Bring on the Blessings

by Beverly Jenkins

  Bernadine and Lily shared a look.

  Bernadine asked, “So what’s that mean?”

  “I’m going to talk to a few lawyers and you should do the same, but in my mind it means, what mortgages? If he’s not a banker and doesn’t have paperwork backing up the contract he supposedly has with them, his claims are null and void.”

  Lily asked, “But wouldn’t the state have some kind of record?”

  “You’d think they would, but they can’t seem to find anything current either. Either he didn’t file anything with the state, or everything was lost years ago. One of the clerks told me that lots of documents fell through the cracks when agencies switched from paper to computers in the seventies and eighties.” Bernadine asked, “So how are my friends going to prove they own their land?”

  “The clerk said if they have their original deeds, fax her copies and she’ll see what can be done. She made it seem like she was just going to plug them into the system and pretend like they were already there, especially when I explained to her that these were old people who’d been scammed.”

  Bernadine had no doubts as to why she considered Tina Craig one of her best friends.

  “She’s going to look into the property taxes, but as far as she could tell, none of the mortgages exists. At least not in his name.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I thought so too. Like I said, get those documents faxed and let’s hope your friends can catch a break.”

  “Okay, thanks Ms. T. I owe you one.”

  “No problem. Nice talking to you, Lily.”

  “Same here.”

  “BB, is Lily a Bottom Woman?”

  Bernadine laughed. “She’s divorced and was a first wife, so I guess she qualifies.”

  Lily called out, “I’m a little light in the Benjamin department compared to you all, though.”

  “We don’t care,” Tina assured her. “We’ve got enough Benjamins for every female on the planet. Have BB bring you to the next meeting so we can meet you. That okay, B?”

  “Fine with me. Thanks again, Tina.”

  “Love you, girl. Ciao.”

  In the silence that followed, Bernadine said, “Well. We thought Prell was having a fit because we were going to take his bank, but the real deal is he has no bank, and that’s probably what he didn’t want anyone to know. If I didn’t think it would splash on Tamar and her buddies, I’d call the FBI on his skeleton-looking behind right now.”

  “So they have been paying him all these years for no reason?”

  “Apparently so, and he certainly wasn’t going to tell them he’d been shut down.”

  “You’d think someone would have known, but this is a small town. If he was opening the place up every day and pretending like he was still in business, who would know the difference? That’s cold.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  That evening, after Tamar and the kids returned, Bernadine told Tamar about Prell’s threats, and all Tamar could say was, “That skinny bastard.”

  “Why’d you all deal with him in the first place?”

  “Back in the fifties the white banks wouldn’t loan to us, so it was Morton Prell or nobody.”

  “So he was legitimate back then.”

  “He was, and made loans to most of us out here. Fore-closed on a lot of land too when folks couldn’t pay him back.”

  “You have your original deed?”

  “Sure do.”

  “Then get it to me tomorrow along with Ms. Agnes’s and the others and we’ll fax them to the lady in Topeka.”

  “Sure thing.” Then she said, “Bernadine?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How many more blessing are you going to bring?”

  She smiled. “I don’t know.”

  “Well keep them coming.”

  “Doing my best.”

  CHAPTER

  18

  Crystal was having a ball. She and Bernadine were using Bernadine’s laptop to surf stores for stuff for Crystal’s bedroom at the new house. The room she had now was pretty generic and basic. Although it was nice, Bernadine wanted the teen to have a space that reflected Crystal’s own tastes and choices.

  It was difficult at first, because Crystal had never been given carte blanche before on anything, and even at fourteen she knew a high price when she saw one.

  “I know it’s expensive, Crys,” Bernadine kept reminding her, “but it’s a quality comforter and it will last you for years.”

  Crystal didn’t seem convinced, but after a while, she got into the sprit of it and before long had ordered everything from bedding to curtains to towels to throw pillows in colors and designs of her own choosing.

  They were looking at shoes when Lily rapped on the door and called out, “Hey in there. Anybody home?”

  Bernadine called back and invited her in and was pleased to see Devon with her. He was wearing yet another suit and tie. Lily had purchased him a ton of regular boy clothes and was hoping to wean him into them sometime soon, but she didn’t want to push him into anything before he was ready.

  “Morning,” Lily said. “Devon has some questions for you.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “When can we go to school?”

  She studied him. “I thought we’d get you all settled in with your new families first, let you play for the rest of the summer, and start school here in the fall when all the other kids go to school. That way Ms. Marie can order all the things she needs to teach you all the things she wants you to learn. Is that okay?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you have another question?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Where’s the church and who’s the pastor?”

  Bernadine gave Lily a quick glance before answering. “The church is downtown, but there is no pastor.”

  His face lit up. “Can I be it?”

  Bernadine was stumped by that one. “Well, I don’t know, Devon. Being pastor is a big responsibility.”

  “I know.”

  “Can I think about it and get back to you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Crystal was shaking her head the entire time, and after Lily and Devon departed, she said, “That little boy needs a life.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He’s eight, Ms. Bernadine. He’s supposed to be doing kid stuff, not getting up every day and dressing like he’s going to a funeral.”

  “I’m sure that’ll change, but for now he’s being who he was raised to be. We all are.”

  Crystal thought about who she’d been raised to be—certainly not a preacher. “You ever go to church?”

  “Back home I went most Sundays. It’s good for the spirit. What about you?”

  She shook her head. “I only been a couple of times. I don’t think God listens to people like me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because when I was little I prayed all the time for my mom to come and get me, but she never did.”

  “How old were you the last time you saw her?”

  “Six? Seven?”

  “About Zoey’s age, then?”

  “Yeah. I want to find her. I know she’s looking for me. Wouldn’t you look for your daughter if the state took her away?”

  “If I was an upright mom, sure, but when the state takes a child from its family it’s usually in the best interest of that child. It’s not a decision the judge makes without giving it a lot of thought, Crys.”

  Crystal, like most kids in her situation, didn’t care about logic or judges. “I know she’s looking for me, and when I find her, I’m going to help her get off crack, and we’re going to get us a house and live together again. That would be da bomb, don’t you think?”

  “Yep, I do.” Bernadine knew from her social worker experiences that children who’d been taken out of the home because of drugs or abuse often fantasized about finding the parent and saving them from themselves so that life would be normal again. Crystal was not the first nor would she be the last to imagi
ne such a scenario because children’s hearts were filled with hope. In reality few of the dreams came true, and if Crys’s mom was a crack addict, there was very little chance of there being a happy ending. It saddened Bernadine. She didn’t want her foster child to suffer any more hurt ever again but knew she would, especially if she was bent on finding her mother. “You know I’d like you to consider doing something else with your hair. That weave is breaking off your hair on top.”

  “Really?” She rushed to the mirror in the bathroom and Bernadine stood behind her and watched as Crystal tried to see the crown of her hair.

  “It is, isn’t it? Do you think I’ll be bald?”

  Bernadine shrugged. “Hope not, but think about changing up just in case.”

  Crystal scratched because her scalp itched. “Okay.”

  If the truth be told, Bernadine wanted to wrestle her to the ground and take a sharp pair of scissors to the girl’s awful blond extensions, but like Devon and his suits, Crystal was only being who she’d been raised to be, and Bernadine would just have to play along.

  The Currys were just sitting down to breakfast—at least Riley was. Genevieve had been up since six, feeding Cletus and mopping the floor in the back room Riley used as a barbershop on the weekends. Cletus had been in there and left a putrid mess behind.

  “What happened to your hand?” Riley asked, seeing the tea towel she had wrapped around it.

  She set the plate of turkey bacon on the table and took a seat. “Cletus bit me. Again,” she said stiffly, unfolding her napkin and placing it across her lap.

  “What’d you do to him?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You must have.”

  “He’s getting harder and harder to handle, Riley.”

  He took a sip of coffee. “You’re imagining things. You bought that new perfume—”

  “My perfume is upstairs in the bottle. It’s the hog, Riley Curry. Not me. I was bleeding pretty good too.” She didn’t expect him to ask to see the bite and sure enough, he didn’t. “Something’s gotta be done.”

  “Like what?” he asked eyeing her over his cup.

  “I don’t know, but something. Soon.”

  “I’m not getting rid of him, Genevieve, so don’t even think about that.”

  Her lips thinned. “Do you know why we don’t have company come around anymore or why no one gets their hair cut here anymore except Clay?”

  “Yes. It because of that Brown woman,” he grumbled in reply. “Her and her big ideas. I still say that money of hers is from ill-gotten gains, and Morton’s gonna prove it.”

  “What? How?”

  “He’s looking into her. You know she got him cheated out of his bank. Every cent he had, gone just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  “Then maybe Morton should let sleeping dogs lie, and Ms. Brown is not the reason we don’t get company.”

  “No? Then what is?”

  “Because this house smells like a septic field, that’s why. Feeding Cletus the way you do? All he does is pass gas all day long, not to mention the droppings.”

  “He’s housebroke.”

  “He used to be, but he’s so mean now he does it inside, out of spite. You’ve been spending all your time with Morton. I’ve got the mess cleaned up by the time you get back, so you don’t see it.”

  He shook his head. “Not getting rid of him, Genevieve. I’d sooner you leave than him. That hog’s gonna make me rich one day. Richer than even Bernadine Brown.”

  Angry and hurt, Genevieve tossed down her napkin and stomped out of the room.

  Riley helped himself to more grits. “Women.”

  Outside on the porch, Genevieve wiped away the tears threatening to run down her cheeks and drew in a deep breath. She was not going to cry. She looked out at Cletus wallowing in the mud hole in the middle of the yard. At one time it had been a beautiful yard, filled with roses and lilies and stands of sunflowers. There’d even been a few mature trees, but hogs root, and Cletus had rooted everything up no matter what kind of fencing she put up. Clay and Malachi had suggested running a strand of electrified wire through the fencing like many hog farmers did to keep their stock away from stuff they had no business messing with, but Riley deemed the solution too expensive and he didn’t want Cletus to get shocked, not even once.

  Her jaw tightened. Hadn’t her father warned her not to marry Riley? Hadn’t he called him a chicken hawk, all mouth, no action. Until the day her father died, he’d been convinced Riley was only after his money, but she hadn’t listened. She’d been in love, or so she thought, dazzled by Riley and his big golden dreams. Now the dreams were proven to be fool’s gold and she was playing servant to a damn hog, and an increasingly mean one at that. Tears filled her eyes again and her wrapped hand began to throb.

  She got up to get her first aid kit. At the door she stopped and looked back at Cletus wallowing in his mud hole in her devastated front yard. Something had to be done, she just didn’t know what.

  By noon the next day, copies of all the deeds in question were faxed off to the helpful clerk in Topeka. When she had them in hand, she called Bernadine and promised to get back with her as soon as possible

  Also by noon, The Franklin Savings and Loan was closed down—closed down as in plywood covering the windows and padlocks on the front doors. Trent reported the news after a morning run into Franklin to pick up plywood. Nobody had seen Morton Prell since his visit to the building site yesterday, but no one cared enough about the old extortionist to ask Riley if he knew anything. Everybody figured they’d get answers soon enough and went on about their day.

  Marie made sure the kids had something to do almost every day that was quasi-educational but it was fun stuff. Today they were down in Hays along with the Paynes and Garlands and Clay Dobbs taking a look at Historic Fort Hays, which had once been home to the Buffalo Soldiers. While they were gone, the houses were being inspected for the big move in. They were now complete, and Bernadine and Trent were waiting and watching the state’s inspection teams make what she hoped would be their final sweep. She hoped Lily was somewhere filming, because this would be a historic event. However she didn’t see Lily anywhere about. It wasn’t uncommon, with work going on at two construction sites, but she wondered about her absence.

  “Is Lily over at the rec center?” Bernadine asked Trent.

  “Nope. She had to make a run to the airport.”

  “Airport? Why?”

  “Pick up some guy named Winston. I let her take my truck.”

  “Winston? He’s here?”

  Trent shrugged. “Guess so.”

  “Lord. Okay.”

  Lily drove up to the terminal and looked around for Winston. The idea that he’d shown up here unannounced was not playing well. One minute she and Trent had been going over contracts and the next minute her phone was ringing. When she saw the familiar number on the caller ID, she almost let it go to voice mail but grudgingly picked up only to hear him say he was at the airport.

  She drove down to another set of doors and there he stood, luggage beside him. Maneuvering Trent’s black truck to the curb, she threw it into park and got out.

  Upon seeing her he said, “When you said forty minutes, I thought you were joking.”

  She could see that he was peeved. Join the crowd. “How was the flight?”

  He picked up the two generic-looking suitcases and followed her to the truck. “Long, and of course, they didn’t feed us.”

  “I wish you had called first to let me know you were coming.”

  “Thought maybe the shock of seeing me again would jolt you back to reality.”

  “Your reality or mine?” she asked with a fake smile.

  “Ours.” He hoisted his bags into the bed. “Nice truck. Yours?”

  “No. Belongs to a friend. How long are you staying?”

  He shrugged. “Haven’t decided yet. Purchased two return tickets in case you come back to your senses, though.”

  “Not going to happe
n. Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve said to you for the past few weeks?”

  “I have. I just don’t believe it.”

  She looked away and tried to keep her voice calm. “Winston. I’m not coming back to Atlanta. I have a great job here and I’m doing great work. This is where I’m going to be.”

  “I’m not into long-distance relationships, Lily,” he said, warning in his voice.

  “Neither am I.”

  Her response seemed to surprise him, “So, you’re willing to dump years of a relationship like it meant nothing?”

  Guilt grabbed her and then clashed with the dreams she had for her own future. “Look, Winston, we’ve had a great time together but I don’t see us going any further. I’m trying to be honest.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Who’s who?”

  “The man you’re sleeping with?”

  “I’m not sleeping with anybody.”

  “Is this his truck?”

  She threw up her hands. “You should probably fly back home, Winston. This is getting stupid.”

  “Who is he? At least tell me the truth!”

  People walking past them were looking on curiously, but she ignored them and tried to keep her voice down. “Why does it have to be another man? Why can’t it be just me wanting to change my life?”

  “Is he one of these farmers from around here? Sixth-grade education, hay in his ears? Living on farm subsidy welfare?”

  She snapped. “That’s it!” Storming to the back of the truck, she stood on the bottom of the tailgate, reached in and threw his bags out onto the sidewalk. “Have a good flight home.”

  His eyes were large. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Lily answered by getting into the truck, locking the doors, and starting the engine. Steam was pouring from her ears as she gunned it and peeled out. She didn’t look back.

  Trent was heading over to the house that would soon be his when he saw Lily drive up. When he walked over to her, he could see fire in her eyes. “What’s wrong? Where’s your friend?”