“Emmaline, Alton’s changed. Prison really opened his eyes,” Annie explained.
She knew her son was wrong for nearly beating Maybelle to death, but he had paid the price for his actions. Now he wanted, needed to know he was forgiven by his soon-to-be ex-wife and her family.
“Emmaline, please,” Annie pleaded. She knew Maybelle would do what her mother wanted her to do. Annie wanted her son to do what was right by Maybelle and their daughter.
Annie Johnson had spent the last four years of her life coming to grips with the fact that her son had snapped and Maybelle had not done anything to cause his actions toward her. She regretted the line of questioning Henry and she had put Maybelle through. Now she wanted to make things right. She needed Maybelle and her family’s cooperation in order to do that.
“Annie, look,” Emmaline began. She was tired of the emotional struggles she had battled for the last four years. “Your son practically killed my daughter and in the process, their daughter,” she said, bitterness rising up inside of her. “Just because he served four years for that crime doesn’t mean he’s changed. It simply means that maybe they didn’t give him enough time!” she spouted sarcastically.
Annie gasped in shock. They were Christians. Their families had attended the same church for years. Always taught to forgive and forget, it was obvious that Emmaline had done neither.
“Emmaline, I’m willing to forgive you for that remark,” Annie replied condescendingly. “We are supposed to forgive as many times as we need to forgive so God will—”
“Hold on, Miss High and Mighty,” Emmaline cut her off. “Have you forgiven the boy that crippled your son so he couldn’t even walk for a time, Annie?”
She knew Annie had remained almost obsessively bitter for a long time because of Fletcher Conroy, the boy who had stolen her son’s dreams. Alton’s dreams of becoming a professional basketball player and ultimately a doctor were shattered that horrible day. Annie had cried long and hard after the trial. Her son’s attackers were set free to do the same thing to someone else without having to serve any real time for their actions.
“Well, that’s different. That boy did that for revenge!” Annie shouted into the phone, justifying her actions. “Alton could have been crippled for life because of that boy!” Annie continued ranting. Her voice rose in anger as she recalled an image of her son lying in a hospital bed after the beating.
Then the image of Alton changed into one of Maybelle lying in a hospital bed after being beaten. What if Maybelle had lost her life, she wondered in that instant. Maybelle could have died. The baby could have died. Alton would only have been crippled as a result of the beating he had received.
My God, Annie thought. What have I done, Lord?
For more than four years, she had carried this thing within her concerning her son. Was she so blind she couldn’t understand why Emmaline felt the same as she? She couldn’t compassionately go the extra mile with another woman whose loss would have been even greater than her own? What was wrong with her?
Suddenly, they both realized they were acting just alike concerning their children. They were still revisiting emotions that had caused their friendship to be on shaky ground after all this time and didn’t realize it until now. It was almost as if scales had been pulled from their eyes.
In the Unseen …
Echol and Axel blew the cloud of Confusion from the women’s minds. The Earth did not quake, thunder did not clap, nor did lightning flash. But the stark realization of their actions over the past several years hit them both with a force that caused them to rock on their heels.
Each of them had allowed a cancer, Anger, to eat up their friendship because of the actions of another. Emmaline and Annie felt different as the Holy Guardian Angels of God ministered to their spirits, causing them to pray.
In the Seen …
“Oh, God, please forgive us,” Emmaline sobbed into the receiver. She knew better! God had brought her through so much! Yet she had held this grudge against her friend all these years.
“Annie, can you ever forgive me?” she asked her old friend.
“Oh, Emmaline, can you ever forgive me?” Annie sobbed in response. “All this time I’ve put all the blame on you and Maybelle, not wanting to blame Alton. I should have blamed the devil because it was old slew foot that got this whole mess started.”
“And Emmaline, you’re right. I never did forgive that boy for what he did to Alton. I’ve allowed hatred and resentment to grow and fester in my heart toward that boy. Oh, God,” Annie cried in despair. “Please help me forgive that boy whom I have hated all these years,” she prayed, anguish in her voice.
Both women clung to their telephone receivers as though to a lifeline, trying to reconcile their feelings for each other and getting it all out.
“Annie, I know it wasn’t your fault what Alton did to Maybelle,” Emmaline started again. “I just wanted to blame someone, too. I should have been there more for you. I love you. Always have and will,” Emmaline continued, weeping quietly now as her heart and eyes opened to what had transpired four years before.
“Emmaline, I know Alton is just getting out of jail,” Annie began, not really sure what she was going to ask her friend. “But he seems to have changed so much. I know his heart is broken. Every time he looks at pictures of Little Emmaline, he cries when he thinks about what he almost did,” Annie explained as another torrent of tears flowed down her face.
Emmaline quietly listened to her friend and fellow in-law. God, she prayed in her heart, please help me to say and do the right thing.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Annie, is Alton there with you right now?” she asked.
“Yes, he is Emmaline,” Annie answered. “He lives here on the weekends. During the week, he lives in that rehab facility on the edge of town. He’s learning more about dealing with anger. It’s a wonderful program run by the Assemblies of God.”
Emmaline considered as she measured her words before responding.
“Annie, could Stanley and I stop by just to speak with Alton before he goes to see Maybelle and Little Emmaline? There are some things I want to say, need to say to him to get things out in the open.” She waited for Annie’s answer.
Annie considered what Emmaline had just done. Emmaline had given Alton permission to see her daughter and granddaughter, but not before she and her husband had seen and spoken with him. Annie wanted to do the right thing but didn’t know if Alton was ready.
Trust, Annie heard in her spirit as she hesitated before answering. Trust, she heard again.
“Emmaline,” Annie began. Praying silently in her heart, Annie experienced conflicting emotions within her heart and mind. It caused wariness at the thought of that first contact between her son and the people he had hurt so much.
“Annie, I can’t promise I won’t say an angry word to Alton,” Emmaline interrupted, answering the unasked question. “All I know is I intend to speak to Alton with as much love as I can about the things he did that hurt me.”
Satisfied with her answer, Annie consented to Emmaline and Stanley dropping by to see her son. As she hung up the telephone, Alton walked into the kitchen. He had heard his mother’s portion of the conversation. Annie could tell he had been crying as well.
“Mom,” Alton began. He did not know what to say to this woman who had sacrificed a friendship to stand by his side. “Mom, I’m so very sorry,” Alton continued. He felt inadequate as he apologized for the consuming anger that had taken over his life for so many years.
“Honey,” his mom said quietly, “Mr. and Mrs. Carter are going to allow you to see Maybelle and Little Emmaline. Before you do, though, they want to speak with you first,” she explained. She watched his face the entire time she talked. “Miss Emmaline says she wants to say some things to you to get them off her chest,” Annie continued. She wanted to spare her son the hurt that might come from his mother-in-law. But more than anything else, Annie wanted him to be man enough to accept whatever was s
aid.
Alton considered before commenting. Emmaline Carter was like a second mom. He had loved her almost as long as he loved Maybelle—she was just that type of person. He acknowledged that she was still angry and hurt by what he had done.
He remembered how she had wept during the trial but had never said a word to him. More often than not, she only looked at him pityingly during the proceedings, shaking her head in disgust whenever their eyes met.
“Mom …” He looked in his mother’s eyes, apprehension in his own. “I know Mrs. Carter is angry. She has a right to be. But what will I say to her? What will I say to Mr. Carter?” Alton asked, unsure of what was about to happen.
Alton had had four years to think about what he had done. To this day, he still couldn’t believe he had loved Maybelle so much and yet treated her so badly.
“Son, God has forgiven you. Dad and I have forgiven you. Now you need to give the Carter family the chance to forgive you,” Annie said. She knew in her heart that this was God’s will concerning this situation.
As she patted her son’s face, the doorbell rang. Mother and son looked at each other resolutely, sadness in their eyes as Annie answered the door.
Growing Up is Hard to Do …
Beverley
THIRTY-EIGHT
In the Unseen …
Anger and Self-Pity clung to Beverley as she listened to her grandfather’s eulogy being read. The two demons were assigned to keep her on the path the kingdom of darkness had laid out for her. Anger ate at the child, filling her with more of himself as she thought about events leading up to this day.
Before Otis Scott passed away, the family and hospital staff prevented Beverley from seeing him. She never got the chance to tell him goodbye, or how much she loved him, or any of the things she needed to say to him.
“Against hospital rules and regulations,” some said.
“She’s just too young to see Otis in this condition. It will scar the child for life,” others said.
The more everyone kept her away from Otis, the lower she sank into Anger and Self-Pity. No one seemed to understand or care about her emotions. Anger and Self-Pity capitalized on the family’s disregard.
Enjoying the funeral service, Self-Pity sat on the back of the pew massaging Beverley’s head with gnarled talons. Looking around the crowded sanctuary through beady blood-shot eyes, he noticed there was not a strong presence of the Heavenly Host at the gathering. Detecting only a few white iridescent forms here and there, Self-Pity observed more dark menacing forms in the sanctuary than the other at this event.
Catching a glimpse of his cousins Turmoil and Despair and his old friend Anguish, Self-Pity saw many of his kind flitting around the grieving family. They emitted their evil perfume like a fine mist, saturating the atmosphere above the humans.
With such a small company of holy angels, Self-Pity experienced no hindrances as he diligently fed Beverley’s mind with thoughts that no one else cared for her the way her grandfather had cared for her. Doing an exceptional job of keeping the girl’s mind focused on her own troubles, he didn’t allow any thoughts concerning anyone else’s troubles to come through.
Edgefield, South Carolina: November 16, 1972
“Enter, Deacon Scott, into your rest. We all loved you but God loved you best,” Pastor Cleveland Barnes intoned over the remains of the dearly departed, Otis Sylvester Scott.
The congregation wept, some quietly and others not so quietly. They all reminisced about the man they knew and loved. Beverley looked around at the huge gathering of people in the church. Family and friends gathered in the sanctuary of Dry Creek Missionary Baptist Church in memory of their beloved friend, brother, and deacon.
Turning her head back to the front, Beverley caught sight of cousin Flora Mae Peterson just as she flopped to the floor in a pool of black silk while viewing the remains of Daddy. Cousin Flora Mae served as the main “swooner” during regular church service. She showed her best during funerals.
Far from serving as the only swooner, Mrs. Alma Williams joined cousin Flora Mae on the floor as she stepped forward to view the remains. She had already lost her wig once during the service when her body jerked from being hit by the Spirit. Usher Sister Kathleen White stealthily stepped forward and replaced the wig as it came off again when Mrs. Alma slid down to the floor. Sister White even took the time to make sure it was set on Mrs. Alma’s head correctly.
Beverley looked at Pastor Barnes speaking from the old pulpit, Daddy lying in the coffin in front of the altar. Multicolored flowers banked all around the coffin. The smell at the front of the sanctuary was both overwhelming and sickening.
The church was packed with many people. Many of these people Beverley knew. There were even more that she didn’t. Daddy was very well known and loved. He would be sorely missed in the community.
Pastor Barnes droned on about what a good man Daddy had been and what a powerful legacy he left for his family. Beverley caught bits and pieces of the message as she zoned out from the happenings around her: “Passed on to glory … life cut short by emphysema.”
Otis’s two sons, Leon and Richard, two of his daughters, Cassie and Lila, and Beverley all sat on the front row on the right side of the flower-filled sanctuary. Eyes downcast and tearful, Otis’s children mourned the loss of their patriarch who was “called home” as people of the Baptist persuasion fondly said.
On the second row on the same side of the sanctuary sat Otis’s baby sister, Ida Mae Collins, nieces, nephews, and various other relatives. They were all heartbroken because he had been taken away from them.
Not in attendance were his wife of forty-nine years, Beulah, and his daughter Barbara Ann who “couldn’t stand funerals.” Beulah was at home in bed, angry that Otis would leave her like he did. She wasn’t the only angry one in the family.
As white-gloved pallbearer Deacon Eldridge Turner stepped forward to close the lid on the coffin, the resulting thud gave a clear sound of finality. Beverley stood up from the front pew with the rest of the solemn mourners. They all prepared to move the coffin down the aisle and through the doors of the church to take her beloved Daddy to the grave someone had dug out in the cemetery.
Thirteen and heartbroken, Beverley marched stiff-legged down the aisle in her black collared, multicolored taffeta dress and black patent leather Mary Jane’s. Partially in defiance but fully in anger, she followed the people who had kept her from seeing Daddy before he passed away.
She had loved Otis Scott all of her life. The one thing she had loved most about Daddy came to her mind when she was allowed to look into the casket at his remains—the whiskers.
She loved to feel his whiskers at the end of the day. He usually brushed them against her cheek as he hugged her when he came home from work at the mill. As she looked at his corpse in the casket, she saw that someone had shaved his face clean. She would never feel those whiskers again. She missed those whiskers.
As they prepared to bury Daddy, she wanted to jump into the casket with him. She didn’t want to be left here to contend with Mama. Questions invaded her mind: Why Daddy? Could I in fact go with him? Why do I have to be left with Mama?
At the gravesite, Pastor Barnes picked up a handful of dirt as he finished the eulogy. “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Lord, into Your hands we commend the spirit of our brother Otis Sylvester Scott, for Thou hast redeemed him, O Lord God of truth.”
All those in attendance said a final “Amen.”
Beverley stood at the edge of the grave looking at the casket as it slowly lowered into the ground. This was final and she knew it.
Why? The question reverberated through her mind as she turned away from the grave. Entering the car the funeral home had sent for her and her family, Beverley was so very angry.
After returning to the house, Beverley quickly shed her church clothes for work-clothes, grabbed Daddy’s old wood-chopping jacket, and went outside behind the house.
Frustrated, she chopped wood. She did
n’t want to be bothered with all the people coming to the house after the funeral. These people were coming over for three reasons—to eat, to talk, and to cry. She didn’t want to do any of those things. She just wanted to chop wood and think about Daddy and the life they had shared.
THIRTY-NINE
Halfheartedly chopping wood on that dreary November day, Beverley reminisced.
She remembered many mornings sitting on Daddy’s lap, sipping coffee from his saucer as he blew it cool and sipped it with her. From about the age of two, whenever she smelled coffee, Beverley knew Daddy was getting ready to sit down for breakfast. Oftentimes, she would awaken out of a deep sleep and run to the kitchen to have her morning coffee with him, no matter how early.
Beulah constantly scolded Otis for “giving that baby coffee” and spoiling her. There was nothing Beverley could want that Otis would not find a way to provide for her.
By the time she was five, Beverley had her own saucer to sip from when Daddy shared his morning coffee with her. Rarely eating from her own plate, Beverley ate food from his plate because it tasted better than what Mama put on her small plate.
Everything was better when shared with Daddy. Some of the happiest times of her young life occurred while she was with him.
“Otis, you’re gonna spoil that child rotten,” Beulah often said. But Otis continued to let his sweet baby girl sip as much coffee as she wanted and do whatever she wanted. She was his girl and everyone knew this.
Beverley shared the closest relationship with Otis. He loved his sons and daughters and his children loved him but Beverley was his shadow.
Whether he was in the field plowing or harvesting or driving to town, Beverley was always with him. By the time she was seven or eight, Beverley knew more about the process of butchering a hog or cow than Otis’s older children. Neither his youngest son Richard, who was still at home, nor any of his daughters had either the time or the desire to be with him in the field or the farm.
The Baby Chronicles Page 17