Abundant Rain Read online

  Zee leaned back in her chair and adjusted her blonde wig. “That all sounds good, but when I pray, nothing happens.”

  Elizabeth patted Zee’s hand. “Sometimes you have to wait on God. That’s another thing I’ve learned.”

  Tears ran down Zee’s caramel face. Elizabeth handed her some tissue. “I know you’re right.” She blotted her tears and wiped her eyes. “I want to trust God. It’s just so hard.”

  Ronda and Patricia huddled close to Zee. They rubbed her back and whispered words of comfort to her. “It is hard, Zee, but think about our covenant scripture. When we started walking according to our own understanding, we left the place that God built for His people,” Patricia told her. “We thought we were okay, because we could look back and still see God’s place. As long as we knew where the resting place was, we thought we could just do our thing. We’d go back when we got tired.” Sniffles were heard throughout the room. “But then we ran into an enemy and he whupped us so bad, we didn’t know whether we were coming or going.”

  “And now the enemy stands guard over our resting place,” Ronda added. “To get back to the place God has for us, we have to fight.”

  Barbara moved to the edge of the couch. “But you can win this fight, Zee. Look around. In this very room are four women who have won the fight. We may be a little bruised and battered for the effort, but we won. Just like Jacob. He walked away with a limp, but he also walked away victorious.”

  Elizabeth grabbed Barbara’s hand and affectionately squeezed it. “When I started coming to these meetings, I didn’t know if I was wasting my time or not. I soon discovered that I didn’t like myself very much. I thought I had to do things to get others to love me. But guess what? I found out that God loves me for the person I am today, and for who I will be tomorrow.”

  Michelle raised her stubby fingers to the heavens. “I’m so glad I found this group. I don’t know what I would have done without all of you.”

  “I know what I’d be doing,” Vickie told them quietly. “I would be dead.”

  “That’s why we’re here.” Barbara stood up. “We all know that the answer is to put our trust in God, but it’s hard when you don’t know how to do it. However, I am convinced that God will be found by the one who seeks Him. So, even when it looks like your efforts are in vain, don’t give up. Keep reading your Bible. Keep praying. Get hungry for the Lord again. That’s when He’ll show up.” She walked away from the group toward the dining room table. “Now who wants some cake?”

  “I hope it’s yellow this time,” Michelle said.

  “Girl, please. Strawberry. Now that’s a celebration cake.” Zee was now on her feet. “Did I tell you that we had strawberry cake at my wedding reception? The guests went crazy over it.” Zee’s groom was now locked up in the penitentiary for attempted murder. Three guesses who low-down tried to murder.

  Elizabeth stood next to the cake. “You’re both wrong. I picked chocolate.” She wasted many years wishing she could change her complexion. Many hurtful and demeaning comments had been made about her chocolate-coated skin and full lips. It didn’t matter now. She was free from public opinion. Free to be who she was. “It serves as a reminder to me. I am a chocolate sister, and I am sweet and divine.”

  “I heard that, girl.” Ronda high-fived her.

  Cake was passed around to the women. “Wait, wait, wait,” Zee shouted. “Did I tell you that my low-down husband called me the other day?” She twisted her mouth in disgust. “Come talking ‘bout he was sorry, and he wanted to make things right between us. Oh, and could I please put some money on his books?”

  “You might as well untwist your mouth,” Michelle told her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s no stupid stamp on my forehead, Zee,” Michelle said. “That man is in jail. Somebody had to accept the collect call.”

  All eyes turned toward Zee. “I – I just wanted to hear what he was talking about.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Mmph, that’s why your silly self is still in deliverance class.”

  Barbara told Elizabeth, “Can you make sure this girl gets the first copy of your new CD?”

  Elizabeth nodded and said, “I sure will. I think it will really bless her soul.” God had allowed a spirit filled producer to cross Elizabeth’s path. For the last six month they had been working on her CD. They talked about Elizabeth’s goals and visions for her singing career and she had told him that she didn’t want a career that didn’t include God. Her whole life was now wrapped up in Him and she wanted to declare that fact to the world. And that’s when they decided to call the album, Life In Him.

  25

  Kenneth stood outside the new extension to the Hope Center and gazed at the vinyl exterior, then checked out the foundation. Inside, carpenters were adding the finishing trim to the walls and windows. In two weeks, it would be complete. The culmination of a dream. Who was he kidding? This was the culmination of a lot of hard work. He met with investors, begged them to donate some of their corporations’ hard-earned money. He met with contractors and suppliers. When the work wasn’t moving fast enough, he laid a few bricks himself. The center would house fifteen homeless families. Its facilities were designed to provide life skills to its residents, and about twelve other families, whose providers were unemployed, but not homeless. He wanted to reach people before they lost everything, and teach them skills to help them get back on their feet. The overall plan was to avoid life on the street for the children.

  He had enough beds for fifteen families, and two hundred were on the waiting list. The life skills classrooms accommodated about thirty people. Three hundred were on that list. That was the heart-breaking part of this business. So many were in need, but only a few would be served.

  As if he didn’t have enough to worry about, some crazy had started using the homeless for target practice. Two homeless men had been shot and killed last week. Another one so far this week. The police had no leads. Kenneth guessed this was some sicko’s idea of cleaning the streets.

  “Hey, Handsome.” Elizabeth closed the door to her SUV and walked over to her husband.

  “Hey, Beautiful,” he said as he leaned in to kiss her.

  “What’s with the sad eyes?”

  He turned back to the building. “I was just thinking about all the people we won’t be able to help. There’s so many in need of our services, but we can only take about thirty at a time.”

  She gently touched his face. “Baby, do me a favor. Concentrate on the ones you are able to help. Okay?”

  His gaze moved away from the building and centered on his wife. “Perspective. That’s what you bring into my life. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, grab your coat and let’s go. I came to rescue my husband from a day of do-gooding. You sir, are going to enjoy a day of shopping with your wife. And you are going to spend some money on yourself, if I have to break your arm to get you to do it.”

  “I shouldn’t let you get away with this.” He smiled down at her. “Since our college days, you have been bound and determined to corrupt me.”

  “And you love every minute of it.” She moved closer to his soft, wet lips and kissed him.

  Kenneth hadn’t fully regained his memory, but each day, a snippet of their past would creep up on him. He would tell her a funny story from one of their adventures, and they would laugh at the memory. Or sometimes, he would share a hurtful time during his childhood; like the day he learned his father cheated on his mother. He had idolized that man. He couldn’t figure out what to do with his knowledge. If he admitted cheating was wrong, he’d end up hating his father. And how could one hate someone he loved and admired? “He was a good man,” he told Elizabeth. “But I can admit that he was wrong.” He then looked at his wife with regretful eyes. “I was wrong too. I’m sorry I cheated on you.”

  Elizabeth wrapped Kenneth in her loving arms and let him know that he was all right with her. He was man; that meant he was human. Capable of flaws, just like t
he rest of us.

  She smacked him on the backside. “Go get your coat so we can go.”

  He went into the Hope Center, grabbed his coat, and came back out. “All right, woman. I’m yours for the corrupting,” he said as they walked to her midnight-black Escalade.

  Before Kenneth could open the door, a man with torn jeans, dirty shirt, and a battered face ran up to him. Derrick was one of the men they regularly fed at the shelter. “Kenneth, man, it’s Tyrone. He’s been shot!”

  Kenneth froze. He had been working with Tyrone. A slow, but steady process, trying to get him to see that not all Christians were like his ex-wife.

  “The ambulance just picked him up. Ah, man, he didn’t look good.”

  Please God. Don’t let him die before I can get Your Word to him. “Where is he?” Kenneth grabbed hold of Derrick’s shoulders. “Where did they take him?”

  “I think they took him to County, man.”

  Kenneth turned sad eyes on his wife. “Get in,” she told him. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

  He let out a sigh of relief and covered her hand with his own as she drove down the street. “Thanks for understanding.”

  She hadn’t always been supportive of his ministry in Atlanta or Dayton. Finding her resting place allowed her to let Kenneth handle God’s business without whining and complaining about it.

  She dropped Kenneth off at the emergency room door, then found a parking spot. When she walked into the hospital, Kenneth was barking at the receptionist. “I need to see Tyrone, now!”

  “Like I said, I need a last name.”

  “I told you I don’t know his last name. Why don’t you go back there,” he pointed to the double doors where the patients were being diagnosed, “and ask if there’s anyone named Tyrone back there? Good Lord, lady, do your job.”

  The woman snarled at Kenneth. Elizabeth moved her husband aside and gave the woman a you-know-how-men-are smile. “Ms…” She looked at the woman’s nametag. “Ms. Andover, my husband works at a homeless shelter. The reason he doesn’t know Tyrone’s last name is because he’s homeless. The guy he’s looking for was shot about an hour ago.”

  “Oh, well why didn’t you say so?” She gave Kenneth a disapproving glance. “They brought a homeless man in here about an hour ago. He was DOA though.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Dead on arrival,” Ms. Andover explained.

  Kenneth wanted to scream. He wanted to shout. Oh God, he wanted to curse. He held his emotions in check until they got inside the car. Then he whupped on the dashboard like Tyson. “This mess ain’t right.”

  He cried for Tyrone as they drove home. He then cried for all the Tyrones of the world, everyone that had been wounded by life’s unfairness.

  “It’ll be okay, baby.”

  He used the back of his hand to wipe the tears from his eyes. “How will it be okay, Liz? Huh?” He pointed at the people on the street as they passed by. “There are countless people who need me, but I can’t reach them. What do I do with that, Liz? How do I live with being so inadequate?”

  She pulled the car into their driveway, and turned to her husband. She lifted his chin with her finger, wiped a few tears from his face. “Find strength in the souls you are able to save, baby.”

  “But I---”

  She put her finger to his lips. “No buts. Jesus wasn’t able to save everybody He encountered. As His servant, you are going to suffer losses. Don’t give up. This world needs someone caring and compassionate like you.”

  He turned his face from her, and sat starring out the window. God had told him to feed His sheep, but he was too inadequate for the job. There had to be someone more qualified than him. Someone with more compassion for the lost, who could really shake things up.

  “Baby, when you get to heaven, I would love to be a fly on the wall. I want to see how many jewels are put in your crown. And when Jesus says, ‘Well done My good and faithful servant,’ I just know there’s going to be a special inflection in His voice, meant only for the goodie-two-shoes servants like you.”

  Kenneth laughed. He couldn’t help himself. His wife always seemed to be able to find a way to make him smile. He lifted her hand, gently squeezed it, then kissed her palm. “Thanks for being my perspective.”

  26

  Tommy woke up hungry, wet, and irritable. One of the Dell’s old songs rang in his head. Nights like this, I wish that raindrops would fall. Well last night, when it rained on him, he figured The Dells must have been smoking crack when they came up with that song. He would be lucky if he didn’t catch pneumonia. He was going to have to sleep in a shelter tonight. That was all there was to it.

  The past year hadn’t been kind. He’d managed two non-singing groups. Lost his shirt in both deals. Snorted enough coke to bleed a hundred noses. When his money ran low, he down graded to crack. That’s when the sheriff put his belongings on the curb. So now here he was, sleeping on a park bench, holding onto a duffel bag that held his life story. Matt, Elizabeth’s old chauffeur, offered to put him up for a few days. Tommy rang his phone 'til two in the morning. No answer. That’s life. When you’re up, everybody takes your call. When you’re down, they get caller ID.

  That’s all right. He would be back on top. He just needed to get this monkey off his back. Nobody wanted to hire him. They had this new thing called drug tests. The hypocrites. Like the crack he smoked was any worse than the dirt they did behind closed doors.

  If Tommy ran into a corporate tycoon, he’d probably spit on him. But not too many corporate types walked the parks, or came near the park bench he’d slept on last night.

  Even Burger King asked him to pee in a cup. Now, if a grown man had to say, ‘Would you like fries with that,’ he should at least have a good buzz on while he’s doing it. Boy, if he had a gun, he’d show them all. Huh, who was he kidding? If he had a gun, he’d probably sell it to get more crack. He folded his blanket. What was he going to do about his growling stomach? The bleeding hearts down at the House of Love were serving chicken and passing out Bibles. But the Hope Center had beef stew. The cook was pretty good too.

  He hadn’t shaved in days. Maybe he could find a shelter that was giving away razors. After he finished shaving, maybe he’d slit his throat. There was talk on the street about some crazy that had killed four homeless men within the space of two weeks. What was wrong with that guy? If he wanted the homeless to suffer, let ‘em live. After life got finished kicking them in the head, they’d willingly commit suicide and save him a bullet.

  “I need a drink,” Tommy said to no one in particular. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a pint of gin, and took a swig. He stood and started walking “Aaaah.” Nothing relieved like strong drink. Of course, he did not state it out loud. Only the crazies talk to themselves.

  His stomach was talking now. Telling him it was time to find one of them cheese and butter places and separate his guts from his ribs.

  He got in the meal line at the Hope Center. The fellow inhabitants of hell took the bowl of stew like it was lobster and steak. They humbled down to the ladle holder like he was God. Tommy refused to humble down for a lousy bowl of stew. When his turn came, he stuck out his chest, lifted his bowl and his eyes to the ladle holder. Tommy wanted to let the man know that it was his job to serve him. Some government agency was probably paying him for his time anyway. Another cup-peeing-don’t-want-no-drug-addicts-on-the-payroll agency.

  “Tommy?”

  Just his luck. Kenneth was the ladle holder. He averted his eyes and held up his bowl and shook it.

  Kenneth filled the bowl, then took a business card out of his back pocket. “Look, Tommy, please call me at the number on this card. I want to help you, man.”

  Tommy put the card in his pocket, walked away without a word, and turned his face from Kenneth’s inspection. He pulled up a seat next to Little Man, June Bug, and Skeeter. He had met these guys yesterday. The funny thing was, last week, he would have called them bums and told them to ge
t out of his face. Now they were his best buds.

  “Hey, did y’all hear about the fourth victim? Man, these streets ain’t safe for people like us,” Skeeter told the group.

  “Yeah, I heard about it. The newscasters say it’s a white guy,” Little Man informed them.

  June Bug dipped his corn bread in his stew and said, “Man, I don’t know what those yuppies feed them kids that makes ‘em go crazy and start killing everybody that even looks like their mama. At least when a black man kills you, he’s got a reason.”

  “He’s got a reason all right. That Negro wants the fifty-cent in my pocket,” Little Man told them as he pulled a small kitchen knife out of his coat pocket. “I got something for that serial killer though.”

  June Bug laughed. “What you think that little butter knife gon’ do against a nine millimeter?”

  “All I know is, I’m not going down without a fight,” Little Man told them.

  Tommy just wanted to wolf down his stew and get out of that place before Kenneth came over trying to sell him Jesus again. He might even run and call Elizabeth and have her come and cry all over him. No, he was going to have to find another place to sleep tonight.

  ***

  When Kenneth got home, Elizabeth was just pulling a meatloaf out of the oven. Erin was sitting at the kitchen table completing her homework. Danae was waiting for her dinner. He put his briefcase on the kitchen counter, walked to Elizabeth, and put his arms around her waist.

  “Welcome home, baby.”

  “Mmm.” He squeezed tighter. “I’m glad to be home. Woman, your man is t-i-r-e-d.”

  She turned to face him – her man! She put her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. The kiss was intense. A kind of welcome home. The rest would come later. “Now, sit down. Let me feed you, then I’ll tuck you in so you’ll have the strength to serve another day.”

  He went to his children and kissed them on top of their heads. “Hey, princess. Hey, baby girl.”

  “Daddy, look.” Danae stuffed a boatload of green beans in her mouth.