Iesha relaxed her shoulders a little bit.
The social worker continued. “Your case is mildly difficult. According to the school’s report, this is what we have in your favor—Sha-Lai is a straight-A student, her progress reports are all good, except that she is an excessive talker,” the social worker smiled.
Iesha returned her smile and relaxed a little more. Charity reached for and squeezed her hand.
“She has perfect attendance since kindergarten, and you don’t have a prior record with DSS. Your son’s grades are just as good in spite of poor attendance. And it is noted that he has severe asthma and requires significant medical attention. But,” she said firmly to prepare Iesha for what she would say next. “We have a child here with a bruise above the shoulder. Ms. Brown, in North Carolina, the law considers bruises on the lower part of the body, below the waist,” she demonstrated, “as less significant, depending on the type of bruises. If the bruises are higher, say for instance the chest area, these are more significant. And bruises above the shoulder are considered most significant and could result in immediate removal of the child or children.”
Iesha squeezed Charity’s hand. Charity was already praying.
Calmer than she was fifteen minutes ago, Iesha felt more comfortable talking for herself. “So, do you still need information from me?”
“Yes. Tell us what happened between you and your daughter. As you’re talking, I will be taking notes. This will enable me to draw up a report for the courts.” Iesha stiffened. “Ms. Brown, it’s not the type of court you’re thinking. In five days you will have a case review hearing. It’s a small, informal, and quick process. Meanwhile, you must look over this safety plan,” she said, digging in her burgundy leather briefcase to retrieve a piece of paper. “Hopefully, you will agree to sign it. It’s an agreement that you will not physically discipline your children.”
“Yes, I will sign it,” Iesha said eagerly.
“Read it carefully, Ms. Brown, because if you are found in violation of any of its stipulations, your children will be placed in the county’s care. Let’s just have you tell us what happened first and then we’ll go over the form, okay?”
Iesha inhaled to compose herself. She let go of Charity’s hands so that she could use hers to talk.
“We were driving home from my mother’s after dinner last night,” she spoke only to the social worker. “It was already past the kids’ bedtime. Sha-Lai was complaining of a headache, but I thought she was just sleepy and whiny. She always complains that something hurts when she’s sleepy, just so she won’t have to go to bed. So, I told her to lay down until I could give her some medicine when we got home. My son was asleep in the back and I told her to be quiet so she wouldn’t wake him up. But she kept leaning up toward the front of the van, whining. I did yell at her and told her that if she didn’t lay back and put her seat belt back on, I was going to whoop her.” She wiped her face with both of her hands like she was washing her face without a facecloth. “And she did for a little while,” she continued. “My family and I had a heated discussion over dinner and I was playing it over and over in my mind, and Sha-Lai kept calling my name and whining. Before I knew it, I reached in the backseat and hit the only part of her body I could reach with my right hand, while my left hand was on the steering wheel. I slapped her on the face.” She shrugged her shoulders when she could not think of anything else to say.
The nurse broke the silence by tapping her fingernails against the table to get Iesha’s attention. “And then what did you do?” The others shifted in their seats restlessly as if they’d heard enough. “Sha-Lai told me,” the nurse added warmly. “And I think the others should know.”
Charity looked at Iesha for explanation.
Iesha continued to wipe the tears as they fell from her eyes. Then she spoke. “As soon as I realized what I’d done, I pulled over to the side of the road. I got out of the car and crawled into the backseat with them. Raquan was still sleeping. I pulled Sha-Lai in my arms and I apologized to her. I explained what I was going through and told her that I didn’t mean to do what I did. I told her that I’ll never slap her in her face again. I held my child for as long as it took for her to know I meant what I said. We were there so long that she fell asleep. I cried all the way home. I honestly did not mean to slap her, and definitely not hard enough for my rings to leave a print on her face.”
“Thank you, Ms. Brown,” the social worker said. “I think I have everything I need for my report. Did you get a chance to read that safety plan?”
Iesha took a few minutes to read the triplicate copy plan that indicated that her signature was her consent to a home inspection, no physical discipline policy, and an appearance in youth and family court. Iesha asked Charity for a pen to sign the form.
“Do you have any questions, Ms. Brown?” the social worker asked.
“I understand the form. But will I be able to walk out of here with my kids?”
“If you sign the form, yes. If you refuse, no.”
Charity handed Iesha the pen and she signed the document.
“Your hearing will be on February 10, in Family Court, courtroom 103. If you have any questions, or problems, call me at this number.” She circled her phone number on a business card. “This copy is for you.” She handed Iesha a yellow copy of the safety plan. “Is Thursday a good day to do the home inspection?”
Iesha looked at Charity for approval for the time off. Charity nodded.
“Yes, ma’am. Thursday will be fine. Any particular time?”
“I will call you on Wednesday. I have your work and home number.” The social worker stood up. She extended her hand for Iesha to shake. “Thank you for your cooperation. I’ll see you on Thursday.”
Iesha accepted her handshake. The social worker shook Charity’s hand.
The principal and the others rose from their seats. “Ms. Brown,” the principal called, “if you follow me I’ll take you to your children.”
Charity and Iesha said good-bye to the others. Iesha thanked the nurse before she was escorted out of the room. Sha-Lai was helping Raquan with his homework when the principal opened the door to the after-school room where they were.
“Momma,” Sha-Lai and Raquan sang, running over to Iesha. Being mindless of the people who were watching, she knelt down, held them both, and cried. “Thank You, Jesus,” she whispered with her head buried in their embrace.
Chapter 10
CHARITY PLOPPED DOWN on the Italian leather love seat in her family room. She had already put Xavier to bed. She flipped through the television channels with the remote control in one hand and a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream in the other. “This has been the longest day of my life,” she mumbled. “Definitely been a manic Monday.” She let the television rest on TBN and watched the remainder of Joyce Meyer’s Life in the Word broadcast. As she listened to the message on getting control of your emotions, she sorted through her mail. She pulled a small wastebasket to the couch. “Don’t need you,” she said, discarding a credit card offer. She threw another packet in the trash. “Don’t need a home equity line of credit, and my last name is no longer Brown.” She opened and read the next few pieces of mail. “Oh shoot.” She ripped open the last envelope. “I forgot about the banquet.” She read the information on the complimentary pair of tickets. “This weekend? I totally forgot.”
She looked at the clock on her VCR and hoped it was not too late for her to call Pastor King at home. She needed an escort for the banquet and knew he would have a recommendation on whom she should ask.
“Hello, Sister King. This is Charity, how are you?”
“Fine, Minister Phillips. How are you?”
“I’m good. I hope it’s not too late to be calling, but I wanted to ask Pastor for some fatherly advice. I need his recommendation for an escort to a banquet.”
Mrs. King laughed. “And you gone trust Pastor?”
Charity joked. “I know, right?”
“That’s sweet of y
ou. I’m sure he’ll be honored. Hold on a minute.”
Charity listened closely to see what Mrs. King would tell her husband about the caller waiting for him on the line.
“Hello, you’ve reached the Love Connector,” Pastor King joked.
“Lord, I got a feeling I’ll never be able to live this one down.”
He chuckled. “I hear you need a date for a banquet?”
“No, I need an escort,” she clarified. “I sit on the board of directors for Grace House, and their annual black-tie formal is Friday. Who would you recommend that I ask to escort me?”
“Do you want a wolf in sheep’s clothing, or a sheep in a wolf’s outfit?”
“Pastor.” She cast a look she’d never give him in person.
“Okay, okay. I have three people I’d recommend, knowing I won’t have to worry about you while you’re with them. I’ll go a step further and say that I recommend them in this order. So if the first one can’t go, then call the second one.”
“Okay.”
“My first choice is Minister Adams.” Charity rolled her eyes to the ceiling; she should’ve known he was going to recommend him. She’d be glad when April would make it known that she liked the man. “If he can’t make it, call Brother Stratford. And my last choice is Brother Ingram. Now, if he can’t make it, I suggest you don’t go,” he laughed.
“Thank you, Pastor. That helps a lot.”
“Do you know how to reach them?”
“Yes, Love Connector. I know how to reach Minister Adams. He may know how to reach the other two.”
“All right. I’m just trying to help you out. If you want any beauty secrets, I’ll have to put my wife back on the phone for that.”
“That’s okay. You know Sister April will help me with that.”
“She sure will. You know what I call her, don’t you?”
“Oh Lord, what Pastor?”
“I call her a first lady. She carries herself like she’s the President’s wife.”
“She does, doesn’t she? Thanks, Pastor. Tell Sister King I’ll talk to her later.”
“You’re welcome. Let me know who’s going with you so I can call and make sure they’re in line.”
“Pastor, I think it’s past your bedtime.”
“Good night, Minister Phillips.”
Charity would not trade her pastor for the world. She looked in her minister’s handbook to get Minister Adams’s phone number. He was not home, so she left a message for him. “Hi, Minister Adams. This is Charity. I’m calling because I need a favor,” she said in a childlike voice. “I called Pastor for his help and he recommended that I call you. I have a black-tie affair to go to on this Friday night—way short notice, I know. But I need an escort. Will you check your schedule and see if you’ll be able to go with me? I already have the tickets. Don’t worry about a tux, a nice suit will do. Oh, the banquet starts at seven, and it’s at the uptown Adam’s Mark Hotel. Call me when you get this message. Thanks.”
Her stomach turned flips as soon as she hung up the phone. She hoped Minister Adams wouldn’t get the wrong idea. I did tell him that Pastor King recommended him, right? Then nervousness set in. What in the world were they going to talk about? Then she decided that she’d had enough of this. She dialed April’s phone number.
“Hey, Toot, what are you doing?”
“Ironing my clothes for tomorrow. What about you?”
“Eating ice cream and watching your woman of God.”
“You know I’m on it. She’s talking directly to me.”
“I called to let you know that I called your pastor to ask him who I should ask to escort me to Grace House’s banquet on Friday. He gave me three names. Guess who they are?”
“If they go to Damascus, you ain’t got but three choices,” she joked.
“Guess.”
“Who?”
“Your husband, Brother Stratford, and Brother Ingram.”
“Who are you going to ask?”
“Well, he suggested I ask them in that order.”
“Oooooh, I hope you go with Michael so you can put in a good word for me.”
“Oh, now you want my help?”
“Might as well.”
“Since when did you start calling him Michael? Ya’ll on first-name basis now?”
“No, but we will be after you talk to him on Friday night.”
“You’re silly. I was actually hoping you would talk to him before then. Like at Bible study.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Girl, this has gone on for long enough. He’d be married by the time you got up the nerve to tell him. Don’t you think it’s time you said something to the boy? It has been a year and some change.”
“That’s why you’ve got to do it for me. I’m scared. What if he doesn’t like me?”
“This is not the April I know. But who else could bring out the weakness in a woman, but a man. Go on and finish ironing your clothes. I’ll talk to you later.”
Iesha adjusted her shower spout to receive a massage from the downpour of steamy water. She closed her eyes and turned backward. She tilted her head back into the water and allowed herself to be cleansed from head to toe. She shampooed her hair and lathered her body with Caress soap. As she rinsed herself with the hotter-than-tepid water, visions of the day’s activities flooded her mind. She felt herself shake inside. When she could no longer contain her emotions, she gave herself permission to cry, and her whole body quaked. She fell to her knees and thanked God for giving her a second chance to raise her children right.
After she dressed in her pajamas, she found in a junk drawer the only Bible she had in the house. It was one of those pocket New Testament Bibles that included the books of Psalms and Proverbs. She opened it to the Psalm she halfway remembered from her childhood Sunday school classes—Psalm 23. She felt stupid when she did not understand the first verse. She called Charity for clarification.
“Hey, Sis, you sleep?”
“Almost. Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, I just have a question.”
“Yes?”
“I’m reading Psalm 23 and I’m trying to figure out why it’s saying that the Lord is my shepherd and I shall not want Him.”
Charity could not help but snicker. “I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you. When I first started reading the Bible, I thought the same thing.”
“So, it doesn’t mean that?”
“No, it’s saying that because the Lord is our Shepherd, our Guide, and our Provider, we will not want or need anything.”
“Oh, I get it.”
“Do you mind if I get my Bible and we go over it together?”
“No, I would like that.”
Iesha was so proud of herself when she got off the phone with Charity. She felt good about her new life. She knew she needed to call her mother but decided that she did not want anything or anyone to ruin what she was feeling. She said the Lord’s Prayer before retiring to bed, then slept like a baby.
Chapter 11
JUST WHEN HE WAS ABOUT TO BE OVERWHELMED with loneliness, Joseph received a blessing. While the godsend was not a wife, he felt it put him one step closer to her. There was no other way to explain it. His magazine subscription lapsed more than two months ago. When he didn’t receive an issue last month, he was not expecting the one that came today. Out of all the issues that could have come, he received the February one, whose cover touted the headline for an article on Valentine’s Day for singles. Just what he needed—some encouragement. He read Today’s Gospel magazine expectantly. Midway through the publication, the title “I Have No Man,” caught his eye. As he read the testimony of a single woman from Charlotte, North Carolina, his heart beat so fast he thought it would leap out at her on the page.
He was so stirred by the story that he ran to his best friend’s room to tell him about it.
“Man, you’ve gotta read this,” he said, shoving the magazine in Allen’s hands.
“Okay, Brother Wo
rd. What message from God have you found this week?”
He overlooked Allen’s suspiciousness. “No, man, this is different.” He pointed to the photograph on the page. “I think I just found my wife.”
Allen shook his head. “Okay. I know you are a man of faith and I know that you do hear from God. But, come on, don’t you think this is a little extreme?”
“I know this sounds crazy. But I know what I felt when I read her article.”
“And what do we know about feelings?”
Like a child being chastised Joseph parakeeted, “That they come a dime a dozen.”
“That’s right, we are not moved by our feelings; by what something feels like. We move by a knowing, which God gives us through His Holy Spirit.”
“I know that you’re right, but—”
“Joseph, you soak up everything. You’re a sponge for the things of God. When you hear a preacher preach something, you hold on to it fervently. Whereas the rest of us hear something and we forget about it after a couple of days. But you continue to watch the words you speak, you make your confessions daily, you sow seeds all the time… and you’re the one who gets results. You’re the one who signs and wonders follow. But you have to find balance because you’re walking a fine line between sanity and insanity. And thinking that you’ve found your wife between the pages of a magazine would be—”
“Insane.” He took the magazine from Allen and held it up as if he were going to read it to him. “I know, man, but just hear me out. This minister from Charlotte wrote this article called, ‘I Have No Man.’ It’s like her testimony of being single and struggling to be content. In it she likens herself to the paralyzed man in John 5 who’d been lying at the pool of Bethesda, the one Jesus asked if he wanted to get well.”
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