Under the Peach Tree

by Charlay Marie

  I opened the door and stepped inside. She was leaning against the bed, which was bent upward so that she could listen to her soaps. Flowers and teddy bears and balloons decorated the stand in the room. Another person was seated in the chair next to the bed. It was a woman a little younger than Momma May, with graying hair and a sweet smile.

  “This must be Hope,” the woman said. “I’m Joyce.”

  “Hi,” I said, walking into the room. I looked at Momma May, who seemed in good spirits.

  “May told me all about you and I’m glad to finally meet you.” Joyce turned to Momma May and squeezed her hand. “I got to head up to the church and handle things. Everybody at the church has been praying.”

  “Yeah, they’ve called and came to visit. Tell everyone that I am doing good and can’t wait to get back to church,” Momma May said. Joyce squeezed her hand again and stood to leave. She smiled as she walked passed me.

  “Take care of her,” she said and left the room.

  I took a seat beside Momma May. Although she seemed happy, she hadn’t improved at all. Her eyes were sinking in and she barely had any meat on her bones. At least her silver hair lay intact. I had brought her favorite brush from home, knowing she would love for me to brush her hair with it. I pulled it from my purse and began brushing her soft hair. She smiled, eating the candy Dante brought her.

  “Boston Baked Beans, my favorite,” she said, chewing on the candy. “And I love when you brush my hair.”

  “I love to brush it.”

  “Baby, come around on the other side of the bed and look in the closet. There is a bag. I had Norma bring it up here earlier.”

  I set the brush down next to her and did as she said. A large white bag hung in the little closet. It was the kind of bag that I remembered all too well. The type of bag Momma used to bring home for Faith. I grabbed the bag and shut the door.

  “Open it.”

  I smiled, feeling my heart putter in my chest. I unzipped the bag and pulled out a beautiful short-sleeved vintage off-white dress that ruffled on the arms and flowed to the ground. It was a simple dress with not much design, but that didn’t matter. It was the style of the dress that was stunning, like something I pictured a flapper in the twenties getting married in.

  And then I realized what kind of a dress it was.

  “I married in that dress.” Momma May smiled. “I know I’m always telling the same stories. I’m an old lady.” Her laugh caused her to go into a coughing fit. “Remember the day I told you about not being able to fit in my old wedding dress? Well, that was before I got this dress. I remember the day like it was yesterday. I was about your size when I was pregnant and got married. After a few alterations to the waistline, it should fit you perfectly.”

  “You want me to get married in it?” I asked, not able to hide the surprise in my voice.

  She laughed. “If you choose to, one day, but I just want you to have it. I’ve been holding on to it, never wanting to give it up. My kids tried to convince me to but I couldn’t, especially after my husband died. But I decided to give it to you. If anyone would appreciate a dress, it would be you.”

  I held the dress up to my body, picturing myself in it. I laughed out loud; I couldn’t contain the joy. I spun around with the dress in my hand, remembering how Faith used to twirl around whenever she got a pretty dress. It was the best feeling.

  “This is the best gift. Thank you.” I put the dress back in the bag and sat on the edge of her bed. “I’m sorry for running out yesterday. I just—”

  “It’s okay, Hope. I understand.”

  I nodded and began fiddling with my fingers. “Dante told me about the prophecy.”

  She smiled. “I know he did.”

  I nodded again. “Do you think you’ll live to see that day happen? You know, when we get . . . married?” It was so hard to say those words, especially because I hadn’t grown accustomed to them.

  “Only the good Lord knows.”

  “How long do you have to live?” I asked.

  “The doctors don’t want to put a time stamp on it. They said it could be months or it could be weeks.”

  I bent over, feeling pain course through my stomach, and tried to fight the urge to cry. I waited until my breathing was steady to speak again. “I pray every night for God to heal you.”

  “I lived a long life. When God takes me, I’ll go gladly. But don’t worry about me, baby. Worry about the life you still have left. “

  “Everything is happening too fast. Two weeks ago you were fine. I didn’t even think about the cancer. I thought you was gonna be fine. And then you passed out and they found that tumor. Why didn’t you tell us about the tumor?”

  “I didn’t want to scare you.”

  “Maybe they could’ve helped you get better if they caught it early!”

  “It grew bigger in the course of a week. There was nothing they would have been able to do. I had a doctor’s appointment scheduled to get it checked out but then I ended up in the hospital. I would’ve told all of you once I knew what was wrong,” she told me.

  “I know you’re probably tired of talking about it,” I said, but I was talking more to myself. I didn’t want to keep hearing about the negatives. It was consuming my thoughts. I needed a break from life. I wanted to hear about times where Momma May was truly happy in life. Maybe that would dissipate the tension and pain in the air. I lay down beside her on the bed. “Tell me stories about your life . . . the good ones.”

  She smiled.

  “My life is full of good stories, baby. But since I gave you my wedding dress, I’ll tell you more about my wedding day,” she started. “Back then, when my husband was just founding his church, we barely had two pennies to rub together. We didn’t know what we would eat most days. Our house, same one I live in today, barely held the rain out. All of his money went into the church. We had to rely solely on God and His promise to always provide. And He did. Everybody in our town loved my husband and donated things to make our wedding special. His mother’s friend worked for a rich woman who had a garden and was able to get those flowers to make me a bouquet. Others made food and drinks for the ceremony. One man worked at a hall and was able to reserve it for our wedding day. Everything was great. I just didn’t have a wedding dress.

  “One day I woke up and found a beautiful dress lying neatly on my porch. It had no note. Nothing. I went around town asking everyone who gave me the dress but nobody knew. Nobody had the kind of money to buy that dress. It was the kind we saw white women wear, an expensive one. And here it was, just sitting on my porch, brand new and glorious. My husband said it was a gift from God and that there was no other explanation for it. To this day, I still truly believe one of God’s angels set that dress on my porch. That’s why I kept it so close to me like I keep all of God’s gifts.”

  “And now you’re giving it to me.” I smiled. “I love it even more.”

  I spent a couple more hours in the hospital talking and laughing with Momma May. It was interesting how some of my deepest moments together happened when she was in the hospital. I lived in a world where tragedy and sadness brought people together.

  I lay in bed that night, picturing a God who cared for me as much as He cared for Momma May. She was an amazing woman, like David, after God’s own heart. She preached the gospel, even in old age, and was honest when she said she’d serve the Lord until death. I didn’t even know such women existed. I was so used to women like Momma, who did not know God. Maybe if she had, she would’ve been a better person. It wasn’t too late. Even I knew that God could still save her.

  The thought gave me an idea.

  That next day I asked Dante to drive me out to my old house. I made sure I went around the time Momma got off of work. I knew that Faith would be there and I needed to see her, too. I wanted to apologize for my actions that separated us and caused all of our problems. I wanted to share the gospel with Momma in hopes that she’d come to God. I was at a point where I wanted to forgive. I ne
eded to. I’d die of a heart attack due to the amount stress on my heart. And if God could forgive me, I should forgive others.

  It took almost an hour before we pulled up on the gravel road that led to the house. Everything was as I remembered it: a small, ugly house in the middle of many acres that didn’t belong to us. I noticed the tree in the front still had my tire swing. I remember kissing John there, our first kiss.

  Too many bad memories.

  Dante sat beside me, taking everything in with a curious expression. “So this is where you used to live.”

  “I wasn’t living when I stayed here.” I wasn’t sure if he understood what I meant, but he nodded.

  “Are you ready?”

  “No,” I said, but I got out of the car anyway.

  Dante followed as I approached the door. I didn’t even make it to the front step before Faith stepped out on the porch. She looked the same and was wearing a beautiful dress with a nice bun in her hair. The sight made my eyes water. I expected her to run down the stairs and straight into my arms, but she didn’t. She was still angry with me.

  “Hope,” was all she said.

  “Faith,” I began, but didn’t know what to say. I decided to go with an introduction. “This is Dante,” I said. And to Dante, I said, “This is Faith, my twin.”

  “Nice to finally meet you,” Dante said.

  Faith’s eyes glanced uneasily between the two of us. “Is this who you was staying with?”

  “Naw, I’m staying with . . .” But I wasn’t able to finish. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Momma slowly step out onto the porch. She folded her arms and stood in place. I’d never seen her react so quietly. I was almost filled with joy. I thought she may have forgiven me, but then I remembered the saying, “the calm before the storm.”

  I walked away from Dante and stood at the bottom step, looking up at Momma, whose face was stoic and impassive. I sighed, running through the things I wanted to say to her and I decided to start with an apology.

  Momma smirked. “You sorry? You came all the way out here to tell me you sorry? You think I believe that?” She started walking down the steps toward me. She seemed to have aged since the last time I saw her.

  “Yes, you should,” I told her. “I gave my life to Jesus and He says we should forgive those who sinned against us and to seek forgiveness from those we’ve sinned against.”

  She laughed out loud. “You think God wants you? You want me to believe it was God who brought you here? Not the devil? ’Cause the devil been wrapped around you since you was a little girl. Ain’t no hope in you. I don’t even know why I named you that.”

  Her venomous words entered my bloodstream, choosing first to attack my heart. I wanted to collapse, break my strong resolve under her stare, but God tugged at my heart and pulled my shoulders back. When my own strength failed me, He replaced it with His.

  “I am not the devil and he don’t control me. I came here to ask for forgiveness and to tell you to seek forgiveness in your own sins and turn to Jesus. There is a God who is greater than all of our problems. He’s changing me every day, making me stronger, allowing me to understand my own errors so that I can correct them. That’s what I’m trying to do now, Momma. I’m trying to get my life together in every way, but I can’t move forward until I forgive my past and be forgiven of it.”

  Momma stared at me for a while, not saying anything. She looked as if she was touched. “That was a nice speech,” she said, but then her lips turned into a wicked smile. “Faith, wasn’t that nice and believable? Something one of the Christian folk at your church would say?” She looked down at me. “Do they say those things at your church, Hope? Huh?”

  I lowered my head, understanding where she was taking the conversation. Church. She knew how wounded I was from never being given the chance to go. How I took my anger out on God. How I hated churches. If I was a true Christian, I should’ve been able to get passed that.

  But I hadn’t. Every time I thought about going to church, I pictured the little girl who sat under the peach tree, singing those songs, and wondering why God or her family didn’t love her. I associated church with neglect. I wasn’t passed it, but I was getting better. However, to Momma, it still wouldn’t be good enough. I’d never be good enough for her.

  “So, how’s church, Hope?” she asked, snapping me out of my reverie.

  My palms were sweaty; I felt my resolve threaten to shatter. I took a step forward, feeling lower than I had felt before she began antagonizing me. But it was Dante who spoke. He walked past me, meeting Momma’s burning eyes with his quiet confidence.

  “Church. It’s funny you mentioned it. Which church do you attend?” he asked Momma.

  Momma was dumbfounded. “I don’t go to church.”

  “Hypocrite?” he asked, but it was more accusing than anything. “The Bible says, ‘How can you say to your brother, “Brother, let me take the speck out of your eye,” when you yourself fail to see the plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.’ Luke 6:42. Do you know what that means?”

  Momma stood there, insecure under Dante’s gaze. I’d never noticed the amount of influence Dante had over people. I’d never realized his strength until now. Faith even watched Dante with admiration. “What does that mean?” Momma asked.

  “It means don’t degrade another for the same faults you have. Fix your errors and then correct theirs. I’ve never met someone as beautiful and blessed as Hope, and she doesn’t see her own worth because her mother told her that she’d never be anything good. I brought her all the way out here to seek forgiveness and to share the Lord with you, but how can she when you’re so bent on holding on to the past? Maybe it was a mistake bringing her out here, but we’ll continue to pray that God softens your heart. We’ll also pray for your salvation.” Dante turned around to me. “Let’s go.”

  He started walking away but I stayed, planted to the ground. I wasn’t done. There was something I needed to say, something that had been burdening me. Momma needed to know.

  I stepped closer to my mother, the woman who gave birth to me. The only person whose love I would’ve cherished more than anything. To hear her say she loved me would’ve been the best thing in the world, but I knew it wouldn’t happen today. Instead, I’d show her how much I’d grown, how far I’d come.

  “I’m sorry for what I did with John. I’m sorry I ruined your relationship. I’m sorry I was never as good as Faith in your eyes. I’m sorry I failed you so many times. And for all the times you’ve never said it to me, I’ll say it to you and mean it from the bottom of my heart. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

  I thought I saw a moment of passion in Momma’s eyes, a moment of clarity, one that would mean we’d just reached a milestone, but as quickly as it had come, it vanished, and her eyes were as hard as stone. She looked at me as if I was a piece of trash.

  “Get her off of my property!”

  Dante grabbed me, pulling me away from the house, but my eyes never left Momma. They pleaded with her to forgive me, to say those three words back to me, but they never came out of her mouth. Dante sat me in the car and buckled my seat belt. He had been talking to me, but I tuned him out. My eyes stayed locked on Momma, who still stood on the porch, staring at me even when Faith had gone back inside. A part of me wanted to believe she still stood there because she loved me. I wanted to believe it; I needed to. As we drove off, and I kept mumbling the same words over and over until I fell asleep from exhaustion.

  “Momma, I love you.”

  I meant it, even if she never would.

  Chapter 18

  I stood beside Momma May’s hospital bed, brushing her silver hair the way I did every morning when Dante and I came to visit. She loved that part, being pampered. I’d also massaged the bottom of her legs and feet and propped them up on a pillow so that the circulation would be better. She wasn’t able to walk ar
ound as much since she’d been in the hospital, so I promised myself that I’d put her at ease whenever I visited. Besides, I didn’t know how much longer I’d have with her.

  She was already starting to look thinner, weaker, worse than the last time I’d seen her. Her hands were nothing but bones and skin. The lump on her leg grew larger and could be seen from under her covers. I’d noticed how her eyes squinted shut whenever she was in pain, and that happened often, but she never complained. Not once.

  All she did was thank God.

  “Oh, God is good, isn’t He?” she said, as I began to massage her feet.

  I looked up at her. “How can you say that when you’re in so much pain?”

  “Long suffering. Waiting patiently for the Lord to bring me home. I’ll take the pain because the worse it gets, the closer I get to finally seeing Jesus’ face. And in that, I am thankful.”

  “How are you so faithful in Jesus? How can you be happy and praise Him even when you’re in pain?” I asked. I didn’t understand. If I was in pain, I’d probably be angry with God, not happy. As a matter of fact, that’s how I’d spent most of my life, in pain, hating God.

  “Baby, it’s something that takes awhile to master, to fully understand. You’re young, Hope. Still a baby in Christ. It’ll take knowledge and experience and fasting and prayer to understand God the way that I do. But you’ll get there. I have faith in that,” she said, closing her eyes. I knew the pain was hitting her.

  Could I ever praise God through my pain? Could I ever understand the way she did? I made sure to make a mental note to pray about it.

  “You never did tell me how it made you feel to forgive your momma, Hope.”

  The first thing I did, as I began brushing her hair, was tell her about my trip to Momma’s house. Momma May was very proud of me and said that it was Jesus working through me and that I wouldn’t have been able to forgive Momma by myself. I wasn’t sure if I even truly forgave her, but it was a start.

  “I felt a weight lifted off of my shoulders but I also felt sad because she never said she loved me back.”