When Everything's Said & Done (18 page)

“Is the tutoring going okay?”

One of them shrugged. The other replied, “Yeah, I’m sort of getting the hang of it. ”

“Good.” She smiled. “We’ll see you Friday.”

They nodded and continued up the stairs.

Brenda turned into the small hallway where several coats and hats hung on hooks. A woman and young girl entered the walk-through closet and began to put on their coats.

“Hi, Mrs. Dawson,” the woman said.

“Hello,” Brenda replied. “How are you this evening?” “I’m okay.” The woman glanced at the girl. “I guess.”

Brenda focused on the girl, who wore a sour look on her face. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

The girl shrugged and her mother jabbed her with her
elbow. “Don’t shrug at her. She’s your elder. You speak up when Mrs. Dawson is asking you something.”

“It’s okay,” the girl replied softly.

“Is the tutoring helping with school?” Brenda attempted to engage the girl further.

“A little bit.”

“Good.” She glanced at the mother, then back at the girl. “Then you should be happy.”

“She’s not happy because she wants to be where her friends are,” the mother replied.

“And where is that?”

“In that place your sister’s opened up. The Way Home. She says all of her friends are going there.” “They do.” The girl piped up. “And they learn to paint. And they do this thing called meditation where they use their minds to just see things that’s in ’em.”

“Well, you’re not going there.” The mother’s face hardened. “I don’t care if you weren’t going to the tutorial program. Ain’t no child of mine going there. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The girl looked down.

The woman looked at Brenda. “I don’t mean to be harsh or anything, but I’m going to be honest with you, and I’m not alone in this. I just don’t like what’s going on at your sister’s place. This meditating and all. Painting what you see, and God talking to you directly. How they know that’s God talking to them? How they know that? That’s her saying that. It could be Satan for all we know.”

“I would doubt that.” Brenda shook her head. “Well you doubt it because it’s your sister. But some of us, including the pastor, aren’t so certain.”

“What has Pastor Benson said about Cora?”

The woman lifted her chin. “Let me put it this way. When she got married and that’s been over a year now, from the very beginning, it was obvious to many of us that she don’t honor God too well. She didn’t even have a minister perform the ceremony. I heard she stood up there on her own, she and that policeman husband of hers, saying what they wanted to say to each other. Who ever heard of such a thing?”

“Well...Ms....what’s your name?”

“Ms. Steele. Velma Steele.”

“Well Ms. Steele, if you had been there I think you might have a different opinion. What Cora and Warren said to each other was very loving and positive.” “I’m not talking about what it seems like on the outside. I’m talking about the way it was done. And anybody who gets married without God sanctioning their wedding, I got a problem with it. A few of us do, and I don’t think they should be teaching our children ways that are more satanic than godly. Pastor Benson agrees with us, at least that’s my understanding. ” She cleared her throat. “But I can’t speak for him. Maybe you need to ask him yourself.” Velma pulled her hat down on her head. “Well, we’re going to get on out of here. I just... ” Velma looked down. “You asked me what was happening with her—” she gave her daughter a gentle shove forward “—and I told you. You probably need to know anyway because there’s quite a bit of talk about it around the neighborhood.”

“Really?” Brenda replied.

“Yes. Really,” Velma replied as she walked away. “Thank you, though, for letting my daughter be in this program. She is doing better in school even if she don’t want to admit it. And we shall see you on Friday.”

“All right.”

Brenda went to the bathroom. Then, before she knew it, she was climbing another set of stairs. They ended at a back hallway that led to the pastor’s office. Brenda walked past the baptismal pool and stopped in front of the pastor’s door, which was closed. She rapped on the door. A few moments later it opened slightly.

“Pastor Benson, I’d like to speak with you, if you have time.”

He hesitated. “Sure, I’ve got a moment. I think we’re finished in here.”

Pastor Benson looked back. Indistinguishable words followed before the pastor opened the door completely. Two young men very closely associated with the Gang
ster Disciples, the largest gang in the neighborhood, walked past them.

“Good evening,” one of them said.

“Good evening,” Brenda replied.

“Catch you later. Pastor Benson,” the other said.

“Goodbye.” The remark was sharp. Pastor Benson motioned for Brenda to step inside. He closed the door. “Have a seat.”

Brenda sat down. “Aren’t those two young men members of the Gangster Disciples?”

“Yes. Yes, they are.” Pastor Benson sat back in his chair. “I’ve been trying to counsel them. Show them a different way.”

“Is it doing any good?” Brenda placed her hands in her lap. “I’m so surprised to see them here. I’ve never seen them in church.”

Pastor Benson massaged his chin. “It might take a little time, but it can’t hurt. The world wasn’t made in a day, you know.” He placed folded hands on his desk. “Now, Brenda, what can I help you with?”

“Well—” she looked down, then started again. “One of the parents, Velma Steele, was picking her daughter up from tutoring, and she told me that she along with some other parents, and you, seem to have a problem with my sister Cora and her business.”

“Oh, I see,” Pastor Benson replied. “Well, the truth is, some of the parents have come to me confidentially and spoken of their concerns about your sister. She seems to have captured the attention, and even the hearts, of quite a few of the young folks in the community, and the parents just aren’t so sure if her way is the way they want their children to take on. They feel that— uh...the things she does are a little foreign and that makes them uncomfortable. Even frightens some of them.”

“And what do you say to them, Pastor?”

“I have my feelings, too.” He sat back. “I’m not pleased that— uh, she’s not seeking out the ministry here, seeking out the church, even with your being her sister and your involvement. I believe if your sister brought prayer into the situation, instead of this meditating, we would all feel more comfortable.” Pastor Benson sat forward with a pastoral smile. “I’m just afraid that she is functioning without a capable intermediary of God’s in all of this.”

“I’m sure Cora doesn’t feel she needs an intermedi
ary, Pastor. Cora feels if God talks to you. He’ll talk to her, and He’ll talk to those children, too.” Brenda replied. “No one’s special in the eyes of God. She believes if you open your heart to God, God will be there.”

“I see you seem to support this uncertain road that your sister is traveling.”

“It’s not a matter of supporting it. Pastor. Cora is a person who has always been a seeker of a different kind, and I’ve learned, being her older sister, to let her be. And I’ve learned to try to let others be as well, as long as their intentions are good.”

“What about all these children that are flocking to her? Wanting to take on her ways?
I’m telling you now, Brenda, I just don’t think it’s good.”

“Have you heard of something she’s done that’s hurt somebody? Something specific?”

“Not yet. But—^uh, we don’t want it to get there.” He sat up straight. “We’d like to nip it in the bud before somebody gets hurt.”

“I see.” Brenda crossed her arms.

“And I’m not just talking about the children, I’m talking about your sister, too.”

“What do you mean?” Brenda’s brow furrowed.

“I heard that some of the gang members had been giving her trouble. Threatening her even. It seems they’re not too happy because some of the boys that used to show an interest in becoming gang members are now going to your sister’s place. I just had a talk about it with those young men who were in here.”

“Well, that shows some good that’s coming out of what Cora is doing, right there,” Brenda replied. “If she can discourage our young men from fighting one an
other and committing crimes, you’d think the neighborhood would be behind her. ”

Pastor Benson pressed his lips together. “If only it was that simple, Brenda. Look—” the pastor leaned on his desk “—^maybe you should talk to her about what people are saying. Try to convince her that she needs to be a part of the church community. ”

“Pastor—” Brenda shook her head “—^that’s not going to happen.”

A look of irritation flitted across his face. “What’s
not going to happen? Which part? Your talking to her?” He gave her the eye. “Or her becoming a part of the church community?”

“I guess my sister and I have been the topic of many conversations.” Brenda stood up. “If you
want Cora to stop doing what she’s doing, you talk to her. Because from where I stand, she’s not doing any harm. Good night. Pastor Benson.” She left his office.

Nebia’s Story...

“Cora was stirring stuff up,” Cynthia said.

“She was beginning to,” Nebia replied. “But I don’t think Cora knew how much. Sure, once in a while she complained about some of the young thugs in her neigh
borhood banging on The Way Home’s door and shouting she was taking their members. But I don’t think Cora had an inkling that the church community was becoming upset with her. She was too busy in her own world to know. Her business was growing and she and Warren had bought a little house. Cora was happy making a life for herself.” Nebia looked at each one of them. “The kind of life she never dreamed of having, but when she got it, it was more than she had hoped for.”

“Did Brenda talk to Cora about what was being said?” Erica asked.

“I don’t think so,” Nebia replied. “I think Brenda truly didn’t feel Cora was doing any harm, and if she couldn’t go to her sister with something loving to say, I think Brenda decided not to go to her at all. And when she told that pastor that he should go talk to her, she meant just that.” Nebia lit another cigarette. “So Cora just kept on her merry way. More and more young people started going to The Way Home, and she sold more paintings. There was even a need to stock more African items to sell.”

“Who was buying them?” Cynthia remained skepti
cal. “I wouldn’t think the folks in the neighborhood would be interested.”

“They weren’t. But folks passing through town and people from the surrounding areas, like Tampa and Sarasota, bought them. Yes, even some of the white folks from Sarasota were interested in her imports. Cora was doing well.” Nebia blew a long stream of smoke. “And Laura was proud. She was proud of both of her girls actually, even though she never said it. I would see a light come in her eye when she’d read about Brenda in the Sentinel, one of our black news
papers. Brenda and Michael were always in there doing something or ’nother. And I could tell Laura was proud and happy that both of her daughters seemed settled. But because of that ‘thing’ between her and Brenda, Laura poured all of her emotion out on Cora.”

CHAPTER 25

Sometimes I just shouldn’t let her have her way, Miss Laura. I just shouldn’t.” Warren paced the Robinsons’ small living room.

“I know how you feel. Cora can be extremely head
strong.” Laura looked concerned. “No matter what you do or say, she got to do it her way. ”

“God.” Warren stated at the ceiling. “Have I come to know that.”

“Aa-a-argh!!!” erupted from the bedroom upstairs. “I can’t stand another moment of this.” He held his head. “I’m going up there. I’ve got to go up there and tell them she needs a doctor.”

Warren mounted the steps two at a time and opened the bedroom door. He saw Cora sitting on the bed hold
ing her huge abdomen. Her teeth were bared, and her eyes were shut so tight, water ran from the corners. Cora didn’t look at him; she was deep into her labor pains.

Nebia went over and mopped Cora’s brow with a cool cloth, then she gently patted her face. When the contraction ended, Cora’s hands dropped like limp noo
dles onto the bed. Warren went to her side.

“Cora, I can’t stand this any longer. I just can’t,” he pleaded. “We need to get you to the hospital, and to a doctor. I want you to throw out this outdated idea of having our baby here. I—”

“Warren, we’ve talked about this a hundred—”

“I’m afraid for you, Cora.” Warren took her face in both hands. “I’m afraid for you and the baby. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Cora took hold of his wrists. “Nothing’s going to happen, Warren, except I’m going to have this child.” Determination entered her voice. “And I’m going to have it here at this house.”

Warren turned to Nebia. “Miss Nebia. Ple-ease. Tell her to come with me. Tell her to let me take her to the hospital. She’s been going at this now for seven hours. Going at it hard, and I just can’t stand it. I can’t stand hearing her cry out.”