Looking for Mr. Beasley

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Luke sat on the porch with his chair leaning back on the windowsill of the old farmhouse. As he chewed on a short, thin stalk of hay he closed his eyes and wondered what Pam Ward was going to wear to the prom on next Saturday night. He hoped it was something he could easily slip off…he chuckled out loud.

“What you laughen at Luke?”

His father’s voice coming through the open door of the house startled him and he abruptly leaned forward with his chair giving a loud thud on the porch floor.

“Huh…?!” His father’s voice persisted.

He looked up and was just about to say something when in the distance a figure walking on the dirt road that ran pass the house caught his eye. He stood and a serious frown put a dent in his forehead as his entire demeanor changed.

“Hey Pa…come look at this!”

“What is it?”

“Come and see…now!” He jumped down off the porch, squinted to get a better look and spat as he kicked the dirt, hard.

“What’s the matter?” his father asked standing in the doorway.

“Look…!” He pointed in the direction of the road.

His father squinted, “Is that a…nigger?!?”

“Yeah…that’s what it is!”

His father had a slight limp when he took the porch steps one at a time and started in the direction of the road with as much of a hurried, brisk trek as he could muster…his son was beside him.

He was a-ways off when he began yelling “Hey! Hey…you!!!” …arms waving in the air. “Hey…you!”

The young man on the road with the medium sized book bag on his back, not noticing, kept walking.

“Don’t ignore me…boy!!!” he shouted, obviously out of breath. “Hey, nigger!!!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

The young man on the road stopped and looked in their direction.

“Luke…,” the man’s chest heaved, slowing him down, “go…go get him!”

Luke took off towards the fence that surrounded their property and he had just reached it when he heard his sister’s voice right behind him. “Luke! Luke…stop! What in the world are you doing…?!”

He ignored her and glared at the young black man. “What the hell are you doing in this neck of the woods?!?” He demanded angrily, “You lost or something…nigger?!!”

“No, Luke…No!!!” She yelled, but seeing her brother wasn’t listening, she ran back toward the house. “Ma-a-a-a!” She screamed. “M-a-a-a-a!” A middle aged, heavy set, white woman with a dirty apron, rolled up jeans and sneakers came out of the house and stood on the edge of the porch shielding her eyes from the sun. “What?!” She yelled at her daughter who stopped midway, “what is it?!”

“It’s Pa and Luke,” the girl yelled “…they done stopped a black man who was walking on the road…I don’t know if either one of them has a gun!”

“Jesus..!!!” The woman flew down the stairs and ran with her daughter toward the fence.

There seemed to be a hint of a smile on the corner of his somewhat thick black lips when he responded in a cordial, even tone, “No…I’m not lost.”

Luke’s father, still hyperventilating, came to stand beside his son. “Ar…are you,” he said with venom filled eyes that narrowed as his jaws tightened, “laughen at my son?!?”

“No, sir, not at all.”

“Now… now you, mocking!” the man sneered accusingly, “yeah, yeah, boy…you mocken us ain’t cha?!?”

Luke was half way over the fence when…

“Hey!” Luke’s mother ran up and grabbed his shirt tail pulling him down from the fence. “What do you two think y’all doing for Christ-a-mighty’s sake?!” she demanded, looking from her husband to her son, “and you know better,” she looked at her husband, “you just got out of the hospital, you supposed to stay off of your feet!

“Now Naomi,” the man defended, “you know dey ain’t got no business in these parts…dey know where dey belong!” he ogled the young man angrily, “…dis side of the tracks is ours!”

The woman looked at the young black man. “You from these parts?”

“No mam, I’m not.” The slight smile still evident.

“Pa,” the girl spoke up, “you can tell from his accent…he’s not from here.”

The man gritted his teeth, cracked his neck, adjusted his trousers and pointed, “You are one lucky…nigger…’cus if I had my gun…”

The young man bent and picked up his back pack, “Then I’m glad you didn’t have your gun, sir.”

“You see what I mean…?! The man face grew red and a vein protruded from his neck, “he’s mocken me, he’s…

“Arthur!” He looked at his wife. “Shut up!”

“But, ma,” Luke protested, “right is right! We don’t want no niggers over here…period! We don’t go in their part of town and…”

“That’s not what I heard.” His mother answered with a quick look at him over her shoulder.

“What…!?” His father asked, duly interested, “What did you…”

“Where you on your way to?” Naomi cut off her husband and addressed the young man again.

“Up the road…about five miles.”

“Who you looken for?”

“I’m looking for Mr. Beasley.”

“Oh, no!” The girl said, her hand covered her mouth.

Luke and his father looked at one another and began to snicker and giggle. “Did he say ‘Beasley’?” Arthur asked, as he and his son became unable to contain their laughter. “If I knew that, boy…I would have never stopped you!”

“You can’t stop Beasley, Ma,” Luke chimed in, “but…I would like to supply the rope…!” With that he and his father howled with glee.

Naomi eyes never left the young man’s face as her son and her husband noisily made their way back to the house. Her daughter stood next to her when she asked, “Do you know Mr. Beasley?”

“No, not really.”

“I see…well, there’s something you should know. My husband and my son…?”

“Yes, mam?”

“They’re like sugar compared to Beasley…if you get my drift.”

“Yes mam.”

“Now,” she looked up at the sky, “the sun is high, there’s a lot of light left…you could turn right around, walk back to the station…and take the next bus back to where you came from.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll go on.”

“But…!” the girl tried to speak, her mother touched her arm and stopped her.

“Alright, don’t say you weren’t duly warned.”

“Yes, mam…thank you.”

As the young man proceeded on the road, Naomi and her daughter headed towards the house. But before entering, the woman took a last look at the figure on the road and a look of satisfaction covered her face.

As he went on the sun beamed hotter and hotter and the dry earth complained with every footstep. He stopped and withdrew a bottle of water and a large bandana from his back pack. After taking a hefty swallow he wet the bandana and put it on his head…then went on.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he came to an old dilapidated house that had a rusty mailbox out front with the extremely faded name of ‘Beasley’ written on it. In the front yard sat an old ford pick-up. He went up the rickety porch stairs and knocked. He noticed that the inside covering of the window moved slightly but no one came to the door. He was just about to knock again when the door flew open and the next thing he knew he was lying on his back at the bottom of the stairs with a double barrel in his face!

“Say your prayers nigger…it’s all over!!!” And…he heard the slight screech of the trigger…

“I have a letter from Collie!!!” He screamed, “I have a letter from Collie!!!”

He saw the barrel of the gun and closed his eyes…nothing happened! He opened his eyes and the view had changed…now he was staring up into two hard, cold, rancor-filled blue eyes.

“What’d you say…?!?” The man’s tone was filled with mounds of both, disbelief and shock.

“I…I have a letter…it…it’s in my back pack…from Collie…my mother!”

The man eyes bulged as he screamed “Wha…what the hell are you talking about…boy?!?!” He threw his rifle down and lit upon the boy, grabbing him by his neck, pushing him hard with all his might. “Who, who…told you about my Collie?!? He hit the boy with his fist, “Huh?! Huh?...answer me!!!...answer me!!!” He hit him again.

“No one!!!” the young man gasped and coughed, “no one!!! Sh…she told me about you…read the letter...read it!”

Beasley jumped up and grabbed the back pack, roughly dumping everything out. “I don’t see no dam letter here!” Looking threateningly at the young man who was still lying on his back, he angrily kicked the small heap of things that lay on the ground, which flew into the air. A semi-large manila envelope caught his attention as it fell to the ground, he snatched it up. But, when he took a good look at it…he froze. It had been twenty-five years since he’d seen his daughter, but he remembered everything about her…even her handwriting.

The envelope was addressed to him without a stamp. He gave the young man on the ground a nasty, wry look before he stalked to the porch steps and sat down heavily. While he opened the envelope, he kept an eye on the young man, who sat up and wiped his bleeding lip with the back of his hand. Taking out the contents he found that there were two smaller sealed envelopes…and the light scent of Shalimar teased his nostrils. She was so like her mother…in every way. On one envelope was written ‘letter’, on the other was the word ‘photos’. He opened the photos first and… there she was, just as he remembered her…his Collie. He swallowed, hard. They were in order with each one dated and as he progressed through them one by one he realized that they told the story of her life, without him…from the time she left to the present. She had married a soldier…a black man, which was no surprise to him at all. They were on a beach, somewhere…happy. He had never seen her smile like that but then his Collie had her mother’s face, a face that carried an expression of a smile even when she wasn’t. He glared at the young man still sitting on the ground and sighed heavily before he continued through the pictures. Collie and her husband…here, there…everywhere…smiling. Collie pregnant, Collie holding her son…and her son…growing through the years. He glanced again, annoyed, at the boy.

Then the pictures changed…Collie older and sick, real sick…thin, in a wheelchair but still smiling… and the last one…a headstone, looked like marble…a pretty, purple…her and her mother’s favorite color. A tear ran down his unshaven, weathered cheek and he threw the pictures down and closed his eye. “I can’t do this!” he murmured, and he picked up the envelope with the letter and crumbled it, “I can’t do this!” He looked at the young man who sat expressionless, staring at him. “What the hell are you looking at?!” He yelled. The boy didn’t answer…but continued to stare. Beasley surveyed the crumbled envelope in his hand and slowly took the time to straighten it out.

‘Dear Pa,’ her letter began…and he heard her voice like she was sitting beside him, ‘I hardly know where to begin, our parting being so bad. I know if momma had been alive it wouldn’t have turned out the way it did. Momma…she kept us level and seems she didn’t have a mean bone anywhere in her body. But when momma left…you left, turning your back on me and even God. You don’t know but the day I left, I went to say goodbye to momma. I’ve always been sorry that you stopped preaching but, on that day, I really did wish that the padlock wasn’t on the door of the church because I wanted to go inside. I wanted to ‘feel’ the real you…once again. I wanted to imagine you up in that pulpit as you used to be, Oh I remember…you…Pa, and I still love you so much!’

Beasley stopped reading and stood. For some reason, the water wouldn’t stop coming from his eyes. He walked around the yard and stopped in front of the young man without looking at him, then moved on to the side of the house where he leaned and then continued to read.

‘I’ve thought of you so many times, especially during the holidays and I wanted to see you, but I knew with my husband being black you wouldn’t accept him…or my son. Momma would have, but not you and wherever my family is not accepted I don’t go.

It blows my mind, Pa, it really does to think that here, in this great United States of America, there are areas, little sections…towns, where people, who are still living in the dark, reside! I am ashamed to say that I am from one of those areas which has refused to change…to learn and grasp the precious God-given realization that…all men are created equal! For me, the picturesque beauty of my home is dimmed so greatly by the people that inhabit it…in the churches, the schools, the work places and even the government! There are people that go to church every Sunday but are filled with hate, and the disdain for anyone, and everyone, that doesn’t look like them! There’s is no love there, Pa…no love, at all! As far as I am concerned mama and one other person, whom I won’t name but have kept in contact with over the years, were the only two people in that whole town who I can truthfully say…knew…what it meant to treat all people, with no exclusions, the way they wanted to be treated in return. And let me clarify something; that day I left… when you slapped me and called me a nigger-lover, like my momma? That was only the straw that broke the camel’s back because the desire to get away had been building up in me ever since momma died! I could not tolerate the racist, bigoted atmosphere of ‘home’ one more day…and the added fact that it was under our very roof…was suffocating me!

I’ve been so happy, Pa! I got a chance to see some of the world traveling with Patterson Garry, my husband, who you can see from the pictures was an army man. He was a good man, I know you would have liked him, if he wasn’t black, that is. We lived a good life together and just when he decided, six years ago, to retire from active duty and teach…he was killed while serving his country at home in a training maneuver. In a flash he was gone and suddenly I had to learn to do without all the things I had learned to love in that so special man. It was hard! I don’t know what I would have done without my son, who gave me something to live for. And so, we come to the reason for this letter.’

Beasley stopped reading again and did something he hadn’t done in years… “Jesus, please! I can’t do this…you know I can’t!” he punched the side of the house with all his might and ignored the pain. “Do you hear me?!? He screamed at the heavens, “I can’t!!!” He didn’t want to read anymore but, somehow, he felt compelled to.

‘Pa, from the first moment Patterson and I laid eyes on one another we were attracted to one another, we just ‘clicked’. When we went out on our first date, we found out that although our backgrounds were different we had something in common; neither one of us had a real family. He never knew his parents, he was an orphan and, at that time in my life, I felt totally disconnected from the parent that I had left, and so, I felt like an orphan too.

My life began when I met him and after several years of thinking we weren’t going to have any children, the Lord blessed and gave us our son. Let me introduce you to your grandson, Patterson Garry, Jr. He’s 18 and such a good boy, Pa, he really is. A computer wiz…he’s lost without one, and a smart boy, though prone to draw towards the wrong friends. We had him in tow, Patterson and I, but when his daddy died he was only 12 and he got in trouble to the point where I almost lost him to the ways of the street. I couldn’t do it alone, however, through the courts we connected with a ministry that held bible meetings every week and it was mandatory that we attend. It made such a difference in both our lives! It felt good to be in church services again, it reminded me of home, before God took momma. Eventually, we were both baptized at the same time, my son and I, and what a day that was! You see, the Garry Family never went to church. We believed in God, but we never went, and looking back I have to say, that was the only thing, but the most important thing, that was missing in our marriage, still, in our erring God saw our hearts and was graciously merciful.

Well, through the help of prayer and caring people, things began looking up; Patterson, Jr didn’t get in any more trouble and high school graduation was moving into view…then…the bottom fell out again. About a year ago, I was diagnosed with lung cancer…you know I’ve been a smoker for as long as I can remember. They did the exploratory surgery and just closed me back up…it was only a matter of time, they said. Right there and then, I decided two things, I was not going to have any treatments for something they couldn’t fix, anyway. If God wanted me healed then He would heal me, if not, then I was ready. And secondly, after I was gone it was time for Patterson, Jr. to meet his only living blood relative…his grandfather. He needed to know, good or bad, his roots. He needed to know who he was and where he came from. Every human born on the face of the earth wants this knowledge, in fact, should have it! He needed to know you, Pa. So, right now, I’m begging…yes, he’s black, but he’s so much more! He’s mama’s, he’s yours, Pa, and he is my son! Can you please…just for me…find in your heart to try…to love him?’

Beasley went down and sat on his haunches, bent his head and cried. The tremors from his weeping shook his body and he stretched himself out prone. He had no idea how long he lay…and he didn’t care, he just wanted the day to go away but he couldn’t stop reading. His hands reached for the papers that had fallen beside him and, because it seemed like, he had to, he read on.

‘He needs that so much, especially now that I’m gone. He needs his grandfather’s love and no matter how you might not like it…he is your grandchild and you’re never going to get another one! He is it, and guess what…like momma used to always said…God doesn’t make mistakes! It’s no accident that he’s black Pa! If you need to pray about it, which I’m sure you will, I’m thinking that’s what you should do. The only reason he’s there is because I told him to find you, I made him promise me that he would. I gave him the directions and told him just where to walk when he left the bus station. And just in case, you’re wondering, I picked out my tombstone myself and I told Patterson to make sure he took a picture when it was in place and that it should be the last one in the photos…I figured you’d want to see it, Pa.

One more thing, before you come to a decision, if you don’t mind…hug him, Pa. A black lady in church told me that before the Lord changed her, she was racist and that when her son had twins by a white girl she just couldn’t accept the babies or the girl. But she said one day her son came over and to her surprise, he had the babies with him. And while she was out of the room, he laid those babies safely on the carpeted living room floor…and walked out. She was frantic and neither her son nor their mother would answer their phones! There she was, tricked and angry. But, of course, she wasn’t going to see them neglected, so she began caring for them however, it was robotic…that is, until one whimpered and she picked it up. And the baby itself pulled close to her and what could she do but hug it back? She said when she hugged her grandchild close and felt the heartbeat in that little body… and its flesh so warm with her own blood that was coursing through those tiny veins, she finally got it! The fact that they were bi-racial…didn’t matter! Those were her grandchildren and God has made them just the way he wanted them to be…and that was all there was to it! So, before you let him go or you send him away please, hug him…hug him, Pa…real hard!

I want you to know that I’m all right…I’ve made my peace with Jesus and I’m at rest. And, whether you’re able to do what I’ve asked you to do, or not, I love you and always will!

I remain, ‘til we meet again…

Your Collie’

He lay there for a little while staring at the blue sky, then rose in a sitting position before standing up. “Oh, Collie,” he moaned, shaking his head side to side “oh Collie.”

He folded the letter while slowly walking back to the front of the house. Picking up the manila envelope he replaced all its contents, then went up the porch stairs and opened the door. “You can come in,” he said quietly over his shoulder as the door banged behind him.

The young man rose and looked at his possessions strewn in the dirt. The first thing he picked up was his laptop…it was open, bent and the screen was broken. He tossed it aside, put the other things in his back pack and entered a somewhat dark interior that was unkept and junky…littered with empty bottles, clothes and half eaten plates of moldy food. Through a doorway he spied a stove and table that were cluttered with dirty dishes, pots and pans. He looked at his grandfather.

“Something wrong?”

“It’s a mess in here.”

For the first time there appeared an ever so slight hint of tolerance on Beasley’s face…he liked honesty. “Yeah, it is,” he replied. Patterson was behind him when he moved toward the rear of the house and opened a door that squeaked. “This was your momma’s room,” he said looking around, “you’ll have to freshen it up some…in fact…quite a bit.” He passed by his grandson and went into the kitchen.

“There’s a washer on the back porch…I don’t use it much,” he looked at the young man, “you can line dry.”

“Yes, sir…thank you.”

“Well,” he opened and closed the cupboards and looked in the refrigerator, “the house is bare, so I guess we had better go into town and do some marketing…I only shop for one, every now and then.”

“I have money, I can…-“

Beasley cut him off, “Did I ask you for anything?” he asked roughly.

“No Sir.”

“That’s what I thought.”

When his grandfather walked out of the house and got into the pick-up, he followed. They did not talk on the way but Patterson enjoyed the passing scenery remembering that his mother had told him how beautiful her birthplace was, especially in the summer.

“Give me my usual,” his grandfather said to the proprietor.

“Yes sir, Mr. Beasley” he answered, taking a long, hard look at the young black man standing beside him.

“Collie’s son,” his grandfather responded firmly to his unspoken question, “he’s staying with me.”

“Oh, I see…yes, sir! Let me get…your usual.”

Neither he nor his grandfather spoke, nor looked at one another while they waited.

The proprietor returned with 3 fifths of liquor, which he rung up and bagged.

Beasley placed the package in the back of his pickup and they went into another shop, a few store fronts down.

‘Well, hello Jeb,” the gray-haired woman behind the counter greeted him warmly, taking in his companion from head to toe, “it’s a great day, ain’t it?”

“I guess so.” His grandfather responded blandly. “I’ll have the usual, doubled, and throw in some fruits, ice cream and detergent and bleach.”

“Oh…are you having a,” she looked directly at the young man, “cleaning party, Jeb?”

“This is…Collie’s son,” he volunteered with a so fine edge, “he’s staying with me.”

“Oh!” she responded with genuine surprise, “Collie…? Yes, it’s been a real good while since we’ve seen her.”

“She’s dead.”

“Oh, Jeb, I am so sorry,” she said sincerely and then looked again at Patterson, “good to meet you, son.”

“Yes, mam, good to meet you too.”

“Frank! Frank!,” she walked to a door way covered with a thick hanging curtain and pulled it aside, “Frank, come meet Collie’s son!” She walked back to the counter, “I’ll get your order, Jeb.”

Frank appeared through the curtain and almost took a back step but caught himself. “Hey, Jeb…so this is Collie’s son,” he stared at the young black man, then said, “what’s your name, son?”

“Patterson.”

He extended his hand, “good to meet you, Patterson…stay out of trouble.”

“Yes, sir,” he shook his hand, “thank you.”

“Need some help?” he called to his wife.

“I could stand a little…it’s a double order.”

He went to help his wife, and still no form of communication passed between the boy and his grandfather.

They left the store and after placing the two boxes in the back of the pick-up, were just about to pull off when…

“Hey, nigger!” Luke and few of his friends ran up to the truck. He snatched the door open. “Where in the hell do you think you’re going?!”

Patterson gave him a look filled with agitation. “Get off the door!”

“You need to be taught a lesson, nigger!” People began to gather around as Luke friends edged him on. “No nigger is gitten away with disrespecten and mocken my daddy…a white man!”

“What happened?” his grandfather asked him.

“Nothing, really,” Patterson replied candidly, “…it was nothing. I was on the road passing their house, I never disrespected his father, or his mother or his sister.”

His grandfather slid out of the truck and went curb side. “This here is Collie’s son.”

“Collie…?” Luke replied with a light shrug of dismissal, “Who’s Collie…?”

“My dead daughter.” Jeb replied, seriously.

“Oh,” he gave his friends a quick glance over his shoulder, who were wise and remained expressionless. “look, I’m sorry about your daughter, Mr. Beasley,” he went on carefully, “but that don’t change nothing…! Dis here,” he glared hatefully at Patterson, “is an ornery nigger who needs to be taught a lesson!”

Jeb looked at his grandson still sitting in the truck. “If you don’t end it now, it will never end…get out!”

Patterson got out of the truck.

“Fair fight!” Jeb yelled to the crowd that had grown a bit. “Move back…give ‘em some room!” Jeb leaned against the truck to watch.

And the fight was on, with Luke throwing the first punch that landed square in Patterson’s face and the crowd began to get loud with cheers. Then Luke began to taunt him, “you felt that nigger, didn’t ya…did you feel th…-“

Luke never got to finish his sentence…for in the next moment he was sprawled on his back on the ground, out cold and the crowd was dead silent.

Jeb reached into the back of the truck, pulled out a bottle of water, opened it and stood over Luke as he poured it on his face. He sprang up and looked around, still somewhat dazed… “What happened…? What happened?”

“Fair fight”, Jeb yelled, “…all over! Get in.”

The crowd quickly dispersed looking hard at Beasley and Patterson, while Luke and his friends slowly made their way up the street, as they drove away.

“You surprised me.” Jeb remarked to his grandson on the way back.

“Why?”

“I did much more to you earlier today than he did just now, and you didn’t even try to hit me back.”

“You’re my grandfather, I wouldn’t hit you…I love you…” they looked at one another, “you’re all I got.”

Jeb was speechless and the only words that passed through his mind were….my Collie.

They ate, and the sun’s last rays was rendering a spectacular show. Jeb took a bottle of liquor out on the back porch and leaned back in his favorite chair with his legs propped up on an old crate. Patterson finished up the dishes and went out to join him with a chair and a glass of ice. He sat down and poured himself a healthy drink.

“Bad habit to get into, son.”

“I don’t intend to sir…but it’s been a l-o-n-g day!”

His grandfather laughed out loud, “it has indeed, it has, indeed.”

The following morning, they left the house with two missions; One was to visit his grandmother’s grave and see the church Collie had told him so much about, and the other was to go to the mall, two towns over. As they drove to the old log church…

“Patterson, Jr.”, Jeb pondered out loud, “that’s a whole lotta syllables,” he glanced at his grandson, “don’t you think?”

Patterson shrugged his shoulders, “that’s my name.”

“No, what I mean is,” Jeb explained, “by the time I get through saying ‘Patterson, Jr.’ I’d be done forgot what I was getting ready to say.” They both chuckled. “Let’s see,” they stopped at a light, “how about…PJ…is that alright with you?”

They looked at one another. “Yes, si…,” Patterson hesitated, “…Grandpa.”

“That’s fine,” Jeb nodded, “that’s just fine.”

Small but well built, it was set on a raised piece of land and just beyond the light forest in the back of it, was the cemetery. They walked together through the area of tall grass and daffodils, with a cool early morning breeze clearing the air, bringing thoughts to the surface.

“I built it.”

“Is this your land?”

“Yeah. After I received my calling, I bought the land and built the church. In the beginning I preached to an empty church…well empty except for Amanda and Collie. Mandy was my choir…then one by one people started trickling in. Soon, we had a nice crowd and I was content. I figured if I could feed just those few, it was enough for me…then…God decided to take Amanda.” He frowned, his face filled with pain, “He just…snatched her away from me!”

“So, you stopped preaching because…?”

“I buried a lot of people in my time and me n’ Mandy always visited the family, and we always knew what to say, you know…’God’s will’, ‘it’s going to be all right’, ‘time will heal’…’God’s will’, but ‘non-a-that’ was working for me…it just didn’t help! I preached two more sermons after she left, and I couldn’t do it no more! I was a hypocrite, standing up there talking to people about a God that I was pure angry with…that I did not want to talk to…or about, and that I did not…and still don’t…understand!”

“Grandpa, I’m not a bible scholar or anything like that, in fact, it was only five years ago that I was baptized…me and momma…but over time, and especially after momma was diagnosed, I learned something; for the most part, we can’t understand God. We just have to have faith and believe that whatever He allows is for the best.”

“It’s not going to work, PJ, don’t waste your time,” Jeb remarked, as they exited the sparse forest and stood in the cemetery, “you can’t say nothing to me that I haven’t already said to myself…nothing.” They began to walk among the tombstones and he pointed, “there she is,” he said quietly.

Patterson looked to see a purple headstone, somewhat glistening. He walked ahead alone and stood at the foot of his grandmother’s grave. There were dead flowers in a vase and as he collected a fresh bouquet from the wood’s edge, he remembered what his mother had once shared with him about his grandmother; ‘…she loved flowers…the house was always filled with their sweet odor …’. When he knelt to refill the vase, he read aloud some of the inscription on the stone; ‘Amanda Ann Beasley, Forever…Mine.’ He looked over his shoulder at his grandfather who, withdrew a bottle of water from his overall’s back pocket and extended it to him. As he filled the vase with fresh water, his grandfather’s knack for ‘anticipating’ was noted.

“How do I get this lock off?” He asked Jeb, fingering the large rusted padlock and chain. They were standing in front of the church.

“What do you want to get it off for?”

“This is my mother’s church…my grandfather is the pastor of this church and my grandmother sang here…I’ve seen the outside, now I want to see the inside.”

“Nothin in there to see,” he shook his head and spit, “just an old, empty church,” he started towards the truck, “…is all.”

“My heritage is in there, grandpa. I want to see the benches my mother and grandmother actually sat on…I want to see the pulpit, where you stood and preached. A piece of me is in there and I want to see it…please?”

Beasley stood still.

“Maybe I need to get a big rock or something,” he started looking around but stopped when Jeb put up his hand in a stop sign. PJ watched as Beasley went to the left side of the structure and got down on his hands and knees. Pulling up the overgrown brush, he bent low and reached far underneath it…when his hand came out it was holding a large key.

“I don’t know if it still works…might brake in the lock.”

The reluctant lock… groaned and screeched before the key finally turned and it fell away from the chains. The heavy door complained at being disturbed with a grinding creak. Patterson stepped through the door frame and automatically his hands searched the walls on either side of it for a light switch.

“High…on the right.”

Light flooded the dark place, “Whoa!” Jeb said, “the light still works!” And, for the first time in 25 years, he stepped inside the church that he built and pastored. He stayed by the door and looked around.

Patterson moved around the sanctuary, surveying and touching everything. There was a cross beam…the builder had taken the time to construct it well. The wooden pews were smooth and so was the wood of the pulpit and its three high back chairs. He looked at Jeb who was still standing by the door.

“It’s not dank and smelly in here…did you notice that, grandpa?”

“Yeah…I did.”

“What I’m saying is, it doesn’t look as if it’s been closed up for years.”

“You right…it don’t”

PJ was still wandering around, his eyes taking it all in, “all it needs is a good cleaning …dusting, scrubbing and waxing.” He stopped and looked at Jeb.

“Grandpa?”

“Hmmm?”

“You know how it looks to me?”

Jeb moved a little further in away from the door and took a good look around. “How?”

“It looks like it was… waiting for you to come back.”

Jeb smiled, “well,” he said, “here I am!”

Patterson laughed. “Can I see how you look standing in the pulpit?”

“Nope,” he turned towards the door.

“Awww, come on, grandpa…sometimes you have to seize the moment.”

“This ain’t my moment.” Jeb was almost through the door.

“It’s mine…I admit it, but…can you, just this one time, humor me, please?”

“It’s been too long.” He responded standing on the sill of the door.

“No, grandpa, it hasn’t…this is what I learned; we are all human and we make mistakes which God forgives, because He loves us…so, can I ask you a question?”

Jed was silent but he turned.

“Do you still love…Him?”

The question surprised him, his face showed it and Jeb had to consider; if anyone had told him three days ago that he’d be standing in his old church, with a young black man who just happened to be his grandson…he would have shot ‘em. Just for being bold enough to stand up in his face and tell a outright, gosh-darn lie…but, here he was and…there he was. He stared at PJ, but for a moment before slowly walking down the aisle.

He took the two steps that led up to the pulpit laboriously and once there he looked at the smiling face of his grandson…and smiled back.

Beasley’s hand trembled a bit as he reached for the bible and opened it arbitrarily….and his eyes rested on 1John 1:9; ‘…if we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness…” And it seemed natural…real natural, that he should pray.

‘Dear God,” Jeb began, “it’s been so long that I’ve sort You out, I don’t even rightly know what to say! I, I feel so ashamed and out of place standing here where I once felt completely at ease and at home. Have mercy on me! I still love You…You know I do! I’ve never stopped…just angry…is all. Angry, ‘cause I thought You knowing…how much I needed her, would either take us together from this earth or, at least, take me first. But now I understand, Lord, Oh God, You’re Sovereign and, as much as I loved her and still do, she couldn’t save my soul! Jesus, I want You to know I’m not angry no more! I’m grateful for Your Love which has kept me and brought me to this time and place. Oh, Father! look what it took…look what it took to bring me to this hour of understanding, to see…all this time You were after me! Because there was something in me that stood between…us! I see it now, Lord Almighty…I see it…I understand! Mandy tried, Collie tried, but nobody…nobody could remove it, but You! For, with all that has happened within the last twenty-four hours, I would have to be a blind man not to see You in it. So here it is, Oh Savior!” He knelt and stretched his arms heavenward, wide open, as the tears of repentance flowed. “I confess, Oh, God that my way of thinking, the evil racist seed planted so deep, even from the womb, was wrong and I’ve changed! ‘You’ changed me! And how amazing You are, O God! You used Collie’s son to do it! You sent my own flesh and blood, which I could never deny, to me…covered with a skin tone that I reviled, but his skin don’t change his blood, his skin means nothing…he is still mine! I get it, thank you, Jesus! I get it! I won’t fight You no more, Father,” he sobbed, “I’m through, it’s all over! And I’m pleading that for all the terrible things in thought, word or deed that I’ve done. Please forgive me, I’m so sorry! I surrender to Your will and to Your way! Unto You, O Lord…You! Who’s the core of all my strength and in whose infinite wisdom I do trust. here am I! I’m Yours! Have Your way! In Jesus Name, Amen!”

They drove in silence for a great deal of the way until Patterson spoke…

“I’ve got a project…it’s something that’s right and it I’m going to do it, no matter how much it costs.”

“Costs…?” Jeb glanced at him, “are you talking about dollars and cents?”

“Yes, I am.”

“You need money coming in before you think about a project that costs, PJ, you working somewhere?”

“Yeah, grandpa, of course I work…I’ve been working since I was 14 years old and if I didn’t have a job, I’d be looking for one. My father always told me, ‘independence demands respect…even if you don’t get it from others…respect yourself’.”

“Sounds right…but, where you working?”

“I work on line…or…I was working on line, until, you know…a very important tool got messed up.”

“Uh…yeah,” he gave his grandson a remorseful expression, “sorry about that…but that’s why I’m fixing to buy you a brand new one…how about that?”

“Is that why we’re going to the mall?!”

“Yup.”

“Do you know I had said to myself that while we were there, I would check out the shops to see if I could find a reasonable priced laptop? Thank you!”

“It’s only right, son, it’s only right. So, tell me, what do you do?”

“For right now, I’m a freelance medical transcriptionist…I have about, 10 or 11 regular customers…I make out alright and since I don’t like working for anybody…it works for me.”

“For now…? What’s for later?”

“That’s another project, it’s a longer one but I know it’ll be worth it…I’m going to college to major in computer science and technology.”

“Whew!…how much is that going to cost?”

“My education is paid for. I’m the son of a veteran, killed in action…whether it was at home or on foreign soil, doesn’t matter. It would be an insult to my father if I didn’t take advantage of the opportunity that he paid for…with his life.”

They turned into the mall’s parking lot and parked.

“I can’t do anything but agree with that…your momma told me what a good man your daddy was. But you still haven’t told me what the first project is.”

“I’m going to bring my Momma home.”

They exited the truck but before they entered the hub Jeb turned to his grandson… “I like the way you think, PJ, but do you mind if we did that first project…together?”

Patterson gave him a big smile, “I don’t mind at all, grandpa.”

They enjoyed the rest of the day together, getting to know one another…bonding…growing closer. There was no rush in their atmosphere…the peace and love of God flowed between them freely.

It was well into the evening when they headed back for home and Jed had just pulled into traffic when…suddenly, he went blank. When he came to himself, he was lying on…something… in a place filled with white tiled walls and a green, or…was it blue, curtain surrounded him. His head hurt and he blinked a lot, deliberately… because every time he blinked it cleared his vision. His arm burned…he felt it, then he held it up and looked…there was an IV in it. As his consciousness became more and more acute…he frantically looked around…where was PJ?!? He lifted himself on his elbows to take a good look around the cubed area.

“Hey!!! Hey!!!” he yelled at the top of his voice. “Somebody…hello!?!”

A medical personnel stuck her head in. “Hello, there!!!” She said with a warm smile as her head disappeared. “Four is awake!” he heard her yell, before she entered. The young woman took note of the beeping monitor and then making eye contact and smiling, she asked, “So, how do you feel?”

“Where’s my grandson?!?” he yelled.

“Please, try to calm down…who is your grandson?”

“Patterson, Jr. Garry, he’s Black” he replied, trying to keep it together and follow her orders, “where is he?!”, he demanded…, “how did I get here…what in tarnation happened?!?”

“First of all, I don’t know if he’s here or not…there was a five or six car pile-up and two other hospitals from out of the area also responded. Seems a truck driver had a seizure at the wheel and there were a lot of injuries, but we’ve checked you out completely…no concussion, no broken bones or anything…you’re going to be alright. And considering the fact that there were two fatalities, you were very lucky.”

“What…?!?” He raised his voice “please…please, my grandson…please!”

“Was he in the car with you?”

“Yes…Yes…!” he yelled.

“Alright…calm down, I’ll try to see if he’s here.” She paused before going through the curtain, “did you say he’s black?”

“That’s exactly what I said!”

“Jesus!!!” He stared at the ceiling, “You cant tell me this is fair!!!” He yelled, “why didn’t you just take me, why---,”

And suddenly he heard his own voice from earlier, in the church… ‘…here am I. I’m Yours, have Your way…’

Jeb forcibly turned his head towards the wall and began to weep …‘Forgive me, wh…what I said…stil…still stands, Lord…Oh God!…it still stands!!!”

The curtains parted and the nurse came in…and right behind her…

“I’m looking for Mr. Beasley!” PJ said joyfully with a huge, pearly white, grin.

Jeb sprang up with open arms, ”you found me!!!” He bellowed to his grandson, “thank You, Jesus!!!…you found me!!!”

And as the man and his grandson embraced, he remembered…'Hug him…hug him hard Pa!’

Now, somewhere in America, there still exists little dark communities that refuse to embrace the Love of God and the fact that ‘…all men were created equal…’ But in the area where Jeb Beasley and his grandson, Patterson, Jr. Garry reside…a light has begun to shine. And though it will, indeed, take time there is on the horizon the beginning of so many things…right, and the ending of so many things…wrong.

THE END

1John 1:5-10

copyright;jmsbell-5/11/18

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