Mattie's Call Page 2

  “I can get you some food on the way back to the home.”

  Mattie folded her arms. Exasperated, she recalled Gigi’s eagerness to put her in Grand Oak Acres. She was all too happy to be granted Durable Power of Attorney over her affairs. Not only did Gigi sign the papers like a Hollywood starlet giving an autograph, she waved the representative payee form after being added to the bank and investment accounts. She shifted assets in her name to “protect” Mattie from being fleeced at Grand Oak. Only the house remained in Joshua’s name; it was Daniel’s death-bed request. Jewelry, priceless coins, and cash were tucked in a safe deposit box at their family bank. Every month, Gigi made sure Mattie had three-hundred dollars cash for incidentals.

  “Gigi, I need you to do me a favor.”

  “What?”

  “I need you to get something from the safe deposit box for me.”

  “What do you need?”

  “My wedding rings. The last set Daniel bought me. Matter of fact, I’d like all my jewelry and the other items locked there.”

  “Those are too expensive to be worn in the home. What if someone steals them?”

  “Karen protects everything for me.”

  Gabrielle paused, tapped the steering wheel again. “I’ll see what I can do, Mama.”

  3

  An Old-Fashioned Homegoing

  Mattie stepped into the vestibule, marveling at the well-preserved edifice. El Bethel’s Senior Outreach Ministry sent a van to Grand Oak every Sunday for residents who wanted to attend the eight o’clock service. She and Emma dressed in their finest and enjoyed the preaching style of Dr. Marcus Thornton. She felt lonely as she scanned the building’s stained-glass windows, patchwork-quilt ceiling, and two teakwood benches—preserved from El Bethel’s meetings during the Civil Rights Movement—nestled in the entryway. The building fund thermometer had moved significantly since the last time she visited. She stopped attending after Emma’s last hospital admittance two months ago. She waved to her hall mates, Agatha, Corneila, and Harriet, huddled in a semicircle. Corneila and Harriet’s rapt attention focused on Agatha. Had she known they were attending Emma’s funeral, she would have asked for a ride and been spared Gigi’s humiliating taunts. Then again, Agatha’s grandson, BoPeep, drove a car that reeked of beer and marijuana. Agatha called him Peep and was gracious enough to share him with the ladies at Grand Oak as an ad hoc taxicab. Gabrielle clasped Mattie’s hand and walked beside her, pretending to care. She did this when five or more people were gathered and didn’t want to show her true colors. Agatha motioned them over.

  Agatha held court in El Bethel just as she did at Grand Oak. Freshly healed from a bout of pneumonia, she was back to her gossiping ways. Her hands moved a mile a minute; ever so often she’d push back her soft, silvery curls and continue the conversation. Behind her back, the residents said there wasn’t a death that happened in Savannah that Agatha didn’t know about. She knew the cause and perpetrator before the body hit the ground. She paused the conversation, zeroing in on Gabrielle’s coat as they approached her.

  “Oh, great. Biddy City,” Gabrielle uttered.

  “What, Gigi?”

  “Nothing, Mama.”

  Agatha closed in the space between them. “That is some kind of coat, young lady. What is it, lynx?” Agatha, wearing her own mink stole, caressed the floor-length coat as if petting a small child. “I always wanted one of these. I know that set you back at least ten grand.”

  Soaking up the adoration, Gabrielle shimmied, refusing to divulge the price. “It was a gift from a friend.”

  “If I could turn back the hands of time, I’da found some friends like that when I was your age.”

  Mattie bristled at the thought of what her child did to get presents. She turned to Agatha. “We all sitting together?”

  Corneila and Harriet looked annoyed but didn’t speak.

  “You missed the service. We’re waiting now to see if the repast is still on Tybee Island.”

  “Over? What do you mean it’s over? Gigi was a little late, but the service shouldn’t be over.” Mattie looked at her watch. “We still have twelve minutes before the service starts.”

  “You’re deafer than a cobra, Mattie Benson. I’m trying to tell you Emma’s selfish son and daughter had her cremated. Ain’t no Batesville in the sanctuary!” Agatha pulled the stole closer and licked her lips. “On top of that, some ole preacher who wasn’t Emma’s got up in the pulpit, read a few scriptures, and gave the benediction.”

  “No!” Mattie waited for Agatha to revise her tale.

  “As I live and breathe, that’s exactly what they did!”

  Mattie fished in her purse and removed the handwritten order of service Emma wrote out the night they watched The Twilight Zone marathon. Emma wanted an old-fashioned homegoing service. The upbeat solo, “We’ve Come to Praise His Name,” was to be sung instead of “Precious Lord.” She wanted the congregation to rejoice her ascent to heaven. She’d jotted down favorite scriptures and requested Pastor Corey Rountree, the newly installed leader of Angelic Arms Baptist Church, perform the eulogy. He had prayed with Emma and visited with her during numerous hospital visits. Family and friends would be allowed two minutes to share life reflections, and the repast would be in the church basement so people wouldn’t have to drive far. Mattie had given Emma’s son a copy the week before she died.

  “My granddaughter, Zoe, the runner-up on season two of Sunday Best, usually charges one-fifty for solos. She was going to sing for free at Emma’s service, and she wasn’t given a chance,” Agatha said, slicing through Mattie’s sadness.

  Gabrielle eyed Agatha and pursed her lips. The vision of Zoe prostituting her gift came to mind. She opened her mouth to say those very words, but instead offered, “Maybe it was too painful for her children to sit through a sad service.”

  “Painful my—” Agatha remembered where they were. “That son of hers is trying to get back to the racetrack and her daughter’s waiting on the inheritance. They didn’t wait until her body was cold before they started dividing the spoils.” She looked to Mattie for support. When Mattie didn’t respond, she continued, “You know as well as I do Emma didn’t want to be cremated. She wanted all her pieces intact when she met her maker. She wanted a soloist and a nice spread in the basement. So much food people could take plates home.”

  “Let me find her son. There must have been some mix-up,” said Mattie. Gabrielle followed her mother through the maze of hobnobbing mourners.

  They entered the sanctuary, said hello to familiar faces, and spotted Emma’s children talking to a man so tall he could kiss heaven. He folded and unfolded his arms as he ran his fingers through his gray hair. He extended one arm upward, then pulled it down. The tailored suit he wore accentuated his large frame. Mattie recognized him immediately; Emma’s brother, Clarence. They were in an earshot of the conversation and stood back as his fury gained momentum.

  “This is wrong, Watford! My sister wouldn’t have wanted things to end this way. How could you do this to her?”

  Watford rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue. “Uncle Clarence, there were considerations.”

  “Such as?”

  Amelia interrupted her brother. “Cremation is cheaper than embalming. Mama was low-key. We didn’t need all the fanfare. Soloists. All that food. People droning on for hours about how wonderful she was. Where were they when she was alive?”

  “Probably nearer than the two of you. I’m ashamed to call the two of you kin.”

  Watford pulled the unbuttoned suit jacket close to his rotund figure. Emma always said her son was digging his grave with his teeth with all the healthy portions he devoured. His face reddened at his uncle’s words. “We gave Mama a decent burial. What’s the problem?”

  Clarence advanced three steps, coming nose to nose with his nephew. “The problem is, you call me in New York less than forty-eight hours before a funeral to tell me my sister is dead. I get here, and not only is her body not here so I can look at her one
last time, but my ignorant niece and nephew don’t have bird sense to give their mother a Southern homegoing. Do you know the people of El Bethel would have helped you every step of the way with the service? That’s tradition. That’s what she wanted.”

  Mattie cleared her throat and approached them as Gabrielle stood still.

  “Clarence, how are you?” She rubbed his shoulder, ignoring Watford and Amelia.

  His face untightened. He took her hands in his. “Ms. Mattie. It’s good to see you.” He hugged her and pointed to a plush, burgundy pew. Feeling the chill of Mattie’s rebuff, Amelia and Watford mingled with other guests.

  Nestled on the pew, Clarence took a few deep breaths and fixed his gaze on Mattie.

  “I wish someone had let me know about Emma sooner. I came when I could, but I know I should have done more for my sister.”

  “New York isn’t next door.”

  “Planes and trains roll out every day.”

  “She told me about your circumstances. Shoot, three times a year is more than a lot of visits most of us get at Grand Oak.”

  Clarence twiddled with the hymnal in the pew’s slot. “Dialysis made it hard for me to travel, but I loved my sister so much, Ms. Mattie.”

  “I know you did, Son. I know you did.”

  “We were the last living siblings. It’s just me now. Emma practically raised me after Momma, Daddy, and Vernita died. I tried to get closer to her after we were grown, but Watford and Amelia sucked the life out of her. Always wanting and needing, never giving back.”

  Mattie gave him a knowing nod, familiar with the parasitic nature of family. She pulled the slip of paper from her purse and handed it to Clarence.

  “These are Emma’s handwritten funeral plans.” She also removed a small manila envelope. “These are also some letters she wrote before she got sick. I came in here to ask her children what happened with the order of service and pass the letters along, but you lit into them better than I could.”

  Clarence’s eyes welled up at the sight of his sister’s writing. Until a year ago when her health deteriorated, she sent him handwritten letters telling him of her adventures with Mattie. Emma drew a heart on the end of her A’s. He tucked the letters in his breast pocket.

  “When do you leave for New York?”

  “Next Thursday. We meet with the attorney next Tuesday for the will reading.”

  “Clarence, I doubt they’re coming to get Emma’s things. If you can stop by Monday or Wednesday, I’ll have everything ready. Karen will help me pack it up. Emma left behind photo albums, quilts, books, and clothes. She wanted the clothes to go to Goodwill, but if there’s something you want to keep, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

  “I’ll make sure to stop by.”

  Gabrielle inched closer to the pew and tapped her mother’s shoulder. “Mama, we have to go. We need to get a bite to eat and get you back to Grand Oak,” she said softly as she smiled at Clarence.

  4

  Too Modern For My Tastes

  Joshua paused before turning the key to his front door. After a long day at work, his resolve to discuss things with Marilyn tonight strengthened. Now or never, he repeated.

  He’d spoken with her briefly during his lunch break. The moment he told her he had an important announcement to make, she yelped like a puppy and vowed to leave work two hours early. As he entered the foyer, he smelled Marilyn’s good home-cooking, saw the extra effort she’d put into the night. Candles flickered throughout the living and dining rooms as well as the mellow sounds of Boney James ripping his saxophone. He caught a glimpse of Marilyn in the kitchen tossing salad with her favorite tong set. She spun around from her duty, smiled, and met him with a warm hug.

  “Baby, I couldn’t wait for you to get here!” she said. She released her apron strings, revealing a black, form-fitting dress that hugged her curves in the right places. She’d fashioned her long hair in a bun with a few tendrils hanging. “Let me take your bag, and you have a seat in the living room.”

  “Mare—”

  “No protesting. Sit.”

  As she returned to the kitchen, he sank into the sofa with a measure of relief and grief tangling inside him. She sashayed toward him with a glass of wine and a small tray of cheese and crackers and scooted next to him, kicking her black designer shoes in the corner.

  “My dogs are barking for dear life.” Her soft, dark eyes and warm smile had a hypnotic effect on him. She caressed his face and planted another gentle kiss on his cheek.

  “What’s with the romantic setting?” He sipped the full-bodied red wine, happy she’d listened to his request to toss the sweet wines she adored.

  She swigged her wine as her hands trembled. “This doesn’t happen every night. I want everything to be special before our discussion,” she said, winking and taking another gulp of her wine.

  “Marilyn, I—”

  “Uh-uh. No talking until after dinner.”

  Marilyn loosened Joshua’s tie, took him by the hand, and led him to the dining room table. She knew her way around the kitchen, and she’d knocked herself out tonight. Joshua’s stomach growled as he looked at the spread on the table. She’d prepared his favorite dishes: seafood stuffed grilled salmon, steamed asparagus, tossed salad, and homemade French bread. Two covered dessert plates caught his attention. He knew her sweet potato cheesecake was nestled beneath them. They sat, and he said grace.

  Joshua loved the beautiful woman before him. When they’d met nine months ago by happenstance at a bar, they’d both been stood up by blind dates. Once they established she wasn’t Vivian and he wasn’t Hector, they chuckled and struck up a lively conversation. Drinks turned into a dinner date, walks in the park, and occasional trips out of town. When Gigi met Marilyn for the first time, she blurted, “What happened to Jamie?” Marilyn happened to Jamie, he wanted to say, but coughed and ignored the question. His mother called him the runaway groom, accused him of being commitment phobic. He loved the company of ladies, but only one woman captured his heart and her whereabouts were unknown. There was no shortage of women in Savannah. Good women, too. Independent with their own houses, cars, jobs, anything a man like him desired. He wondered if those same women would give him a chance if he didn’t make a good living as an engineer, had a house, and didn’t require they drop him off at work or loan him a little something when he was light. Marilyn Tharp, Dr. Marilyn Tharp, was successful in her own right as a chemist and researcher with Procter and Gamble in Albany, Georgia, when she shucked off the corporate title and joined the faculty of Savannah State University. He’d enjoyed attending faculty functions with her, and getting to know her colleagues, but still…

  “So there’s no escaping his visit next summer,” she said, breaking his errant thoughts.

  “What did you say, Marilyn?”

  “I said, my brother wants to come visit us next summer, and I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with him staying with us.”

  “Whoa, what about your house, Mare?”

  “It will be on the market in two weeks.”

  She took another swig of her drink, stood and approached him. She raised the covered dessert plate next to him and placed a black, velvety box in her hand. She dropped to one knee, scaring Joshua. The platinum and diamond band sparkled in the candlelight. His objection was too slow; she spoke before he could stop her.

  “Joshua Marcus Benson, you are the best man I’ve ever met. You are all I’ve dreamed of, fantasized about, and craved since I was a little girl. You’re strong, loving, independent, and handsome enough to make the cutest babies in Savannah. Will you marry me?”

  Joshua shook his hands vigorously. “No, no, no, Mare. Not this.”

  She stood. “You said you had an announcement to make. I figured we were on the same page, so I decided to beat you to the punch. You hadn’t planned on proposing to me tonight?”

  Joshua sighed. Four engagements had taught him not to hint at marriage if he wasn’t sure. He’d never given her any indication he wanted t
o marry. They’d dated, had fun, but he never mentioned commitment. He’d also bought rings for his women. It shouldn’t be the other way around.

  “I wanted to talk to you about my mother.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Let’s sit down in the living room and discuss this.” He gently caressed Marilyn’s arm, but she snatched it away.

  “We can stand here and talk.”

  Joshua sat at the table and pointed to Marilyn’s vacant seat; she followed suit. They were adults, and blaring police lights didn’t belong in his quiet neighborhood. “I came home to ask for my key back and for you to move your things. I’ve rearranged my schedule to work from home, and I’m moving my mother in with me. I’ve hired a homecare health aide, and I plan to surprise her with this news at the Grand Oak Christmas Pageant.”

  “Are you telling me I sat here and made a fool of myself, cooking for you, spending time with you, and you don’t even want to be with me?”

  “Marilyn, I said nothing about ending the relationship. I’m freeing my house for my mom. My sisters aren’t willing to take her in, so I’m doing what I have to do for my mother. She’s miserable at that place. I can’t believe Gigi put her there.”

  “I can help with your mother.”

  “Come on, Marilyn, it was obvious she annoyed you when she was here.”

  “She peed in the bed.”

  “She’s elderly, Mare.”

  “She insulted my cooking.”

  “Her dietary needs have changed over the years, Mare. She can’t eat spicy or salty foods without upsetting her stomach. You made her enchiladas and filled them with jalapeño peppers.” He paused, then took a deep breath. “Our parents sacrificed so much for us, and it’s time for me to give back.”

  “Give back all you want! Best believe it will be without me.” Marilyn jumped from her seat, knocking it to the floor. She grabbed the ring box and marched toward the stairs.

  “Mare, don’t do this.”