“Hmmm. That’s interesting, because I don’t have a clue what to do with it. Maybe she thought I’d like to have it for research purposes or something on that line. But there are some things in here about a little girl named Rebecca.”
“Rebecca?”
“Yeah.”
“Rebecca was my mother’s name. But she died when I was around five. We didn’t know it at the time, but I think she probably died from AIDS. My daddy, I hear, was a drug addict and he probably passed it on to her after having used contaminated needles. Back then, people didn’t know what we know now about shared needles spreading that virus. He overdosed, so who knows if he had AIDS or not. That’s how I ended up being raised by Great-granny.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“It’s not something I go around talking about. It was kind of hard growing up without my mother.”
“Where’s your grandmother?”
“I don’t have a clue. I don’t even really know who my grandmother is. She was an off-limits subject for everybody in our house. Like she did something and the whole family completely disowned her or disavowed her and wrote her out of existence—wiped her name off everything, including the family Bibles. And back then when black folks didn’t want you to know something, believe me, they didn’t tell it. Not like it is today where people will get on television and air all their business to the world and whoever else wants to hear it.”
“I would think you could find that information out if you really wanted to,” Johnnie Mae said. “There has to be some kind of record out there.”
“I guess I never really wanted to,” Angel said. “She wasn’t there for my mother or Great-granny. She sure never came home to see Great-granny, which would have been her own mother, during all the years I was there. I just never thought about her. Great-granny had that way about her. Somehow, even as old as she was, I never felt like I was missing anything in my life.”
“So when your Great-granny died, your grandmother didn’t come for the funeral?” Johnnie Mae asked as she rifled through the few papers and other things inside the box. This was starting to sound much like Lena and her mother, Memory’s story.
“Johnnie Mae, I’m not even sure if my grandmother is still alive. I would think not. It’s like I said, I’ve never given much thought about her until you just mentioned it right now. Maybe I should have. But you don’t tend to miss something you’ve never had.”
“And you don’t know your grandmother’s name?”
“No. Don’t think I’ve ever heard it before. Ever. All these years, not one person has said anything about her.”
“Well, okay. I just opened this box and all this was in here. It didn’t make sense to me why she asked you to give it to me, so I thought maybe I was missing something.” Johnnie Mae straightened up the things in the box and closed the lid. “I’ll just put it up and maybe look at it later to see if I can figure out why she thought I should have this or even would want to have it.”
Johnnie Mae and Angel chatted about other things, among them, Brent’s recent proposal of marriage and her not having given him an answer yet. Johnnie Mae hung up and took the box to put it away until a later time, a time when she felt like maybe trying to solve the puzzle. Pearl had a lot of wisdom, and from what Johnnie Mae saw when she met her, Pearl never did anything just to be doing it. There had to be a purpose behind it.
“Pearl,” Johnnie Mae said as she slid the box on a shelf in her walk-in closet, “if you were trying to tell me something, you’d better give me a little more direction here.”
“Mommy, who are you talking to,” six-and-a-half-year-old Princess Rose asked as she peeped into the closet.
“Oh, no one in particular, baby girl. People do that from time to time. We talk when we think no one is listening, to no one in particular.” Johnnie Mae stooped down and kissed Princess Rose on her nose. She couldn’t help but think of Solomon, Princess Rose’s father, and how much he would have enjoyed seeing how beautiful and smart his daughter was growing up to be.
“You mean like when I talk to my friends that other people can’t see?”
“Yes, just like that.” Johnnie Mae tapped Princess Rose’s nose lightly.
“Mommy,” Princess Rose said as she cocked her head to the side and smiled, “can I feel the baby kick again?”
“Well, the baby’s not kicking at the moment,” Johnnie Mae said as she placed her daughter’s hand on her stomach. “See? I think the baby’s asleep.”
“Can we wake the baby up and make the baby play?” Princess Rose rubbed her mother’s stomach in a circular motion.
“I think we should let the baby stay asleep for now. It takes a lot of work to become a baby forming inside there.”
“Did it take me a lot of work when I was becoming a baby inside your stomach?”
“Yes.” Johnnie Mae took her by the hand. “And you see how wonderful you turned out.”
“I hope this baby is as good as I am when the baby comes. Some of these babies get on my nerves. They act just like a baby about everything.”
“Your nerves?” Johnnie Mae said with a laugh. “When did you get nerves?”
“I’ve always had nerves, Mommy. Just like you.”
“Oh.” Johnnie Mae smiled. “Let’s go fix some dinner. I’m getting hungry.”
“Yes, and the baby is probably getting hungry, too.”
Johnnie Mae pulled Princess Rose’s plait. “Your hair is getting so long.”
Just then the phone rang. Johnnie Mae answered it before walking out of the bedroom.
“Sister Landris, this is Monica from the church. I have a woman who wants to schedule an appointment to talk with someone. I see where your name was listed and when I told her who we had available, she wanted to schedule with you. Can you check and see if tomorrow is okay for you?”
“What time tomorrow?”
“She said anytime—morning or afternoon—is fine for her. She’s flexible tomorrow. Said she just desperately needed to talk with someone as soon as possible.”
“Great. I like the flexible kind. Let’s schedule her for in the morning at 10 A.M.”
“Done. If anything changes, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, I’ll have a conference room secured for you, and we’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, Monica?”
“Yes?”
“What’s the person’s name?”
“I’m so sorry, Sister Landris. I’m trying to do too much in a hurry, I guess. Her name is Fatima Adams, and she’s a member here already.”
“Fatima Adams. All right then, Monica. I’ll see you tomorrow around nine.”
Chapter 29
If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this man’s religion is vain.
—James 1:26
“Listen, I told you that if you continued to go over to that church you had to leave this house,” Arletha said. “I wasn’t just saying something to hear myself talk. There are evil spirits lurking out there, and I refuse to allow them access to my home.”
“That’s just ridiculous,” Memory said. “I don’t see anything wrong with that church. In fact, I see what a difference it’s making in my life. You just don’t understand the person I was before I started going there.”
“I’m sorry I ever took you to that place with me. Had I known all of this was going to come out of it, you’d better believe, I never would have asked you to step foot in that church that first time. In fact, had I known what that church was really all about, I never would have stepped foot in there myself and wasted my time.”
Memory stood there. “Well, I don’t understand how you can profess to be such a Christian with the attitudes you seem to have.”
“What attitudes? I believe certain things, and there ain’t one thing you can do or say to convince me otherwise. I should have known you were just the devil trying to get access into my house.”
“Oh, so I’m the devil now, huh?” Memory
asked. “I went to church. Do you hear that part at all? You’re upset and wanting me to leave because I attended a church you don’t approve? How religious acting is that?”
Arletha put her hands on her hips. “This is my house. I told you months back how I felt about that place. You can go to any church you please, but then I can have whomever I please living or not living up in my own house.”
“Okay, fine,” Memory said as she threw her hands up in the air. “I’m tired anyway.”
“Tired of what? Running from the law?”
“What would make you say something like that?”
Arletha turned up her nose. “Some man came by yesterday asking about a woman who fits your description to the tee. Yeah, that’s right.”
“A man?”
“Yes, and from the looks of him, I’d say he was some kind of law enforcement agent…maybe a bounty hunter. Said he was looking for a Memory Patterson. I told him I didn’t know nobody by that name. Then he proceeded to throw out what he called aliases this Memory might be using. He says there’s a reward out for information leading to her whereabouts. Pretty nice one, too. It would be great to be able to bless a good church with it, as soon as I find one good enough, that is.”
Memory sat down and looked up at Arletha. “So what all did you tell him?”
“I told him the truth: that I didn’t personally know anybody by that name. But first thing in the morning, I might just give him a call and let him know you’re here…the one he seeks. Elaine Robertson, Memory Patterson, or whoever you really are.”
“You can’t do that.”
“And why can’t I?”
“I don’t know who is looking for me or why, but I know I’ve not done anything to cause anyone to be searching for me like that.”
“Yeah, I bet you haven’t,” Arletha said. “When you first showed up here, I felt sorry for you. Couldn’t understand how your own child and grandchild could turn you out, an old, feeble woman, like they did. Thought we elderly people needed to stick together. Take care of each other. But since you’ve been here, I guess I understand better now. I’m missing a ring. You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to it, would you?”
“I don’t steal.”
“Sure you don’t. So why is Mr. Big Shot hot on your trail? You’re too old to be selling drugs. Did you kill somebody?”
“I told you, I don’t know why this person is looking for me.”
“Well, I’d suggest you get your things and get up out of my house before tomorrow. I can’t have nobody living with me that’s teamed up with the devil.”
“Where am I supposed to go on such short notice? And what about the rent money I paid you for this month already?”
“I don’t know where you’re going to go, and frankly, I don’t care. As for the money you’ve paid, leave me a forwarding address, and I’ll gladly mail you a refund. The Good Book says for us to come out from among them, meaning sinners and heathens like you. It’s apparent to me now, you’re not saved. So you have got to get up out of here.”
“And what makes you believe I’m not saved?”
“You don’t act saved.”
“Well, I am. And being saved is not based on works, ‘lest any man should boast’ anyway,” Memory said.
“Yes, well…I don’t believe in that once saved, always saved way of thinking either. I believe you can lose your salvation. Your name can be blotted out of The Book. Backsliders, adulterers, murderers, thieves, whoremongers, liars, fornicators…they’re all going to hell. They might have confessed with their mouths the Lord Jesus, and believed in their hearts that God raised Him from the dead, but if people were really saved, they wouldn’t be living and carrying on like they do. I say, they couldn’t have ever been saved. Else, they wouldn’t slide back into sin and reside there. So yes, if anybody asks me, I do believe a person can lose their salvation after they have been saved. That I do.”
“I don’t believe that. We’re not saved by what we do. We can never be good enough! That’s why so many people stay away from ever coming to get saved—they think they have to get right first. That’s just wrong. We are saved by grace. Jesus is the reason we’re saved. He saves us. The Holy Spirit helps change us…refines us, after that.”
“See! See! That’s what I’m saying. You running down there to that heathen’s church and listening to him talking about coming to some altar to be released from strongholds. I can assure you most of the folks who went up there went back home just like they came up, still being held strong. They weren’t changed a lick.”
“I changed,” Memory said.
“Yeah. of course you did. You found some of your heathen buddies to hang out with at church. These churches are just becoming like country clubs now anyway. ‘Woe unto those who call good evil and evil good.’ All y’all gonna burn in the fiery furnace, sho’ as we’re all born to die!”
“Who died and made you judge and jury?”
“The Bible says I’m going to get to judge. I can see things right now. I see the sin running rampant through this land. I see those who profess to be saved but their lives are far from it,” Arletha said as she pointed her finger at Memory.
“What about the sin that can’t be seen? The sins of the heart? Are there big sins and little sins to God? Is one sin worse than another?” Memory said.
“Don’t be trying to preach that junk to me. I’m living right, trying to be perfect, unlike most folks who call themselves Christians these days. And I can’t wait until God finally smashes all these pretend-to-be Christians. I pray for Him to take a lot of folks out. Preachers, like that Pastor Landris down there telling folks what they want to hear instead of what the Good Book says and means. ‘Nothing but the pure in heart shall see God.’ Now, that’s scripture. So how pure are you? How pure are most Christians?”
“How perfect are you?”
“Oh, I don’t sin.”
“Well the Bible says otherwise. In fact, the Bible says all have sinned and come short of the glory of God. The Bible says in First John, the first chapter and the eighth through the tenth verse: ‘If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.’ You,” Memory said as she pointed back at Arletha, “forget that sins are not merely the outward ones everybody sees. But they are also the ones we do inwardly that only God can see and judge, sins of the heart. Those hidden sins, that nobody know about but you and God. God sees and God knows all of it.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I’m trying to say that before you start judging others, you’d better be careful. Because you might see what I’m doing wrong on the outside, but God sees what you’re doing wrong on the inside: sins of omission and sins of commission. To God sin is sin. There are no big sins and little sins in His eyes. Yes, I have sinned, but today…today, I’m going to make some things right. Today, I’m going to go down to that church you have a problem with me going to, and I’m going to confess my sins to some man or woman of God.” Memory went and got her purse and started for the door. “I’m making a change today.”
Arletha rushed and stood near the front door. “You can’t go down there!”
“Why not? Because you forbid me to? Well, guess what—you’ve told me to get out of your house. And I’m going to do just that. But before I leave here, I’m going to make peace with my God. I’m going to confess my sins, unlike you who believe you have none. I’m going to allow God to wipe my slate clean. And I can only pray that God truly will have mercy on my soul.”
“I tell you what. Why don’t you just go pack all your things, and I’ll gladly drop you and your stuff off at that fancy church for good.”
“I told you I would leave your home as soon as I got back,” Memory said as Arletha continued to stand in front of her.
“No, ma’am. Yo
u will pack your stuff, and you will be out of my house for good now. I don’t want you here, and I don’t want you having any reasons to step foot back in here after you’re gone this time. So go on and get your stuff. I’ll get my car and drive you to that unholy place myself. Let’s see what they do for you down there when you really need some help.”
“Fine,” Memory said as she headed up the stairs. “I don’t have much to pack, anyway.”
“Yeah, I know. I went in your room yesterday while you were out, and I could see where most of your things were already packed up in your no-matching suitcases.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Why? Because of that man who showed up snooping around about you. I have every right to know what’s in my house.” She began to tap her foot. “So get your stuff and hurry up about it. The sooner I get you out of here, the better things are going to be for me.”
Memory packed the rest of her things. She said a prayer as she knelt down beside her suitcases before going down the stairs.
“Lord, I don’t know what the future holds for me, but I sure know who holds my future. Guide me, O thou great Jehovah.”
She made several trips downstairs, carrying her suitcases one at a time by herself. She loaded her things into Arletha’s car without a clue, other than stopping off at Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center first, where she would go or what she would do next.
Chapter 30
Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father, which is in heaven.
—Matthew 5:16
Johnnie Mae arrived at the church right at 9 A.M. She stopped by Sherry’s office first and spoke to her before finding Monica.
“Oh, you’re early. Just like you said you’d be,” Monica said.
“Yes. My motto is, ‘Early is on time and on time is late.’ I can’t remember where I heard that, but I adopted it in my life, and it’s made all the difference in the world. Pastor Landris has often said people don’t have a problem showing up late even to church. They feel people ought to be glad they came even when they get there late. What we don’t realize is that we really are sowing something when we do that. And we do reap what we sow. When we pray to God about things, we want our relief or help to be on time. Actually, we’d prefer it if it came early, but at least on time. When it takes longer, it never occurs to us that maybe we sowed lateness and we’re reaping lateness. Not from God, because whenever God shows up, He’s always on time. But with others who may be late doing what they were supposed to just like we were late. It’s a principle of life, sowing and reaping.”
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