Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Bailey
One of the first things I learned was that in Jackson Falls, Sunday was for church and that was especially true for Easter Sunday.
I’d gotten up early just for the opportunity to help Perkins dress my nieces, Harlowe, Madison, and Elise in beautifully colorful outfits.
Though I didn’t attend church with any type of regularity at home, I liked attending in Oregon.
Even when it wasn’t Easter Sunday, attending church felt like a family event.
Everybody went—from the senior Strongs, to their sons, and the Kingsleys.
We were about eight vehicles deep when we rolled up on Anointed Fellowship Christian Church.
Perkins parked right next to Collins and her husband, Beckham.
I jumped out of the truck fast, so fast that I was able to help Collins out of their truck before Beckham made his way around.
I hugged her tightly before bending at the waist and addressing her protruding stomach.
“Good morning, niecy pooh. You let me know if my sister isn’t doing right by you. ”
Initially, my family thought that Collins’s pregnancy would be too much for me to handle because of my loss.
I quickly assured them that as far as I was concerned, one had nothing to do with the other.
I didn’t begrudge my sister a healthy baby.
We grew up in the same house together. I knew the hardships she had overcome in life.
I wanted nothing but the best for her. Besides that, I wouldn’t wish the heartache, pain, and grief I went through on my worst enemy.
I for damn sure wouldn’t wish it on my sister.
I stood and gave her as tight of a hug as her belly would allow. “Hey.”
She kissed my cheek. Even though Collins was only three years older than me, she had a habit of treating me like we were much further apart.
But our mom did like to joke that from the moment I was born, Collins thought I was her baby.
“Hey, Bailey Boo.” She took a cheek in each of her hands and stared into my face. “You all right?”
“I’m good.” It was the first day of my second week in Jackson Falls. “I like it here. Oregon seems to agree with me.”
“I’m so glad.”
In church, I ended up seated between Bright and Perkins.
Bright was uncharacteristically quiet, which I should’ve taken as a red flag.
I didn’t. I presumed that he was respecting the sanctity of church and more specifically, Resurrection Sunday.
It wasn’t until we pulled back up to the house after church that I realized why he hadn’t said much.
“What is that on the front porch?” Perkins questioned as she parked in the driveway.
“Looks like groceries to me,” nine year old Harlowe said with her head hanging out of the window.
“Groceries,” I mumbled.
As we exited the truck and walked up the front steps, it became obvious that Harlowe was right. Bags and bags of groceries were lined up outside of the front door.
“What is all this?” Perkins inspected the contents of the bag closest to her right foot. “It’s meat. Lamb chops . . . and steak and stuff.”
A lightbulb went off and I knew exactly where the groceries came from. As I pulled out my phone to text, a message came through.
Bright: Yo, I heard dinner is early today on account of it being Easter. You got any idea what time I should head towards your mom and Bay’s spot?
Me: There are like ten bags of groceries on Perkins’s front porch. Why?
Bright: I know Alisha taught you that its impolite to answer a question with a question.
Me: You are soooooo annoying! Dinner is at 3. Now, why’d you have groceries dropped off here?
He didn’t respond.
As soon as I made it to my mom and Bayliss’s house, I went on the hunt for Bright. I found him on the back deck. I walked right up to him and gave him a punch in the bicep.
“Ouch, girl.” He grabbed his arm, rubbing it like I was Clarissa Shields or somebody.
“I know that little punch didn’t hurt you, but if it did you deserved it. Why’d you ignore me? Why’d you drop groceries off at Perkins’s house?”
He blew out a sigh. “I dropped groceries off because you told me that you like to cook meals you find on the internet with exotic ingredients. I’m already knowing that if your money is so tight that you had to force yourself to buy that little workout number you wore to the track on Friday, you’re not splurging on crab meat and lamb chops.
I wanted to do that for you. Seems like you could use somebody who’s willing to do the things that put a smile on your face. ”
My mind immediately tried to remember the last time somebody actively tried to put a smile on my face.
It was probably my mama. Alisha was always going out of her way to show us how much we meant to her.
The fact that the last person to try to make me smile wasn’t Xander said something about my marriage—something that I had only recently started coming to terms with.
I was quiet for so long, lost in my own thoughts for so long that Bright kept talking. “I knew if I tried to give you the cash, you’d try to give it back. Or refuse to take it. I cut out the middleman.”
Without really thinking about it, I stood on my tiptoes and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Thanks.”
He seemed caught off guard, but eventually his hands slid around my waist. “You’re welcome.”
We released each other as the back door came open. “Bring your big headed ass in here before—” Bayliss stopped talking when he spotted me. The fake frown he was giving Bright morphed into a sincere smile. “Hey, Steppy.”
Bayliss called all four of us, my sisters and me, Steppy. My best guess was that it was short for step-daughter. Whatever the reason, we all answered to it like it was our name. It was hard to deny Bayliss, though.
Initially, I didn’t understand how my mother could just quit her job and leave her hometown and everything she knew for a man she’d just met.
But once I spent time around Bayliss and got to know him, I totally got it.
He had a presence about him. He was handsome, charming, confident, and innately nurturing.
Everything about him said that he would take care of you.
He made you feel safe and even more importantly, he made you feel accepted.
It was easy to put yourself in his hands, because he seemed like the type that would never fumble you.
The original resentment I felt toward him for taking my mama away quickly faded as I got to know him.
Before long it morphed into gratitude and thankfulness.
After years of being taken advantage of, mishandled, and played by men, my mother deserved a man who didn’t play about her.
In the short time they’d been married, Bayliss’s love managed to smooth out so many of my mother’s rough edges and insecurities.
Because of that, he was one of my favorite people.
“Hey, Bay,” I replied.
“My baby wants everybody to come to the table. Come on.”
I walked into their home with a small grin on my face at him referring to my mother as his baby.
At the table, I was once again seated between Bright and Perkins.
My mother and the senior Mrs. Strong had thrown down.
As platters of prime rib, scalloped potatoes, roasted asparagus, macaroni and cheese, chopped salad, and buttery yeast rolls went around the table, the conversation moved to the upcoming spring festival.
“So,” the senior Mrs. Strong began, “I’ve already talked to the staff at City Hall.
They’re gonna start constructing the booths for the Stream Violet festival tomorrow and they’ll be done by Tuesday evening.
We’ll start setting up our booth on Wednesday morning if everything goes to plan.
This year, the focus will be on our event packages.
The weddings, the babymoons, the honeymoons, and the girls’ trips.
Now that we have the onsite salon back up and running, we’ve become even more popular with black women wanting to pamper themselves and spend their money within our own community.
We’ll be raffling off a few two-night stays in the lodge, a few spa services, and some very luxe gift baskets.
We’re also doing a silent auction for a complete wedding package. ”
“That sounds good, Ma,” Beckham told her. “You know I’ll have a booth with information about and coupons for wilderness adventures. We’re raffling an ATV package for four.”
“Alisha and I will be at your booth, Ma.” Bayliss’s eyes found my mother’s. “We’re doing discounts on horseback riding lessons and horse boarding.”
“Do you have a booth?” I whispered to Bright.
Before he could respond, the conversation kept moving.
Brewer was going to sell “festival size” portions of the most popular dishes at Good Ashes at his booth.
Collins had a booth where she would be doing consultations for event and occasion hair styles, while Perkins did quick wig installs and some woman named Malaysia gave tutorials on cornrows.
It seemed like everybody was involved in the festival except me.
“Well, Perk, while you’re at the booth I’m happy to watch the girls,” I offered, wanting to contribute in some way even if it was small.
“Thanks, but Church is keeping them. She already planned something for them to do. My girls are super excited to get to spend the day with Church. You know they think she’s the coolest one in the family.”
I nodded solemnly.
“Aww, Bailey Boo,” my mother crooned from her side of the table. “We didn’t ask you to pitch in with the festival because you’re here as a visitor. This isn’t your community. We didn’t want you to feel obligated.”
I got where she was coming from, but was it worse to feel obligated or left out?
“If you want to help out, I could always use an extra set of hands at the lodge’s booth.” Mrs. Strong smiled at me. “Somebody has to run the raffles and the silent auction.”
“She’s good, Mom. I need help at my booth.”