The Other Side of Divine (15 page)

—Acts 28:4

 

 

 

“M
r. Booker, what are you doing?” Zachary said, clearly frustrated with all that had just gone down with Aunt Cee-Cee and Jesse.

Bennie looked at Zachary. “I knew what was going on. You think I just fell from the sky the day I showed up here at this house?”

Zachary put his hands on his hips. “No. But you know you're on parole. I'm sure when your sister and that son of hers showed up here talking about some kind of work, you should have figured out he was trying to rope you into something illegal. Do you realize they will throw you right back in prison for doing anything you don't have any business doing?”

Bennie stared hard at Zachary. “You know, you haven't liked me since the first day I stepped foot in this house.”

“I don't like
or
dislike you. I really don't know you, to be honest. I only know that you're a mur—”

“Zachary!” Gabrielle shouted, then shook her head.

“It's okay,” Bennie said. “Let him get everything out. Then maybe we can move on. I'm a murderer. That's what you were about to say.”

Gabrielle placed her hand over her mouth.

“I just don't understand how you could do something like you did,” Zachary said. “Then you just show up on the doorstep of the very person you hurt the most with your actions. And Gabrielle has such a kind, forgiving heart; she wasn't going to turn you away.” Zachary put two fingers up to his forehead and shook his head. Taking his hand down from his head, he entwined his fingers, pressing the remaining two index fingers together and his two thumbs and bringing his index fingers up to his lips. After being quiet for a few seconds, he took his hands down and merely shook his head. “How? That's what I still can't wrap my head around. How?”

“I loved my wife,” Bennie said.

“And I love your daughter,” Zachary said. “And the thought of me
ever
putting my hands on her to hurt her in any way . . .”

“To be honest with you,” Bennie said. “Were you to ever put your hands on my daughter to physically hurt her, I'd likely be going back to prison for sure.”

“Yeah,” Zachary said. “That's what I mean. You feel that way about
your
daughter, but you didn't feel that way about someone else's daughter? I'm not trying to browbeat you on this. It's just—I'm sitting back trying to keep my mouth closed and let Gabrielle run things the way she thinks is right. And you're doing stuff like having the very person who has done nothing
but
hurt Gabrielle come in her house while her meth-head son is apparently trying to bring you into the business of doing what?”

“He was saying I could be a smurf, which I only remembered as being those little blue cartoon characters that came on television when Gabrielle was a baby,” Bennie said.

Zachary nodded. “Well, I hope you know that a smurf, in today's terminology, especially on the streets, is a person who buys things from the drugstore with pseudoephedrine—that's a decongestant found in cold medicines as in Sudafed. You buy the pills and sell them to folks who have meth labs so they can cook up meth.”

“That was the other thing he was telling me these folks were in need of: a cook,” Bennie said.

“Of course,” Zachary said. “Because people who are cooks in the meth kitchen produce a higher rate of turnover in the ‘business.' That's because when you don't mix the recipe just right, you tend to blow up the lab and yourself along with it. I'm a burn specialist and a good many of my patients these days are the few who manage to survive a meth lab explosion, if you want to call it surviving. They bring patients to us from all over Alabama. They've passed laws here in Alabama to try and curb meth sales and meth making. But mostly what they've done is made the ones determined to make it find other ways to get the ingredients they need. Therefore you end up with a need for a lot of smurfs, folks who use their now-required government-issued IDs to purchase what is presently a nine-gram limit of behind-the-counter medicine for the month.”

“Nine grams?” Bennie said. “I'm sorry, but everybody didn't go to college and get a degree like you.”

“Nine grams is about seventy-five pills of the twelve-hour dosage package,” Zachary said. “If they can get enough folks to go in and buy the pills and sell those pills to them, then they can manage to work around the law.”

“Well, I used to hear folks talking all about this when I was locked up. But after I gave my life over to the Lord, I really didn't care to be around much talk about stuff that I knew I'd never be interested in,” Bennie said. “Say what you want, but even before I went to prison, I was never dumb enough to want to do drugs or get involved in selling the stuff.”

“So did you know what Jesse was trying to get you into?” Gabrielle said.

Bennie looked at her. “I knew something was going on with the boy. I knew he needed help, and quick. And it was obvious to me the first time my sister came here to see me that she's all about what will benefit her. But, she's still my sister. I'm trying to live godly.” Bennie turned to Zachary. “So when I saw that young man twitching, jerking, and scratching like he was doing, I knew something was going on with him drug-related. If you had asked me to name the drug of choice, I wouldn't have said meth. But I knew it was something. I was trying to gain his confidence.”

“Is that what you were doing?” Miss Crowe said, stepping into the room. “Really now, Bennie?”

Bennie turned to Miss Crowe. “Esther, I swear to you, that's all. I know you might have heard some of what they were saying and you thought I was going along with them. But as I just said: I was trying to gain Jesse's confidence so I could try and talk some sense into him.” Bennie then turned to Gabrielle. “You believe me, don't you?”

“Of course, she believes you,” Zachary said, still clearly frustrated. “You're her father. She wants to believe you're on the right side.”

“I'm not running any con here,” Bennie said. He continued to look at Gabrielle. “I promise you, I would never do anything to hurt you. We've managed to move
somewhat
forward in our fragile relationship. I'm not going to do anything, if I can help it, to break the tie we're beginning to forge. You believe me, don't you, Gabrielle? Please tell me you believe me.” Bennie touched the elbow of her folded arms.

Gabrielle looked up at him and twisted her mouth a few times. “I asked you not to have Aunt Cee-Cee in my house when I'm not here. I know you think you can handle her, but you don't know her, not the way I do.”

Bennie nodded. “You're right. You did ask that of me. And I was wrong to have let her in. It won't happen again. But I need to know that you believe I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. I need to know that you know I love you.”

Gabrielle looked at him, then suddenly ran out of the room.

Zachary ran after her. She was in her bedroom crying.

“I want to believe him, Zachary,” Gabrielle said. “But what if he's just playing me? What if he and Aunt Cee-Cee are in cahoots together? I mean they
are
brother and sister. But he's my father. I want so much to believe he loves me and that I'm enough.”

“Gabrielle, you don't need his approval. You
are
enough. In fact, you're more than enough. I promise you.” Zachary lifted her off the bed, where she was lying face down, and he held her together by her shoulders. “For me . . . for Jasmine . . . for all the folks who have been blessed to cross your path in one way or another, you
are
enough. Your aunt Cee-Cee was a jerk. If you ask me, I say she still is.”

“And my father?”

“Your father
appears
to be sincere. My problem with him is probably colored by his past. I'm more on alert when it comes to you and him because I want to protect you. And if he's really as slick as the devil, then I know I need to have my eyes wide open to pick up on any clues, no matter how subtle. If you ask me what I think after these few months of him being here, I would say he really cares and he's trying.” Zachary smiled. “But when it comes to protecting the women in my life, the women I love, which includes you, Jasmine, and Aunt Esther in this house, then I'm going to stay on post. Understand?”

Gabrielle nodded, then hugged Zachary and held on to him for dear life.

At eight-forty-five, Miss Crowe rapped lightly on Gabrielle's bedroom door. “Gabrielle, I just want you to know that I've put Jasmine to bed and the kitchen is all cleaned up. Good night, dearest. And good-bye to you, Zachary.”

Zachary and Gabrielle both snickered. Miss Crowe didn't have to worry about Zachary staying the night there. The two of them had made a commitment to God, and they were holding firm to it no matter how much there was the opportunity to give in.

“I suppose I should go and let you get some rest,” Zachary said.

“Could you hold me for just a few minutes more?” Gabrielle said. “It's so peaceful right here. When you're gone, all I'll be left with are my thoughts. And for just a little longer, I'd rather not be alone with them.”

Zachary hugged her. “You haven't said anything but a word.” He continued to hold her. She began to drift off to sleep.

—1 Peter 1:14

 

 

 

B
ennie left early that morning (after Jasmine was off to school and Gabrielle was off to work) telling Miss Crowe he had an important appointment he had to make. She heard the horn blow outside and Bennie open the front door as he yelled back toward the kitchen that he'd see her later.

Miss Crowe didn't care since she liked being in the house by herself. She had calls to make for the wedding, mainly to find out when she could expect the invitations to arrive since there would be two hundred of them to properly address and mail. Jasmine, a little computer whiz, had helped her design things right on the computer. They were able to print off what they'd done and get Gabrielle's final approval before commencing mass printing. Miss Crowe couldn't believe how much technology had changed things. Back in her day, you had to visit a shop, tell them what you wanted, wait for them to order it, and hope it was what you desired.

With this new computer technology, you could design what you wanted using the online company's graphics and templates while being able to make it personal, even incorporating your own photos if you liked. She and Jasmine had had magnets made up with Gabrielle and Zachary's engagement photo (which Miss Crowe and Jasmine had to force them to take with the photographer they'd lined up). The magnets were four by six inches and were created to put on the refrigerator to remind folks to save the date of the scheduled wedding. Miss Crowe had loved the idea when little Miss Smarty Pants Jasmine suggested it.

“This way people will know not to make plans for that day because they'll be getting an official invitation for it in the future,” Jasmine had said.

It was ingenious! Miss Crowe knew etiquette, and that invitations generally have a specific timeline to be sent out. The problem was with people having so much going on these days; there were times when people would miss a wedding because they didn't know an invitation was on the way. This way they'd know.

Still, Miss Crowe didn't quite trust everything, so she'd written down the toll-free number of the company where the invitations were being shipped from just to make sure the notice they'd received the day before stating the invitations were en route was accurate. After pressing one for this and two for that, Miss Crowe was thoroughly frustrated in the lack of another human on the other end.

But she got a lot done before Jasmine came home from school so she was happy.

“Miss C! Miss C!” Jasmine said as she burst through the front door. “The ice-cream man is coming! I saw him. He's just down the block. May I
please
have some Popsicle money? Please, please!” She used her prayer hands and melting smile.

Miss Crowe chuckled. “Of course, you can. Let me get my purse real quick.”

“Hurry, hurry! I don't want him to leave before I get back out there.”

Miss Crowe laughed to herself. “It's not like we don't have ice-cream goodies and Popsicles in the freezer here,” she yelled back as she went into the den and found her purse where she'd left it yesterday after she'd put the twenty dollars she'd gotten Gabrielle to bring her the day before from the bank. She took out her wallet, wishing she had a five-dollar bill so she wouldn't have to send Jasmine out there with her only twenty. But a twenty was all she had so she would have to emphasize to Jasmine to bring her back her change.

She opened the part where she put her paper bills. It wasn't there. She looked again as though by magic it would somehow appear. Empty. She then looked in other places, wondering if her mind might be slipping and she'd not remembered her normal routine and stuck it somewhere else. It wasn't anywhere in her wallet. She distinctly remembered: she had asked Gabrielle to cash a check for twenty dollars and bring her the cash. Gabrielle had cashed it and given her the money yesterday before she left for work, having forgotten to give it to her when she came home the night before. She had taken the twenty and promptly walked into the den, where she'd left her purse the night before when she and Jasmine had placed an online order.

“Miss C! He's here! We're going to miss him!” Jasmine yelled, obviously half inside and half outside the door.

Not wanting Jasmine to miss out, Miss Crowe looked in her change pocket and counted out three dollars' worth of change, hoping that would be enough for
something
on the ice-cream truck. Back in her day, a quarter was plenty, but definitely not these days.

“Here! Here!” Miss Crowe said walking to the front door. “Run!” She stood at the door and watched as Jasmine jumped up and down to get his attention as he had just driven by. Thankfully, he backed up and Jasmine came back in the house with a chocolate candy-covered vanilla ice-cream bar.

“Thank you, Miss C! You're the best!” Jasmine said.

“Yeah, well, we can't be doing this every day now. I'm sure your mother won't appreciate you having too many sweets like this.”

“I told you she doesn't care. She wants me to be happy.” Jasmine grinned. “So, you didn't want anything?”

“No, darling. We have plenty of ice cream in the freezer. In fact, I think we have a whole box of what you just bought from him. And they're a lot cheaper than you most likely paid for that one.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jasmine said. “I almost forgot.” She held out her hand that had a small trace of vanilla ice-cream on it now. “Here's your change.”

Miss Crowe looked at the coin in her hand. “A quarter? So that one little thing was two dollars and seventy-five cents?”

“Yep,” Jasmine said, popping her
p
.

“You can buy a whole box of those things for two dollars and seventy-five cents. And if you buy the store brand, it's even cheaper than that.”

“Yeah, but there's just something different about getting one from the ice-cream man.” Jasmine bit into her ice-cream bar.

Miss Crowe nodded. “Yes, there is. And as long as you enjoy it and don't drip it on everything, we'll all be fine. Now go on in the kitchen and finish it at the table.”

Jasmine went in the kitchen and finished her ice-cream bar as she was told. She went in the half-bathroom and washed the stickiness off her hands. “Can I watch
Finding Nemo
before I do my homework?”

Miss Crowe tilted her head slightly and cracked a little smile. “
Can
you?”

“Okay. I know. Yes, I can.
May
I watch
Finding Nemo
before I do my homework?”

“You watched that DVD yesterday. How many times can a person watch something before you get tired of it?”

“I don't know. But when I discover the number, I'll let you know.”

Miss Crowe put her hand on her hip. “You're a little smart one, aren't you?”

“That's what everybody keeps telling me. I'm just trying to live up to the words spoken over my life. That's what Pastor Landris said. He told parents and other folks that they need to be careful of the words they speak over others, especially their children. Because people are speaking blessings or curses according to what comes out of their mouth. Everybody keeps saying how smart I am, therefore I am.”

Miss Crowe shook her head. “Well, since you've been such a huge help to me and we both know you're going to get your homework done, then you
may
watch your little DVD. But after it goes off, I want you to do your homework. Okay?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Jasmine said with a giggle. “It's not a lot of homework anyway. I'll be through in less than thirty minutes.”

“That's good.” Miss Crowe smiled.

Jasmine ran over and hugged her. “Miss C, I love you! I'm so glad you're here with us. I hope you decide to stay after Dr. Z and my mom get married.”

“I don't know about all of that. But I'm here for now. So we'll just make the best of our time together. That way if for whatever reason I'm ever not in your life, we'll always have our memories. That's what happened with your mom and me. I got hurt really bad and couldn't get back to her. But she always had the memories we created together. And ironically, I had the memories of her with me. When I
did
see her again, everything clicked. I got well, and here I am—down here planning the biggest day this town may ever see.”

“Dr. Z says we're being too dramatic about everything,” Jasmine said. “He and Mama say we're going way over the top with this wedding and Mama keeps saying she's getting nervous.”

Miss Crowe laughed, throwing her head back. “Isn't it grand when you have your own money and you can do something for another, going as far over the top as your heart desires, and no one can really stop you.”

“I suppose,” Jasmine said. “I don't get over-the-top money. I only get lunch money and five dollars a week for an allowance, a dollar of which I always take out and put in church.”

“I'm sure the Lord appreciates your heart. I know some grown folks that don't put a dollar a week in church. But the Lord does love a cheerful giver.” Miss Crowe became somewhat solemn as she thought about her missing twenty dollars. “Miss Jazz, by any chance did you see a twenty-dollar bill lying around in the den anywhere?”

“No, ma'am,” Jasmine said wobbling her head back and forth. “Mama, I'm talking about my first mother this time . . . the one who got cancer and died before Miss G came along and became my mother. Mama always said we don't find money in the house. If we see it, it doesn't belong to us, and we need to find the true owner.”

“That's right.” Miss Crowe nodded. “Well, you go on in and watch your movie while I finish up supper. We're having meatloaf, mashed potatoes, spinach, and candied yams.”

“I used to not like spinach. But the way you cook it, it's one of my favorite things now,” Jasmine said.

“Is that right?” Miss Crowe said. “Well, it's likely because I use fresh spinach, not that canned kind which has a completely different taste from fresh. And”—Miss Crowe leaned down to whisper it as though someone might overhear her, even though she and Jasmine were the only two people in the house—“I put real butter in mine.” She winked.

Jasmine smiled.

“Okay, go on. Your mother will be home soon. This is her day to get off early.”

Jasmine skipped into the den. Not even a minute later, Jasmine called out to Miss Crowe who rushed into the den.

“What's the matter? Why are you hollering for me like that?” Miss Crowe asked with a frown, her hand holding her heart.

“The DVD player is gone,” Jasmine said.

“What do you mean
gone
?”

“I mean it's not here. It grew legs and walked away,” Jasmine said.

“I doubt that it grew legs and walked anywhere. Maybe your mother moved it upstairs to her room for some reason.”

“I doubt it. She has one in her room.”

“Well, maybe something happened to the one she has in her room so she unplugged the one down here and took it upstairs,” Miss Crowe said.

“But my
Finding Nemo
DVD was still in it. The DVD holder is right here.” Jasmine picked up the empty case. “One thing I can tell you about my mother is that she hates when folks take a DVD out and don't put it back in its proper holder. She thinks it will get scratched if it's unprotected.”

“Yeah, that's what used to happen with our forty-fives,” Miss Crowe said.

“Forty-five what?” Jasmine said.

Miss Crowe chuckled. “Sorry. I keep forgetting that I'm antique around here. A forty-five was a record. They call them vinyls now, I think. We had records with record players that required a needle and sometimes the needle would scratch the record or if you laid it down, it might get scratched up. When a record is scratched, it doesn't play right and tends to get stuck and repeats itself in one spot until you move the needle.”

“That's what some DJs do to records on purpose. They call it scratching,” Jasmine said.

“Yeah, okay. I think my head is starting to hurt now.” Jasmine giggled. “You always say that when we start talking about the difference in what was and what is now.”

“Yes, I do because it makes me dizzy hearing all this stuff.”

“I'm going to check in Mama's room to see if the DVD player is in there.”

“Okay.”

Jasmine ran up the stairs. She came back five minutes later and stood in the kitchen.

Miss Crowe looked up. “Did you find it like I told you you would?”

“Nope,” Jasmine said.

“What do you mean, nope?”

“I mean no, ma'am, it wasn't up there. Her player is there though.”

“Well, I know it's not in my room. If I want to watch something I just go in the den and get you to turn it on for me,” Miss Crowe said.

“Maybe Granddaddy took it,” Jasmine said.

“I doubt it. He's just about as inept when it comes to these electronic gadgets as I am. It took him forever to learn how to answer and dial out using the cell phone your mother gave him so he'd have a sure way for a potential employer to reach him should one call.”

“He might have taken it and put it in his room,” Jasmine said. “You never know. I can run and check.”

“No. You don't need to be going in his room when he's not here. That's not polite.”

“I'm sure he won't mind. He and I have bonded. We're buddies. He calls me his BLB: brilliant little buddy.”