Heaven Right Here

by Lutishia Lovely

  “How’d you decide to put this on your CD and to go this route? This is the most traditional I’ve ever heard you sing, and I like it.”

  “God dropped it on me, man, when I was at a low point. I was praying, and before I knew it, these words were pouring out of my mouth. They sang it at my grandmother’s church too. I’d forgotten I knew it.”

  “Well, I’m not one who’s quick to give a word of prophecy. But I wouldn’t be surprised if this classic, and not one of your R & B contemporary numbers, is your next hit.”

  Both men jumped as the door burst open. Mrs. Anderson, followed by a harried Lionel trying to overtake her, rushed into the room.

  “Pastor, I told her she needed to make an appointment,” Derrick’s assistant stated. “She just barged right past me. Should I call security?”

  “You don’t need to call nobody,” Mrs. Anderson said. “I’ve come here with something to say to Pastor Derrick, and I’m gonna say it. And then I’ll be on my way, never to darken these doors again.”

  Lionel gave his pastor a haggard look. Derrick nodded slightly and waved Lionel away.

  Darius rose from his chair. “I’ll wait outside,” he said.

  “You might as well stay. It concerns you too.”

  Darius looked at Derrick and returned to his seat.

  “Would you like to sit down?”

  “I won’t be that long.” Mrs. Anderson took a moment and softened her demeanor. “I’ve come to ask you, to ask both of you, to accept my apology.”

  Darius sat up straighter in his chair. She could not have said what I think she said.

  “I stand by my Christian beliefs. Sin is sin, and some sins are more dire than others. But even so, in these past few weeks I’ve said some things and did some things that are not becoming to a child of God. And, Darius.” she turned to look directly at him. “While I don’t agree with your lifestyle, and will never agree with it, two wrongs don’t make a right. And I was wrong. This is hard for me to say, but my daughter—” Mrs. Anderson paused as tears threatened to erupt.

  Pastor Derrick reached for a tissue and handed it to her. She took it and continued.

  “You said something one time in this here office, Pastor. About my daughter. I told you I knew her, and you said I thought I knew her. Well, now, I know my child. But I didn’t know everything about my child. Sin is sin, and lying is sin. And my child has lied on this man here.” She pointed at Darius. “And come first thing Monday morning, we’re getting with our lawyer to set it right.”

  Derrick looked from Mrs. Anderson to Darius, too stunned to reply.

  “That’s what I came to tell you,” Darius said to Derrick. “That the tape proves it’s not me on there. Whoever ra—violated Melody had a specific tattoo on his back. I don’t have any tattoos.”

  “So that’s what I came here to say,” Mrs. Anderson continued. “And now I’ll be on my way.”

  “Bernadette—Mrs. Anderson—let me just say that while we don’t always see eye to eye, you have been a staunch supporter of this ministry for almost thirty years, and it would be a shame to lose you. The body of Christ has different parts for different reasons. The arm can’t do what the leg does, and the eye can’t work for the nose. What I’m trying to say is you have many choices of where to worship, many fine churches in this city run by some of my very good friends. You would be more than blessed to join any one of them. But I want you to know that you are also more than welcome to stay right here.”

  “Well, Pastor, I appreciate that, surely I do. Clyde, he sure doesn’t want to leave. But I’ve caused such a ruckus, I don’t know if I can come back here.”

  “Oh, a good old ruckus never hurt nobody,” Derrick said, rising and coming over to hug this church mother. “You talk it over with Mr. Anderson. Better yet, let me call Vivian and see what her plans are for dinner tomorrow night. We normally try to keep the schedule pretty light on Saturday evenings, so it should be all right if you two join us. And I for one would really enjoy that.”

  It took determination and a dip in her pride, but Bernadette also shook the hand of the man she’d sworn never to touch—Darius Crenshaw. She couldn’t quite look him in the eye, but she didn’t beat herself up too badly. This was new territory, and she’d have to take one step at a time. In her mind touching him, and not knowing where his hands had been, was already a huge leap of faith.

  Walking to her car, Bernadette let the tears fall. Her heart felt lighter already. She’d be forever grateful to Faye Moseley, the member in whom she’d confided after being unable to bear the burden of Melody’s actions alone, afraid to tell Clyde lest he die from the pain. Melody was his little girl. To know she’d been raped had almost killed him. If he found out she had been the initiator, he might kill her. So she’d turned to Faye—Mother Moseley, as she was called—and Faye had given her straight-up, sistah-girl advice.

  “Bea, you ain’t the only one who’s ever acted a fool in church, and if you be truthful, this ain’t your first time acting one. Like my boy Donnie says: fall down, get back up. That’s what saints do.”

  “But where did I go wrong, Faye? I tried so hard to keep Melody from making the same mistakes I did, tried to keep her on the straight and narrow, to know where she was and who she was with. I don’t even know how long she’s been lying to me! How could she do that?”

  “Girl, please. You told your parents everything? That’s what kids do. Lie, cheat, steal, do whatever they can to break out of their parents’ shadow and come into their own. I’m not trying to say you shouldn’t be hurt and angry. But you can’t blame yourself either. At any given moment, we’re all doing the absolute best we can. And who knows? God can turn this thing around and still get glory!”

  I hope you’re right, Bernadette thought as she headed back to her house. The apology to her pastor wasn’t the end but the beginning of the actions she was taking to make things right. And what she was getting ready to do now would be the hardest.

  She opened the door and climbed the steps quickly before she lost her nerve. She stopped at the door to Melody’s room. It was quiet. Probably got that iPod stuck in her ear.

  She tapped once and then opened the door. Melody, bobbing her head and text messaging, pulled out the earbuds when she saw her mother at the door.

  “Hey, Mommy.”

  “Melody.”

  Oh, Lord. What’s that tone about? “Are you okay? You seem tired.”

  Bernadette walked into the room and closed the door. “No, Melody. I am not okay. But I will be, and so will you. Everything is going to be all right.”

  Melody began to get a bit nervous. Her mother was acting weird! “Why? What’s going on?” she stuttered.

  Bernadette sat on the bed, reached into her purse, and pulled out a brochure. She silently handed it to Melody.

  Melody took it and saw a picturesque country scene with trees and flowers. Inside a caption box were the words she read aloud, “Angel House. What’s this?” She looked at her mother, who only stared back at her. Melody’s nervousness deepened. She opened the brochure and began to read. The nervousness was replaced by fear. “Boarding school? Why are you giving me something about a boarding school?” Her attempt to sound lighthearted failed miserably.

  “Because, Melody, that’s where you’re going.”

  “Mommy,” Melody whined, falling into the familiar voice she’d used to wrap her parents around her finger for years.

  Mrs. Anderson held up her hand and spoke in a stern voice. “My heart is fixed, and my mind is made up. I can’t give you the guidance you need. There’s too many things here to distract you, too many temptations to help you fall. Now, I’ve been on the phone with the people at this school, and they are powerful men and women of God. They’ve got a program to get you back on the right track. Once you turn eighteen, you’ll have to decide which track you stay on.”

  “Eighteen! You want me to go away for two years? No, Mommy! I won’t! I can’t leave you and Daddy. How could you send m
e away?”

  “You left the night you lay under that man and asked him to do those nasty things to you.”

  “But, Mommy, I was raped—”

  “Stop lying to me! I saw the tape, Melody.”

  Melody’s eyes widened.

  “Uh-huh, sure did. Hurt me to my heart too, but I watched enough to learn the truth.”

  How did she get her hands on the tape? And then a worse thought followed. “Did Daddy …”

  “No, thank God, because it would be the death of him as sure as I’m born. And that’s why you’re leaving. I don’t want him ever to see it. And I don’t want you to put no more hurt on him than you already have. For twenty-five years, I bowed down on my knees in prayer and supplication for a child. And God answered my prayer. And while this will hurt me to my heart, I’m going to give you back to Him now.”

  Now both women were crying.

  “He can do for you what I can’t. And I’ve got to trust that when the time is right, He’ll give you back to me again. It’s a good, Christian school, founded on Christian principals. I’ve talked to the head of the school, some of the teachers, and the pastor of the church that you’ll be attending while you’re there.”

  Melody looked at the brochure again. “Mommy, this place is in Louisiana!”

  “Yes, in the South, where you’ll be surrounded by Christian people with strong Christian values.” Bernadette almost wavered as she watched the tears roll down her daughter’s cheeks. “Plus it will give you a chance to learn something new, live someplace different. You might like it, Melody.”

  “But, Mommy, I don’t want to go!”

  Mrs. Anderson stood and looked down on her daughter. Love mixed with pain filled her eyes. “In life, we don’t always get what we want. But God always gives us what we need.”

  62

  Right Here

  “Girl, he seems to get bigger every time I see him,” Hope said as she handed Stacy’s son a breadstick. The ladies were enjoying their first Saturday powwow in a long time.

  “And so do you!” Frieda said, rolling her eyes at Hope’s round stomach.

  “I am, huh?” Hope agreed. She rubbed her belly lovingly.

  “How far along are you? Five months?”

  Hope nodded.

  “And already looking like a Butterball turkey,” Frieda said. “Hey, waiter! Cancel that order of calamari and bring this girl a salad!”

  The other patrons joined in the laughter.

  “You know I’m messing with you, girl. Get your eat on like you want to.”

  “I have to. I’m eating for three.”

  “And you’ve decided on the names for sure?”

  “Yes, Acacia and Camon.”

  Stacy scrunched up her nose. “I like Acacia, but that boy’s gonna have to whoop booty for days. I can hear the teasing now: ‘C’mon! C’mon!’”

  “But it’s pronounced like Damon; the emphasis is on the first syllable.”

  “That won’t matter to seven-year-olds.”

  “And it won’t matter to my son. He’ll be above such things.”

  Stacy rolled her eyes. “Oh, here we go, Miss Perfect Mom thinking she has all the answers. Girl, it don’t matter that you’ve read enough books to teach a college course on childhood development; it all changes when they get here.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Yeah, you sure will.”

  “Enough baby talk. Let’s talk about dicks.”

  One of the women at the other tables turned around with a surprised expression on her face. Her lunching companion showed chagrin.

  “Good Lord, Frieda. We can’t take you anywhere!” Hope shot the table next to them an apologetic smile.

  “What? I could have been talking about anything or anybody—uh, Dick Gregory, Dick Clark, and what’s that one rerun … The Dick Van Dyke Show.” She looked pointedly at the table of judgers. “It is okay to talk about Dick, isn’t it?”

  The two ladies beside them turned their heads and became very interested in their food.

  “I see hanging around the doctor hasn’t improved your social skills,” Stacy said.

  “He’s not complaining.”

  “That is still so crazy that you’re dating the man who performed my surgery.”

  “Yeah, and don’t think I’m gonna forget that he handled your titties! So when I bring him around, y’all chicks back the bump up!”

  “You are a fool!”

  The ladies stopped their banter long enough for the waiter to deliver their meals.

  “Have you thought any more about the reconstructive surgery?” Hope asked as she dipped her calamari liberally into the chunky sauce.

  “We’re going to wait until after the wedding,” Stacy said. She gave Darius a chicken finger and continued. “But Tony has been really helpful making me feel okay with it, whether I get the surgery or not.”

  “Uh-huh. I knew I’d find out he’s been dippin’.” Frieda laughed loudly around a mouthful of burger with bacon. “Y’all church girls always trying to act like you ain’t getting the lickety-split. But I know better!”

  Stacy got ready to protest, but Hope shook her head. “Don’t even try it, Stacy,” Hope said. “I went through the same thing. The girl is going to believe what she wants to believe, and that’s that.”

  “Tony and I are adamant about staying celibate until after we say, ‘I do.’”

  “And when will that be?” Hope asked.

  “We’re thinking a June wedding.”

  “A whole year from now? Hmph, lickety-split, lickety-split.”

  “Licky spit,” Darius Jr. chimed.

  Stacy covered Darius’s ears playfully. “Girl, you’re corrupting my son. Shut up!”

  “Acting corrupt is how you got him. You shut up!”

  Stacy’s cell phone vibrated on the table. She flipped it open.

  It’s Darius, she mouthed while listening.

  Both Hope and Frieda stopped eating. For a minute. It wasn’t long before Hope was biting into her entrée, a jumbo-lump crab burger with steaming hot fries.

  “Yes! Oh, praise God. You have got to be beside yourself right now. Who’s that screaming in the background? Oh, I should have known. Okay, well, call me later. Congratulations!”

  Stacy beamed as she flipped off her phone.

  “His case was dismissed,” Frieda said.

  “Yes!”

  “Hallelujah! Our God is an awesome God!”

  “And that attorney ain’t too shabby either!” Frieda said.

  “Oh, man, I can already tell you’ve been hanging around Dr. Livingston too long.”

  “I know, isn’t that something? All the fine men in our church, and she has to go get another heathen.” Hope lowered her voice and leaned toward Stacy. “Now we’ll have to try to drag two people to church on Sundays.”

  “Hmph, you’ll have to drag us out of bed first!”

  “But what about the case?” Hope said, going back to Stacy’s news about Darius. “Doesn’t the state take over when there’s a rape claim, even if the parties dismiss it? Remember R. Kelly and how even though the girl’s parents said he didn’t do it, they still tried him?”

  “I don’t know all the ins and outs of the thing, but with Melody gone and Darius cleared …” Stacy shrugged.

  “And that punk-ass Shabach.” Frieda’s tone changed. “Walking around like nothing happened.”

  “You know what the old folks say. That you might get by, but you don’t get away. And I’m not excusing anything he did, but the tape proves it wasn’t by force.”

  “Talk about ironic. What are the chances that Tony would have talked to you about the love letters he was getting? Thank goodness you mentioned it to Darius. Otherwise he may never have put two and two together with proof that would stand up in court.”

  “Don’t give me too much credit. I just casually mentioned the anonymous notes the second time Darius brought up the note he’d gotten from Melody. He told Bo, and that’s who asked to
see a copy of Tony’s notes.”

  “I’ll give Bo one thing,” Stacy said. “That man takes care of his man better than some women! He holds it down!”

  “It still isn’t right what Shabach did,” Hope said. “He knew she was underage.”

  “You’re absolutely right. But like I said, every dog has his day.”

  “I don’t want to talk any more about him,” Stacy said. “My son’s father has been cleared. I feel like celebrating.”

  She motioned the waiter over, and a short time later Frieda had a glass of chardonnay while both Stacy and Hope savored sparkling cider.

  “To your daddy,” Stacy said as she kissed Darius Jr.

  “To yo’ baby daddy,” Frieda said.

  “To God be the glory,” Hope chimed in. They raised their glasses in toast.

  “You know, life is full of ups and downs, but if we just keep breathing, a change has got to come. Look at us. Barely six months ago I was ready to drag Darius through the court; now I’m happy he’s been cleared by the system. Hope, you’ve been begging for a child, and God has given you two. And, Frieda, you’re with a good man, a doctor! Maybe you’ve finally found your Mr. Right, instead of Mr. Right Now.”

  “Well, since he’s Mr. Got Money and Mr. Got House and Mr. MD and Mr. Big Dick … you might be right!” Frieda laughed, but secretly prayed—yes, prayed—that Dr. Gabriel Livingston was here to stay.

  Hope sat back in her chair, fat and happy. “You know what? Life is feeling pretty good right now. And they say this doesn’t compare to the glory. I can’t imagine what it will be like when we get to heaven.”

  “Girl, you better smack Mistah upside the head and worry about heaven later,” Frieda teased in her best Sophia from The Color Purple voice. “Seriously though, I for one am not trying to die to find out about the hereafter. If you ask me, I’d say we’ve got heaven right here!”

  Hope smiled at her crazy cousin. “You know what, Frieda, you might be right.” She lifted her cider. “To heaven right here, y’all.”