Blessings from the Father

by Michelle Larks

Genres: African American; African American Christian

Synopsis

Mariah Green has a successful career as an advocate for battered women, but she still feels incomplete. She was raised by her maternal grandmother, Rosemary, in a Chicago housing project. Her mother, Cassandra, is addicted to drugs and has only been a fleeting presence in her life. Even more painful to Mariah is the fact that she has never known the love of a father. She's never even set eyes on him. To Mariah's surprise, she receives a call from a law firm in Hammond, Indiana. A lawyer informs her that her biological father has died, and she is the sole heir to his sizeable estate. Mariah is ready to leave Chicago behind and embark on a new lifestyle in Indiana, but she's devastated when her beloved Granny declines to join her. Things aren't always what they seem to be. Rosemary knows a little bit more about Mariah's paternal side of the family than she has let on. Join Mariah as she embarks on a spiritual journey to learn about her father and begins the healing process of understanding and forgiving her mother.

Release date: August 15, 2012

Publisher: Urban Christian

Print pages: 288

Sample

William Cook, the lawyer and executor of Mariah Green’s late father’s estate, picked up a batch of documents. He folded them in half, then placed them inside a legal-sized brown folding envelope. Attorney Cook then handed the packet to the slightly dazed young woman sitting in the brown wooden chair in front of his desk. “Ms. Green, this concludes all business related to your father, Harold’s, estate. Included in the packet are the keys to the house, your father’s business and rental properties, as well as four motor vehicles. There is also a passbook for your savings account, which include proceeds from the insurance claims for Harold and his wife, Dorothy. In the envelope are keys to the safe deposit boxes. Please feel free to call me if you have any further questions.” He made a notation on a pad of paper inside an opened folder on his desk. He closed the folder and then looked up at Mariah and smiled.

Mariah’s hand began trembling when the attorney placed the envelope inside her hand. “Thank you,” she murmured shakily. Her doe-shaped inky black eyes dropped momentarily and then she looked directly into the lawyer’s caring eyes. “I think that’s it for now. I appreciate your help in getting my father’s will probated as well as your guidance during this entire process.” She nervously jiggled her left leg. Mariah suppressed an irrational urge to flee the office, and run outdoors to a bench that sat outside the office to read the papers herself.

For the past couple of hours, she had listened intently as the attorney explained the documents, and followed his instructions when he bade her to sign documents. Mariah placed the envelope inside her shoulder bag, zipped the purse shut, and then stood up. The attorney did likewise, removing his tall, lanky form from his gray swivel chair. He thrust out his hand. “If I can be of any further assistance to you, feel free to call me, Ms. Green. I know you’re new to the Hammond area.” He dropped her hand. “What are you planning to do with the properties, if I may ask?”

“I haven’t quite decided yet,” Mariah answered shrugging her shoulders. “Finding out my father’s identity and then learning he is deceased and leaving me all his worldly possessions has been overwhelming to say the least. My brain needs time to process all of this.”

“I understand.” He walked her to his office door and opened it. “You still have my card, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do and I’ll call you if I have any questions or if any problems arise,” Mariah promised. She was tall, almost eye level, with the six-foot-tall lawyer, courtesy of her three-inch heels. She wore black rayon pants and a pale pink short-sleeved oxford shirt. The temperature in late July was hot and muggy. The breeze off Lake Michigan gave little relief against the waves of heat that encompassed the Midwest region.

The two exchanged farewells. When Mariah exited the office, she picked up her step and sped down the brown paneled hallway to the glass double doors and out the building. Her legs shook as she headed for the gleaming green painted bench. Mariah checked the bench for debris and then she sat down. She took her purse strap off her shoulder and set it on the bench and pulled out the envelope. Mariah quickly removed the papers and read.

When Mariah finished perusing the document, her eyes widened. She could hardly believe that she was the owner of a two-story house, formerly a boarding house, located in Hammond, Indiana, along with many other rental and commercial properties. Mariah would be twenty-nine years old in a couple of months. She had been raised by Rosemary Green, her maternal grandmother, whom she lovingly called Granny. The pair resided in the Altgeld Garden housing project on the far south side of Chicago.

Mariah’s emotions were elevated as her eyes misted. She hadn’t ever met her father, Harold. She felt saddened when she learned that he lived less than ten miles from where she was raised. Mariah was rendered speechless momentarily when she received the call from Attorney Cook’s law firm, notifying her that she had inherited property from her deceased father.

When she was a child, Mariah had plied her grandmother with a million questions about her father. But no answers were ever forthcoming; Rosemary said she didn’t know who Mariah’s father was. Rosemary suffered from hypertension and asthma. Her asthma medication, in the form of an inhaler, was never far from her reach. As Mariah became older, she noticed how her grandmother’s breathing became labored if Mariah pressed Rosemary regarding her father. Or Rosemary would rub her brow and complain she could feel a headache coming on. So eventually Mariah left the subject alone. When Mariah became old enough to work, she requested a copy of her birth certificate from her grandmother and was stunned to see that the box notating her father’s name was blank.

Mariah’s mother, Cassandra, had been a drug addict most of her daughter’s life, leaving Rosemary to raise her only grandchild. Cassandra was a fleeting presence, flitting in and out of her daughter’s life like a ghost.

Years would elapse between visits from Cassandra. Mariah had gotten up her courage when she was thirteen and asked Cassandra about the identity of her father. Cassandra seemed to shrink within herself and her eyes darted about the room, landing anywhere but on her daughter. She simply replied mysteriously that it was sometimes best to let sleeping dogs lie. Then, after an awkward period of silence between mother and daughter, Cassandra jumped out of the chair she’d been sitting in and sped from Rosemary’s house. Mariah didn’t see her mother for another six months. Mariah always felt that her mother, out of spite, refused to divulge the information to her.

After scanning the documents again, Mariah folded and placed them back inside her purse. She walked two blocks to the parking lot, where she’d parked her beat-up, silver-colored Ford Focus, and got inside the vehicle. Instead of returning to Chicago, Mariah decided to visit her father’s house. She’d driven by it what seemed a million times since she received the notification of her inheritance. The trip was a short drive from the lawyer’s office and within fifteen minutes, Mariah pulled up to the curb and gazed at her newly acquired property. The building was a white-frame, two-story house. The roof looked like it needed cleaning, but overall the house seemed to be in immaculate condition. The lawn behind a shimmery silver chain link fence had been recently mowed, and the wooden stairs leading to the wraparound porch were sturdy.

Mariah reached across the seat and took the keys out of the envelope that Attorney Cook had given her. Then she opened the car door and swung her legs outside the door. She slammed the door shut and then walked to the front of the house. Mariah pushed the gate open, and walked to the back of the building. Two huge oak trees were planted in the backyard and promised shade from the sun’s rays in the summer. There was also a small coach house in the rear of the property, which Mariah thought would be perfect for Rosemary. The backyard was large.

She returned to the front of the house and walked up four stairs to the door. Mariah put the key in the slot, turned it, and pushed the door open.

There was a door immediately to Mariah’s left; she pulled it open to find a cedar closet. She closed the door, took a few steps forward, and paused in front of an oak staircase that led to the second level. Mariah walked into the living room. She stopped and her eyes scanned the room. There was a large bay window framed by two smaller ones. A mantled fireplace was built into one of the walls. There were an old-fashioned sofa and two chairs, surrounded by two end tables and a cocktail table. The top borders of the living and dining rooms were trimmed by dark, old-fashioned woodwork.

An old television set console was used to house photographs of her father and his wife. The walls were painted white. Mariah’s eyes were drawn to an oil painting over the mantle of a couple from a bygone era. She knew automatically the pair was Harold and Dorothy. Mariah walked over to the painting and stared at it for a few moments. She knew she didn’t resemble Cassandra very much, although Rosemary swore the two women shared the same smile and complexion. When Mariah looked at the picture, she knew from whom she had inherited her thick, dark hair, widow’s peak, and upturned nose. Harold couldn’t deny Mariah parentage if he wanted to. She bore an uncanny resemblance to him. Whereas his coloring was a walnut color, Mariah’s complexion was deep Hershey’s brown like her mother.

Mariah stifled a sigh; she was dismayed to see that Harold appeared old enough to be her grandfather. She often had fantasies of a handsome, dashing young man coming to claim her and rescue her from Cassie. The idea of an older man just didn’t sit well with her. She couldn’t image her erratic mother being intimate with someone so old.

There were dozens of pictures of the couple scattered about the room. Mariah picked up one of the frames and noted that she also inherited her height from her father. She set the picture down and continued inspecting the house. There was a room off the kitchen that appeared to be a den, and a kitchen, dining room, and powder room on the first floor.

Mariah finally went upstairs. There was a wood-burning fireplace in the master bedroom along with an attached bathroom. There were three bathrooms, a sitting room, and a door that led to the attic on the second floor. Three of the bedrooms were a good size and the other two smaller.

She continued roaming the house and discovered a finished basement with additional rooms on the lower level. An hour later, Mariah returned to the living room and sat on the camel-colored sofa. She could hardly believe her good fortune. It was more house than she would ever need. Mariah also wondered why her father hadn’t ever bothered to come see her. She knew from Attorney Cook that her father’s wife had preceded her father in death by six months. The couple didn’t have any children, so Harold left all his worldly goods to his only child, Mariah.

There were so many questions Mariah feared she’d never get the answers to. Her cell phone rang. She pulled the phone out of her purse. “Hi, Rocki,” she said after looking at the caller ID.

“Hello to you too. How are you feeling, Mari?” Rocki asked. She was one of Mariah’s best friends, and though her birth name was Raquel Mitchell, she’d been nicknamed Rocki since childhood.

“Girl, I feel so strange, and I’m trying hard not to trip. You wouldn’t believe the house my father left me. It’s huge. Right about now, I just feel overwhelmed by so many emotions.” Mariah’s words spewed quickly from her mouth, leaving her breathless.

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Rocki advised her friend. “I’m happy for you. I know how you’ve always wanted a daddy. You may not have known him, but he left you a beautiful legacy. Now you just have to figure out what you’re going to do with it.”

“That’s true.” Mariah nodded. “It would make sense for me to sell everything and save the money. I could probably buy myself two new houses from the sale of his house alone. But, I’ve been thinking about keeping it. I have a feeling that Cassandra won’t be leaving me any legacies.” Mariah’s lips twisted into a wry grin.

“I think you should think long and hard over the matter before you decide what to do,” Raquel suggested helpfully. “You don’t have to make any decisions right at this minute. What does Granny think you should do?”

“You know what, she hasn’t said much, short of offering her condolences in one breath and then congratulating me in the next one. I feel like Granny is holding back, and I don’t know why. She’s never been shy about expressing her thoughts.”

Raquel’s gaze drifted to one of her clients. She had pushed the dryer bonnet up, indicating her hair was dry. “Look, I’ve got to go. It’s Friday and you know how busy the shop gets today. How about me and Sonni go to Hammond with you tomorrow? So we can see everything. You know I’m nosy. I ain’t ashamed. I’m dying to see your inheritance.”

“That sounds good. I have the keys to the place, so I can give you both the two-cent tour. Maybe I can get Granny to come too. I suppose I can treat you all to lunch, courtesy of Harold Ellison.”

“Aren’t you the big spender?” Rocki giggled. “I’ll call Sonni and see what she’s up to. Maybe we’ll stop by to see you later. Gotta run.”

Mariah pressed the end button on her cell phone and sat motionlessly. She leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes. She spoke aloud to her father. “Harold Ellison, why didn’t you ever come to see me? I don’t understand that at all. Were you ashamed of me? Were you married when I was born? Granny struggled for many years trying to provide for us. I began working when I was sixteen. Most importantly, what made you decide to leave this house and everything else to me? Don’t you have other relatives? I can’t believe you lived this close to me and never once inquired about or attempted to take care of me, when it’s obvious you had the means to.”

Shadows danced on the wall as daylight faded and Mariah rose from the couch. She put on her jacket and decided to head back to Chicago. She took a last look at the house and then opened the door, locked it, and walked to her car.

During her junior and senior years of high school, Rosemary insisted her granddaughter receive some formal education or training after high school. Mariah was a B-average student and didn’t particularly wish to attend college. Rosemary was like a bulldog on the subject and Mariah eventually attended Olive-Harvey College the fall semester after her high school graduation. Mysteriously Rosemary provided the funds for Mariah to attend college, just as she had pulled out all stops to ensure Mariah was dressed lavishly for her senior prom.

When Mariah questioned Rosemary as to where the money came from, Rosemary smiled and said she had a little something set aside. Two years later, Mariah received an associate’s degree in child development, preschool education. Mariah especially enjoyed a few of the electives she had taken: child, family, and community relations, along with consumer economics, and a class on the national government.

She later took a grant writing course and after receiving government funding, Mariah opened an office in Altgeld Garden and became a community activist as well as an advocate for abused young women and children in the housing project. Mariah had found her calling in life and truly enjoyed what she considered her life’s mission. She learned early on that she couldn’t always make a difference in all of her clients’ lives, but when she did, a sense of accomplishment filled her soul.

As time elapsed and Mariah began to make progress with community issues, her achievements had been written up in several local newspapers. The teen pregnancy rate had dropped and more girls were participating in child parenting classes. Mariah was never more proud than when the elite Chicago Tribune newspaper wrote a piece profiling her work. Rosemary cut the articles out of the paper and pasted them in a scrapbook.

Rosemary worked at a local elementary school in the cafeteria. She had a strong sense of self, along with a strong work ethic, and she willed that trait to her granddaughter. Rosemary was determined her granddaughter would not share the same fate as her daughter.

Rosemary and Mariah were long-time members of Christian Friendship Church. Until Mariah received her driver’s license, she and Rosemary took public transportation to the church. Mariah followed Rosemary’s lead and worked in the Sunday School department. It was there that Mariah discovered her love for children and found her niche: teaching.

As Mariah drove home, she wondered if God had another plan for her. Maybe He was leading her to Hammond. Perhaps there was work to be done farther up Interstate 94. Her future, which had always seemed so clear, had suddenly become a little cloudy.

Thirty minutes later, Mariah had parked her car in the housing parking lot and walked inside her home. After she opened the door, popping sounds of grease frying and the aroma of catfish greeted her at the door.

Mariah’s eyes scanned the gray-colored cinderblock walls, and the run-down furniture that hadn’t been replaced in years. The house was always clean, warm, and cozy. Still it had an old-timey feel to it.

As she sniffed the air, Mariah knew that her granny had prepared her favorite Friday night meal: fried catfish, spaghetti, and there was probably a bowl of creamy coleslaw chilling in the refrigerator. Rosemary stood at the stove, holding a long-handled meat turner in her hand. She quickly turned over the fish. She glanced at Mariah, smiled, and said, “How was your day, dear?”

“I don’t even know how to explain all the emotions I felt today, Granny,” Mariah answered her grandmother after she hung her jacket on the coat rack.

“Well, that’s to be expected.” Rosemary nodded her head. Her black hair, threaded with strands of gray, was pulled into a bun. She wore a shapeless blue dress that covered her bulky shape. Rosemary’s complexion was dark like her daughter’s and granddaughter’s. Her figure had expanded over the years, but the twinkling in her eyes and the will to see her granddaughter succeed hadn’t ever diminished. Rosemary’s husband, Joseph, was a soldier in the Vietnam War and had been declared MIA. His body had never been recovered.

The couple had moved to the housing project when it was newly built, before it became a haven for criminal activity. They lived there for five years before Uncle Sam sent Joseph his induction papers.

Rosemary remained in Altgeld Garden. She swore she wouldn’t let some knuckleheaded boys run her away from the home she shared with her late husband. The gangbangers pretty much left Rosemary alone since she’d fed most of them in the school cafeteria and had been a mother figure to more than a few of them.

Rosemary was able to make ends meet from the wages from her job and the monthly stipend she received from the Veterans Administration. Other than her daughter’s drug addiction, Rosemary was content with her life.

A coworker at the school mentioned to Rosemary how she enjoyed the wonderful minister and choir of Christian Friendship Church. She absolutely glowed when she told Rosemary how she was moved by the preaching and teaching of Reverend Lawrence Dudley. She invited Rosemary to visit the church. Several weeks later, Rosemary, with Mariah in tow, paid a visit to the church. Before long, she and Mariah joined the church membership. The two had been members of the church for over twenty years.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Mariah asked her grandmother. She sat at the kitchen table with her hands folded.

“You can set the table,” Rosemary directed her granddaughter. “The fish will be done in a few minutes. There’s nothing that tastes better in the world than eating freshly fried catfish hot out of the skillet.”

“Sure.” Mariah walked to the cabinet and had removed two plates and set them on the table when the doorbell rang. “Are you expecting anyone?” she asked Rosemary.

“No, but that don’t mean anything.” Rosemary turned the jet off under the pot of spaghetti.

Mariah walked to the front door, she peeped out the hole, and a smile curved along her lips. She opened it and Raquel and Sonyell walked inside the house.

“Now, you didn’t think we were going to miss out on the latest happenings with our best friend and Granny’s cooking did you?” Raquel smiled. She was a plus-sized redbone-colored woman with slightly slanted eyes on a cute face. She changed her hairstyles regularly. This week, she sported an auburn weave that fell midway down her back. Raquel was the comedian of the group. She was loud and bubbly, and obnoxious at times. She spoke sometimes without a care of another person’s feelings. She was a party girl. Still, Mariah and Sonyell knew that Raquel had their backs. Raquel was the oldest of the trio of friends, by four months.

“I assumed Granny would fix your favorite Friday dinner to celebrate your good fortune. And you know, I love me some Granny catfish,” Sonyell chimed in. She was petite sized and her figure was pencil thin. She had a café au lait complexion with dark brown eyes, and reddish brown hair she wore styled in a bob. Sonyell possessed a bright, dazzling smile.

The young women followed Mariah into the kitchen. They walked over to Rosemary and greeted her with a warm hug.

“You got enough food for these two interlopers?” Mariah asked her grandmother mockingly.

“Inter-what?” Rosemary squinted at Mariah. “If you’re asking if I have enough for these two”—she pointed a fork at Raquel and Sonyell—“of course I do. What would our Friday fish fry be without my honorary granddaughters?”

“Thank you, Granny.” Raquel sniffed and rubbed her stomach. “I can hardly wait to chow down. It smells good up in here.” She placed a plastic bag on the table and opened it. “I bought a strawberry cheesecake for dessert.” She took the box out of the bag and placed it inside the refrigerator.

“And I bought a bottle of champagne to celebrate Mariah’s good fortune,” Sonyell added. “It isn’t every day that we have an heiress in our midst.”

“Oh, stop already,” Mariah added playfully, “I’m still the same Mariah that I was a month ago.”

“Yeah, right,” Sonni said after she placed a bottle of bubbly inside the freezer.

“The food is ready,” Rosemary announced after she took a loaf of browned Italian bread out of the oven. “Fix your plates.”

A few minutes later, the women sat at the table with bowed heads. Rosemary blessed the food. “Father, above, thank you for allowing us to wake this morning to see another day clothed in our right minds. Thank you for bringing us safely to and from work today. We thank you for providing food for the nourishment of our bodies. Amen.”

“Amen,” the young women echoed.

“Make sure you get as much as you want,” Rosemary told the women. “I made plenty of food. Sonni, there’s enough for you to take a plate home with you for Sasha.” She took napkins from the holder sitting in the middle of the table and passed them around the table.

“We forgot the hot sauce.” Raquel popped up from her chair and removed the bottle from the cabinet.

Soon everyone had prepared their plates, and partook in the meal. The only sounds in the room were the clink of forks upon the plates, and the slurping of Pepsi-Cola.

Sonyell was the first one to finish eating. She pushed her chair away from the table and burped loudly. She covered her mouth and said, “I swear you put your foot in that, Granny. The food was great as always.”

“Yes, it was,” Raquel echoed as she got up, walked to the stove, and put another piece of fish on her plate. She ladled a few spoonfuls of spaghetti onto the dish and sat back down.

Sonyell passed her friend the hot sauce. She looked across the table at Mariah. “So, Mari, when do we get to see the house?”

“I suggested earlier we go to Hammond in the morning and check it out,” Raquel added after she ingested a forkful of pasta. “What do you have planned tomorrow, Sonni? We could do breakfast and then go to Indiana?”

“I don’t have anything planned,” Sonyell answered. “So you can count me in. This is so exciting.” She rubbed her hands together.

“Great,” Mariah said. She glanced at her grandmother. “Granny, I’d love for you to join us tomorrow. I want you to see the place too.”

Rosemary nodded her head, looking pleased. “Sure, I’d love to.”

The women chatted. Later Rosemary excused herself. She said she had a few telephone calls to make. Rosemary departed from the room and walked upstairs to her bedroom.

Sonyell stood up and took the champagne from the freezer. Then she removed three wine goblets from the cabinet, opened the bottle, and poured champagne for each of the women.

When she sat down, she held up her glass and said, “I’d like to propose a toast to Mari’s good fortune. We all grew up here in the ghetto, and it’s not every day that someone leaves here with an inheritance.”

Raquel quipped, “Shoot, usually when someone dies in our world, we pass the hat to take up a collection to pay for a funeral.”

The friends burst out laughing gaily.

“I heard that,” Sonyell added, raising her glass.

Then Sonyell continued speaking. “Mari, I’m so happy for you. At least your daddy came through, even though it was at the end of his life. I know you will do wonderful things with the money your father has left you.”

“Here, here,” Raquel said. The friends touched their glasses together and sipped the ice-cold liquor.

“Thank you, ladies,” Mariah replied. “I appreciate you for being there for me and always having my back. He left me a little something, something, so I’m going to break off a little bit to you. Oh, he also left me a gas guzzler, a Lincoln Town Car, a Toyota SUV, and two other autos. I’ll probably sell the Lincoln.”

“Thanks, Mari, you don’t have to do that,” Sonyell murmured. She sipped from her glass.

“I know that,” Mariah replied emotionally. “It’s what I want to do. You’re like family to me, and I want to share my good fortune with you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Raquel admonished Sonyell, bucking her eyes. “You know I’m not turning down anything.”

“Well, you do have a point there.” Sonyell’s eyes darted to Raquel.

“I also plan to buy more college bonds for Sasha,” Mariah said, looking at Sonyell. “You know I had planned on contributing to her college education anyway. When the time comes, my goddaughter will be ahead of the game.”

“That’s really nice of you.” Sonyell swallowed hard. “She’s only ten, but time is passing so fast, before I’m ready Sasha will be starting on a new phase of her life.” Sonyell had found herself pregnant with Sasha a few months after her nineteenth birthday. Sasha’s father, Michael, was in currently serving a ten-year stint in jail, for accessory to grand robbery. Since his early teenage years, he’d been in jail more than he’d been out. Michael would be released from prison in December befo. . .