Don't Blame the Devil by Pat G'Orge-Walker Page B

emotions simmering. His grief pot was about to boil over. At that very moment all he wanted to do was just lash out, and a conveniently placed punching bag or two stood gift wrapped in his living room.
    While the others in the room stared at him as though he’d truly lost his mind, which he was about to, Jessie’s anger soared. Without apology Jessie gave in to his need to lay his salvation down at an invisible altar. He would leave it there just long enough to punch both Deacon Pillar and Delilah in their mouths. But Jessie was still Delilah’s son, and the apple hadn’t fallen too far from the tree. He just couldn’t make up his mind as to whom to start with. He knew he’d possibly broken his hand, which meant he’d have to take time off from the job. But a possible broken hand be damned.
    â€œGo to hell!” Delilah suddenly shot back at Jessie. “I know what you’re thinking, and if you ever live to see a hundred I’ll still be older than you and I’ll still be your mama. Come at me, and I’ll whip you until I can’t no more.”
    â€œWho are you gonna whip? And who are you to tell me to go to hell? Join me, because I’m in it now.” Mama or no mama, he was more than a foot taller than Delilah and he’d bend over and hit her if he had to. Jessie wanted to say something even more vicious, but words wouldn’t come again.
    Yet in that Twilight Zone moment, as she looked to where Tamara stood, it all became clear to Delilah. What a mighty God I serve. She saw Tamara and almost folded again. “You’ve worked a miracle, Father, and it was here all along….”
    â€œYou’ve lost your damn mind.” The pain that shot up Jessie’s arm again seemed more like a punishment; a hindrance to keep him from stopping what was about to unfold.
    Delilah’s eyes moistened again as she finally realized that God had indeed delivered. Why in such a crazy manner, she didn’t know.
    An easy smile crept across her face when she turned from Jessie and looked at Tamara once more. “God brought me here, Jessie. He truly did.”
    The observation had not escaped the deacon. “That’s Tamara, your grandbaby,” Deacon Pillar said, as though the previous conversation had gone smoothly instead of a mother-son cuss out. His move was more to keep her mind temporarily off retribution where he was concerned.
    Delilah allowed Deacon Pillar to walk over and take her by one arm to escort her across the room. It was the least he could do after his brazen performance earlier. She’d come back to him later.
    He’d gotten her halfway across the room before he realized he had to pass Jessie to get to Tamara. He saw the anger in Jessie’s eyes and almost felt the heat coming off his head. Deacon Pillar wasn’t certain he’d make it. It was a lot safer upstairs in his apartment, for sure.
    â€œThurgood Pillar, you idiot.” When the deacon stopped just short of Jessie, Delilah shook her arm loose from his grip with ease. “I know who she is.”
    â€œOh, I ain’t gonna be too many more idiots—” Deacon Pillar wanted to finish the threat, bad grammar and all, but he was caught off guard by the strength she showed when she snatched her skinny arm from his firm grip.
    â€œJust shut up, Thurgood,” Delilah warned, her eyes turned into slits to back up the implied threat. Then, without missing a beat, she turned back to Tamara, saying sweetly with her eyes now loaded with sympathy, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for your mama’s funeral. I did read about it and tried to find y’all. I guess by now you know I’m your grandma—”
    Delilah started to cough, which quickly turned into more of a hacking sound. The word grandma stuck in her throat like a fishbone and was just as uncomfortable. Not even her beautiful granddaughter could make her feel at ease enough to say the