Brianna reached over and took the CD. “It’s fine though. Granddad was getting to the age where he said he didn’t need to be wearing himself out being bothered with all the junk that comes with the recording business anyway. He’s enjoying himself relaxing, which is what a seventy-one-year-old should be doing, in my opinion.”
Brianna went over to the stereo, put in the CD, and pressed PLAY. The music started.
“Oh, snap!” Alana said. “I love that beat!” She started bobbing her head. “That’s the one that was just released. What’s it called?”
“ ‘Firmly I Stand,’ ” Brianna said. “It’s the words found in Psalms, chapter one.”
The words to the song began.
Verse 1
Blessed is the man that walketh not
In the counsel of the ungodly,
Nor standeth in the way of sinners,
Nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.
But his delight is in the law of the Lord;
And in His law does he meditate day and night.
Chorus (full choir):
And he
Shall be
Like a tree
Planted by the rivers of water,
That bringeth forth his fruit in his season;
His leaf also shall not wither;
And whatsoever he doeth
Shall prosper.
Verse 2
The ungodly are not so:
But are like the chaff
Which the wind
Driveth away.
I said like the chaff
Which the wind
Blows away.
The chorus played again, then verse 3.
Therefore the ungodly shall not stand
In the judgment,
Nor sinners
In the congregation
Of the righteous.
For the Lord knoweth the way
Of the righteous (Full choir) Yes, He does
But the way
Of the ungodly
Shall perish.
I said, the way
Of the ungodly
Shall perish.
“Wow, I love that!” Alana said, having risen to her feet when the chorus began.
“I know,” Brianna said. “It’s so good! He has a lot of great cuts on this CD.”
“You need to burn me a copy,” Alana said. “That CD is slamming! ”
Brianna turned down the volume and cocked her head to the side. “I will not.”
“See, you’re always so self-righteous. Nobody’s going to care if you burn me a copy.”
“Oh, yes, somebody will care. Me. The Bible tells us that a laborer is worthy of his hire. In other words, if someone works, they should be paid for their labor. If I burn you a copy of a CD, then that’s money we’re taking out of the pocket of the ones who did the work. And that’s not right.”
Alana waved off Brianna. “Girl, please. What’s King d.Avid or any of them going to actually miss if I don’t buy it? Fifty-four cents . . . a dollar? I don’t believe even losing a dollar will break anyone. But my having to pay twelve to eighteen dollars for a CD will seriously hurt me and my pocketbook, especially now. This whole video thing is just not working out the way I had hoped. And waiting tables just to pay rent on that sorry dump where I live is getting real old, real fast. I’m all for sacrificing for your dreams, but this dream is fast becoming a nightmare. Here’s my take on things going on in my life these days. All of this has me by the neck and it’s sucking the bloody life right out of me!”
“Okay, before we address ‘poor you’ and how terribly wrong things are going for you as a wannabe video vixen, let’s go back to your question about what an artist will miss should I do something like burn a copy of a CD, and give it to you,” Brianna said.
Alana flopped back down on the couch and picked up a small throw pillow. “Oh, come on. Please! Please! Let’s not have an ethics lecture. Not today. Please! Didn’t you catch when I came in that I’m experiencing a small bout of depression?”
“You were the one who brought it up, so we’re going there,” Brianna said, turning the music down even lower. She sat down beside Alana. “Okay, let’s say the artist is only personally getting a dollar for each sold CD, which I believe is a high number compared to the actual truth. Let’s say I or someone else burns a copy of the CD and gives it away. Let’s say a mere ten thousand people do this. How much money has that artist lost?”
Alana took the pillow and covered her face. “I don’t want to think today.”
“I made it easy for you,” Brianna said. “One dollar with ten thousand people.” She grabbed the pillow and pulled it away from Alana’s face. “One times ten thousand.”
Alana looked at her, then squinted her eyes. “Ten thousand dollars.”
“So, would you care about losing ten thousand dollars?” Brianna asked.
“Of course, I’d care! I’m broke! Listen, I get mad when cheap people come in the restaurant and don’t tip me or leave some wimpy little tip. Like they can’t spare ten to twenty percent of twenty dollars,” Alana said. “Two to four measly more dollars. Ugh!”
“Now do you understand?” Brianna said.
“I understand that I’m not rich. I also understand that King d.Avid is mega rich. He should consider you, or anyone else, burning a copy for people like me as part of his program for giving back to the poor.” Alana again fell back, limp, against the couch.
“Okay,” Brianna said. “I’m going to give this one more stab, and then I’m through.”
“Thank you,” Alana said, quickly sitting back up.
Brianna laughed. “You’re so crazy. All right. Let’s say you, Alana Gail Norwood, happen to really enjoy the work of someone: a recording artist, someone’s book, someone’s movie. But you’re managing to always get it in a nefarious way.”
“Please, no big words today,” Alana said, rolling her eyes.
“Okay, you’re getting it illegally or free. And I’m not talking about checking it out of the library, which is totally fine and legal and shows support. I’m talking about—”
“I know what you’re talking about. So, please get on with it and finish already.”
“What do you think happens when the record company or the book publisher or the movie executives start looking at sales numbers? If it doesn’t look like what was produced is selling well, do you honestly believe anyone wants to get behind or stay behind something like that? Do you think the company still wants to put out that type of product, at least by that artist, if it looks like the project isn’t faring well financially?”
“Yeah, but a whole lot of people are interested because they’re bootlegging it, buying bootleg copies, burning it, passing it on, or lending it out when they’re finished.”
“But it’s all about the colors red and black, and the final numbers. And it doesn’t matter about the underground distribution if those in charge can’t see that it’s making any money. Then those artists are cut from the company and you can’t get their products. How will you feel? How will you then be blessed by their gifts and talents?”
Alana threw up her hands. “Okay, okay, okay! So don’t burn me a copy then!”
Brianna also threw up her hands, but in triumph. “Finally!” she said.
“Hey, can you let me borrow it? I’ll give it right back, after I put it on my iPod.”
Brianna started laughing. “Okay, I give up. You’re hopeless. Hope-less!”
Alana tilted her head sideways. “What? What?” She started laughing as well.
Chapter 3
He divided the sea, and caused them to pass through; and he made the waters to stand as a heap.
—Psalm 78:13
Brianna could hardly wait for Unzell to get home. She continued to look out of the window for the first sign of his car pulling up in the driveway. As soon as he drove up, she ran out of the house and straight into his arms. “I’m so glad you’re home!” she said, then kissed him several times.
Unzell smiled. “I’ve missed you, too. But you shouldn’t have waited up for me like this. It’s past midnight.”
“I know. But you’ve been gone for three weeks now. Besides, I couldn’t have fallen asleep anyway knowing you were coming home tonight. I knew you would try not to wake me when you came in. Somehow, you always manage to slip into bed without waking me.”
He released her from his arms, then popped open the trunk with the keyless remote.
“Why don’t you just leave your things until the morning,” she said. “You can take them out then.”
Unzell continued walking toward the trunk. “You know me; I like to handle things in the now instead of putting them off until later.”
Brianna smiled. “I know. But I’ve missed you.” Her voice was purring . . . flirty.
He lifted the large suitcase out of the trunk, then closed it back. “We have a whole three days to catch up and spend together,” Unzell said. “Just the two of us.”
“So you’re only going to be home for three days?”
He put his arm around her as he carried the suitcase in his other hand. “Yeah.”
They walked into the house. He set the suitcase down. “Why so quiet all of a sudden?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing.”
“See, I knew you were tired. Why don’t you go on to bed, and after I get a quick shower, I’ll be right in.”
“I’m not tired. I told you; I’ve missed you.” She stood on her tippy-toes and gave him a peck on his lips.
He instantly began to yawn. “Well, you may not be tired, but I am beat.” He began to grin. “But I do have some good news.”
Brianna grinned back. “What? Tell me.” She bounced a few times.
“I just got promoted from assistant stage manager to stage manager.”
“Oh, Unzell, that’s wonderful! You’ve only been with them for four months and you’re already moving up the ladder. That’s my baby! I knew you would.”
He yawned again. “Yeah. Management says they’re impressed with my work as well as my work ethic. In fact, Jock Adamson—that’s the guy over the whole operation—says at the rate I’m learning and doing all of this, he can see me stepping into being production manager quicker than anyone he’s ever worked with. But you know how to land the job you want, don’t you?”
“And how is that, my fantastically brilliant hunk of a husband?”
“By doing the work of the job you desire to have. When people in position see you doing the work before you get there, they’ll be able to see that you can do it. I’m learning and doing as much as I can about production managing. And you just watch. I’ll be a production manager before you know it.”
Brianna smiled.
“What are you smiling about?” Unzell asked.
She entwined her fingers with his. “I missed you. I’m just glad that you’re home.”
“Well, you go on and get in the bed, Mrs. Waters. And I’ll be in there, right next to you, before you even have time to miss me again. I promise.” He raised their entwined hands up to his lips and softly kissed hers. He then turned her toward their bedroom.
“Okay,” Brianna said. “But make it snappy! I’m starting to miss you already.”
He laughed. “No doubt.” He scanned her body with longing eyes. “No definite doubt.”
The next morning was Saturday. Brianna woke up around nine and made Unzell breakfast in bed. She placed one purple pansy in a small vase on the tray. Although she tried, nothing she did would fully awaken him. She put his plate in the refrigerator.
No longer enrolled in college and still in search of a job, Brianna logged onto the Internet and put in a few applications to places she’d learned last night were possibly hiring. Like most companies, these companies no longer accepted applications in person.
Around noon, she heard Unzell moving around. By the time she reached the bedroom, he was stumbling back into the bed. “Baby, I’m sorry I’m so tired,” he said, fluffing his pillow, then lying back down. “This job can be rough. And my bum leg bothers me from time to time. Still, I keep on pushing. For us, I keep on pushing.”
“I understand,” she said, snuggling up next to him. But that conversation was promptly cut short by the sound of snoring; just that fast, he was back out like a light.
Brianna decided to go to the grocery store and buy some things to fix some of his favorite dishes. She’d originally hoped they’d go out later. But she knew, just from these last hours, he was not likely going to want to go anywhere. Not on this day anyway.
Back from the store, she began preparing the meal. Besides her being smart, Unzell had told her that was another thing she was: a terrific cook. Unzell loved to eat out, from Thai to Mexican to Italian to Greek to Japanese to Chinese foods. But he always bragged that there was “nothing like a good ole home-cooked, Southern meal where the alchemist creating the meal” (usually a woman but not mandatory) “threw down,” essentially “putting her or his foot in it.” A meal so good it made you “want to slap somebody.”
Of course, Brianna already knew that whether she decided on fried chicken, fried pork chops, or her mother’s tried-and-true meatloaf, along with fresh vegetables—not the canned or frozen kind, unless it was canned or frozen by the hands of someone personally known—this meal had to include fresh, hot-out-of-the-oven cornbread with melting butter smashed and lathered in between, and perfectly brewed, perfectly sweetened, sweet tea. And anyone who really knew Unzell, knew that his favorite cake was German chocolate.
Brianna decided to go with her special herbs and spices fried pork chops, turnip greens, mashed potatoes sprinkled with cheese, creamed corn, freshly sliced Big Boy tomatoes and red onions for the greens, a seven-layer salad, and sweet potato mallow. And for dessert: made-from-scratch German chocolate cake. She kept everything warm that should be, until she knew for sure Unzell was up. That’s when she popped the pan of cornbread into the bottom oven to ensure it would be piping hot when he sat down to eat.
“My goodness,” Unzell said when he walked into the dining area of the kitchen and saw how beautifully Brianna had set the table. “What is all of this for?”
Brianna smiled as she sauntered over to him. “Welcome home, husband.” She stood on her tippy-toes and pecked him on his lips.
He leaned down and gave her a real kiss, complete with passion, and beamed. “You did all of this for me? Just for me?”
“Yes.” She pulled away and went to the oven to check on the cornbread. It was a perfect golden brown. “The bread is ready. Sit, so you can eat while everything is hot.”
He rubbed his hands together and grinned as she placed the food in bowls and plates and set them on the table. “I’m so hungry! All of this looks so great!” Before he sat down at the table, he went into the den, picked up the remote control off the coffee table, and turned on the television. “There should be a football game on somewhere.”
“But it’s Saturday,” Brianna said.
“I know. You know colleges play their games on Saturday. One should still be on. And if not, I’m sure there’s a replay of one of the games I missed earlier today.” He sat and began to fix his plate, glancing at the TV as he scooped various items onto his plate.
“Would you prefer eating in the den so you can see the television better?” Brianna asked, hoping he would see how rude what he was doing really was.
He smiled. “You don’t mind?” He began putting the food on the plate even faster. “Baby, you’re the best!” He went into the den with a full plate and a tall glass of tea and sat down. Saying a quick prayer, he glanced back at Brianna and said, “The best!”
Brianna came in with her plate and sat down next to him. She forced a smile and hoped he didn’t sense her disappointment. “Thanks,” she said.
On Sunday, Brianna and Unzell went to church. Brianna was hoping they might go out to dinner and a movie after the service was over.
“With all that food we have left at the house?” Unzell said
. “There’s not a restaurant around that can throw down like you did yesterday. I was looking forward to finishing off the leftovers today.”
“Are you sure?” Brianna asked.
“Oh, yeah. When you’re gone from home all the time the way I’m gone these days, you find yourself just like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz: ‘There’s no place like home,’ ” Unzell said as he headed home. “Besides, there are all of these games coming on today, one right after the other. Now what could be better than eating the best food in town in front of some of the best games in town along with the best wife in town?”
“Maybe watching a movie with your wife,” Brianna said, almost mumbling it.
He glanced over at her and smiled. “Oh, you want to watch a movie together?”
Brianna’s face lit up. She blushed a little. “Yes.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll tell you what. After the games are over tonight, we’ll pop in a nice little movie. Or better yet, we can order a video on demand so we can catch a new release. We can watch a movie in bed. How about that? You certainly can’t go to a movie theater and get your romance on the way we’ll be able to get ours on in our own house.”
“Unzell, I was hoping that we could do some things when you came home.” Brianna looked at him, then felt bad for what she’d just said. She never wanted to become one of those whining, nagging wives. “I suppose you are tired of going all the time though. We can spend some time at home if that’s what you’d rather do. As long as we’re together, that’s all that really matters. Right?”
He smiled. “I love you so much. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” Brianna said. “I really do.” She smiled at him, then turned and gazed out of the window, watching the changing scenes, almost like a blur, zip by.
Chapter 4
And the king said, is there not yet any of the house of Saul, that I may shew the kindness of God unto him? And Ziba said unto the king, Jonathan hath yet a son, which is lame on his feet.
—2 Samuel 9:3
Redeeming Waters Page 3
