When Everything's Said & Done Read online

  “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 system.” 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, either!” 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 disappear 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 middle 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 yesterday, 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 alright 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 behind 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 rocking 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 trying, 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 coming 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 really 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.

  “Annette! What’s wrong?” Cora rushed over and knelt beside her sister. The hot fetid air rushed into her lungs.

  “All of a sudden I felt dizzy, and sick to my stomach.” Annette’s voice was weak, breathy. “I tried to make it back inside the village, but I couldn’t.”

  “That’s okay. It’s okay, baby girl.” Cora lifted Annette to her feet. Her dress was soaked with sweat. “Let me help you.”

  “I’m sorry,” Annette apologized. “I must smell awful.” “Don’t worry about that.” Cora was shocked by the heat coming from Annette’s body. “You’re going to be okay. ” But because Annette could barely walk, it took them a good five minutes to make it back to the village.

  “Don’t take me to the infirmary,” Annette whispered. “I want to go to our place.”

  “Whatever you want,” Cora replied as Annette’s eyes wavered. “We’re almost there.”

  Winded, Cora lay Annette across the bed. “I’ll be right back,” she told her and ran out the door.

  The schoolchildren were in the middle of singing

  “Jesus Loves Me” when Cora reached Brenda. “Where’s Reverend Peter?” Her eyes searched the village.

  “I think he’s in the church. Why? Why are you looking like that?”

  “Annette’s sick. I think she’s got the village fever.” Cora looked at the ground but she couldn’t hide the fear that was carved into her face. “She looks worse than any of the others I’ve seen.”

  “Where is she?”

  “In our hut.”

  “Class is over right now,” Brenda announced. “I’ll go to Annette. You find the reverend.”

  Reverend Pete and Cora arrived at Annette’s bedside in a matter of minutes. Brenda had taken off Annette’s soiled clothes and was dressing her in a lightweight cotton gown.

  The two sisters watched as the reverend checked Annette’s throat and eyes, took her temperature and listened to her chest.

  “She’s got the same thing, all right. But it seems to be progressing faster, more aggressively, probably because she isn’t a native.” He looked at Cora and then Brenda. “I’m going to start her on the antibiotics, and we’ll just have to keep a close watch over her and see how it goes. If we had a vehicle. I’d just take her to the hospital.” He looked down at Annette. “Now, I think our best bet is to do what we can. The supply truck should get here at any time.

  And if we need to, we can have them take Annette to the hospital in the city.”

  Reverend Pete opened his medical bag. The leather crackled because it was kept in the refrigerator. He studied the contents and then he touched each bottle. “What’s wrong?” Cora asked. “Can’t you find it?” “There’s a little here.” He held up the near empty bottle.

  “Is that all we have left?” Brenda’s voice held alarm. “I hate to say it, but it looks that way,” Reverend Pete replied. “All our supplies are low, including the medicines.”

  Cora looked into Annette’s frightened face. She knelt beside her and softly patted her head. “It’s still going to be all right, baby girl. You just know that. The supply truck will be here at any moment.”

  Reverend Pete administered the antibiotics and left the room through a crowd of villagers who had gathered at the door. One of the barefoot children stepped inside, her eyes wide with concern. “Miss Ann-net sick?” “Yes, she is.” Brenda put her arm around the child’s shoulders.

  “I’ll be fine,” Annette said in a thin voice.

  “See there,” Brenda assured him. “So you all can go on. She needs to be alone so she can rest.”

  But Brenda and Cora’s words did not prove to be true. Annette got sicker as the day turned into night and the supply truck did not arrive. They took turns sitting at her bedside, trying to keep her hydrated with water, although that was the only thing Annette would let pass her lips. Early the next morning she seemed to become more lucid, and Cora was glad to see a semblance of consciousness in her eyes.

  “Cora,” Annette whispere
d. “I want you to write a letter for me. I want you to write a letter to Michael and make sure he gets it.”

  “You just wait until you get better, Annette. I think that’s the kind of letter you need to write yourself,” she advised with a twinge of guilt.

  “No. No. I want to write it right now.” She turned her head from side to side against the pillow. “I don’t know if I'll get well and—”

  “Don’t say that.” The words came out harsher than Cora wanted. “Don’t you He there and say that, Annie.”

  Annette just looked at her through clouded eyes.

  “I’ll write the letter for you if you really want me to, but I don’t want to hear you say that again. Okay?” Cora fought the sting of tears.

  Annette nodded, slowly.

  Cora knew exactly where Annette kept her stationery and pens. She was the only one of them who had written back home consistently, most of the time including a sentence or two from her and Brenda. Cora took up the pen and paper and sat down quietly, making sure she did not awaken Brenda. “Alright. I’m ready.”

  “I want...” Annette stopped speaking and swallowed. It appeared to be painful. Cora offered her more water, but she refused. “I want you to start it with ‘Dearest Michael,’” Annette started her dictation.

  “This is not the first time that I have written you since we have been in Africa.” She spoke slowly. “But it is the first time that I am going to be bold enough to say the things that I believed a moral woman would never say to a man who is not her husband.”

  Cora’s hand trembled as she placed the period behind the word husband.

  “Since the very first day when you moved into the apartment above us, I have dreamed of being with you in every way a woman can be with a man. As you can see, my thoughts have not all been pure, but they were all based in love. If I never get the chance to tell you to your face—”

  Cora put the pen down. “I’m not going to write this.”

  “Please,” Annette beseeched her.

  “I can’t,” Cora said, shaking her head.

  “Ple-ease.” The words had more strength than Annette appeared to have.