Luke sat on the porch with his chair leaning back on the windowsill of the old farmhouse. As he chewed on a long, 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 quickly took the porch steps one at a time and started in the direction of the road with a brisk trek, hurried as he could muster…his son beside him.

He was at a distance when he began yelling “Hey! Hey…you!!!” …arms waving in the air. “Hey…you!!!”

The young man on the road with the large backpack 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 as they drew nearer. Sliding off his somewhat weighty load, he waited. 

“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 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 supen…nigger?!!”

“No! Luke…No!!!”  she yelled. But seeing that her brother wasn’t listening, she turned and began to run 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 had 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 got a gun!”

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

There seemed to be a hint of a smile on the corner of his somewhat thick 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, mocken!” the man sneered accusingly, “yeah, yeah, boy…you mocken us ain’t cha?!?”

Luke was halfway over the fence when…

“Hey!” Luke’s mother ran up and grabbed his shirt tail pulling him down.

“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 stared at her husband, “you just got out of the hospital, you supposed to stay off your feet!"

“But 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 brogue…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 backpack, “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 her husband off, addressing the young man again.

“Up the road…about five miles.”

“Who you looken for?”

“I’m looking for Mr. Beasley.”

“Oh, no!” The girl’s 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 with loud glee 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 come from.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll go on.”

“But…!” the girl began before her mother touched her arm and silenced her.

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

“Yes, mam…thank you.”

 As the young man proceeded on the road, Naomi and her daughter headed back towards the house. Just before entering her home, the woman took a last look at the figure on the road and a fleeting 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 backpack. After taking a hefty swallow he wet the bandana and put it on his head…then proceeded.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he came to an old, somewhat dilapidated house that had a rusty mailbox out front with the extremely faded name of ‘Beasley’ written on it. In the front yard sat a blue, old chevy 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 in the yard with a double barrel in his face!

“Say your prayers coon…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 stared at the barrel of the gun and then 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 gray 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 backpack…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 as he puched him. “Who, who…told you about my Collie?!?" He hit the boy again with his fist, “Huh?! Huh?...answer me!!!...answer me!!!” He hit him again and again.

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

Beasley jumped up and grabbed the backpack, 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 heap of things that lay on the ground. As the contents flew into the air, a semi-large manila envelope caught his attention when it fluttered 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 had 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 hate-filled, nasty look before he stalked to the porch steps and sat down heavily. While he opened the envelope, he kept a wry eye on the young man, who sat up and wiped his bleeding nose and lip with the back of his hand.

Taking out the contents he found two 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 seemed to be in order with each one dated and notes on the bottom. 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 going forward.

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 contemptuously at the young man still sitting on the ground and took a deep breath before he continued. Collie and her husband here, there, everywhere…smiling. Collie pregnant, Collie holding her son, and her son…growing through the years. He glanced again at the boy...still grievously resentful and highly annoyed.

Then the pictures changed. Collie older, she and the boy dressed in black standing beside a white tombstone. Then her again, but sick, real sick…real thin. His Collie-- 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 bearded, weathered cheek and he threw the pictures down and closed his eye. “I can’t do this!” he cried, 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 screamed at him. The boy didn’t answer…but continued to stare. Beasley surveyed the crumbled envelope in his hand before taking the time to carefully 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 I don’t believe she had a mean bone anywhere in her body. But when momma left…you left, turning your back on me and even God. You didn’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. Though he was trying, 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 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 and big sections…towns, where people, who are still so blind, reside! For me, the picturesque beauty of my home is dimmed greatly by  people you think and feel so negatively about other human beings. People that inhabit…the churches, the schools, the workplaces and even the government!  There are individuals there and sadly everywhere that go to church every Sunday but are filled with hate, and disdain for anyone, and everyone, that doesn’t look like them! There’s no love in so many places these days, Pa…no love, at all! 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! As far as I am concerned momma 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 area 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 way before momma died! I couldn’t tolerate the racist, bigoted atmosphere of ‘home’ one more day…and the added fact that it was under my very roof was suffocating me! Momma was kind is all I can say. She kept over-looking and praying for you while she taught me the truth. I thank God for her. Now that I think about it, she could have turned me in the wrong direction but she was a God-fearing woman who believed in the power of prayer.

I’ve been so happy since I left, 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!” He screamed at the heavens, "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, “I can’t!!!” He didn’t want to but felt compelled to continue.

‘Pa,' it went on, ‘from the first moment Patterson and I laid eyes on one another there was an attraction, we just ‘clicked’. When we went 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 as he was an orphan and, at that time in my life, I felt totally disconnected from the parent that I had, so, I felt like an orphan too.

I felt like 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, serious trouble to the point where I almost lost him to the ways of the streets. I just couldn’t do it alone. However, through the court’s juvenile system we connected with a ministry that held bible study and had mandatory meetings every week that we had to attend. It made such a difference in both our lives! It felt good to be in church again, it reminded me of home, before God took momma. Eventually, my son and I joined the church and were both baptized at the same time, oh what a day that was! You see, the Garry Family never went to church. We believed in God, but we never went. 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 into any more trouble and high school graduation was moving into view, then…the bottom fell out again. Little over a year ago, following my yearly physical, I was diagnosed with lung cancer…you know I’ve been a smoker for as long as I can remember. They did all the necessary tests and came back with the results…I could get treatments but 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. I was praying and if God wanted me healed then He would heal me, if not, then I was ready. And secondly, after I was gone it would be 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 mine. He’s mommas. And he is yours, Pa! Can you please, just for me, find it in your heart to try…to love him?’

Beasley groaned, as he went down and sat on his haunches. Bending his head between his knees, his tears now gushed forth. The tremors from his crying shook his body so that he stretched himself out prone. He had no idea how long he lay…and he didn’t care, he just wanted the day to be a bad dream and go away!  He didn’t want to read any more, but again, he couldn’t stop. Rolling on his side he reached for the papers that had fallen beside him because…he had to. 

‘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 blood of your blood Pa…he is your grandchild and you’re never going to get another one! He is it, and guess what? I remember momma always saying…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 and 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 headstone myself and I told Patterson to make sure he took a picture of it 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. While she was out of the room, he laid those babies safely on the carpeted living room floor…and quietly left. When she discovered that he was gone she was frantic and neither her son nor the babies’ momma 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. You know…give one a pacifier or a bottle, change the other and so forth. That is, until one whimpered and she had to pick it up. And she said when the baby nuzzled its head in her breast, what could she do but hold it close and hug it back? And that’s when it happened! When she hugged her grandchild close and felt the heartbeat in that little body… and its flesh so warm with her own blood coursing through those tiny veins, she finally got it! The fact that they were bi-racial…didn’t matter! All the rejection and hate vanished away. Those were her grandchildren and God had made them just the way he wanted them to be…and that was all there was to it!  So, before you chase him and send him away, please, hug him…hug him, Pa…hug him 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, or not, I love you and always will!

Til we meet again…I remain,

Your Collie'

He lay there for a little while staring at the blue sky, then slowly rose to a sitting position before standing. “Oh, Collie,” he whispered, 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 blandly without turning 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 smashed. He put it and the other things in his backpack and entered a nearly dark interior that was odorous, unkept and junky.  Empty bottles, clothes, and half eaten paper plates of moldy food littered the front room. 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?” Beasley asked.

“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 walked toward the rear of the house to a room with a noisey door.

“This was your momma’s room,” he said looking around, “you’ll have to freshen it up some…in fact", he scratched his beard, "quite a bit.”

He passed by his grandson and went back to 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 of the shop they entered.

“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 the boy or his grandfather looked at, nor spoke to one another while they waited.

The proprietor returned with 3 fifths of liquor, which he checked out and bagged.

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

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

“I guess so,” His grandfather responded dryly, “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 here 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 doorway covered with a thick hanging curtain and pulled it aside, “Frank, Jeb is here…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...," he stuttered, "hey Jeb…so this is Collie’s son,” he stared at the young black man, then said, “what’s your name, son?”

“Patterson.”

“Good to meet you, Patterson,” He extended his hand, “stay out on the right track.”

“Yes, sir,” he shook Frank’s 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 deep agitation. “Get off the door!”

“You need to be taught a lesson, nigger!”

People began to stare and gathered around as Luke’s friends egged him on loudly.

“No coon is getting away with disrespecting and mocking my daddy…a white man!”

“What happened?” Jeb asked his grandson.

“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, “so who’s Collie…?”

“My dead daughter.” Jeb replied, seriously.

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

Jeb spoke to his grandson still sitting in the truck. “If it don’t end now, it’ll never end…get out!”

Patterson got out of the truck.

“Fair fight!” Jeb yelled to the crowd. “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 cheered loudly. Then Luke began to taunt him as he bobbed and weaved, “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 sprung up, coughing and looked around, still somewhat dazed… “Wh...wha...what happened…?! What happened?!”

“Fair fight”, Jeb yelled, “…all over! He looked at his grandson, "Get in.”  

As Luke, still a bit unsteady, and his friends made their way up the street, the crowd began to disperse giving the blue pick-up a long hard look as it drove away. 

“You surprised me.” Jeb remarked.

“Why?”

“I did much more to you earlier today 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 to the back porch,  leaned back in his favorite chair and with his legs propped up on an old crate...took a swig. Patterson finished 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.”

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

"It has, indeed,” His grandfather laughed out loud, “…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 sturdy looking, it was set on a raised piece of land. And just beyond the sparse wooded area in back of it, was the cemetery. A cool early morning breeze cleared the air, bringing thoughts to the surface.

“I built it.”

PJ looked around. “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... He 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 fair amount 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 5 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.”

They walked together through the area of trees, grass and daffodils. “It’s not going to work, PJ, don’t waste your time,” Jeb remarked, as they found themselves standing 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 a short distance alone and stood at the foot of his grandmother’s grave. There were dead flowers in a vase and as he went about collecting 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 smell’. 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 had come near and was withdrawing a bottle of water from his overall’s back pocket…extending it to him. As he poured the fresh water, he took note of his grandfather’s unique knack for anticipating things.

“How do I get this lock off?” He asked Jeb, fingering the large, rusted padlock and chain. They had walked back and 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 stopped.

PJ began looking around. “Maybe I can find a big rock or something.” But Jeb’s hand went up in a stop sign and PJ watched as he 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 corodded key.

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

The reluctant lock resisted with a loud squeal before the key finally turned. As the chains fell away the heavy door creaked and grumbled at the disturbance. As PJ entered the doorway his hands searched the walls on either side 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 over 25 years, he stepped inside the church that he had built and pastored. He stayed by the door as he looked around.

His grandson 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 nearly as dank and smelly in here as I thought it would be…did you notice, 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 in further 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!”

PJ 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 without turning 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. He would have shot ‘em just for being bold enough to stand in his face and tell a outright, gosh-darn lie…but, here he was and…there he was. He stared at PJ for a moment before he took his time walking down the aisle.  

He purposely 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 had no reason why, but he found himself doing what he’d always done automatically when he’d previously stood in that spot. He reached for the now old dusty bible and his hand shook a little as he opened it arbitrarily. When 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…” it seemed natural, real natural, that he should pray.

‘Dear God,” Jeb began, “when I called out to You yesterday that was the first time in a long time that I sought You out. Now here I am again and…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 Lord, Oh God, You’re Sovereign and, as much as I loved her and still do, I suddenly realize, she couldn’t save my soul!  Jesus, I want You to know, that now, just now... I’m not angry no more! I’m not angry but grateful for Your Love which has kept me and brought me to this time and place. But look what it took, Oh Father! Just look what it took to bring me to this place of understanding! To see that all this time You were not pleased with me because there was something in me that stood between…us! I see it now, Lord Almighty, I see it clear, and I understand! Mandy tried, Collie tried, but nobody, nobody could bring to the surface what I needed to confess, 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 with his arms wide open, stretched heavenward and the tears of repentance flowing. “I confess," he said, "Oh, God that my way of thinking, the evil racist seed planted so deep, perhaps 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 brought to me what I could never deny…my own blood!!! 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 those terrible things in thought, word, action or deed that I’ve done …please forgive me! I’m so sorry! I surrender to Your will and Your way! Unto You, O Lord, I come, I come! For You are the core of all my strength and in Your infinite wisdom alone I do trust! Here I am! I’m Yours! Have Your way! In Jesus Name, Hallelujah and Amen!"

They drove in silence for a great deal of the way until PJ 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 worken 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 worken?”

“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 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 the 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…everything went dark!

When he came to himself, he was lying on something with rails on both sides… in a place filled with white tiled walls and a green, or was it a blue...curtain surrounding him. His head hurt and he blinked a lot, deliberately… because every time he blinked it cleared his vision. His arm burned and he felt it, then held it up to get a better look...there was an IV in it. As 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 she pleasantly asked, “So, how do you feel?”

“Where’s my grandson?!?” he yelled.

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

“Patterson Garry, Jr” he replied, trying to keep it together and follow her orders, “he’s Black, where is he?!”, he demanded. “And 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, some serious, 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 are 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 can’t tell me this is fair!” He yelled, “why didn’t you just take me, why---,” And out of nowhere he heard his own voice from earlier, in the church… ‘…here am I. I’m Yours, have Your way…’ He forcibly turned his head towards the wall and began to weep, ‘Forgive me! Wh…what I said back there…stil…still stands between us, 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 him!!!” He bellowed reaching for his grandson, “thank You, Jesus!!!…you found him!!!”

And the man and his grandson embraced…hard and long! And he remembered; ’Hug him, hug him Pa...hug him real hard!’

Now, somewhere in America, there still exists communities, large and small that refuse to embrace the Love of God and the fact that ‘…all men are created equal…’ But in the area where Jeb Beasley and his grandson, Patterson Garry Jr 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.

Acts 17:26, 1John 1:5-10

Copyright; jmsbell/5-11-18