The Truth Is the Light (24 page)

Chapter 54

“W
ell, I hate to cut this short, but I really need to go see my mother,” Johnnie Mae said. “I saw the two of you when I was passing by, and I thought I should stop and say hello.”

“I'm so glad you did,” Gramps said. “You definitely are a ray of sunshine. But I guess you can't help but to be since you're born of the Son.” He snickered. “Get it?” He chuckled some more. “S-o-n instead of s-u-n? A ray of S-o-n-shine like the s-u-n that shines.”

Johnnie Mae smiled. “I get it.” She stood up. “Gramps, it's always good seeing you. And I
will
see
you
again. If not here, then with bells on at your birthday party.”

“I'll be looking for you.”

“Just save me a dance,” Johnnie Mae said. “And Angel, I'll see
you
tomorrow at work,” she said to Angela. She then left, closing the door behind her.

Angela cleared her throat. “Mister Perdue . . . I mean, Gramps, are you certain that the man in this photo is you? You're sure?”

“Oh, there ain't no doubt about it. I remember when we took it back in 1943. I'd just come back to town. The only ones who knew I was still there was Pearl and Sam. It's a long story you may or may not have heard before. But Pearl had been hiding me out because there were still some people who wanted to do me harm. I was trying to find Sarah and my daughter. Pearl was trying to help me, to fill me in on everything she knew. That picture there”—he indicated with his head—“was taken a couple of weeks before I took off again. I never went back. I should have. I regret it. But after I left, I never went back.”

Gramps sat back in the straight-back chair. “Most folks thought I'd merely run off the first time I disappeared, or worse: gotten lynched. Only a handful of folk knew the real truth. And only two knew the whole truth, and that was your great-grandparents, Pearl and Sam—true friends 'til the end. Although I admit, I
was
surprised, but glad to hear they married. It proves life goes on, no matter what bad we have to overcome.”

Angela took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Mister Perdue . . . Gramps, I don't know exactly how to say this, other than to just come right out and say it. But I have reasons to believe that you might possibly be my great-grandfather.”

He tilted his head upward and stared into her face. “What you say?”

She opened her purse and pulled out a photo she had brought with her of a younger Arletha. She got up and handed the picture to him.

“That's my grandmother. Her name is Arletha. I might be wrong, and if I am, then at least it's just between you and me, and you can straighten me out about it. But I believe Arletha is your daughter. The photo Great-granny had in that box is a photo of you. You and Arletha look so much alike it's chilling. It's almost like you spit her out. And I didn't just come here with a half-baked theory. My grandmother was born January 28, 1944. When I count back nine months from that date, it puts her conception around April of 1943, although it's possible she was born premature, which would make that date later.”

“I left Asheville April twenty-ninth,” he said, staring hard now at the photo of Arletha. “She looks just like my second son. They could pass for twins,” Gramps said.

“So you don't think I'm crazy or merely reaching here?”

“No. I believe”—he started wiping at his eyes—“I believe you have given me a gift I was never expecting in my life. I don't know how much of God's goodness I can take in one year. First, I finally find my oldest daughter, Memory. After all of these years, I
never
thought that would happen. And now, it looks like I have one more daughter I never even knew had been created.” He was crying now.

Angela hugged him. “I didn't know how to bring this up to you. I prayed for God to lead me to do the right thing.” She sat back down, allowing him to quietly process this.

“So, she”—he shook the photo of Arletha—“doesn't know anything about this?” he finally said. “Not even it remotely being a possibility?”

“No. I thought it best to talk to you first. If you weren't anywhere near Great-granny during that time, there's no way what I was thinking was even possible.”

“When did you suspect this?” Gramps reached inside his pocket and took out his handkerchief. “My goodness. My, my, my.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Whew!”

“The day I met you at Johnnie Mae's house. Looking in your face was like looking into my grandmother's face. I did some research, found that picture, thought it was you. I even asked my husband . . . Oh! My husband!” Angela said, springing up. “I need to call him and get him to pick up our children. My husband's name is Brent.” She took out her cell phone. “We have two little boys: Brent the Second and Shaun.”

“Boy, oh boy, my family is certainly growing by leaps and bounds. First Memory and all of them, now Arletha and all of you. When can I meet Arletha? I got to see her.”

“I need to figure out how to tell her this. Arletha is not your normal family girl,” Angela said. “That's a story I'll tell you about later. But it took me a while to find her, and then to get her to admit that she and
I
were even related. I don't know how she'll react to the news of you. But knowing her, it could be bad. You never know.”

“I want to see her. I want to meet her as soon as you can arrange it. I have to. Then I need to tell my other children. My daughter, Zenobia, is probably going to flip. At first she had no sisters, and now she has two.” Gramps stood up to keep his legs from stiffening up. “You just arrange for us to meet. I'll take care of the rest. This ain't exactly your row to hoe. I'm her father. It's my job and my responsibility to tell her.”

“Thank you,” Angela said as she called Brent on her cell phone about getting the children. After she hung up with him, she tried to think of the best way to bring Arletha and Gramps together so the two of them could talk.

She called Arletha. “Grand, I need to come by your house. I'll be there in a little while. Oh, and Grand, I'm not going to be alone. I'm bringing someone with me.”

“Who?” Arletha asked. “Who are you bringing?”

“It's a surprise.”

“You know I don't like surprises. I told you that.”

“Grand, please. I promise you're going to love this. I'll see you in a little while.”

“Angela, you can come, but I don't feel like company tonight.”

“Bye, Grand. I'll see you in a little bit.” Angela clicked off her cell phone so her grandmother wouldn't be able to argue with her. “Okay, now, if I can get you out of here, I'll take you to meet Arletha.” She tick-tocked her head, slightly satisfied with herself, then smiled.

Chapter 55

G
ramps tried explaining things to the director after the head nurse told him she couldn't allow him to leave. It didn't matter that he was a grown man old enough to be her great-grandfather or that he was capable of coming and going as he pleased. He couldn't leave.

“Mrs. Underwood, while I'm sure she is a decent and honorable woman, is not on your approved list of people authorized to sign you out,” the director said to Gramps.

“You're telling me that I'm almost two weeks away from turning a hundred and I can't leave this place without someone else's permission?”

“Mister Perdue, it's for your own safety and protection as well as ours,” the director said. “What if something happens to you? Then we're the ones responsible.”

“What do you think? This sweet young lady here, who is young enough to
also
be my great-granddaughter, is going to kidnap me or run off with me?”

“I know you think you're making a joke, but sir, do you know how many young women manipulate older men for their money or their insurance if they have any?” The director sighed. “The data would astound you.”

“Johnnie Mae Landris!” Angela said. “She can vouch for me. She
was
here visiting her mother. We belong to the same church . . . her husband is my pastor. I'm her assistant. Can you ask her about me? She'll tell you I'm who I say I am and vouch that I'm not a threat or a danger to Mister Perdue.”

“I'm curious what the urgency is for you to take him? What's your angle? From what you've told me, you've never stepped foot in our establishment before. And the first time you come, you want to take one of our residents off with you? And you think that's okay.” The director shook her head. “Someone who is authorized to sign him out will need to come down here and do it in person. Not tell us over the phone, because who can really say who's on the other end. Gramps, if someone from your approved list comes in and signs you out,” the director said, “you can go. Otherwise, you can't leave with her.”

Gramps shuffled away as Angela walked beside him. “Can you believe this? Do you know how humiliating this is for me? I'm a grown man, and it's like I'm locked up or some baby that has to have a parent sign me out.”

“Mister Perdue—”

“I told you to call me Gramps.”

“Gramps, I can see where they're coming from. I
could
be someone shady trying to take advantage of you. I know your family would have a fit on them if they let you wander out of here, either by yourself or with someone they don't know. So can you call your daughter and have her come sign you out?”

“I don't want Zenobia to come. I'm not ready to tell her what's going on. Not yet. I want to talk with Arletha first. Then Zenobia and I will have this discussion. If Zenobia comes, she'll ask fifty million questions. And if I tell her, she'll want to go,” Gramps said as they walked back to his room. “I don't suspect from what you've told me about Arletha that she'll fancy both of us showing up on her doorstep. No, it's better if we don't let Zenobia know anything is going on.”

They reached his room and went in. “I will tell you who we
can
call, though—my grandson, Clarence. Clarence won't push to ask a lot of questions if I tell him not to. And he won't tell his mother anything if I ask him not to. Now, Knowledge, that's my other grandson, is his mother's son. Knowledge don't trust nobody, not nobody. I'm sure he would grill you, and
then
call his mother and blab everything to her no matter what I ask of him. Let me find Clarence's number here and we can call him to come sign me out. He'll do it, no questions asked.”

Gramps flipped to the back of his Bible and found Clarence's phone number. Angela dialed the number and gave her cell phone to Gramps so he could do all the talking.

Chapter 56

“W
here have you been?” Brent asked as soon as Angela stepped inside the house from the garage. “You called me three hours ago to go pick up the children. I was worried about you.” He gave her a quick kiss, more like a peck, on her lips.

“I called you and told you I was all right and that I would be home soon,” Angela said. “Where are the kids?”

“In the kitchen eating. They were hungry. I had to fix them
something
.”

“Let me guess: beanie weenies.”

“They love my beanie weenies, and it's all I know how to cook that they really like.” Brent followed her as she hurried into the kitchen.

“Hi, guys!” she said, putting her purse on the counter. She gave Brent the Second, sitting at the table, and then Shaun, sitting in his high chair, each a big hug and a kiss.

“Mommy!” Brent the Second said with fanfare. “Daddy fixed our favorite.”

“I see,” Angela said, rubbing Shaun's head as he chased a weenie with his hand.

“I want some more,” Brent the Second said, holding up his plate in the air.

“I want some more what?” Angela said, walking over to him and picking up his plate as she continued to stand beside him.

“I want some more beanie weenies
now,
” he said with a giggle. She tapped him on his nose. “I want some more
please,
” he said with even more giggles.

She got him more, sneaking a forkful off his plate for herself.

“So are you going to tell me what's going on?” Brent said to his wife.

She kissed the children again, then walked out of the kitchen with Brent in tow.

Flopping down on the den sofa, she grabbed one of the decorative pillows and hugged it. “I went to visit Ransom Perdue, or Gramps, as he likes being called. And although it took some doing, it turns out I was right, Brent.” She looked into his eyes. “Gramps admitted, not that he knew it before now, that he
is
Arletha's real father.”

“You're kidding,” Brent said, nestling up to his wife.

“No, I'm not. So I tried to arrange a meeting between the two of them, and you know how Arletha can be.”

“I don't think I like where this is going,” Brent said, hugging her even more.

“Before we even left to go visit her, we had to battle a nurse and the director of the nursing home trying to get Gramps a ‘furlough' just so he could leave with me.” Angela chuckled. “The director, Miss Frigid, was not hearing that at all.”

“Miss Frigid? Is that her real name?”

Angela looked at him and smirked as she shook her head. “No, silly. You know I was just being funny and descriptive at the same time. I don't recall her name. Gramps and I were too busy trying to figure out how to get him out of there.”

“I hope you didn't sneak that man out of that nursing home,” Brent said.

“Of course I didn't. How would something like that look on the nightly news? Breaking news: Woman kidnaps elderly man from a nursing home. Details as they develop.” She imitated the way a news reporter might say it.

“So, were you not able to get him out?”

“Yeah, we got him out, by calling his grandson, Clarence. He's the guy that sang ‘I Trust You' when Pastor Landris preached at Divine Conquerors Church.”

“Yeah, I remember him.”

“Well, that's Gramps's grandson. And apparently he and Gramps are cool enough that Gramps could just ask him to come sign him out without having to explain to him why or what he was up to. I get the impression that Clarence and Gramps are in cahoots quite a lot. Gramps may be old—which, by the way, we're going to his one hundredth year birthday party November seventh at six
PM
, so don't schedule anything for that night.”

“How do you know I haven't already scheduled anything?”

“If you have, cancel it. This is my great-grandfather's birthday party.” She grinned. “We're not missing this for
anything.
” She did the Cabbage Patch dance.

“Bossy, aren't you?” he said, leaning in close as though he was going to kiss her. “You know, I like it when you're bossy.”

She hit at him. “Behave,” she said. “Anyway, Gramps may be old, but he still has a lot of fire in his belly. That's how I want to be when I get old. Still getting around and enjoying life. Maybe not as fast as I used to, but living life like I don't really have a care in the world. Any other man who had just learned he had a child he didn't know about may have tried to back away from it. But not Gramps. He embraced it so fast he almost knocked me out of the way trying to get to his daughter. And do you know what Arletha did?”

“What?”

“She wouldn't come to the door and let me in. I called her and told her I was coming over. I suppose the mistake I made was telling her I was bringing someone with me.”

“Oh, now, let's see. We're talking about the same woman who looked you dead in your face and told you flat out that she wasn't your grandmother. The same woman who came to your wedding, watched you get married knowing how much it would have meant to you if she had been standing beside you, yet she never said a word. The same woman who, even after she admitted she was your grandmother, didn't want you to refer to her as such and asked if the two of you could start off your new relationship being friends. The same woman who, after about a year, finally consented to you calling her Grand.
That
Arletha?” Brent said.

“The one and only. You would think I would have known she would react that way, but call me naive. I just thought she'd grown in that area. How was I to know if I told her that I was coming to visit and bringing someone with me that she would revert to her old ways and not even come to the door for me?”

Brent squeezed Angela. Angela wondered how he always knew exactly what she needed from him when she needed it without her ever having to ask.

“I called Arletha on my cell phone. At first she wouldn't answer. Of course, I got worried, had a flashback of the last time she didn't come to the door and we found her lying on the floor almost dead. I was beating on the door and calling for her. I'm sure Gramps thinks I'm certifiable now. He probably doesn't want to be kin to either one of us after this episode.” She snuggled up closer to Brent. She loved the smell of his cologne, Obsession, the same brand Pastor Landris wore.

“When I called her again after that, she must have remembered that I don't have a problem with calling the police and having her door busted down, so she answered the phone. Before I could say anything, she blurted out, ‘I'm fine. I'm not answering the door. So go home to your family and take whomever you have out there with you.'
Bam!
She hung up. Well, you know me.”

“Persistent to a fault,” Brent said. “But in a good way,” he quickly added before she could give him her evil eye.

“Anyway, I decided I would call her back and just blurt out something to make her answer the door.”

“And what exactly did you think you were going to say over the phone?”

“Brent, you know Arletha. I was going to say, ‘Your father is standing out here with me.' Or ‘It's your father. Now open the door so we can talk.' Just put it out there and make her listen from there. Telling her Ransom Perdue was out there wouldn't have made her open it. I had to say something dramatic to get her attention. But she didn't give me another chance. She refused to answer the phone again.” Angela heard Shaun crying. She jumped up and ran into the kitchen.

Shaun's empty bowl of beanie weenies was turned over on the floor. “Oh, little man, it's okay. Don't cry. Mommy has it.” She picked him up out of his high chair. “Look at you—you're a mess. Let's go upstairs and get you into the tub.”

“Me too?” Brent the Second said, holding up his plate to show he was finished.

“Yes, you too.”

“What?” Brent said with his arms wide open. “You're just going to leave a brother hanging? I think you need to quit reading Johnnie Mae's books. You're starting to tell your stories the same way she writes hers. I, for one, despise cliffhangers.”

“Okay, Brent,” she said as she carried one child in her arms and marched the other one alongside her up the stairs. “Gramps didn't get to see, meet, or talk to Arletha. I took him back to the nursing home, and he and I are going to come up with another strategy later.” She stopped, smiled, and looked at Brent.

“The end,” Angela said with a laugh at her own cleverness as she continued to the bathroom to run bathwater for her two beanie-weenie-sauce-encrusted sons.