The Truth Is the Light (10 page)

Chapter 19

“I
heard back from Lena,” Johnnie Mae said to her husband as she chopped up cabbage for supper. “She's spoken with everyone. They'll all be in Birmingham tomorrow.”

“Everybody?” Pastor Landris said, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her on the cheek. He picked up a piece of raw cabbage and put it in his mouth.

“Yeah. Lena said they were waiting for Memory to fly in to Atlanta. Theresa and Maurice have rented a van. That way they can all come together,” Johnnie Mae said, referring to Lena's daughter and son-in-law.

“Is Bishop Jordan coming as well?” Pastor Landris asked, inquiring about Lena's husband, Richard.

“Lena said it would be her and Bishop Jordan, Theresa, Maurice, and their two children, and Memory. I suppose they can all fit in a seven-passenger van.”

“Did they say how long they would be staying? Are they just coming down to meet with Ransom and then going right back?”

“She didn't say,” Johnnie Mae said. “But it will be good to see them again after all this time. They've been through a lot.” She primped her mouth. “And just when it looks like things are normal, something like this pops up. Life is truly hidden with surprises.”

“I'm just starting to wonder about
you,
” Pastor Landris said. “How is it that you seem to manage to end up in the middle of people finding each other?”

“It
is
becoming a pattern. Maybe I need to seek the Lord out about this. Ask Him what's going on.” Johnnie Mae was slightly teasing about asking God about it. She shook her head as she rinsed the cabbage in the stainless-steel colander. She dumped the washed cabbage into a heated boiler. “This discovery really could be attributed more to my mother than to me. I just happened to pursue what she'd said about that box. And here we are again. I'm starting to think there's something to those Wings of Grace boxes.”

“Do you think
this
Ransom Perdue is really legit?”

Johnnie Mae shrugged. She turned the eye on the stove down and placed a top on the boiler. Everything else was ready. The cabbage was the last thing she was cooking, that and rolls already in the toaster oven. They were having Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, candied yams, cabbage, and buttered rolls for supper.

Johnnie Mae sat down at the kitchen table. “Honestly, he appears very credible to me. But Lena is not convinced this isn't some cooked-up scam. I mean, what if this really was a well-planned setup like Lena and Theresa think it could be?”

“Well, I can see why both Lena and Theresa would feel that way.” Pastor Landris sat with Johnnie Mae. “Montgomery Powell the Second was not exactly pleased about losing everything after Sarah returned to her rightful position and regained power. Kicking him out of that mansion like she did was hard on him. Then Sarah leaving the house to Memory, especially after Montgomery, and his father before him, went to such great lengths to make sure Sarah would never get anything, ever.”

Johnnie Mae sat forward. Pastor Landris took his hand and moved a strand of hair from her face and pushed it behind her ear. He smiled as he looked in her eyes. Johnnie Mae took his hand and kissed it.

“I think Sarah actually left the house in a trust for Theresa's children. When I talked to Memory a little after Sarah died, she told me how Montgomery had tricked her into signing for him to purchase the house after Sarah's death. But the women were smart enough to tell each other what was going on, and Sarah was able to outwit Montgomery on that. Memory lives in the house, but it's set to be there for Theresa's children.”

“So, do you think Montgomery hired this guy to pretend to be Ransom Perdue? Told him what to say to convince folks he was the real deal? Even planted him here with plans for you or someone to find out so he could have access to Memory.”

Johnnie Mae shook her head. “No, I don't think so. If Montgomery was going to do something like that, then why not plant him to run into Memory in Asheville, North Carolina, or Lena or Theresa in Atlanta. Besides, my mother just went into that nursing home. I believe Ransom was already there when she got there.” She shook her head fast. “No. In spite of Lena and Theresa's skepticism, I believe this really is Memory's father, Ransom Perdue. After they get here tomorrow and get settled in, I'm going to their hotel and take them to the nursing home to meet him.”

Pastor Landris took one of Johnnie Mae's hands and began to caress it. “So, you've already told Ransom all about of them coming tomorrow?”

“Yeah. He knows. After I discovered who he was and told him about Memory, he couldn't wait to meet her. He wants to hurry, almost as though he's afraid after all this time he'll not live to see her. It should be something to see them all meet for the first time. Ransom says he's planning to have his whole family there, at least the ones that live here in Birmingham.”

The phone rang. Pastor Landris got up and picked it up to see the caller ID. “It's a Z. Walker,” he said. Johnnie Mae gestured with a shrug, puzzled as to who it might be. Pastor Landris pressed the talk button. After the initial hello, he gave the phone to Johnnie Mae.

“Hello,” Johnnie Mae said, trying to read her husband's face as he gave no further clue as to who it was.

“Mrs. Landris, my name is Zenobia Walker. I think you met my father, Ransom Perdue, the other day at the nursing home where your mother also resides.”

“Yes. Everybody except my mother calls him Gramps. She calls him Ranny.”

Zenobia gave a slight and short laugh. “Yes. Gramps. Mrs. Landris, I have my father here with me. He told me about your mother and the wooden box. He just finished telling us about Sarah Fleming and her daughter, Memory. And if we're to believe all of this, then that would make Memory my sister. Honestly, I'm having a difficult time wrapping my head around all of this.”

“I'm sure it's a shock and is something that would be hard for anyone to grasp.”

“Are you sure this isn't some scam or something? I mean, my father doesn't have anything for anyone to be trying to get their hands on. Nothing except maybe some land in North Carolina that he shares with a few other relatives. Daddy's not interested in claiming any of it, and none of us are, either. But other than that, my father doesn't have that much of anything.”

“Ms. Walker—”

“Please, call me Zenobia.”

“Okay, Zenobia. Ironically, I've been in this story from a long way back. And believe it or not, the other side of the family is just as skeptical about this as you are. They're not sure your daddy is the real Ransom Perdue or at least
their
Ransom Perdue.”

“When Daddy gave me the note with your name and phone number after he told us everything . . . Whew!” She made a blowing sound. “I still can't believe all of what he told us. I never suspected any of this. My daddy was just my daddy: a rather boring father, who lived in Detroit, went to work every day to provide us with our needs and some of our wants, and a man who grew to be a boring old man who equally loves his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren alike. Now I learn about a whole other life I never knew existed. A woman he almost married named Sarah Fleming: a rich white woman back during a time when they hanged a black man for just looking as if he wanted to look at a white woman. And then to learn she was pregnant with his child. That he was tricked away, to never return, because of a setup to lynch him. But he ended up imprisoned instead just so they could keep him from his family.”

“So, that's what happened to him,” Johnnie Mae said. “I'm sorry. You see, I know most of the story, but that part about your father almost being lynched and being in prison I didn't know. I just knew he left and no one ever heard from him again.”

“Except his friend Pearl Black. She saw him after he came back to Asheville looking for Sarah and his child ten years later.”

“Yes, I met Pearl. She was the person who gave me the Wings of Grace box. Sarah had given it to her, then gave me the special key needed to open it and told me where I could find Pearl. That's how I happen to know her. But you say your father came back to Asheville
after
all of this and he saw Pearl?”

“That's what Daddy said. He said it was around April of 1943.”

“Hmmm,” Johnnie Mae said, mostly to herself. “I didn't know that. Pearl never mentioned that. But then again, I don't suppose she would have a reason to mention something like that to me.”

“Daddy said you told his other family about him.”

“I did, and I've talked with Lena; that's Memory's only child. They're coming here tomorrow. I got one of the nurses to let me talk to him and I told him.”

“That's when he called me and said it was an emergency. He summoned all of us, me and my two sons, to the nursing home. He nearly scared me to death. I thought something awful had happened. Then he didn't want to talk about it there, so naturally I assumed maybe someone had done something to him at the home. You can never feel too comfortable and let down your guard. He's still here at my house. Memory is planning on visiting him at the nursing home, and he thought you were going to come with them.”

“Yes. I've agreed to bring them, unless that's a problem with you.”

“Well, I'd prefer we do it at my house instead of the nursing home. I'll give you my address, and you can bring them over here—that's if you don't mind.”

“Zenobia, I have a thought. And you can tell me if you don't like it or don't want to do it. But why don't all of you come here to my home. That way it would be in a bigger, more private place than the nursing home but a more neutral ground for all.”

Zenobia paused a second. “I think that's a great idea. But I wouldn't want to put you out or cause you to go to any trouble.”

“It's no trouble. Look, Zenobia, I told you earlier: I've been in this from the beginning. With this new development, I would be honored to do whatever I can to help. It's the least I can do . . . for Sarah. I helped in bringing her back together with her daughter. It's only fitting that I would do the same with Memory's father.”

“I don't know what God is up to, but I must admit: He never ceases to amaze me.”

Johnnie Mae laughed. “For sure, there's definitely never a dull moment with the Lord. Like you said, we never know what He's up to. We just need to be obedient. And I really don't mind everyone meeting over here. I really don't.”

“Then, yes. Give me your address, tell me what time, and we'll be there.”

“Let me check with the others to make sure this works for them as well. I'm sure they're going to agree. I'll see what time they're looking at, especially since they're the ones driving in.”

“That's fine. I understand. We'll just keep our evening free. I just want to be sure my sons are able to be there. My oldest son doesn't usually get off work until four-thirty, plus he has four children. Though if he needs to, I'm sure he can work it all out.”

“I'll tell you what. Why don't we set a time of six
PM
? And if we need to change it, we can.”

“Six is fine with me. Just let me know for sure.” Zenobia gave her both her home and cell phone numbers, then wrote down Johnnie Mae's home address.

Chapter 20

P
astor Landris opened the certified letter he'd received from the IRS. He couldn't believe what he was reading. It was a formal accusation of him not reporting income and assets and of possibly abusing his powers in his ministerial position. The letter had been delivered to the church. He was officially being asked to come into the IRS office and address several issues he was being accused of. The listed items almost floored him, as there was no way he was guilty of any of the things included.

He had called his personal accountant as well as the church's accountant. They assured him what had been filed was fine and that it was likely just some routine audit. But after he faxed the letter to both accountants, his personal accountant, Stanley, called him back and told him this was more than a random audit.

“Pastor, I hate to tell you this, but this doesn't look good. It's saying that you didn't report certain income as income. This is one of those whistle-blowing-type letters. I reported everything that you gave me. Is it possible you forgot to give me something?”

“No, Stanley. I don't play about things like this. You know how you were saying I was including things as income that were considered love offerings and not necessarily reportable, and I told you that I didn't even want the appearance of evil. If someone gave me a love gift, I kept a record and gave that record to you. I don't play when it comes to the Lord's business.”

“Well, given the number of high-profile ministers who've been under the microscope here recently, I'm a little concerned. This letter appears to be an inquiry to address some person who has filed a formal complaint against you,” Stanley said.

“So what you're telling me is that anybody could have called the IRS and said I did something inappropriate without producing any hard evidence to support their claim?” Pastor Landris asked.

“Yeah. Especially when it comes to someone in your position. You're in a position of authority where you
could
be doing something wrong, and someone does need to watch out for that. Citizens who either give to the ministry or are watching out for crooks who prey on people in this area have every right to bring to the government's attention people who might possibly be abusing or gaming the system.”

“Okay, so what do we do now?”

“I'll call and set up a meeting with this agent, and we'll see what's really going on. Unless you have things that you've hidden from me and thus hidden from the government, this should be pretty easy to put to rest.” Stanley paused for a few seconds. “Are you sure you gave me everything? You don't have any off-shore accounts? Any money you received under the table from someone who can prove that you did?”

Pastor Landris thought back to his eldest brother, Thomas. Thomas had messed him up some years ago by selling his millions' worth of Microsoft stock without telling him he'd sold it, then proceeded to reinvest the money in some unsavory business practices, trying to make some extra money for himself. It had been a nightmare of a mess, but all of that had been straightened out with the IRS. Pastor Landris had paid the owed back taxes and penalties, which also happened to be in the millions, on the money, despite much of it having been lost and swindled, thanks to his brother. Pastor Landris had learned a valuable lesson during that period at a great expense: No matter what,
you
are ultimately responsible, so handle your own business, and handle it well. At least know everything that's going on. Following that debacle, Thomas hadn't been allowed anywhere near his finances.

Of course, Pastor Landris later learned that his brother suffered from a mental illness called bipolar disorder, which might have contributed to his impulses to recklessly throw money away. It had been rough in the beginning trying to get him help. Thomas had been doing well, seeing a doctor who started him on medication to help control the disorder. Then Thomas had gone through that period when he'd taken himself off his medication. With much prayer and love, along with a doctor's help, Thomas was still on his medication and was even dating a nice woman who was spiritually strong in the Lord and didn't take any lip when it came to Thomas doing right. Pastor Landris could see they were headed for the altar soon, although both Pastor Landris and Johnnie Mae had secretly wished Thomas and Sapphire Drummond would have made another go of it.

But after that meltdown Thomas had with Faith, a.k.a. Trinity, and Sapphire doing all she could to help Thomas to get better through mental health support, Sapphire and Thomas went in totally different directions. Then the dreadlock-wearing Sapphire cut off her dreads even before Pastor Landris cut off his, and she began sporting a small, natural Afro. Four years ago she'd met and, a year later, married a wonderful widower with three teenage children. To Sapphire's surprise, at age forty-one, she became pregnant, and the couple had a beautiful little boy. But because of her age and this being her first child and the possibility the child could be born with Down syndrome, it was touch and go there for a while.

So Pastor Landris could see no way anyone could have done something that he didn't know about when it came to his finances. In fact, wisdom had led him to hire Stanley because of his stellar reputation as a great accountant and his work ethics, integrity, and honesty.

“Stanley, unless someone gave me money and I didn't know it had been given to me, I have given you something on everything that I've ever received. You know how much money I get from the church. You know about my speaking engagement money. As I've said, even when people give me money and call it a love offering, I've given you that total and instructed you to include it in my income count. I haven't ordered any lavish items at the church or for the church. No platinum toilets in my house. I don't have my own personal jet or a church plane at my disposal. When people bring me in to preach or speak and pay for my flight, I give that to you so you can count it as income. Everything I do, to the best of my ability, is on the up-and-up.”

“All right then, we have nothing to worry about. I'll call and see if we can't get this straightened out. Get Ms. . . .” He paused to look for the name of the IRS agent on the letter.

“Winston,” Pastor Landris said quickly. “Raquel Winston.”

“She has a nice name,” Stanley said.

“Well, get back to me and let me know what we need to do to take care of this.”

“Will do,” Stanley said.