The Truth Is the Light (27 page)

Chapter 61

“H
ow did it go?” Brent asked Angela after they got the sleeping boys in the house. She was at her grandmother's house for more than five hours.

“Okay. You should have been there.”

“I wanted to be there. You told me you didn't think I should go,” Brent said.

“I know, I know. But how was I supposed to know what would happen?”

“I'm all ears,” Brent said as they sat down on the couch. He shifted his body slightly to angle more toward her.

She grabbed his ears gently and tugged on them. “I love your ears.”

“Just tell me what happened. You're such a tease.”

“No, I'm just in love with my wonderful, handsome husband,” Angela said.

“I think you need to stay on message,” Brent said.

“Okay, okay.” She told him how Arletha insisted she go and get Ransom from the car. “That was actually a relief because I didn't have to convince her to let him in. Gramps came in”—she giggled—“isn't it something that everybody already calls him Gramps and now it turns out he really is my great-gramps.”

“So, Arletha and he agree that he's really her father?”

“Just let me tell this my way.”

Brent picked up her feet, slipped off her flats, and began massaging her feet.

“See, now, you're wrong,” Angela said. “You know how much I love when you do that.”

He smiled. “Okay, so Ransom goes in the house, and then what?”

“Grand is playing with the boys in the kitchen. I walk inside just in front of Gramps. Grand is giving the boys a sandwich and she sees me walk in and she's about to ask if we'd like something to eat. When she sees Gramps, nothing comes out of her mouth. Dead silence. In fact, she's standing there with her mouth wide-open. Seeing her hit Gramps so hard, she and he both had to sit down. It was as if somebody had punched him in his stomach. He sat across from her and they literally stared at each other.” Angela closed her eyes when Brent started rotating her toes. She rotated her head as though her head and toes were connected.

“Brent, I'm telling you,” Angela continued with opened eyes, “I
thought
that they resembled each other. But when you have the two of them together in the same room, it's like their features are reflecting off of each other. And they have some identical mannerisms. Gramps didn't have to tell her why he was there. She knew who he was. Then he pulled out that photo of himself and handed it to her. She started crying when she realized that the man in the picture standing next to her mother was actually Ransom Perdue and not Samuel L. Williams, as she'd first believed as well. Maybe if she had stayed around instead of running away when she was sixteen, she might have figured out Samuel Williams wasn't her real daddy. Maybe Great-granny would have told her the truth. Who can say?”

“Wow, you're right. That must have been something to witness.”

“And then Gramps told her how it might have happened that he was her father, not the man she'd grown up believing was. Gramps had been falsely imprisoned for ten years. When he was released, he came back to Asheville to find Sarah and his daughter. Now, here's where I possibly had some information that I hadn't even thought about that would affect Grand. I stopped Gramps's storytelling to inform Grand that Memory was the daughter he'd come back to find. ‘Memory?' Grand said with this eerie, puzzled look on her face. He then told Grand how he'd finally gotten to meet this daughter only a few weeks ago, for the first time in her whole seventy-five years of life.”

“So that means Arletha and this Memory person are half-sisters,” Brent said.

“That's correct. I believe it was a woman named Memory who told my cousin Gayle . . . you remember Gayle? She came in early and helped out with our wedding. I think Memory told Gayle she'd met a woman named Arletha in Birmingham after Gayle mentioned she was searching for someone by that name.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Brent said. “My head is swimming. You're going too fast.”

“I thought you said I take too long to tell a story,” Angela said, slipping her feet out of his lap and back onto the floor. She then grabbed his feet, pulled off his shoes, and began to return the favor.

“So what you're saying is that Arletha and Memory know each other,” Brent said.

“Yeah, and it turns out to have been a
total
shock to Arletha's system. In fact, I thought she was going to pass out right there on the spot when she heard it. We had to move from the kitchen to the den because she needed to lie back on the couch a minute to get herself right.”

“I bet.”

“No, you don't know all of it. It turns out Arletha and Memory actually lived together for a while when Memory was hiding out, or something like that. Can you imagine learning that someone you thought was a stranger, and by some lining up of the stars, you had rented out a room in your house to her, turns out to be your half-sister? I can't imagine how Grand felt.”

“Well, that means they already know each other, so that has to be a good thing. Right? Now Ransom will only have to tell Memory that Arletha is her sister,” Brent said.

“You would think, right? Only, Grand admitted that she and Memory didn't part ways on the best of terms. In fact, I believe it was pretty bad,
pretty
bad.”

“How bad? Did she say?”

“Bad enough that she drove the elderly woman to church—our church, in fact—and dropped her off at the front door, telling her not to ever darken her door again.”

“Whoa, that's pretty rough.”

“Yeah. Grand admitted as much. And now Gramps is planning on telling Memory about Arletha. I suggested he call Memory then, but Arletha thought not. They're all going to be here for his birthday celebration. It should be an interesting birthday, that's for sure.” She picked his feet up from her lap and placed them back on the floor.

“You're finished?” Brent asked with a frown.

“Yes, I'm finished. I was only planning to rub your feet for a little while.”

“No, not ‘are you finished rubbing my feet.' Are you finished with the story? You were talking about Ransom telling her how he happened to be her father. Remember?”

“Oh, yeah. I got a little off track when I was telling you about Memory and Arletha knowing each other. Okay, Gramps had returned home after being on a chain gang for ten years. When he got back, Pearl told him he needed to lay low because Sarah's half-brother, Heath, was still out to get him. Heath just happens to be the father of that monster I've told you about named Montgomery Powell the Second. You remember, I told you how he almost caused Pastor Landris to lose his religion; at least that's what Johnnie Mae told me since I wasn't there that time. When Montgomery raised his hand to her and was about to hit her.”

Brent nodded. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I remember you telling me about that.”

“Anyway, Great-granny talked him into making a show of leaving town for anybody who knew he'd come back. Then he sneaked back in town and hid out with Great-granny, who told him about everything that had happened, which included facts that only three people knew at the time—that his daughter hadn't died, the way everybody had been led to believe. They faked her death, placed her with a woman named Mamie Patterson, and she was safe. But they didn't know whether Sarah was alive or dead. Not after Heath took over when her father died and had Sarah declared insane and put her away.”

“Man, no wonder you were over there so long. This is like a soap opera or some kind of a miniseries.”

“Oh, it was interesting, for sure. Gramps said he left at the end of April 1943. He had no doubt, sitting there looking in her face, that the child originally named Arletha Jane Black was his daughter. But he never knew Pearl was carrying his child. After he left, he didn't come back. And she had no way of getting in touch with him, even if she'd wanted to. Which, knowing her—for his safety—she wouldn't have done. Early on, he was never in one place long enough for anyone to get in touch with him.”

“So he probably didn't know about the man Pearl married and who Arletha grew up believing was her father.”

“Gramps gave his thoughts on that. He, Pearl, and Samuel Williams were all the best of friends. He believes when Great-granny learned she was pregnant, especially at her age, which was thirty-nine at the time, and especially since she didn't even believe she could carry another child . . . Okay, side note. It appears Great-granny had been married when she was twenty-two to a man who was extremely abusive. His last abusive act caused her to lose the baby she was carrying, and the injury sustained was said to prevent her from ever conceiving any children. Gramps believes Samuel, also Great-granny's friend, must have plotted with her to keep anyone from knowing who the real father was. He threw the out-of-wedlock pregnancy suspicions onto himself, then later married her to seal the deal. Knowing now that she could conceive children, she and Samuel had three together.”

“And no one was ever the wiser,” Brent said, yawning.

“You tired?”

He yawned again. “A little bit.” He stretched.

“Well, let's see if we can't catch a little nap before the boys wake up.”

He grabbed her and let her lay on his chest as he lay back on the couch.

“Brent,” Angela said.

“Huh?”

“I love you.”

He hugged her tightly. “I love you more.”

Chapter 62

“I
'm sorry, Pastor Landris, but I don't show you as having an appointment, and Reverend Walker gave me strict instructions that he not be interrupted or disturbed,” Mrs. Greer said as she stood in front of the door to physically keep Pastor Landris from going through it when she saw he was not going to stop from her verbal order.

“Well, Mrs. Greer, don't you worry. I will tell Reverend Walker that you more than gallantly carried out your orders. And that I pushed my way right past you.” He gently touched her shoulder. She moved to the side. He opened the door and walked in.

“I'm sorry to just barge in like this,” Pastor Landris said.

“I tried to stop him, Reverend Walker,” Mrs. Greer said softly and rather unconvincingly.

Reverend Walker stood up. “It's fine, Sister Greer. It's fine.” She left. “Pastor Landris, I didn't expect to see you again so soon. Had I known you would be coming back, I would have told Sister Greer that my ‘do not disturb' instructions didn't apply to you.” He bent his head toward Pastor Landris, then raised it back up. “Please, please, have a seat.”

“That won't be necessary,” Pastor Landris said. “I don't plan on staying long.”

“So”—he clapped his hands—“you've reconsidered our offer? Is that why you're here?”

“No. Actually, I came by to bring you this.” Pastor Landris softly laid the large white envelope he'd taken out of the safe onto Reverend Walker's desk.

“What is this?” Reverend Walker asked, picking it up and examining it closer.

“Something from your past you might recognize. Actually, it was something given to me from a mutual friend. Poppa Knight gave that to me before he passed on. He thought I should have it in case I ever needed it.”

“I don't understand.”

Pastor Landris sat down, since it was taking Reverend Walker so long to open it and look inside. He watched as Reverend Walker took out the papers and flipped through the stapled document.

“Where did you get this?” Anger surrounded Reverend Walker's voice.

“I told you: Poppa Knight.”

“I don't believe you. How did you get something that isn't supposed to even exist anymore? How?”

“I told you: Poppa Knight gave it to me.”

“Why would he give you something like this?” Reverend Walker shook his head as he scanned familiar pages and words telling of incidents he thought were long-ago buried with his friend and confidant, Paul “Poppa” Knight. “So what did he do, leave this for you after he died?”

“No, actually he asked me to come to his home and gave it to me back in 2004.”

Reverend Walker put the information back inside of the envelope and dropped it with a thud onto his desk. “You actually expect me to believe you've had this all this time and you've never used it?”

“No offence, but I really don't care whether you believe it or not. The truth is he gave it to me, and I've had it for a little over five years now.”

“Okay, so what do you want in return for this and your silence? You want me to let this deal drop you're being pressured into doing?”

“I've already weighed in on the fact that I'm not doing it, and all of your and Mister Threadgill's blackmail and bribery efforts mean nothing to me. No weapon formed against me will prosper.
No
weapon.” Pastor Landris stood up. “I just came by to give you that. That's it.” Pastor Landris started for the door.

Reverend Walked jumped to his feet. “Pastor Landris, do you honestly think I believe you're just bringing that to give to me and you don't want anything in return?”

“That package is yours to do with
as
and
however
you please.” He nodded.

Reverend Walker laughed nervously. “Yeah. You probably have other copies just waiting to slam me with, the first chance you think I need to be taken down.”

Pastor Landris turned and faced Reverend Walker. “There are no other copies. I've had that long enough to have used it had I wanted to do you harm. If I was ever going to use it for my benefit, it would be now that you and your thug buddies are trying to blackmail, bribe, or muscle me into something I've clearly said I'm not going to do. Waiting to take someone down the first chance you get is apparently something you think about. And that way of thinking says more about
you
than it does about
me
. Or maybe it
does
say more about me than it does about you. Who knows?”

“So what are you planning on doing now?” Reverend Walker said, taking a few more nonthreatening steps toward Pastor Landris.

“I plan to pray for you and hope that you repent, for one, and two, stop being so judgmental when it comes to others. What's inside that envelope makes it abundantly clear that you, of all people, should
never
criticize anyone who was once a sinner and is now trying to give service to the Lord. If what's reported in that envelope is anywhere close to being true—robbery, rape, possibly murder—you, Reverend Walker, have no place or room to speak against or judge anyone else about their past sins. I completely understand why everyone condemning the woman caught in the act of adultery walked away when Jesus said, ‘He who is without sin, let him cast the first stone.' Everyone was likely thinking about their individual sins . . . some of which having dire consequences.”

“So now you're being judgmental against me? You're doing to me what you claim I've done to others. You're trying to judge me. You're no better than I am,” Reverend Walker said with a deep laugh and a bit of disgust.

Pastor Landris chuckled slightly. “You are right about one thing: I have no place to judge anyone, and I have not done that. I don't know what God will do in anyone's life that may later cause them to be the best advocate out there for the Kingdom. Peter denied Jesus, and look what he did later in his life. Paul persecuted Christians, and look what happened: two-thirds of the New Testament was written by Paul or influenced from the work he did for the Kingdom of God
after
his conversion.” Pastor Landris paused.

“I don't judge others mostly because I realize that God is not through with any of us yet,” Pastor Landris continued. “None of us are perfect. But I am being
perfected
daily; therefore I forgive you even if you haven't asked. And I don't need that envelope”—he nodded toward Reverend Walker's cluttered desk—“or what's in it to fight my battle. I'll let God handle you, Mister Threadgill, and anyone else who dares to unfairly and unjustly come after or against me. Now, if you insist upon going against God by coming after me when I'm walking in His will, then the only thing I can do for you is to pray that God will be merciful to you in His vengeance on my behalf. But I refuse to render evil for evil. Although—between me and you—I wouldn't want to be in your shoes right about now for all the money in the world.”

“Pastor Landris . . .” Reverend Walker took a few more steps toward him.

Pastor Landris nodded his good-bye and walked out the door. He tipped his head toward the secretary who sat smiling and typing away. “You have a blessed day, now, Sister Greer, you hear,” he said as he strolled past her.

“Thank you. I will, Pastor Landris.” She smiled. “I most certainly will.”