“But enough about that. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about all of this junk happening out here in this crazy world we live in. Johnnie Mae, I need you to come out of this. Who else on earth will I have to share my deepest thoughts with? I need you. I love you dearly. I tried to show you how much I loved you before any of this ever happened. But they say you never really know just how much you love a person until that person’s no longer around. At least when you or I go out of town, we can pick up the phone and talk. How do I reach you now? So please, Johnnie Mae. Please. Open your eyes. For me, for Princess Rose, for your mother, for our son fighting to make it. He’s waiting on a name, and I refuse to name him without you. I have faith you’re going to pull through this. So open your eyes. Do you hear me, J. M.? Please . . . open your eyes.”
Chapter 48
They shall not labor in vain, nor bring forth for trouble; for they are the seed of the blessed of the Lord, and their offspring with them.
Isaiah 65:23
Lena knocked on the door. “Grandmother, it’s me and Memory. Is it okay if we come in?”
“Just a minute,” Sarah yelled back. Sarah looked at Gayle. “Not a word to either of them about Montgomery or Polly,” she whispered as she leaned forward.
“You know you can trust me,” Gayle said in a low tone while continuing to fluff the two pillows she normally placed behind Sarah’s back when propping her up. “Are you certain you feel okay? You look a bit flushed. You’ve been quite a busy little bee today.”
“Yes, I feel okay.” Sarah yawned as she lay back now. “Maybe I am a tad bit sleepy.”
“Well, I’ll check your blood pressure again as soon as Memory and Lena leave,” Gayle said as she finished getting Sarah situated comfortably again. “Then I want you to rest.”
“Thanks, Gayle.”
Gayle opened the door, letting Memory and Lena in as she headed out.
“Are you gone?” Lena asked Gayle as they literally passed each other in the doorway. “We didn’t mean to run you off or anything.”
“Oh, you’re not running me off. I have a few things that require my attention,” Gayle said as she flashed a smile at Lena. “I’ll be back in a little while, Miss Fleming.”
Sarah nodded. “I’ll be all right.”
Gayle left. Memory moved the chair next to the nightstand over to Sarah’s bed. Lena went and got the chair usually kept folded in the corner and placed it next to Memory so Sarah could easily see them both at the same time.
“Grandmother, we just went through the Wings of Grace box,” Lena said, deciding to get straight to the point. “We then watched the videotape your mother made and left for us, preferably to view together if it was at all possible. Those were her instructions.”
“That’s right, there was a videotape,” Sarah said. “I forgot you told me that. I’m sure had she suspected it would be almost four years before that happened, she may not have placed that restriction on it. But knowing my mother, that was her way of ensuring you would find Memory, if you two weren’t already in some type of contact.” Sarah lay back, relaxing more into the pillow. “Was there anything interesting in the box or on the tape? That’s if you can share that information with me. I don’t wish to pry into something that may be none of my business, so feel free to tell me if I am.”
“Yes, there was something. In fact, there was something of interest to you, I believe,” Memory said. “It has to do with Ransom Perdue.”
“Ransom Perdue was your father,” Sarah said, looking directly at Memory. “I told you about him. Is there something I don’t know? Did my mother say what happened to him after he left and never returned?”
“No,” Memory said. “But there was something in the box and on the tape that I don’t think you knew. We have reason to believe that Ransom Perdue was possibly your stepbrother.”
Sarah pressed her body harder into the pillows, as though she needed to be braced. “What? Oh, that’s just hogwash!”
Lena looked at Memory, not believing Memory had put it in those terms and blurted it out like that. Although when Lena actually thought about it, that’s precisely what it boiled down to. “What she meant to say is, from what appears to be an official record of Ransom’s birth, his mother was actually Adele Powell.”
“Adele Powell? She was my half-brothers’, Heath and Victor Junior’s, mother.”
“Yes. Adele, your father’s wife before he married your mother,” Memory said.
“But that can’t be,” Sarah said. “Ransom was a black man. What are you saying?”
Lena recounted for Sarah everything they’d learned concerning Ransom, his mother, Adele, Pearl’s mother’s delivery of Ransom, and her secretly finding him a home.
Sarah shook her head. “I’m sure Ransom probably didn’t know the truth. That is so sad, so sad. Deception; it’s a curse, I tell you. That’s what it is—a curse.”
“It sounds like Ransom was Adele Powell’s son, so that could technically make Ransom your stepbrother, although I wouldn’t have put it the way Memory did,” Lena said, throwing Memory a look of slight reprimand. “I am curious, though,” Lena continued, turning her attention back to Sarah. “This has to do with Montgomery the Second. You insinuated on that day we first met that he may have had some black in his blood. Did you know his mother was a black woman passing for a white when you said that?”
Sarah laughed, placing her hand over her heart. “Heavens no,” she said.
“Then you were bluffing when you said that to him?” Lena asked.
“I would have made a great poker player, don’t you think?” Sarah asked.
“And the envelope you gave me?” Lena asked, referring to the envelope Sarah had held in her hand during her standoff with Montgomery . . . refusing to fold back in October of 2001.
“Oddly enough, I’d picked up that envelope only minutes before I made my way out the door when Johnnie Mae and all y’all came here,” Sarah said. “I’d scribbled a note to tell Johnnie Mae what was really going on—the fact that I really was being held against my will. My intent was to slip that envelope to her if anything happened and she was forced to leave me here again.”
“So had I opened that envelope instead of burning it . . . ?”
“You burnt it? I never knew that.” Sarah laughed. “If you had opened it instead of burning it, you would have found my plea for help. But it worked, didn’t it? It flustered Montgomery.” Sarah began to chuckle. “And I thought for sure Johnnie Mae’s husband was about to give Montgomery a real . . . what do the young folks call it?” She started snapping her fingers to try and help her recall the words. “What do they call it?”
“A beat down,” Memory said, familiar with the terminology.
“That’s it, a beat down!” Sarah said, continuing to laugh at the thought of it.
“Do you think Montgomery has any idea his grandmother was black?” Memory asked Sarah.
“Probably not,” Sarah said. “But Montgomery is the kind who would hate something like that even being out there remotely as a topic of discussion.” Sarah coughed a few times. “I believe my nephew is as protective of his so-called pristine reputation as his father was. There’s no way Montgomery’s white buddies will allow a black man to remain in their exclusive club. I don’t care how white he may look on the outside.” Sarah began to cough again. She covered her mouth with her hand.
“Are you okay?” Lena asked, getting up quickly and pouring some water, then handing it to her.
Sarah took a few sips. “I’m fine. I suppose I am tired, though. I think I’d like to take a little nap. Could you ask Gayle to come up when you go down?” Sarah asked.
“Sure,” Lena said, taking the hint that Sarah was ready for them to leave now. She looked over at Memory, who remained sitting. “We’re going to go and let you get some rest,” Lena said, heading for the door. She was hoping Memory would get the hint this time. Memory continued to sit there. “Oh, Grandmother, before I forget to tell you. Theresa called. T
hey decided they want to celebrate their anniversary on Wednesday, so they’re not planning to drive up until Thursday for the celebration on Saturday.”
“They should come on up on Tuesday,” Sarah said. “They could go out together up here. I could watch the children for them while they’re gone. Then they wouldn’t have to bother with hiring a babysitter, and I would get yet more time to spend with my darling little great-great-grands. Why don’t you call Theresa back and tell her that for me?” Sarah took another sip of water, then set the glass on her nightstand.
“That would be too much on you,” Lena said. “Those little darlings, as you call them, can be a little handful. Trust me.”
“Personally, I think it’s a great idea. I’ll be here,” Memory said. “Between the two of us, four while Gayle and Monica are still around, we can certainly handle a couple of kids. That way you and Richard could also spend a night out on the town.”
“That does sound tempting,” Lena said. “It would give us all a little more time to spend together. And that’s always a good thing in my book. Are you two sure about this?” Lena looked from Memory to Sarah for confirmation.
“Absolutely. Call her and see what she says.” Sarah closed her eyes. “It will be a joy having my family all here again, under the same roof, this time without any tension or any animosity. My child, grandchild, great-grandchild, and my great-great-grandchildren, five generations, all here together. It will be just as it says in the Bible. They won’t labor in vain nor bring forth for trouble because they are the seed of the blessed of the Lord. Yes, I am indeed blessed.” Sarah continued talking as her speaking became more and more sluggish, almost as though she was talking in her sleep. “I’ve got to get someone to talk to the caterer for our Christmas celebration. I’m sure Gayle will help me. I can always count on Gayle. Yeah, I trust Gayle. She’s always said . . . I can . . . trust . . . her.”
Sarah stopped talking altogether. She’d drifted completely off to sleep. Lena beckoned to Memory for her to get up and leave with her. They stepped out the door and closed it quietly.
“What was she talking about a caterer?” Memory asked when they reached the end of the hall. “Polly’s taking care of all of that for her.”
“Who knows?” Lena said. “I wouldn’t put much stock into what she was mumbling then. She most likely was tired and just talking in her sleep.”
“Maybe,” Memory said. “Maybe.”
Chapter 49
For since the beginning of the world men have not heard, nor perceived by the ear, neither hath the eye seen, O God, beside Thee, what He hath prepared for him that waiteth for Him.
Isaiah 64:4
Landris sat in Johnnie Mae’s room. It had been four weeks since she’d had her baby. A baby whose weight was now miraculously up to four pounds and three ounces, but who still didn’t have a name donning his incubator-crib other than “Boy Landris.” Landris was back at church, preaching on Sundays and doing limited other duties throughout the week. His mother was at his house, helping him take care of Princess Rose, although he’d told her many times she really needed to go home and see her doctor about her heart or at least see a doctor in Birmingham just to make sure she was still doing okay. His mother’s presence there seemed enough to satisfy Johnnie Mae’s sister-in-law’s quest to try and get temporary custody of Princess Rose or cause trouble.
Taking a cue from her son, who was speaking healing scriptures over his wife and child and playing healing tapes in Johnnie Mae’s room while he wasn’t there, Virginia started listening to tapes on healing. Landris had said this was spiritual warfare, and it was imperative that they fight this war with the right tools. Thomas was out of the halfway-house medical facility, and while he was continuing to grow stronger, fighting to get disability benefits, and find his own place, George had told him he could stay at their house.
Dr. Baker had consulted with other doctors. Landris was told that none of them agreed Johnnie Mae should be kept on life support any longer. After all, it had been a month now. As much as Landris might not want to face the fact, Johnnie Mae appeared all but gone. The majority agreed, with the exception of Dr. Baker and one other colleague, that if Johnnie Mae didn’t regain consciousness within the next day, two at the most, realistically, the machine should be disconnected. Certain organs would likely start shutting down soon anyway. There was still the possibility of brain damage, although nothing indicated for sure that that had occurred. They couldn’t know for sure until she regained consciousness, and it didn’t look as though that was going to happen.
Landris listened as doctor after doctor tried to convince him that his wife could likely be in this state for as long as the machines were hooked up to her—months, even years. It was important that he face that fact and make peace with letting her go in peace. Turning off the life-support machine wasn’t necessarily a death sentence. It was possible she might begin breathing again on her own. It might even jumpstart her system back to recovery. “There are many documented cases where this very thing has happened,” one doctor explained.
However, Landris set his face like a flint. There was nothing else to be said if it was contrary to God’s Word, as far as he was concerned.
His hair was already growing back. He kept it cut low to his head, definitely a different look on him. He’d been led by the Spirit of God to do a fast—no food or juices, only water to keep him hydrated—while praying for seven days.
The following day, after having heard all the doctor’s recommendations, Landris walked in to visit Johnnie Mae on what was the final day of his seven-day fast. Her private room was filled with Rachel and her family, along with Johnnie Mae’s mother, who, to Landris, clearly looked as though she didn’t have a clue why she’d been dragged in there.
“What’s going on?” Landris asked Rachel.
Fighting back her tears, Rachel said, “We came to say our good-byes.”
“Good-bye?” Landris asked in sheer astonishment. “Good-bye? Good-bye to whom?”
“I was here yesterday when one of the doctors was here. I asked him point-blank, and he told me the truth, George. They want to take Johnnie Mae off life support tomorrow. I’m sure your insurance provider has long been in agreement with that.” Rachel stared hard at him. “You knew about this, and you weren’t even planning on saying anything to us? That’s low, George Landris. That’s low. We deserve to know what’s going on. Marie and Donald came by earlier. My brother Christian and his family are planning on being here later this evening. It takes about three hours for him to drive up from Columbus, Georgia. You should have told us what was going on. Johnnie Mae is our sister, my mother’s daughter.” Rachel started crying. “No matter what you believe, we have a right to know the truth.”
Mrs. Gates came and patted Rachel on her back. “There, there,” she said. “Don’t cry. I’m sure whatever it is can’t be all that bad. It’s going to all work out, you just wait and see.”
“Listen, Rachel,” Landris said, keeping his voice low and even, “we can’t go giving up now. We have to believe the Word of the Lord. With long life, God will satisfy her. She will live and not die. That’s all God’s Word.”
“Stop it!” Rachel said. “Just stop it!” She pressed her hands over her ears. “I’m so sick and tired of all you super-religious folks burying your heads in the sand about what God will and won’t do!” She removed her hands from her ears.
“The Bible also says it rains on the just and the unjust,” Rachel said. “Plenty of people have prayed for loved ones to live and not die, and do you know what happened to a good number of them?” Rachel stepped away from her mother and children and walked closer to Landris, who was close to the bathroom door. “They died anyway! You’ve given this your best shot, George. I give you that much. I know Johnnie Mae would be very proud of how vigilant you’ve been throughout all of this.” She sighed. “But it’s time for you to face some cold, hard facts here. She’s gone, George. I wish it was different, but this is real life. An
d none of us are getting out of here alive. We’re all going to die someday. Now is Johnnie Mae’s time. We need to say our good-byes, remember the good times and the joys we’ve shared, and let her go on in peace.”
“Rachel, let’s not do this in front of Johnnie Mae.”
“She can’t hear anything, George. She can’t hear us! She’s all but gone, and you’re forcing her to linger here because you don’t want to face that truth. If God wanted things to be different, He could have kept her from going through this in the first place. All your praying and believing didn’t keep her from getting toxemia. All your praying and believing didn’t keep that baby in NICU from being born prematurely. If God loves you so much, then why not just keep you from even having to go through any of this at all? If God cared anything about all of your praying and believing, why hasn’t He woken Johnnie Mae up? According to you, God can do anything but fail.”
“Excuse me,” Mrs. Gates said, “but, little lady, I wouldn’t go there if I was you. You don’t want to mess with God like that. Trust me, you don’t.”
“Rachel, I said I don’t want to do this in front of Johnnie Mae.” Landris spoke through clenched teeth, keeping his voice low. “She is going to live and not die! Do you hear me?”
“Says who?” Rachel said.
“Says the scripture I’m standing on.”
She laughed cynically as she shook her head. She then spoke softly. “Look at our mother, George.” She pointed at Mrs. Gates, who had returned to look out of the window. “Do you know what we’ve been confessing and believing about her? That she would be healed from this memory robber. That she would return to her old self again. That this is just some mistake, something that can easily be fixed. Look at her!” Rachel said, continuing to point to her mother. “She doesn’t even know that’s her daughter lying there. But I brought her anyway, and do you know why? Because I felt she needed and had a right to be able to say good-bye to her own child—a child she doesn’t even remember giving birth to!”
If Memory Serves Page 26
