The Veil (17 page)

Later that night after grading some papers, she settled down to read her scripture and pray. The feeling of sadness overwhelmed her. Everything in her wanted to be happy about Judy's and Nicole's pregnancies. She thought about her brother's, Judy's, and Carlos's marriages and how happy everyone seemed to be. She understood marriage was not a fairy tale. There were ups and downs. But, with marriage, she would have someone to share those moments, whether good or bad, with her.

Why did God allow her brother to get married before her since she was the oldest? It seemed the true order of things would have allowed her to get married first.

She went into her storage room, picking up the container her grandmother had given her. She pulled out the quilt and looked at each piece. She decided, as a show of her faith, she was going to start her child's quilt. She sat down and tried to piece the different material together into something that may have resembled a design. Realizing she did not know what she was doing, she gathered everything together and put it back into the storage container.

The next day after school, she went to her grandmother's home. She parked in the driveway, opened the trunk of her car, and pulled out the storage container she'd placed there that morning, and walked into her grandmother's home.

“Hey, baby. I didn't expect you here today.” Her grandmother was spraying furniture polish on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

“Well, Grandma, I decided to start on my quilt. But there's only one problem.”

“What's that?” She set the dusty cloth on the table and greeted Misha with a kiss on her cheek.

“I don't know what I'm doing. Could you show me how to do this? I got some more material and I brought some old clothes of mine. Could you give me some more material? I don't think I have enough.”

Her grandmother smiled. Misha set the container on the coffee table and lifted the lid. Her grandmother pulled out some of the old clothes Misha had placed there. Misha pulled out some of the cut pieces of cloth and sat on the sofa.

“Brang that stuff to the table.” Her grandmother gestured toward the kitchen table. Misha picked up the container and followed her into the kitchen.

Misha placed the pieces of cloth on the table as her grandmother toyed with the pattern. Asking Misha her thoughts, she placed a bright yellow piece of material that was the shape of a star in the middle. Delighted, Misha squealed. Handing her the scissors, her grandmother began to instruct Misha how to cut the cloth so that the pattern grew from the center piece to a large star that reached to the sides of the quilt.

After a couple of hours of piecing together the pattern, Misha's stomach growled. “Grandma, I'm hungry. What did you cook?”

“Butter beans wit' ham hock. It's some cornbread in the oven.”

“Why did I ask?”

“You hungry? Fix you up a plate whiles I work on this,” her grandmother said, holding up two pieces of cloth she finished cutting.

Misha got up and went to the kitchen and fixed herself a plate of food. Walking back to the table she watched as her grandmother carefully cut each piece of cloth, stopping sometimes to rub her aching fingers. Her grandmother was patient, not rushing to cut the cloth. She took the time to match up every piece. Her grandmother hummed old hymns as she worked. The sound was so beautiful to her. Misha wished she had a camera so she would have a picture to attach to the quilt of them working on it together.

“Misha, you finish eating?” her grandmother asked after noticing the empty plate on the table.

“I'm full.” Misha rubbed her belly.

“Go in the closet and get that old sewing machine of mines.”

“I thought you made quilts with your hands.”

“Not when I can use that machine.”

Misha did as she was told and placed the old machine on a table in front of her grandmother. She opened a lid on the machine, reached in, and pulled out a spool of thread. Her eyes peeped over the edge of the machine as she got the thin thread in the small hole in the needle on the machine.

“Why you lookin' at me? Git over here and do this thing. I can't see this. You know my eyes not like they used to be.”

Misha got up and threaded the needle on the machine and watched her grandmother slowly start the machine while explaining everything she did. Misha stood over her and watched every move. Her grandmother completed the first star out of several pieces of material and held it up for Misha's approval.

Misha could not hold her excitement. “It's wonderful.”

Her grandmother stood and suggested that Misha sit down.

“Now, I's show you how to work this machine.”

As instructed, Misha slowly turned the balance wheel. She reached for the pieces of cloth her grandmother handed her. She put two pieces together and placed them under the needle. She pressed the foot control, making the needle go up and down as the material moved across the plate. She continued sewing until each piece had formed a star similar to her grandmother's. Proudly lifting the piece from the machine, she smiled at her accomplishment.

Misha and her grandmother continued cutting material and pinning the pattern together the rest of the evening. Misha listened to her grandmother share stories of their family history and her upbringing in coastal Carolina. She especially loved hearing her grandmother sing the old songs. Some of them sounded like her grandmother were making them up as she sang.

At times, she would stop and share a funny story the song sparked about something that happened at church or a family reunion or other occasions. They continued working on the quilt until her grandmother became too tired and Misha went home satisfied and feeling everything was going to work out.

The Christmas break had been just what Misha needed. Two weeks off had been like a gift from heaven. This past year had been a very trying year for her, to say the least. She was now glad that it was officially over. A new year was beginning. It was time to start fresh and new. She was sure this year was going to be better than the last. She was beginning her classes at Clark in a week and she was looking forward to earning her degree.

She returned to school feeling energized and enthusiastic about the new school year. She walked down the hall, feeling optimistic, with a smile so big on her face it was not hard for other people to notice it. She walked to the library and had a seat at one of the tables, waiting for the staff meeting to start. She reflected on the way God used her during the month of December.

Throughout December, everywhere she felt in her spirit she needed to go, she went. She saw how God would direct her and when she got there, the people were amazed how she spoke truth to them and declared her to be a prophet sent by God to give them hope. She had become more secure in her ministry.

She was also happy she was attending New Vision Worship Center, Carlos's church. The messages the pastor preached were so timely with the way her life was at the moment. She made up in her mind she was there to rest from all the things she had endured. She did not join any of the auxiliary ministries. She did tell Pastor Wells she was a minister. He did not treat her any differently than any other member. However, he never asked her to preach or even sit in the pulpit. Each Sunday, she walked into the church and sat near the back row. At the end of the service, she would get up and leave. Carlos and his wife had told some people she was a minister, but they did not acknowledge her ministry.

Misha thought on these things as she continued to wait for the other teachers and Mr. Davis to arrive for the meeting. Rummaging in her tote bag, she discovered the picture she'd taken with her grandmother during the holiday. They were holding up the quilt they were making. She planned to put the picture on her desk.

“Hey, Mimi, you got a minute?”

Misha looked away from the picture to see Roger standing in front of her. “Roger, you shouldn't be here.”

“I don't mean to bother you. Did you hear about Bishop?” he asked.

“I'm not going to talk with you about Bishop.”

“He had a heart attack.”

“Oh no. When? How is he?” Misha's hands flew to her mouth. She was truly concerned about Bishop. She didn't want anything to happen to him no matter how he treated her. “No one called me.”

“I tried. You changed your number.”

“I did.” She did not give Roger her new number on purpose. He could no longer call her or have someone else call her. That was one phone call she was glad she missed. “How is he doing?”

“He's back at home now. He's taking some time off.” Roger stood in front of her, waiting for an invitation to sit with her.

“Well, Roger, I'm glad you told me. I'm gonna have to call to see how he's doing.”

“Did you have a good Christmas?”

“Roger, thanks for telling me about Bishop.” Misha reached her arm in her bag and pulled out a notepad and placed it on the table as Roger stood watching her. She secretly prayed for him to leave.

“Mimi, you look good.”

“Roger, don't start. Please not here.” She returned to her bag. He finally got the message and walked away and sat down at another table.
This cannot be some sort of omen as to how my year is going to go. No more foolishness. Not this year.
“Please, God, give me wisdom to handle any situation that may arise,” she prayed. She opened her eyes and watched as the other staff members walked into the library.

Mr. Davis got up with his “new year” speech Misha believed he memorized and used every year. It was his version of a pep rally for the teachers. At the end of his speech, he introduced a man who looked familiar to her.

“As you all know, the state school board has hired consultants to look into the school system and see how we can improve the service we provide and also to see which areas could use a little help.” There was a groan from the staff. People settled into their chairs with looks of disappointment on their faces.

Misha understood what was going on. Now they were going to have someone snooping in their classroom trying to find something wrong. This could only mean one thing: more work for the teachers. She listened as Mr. Davis continued.

“Each school has a consultant assigned to their school. I want y'all to meet Pete Heckler. He's the consultant the State has assigned to us.” The man stood and faced the staff.

How do I know this man?
Misha looked at this middle-aged balding white man, who looked very distinguished and well dressed as he stood and briefly addressed the crowd.
I know his voice
.
Where did we meet?

Misha sat quietly, staring at the man until the meeting was over. Afterward, she walked to greet him as he spoke to Mr. Davis. “Hello, I'm Misha Holloway. I teach history here.” She held out her hand to shake his.
His eyes, such a deep blue. How do I know him?
“Excuse me, I hope you don't think I'm being forward, but have we met somewhere? You look so familiar.”

“I don't think we have. I think I would remember someone as beautiful as you.”

Oh brother.
“Maybe you look like someone I know. It's funny, seems like we've met before. It's your eyes. . . .”

“Miss Holloway, don't you have to get to your class before the bell?” Mr. Davis asked.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Davis. I thought we'd met before. Maybe not. Well, Mr. Heckler, I look forward to working with you.” Misha gathered her things and walked to her classroom.

She placed the picture of her and her grandmother on her desk and watched as the room filled with students talking about all the great things they got for Christmas. Amber bounced into the classroom.

“Good morning. Well look at you, Miss Amber. Did you have a good holiday?”

“Sure did. We went to Montreal, Canada. It was beautiful with all the snow.”

Misha listened attentively as Amber went on and on about her holiday.
God, why is this child living my dream life? Where did I go wrong?
The bell chimed. “Amber, please have a seat,” Misha requested. She stood and began teaching her class.

Later that evening, after dinner, she decided to call Bishop Moore to see how he was doing. The phone rang several times and just as she started to hang up she heard First Lady Moore answer the phone. “First Lady. Hi, it's Misha.”

“Well, Misha. I'm surprised to hear from you. How are you?”

“I'm doing well. I heard Bishop was sick. I called to see how he was doing.”

“Sick? Well he did have a cold during Christmas. He's better now. He's not here. He's in Detroit preaching a revival. He'll be back at the end of the week. I'll tell him you called.”

“He had a cold? I heard he had a heart attack.” Misha twisted her mouth. She fell for another one of Roger's lies. She should have known better.

“Lord, Misha, where did you hear that?”

“Well, Roger said—”

“Roger? You two still seeing each other?”

“No. He works at my school. Today he told me Bishop had a heart attack and had just gotten out of the hospital. I'm pretty sure he told me that.” She could hear First Lady Moore laughing over the phone. She felt like such an idiot to believe anything that came out of Roger's mouth. “Well, I don't want to take up any more of your time. I better go.”

“Misha, I forgot Will got Roger that job.”

Okay, this was news to her. Was Bishop trying to torment her on purpose? Were Bishop and Roger working together to make her lose her job, her sanity?

“You should stay away from Roger. He's up to no good. I've known him longer than you. Be careful around him. He'll do anything to get ahead.”

“I'm learning that. I try to stay away from him but he keeps showing up. I've been praying he finds another job.”

“I'll be sure to pray with you.”

“Well, First Lady, I've got to go. It was nice talking with you.”

“Misha . . .”

“Yes.”

“Take care of yourself. Be careful. Okay?”

“I will. Keep me in your prayers. I'll talk with you later.” Misha hung up the phone, feeling stupid again and wondering why Roger purposely came to her and told her a lie. It wasn't even necessary. She sat down on her sofa and turned on the television. She got lost in a documentary on the Spanish-American War.

The feeling overwhelmed her. She picked up the phone and punched in the number. Her husband, Randy, answered the phone.

“Hey, Randy, this is Misha. How are you?”

“I'm doing all right, considering everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Judy's having trouble with this pregnancy. I just got in from the hospital. They decided to admit her for a couple of days.”

“That's why she wasn't at school.”

“Yeah, she started cramping real bad last night and I took her to the hospital. I've been there all day.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't know. How is she now?”

“She's doing much better. The baby's fine, too. They wanted to watch her. We still have a long way to go with this one. She's going to have to be careful and stop trying to do so much.”

“She does do a lot. Well do you need any help? I can watch the kids for you.”

“They're staying with Judy's parents right now. Thanks for asking. If you want, you can visit her at Northside Hospital. She's in room 312. She'll be glad to see you.”

Misha quickly got dressed and rushed to the hospital. Judy appeared to be sleeping peacefully, not noticing the beeping sounds of the machines around her.

“Judy? Are you asleep?” she whispered.

Judy opened her eyes. “Hey, Misha. I'm not asleep. Come on in. Have a seat.” She adjusted the head of the bed slightly upward and slowly rolled to her side to face Misha.

“Randy told me you were in the hospital. Why didn't you let anybody know?”

“Everything happened so fast. They thought I was having contractions but it may only be gas. The doctor wanted to keep me a couple of days to be sure. I never went through anything like this with the other kids.” She shifted again. “I could use a couple of days off. But, not like this. How was the meeting? Did Mr. Davis give his ‘this is going to be an exciting new year at Westdale' speech?” she said, imitating Mr. Davis.

Misha laughed. “You know he did. How are you feeling, really?”

“I'm okay. I'm a little tired. I've been up all night.”

“Well I'm not going to keep you. I wanted to see how you were doing. Do you need anything?”

“No. Randy went to the house to get my bag. I don't think I need anything else right now. Thanks for asking.” She lifted the head of the bed more and moved around to find a more comfortable spot. “Hey what else happened today at school?”

“Well, nothing really. The same old thing. Roger told me another super lie.”

“And you're surprised?”

“No, this time he stooped low. He told me Bishop Moore had a heart attack. When I called tonight, First Lady told me it was a lie. He should be ashamed of himself. I also found out Bishop Moore got him that job at the school. I wonder if he did it on purpose to harass me. Oh yeah.” Her hands flew in the air. “The State sent in an education consultant to review our work. He's going to be with us about three months, evaluating how we do things. You know what that means.”

“Yeah, more work for us.” Judy rolled her eyes.

“You should have seen that guy. He had the deepest blue eyes. They popped right out at you. I kept looking at him. I thought I knew him and asked him if we had met. He said no. But, something in me says I know him. I don't know where we met, but I'm sure I've seen him before. Anyway, I hope he didn't think I was coming on to him by using that old line about having met him before.”

“Is he married?”

“Don't go there. I told you a long time ago that the Spirit of the Lord told me my husband's name is Matthew. I'm not seeing anyone until Matthew shows up. That guy's name is Pete something. I can't remember his last name. It looked like he had some money. He had on an expensive suit. Enough about work. You need to get some rest. I better go. I'll check on you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Before you leave, can you pray for me?”