by Pat Simmons
She sighed and tapped her fingers on the table. She hadn’t thought about that. “Marcus makes sure I dream about candlelight dinners, movies, and picnics with him, but to enjoy those things would take away time I spend with my aunt.”
Ava Elise twisted her lips. Clearly, she was conjuring up a solution. “Didn’t you tell me she’s in your care for six months?”
“Yes. It’s a six-month rotation my sisters and I agreed upon. It’s been almost two months, and the wear and tear on my mind and body make it seem like years. I can accept putting my wants and desires on hold, but I feel like I’m aging at a faster rate, if that makes sense.”
“My advice to you is number one, take the neighbor and all he’s willing to give you. Two, get a nurse’s aide so you can go out for a few hours. I would definitely suggest you pencil in a monthly spa to ease some of that tension.” Ava Elise stood. “I wish I had more time to walk you through this, but I need to prepare for my class.”
“Thank you for listening and not judging me. In the past, my sisters and Aunt Tweet have been my confidantes.” She missed those times.
“Every caregiver’s situation is different, depending on the needs of the patients. My situation was different from yours, so I can’t judge you.” She shrugged. “I’ll be praying you won’t have any regrets about how you care for your aunt when she’s no longer on this earth.”
Tabitha froze as a chill ran down her spine. Didn’t the minister mention something like that in the sermon? Was God finally talking to her? Her heart leaped in her chest. The Bible reading she claimed she was going to do had been hit or miss. Thank You, Lord, for not holding it against me. Maybe, God would speak to her at church. She couldn’t wait to find out.
Chapter 23
S
unday morning, despite her need for more sleep, Tabitha woke and stretched as she braced for Aunt Tweet to barge into the bedroom at any minute. She slipped out of bed and crossed the hall. Peeping in the bedroom, she noticed her aunt was still sleeping and the room didn’t smell fresh. After church, she would change the sheets, although she had just done the task four days earlier.
Backing out, Tabitha walked downstairs to feed Sweet Pepper and let him outside. Next, she started a breakfast of eggs, rice, and turkey links. She smiled. It had been a while since she was operating ahead of schedule.
With twenty minutes to spare, she showered, finished her makeup, and dressed. Almost giddy with excitement, she sat in the chair, looking out of the window, waiting to surprise Aunt Tweet. Glancing at her watch, she frowned. Her aunt hadn’t stirred. Going across the hall, she peeped at her before nudging her awake. “It’s Sunday. We’re going to be late for church.”
Aunt Tweet moaned. “I’m tired this morning. I don’t feel like going.”
What? Any other Sunday, Tabitha would have rolled over. Today was not the day to role play. She regretted telling her aunt the same thing months ago. But getting an eighty-nine-year-old up five days a week was laborious, so perhaps she should let her aunt sleep in, even though she was eager to see if God truly had a message custom made for her. Maybe the Lord would put it on hold until next time.
“It’s okay. Rest as long as you need to.” Covering her back up, she kissed her cheek, then strolled out of her room, slipping out of her heels in a few steps. She spied her toes and exhaled. She was way overdue for a soothing manicure and pedicure. Maybe later, if her aunt felt up to it.
She was undressing when she heard Aunt Tweet’s feet dragging on the floor. The door opened and her aunt came out, rubbing her eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me? It’s Sunday, ain’t it? We’re going to be late if you don’t get up.”
Huh? Aunt Tweet’s absentmindedness should have irritated Tabitha. It didn’t. Today, she laughed with joy. “I’m ready. Let’s find you something to wear.”
While she helped Aunt Tweet bathe, her aunt mumbled, “You never know whose hand is going to give you that last piece of bread. I appreciate what you’re doing for me.”
Tabitha paused from rinsing her off. Her eyes watered. “I know you do.” Again, she felt ashamed for her thoughts of “woe is me” when her aunt was possibly dying and trying to prepare her. She sniffed. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me over the years, so it’s my pleasure to do things for you now.” She smiled wide so her aunt could see she meant what she said. Lord, please don’t let her die in my care. Please.
Even with their late arrival, they were able to find a parking spot not far from the door. Moments after settling in their seats, Marcus appeared. Overjoyed, but perplexed, she scooted to make room. “I thought you weren’t ever coming back.”
“Yeah, well, God has a way of nudging me out of my bed when I purposely planned to oversleep. I could hear Him say He had something for me.”
“Really?” Tabitha’s heart pounded in anticipation. She hoped there would be something left for her too.
“Plus,” he said, linking his fingers through hers and bringing her hand to his lips, “you didn’t say it, but I could tell you were disappointed when I said I wasn’t coming, so here I am.”
The things this man was willing to do for her spoken and unspoken requests, was humbling. Pleased, she squeezed his hand. As the service got underway, Tabitha prayed for God to speak to her.
As expected, Aunt Tweet blended her voice along with the singers. When she didn’t know the words, she hummed.
Closing her eyes, Tabitha took a deep breath and prayed. Lord, speak to me. Something to me. Please.
The music was so stirring that even Marcus stood. He reached for her hand and tugged her to her feet. In unison they clapped to the group’s rendition of Hezekiah Walker’s “Total Praise.”
As the music faded, Pastor Nelson walked to the podium with his Bible tucked under his arm, then followed protocol with announcements and welcoming visitors.
“Now, for the good stuff. Some of you may have been carrying a heavy load this week—or maybe for a while. The Lord Jesus wants your burdens. Let Him be your Rock. Give them to Him. For in Galatians 6:9, Jesus encourages us to do good until the end, even when you think it’s not making a difference. He knows how it feels to do good and still be rejected—He was nailed to a cross as if He was a criminal, but He came to heal the sick, set the captives free, feed the hungry, and the list goes on. Believe God is working behind the scenes on our behalf.
I am your Confidant for I am all things good. Come to Me, and I will renew your strength, God whispered through the mirage of sounds around her, including the preacher.
She heard Him! Excited and afraid, Tabitha’s heart pounded as she perked up. He was talking to her. She wanted to get up and yell that God had spoken to her, but she contained herself.
“The Bible says in Psalm 149:4 God delights in doing great things for His children. He doesn’t get weary...” Pastor Nelson preached about the goodness of Jesus, and she could feel pent-up stress ooze from her pores until she had to lean against Marcus’ shoulder for support.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m good,” she said, almost breathless.
He frowned as if he didn’t believe her, but said nothing more as he returned his attention to the preacher.
“Before I close this morning, I want to remind you how important we are to the Lord. God made us a little lower than the angels. Yet, Jesus didn’t die for the angels that fell from grace. Their judgment had already been set. What makes us so special that He would die for us?” He paused and stepped back as if he was expecting someone to raise their hand with the answer. “God’s love for us is a mystery. It can’t be explained, so will you return His love today? Repent and come forward. It’s your time.”
Jumping up, Tabitha was ready as she hurried to the ministers at the altar for prayer. She was in a trance and in awe, as if Jesus had locked eyes with hers and was reeling her in. She didn’t realize Marcus was nearby until he grabbed her hand. “I heard Him. I heard His voice.”
“Me too.” He paused. “Let’s do th
is together?”
Touched, she nodded. “I’d like that.” She beamed at his level of commitment to her.
His commitment is to Me! God corrected, and Tabitha burst into tears as ministers came to her aid. Marcus was there too.
“What do you need from the Lord, brother and sister?” a man who was stout with a shaved head and beard asked them.
“I want to give God my burdens. I don’t want them back,” she said in a shaky voice through her heavy tears.
“This is your time to repent of your sins. I have no prepared statement for you to repeat because this is between you and God,” he advised them.
Tabitha began to cry in earnest. “Jesus, I’m sorry for my thoughts, complaints, and sins....” She poured out her soul.
“Sister, your salvation starts today. It’s time to get your sins washed away, as according to Acts 2:38.”
“I consent.” She nodded as two ladies about her age came to her side, identifying themselves as Sisters Anna and Darla. From the sanctuary, they guided her into a changing room for her baptism. When they sang hymns of praise, she hummed. Aunt Tweet might not be in her right mind, but last Sunday, Tabitha believed her aunt knew exactly what she was doing. Her aunt! Nobody was with her.
“My aunt! She has Alzheimer’s. She may get confused, if she’s left alone.” She was about to race from the room, wearing only a slip.
Sister Anna stopped her and asked for a description and where she was sitting. “I’ll get her.” She left.
Tabitha paced the floor until Aunt Tweet walked into the room. She ran into her arms and hugged her tight like she did as a child.
“No regrets, Momma?”
Momma? Tabitha didn’t know why she was bawling like crazy. Despite her uncontrollable behavior, she didn’t have any regrets about the commitment she was about to make to the Lord Jesus. “No.”
“Sister, the ministers are waiting,” Sister Darla who had stayed with her said gently.
“I’m ready.” Wiping her eyes, she took a deep breath. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m nervous, as if I’m about to get married.”
“You are,” Sister Darla said, then shouted, “Hallelujah. Your baptism is preparing you for the Bridegroom, which is Christ. So it’s a good day to get married to our Savior.”
Everything seemed to be a blur as they ushered her out the room to the pool with Aunt Tweet following. She looked up and saw Marcus in a white T-shirt and pants. His face brightened when he saw her. “I was hoping you hadn’t changed your mind. God told me it was time for me to change.”
Two ministers reached for them and assisted them into the water. “Have you both repented?” one asked and waited for confirmation before lifting one hand in the air. “My dear brother and sister, by the confidence we have in the blessed Word of God, concerning His death, burial and Grand Resurrection, I now indeed baptize both of you in the name of the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for the remission of your sins and the Word says you shall receive the Holy Ghost. This promise is made to you, your children, and even as many as are afar off the Lord will call. Amen.”
Closing her eyes, Tabitha allowed herself to be submerged under the water, then lifted out. She raised her arms in the air and shouted, “Hallelujah, I’m free!”
What happened next was a blur. All she knew was hours later, the three had left church, praising God and rejoicing as they heard themselves speak in other tongues. One thing was sure: If she never became any man’s wife, she had a Groom waiting for her someday.
PEACE. Marcus had possessed it for days since his water and spirit baptism in Jesus’ name. As he glanced around his work space and shared office, he acknowledged that the Lord had blessed his business. He was about to walk out the building for an appointment and head toward the main parking lot. He spied an unexpected visitor, standing at the entrance desk, trying to convince the receptionist, Sandra, to buzz him.
“Mr. Whittington, I told Victor he was banned from the premises, but he refuses to leave without seeing you.”
Really, Lord? Right after I just sung Your praises? He stared Victor Graves down.
It’s okay. You have My peace, God whispered.
God’s peace. He read in John 14:27 about God’s peace through the Holy Ghost. Marcus took a cleansing breath. “What can I do for you?” he asked curtly.
“A few minutes. Just hear me out.” Holding up his hands in surrender, he noted Victor’s cockiness was gone, and his tone was non-threatening.
Yet, the man didn’t have a good track record, and Marcus didn’t trust him. Still holding onto God’s peace, he considered the safety of his employees and didn’t want a mass shooting from a disgruntled former employee at his workplace. “Sandra, alert security.”
Sandra gasped and picked up the phone.
“I deserve that.” He nodded and bit his lip while Marcus anticipated Victor’s next move. He kept his eyes locked on the man as he reached into his pocket, possibly for a weapon. He wasn’t a wrestling champ for nothing as his adrenaline kicked in as he charged his ex-employee.
Younger and faster, Victor moved out of harm’s way. “Hey, man. I just wanted to give you this.”
“Hands in the air, Victor!” Edward, their security guard, yelled. An envelope fell from Victor’s pocket. “Step back from the package,” Edward ordered. “Should I call for backup with a K-9 bomb-sniffing dog, sir?”
Talk about overkill from the retired police officer turned security guard. That won’t be necessary.” Marcus bent to pick up the envelope.
“Step back, sir. It could be laced with an illegal substance,” Edward warned.
“Is it?” He eyed Victor, folding his arms and leaving it on the ground.
“No. It’s a money order.” His hands were still up.
“Stand down, Edward,” he said then motioned for Victor to pick up the envelope. “Let’s have a seat over there.” He pointed to a corner nook that was private, yet still in the open.
“I’ll stay close by, sir.” Edward gave him a salute and waited near Sandra’s desk. His eyes were trained on Victor like a German shepherd waiting for his next meal.
“What’s going on?” Marcus waited for Victor to sit, then he sat across from him. Checking the time for his appointment, he waited impatiently.
“I came to say thank you for bailing me out.” Victor leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, then looked away before meeting his eyes again. “I don’t know why you did. I mean, you took away from your phantom children’s college fund because of Latrice and my sons.” He choked and handed over the envelope.
Phantom? He grunted. He believed in planning for the future. Squinting, he hesitantly accepted the envelope and peeked inside. It was a money order for five thousand dollars. He blinked. “Whoa. Where did you get this type of money?” He hoped it wasn’t drug money or from other illegal activity.
“I got a settlement the other day, and it kept bugging me why would you help me when I know I wasn’t showing you any respect.”
Yeah. It bugged me for a long time too, he silently admitted. “You weren’t.” He gave him a deadpan stare. “What settlement? Did you scam someone or file a bogus claim?” He rambled on different scenarios.
The accusations put Victor on defense. “Why couldn’t it be because I was the victim for a change?”
“Hold that thought.” He pulled out his cell and texted Demetrius. Bro, still at work. Something came up. Can you go by Redscape and meet with James Locke? He wants samples of our products. Please tell me you have some with you.
Everything okay? Demetrius texted back.
Yep. Explain later.
On it. Have samples in car. Like a Boy Scout. Always ready.
Leaning back, Marcus folded his arms. “Go ahead. Start from the beginning and break it down to me how you’re a victim.”
“I’m a black man who happened to be stopped by a Jennings police officer. ‘Bout time the government called them out for their racist practices. Thousands of us poor,
black residents who were jailed because we didn’t have the money to pay court fees for traffic tickets got a lot of money from a lawsuit.”
Marcus whistled. He had followed the news after the Ferguson shooting and applauded the Justice Department for serving notice to almost one hundred municipalities surrounding Ferguson whose revenue was generated through fines and fees that targeted poor people in black communities. It came out that when offenders couldn’t pay, they had to serve jail time or have their driver’s license suspended, which violated their constitutional protections. He was glad they sued. He didn’t know the 4.7 million dollars settlement had been reached. “That’s a lot of money. I hope you invest it wisely.”
“Yep. I started a college fund for Little Victor and Vance.”
Huh? He blinked in shock. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he had to ask, “Does Latrice know about this?”
Sadness cast a shadow on Victor’s face. “We’re not together anymore, and she refuses to talk to me unless it has to do with the boys.” His shoulders slumped as he looked away.
Any other day, he would be Latrice’s cheerleader. Today, somehow, he was convicted to switch sides.
“I’m going back to school in the fall and plan to work hard. Maybe I can open up my own business and help folks like you and Demetrius do.”
Marcus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The words seemed foreign coming from Victor. But this was exactly what his company strived to do, make a difference in people’s lives.
You did, listening to Me, God whispered.
Victor stood and extended his hand. “I wanted to say thank you.”
Lord, speak to Victor like you have me and guide him with what You want him to do. In Jesus’ name. Amen. Grinning, he accepted the shake, then wrapped him in a bear hug. “I’m proud of you, man. If you need to talk, call me. Just don’t ask for your job back, because that’s still a no. I’ll invite you to the church where I began my salvation walk.”