Sadie

Dear Jesus, help these knees to last just a few more minutes. Sadie prayed and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She had risen early in an effort to beat the heat, but discovered to her dismay the sun didn't have to be high in the sky for the heat to be miserable. Nevertheless, she had replanted all but the last two of the rose bushes torn up by Markus in yesterday's tirade. Hoping her action would salvage the plants, but more importantly hoping to salvage the tattered and bruised relationship with Sammy Morris, she had decided not only to repair the damage but dug into her purse and scraped together enough cash to replace the plants that were too damaged for replanting. It was money that could've gone toward repairing the car but she figured some things could wait while others couldn't.

The soil had grown rock hard after weeks baking in the summer sun and a blister the size of a quarter had formed on her thumb from the garden spade she was using. She tried switching hands but found herself reverting back to her right hand, blister or not. Jesus, I'm down here sweatin' like a pig and doin' my part. I'm hopin' you gonna do your thing and bring these plants back to life. It'd be a cryin' shame for me to go to all this effort and you let 'em die. The blister popped at that moment sending a tiny rivulet of water running down her hand and allowing the raw skin to rub against the wood handle. The pain made her wince but she had to smile in spite of her sore hand. I guess I needed to be reminded who's the boss 'round here, didn't I. Well, there ain't gonna be no more complainin' from me.

A car pulled to a stop in front of the house, its tires crunching gravel and scraping against the curb. Sadie knew, even before the two men opened their doors, that the vehicle was an unmarked police car. The knowledge came from a lifetime of being aware of the police and the imminent threat they represented to her or anyone with black skin. She didn't bother thinking about the fairness or stereotypes that assumption made, for she dealt in reality. And reality had sat up and smacked her in the face more than once.

"Now what can I do for you gentlemen that I didn't already cover last night with the other officers?" She asked with a smile she didn't really feel like sharing.

"And a good morning to you," replied the policeman. "My name is Detective Simpson. We need to ask you just a few more questions."

Something in his tone caused Sadie to stop digging and turn to face him. She held her hand across her forehead to shield her eyes against the early morning sun. "Well then, go ahead. I already done wore myself out this morning so I guess I can sit back and help you gentlemen out for a bit."

"I think we have effectively ruled out your nephew Markus as the perpetrator in the attack on Estelle Morris but he does have a connection to another individual we might like to interview."

"Jay C. You talkin' about Jay C."

"Exactly. They were arrested just last year if you recall." Simpson paused but when Sadie offered no response he continued. "It may be a longshot, but some of the neighbors recall seeing him hanging around here within the last few days."

Sadie began to grow irritated. She wanted nothing more than to grab Simpson by the lapels of his suit, shake some sense into him, and let him know Jay C couldn't be involved with an attack on an elderly woman. She'd known him most of his life and it wasn't possible. Instead, she pushed herself to her feet and brushed the dirt from her knees and hands, using the time to calm down.

"I'll tell you, Detective," she said, again wiping a sheen of sweat from her forehead. "Jay C ain't no saint, not sayin' he is. But he don't have it in him to be doin' this. He just don't. I know'd that boy his whole life and it ain't in him."

Simpson looked at his partner who merely shrugged. "Okay. You're probably correct. But we're still going to have to talk to him. He shows up, you give me a call. You hear?" He handed her his card and turned to go.

He made it as far as the curb then stopped and turned. "I really don't know why I'm going to tell you this. I ought to keep my mouth shut." He glanced at his partner, the one who had never uttered a word and continued to remain stoically silent. "It would seem Mr. Morris refuses to believe your nephew is not the one who assaulted his mother. Even though we have cleared him and his own daughter provided his alibi, he is convinced Markus instigated the attack or at least conspired with the perpetrator to allow the attack to occur."

Sadie sat back on her heels while Simpson talked. "That sounds about right what I would have expected him to say. He's just disagreeable enough I reckon he'd believe the worst about Markus."

The detective cleared his throat and continued. To Sadie he appeared as if he were being physically compelled to speak and was rigid and uncomfortable doing so. "Well, that's not all. We--well, I anyway--believe Mr. Morris is capable of seeking some kind of revenge against Markus. It is possible your nephew is being unjustly targeted and even though we have cautioned Mr. Morris, he is angry enough we feel he may be hatching something."

Sadie sat quietly for a moment. "I see. Well, thank you gentlemen. That's why we've got God on our side. He gonna protect us when we don't even know we be needin' protectin'."

Sweet Lord, how do a mess like this ever get started? After the police departed, Sadie completed replanting the roses, pulling a garden hose over from her house to water them and watching with fascination as the parched ground sucked up the liquid faster than any sponge ever could. With a nod of satisfaction, she stood back and looked over her work. The roses hung limp and bedraggled but she had done her part. If God wanted them to live, He was gonna have to take charge.

Having completed that task, she felt free to deal with the next crisis. How am I gonna protect Markus from our very own neighbor? Lord, I can't stay with the boy twenty four hours a day. She washed her hands in the kitchen sink, her mind busy with worry about everything from protecting Markus to how she was going to pay the stack of bills tucked away in the cabinet. Meanwhile, her hands worked of their own volition: measuring out flour and other ingredients, cutting in shortening, mixing and rolling out dough, then forming biscuits.

She had a skillet full of eggs frying when Markus shuffled into the kitchen. "What you doin' up so early, Aunt Sadie?"

"What's it look like?" Sadie answered. Her concerns kept her answer short and curt.

"You know what I mean." Markus wiped his eyes and stretched. "And how'd you get your clothes so dirty anyway?" he asked, eyeing the dust and mud from her earlier efforts.

Sadie looked down at her clothes, spatula in hand. "Well, lazy bones, you lay in there sound asleep while I went out and tried to put back together what you tore all up. Just maybe Mr. Morris might be a little less angry if them flowers were to survive."

Markus sat at the table quietly for a few moments, his mind still struggling to come fully awake. "It ain't fair for you to have to do that, Aunt Sadie. That man deserved what he got and it ain't fair for you to have to work like that."

Sadie grimaced and turned from the stove, brandishing the spatula like a weapon. "Fair? What you know about fair? What could you possibly know about fair? You layin' there in the bed, sound asleep, and I'm the one out there chislin' out a hole in near solid rock for them flowers, and you're telling me about fair?" Markus sat upright upon hearing her tone. "That man next door may be the most bigoted man in the world but it ain't one bit fair that someone done gone in there last night and beat up his mother and left her to die. Life ain't one bit fair, not now, not ever."

"I'm sorry Aunt Sadie. But I'm just sayin' it ain't right for you to have to get involved like this, you out there replantin' them flowers and all. You didn't have anything to do with it anyway."

"Yeah, that's right." She turned to the stove and worked at the eggs like they were the enemy. "You finally got around to noticing'. When you get to doin' stuff that ain't right, they's a price to be paid. Somebody's gotta make things right and sure as shootin' you ain't gonna do it, you all proud a yourself for attackin' a bunch a flowers'n all. But you gotta realize that all this hate gets spread around and sooner or later, somebody's got to pay. Last night, that old lady paid. This mornin', I'm payin'."

Markus said nothing. Sadie watched as his head hung low and his shoulders slumped. She loved the boy but he still needed to learn a few things. To her, love didn't mean you allowed things to continue when they were in need of correction, even when that correction stung just a little. Nevertheless, it broke her heart to see him hurt.

She filled a plate with eggs and a pair of steaming biscuits and slid it in front of him. "You a good boy, Lil'M. A good young man. Sometimes I go off and forget myself, all caught up in things. I just need to step back and remember to thank the Lord Almighty for givin' me such a fine young man to raise and to help me do it without messin' things up."

Markus stared at the food while Sadie fixed herself a plate and joined him at the table. She watched him out of the corner of her eyes while taking a bite of her eggs. He remained still and quiet.

"Talk to me Lil'M. What's goin' on?"

Markus finally raised his head, "You don't really think this food just landed here on its own, do you?"

Sadie paused with the fork halfway to her mouth, realizing she had forgotten to give thanks. "Ha! You right Lil'M, you right." She started to laugh, first in a quiet chuckle then the whole situation struck her as remarkably humorous and the chuckle turned into a hold-her-belly type of laugh. Markus tried--at first--to refrain, but soon he too was caught up in the moment.

Sadie caught her breath and wiped a tear threatening to escape, "Whew! Lord knows I needed that." She looked at her nephew, now attacking the food on his plate as if it were trying to escape, and a warm glow filled her. She was blessed, she realized. Not with riches or fancy things; just with the best things.