When Chandler finally finished praying both he and Sister Betty were exhausted. He’d even gone so far as to lay one hand on her head and invoke God and heaven to come immediately to her aid. He didn’t pray for himself, only for her.
And, Sister Betty felt her strength and resolve start to return. Her complexion appeared brighter as though it had visited heaven and returned with its light.
Chandler’s complexion appeared the same. The feeling he now felt was a familiar one. It was an emotion he’d not experienced since leaving his prayer life back in Pelzer, South Carolina. Like so many others, he’d grown up in the church. His home life was rich in spirituality. Between the guidance of his grandmother and Sister Betty along with several other church members, he should’ve never succumbed to the bright lights of the big city. Yet he had.
“You look different, June Bug,” Sister Betty finally said as her color returned to normal and the tears dried up.
“So do you.” Chandler’s handsome face beamed as the Sister Betty he so dearly loved returned. He laughed and shook his head knowing that it was of no use to mention that she’d promised to not call him June Bug in public.
He would’ve continued laughing but Sister Betty’s expression had suddenly changed. He quickly turned and looked toward the office door. He was shocked to see Zipporah standing in the doorway.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Lamb. I’ll wait outside.” Without waiting for Chandler to speak, she turned to leave.
“See what praying will do?” Sister Betty whispered. “She’s very pretty.”
“I think that’s evident,” Chandler said as his sudden smile betrayed the words he spoke. He hoped he sounded professional and aloof about her observation.
“Too bad, though,” Sister Betty said softly, “it’s really too bad.”
“What is?”
“She looks just like Mother Pray Onn’s niece.”
“So she looks like her niece? So what if she does?”
“I’ve forgotten you’ve been gone from Pelzer for quite some time. You’ve probably forgotten about Ima Hellraiser.”
At the mention of Ima’s name, Chandler fell back in his chair. “No way!” Even if he didn’t want to admit it, he suddenly realized that there was a strong resemblance to the woman who’d made life miserable for so many.
“It took me a few minutes to see it but the resemblance is very strong. Heaven knows we don’t need two Imas.”
“We really don’t need the one we have,” Chandler added. “Her name is Zipporah and I believe that’s a Biblical name. So you know there’s no connection to the Hellraiser family.”
They laughed a while longer. They’d forgotten Zipporah was seated in the outer office.
But she wasn’t seated for long. She’d heard the mention of her name and the laughter that followed. She didn’t know why they were laughing, but it had to be about either something she’d done or the way she looked.
So Zipporah left feeling Chandler was no different than the other people she’d met. As for the old woman who sat with him, the Bible clutched in her hand, she could care less about what she thought. The old lady couldn’t be much of a “woman of God” if she gossiped and laughed at people she didn’t even know.
Zipporah tried to convince herself that she didn’t care, but she did. Her face was a mask of anger as she dashed onto the elevator. She moved so fast she couldn’t stop herself from stepping on Bea’s foot.
It was Bea’s thimble-shaped pinky toe. The pain shot up from the toe through her thick thigh, straight up the curve in her spine and almost knocked her eyes from their sockets.
“What the . . . ham and cheese!” Bea yelped. “Lawd, help me!”
Zipporah’s eyes widened and the apologies flew. She couldn’t stop apologizing all the way down to the casino floor. A part of her apology was because she was truly sorry for stepping on Bea’s foot. The other part was because she was afraid she’d now lose her job if anyone found out that she’d assaulted one of the patrons. And the fact that it was the same old woman she’d seen cause a ruckus from the first day wasn’t lost on her.
Bea’s mind fought to gain control over the pain. This was an opportunity she couldn’t resist. She’d never have imagined she’d have to suffer to make the young woman’s acquaintance, but if it gave her leverage on Sasha, it was worth it.
“Oh, honey,” Bea said softly between the grimaces from the pain, “it was an accident. I shouldn’t have been standing all the way against the back wall, minding my own business, when you ran onto the elevator.”
Since Zipporah was fifteen minutes early for her shift, she figured she’d use the time to humor the old woman. She needed to keep her job.
“I’m still so sorry,” Zipporah said. “I don’t know what else to say.”
“Well, you started off the right way,” Bea explained. “You said you were sorry.” Bea suddenly smiled and added, “Ima would’ve never apologized.”
“Excuse me?” Zipporah’s look of confusion suddenly turned to fear. What if this old woman was truly dangerous? And who is Ima?
“I didn’t mean to call you that,” Bea said politely. “I’m Mother Bea Blister from Crossing Over Sanctuary Temple out of Pelzer, South Carolina. You remind me of someone I know.”
“No, she don’t!” The words were as welcome as a fox in a hen house.
It was Sasha. She’d just arrived in time to hear a little of Bea’s explanation. Sasha chose not to explain her outburst. Instead, Sasha just waddled her little hips down the aisle of slot machines. As she turned the corner she looked back at Bea with a warning stare.
Bea shot back one of her own that read, “Heifer, please.”
Zipporah’s shoulders slumped slightly. Her head swung between Bea, standing with a look of joy on her face, and the other old woman’s tiny hips swaying as though inviting a kiss.
Bea would’ve continued her inquisition but nature called. “Honey, where’s the nearest bathroom?”
Zipporah pointed toward the bathroom. She issued another apology and walked away quickly, before Bea could respond.
Whatever was going on with those two old women, Zipporah didn’t want to be in the middle. She was about to come to the conclusion that perhaps she was working in a nuthouse. Everyone seemed a little off center. And, the little snickering she’d heard coming from Mr. Lamb’s office sealed the conclusion that she and he had nothing in common. And they never would.
20
Chandler finally remembered that Zipporah was waiting in the reception area and left to get her. He returned to his office giving Sister Betty an answer to a question she’d not asked. “I guess it wasn’t anything too important. She’s gone.”
“How long has she worked for you?”
“She started about two days ago.”
“And . . .” Sister Betty was almost back to her old self. “You didn’t think she was a beautiful woman when you met her?”
“I meet beautiful women all the time,” Chandler teased. “Look at me. You’ve heard the old saying, ‘You attract what you are.’ ” They laughed at Chandler’s attempt at humor.
“Do you want me to walk you down and through the casino to the exit? I don’t want any aspersions cast upon your good name.”
“It’s too late,” Sister Betty replied. “My ears are still ringing from what was probably said earlier.”
“You know, folks talked about Jesus.” Chandler tried again to be humorous.
“Yes, folks did. But until you’ve had your character assassinated by the Mothers Board, you’ll never know how I feel.”
“I’ve had my behind assassinated by you and Ma Cile on several occasions. I think I know.”
“Now that’s funny!”
And, it was.
While Bea was in the casino bathroom Sasha managed to secrete herself away at one of the slot machines in a far corner. A short time later she saw Zipporah walk onto the casino floor. She was dressed in her casino outfit, which Sasha thought was completel
y inappropriate.
Sasha watched as Zipporah dashed about serving all sorts of drinks and whatever else the patrons wanted. Sasha’s eyes narrowed as she saw the shameless way Zipporah seemed to flirt, no doubt with hopes of getting tips.
Sasha was lost in thought. She’d not placed one single nickel in the slot machine, which had not gone unnoticed by several others who waited for her to vacate. However, they also recognized her as the little old lady with the assault cane so they’d wait until she decided to move.
While Sasha continued daydreaming, the memories returned. Some were crystal clear and some were not. However, the day her life was turned upside down and she’d left the church of her youth seemed like yesterday.
Early in the morning on that dark day, she’d sat on the bed watching her sister Areal. Areal’s hands kept moving across her belly as though they were trying to make something disappear. Areal had every reason to want that. She had a swollen belly with an unwanted baby. Her hands kept going back and forth for a time as she examined her belly in the bedroom mirror.
And then Sasha recalled that Deacon Jasper Epps was inside the room and he stared as well.
Deacon Jasper Epps, all six foot four inches, was a Smokey Robinson lookalike. He was a creamy-complexioned, light-eyed man with naturally straight, thick black hair born to Cree parents out of Moorehead City, North Carolina. And he could sing! Just as Smokey caused women to lose their minds and give way to fantasies that would’ve set confessionals on fire, Jasper Epps did, too. He’d been a heart throb ever since his youth. He was then married and just a little older than both Areal and Sasha and had known them from high school.
At the time Areal became pregnant, Sasha was in her late twenties. She’d been widowed at a young age and learned to treasure the freedom being single offered. She’d kept her married name although she’d also toyed around with the idea of returning to her maiden name of Hellraiser.
Areal Hellraiser was older by a couple of years and just as beautiful as Sasha, if not more so. She was the wild one in the family and had never married. She’d been dating Deacon Jasper for some time and they’d managed to keep it a secret. It wasn’t because Areal was ashamed to date a married man. She had no qualms with it. However, Deacon Jasper’s extremely wealthy wife was sure to be upset if she found out.
As most men did, Deacon Jasper had promised Areal that he was going to leave his wife, but he didn’t.
It was the fourth Sunday at Financial Temple, their home church, when secrets fell out of the closet like the lock was broke.
The church was expecting a Prophet Benjamin Burning to visit. Prophet Burning went about the countryside visiting small congregations and giving them what “thus saith the Lord.” Of course, according to Prophet Burning, how much information God revealed to him to dispense depended upon which money line you stood in. If you stood in the fifty-dollar line, which was almost like standing in the thousand-dollar line today, he’d tell you everything you wanted to hear. He’d solicit just enough information from the giver before he’d prophesy to make the scam work as though he’d had a one-on-one with the Almighty.
“Do you need healing and a huge financial blessing?” Prophet Burning would ask.
Everyone in the line would shout, “Yes,” sometimes all at one time.
So Prophet Burning would go down the hundred-dollar line with his assistant collecting the money before he’d speak. He’d tell the giver, or the “sucker” as some called them, a word from God. And it was a corporate word that everyone received. And, although perhaps one or two out of many would get over a cold or receive some monies they’d already earned, the members would still anxiously await his return. They’d get back on the line and he’d fleece them again.
On this particular fourth Sunday, Sasha and Areal went to church. They’d not been in quite some time and no one from the church had ever bothered to visit and find out why.
Deacon Jasper had already left to pick up his wife. Earlier, he’d told his wife that he was going to attend a deacon’s breakfast at another church, and he’d return to bring her to their late morning church service. Of course, what he’d told his wife was only half true. He’d had breakfast at Areal’s house but he did pray a blessing over the food.
That morning, Areal’s ever-enlarging belly was covered by an oversized coat. The rainy and somewhat chilly days of April provided an excuse to wear one. Sasha and Areal walked through the doors of the church and took their seats in the middle. They never sat all the way in the rear of the church, choosing to leave those seats to those who hadn’t made up their minds to join and serve. They preferred to sit in the middle between the true hypocrites occupying the front pews and the ones on the fence.
Prophet Burning had called for the money lines. He’d done his routine of asking questions and doling out blessings accordingly.
All the while he did so he’d also kept his eyes on Sasha and Areal. They thought he was flirting since that’s what most men did in their presence.
Instead of the prophet tending to his business, he decided to walk the aisle of the church revealing the business of those who’d not paid hush money in his offering.
“God said,” he’d start off, “you need to get a job. God said, if you get in one of these lines, preferably the hundred-dollar one, He’s gonna bless you with a job down at the cotton mill.”
“But I don’t have no money,” the poor person would reply.
“Give what you can,” the prophet would demand in a loud voice. “I have a layaway plan so you have no excuse.”
By the time Prophet Burning reached where Sasha and Areal sat, the bucket was brimming over with paper money with not a coin to be heard.
Prophet Burning looked from Areal to Sasha and back again. He didn’t bother asking for a dime. His head swung like he was about to enter a boxing ring and fight the devil.
“You having a baby and you ain’t married.” His steps faltered just a little as he reached for the back of a nearby pew for support. “You’s a Jezebel.” He hollered accusations, which, according to those who normally paid, meant he told the truth.
Sasha’s eyes had rolled and she thought, Of all the times for this fraud to get religion, why now?
Areal, never one to mince words, stood up, and cussed him out.
Somewhere in the back of Sasha’s mind she thought she heard metallic-sounding music and chimes. It brought her out of her daydream.
“Excuse me. Are you going to use that machine?” The woman peering over Sasha’s shoulders pointed to the slot machine. She looked to be about the same age and was dripping in costume jewelry.
At first, Sasha didn’t say a word. She turned around and stared at the woman so hard it appeared as though Sasha’s face had turned to stone. Without so much as an “I’m sorry,” Sasha snatched one of the Bible tracts from her Bible that she’d placed between the slot machines.
“Here,” Sasha said harshly, “take one of these and read it. You’re going straight to hell for gambling.”
The woman looked at the Bible tract and then back to Sasha. “Aren’t you gambling?”
“No, I’m not. I don’t gamble. I know what I’m doing. I don’t lose, so therefore it can’t be a gamble.” Sasha grabbed five nickels and shoved them into the machine. Sure enough the clanging sound made by the evidence of five cherries in a row rang out.
Sasha turned around and looked at the woman again. Her second look was meaner than the first. The woman silently took the Bible tract and started reading it as she walked away. What else could she do?
Sasha looked around and, to her horror, she saw Bea talking to the young woman again. Her eyes narrowed to the point of making her head hurt and her gray bun felt like it was twisting tighter. Every warning fiber of her being rubbed her nerves and she knew that Bea’s butting in was never a good thing. Sasha needed to find out more about the young woman and she needed to do so before Bea did.
21
“I’ll have a cup of hot tea.” It was the
third cup Bea had ordered from Zipporah. She’d refused to give her beverage order to any of the other casino hostesses. Every time she ordered from Zipporah she’d asked her another question.
So far Bea had found out if the young woman was telling the truth, her name, and that she only recently started working there.
Zipporah, Bea thought. Now why does a name like that ring a bell? She didn’t have time to dwell upon it. She needed to find out if there was a connection between Zipporah and Ima Hellraiser. Maybe they were distant cousins who’d never met. But then again, why had Sasha lied about seeing any resemblance. The two young women looked so much alike that Bea was tempted to tell Zipporah to watch out. She was likely to get arrested for something Ima had done.
For the next hour or so Bea quizzed Zipporah every time she saw her. In between those times, she’d made trips to the bathroom. She’d announced that her slot machine better not be touched. And it wasn’t. For even those old folks with a touch of dementia or who’d fully succumbed to it, the sight of the old woman with the red fuzzy wig and curved back was enough to keep them at bay.
And while Bea did her direct inquisition, Sasha watched. Her mood soured by the minute. Finally, she got up and left. She’d also left her cup filled to its brim with nickels. That’s just how upset she’d become. The Sasha who strolled slowly out of the casino with head bowed was not the same feisty woman from Pelzer, South Carolina.
Upstairs in Chandler’s office things were getting out of control. It had gone from bad to worse. He couldn’t find all the papers for the report he needed. He was sure Mandy had everything organized, so it had to be his fault.
Sister Betty had left and returned with sandwiches. She didn’t know anything about office work so she was of no use.
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