Through the Storm

by Vanessa Miller

  After about four other people had gone in, the receptionist walked over to her and said with a smile on her face, “The doctor will see you now.”

  Iona understood that the doctor she was about to see was more spiritual than natural, and that was just fine with her. She was in need of a lot of spiritual healing. The woman Iona sat down with introduced herself as Dr. Smith and then took the clipboard away from Iona and asked, “So why are you here today?”

  Unashamed, Iona opened her mouth and told her doctor everything. She talked about her lack of spiritual balance, how her career had come to mean everything to her and how she’d willingly tossed God to the side to become successful in her field. She talked about being in love and being betrayed and how much that hurt. She told the doctor that she had come to believe that God had betrayed her family and on and on she went, until she had nothing left.

  The doctor then took hold of her hands and began to pray for her and all her ailments. But this prayer was unlike any Iona had ever experienced. This woman touched the very core of Iona’s being with the words she spoke to God. The prayer was electrifying, and before Iona knew it, she was on her knees crying and praying to God from her own heart. It was invigorating and unlike anything Iona had ever experienced. On her way out of the room, Iona was ready to forgive. She dropped the rocks she held for Donavan and Diana in the waste basket and kept moving toward her final stop.

  In the Prayer room Iona was told that she must forget about herself and unselfishly pray for others.

  Iona’s mother was in this room, her head bowed in prayer as she faced the wall lined with chalk boards. Several sheets of art paper were taped to the chalk boards. On the paper were lists of people and organizations that needed prayer, such as, the pastor and his family, the president of the United States, congress, the senate, teachers and police officers. When Iona saw the word police officers, she immediately thought of Johnny and his betrayal. She looked down at her basket and noticed that she still had two rocks in her basket. One of them belonged to Johnny. She had loved him and wanted to build a future with him. To discover that he had just been playing her to get to her father stung, but she reminded herself that God had forgiven her for betraying Him, so she would have to do the same for Johnny. And just like that she was able to let go of another rock.

  Iona sat down and began to pray for the lists of people she had been instructed to pray for. When she finished, she noticed that although her mother had obviously been in this room a lot longer than she, they both finished praying for all the people, organizations and communities at about the same time. But Iona wasn’t going to let that get her down; her mother had been praying a lot longer than she had, so of course she would be able to speak with the Lord longer. Iona vowed that she would catch up with Cynda and Nina in the prayer department.

  Smiling, Iona walked over to Cynda and told her, “This was an awesome experience. Thank you so much for bringing me.”

  “I knew you would enjoy it,” Cynda told her with a smile that equaled Iona’s, then as the smile subsided she said, “Let’s go on home, I’m getting a little tired.”

  “Oh, of course. I’m sorry I forced you to come with me.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I truly enjoyed this experience.”

  Iona began pushing Cynda’s wheelchair, but Cynda stopped her. She pointed to the basket that Iona brought with her into the Prayer room. “You still have one rock left. Did you forget to put it in the wastebasket?”

  Iona turned toward her small basket on the floor next to the chair she sat in while she prayed. There was indeed one last rock left in it. She had been so caught up in praying for others that she forgot about the one thing that was still on her prayer list; her hatred for the person that was trying to frame her father for something he didn’t do. She walked over to the basket, picked up the rock, bounced it in her hand a few times; felt the weight of it and desperately wanted to release it, but she couldn’t. Iona slid the rock in her pocket and turned back to her mother. “Let’s just say, God ain’t finished with me yet. Okay?”

  There was no judgment in Cynda’s eyes or in her words as she said, “That’s the way it is sometime. You keep that rock until you can throw it away without looking back, okay?”

  Iona nodded and they left the church.

  Keith was in the parking lot waiting on them. He got out of the car and helped Cynda out of the chair. “Ladies, how was your journey?”

  Iona kissed Keith on his cheek and said, “Thanks for bringing us. This was an experience of a life time.”

  “So I see,” Keith said. He opened the front passenger door for Cynda and waited as she slowly seated herself.

  As Keith put the wheelchair in the trunk, Iona sat in the back and slid her hand around the rock that was in her pocket. It wasn’t just a rock to Iona. She was holding unforgiveness in her hands and there was nothing she could do about it but pray that this situation would soon come to an end.

  Iona’s eyes grew wide as she realized that someone else was carrying a rock of unforgiveness, and it was directed at her father. “Oh my God,” she screamed. “I know what’s going on.”

  Keith turned toward Iona. “What’s wrong?”

  Startled out of her own thoughts, Iona looked up. Realizing that it had been Keith talking to her she said, “Oh, I’m okay. I just figured something out.” Then she took her cell phone out of her purse and called her father. When Isaac picked up the phone, she was so excited she could barely calm down long enough to tell him anything. “Daddy, I th-think I---”

  “Calm down, Iona, what’s going on?” Isaac asked.

  She took a deep breath and said, “Okay, first off, you’ll be glad to know that I rededicated my life to the Lord today.”

  “What!” Isaac exploded. “Aw, baby that’s some wonderful news. I can’t wait to tell Nina.”

  “That’s not all, Daddy. I also figured out who is trying to frame you.”

  “Who?” Isaac asked quickly.

  “Well, I don’t exactly know who it is, but I think I know why he picked you.”

  Isaac said, “Go on.”

  “I went through this thing called a Prayer Journey today. During the journey I went into one room where we were told to put rocks in a basket for everyone that we had something against or were just angry with. I put seven rocks in my basket.”

  “Seven?” Isaac exclaimed.

  Iona rolled her eyes. “Will you let me tell my story and stop judging me?”

  Cynda laughed and said, “That’s right, baby, you tell him.”

  “Mom thinks you should stop judging me also,” Iona told Isaac.

  “How’s your mom doing?” Isaac asked.

  “She’s a little worn out after all that praying she did in the prayer room,” Iona said with a chuckle.

  Keith lifted a hand off the steering wheel and high fived Cynda. “My wife the prayer warrior.”

  Cynda turned back to Iona and reminded her, “Hey, you prayed too.”

  “Yeah, but your prayers were extra long. But it’s cool, Mom. You just have a lot to talk to the Lord about,” she told Cynda and then went back to her phone conversation. “Anyway, Dad, I had all these rocks, which represented people that I was angry with, and as I went into each room I was able to let go of a rock here and another there. But by the end of the journey, I still had one rock. It was my rock of unforgiveness.”

  “Okay. But I don’t understand how that relates to what’s going on with me,” Isaac said.

  “Don’t you see, Daddy? This is not some random guy out killing people just for the thrill of it. He is very specific with each victim. The people he killed were all thieves, and you tried to get them to accept God’s forgiveness, and in some instances, you were successful. And that’s what I think this is about. There was someone in your life that you didn’t forgive – someone that most likely stole something from you. And now this person sees you forgiving and ushering in God’s forgiveness for others in the same predicament he was in and he
sees you as a hypocrite.”

  “Iona, I have wiped my slate clean. I have forgiven everyone that has ever done anything to me,” Isaac told her.

  “Yeah, now you have. But I need you to go back. I know you hate to do this, but I need you to meditate on your past and find the person that is holding you to your word.”

  “What word?” Isaac asked.

  “Don’t you remember the note, Daddy? It said ‘No forgiveness for thieves, isn’t that right, Pastor Walker?’ The killer is throwing those words back in your face. There’s someone you didn’t forgive, Daddy; and I think that person is buried so deep in your past that you’ve forgotten. But you’re going to have to remember if you want this to go away.

  Part Two

  Chapter 21

  The Killing Years – Forty years ago

  When the poor man’s cocaine came on the scene, the world was not ready for how it would be rattled, shook and eventually robbed of once productive tax paying citizens. Crack was so affordable that small time hustlers could buy the product, flip it, and flip it until they became king pins and mafia dogs like the hustlers they had once worked for. That was how the killing started. Everyone wanted a piece of the pie, and all they had to do was gun down the crack king currently on top. But Isaac Walker didn’t play that. He had built his organization by sweat, hard work and a bullet if need be. As far as Isaac could see, he wasn’t going down, because winners went up.

  However, Isaac did have a problem, and his name was Spoony Davidson. Spoony had groomed Isaac since he was eleven years old. He’d shown him the ropes: How to be a Hustler 101 took place every day on the streets of Chicago, and Spoony was the teacher. Isaac was his prize pupil, or at least Isaac had been Spoony’s pupil. These days, Isaac had his own instructor’s license.

  Spoony had given Isaac the money to make his first and second flip. After that, Isaac was using his own money; but he never forgot that Spoony had done him a good turn. So even though he could get his product a little cheaper if he found his own connection, Isaac believed that if you forgot the bridge that carried you over; when you need it again, the bridge just might explode on you. In short, loyalty was king with Isaac. So he sat in Spoony’s basement waiting on him to arrive so they could get down to business and Isaac could get on with his day.

  Linda, Spoony’s wife and ex-call girl, had let Isaac in the house and told him to wait in the basement. She was sporting her monthly black eye and swollen jaw. Isaac had a feeling that the reason Linda no longer walked the streets had a lot more to do with how Spoony had rearranged her once pretty face than it had to do with the wedding ring she sported. Spoony would have put his own sister on the street if she owed him a nickel.

  After waiting twenty minutes, Spoony came strutting down the stairs. He was midnight black with pearly white teeth that he coyly showed off as he smiled. “Hey, Ike-man, what’s going on?”

  They called him Ike-man because he beat men like Ike beat Tina Turner. “Nothing much,” Isaac said as he remained seated.

  “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long. You know how it is. In our business you have to constantly put out fires.”

  Isaac smiled but said nothing. He knew how it was all right. When Isaac first went out on his own and Spoony was helping him set up his empire, their meetings were always held on time. That was the first thing Spoony taught him; never waste another man’s time. But as Isaac’s empire began to grow, Spoony started coming to their meetings later and later. It was a power play, plain and simple.

  Spoony stood behind the bar that was covered with red and black leather. The stools in front of the bar were also covered in black leather. He poured two drinks, both Remy Martin, and walked over to the black leather couch. He sat down, put Isaac’s glass on the table and then leaned back. He propped his feet on the table and gulped down his drink. He saw that Isaac’s drink was still on the table and asked, “You ain’t thirsty?”

  “You didn’t hand me nothing. I thought both of those drinks belonged to you.” Isaac hunched his shoulder. “The glass is still on your side of the table.”

  Spoony took his feet off the coffee table and sat up straight. “Oh, you too high and mighty to grab your drink from my side of the table?”

  Isaac didn’t respond. He wasn’t the kind of man that was easily riled. He didn’t make a habit of rising to bait that was thrown out for him to hang himself on. Even at twenty-three, he didn’t play games. He took charge, handled his business and left the flexing to lesser men. In his rise to power he’d killed his share of hustlers without regret. In Isaac’s mind, some scum needed killing. When they tried to kill you or muscle in on your turf, oh yeah, they were asking for a bullet to the head. But Isaac had never shot a man simply for disrespecting him. He figured that you earned your respect on the street one hustle at a time, and if you weren’t getting respect, well then you needed to bring your game up.

  “You ignoring me, Nigga?” Spoony asked while drinking out of the glass he’d brought to the table for Isaac.

  Isaac stood. Mentor or no mentor, he had earned his respect and he wasn’t about to sit there and let Spoony strip him of it. “When you’re ready to do business, you know where to find me. I’m out,” Isaac said as he turned and headed for the basement stairs.

  Spoony slammed the glass on the coffee table and stood. “You turning your back on me? You think you something now don’t you? Big man, Isaac.” When Spoony noticed that Isaac had not broken his stride to comment on any of his trash talking, and that Isaac was, in fact, about to leave, he said, “Come on, man, don’t leave. You know I don’t have good sense. I didn’t mean nothing by what I said.”

  Isaac was half way up the stairs, but he turned and walked back down into the basement. No sense throwing away twelve years of friendship without at least finding out what was going on. Isaac sat down and asked, “What’s with you?”

  “Nothing,” Spoony said while rubbing his forehead and his bushy eyebrows. “Some cats just been talking trash that’s all.”

  “What kind of trash?” Isaac asked.

  “You know how Marko and Brown are. They think you’re trying to take over all of our territories; and they don’t like it.”

  Marko Stevens and Calvin Brown were old school hustlers who ran the streets with Spoony when cocaine and heroine were the only games in town. But now that crack was on the scene, they were forced to move over and let former soldiers like Isaac take over their territory. But Isaac didn’t much care what Marko and Brown thought. As far as he was concerned, if either of them got in his face about his business, their families would be doing some slow singing and flower bringing. “So what do you think, Spoony? Do you think I’m trying to take over your territory?”

  Spoony sat down and slouched in his seat. “Naw, man, I don’t think you’re trying to take my territory. I know how you feel about loyalty. But people are talking.”

  Isaac knew they were talking. It was like that part in the Bible when the women came out to greet King Saul and David as they came home from a battle and the women sang, “Saul has killed his thousands and David his ten thousand.” The song didn’t sit right with King Saul nor did the fact that hustlers were saying that Isaac’s hustle would soon surpass Spoony’s.

  “Are we going to do business or not?” Isaac asked.

  “Oh, yeah-yeah.” Spoony got up and went behind the bar again. He pushed it out of its original spot, lifted a board out of the floor and pulled out four bags of his stash. He sat them in front of Isaac and Isaac handed him fifty thou. “Nice doing business with you, home boy,” Spoony said while counting his money.

  Isaac left Spoony’s place and met up with his boys, Leonard Styles and Keith Williams, so they could mix up the dope and get it on the street. The three of them made no excuses for being drug pushers, or their preferred term, street entrepreneurs. They had met in juvee eight years prior. Isaac and Leonard were fifteen and Keith was thirteen. They had each been through so much at their young ages. Isaac’s father had mur
dered his mother, Keith had never known his father and his mother was a heroine addict who’d traded down to crack and Leonard’s people were middle class and had divorced because neither could get over blaming the other for their bad seed of a son. Now neither Leonard’s father nor his mother wanted anything to do with him. So the three of them banded together and became their own family.

  Leonard was bagging up some of the stuff when he asked, “So how was our master, Spoony?”

  “Paranoid as usual,” Isaac said.

  “That’s from smoking up all the drugs he’s supposed to be selling,” Leonard said.

  Keith laughed. “You’ve got nerve. You get high on enough of your own dope, don’t you?”

  Leonard threw one of the crack rocks at Keith. “Shut up, fool; I just sample the product. Somebody has to make sure we’re not putting bad dope on the street.”

  Keith laughed again, but Isaac didn’t crack a smile.

  “Seriously though, Leonard, you need to lay off the stuff. You’re costing us money for one; for two, a crack-head is not a pretty sight,” Isaac said.

  “I’m not a crack-head,” Leonard retorted.

  “Yet,” Keith said.

  “Whatever, y’all need to mind your own business, cause I got mine,” Leonard told them.

  Isaac shook his head as he and Keith exchanged glances. “All right man, you got it under control,” Isaac said. “Just know that all your samples are now coming out of your cut.”

  Leonard pulled a wad of money out of his pocket and asked, “How much you need, nigga? I can pay for mine.” He then turned to Keith and asked, “Where’s your wad?”

  “What are you talking about?” Keith asked Leonard.

  “Boy, don’t play with me. Your mother steals more dope from you than any amount I sample, so if I have to pay up, I know you gon’ need to go deep in your pockets too,” Leonard said.