Chapter Seven

That was a great meal, Mama,” Michael said to his mother later that night as he pushed back his chair and rubbed his belly. Deborah watched him as he eyed the leftover ham, greens, and potato salad. “Babe,” he said to his wife, “we’d better get us a couple of doggie bags. No sense letting all this good food go to waste.”

Josette chuckled. “This isn’t a restaurant, Michael. Mama Leah and Deborah can eat off this food for the rest of the week.”

Deborah checked her watch, cleared her throat to get her mother’s attention, and shook her head. Her signal told her mother they needed to keep Michael at the table awhile longer.

“The meal isn’t finished yet, Michael,” her mother said. “We still have dessert.”

“I can’t eat another bite,” Michael said, rubbing his stomach again. “But we can pack it up and take it home, along with the leftovers.”

Deborah shot a glance at Josette, who was also clued in to the evening’s plans. “I still have room for dessert,” she piped in. “Remember I’m eating for two.”

Michael smiled at her. “Yeah, you are.”

“Don’t make me eat alone and feel greedy, Michael,” Josette coaxed. “Take some dessert, too.”

Michael looked at his sister. “See how they gang up on me, sis. I think they want me to get a belly, too.”

Deborah laughed at her brother, and her mother and sister-in-law joined in. Abraham should be arriving any minute now. Their best bet was to have Michael at the table when he got there. Otherwise, she feared her brother would simply leave.

“You’ve never had a weight problem,” Deborah told her brother, putting a hand on her full hips. “And I’ve always hated you for that.” She turned to her mother. “What’s for dessert anyway, Mama?”

“Michael’s favorite,” she said. “Banana pudding.”

Deborah rolled her eyes. “You have a pregnant woman here and you’re preparing dessert for the expectant father? What kind of grandmother are you going to be?”

Josette laughed. “You know I love banana pudding, too, Deborah. And Mama Leah is going to be the best grandmother. I just know it.”

“Stop trying to cause trouble, sis. You’re just mad because Mama didn’t fix your favorite, red velvet cake.”

Deborah pouted. “I’m feeling sorta left out here, Mama.”

Leah pushed her chair back from the table, bumping the wall as she did. The dining room wasn’t that big. “No need for that. Red velvet cake is on the menu for Sunday after church.”

When her mother left the dining room to get the dessert, Deborah stuck out her tongue at her brother.

He laughed. “Girl, you need to grow up.” He turned to his wife. “Did you see that, sweetie? That grown woman stuck her tongue out at me.”

Josette smiled. “See no evil, speak no evil.”

Deborah held out her hand to slap Josette five. “Yeah, sister,” she said as their palms touched. “We women have to stick together against the men of the world.”

“Watch out, sis,” Michael joked. “You’re the only woman at this table without a man.”

Deborah pretended outrage. “No, you didn’t go there.”

“Oh, yes, I did.” He laughed. “Where do you find your men, anyway—the nursing home? You need to let me introduce you to some men our age. You wear out those old geezers you’ve been dating. That’s why they don’t last long.”

“Mama,” Deborah called out, refusing to be baited. “Michael’s picking on me.”

“I’m not picking on you. I’m serious. I know a lot of guys who would love to go out with you.” He glanced at Josette. “Isn’t that right?”

“I prefer men to boys, Michael,” Deborah said before Josette could answer. “So I’ll find my own dates, thank you very much.”

Michael shrugged. “Do you think you can find one under fifty? Maybe if you did, Josette and I could double-date with you sometime.”

Michael laughed again and Deborah just rolled her eyes.

Leah reentered the room then, carrying a tray with four bowls and shaking her head. “You two act like you’re five sometimes. Josette, I hope Michael doesn’t act this way at home. You don’t want to have two babies on your hands.”

Deborah laughed but Josette said nothing. Deborah could imagine what she was thinking.

“I know y’all see me sitting here,” Michael reminded her.

Leah served them each a bowl and kept one for herself. After she’d taken her seat, she said, “I call ’em like I see ’em.”

“We never should have given women the right to vote,” Michael muttered as he dived into his banana pudding. The women laughed and dug into theirs as well.

“This is delicious, Mama,” Michael said. “Maybe it’s okay if you vote.”

Deborah glanced at her watch again. Abraham was running late. She wondered why he hadn’t called.

“Why do you keep looking at your watch, sis?” Michael asked. “Got a late date?”

Deborah glanced at her mother before answering. “Something like that.”

Michael put down his fork and gave Deborah his full attention. “I didn’t know the guys you dated stayed up this late. Maybe he’s fallen asleep. You’d better call him and wake him up.”

Deborah shot her mother another quick glance, while Michael laughed at his own wit.

Michael turned to Josette. “Little sister’s been holding out on me. Did you know about this new guy?” When Josette just shrugged, he turned to his mother. “Did you know, too?”

Leah nodded.

“So why am I the last to know?” he asked Deborah. “You afraid I won’t approve?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, come on. Who is this new man and how old is he?”

“It’s Abraham Martin,” Deborah blurted out. “He’s coming over after dinner.”

Michael seared each woman at the table with a hot glare. “You all set me up.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Michael,” Leah said. “Nobody set you up. Abraham wants to talk with the four of us and we knew you’d balk at the idea.”

Michael got up from the table and reached out his hand for Josette. “Let’s go, honey.”

She shook her head. “Stay and hear the man out, Michael. What’s it gonna hurt?”

He turned to his mother. “So now you’ve got my wife defying me.”

“Please, Michael,” Deborah injected. “Nobody’s defying you. We’re only trying to get past your stubbornness.”

He poked a finger at his chest. “Me? Stubborn? Because I won’t fawn over a man who refused to acknowledge us as his children for thirty years? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Sit down, Michael,” Leah said. “And calm down. I’m asking you to do this for me, not for Abraham. For me.”

Deborah knew her mother had secured the deal. Michael would stay for her, but only for her.

“You don’t ask much, do you?” he muttered, dropping back down in his chair.

“No, I don’t.”

The phone rang then. “Let me get that,” Leah said.

“Don’t, Mama,” Deborah said. “I’ll get it. It’s probably Abraham explaining why he’s late.”

“More like explaining why he’s not going to show,” Michael muttered as Deborah headed to the kitchen to get the phone.

Disappointment settled in when the voice she heard was not her father’s. “May I speak to Deborah Thomas?”

“This is Deborah,” she answered.

“This is Alan Weems. I’m Abraham Martin’s attorney. I’m sorry to tell you this, Miss Thomas, but your father has been in an automobile accident. He’s been taken to the Emergency Room at DeKalb General Medical Center.”