Under the Peach Tree

by Charlay Marie

  “Can I eat some candy, Momma? I ain’t got a dress on to get dirty,” I asked with anticipation.

  I hadn’t learned yet to never expect anything from that woman.

  “No,” she yelled. “How many times do I gotta tell you? You can’t have no candy. Faith gets an Easter basket because she’s going to church.”

  “Well, can I go to church then?”

  Momma looked at me with the most evil glint in her eyes. She took in a deep breath, trying to keep herself from exploding. She came up to me with her face inches from my hopeful, innocent face. “If you step foot in a church, you’ll burn.”

  I jerked out of the memory as Dante and I were about to enter the church. I stopped and stepped aside, allowing a few other people to go before me. I didn’t realize I was shaking until Dante grabbed both of my hands, steadying them.

  “Just breath, Hope.”

  “The devil can’t go to church,” I said, recalling the recent memory.

  “What?”

  “That’s what Momma said,” I cried. I was sure the people walking up to the church would think I was crying for Momma May, and in ways I was. How did I think I was strong enough to go to church today? I couldn’t do it. “She put it in my head, the fear. It’s all because of her! I can’t do it.”

  “Your mom wanted you to be just like her, which is nothing. But you’re everything, Hope. I love you.”

  My eyes shot up, meeting his with curiosity.

  “I do. Ever since the first day I met you. I could see God’s grace all over you. I could see why Pastor May took to you. The problem is, your mom brainwashed you into believing you’re not good enough for God. But you are. You’re everything to Him. He died for you. The devil works on us harder when he knows God has great plans for us. He started with you at a young age, tried to keep you from church, because it’s the place where God meant for you to thrive. Do you want to know why Pastor May gave you this church? It’s because your calling is to be a pastor, just like her. Do you think your life was a coincidence? No. Don’t you see? It’s all part of His perfect plan. This . . .” He pointed to the church. “This is your destiny. You were called into ministry, and, Hope, your testimony is great.”

  I fell to my knees, overtaken by God’s love. It had always been with me. It urged me forward when I thought I’d never make it. It caressed me on those nights when I couldn’t stand to be alone. His love sheltered me when I was homeless with nowhere to go. It protected me from Momma’s beatings and cruelty day by day. It comforted me on those Sunday mornings when I sat under the peach tree, thinking He never loved me. Oh God! How wonderful, how beautiful is His love, grace, and mercy! He was here this whole time and never let me go. I didn’t deserve His blessings and mercy and yet He still accepted me as his child in Jesus’ name. He found favor in me when no one else did. He accepted me when everyone else rejected me. I owed my life to Him.

  And in that moment, I made a decision.

  I stood up, dusted myself off, and I walked into that church. My church.

  My destiny.

  Epilogue

  Ten years passed by beautifully and the good Lord never stopped blessing our lives. Dante and I got married when I turned nineteen; we had our first child when I was twenty-one. We named her May because she was a blessing, just like Momma May. It was a name we agreed on the first day I found out I was having a girl. And May was a joy. Her laughter brought a new meaning of happiness into our lives. I loved spoiling her and giving her the things my mother never gave to me. I taught her, the way Momma May taught me. I gave her everything I wasn’t able to my first unborn.

  I managed to get back in school after Momma May passed away. When I graduated I went to college for ministry. Dante had finished school way before I did, and led the church. I was his first lady. I spent a lot of time working with the youth, helping them build relationships with God. World change begins in our youth; they are the ones who grow to lead our countries. If we catch them early and teach them Jesus’ ways, we could prevent so much crime in the future.

  And that’s what I tried to do. I’d reach out to foster homes, shelters, schools, anywhere to get to the children. We started a great youth program that I led every Sunday. Children of all ages and from all walks of life would come to hear me preach and they would always leave with hearts opened to God.

  I gave all of the glory to Him.

  Norma was delivered right before my eyes one Sunday morning. She burst through the church doors, crying and screaming for God to deliver her. Dante laid his hands on her and the Holy Spirit took over. She’d now been clean for five years and had been a great member to our church.

  I wish I could say that my sister and I reunited the right way, but we didn’t. I tried calling the house but the number was changed. I drove by a few times, but no one was ever home. I wrote her letters with a return address, and she never wrote me back. My biggest regret was ruining my relationship with my own twin, but I had to have faith that if God wanted us to be reunited, then we would. One day, years after Momma May passed, I got a letter in the mail addressed to me. It was from my sister.

  I hurriedly opened it, trying to hold back my tears of joy. It had been ten years since I saw my twin’s face. Separated by catastrophe, but we’ll soon be brought together by love. I’d dreamt of this day for years. I’d hoped she heard stories of my success and would come find me, but that never happened.

  I pulled the letter out of the envelope and opened it.

  Hope, my sister,

  Please meet me by that old peach tree near the church next Sunday at 8:00 a.m.

  Faith

  I ran inside of the house, passed my daughter, who was watching TV, and ran into the kitchen, where my husband was cooking May’s lunch. He turned around, smiling like he always did when he saw me. I smiled back, holding up the letter.

  “Faith.”

  He dropped the grilled cheese sandwich back on the pan in shock. “After all these years?”

  I nodded. “Finally.”

  Dante pulled me into a hug, as if he’d never let go.

  That Sunday, I stood alone, staring at the peach tree, which held so many distant, yet strong memories. I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of nature, which hadn’t changed since I last remembered. The feeling of anticipation was building up in my stomach. I couldn’t wait to see her, to touch her, to cry with her. I wanted to tell my sister that everything turned out fine for me, that the day I walked out of Momma’s house, I walked into a blessing.

  I felt a presence behind me, or maybe I felt the wind blowing past. However, I turned around and saw Momma. She was much older than I remembered, with wrinkles swallowing her fragile face. It had only been ten years and yet her back was hunched over from working so hard. Instinct told me to run to her, take her in my arms, and hold her. It’d been years since I saw her face. However, I couldn’t bring myself to hug a woman who never seemed to love me.

  I smeared tears into my skin as I tried to wipe them away. Faith. I needed my sister. “Momma, where’s Faith?”

  Momma shook her head. I knew what she’d say even before the words slurred out of her mouth: “Faith is gone. She went to be with the Lord.”

  The pain of an incident becomes faded with time, distancing itself like an aloof and shy child. It’s the memory that lingers, a venomous snake waiting for an opportunity to strike. I was sure that if my soul were visible, it’d have been masked with battle wounds. But I wore those scars proudly. They were reminders that I’d made it, that I was still making it. The devil was not successful in his pursuit to destroy me.

  “How?”

  “Giving birth. Two twin girls. She named them before she passed. She named them Hope and Faith.”

  I groaned in pain, almost collapsing to the ground. My sister! She’s dead. I almost knew she’d live this long, wonderful life and have plenty of kids and that we’d reunite and move next door to each other and raise our families together. But no, she was now gone. And after ten year
s, she hadn’t even tried to look for me.

  “I wrote the letter, Hope. I needed to see you. I wanted to—”

  “You,” I said, cutting her off. My sorrow turned to anger in a matter of seconds. “It’s your fault! You took my sister away from me and now it’s too late!”

  “I’m sorry,” she alleged, letting tears fall from her eyes. I could almost see the regret seeping out of her skin. It lightened my heart, but not enough. “I’m sorry for everything I did to you.”

  “Why did you do it?” I asked. I needed to know that it was never me. That the reason she never loved me wasn’t because I was bad or evil.

  Momma lowered her head and slumped her shoulders in guilt. She then looked up to the peach tree, as if the answer lay there. I too looked at the tree, wondering how old it was, how many stories it held. This tree and its fruit had been a home and a way of life for many animals. The peaches didn’t grow as ripe as they once had when I was younger. Maybe it was because I caused the tree to die a little.

  I’d planted the seed of hatred toward my momma right here. This was where I cried out all of my hurt, and this was where I had to go back to in order to completely move forward from my past. I watched Momma as she began to explain why she never seemed to love me.

  “My mom hated me. She used to say all sorts of messed-up stuff to me when I was younger. She called me a devil, too. She’d beat me for it. She got pregnant with me and her momma didn’t like the boy, said he was a devil and his seed would be too. My daddy left my momma and me, and she began to believe I was an abomination. I did the same to you. I thought you were the result of my sins.

  “I thought I was only having one baby and then you came. I should’ve been happy but every time I looked in your eyes, I saw a spitting image of myself. I saw a bad omen. I believed there was a generational curse, one passed down from mother to daughter, and I just knew I passed it to you. In my mind, I was no longer the devil, it was your turn. You looked just like me. It was so easy to pass it on to you.” Her head dropped even lower. “I’m the devil.”

  “Momma—”

  “I am the devil!” she screamed. “The things I did to you and you were so innocent. I hate myself for it. I won’t ever forgive myself.”

  My anger vanished and I knew God was taking over. I could feel Him all around us, encouraging me to do the right thing. I reached out to mother and wrapped her in my arms and held her tight. I couldn’t believe I was doing it, hugging her, loving her when she didn’t deserve it, but it was the kind of thing the Lord would do and I tried to obey Him in all of my ways.

  “I always kept enough love in my heart for a day like this. I forgive you, Momma,” I cried. “God forgives you. You have to forgive yourself.”

  She pulled back, staring at me like a small child. “Do you think He will?”

  Just then, I heard the choir begin to sing. I listened closely as the song filled my heart with recognition. I knew it all too well, sang it so many times I could recite it in my sleep.

  “Do you hear it?” I asked her, watching her eyes look around until they landed on the church in the distance. It was an old spiritual song about being saved.

  I took Momma’s hands into my own and lifted them in the air. I knew what Jesus wanted me to do.

  “Momma, have you ever been saved? Have you been to church since I left?”

  She shook her head sadly. “But I want to know Jesus.”

  “Then repeat after me.” I recited the salvation prayer, listening as Momma sang it back to me, shaking. Halfway through, the Holy Spirit took over and Momma started shouting and speaking in tongues, praising God. And I joined her, thanking Him, even though I lost Momma May and my sister. I thanked Him for reuniting my mother and me. I thanked Him for my wonderful husband and beautiful daughter and my sister’s twins, who I couldn’t wait to meet. I thanked Him for the children’s lives I’d been able to touch over the years. I also thanked Him for the years to come, and I hoped it would be a lot more.

  Momma and I stayed under the peach tree for a long time, praising a God who had always been there. Praising a God who never let us go.

  Reader Group Guide Questions

  Why is the book titled Under the Peach Tree? Use references in the book to support your answer.

  What is the significance of the peach tree? Why did it have so much meaning?

  Who was to blame for the intimate relationship between Hope and John? Why?

  Do you think Faith cared more about her dresses and gifts, or more about her sister, Hope? Explain why.

  Hope felt as though God was never a part of her life in the beginning. In what ways did He show Himself to her throughout her childhood?

  Should John have run off with Hope when she told him that she was pregnant or stay with Momma? Why?

  How did Momma May help Hope grow as a person? Use references in the book to support your answer.

  Dante and Hope seemed to have a love/hate friendship throughout the book. At what point did it grow in to a deep love?

  What purpose did the following characters, Momma, Faith, John, Momma May, and Dante, serve in Hope’s life?

  What is the moral/message of the story?

  About the Author

  Charlay Marie always knew she wanted to be an author, having gained Internet raves over her fan fiction stories as a teenager. Seeing how well she could move her readers, she continued writing her first Christian fiction novel, Under the Peach Tree. She hopes to publish at least one book per year. Although she enjoys writing books, Charlay Marie’s true passion is to write, produce, and direct inspirational, heartfelt movies. She is currently working on her first film project. Two of her biggest inspirations are Oprah Winfrey and Tyler Perry. Charlay Marie writes, directs, and lives in Columbus, Ohio with plans of moving to New York to continue her career.

  UC HIS GLORY BOOK CLUB!

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  UC His Glory Book Club is the spirit-inspired brainchild of Joylynn Ross, Author and Acquisitions Editor of Urban Christian, and Kendra Norman-Bellamy, Author for Urban Christian. This is an online book club that hosts authors of Urban Christian. We welcome as members all men and women who have a passion for reading Christian-based fiction.

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  What We Believe:

  —We believe that Jesus is the Christ, Son of the Living God.

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  —We believe all Urban Christian authors should use their God-given writing abilities to honor God and share the message of the written word God has given to each of them uniquely.

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  Shelia E. Lipsey,

  President, UC His Glory Book Club

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  Under the Peach Tree Copyright © 2014 Charlay Marie

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used
in reviews.

  ISBN: 978-1-6016-2779-7

  First Trade Paperback Printing June 2014

  This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.

  Distributed by Kensington Corp.

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