“She will. One day, Hope. God works on us all in His own time. She’s a little slower than some of us, but God will get her there. It may take months, even years, but keep faith in knowing that the Lord will show her the errors in her ways. He will fill her heart with compassion toward you. You two will be able to hold hands and walk into a church together, praising God. Together.”
I smiled. “I doubt it, but I’ll pray about it.”
“You do that.”
That next day, Momma May beat the side effect of her medicine, which caused drowsiness, and was able to stay awake long enough to tell me stories about her childhood. I always loved those moments: being able to see into her life. I was able to see how God used her, even when she hadn’t realized He was doing anything. I got to see how God took her problems and brought nothing but good from them.
“I never really had a mother because she died when I was young,” Momma May began. “My grandma raised me on nothing but strict discipline and the Bible. I wasn’t allowed to go outside and play with the neighborhood kids. I had to come straight home from school and study the Bible. She punished me by making me learn Bible verse after verse and, afterward, writing paragraphs on what those verses meant.
“I got to the point where I hated the Bible and God. I thought He was just like my grandmother, all sternness and no fun. Always watching, waiting for me to mess up so that He could scold me, like my grandmother. I was a lot like you, Hope. I ran away from God because my grandmother used Him as a means to break me. When I was sixteen, I ran away from my grandmother’s house and found work with the mayor and his wife. I didn’t find God again until I was blinded.”
“Shouldn’t that make you hate Him more?”
“You’d think, but at that point, I realized I needed Him more than anything. God had turned her harsh punishment into good. If my grandmother hadn’t been so strict on me learning the Bible, I would’ve never been able to step into ministry the way I did. It was also another thing that attracted my husband to me. He prayed to God for a woman who knew His word like the back of her hand, to help Him to minister to the people. God gave him me. I was that woman.
“Do you understand the point of this story, Hope? God can take any bad thing and turn it into good to glorify Him. So whatever pain you go through that you don’t understand, know that God is working something out, and one day, you’ll be able to look back and understand why you went through so much. Your testimony will be great.”
And I believed her. My testimony would one day change lives. Momma May was right; we were a lot alike.
Norma came over to the house that weekend, reeking of alcohol. Dante had made it a habit of staying the night and he made sure to sleep on the couch downstairs. If Momma May knew we were in that house alone, she’d kill us both. Dante made it apparent that we weren’t to do anything disrespectful, and he followed through.
We were sitting on the couch, watching a movie we’d ordered, when Norma burst through the door, almost falling to the ground. She saw us sitting on the couch and stumbled over to us.
“What y’all doin’ in this house unsooopervised?” she slurred, sweat dripping from her forehead. She looked as if she’d run here. Her clothes were wrinkled and hanging off of her and her hair was falling shamelessly in her face. “Well since ya here, I gotta . . . ask ya a q . . . question.”
“You’re drunk,” I said.
Norma gave me a disgusted look. “What would ya do if ya grandma was dyin’?” she asked me.
“Spend more time with her,” I answered.
She shook her head and directed her attention on Dante. “I need some money,” she barked. “Give me some money.”
“You’re drunk,” he said, but at this point it was already obvious.
“Well, obviously I am, and what that gotta do with my money? I need some money. You gonna give it to me?”
“What do you need it for?” Dante asked.
“Why I gotta tell you?” Norma asked. “I need some money! Give me some money.”
“If you want money, you’re going to have to tell me why you need it, Norma,” Dante firmly stated.
“It ain’t none of your business why I need it! If you ain’t gonna give it to me, I’ll just take it from Momma’s bank.”
Norma clumsily turned toward the staircase and began climbing it. I looked at Dante, trying to figure out what money Norma was referring to. He jumped up, running upstairs after Norma. I jumped up, following, trying to figure out what was going on.
We found Norma in Momma May’s room. She had removed a large picture from the wall and was trying to break the combination to the safe hidden inside the wall. She cursed when she couldn’t open it.
“Pastor May had me change the password, Norma. She knew you’d been getting into her money when she had me sit down and count it all after she got out of the hospital the first time. Ten thousand dollars was missing, and that’s not even including the thirty thousand dollar loan you took out on her property. She knows about that, too, because I told her. She also knows about your drug problem. I gotta admit you hid that one well, too.”
I was completely surprised, not knowing Norma had a drug problem. I had noticed something slightly off about her but was never able to put my finger on it. Now I understood why she stayed gone a lot since I’d taken over helping Momma May. She hadn’t brought the kids over in a while, either.
Norma screamed in frustration, running a shaky hand through her hair. “I know I got a problem, but I need that money. I need it, Dante! Give it to me.” She ran over to him and tried checking his pockets. He gently pushed her away but she was persistent. “Give me the money!”
That was when I jumped between them, pushing Norma back. Her eyes blazed as she looked up from where she landed on the floor. “You little . . .” She tried to jump up, but fell back on the ground. She decided to lay there with her hands covering her face and she moaned.
I turned to Dante. “I didn’t mean to make her fall but she was getting crazy.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Help me get her up. She needs to sober up before she overdoses on whatever she took.”
“Ain’t she just drunk?”
He shook his head. “She’s been doing coke on and off for years. Looks like she’s back on it now. Probably because of the stress of Momma May. It’s good to have sharp eyes, Hope. I used to watch her take Momma May’s mail but I didn’t understand why and so I left it alone. Makes sense now, she was probably hiding delinquency letters. She probably took a lot of measures to keep Momma May from finding out. Come on, help me lift her and take her to the bathroom.”
I walked over by her feet as Dante stood by her head. He lifted her by her shoulders, instructing me to grab her feet. Together we carried her into the bathroom and sat her in the tub.
“Undress her and run cold water over her. I’m going to get some ice water for her to drink,” he said, and left the bathroom.
I struggled with getting her wet clothes off of her body, but I managed and covered her with a towel by the time Dante returned with the water.
“Lift her up,” he said.
I looked down at Norma, who started shaking under the cold water while mumbling words between consciousness. I sat her back and tilted her head so that Dante could pour the water down her throat. At first she struggled and choked as we forced her to drink, but then she began to welcome it. Maybe it was her body telling her that she needed it. All along, I didn’t stop praying for God to heal her sickness. I wouldn’t wish addiction on any soul.
We stayed that way for a half hour, forcing her to drink water. Eventually she threw everything up and passed out in the tub. Dante and I carried her into my room and left her to sleep it off. I eventually crawled into Momma May’s bed and fell asleep.
When I woke up the next day, Norma was already gone. I went downstairs and found Dante still asleep on the couch but he had changed his clothes since last night. He looked peaceful, like an angel. Maybe he was an angel in his own way
.
If someone would’ve told me the day I first met the boy with no fashion sense or rhythm, who had freckles and a shy disposition, that I’d marry him, I would’ve died of laughter. But looking at him now, seeing how much he’d grown over the last few months, how fond I was of him, I could believe it. I loved him, in my own way. Looking down at him, with my heart beating wildly in my chest, I could guess I was beginning to fall in love with him.
Dante opened his eyes as if he’d sensed me watching him. He smiled sleepily. “Happy birthday!”
My mouth dropped open. With everything going on, I hadn’t realized today was my seventeenth birthday. I’d grown accustomed to never really caring about that day, since Momma never did anything special for me and I didn’t know how to feel about it now.
Dante sat up. “Did you forget today is your birthday?”
I nodded.
“Who forgets their own birthday? I know people who plan birthday parties months in advance.”
“Well . . .” I sat next to him. “I never celebrated my birthday so it was always just another day where Faith got presents and I didn’t.”
He smiled. “Well, we have the rest of your life to make up for it. Get dressed, we have a big day ahead of us.”
My eyes widened. “What? A big day? How?”
He stood up, stretching. “Don’t ask questions, just go get dressed.”
Turned out, Dante had woken up at five in the morning, got dressed, and let Norma out. He said she was sober when she woke up and barely said a word due to embarrassment. He then got dressed, lay back on the couch, and slept until I woke up.
We started our day off as normal. We went up to the hospital. Dante played checkers with Momma May, as usual, and I waited until it was my turn to go back and see her. We preferred to have our individual space with her, but some days we’d visit her together. When I arrived, Momma May had a box, wrapped up in beautiful paper, sitting on the table.
“Happy birthday, baby,” she said.
“Thanks.” I felt joy at knowing people actually cared about my birthday.
“There is a box on that stand. I had Dante do some shopping for me. Go on and open it.”
I sat down in the chair beside the bed, holding the gift in my hand. I almost felt undeserving to receive the gift. I could hear Momma in my head telling me that I’d probably done something and shouldn’t deserve it. I ran through the most recent actions and events in my life, trying to find a reason to feel bad. It was natural for me. I didn’t know how to feel anything but.
I started unwrapping the silver wrapping paper until I was left with a white box. I slowly opened it, cherishing each moment.
A beautiful pair of earrings shimmered inside. They looked like diamonds, but I knew better than to believe Momma May would spend that much money on a pair of diamonds.
“They’re beautiful.”
“They’re real diamonds,” she said. “Every girl deserves a nice pair of diamond earrings. I remembered when my husband bought me my first pair. I wore them for three weeks straight. Dante picked them out, does he have good taste?”
“More than good,” I said, eyes watering. I didn’t know how she could afford diamond earrings. “I don’t deserve this much love.”
“Yes, you do, baby. Yes, you do,” she said. “Now don’t cry on your birthday, be happy. Thank God you’ve lived to see one better than anything you could’ve imagined. Thank God, baby.”
I smiled, and thanked God. I thanked Him for the new life He’d blessed me with. The friend I found in Dante, the mother I found in May, the woman I found inside of myself. That little girl was growing up. Happy birthday to me.
Chapter 19
Dante wouldn’t tell me what he had planned for my birthday. He just drove with a smile on his face and said nothing whenever I asked . . . and I asked every few minutes. He pulled up in front of Rising Faith Ministries and turned off the car. I frowned, wondering why we were even at the church.
“Your gift is inside. Come on.” Dante opened the car door.
“Inside of the church?” My words came out as a whisper. Sweat began to drip from my forehead. I was frozen in my seat.
“Yes, come on.”
“No!” I yelled a little too loudly. “I’m not going in there!”
Dante sighed. “You got to get past your fears if you want the gift.”
“How about you bring it to me? Because I ain’t going in there.”
“You have to come inside to get it, Hope. You can do it.”
“No, Dante, you don’t understand.” I sighed in frustration. “I’m not ready to step foot into a church. I can’t do it.”
“Hope, you’re never going to be ready. You have to face your fears head-on. You can do it.”
Tears started pouring from my eyes as I shook my head. “No, why would you do this? You can’t force someone to get over their fears, Dante. I’m not going in that church. I’m not. Forget the gift. I don’t care! This is the worst birthday. Just take me home!” I yelled, causing Dante to look hurt.
“After everything I did to prepare for this, after everything Pastor May did, you say this is your worst birthday?” He was truly hurt. He shut his car door and started the car. “Pastor May must be wrong about that dream she had about us getting married. I wouldn’t marry a selfish girl who says she loves God but can’t step foot into His house.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s the truth!” Dante sped off, knocking me back in my seat. I’d never seen him angry before. He was full of surprises.
I did feel bad about my comment, stating it was the worst birthday. That wasn’t true. It was the best birthday but just one of my worst moments. I almost had a panic attack and Dante didn’t understand.
If I was selfish, so was he. You couldn’t force someone to do something they didn’t want to do, especially on their birthday, and then get mad at them. He cared more about me going in to that church than the actual gift he would give me.
Dante dropped me off without saying a word, and kept on going. I was hurt that he wouldn’t stay the night, the way he had every day since Momma May had been in the hospital. I felt empty and alone in that house. I went straight to my room and slept the rest of my birthday evening away.
That next day, Dante didn’t show up to take me to the hospital the way he did every morning. I called up to the hospital and spoke with Momma May, who said Dante was sitting at the edge of her bed playing checkers. I almost hung up on Momma May in anger. After I got off of the phone with her, I decided to catch the bus just to show Dante that I didn’t need him or his car.
By the time I got to the hospital, Dante was already gone. Momma May was in a deep sleep and I decided not to wake her. So I just sat there, reliving the past few days and allowing everything to sink in.
I thought about Norma’s drug problem and how she was able to hide it so well. When I first met her, I thought she was a beautiful, light-skinned woman, with beautiful silky hair, much like Faith’s. She looked like she had a great job and a beautiful family. But now, I wasn’t so sure. It could’ve all been a façade. I prayed that her kids weren’t affected by her drug addiction.
And then I thought about how angry Dante was with me. Out of all people, he and Momma May seemed to be the most understanding. How could he have thought he’d be able to convince me to go into that church? No present on earth was enough to convince me to go inside of a church. It only reminded me of a childhood I wished to forget. It only made me feel empty and unloved. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to relive any of it. Maybe Momma was right; maybe I really didn’t belong to God if I wouldn’t even step foot into a church.
But the fact that Dante acted so unchristian-like was what bothered me. He was the strong one, rooted firmly in the Word. Surely there was a scripture in the Bible preaching against how he behaved. Maybe Proverbs? I hadn’t really gotten into Proverbs yet, but I heard it was a book that taught wisdom and knowledge. But Dante held on to his an
ger. He said hurtful things to me. He went to see Momma May without me. I was so angry, I couldn’t care less whether he ever spoke to me again.
But if he never did and if Momma May died who would I have? God. I knew I’d have God. But that was different from having an actual human near. Even God Himself said that it wasn’t good for man to be alone. I wasn’t the type of girl who liked solitude. It was in the quiet of nights that the devil burdened my thoughts with insecurities. He whispered them so subtly that I thought they were my own thoughts. I didn’t like to be alone, let alone cry over the things I couldn’t change.
Dread entered my heart, a dark, abysmal feeling that suffocated me. I inhaled sharply, holding my chest, trying not to cry. Momma May was going to pass away soon. I couldn’t fathom it.
“Hope?” Momma May’s blind eyes searched the room until she heard me inhale again. “When did you get here, baby?”
“Maybe ten minutes ago. How you feeling today?”
“Blessed. Dante told me what happened.”
“I hate him,” I said in anger.
“Hate is a strong word, baby. You should say that you ‘dislike’ his actions at the moment.”
“I dislike his actions, period. I can’t stand him, Momma May.”
“Ah, there were times where I couldn’t stand my own husband.” She laughed, recalling a memory. “I remember when we had our first big argument. We’d just been married for a week. We’d moved everything into our new house and was settled for the most part. But what he didn’t understand was that I was blind in a new home. I couldn’t easily feel my way around the house like I usually could. It would take weeks to get familiar enough with that house before I could comfortably walk around. So he had to do everything, plus work and minister on Sundays. I felt really bad about my handicap. But he never complained. I thought it was because he understood. But, baby, men don’t always understand how we operate. See, he had been holding his irritation in that eventually it exploded and I was the one in its path.”
Under the Peach Tree Page 17