Soon After (16 page)

Authors: Sherryle Kiser Jackson

BOOK: Soon After

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“Sounds like a power struggle in the making,” Willie said, wiping his hands through his mustache and goatee to capture any loose rice particles that could be nesting there. “We, as men, are supposed to lead them, our wives and families. When their parents died, the burden of responsibility fell on Vanessa and trickled down to Keisha. They had Daddy's church to run. Now that they have men in their lives, it is hard for them to hand over that authority. You have to set the tone in the relationship and let her know in no uncertain terms that there is no major decision made about the two of you that is not run past you first for your okay or veto.”

“Yeah, okay,” Paul said doubtful. “How's that working out for you and Sister Pastor?”

Willie chuckled at Paul's comeback and raised his glass of white cranberry juice as if to say, âyou got me.' “I have a Morton woman, and I can confirm that it is both fascinating and frustrating.” They shared a good laugh.

“This week, Keisha called me again balling her eyes out. Her job is beyond stressful for her. She has to deal with a difficult boss because she feels at any minute her position can be outsourced from underneath her. You know how it is hearing your baby in misery. So I told her to quit. I'll take care of her.”

“No,” Willie said.

“I did,” Paul confirmed.

“With no discussion?”

“She was in misery.”

“And no wedding date on the books?”

“Trust. It's going to happen this October, Brother Pastor.”

“Well, did she?”

“Did she what?”

“Quit,” Willie said exasperated. “Did she quit when you told her she could?”

Paul looked uncertain. “I think she gave her two weeks notice.”

“You think?” Willie questioned. “Well, I think you all needed to be in counseling like yesterday. The idle mind is a playhouse for the devil. What is she going to be doing while she's not working except planning this wedding? Oh God, it will be like attack of Bridezilla every time we see you guys.”

“Look, Pastor, no disrespect, but what was I supposed to do? We're talking about the woman I love. Keisha is not the only one who has made concrete plans. I've been working stock piling my resources and positioning myself for job security. I am fully prepared to take care of her. Keisha is it for me, and I know for sure she is devoted to being my wife and the mother of my children. Together,
we plan
to make both of those a reality real soon. I made an executive decision. You can't fault me for wanting to protect or even rescue her from a bad situation, even if it seems a little premature before the actual wedding day.”

“Awwww,” Willie tried to mimic Keisha's sentiment from earlier. He began to clear the dishes away. He doubted Vanessa was coming back anytime soon, so he covered her plate with foil. “Seriously, that's very honorable. I feel like Daddy Morton now. I'm proud of you, and I'm sure he'd be proud that his baby girl found one of the good ones.”

“Well, thank you. Plus, it will give her time for her studies. She's taking one of her first classes at the Washington Bible CollegeâThe Old Testament survey, I believe.”

“Non-credit or degree seeking?” Willie asked.

“Here again was another case of something she couldn't decide. Her job was going to pay for some training, but she felt swayed in the direction of ministry. She took this and another class over a winter session this January and got an incomplete in the Survey class. So she's retaking it.”

That stinker
, Willie thought. He wondered why she hadn't told him about taking classes at one of his old Alma Maters. He knew the prerequisite curriculum well and would have surely tested her knowledge of the Old Testament and Pulpit Etiquette before she even got a chance to make demands on them about her wedding or trample over people's feelings.

They heard a heavy stomp come down the stairs that halted their conversation. Willie wondered if a truce had been made upstairs or were the two sides retiring now to their separate corners.

“Let's go, Paul. Grab the case,” Keisha said as if she had heard their conversation and now he was in trouble. “I don't know what is wrong with your wife, but I hope she gets over herself before the anniversary.”

Willie hoped the same thing. Paul gulped the last of his juice at her request while she gathered her belongings. Willie leaned in to Paul before he got up. “I guess you all will be scheduling your counseling with me.”

“Willie,” Vanessa hollered in an urgent tone from upstairs.

“Be up in a minute,” Willie replied.

He noticed Keisha roll her eyes. She led the way to the door and let herself out. Willie opened the screen for Paul and the glass case. He wished him God's speed with his Morton woman before closing the door and tending to his own.

Chapter 14

Blanche is Back

“This is not a game, Mr. Townsend,” came a voice that made Abe realize he wasn't dreaming, but in fact had answered the phone.

Abe pulled his sheets into a ball under his chin with one hand as if to protect himself from the hostile voice that had awakened him on the other end of the phone. He looked at his clock again that read a quarter past six in the morning and wondered if Chief Rich was putting clues together like a puzzle at this hour, or was this part of his terrorist tactics to catch him off guard.

“I got a four-week-old case and two people of interest, who happen to be ministers, trying to get a guest spot on
Letterman
by making appearances in every daily paper and dish 'em show out there.”

Abe swallowed hard at Chief Rich's reference to Harvest's recent âFeed the Streets' campaign, which was highlighted in the Metro section of
The Washington Post
, and the Sunday local magazine,
Parade
. He knew he was pressing his luck when those articles subsequently translated into a remote interview on the 5:00
P.M.
news. In print was one thing, but on-air was quite another. Blanche was right when she said publicity begets more publicity.

Blanche's strategy since offering to help him was to continue the legacy of giving back that the church was known for before he became pastor. The fact that the church was homeless made the story more compelling, made the sacrifice that much greater, and made the public more inclined to help in their efforts. Blanche had even contacted founders of a southern organization called the Sabbath of Support designed to organize churches to collect a special offering on a particular Sunday to help churches throughout South Carolina that, like Harvest, had been damaged by fire. They were going to replicate that effort with participating DC, metropolitan churches on the fifth Sunday of next month, classically known as Missionary Sunday. Most churches had a missionary outreach program; she just provided them with their next worthwhile cause.

“Hellooooooooooooooooo,” Chief Rich said. “If I'm not mistaken, I asked you to stay out of the limelight.”

“With all due respect, Chief, it is very early,” Abe pleaded. “I can call you back later, and I'll be more than happy to answer any inquiry you may have.”

“Oh, we are so far past pleasantries,” he said, ignoring Abe's request. “I also recall asking you to get in touch with Charley Thompson. Funny, but nowhere in my notes from that visit do I recall you mentioning that he was your
Uncle
. Where is he?”

“I don't know.” Abe was suddenly hot and stripping back covers. “He and his wife haven't been in church for the past two Sundays. Honestly, ask anyone.”

“I've interviewed a whole lot of people. I don't need to ask anybody anything else because you are going to find him. Call all your other long lost relatives. Heck, call the entire family reunion committee, but find him,” Chief Rich demanded.

“I'll try,” Abe said, swallowing hard.

“You'll do more than try. I expect you in my office at twelve noon. Don't make me come to you,” the captain spewed. “This moves you back to the top of my list. I didn't believe before that you were capable of a Capitol crime. Now you have to prove to me all over again that you're not concealing something from me or in cahoots with your uncle. You can't cash out your insurance claim and start work on your church until I close my investigation. Let's see if that lights a fire under ya. Let me tell you, if it comes out that you are somehow involved, then you won't have to worry about shopping for a crucifix for the new church. Get me? Twelve noon, don't be late.” The chief extinguished the call before Abe could say another word.

Abe was almost certain it was not proper protocol for a fire chief to call and threaten him the way he had. Sure, Chief Rich was the principal investigator on this case, but this was ridiculous. He sat up in his bed with new indignation. He had a mind to call his bluff, go into work and use the storage room of the pawn shop as a sort of panic room to hide out in. Would he actually come find him? Better yet, he got the mind to march into the station at noon and file an official complaint against the senior officer. But then reality hit him; the chief
would
find him and he most definitely
would
comply. Abe didn't have the heart not to. Abe never possessed that kind of bravery. God always supplied him with the courage he needed in the past, but now, he hid behind God's name. He just wasn't certain that God would back him up this time.

Where was his Uncle Charley hiding? He rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand in an attempt to activate his brain to come up with a solution. He thought about what the chief had said about him being in cahoots with his uncle and wondered was that comment a slip of the tongue, letting him know that they had found some incriminating evidence that proved his uncle's guilt. He was a batterer. Although he thought it unlikely, he couldn't assume arson was out of the realm of possibility for his uncle now.

Abe folded his arms across his body and rocked as if he were a child awakened by a nightmare. “Lord, have mercy.” The burden of knowing what he knew about his uncle was almost unbearable. It occurred to him that if his uncle had run off somewhere that he had taken his personal punching bag. He couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the fact that he had put his aunt in more danger by keeping silent as she had wanted.

Abe remembered going past his uncle's house Sunday after church to find his aunt's car in the carport as usual and at least a week's worth of newspapers in various spots on the front lawn. They knocked and knocked, but no one answered. Blanche had gone with him, anxious to talk to with his Uncle Charley again.

Blanche, that's who he'd call. Abe figured if anyone would know what to do, it would be her. He looked at the clock. It was barely past seven o'clock in the morning, and he deemed it too early to call her. He didn't want to do anything to inconvenience this woman who had been so helpful to him in just a week's time. He had spent more days with her since meeting that day than he had working at the pawn shop. At least three days out of the work week he was with her, setting up the âFeed the Streets' effort and other publicity, always treating her before or afterward to a lavish lunch or a five-course dinner. Mainly he was putting in so much time trying to find a reason not to fall for her.

Blanche was giving him something new that no one had given him before, companionship. It was more than just a physical attraction like he'd experienced with Marion Butler. He was interested in her viewpoint, amazed by her intellect, and amused by her wit. She seemed to feel the same about him. Although his very nerve endings were telling him to be leery, his heart was doing an override.

She had joined the church that was still holding service at the daycare across the street and had basically become the administrative assistant if not the CEO. She had told him to call if anything new came up, he rationalized, so he picked up the phone and dialed her number.

“Abe, what's on your mind?” Blanche asked, sounding surprisingly fresh and alert.

“Look, I'm sorry to call so early, but something has come up,” Abe said.

“It's entirely all right. Who needs beauty sleep? What's going on?”

“Chief Rich, the primary investigator of the church fire, called again this morning.” Abe relayed all that was said during his early morning call.

“Oh boy, Charley's in trouble.” She yawned. “Did he do it?”

Abe, who had been in the midst of a yawn himself swallowed down the end of it to consider her question. “I don't believe he did.”

“See, it's that hesitation that's going to kill us, Abe. We've got to be sure about our position. Why? Why do you believe your uncle did not do it?”

“Because he's in love with that church,” Abe said without hesitation.

“He certainly is, and he went to great lengths to remain there. I was there the night the rift was wedged between the folks who wanted to leave with Willie Green and the ones, like your uncle, who wanted to remain at Harvest.”

Abe had heard the talk about Blanche since her return to Harvest. Some who remembered her from before said she dated Pastor Willie Green, and then aided her uncle in setting him up. Abe chalked it up to church gossip and could only imagine what they said about him behind his back.

“It got ugly. But that's enough about that,” Blanche said. In her silence, Abe swore he could hear the wheels in her brain turning. “See, that officer knows that anybody is capable of anything if circumstances and opportunity presents itself. Okay, so we have to paint your uncle as a Bible-toting saint with a fierce devotion to his church.”

“Yeah, butâ” Abe grew uncomfortable.

“No buts, Abe,” Blanche demanded. “We've got to paint our own picture or that investigator will have us filling in the colors by number on his own sketch that he plans on showing a grand jury. We've established relationships this past week in the Christian community with people, churches and ministries willing to help us. We've got to protect our brand, which includes your Uncle Charley.”

There was silence as Abe contemplated opening the family closet and letting the secrets fly out.

“What?” she questioned impatiently. “Look, Abe, I'm going to need complete disclosure and honesty if we are going to work together.”

Abe told. He described the last time he saw his aunt and uncle at their home and how he stopped his uncle from assaulting his aunt with his shoe. He told her what his aunt had told him coupled with those recessed memories that would indicate that abuse was nothing new in that household. He explained how adamant his uncle had been about not talking to anyone about the fire. He stopped short of the metal lock box discolored from the extreme heat of fire still in his possession.

Blanche didn't react in shock like he expected. She sighed, “Oh well, crucify him then. I did like him, but I have no sympathy for an abuser. If the old monster can put his hands on a woman, then he can sit in jail. He's going down. He's got to take the rap for this.”

“Even if he didn't burn the church?” Abe shifted.

“Regardless,” Blanche said definitively. “I say put a nail in his coffin before you are banging from the inside of your own. I wish I could see your expression right now. Put that bewildered, yet handsome game face on, Abe. We'll have to meet up before noon, if only for a minute, so I can prepare you to do damage control with the chief and paint yourself as a brainwashed nephew who couldn't see past his uncle's deception, but you've got to find him. From the short time I've known your uncle, I know he's a man all about his routine. Think, Abe; where would he be right now? What would he routinely do before retiring and getting in the habit of hanging at church, watching game shows, and knocking his wife around?”

At that moment he knew Blanche was an angel from God. Just talking with her freed his thinking. He knew where his uncle had gone, over 14,000 miles away to Abe's grandparents' house and his Uncle Charley's childhood home in Lake Chamberlain, Louisiana.

“Blanche, I'll call you back. I think I might know where to find him.” Abe was so excited he didn't wait for good-byes.

He called Momma first. She was his Uncle Charley's sister who had retired to nearby New Orleans. She said she hadn't been past the rickety house raised on stilts sitting just north of the Delta's flood pan with crawfish swimming underneath. The upkeep, taxes, and utilities on the place was a thorn in her side, but her siblings, who were just as stubborn as Charley, could not agree to sell the place. It served as a family refuge. Not too long ago his cousin had taken temporary shelter there until his wife could put down the butcher knife long enough to work out the terms of their separation. Abe took a chance and called the old number to no avail. The phone just rang. He would have to call back to make sure that number was still assigned to that house and nowhere else.

Abe prepared himself for the day ahead. He was careful with his clothes selection, not because he would be seeing the chief, but because he would be meeting up with Blanche. About a quarter to eleven, when he was on his way out the door to meet Blanche, he said a prayer and called again.

“Hello,” a shallow voice came.

“Aunt Elaine!” Abe shouted.

“Wrong number,” the voice persisted.

Abe knew that voice. He knew it was her, and there was no way he was letting her go again. It was time to recapture his bravery. “Listen to me. Say yes if Uncle Charley is there.”

“Yes,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“Okay, okay,” Abe thought. “Pretend I'm one of those annoying calls from the parish trying to shut down Grand-mommy's well in the back.”

“Okay,” his aunt said.

“Just say yes if you are living there. Have you packed your clothes and are planning to stay in Louisiana for awhile?”

“Yes.”

Abe could hear his Uncle Charley say something to her in the background. The voice grew nearer as he continued.