When Everything's Said & Done (5 page)

“How’s he do--"

“Work on ourselves!” Annette broke in. “How is that going to help those little children?” Her eyes were bright. “By the time I graduate from college they will all be dead.”

“If you work on yourself, Annette—” Laura patted her breasts “—^you can make sure that any children you bring into this world will have a better life than those children.”

“But that’s so selfish,” Annette declared.

Laura looked at her daughter’s pained face. “Call it what you may, but that’s how it is.”

Annette stood up. “Well, I won’t let it be that way for me. At Bethel Methodist they’ve been talking about some missionaries who are going to Zambia, South Africa. They’re going in a couple of weeks.” She hesi
tated. “And I want to go with them.”

“Some missionaries!” Laura looked startled, then disgusted. “Ain’t no child of mine going off to Africa working with no mission. These churches need to quit brainwashing folks. They have you
believing they know the way, and the leaders can’t even lead themselves to live a decent life.”

“That’s not true,” Annette argued. “The pastor at Bethel Methodist is a good man, and so are the other people there.”

“Don’t tell me about what goes on at these churches, ’cause I know,” Laura shot back.

“Just because that stuff happened at Ebenezer years ago it doesn’t mean that’s what’s going on in every church. Maybe you would know that if you had found another church and continued to go like you should have.”

“I’m not going to allow you to talk to me like that, Annette Robinson. And I don’t want to hear any more about any missions because you are not going.” “Mama, Annette is out of high school.” Brenda defended her sister. “And I think you should allow her to make her own decisions about what she wants to do with her life. There are a lot of social programs cropping up that are very good. And I believe that working with programs like the one we just saw, and with the system, is the only way things are going to get better for all of us.”

“You haven’t heard me say anything against the sys
tem.” Laura directed her attention to Brenda. “But I do know one thing. No matter what kind of system you are working under you got to think for yourself. Keep your own eyes open and sometimes the agenda isn’t as simple as it seems.”

“I am thinking for myself. Mama,” Annette said with tears in her eyes. “And I am going to Africa no matter what you say. Do you hear me?” She ran out the front door.

“You are so skeptical. Mama.” Brenda began to shake her head. “All the world isn’t out to get us.”

“And you believe the system has all the answers. Maybe you’re not skeptical enough.”

Brenda’s lips tightened. “How could I not be, living in this house?” She went upstairs.

Cora continued to look at her mother as she stood holding her sun hat in her hand. Their eyes met before Laura turned and went into the kitchen.

Cora went and stood on the front porch.

“I can’t believe this. You don’t understand me, ei
ther!” Came from somewhere above. Cora walked to the edge of the house just as Annette rushed down the stairs from Michael’s efficiency. She passed Cora without saying a word.

“Where are you going?” Michael called.

“I don’t know. I just know I need to get away from here,” Annette replied.

Cora started in behind her.

“Don’t follow me, Cora.” Annette pinned her with glistening eyes. “I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?”

Annette nodded and Cora watched her sister head down the street. Michael remained at the bottom of the staircase.

“Where is she going?” He watched Annette disap
pear around the corner.

“I’m not sure.” Cora exhaled as a powerful breeze whipped her braids into her face and a whistle began to blow.

“That’s my teapot.” Michael turned toward the stairs. “I was about to make a cup of instant coffee. Want some?”

Cora looked at him. “You drink coffee in the mid
dle of the day?”

“Not usually, but I decided I needed a little pick-me- up. Come on.” He beckoned.

“Okay.” Cora climbed the stairs and Michael opened the door to his unit so Cora could go in.

“I didn’t want to start in on the Southern Comfort this early, so I thought Maxwell House would do.” He went over and picked up the kettle. Michael stared at it. “I didn’t mean to upset Annette. I just told her that seeing a television commercial wasn’t reason enough to become a missionary in Africa.”

“It wasn’t just you,” Cora said. “She was already upset before she came up here.”

“I figured that, but I could have been a little more sensitive and allowed her to talk it out. I guess Fm still dealing with the rejection letter I got from the SB A yes
terday, and I’m not dealing with it too well.”

“What’s the SBA?”

“Small Business Association. I’ve been trying to get a loan from them so I can start my insurance business.” Michael put a heaping teaspoon of coffee into a steaming cup of water and stirred as he looked out the window.

“So I guess that means you got to keep trying.”

“This is the third time they’ve turned me down and Fm beginning to believe it’s because I’m black.” Michael looked at the black coffee inside his cup.

“Can’t let that stop you,” Cora said. “You’re gonna always be black.”

“I know,” Michael replied. “I guess that’s what’s scaring me at the moment.”

He turned to the window again. “It looks like it’s going to storm out there. The sky is turning black and some dangerous looking clouds are rolling in pretty fast.” Cora walked over and stood beside him. “I hope Annette has sense enough to come back if it gets too bad.”

“Yeah. Seems like it might tear up something for sure.” Michael spoke softly. “It looks like how I feel inside. I feel like I could walk right up to the man in charge and lay him out cold. And I don’t mean the head of the SB A.” Michael looked at Cora’s face. “Life can be so hard, Cora. So unfair. Hell, all I want is a fair shake in this world.” He closed his eyes. “Then I think about Annette and how she cares so much for others, and I think about the children in that commercial, and I feel ashamed for even wanting that.”

“Michael.” Cora put her arms around him. “It’s al
right to want more for yourself. Believe it or not, it simply means you’re human.” She spoke into his ear.

Michael squeezed Cora against him. “You don’t know how long I’ve had this need to build something.
To be somebody. I guess it’s because when my mama died after working all her life cleaning other folks’ housing and taking care of their children just so I wouldn’t have to, I promised myself and her that I would succeed. And I’ve just got to succeed, Cora. I’ve got to.”

Cora felt Michael’s warm breath on her neck, the softness of his skin, and the hardness of his chest. They became still, and as if by telepathy pulled apart slightly. Awareness of a kind of chemistry between them was in both sets of eyes. By sheer instinct Cora turned and looked out the window. Brenda was standing there. Their gazes held as distrust dawned in Brenda’s eyes.

“I thought Annette might be up here.” Brenda stared at them. “But I can see I was wrong.” She disappeared out of the window.

Cora stepped away. “I think I better go.”

“Sure.” Michael nodded.

It started to rain as Cora headed down the stairs be
hind Brenda. They met at the front door. Rain dripped down both of their faces.

“It’s not like what you’re thinking,” Cora began.

“It’s not?” Brenda said skeptically.

“No.” Cora hugged her arms across her body.

Brenda shook her head. Rain drenched her hardened face. “You’ve done a lot of things, Cora. But I never thought you’d make a move on your baby sister’s boyfriend.”

Cora started to respond but Annette walked up the walkway. She was soaked to the skin.

“I signed up for the mission,” she announced. “You’ll need some company,” Brenda said. “I’m going with you.”

Guilt sparked in Cora. “And you two are not going without me.”

Annette put her arms around her sisters. Over her head Brenda and Cora looked at each other as small flashes of lightning lit up the sky. They echoed the tear that had come between Brenda and Cora.

Nebia’s Story...

“I’m telling you now, Sheila,” Cynthia said as she got off the rail and pulled up a chair. “If you had gone off and joined some missionary you would have gone by yourself.”

“You didn’t have to worry about that,” Sheila replied. “That’s not even my style. Sounds more like Erica to me. ” “Yeah. Right,” Erica said.

“That shows you how close Brenda, Cora and Annette were,” Nebia said. “They shared an unusual bond.” “So they all went to Africa?” Erica wanted to hear the rest of the story.

“Yes, they all went. And Laura was alone.” Nebia paused. “The house was quiet without the girls and Michael was never there. He found a job in Tampa.”

“So did they actually stay in Africa for a year?” Erica pressed.

“Not quite.” Nebia laid her head against the rock
ing chair and looked at the sky.

CHAPTER 6

“I thought the supplies were suppose to get here on Friday,” Cora said as she looked at the sparse shelves of canned goods and toiletries. She swiped at the flies that were attracted by the sweat running down her face. It was hot inside the makeshift supply house, but it was even hotter outside.

“I guess they didn’t,” Brenda replied. “But they’ll probably come today.”

“Now you sound like Reverend Pete. That’s what he told me two weeks ago.” Cora picked up the last half bar of soap. “I hope we don’t end up washing our butts with leaves and pretending their slickness is lather. ” Brenda shrugged. “Hey, the supplies are late, but they got to get here sometimes.” She took the bag of peppermint. “Have some patience, Cora. You’re in Africa.”

Cora looked at the nearly empty shelves. “I’m try
ing, but pretty soon we’ll be eating mealies and peppermint candy morning, noon and night. It’s funny how things turned out.”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Think about how much of a mission Bethel Methodist Church would have had if the three of us hadn’t volunteered.” She rolled her eyes. “We are the mission, except for Reverend Pete. But he don’t count because he’s a professional missionary. What was he, a doctor before he came out here?”

“A nurse,” Brenda replied.

“Well...either way, he’s turned the village chief or medicine man or whatever he is into his assistant. Reverend Pete fills him with Christianity, and the Rain Chief turns around and pours it on the villagers.”

Brenda stepped outside and Cora followed.

“That’s what missionary work’s all about.” Brenda looked at her.

“Have you seen Annette?”

“I think she’s inside the church,” Brenda said.

Cora walked down the dirt road that ran through the Zambian village. It was early, but already she could see waves of heat floating above the ground. Most of the villagers started their work before sunrise and had it wrapped up by noon. Annette always got up with them. Usually Brenda and Cora slept to a somewhat more decent hour.

Cora bathed quickly, using the half bar of soap with tender loving care. She dressed and headed for the tiny infirmary attached to the church. Thanks to Reverend Pete, the church with its stick cross was the sturdiest of all the buildings in the village. The villager’s homes were more like permanent thatched-roof huts. They saw little need for anything more substantial.

As Cora crossed the road she saw Brenda preparing the outdoor school for the village children. She went in the church, walked through the room of worship and entered the sick room. There was no sign of Annette. This morning there were four patients in the space that was built to handle a total of six cots. Some kind of fever had hit the village and the Zambians were com
ing and going out of the infirmary like a revolving door. Whatever it was, for the villagers it wasn’t very threatening. Two or three days of rest, distilled water and the antibiotics supplied by the mission had them up and going in short order.

Cora liked working with the sick. No, what she re
ally liked was the art of healing. To see a person, a plant, or an animal that was weak grow strong with health again: Cora found a sense of God in healing that she didn’t find anywhere else.

Inside the infirmary, Cora made sure all the patients were comfortable, and assured them, with her
limited bemba that breakfast would be served soon. Cora decided to check on the customary breakfast of mealies—maize cooked with water—after she took care of a much less attractive task. She had concluded there were aspects of being a missionary that were rewarding, but there were others that she could do without.

The makeshift commode, a hole with a strong,
straight tree branch across it, was yards into the forest, but still Cora could smell the scent long before she reached it. Out of everything she had encountered as a missionary, this part of it ranked the lowest on her list. She held her breath as she approached the spot, but was stunned to see Annette lying with her head near the edge of the putrid orifice.