Abundant Rain

by Vanessa Miller

  ***

  Lillian Edwards didn’t take kindly to able bodies lying in bed all day. “Elizabeth, child, I swear you’re going to end up with bed worms if you don’t get out of that bed. Adjust your position, or something.”

  Elizabeth figured the only way to shut her mother up was to sit in the living room. So here she was, in flannel pjs and Kenneth’s old terrycloth robe. Her dark brown eyes carried the same vacant expression they had for the past two months, as she put her feet on the couch and hugged her knees to her chest.

  “Do you want me to get you anything, honey?” her mom asked.

  Elizabeth shook her head. Her shoulder-length hair swished lightly across her deep chocolate face. Elizabeth didn’t speak much, and never initiated conversations anymore. Sometimes she would lay in bed real still, staring into space. Drifting away.

  “You have got to snap out of this, Elizabeth. Your children need you,” her mom told her.

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Elizabeth wanted to scream at her mother. She wanted to kick, throw something. Anything, but be trapped in this world of despair. Her children were suffering. She wanted to hold them, tell them everything was going to be all right. But how could she when she couldn’t even figure out how to wake up without wishing for death?

  “Real hard to watch my baby drift away like this,” Mrs. Edwards told Nina.

  Elizabeth looked at her friend. Well, Nina was not just a friend. Since the day they met at a new member’s meeting at The Rock Christian Fellowship, they had been best friends. Five years. Whew, where did the time go? They learned to lean on each other and count on their friendship to get them through tough times. But this was the toughest situation they’d ever faced.

  Nina nodded in agreement with Mrs. Edwards. “Real hard.”

  Tears rolled down Elizabeth’s face. Her mother grabbed the Kleenex. “I swear, sometimes I don’t think she knows that she’s crying.” She wiped her daughter’s face and kissed her on the forehead. If only forehead kisses made it all better.

  Elizabeth ran her hand through her hair, then reached out and touched her mother’s hand. “They never gave me a body, Mama. How can I move on if I can’t even bury my husband?”

  Nina knelt down in front of her friend and whispered, “Elizabeth, would you like to pray? Do you want me to read the Bible to you? That might be comforting, huh?”

  Elizabeth lifted her head. She was going to tell Nina what she could do with her Bible readings. For two months, Nina had come to her house toting her Bible, quoting scriptures, talking about the joy of the Lord and His strength. Elizabeth had had enough. She opened her mouth to blast her friend when the doorbell rang.

  Elizabeth sunk into the couch and pulled the cover over her body. She wanted to pull it over her head. Better yet, she wanted a pair of earplugs. That way she wouldn’t have to listen to another do-gooder tell her to let Kenneth’s memory rest in peace. “Get over his death and move on. Live for the Lord again,” as one of her visitors had told her. She wanted to know why they thought she should get over Kenneth’s death, when no one had ever produced his body. And why should she live for the Lord? What had He done for her lately?

  “I don’t want to see anyone else from the church right now,” she told her mom, then turned to Nina’s disapproving stare. “All they do is judge me. Don’t you think I know they’re talking behind my back?”

  “Elizabeth-”

  “I know how they feel, Nina,” Elizabeth said. “They think I should get over it. They’ve told me that I should allow God to take away my pain. Well, I don’t know how to do that, and I’m tired of listening to them preach at me.”

  Nina replied, “All right, you lay down and rest. I’m gonna check on the kids.”

  Before Nina could stand, Mrs. Edwards walked in the living room with a large bouquet of roses. Two dozen to be exact. “That was the florist. Here, read the card.” She handed Elizabeth the card, then placed the roses on the mantel.

  “They’re from Tommy Brooks,” Elizabeth told them after opening the card.

  “Tommy Brooks?” Nina rested her chin in the palm of her hand. “Isn’t he the owner of the Belanté Club?”

  “That’s him.” Elizabeth presented her friend with a sorta-kinda smile. “I auditioned for him a few years back. I was going to be his lead singer at the club.”

  “Good thing you found Jesus,” Nina joked.

  Elizabeth’s lips curved downward. She sunk back into the couch and mumbled, “Yeah, good thing.”

  2

  Tommy Brooks had been Elizabeth’s life preserver. While everyone in the church tried so hard to help her forget about Kenneth’s sudden and untimely removal from her life, Tommy Brooks, Mister Night Club Owner himself, stepped back into her life with the idea of visiting the place she took her last notable breath; Ground Zero. Everything else had just been activity – something for the lungs to do.

  Elizabeth, Erin, and Danae gladly rolled with Tommy. It was action, rather than retreat, which she had grown accustom to these last three months since Kenneth’s disappearance.

  “Mama, we’re going to find Daddy, and then everything will be okay again,” Erin informed her mother.

  “Okay, baby,” Elizabeth said and smiled at her first-born daughter, but her heart wasn’t in it.

  “No, Mama. Smile at me with your eyes. Like Daddy always liked for you to do.”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment. The pain that dwelled behind those lids brought forth tears. How could one human being hold so much water? Surely her well should have run dry by now – but the tears were just like menstrual cycles. They kept flowing no matter how inconvenient or painful. And now her baby was asking for a real smile. But how could she produce it, when to do what Erin asked, she would have to inform her heart that something just occurred that made her happy? She hadn’t known happiness since her husband plunged to his death from the World Trade Center. And now she was going back there, armed with flyers that read, “Lost September 11, 2001.” A picture of Kenneth was in the middle with a plea that simply read, “If you see this man, please call Elizabeth Underwood.” She gave several telephone numbers and added at the very bottom, “He’s all we have. We need him.”

  Her children were eight and five. Way too young to be without a father. Erin looked like her. With her deep chocolate skin, long hair, and a pencil thin body. Erin was always grooming herself. Her hair had to be just right, and a mirror was always just to the left of where she sat.

  Danae, on the other hand, looked like Kenneth spit her out. Light-bright, with freckles covering her high cheekbones. Kenneth couldn’t have denied Danae if he wanted to. While Erin was constantly in the mirror, Danae was in the refrigerator. Within the past year, Danae had gotten a pouch that didn’t look to be leaving anytime soon. Elizabeth didn’t care. She loved her children just the way they were. If only she could find a way to show them.

  Arriving in New York did nothing to cure Elizabeth’s smiling-eye problem. They left the car at the hotel and took a cab over to the area of her husband’s demise. Walking through Battery Park, Elizabeth viewed the memorials of the firemen and policemen that had been lost before America knew anything about this war against terror. Their family and friends had done the same thing for them as she came to do for Kenneth. Pictures of these heroic men and women covered each wall. Poems lamenting the sorrows of the Love Jones could be found on the wall of the dead, but not forgotten.

  Erin wanted to put Kenneth’s picture on the Firemen’s Memorial. Elizabeth had to calm her down. “Not here, honey. I’ll let you know when you can post your picture.”

  Erin and Danae were running and jumping. This was the first time she’d noticed their playful motions since she returned from New York three months ago.

  “Here, mommy?” Danae asked, gesturing toward the Policemen’s Memorial.

  “No, baby. I’ll let you know.”

  Tommy patted Danae on the shoulder before she took off running again. “They miss their fath
er, don’t they?”

  “They’re not the only ones,” Elizabeth said as that glaze returned to her eyes. Just like menstrual cramps. She could handle the regularity of her tears, if the pain that accompanied them weren’t so all consuming.

  “Here we are, girls.” They stood in front of the public viewing area. Thousands of people had already been through this place. They posted information on the walls; names, poems, and pleas for help in finding family members. Elizabeth put a piece of tape on the girls’ poems and let them post them on the wall. She walked around showing Kenneth’s picture to the visitors of one of New York’s many wailing walls. “Have you seen this man? Please, can you look again?” And on and on she went.

  Tommy grabbed her arm and guided her away from a frightened Mexican woman that she had asked to look at Kenneth’s picture four times. “Post one of the pictures right here.” He pointed to an empty spot on the wall. “And let’s go on to the family memorial area.”

  Elizabeth started to protest. She wasn’t leaving this place until she had talked to every single person there. Her children started pulling on her. “Come on, Mama. We want to see the family area.”

  The family viewing area was similar to the public one, but more personal. On the back wall were the names of every country that had experienced loss during the 9-11 attack on the World Trade Center. Flowers, flags, and banners were placed throughout. What caught Elizabeth’s eye was a poster with a flag on it that read “GOD SHED HIS GRACE ON THEE 9-11-01.” Elizabeth wanted to find the maker of that poster and ask them how they could see grace or justice in what happened to her family. She wanted to snatch that poster down. God’s grace indeed. God must have been caught unaware. He must have been asleep. How else could an attack of this magnitude have occurred? Why else was Kenneth still missing? No body to bury, no face to look upon one last time. Nothing!

  Elizabeth picked up Danae. “Here, baby. Put your other poem on this pole. There’s an empty spot right here.” Elizabeth pointed at the spot and Danae obeyed with a smile. Elizabeth turned to the wall that was littered with pictures of missing or dead loved ones. With tears in her eyes, she lovingly placed her last picture of Kenneth next to one of a smiling lady with pale skin and long flowing auburn hair. Elizabeth never met this lady, but she had a lot in common with her family.

  The tears were rolling down her cheeks as she stepped away from the wall of loss and pain. Tommy handed her a handkerchief as they walked out of the family viewing area. He put his arm around her, but Elizabeth moved out of his reach. “I’m okay,” she told him as she wiped away the tears.

  I’ll make it. I’ll get through this, she told herself over and over as they walked up the street. She had almost convinced herself of rising suns and shooting stars when she spotted the temporary Red Cross facility just two blocks west of the Trade Center ruins. Spray painted on the wall of this building that used to be some type of fast-food joint were the words “Alive” and “Dead.” Next to each word, an arrow pointed in the direction of where the volunteers laid the bodies of countless victims. She had seen this building the last time she was in New York, but it never occurred to her to go inside and look around. Where had Kenneth’s body been laid? She took off running toward the building. Tommy picked up Erin and Danae and followed after her.

  Elizabeth peered wildly through the window of the temporary Red Cross facility. Her eyes darted back and forth as she yelled, “Where is he? Where is he?”

  Tommy put his hand on her shoulder. “He’s not in there, Elizabeth. This place hasn’t been used in a while.”

  She turned cold eyes on him. “I don’t believe you! You’re trying to keep my husband from me.”

  “Elizabeth, calm down. Kenneth is not here.”

  “You liar,” she spat as she pushed Tommy out of her way. “He’s here. You can’t keep him from me.” She strutted over to the facility and started banging on the door.

  Tommy calmly sat the children down on the sidewalk. Just as he told the kids, “Wait right here, everything is going to be all right,” Elizabeth started practicing karate on the door.

  “Elizabeth, you have got to calm down.” He tried to pull her away from the building.

  Was he mad? How could she calm down when her husband was being held in this building against his will? “Noooo!” she screamed as she pulled away from Tommy. “You &@^*#! aren’t going to get away with this.”

  “Elizabeth! You don’t curse!” he told her, as if trying to convince her to get back in character.

  “If you touch me again, I’m going to do more than curse your lying behind out,” she told him with a soul-piercing glare. She walked back over to the building, cracked her neck like a prizefighter, then did the Bruce Lee thing again. “Open up! I want my husband out of this place right now.”

  The children huddled close together, crying. Elizabeth went to them. “Don’t worry, I’m going to get Daddy out of here.” She walked over to the door and started laughing.

  “Any minute now, her head is going to start spinning around,” Tommy mumbled to himself.

  “I’m giving you three seconds to open this door. One, two-”

  Tommy turned toward the street and raised his hand as a police car cruised down the street. “Help! I need help!”

  ***

  The police drove Elizabeth to the hospital. They made sure she was admitted to the floor where the patients played with their lips and ate checkers. For the first week, she didn’t remember who, or where, she was. The next week, as the memories flooded her existence, she cried her eyes out. Her brother, Michael, and best friend, Nina Lewis, prayed by her bedside from morning to night. One morning, as she opened her swollen eyes, she saw them in prayer and told them, “Stop praying for me. I just want to die.”

  Michael walked over to her bed. As he looked down on his sister, his eyes filled with tears. “Not on my watch, little sis.”

  She grabbed her brother’s shirt as her tears gushed out again. “Don’t you understand, Michael? I can’t live without him. I’ve tried. I… I’ve tr… tried.”

  “Try harder,” Nina said from the other side of Elizabeth’s hospital bed.

  Elizabeth slumped back in her bed. “You don’t understand,” she cried. “He was everything to me.”

  Nina softly rubbed her friend’s hair. “You’re wrong, Elizabeth. Only God is the first and the last. That makes Him everything.”

  Elizabeth moved away from Nina’s gentle touch. She stared at her friend. The short cut of her feathered hair accentuated her hazel eyes and olive skin. Elizabeth always felt lacking around her. Not only was Nina prettier than she, but Nina also trusted and loved God more than she did. Elizabeth lashed out. “Nina, you may be living and breathing the Holy Ghost, but everybody ain’t there.”

  “Elizabeth!” Michael chided her.

  “No, Michael. I mean it.” She lifted her hands. “Just go. Please, I need to be alone.”

  Nina and Michael exchanged worried glances. Michael patted Elizabeth on the shoulder. “We’re going to the cafeteria to get a bite to eat. Okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Just go.” Elizabeth didn’t care how rude she sounded. All they wanted to do was pray and tell her about the goodness and faithfulness of God. She wasn’t buying it. Not this time. God hadn’t been there for her when she needed Him most, and she wasn’t going to sit there and pretend that she was okay with that. She would go to church and do her duty, but she was through trusting in a God that just didn’t seem to care about her broken heart.

  ***

  On the eleventh day of her captivity, while Michael and Nina were in the waiting area communing with God, Tommy paid Elizabeth a visit. He told her that she needed to get back in the game, and he had the perfect solution to her problems. “If you concentrate on getting your singing career off the ground and doing a tour, you won’t have time to notice the hours and days that pass while you wait on word of Kenneth.”

  He had a point. If she must continue to take in air, might as well be doi
ng something productive. “A singing career, huh?” she replied.

  “Not just any career, Elizabeth. You will be one of the greatest.”

  “But all I know is gospel.”

  “Hey,” Tommy said with a smile. “Move over Yolanda Adams and Cece Winans, here comes Elizabeth Underwood.”

  “But where will we get the money to fund a CD?”

  “Don’t worry about anything but getting out of this place. I’ll sell my nightclub. That ought to provide us enough to get started.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “You’d do that for me?”

  “No, Elizabeth. Not just for you, but for me too. I’m tired of the nightlife. I think I’m ready to come back to church.” Tommy really hoped he meant everything he was saying; he was really going to try.

  Elizabeth wanted to tell Tommy not to put all his eggs in one basket. Because if God didn’t come through for him, he would end up just as sad and disillusioned as she was. But she wouldn’t say that to him. She wouldn’t tell anyone that her faith and trust in the Almighty had been shattered. She would cover her funk of depression with Mac make-up, St. Johns dresses, and this singing career that Tommy promised. “When do we get started?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, as he rubbed his goatee with his thumb and index finger. “Do you think we should ask your brother to pray for us, so that we handle all this the way God would want us to?” Tommy couldn’t believe those words were coming out of his mouth. He wasn’t even sure that he trusted God, but he knew that he wanted to be with Elizabeth. Tommy had no doubt that he would be able to convince Elizabeth to forget about Kenneth and marry him, so for that reason, he was willing to try this God thing.

  Elizabeth chewed on her lower lip as she thought about that. God hadn’t been interested in what she wanted. Why should she give a fig what His Holiness preferred? Wasn’t it enough that she would sing gospel rather than secular music? But then again, she might need Michael to talk her doctor into letting her out of this funny farm. She painted a smile on her face. “I think that’s a great idea. Yes, let’s ask Michael to pray for us.”