The Making of Tibias Ivory: Through the Eyes of Innocence

By D. Allen Jenkins

Bound to a chair, hands tied, face covered in a burlap sack, five-year old Tibias Ivory- the illegitimate, bi-racial son of Bethany Ivory, the daughter of the small, southern town of Principle's leading preacher and a murdered, black, high-school superstar, Mahognus "Hog" Worthington- has had the innocence of his young life ripped away by the depths of bigotry and degradation of hate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Casa de Snapdragon
• Release date: Dec 5, 2009
• ISBN: 9781466176775

D. Allen Jenkins

D. Allen Jenkins, Doug to all who know him (which you now do), hails from the heart of Buckeye Nation in Columbus, Ohio. Raised in Ohio’s first capital city, Chillicothe, he writes from the prospective of a husband of 28-years, the father of one son, and of being an ordained minister for over thirty-two years. Formerly a recorded minister in the Evangelical Friends Church (Quaker), Doug is now an ordained Elder in The Church of the Nazarene, and is on staff at the Pickerington Church of the Nazarene in Pickerington, Ohio, where he has been actively involved for more than 17 years. In 1998, Doug started experiencing a pervasive “pins and needles” tingling in his back that soon spread all over his body. A year of intensive and repetitious testing revealed that he was battling the debilitating disease of Multiple Sclerosis that has left him numb over eighty-percent of his body. His musical talents were affected tremendously by the eroding effects of this malady, making his love of playing the piano an increasingly difficult task, as were his abilities to enjoy simple things like pick-up football games with his son and playing softball. At the inspiration of a pastoral friend, George Sisler, Doug realized the closing of one door was the opening of another, and he began reviving a latent longing to write creatively of the things held most important: his faith in Christ and his love for his family. His work seeks to honor them in both spirit and truth. Doug’s writing talents have won him accolades on every level of his career, from award winning sermons in both college and in his pastoral endeavors, to numerous recognitions for his poetry, including publication in several poetic journals, such as Illuminations (2005), The Private Lantern (2004), and Shadows of the Season: The Members Collection (2004). His poetry has been featured in many online venues, including JBStillwater.com, PoemTrain.com, and Faithwriters.com. In 2005, he earned The Gold Seal Award from FaithWriters.com for his début novel, The Making of Tibias Ivory: Freedom’s Quest. Reader responses have echoed this endorsement, and many have been clamoring for the continuation of this entrancing and inspiring saga. He is happy to oblige their requests! Doug, a 1983 graduate of Ohio Christian University, the alma mater of New York Times bestselling author John Maxwell, is more than willing to share his incredible story of grace and courage with your church, book club, or to you personally. He believes that the first and biggest step in conquering your life challenges is daring to face them head on with the knowledge that you are not alone in your quest to overcome. There is power and purpose for your life. Doug invites you to contact him through his website at www.tibiasivory.com.

Book preview

Freedom’s Flower

Dew glistened with tiny flames of light in the sunrise of the early July morning. Bethany Ivory knelt on the hallowed ground, the shimmering beauty immediately transformed from the pristine of the surreal to the damp coolness of water stains on the knees of her blue jeans. She placed a bouquet of red, white and blue carnations into the white plastic vase adorning the front of the black granite headstone.

Mahognus Hog T. Worthington

Born June 12, 1950 - Died December 13, 1969

With Courage He Lived. Through Evil He Died.

By Grace He’s Living Still.

Tears mingled with the dewdrops, tears she made no effort to hide or control. She was alone here, yet it would not have mattered if a hundred people surrounded her. She did not care if others heard her cries, she only longed that somehow Hog could hear her sobs.

Bethany’s slender hand slid tenderly along the smooth engravings on the stone. Her tears slowed and her voice, soft and intimate, began to share the thoughts welling up from her deepest being.

"Hello Gallant, my brave, brave knight. Today is the Fourth of July, Independence Day, the day of freedom. You wrote of this day … you remember … seven years ago, before we met, before the championship, before my world exploded in love and despair. Remember? You spoke of the parades— the monochrome distortion riding on our flowery floats. Today, Hog, that is changing. Today, your mother is the Grand Marshall of the parade, riding side-by-side with Mayor Barlow and they are riding in the bishop’s Cadillac, yes, the same one, dents and all.

The bishop never drove it again after that night. He put it in storage at his brother’s place, right where you used to work. But Mom, your mom, asked if they could use it for this event. She said it would be like having you there with her.

There isn’t a day that has gone by that we— me, Mom, Marria, Malissa, and especially Mabell— haven’t wished for some way to bring you back, back to be with us, back to meet and play with our son, Tibias. But you are and will always be here beneath this stone.

But those words of seven years ago are alive and vibrant, growing in ways we could have never imagined. Everything you wrote in that essay was true, except for one thing. You said your words would not be remembered, but they are and they will be remembered forever because they are inscribed on a plaque set in granite to be unveiled at the gazebo in Confederate Park by the mayor and your mother.

The price was high, for both of us—too high— but you made a difference. You made a difference."

~

MAAAAMA! MAAAAMA! Bethany raised her gaze from the headstone and stood to her feet. Tibias, her energetic, nearly five-year old son, bounded in her direction. Making a valiant, but ineffective effort to keep pace with the boy, was Bishop Jericho, who laughed at his obvious inability to keep up with his Godson.

Bethany moved away from the grave and quickly masked the emotions of her heart. Mother and son met, Bethany whooshing her pride and joy into the air and swinging him around and around.

Helicopter going up! she said as she twirled him through the air. Tibias’ laughter shattered the seriousness of the early morning meeting. Soon he had enough and shouted, Helicopper down, helicopper down!

Slowly, Bethany brought the spinning to a stop and she laughed beneath her breath as Tibias’ still circling equilibrium, caused an involuntary dance as his feet touched the ground. Bethany grasped Tibias’ hand and steadied her son’s return to earth.

Mawmaw Jairco made me pancakes, Mama, Tibias said, tugging on his mom’s arm.

Really! Bethany’s eyes widened in exaggerated surprise. How many did she make for you?

I think ten or fifty.

Wow, ten or fifty, did you eat them all gone?

Yup! All gone!

Bethany grinned. Did you leave any for Pawpaw Jericho and Mommy?

Tibias looked at his pawpaw who rubbed his stomach as if he was very hungry.

Nope, I ate them all!

You ate all ten or fifty of the pancakes? Bethany gasped. Every last one of them?

I think I did, Tibias said. He clutched his mother’s leg as she moved toward the bishop.

Then you know what that means, don’t you? Bethany asked, her smile expanding ear to ear. Tibias stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes growing wide.

What?

It means that if we want pancakes for breakfast . . . we’re going to have to eat YOU!

Bishop Jericho grabbed Tibias in his arms and began chomping his teeth and chanting I want pancakes and I’m gonna start by eating this one right here!

Tibias screamed and wiggled in his pawpaw’s arms as Jericho placed his mouth on Tibias’ stomach and began gnawing. Mama! Pawpaw Jairco thinks I’m a pancake and is gonna eat me.

A pancake! He thinks you’re a pancake?

Tibias twisted about in his pawpaw’s arms and squealed. Yeeessss . . . he’s eating my belly.

Pawpaw Jericho, is that a giant pancake you’re eating up? Bethany asked pointing at the squirming Tibias.

Jericho bellowed. Yum, yes it is. And it’s the best pancake I’ve ever eaten. Would you like some Miss Bethany?

Why, yes. I think I would! she said, licking her lips.

Then be my guest, Jericho said, turning Tibias’ belly toward his mother.

Tibias squirmed all the harder. Nooooo! Mama, it’s me, Tibias. I’m not a pancake!

The game continued as they walked from the cemetery behind Shiloh Temple Pentecostal Church, to the front porch of the Jericho’s home where Mrs. Jericho greeted the trio.

What on earth is going on out here? Mrs. Jericho asked coming to the door. You had better get in here before the pancakes are completely cold.

There are more pancakes? Bishop Jericho asked. We found this boy over there who said he ate all ten or fifty of the pancakes and that there were no more left. So we were gonna eat him for breakfast.

Jeremiah Jericho, put that boy down and you two get in here for breakfast. I’ll get Tibias ready while you eat. Then we’ll have to go pick up Matilda and the girls and get downtown. We can’t run on Jericho time, today . . . . Her voice broke as she tried to restrain the urge to cry. Today is Hog’s day!

Bethany and the bishop also worked to conceal the overwhelming sense of sorrow and joy commingling in their hearts. Their efforts were in vain.

Mama, why are you and Mawmaw and Pawpaw Jairco crying? I didn’t really eat all the pancakes. Come see, I’ll show you.

Bethany gathered her son into her arms and smothered him in a deep hug.

No, Tibias, honey, we are not crying about the pancakes. Mawmaw has some for mommy and pawpaw.

Why are you sad?

Bishop Jericho came close to Bethany and Tibias. He placed his hand on Tibias’ head and ruffled the thick black curls of his grandson’s hair. Sometimes, ‘T’, people cry when they’re happy and today is a happy day to think about your daddy.

My daddy is in heaven, Tibias said, brushing away his pawpaw’s hand from his hair. Are you happy that he’s in heaven?

Mrs. Jericho joined the closeness of the others. ‘T’, we are happy your daddy’s in heaven, but we wish your daddy could be here with you today. We’re also happy because your daddy was a very brave man who did a lot of good things for people like your pawpaw and me, and Mawmaw Worthington and your aunts.

Mama says daddy was like an army man, said Tibias proudly.

Yes, honey, Bethany said. Your daddy was like a very brave army man and today the whole town is going to talk about how brave he was and what he did. You can be very proud and happy that he is your daddy.

Bethany gave her son another squeeze and a kiss on his forehead. Now, you go with Mawmaw Jericho and get ready for the parade. Mawmaw Worthington and Pawpaw Jericho are going to be riding in Pawpaw’s big white car for everyone to see. Maybe they’ll throw you some candy!

For any soon-to-be-five year-old, candy is a wonderful distraction and the glint of Tibias’ eyes indicated a change of his focus.

Mawmaw, he asked. What kind of candy will Pawpaw throw to me? I hope it’s bubblegum and not those red-hot balls. I don’t like red- hot balls.

Me either, said Mrs. Jericho. I’ll make sure Pawpaw doesn’t throw you hot balls. Now go to the bathroom and get ready for your bath, I’ll be there in a minute.

Tibias ran off down the hall and disappeared into the bathroom. The three adults eyed each other with whimsy, wishing that bubblegum really could cure things so easily.

Oh, to be young again. the bishopsaid. But in lieu of that, Jessie Jericho’s pancakes are a great second choice! Jericho winked at his wife. Let’s eat, Bethany! We have a parade to get to.

An hour later, breakfast was finished, as were the dishes and Tibias’ bath. Bishop Jericho stood outside with his brother by the gleaming, white, though still marred surface of the bishop’s Cadillac. Jericho had forgotten how much he loved this car; however the feel of the blemished finish reminded him of the greater significance and value of his possession. The preservation of this symbol of grace was by far more important than the pleasure of daily use. Nevertheless, he was going to enjoy the feel of being behind the wheel again, if only for the briefest of moments. The bishop counted it an honor to help represent the memory and legacy of his friend and parishioner, indeed, his brother in Christ.

I’m all ready, Pawpaw, Tibias exclaimed as he ran down the steps of the front porch. Mawmaw said you would throw me some bubblegum, not hot balls.

She did! Well I’ll have to make sure that I save some bubblegum just for you.

Not too much, Jeremiah Jericho. I’ll not have a mouthful of cavities on my conscience, Mrs. Jericho admonished.

The two women descended the porch steps clad in red, white and blue. Mrs. Jericho wore a tri-colored dress. Bethany wore blue jeans and a flag emblazoned, sleeveless blouse. Her long blonde hair was in a ponytail, tied back with red, white and blue ribbons. Tibias’ was dressed in the colors of the day as well. His blue shorts in contrast with his white shoes and socks, and T-shirt with bold red lettering proclaimed God Bless America across the front and I’m Proud of My Daddy on the back.

Bishop Jericho, not inclined to such fashion trends, wore black slacks and a long sleeve, tie-less, white shirt, which was as casual as he would allow himself to wear in public. He, as well as Bethany and Jessie, was ready to enjoy the festivities and he lifted Tibias over the car door and placed him in the back seat. Bethany climbed into the other side of the seat and tried to settle her exuberant son enough to sit down so they could leave.

The fifteen-minute trip into town to pick up Matilda and the girls was spent looking at flags on every available pole, fence post, and house. Huge banners spanned the three main intersections along Main St., all of them with messages of Welcome to Principle and salutations for the nation’s birthday.

The chamber of Commerce supplied patriotic bunting for every window of every storefront in town and every church had some display of celebration and thanksgiving prominently displayed on their properties. Bethany noted a few of the houses without some symbol of the day adorning them, as did Tibias.

Mama, he said extending his arm outside of the car to point toward one particularly drab house. Why doesn’t that one have any flags?

Bethany dutifully pulled his hand back inside the car. I don’t know, ‘T’. Maybe the people who live there are on vacation, or maybe they didn’t have any money to buy a flag. What do you think about it?

Tibias thoughtfully looked backward at the barren house. Maybe we can stop at the store and buy them one?

Bethany saw the bishop’s eyes looking at her in the rearview mirror. ’T’, that is a very good idea and, if we had time to stop at the stores, we would do just that. But I am very proud of you for thinking of a way to help. Your daddy would be proud of you too.

Would daddy buy them a flag?

Bethany drew her son in close to her chest. Yes, that is exactly what your daddy would have done.

Tibias pushed himself back from his mother’s hug. That makes me just like daddy!

Bethany smiled and drew him close again to hide the tear forming in her eye. Yes, ‘T’, that means you are just like your Daddy.

The Worthington home was not like those few unadorned dwellings. It was, thanks in large part to Mabell, on the other end of the spectrum and, as the Cadillac pulled onto Matilda’s street, Tibias was all but doing jumping-jacks in the back seat as he saw the dozens of flags in all sizes embellishing the old Victorian.

Mama, look . . . flags at Mawmaw Worryington’s house! Tibias cried, jumping up and down in his seat.

Tibias’ kinetic energy, Bethany had learned from numerous inadvertent bruises, was something better redirected than restrained.

Yes, ‘T’, and you know what Mawmaw does when she sees you?

Tibias’ perpetual motion stopped instantly, only to manifest itself a split-second later through a forward lunge into his mother’s arms.

A ‘T’ hug.

And then what happens?

Tibias pulled his face back revealing his dancing almond eyes. Mabell gives me slurpy kisses that tickle my belly.

Maybe you should hide before they see you.

Tibias looked around and saw Matilda and the girls gathered at the front of the house, Mabell on the forward sentry position, their festive wardrobe blending seamlessly with the décor of the house. He slid quickly to the opposite side of his mother, squeezing himself as best as he could between her back and the seat cushion.

Tell Mawmaw Jairco not to tell.

We’re almost there, Bethany whispered warningly. "Better be Christmas quiet or they might find you."

Tibias gave a little gasp, as he tucked his head into his chest and held his hands over his mouth. The Caddy pulled to a stop and Tibias tried to curl himself into a tighter ball behind his mother’s back.

Where’s Tibias? Mabell inquired, as she ran up to the car. I’ve got a slurpy kiss for his belly.

Bethany felt Tibias trying desperately to squeeze himself between the seat and her back, his knees pressing into her ribcage. I don’t know where he is, Mabell, but my back is killing me, she said with a wink.

Mabell reached into the back seat and grabbed Tibias by his ankles, pulling him from his sanctuary and into the air. Tibias tried unsuccessfully to hold onto his mother’s blouse and began to scream and laugh as Mabell began kissing his exposed stomach.

Bethany followed Mabell, who still held her nephew by his ankles, up the stone steps to join the rest of the family on the porch. Mabell up righted Tibias and a kneeling Matilda took hold of his shoulders. Let Mawmaw get a kiss in too, she said, as she pulled her grandson to her and kissed his forehead.

Did you have fun at Mawmaw and Pawpaw Jericho’s?

Tibias nodded. We had pancakes, but mama and Pawpaw thought I ate all of them and tried to eat my belly to get some.

Bethany smiled at the bishop and Matilda.

But Mawmaw Jairco had fixed more so they stopped, Tibias finished.

Everyone laughed and Matilda gave Tibias another hug. Well, I’ll never eat you for breakfast, she said.

Come on, ‘T’. Bethany said taking his hand. Let’s go to the bathroom while Mawmaw packs the car.

A few minutes later, Tibias and Bethany exited the house and descended the steps toward the scarred Cadillac, now full of Worthingtons and Jerichos. Just before reaching the car, Tibias stopped staring at the plethora of tiny flags that lined the perimeter of the lawn and driveway.

Why are there flags in the grass? he asked with pointed finger.

Bethany knelt to her son’s level. Those aren’t just flags, ‘T’, they’re freedom flowers.

Tibias looked at his mom incredulously. They’re not flowers mama, they’re just little flags stuck in the ground.

I know, Tibias, said Bethany, but flowers come up from the ground, right?

Tibias nodded his head.

Well every time you see a little flag stuck in the ground, think of it as a freedom flower that your daddy planted for you to enjoy.

Daddy planted the flags in the ground? came the puzzled query.

Because of what he did, a lot of other people are able to enjoy their freedom. They are happier now because of your daddy.

Tibias thought for a moment before walking toward the edge of the driveway. Can I pick one of the freedom flowers daddy planted to take with me?

You’ll have to ask Mawmaw Worthington, they are her freedom flowers, Bethany replied.

Tibias looked to Matilda, who answered before he could ask the question. Of course you can, ‘T’, your daddy would want you to have one.

Tibias wasted no time running to the edge of the drive and pulling one of the flags from the ground. He turned to show his prize to Bethany, then quickly turned back and snatched several more from the ground. I think daddy would want everyone to have a freedom flower.

Chapter Two

Remembrance’s Scars

Martha Ivory’s hand quivered as she pulled her hair back into the flag colored ribbon. James, could you help me with this please? I’m having trouble with this again for some reason.

James looked up from his morning paper only to return to his reading.

James, did you hear me? I need help with this, Martha reiterated as she rubbed the tips of her fingers together.

Are you going to the parade and dedication? he asked rhetorically.

Martha turned from the mirror hanging in the hallway and peered into the kitchen where her husband was nursing a cup of coffee and the remnants of some toast while reading the lavish itinerary for the weekend’s festivities. Her look was all the answer he needed.

I’m not lifting a finger to aid in the accomplishment of a single portion of this weekend, including helping you get ready to attend. His eyes never strayed from the print on the front page of The Principle Truth, the town’s local paper.

Fine! Martha responded, not showing a hint of the anger and pain that rose in her gut. I’ll have our daughter help me.

"Your," Ivory retorted tersely.

Excuse me? Martha questioned.

"Your daughter, not ours, he calmly and coolly answered. My daughter died nearly five years ago."

James! Martha said with disgust. How do you do it?

Ivory answered by raising the unfurled paper slightly higher and turning a page.

James Ivory, the five-foot Martha blurted, her hand dissecting the center of the paper’s pages, tearing one half from the other. You are the poorest example of a Christian minister I have ever seen. I don’t know how you can dare to stand in the pulpit on Sundays.

Do not speak against the Lord’s anointed, Martha, Ivory quipped snidely.

Martha was not tempered by his rebuke. Anointed? Anointed? The only oil on your head, James Ivory, is Brylcreem and you put that there, not the Lord.

Ivory smugly turned his head from his wife’s glare and assembled the torn sections of the paper on the table in front of him. Are you finished?

Martha reached for her purse at the opposite end of the table and left in silence.

~

Tibias was in awe of everything around him: the multi-colored floats, the sounds of band instruments warming up, a clown with his face painted red, white, and blue riding a unicycle, the roar of huge tractors, and the flashing lights and siren bursts of the Principle Fire Department’s new hook and ladder truck. But the most riveting sight for Tibias was the Military Color Guard. A representative from each of the five service branches bore their respective colors. A drum hung from the shoulders of a senior member of the Fire Department while a police officer holstered the American flag.

Though standing next to his mom, Tibias was completely disconnected from his family’s chattering, his eyes fixated on the pristine presentation of the uniform of a young Marine. Without the slightest hesitation, Tibias slipped from Bethany’s side and approached the young man.

My mama says my daddy was like an army man, he said in his small, but sincere voice.

The Marine, well over six feet tall and deeply tanned, smiled and squatted down, careful not to smudge the perfection of the creases in his dress blue pants. Then I am sure your mama is right. What’s your name? he asked, carefully extending his white gloved right hand.

Tibias stretched out his hand and placed it inside the much larger one of his new friend. I’m Tibias Ivory.

Tibias kept his hand in the young Marine’s, but turned his shoulders back toward the gathering of people next to the white Cadillac and pointed with his other hand. That’s my mama over there, next to Pawpaw Jairco. Tibias turned back to the Marine. What’s your name?

Releasing his grip on the boy’s hand, the Marine placed his hands on his thighs to balance himself. My name is Sergeant Luke Worthy, United States Marine Corp.

That sounds like my other mawmaw’s name—Mawmaw Worryington. Tibias turned in his excitement and ran toward the car, the Marine stood and followed after, but at a distance. Mawmaw, Mawmaw… he hollered breathlessly, that army man has a name that sounds like yours."

Tibias grabbed Matilda’s hand and started back toward Sergeant Worthy who was now standing, somewhat embarrassed, about ten feet away. Come see, Mawmaw. You too, mama, I told him you said Daddy was like an army man.

Tibias’ insistence and the need for proper respect urged both women to follow their eager leader as he led them directly to the sergeant who had now removed his hat and placed it under his arm. Tibias tugged on his jacket sleeve, Tell Mawmaw your name, then looking back at Matilda, you’ll see Mawmaw.

Tibias’ face was burning with excitement as the young soldier extended his hand toward Matilda. It is very nice to meet you ma’am, my name is Sergeant Luke Worthy, United States Marine Corp."

It is nice to meet you as well, said Matilda, I’m Matilda Worthington and you’ve already met my grandson Tibias.

Both have been my pleasure, he said. Tibias told me his daddy was an ‘army man’. Would that be your son? If he’s here, I’d like to meet him and congratulate him on such a fine young man for a son. I’m sure he is proud of him.

Matilda’s head dropped slightly, only to return it to its upright position. No, Sergeant Worthy, he is not here. Tibias’ father is dead. In fact, they are dedicating a plaque in Confederate Park to him this afternoon.

Sergeant Worthy snapped into a more ridged posture. I am sorry for your loss, ma’am, I know what it is like to lose someone in your family. What was your son’s name, if I may ask?

Mahognus Tibias Worthington, she replied

Yes. the sergeant said with a nod. I remember reading about him several years ago. In fact, my mother sent you a note with our family’s condolences – which I am sure, was only one of many you must have received.

Matilda touched his hand gently. Yes, we were very blessed by many such expressions. Please thank your mother for me and thank you too for your kindness and for your service to our country. My son would have liked to have met you. But I can introduce you to Tibias’ mother, Matilda looked at Bethany, Sergeant Worthy, this is Tibias’ mother, Bethany Ivory.

Tibias was still smiling ear-to-ear as the handsome marine extended his hand to Bethany who reciprocated his offering. It is nice to meet you Miss. Ivory. You have a fine young man for a son and I am truly sorry for your loss as well.

Thank you Sergeant, she replied, having an unexpected sense of flushing at the touch of his hand. I hope Tibias wasn’t too much of a bother to you.

Not at all. I hope to have the honor of such a son myself someday. Now, if you will excuse me, I must prepare for the start of the parade. It was very nice to meet you all —especially you Tibias.

Sergeant Worthy waved goodbye to the still wide-eyed boy, then turned and hastened to the others in the color guard. Tibias watched him until he disappeared through a gathering of Principle High School Marching Band members.

The resonate voice of Bishop Jericho calling Matilda’s name turned the trio from the handsome Marine. It is almost time for the parade to start, he said as they neared the pockmarked convertible.

Tibias now held fast to his mother’s hand as he watched Matilda position herself on the bright red blanket draped across the rear portion of the car’s trunk, her legs hanging over onto the cushion of the back seat. Bishop Jericho stood like a chauffeur by the opened driver’s side door waiting for Mayor Barlow to take his place beside Matilda. He looked at his watch and craned his neck in search of the recently elected mayor. Where are you Harold?

A police officer approached the bishop. The mayor will be here shortly, Bishop Jericho. He got tied up at the baby judging contest.

Jericho rolled his eyes. Disgruntled parents?

Every year. the officer replied. Every, single year.

Can I ride with you in the car Pawpaw Jairco? Tibias asked, tugging at the bishop’s pant leg.

Bishop Jericho looked down at the expectant gaze of his godson, then at Bethany who was shaking her head. Before he could say anything to the waiting boy, another voice caught their attention. I’m finally here, Bishop. I’m not sure what I do more of, kissing babies or kissing bu… Mayor Barlow stopped short as he realized the presence of young Tibias. Hi there, young man. Who might you be? he queried reaching out his hand.

Tibias looked up at Bethany, who gave an encouraging nod to her son. I’m Tibias Ivory, sir, he said tentatively.

"Tibias Ivory…Tibias Ivory…wait, I think I know your Grandma Worthington. No, you can’t be that Tibias Ivory.

I am Tibias Ivory, he exclaimed, ask my Mawmaw, she’s sitting there in the car!

The mayor gave the lad a quizzical look, then turned and winked at Matilda. Are you sure that’s your Mawmaw?

Yes, I asked Pawpaw Jairco if I could ride with them in the car!

No! You asked to do what? Barlow queried.

I asked Pawpaw if I could ride in the car with him, the boy repeated.

Well, intoned Barlow, as mayor, I declare that to be a great idea. He then turned to Bethany, that is if his mother doesn’t mind?

Mother and son exchanged a long look. I suppose, but you better be good and do whatever Pawpaw and Mawmaw tell you to do.

I will Mama, I promise, he said, scrambling for the empty front seat.

I think it would be nice if he rode with his Mawmaw, the mayor interjected. He could sit between the two of us and help throw bubble gum.

Tibias quickly turned to look at his mother, who was looking at Matilda with a dubious frown. Bethany, Matilda said, it’s up to you, but I think he’ll be just fine. I also think it will help him remember this day for the special one it is.

Bethany’s expression shifted. I hadn’t thought of it that way, I do want him to remember this experience. She looked at Tibias. Ok, ‘T’, but you have to be extra careful. And make sure that you throw your mom and aunts some bubble gum!

Tibias climbed over the front seat and into the back before the bishop could grab hold of him to lift him up. Mayor Barlow raised him up and placed him on the red blanket beside Matilda, then took his place next to

Reviews for The Making of Tibias Ivory

[vickiln · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This book is the second in the Tibias Ivory Series, which I didn't know until I'd already finished the book. It can be read as a standalone, but I wish I had read the first one before reading this, so I would better know the relationship between Bethany and Hog, and how her relationship with her father was before she met Hog. The book is about bigotry and the devastation it can cause. I loved reading about Tibias and Bethany, and was thrilled when Luke was introduced. Reading about the Ivory's, Worthington's and Jericho's was like living in the town of Principle and hearing about friends. I laughed, cried and felt myself getting angry when any of the characters would do or say something that was so incredibly hateful. The author has a gift for making the world he is writing about come alive, and I hope to read the first book in the series and also book three when available. There were quite a few typos in the book and it was a lighter read than I was expecting from the synopsis, but still, I enjoyed the book very much. I recommend this book to anyone who loves Christian fiction.