Bring on the Blessings

by Beverly Jenkins

  Reggie asked, “What about health care? Is there a doctor here?”

  “No. Right now, people go to a clinic over in Franklin, about fifteen miles away. If it’s really serious, they have to drive down to the big hospital in Hays.”

  “You know I’m a pediatrician.”

  “I do.”

  He asked, “So are you planning on having some kind of clinic here for the children?”

  “Soon as I can find a doctor willing to take the job. Lily and I have put out some feelers.”

  He nodded as if the answer pleased him.

  In the mirror, Bernadine saw his wife give him a small smile, which he returned.

  Bernadine said, “I know you’re all cramped up back there. How about we get out and stretch our legs?”

  Payne grumbled, “Thought you’d never ask.”

  Now they could hear the noise. She spied Trent in his hard hat looking over a blueprint with construction-boss Kelly. When he saw her, he handed the blueprint over to Kelly and came over to where she and the others stood.

  Introductions were made, and they all shook his hand.

  “Trent’s the town mayor,” Bernadine told the guests. “His family’s lived here for generations. In fact, his great-great-grandmother was mayor in her day.”

  “A lady mayor?” Sheila asked curiously.

  “Yep,” Trent replied, “but we were also outlaws in those days, so don’t let that fool you.”

  “Outlaws?” Payne asked.

  Trent nodded. “When you meet my grandmother, have her bring out her pictures. She loves showing them off.”

  “I’ll do that. My great-great-grandfather was a deputy marshal back in those days. Wonder if he arrested your ancestors. That would be something, wouldn’t it?”

  Trent studied him. “Where was he marshal?”

  “Indian Territory. Town called Wewoka.”

  Trent went still. “What was his name?”

  “Deputy Marshal Dixon Wildhorse.”

  Trent looked Payne up and down, then smiled and stuck out his hand again. With real warmth in his voice, he said, “Welcome home, my brother.”

  Payne looked confused, and so did everyone else. He shook Trent’s hand warily. “What do you mean, ‘welcome home’?”

  “Your great–great-granddaddy and mine were good friends. So good that back in the day they fought on the same side during a shoot-out at the saloon here in town called the Liberian Lady. In fact,” Trent was just grinning. “wait until Tamar finds out. Dix’s descendant. She is going to have a fit. Man! It’s great to meet you.”

  Payne still looked confused. “Are you saying Wildhorse was here? In Henry Adams?”

  “Yep. More than a few times. Plus we share heritage.”

  Payne stared back blankly.

  “Black Seminole,” Trent said.

  “Black Seminole?”

  “You didn’t know Marshal Wildhorse was Seminole?”

  “No.”

  Roni whispered in an awed voice, “This is amazing.”

  Bernadine was riveted. She’d never seen Trent so animated.

  “Let me get my truck,” he said, excitement in his eyes. “Bernadine, we have to go see Tamar. I know you probably had other stuff planned but I—”

  She held up a hand. “No, we can go. She was on my list anyway. That old saying about it being a small world for Black folks?”

  “Amen,” Lily chimed.

  Payne still looked doubtful. “Are you sure?” he asked Trent again.

  “Sure as my name is July and Tamar’s got pictures to prove it. Meet you all there.” He took off at a run to get his vehicle, leaving Bernadine and the others to stare after him in wonder. “Guess we’re going to Tamar’s.”

  The stunned Payne said, “Guess so.” He looked down at his wife, who smiled up and said softly, “Told you this is where we’re supposed to be.”

  What could he say?

  Sure enough, Tamar came out to the porch with a battered old album that was lovingly wrapped inside of a pillowcase. Everyone looked on eagerly as she opened it. Colonel Payne was seated next to her on the sofa. She told him. “The folks in Nicodemus had a newspaper called the Cyclone, and the photographer took pictures everywhere. Some of these are from the paper and some from pictures he took of folks who lived around this way.” She turned past sepia-colored photos and tintypes. When she got to the page she was looking for, she pointed her aged finger at one of the men in the photograph. “This is Deputy Marshal Wildhorse. His wife, Katherine, was a pioneering newspaper lady, but I don’t have any pictures of her.”

  Payne peered down at the faded picture of a dark-skinned man wearing a double-breasted shirt and dusty-looking denims. He was posed with a long rifle in his hand. The star on his shirt was prominently displayed. “Wow,” he whispered, awed.

  “Yep. And that there is my grandfather, outlaw Neil July,” she said, pointing to each person in turn. “Next to him, outlaw Griffin Blake. That man there is Griff’s brother Jackson. He was a sheriff down in Texas. That’s my great uncle Two Shafts. He was part Comanche, and that’s my great aunt Teresa.”

  “She’s dressed like an outlaw too!” Sheila exclaimed with surprise. She was seated on the other side of Tamar.

  “That’s because she was an outlaw too.”

  Sheila’s mouth dropped.

  Roni and Reggie edged closer to get a better look.

  Bernadine had seen the pics before and took great pleasure in the wonder on the faces of the visitors. She was also pleased to see somebody else blown away by the history of the town and its residents.

  Payne asked, “When was this taken?”

  “Date on the back says 1889. This was after the big shoot-out over at the Liberian Lady.”

  Payne couldn’t take his eyes away from his tall, stately looking ancestor. “And he was Seminole?”

  “Yep,” Tamar responded. “And proud to be. Was appointed marshal by Hanging Judge Isaac Parker.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Because I’m the July griot. The keeper of the lore. You know what that means?”

  He nodded.

  “Once upon a time we all had griots in our families. I learned from my great-aunt Teresa starting when I was a little girl. She learned from her mother, the first Tamar, who learned from her mother. Now, most of the family griots are gone, which is why some parts of the race are in such terrible turmoil. They’ve forgotten.”

  They all thought about that for a moment, and Bernadine decided Tamar was right. Personally, Bernadine knew her grandparents had come north from Kentucky during the early part of the twentieth century but knew nothing about her great-grandparents at all. Her family had forgotten too.

  Payne shook his head. “This is amazing.”

  Trent says, “So that makes you Seminole too, Colonel.”

  “I see.”

  Tamar said, “One day when you have the time, come back by and I’ll tell you the whole story—from the Three Seminole Wars to the Great Walk.”

  “The Great Walk?”

  “Yep.”

  “You mean the Trail of Tears?”

  “No. That was the Cherokee. The Seminoles walked from Indian Territory to the Mexican border trying to get away from the slave catchers and the Creeks.”

  When he just stared, she smiled and patted him on the arm. “It’s okay. We have plenty of time for all this later, but on behalf of the July family, welcome. Welcome to all of you.”

  It was apparent Payne wanted to know more, but he didn’t ask anything else.

  Bernadine was amazed by his soldier’s discipline. Had it been her, she would have asked so many questions Tamar would have had to have her bodily removed. Bernadine also wondered how this startling revelation might factor into the Paynes’ decision to become foster parents.

  Trent was leaning against the porch rail, still pleased by the surprising discovery. Who would have ever imagined that the lines of Wildhorse and July would cross paths again more than a c
entury later? Deputy Marshal Wildhorse had been very respected in his day according to all the stories he’d heard. He glanced over Lily’s way and found her watching him. For a long moment, their eyes held. Time seemed to stand still. He studied the familiar lines of her face and thought back on all they’d shared and dreamed about. He looked away.

  Tamar asked Bernadine, “You want me to start rounding up everybody for the video?”

  “Would you, please? Then we’ll have dinner.”

  Tamar nodded at the Paynes and Garlands. “I’ll see you all in minute.” She eased the photo album back into its protective pillowcase, and Bernadine led everyone else to her place.

  Soon after the locals and the newcomers found seats, she popped in a DVD prepared by the state’s adoptive agencies. It featured testimonies from both foster and adoptive parents on the kids they’d agreed to take into their lives. Some were success stories, like the one told by a single mother in Oklahoma who’d adopted four toddler siblings. They’d grown up and were all college graduates. Others told of the heartache of raising children who in spite of being given love and stability never recovered from the tragedy imprinted on their early lives. Some wound up in jail or were drifting aimlessly. One young man who’d been fostered by a couple in Topeka committed suicide on his fifteenth birthday. The parents made it clear that the decision to say yes wasn’t to be taken lightly.

  When the DVD ended, the room was silent. Bernadine looked around at the seriously set faces but waited before speaking. She wanted them to digest what they’d seen and heard first.

  Reggie broke the silence. “I’m glad we saw that.”

  The others agreed.

  His wife added, “Gives us lots to think about.”

  Colonel Payne asked Bernadine, “When will we need to let you know what we decide?”

  “Truthfully, before you leave in the morning. I’m scheduled to pick up the kids Friday. I need to know how many families I’ll have for them. And one thing I need to make clear for everyone is that children like these do not bond overnight. It may be months, even years, before the real child opens up.”

  For a moment there was silence as the couples looked at each other. She said to the Paynes and Garlands: “If you all want to use one of the bedrooms to speak privately, please help yourselves.”

  They accepted her offer and walked to the back while Bernadine, Trent, and the others sat tensely.

  The couples came back a short time later and the answer was yes. Outwardly, Bernadine thanked them graciously but inside she was doing her hallelujah dance.

  CHAPTER

  11

  Speechless, Lily looked around the luxurious interior of the small private jet. It was done in white leather and trimmed in burnished silver. It sat ten and had a galley kitchen and a small bedroom in the back. The seats were so white they could have been made out of freshly fallen snow.

  A smiling Bernadine fastened her seat belt. “Do you like it?”

  “My goodness, yes. And this is yours?”

  “Yep. It was a gift from one of my Bottom Women sisters.”

  “Who?”

  Before Lily could explain, the lyrical voice of their Jamaican pilot, Katie Skye came over the speakers. “Ms. B, does it matter which city we fly to first?”

  “Nope. Just so we hit all the spots today.”

  “Gotcha. Then we’ll start with Dallas.”

  “You’re driving.”

  They were cleared for takeoff from the Hays airport a short time later and were soon airborne and heading south for Dallas.

  After reaching cruising speed, the still-dazzled Lily asked, “Now, how did you get this plane?”

  “I belong to a group called the Bottom Women’s Society.”

  “Bottom as in hips?”

  “No, as in pimps.”

  Her eyes widened.

  Bernadine asked, “Do you know what a pimp’s bottom woman is?”

  “Yeah. She’s his first money machine, shall we say.”

  “We shall, and he builds his empire on her back, right?”

  Lily nodded. “Or so I’ve heard. She supposedly takes care of the other girls he brings in, handles the house, the finances, etcetera.”

  “Well, that’s who my girlfriends and I are. Only our pimps sat in board rooms. We’re all first wives.”

  “Ah. I get the name now. And one of your girls just gave this to you?” She couldn’t stop staring around.

  “Yep, it’s how we Bottom Women roll. This plane was part of her divorce settlement. She hates to fly though, so she gave it to me in honor of my second divorce anniversary.”

  “Do you think you all could take in a poor Bottom Woman like me?”

  Bernadine laughed. “Sure, why not. We can nominate our friends, and we are friends, right?”

  “If you all pass jets around, I’m your best friend.”

  Both women laughed and settled in for the flight. It was so smooth and uneventful that Bernadine took it as a sign that the day would go well.

  When they began their descent to a small municipal field outside of Dallas, Bernadine’s heart was pounding with excitement and anticipation. She would be fostering the fourteen-year-old Crystal Chambers. According to the phone calls she’d had with Yvette Carr, the social worker, the girl had lots of issues, but Bernadine planned to give her all of the love and support she’d need to get a handle on her life and move forward.

  After they landed, Bernadine pulled out her phone. Arrangements had been made in advance for Crystal and Ms. Carr to be waiting at one of the small hangars. She called to make sure they were there, and Katie taxied the plane to the meeting spot. Bernadine left the plane to meet them while Lily stayed on and observed.

  The first thing she noticed was the terribly unkempt blond extensions the teenager had woven into her scalp. Lily had seen better heads on mops. The second thing she noticed was Crystal’s sour face, but Lily supposed it was to be expected. The girl had no idea who Bernadine was or where she was going to live. After having been in the system as long as the papers in her file said she had been, one foster parent was probably just another foster parent. The thought tugged at Lily’s heart.

  She watched Bernadine and Ms. Carr end their conversation and Bernadine gesture Crystal toward the plane. The girl stopped, looked at the jet, and then back at Bernadine with wide eyes.

  Bernadine smiled, the girl climbed the stairs with a look of wonderment on her face, and Lily smiled too.

  Crystal entered the plane gushing, “I get to ride in this! Dayum! This is sweet!”

  Bernadine said, “Crystal, I want you to meet Lily Fontaine. Ms. Fontaine is my assistant.”

  “Hey, Crystal.”

  “Hey,” she replied, but her entire being seemed focused on taking in the plane. “Man. Wait until I tell my friends. They’re going to think I’m smoking crack!”

  The blond tresses looked even worse up close. The tight jeans looked sprayed on, and the sleeves of the worn white T-shirt were rolled up to show off the tattoo—a blunt with smoke rising from the tip etched on her thin bicep. Lord have mercy.

  “Who’d you get this plane from, Ms. Bernadine? Your boo?”

  Bernadine chuckled, “No. Got it from one of my girlfriends.”

  “Girlfriend? You lesbian?”

  Bernadine blinked. “No, but a few of my friends are.”

  Crystal shot a look at Lily, “You one?”

  “Lesbian? No, but if I were, would that be a problem?”

  “Hell, yeah!” the girl said as if that was a stupid question and took a seat.

  Bernadine knew this was not the time or place for a tolerance lesson, but one would be coming very soon.

  Katie’s voice came over the speakers asking everyone to buckle up, and the jet began the slow rollback to the runway.

  “Where we going now? To your mansion, right? If you got a jet you gotta have a mansion to put it in, right?”

  Bernadine and Lily shared a look before she answered, “We’re going to
Alabama to pick up an eight-year-old boy named Devon.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s going back to Kansas with us too.”

  “So it’ll be just the two of us?”

  “Nope. Then we go to Miami to pick up Zoey.”

  “Zoey? What kind of wack name is that?”

  Bernadine overlooked that. For now. “Then to Detroit to get Amari. Last stop will be to pick up Preston in Milwaukee. Do you like flying?”

  She shrugged. “Never been on a plane before.”

  Lily handed her a stick of gum. “Here. Chew this. It’ll keep your ears from stopping up.”

  Crystal looked confused but she stuck the gum in her mouth and turned her eyes back to the view out her window.

  Bernadine and Lily shared another look, then settled in for the flight to Alabama.

  When they landed again, they taxied into another small airport and over to one of the hangars for their rendezvous with Devon Watkins and his social worker. This airport was not as modern as the one in Dallas. Dallas was technically considered part of the South, but this was the South. You could see it in the rural landscape surrounding the little airport and you could see it in the faces of the men and women going about their jobs.

  Crystal asked, “Where are we?”

  “Near Birmingham, Alabama.”

  “Okay.” They were the first words she’d spoken since leaving Dallas, and Bernadine hoped it wasn’t because she’d been terrified about being up in the clouds.

  “What do you think about flying so far?”

  “I like it.”

  “Good. I like to fly too.”

  Bernadine stood and looked out the windows at the gray corrugated metal hangars they were slowly passing. “I don’t see anybody. Do you?”

  Lily didn’t either.

  “Is that them?” Crystal asked, pointing a finger crowned with a long fake pink-and-white nail.

  Bernadine saw a tall blonde white woman holding the hand of a small brown-skinned little boy wearing a dark suit, white shirt, and tie. “I think so,” she called to Katie. “This is them, Kate.”