Blessed Trinity

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  “Whatever you say, Johnnie,” Rachel said. “After all, it is your house.”

  Chapter 23

  There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty.

  (Proverbs 11:24)

  October 1, 2003, Rachel moved in with Johnnie Mae and Pastor Landris. By the end of December, she was still there, with no plans to move.

  “Look, Johnnie, my money is funny right now,” Rachel said. “I’m not trying to take advantage of you. You know that. I know I told you we would be out of here within six weeks, but the move here was more expensive than I first thought. Then Christmas cost us more than I’d expected. It’s hard raising children. You wouldn’t understand because you only have Princess Rose. I understand better than anyone why you and Pastor Landris have chosen not to have any more children. Smart. Smart!”

  “We haven’t chosen not to have a baby,” Johnnie Mae said.

  “So you really are trying?” She frowned. “Marie told me that, but I just knew she had to be joking. You’re forty-three years old, Johnnie. Back in the day, we made fun of people your age who got pregnant. We’d say they got ‘caught in the change.’ Nobody in their right mind would purposely try to have a baby this late in the game. With the exception, of course, of rich, white movie stars.”

  “I’m perfectly in my right mind, and I’m trying like you’ll never know to have a baby. My doctor says the next step would be fertility treatments. But for now, we’ve just been praying and believing I’ll conceive naturally.”

  “All right, then. So you’re praying to get pregnant? Which, incidentally, were you to get pregnant say, today, would mean the baby would be due…” she began counting quickly, using her fingers, “around July or August. In August, might I remind you, you’ll be forty-four.” She placed emphasis on the number. “I know you didn’t ask my opinion, but I think you should forget this nonsense. If you really want another child to raise, I have three little ones in there—you can take your pick.”

  Johnnie Mae shook her head. “In the first place, you know good and well you wouldn’t let me have one of your grandchildren.”

  She grinned and jutted her chin. “Yeah, you’re right. I’d never live that down. Besides, I’ve kind of grown attached to them, no matter how mad they make me sometimes.”

  “And in the second place—”

  “I knew there had to be a second place,” Rachel said. “You always have to run down a list.”

  “In the second place,” Johnnie Mae continued, “Landris and I would like to have a baby of our own. Together.”

  “Well, if you do that fertility stuff, you’re liable to have four or five of your own. Together. All at once. You’ve seen those folks on TV. And you can forget about asking me to help with any of them. You do the deed, you deal with the consequences.”

  “I would hope by then, you’d have found your own place and that wouldn’t even be a topic for discussion.”

  “Woo, is it getting a little chilly in here or is it just you?” Rachel pointed her index finger at Johnnie Mae. “I know we’re getting on your nerves, Johnnie. But hopefully I’ll be able to move out in another two…three months, tops,” Rachel said. She got up and opened a bag of cookies, and started mindlessly eating them, one right after the other.

  “Landris just bought those cookies. They’re his favorites.”

  Rachel laughed and bit into another one. “Sorry. I didn’t know he was a chocolate macadamia nut kind of guy. Well, at least Mama appreciates me being here, even if no one else seems to.”

  “Is that right?” Johnnie Mae said as she took the bag of cookies off the table and put them back up in the cabinet.

  “Yes, that’s right. I don’t know how you, Donald, and Marie did this every day like you did. She’s wearing me out. I try to get Ms. Bertha to keep her up later at night so she’ll tire out earlier during the day and give me time for a nap or something. But you know all most people want these days is to be paid without having to do too much work. I know you’re paying Ms. Bertha well.” Rachel picked up an orange from the fruit bowl and started peeling it, allowing the peels to fall on the table. “She’s essentially being paid to sleep while Mama sleeps.”

  Johnnie Mae looked at her, then shook her head slowly. She tore off a paper towel and placed the orange peelings from the table onto it. “Ms. Bertha is doing a wonderful job. She and Mama play Concentration and work various seek-and-find puzzles. The doctor says games like these can help people with memory problems.”

  “Well, I’ve put a stop to all that. I told Ms. Bertha to quit playing Concentration with her, because she was looking for me to play it all the time during the day. I threw away all those puzzles as soon as I found them stacked up everywhere. Mama was getting frustrated trying to work them. She doesn’t need the aggravation, and neither do I.”

  “Rachel, you’re not helping if you take away things from her that can aid her. Her doctor provided us with tools to use to help stabilize, if not minimize, her memory loss.”

  Rachel fanned her hand at Johnnie Mae as though she were shooing a fly. “Mama will be fine. I’m trying to get her interested in soap operas again.”

  Johnnie Mae placed her hand on her hip. “See? None of us turn the TV on to watch those things when we’re there. That’s one of the worst things you can do, Rachel. Television is a passive activity. She needs active things to keep her mind stimulated. You’re doing this on purpose. I suppose you’re not walking with her, either?”

  Rachel popped an orange slice in her mouth. “Nope. I don’t do walks. I’ve found it to be bad for my health.”

  “I know what you’re doing, Rachel.” She sat down across from her. “But it’s not going to work. If you want to help Mama, you’ll have to stick to the program that’s been established for her by her doctor. You know, I can just hire a home health aide to come in a few hours a day to do this.”

  “What more is an aide going to do than watch her like we’re doing? It’s not like Mama’s condition is going to improve, Johnnie. And you know this.” She pointed an orange slice at Johnnie Mae as she spoke. “Still, you insist on keeping her at home instead of placing her in a facility with a full-time staff. Okay, fine. I’m now watching her during the day. As for walking, Mama does that when you and Marie come over and go with her—twice every week is plenty for anybody. I don’t want her to be miserable, doing things I know I wouldn’t want to do if it were me.” She ate another slice of orange. “You still haven’t answered my question. How much do you pay Ms. Bertha to sleep at Mama’s house?”

  “Enough.”

  “Well then, enough sounds like plenty for me. You know—here’s a thought. I could just move me and my five in with Mama. And what you’re throwing away on Ms. Bertha and possibly an aide, you could throw my way. I’d be out of here—all problems resolved.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No. I’m serious. You want me out of here—”

  “Rachel, I did not say I wanted you out.”

  “Johnnie, you started this conversation off with, ‘Rachel, it’s been two months now. How’s the new living-space hunting going?’ That’s a polite way of saying, ‘Rachel, I know you’re my sister and all, but you’re getting on my nerves, and I’m wondering how much longer I’m going to have to put up with you.’ I know how to translate polite talk, in case you’ve forgotten. I can’t afford to get a job, Johnnie. Do you know what daycare costs these days? Besides, I moved here to help out with Mama. If I get a place, I’ll need to get a job to pay for it. Which means I’ll not be able to stay at Mama’s but a few hours, a few times a week—if that much. That would defeat the whole purpose of my having moved here in the first place. I could have stayed where I was.”

  “Okay, Rachel. Stay here for as long as it takes.”

  “That was what I told you when I called you three months ago and informed you I was moving. But don’t worry, I’m not planning on living with you forever.
I’m not that insensitive. Besides, your precious little Princess Rose acts too much like a miniature diva for me and mine to be around for too long.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Johnnie, because Lord knows I know how some of you newer parents are about your little darlings. But your precious Princess Rose is spoiled.” Rachel got up and threw the orange peelings in the trash.

  “Spoiled?”

  “Yes, spoiled. I didn’t stutter when I said it. I realize she’s an only child, and she’s had you all to herself for a good part of her life. But that child needs to learn how to share. Maybe you do need to have another child so you can change her attitude before she grows up.” Rachel sat back down at the table.

  Johnnie Mae snatched an orange out of the bowl and began to squeeze it hard in places. “Princess Rose is not spoiled.”

  “She doesn’t share, Johnnie. I’m telling you, the girl won’t let my grandchildren touch her precious little toys.”

  Johnnie Mae bit a hole in the top of the orange. “Maybe that’s because your precious little grandchildren don’t know how to take care of other people’s stuff.”

  “Oh, I know you did not go there.”

  Johnnie Mae went to the counter and took down the candy jar. She took out an old-fashioned candy cane and stuck it in the hole of the orange. “Yes, I went there. You know I’m telling the truth. Your…grandchildren have broken almost every toy my child has let them touch. In fact, I was the one who told Princess Rose to quit letting them play with everything they ask for. They don’t listen, even when grown folks tell them to do or stop doing something. They’re hardheaded.”

  “Oh, you’re just saying this because of what I just said about your little princess. I’m sorry I brought it up, okay? Let’s just drop it. I was wrong.”

  Johnnie Mae was about to say something when she stopped herself. “I’m not going to let you do this. You used to do this when we were growing up, and you haven’t changed a bit. You always find a way to get the attention off what you’re doing wrong. But Rachel, you and those kids don’t need to live at Mama’s house. Not unless I can get her to move in here with me.”

  “That’s not going to happen. You said yourself—Mama wants to be at her own house. She’s not coming here to live. Ever. But on the serious side—”

  “I thought we were on the serious side already.” Johnnie Mae sucked orange juice through the candy cane like it was a straw.

  “‘On the serious side,’ is just an expression, Johnnie, okay? Anyway, Mama is getting worse. You’re going to have to do something soon. Think of me as your conscience. I plan to make sure, in the end, you do the right thing.”

  “I don’t mean to be ugly, Rachel, but when Mama has lucid moments, she and I talk. She has told me she does trust me to do the right thing. She’s counting on me to do it.”

  “Yeah…sure.” Rachel got up. “Well, I think I’ll go watch a little TV.”

  Johnnie Mae looked at the messy table Rachel left. She threw away the stray peelings, then got a wet dish towel and wiped the table clean.

  Chapter 24

  Follow after charity, and desire spiritual gifts…

  (1 Corinthians 14:1)

  January 2004

  Johnnie Mae walked hurriedly, waving randomly to folks as she passed by following Sunday’s second service. Forever poised and composed, she appeared to be the ideal wife one would expect of a prominent pastor.

  “You’re the pastor’s wife,” Faith said as she smiled and shook her hand that cold day in January. Faith had only been a member of the church since September. In that time, she and Johnnie Mae had only spoken once before—nothing resembling a real conversation, though. Johnnie Mae had a stack of books entitled Walking in Divine Favor that she was handing out to people as they filed by. “Why on earth are you passing these out?” Faith asked.

  Johnnie Mae tilted her head slightly and squinted her eyes. Her smile was warm. “Well, why not me?”

  “You’re the First Lady,” Faith said. “I’m sure there are people here who can handle something like this for you.”

  “So you don’t think I should be doing something like this?”

  “Honestly? No.”

  “Because I’m the ‘First Lady’?”

  “Precisely.”

  Johnnie Mae started laughing. “First of all, please don’t call me the First Lady. I’m honored to be a helper to the pastor, but he and I have agreed we are, first and foremost, servants of God and servants to His people.”

  “So you don’t buy into that First Lady thing at all?” Faith asked. She couldn’t believe this woman could possibly be real.

  “My name is Johnnie Mae. If you would like to help me pass these out, I would appreciate it. But no, I don’t buy into the ‘First Lady thing’, and I don’t think myself above doing something like passing out books if I believe they are a blessing.” She held out one of the Walking in Divine Favor books to Faith.

  Faith took it, but wasn’t quite certain whether or not Johnnie Mae had been serious about her helping her. “My name is Faith Alexandria Morrell.” She always said her entire name when introducing herself—a habit, perhaps—or maybe she just loved hearing it. “You probably don’t remember me with so many members, but I briefly met you when I officially joined this church back in October.” Faith looked at the stack of books. “Do you really need help?” she asked.

  Johnnie Mae smiled. “Need? No. But if you would like to help, I’ll gladly accept your assistance with appreciation, Faith.”

  Faith thought a minute. Helping wasn’t exactly her strong point. She delegated well, though. Faith knew Hope would have jumped in head first without ever having to have been asked. And Charity was all about showing love. Nothing that needed to be done or anyone Charity met was beneath her. She actually believed love really could conquer all. Faith knew that’s why her presence was so necessary. Faith felt Hope and Charity allowed people to run over them entirely too much. She, on the other hand, only allowed people to think they were getting over on her—but they really weren’t.

  Johnnie Mae looked at the long line of people waiting patiently to receive their copy of Walking in Divine Favor. Faith’s eyes followed the direction of her gaze. She could clearly see that with two of them working at this, things would probably move faster, if nothing else.

  Faith walked around to the other side of the table, set down her purse, Bible, book, and lesson journal on the chair behind her, and positioned a stack of the seventy-page books in front of her. Johnnie Mae flashed a smile her way. That’s when it dawned on Faith: there was a payoff in doing this. She realized Johnnie Mae…the pastor’s wife appreciated her gesture, and that this could be the way “in” she’d been looking for.

  After Faith arrived home, she thumbed through the book Johnnie Mae and Pastor Landris had written together. They’d printed several thousand copies, not to sell, but to give away. Faith admitted that Johnnie Mae undeniably was a great writer. She could see from this book alone why publishers were after her. Faith retrieved her purse and located the business card Johnnie Mae had given her. Rotating it around in her hand front to back, she smiled. Mrs. Johnnie Mae Taylor Landris gave me her card with her personal phone numbers on it. Faith had offered to help her in the future and Johnnie Mae had offered to help her should she need it. Faith was convinced all of this had to mean something.

  “Johnnie Mae, I would love to help you more. I like what you said about being a servant of the Most High,” Faith had said after there was no one left in line. “I’m sure with your busy schedule I could be of assistance to you. And if you’re ever looking for an assistant—part- or full-time—I’d love to apply.”

  “Do you have a job presently?” Johnnie Mae had asked before Faith left.

  “Yes. But honestly, I would consider leaving to help you and Pastor Landris with the mission you’ve been given by God.” Faith liked the way she’d phrased that: the mission. “I’m sure a lot of grunt w
ork is necessary in getting a new church off the ground—even more work and responsibility once it’s up and going.” Faith was working this angle, even though she didn’t completely trust either one of them. She believed if they were up to no good, she’d find out one way or the other.

  “First off, a church is not a place. It’s not a destination. The church is the people of Jesus Christ. That’s why we named this particular fellowship Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center. The church is the people; we’re followers of Jesus, we stand on faith as we come together to this particular center to build up and further increase our faith, and to worship God in spirit and truth. God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.” Johnnie Mae abruptly halted her speech. Faith wasn’t sure if it was because she had suddenly noticed the smile on her face after she’d said the word “faith.”

  “Faith—your sister’s name is Hope, correct?”

  “Yes, and a younger sister, Charity.”

  Johnnie Mae stopped again. “I haven’t met her. Does Charity live here?”

  “She lives here—she just hasn’t come for a visit to this church yet.” Faith was sorry she’d someone allowed this slip and mentioned Charity’s name.

  “Is she at least a member of someone’s congregation? ” Johnnie Mae asked as she stacked up the remaining books and placed them inside an empty box on top of the table.

  “No, she’s not. But she’s visited The Church of Revelation and Divine Conquerors.”

  “Reverend Paul Knight and Reverend Marshall Walker’s church?” Johnnie Mae wrinkled her nose and smiled, like she’d just smelled something foul and was trying to pretend that she hadn’t. “Everyone needs to belong to a spiritual family. Maybe we should work on getting her to come visit us.”

  Faith felt at this point Johnnie Mae should mind her own business. It’s bad enough having to deal with Hope wanting to be here every chance she gets. I don’t need to have to deal with Charity, too. People didn’t have the first clue how complicated Faith’s life was, or could be if she wasn’t extremely careful how she handled things.