Latter Rain

by Vanessa Miller

  He squeezed her hand. “You’ll see.”Charles’s expression changed, darkened. “I wouldn’t have let you meet with her so soon, but it couldn’t be helped.”

  Nina turned toward him. Something in his voice sounded like trouble to her. “What’s going on, Charles?”

  He shut his eyes. Bad decision, since they were on I-71. The car swerved, he opened his eyes and steadied it. “Sorry about that.”

  Donavan sat up in the backseat. “Man, where’d you learn to drive? Kmart?”

  “Sit back, Donavan,” Nina scolded.

  “I told you about this case I’m working on, right?” Charles moved them back to the subject at hand.

  “That Mickey Jones guy?” Nina asked.

  Donavan sat back in his seat and looked out the window, ears perked up to listen to Charles and his mother.

  “Yeah. Well, anyway, that animal has started threatening my family. I don’t want you or Donavan to get hurt. That’s why I took you to see my mother now.” He tried to smile, but his heart wasn’t in it. “I don’t think I should be around the two of you until I can get this case under wraps.”

  Nina looked worried. “So, do you want to call off the wedding?”

  “No, no.” Charles shook his head. “Nothing like that. Let’s set the date, but you’ll have to do the planning on your own. Let me put this guy away, then I won’t feel so exposed.”

  “But you do still want to marry me?”

  He put his hand over hers. “Of course, baby. I just don’t want to put you in harm’s way. He lifted her hand and kissed it. “To make matters worse, word on the street is—some young punks robbed one of Mickey’s crack houses.”

  Donavan’s head snapped around like Linda Blair in The Exorcist. He leaned in closer.

  “Serves him right,” Nina said. “He’s out here selling his poison to these kids, someone should rob him.”

  “Only problem is, Mickey is one twisted drug dealer. He’s not normal, Nina. I just hope we put him in jail before he finds those idiots who robbed him.”

  They drove in silence, listening to the radio. When Charles pulled the car up to Nina’s house he turned toward Donavan. “Sorry, I won’t be able to celebrate your birthday with you.”

  Donavan scooted out of the car. “Don’t worry about it. I might not be celebrating it either.”

  16

  Mickey stormed through his house like the mad hatter. Laquita cautiously walked behind him, being careful to stay out of his way.

  “That lousy DA thinks he’s so smart. Thinks he’s going to get to me,” Mickey mumbled while slinging the freezer door open. He threw a couple of the frozen entrees around, then turned on Laquita.

  “I thought I told you to get me some more Freeze Pops?”

  The kitchen island was between them. Laquita clutched the edge of it. “You mentioned them, but I thought you were going to pick them up. I’ll go to the store right now if you want me to.”

  “Forget it.” He slammed the freezer door.” You can’t do nothing right. I don’t know why I bother with you.”

  He stared her down. Laquita lowered her head. She was pretty. Pouty lips and cocoa skin. Her hair was long, just the way he liked it. He often wrapped it around his hand and yanked. Pretty enough to model, but she was too stupid to put on the three-inch heels and walk down a runway. She’d rather be a dope man’s woman. “I should have figured out that you wasn’t worth two dead flies when your own mama threw your tired behind in the street. But me and my generous heart had to go pick you up, put food in your stomach and give you a decent place to stay.”

  Silence. Head still bowed low.

  He turned away from her, shaking his head. “I got the Feds on my back, some suckas done robbed me, and I can’t even get a Freeze Pop in my own house.” He kicked up his feet on the coffee table in the living room and hollered back to Laquita, “Fix me a sandwich. Do something to earn your keep.”

  He picked up the phone and dialed Lou. He and Lou went way back. They started in the drug game together, but Isaac always thought Lou was small time. To this day, Lou was still proving Isaac right. From time to time, Mickey called on him though. He commissioned him as sort of a researcher. The project Lou was currently researching had to do with the robbery of one of Mickey’s crack houses. “Found out anything yet?”

  Mickey wanted to laugh. He could hear Lou flipping pages. Everywhere the boy went, he carried this small note pad. Nobody could tell him he wasn’t a real detective. “Hey, Lou,” he wanted to scream, “detectives don’t get paid in crack. But in truth, Mickey had to give Lou his props. The boy could find Bin Laden if the price was right.

  “Nothing yet, boss,” Lou reported.

  “Don’t play me, Lou. Nothing goes on in the streets that you don’t know about.”

  “I’m working on it. I’ll have your information. Just give me a little more time.”

  His feet came off the table just as Laquita walked in with a man-sized turkey sandwich on toasted bread. “Get me my information, Lou. Don’t play me after I’ve given you my merchandise.”

  “I wouldn’t play you, Mickey. Honest, I’ll have something on this in a couple of days.”

  “Tomorrow,” Mickey screamed. “Or this will be your last case. You got me?” He slammed down the phone and looked at his pathetic woman. Leaning back against the couch he told her, “Feed me.”

  When she bent down to pick up the sandwich, he sat up and grabbed a fist full of her hair. The gold in his gleaming mouth greeted her as she shifted to face him.

  “Mickey, if I did something wrong, just tell me. I can fix it,” Laquita told him as worry lines etched her face.

  He yanked her hair, pulling her closer. He was still smiling when he back handed Laquita and sent her tumbling to the floor. He really liked those Freeze Pops, especially the orange ones. He bent over her, pinning her arms to the ground with his knees. Slapping and punching. Slapping and punching.

  “I’m sorry, Mickey. I w—won’t do it again,” she cried.

  She lost consciousness somewhere between the fifteenth and the twentieth blow. When she came to, she was lying on the kitchen floor. Her vision was blurry, but she could see Mickey. He was standing over her again. A baseball bat in one hand, a rope in the other. That’s when things started to go bad for Laquita.

  17

  Isaac picked up Donavan early Saturday morning and brought him back to West Virginia with him. Isaac knew that he would have a busy week at Faith Temple beginning Monday, but he wanted to spend a little time with his son before the drama began.

  Donavan was subdued, and seemed content to sit in a corner and watch Isaac study his Word and write the sermon for Sunday. He didn’t want to go anywhere. Isaac thought that was odd, but decided not to make a big deal about it, since he wanted to make this sermon one of the best he’d ever delivered anyway. “Help me, Lord.”

  He drove Donavan home early Tuesday morning. He missed school on Monday, but Donavan didn’t seem to mind. Nina was another story. She looked at Isaac with scolding eyes, kind of like how she normally looked at Donavan. He ignored her and turned to his son.

  “Hugs, not drugs,” he wanted to say as he squeezed his son against him. “I love you, boy. I know I’ve been preoccupied lately, but I’m going to make this up to you. Okay?”

  Donavan squeezed his father right back. “Thanks for coming to get me, Dad. I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting too.” Donavan’s eyes were moist when they parted. He opened his mouth to speak further, then decided against it.

  Isaac caught a glimpse of something. He wasn’t sure what, but something was wrong. His son was probably hating this whole wedding thing as much as he was. “If something’s bothering you, you know you can talk to me, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. He bowed his head and wiped his eyes. “I’m okay, Dad.” He brushed by him. “I’ve got to get ready for school.”

  “I’m going to drop you off. Let me know when you’re ready,” Nina hollered after Donavan as he walked in
to the house.

  Isaac looked at his watch. “Didn’t I get him here in time enough to catch his bus?”

  Nina leaned in closer to Isaac and whispered. “He’s been skipping school. The secretary from the Attendance Office called me on Friday.”

  Isaac’s fingers rubbed upward, past his forehead, through his wavy hair. “Okay, something’s going on, and we need to get to the bottom of it.” He looked at Nina, trying to avoid that blasted ring. “Look, when I get finished with this situation in West Virginia, the two of us need to sit down with Donavan and make him talk to us. Nina agreed, then Isaac reluctantly got back on the road.

  The police had arrested Pastor Marks yesterday. Several members of the church resigned their membership. Other members had called the church demanding to see Bishop. So, Isaac and Bishop’s calendar would be full for the rest of the week.

  The church secretary had provided Isaac and Bishop Sumler with a list of all the members she knew for sure that Pastor Marks had known in the Biblical sense. They were going to contact these women, once Bishop installed a new pastor, and encourage them to continue attending Faith Temple.

  The third woman through Isaac’s door ranted and raved about how she knew Marks was no good. “Them little beady eyes of his was always staring at the ladies.” She finished up by telling Isaac she didn’t know how she could continue going to a church with such loose morals. Her name was on the list the secretary provided him with.

  It was now noon, so Isaac took a lunch break and called Cassandra. She was as pleasant as ever. He enjoyed talking to her. A welcomed change from all the drama he was going through today.

  “It looks like I won’t be back in town until late Sunday night,” he told her.

  “Don’t you worry about anything here. I’ve already tidied up your place. Oh, yeah, that reminds me. Boy, you are a slob.”

  Isaac laughed. It felt good to laugh. “Yeah, I know. I need a maid, just can’t afford one.”

  “Well, don’t be looking at me like some domestic. I’m just helping out in a time of need.”

  Leaning back in his seat, Isaac said, “Maybe I’ll always need you.”

  “Don’t make promises, Isaac. I just may hold you to them.”

  He liked the sound of that. He gripped the phone tighter and leaned in to do some low talking just as another disgruntled member of Faith Temple knocked on his door.

  He sat up. “Look, Cassandra, I’ve got to get back to work. I’m going to take you out to dinner when I get back, so think about what you want to eat.”

  “Isaac, I’m a simple girl. You can take me over to Gino’s and I’ll be happy.”

  His kind of woman. These days anyway, when money was hard to come by. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Two days later, Isaac was on the phone with Cassandra and the words, “I miss you,” fell out his mouth.

  “I can’t get you off my mind either, Isaac. I’m glad you’ll be home soon.”

  Isaac smiled. It felt good to have somebody on his side. Maybe this would be the woman who could stand with him against the world. “Look here, Cassandra. When I get back home, I’m talking about spending some exclusive time with you. Are you dealing with anybody else that I should know about?”

  “Nobody but you, baby,” she said with a slight hint of contentment in her voice.

  Just what he wanted to hear. The grin on his face couldn’t get much bigger. If she had been sitting in front of him, he would have tapered it down a notch. Always got to be cool. “I’ll see you in a couple days.”

  18

  Donavan was no honor student, but when JC showed up on his doorstep early Sunday morning, he knew something had gone really wrong. He stepped out on his porch, closing the door softly. Looking up and down his block, like he was getting ready to cross the street or something, he asked, “Man, what you doing here?”

  JC wasted little time in turning Donavan’s bright day gray. “Baby Dee is dead.”

  Donavan stumbled, but regained his balance by grabbing hold of the banister. “What do you mean, Baby Dee is dead?”

  JC jumped around the porch, slamming his fist into his open palm. “I mean that psychopath slit Baby Dee’s throat and left him in the alley behind Anna Street.”

  Donavan would have given anything to be able to talk to his father. But what would he say? “Hey, Dad, I robbed this mad man and now he’s trying to kill me.” His dad would go ballistic. If Mickey didn’t kill him, Isaac Walker would.

  This was supposed to be a good time of year for him. School was almost out. Fun in the sun was approaching, and in two days, he would be twelve, or he would be dead. “Maybe we should give Mickey his money back.”

  “Are you crazy?” JC asked. “He’ll know we robbed him if we give back the money.”

  Again, Donavan was no honor student, but the friction in his brain worked well enough to put two and two together. If Mickey killed Baby Dee, it’s a sure bet that he already knew. “Maybe if we give him the money back, he’ll leave us alone.”

  “Are you for real, Donavan? That lunatic would take that money out of our hands and slit our throats at the same time.” JC shook his head. “Mickey ain’t wrapped right. He’s even got his mama on the street turning tricks.”

  Donavan wished someone would have explained how much of a lunatic Mickey was when they were planning to rob him. Turning his head to look up and down the street, and then up and down the street again he whispered, “Well, what do you think we should do?”

  Nina came to the door and peeked out. “Donavan, you need to get back in here and get ready for church.” She looked toward Donavan’s visitor. “Oh, hi, JC. Are you planning to go to church with us this morning?”

  “Uh-uh, no ma’am,” JC said, shaking his head.

  “Then you need to talk with Donavan some other time.” Looking back to her son she added, “Two minutes.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m coming,” he told her as she closed the front door.

  JC jumped around the porch again. “I don’t know, I just don’t know what to do.”

  Reaching for the doorknob, Donavan told him, “When you figure something out, let me know.”

  JC grabbed his arm. “Where do you think you’re going? We’re in this together.”

  Donavan yanked his arm from JC’s grasp. “Look, I’ve got to get ready for church. Call me when you figure something out.”

  JC walked off the porch mumbling. “You go on to church, but let me tell you something, Shortie, if I go down, you’ll come tumbling after me.”

  “Thanks for the pep talk, JC. I’ll see you later.” Donavan went inside and dressed for church faster than he had in his entire life. Church was where he needed to be. He wanted to lift his hands in praise. Today, he would listen to what the preacher had to say; but most of all, he was going to pray.

  19

  Praise and worship was a time of renewal. Hands lifted up to the Lord. “What a mighty God we serve,” was shouted from the congregation, pulpit and balcony. “Angels bow before Him, heaven and earth adore Him.”

  Donavan’s hands were lifted halfway, as if to say, “Uh-uh, I’m not surrendering to you, Lord. I’ve got too much life to live.”

  Nina knelt on the floor. This was her preferred position. It meant total surrender. She never understood how people could stand, hands half raised to a holy God. Her God was too awesome, too wondrous not to—well not to do what the next song called for, “I surrender all to thee, my blessed Savior. I surrender all.

  Pastor McKinley tore the house up as usual. The man had a low tolerance for sin. He said that instead of just loving the things God loves, Christians should learn to hate what God hates. If saints hated sin as much as God does, then maybe they wouldn’t fall into it so easily.

  Nina loved her church. She had learned a lot about living for God from her pastor, but she still missed Marguerite. The woman had been so kind to her all those years ago, when Isaac beat her down behind an abortion clinic. She had considered aborting Donavan,
but when she got to that God-awful place, she just couldn’t go through with it. Thank God Isaac’s beat down didn’t cause her to miscarry. Marguerite had been so good to her back then. She took Nina into her home and brought her to church. Nina would always be grateful to Marguerite for her kindness. If only she was still alive, she’d know what to do about Donavan.

  Nina glanced at her son. Normally, he was fidgety in service. He was one of those, is-it-over, is-it-over-yet, kinds of kids. But today, he was—she didn’t know how to explain it, but it looked like he was paying attention to the sermon. The furrow in his brow told her he didn’t seem to like what he was hearing, but he was listening. Then something really strange happened. Donavan bowed his head, and—and prayed. No words escaped his lips, so she couldn’t avow to it, but the closed eyes and the hands against his forehead were a dead give away.

  Nina didn’t want to make a big deal of this. She should be glad that her son was praying, but her gut told her something was wrong. Something she missed, something she should have noticed.

  Nina whispered, “Oh, Lord, please help me. I don’t know what to do.”

  When they got home, she went to her bedroom, locked the door, and then called Isaac’s cell. As mad as Isaac made her, she always called him when things got too complicated. That probably deserved some thought time, but not now. The phone rang twice, then Isaac picked up.

  “Hey, do you have a minute?” she asked him.

  Isaac rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “I’m sorry, Isaac. I didn’t think you would be sleep. I can call you later.”

  “No. Don’t worry about it.”

  Nina could hear the rustle of Isaac’s sheets as he shifted himself around.

  “I was just catching a quick nap before getting on the road.” He yawned again. “I need to get up anyway. I delivered my last sermon in West Virginia this morning and I’m ready to go home.”

  She wanted him to stop in Dayton on his way home. She would feel much better if he was there right now, but she could hear how tired he was. She wouldn’t push. Just let him know the situation. “I think something’s going on with Donavan.”