Mama B - A Time to Dance (Book 2)
Read Mama B - A Time to Dance (Book 2) Online
Authors: Michelle Stimpson
Note: This is Book 2 of the
Mama B Series
Description: Mama B thought
her life would return to normal, but when her nephew, Derrick, comes knocking
on her door, she has to reconsider. Though she’s not known for housing marital
fugitives, she realizes Derrick is looking for more than a place to stay; he
needs help finding his way back to God. Of course, help is almost Mama B’s
middle name until Henrietta crosses the line with her accusations about Mama
B’s intentions with the recently widowed pastor. Mama B isn’t looking for
romance with either the pastor or her suitor, Dr. Wilson—but will love
come looking for her?
Copyright 2013 by Michelle
Stimpson
All rights reserved. No part
of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in
reviews, without written permission from the author.
The characters in this book
are fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental.
Published by MLStimpson
Enterprises
For everyone who has chosen to forgive.
Especially Christ.
Acknowledgments
Thank You,
Father, for allowing me to write this book. I’m grateful that You entertain my
wishes more often than not. It’s so sweet to be in a relationship with You. You
are the ultimate Giver.
Thanks to my
husband, daughter, and son for continued support. When I think of you all, I’m
extremely grateful. I can only imagine how hard it is to live with a quirky
artist (I know –it’s hard for me to live with my whims sometimes, too).
God made you people for me, and vice versa!
Special thanks
to my parents for good old-fashioned home training. Mama B would be proud.
Big shout out to
my fellow Christian authors. God is doing this thing through us. I’m grateful
to be in the number. Be strong, be of good cheer, and do not faint.
Thanks to Karen
Rodgers for your editorial contribution.
Finally, to my
faithful readers, I love you!!! Your comments, notes, reviews, and
recommendations are appreciated more than you know. And to my new readers,
welcome to my literary world! I hope you’ll draw strength, encouragement, and
wisdom from the words in this book.
Sneak
Peek – I Met Him in the Ladies’ Room
Other
Books by Michelle Stimpson
Pastor Phillips
sure was lookin’ good and strong up there in the pulpit again. Hadn’t been but
a few months since our first lady passed away, but the Lord was restoring
Pastor Phillips the same as He did me when my Albert died. It takes a while,
but after the one you done shared a bed and a life with for forty something-odd
years dies, it’s hard to sleep at night again. We do the best we can to get
settled. Can’t get too settled, though, ‘cause at our age, we know it won’t be
long before it’s our time to go, too.
I was sixty-four
when Albert died. Eight years and five months ago. Some time, seem like it was
just yesterday, though, especially if I get to thinking ‘bout it too hard. So I
don’t. Albert wouldn’t want me to spend what little time I got left feelin’
sorry for myself.
Besides, I
assure you, Albert Jackson, Sr., is not up in heaven moping around about me.
Knowing him, he probably ain’t even asked Jesus if I was coming up soon.
Too busy asking David and Paul all those questions he had about the Bible. Whew
– that Albert could talk your ear off!
Yes, Albert was
something else.
And so was first
lady Geneva Phillips. She sure gon’ be missed.
Soon as service
was over, you couldn’t beat Henrietta skating herself up to the pulpit to talk
to Pastor, standing by his side while he greet the visitors. Good Lord, it was
a shame the way that woman threw herself at him. She got to be at least three
years older than me, carrying on like she need special prayer from Pastor.
She need special
prayer
, alright.
Pray herself right on back to
the altar and into the baptism pool!
Lord, I’m
sorry.
Nevermind
Henrietta, I rushed out the church and across the lawn through the gate to my
own back yard. Had to hurry and transfer the pulled chicken simmering in
barbeque sauce to a proper Tupperware bowl. Once I’d packed that up, I wrapped
up a few rolls in foil, scooped a couple of servings of baked beans into
another bowl. Finally, I scraped half the pan of peach cobbler aside for
myself, kept the other half in the original throw-away container and slapped
some plastic on top.
I set all that
in a paper shopping bag and headed back over to the church to give it to
Pastor. I knew if he was anything like me, he’d been lost about things his
spouse used to do. That Geneva could cook up a storm, too!
“Here you go,
Pastor,” I said to him as I transferred the handles from my hand to his. He and
Reverend Martin were just locking up the front doors by then. “Chicken, beans,
and peach cobbler.”
“B, you don’t
have to keep cooking for me,” Pastor said as he stooped down to give me a thank-you
hug.
All I could
think was how much it hurt inside to go home to an empty house the first few
years after Albert died. I was hoping the food might take Pastor’s mind off the
loneliness at least a teenchy bit.
“Pastor, I’ll
take Mama B’s cooking if you pass it up,” Rev. Martin stuck out his hand like
he was intending to take the sack.
Pastor Phillips
swatted the hand away. “You gon’ fool around and draw back a nub.”
“I’m just
saying,” Rev. Martin laughed. He looked better, too, now that Pastor had
returned to the pulpit. No more visiting ministers preaching all kind of
foolishness, scattering the flock in different directions.
Henrietta come
hopping out of her car. Fast as she whipped out of that front seat and scrambled
back to Pastor’s side, I don’t see how she ridin’ around with handicapped
license plates.
“Pastor!” She
flagged with her handkerchief as she shuffled her way into our conversation. “I
got some ice cream to go with that peach cobbler. I can have my niece bring it
by your house later on this afternoon.”
“Oh, no, Mother
Henrietta, that’s alright. I can’t take in too much sugar at once.”
Henrietta pursed
her lips for a second. “You sure? It’s Blue Bell.”
“That’s mighty
tempting, but I’ll have to let it go this time. God bless you for thinking
about me, though.”
Lord knows, if I
was the gossiping type, Henrietta sure would have gave me plenty to talk about.
But I ain’t the one to talk about people, so I don’t. Just keep it between me
and Jesus.
She waddled on
back to her car while me, Pastor, and Rev. Martin stood there and watched just
what way she was backin’ out so she wouldn’t hit none of us. Once she was
clear, we said our good-byes and promised to pray for one another until we met
again.
The rest of my
Sunday I spent watching football. One thing I don’t like is people talkin’
during the games, so I do my very best to watch football at home alone. And
that’s exactly what I did until the last second of the last game.
Nothing like a
good ‘ole Cowboy game and some peach cobbler.
I tell you what, whoever this is knockin’
on my door after nine o’clock at night better be some kin to the late Ed
McMahon.
“Just a minute!”
I wrapped my robe around my waist and pulled the belt to. Good thing about
these old houses, don’t matter what size you are, your feet make you sound like
Godzilla walkin’ across these hardwood floors. Make strangers think somebody
real big on this side of the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Derrick,
Mama B.”
“Derrick who?” I
set my ear up against the door so I could catch his voice maybe.
“Roy James and
Winona’s son.”
Lord, what
Derrick want at this hour?
I
twisted both locks to the left and beheld a sight for sore eyes. Derrick LeVon
Jackson, my nephew from my husband’s side. Might as well have been my grandson
as much time as he spent at this house with my grands, especially during the
summer.
“Well, to what
do I owe this pleasure, if that’s what it is?”
I hugged him,
felt his heart racing even through his shirt.
“Hello, Mama B.
It’s so good to see you.”
I stepped back
and pointed him toward the couch. The clock showed it was nine-thirty. In my
book, might as well have been midnight, but I know the young folk don’t think
the same. “You hungry?”
“No, thank you.”
He sat down on
my sofa, letting a black
duffle b
ag fall at
his feet. I already knew where this was going, so I started praying.
Lord, I
don’t know what the problem is, but he sure can’t stay here while he find the
solution
.
I hadn’t been
too long getting back into my routine after my granddaughter and
great-grandson, and Cameron, moved out. They had stayed with me most of the
summer while Nikki found a new job and closed the door on a relationship with
her deranged ex-boyfriend.
Somebody must
done put out the rumor that my house was the Red Cross.
I don’t think so,
Jesus!
I sat down
across from him and we made some small talk. He asked about me and mine, I
asked about Roy James and Winona. Derrick said they was doing fine in their
retirement village in North Dallas. He said it was almost like a cruise ship,
they had so much to do in the complex.
If I wasn’t so
busy with the church and the food pantry, I might give one of those places a
second glance.
Soon as I found
a lull in the conversation, I decided to cut to the chase. My word, it was
going on 9:45 by then! “Well, I know you ain’t stopped by here just to catch up
on me. What’s the matter?”
He dropped his
head. Look like a cloud of shame come over his whole body while he tried to fix
his lips on the first word to say.
“Go on and spit
it out.”
He exhaled. “I
messed up.”
Couldn’t help
but chuckle. “Join the club, son. I been president a time or two.”
Derrick shook
his head. “No. I mean I
really
messed up. I don’t know if my life will
ever be the same, or if Twyla is going to take me back. It’s complicated, Mama
B. I just need a place to stay for a little while.”
Don’t take no
genius to figure out his problem got something to do with another woman. This
is exactly the kind of business I keep my nose out of. “Well, I’m sorry to hear
you two are having problems, Derrick, but y’all got to work this thing out.” I
stood up so he could get the signal it was time for him to leave.
“But I can’t
stay…at home,” he said, with his behind still flat on my couch.
“I didn’t say
you had to go home. All I’m sayin’ is you can’t stay
here
. I don’t house
no marital fugitives.” I crossed my arms.
Derrick grabbed
the short handles of his bag and rose. “I understand, Mama B. Where’s the nearest
hotel?”
“Down Main, left
on Second.”
“Got it.”
“I’ll be praying
for you and Twyla.”
He raised one
eyebrow and sucked in his cheeks. Seem like every man on my husband’s side of
the family got that same expression when they got no clue of what to do. “I
don’t know about praying. I doubt God wants to hear anything from me right
now.”