Mama B - a Time to Love

by Michelle Stimpson

  Frank and Son shook hands and took turns sizing each other up with all their manly questions. Asking each other how was business going, what football teams they thought would make it to the Superbowl. Me and Wanda set the table as they carried on with all their stuff.

  “He’s handsome, Mama B,” Wanda complimented me. “And such a gentleman, I can tell.”

  “Honey, with my Help, I picks ‘em good,” I bragged in the Lord.

  “You raise ‘em good, too, Mother.”

  “Why thank you, sweetheart. Raised ‘em to pick good wives, too,” I returned the compliment.

  I figured Paul would be arriving at any moment, so I called everyone’s attention and filled them in on as much of the situation with Eunice and Paul as I felt they needed to know. “Let’s pray for God’s best between those two.”

  We heard a car pull into the driveway. Frank and I made our way to the front. Through the sheer curtains, I could see Eunice’s son maneuvering things to get out of his van. Lord knows, my driveway wasn’t built for nobody with a handicap.

  Under my breath, I feared, “Let me go help—”

  Frank put a hand on my shoulder. “He’s got it, B.”

  Reminded me of how Albert used to stop me from jumpin’ in with our kids all the time. He’d let ‘em struggle until they learned how to do things for themselves. Broke my heart to sit there and watch, sometimes, but I believe that’s one reason God’s plan is for kids to have a Momma and a Daddy if at all possible. Got to balance one another out.

  Finally, the doorbell rang. Frank and I answered it together.

  I promise on my turkey stew, Eunice couldn’t have denied that boy if she wanted to. Same light brown skin, funny little nose, wiry hair. “Hello, Paul! Welcome! Come on in!”

  He finagled across the threshold with his steel-lookin’ crutches, the kind with a cuff for the arm. I certainly didn’t wish this struggle on him, but I was glad to know he wasn’t lying—getting around really wasn’t easy for him.

  Seemed like he might tilt over any moment to me, so I didn’t try to hug on him. “Paul, this is my friend, Frank.”

  They both nodded at each other and gave simple hello’s.

  “Come on in. I’ve got a roast with vegetables and cornbread. We’ve even got a lemon cake,” I did my best to put him in a good mood.

  “Smells delicious,” he replied as he followed us into the dining area.

  “Let me introduce you to my family.”

  Son and Wanda stood as I called their names. Again, Paul did the best he could to greet them despite his hands being preoccupied. Son offered his seat at the table.

  “Oh, no. Actually, it’s best if I sit on a couch or someplace soft. I can’t sit upright and straight for too long.”

  We all hopped to his rescue, pointing the way toward the living room. Paul worked his way onto the couch and took a rest, sweat beads forming at his temples. Didn’t help that his upper body was carrying so much extra weight. Lord, bless him.

  “Let me get you some water,” Wanda said, turning back toward the kitchen.

  “That would be great.”

  She returned with the water and handed the glass to Paul, who gulped it down quickly. He pushed his glasses back in place. “Thank you.”

  Now that he’d gotten himself all comfortable, I hated to tell him it was time to get back up. He and Frank had a job to do. “Paul, you and Frank are gonna go get your mother from the Catholic shelter in downtown Peasner.”

  “I thought she was here,” he said with a question mark on his face.

  “She was. But she left.”

  He grumbled. “Doesn’t surprise me. I’ve come all this way for nothing.”

  Wanda and Son slipped back into the kitchen, leaving me and Frank alone with Paul. Inside, I started praying for the right words to comfort Paul. I done seen so many folk suffer all their lives after the rejection of a mother. I could only imagine what he was goin’ through.

  “Oh, she’s not gone far. You and Frank can get her and bring her back here so she can eat with us,” I encouraged him. “Won’t take but a minute.”

  He breathed in like he ‘bout tired of foolin’ with his Momma. “Might as well get it over with. Let’s go.”

  Paul took hold of his crutches, rocked his behind twice (just like his Momma) and rolled up to a standing position. The whole time, I held my breath because it looked like he might take a tumble at any moment. I could tell this man had been on these crutches for some years, the way he had it down to a science.

  Frank led us to the door. “We’ll be back in a little while,” he told me. And once Paul had made it down the steps, Frank turned back to me and mouthed, “Pray.”

  He didn’t need to ask me again.

  Chapter 19

  I asked Son and Wanda to join me as I prayed for the Lord to give Frank the right words to say with Paul, then give Paul and Frank the right words to say with Eunice. Only He knows how to mend a broken heart—two of ‘em at once, actually.

  After we finished praying, Son said he was starvin’ so he made himself a bowl of cereal, to Wanda’s dismay. She rolled her eyes at him, then looked at me, and we laughed together at my oldest boy.

  They went on into the living room and watched a little TV while we all waited for Frank to get back with our other guests.

  I was wiping down the counters when the Spirit thumped my heart again. Seem like my entire body froze. “Speak, Lord. Speak right now through Your servant, Frank. I come against confusion from the enemy. In Jesus’ name, give him exactly what to say.”

  * * * * *

  “How long have you been in practice?” Paul asked.

  “A little over thirty years. And you’re a judge, right?”

  “Yes. Second year. Practiced law privately for three years. Before that, worked for the state.”

  “Quite impressive, especially at your age. B says your mother is very proud of you,” Frank ventured carefully.

  “I don’t see how she can be proud, she had nothing to do with my achievements,” he smoldered.

  “Were you born after seventy-three?” Frank asked.

  “Yes.”

  “The way I see it,” Frank said, “anybody born after Roe versus Wade ought to be thankful for at least being alive.”

  “I guess. Never thought of it like that,” Paul gave up.

  In his heart, Frank thanked God for a way to relate to Paul through his profession. He knew B must have been praying for him at that moment. He probed further. “Where’d you study?”

  “Southern Methodist University. How about you?”

  Frank eased into his history, “I did four years in the military before I went to Southern University, in Louisiana, then—”

  “What branch of service?” Paul was eager to know.

  “Navy.”

  “Army,” Paul spurted.

  “Oh,” Frank probed further, “Were you injured in combat?”

  Paul flinched slightly.

  “Sorry,” Frank apologized. “Guess I’m so used to asking people about their medical histories—”

  “Not a problem, coming from you,” Paul gave in to the line of questioning. “I wish I’d been injured in combat. Might be easier to explain. No, my story isn’t even close to glamorous or honorable. I’d come home from the military on leave. My mom and my brother, Jared, picked me up from the airport. We had an accident on the way home.”

  Frank remembered. “Yeah, B said you’d mentioned an accident. Your brother passed away?”

  “Yes.” Paul gazed out the passenger’s window and Frank turned the corner.

  “So sorry to hear that. Drunk driver, I think she said, right?” Frank asked.

  Paul quickly swerved his glance toward Frank. “Yes. And apparently she failed to mention that she was the drunk party.”

  This news put Frank at a loss for words. How can I respond to Paul’s anger? Maybe Eunice deserved to lose her relationship with her son, after all she’d done. Sometimes, it’s best to seve
r the chord and leave people to their own devices.

  Immediately, Frank recognized those thoughts weren’t from the Lord. Any reasoning that leaves somebody alone to wallow in their own guilt went against the gospel of reconciliation.

  Frank decided to cut to the chase with Paul because, being a man of the law, he must have an appreciation for the raw truth. “Look, I haven’t walked a day in your shoes, but I know what it’s like to lose respect for a parent. My dad’s been in prison for most of my life.”

  “That’s where my mom should be,” Paul argued. “If I’d been on the bench, I would have locked her up forever. The sentencing judge gave her ten years’ probation. Bleeding-heart wuss.”

  “The judge gave her mercy.”

  “She didn’t deserve to be free again. Serves her right she can hardly find decent housing that’ll take her with a criminal record. She shouldn’t have gotten mercy…” his voice trailed off.

  It was time. “Paul, do you know Christ?”

  Eunice’s son cleared his throat. “I’m a member of Calvary Church.”

  Paul had answered the question by not answering it. Suddenly, Frank understood that his most important mission of the day was not to reunite Paul with Eunice. It was to introduce Paul to Christ. As he positioned his car between two yellow lines in the parking lot, Frank thanked God for the privilege of leading another soul home.

  Chapter 20

  I’ll probably never know how Paul and Frank managed to talk Eunice into coming back to my house. That’s probably none of my business. All I know is, when the three of them came through the door, my heart leapt for joy.

  “Welcome back, Miss Houdini,” I teased my friend.

  She fell into my hug. “You’re something else, you know?”

  “Come on in.”

  Wanda and I had moved all the dishes to the living room so we could all sit around Paul and enjoy fellowship with one another while we ate. Even though he and Eunice didn’t sit next to one another, they was civil.

  We had enough food for everyone to have two servings. That Paul could sure eat! Said he hadn’t had home-cooked food like that in a long time. Then Eunice asked him how long it had been since he’d had chicken and dumplings.

  Paul closed his eyes like he was trying to remember. “Not since we were at the house.”

  An awkward silence stood between them.

  Everybody in the room held their breath. Not one spoon clanked on a plate.

  “I’d be glad to make you some,” Eunice offered.

  Move on his heart, Lord.

  Finally, Paul replied real softly, “Okay.”

  It would probably take some time for them to work through whatever they had goin’ on, I could tell. But I also had a feelin’ the Lord had started workin’ on both their hearts. Between me prayin’ and Frank talkin’, He had already done a mighty work.

  Son and Wanda said they had to leave, so I packed them plates to take back home.

  With the evening coming on soon, Frank said he had to get home and get rest for the week.

  “Before you go, can I ask you to kind of give Paul some advice on what we ought to do about Eunice’s leg?”

  Not quite sure if he’d forgotten or not, but it was still my endeavor to get Eunice moved on to her next habitat. Two grown, strong-minded women wasn’t meant to stay in a house together too long, in my book.

  “My leg’s feeling much better,” Eunice chirped.

  “Mother, I saw you limping,” Paul told the truth. “You’re not well.”

  “She needs medical attention. It may be something simple. Or not. Can’t tell without a thorough examination,” Frank said.

  Despite Eunice’s protesting, Paul got his mother to agree to see a doctor. Funny how she wouldn’t listen to nobody but her own child.

  “Thank you, Doctor. For everything. I’ll make some calls and get someone to look at her as soon as possible. I’ll keep in touch.” Paul flipped himself up on those crutches again.

  “Wait a minute.” Eunice helped herself into an upright position. “Paul, I’m leavin’ with you if you don’t mind dropping me off. There’s some really nice people at that shelter, even if they do make you go to church almost every day.”

  The two of them standin’ there was a sight to see. Paul on his crutches, Eunice on her cane. Chile, they both needed each other something awful and didn’t even know it yet.

  “Eunice, you’re welcome to stay here,” I said despite my flesh screamin’ for me to close my mouth.

  “No, B. You’ve done more than enough. I sure do thank you.”

  I helped Eunice to my spare bedroom so she could gather her things. Everything she owned fit into four grocery bags and that fanny pack, bless her heart. “You sure about this shelter?”

  “I been livin’ in and out of different places since my second husband died. Gives me a sense of adventure,” she said.

  “I ain’t tryin’ to be all in your business, Eunice, but I believe I know you well enough where I can ask you why you won’t just get your own place. You seem to have enough money.”

  She mumbled, “Mmmmm, yeah. My second husband left me more money than I know what to do with, but I might slow down soon if I find the right place. The money won’t last much longer, at the rate I’m going.”

  “You might want to ask Paul to help you with that,” I suggested. “My husband left me in a good place, too. We’er both blessed.”

  She tied knots in all four of her bags. It pained me to see her leaving my house for the homeless shelter. But I had to settle for the fact that at least Eunice was leaving with a budding relationship with her son. Maybe if she felt like he was worryin’ over her the way Son worries over me, she might get settled in order to keep the peace between the two of them. God would have to take it from here.

  “You’ve got a good one in there.” She pointed toward the living room.

  “So do you,” I said. “Paul’s real nice. Respectable.”

  “And Frank’s a good man, too.” She flopped down on the bed and hung her head. “B, I’ve got to tell you something.”

  I had a feeling about what was buggin’ her.

  “A few nights ago, when you left me and Frank alone, I tried to come on to him. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I always have to ruin every good thing that comes to me. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to see me again. I just had to say it before you make any kind of commitments to see me or Paul in the future.” Her brown eyes looked up at me, filled with tears.

  “I knew already, Eunice.”

  Her mouth gaped open in shock. “Frank told you?”

  “No. I heard it for myself,” I admitted.

  She squinted at me. “You knew? And you let me stay? Why?”

  Finally, the Lord had opened the door for me to witness to Eunice. “Because that’s the love of Christ. He loved us when we were His enemies.”

  A tear rolled down her fattened cheeks. Then she smiled, “They taught me that in church, when I was a little girl. And I really believed Jesus loved me, that he’d died for me.”

  “No need for you to stop believin’ now. He loves you as much now as He did then. He’s waiting on you to recognize that He’s still right where you left He took up residence—right inside of you.”

  “You think so?” she asked with a childish wonder.

  “He said so in His word,” I assured her.

  She got up quicker than I’d seen her move—well, since the day she whacked Libby with the cane—and held on to me for dear life.

  “Thank you, B. Thank you for loving me. I swear, being with you feels like I’ve been to church.”

  “The body of Christ is the church.”

  She sniffed, wiped her eyes dry. “Okay. Soon as I get to the church, I’m gonna ask somebody for a Bible and start readin’ it again. And I’m gonna look up everything about Jesus and God. And if I have a question, I’ll call you, all right? Might even go to church with you. How about for Christmas?”

  “Sure thing.�
�

  You know, when I think about it, I know it was all God. Folk think every problem between two women got to end up in some kind of screamin’, shoutin’, scratchin’ match. They been watchin’ too many reality shows. When the saints let the love of God work it out, love always bring ‘em to peace. Always.

  And ain’t noboby mad about that ‘cept the devil.

  Epilogue

  Thanksgiving Day

  You can’t imagine what it took to get my children to agree to have Thanksgiving at Frank’s house. Debra Kay said she was afraid her grands might break something. Cassandra and Otha didn’t want to break tradition. The only one who didn’t seem to put up too much fuss was Son, which actually surprised me. But since he the one Frank done seen the most, it made sense.

  Anyhow, there wasn’t enough room in my house for us all to fellowship comfortably—my kids and Frank’s, with his grands, too, so they had to get over it.

  Wednesday night, Cassandra’s family and Otha and most of the great-grands stayed up all night keeping up all kind of racket. Good racket, though. They hooked up a moving video game on my television—a ree? a wee?—something or another. They even got me on that thing dancing to Michael Jackson while I waited for the cornbread to cook so I could make the dressing.

  “Come on, Mama B!” Cameron begged. You know I can’t turn him down.

  Thursday, we caravanned over to Frank’s. His house is halfway between Peasner and Dallas, so it didn’t take us too long. His neighborhood is old, with mature trees and large yards. Little over an acre, I’d say. Plenty room for the kids to run outside and play with his dogs. Plus, he got a fenced in trampoline. He also had a pool, but it was too cool outside for anybody to consider jumping in.

  When we pulled through the porte cochere and Cameron got a good look at the back yard, he exclaimed, “Wow! Is Dr. Frank rich?”

  “Of course he’s rich, Cameron, he’s a doctor,” Debra Kay’s granddaughter, Lexus, answered.

  “Man! I’m gonna be a doctor when I grow up,” Cameron announced.