Plenty Good Room

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Plenty Good Room Page 23

by Cheri Paris Edwards


  His wide smile was unsettling to her . . . It reminded her of William. Shaking the memory of that evil man from her mind, she gave him a tiny smile and sat down on the cold stoop. She pulled her legs up close and rested her head back on the concrete doorway.

  The girl finally relaxed when she heard the soft patter of his fading footfalls indicating that he was walking away. Then, pushing the sounds of the others’ chattering into the background, she began to think about the events that had led her here in the first place.

  “The Safe Haven Shelter Home,” she’d read on the huge green and white sign outside the red brick buildings as they drove up last night. Even though it was not the place she wanted to be, she had to admit that it looked real pretty from the outside. The spacious buildings rested on acres of green grass, and tall, leafy trees surrounded the entire facility. A huge playground area covered one section, complete with a large swimming pool with a big blue plastic slide that twisted and turned to the right and left before its curved tip plunged close to the water’s edge.

  Feeling trapped and miserable, she had wedged her small body even deeper into the corner of the backseat of the big blue Chevrolet as they pulled into the long, curving driveway. The white caseworker kept trying to lighten the grave mood by talking about the weather and other inconsequential details before interjecting perkily her reassurance that the girl would “just love” this new place. The girl knew that the young blonde woman meant well but simply did not understand that she would never like it anywhere they made her live. It was far too dangerous when you lived with others, and she would never trust any people enough to live with them again.

  Anyway, during most of the trip there, instead of listening to the woman’s ramblings, her own mind was wandering back over the events that had led up to her being in this situation in the first place. Before that night, for the first time in a long time, everything had been going quite well for her. The Reverend Davis offered her a small room in the back of the sanctuary of the church after she’d eaten at Hope Temple Church that night, and she’d actually stayed there for several weeks.

  He’d told her sadly that his wife died just last year, and she could tell he was grateful for her unexpected company. Each morning he would fix them both breakfast, and then she would leave as though she were going to school, but instead she wandered the streets until late in the afternoon. Part of her wanted to tell him the truth about what she did all day, but she just didn’t have the heart to do it.

  It didn’t matter how late it was when she returned; there was always a plate left for her on the stove: deliciously cooked foods like fried pork steaks, rice, and gravy, or meat loaf smothered in tomato sauce with mashed potatoes and green peas. The kind minister was well loved by his church members, who often brought him wonderful desserts like fresh apple pie and luscious strawberry-covered cheesecake and rich, chocolaty frosted cakes.

  The girl really liked it, living there with him in the church sanctuary, and that was part of the problem: she liked it too much, and she liked him too much, and she knew that she couldn’t stay, because sooner or later someone would wonder who she was and where she came from. Then some well-intending church member would call CPS, and she’d be caught, and it was possible that the Reverend Davis might even get in some kind of trouble for letting her stay there.

  There was absolutely no way she would let him get in trouble because of her. He had been too goodhearted for her to let that happen. The most that the minister ever asked from her was to go to church, and even though she never could bring herself to attend, he still did not get mad with her.

  Her eyes filled up with tears then, and she reached down in her old duffel bag and touched the worn black Bible that he had given to her. Inside the cover he had written, “God loves you, never forget that.” Though she didn’t really know much about God, she would keep the Bible forever just because he had given it to her, and she knew that what she felt for him was probably the closest thing to love that she’d ever experienced in her young life.

  That night before she left for good, he’d cooked a big dinner, almost like a going-away feast, except that he didn’t know she was leaving. He baked fresh chicken stuffed with savory mushroom dressing and made freshly whipped potatoes and butter, and green beans flavored with bits of real bacon and colorful red onions. She’d eaten all of it greedily, smiling up at him gratefully when he placed another piece of sizzling hot-water corn bread on her plate. Stuffed, she could barely manage to eat but a smidgen of the peach cobbler that was still warm and drizzled with sweet vanilla ice cream.

  “Little girl, I’ve never seen anyone so small put away so much food so quickly. You make me feel like I’m the best cook in the world,” he’d said proudly as he watched her eat.

  “You are,” she said, stopping her fervent chewing long enough to smile up at him. “Your food is the best I’ve ever eaten.”

  His smiled waned then, because he knew that the girl probably had little to compare his offerings to, since she’d probably not lived long in a home where someone cooked for her on a regular basis. She was a runaway, and he knew without her telling him that she lived many days not knowing where her next meal would come from. That thought touched him so deeply that he walked over to her and placed his weathered hand on her small head.

  Unsure of the man’s intent, the girl swallowed quickly and sat very still when she felt the touch of his warm, dry hand resting on the top of her head.

  He began to pray quietly then, “Lord, just this moment You spoke to me. Just this moment You told me to get up and come over here and touch this girl, this girl who is frightened, this girl who is so lonely and scared that she is still not able to even tell me her name. I cover this child right now, Lord. In the blood of Jesus, I ask that You put Your anointing on this child.

  “Lord, keep her safe no matter where she may be, and surround her with Your grace, O Lord . . . I know that one day she will come to You for herself, but until then, Lord, save a special place in Your heart for this child . . . Thank You, Lord; I thank You for Your continuous blessing and mercy in my life. I love You and I praise Your name, O God . . . Amen.”

  When she opened her eyes and looked up at him, he was wiping tears away from his eyes, and she made up her mind at that moment that it was time for her to go. Sadly she’d packed her bags while he was sleeping and slipped out in the dark of night. Only two blocks from the church, she was picked up by the police. It seemed that the hospital staff had reported her to the police when she ran away weeks ago, and for some odd reason tonight was when the authorities finally caught up with her.

  “Okay, girl, you better come with us,” said the officers, and they handcuffed her with a plastic tie and put her in the back of the car.

  And now she was here at this new place, a locked-in facility—one they told her was especially built for runaways like herself.

  The voices of others rang loud in her ears again as the playground sun shone brightly in her face, and the girl sighed and pulled down the frayed cap that she always wore. Tears squeezed from her eyes.

  Maybe I should’ve taken a chance and stayed with him, she thought. Maybe everything would’ve been all right this time. But she knew that wasn’t true, and it seemed that she would never be able to stay anywhere.

  Not for long anyway.

  39.

  Shining Hour

  Lynnette looked around the church and batted her eyes appreciatively. “Girl, you didn’t tell me all these fine men went to this church. I might have to start coming here . . . Ain’t nobody at my church but a bunch of old men.” She rolled her neck and, with one more long, approving glance around the sanctuary, added, “God don’t care where you praise Him, long as you do!”

  “Here we go,” said Jayson teasingly. “Tam, I ain’t gonna say no names, but some folks just can’t stop, can they? I mean, some folks still tryin’ to be a player when they supposed to be worshipping the Lord!”

  Lynnette responded snappily, “Boy, I do
n’t play like that in God’s house!”

  “Please, don’t start, you two,” said Tamara with a quick glance at them. Jayson sat on one side of her in the pew this morning, and Lynnette on the other. Frustrated by the constant disparaging comments the two of them made about Sienna, she’d invited them to hear her sing her solo today so they could see another side of the girl. Though it was not the first time that Sienna had sung alone, Tamara’s own attendance was spotty, so today would be the first time that she would hear her as well.

  Lynnette moved an errant braid away from her face. “Just for you, Tamara, and for the Lord, of course, I’m not gonna let that big-head boy sitting next to you get me upset this morning.”

  Jayson said, “And because me and God are close, I won’t let her bother me, either, but we do know who got the big head.” Before Lynnette could respond, he chuckled as he asked Tamara, “So, can little Miss Sienna really sing? Or did she just bad-mouth her way to the front of the choir, too?”

  Tamara hit Jayson with her elbow and said, “Stop it, Jay . . . She can sing. In fact, from what I’ve heard, she can sing very, very well . . . You’ll see.”

  Jayson leaned over her then and remarked, “Lynnette, you really do look nice today . . . not like a diva, just like a regular ol’ church-going sistah girl.”

  Lynnette’s royal blue knit suit was accented by taupe pumps and a silk printed scarf in shades of royal blue, purple, and magenta that was tied around her neck. Small silver earrings dangled from her ears, and her microbraids were tucked into an elegant French roll. Instead of her usual flashy reds or deep-

  burgundy nail colorings, she’d used a pale pink color today and left her usual chunky silver at home in favor of a more delicate sterling ring and bracelet.

  With a smile Lynnette replied, “Well, thank you, Jay . . . you lookin’ good yourself.” I’ve never seen you in a suit before, and I must say, it makes you look almost fly, brotha!”

  He straightened out his tie with a dramatic flourish and responded, “Thank you so much, Lynn . . . This is just a little somethin’ I threw on, you know.” Jayson knew he was cutting a sharp profile, though. His expensive navy blue pin-striped suit was impeccably tailored, and he wore a pair of brown Stacy Adams wingtips to match.

  Tamara smiled, happy that the two of them had called a truce and that she would not have to endure their constant bickering this morning.

  Shooting her a sidelong smile that showed off his deep dimples, Jayson stated, “Tam, you look good, too, but you always know how to put it together right.”

  Appreciatively he checked out her bias-cut black and white print georgette skirt topped by a deep-red knit turtleneck sweater twin set. She wore understated sling-back black pumps and carried a matching small black bag. Her ears glittered with the small CZ gold wires that Sienna had bought her for Christmas, and her watch was her only other jewelry today.

  Before Tamara could respond to Jayson, Lynnette added wryly, “Yeah, girl, you always look good. You the kinda person who could wear a burlap bag and make it look like it was made by a designer.”

  Unsure of how to respond to the generous compliments, Tamara replied genuinely, “Thank you . . . I’m glad you like it.”

  “I agree, you do look very nice today, Tamara,” she heard from beside her.

  This time Tamara was glad to hear the instantly recognizable husky tone of Isaiah Perry. He’d telephoned her a few times since they chaperoned the Friday Teen Night event, and each time they’d spoken, she’d grown more comfortable talking with him.

  “Hello, Isaiah,” she replied without even attempting to hide her bright smile when she looked up at him. Happy to see him, for a moment she forgot all about her two coworkers sitting on either side of her.

  Not intending to go unnoticed long, Lynnette cleared her throat loudly, and Tamara reddened suddenly, remembering her and Jayson, “Oh, I’m sorry. Isaiah, this is Lynnette Moore and Jayson Johnson. We work together at the Care Agency, and they’ve come with me today to hear Sienna sing.”

  Isaiah leaned over and shook both of their hands and said, “It will be a treat for you to hear our Miss Sienna sing. I’m telling you, that girl can blow! Hopefully, you will enjoy Minister Walker’s sermon as well, and we will see you here again.” Then he turned his attention to Tamara again, “As always, I’m glad to see you here, Tamara . . . I better get going, though; we will be singing in a few. I just wanted to ‘holla atcha,’ as the kids say,” he added before walking away.

  Lynnette raised her eyebrows and then gave Tamara a long, searching stare before asking impetuously, “Girrrl, is there something you ain’t told us? Brotha man is fine and in church, too? That’s a double whammy, almost too good to be true!”

  But before she could answer, Jayson commented with a touch of derision in his tone, “C’mon, ladies, let’s not pump the brotha up too high. Don’t you know that’s an old trick? Just ’cause a brotha’s in church don’t mean nothin’.” He patted his chest and said, “The church gotta be in here, you know?”

  Lynnette rolled her eyes at Jayson and then turned to Tamara and mouthed the word “jealous” before stating adamantly, “Now, where were we? Oh, I know—fine brotha man who just left. Tell me, now, Tam, do you and him ‘got a little thang’ going on or something, that we don’t know about?”

  Embarrassed by Lynnette’s persistent probing, Tamara answered, “No-o-o, Lynn, there is nothing going on! Isaiah is Sienna’s teacher, and sometimes when I come here to church we talk and stuff, that’s all.”

  Lynnette batted her large eyes in her dramatic fashion. “Girrrl, I think you might be missing out on something, then. ’Cause that brotha was not looking at you like he’s just Sienna’s teacher; he was lookin’ at you like wasn’t nobody else in this room—and to tell the truth, you was lookin’ at him the exact same way.”

  Tamara said, “No, Lynnette, you are just seeing things,” but her wide smile betrayed her true feelings.

  Busily talking, neither girl noticed Jayson looking in the direction where Isaiah Perry was standing with the choir. Stroking his goatee, he was studying the man intently, with a scowl on his handsome brown face.

  To Tamara’s relief, the choir began to sing, interrupting Lynn’s persistent questioning.

  Tamara recognized right away the John P. Kee song they were singing as one that Sienna played quite often at home, and it sounded especially beautiful today. She sat back in the pew, closed her eyes, and let the harmonious words course through her body. When she opened her eyes again, Lynnette and Jay were standing on their feet and singing with the choir.

  Lynnette held her hands high in the air, and her eyes were closed while tears ran slowly down her face. Jayson was rocking from side to side, totally engrossed in the song.

  Surprised to see her coworkers so touched by the music, Tamara closed her eyes again. Something about her two friends’ obvious emotion made her own eyes swim with tears. Again today Tamara felt that same fluttering inside that had been building each time she attended church, and she was unsure how long she could continue to restrain it. This intense quickening was deep within, and Tamara intuitively sensed that whatever was happening inside her was unexplainable, profound, and very real.

  Throughout the Reverend Walker’s sermon, Tamara felt as though some long-sleeping part of her was awakening and struggling to be recognized. But though his message was very moving, somehow she managed to hold her feelings within.

  The Reverend Walker prayed for a moment, then said, “Today we are going to do something a bit different. We have been blessed to have a relatively a new member who can sing so beautifully and is so clearly anointed by the Lord with her voice that I wanted her to join me as we call those so inclined to come to Christ this morning.” The Reverend Walker turned toward the choir. “Sienna Larson, will you join me, please.”

  Sienna came down from the choir stand with the microphone in her small hand. Tamara had heard Sienna sing before at home, but she was totally thrown off balanc
e by the beauty of the girl’s tone this morning. Without instrumental accompaniment, Sienna began the song in a sweet, high voice that sounded as pure as a bird’s. The lyrics described the journey of one struggling through difficulties in life and not always succeeding.

  As she continued to sing the beautiful lyrics, the timbre of her voice became more and more resonant until her voice seemed to fill the entire sanctuary. Tamara was listening, transfixed in the moment, and by the time Sienna sang the words that asked how a person can survive alone, Tamara’s long pent-up tears began to fall. All she heard was the words of the song then, as it described a better way to live, by asking for help.

  She barely heard Lynnette tell her, “Girrl, she can sing. My God, listen to that child’s voice.”

  Tamara was dazed, watching Sienna singing through eyes blurred by tears, and suddenly she felt herself taken over by something that she could not stop. She could see Jayson looking at her curiously, but he said nothing, and she could not speak.

  Sienna’s voice peaked then, reaching a full, high crescendo as she sang about where the help could come from. It could come from God.

  As the song ended, Sienna continued to hum the tune in the same sweet voice with which she’d begun the melody, while Minister Walker asked the congregation, “If there’s anybody today who would like to invite God into their life, now is the time.”

  Before the minister had even completed the words, Tamara’s feet were moving of their own accord. She wiped away the tears streaming down her face with a tissue that someone thrust at her as she walked down the aisle. In moments, she was standing there at the front of the church, unaware that Denise Jackson was also crying and that Isaiah was mouthing the words silently, “Thank you, Jesus.”

  Jayson’s and Lynnette’s eyes were wet watching Tamara standing before the congregation with tears running down her face. The two of them knew that this type of public display was a huge departure from Tamara’s normally reserved behavior, and that made the moment even more touching to them.

 

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