Christmas morning by Teresa Patterson

Christmas Morning by Teresa D. Patterson

Christmas Morning The winter was harsh and bitter, but the worst was yet to come. The strong whirling wind tore limbs from trees, signs from posts and even picked up a few straying animals. There was a heavy threat of snow in the air. The local weather stations had predicted a blizzard by mid-evening. Every fortunate, sane person would be tucked inside, safe and warm. Velma Stevenson wasn’t so lucky. The storm came upon her about half a mile from her destination. It hit full force causing her to drop one of the three bags of groceries she carried. Brushing snow out of her eyes, she picked up the bag and its scattered contents then continued on. She struggled to balance the bags and clutch her coat together. From the corner of her eye she saw a figure dart towards her, but her reaction was delayed. The person snatched at the purse strapped firmly on her shoulder. Realizing that the purse wasn’t going to break free, her assailant grabbed for one of the bags or groceries. He pulled it from her arms and tried to run off, but he slipped on the slicked-over pavement. Cans and jars flew into the air as he sprawled on the ground. Before he managed to get up and scramble away, Mrs. Stevenson caught a good glimpse of his face. She watched him through the drifts of snow until he disappeared completely. She noticed he’d been a young man, probably in his teens. As she’d stared into his eyes for that brief

Teresa D. Patterson second, she’d seen pools of sadness staring back at her. “Young man,” she called after him. “Young man, will you please stop?” Soon, he was out of sight, hidden by whirls of snow and mist. Mrs. Stevenson bent over to pick up her groceries for the second time that evening. As she headed home, she wondered what had possessed the young man to go out and steal. She made it to her steps and breathed a sigh of relief. Never again would she venture out in that kind of weather. It would have to be an absolute emergency. She’d grown too old for the trip into town during winter. Other arrangements would have to be made. Safely inside her house, she placed the bags on the counter. Removing her gloves, scarf, and coat, she shook the snow off them. The coat and scarf were hung on a hook near the stove to dry. The calendar on the wall caught her eye. “Only five more days until Christmas,” she said aloud. She sighed. No need to get all excited about a day she no longer celebrated. Christmas would be just another day for her and had been for the last six years. Since her only son, Lonny, and his wife had been killed in an accident, she didn’t have anyone to share the holiday with anymore.

Christmas Morning She felt loneliness rush over her but knew it would pass. It always did. She just needed to find something that would take her mind off Christmas. She could sew or knit. If that didn’t work, her parrot could keep her entertained. She had her health and her peace of mind. She was happy, or so she tried to convince herself. Maybe I’ll finish up my quilt, she said to herself as she walked over to feed her parrot, Beaky. The bird chirped happily upon seeing her, but that would be the only sound from him. No, “Polly wants a cracker,” would come out of Beaky, ever. He’d never been taught to talk, and by the time she’d purchased him, it had been too late to teach him words. “Just what I need in my old age,” she mumbled, heading for her rocking chair “-a parrot that can’t talk.” She gathered up her sewing materials and slowly lowered herself into the chair. Picking up the nearby quilt, she began where she’d left off. She hummed to herself and she gingerly rocked back and forth. Fifteen minutes later, the needle and thread dropped into her lap. She had fallen fast asleep. The day’s hustling and bustling had taken its toll. *** Wendell sat huddled in a corner of an abandoned building, trying desperately to keep warm. He knew he couldn’t continue on for much longer. He felt frozen through and through. He was beyond hungry. 3

Teresa D. Patterson Hunger had caused him to act out earlier. He’d seen the old lady struggling with those groceries and had figured she’d be an easy target. He’d never robbed anyone or stolen anything in his life. But he’d felt a sense of desperation. The hunger pains had shot through his stomach, forcing him to move into action. He’d been so sure he’d get the purse. When he’d failed, he’d become nervous and filled with terror. He’d grabbed for a bag, hoping he’d at least have a much-needed meal that night. He hadn’t counted on slipping on the ice. He’d seen the woman’s face as she’d stated at him. He’d read pity mixed with compassion, not the anger he’d expected. As he’d hurried away, he could hear her calling after him and wondered why. Why would she be calling him after he’d tried to mug her? Wendell shivered violently and his teeth chattered together. His stomach grumped, forcing him to make a decision. Either he could curl up and die from cold and starvation, or he could attempt to find a warmer place to sleep. He stumbled from the building, clutching the thin jacket he wore around him. He headed in no particular direction just let his feet lead him. He ambled on and on. His belly growled so violently he had to stop momentarily to hold it, and he doubled over in pain. “Oh God, please,” he prayed. “Please- please help me.” 4

Christmas Morning He fell forward but was too weak to catch himself. Soon he felt the coldness of the snow pressed against his face. Wendell struggled to his knees slowly, still clutching his stomach and rubbing the snow out of his eyes. Up ahead, he could make out the figure of a shed of some type, and he crawled towards it. When he finally approached it, he discovered it was only a doghouse. He peered inside and found it empty. Of course, the dog had been let into the main house because of the weather. About to turn away, he spotted the dish that had been placed out for the dog. His heart leapt with joy. Quickly, he grabbed the dish and tried to eat the leftovers. No such luck. Whatever it had been was now a frozen solid block of ice. He felt the silent tears of anguish slip down his cheeks. I’m going to die he thought. A light from inside the house flicked on and a door creaked opened. “Who’s out there?” a masculine voice called out. Wendell’s heart thudded in his chest. “Help me,” he cried, weakly. “Whoever you are, you’d better leave,” the man warned. “I’ll call the police.” The door slammed shut again. Somehow, Wendell found the strength to get back on his feet. Maybe fear of being caught by the police made him move. He couldn’t let that happen. He 5

Teresa D. Patterson would rather freeze to death in the blizzard than to go back to the life he’d run from. He had to find shelter soon. He made his way blindly through the blizzard. He felt numbness creeping into his skin and bones. It wasn’t long before he couldn’t take another step. He tumbled over something and found himself face down in the snow, once again. *** Hearing the loud clank of the trashcans falling against each other jerked Mrs. Stevenson awake. She looked about her, slightly confused. The sound had come from her backyard. “What in the world was that?” she asked aloud, getting up and heading for the kitchen. When she peered out the window, she thought she saw something. She wasn’t sure because of her poor eyesight and the horrid weather conditions. Yet, she continued to stare. She became certain that a person was out there, lying in the snow. “What is wrong with him?” she wondered. The figure hadn’t moved and she’d been staring for quite a while. “Could he be dead?” she asked aloud. “Well, let me go check this out.” She hurried to get into her coat and gloves. On her way out, she grabbed a flashlight that she kept in a nearby drawer. The cold air rushed her as soon as she opened the door. “Lord, it’s cold out here,” she muttered and 6

Christmas Morning began to walk towards the person lying so still. She wasn’t afraid because she always put on the full armor of God. Besides, she felt certain that the person lying in the snow needed help. She shone her flashlight on the figure and discovered it was a male. There was no movement, not even when she held the light up to his eyes. She found an arm and felt for a pulse. “Still alive. Better get him inside.” She placed the flashlight in her pocket and then grabbed the person under the arms. She dragged and pulled until she got him to the house. It took quite a while but finally, she made it into the kitchen with him. Shutting and locking the door, she turned her attention to the person. “Let’s get these wet things off of you.” She removed the jacket. A wool cap covered his head, and he’d wrapped a scarf around his neck and chin. Until she removed those, she hadn’t been able to recognize him. Now that his features were as plain as day in the glow of the light, she gasped. “You’re that thief who tried to take my purse,” she exclaimed. The young man’s eyes fluttered open. His lips moved but nothing came out. He moaned as his stomach rumbled loudly. “I guess that means you’re hungry?” Mrs. Stevenson asked getting over her initial shock. Would-be-thief or not, she sensed that God had caused their paths to cross again. She would help him 7

Teresa D. Patterson in any way that she could. “Well, are you?” He nodded weakly. “First, let’s get some circulation back into your arms and legs.” She massaged his limbs until she thought they felt normal to him again. She straightened up slowly, holding her back. “I can’t throw you back out there or you’ll die for sure.” She stared at the pitiful looking boy. “The police, if I even thought about calling them, wouldn’t make it out here in this weather.” She paused and gave him a look of scrutiny. “I guess you can stay here until you get your strength back. I just couldn’t forgive myself if I turned someone away in their time of need. I’ll be right back, you hear?” Not waiting for his response, she hurried into the living room. She took the cushions from the couch and pulled out a hide-away bed. “I’ll be right there. You hang on, son!, she called out. She rushed to get sheets and blankets from the linen closet. When she’d finished making the bed, she went back to his side. “Can you get up?” she asked. “I- I think so,” he managed. She reached down to assist him. “Boy, you are soaked to the bone. You need to take a hot bath and put on some dry clothes,” she advised. “I- I’m too h- hungry.” His teeth chattered together as he spoke. “We’ll feed you first, then. Come on and sit down.”

Christmas Morning She helped settle him into a chair near the warm stove. Earlier, she’d cooked soup and homemade biscuits for her own supper. She heated it up for her unexpected guest. Hers could wait, she figured, as she set the food before the young man. While he wolfed it down, she busied herself making hot tea. “So,” she said, turning from the stove. “How long has it been since you ate last?” she asked. “Three- maybe four days, since I had a decent meal,” he answered through a mouth filled with biscuits. He’d found a bag of candy bars that he’d eaten sparingly until they’d run out. He didn’t think it was necessary to mention this to her, though. Wendell didn’t look up from the bowl of soup as he spoke. Mrs. Stevenson shook her head in disbelief. “Your folks? Where ‘bout they at?” she questioned. “Not- not around,” he answered, evasively. The truth was, his mother was a crack addict who’d abandoned him and his three younger siblings six months earlier. They’d been placed in foster homes by the Department of Family Services. After suffering two months of abuse from the first family, Wendell had been sent to another home. The woman, Mrs. Betty Brown, had been nice enough but strange. One day while he’d been taking a shower, she’d walked right in. She’d stripped off all of her clothes and had commanded him to have sex with 9

Teresa D. Patterson her. He’d tried to fight her off, but she’d been a very large, strong woman. She’d attempted to rape him in the shower. What she had tried to do had repulsed him. He’d felt violated. Never wanting to experience the horror again, he’d run off that night. He’d been on the streets ever since. “Here child.” “Huh?” Wendell jumped. The sound of Mrs. Stevenson’s voice had broken into his thoughts. For a second, he’d been lost in a world of his own. “It’s tea,” she said quietly. “Oh.” He picked up the steaming mug of hot liquid. “T-thank you.” “Go ahead and finish your soup and biscuits,” she told him. “I’m going to find you some clothes to wear to bed.” She left the room again. Wendell took a swallow from the cup of tea. Lemon and honey had been added. It felt so good going down his throat, and it warmed his insides. Since he’d gotten something nourishing inside him, he felt much better. He stared around the cozy kitchen and his eyes caught the calendar which hung on the wall. If he could remember correctly, there were five days left until Christmas. “Big deal,” he thought out loud. He couldn’t recall a time in the last two years ever being happy when Christmas arrived.

Christmas Morning Two years before, his mother had started using crack cocaine. She’d lost her job and had applied for welfare. Once the habit had gotten beyond her control, she’d sold everything of value in their home. She never had any spare money. Often times they barely had food because she’d sell the food stamps in exchange for cash. Then she’d go on a binge, and they’d be left home alone, hungry. Wendell sighed loudly. He wanted to forget his mom. He didn’t know where she’d disappeared to, and he didn’t care. He hated her for what she’d done to their family. He blamed her for all that had happened to him since the day DCF had torn him away from his ten-year old brother, Kenneth, and his six-year old twin sisters, Tamara and Kamara. To that day, he could still hear their cries. He’d always hate her- that woman who’d given birth to him. She was no mother. Who would leave their own kids like that? He just couldn’t understand it. He heard the old woman return. When he looked up and stared into her kind face, he felt a sudden, hot, burning shame. He regretted what he had tried to do earlier. He couldn’t find the words to apologize, so he just hung his head. As if she could read his thoughts, the woman spoke. “Probably was so hungry that you lost your head today,” she said. She began to unpack the groceries she’d placed on the counter earlier. “You feeling alright now?” she asked. 11

Teresa D. Patterson “Yes, ma’am,” he answered. “You said your parents ain’t around. What happened to them?” she questioned, taking the empty bowl and mug from in front of him and carrying them to the sink. “I – un-never knew my father- and my motherwell, she left us six months ago.” He saw no reason to lie to this kind, caring woman. “What do you mean, left?” she asked as she washed the items. “She- see-” he paused then let out a deep breath. He had never talked to anyone about his mother’s desertion before. “She was addicted to drugs,” he explained. “She sold everything we had to buy crack so she could smoke it. When nothing was left- she went.” “That’s a shame. Plain shame.” She clucked, shaking her head from side to side. She ambled over to the refrigerator and opened it. “Would you care for a piece of sweet potato pie?” she asked him. “Yes, ma’am,” he answered, quickly. He hadn’t heard of sweet potato pie in a long time. He gobbled up the piece she put in front of him within seconds. She smiled and cut him another slice. “Must like it,” she said and he nodded. “Son, what’s your name?” she inquired. “Wendell. Wendell Warner,” he answered. He ate the second piece of pie slower. “W-what’s your name?” he asked her, suddenly feeling shy. 12

Christmas Morning “Velma Stevenson. Call me Mrs. Vee.” She smiled again and he found himself smiling back. “Yes, ma’am.” He finished off the last mouthful of pie. For the first time in a long time, he felt almost happy. “You ready for bed?” she asked and he nodded. Suddenly he felt very tired. Those long nights he’d spent shivering in abandoned buildings had finally taken their toll on him. “Come on. I’ll show you where the bathroom is. Some clean underclothes and a pair of pajamas are folded on the seat of the toilet. A robe is hanging on the hook behind the door. You’ll find all you need, including a toothbrush, deodorant- the normal things for washing up.” While she talked, he followed her. “Go ahead and clean yourself up. You’ll feel much better. Lucky you didn’t catch pneumonia out there in that cold,” she exclaimed. “Thank you,” he said. He went into the bathroom and closed the door. She had, thoughtfully, run water into the tub for him. It looked so inviting. He undressed and sank into the tub with a deep sigh. The warm, relaxing water massaged his tired muscles. He hadn’t bathed in weeks. He made the most of it because there was no telling when he’d get another opportunity. Almost an hour later, he emerged from the bathroom looking clean and refreshed. He headed to the living room and hesitated in the doorway. 13

Teresa D. Patterson “Come on in and sit down, child,” Mrs. Vee instructed. As he stepped into the room the light shone upon his face. Mrs. Vee could see that he was a very handsome young man. In a way, he reminded her of her son, Lonny. He sat on the edge of the couch and watched her. She was sewing the quilt again. He admired the beautiful patches. “That’s very pretty,” he told her. She nodded her thanks. “Maybe I’ll finish it by Christmas- maybe I won’t,” she said quietly. “What are you going to do with it when you finish?” he asked. “I don’t know yet,” she answered. “Maybe I’ll sell it- maybe I’ll keep it,” she sighed. “Anyway, it’s almost finished. I’ll decide what I’ll do once it’s done.” Wendell moved closer to get a better look. “Where did you get all of the material?” he questioned, forgetting to be shy. “A piece from here, a piece from there,” she said. “Most of it came from my son’s old shirts, pants, or such.” She pointed to a certain patch. It was gray with black diamonds. “That came from a pair of his socks.” She chuckled. “Here’s a piece-” Again she pointed. “from his baby blanket. And this one’s from the tie he wore to the senior prom.” She gave a sad smile. “Where did that one come from?” he asked out of curiosity. He pointed to a lovely rose pattern. 14

Christmas Morning “From his wife’s prom dress,” Mrs. Vee answered. “What about that one? Don’t tell me, I think I can guess.” He stared at the white lace. “Wedding dress, right?” She nodded. “Is your son in the armed forces?” Wendell questioned, spotting a piece from a uniform of some sort. “He was in the Army,” she told him. “Did he finish his term?” She shook her head. There was a long pause. “No,” she finally answered. “Six years ago, he was killed in an accident. He never got to finish his second year in the service.” “I’m sorry,” he offered. “He was only twenty years old,” she continued. “My only child.” She shook her head sadly as she reminisced. “Lonny was a gift from God. I had long since given up on ever having a child when he came along. I was forty eight years old when I had him. It was truly a blessing.” She began rocking as she continued. “He and Felicia got married right after they graduated from high school. They had both wanted to wait until she’d finished college before they had any children. So, they waited. When the time was right, they had a beautiful, baby girl.” She paused and her eyes clouded over. “I didn’t even get a chance to see my granddaughter. All three of them were killed instantly. They were driving down from South Carolina, eager to show me little Fatima for the first time. After their visit, they would have flown off to 15

Teresa D. Patterson Germany where he was stationed. They would have spent two years over there before coming back home,” she explained. “Well, they never made it out of the state. Struck head on by a drunken driver,” she ended. “The shame of it all.” Wendell sat in silence. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t find any words of comfort. After a while, Mrs. Vee put the quilt aside. “It’s late,” she said quietly. “I think I’ll turn in for the night. Sleep well, young man.” He watched as she left the room. She reminded him of his own grandmother who had died when he’d been seven years old. Oddly, he felt such a connection to her. He pulled the covers back and climbed under them. The couch felt so wonderful, unlike those hard, cold floors or the ground he’d slept on night after night. He was so grateful Mrs. Vee had let him stay. Most people he knew wouldn’t have been so kind, especially after he’d tried to rob them. He silently thanked God he hadn’t ended up in the juvenile detention center waiting to be shipped to another foster home. He snuggled his face into the soft pillow and soon drifted off to sleep. He felt warm, safe and secure. *** The delicious smells of bacon woke Wendell the next morning. He stretched and rolled over. He knew that today, he’d probably have to leave. 16

Christmas Morning All good things must come to an end, he thought. Sadness overcame him. Mrs. Vee appeared. “Good morning,” she greeted. “Good morning,” he replied. “I took out some of Lonny’s things that I placed in storage. Some jeans, sweaters, shirts and such. He was about your size. You should be able to wear them. I put those clothes you had on in the washer.” “Thank you.” “There were no jackets or coats though.” She dug around in her apron pocket for something. “Where is it?” she mumbled. Finally, she got what she’d been searching for. “Here it is.” She held out a fifty-dollar bill. “You take this and as soon as the weather clears up, go and buy yourself a warm coat. That jacket you had on is much too thin.” “No, ma’am. I can’t take your money,” he declined. “You’ve already done so much for me. I just can’t take it.” “You need a coat, young man,” she said in a firm tone. “Besides, if you think it’s charity, and you’re too proud, you can earn it. Pride goeth before a fall. You can start by shoveling my driveway and the sidewalk out front.” She held out the money. He hesitated then took it. “Yes, ma’am.” “Now, get up and get dressed. Breakfast will be served in fifteen minutes.” “Yes, ma’am.” He hurried to comply. 17

Teresa D. Patterson Back in ten minutes, he wore jeans and a nice, colorful sweater. Mrs. Vee took one look at him and smiled. “My guess was right. You are the same size as Lonny.” She stared at him proudly. “See down and eat, son.” “Yes, ma’am.” He took a seat. The breakfast consisted of eggs, bacon, toast and grits. Everything tasted delicious. Wendell hadn’t eaten so well since his first foster home. “So, where did you go after your mama ran off?” Mrs. Vee asked. Wendell’s fork stopped mid-way to his mouth. He stared at her. “Ma’am?” “Where did you go?” she repeated. “You said she left six months ago. You couldn’t have been on the streets for all that time, were you?” “No ma’am, I wasn’t. They, Family Services, placed us in foster homes.” “Us?” “My brother and two sisters,” he informed. “They split y’all apart?” “Yes, ma’am. Ken and me, we were too old for the couple that took in my sisters. At least they’re with each other.” Suddenly, he felt tearful. “I – I miss them so much. I don’t think I’ll ever see them again,” he finished. “The Lord had His reasons,” Mrs. Vee offered. “Maybe you will see them again. Maybe soon.” 18

Christmas Morning He stared at her with doubt in his eyes. She wore a mysterious smile on her face. *** The day before Christmas Eve, the weather cleared. Mrs. Vee had made no mention of Wendell leaving. Since she said nothing, he didn’t bring it up. After eating breakfast, he went out to do the shoveling. Around noon most of the sidewalk was cleared. Mrs. Vee called him inside. “You can’t stay out there too long,” she scolded. “You’ll catch your death.” She eyed his thin jacket with disapproval. “Come into the kitchen and have a sandwich and cup of tea. Later, we’re going to get you a coat, young man.” “But-” he began to protest. “No buts. You need a coat.” “Okay. Okay,” he relented. “But, I’ll go get it by myself. It’s too cold out there for you.” “That’s fine with me. As long as you get that coat,” she said firmly. “Yes, ma’am.” After Wendell finished his lunch, he headed for the place Mrs. Vee had told him to go. It didn’t look like a clothing store, but he knocked on the door anyway. “Yes?” The woman who answered the door stared at him strangely when he asked to buy a coat. “Excuse me?”

Teresa D. Patterson “Mrs. Vee- I mean, Mrs. Stevenson told me I could buy a coat here,” he said, unsure of being in the right place. “I’m sorry. Maybe there’s been some mistake,” the woman told him. “Who is it, dear?” a male’s voice called out. Wendell stared in disbelief when the man joined his wife at the door. It wasn’t the sight of him that caused the reaction, but the little girl he carried in his arms. “Wenny,” she squealed in delight. “Wenny! Wenny!” She struggled from the man’s arms and rushed to her brother. As he embraced his sister, the other twin ran forward and threw herself into his arms too. The two adults stared on, confused. “Who are you?” the man finally asked, after witnessing the exchange. “My name is Wendell Warner,” he answered. “These are my sisters. I- I didn’t know they were here,” he added. “Mrs. Vee-” “Well, come on inside out of the cold,” the woman advised. “You’ll catch pneumonia.” He smiled because she reminded him of Mrs. Vee. He stepped into the cozy living room. Wendell stayed for close to two hours. He talked with the Johnson’s and visited his sisters. He could see they were happy, healthy and well cared for. For that, he was grateful. 20

Christmas Morning “We’ve grown very fond of them,” Mrs. Johnson said. “They are such wonderful girls.” Mr. Johnson agreed with her. “Couldn’t ask for a better pair of children,” he stated. “We love them like they’re our own.” “I’m glad they’re happy,” Wendell told them getting up to leave. He hugged Tamara and Kamara again. “I know most foster parents wouldn’t have allowed this,” he told them. “Thank you so much.” “I see no harm in you visiting your sisters now that you know where they are,” Mr. Johnson told him. “Family is important.” Wendell got choked up. He wished his own mother felt the same way. If she had, they wouldn’t be separated now. “Thank you,” was all he could manage to get past his tight throat. Wendell felt a weight lift from his shoulders now that he knew the twins were safe. He no longer had to worry about them. He wondered how Mrs. Vee could have known. “God working His power,” she told him after he’d returned and asked. “The Johnsons own the grocery store where I shop. Mrs. Johnson couldn’t have any children. I overheard her telling one of the other customers she was adopting twin girls. How many twins can there be in this city whose mother was a drug addict? When you told me that it had been six months ago, I put two and two together. This is a 21

Teresa D. Patterson small town. Ain’t many twins around. Somehow though, I knew they were the same twins you were talking about.” “Mrs. Vee, you are wonderful,” he told her and rushed over on an impulse to hug her. “Thank you.” She stepped back from his embrace and stared at him. “I would like for you to stay,” she said quietly. “Are- are you serious?” He couldn’t believe it. “Yes, I’m serious. With you here, my life hasn’t been so empty. I can’t remember being this happy for a long, long time.” She grasped his hands in hers. “So, will you stay?” Wendell stood there in shock. He couldn’t believe that a stranger wanted him when his own mother hadn’t cared. He could feel the hot tears slip down his cheeks. He didn’t bother to wipe them away because they were tears of joy. *** On Christmas morning, Wendell made sure to be up before Mrs. Vee. He wanted to see the look on her face when she came into the room. With the money she’d given him for a coat, he’d bought a Christmas tree and decorations. After she’d gone to bed, he’d drug it into the house and had decorated it. Now, it stood tall and sparkling as he gazed at it with pride. Underneath were gifts for Mrs. Vee and the twins. He’d even bought something for Kenneth, for the day when he’d see his brother again. 22

Christmas Morning He heard Mrs. Vee’s door open. She had awakened. He waited excitedly for her to come into the living room. When she did, he plugged in the lights and the whole tree lit up. He saw the surprise and joy on Mrs. Vee’s face. “Oh Dear God. Bless you child,” She wiped at the tears that fell from her eyes. “Merry Christmas,” Wendell called out. Mrs. Vee was speechless. She stood, shaking her head from side to side in disbelief. “Come on and open your presents,” Wendell instructed. “Presents? Oh my,” she exclaimed. More tears slid down her cheeks. “Yes ma’am,” he said happily. “I’ll open them in a second. I have something for you,” she said and went back into her room. She returned carrying the quilt. “It’s all finished, and I finally decided I was going to give it to you.” She handed him the gift. “But Mrs. Vee-” “Take it child. I want you to have it,” she insisted. “Thank you so much,” he whispered and held the quilt close to him. “It’s beautiful. It’s the best present I ever got in my life.” He unfolded the quilt to look at it in its entirety. He hadn’t even known she’d finished. “I sewed in the last piece last night,” she told him. “It’s there.” She pointed.

Teresa D. Patterson Wendell recognized the material immediately. It was from the scarf he’d worn on the night she’d found him in the snow, near death. She had saved his life. “Every piece sewn has a memory attached,” she shared. Wendell was too overcome with emotions to speak. That Christmas morning was indeed, the happiest day of his life.

PART II Wendell’s Brother The bell over the door signaled the arrival of yet another customer. Wendell sighed, tiredly, and went over to turn the sign around to read CLOSED. It was late, and he was dead on his feet. That was the usual for a Friday evening at his barbershop. Once again, he silently thanked God for blessing him with what he considered his most valuable possession. Mrs. Velma Stevenson had made his dream possible. Even though she was gone, she would live on in his memory forever. Thinking back, Wendell remembered a time when he’d been so desperate, he’d tried to steal an old lady’s bag of groceries right from her arms. He’d fouled up and slipped on the ice. That was the first time he’d laid eyes on Mrs. Stevenson. Little did he know Fate would intervene, and he’d meet up with the same old woman he’d tried to rob, under different circumstances. The next time, he’d been lying in the snow, halfstarving and nearly frozen to death. Mrs. Stevenson found him and nourished him back to health. The two had gotten to know each other. In the end, she had asked him to stay. She was all alone in the world, for her only son had been killed in an automobile accident.

Wendell’s Brother Wendell was also alone. His mother had deserted him and his other siblings. They'd been separated, living in different locations. When Mrs. Vee, as she’d told him to call her, offered him a home, he accepted. At a time that could have been crucial for him, Mrs. Vee had extended a helping hand as well as a warn heart. He’d never forget that kind, caring, loving woman who’d given him a second chance at life. “Wendell, someone’s at the door,” his customer said, pointing to the front of the shop. Wendell stopped cutting the man’s hair and went to answer. “I’m sorry, but I’m closed,” he told the young boy who peered at him through the glass. He looked at his watch. “It’s after six. Come back tomorrow. We’re open from nine until-” The boy entered the shop, cutting off his words. “I'm not here for a haircut,” he said. “I’m here to see you. Are you Wendell Warner?” “Yes, I am. Do- do I know you?” He stared at the young man curiously. The boy was perhaps sixteen. He was tall and lanky; all arms and legs. There was something about the face that leaped out at Wendell and twisted his heart. “Kenny? Kenny, is it really you?” He was suddenly filled with joy. He leaned forward, as if to embrace the boy, but the young man stepped back out of reach.

Teresa D. Patterson “Yeah, it’s me. I’m your brother,” he said, scowling. “I bet I’m the last person you expected to see, right?” “Kenny. I can’t believe this. Wendell was elated. He hadn’t seen his youngest brother in over five years. Kenny had been ten years old then. He had really grown. He had to be at least six feet tall now. “Hey, are you going to finish cutting my head or what?” the guy who was still sitting in the chair called to Wendell. “Yes, just a minute,” Wendell told him. He stared at his brother. “Kenny, have a seat. I’ll be finished in just a minute. We can talk.” There were so many things he wanted to say. He wanted to hug his brother to him and tell him how much he’d missed him. Something in the younger boy’s face advised against that, though. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be finished in a minute,” he repeated. “Don’t worry. It’s not like I have anywhere to go,” Kenny replied sarcastically. As Wendell finished cutting his customer’s hair, Kenny surveyed the pictures and certificates mounted on the wall. “So, I see you’re a licensed cosmetologist,” he said after the man had paid Wendell and left. “Yes, I am,” he said proudly. “Humph. That’s for sissies,” Kenny insulted.

Wendell’s Brother Wendell checked himself before replying. “Well, that’s your opinion and we’re all entitled to one,” he answered quietly. “Look Kenny,” he began, “I know you’re angry with me, and I don’t know what to do to erase that anger. I’m sure you’ve been through some rough times-” “Right,” Kenny interrupted. Ignoring his obvious sarcasm, Wendell went on. “What have you done for the last five years? Where were you? Were you happy? Did-” “Man, just chill with the twenty questions. Do you think I was happy? How could I be happy when I was separated from my family? It was one foster home after the next. No, I wasn’t happy. Maybe you were, but I wasn’t,” he ended bitterly. Wendell gazed at him in silence. Finally he spoke. “Kenny, what do you want me to say? You seem to resent me for some reason. It wasn’t my fault that we got separated. Don’t blame me for the things that you’ve gone through. If I could have been there for you, I would have.” “Man, that’s a bunch of crap,” he exploded. “You never tried to find me. You didn’t care.” Wendell didn’t respond to his brother’s accusations. They stared at each other in silence. “Come with me,” he said simply. “Why should I? You weren’t there when I did need you, so what makes you think I need you now? I’m sixteen years old. I can take care of myself.” 28

Teresa D. Patterson “Well, you may be sixteen, and you may also be six feet tall. But, I am still your older brother, and I can and will wear your butt out if you disrespect me again,” he said in a tone heavy with conviction. “Try me,” seemed to be the retort in the young man’s eyes. However, he said nothing. He glared at Wendell but followed him out of the barber shop with no further arguments. In the car, they were both quiet. So many questions ran through Wendell’s head, but one look at his younger brother’s set face told him he shouldn’t ask anything. “Mama told me to tell you hello,” Kenny said lowly. Wendell was so stunned he didn’t reply for several seconds. He was too choked up. “Mama? You saw Mama? When?” he finally managed to ask. “Yesterday. I’ve been living with her for the last seven months. It was my idea to visit you,” he answered. “She gave me the money to catch a Grey Hound bus here,” he added. “How did you know where to find me?” he asked. “Mama knew where we all were. At least, that’s what she told me. My caseworker told her where I was. Tamara and Kamara’s foster parents kept in touch with her. And she said some lady wrote her a letter about you. That was two years ago,” he ended.

Wendell’s Brother “Mama knew where I was and didn’t try to contact me? Why?” “I don’t know, man. Why don’t you ask her? I just live there. I wasn’t all in her business. If you want to know why she did what she did, ask her. I can give you her address and phone nu-” “I don’t want it,” he interrupted angrily. “I don’t need to know where she is.” “Don’t you even care about how she’s doing?” Wendell didn’t answer. He just stared straight ahead and continued to drive. “Well, anyway, she’s okay. I guess. She’ll never be the same Mama we used to know. She really didn’t seem to want me around. It was like- I don’t know- like I wasn’t even there. I don’t even think I like her,” he revealed. It was a strange thing for a child to say about their parent, but Wendell understood exactly what Kenny meant. He knew how he felt about his mother. He hated her. For five long years that hate festered inside of him, eating at his soul like hot, molten lava. “She left us,” he said aloud. “She just up and left us, just like that. Did she ever give a reason? There’s no justification for abandoning your children.” Kenny didn’t say anything. He seemed to be deep in his own thoughts. Even though he had only been ten years old, he remembered the day he’d been taken away from his brother and sisters like it was yesterday. He also remembered Wendell promised to find him. 30

Teresa D. Patterson Now, he glared at him angrily then turned to stare out the window. Wendell’s thoughts were running along the same track as his brother’s. He remembered the day Kenny, Tamara, and Kamara were taken from him. He’d felt like his whole world had shattered. Even though he’d found his sisters, there had been no trace of Kenny. He hadn’t known where to look; what to do to find him. He felt like he’d let his brother down. He’d promised to find him, and he hadn’t. Now, here was Kenny, in the flesh, telling him that his mother knew where he’d been for two long years. For two years, his mother had continued to keep him from his brother when they didn’t have to be separated. What type of a mother was that? He didn’t want anything to do with her for the rest of the days of his life. “Wendell, why are you bringing me here?” Kenny broke the silence by asking. They had pulled into the driveway of a nice, brick home. Wendell had a question of his own. “Why did you want to see me?” “I don’t know,” Kenny said hesitantly. “I guess, because you’re my brother. Since I was here anyway visiting Tamara and Kamara, I figured I’d stop by and see you, too.” Wendell was slow in responding. “Regardless of what you think, Kenny, I never gave up on you. I had no idea where you were. I didn’t know where to look. 31

Wendell’s Brother It’s only been recently I’ve had the resources to search for you.” “What do you mean, search?” Kenny asked, unsure. Yet, his voice held a trace of hope. “I hired a private detective to find you. He kept coming up blank. Every time he’d find where you were, you’d be gone. I just never thought you’d go back to live with Mama. It never crossed my mind. Why?” Kenny shrugged. “I don’t know. She is my mother. I just got tired of running. Nobody, none of the foster families, really seemed to want me. So, I asked my caseworker if I could go back with Mama. She contacted Mama and Mama agreed, so I went.” He sighed. “She didn’t want me, either.” He sounded resigned, like he’d given up. Kenny, I don’t know what to say to you, Wendell thought silently. You’re my brother. I haven’t seen you for five long years, and I don’t know what to say to you. He sighed audibly. “Come inside,” is what he did say. “I have something to show you.” Without waiting for Kenny‘s response, he got out of the car and headed up the steps of the house. It was the same house he’d stumbled upon five years earlier. It had been winter and he’d been desperate. Mrs. Vee had willed him the house after her death. It now belonged to him.

Teresa D. Patterson Mrs. Vee had been wonderful to him. She’d convinced him to go back to school. She’d been there when he’d graduated. She’d even paid for him to attend barbering school. He had loved that woman, more so than his own mother, who he couldn’t find it in his heart to forgive. He shook all thoughts of her, unlocked the door and entered. His brother trailed behind him. Once inside, Kenny glanced around. “Nice,” he commented. “Mama lives in an apartment—a small apartment.” “Come on. I want you to see something.” He led him to another room. When he opened the door, emotions overwhelmed him. He had to take a deep breath before he stepped inside. “This- this is your room,” he said it so low that it was almost impossible to hear him. The room was a teen-aged boy’s dream. Posters of popular sports figures adorned the walls. A shelf with what Wendell figured would be Kenney’s favorite books lined the far wall. A basketball net hung from another wall. There was a TV, PlayStation and a computer. Wendell walked over to the closet and began pulling things from the top shelf. “These are for you.” He handed the items to Kenny. There was a baseball, bat and mitt. There were tons of football and baseball cards; a basketball and football; tapes and compact discs, and an iPod. 33

Wendell’s Brother Lastly, he handed him a stack of birthday cards, Christmas cards, and a card for every occasion that he’d considered to be special. Kenny stared into the closet, wide-eyed. He could see all of the clothes hanging there. There were small outfits for a ten-year-old boy. The sizes increased over the years. He ran his hands over the different outfits. Wendell had even purchased matching shoes that were lined up in the bottom of the closet. Kenny finally knew, without a doubt, his brother had been thinking of him all along. As if reading his mind, Wendell spoke. “I never forgot you Kenny. Never. And I never gave up on you. I always felt that somehow, some day, we’d be together again.” Kenny’s eyes clouded over. His throat went dry and he swallowed several times before he could speak. “I didn’t know,” he said simply. “I thought – I thought you didn’t care.” “Kenny, I care. I love you.” The barrier between the two brothers crumbled. Wendell closed the distance between them and placed his arms around Kenny. “I missed you,” he said emotionally. At first, Kenny held his arms stiffly at his sides, then, slowly he placed them around Wendell. “I missed you, too, big brother,” he whispered. Silently, a tear trickled down his cheek. It mingled with

Teresa D. Patterson the one that fell from his brotherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s eye. Wendellâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s brother was home, at last.