet, and the license was in it.

I handed it to him, and he read it like I was some total stranger. I tell you, I was furious. Did he think he could arrest me and convince a judge I was a drug dealer posing as a God-fearing woman?

He jotted something down and asked for my vehicle registration.

“What's this about, Horace?”

“Speeding.”

“Speeding? I had my cruise control at fifty-five.”

He handed back the registration. “Then your cruise control is out of calibration, Miss Esmeralda.”

The nerve of him!

“Horace Thigpen, there is nothing wrong with my cruise control, and you know it! You just spotted my car and come after me for no reason but to harass the life outta me.”

He grinned. “You wouldn't resist an officer of the law, now would you, Miss Esmeralda?”

“Officer of the law? You're nothing but your daddy's deputy, and if I have to take you to court over this, I will.”

“My word against yours, Miss Esmeralda.”

I could've slapped that grin right off his face.

“Well, fine then. Write the ticket and be quick about it. I'm in a hurry to get to the county courthouse.”

He scribbled the ticket and tore it off the pad. “So you do admit you're in a great big hurry?”

As I looked up at him, ready to give him another piece of my mind, it dawned on me that somebody ought to tell him about Maria. There wasn't anybody but Lucy, Dr. Elsie, and me who knew enough to tell. And I was the only one knew he'd slept with her.

“Horace,” I began, “that woman you . . . well, her name is Maria. I hate telling you this, but she's dying of AIDS.”

That wiped the grin off his face. “AIDS?” he repeated, his face gone pale. “I don't believe you. You're just saying that so I'll tear up this ticket.”

“Hand me the ticket, Horace.”

He gave it to me, his hand trembling.

“Now do you believe me?” I asked.

His face grew white as cotton. “How did you find out she has AIDS?”

“She's laying sick in my house right now. You can go up there and see for yourself.”

“At your house? How? Why . . . ?” He was so white I was afraid he was going to faint.

“It's a long story, and I don't have time to answer a bunch of questions. Now, if you'll please step aside, I'll be on my way.”

“Gimme back that ticket. I won't charge you.”

“Not on your life, Buster. Not until you apologize for the rotten trick you tried to pull on me.”

“I apologize! I apologize!” He swore and snatched the ticket out of my hand.

I stepped on the accelerator and left him standing in the road. Well, all I had to say was he better go take that test.

As I got going again, I felt bad I had been sharp with him.
I hope and pray he don't have AIDS.
I knew Horace when he was a little boy—use to run around my place chasing my chickens—and his mama was a sweet woman. Horace was the apple of her eye. If she had lived, he would have turned out better than he had.
I sure hope he's okay. Lord, I know he's done wrong, but have mercy on him.
I was thinking maybe this scare would bring him to the Lord.

After I prayed for him, I put Horace behind me and forgot about the speed limit as I zoomed up the road. Being stopped that way didn't leave me much time to do all I had to do. First and foremost, I had to see about finding the daddy. Second on the list was tracking down birth certificates for the children, if they even had birth certificates. And what about burying Maria? Could we bury a foreigner without breaking the law? But probably the most important thing I needed to know was how to get those children adopted by good parents.