Bring on the Blessings

by Beverly Jenkins

  “Nice meeting you, but I need to take her inside.”

  “Riley’s told me a lot about you. Are these the children?”

  Bernadine waited. Zoey’s silent tears were wetting Bernadine’s cheeks. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  He gave her a cadaverlike smile. “Says you got a lot of money.”

  Bernadine turned cool eyes on Riley, who simply raised his chin as if daring her to deny the truth. “Good day, Mr. Prell.”

  “I have some investments you might be interested in.”

  “No, thank you.” She began to walk away, and he had the nerve to walk with her.

  “You haven’t heard me out.”

  “I know, but I’m up to my eye shadow in investments right now and my accountants want me to stay pat. I’m sure you understand.”

  The eyes were shrewd as he checked her out. He nodded a head that had more liver spots than hair. “I understand. Keep me in mind though, if you would.”

  “It was nice meeting you.”

  Prell then looked over at Tamar, who was walking with her. “You all have a good time.”

  Inside, they got Zoey some lemonade and set her in a chair at the table.

  Lily came in a few moments later. “She okay?”

  Zoey seemed calmer but her hands on the glass still shook a bit.

  “Do you think it was Cletus?”

  Bernadine shrugged and took the now empty glass Zoey handed her. She brushed a hand over the girl’s sweat-damp hair. “Do you want to stay inside for a little while?”

  Her eyes said yes.

  “Okay, then I’ll stay with you.” Bernadine could only assume it was the pig that had set her off, but why? She knew Cletus was scary looking, but Zoey’s reaction bordered on the extreme.

  Soon Agnes entered to check up on Zoey, and upon finding her much more settled, she appeared relieved.

  Tamar asked acidly, “I couldn’t believe Prell wanted you to stop and talk. When is somebody going to put a stake in that vampire’s heart?”

  Agnes responded, “What heart?”

  Bernadine assumed there was a story behind Prell but at the moment she was too concerned with Zoey to care. The tears had ceased as had the shaking. She was still a bit pale though.

  Devon came in next and with him were the other kids. “She okay?” he asked.

  Amari knelt down in front of the chair Zoey was sitting in and said to her sincerely, “Zoey, you have three big brothers now, me, Preston, and Devon. We’ll turn that hog into bacon if he even looks at you again, so don’t be scared. Okay?”

  He held out his hand, “Now come on. Some kids want to teach us how to play something called Red Light, Green Light, and we can’t play without you.”

  To the amazement of the adults, she took Amari’s hand, scooted off the chair, and let him lead her and the rest of the kids back outside to the party.

  “I’ll be damned,” Tamar said.

  “What she said,” the outdone Bernadine replied.

  It was finally dinnertime, and after they got the kids settled in at a nearby table, the adults sat and started in on their meals. They were eating and talking about everything and nothing when Malachi came strolling over. He had a piled-high plate in one hand and his off arm wrapped around Tarika, the girl who’d been with him earlier in his truck. She had a plate too.

  Clay Dobbs took one look at Tarika and called out to his best friend, “She ride here on her tricycle, Mal, or did you drive her?”

  Laughter rang out.

  “Quit hating on my boo,” Tarika quipped, smiling. “You all are just jealous.”

  “Tell ’em, baby girl,” Malachi crowed.

  Bernadine wondered why a girl who seemed halfway intelligent was hanging out with a man three times her age.

  Bing said sagely around his grin, “Young girls are gonna kill you one of these days.”

  Malachi countered, “You know a better way to go?”

  Tamar said, “Just get a seat. Welcome. I’m Malachi’s mother, Tamar, and these are all friends.”

  Everyone introduced themselves. Tarika responded like she was well raised. “Pleased to meet you all.”

  Once that was done, everyone went back to their plates.

  Bernadine noted that although Trent was sitting directly across from Lily, he made a point of not looking at her, and she wondered how long she’d have to be a resident before someone clued her in on why they acted like oil and water around each other.

  After dinner, to work off all the fabulous food, there were sack races, egg tosses, and a huge sixty-person game of Ms. Jefferson Says—sorta like Simon Says. Marie wasted no time in whittling down the participants. Her quick terse commands eliminated a third of the players before the game was five minutes old, including Amari and the rest of the kids at the event. As she progressed in her crisp teacherly voice the remaining adult participants dropped like flies. The last person standing was Trent. No matter what she asked him, she couldn’t get him to mess up, so she finally gave up and with a grin crowned him the winner.

  As he basked in the cheers of the crowd, he proclaimed loudly, “She’s been ordering me around my whole life. I’d better win.”

  After the laughter died they could all see that the sun was setting. It was time to bring the party to an end.

  People lined up to give Marie one last hug, and it was vividly apparent that she cared as much for them as they did for her.

  Morton Prell walked over to Bernadine. “I didn’t believe Riley when he said you were bringing in a bunch of foster kids. Fancy yourself a philanthropist, do you?”

  “I’m just Bernadine Brown, Mr. Prell.”

  “And humble too. Isn’t that nice. If there’s anything my bank can do to help you, just let me know.” He handed her a business card.

  “I’ll be sure to do that.”

  “Nice meeting you.”

  “Same here,” she lied.

  As he moved on, she wondered if any of the local farmers grew garlic.

  CHAPTER

  15

  The people from out of town were soon packed up. With the sun setting they wanted to get back to their hotel rooms before dark. Cleaning up would be handled by the Henry Adams locals, so once the others were gone they cranked up the music, grabbed a glass or a can of their favorite beverage, and dove in. First off, the tables were stored away along with the lawn chairs. Clay and Bing oversaw the dousing and cleaning of the pits with the help of Preston and Amari, who asked another one hundred questions about the process, while Tamar, Crystal, and the ladies dealt with the leftover food. It was Henry Adams’s version of an after party.

  Lily was shaking her thing to the syncopated percussion of, “Me and Baby Brother” by War as she pulled a full trash bag out of one of the many barrels and tied it closed. Glancing around to gauge how much more there was left to do, she saw Devon and Zoey helping out. Across the field was Bernadine in her 48-carat gold bangles and perfect nails hauling trash bags just like everybody else, and Lily’s admiration for her employer rose even higher. Who would have thought a woman of her stature would happily volunteer for cleanup duty at a country birthday party, or that Lily would be tapped as No. 2 Sista in Charge of the project? Lily was genuinely enjoying helping Bernadine transform Henry Adams just as much as she was enjoying the transformations in her own life. Winston called almost every day, trying to convince her to come back to Atlanta, but she kept telling him no.

  “Lily Fontaine! Cut out that daydreamin’ and get to work,” Tamar yelled.

  “Yes, ma’am!” Lily called back with a laugh and moved on to the next barrel.

  Once Lily finished her area of the field, she carried the trash bags to the central collection point over by the house. Eventually all the bags would be loaded into the bed of Bing’s truck and taken to the dump. As luck would have it, she and Trent arrived at the spot at the same time. He had two large trash bags in his hands, and on his face that same unapproachable look he’d been wearing since she came to town. Commo
n sense told her to just leave it alone, but she knew the drama between them had to be straightened out. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  He dropped his bags. “Sure.”

  She had no idea how to begin, but looking up at him she could see him as he’d been in high school—his smile, the way he moved, the special moments they’d shared. Beneath all the anger was the young boy who’d been her first love. “I’m sorry, Trenton.”

  “For what?”

  “Don’t play with me. I’m trying to be honest here.”

  “And I’m trying to find out what you’re sorry for.”

  They were half an inch from blowing up; she knew it, he did too, so she grabbed hold of her temper and said as earnestly as she could, “For hurting you.”

  He looked off into the distance for a few silent moments, then said stonily, “Thanks.” And he walked away.

  She wanted to throw something, curse, rage. She wanted to tackle him, snatch him up, and make him give her something besides that terse one-word response. Instead, she stomped off too, because in the end, the mess between her and Trent was still her fault.

  Across the yard, Bernadine watched Lily and Trent as if they were actors on a stage. They were too far away for her to hear the conversation, but the way Trent turned away and the way Lily marched off in the opposite direction seemed to confirm that they were still at odds. She sighed. Her hope was that they’d get it together. They were going to be foster parents, and the last thing their kids needed was interpersonal drama negatively impacting their adjustment.

  She pulled another trash bag out of the barrels Tamar had assigned her and took a moment to wipe the thin sheen of perspiration from her brow. The sun was going down but it was still hot. She noticed Malachi coming her way and wondered what he wanted. He and Tarika had disappeared after the meal, missing the games and dessert. He was alone now. She supposed Tarika had to be home before the streetlights came on. Chastising herself for the catty crack, she tied up the trash bag and set it aside.

  “Brought you something,” he said as he approached.

  Somebody had put Etta James on the box. Her bluesy voice singing, “At Last,” rolled over the openness like the rising dusk.

  “And what is it?” she asked, hoping this wasn’t going to be more of his foolishness. It had been a long day, a good day, but a long one.

  He held up his hands to show her a can of grape pop in the left, and a can of beer in the right. Both looked ice-cold. “Figured you might be thirsty. Tamar can be a tough boss.”

  “Bless you.” She chose the pop and wasted no time getting it open. The icy cold liquid slid down her throat like butter. Savoring that first sweet swallow she gushed, “That was good. I needed that. Thank you.”

  Noticing that he hadn’t popped open the beer, she gestured to his can. “You’re not going to drink with me?”

  He met her eyes for a long moment, then looked out over the open plains. When he turned back to her, his voice was soft. “My name is Malachi July and I’m an alcoholic.”

  The confession startled her. She searched his eyes and saw only truth. Everything she’d assumed about the man was suddenly flipped on its head. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.

  “No need to apologize. It’s not like you knew.”

  He was right of course, but she felt like she’d put her foot in her mouth.

  “I brought over a can of beer too because I wasn’t sure which one you’d want,” he explained.

  It must have been easy for him to see that she was still struggling to find words, because he smiled wistfully and said, “I’ll let you get back to work. You take it easy.”

  And before Bernadine could force her brain to engage, he walked away.

  After talking with Lily, Trent tore out of Marie’s driveway like a bat out of hell. He knew he should have been more gracious with her apology, but all he’d wanted to do was shout at her, “Why?! Why’d you do me like that? I loved you!”

  Maybe if he’d still been seventeen he’d have asked, but he was a grown man now, and grown men didn’t bare their feelings, especially if they were hurting, so he was driving like a crazy person instead. The ruts and holes in the road were bouncing the truck like a spurred horse. The pounding had to be killing his shocks, but he didn’t care. He just needed to drive.

  He didn’t realize he’d driven to the Dog and Cow until he got there. To his surprise, standing out front like a mirage in the desert was Rocky. At first he thought his anger at Lily was making him hallucinate, but it was her, and she looked as mad as he’d ever seen. Cutting the engine, he got out. “What’s going on?”

  “I need a ride to the airport,” she said bitterly.

  Confused, he glanced at the suitcase by her feet. “Where’s Bob?”

  “Home.”

  “Did something happen? You okay?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He could see fury snapping like fire in her eyes. “Okay. Is your sister okay? That why you’re flying out?” Kristin, her younger sister lived in Boston.

  “Krissy’s fine. In fact, that’s where I’m heading.”

  “For a visit or for good?”

  “Not sure.”

  Trent was so confused he felt like a man walking around in a strange house in the middle of the night while wearing a blindfold. “I’ll drive you to Hays. No problem. You ready to leave?” Her arms were folded and he could see the tension in her biceps. She seemed to be physically holding something inside that was threatening to make her blow sky high if she let it loose. “Talk to me, Rock. He didn’t hit you or anything, did he?”

  She shook her head, which came as a relief because he’d hate to have to hunt Bob down and kick his ass to show him the error of his ways. But Trent still had no clue as to why she was so upset. “Come on. Get in the truck. What time’s the flight?”

  She didn’t move.

  He sighed and waited.

  When she finally confessed what was wrong, he thought he must have gone deaf because he was sure he couldn’t have heard what he thought he’d heard her say. “Run that by me again?”

  “You heard me the first time,” she snapped, and snatched up the handle on her suitcase and stormed over to the truck.

  Trent’s jaw dropped. “You caught him wearing your underwear!”

  Her head swiveled like Linda Blair’s. If a look could have killed, he would have been dead on his feet. “Laugh and I will kill you. I swear I will.”

  But Trent had already gone around the bend. He was doubled over. Howling. And for all of her anger Rocky was fighting hard not to laugh too.

  She tossed her suitcase in the bed. “I paid fifty dollars for that bra and panty set. I walk into the bedroom and his fat behind is wearing my shit!”

  Trent exploded. The anger he’d been carrying dissolved like shadows in sunlight. It was cathartic. Exhilarating. Freeing.

  Rocky slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door. “Get in the truck, fool. You’re going to make me late for my flight.”

  But the mental picture of Bob posing in her fancy underwear had Trent so totally possessed he dropped to his knees and laughed until he cried.

  Lying in bed, Malachi looked out the window at the moon and wondered what in the world was happening to him. He’d never told a woman what he’d confessed to Bernadine Brown. Ever. Since going sober, the lie he always told as to why he didn’t drink revolved around a made-up allergy to the grains used in the distilling process. He’d learned the hard way that some women wanted nothing to do with a drunk, ex or not, and frankly he understood, but rather than be dissed or pitied or in some cases both, he kept his recovery to himself.

  So, why had he told Bernadine the truth? Her of all people. She’d called him pitiful—something else that had never happened before. Women loved him and always had. He certainly hadn’t intended to show her who he was inside. Hell, he was only beginning to have nerve enough to look in there himself. Yet he’d told her the truth and
didn’t have a clue as to why. Letting the thoughts roll around in his brain for a moment it came to him that maybe he’d wanted her to know that there was more to him than snake oil; that he had with hard work and the good Lord’s patience managed to put Satan alcohol behind him. Up from his memory rose the quote he’d carried around in his wallet during the early days of recovery, and still did today: He who conquers the city is great, but he who conquers himself is mighty. Now, with years of sobriety under his belt, he felt mighty indeed, but why did he want her to know that? If he were someone else looking at this conundrum from the outside, he’d say that deep down inside he was trying to impress her. That surprised him so much he sat straight up. Admittedly, he was attracted to her, and what man wouldn’t be? She was gorgeous, classy. He’d never been mercenary when it came to the softer sex, so her money wasn’t the draw. She was. He liked the way she carried herself, the way she spoke, and that she had a mind and heart that believed she could take old sow-eared Henry Adams and turn it into a silk purse.

  Malachi had loved him some women over the course of his lifetime, but he never remembered being attracted to a woman on anything other than the physical level. So what in the hell did all of this mean, he wanted to know. Was he finally at age sixty-something maturing—finally wanting to be with a woman people didn’t mistake for his granddaughter—finally growing up?

  Realizing he was taking himself into some unknown and downright scary territory, he thought it might be better if he went to sleep, but it took a while.

  Trent was on his way back from the airport. On the way there he’d called Tamar to tell her what he was doing for Rocky and asked if she’d keep an eye on the boys until he returned. She agreed without giving him the third degree.

  Now driving home through the dark, he’d come to the conclusion that this mess with Lily needed to be put to rest. The ongoing feud wouldn’t be good for the kids, Bernadine, or anyone else. Lily was going to be around for who knew how long, and hanging onto a grudge from the past couldn’t be healthy. It was time to move on.