Mama Max stifled a laugh even as she recalled the humorous conversation she and Tai had shared shortly after she’d heard the manual suggestion. Tai knew hell would freeze over before King adopted any such manual for his church, but she had humored the old women by omitting this fact during their conversation.
“The good Lord appreciates your dedication, surely he does,” Mama Max assured them. “And I’ll be sure and tell Reverend how you’re soldiers on the battlefield, fighting for the Lord. But let’s go inside now. The services are about to begin. We have a place of honor for you two ladies, right down front.”
This praise seemed to pacify the women, for the moment. Elsie “Sistah Alrighty” Wanthers straightened her wig, and Margie “Sistah Almighty” Stokes readjusted her scarf and hat. They followed Mama Max down the sidewalk.
“Page sixteen, paragraph one,” Sistah Almighty whispered loudly as a young man sporting a cross tattoo held open the door for them.
“Page eleven, verse one and nine,” Sistah Alrighty said, forgetting what she’d read was a book, not a Bible. “She probably don’t even realize she’s on her way to hell,” she continued too loudly as they were ushered down to the front row. “But I know a lotto ticket when I see one, and the place holder in her Bible definitely looks likes a Powerball!”
Later, after services, the two sistahs from Kansas joined the Brooks and the Johnsons—Nettie and her husband, Gordon—for dinner at Nettie’s house. Nettie’s massive Christmas tree was still up and lit, its blinking lights creating a festive atmosphere in the dining room scented with pine boughs.
“Lord, this smothered chicken looks delicious,” Sistah Almighty said as she placed a generous portion on a bed of rice. “The Lord bless you, child, for feeding us old folks.”
“Well, I’m no spring chicken,” Nettie countered. “In two more years, I’ll be threescore.”
“Baby, I’m fourscore,” Sistah Alrighty responded with a wink. “You just a babe.” She clucked her dentures as she placed a spoonful of steaming candied yams next to a serving of greens.
“Ooh, I can’t decide between the rolls or the corn bread,” Sistah Almighty exclaimed, looking from one to the other.
“Might as well have one of each,” Mama Max hinted, hiding a smile.
“Wouldn’t want to be impolite and not take your suggestion,” Sistah Almighty readily agreed. She hurriedly scooped up two of the freshly baked rolls and a big slug of corn bread. She dipped a roll in the gravy and placed almost half in her mouth. “Lord, this is the day the Lord has made,” she professed around the mouthful. “And I’m rejoicing!”
“Sistah, we haven’t yet blessed the food,” Obadiah admonished.
“God forgive me.” Sistah Almighty bowed her head, but not before she’d placed the other half of the gravy-soaked roll into her mouth.
Everyone continued small talk until all were served. After a quick blessing of the food, conversation resumed. As was often the case, Obadiah was front and center in the conversation, telling one of his lame jokes and acting as if he’d been born a comedian.
“It was during Sunday school,” Obadiah began after a drink of sweet tea. “And they were teaching about how God created everything, including human beings. Little Johnny seemed especially intent when they told him how Eve was created out of one of Adam’s ribs. So, later in the week, his mother went to look for him and found him lying down in bed. His face was all scrunched up like he was in pain. His mother sat on the side of the bed and asked him, ‘Johnny, what’s the matter?’ He rolled over and told her, ‘I have a pain in my side. I think I’m going to have a wife.’”
Those around the table laughed at the enjoyment Obadiah got from telling the joke as much as from the joke itself. The table was so noisy that they didn’t hear the doorbell the first time it rang.
“Hmm, wonder who that is?” Nettie said as she rose from the table. But unexpected company wasn’t unusual. People in this small town often just dropped by, especially church members needing counsel or a friend looking for a casual chat. She knew it could be almost anybody. But she wasn’t prepared for the faces that greeted her on the other side of the door.
“Reverend Jenkins, Dorothea, uh, y’all come on in.”
19
God Don’t Like Ugly
“I told Reginald we should call first,” Dorothea said, still standing on the other side of the doorjamb. “But I made these fresh, this morning before service.” Dorothea held out a foil-covered tin. “A small thank-you for the kindness you and Gordon showed while my husband was in the hospital.”
Nettie smoothly recovered from seeing Dorothea on her doorstep. She found first her tongue and then her manners. “Oh, you shouldn’t have,” she said, taking the pan from Dorothea and motioning with her arm for the couple to enter. “But we sure appreciate it.”
“Well, I’m nowhere near the cook that you are, but this praline recipe has been in the family for years. I’d like to think I’ve gotten pretty good at making them.”
Jenkins stepped around his wife and whispered loudly in Nettie’s ear, “Don’t let her modesty fool you—those things will make you hurt yourself. And speaking of, something sure smells good in here!”
Even as Nettie prayed they’d decline, she felt she had to do the Christian thing and invite them to dinner. “Oh, just some chicken and rice. Y’all welcome to join us. We haven’t been long sat down.”
“Oh, we couldn’t,” Dorothea said.
Please don’t. Nettie didn’t have anything against Dorothea, but she knew the atmosphere would change as soon as Mama Max learned the identity of these visitors.
“Well, now, it sure smells good,” Jenkins said, already making a move toward the dining room. “If you’re sure it won’t be an imposition…”
Nettie said a quick prayer as she led Jenkins and Dorothea back to the dining room, asking God to help everybody hold their tongue and their tempers.
Mama Max sensed something before she knew why. She put down her fork and stared at the entrance to the dining room. No one else noticed the change, but Mama Max’s stomach flip-flopped. Obadiah and Gordon were in a deep conversation about fishing, and the two church mothers were recapping their favorite rules from the Gospel Truth manual. Mama Max reached for her purse to take an antacid, forgetting that she’d left it in the living room. She took a swallow of sweet tea instead and was thankful that she didn’t drop the glass when Dorothea rounded the corner.
Dorothea Noble Bates Jenkins’s look had totally changed. Gone was the gaunt, mousy-looking woman who’d sung at Gospel Truth on Thanksgiving. Dorothea wasn’t the raving beauty she once was, but it was obvious she’d taken pains with her appearance and the work had paid off. The thinning white hair had been colored and cut: a short, almost pixie look that enhanced her high Creole cheekbones and hollow cheeks. Her brows had been arched, and it looked as though she may have gained a pound or two. The makeup she wore had been expertly applied, accenting the good, camouflaging the bad. She was dressed simply yet elegantly in a peach-colored Chanel suit, with low-heeled ivory shoes and accessories, the biggest one being the huge diamond sparkling from the third finger of her left hand. And while anyone looking would have labeled her an elegant older woman, there was something else about her, as there was with all the Noble women, something mildly intoxicating, alluring, mysterious, especially to men. As if her thoughts brought on the action, Mama Max’s perusal was interrupted by both Obadiah and Gordon jumping to their feet.
“Hello, Dorothea,” Obadiah said, reaching for her hand and gawking like a teenager. “You’re looking well.” Mama Max cleared her throat, breaking his trance. “Uh, Reverend,” he said, releasing Dorothea’s hand and shaking Jenkins’s.
“How y’all doing?” Gordon piped up immediately, barely giving Obadiah’s last syllable the chance to clear his mouth. Though the greeting was inclusive of both newcomers, Gordon’s eyes were solely on Reverend Jenkins’s wife.
“Y’all, have a seat,” Nettie interrup
ted, working to find the temperance she’d prayed for. She’d never seen Gordon make a fool of himself over no woman, and she most definitely didn’t intend for the foolishness to start today. “Let me refresh this platter of chicken.”
“I’ll grab the rice,” Mama Max added quickly, almost knocking her chair over from getting up so quickly.
“Please, let me help—”
“No, never mind, Dorothea,” Mama Max interrupted. “Help yourself to the tea there while we heat up the food.”
“Father, Jesus, Mary, and angels, I need all of y’all to help me!” Mama Max was whispering, and pacing the floor, leaving Nettie to do all the actual work. “Of all the people to stop by your house today, why does it have to be her? And why in the hello saints should I care? That ring Jenkins gave her is almost weighing down her left side.
“I’ll tell you why,” Mama Max continued, not letting Nettie get a word in edgewise. “It’s because Obadiah’s nose flew open as soon as she turned the corner. I swear I don’t know who I want to slap harder, her or him!”
“Now, Mama Max, don’t get your pressure up,” Nettie cautioned. “Like you said, it’s a small town and Jenkins is the only other Baptist pastor here. It stands to reason that we’d fellowship together from time to time.”
“Oh, really? So this is normal? Jenkins stops by your house all the time?”
“Not exactly.” In fact, she couldn’t recall the last time Jenkins had been to her house, but if memory served, she still had had kids at home. So that had to have been ten, fifteen years ago at least. Nettie kept her mouth shut about this little tidbit, surmising that some things were better left unsaid. “Me and Gordon visited him in the hospital several times. I prayed with him and some of the sistahs from his church, and Gordon helped some of the men from the congregation tidy up the churchyard. I think this is just gratitude showing, Mama Max. Let’s not make a mountain out of a molehill.”
“Lord, how long must I endure this woman?” Mama Max strung out the word long for so long, Nettie stopped to stare at her. “I just don’t like her,” Mama Max concluded. “God forgive me, but I can’t stand her thievin’ behind.”
For all the drama happening in the kitchen, another episode brewed in the dining room.
“You say your name’s Dorothea?” Sistah Alrighty asked yet again.
“Yes, ma’am.” Even though at sixty-six she was a senior citizen herself, she deferred proper respect to the woman who was fourteen years her senior, even if she’d have rather ignored her completely. This senile-acting woman made her skin crawl.
“Dorothea, that name sure sounds familiar. You ever been to Dallas?”
Dorothea glanced over at Obadiah.
“Now, sistah,” Obadiah interrupted, placing one of his large hands on top of the church mother’s bony one. “You’ve met so many people over your lifetime, you’re probably thinking about another Dorothea.”
“Humph, could be…could be not. You grow up in the church?”
Dorothea squirmed slightly, not sure why she was so uncomfortable with an old biddy she didn’t know. “Yes, I’ve attended church all my life.” Not that it’s any of your business.
Sistah Alrighty reached into her purse and pulled out a pair of very thick glasses. She put them on and stared openly at Dorothea. “I know you,” she finally concluded, pointing a bony, accusatory finger at the woman sitting across from her. “Sure as I live and breathe, I know you. And the Lord is going to help it come to me just where I know you from.”
The investigation was interrupted as fresh, piping-hot platters were set on the table. Sistah Alrighty’s attention was temporarily diverted. “More?” she asked simply, before piling second helpings on her plate. Conversation was forced but pleasant enough. Jenkins proudly recounted his and Dorothea’s Christmas Day wedding. He assured everyone at the table, even those who could not have cared less, that a honeymoon was imminent just as soon as the doctor gave him a clean bill of health. Obadiah changed the subject, asking Jenkins about a pastor who’d recently died. Nettie and Mama Max listened as Sistah Almighty recounted her favorite passages from the Gospel Truth Manual while Sistah Alrighty ate…and thought.
“The devil is a lie!” Everyone jumped at the unexpected outburst and stared at Sistah Alrighty as her fork clattered to her plate. “I remember! I said the Lord would help me recollect and I remember!” She pulled off her glasses and squinted her eyes. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, woman, coming in here.”
Sistah Alrighty had reached back forty years for the incident that forever etched a woman named Dorothea in her mind. It was in the early sixties, back in Dallas, Texas. She’d been young then, and anybody who knew Elsie Wanthers knew that she was on fire for God. Every year, she took her vacation during the National Baptist Convention, and this particular year had been no different. She’d signed up to volunteer, as always, and had been assigned to work as a hostess in the pastor’s lounge. That’s when she’d first seen her, acting what was in her opinion a little too friendly with Reverend Obadiah Brook. Elsie knew Reverend Brook in particular, because the year before, she’d met his wife, Maxine, and their two eldest children when she’d volunteered and been placed in the nursery and day care.
She’d asked another woman about the beauty sidling up to Sistah Brook’s husband and was told that Dorothea had known Obadiah a while. It seemed that many of the workers knew about this inappropriate friendship. But one woman didn’t know, and Elsie thought she should
Later that evening, Elsie and another woman from the convention sipped colas in the hotel lobby. She’d been just about ready to go to her room when Obadiah and Dorothea walked into the lobby. Her mouth almost flew open: They were laughing and cuddling, not even trying to be discreet! Before she could think about the consequences, Elsie walked to a hotel phone and asked for Maxine Brook. As soon as she answered, Elsie whispered, “I don’t mean to be nosy or rude, but I just saw your husband come into the lobby, and I don’t think he’s headed to your room.”
“Who is this?” a sleepy Maxine had asked.
“You can just say…I’m my sister’s keeper.”
Elsie heard about the fallout the next day. Dorothea disappeared, but not before Elsie had a chance to track down the hotel she was in and share a piece of her mind. It was the last church convention Dorothea attended, at least that Elsie knew of.
Elsie had no intention of telling Mama Max of her role in Mama Max finding out the truth, but the last day of the conference, Mama Max had joined her husband in the pastor’s lounge.
“I heard about what happened, and I’m sorry,” Elsie whispered into Mama Max’s ear.
Mama Max’s eyes widened, and she quickly pulled Elsie to the side. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
“Ma’am? I don’t know what you’re—”
“I recognize your whisper. It was you who called. And I want to thank you.”
Mama Max and Elsie Wanthers never had another conversation about what happened that night in Texas, even when Elsie married, moved to Kansas, and joined Mount Zion, which was pastored by Obadiah Brook at the time. But she’d had Mama Max’s back since 1963. And she had it now.
Obadiah tried to defuse the situation. “Mother, here, let me take you out on the porch to get some fresh air. I think your medication is acting up.”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with my medication or my mind!” Sistah Alrighty insisted, shooting daggers at Dorothea. “God don’t like ugly, and ain’t enough makeup in the world—”
“Mother, it’s getting late. We’re going to head back to the house,” Mama Max interjected. She became more concerned for this elderly woman’s health than her own demons. She helped Sistah Alrighty to her feet. “Let’s go.”
Nettie rushed around in the kitchen, placing a sizeable amount of peach cobbler into a Styrofoam box. By the time she finished, Mama Max had maneuvered a mumbling Sistah Alrighty out to the porch, joined by Sistah Almighty and Gordon. Obadiah lingered behind in the dining room with Jenkins and Dorothea.
He wished for a moment to talk to her alone, but he had no way of knowing when that would happen, especially now.
He put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said simply.
When his hand lingered a bit too long for Jenkins’s taste, he removed it. “Apology accepted,” was his terse reply.
Outwardly, Dorothea was a study in calmness, but inside, her peace was shattered. Because during all the commotion involved in escorting the old woman outside, the puzzle pieces had come together. She’d mentioned Dallas, Texas, and for Dorothea, there was only one unfortunate memory, besides Kennedy’s assassination, that was linked to that place. Dorothea knew she’d just come face-to-face with that memory.
20
Get Me Some Peace
You could cut the tension with a knife. Obadiah drove with both hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead. For the first time since they’d arrived a week ago, the two church mothers were as quiet as church mice. Mama Max looked out the window at the bare tree limbs. Fall had turned to winter, and other than the holidays, Mama Max had barely noticed. She still didn’t. She looked at the scenery, but instead of seeing brown bark, green grass, and blue skies, she saw peach, ivory, and big diamonds. Even more, she saw what Elsie “Sistah Alrighty” Wanthers had seen, that which had sent her into a tizzy. She saw memories.
What could have passed for a funeral procession continued once Obadiah pulled into the Brook driveway and parked the car. Mama Max helped Sistah Alrighty while Obadiah escorted Sistah Almighty. Once they got inside the house, Obadiah walked directly to his study and closed the door. Mama Max asked the church mothers if they cared for dessert. Both declined, saying they were tired and wanted to nap. Mama Max felt they wanted to gossip, but she had other matters to be concerned about.
She settled the ladies into the guest bedroom, took a deep breath, and walked straight to the study door. “Obadiah,” she said, knocking. “We need to talk.”
“I’m with the Lord,” Obadiah replied after a moment.
“Not in the way you’re going to be if you don’t open this door!”
Heaven Forbid Page 10
