Don't Blame the Devil (21 page)

D
elilah learned the deacon left with Tamara and Marty before her release was completed. But she was glad they'd at least been there for her, and that Marty had an ACD release as well.

Delilah was also glad Jessie didn't try to talk during the ride home. She'd probably have said something that would've provoked him to take her back to the courthouse. But then she noticed he kept looking at her, strange-like. It was like he was trying to figure something out—as if she'd not given him enough news to handle. But he said nothing.

When they finally arrived back at the house, she noticed the deacon's Old Lemon parked across the street. “I see the welcoming committee is here.”

“Let me help you out.” That was Jessie's only reply.

They'd gotten no farther than Jessie's front porch when a woman Delilah had not seen before came outside. Quietly, Delilah stood off to the side on the front porch as Jessie referred to her as First Lady. She could only hear snatches of their conversation.

“Brother Jessie, I just stopped by after seeing Sister Marty. She looked exhausted, but none the worse for all she's been through. I thought I'd stop by here, too, and Deacon Pillar is snoring on the couch. It was harder getting Tamara calmed down. She's waiting for you.” The First Lady stopped and looked toward Delilah. It took her a moment, but she smiled and came over.

“You must be Delilah, Tamara's grandmother.”

Delilah didn't know how to react. She wasn't sure if the woman was acknowledging the fact or accusing her of something.

“I'm Sister George.”

It was uncanny how the First Lady's smile put Delilah at ease, and yet Delilah wasn't certain why. “Thank you for taking care of Tamara.” Delilah wanted to say more but didn't.

“We all love the Jewel family, and Deacon Pillar, too. We're grateful for all of God's miracles.”

The First Lady smiled again. She looked at Jessie. “Brother Jewel, I know you and Cindy did a wonderful job raising Tamara. She's talented, centered, and she loves the Lord.”

The First Lady stopped and then pointed toward Delilah. “But whenever possible, a young lady also needs her grandmother. Grandmothers can give directions without all the guesswork. They've already traveled the path and fallen off a few times. And they know when and how to get back on track. Children don't come with manuals. That's why parents make so many mistakes. Grandparents, on the other hand—and like I said, grandmothers in particular—have read the manual from the contents to the index. Grandmothers have that mother wit.”

Delilah was floored; is that what she had? She'd wanted to call it that, but she had no reference. She smiled back at the First Lady. “Thank you so much.”

“You're quite welcome. It was just something the Lord laid on my heart to say.”

“First Lady,” Jessie said as he tried to stifle a yawn, “I'm just gonna go inside. I'm so tired I'm about to pass out.”

“I'm sorry. What must I be thinking? I know you two must be exhausted. We're gonna have a six o'clock prayer call for your family, Brother Jessie.”

The First Lady turned and smiled again at Delilah. “You're quite welcome to join us later on this evening if you're not too tired, or just fall on your knees wherever you are at six o'clock. I've also heard about the wonders God performed for you yesterday. The waters in the blessing pool are never calm. Just step in and take Him at His word.”

“I'll think about that.” Delilah smiled, too. “I guess ain't no harm in splashing around in God's pool.”

As tired as Jessie was, he couldn't help but laugh at Delilah's seemingly innocent translation. It was an easy laugh in the midst of the hard trial the Jewel family faced. Jessie walked the First Lady to her car as Delilah went inside.

Although released into Jessie's custody, out of habit she headed straight up the stairs to the deacon's apartment.

When Delilah reached the top of the stairs, the door to the deacon's apartment was ajar. Peeping through it, she saw his long legs. He was sprawled across the couch.

Thank you, Jehovah God, for letting him sleep. I don't have the strength to deal with another bit of drama today.
She tiptoed past him and went inside his bedroom.

Delilah showered as quietly as she could before borrowing one of the deacon's old shirts and lying down. Yet as tired as she was, she couldn't sleep. Everything that'd happened in the past twenty-four hours replayed repeatedly in her head. She hadn't bothered to close the deacon's door, so she heard faint sounds of movement from downstairs.

“What if they need me down there?” Delilah had never felt as useless in her entire life as she did at that moment. Where was all that grandmother wit the First Lady spoke about earlier? She didn't have a clue as to what her family needed, beyond their need to know the entire truth. And she'd already determined she'd give them that. Except now she'd been placed in Jessie's custody and that changed things.
Jehovah, what can I do? I can't tell Jessie that the deacon's his father until the time is right. There ain't no right time because Jessie will hate me, and the deacon, I'm sure. The deacon can move if he has to, but where can I go? I'm in Jessie's custody. I can't stay here and be hated anymore.

In her mind, Delilah's self-imposed prison sentence had just begun and without chance of parole.

D
elilah woke to voices coming from the deacon's kitchen. She sat up to make sure she wasn't dreaming. She slipped from under the covers and walked softly to the bedroom door. She could hear the deacon talking.

“What could I do?” Deacon Pillar was saying. “I just tiptoed back out the door and left Delilah cradling a pillow. I was shocked to find her there. I thought for sure she'd go down to the extra room in the basement to catch a nap. But, well, suh, awrighty Jesus, she's balled up like a little kitten in there.”

The deacon refilled his cup as well as Jessie's and continued. “Let me ask you something. Do you want her in your life?” He'd asked the question knowing full well it was on Jessie's mind. It had to be. It would certainly be on his.

“I'm not sure if I want her beyond what the court says is mandatory.”

Delilah's heart sank. She'd been right. Yet, instead of returning to the bed, she kept on eavesdropping. She might as well hear everything.

“What are you talking about, Jessie?” the deacon asked. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know.

“I didn't have time to tell you after I came back from answering questions and leaving a cup of piss downtown. Delilah's been released into my custody.”

And that's when the deacon relaxed and started laughing. He laughed until he was holding his sides and almost threw up his tea and liquor, which he'd said was for medicinal purposes.

Jessie couldn't help it. He started laughing, too. The absurdity of the whole situation was laughable, and if they didn't laugh, then both men would start bawling.

Behind the laughter each man wondered what the other knew and when he knew it.

Delilah quietly closed the deacon's bedroom door.
Damn, I thought I was deceitful. Those two could teach me a thing or two,
she thought.

 

While a few doors down Jessie and Deacon Pillar chatted in the deacon's kitchen, Marty jumped up in her bed from a sound sleep. Her doorbell rang and she thought it was part of a dream. One look at her clock told her she'd not slept that long, three hours or so at the most. The bell rang again and she heard her front door open.

Tamara was almost too exhausted to use her spare key to enter her godmother's house. “Sister Marty,” she called out as she sat down in the nearest chair. Everything in the living room looked nice and neat as always, so why was the situation all a mess?

Tamara called out once more, “Sister Marty.”

Marty rushed through the house toward Tamara's voice, wearing a nightgown. She hadn't bothered to put on a robe. “What's wrong, Tamara?” She knew it was a stupid question. Her goddaughter looked more of a wreck than she did, and she'd been locked up in jail.

Sister Marty snatched a tissue from a box and sat down next to Tamara. “If you're worried about me, I'm just fine.”

“I'm worried about everybody.” Tamara took the tissue from Marty's hand. “I've never seen Daddy shoot someone before. I've never been so scared for the deacon. And I don't know what I'd have done if you'd been hurt, too.”

“That's okay. We weren't hurt. We're doing just fine. Even Delilah made out okay. You know that. You were in the courtroom, too.”

“I know she did. But I'm too ashamed to face her right now.”

Marty's face couldn't hide her confusion. “Ashamed of what, Tamara? What did you do?”

“It's nothing that you don't already know about….”

“Then what is it?”

There was a reddish halo around Tamara's gray eyes as she looked up. She'd cried so much she appeared much older than her twenty-one years. “I thought I was gonna die when the cops told Delilah to drop that rock and she didn't.” Tamara stopped and tears began to drop. “They could've shot my grandmother. I would've lost her. How could I feel that way about her, when I have you?”

Marty looked at Tamara's sudden admission of her love for Delilah as a sign. She didn't feel threatened, nor did she make any subtle jabs or put-downs about Delilah. She'd already promised God, as she sat in that cell with people who probably had less than she, and even those who more than likely deserved to be there, that she'd back off. She'd done and felt too many things that went against her nature. She wasn't some teenager who had to fight over a boyfriend. She'd never done that anyway. God had given her Jessie for a reason, and perhaps her season with him was finished. God's will was His, and she'd be okay no matter how things turned out. Even if Jessie got angry because she'd not spoken up about Delilah and Thurgood sooner, she'd still be okay.

“Where's your father?”

“I heard him go upstairs to the deacon's before I left the house.”

“And where's Delilah?”

“I don't know. I checked before I left and there wasn't any sign of her downstairs in the basement room. I know Daddy brought her back, and now I don't know where she is. She doesn't have anyone.” Tamara started rocking and crumbling the tissue she held.

Marty's heart was breaking piece by piece watching Tamara in so much pain. “Come on, Tamara.”

Marty helped Tamara to her feet and then led her into one of the spare bedrooms. “Rest here, baby.”

Tamara didn't fight it. She lay down fully clothed on her godmother's bed and before Marty had crept out of the room, Tamara was sleep.

Marty went into her kitchen. As tired as she should've been, she was now wide awake. She wondered where Delilah could possibly be. And she also wondered if she should get involved. She'd just promised God she'd stay out of it. Yet she'd already started dialing her phone. As much as she hated doing it, she called the deacon's house.

“Hello.” The deacon answered his phone almost on the first ring. He didn't want Delilah to waken. “…Jessie's right here. How are you?…Okay, we'll chat later…. Let me put Jessie on….”

The deacon took the cordless phone back to the table. He used the palm of his free hand to cover it instead of putting it on mute. “It's Marty,” he told Jessie as he handed him the phone. “If I didn't know any better I'd think she was upset with me. What could've changed since this morning?”

The only thing the deacon knew for sure that could change things was sound asleep in his bedroom. He was certain he'd detected a hint of aggravation in Marty's voice.

“…She's upstairs…. Why?…Can't you tell me?”

Jessie placed the phone into the deacon's hands. “Wake up Delilah and give her the phone.”

N
o one was more surprised than Delilah when the deacon knocked on his bedroom door with a phone in his hand. She'd barely tiptoed back to the bed and gotten under the covers. She wasn't in the mood to talk.

“Delilah,” the deacon called to her as he approached the bed. “Wake up, Dee Dee.” He waited to see if she'd respond, but she didn't. He spoke into the phone. “Marty, I'm sorry, but she won't wake up.”

Delilah sat up and snatched the phone from the deacon's hands almost at the same time. She didn't want to talk to him, and not Marty, either, at that moment. But she was curious.

The deacon started to say something but he didn't, especially when Delilah waved him away. It was obvious she wanted privacy. He wasn't sure when he stopped being the king of his castle, but it had to be about the same time she had arrived back into his life.

Jessie and the deacon continued chatting at the deacon's kitchen table while Delilah was on the phone. They talked about nonsense, wondering what was going on between the two women. Jessie was certain that their not being in the same room wouldn't stop drama from happening. He and the deacon looked up as Delilah raced from the bedroom. She flew past them, tossing the phone as she went. The phone nicked the deacon across his forehead and before he could holler “ouch” Delilah was out the door.

 

Marty met Delilah at the door and led her to the spare bedroom where she'd left Tamara.

Delilah stood in the doorway and watched her granddaughter, praying she'd know how to handle things. Moments later, urged on by Sister Marty, Delilah quietly came around and sat on the edge of the bed. “Hush, baby, just let Grandma Delilah hold you.”

Marty looked on, marveling at how easy the word
grandma
finally rolled off Delilah's tongue. Had she realized what she'd said?

“C'mon, Jehovah,” Delilah prayed, “my grandbaby needs peace.” With that Delilah started to make up a refrain, which she sang softly. “Jehovah-shalom…He's peace in a storm. Jehovah-shammah…for He is here with us…”

Tamara fell into her grandmother's arms and immediately went back to sleep.

 

Jessie had left the deacon's apartment as soon as Delilah raced away. He didn't try to follow her out the front door, knowing she'd probably gone over to Marty's house. There was nowhere else she could've gone. He'd already decided that he'd go over to Marty's right after he'd checked on Tamara.

As soon as he discovered Tamara was missing, he put two and two together and came up with Delilah and Marty. When he ran over to Marty's, she met him at the door but didn't let him in.

“Tamara and Delilah are both here. They are both fine. Delilah wanted her real grandmother. I'm fine with that. I'll call you later.” She closed the door, hard, and left him standing flat-footed on her porch.

There was nothing for him to do but return home.
She wouldn't have lied about that,
he thought.

 

For the second or third time that day, Jessie rapped lightly on the deacon's apartment door. He could hear the old man shuffle across the vestibule floor.

The deacon opened the door slightly and then all the way when he saw it was Jessie.

“Come on in, Brother Jessie. Are those women alright? I figured that's who you'd taken off to see about.”

Deacon Pillar pointed to the other love seat. “I've got more tea and Jack. Which do you prefer this time?”

“At this moment I'll take Jack heavy and tea light.”

The deacon poured the concoction into a large cup and handed it to Jessie. He watched Jessie take a sip and then waited for the shoe to fall.

“You'll never guess what happened at Marty's.”

“Does it involve your mother?”

“Yep.”

“That's funny, I didn't hear any more police cars or ambulances.”

The men laughed softly and that broke the tension again.

“Would you believe that Tamara chose Delilah over Marty?”

“What are you talking about?” The deacon quickly poured some of the Jack into his chamomile tea and leaned back to listen. All his tiredness suddenly fled.

“I was already shocked to hear that it was Marty on the phone for Delilah,” Jessie confessed.

“Tell me about it—” The deacon quickly put the cup to his lips to keep from saying anything more.

Jessie took the opportunity to probe once again. “How did you feel when you heard the judge refer to Delilah as Mrs. Jewel-Pillar in court?”

The deacon almost choked, but it wasn't like he'd expected Jessie not to figure things out. But he still wasn't ready for full disclosure. “I was going to speak to you about that when things calmed down a bit around here.”

“We're alone now.” Jessie took another sip from his glass while his eyes stayed glued to the deacon's. He'd learned to read body language years ago and he probably should've watched the deacon closer.

“Back when I met your mama, we used to hang tough. I mean, we were in some of the same bands, hung out at some of the same clubs. We were thick as thieves. But your mama wasn't old enough to do a lot of things that we did, so I made an honest woman out of her.”

“You gave her your name?”

The deacon hadn't thought of explaining it so simply without flat-out lying, but since Jessie had provided the explanation, he went with it. “Yes, I gave her my name.”

“And what did she do with it after you did that?” Jessie still sensed the deacon wasn't as forthcoming as he should've been, but he could wait. This was a start.

“Well, let me see,” the deacon said slowly as he took another sip. “We traveled a bit.”

“Traveled?”

“Yep. It was mostly around the five boroughs, but now and then we managed to make it out to the Hamptons for gigs and such.”

Jessie was about to say more, but he saw the deacon fidgeting a bit. He decided to cut the old man some slack. It had been a hell of a ride in the last twenty-four hours.

“I don't know about you, but I don't think I'm gonna make it for prayer service this evening. I still have to pick up some things for this Sunday. What are you going to do?”

“I gotta mix and match an outfit and make a couple of phone calls.” The deacon saw the look on Jessie's face and smiled. “I promise to keep it at no more than three colors or patterns—how's that?”

“That's a deal.”

“Jessie, I want to ask you something before you go.”

“What is it?”

“Do you think about that young man you shot?”

“Why do you think I haven't slept yet? It's all I can think about, when I'm not thinking about my family. But I did what I had to do. If I hadn't, we might not be having this conversation.”

The deacon didn't respond. He rose and walked over to Jessie. He patted him on his back. “Thank you. You saved my life by shooting that young man. And you don't take it lightly. I'm proud of you.”

“As proud of me as if I were your son?”

“Yes.”

The deacon walked Jessie to the door. They shook hands, and again neither said what needed to be said.