Sacrifices

by Alan D Jones

  Chapter 2 - Homecoming

  August, 1963

  The hardest thing to learn in life is that love does not come with a receipt. We certainly wish that it did, but how many times do we give love and do not receive an acknowledgement in return, much less a written one. But we are reminded that love, by its very nature, does not keep an account. In fact, when it comes to love, who among us is able to maintain a balanced ledger?

  Oh, what a day when you realize that all you ever hoped for is already inside of you. Some people go an entire lifetime never realizing such a day.

  Deborah the Deceiver, as she would come to be known, was a precocious little girl with the curse of a jealous heart. Her big sister, Cil, was the target of most of her jealousy, but she had enough to go around.

  On this particular day, the soon to be eleven Deborah sat quietly in an empty stall in a West End stable at one of the carriage companies still operating in 1963 Atlanta. Her father, Hosea, had punished her for not getting home the previous night before the street lights came on. She had to assist him with caring for the horses after school. He stood in the next stall with one of the horses. Hosea wasn’t aware that Deborah was nearby since she could not be seen. She wanted the quiet time to finish reading the Ebony magazine she’d picked up from Miss Elizabeth’s house. When asked about why she was late, she would tell her father that she’d missed her bus. Today, her deception had an added, unexpected benefit.

  “Hosea, you crusty old man!” an all too familiar voice called out.

  It was Deborah’s mother, Lola. Though she’d spoken with her on the phone at Christmas, as she did most years, Deborah couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually seen her mother. She could not help but sneak a peek at Lola strutting, her hips swaying as she proceeded down the path towards Hosea. Deborah longed to see her, but she was frightened. She remembered the ice cream cone Lola bought her one time, but she also remembered the more frequent screaming and yelling.

  Hosea looked up from his horse grooming to respond, “Hello, Lola. I’m surprised to see you here given how you hate horses.”

  Lola, a beautiful cinnamon-colored woman, tip-toed a bit closer and said, “I grew up on a farm and, when I left, I said I’d never go back. Then, I married a man who’s intent on bringing the farm to town.”

  Hosea smiled, “Babe, it’s just a side time hustle to keep food on the table and just walking distance from the house. See. If you look out the front, you can see our mailbox. Being a substitute math teacher just isn’t enough.”

  “And, the church isn’t paying you?” Lola asked as she flicked her lighter.

  “Oh, I’m still on staff part time at…”

  Lola lit her cigarette, “No, not that church.”

  Hosea responded with a glance that said it all.

  “So, why don’t you quit?”

  “Babe, you know I can’t quit. Once you’re called…,” Hosea began.

  “…you’re called. Yes, I know. But, back in New Orleans, you made money. You were the hot new pastor. And now look at you?” Lola frowned.

  Hosea stopped brushing for a second to consider his response but, before he could reply, Elisa arrived and injected, “That’s because, dear sister, your antics in New Orleans got him run out of town. Don’t you remember?”

  Elisa was a striking, tall, dark-haired woman with soft freckles that only close observation revealed. The world mistook her for a white woman, but she didn’t deny her black roots. This fact earned her a lot of respect.

  Lola fired back, “Hey, you got that fancy car out there and nice clothes, but you’ve done your share of dirt too. You ain’t no better than me.”

  “No, I’m not,” Elisa conceded, “but, see, I know I’m no good. You, on the other-hand, are always making excuses for your behavior. I think these days they call that triflin’. But I do love your triflin’ butt.”

  Lola smiled at her and admitted, “Yes, I did act a fool down in New Orleans. But, oh what fun I had! Still, that don’t explain this fool here cleaning out horse stalls.”

  Elisa stroked the mare’s neck “Well, a fifty-something year-old man who has to start over in a new city and can no longer work in his chosen profession doesn’t have a lot of choices.”

  The still youthful looking Lola tilted her head at her husband “Yes, he has gotten old. Hasn’t he? He looks like Matasis must have touched him. When I met him he was such a fine piece of dark chocolate and so gifted that I just knew he was going places. Known all over the world, yet, here you are grooming horses in a stable. While we’re on the subject of things that don’t make sense, how come you haven’t tried to divorce me? You know them kids ain’t yours, right, except maybe that first one?”

  Deborah, standing in plain sight but hidden from them all, gasped. Elisa raised her brow slightly.

  Hosea, who had continued to work while Lola rambled on, spoke up, “So, darling how’s your treatment going?”

  “Treatment?” Lola replied indignantly.

  “Ok,” Hosea continued, “so are you at least staying clean?” Deborah stewed. She always believed that her dad’s strict ways had driven her mother away.

  Lola’s only reply was an incredulous look so Elisa answered for her, “Yes, at least in the couple of days that we’ve been together. I don’t let her do that crap around me.”

  Lola interrupted, “I don’t like where this conversation is going. Tell me about the girls. Do any of them have the gift? What about the prize?”

  In our family we referred to special abilities as “gifts” and we were happy when any child began to display his or her gift. The prize was even more selective and more desired, for it was eternal youth. The prize didn’t mean you would never die, but it did mean that you’d never grow old. Some family members got just a “touch of the prize.” That meant that they aged very slowly. Elisa and Lola were both blessed with the gift and the prize. Unfortunately, Lola also possessed the third attribute regularly found in the family. Mental illness was known as “the curse.” Sometime during the 1950’s Lola complicated matters even more by taking a liking to heroin which was popular in the artsy crowd in New Orleans back then.

  Hosea stopped tending the horse and smiled as he often did when speaking about his daughters. “Of course, it’s too soon to know about the prize, but Cil definitely has the gift and I’m seeing things in Deborah that have me wondering.”

  Elisa smiled warmly, “Oh, I’d say that Deborah definitely has the gift!” as she looked towards where Deborah had been hiding.

  The realization that Elisa knew where she was shook Deborah so much that she almost lost the concentration needed to remain invisible. Her memories of Aunt Elisa from New Orleans were vague at best. She knew that she was “gifted” but up to that point she had no idea how. Her mind raced with possibilities. When she contemplated telepathy, Elisa’s quick wink confirmed it.

  Hosea was puzzled for a second by Elisa’s response, but then he quickly pieced together the clues he’d noticed before with Elisa’s smile to conclude that Deborah was present with them in the stable. Hosea gave an easy smile, “I bet she’s somewhere reading a magazine and dreaming of trading in her hot comb for a perm kit.”

  Lola didn’t quite catch what they were inferring, but quickly her mind was on to the next thing. “Hosea, you’re not still caught up in this civil rights foolishness, are you? ‘Cause you know ain’t nothing gonna change. I’ve been around a long time and it’s the same as it’s always been. It got a new name, but it’s the same pig poop today as it was yesterday.”

  Hosea turned his head but held his tongue which he often did around Lola.

  Just then, a car full of people with bubbles streaming out of the rear window pulled up. The back door swung open and out popped Deborah’s seven-year-old little sister, Ruth Ann.

  She ran towards her father screaming in delight, “Daddy, Daddy!” About three feet from him she leapt into the air and he caught her. “Daddy, the Caballeros are here!”

/>   The Caballeros family was also gifted. In the early 60’s, they were possibly a more powerful force for good than the Johnson family. They had a little girl named Gabriella who was the same age as Ruth. The two little girls fell in love with one another the first day they met. When the Caballeros visited, it was impossible to separate the two of them. The family was visiting from Mexico.

  “Daddy, can Gabby and I go to get ice cream?” a smiling Ruth asked.

  Gabriella’s mother, Alejanda, motioned to the little girls and said to Hosea, “I will take them so that you and my husband can talk.”

  Hosea nodded and she began to lead the laughing little girls away. Ruth looked back at her father and waved.

  Ruth jumped for joy and then grabbed Gabriella’s hand, “Oh, and I have to show you the clapping game.”

  My mother and her sisters often played the clapping game as children. They’d sit in a circle and one of them would start a pattern, clapping their hands, banging on the table, or whatever. Then, the next sister would repeat the pattern and add one more component. Round and round they’d go until one of them messed up. That game had taught the four of them how to work together as a unit.

  Lola called to Ruth, “Ruth-Ann!”

  Ruth broke away from her girlfriend just long enough to run to her mother’s waiting arms. “I’m glad you’re back, mommy.”

  Lola held onto Ruth for a few lingering moments before releasing her. Lola wanted to be a good mother but always seemed to mess it up. Unlike her other daughters, little Ruth Ann never seemed to hold it against her. Lola could always reel Ruth back into her web of chaos.

  Jorge Caballeros, the leader of his clan, said to his good friend, Hosea, “Can we take a walk?”

  Hosea nodded and excused himself, “Sorry, ladies. I’ll meet you all back at the house.”

  Lola shouted to her husband, “If we see you, we see you. We got places to go and things to do. Can’t be waiting on you.”

  Deb thought to herself that her daddy just didn’t get it. While she was no big fan of her mother, she also felt like her father was clueless at times when it came to women. She wondered how he and Lola had ever gotten together.

  Elisa gave a half smile as she glanced down the road towards Hosea and Jorge. Then, she called out, “Deborah, you can come out now.”

  Deborah revealed herself to her mother and Elisa.

  “I’m sorry. I was just hiding from Daddy so that I could finish reading my magazine before helping him with the horses.”

  An elated Lola reached for her daughter and pulled her close.

  “Oh, darling, that’s fine. I’m just so happy to see that you have a gift! Besides, I don’t blame you for not wanting to clean these old stinky stables.”

  Actually, Deborah did not mind her stable visits so much. Certainly, she hated the dirty work of helping her father clean the stables, but she loved the reward of getting to ride and groom the horses.

  Lola released her daughter from her long embrace and held Deborah at arm’s length. “Oh, my gosh. Has your daddy finally learned to do hair?”

  Deb smiled a bit and said, “No, Cil did my hair. She does all of our hair now, except for Daddy, of course.”

  Lola gave her a doubtful look. “I don’t know…,” Lola said.

  She thought about Miss Elizabeth, her husband’s fellow church member and single neighbor down the street. Lola didn’t want her husband anymore but she didn’t want anyone else to have him either. This ironic jealous streak had her thinking that Miss Elizabeth, who happened to be a beautician by trade, was using her talents to woo her husband and her children.

  Elisa stepped in. “Deb, I think your sister has done a wonderful job with your hair. Just remember to wrap it up before you come down here after school. I’m sure Cil would appreciate that.”

  Deb nodded and proceeded to follow her mother and auntie back home.

  Lola glanced at her husband and Jorge and asked Elisa, “What do you think they’re talking about back there?”

  “You know what they’re talking about. But, what do you care? You’re a noncombatant, remember? Unless you’re ready to take a side?” Elisa asked.

  “Oh, no!” Lola exclaimed, “I like breathing too much to get caught up in that foolishness.”

  There were guidelines to this calling. One of them was an out clause for any gifted individual who wished to stay on the sidelines. At least, that’s how it was supposed to work. Those who served the darkness violated this accord whenever it suited them. By not taking sides, you had to agree to live a modest life seeking neither fame nor fortune.

  Lola agreed to these terms. Around the family, she often crowed about her “independence” from either side. In truth, because of her mental instability and drug problem, neither side particularly wanted her on their team. Elisa knew this, but to protect Lola’s fragile psyche, she allowed Lola to believe that she was indeed in high demand.

  As the ladies entered the wrought iron gate at the house, they saw Lucille, the oldest of the Johnson sisters. She was already well into her gifted years. Lucille stood silently observing, as though she knew exactly where they’d been and what they’d done.

  Cil nodded ever so slightly and spoke tersely, “Mama.” Stoic, she stretched out her right arm towards Deborah. saying, “Deb, please, come get Sarah ready for dinner.” Unsmiling, she added, “Mama and Auntie Elisa, you’re welcome to join us for dinner.”

  Both of the women froze for a moment. Lola was given pause at the sheer power she sensed in her oldest daughter. Elisa was stunned by the realization of just how much Cil and Lola’s relationship had devolved.

  At last, Lola breathed and announced, “I’m gonna stay out here and take a smoke. I’ll be in, in a bit.”

  Elisa looked at Lola and said to her telepathically, “You need to come in with me.”

  To which Lola replied audibly, “No, I don’t. Not right now. And, stay out of my head!”

  Elisa entered the house and was immediately met by a smiling Deborah and a giggling Sarah. Before she could even sit down, Cil entered the dining room carrying a piping hot plate of pork chops, which she sat on the table between the green beans and mashed potatoes. Elisa’s eyes opened wide, “When do you have time to make such wonderful meals?”

  Cil replied without looking up, “I make time.”

  Elisa narrowed her eyes and tilted her head slightly before asking, “And, no time for your mother?”

  “She's a drug addict. She sleeps around on daddy. And, she refuses to work in or out of the house,” the fourteen year old added, “Even I don’t have time for that.”

  Falling into her New Orleans drawl, Elisa said sternly, “I know all too well who she is. I also know what she’s been through and the challenges she faces. By the time she was your age, she’d already suffered terribly.”

  Just then, a jubilant Ruth Ann flew into the room dragging a reluctant Lola behind her and singing, “I had ice cream, ice cream, chocolate ice cream!”

  Ruth raced to Cil and they held each other. Suddenly teary-eyed, Cil motioned towards her sisters before forcing out, “How long…”

  Elisa who, upon seeing the weariness in the young girl’s eyes, shared a tear as well answered, “Darling, love doesn’t ask the cost. Love simply pays.”

  Lola entered the room looking confused, trying to figure out what she missed. Before she could inquire, Gabriella and her mother came in behind her. So, she changed her focus to the place settings.

  “Cil, why do you have eleven place settings out?”

  “Mother, we’re going to have an extra guest,” Cil stated wiping a tear from her eye.

  Surveying the serving plate and noticing only ten pork chops, Lola inquired, “So, why do you only have ten chops in the plate? You need to cut up one of them.”

  “No, Mother, our eleventh guest won’t want one,” Cil replied as she bowed her head to bless the food.

  Elisa smiled at the fact that Cil had set the table perfe
ctly for a series of uninvited guests, herself included. It was evident that the child could predict the future to some degree. She also noticed that Cil’s sisters had become so accustomed to Cil’s ways that they failed to realize why their elder sister was right all the time.

  Right on time, about ten minutes after Cil’s blessing, Jorge and Hosea marched through the front door and into the dining room. Jorge sat at the head of the table on one end and Hosea on the other near his wife and Elisa. The table was packed, but one place setting remained unused.

  About five minutes later there was a knock on the door. Before anyone could move, the door swung open and in stepped Hosea’s friend and neighbor, Miss Elizabeth, announcing herself, “Hello!”

  She had seen Hosea arrive home from her own front porch and knew he had a guest, but when she stepped into the foyer, she was surprised to see that the dining room was actually full of guests. After her gaze left Hosea, it fell upon Lola.

  “Oh, you have company.”

  The full-figured Elizabeth adjusted herself and fixed her face through a nervous smile.

  “Well, I saw you come home with Jorge and I thought you might like a pie. I baked two of them today.”

  Cil noticed that Miss Elizabeth was anxious, so she reached out to her. “Miss Elizabeth, would you like to join us?” Cil motioned towards the open chair.

  Elizabeth smiled and shook her head slightly, “Oh, no. I had an early dinner and I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

  Hosea motioned to her as well, “Elizabeth, have a seat. You can at least have some pie with us.”

  “Well, if you insist…,” Miss Elizabeth smiled.

  Lola, who had been sitting motionless with her mouth hanging open during the exchange, spoke up, “What? Does she just walk into this house anytime she wants? Look at this!

  Lola began digging through her purse for something. Moments later she found her wedding band and slipped the ring onto her finger.

  “You see this? This means we’re still married and I’m still his wife!”

  Miss Elizabeth laid her napkin in her lap before looking up to respond, “Yes, you are his wife. But, you have many husbands, don’t you?”

  Lola erupted from the table and tried to move towards Elizabeth, “Heifer, don’t you know I will kill you if you don’t get out of my house right now!”

  Miss Elizabeth, still seated, calmly replied, “Oh, I have no doubt that you could kill me. But, that don’t mean I’m afraid of you. I’m no more afraid of you than I am of these folks walking around here talking about where I can sit, eat, or even have a drink of water. But, see, I’ll be in the picket line again this weekend and I’ll be right back here until such time that Hosea or these girls tell me otherwise or you actually move into this place and become the woman of the house.”

  Hosea tried to inject a word of calm into the room, but neither of the ladies was listening. At last, Elisa, who was already holding Lola back, suggested, “Hey, why don’t we just go outside for a while? Maybe go shopping?”

  Lola fired off, “I’m not leaving my house while that home-wrecking hussy is still here!”

  Miss Elizabeth stood up and announced, “Oh, I’m leaving...”

  She said this with an intentional inflection that conveyed she could have said more, but chose to stop. She grabbed her purse, apologized to the Caballeros and blew kisses to the girls as she rose from the table. All the while, Lola continued to run her mouth.

  After Miss Elizabeth left, Elisa was able to get Lola moving towards the door although, by this time, she was venting her anger towards Hosea. Elisa could have used her gift on Lola to quiet her, but refrained from doing so. As she turned Lola towards the exit, Elisa glanced back at the table and noticed that Cil had set out eight dessert saucers. The child had known every detail. She even knew that they would not be staying for dessert.

  After dinner, Gabriella watched as Cil helped Ruth and Sara with their homework. Hosea worked with Deborah who struggled with her math homework. Hosea was patient and Deb enjoyed her time studying with her father. All of the girls were excited about spending the next day at the lake, even Ruth who was deathly afraid of the water. The fact that her friend Gabriella was also going filled her with enough joy to overcome her fears.

  Later that night, after everyone had gone to sleep, Deborah awoke to notice that her big sister was no longer in the bed they shared. Deborah looked around for a moment and then sensed motion outside her window. She pulled the shade back a bit to peep outside. The empty swing on the back porch swung back and forth lazily, its former occupant now standing barefoot in the small backyard, her white cotton gown moving ever so gently in the soft evening breeze. Cil stood facing the brick wall which lined the back yard, saying nothing.

  Deborah thought to call out to her sister but, before she could fully draw in a breath, a second figure entered the backyard. The person glowed a little and had not entered through the gate but, instead, passed through the wall like a ghost. This new girl, who appeared to be nineteen or twenty, with skin as dark as her daddy’s and hers, wore her hair in an afro like some of the college girls over at Clark and Spelman College.

  The girl, who was named Akina, and Cil hugged briefly. Akina asked, "Are you aware?"

  Cil answered, "Yes, I am.”

  The unknown woman’s name was Akina, a time traveler and relative from nearly forty years in the future. Her question was an inquiry into a state of being, and not limited to an awareness of any particular event, although there was a pending event that lead Akina to feel the need to make an appearance.

  “Tomorrow will be a challenge,” Akina stated so quietly that Deborah could not hear her.

  Softly spoken, too, was Cil’s reply, “I know.” Cil hugged Akina and whispered into her ear, “Just the first of many.”

  In response, Akina held her tighter.

  After a long moment, Akina released Cil, turned and walked into some other place and time. After Akina departed, Cil returned to the back porch and fell to her knees. Deborah was afraid for her sister. Had the woman bewitched her somehow? Had she poisoned her sister? Deborah rushed out of the bedroom and out the back door to see her sister on her knees looking up at her.

  “Come here, Deborah. Join me.”

  Deborah stepped quickly to her sister and extended her hand before also falling to her knees. Deborah had questions and she was not one to easily hold her tongue; so, it took all her focus to submit to her sister’s need to pray rather than her desire to know more about the mystery woman.

  When they finished praying, Deborah peppered Cil with questions, “Who was that lady? Is she a friend of yours? Was she a ghost?”

  Cil told Deborah that the young lady was special, like them, but that she had lost her way and needed directions. Cil hated to mislead her sister, but she knew that she could not tell her what awaited them the next day at the lake.