You Get What You Pray For (8 page)

“Oh, my baby!” Korica said as soon as she saw Unique walk into Captain Souls Restaurant.

Even though it was a run-down, truck stop–looking hole-in-the-wall, it had character. Not only that, but it had great food. A person with an OCD issue might not be able to break bread there, but Captain Souls was Unique's favorite place for some good old-fashioned soul-food cooking. Like Eleanor's old-school soul-food meals, the food at Captain Souls hit the spot for Unique. All morning Unique had had her mouth set on some fried catfish and cheese grits for breakfast.

“Mommy, it's so good to see you. I've missed you,” Unique said, embracing the woman she called Mommy, the woman who had raised her after her foster parents abandoned her.

Korica had been the couple's next-door neighbor. She'd initially taken Unique in as part of a scam she and the couple were running on the system. But then the couple ran off to start a new life. They didn't want their new life to include Unique, but they also didn't want to give up the monthly check the county provided them for being foster parents to Unique. That was where Korica came in. Korica agreed to care for the child in their absence for a fifty-fifty cut of the monthly stipend. Korica had to do a lot of finagling in order not to get busted, but everything seemed to work out in her favor.

Unique's caseworkers seemed to change every other month. Given all the shifting of paperwork and files and the different computer systems, poor little Unique fell through the cracks. The system basically forgot all about her existence and stopped doing home visits and sending checks. By then Korica and her children had already taken to Unique and considered her part of the family. Her birth mama had dumped her. Her foster parents had dumped her. The system had dumped her. Korica refused to add her name to the list of dumpers. So she kept the child. She'd been struggling to take care of her blood children. What was one more added to the brood? And that bond that Korica had formed with young Unique was sacred, and she wasn't going to let anyone come between them, not even Lorain, the birth mother, who had the nerve to pop up years later.

Korica and Unique broke their embrace and took a seat in a red wooden booth with a view of the parking lot. Korica struck up a conversation as they flipped through the menu, waiting for their waitress to come take their order.

“So tell me more about you moving back here to your place soon,” Korica said. Her long acrylic nails with gold glitter nail polish tapped the menu while she looked it over. Her clear fair skin glistened with excitement.

“Yeah, Tamarra needs me back here to kind of take over things,” Unique said.

“She can't be running you back and forth like she's a puppet master.” Korica flipped her straight, thirty-two-inch Raggedy Ann–red weave over her shoulder.

“She's not running me. Trust me, Tamarra is awesome. I'm so grateful that after letting me go when I was pregnant with the twins and was going through all that drama, she let me start working with her again after I got out of jail.” Unique spoke without taking her eyes away from the menu. Although she pretty much knew exactly what she wanted, she skimmed the menu, anyway, to see if something else grabbed her attention. “Tamarra went to the doctor, and I guess, in short, he told her she needs to slow down. She was talking about retiring from the business altogether and turning over the reins to me.” Unique wagged her hand. “But she's only talking smack, I'm sure. She's invested so much time and money into building her catering business. As soon as she gets to feeling like her normal self, she'll go right back to being the control freak that she is.”

“So how long are we talking before you move back?” Korica asked, closing her menu. Her mind was set on a six-ounce sirloin, medium rare and smothered in onions, with some scrambled cheese eggs on the side and a country biscuit.

“Two weeks.” Unique closed her menu. She was going to stick with what her mouth had been watering for.

Korica clapped. “Yay. You can come back home, get settled, and maybe even, you know, start getting the girls.”

There was an awkward moment of silence before Unique shot her mother a look.

“What?” Korica shrugged. “You know that ole stuck-up wench won't let me see my grandbabies. I gotta go through you to get to them.”

“Mommy, please.” Unique exhaled. “We've been through this already. The girls are not your grandbabies. They are my sisters through my biological mother. So technically—”

Korica pointed and wagged an acrylic finger as close to Unique's face as she could from across the table. “I wish you would.” She glared at Unique. “I done told you once and I done told you a thousand times, you and that woman can do whatever y'all want to do . . . file whatever paperwork y'all want to, but those are my grandbabies. Period!” Korica crossed her arms, and her bottom lip began to tremble.

“Mommy, I know this is hard for you, but it's been five years.”

“And in five more years, if I don't get to have a relationship with my grandbabies, we still gon' be having this same conversation.”

“That's why I can't trust having them around you,” Unique said.

“Come again.” Korica was visibly appalled. Her long, fake eyelashes capped with mascara fluttered like butterflies. They dang near beat the sky-blue and silver eye shadow off her eyelids. Why wouldn't she allow Unique to teach her how to apply her makeup properly, without overdoing it? Less was more, even when it came to beating a face.

“I can't risk you saying the wrong thing to the girls. Mentally, they aren't ready to deal with all that right now.”

“Uh-huh. Then we can table the conversation for now. But like I said, we still gon' end up having this same discussion.”

“Well, I'm not,” Unique said, trying to be as empathetic as possible. “Lorain and Nick are Heaven and Victoria's parents. That is never, ever going to change. Yeah, maybe one day, when the girls are older, we'll explain everything to them, but for now . . . for the next five years . . . the way I see it, things aren't going to change.”

Korica leaned in and, almost with a hint of venom, said, “You carried those babies in your womb. You are their birth mother, their biological mother. You are my daughter, which makes them my grandbabies. And that, Miss Thang, is what's not ever going to change.” Korica leaned back hard in her seat.

“I understand, Mommy. I know how hard this is for you.”

“You'd think it would be hard for you, considering.” Korica rolled her eyes.

“Considering what?” Unique couldn't help but ask. “On second thought, don't answer that. I want to enjoy breakfast with my mommy, and I see that this convo is about to go left of center and crash, resulting in fatalities.”

Korica folded her arms and turned her face from Unique.

Unique smiled and play kicked Korica under the table. “Come on. You know you missed me. You know you love me. Go ahead and say it. I'm your favorite. Don't worry. I won't tell the others.” Unique play kicked her again.

Korica tried hard not to crack a smile, but to no avail. “Ooh, I can't stand you, girl. So dang stubborn.”

“I take after you, so I got it honest.”

Korica looked into Unique's eyes. “Yeah, you did, didn't you?”

“Absolutely. Now, where the heck is that waitress? I've been dreaming about Captain Souls.”

Korica and Unique looked around and made eye contact with the waitress, who got the hint and hurried over and took their orders. The two women spent the next hour eating and catching up. Korica bit her tongue and didn't bring up the twins again. She had hoped that Unique would cooperate so that she didn't have to resort to other tactics in order to get what she wanted. But now it looked like she didn't have a choice.

 

 

Immediately after finishing breakfast with Korica, Unique hit the road, driving straight to West Virginia without stopping. It took her only about three hours to get there. After eating that soul-food breakfast, she had had the itis and had wanted to go back to her place in Malvonia and go to bed. But she'd caught a second wind upon getting behind the wheel and turning on her Mary Mary CD. But it was Tamar Braxton's
Love and War
CD that had taken her into the homestretch.

Once upon a time, a person wouldn't have found anything but Tupac, Jay-Z, DMX, or Biggie blaring from Unique's speakers. In her Christianity walk, she'd weaned herself from that genre of music. It wasn't because she felt hip-hop or rap music was the devil's music with coded messages. She'd simply outgrown it. When she was living in the world, clubbing it and whatnot, what the artists were singing about was pretty much the life she was living, or the one she dreamed of living if she could snag the right baller or be a side chick or whatever. But she wasn't that person anymore. And on top of that, she was far more mature now. At some point a person had to be too old to have songs about nothing but bling, alcohol, and sex bouncing around in their head. Yeah, some of the R & B Unique listened to was a little on the ratchet side . . . but she believed in baby steps.

Speaking of baby steps, Unique felt like a toddler as she walked up the path to the nursing home's back door, which led to the kitchen and served as the delivery entrance. Her legs were tired and a little numb from being in the same position for almost three hours straight. One leg even felt like it was about to go to sleep. Unique could have easily waited it out in the car or walked it off in the parking lot, but being the workaholic that she was, five minutes was five minutes too many to waste. So she wobbled on into the kitchen of the nursing home.

“Hey, Miss Unique,” one of the dishwashers greeted as Unique entered the kitchen. His hands were busy scrubbing a pot.

“How you doing, Charlie?” Unique replied with a wave.

“I can't complain. Well, I can, but I won't. When you work at a place like this, you learn better.”

“I heard that,” Unique agreed.

There were people in this place who weren't entirely in their right mind. There were others who were but who couldn't even go to the bathroom without help. Some couldn't communicate in any manner or walk. So if they weren't complaining, nobody else had a right to.

“Is Patsy around?” Unique asked, scanning the kitchen for her assistant.

“I think she's doing rounds, talking to the patients to make sure everyone is satisfied.”

A proud smile came across Unique's face. Talking to the residents was something Unique made sure she did after every meal served, if time permitted. At first Unique had thought she was there just to help prepare and serve the food and then check in with a patient here and there to make sure the food was to their liking. This particular job had turned out to be far more than just a gig. She had had no idea that spiritual food would end up on the menu as well. It was really a ministry in disguise, as Unique took extra minutes to listen to the patients, pray with them, and sometimes read with them. And not only from the Bible. Unique was surprised at how many of those older folks loved them some Zane and P. R. Hawkins novels.

Unique had never been big on reading prior to coming to West Virginia. But this job had certainly turned her on to reading. Black Expressions Book Club now automatically sent her books every month. Nice hardbacks, which she found herself cuddling up with at night. She wasn't a techie and didn't know a whole lot about those eBook thingamajigs, but she could cuddle up in bed with a good hardback any night of the week, especially since she didn't have anything else that was hard lying next to her in bed, not that she didn't desire a nice, hard body next to her every now and then. But after that one-night stand with her oldest son's father, she'd vowed not to give her body to anybody who wasn't her husband.

Not only that, but sex had been the last thing on Unique's mind of late. Sex had led to her giving birth to five kids by three different men, and not one of them had made an honest woman out of her. But then the Lord had spoken to her and had let her know that she could sit around all she wanted, waiting for some man to make an honest woman out of her, but that true self-respect came when a woman made an honest woman out of herself. For Unique, when it came to her legs, there was no spreadin' without a weddin'.

Unique had rarely been in the company of only herself before moving to West Virginia. She was living at home when she became a teenage mother. After that, she always had her kids in tow and always seemed to end up living with someone. Even after the boys passed away and she got her own place, she was there alone only when it was time for bed. She kept herself busy with helping Tamarra with catering jobs. On top of that, she worked as a Mary Kay consultant and spent a good deal of time either hosting parties, doing facials, or teaching skin-care classes at her house, other people's houses, and churches, you name it. Even now in West Virginia, it seemed like she was alone only when it was bedtime. She was constantly with patients and had even managed to build a nice little Mary Kay clientele.

Come to think of it, even at bedtime she wasn't alone, as she usually prayed, talked to God, and listened to Him until she fell off to sleep. Lately, though, she'd found herself thinking about maybe, just maybe, starting over . . . doing things right. Allowing a man to earn her womanhood and then starting a family. A real family that started with wedding vows. Having those thoughts didn't concern Unique. It was the person to whom her spirit was drawing her, the person with whom she perhaps would begin this new life, that had her apprehensive.

“I feel like I'm in the Emerald City,” Lorain said as she sat in the parlor of Tabby's house.

The average person would call it a sitting room, but Tabby looked at her home more like a manor, estate, or plantation. Considering that she had a full-time staff of mainly African Americans, some might refer to her place as a plantation. But, not to get it twisted, she was not running any type of underground slavery. The folks who worked for Tabby and her husband did not work for free. They were getting paid . . . and paid well.

“What good is a blessing that causes overflow if you don't share it?” Tabby had once asked the wives.

Tabby and her husband shared so much, it was rumored that her husband was doing more than treating patients, that he had his own little business on the side, one that might involve some illegal prescription writing. It was simply a rumor. No one had ever had any concrete proof, nothing more than some she said, he said. If the whole illegal prescription thing wasn't true, Tabby's husband's patients sure were paying him well, because the couple was always giving to this charity or that charity. And certainly a little wedding planning on the side here and there wasn't bringing in the big bucks. Tabby had once claimed that a man whose life her husband had saved had left him over five million dollars in his will when he died.

The wives couldn't believe it the time the couple purchased a new car for every single person on their staff, right down to the landscapers, who were the only employees who weren't of African American decent. And not one of the landscapers in this three-man outfit spoke a word of clear English. They were Mexicans who had fled their country, had struggled to become legal U.S. citizens, and then had started their own landscaping company. Tabby and her husband wrote each vehicle off as a gift, a work expense, or something of that nature.

Tabby was, indeed, the queen of bragging and boasting. Although Tabby had an air of superiority about her, as if she felt she was better than all the other women, it was undeniable that she was a giver from the heart, or at least it appeared that way.

“Since it's March, I wanted to go with the whole St. Patrick's Day green theme,” Tabby said to Lorain. “But I wanted to avoid the whole leprechaun and shamrock leitmotif everyone would be expecting. So I went with the whole
Wizard of Oz–
Emerald City theme.” Tabby's eye's widened with glee as she looked proudly around the room.

The green bulbs she'd placed in all the crystal lamps with dangling crystal teardrops gave the room such a fairy-tale feel. She had placed mirrors about the room, and the green lighting reflected in them made the women feel as if they were actually in another world. Given all the time and money Tabby had put into the decorations, it was obvious that her desire was to make the women green with envy.

“Oh, you did a great job with your Emerald City–
Wiz-ard of Oz
thing, all right,” Carrie said as she walked by, popping a green grape in her mouth that she'd gotten from the fresh fruit platter.

The platter had only green fruits on it, such as green grapes, kiwi slices, green apple and pear slices, lime slices, and honeydew melon chunks, and a green yogurt dip adorned the center. It sat opposite the vegetable platter, which featured broccoli florets, celery stalks, cucumber slices, snap peas, and green bell pepper slices, with a dill dip in the center. Between the two platters was a huge bowl of a signature green alcoholic beverage. Tabby hadn't yet shared the recipe, but it was evident that the drink contained mint leaves, as they were floating atop the liquid and really enhanced the flavor.

Carrie stopped suddenly, turned, and faced Tabby. “You even have the wicked witch and all,” she said and then kept it moving.

Tabby looked up. “Lord, I repent.”

“For what?” Lorain asked, confused.

“For just praying that she chokes on that grape.”

A couple of the other wives who were in earshot giggled.

Lorain shook her head. She probably would have laughed herself if she hadn't actually choked on a grape herself before. It was nothing nice.

“I heard that,” Carrie said as she sat down on the white couch, which, due to the lighting, looked light mint green.

“You were supposed to,” Tabby said in a singsong voice as she walked through the archway leading into the dining room. She observed the table as her staff brought the hot food out. Then she called out to the wives. “Ladies, I think we are about set now. You guys can come on in here, and we can chow down.”

The women had been nibbling on rabbit food for about an hour, so they practically charged into the dining room like bulls.

“Wow. Everything looks delectable,” Mary said.

“I concur,” added Lorain as she admired the spread.

“What are those?” Angel pointed to a platter with little, round, crispy things on it.

“Green cherry tomatoes, fried,” Tabby said.

“Oh, bite-size fried green tomatoes. How cute.” Lorain scooted into one of the high-back, wrought-iron chair.

There was also a platter with bite-size spinach quiche.

“That green-bean casserole looks yummy,” Carrie said, licking her lips. “What's that meat in it?”

“Ground chuck. It's my mother-in-law's recipe.” Tabby looked so proud.

“Yours and Big Mama's on Twenty-Fifth, over in the Linden area,” Carrie said. She was referencing the neighborhood mother that almost every kid in the hood had grown up with. Most of them were nicknamed either Big Mama or Mama Dukes.

“What?” Tabby had a huge question mark on her face.

“I'm sure it's delicious,” Isabella interrupted.

Also on the table was sushi wrapped in seaweed, along with some other items. The meal was random and not really cohesive at all, but it was obviously tasty, because the women dived in. A half hour later the servers brought out some hot green tea.

“By the way, Tabby . . . ,” Lorain began. “Did you and the family end up flying out for your niece's wedding a couple weeks ago?”

Tabby, who had popped her last bite of sushi in her mouth, mumbled, “Absolutely not.” She shook her head to reiterate. Once she had swallowed her food, she wiped her mouth and said, “She was marrying another woman, for Pete's sake. I can't even believe my sister-in-law had the nerve to get invitations drawn up and to spend money on such a sinful affair. I should have known something was funny about that girl when they started calling her Sam, instead of her given name, Samantha.” She harrumphed. “My poor brother-in-law and sister-sister-in-law spent so much time thinking that it was her son who was gay, God rest his soul, that they didn't even notice that it was her daughter who was going to live in eternal hell.”

“Oh, stop it, Tabby,” Isabella said. “You are being so harsh. No one here has a heaven or a hell to place anyone in.”

“I'm so disappointed in my husband's brother and his wife. We moved to Ohio only because they were here. My husband and I weren't raised in the church or anything like that, but we did find Christ eventually. And with my sister-in-law calling herself a Christian, I can't believe she not only supported the idea but also paid for practically the entire family to go on that cruise to attend that . . . that . . . Oh, I can't even fix my lips to say it.” Tabby took a sip of her tea, hoping it would calm her nerves.

“Wait a minute,” Carrie said, pointing her finger at Tabby. There was something about her tone that suggested craziness might fall from her lips next. “How you gon' say you wouldn't go to your gay niece's wedding when just last month you were bragging about the extravagant baby shower you threw for your unwed daughter who is pregnant by her cousin's husband?” Carrie said to Tabby.

As Tabby practically choked on her tea, she made a mental note to be careful what she prayed for. A little while ago she'd prayed that Carrie would choke on a grape, and here she was, barely able to catch her breath.

Isabella, who was sitting next to Tabby, stood and patted her back. “Are you okay?”

Tabby coughed a few times before replying. “Yes, I'm fine.”

“Well, good,” Carrie said, starting back in. “Now that you are fine, you can answer my question.”

With flushed cheeks, Tabby replied, “My niece's and my daughter's situations . . . well, they're different.”

“Oh, so you can support a ho but not a homo. Makes perfect sense to me,” Carrie said, throwing her hands in the air.

“Now, you wait one dang on second.” Tabby jumped out of her seat. “Are you calling my daughter a ho?” Isabella grabbed hold of Tabby's arms as Tabby took a step toward Carrie.

“Oh, I see. Since there is a green theme going on up in this piece, homegirl wanna get froggy. Homegirl wanna jump. Oh, okay.” Carrie had this smug grin on her face. She kept right on eating her food, as if she wasn't even fazed by the host.

“What?” Tabby said, scrunching her face in puzzlement. “Will you speak proper English for once so that someone besides hoodlums and thugs will know what the heck you are saying?”

“Hoodlum? Thug? You're the one jumping all bad, yet calling somebody else a hoodlum and a thug?” Now Carrie stood, which caused Lorain to stand as well, because she knew Isabella might be able to handle Tabby, but gaining control of Carrie would be out of the question for her. Lorain knew Carrie's kind. She was Unique before she got saved . . . well, and a couple years after that too.

“That's only because you called my daughter a . . . a . . . a garden tool,” Tabby countered.

The room went dead silent, and everyone looked at Tabby.

“It's a shame you're too snooty to even say ‘ho.'” Carrie shook her head and wagged her hand at Tabby. “Child, I ain't fooling with you. I ain't got time to be catching no case.” She looked Tabby up and down. “And you are not worth a second strike.”

Now all eyes shot directly to Carrie.

“Don't judge me,” Carrie said, then sat back down and finished off a quiche.

“Oh, no, you don't, missy,” Tabby said. She was so angry, she was shaking. “How dare you talk about my family and then think you're going to sit down and eat my food without even apologizing!”

“Oh, girl, I'm sorry,” Carrie said with a stuffed mouth. “You're daughter ain't no more of a ho than Lorain's daughter, with her three baby daddies.”

Nothing but gasps filled the room.

There was a long moment of silence while Lorain let Carrie's words sink in. “What did you say?” Lorain glared at Carrie. Had she really heard what she thought she had?

“What?” Carrie looked at a couple of the women, dumbfounded. Her eyes landed on Tabby. “Was this supposed to be a secret or something? Tabby, you're the one who told me she had all them kids with different fathers,” Carrie said, as if she should be held innocent. “You said you Googled an article or something about an incident . . . jail or something.”

Tabby turned her head in embarrassment and began to scratch her scalp, which wasn't itching.

“Tabby,” Mary said, shocked.

Everyone was staring at Tabby like she was the Antichrist.

After feeling a sense of uneasiness for a moment too long, Tabby finally spoke. “Oh, please. Don't act like you all weren't two- and three-waying each other on the phone to spread the news when I found out. All it took was me confiding in one person before the whole bunch of you found out.”

Lorain was speechless, a tornado of emotions running through her. How much information about her did these women have? Had they been smiling in her face yet pointing fingers and judging her behind her back? Exactly which articles about her and her family had they found on the Internet? Nobody's business and information were safe anymore with today's technology.

Lorain had told the wives that her oldest daughter had lost her three sons in a freak accident, but she'd never given the details and they'd never picked her for any. She definitely hadn't told them about Unique giving birth to the twins and her adopting them.

Here all this time Lorain had thought these women were too busy with their own lives to concern themselves with hers, or at best, they were respecting her privacy, waiting for her to talk when she felt like opening up to them . . . which probably would have been never. She'd come to find out that these nosy broads had taken it upon themselves to go dig up all they could on her and then gossip to one another about it.

She had no words for these women, whom she'd called her like-minded friends. On second thought, she had words for them, but they were words she didn't even think God would forgive her for spewing. So instead of even trying to speak, Lorain grabbed her short-strapped red designer handbag, which matched her crisscross-strapped red pumps, and headed for the door.

“Lorain, I'm so sorry,” Tabby said, following behind her. “I didn't mean any harm. The ladies and I just—”

Lorain turned around sharply, stopping Tabby in her tracks. She shot Tabby the look of death, silently warning her that it was in her best interest not to say another word to her. When Tabby didn't move and didn't speak, Lorain knew she'd gotten the message. She turned back around and allowed her heels to click on the hardwood floor as she walked to the front door. She let herself out, slamming the door so hard that all the chandeliers played a soft melody.

Tabby gathered her composure and walked back into the dining room. The tension was so thick, it would be a challenge for a samurai's sword to slice through it. She looked at each woman to see if anyone had anything to say, considering they'd all had a part in the Nancy Drew detective work gone wrong.