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Authors: Pat G'Orge-Walker

No Ordinary Noel (18 page)

BOOK: No Ordinary Noel
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Chapter 30
R
everend Tom and Sister Betty could barely find a parking spot. Every square inch on the block that surrounded the Soul Food Shanty was taken. The Christmas holiday weather was unseasonably mild and warm, causing a great deal of slush and mud. All they had to do was follow the footprints that led to the Shanty's front door.
If Sister Betty thought the seniors had rocked that prom the other week, she was in for a big surprise. They'd been amateurs.
She and the reverend's jaws dropped when Bea met them at the door. With “I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus” blasting in the background, Bea sashayed over. She wore a halo of mistletoe that sat upon a wing-tipped, mauve-colored wig. Her hump was hidden under a fuchsia and black fur-trimmed gown. She wore a pair of stiletto heel boots she'd had cut down into flip-flops. She was a hot mess, but she felt good because there was money left over from her five thousand dollars.
“Come on in here and take a load off ya selves,” Bea said. “I'm helping out with the celebration.”
Bea was about to say something more when Elder Batty Brick's husky voice called out to her. “Bea, come back over here. Bring a slice of that red velvet cake and meet me in the back.”
“I'm sorry, I can't stay and chat. My new man is calling me.” Bea turned and with her back arched a little more than usual, she seemed to float to where Elder Batty Brick sat waiting.
Reverend Tom's voice finally returned about the same time as Sister Betty's. They looked at one another, each wanting to say something, but even with a voice, they couldn't.
The reverend slipped out of his coat and helped Sister Betty out of hers as they looked around.
Folks from all over Pelzer had squeezed into the Shanty. The Trustee's private celebration had turned into a public party. Apparently, Trustee Noel thought he owed a celebration, as well, to old man Sheffy and the other less fortunate who'd been a part of his life for so long.
The reverend and Sister Betty understood the unconventional guest list, and admired the trustee for his ability to remain humble.
Sister Betty, as usual, hadn't come prepared to partake in such a lavish celebration. She thought she'd shake it up a bit by wearing a gray and white long skirt and top. The only thing she had in common with some of the other guests was that she was wearing a wig, too.
The reverend, on the other hand, fit in just fine. After being stuffed into his robe most of the day for the ribbon cutting celebration, he was wearing a stylish, dark blue jogging suit. Some of the other men had dressed informally, except they hadn't changed clothes in weeks. The smell and wrinkles confirmed it.
Reverend Tom and Sister Betty decided to go with the flow until they spotted Brother Casanova. He kept moving around with Sasha almost tied to his hip. They laughed as poor Brother Casanova tried to shake her off his leg as though she were a piece of lint, or a small puppy in heat.
Finally, their host came downstairs. Trustee Noel wore a beige golf cap and a casual three-piece chocolate brown suit with the vest unbuttoned. Under the vest he wore a white muscle shirt that looked absolutely ludicrous and useless on him.
If he wasn't sure he'd picked out the hottest oh-hell-no suit he got confirmation quickly. No sooner had he stepped off the bottom step when laughter and a chorus of “oh hell no” rang out. He couldn't stop grinning; he was that
meow
the cat looked for.
Trustee Noel gave a
let's get this party started
nod to Porky. He smiled and watched Porky drag his tired butt over and adjust the dirty chef hat he wore. Then the two strode into the center of the room.
A picture of Ma and Pa Kettle never looked as messed up as those two did. It took a moment for the laughter to die down, but as soon as it did, Trustee Noel spoke. His self-confidence had grown tremendously over the past few weeks and it showed when it shouldn't. The same hand he normally used to twirl that hair sprig he now used to lay on Porky's massive shoulder.
Porky closed his eyes and fell asleep standing up.
“I'm so glad to see y'all,” the trustee said. “God is good, the weather is unseasonably warm, ain't too many fools in the place tonight, and we're gonna have a good time.”
Glaring at Porky, Freddie Noel grabbed his golf cap by its lid, pushed it back and to the side, then jabbed one of his skinny fingers into the meaty part of Porky's shoulder to wake him.
The none-too subtle push prompted Porky to wake and scream out, “Yeah, he sho' loves to ball.” Trustee Noel paid money for that, too.
I'd a come out cheaper if I'd just hired Little Richard.
Earlier when the trustee asked Porky if he could imitate Little Richard, Porky claimed he could. The truth was that the closest he ever got to imitating Little Richard was putting one leg on a stool.
Trustee Noel made the rounds, personally shaking hands, giving the ladies pecks on their cheeks, and almost breaking his wrist when he tried to high-five a couple deacons.
Moments later he finally reached where the reverend and Sister Betty stood. No shame in the trustee's game as he feigned a chest bump against his pastor and exclaimed, “You da man!”
Reverend Tom was again speechless. In all his life, he'd never given or received a chest bump before. He quickly looked down at his cross to make sure the Jesus image was okay.
And then to show how much he'd totally changed—or lost—his mind, Trustee Noel kissed Sister Betty on her lips.
Shocked, she jumped back and fished around inside her pocketbook for her spray can of blessed oil. She didn't know what he'd do next. If he tried to chest bump her, too, she would knee him in the groin.
“My oh my,” Trustee Noel smacked his lips as though Sister Betty was a two-piece and a biscuit. “You look beautiful. There ain't nothing like a seasoned-woman of God.”
The trustee didn't know what hit him. One minute he stood telling Sister Betty in his own way how good she looked. The next minute Sister Betty and Reverend Tom had hauled his skinny butt back up the stairs to his room.
But before they dragged him away, Reverend Tom said to the shocked guests, “One of y'all bless the food, then please go ahead and eat, drink non-alcoholic drinks, and be merry. We'll be back in a few.”
Upstairs in the trustee's room Reverend Tom and Sister Betty questioned his sanity.
“What has happened to you?” Reverend Tom asked the question while he surveyed the room cluttered with new clothes.
“Ain't nothing wrong with me,” Trustee Noel replied. He began to feel put upon and they had no right to do that. Didn't he just help them find the Promised Land? “Y'all got no right to drag me off in front of company like that. What did I do wrong?”
The trustee's last question was directed at Sister Betty. Everything he'd done lately was with her in mind. Yet, she'd helped to embarrass him.
Just as the reverend had noticed a huge change in the trustee, Sister Betty did, too. She saw the new clothes and the new television still boxed in a corner. She also noticed the enormous pile of gift-wrapped Mary Kay boxes in another corner. Although neither had exchanged a gift, Christmas was over unless he had a head start on next year's.
It looked as though the trustee had caught a sale from every store in Pelzer. She looked again in the corner and couldn't figure why he'd purchased a great deal of Mary Kay.
While the reverend and the trustee had their heart-to-heart, Sister Betty sat on the only chair in the room. It was hard to imagine that, over the years, she'd never heard the trustee voice an opinion above a whisper, say an unkind word about anyone, or wear anything that didn't smack of a used clothes store. Even when he'd won his millions, for a long time, he'd remained the same. The change, in her opinion, began when he'd tried to rescue his church. Why had that happened?
She stood, and over the music and chatter that filtered its way upstairs, she asked, “Reverend Tom, can I have a few words with Trustee Noel alone please?”
While the reverend and Sister Betty raked the trustee over the coals upstairs, downstairs, the party turned in a new direction. The crowd began celebrating by discussing various ways the Promised Land would improve their lives.
Alice “Grandma Puddin'” Tart stood behind a long table with a string of holly about her sagging neck. A torn hairnet covered her gray wig, but she was overjoyed. While she scooped and tossed mashed potatoes, corn, roast chicken parts, collards, and peas onto their plates, she told the other guests, “Thank the Lord, they got a new medical center in the Promised Land. I can't wait to be able to see a doctor without giving up my mortgage money for a couple pills.” She danced a little two-step as she continued to heap generous portions.
“Just having a window to look out and see the highway will be the high point for me.” The excitement came from ole man Sheffy. He'd slept under the highway for so many years he almost wept at the thought of seeing it from a distance. He pulled out an envelope from his pants pocket that no longer hung around his knees. “I got my notice today. I got an apartment in the Promised Land.”
One by one, the guests shared their hopes and desires of blessings to come for the new year. The few who knew for certain they'd made it into the Promised Land cried and thanked God.
Reverend Tom stepped off the bottom step just in time to hear all the testimonies, hopes, and dreams of those in the community. “This is what it's always been about,” he murmured.
Suddenly the unexplained change he'd seen in the trustee diminished for that moment. Only weeks ago people had lost hope in the government, faith in him, and wondered how God fit into the chaos. That night some of those same breathed a sigh of relief and mentally decorated their new homes. Listening to the joy and relief from Alice “Grandma Puddin'” was a blessing in itself.
He waded into the crowd and began to party with them. He didn't even mind when a young man asked him to bless a “sammich” as he called it. “Thank you, Mr. Leotis,” the young man said.
That night Reverend Tom didn't mind coming out of the mental pulpit he carried twenty-four-seven. He was going to enjoy those same blessings with the others and on common ground.
Chapter 31
U
pstairs, inside Trustee Noel's small room everything Sister Betty wanted to say flew out the window. It'd taken off as soon as he went down on one knee. She was never certain of his age, but had figured it was pretty much close to her own. If that were true, then they had a problem. Whatever he got down there to do, she couldn't help him rise when he was finished.
Out of respect, he flipped his golf cap back around to wear it the correct way. He wouldn't look so hip-hop or like a sixty-five-year-old fool.
Sister Betty didn't recall putting her hand on that spray canister of blessed oil. She only knew that the next moment, she had doused him from his golf hat to his ugly black penny loafers.
If she thought a can of prayed-over PAM was going to stop that trustee, then she was as wrong as she'd been about God giving her a break.
“Sister Betty, please.” Trustee Noel shoved the canister away from him and tried to pry open the small ring box in his hand. His hand kept slipping off the lid because she'd sprayed him good with that oil. “I just want to ask you something.”
She reeled back and let go again, circling him with the spray lever set on
BLAST THAT DEMON
. “Don't you try and touch me. Watch it now, 'cause I'm touched by God alone.”
If she'd been the hot Super Saint mama he thought she was, then he'd have gone up in flames. She wasn't playing about setting his world on fire.
Yet nothing she said deterred Trustee Freddie Noel. He thought he was the Jay-Z of the church. “Jay-Z said it was a hard knock life and Beyoncé says I need to put a ring on it!”
Sister Betty hit him upside his head with the can.
 
 
While the trustee and Sister Betty fought over the rules of engagements upstairs, Bea and Sasha finally squared off again, inside Porky's kitchen.
From the time they arrived, most of the guests had placed a bet on how long it would take those two fighting hens to start pecking. Some folks made a lot of money that night and figured out their tithe portion.
The BS fight started as it usually did, with Sasha accusing Bea of stealing. Actually, it was a continuation of their fight from the Seniors Prom. The untimely arrival of Reverend Tom had put a halt to it that night. A simple question reignited the feud.
Alice “Grandma Puddin'” had scooped until her hand hurt, but the guests kept coming back for more. Even Porky ate two helpings despite never getting compliments on anything he cooked. She knew she could put her “foot in a pot.” For years, people gave that compliment when she served up a meal.
Sasha had a strong reputation for tossing a meal or two, also, and Bea was the known Queen. But Alice didn't like Bea as much as she liked Sasha, so she directed her attention to Sasha.
When Alice saw Sasha still had food on her plate, she straightened her apron, walked over and asked humbly, “Mother Sasha, cook to cook, how does the food taste?”
And that's when Sasha realized she'd placed her teeth in a cup, but didn't remember where she set it down. Of course, she never answered Alice's question. She bowed her head and slipped into her mouth an extra pair of teeth she'd brought. But she wasn't letting it go. She was going to blame Bea like the last time. She calmly walked over to where Bea stood, still attached to Elder Batty Brick.
“Bea,” Sasha said sweetly. “May I see you in the kitchen for a moment?”
BOOK: No Ordinary Noel
8.18Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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