If Memory Serves

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  Landris kneeled down beside the bed as he continued to hold onto Johnnie Mae’s hand. “Lord, Your Word says we will be able to lay hands on the sick, and they will recover. Your Word says, when we pray, we should believe that we have received. When we pray, that’s what Your Word declares. I have prayed, I’ve delighted myself in You, regardless of what things have looked like. I now believe I have received the desires of my heart! I thank You. Thank You, Jesus.”

  Suddenly, Landris felt a slight squeeze to his hand. He stopped, wondering if it had just been his mind playing tricks on him or merely some type of involuntary movement. He stood and stared at Johnnie Mae, trying to see if what he thought had actually occurred, in fact had. “Look. Did you see that?” Landris asked Jackie. He leaned closer. “Johnnie Mae, open your eyes,” he said. “Johnnie Mae, I need you to open your eyes. Come on now. In the name of Jesus, I command you to open your eyes!”

  Landris could see it. As he stood there watching her, Johnnie Mae looked like she was definitely struggling to open her eyes.

  “We need a doctor here,” Landris said, controlling his tone so as not to be too loud, as he glanced at Jackie, who was already on her way out the door. Quickly, his attention returned to Johnnie Mae’s face. “Come on, baby. Come on. You can do this. I’m right here. Come on, now. Open your eyes.”

  Johnnie Mae squeezed his hand a little again. Then, just as a butterfly’s wings flutter before the butterfly takes flight and flies away, Johnnie Mae opened her eyes. She looked at him and struggled to reach up, as though she was trying to touch his face. Then, there it was: a tiny smile crossed her face for her beloved.

  “Landris,” she mouthed his name.

  Chapter 51

  Even every one that is called by My name: for I have created him for My glory, I have formed him; yea, I have made him.

  Isaiah 43:7

  Johnnie Mae recovered rapidly following that fateful, faith-full night. It was amazing to all just how quickly. To take some of the miracle buzz making its rounds throughout the hospital away, a few of the doctors who’d declared hope was all but gone reported that it wasn’t at all uncommon for someone to come out of coma, even years later, to a full recovery. Johnnie Mae had no damage whatsoever to any part of her body. Her heart was good, her brain was fine, and she hadn’t suffered a stroke, which had been a major concern. The next day, she was moved to a different floor.

  A nurse stuck her head inside the door of Johnnie Mae’s room. “We have a surprise for you,” she said as the door opened wider. And there, in a special incubator crib, was Johnnie Mae and Landris’s baby boy. Landris, who had opened the door for them, came in behind them.

  Seeing her son, Johnnie Mae placed her hands over her mouth and began to cry.

  “Oh, please don’t cry,” the nurse said. “This little fellow has waited a long time, a whole month, to meet you. We even put him in a special little doodad,” she said, referring to his blue hooded outfit, “especially for this first meeting.”

  The nurse gave Johnnie Mae something to sanitize her hands. Then she carefully took the baby out. “Mommy, he’s doing so good,” the nurse said. “From what I hear from Daddy, the doctors say if the two of you continue improving like you’re doing, you both may be going home close to the same time.” She placed the baby in Johnnie Mae’s awaiting arms.

  “Only one thing,” the nurse continued as she released him into Johnnie Mae’s care, “I believe he might be getting a small complex. See, all the other babies have names, and, as you can tell, his placard still says ‘Boy Landris.’ Now, Mommy, I’ve been told we’ve been waiting on you to give this little jewel a name.” She looked at Landris and grinned.

  Johnnie Mae couldn’t take her eyes off her son. “He’s beautiful! Oh, Landris, look at him. Isn’t he beautiful?”

  “Oh, you should have seen him before we started him on that workout routine,” Landris said. “The doctors and nurses had their routine for him to do, and I had mine.”

  “Workout routine?” Johnnie Mae asked, looking to Landris for a better explanation.

  “Yeah, workout routine,” Landris said. “His faith workouts. He and I have been lifting the Word of God, getting all fit and in shape, like nobody’s business. Go ahead—ask him about a scripture. Any scripture. He can probably tell you chapter and verse for some of them.” Landris grinned. Seeing his wife and baby son in tandem, he thought how perfect they looked together. He took out his cell phone and, using the camera feature, quickly snapped their picture.

  “Landris, don’t be doing that,” Johnnie Mae said, smoothing down her hair with her hand. “I know I look a hot mess . . . like death warmed-over right now. My hair grew out, while you—on the other hand—went and cut yours completely off. I still can’t believe you did that.” She looked at his low-cut hairstyle and smiled. “But I like it.”

  “What did you just say?” the nurse asked Johnnie Mae. “A hot mess? Death warmed-over? I’ve heard a lot in my day, but I can’t say I’ve ever quite heard it put like that before. And if you ask me, I don’t see anything wrong with either of your hair. But then again, I’m a red-headed white woman who has trouble deciding whether to part or not to part my hair, and if so, which side, so what do I know?”

  “Johnnie Mae, you look beautiful,” Landris said, handing his phone to the nurse. “Will you do us the honors of taking our very first family photo, please?” He stepped over next to Johnnie Mae and placed his face against hers. “Say cheese, baby Landris,” Landris said.

  “Isaiah,” Johnnie Mae said.

  Landris turned to her. “What?” he said, just as the camera snapped.

  “Oh, you moved,” the nurse said to Landris. “Now we’ll have to take it again.” She held the camera up once more. “Okay, ready this time? On the count of three. One, two, three.” She snapped it again, then looked at the screen. “Oh, that’s a good one!”

  “Isaiah,” Johnnie Mae said, looking from her son’s face to her husband’s. “I’d like to name him Isaiah.” She then directed her attention exclusively to Landris. “Will you be terribly disappointed . . . I mean, if he’s not a junior or the second?”

  “Honestly, I’m just grateful to God that Isaiah is finally in his mother’s arms.”

  The nurse handed Landris his phone. She pulled a clip-boardlike holder from below the portable crib. “Middle name?” she asked. “Little Isaiah here needs a middle name. If you’ll give that to me, then we can finish this form for his birth certificate, you two can sign it, and we can get this baby filed with the State of Alabama and make his name official.”

  Johnnie Mae looked up at Landris. “Do you have any preferences for a middle name? Any ideas?”

  Landris looked at her, then the baby. “You and I were tossing around a few names at one time, remember? I just don’t know.”

  “Well, you can think about it and let us know later,” the nurse said. “Someone from the business office usually gets this information. They asked me because they knew I was coming in. Someone can come back and get his middle name later.”

  “How about Barron Edward?” Landris asked.

  “What are you saying? You don’t like the name Isaiah?” Johnnie Mae asked.

  “No. I mean, no, that’s not what I’m saying. Isaiah is a great name. In fact, I’ve been studying the book of Isaiah these past few weeks. I read passages to you while you were in that coma. What I mean is . . . let’s name him Isaiah Barron Edward Landris.”

  “Four names?” Johnnie Mae said. “Can we do that on a birth certificate?” She looked to the nurse for an answer.

  “Sure,” the nurse said, looking at the form. “There’s nothing that says you can’t.”

  “Isaiah Barron Edward Landris,” Johnnie Mae said, repeating it several times. “Oh, I love that! It’s so strong.” She touched her baby’s tiny arm. “What do you think, Isaiah?”

  “Well, not that I count, but I love it, too,” the nurse said as she wrote it down and handed the board to Landris. “If you two
will look that over, be sure everything’s correct, then sign it, you’ll be all done with giving this precious, precious baby a name that I’m sure all the other babies will be envious of when he returns.” She smiled. “Now, don’t you go in there telling the other babies I said that, either,” she said to Isaiah as she winked. She went over to the wall and pressed the bottle to apply sanitizer to her hands.

  “Okay, I have to get little Isaiah back to his temporary place of residence,” the nurse said, reaching out for him and taking him out of a reluctant Johnnie Mae’s arms. “He’s still lifting his weights, as Daddy put it, so he can continue growing better and bigger and stronger. Aren’t you, little fellow?” the nurse said in a baby-friendly voice to Isaiah. “We don’t want to tire him out too much, especially on his first official day out to see you, now, do we?” she said, again saying that last part using a baby-friendly voice.

  Landris and Johnnie Mae signed the form as the nurse carefully placed Isaiah back inside his portable crib. Landris handed the clipboard, with the signed paper, back to the nurse.

  “When can I see him again?” Johnnie Mae asked.

  “Don’t worry,” Landris said, “I’ll take you in to see him whenever you want. Just as long as you promise me you won’t try and overdo things. You’re still recovering, you know?”

  The nurse pushed Isaiah’s crib to the door. “Tell Mommy and Daddy bye-bye,” the nurse said as she stood waving. “Say ‘Bye-bye, Mommy. . . . Bye-bye, Daddy. I’ll see you later,’ ” she said, mimicking the way Isaiah would probably say it if he could talk.

  “See you later, Isaiah,” Johnnie Mae said as she blew him butterfly kisses. “Bye-bye.... Mommy loves you. Bye.” She waved until he was gone. She looked at Landris, rubbed his hair on one side of his head, lovingly caressed his face, then began to cry.

  He held her in his arms. “I know, baby. I love you,” he said. “Truly, I do.”

  Chapter 52

  Declaring the end from the beginning, and from an- cient times the things that are not yet done, saying, My counsel shall stand, and I will do all My plea- sure....

  Isaiah 46:10

  It was the last day of August 2005, and Gayle stood before those in attendance at the reading of Sarah Elaine Fleming’s last will and testament to say a few words.

  “Miss Fleming asked me, a few months after I came to work for her, if I would consider being the executor of her will,” Gayle began. “I told her that I knew nothing about doing anything like that. She assured me that her lawyer”—she nodded to acknowledge Lance Seymour—“would handle all relevant details, and all I would need do was to carry out certain wishes and duties associated with it as requested or required.”

  Gayle took two steps to her right. “I, like all of you here today, will truly miss Sarah Fleming. Miss Fleming was more than someone I took care of medically, more like a beloved family matriarch than an employer. One of the most joyous occasions I’ve ever been blessed to have been a part of was this past June when we came together and celebrated Christmas in what some would call out-of-season. As those of us who attended know, it was very much in season and very much on time. Who knew that would be her last Christmas celebration? It was indeed Miss Fleming making her exit on her own terms. She almost reached her ninetieth birthday, but that was not to be. She taught us to live in the now and to celebrate each moment as though it were our last. In truth, none of us really know when our last day will be.” Gayle nodded as she pursed her lips.

  “Most of her wishes are self-explanatory,” Gayle said. “I’m sure with some things, you may have questions about why things were done the way they were, or what she may have intended. I’ll do my best to answer any questions I’m asked, as best I can. But I can only relay to you what she told me. That being said, I’ll turn the actual reading of the will back into the capable hands of her lawyer and good friend, Mr. Lance Seymour.”

  After the reading was over, Memory sat there utterly stunned. Gayle had been correct about most things not needing to be explained. But there were a few things, not actually regarding the will, she wanted to know for herself.

  Memory pulled Gayle off to the side. “May we talk?” she asked.

  Gayle smiled. “Sure. Let’s go find a room where we can have some privacy.”

  They went down the hall of Mr. Seymour’s place, a once-quaint house now converted into an office building, and found a small room with a couch. Gayle closed the door once they were inside, and they sat down.

  Memory bit down on her bottom lip, then pressed her lips together. “My mother was more than generous to me in her will. Frankly, I’m still taken aback by the vastness of her wealth. She was quite charitable to many. Having known her, even for just that short time, I learned the type of person she was. She was truly a remarkable and caring person. I am curious, though, as to how you managed to be chosen as the executor of her will. Listen, I don’t know how to say it except to just say it,” Memory said.

  Memory folded her hands, then placed them in her lap. “Gayle, something, quite frankly, isn’t adding up for me about you. You see, twice, once before the Christmas celebration, and then again just before my mother died, I heard you on the phone talking to Montgomery. I know it was him because I overheard you address him by his name both times. I had fully intended to talk with you about that, after the celebration was over, but I wanted to put some distance between such a joyous occasion, and what I knew could potentially turn into an all-out war in the house if things went badly.”

  Memory looked down at her hands, then back up. “She and I were in her room talking. We were eating chocolate cake. You of all people knew how much she loved chocolate. We were really bonding, having a great time together. She was laughing, then suddenly she got quiet. I thought she’d fallen asleep. Just that fast, she was gone.”

  Gayle looked at Memory. She tilted her head to the side. “You really do favor her.... Your mother. You favor her a lot. Especially your eyes. You have her eyes.” Gayle smiled. “Memory, there’s something I want to tell you. Your mother asked me not to let you or Lena know this originally, but a few days before the Christmas celebration, she said it was okay to tell you anything I felt I needed to. Sarah knew I had talked to Montgomery those days and all the other times before that. In fact, my talking and dealing with him was all her idea.”

  Memory chuckled. “Gayle, now I was born during the day, but let me assure you, it wasn’t yesterday. You’re going to have to do a lot better than that to pull one over on an old pro like me. Now, it’s my understanding that Montgomery, as well as his father before him, did a lot of damage to my mother’s life. It was because of their actions that we were both robbed of precious time together. So why would my mother have you talking to the likes of Montgomery at all?”

  “It’s true, Montgomery did do a lot of damage. Which is why, when I came to work for Sarah, she devised a plan for us to ensure he would never get a foothold or gain that much power over her, her children, or her children’s children ever again. Those were her exact words.”

  “How do I know that you weren’t just playing her?” Memory asked. “What if you merely took advantage of an elderly woman like so many others have done in the past? Look, I’ve done my share of getting-close-and-doing-people-in in my lifetime. I know how this works. This would have been a sweet gig for you—money, power, and wealth, all rolled up into one.”

  “Memory, your mother trusted me. She trusted me with her life. What you don’t know is that the legendary Pearl Black was my grandmother. Her last name was Williams after she married, but most folk still called her Pearl Black. Before my grandmother died, she told me the story of Sarah and her child—that would be you. She’d heard from a woman named Johnnie Mae Landris—I know you’re familiar with her—that your mother was possibly still alive. She knew for a fact that unless you’d died after you were with the Pattersons, you were still alive. She told me if there was ever a time where I found I could make things right for Sarah Fleming, she wanted me to do i
t. I made her a promise that I would. In fact, my grandmother made me promise her two things on that day. So when Sarah needed a home-nurse, I applied for the job. Her lawyer, Mr. Seymour, didn’t play when it came to Miss Fleming, especially in the early days when everyone was looking for Montgomery to retaliate in some way. Mr. Seymour and his people did all kinds of background checks on me, both officially and unofficially.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not familiar with Pearl Black. . . .” Memory paused. “Wait a minute. Pearl Black, that was the woman Grace spoke about on the videotape—you mean, that Pearl Black?”

  Lena opened the door and stuck her head inside. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt, but we were worried about you,” she said to Memory. “I really wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but did I just hear y’all saying something about Pearl Black?”

  “Yes, I just told Memory that Pearl Black was actually my grandmother,” Gayle said.

  Lena looked shocked. “Pearl Black was your grandmother?”

  “Yes. Please come in and sit while I finish the story,” Gayle said. “This will save me from having to repeat it to you later, Lena.” Gayle scooted over so there would be room for Lena to sit next to Memory.

  “As I was telling Memory, Pearl Black was my grandmother,” Gayle said, continuing. “I came to work for Miss Fleming at the end of October 2001. And yes, Miss Fleming told me everything, so I know you’re familiar with Pearl Black, as well as her significance to your family,” Gayle said, addressing Lena at this time.

  “I was up front with Miss Fleming from the start about who I was,” Gayle said. “Still, Mr. Seymour checked me, and my story about who I was, out thoroughly. As I was just telling Memory, when it came to Miss Fleming, Lance Seymour was always super-protective. I told Miss Fleming all that my grandmother, Pearl, had told me before she died.” Gayle then repeated all she’d said that Lena had previously missed.