Beyond K Street: Journey to Redemption

By Nicole A Jones

The rough and violent areas of K Street were no place a kid should be left alone, but for fifteen-year-old Micah Tate, it was home. It was never a fit for him, but he fought to survive in it as long as he could. He maneuvered through its courtyards and learned to live in it. When Micah's only options in life became to go to prison for a long time, or become the property of the state, he willingly submitted to a new life and direction. Still reeling from the sudden passing of his wife, Mr. Rudolph Pfeiffer, a seventy-seven-year-old fearless, no-nonsense leader hesitantly took in the teen. Micah was tough, but Mr. Pfeiffer was tougher. Micah was not afraid to stand up for himself nor speak his mind, but neither was Mr. Pfeiffer. When their toughness clashed, Mr. Pfeiffer never backed down, and his hardness prevailed over Micah every time. But when their roughness matched, it was the perfect element to build a solid bond between the two of them. Although Mr. Pfeiffer greatly missed and longed to be with his late wife of five decades, he focused on Micah. Despite the infuriating meddling from Micah's past, Mr. Pfeiffer never gave up on him. Despite threats to Micah's future, Mr. Pfeiffer was a shield for him. Micah moved away from K street, but it was Mr. Pfeiffer's guidance, patience, and lessons on unfairness, economic disadvantages, and broken relationships that taught Micah how to live beyond K Street. Beyond K Street: Journey to Redemption reveals the journey of Micah and the young man he became as a result of Mr. Pfeiffer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: EnProse Books LLC
• Release date: Oct 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781948166164

Book preview

Beyond K Street:

Journey to Redemption

NICOLE A. JONES

DEDICATION

To all those who refuse to take life’s shortcuts

Contents

INTRODUCTION

1 MICAH

2 MR. PFEIFFER

3 A NEW HOME

4 THE MELTING

5 THE MEN’S BOOK CLUB

6 NEW SCHOOL

7 SMALL BLESSINGS

8 MICAH’S MOTHER

9 BLINDED

10 THERE’S ALWAYS ONE

11 OFFICER DESMOND

12 PARENTLESS

13 MS. KEREN

14 TIME CHASERS

15 MEETING SERENITY

16 HARVEST TEMPLE

17 THE LONG DRIVE

18 RACE TALK

19 CAREER DAY

20 MOMMA’S BOY

21 A LITTLE NUDGE

22 MRS PFEIFFER

23 NEW ORLEANS

24 SEEING TAYRAINY

25 A BLAST FROM THE PAST

26 MICAH’S WOES

27 THE SCARE

28 SERENITY’S BACKGROUND

29 THE BIRDS AND THE BEES

30 FEELING EMPTY

31 LORENZO

32 BYRON

33 MEETING SHAYLA

34 TUTORING

35 THE DILEMMA

36 MOTHER’S DAY

37 THE CHALLENGE

38 THE CARTOON

39 HUMANS

40 THE LOCK

41 TURF WAR

42 EXCOMMUNICATED

43 A GATHERING CROWD

44 EGO

45 MORTALS AND THE START OF TIME

46 THE PORTAL

47 A PROUD MOMENT

48 THE GARDEN

49 NEW INSIGHT

50 GUESSING

51 YOU LEAVE

52 THE REASON

53 FRIENDSHIP

54 THE WORST NEWS

55 THAT AIN’T YO DADDY

56 MICAH’S DENIAL

57 HE REALLY CARED

58 YOU REMEMBERED

59 BUTTERFLIES

60 THE BEST COMFORT

61 THE CHOICE

62 OLE MAN GRIEF

63 THANKSGIVING EVE

64 THANKSGIVING DAY

65 OFFICER DEATH

66 MATING

67 NAGGING

68 MOTIVES

69 IT MATTERED

70 THE PROPOSAL

71 THE INTERVIEW

72 BROTHERS

73 NEW OPPORTUNITY

74 UNEXPECTED

75 EMOTIONAL

76 BIRTH CERTIFICATE

77 STRIPPED

78 MIRRORS

79 PROVOKED

80 STRAINED

81 THE DELIVERY

82 THE CALL

83 A FAVOR

84 NEW GUIDANCE

85 NEW HORIZON

86 FINALLY

87 A NEW BEGINNING

88 A NEW PLACE

89 NEW LIFE

90 REPAYMENT

91 NEW DIRECTION

92 NEW JOURNEY

93 NEW LEADERS

94 NEW COMMUNITY

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

INTRODUCTION

Derbigny (pronounced Der-big-ny) City was called the identical twin of the nation’s capital. It was the mirror of Washington, DC. From its government buildings to its neighborhoods, it was the most powerful city’s replica. The exact midpoint between New York and the District of Columbia made it a booming municipality and a hotbed for politicians. Its rich history and easy accessibility to downtown attractions and its warm hospitality became the delight of millions of tourists each year. The tax incentives for businesses made it a penchant for corporate headquarters and a pleasure for satellite offices. Its rapid growth and expansion were the talk around the globe.

But K Street was the shame of the flattering city. It was the place many officials ignored and wished would somehow disappear.

To say, K Street was tough, was an understatement. The air was dark as midnight during the daytime. The streetlights were on at twelve o’clock in the afternoon. The murky clouds of oppression loomed over the area as K Street citizens awakened to approach their day. Old, wasted food and used, plastic, grocery bags left by the garbage crews littered the street and sidewalks. Blocks and blocks of unkempt single-family homes, apartments and row homes and old, government-funded townhouses populated the twelve-block ghetto.

Grade-school dropouts and daytime, drug dealers were its primary residents. Gas station attendants talked to their patrons through windows. Its local restaurants and beauty supply stores had security bars protecting their windows and doors against the impulsive and desperate.

Gunfire was a constant as children slept on the floor away from the windows. Parents and children alike learned to sleep through the sound of sirens that filled the air throughout the night. It was said that a six-year-old on K Street saw more drugs and dead bodies in one month than most people had seen in a lifetime. It was a war zone to say the least, an avenue of people taking justice and fairness in their own hands.

K street was the road where many dreams died. It was a far cry from the booming thoroughfare well-known for its prominent, African American residents it had been for decades, years prior. The overpopulation of stolen, burned, and abandoned cars that lined the streets were a depiction of a once-thriving people’s inability to escape. Modern-day segregation and inner-race discrimination distanced the city’s most influential and wealthy citizens by merely several blocks away. And K Street became a haven for the poor whose daily ambitions were making a quick dollar, plotting conniving schemes and creating convincing excuses for broken promises.

K Street was a hard place to survive. With a life expectancy of twenty-three years old for its young men, Micah had already lived eleven years of his life there. K Street was the only place he knew, yet it was the place that was the birth of all his miseries.

Micah was tenacious and resilient, but he fought hard against the strong external pressures that made him an outsider each day he existed. Temptations hunted him but could not prevail against him. The fate of his peers pursued him but could not conquer him. After becoming an orphan overnight, Micah’s life was wedged further in desolation. His abandonment represented both his: misery of being stuck and his hope of one day escaping K Street. But Micah had one ambition: to never become like his older brother, Derrion and stepdad, Silas. 

After four years of being parentless, another tragic experience of his life led him to someone who would not only help him survive K Street but also overcome it.

1 MICAH

MICAH WAS MORE OF A victim of K street than a resident of it. He was truly a diamond in the rough. He was a self-determined, eleven-year-old, who huddled with his mom, Terri, his stepdad, Silas, and his older brother, Derrion in a one-bedroom apartment in Hilldale Heights, the most violent and drug invested section of K Street. 

Micah was usually at home by himself because Terri worked two jobs as a Certified Nurse’s Aide at DeSilver Infirmary during the daytime and at Precious Memories Adult Living Center, at night. Silas worked at a mechanic shop during the day and ran the streets with Derrion at night. While Micah was home alone, he spent his time cooking and cleaning for his mom, so she could rest the three hours a day he saw her.

Struggling alone was the norm for Micah, but he mastered it without knowing it. Over and over, Micah constantly witnessed how the fast life messed up so many of his friends, so he chose to do something different: go to school and finish. But it was at school, he was made to feel his fight to be different was pointless.

It was Micah’s second morning of being at home alone with no electricity, no food, and no water, and Micah’s survival skills had to kick in. Silas had spent all the money Terri left to pay the electric and water bills on the down payment of a used car he bought for his oldest son, Lenny. The water was turned off on Monday, and the lights were disconnected on Tuesday. After an argument with Terri the first night the lights were disconnected, Silas took Derrion with him to stay with Silas’ mom. He informed Terri that he wasn’t coming back until the lights were back on. Terri worked double shifts at both her jobs to make extra money to pay bills and to afford public transportation. Micah was left to fend for himself.

Micah was dutiful under the circumstances. Their lights and water had been disconnected a few times before and Micah learned to survive it. On the way home from school, he effortlessly picked up four, plastic, empty, smashed, water bottles off the street and rinsed and filled them with the water from the leaking, rusty fire hydrant in front of his courtyard. He walked inside the house, dragged a kitchen chair to the refrigerator and stood on it, so he could grab the three little, vanilla, votive candles that were in the small cabinets above the refrigerator. Micah placed the candles in the middle of the fractured, glass, sofa table until dusk, then he used Derrion’s matches to light them at night. He picked up extra fruit and milk during breakfast and lunch at school to have something to eat at night. Before he went to sleep, he blew out the light from the candles and used the little, red and green, flashing light from the battery-operated smoke detector to find his way to the bathroom.

It was seven forty-five, one windy, fall, Wednesday morning, and Micah had overslept. He needed to rush to get to school before breakfast ended. Micah got fully dressed in five minutes. He used the water from one of the water bottles to wash his face, under arms and brush his teeth. Then he sprinted the seventh of a mile trip to Martin Luther King Jr Elementary and Middle School.

On the way, Micah’s friend Marquan stopped him and teased him for still going to school in his short-sleeved, green, uniform shirt and tan, khaki pants covered in days old, filth and sweat. But Micah ignored him and raced the rest of the way through the thirteen-foot, wired, silver gate of the school. Before he could reach the doorknob, the school bell rang. Micah bent over and sighed in anguish. He missed breakfast, and he was forced to go to class hungry.

Micah was the only student who had completed and turned in his homework on time in his homeroom class as usual, so Mr. Rexlew, his teacher let him take the class attendance sheet to the front office.

Micah walked into the front office to deliver the attendance sheet. As he stood at the reception counter, one of the fifth-grade teachers, Mrs. Cast snobbishly looked at him, looked away then loudly stated, Ew! Something stank! ... Somebody is making my stomach upset.

She looked over at the front office secretary, Ms. Bunk, and said loud enough for Micah to hear, It’s a shame some people don’t realize they stank, she exclaimed as she shook her head in disbelief. I don’t know what kinda parents some of these children have anyway. They let them walk out of the house looking like dogs and smelling like wild monkeys!!!

As Mrs. Cast insistently rambled-on with no regard to Micah’s feelings, Ms. Bunk sat in her black, office chair with her elbows on her white desk and her left, pointer finger placed underneath her nostrils shaking her head in agreeance with Mrs. Cast’s rude statement.

Mrs. Cast continued, It’s too early in the morning for people to be smelling like that! Why my stomach gotta hurt because people don’t want to take care of their children? she asked as she dramatically held her stomach.

Just then Miss Gwen Bell, a provisional counselor overheard the teacher fussing. She peeped her head out the door of the counselor’s office to investigate while tending to a phone call. When she saw a student standing at the reception counter approximately five feet away from Mrs. Cast and Ms. Bunk, she could not end her phone call fast enough.

When Mrs. Cast looked up and saw Miss Bell in the office, she gestured for Ms. Bunk to join her in the teacher’s lounge that was accessible through the solid, blue door in the front office. Ms. Bunk joined her, and they continued discussing Micah’s poor state.

Micah, who was usually hardy appeared visibly broken. Although he did not cry, it was evident to Miss Bell that Micah was going through a lot. Micah dropped his head. He looked up briefly to deliver the brown, inter-office, mail envelope that Mr. Rexlew asked him to take to the office, then Micah dolefully left the office.

By the time Miss Bell finished her call, Micah had already left. She hurriedly ran out of the office through the lounge to meet Micah. Rather than stop to scold Mrs. Cast and Ms. Bunk, she exited the lounge door that would quickly get her to Micah in the hall.

Micah walked down the wide and brightly lit, main hallway feeling dejected.

Micah was merely steps away from taking a left down the next hall and walking out the school doors for good when he heard a loud, alto voice shouting in the hall.

Young Man!!!! Young Man!!!! Excuse me, Young Man! she yelled.

Micah was startled by the shouting, but he did not think she was talking to him. So, he kept walking.

As Micah turned left, Miss Bell shouted even louder and more forceful, EXCUSE ME, PRECIOUS! Miss Bell ran faster towards him.

Micah could see from the corner of his eye, a tall, dark brown and very slender, young lady, with her natural hair brushed into one huge, afro puff, running towards him with a bright smile on her face. He halted.

Micah pointed towards himself. Me? he mouthed confusingly.

Miss Bell huffed and puffed as she tried to catch her breath. Fully recognizing him, Miss Bell answered, Yes! She slowly walked the rest of the way to him. Aren’t you the young man who just delivered the attendance envelope?

Yeah, Micah stated as he nodded his head quickly.

Miss Bell stooped down to Micah’s height and said, Well, thank you for delivering it.

Miss Bell reached in the pocket of her white, lab coat and handed him a fun-size pack of fruit snacks. I want to commend you on how well you behaved in the office, she lauded.

Micah partially leapt. His face lit up. YEAH! he shouted gratefully.

Who is your teacher? she asked.

Micah ripped the fruit snack package opened and devoured it like it was a full course meal. Mr. Rexlew, Micah replied with four pieces of candy in his mouth.

Well, I must tell Mr. Rexlew how well you did today, Miss Bell bragged. I’m certain he’d want to hear it, she said as she narrowed her eyes and blushed proudly at him.

Micah gushed back at her.

What’s your name? Miss Bell queried.

Micah J. Tate, he replied.

Okay, Mr. Tate, meet me in the cafeteria tomorrow during breakfast, and I’ll have another special treat for you. But you gotta be here to meet me, Miss Bell inflected.

Miss Bell looked at her watch and saw that it was close to bell time. She partially stood up and whispered, Also, I notice you have a little stain on your collar. She pointed gently. If you have other clothes with a little stain on them, you can bring them with you tomorrow, and I’ll see if I can get them all washed out for you, she told him.

Micah tilted his head back and tapped the fruit, snack package to pour the rest of the candies in his mouth. Okay, he beamed and quickly nodded.

Miss Bell extended her hand to shake Micah’s, Okay Deal! she said. I’ll call your mother tonight and let her know.

Micah shook Miss Bell’s hand and nodded in agreement.

Miss Bell stood up and smiled at Micah as he walked back down the main hallway.

Micah had completely forgotten about dropping out of school. He skipped up the main hallway back to class with both hands in the air.

Micah went directly home after school and could barely sleep that night. As promised, Miss Bell attempted to reach Terri, but the phone numbers on file were disconnected.

On the next day, Micah arrived at school early for breakfast. He had two, white, plastic, grocery bags full of dirty clothes in his hand with him. Micah was the first one in line, so he hurried through the breakfast line to grab the easiest item on the food bar to eat, the prepackaged, ‘Heroes’ round, fruit-flavored cereal and a one-pint carton of skim milk.

Micah sat down to eat in a seat at the table closest to the hall door looking up every three seconds between spoonsful to see Miss Bell when she arrived. He finished his last spoonful, when he saw Miss Bell in an orange and sky-blue, floral print dress. He hopped out of his chair, grabbed his cereal bowl, empty milk carton, spoon and bags then dropped his trash in the trashcan nearest to the door.

Micah galloped to the door, wiping the milk that dripped from his face. He hurriedly showed Miss Bell that he had brought his clothes and looked forward to his reward.

Miss Bell saw Micah and smiled. Good morning, Mr. Tate. I see you have a package for me.

Micah’s big, brown eyes shined brightly. Yeah, he said as he nodded his head.

Okay great job! she affirmed. Well, follow me, she instructed.

Micah and Miss Bell exited the cafeteria. They walked down the main hall to the right and took another right then entered a special classroom that had a washing machine and dryer, and a bigger bathroom than all the other bathrooms in the school.

Miss Bell picked up two, shopping bags she had brought to the classroom earlier. She handed them to Micah and said, Let’s switch.

Micah handed over his dirty clothes while Miss Bell handed him two, shopping bags filled with a bar of green soap, deodorant, toothpaste, toothbrush, a towel, a large tooth comb, a hair brush, a new pair of khaki pants, a new pair of black jeans, and two, new green polo shirts.

Micah placed one hand over his eyes in astonishment then rushed and gave Miss Bell a partial hug. Miss Bell hugged him back.

Now, go... go, Miss Bell gestured. The school bell will ring in ten minutes. Go in that bathroom over there, quickly wash up, change your clothes, and bring the clothes you’re wearing back to me, she instructed.

Seven minutes later, Micah picked up his dirty clothes off the floor and ran out of the bathroom wearing his new, khaki pants and one of his new, green, polo shirts. He quickly placed the clothes he wore to school on top of the washing machine then ran back to the bathroom to grab his toiletries and to turn off the bathroom light.

Micah exited the bathroom slowly rubbing his shirt. He was smelling like fresh soap and deodorant. He pulled the comb out of the shopping bags and walked towards Miss Bell combing his hair backwards. Micah had not had a haircut in several months, so his hair was thick and difficult to comb.

Miss Bell was returning the washing powder to the utility cart when she heard Micah’s footsteps and turned towards him. Ah, you’re back! She stooped down slightly in front of him and whispered, I’m no hair expert, but it looks like your hair should be combed out like this. Miss Bell demonstrated upward then downward combing in the air. 

Micah began combing his hair upward.

Good... now, pat it down, she illustrated.

Micah patted his hair down.

Okay, Mr. Tate. Now that your hair looks great, step over here, she signaled.

Micah took a large step next to Miss Bell standing only inches away from her.

Miss Bell lifted the lid of the washing machine and placed Micah’s worn, green, uniform shirt in the washing machine. Look, Miss Bell guided. I’ve placed your dark, colorful clothes in the washing machine. I lifted this tab right here and put the washing powder in it. Then I clicked this knob, Miss Bell demonstrated. This is called washing your dark, colored clothes. Because all the clothes in here are dark. See? she taught him.

Micah attentively watched along.

Miss Bell pointed at the other bag sitting on the top of the dryer. After this load is done washing, I’ll wash your white clothes with all your light-colored clothes. Each load will only take about forty-five minutes to wash. You’ll be in class when they’ve finished washing and drying, but just know I’ll take good care of all of your clothes for you, she smiled and assured.

Micah looked at Miss Bell and smiled.

Miss Bell informed. I leave at two o’clock today, and your regular school counselor, Ms. Jackson returns to school tomorrow. Meet me in the counselor’s office at one fifty this afternoon, and I’ll get everything to you, she advised.

Okay, Micah said as he pointed two thumbs up.

Micah ran to class happy and clean.

One fifty in the afternoon came. Micah was in his gym class playing volleyball and lost track of time. By the time he received permission to go to the office, it was two ten in the afternoon. He raced to the front office. The lights in Miss Bell’s office were turned off, and the door was closed and locked. He asked all around for Miss Bell, but Miss Bell had already left.

Micah walked back to Miss Bell’s door and placed his hand on his forehead in despair. With a deep frown on his face, he bent over and held his chest as he tried to catch his breath from running so quickly to the office. He stood up and despairingly turned away from her office. On his way from the counselor’s office, he saw a note that read in bold letters, MICAH TATE on two, brand new, black bookbags sitting at the end of the front desk.

These bags for me? Micah perked up and anxiously asked Ms. Bunk to confirm.

Ms. Bunk smiled and said sarcastically in a cheerful tone, Yes, if you are Micah Tate.

Micah covered his mouth that had flown wide opened. He had never had anything new of his own. He always had Derrion’s hand-me-downs. Micah placed one bag on each shoulder and ran back to gym class.

When Micah got back to gym class, he looked through the bags minutes before the school bell rang to dismiss. Within each bag were his dark clothes and white clothes separated and neatly folded. And in the front pocket of each book bag were his toiletries he used early that morning before school started and three fun-size packs of fruit snacks that he reserved for dinnertime that evening.

Miss Bell never returned to Micah’s school, but she planted those small, seeds of goodness in him that grew with him. It was the only act of kindness Micah had received in his young life but that was all that was needed to make a difference in it for a long while.

Eventually, Micah managed to somehow live fifteen years on K Street without getting into any trouble. However, one fateful day, nearly four and a half years later, Micah’s life changed forever, and he found himself locked away in a juvenile detention center. Despite his efforts to be different, he was trapped and desperately needed another Miss Bell to save him.

Six months after being taken, redemption came.

2 MR. PFEIFFER

MEET ME AT LUNCH TODAY. I want you to hear something, the deep male voice demanded over the phone before the call abruptly ended.

It was fifty-two degrees outside on the late-May morning, in Derbigny City when Mr. Pfeiffer’s house phone rang. On the other end was Judge Alonzo Wright, a close, personal friend and former colleague of Mr. Pfeiffer. Judge Wright demanded a meeting with Mr. Pfeiffer. Before Mr. Pfeiffer could refuse, Judge Wright hung up the phone.

Mr. Pfeiffer, a tough, no-nonsense guy begrudgingly slammed down his old, house phone. He got up and got dressed in his black slacks and white, collar shirt then met Judge Wright at the café on the basement level of the courthouse for lunch.

By the time Mr. Pfeiffer arrived, Judge Wright had nearly finished his turkey club sandwich with a side salad.

Have a seat, Judge Wright demanded as he picked up his hat out the seat in front of him.

Mr. Pfeiffer sat down and placed his gray hat on his own lap.

Mr. Rudolph Pfeiffer was a seventy-seven-year-old pillar of his community. He wore a stern face and carried a deep, reverberating bass voice, which misled many into believing he was unapproachable. But anyone who knew him, cherished him. He was modest and humble and an excellent builder of character. The success of his multi-million-dollar company, Theatin, made him very wealthy, although he never discussed nor displayed his wealth.

Mr. Pfeiffer had many joys, but his wife of over five decades, Aria was his only passion. Despite all he owned, he lamented that he could not buy more moments with her. Before her sudden passing, Mr. Pfeiffer was in great, physical shape because he and his wife jogged when they were together and ate healthy meals that she prepared for him every day he was home. Months after her death, Mr. Pfeiffer suffered a mild stroke that left him with a slight limp in his right leg. His primary diet became hot, lemon water with wheat toast.  His bedroom is where he preferred to spend all his time when he could.

Mr. Pfeiffer was not one to tolerate disrespect, but the one quality he appreciated in each of his friends was their honesty when they needed to tell him the truth. He was never lost in how the truth was delivered. Whenever they spoke the truth, he respected it.

Judge Wright placed his elbow on the table and directed his crossed fingers towards Mr. Pfeiffer. Now, look here, Rudy. I know you miss Aria. But you dun got old and grouchy, and I’m about to do something about it! He sat up tall and demanded.

Judge Wright bounced his pointer finger at Mr. Pfeiffer. Now, I’m the most easy-going among the four of us and even I dun got tired of your moping around, he acknowledged.  Now, I told you that you have too much to offer, and I’m not gon’ let you waste your life! Judge Wright said emphatically.

Mr. Pfeiffer held down his head and listened. He knew he needed to snap out of his grief, but he simply did not know how to snap out of it. Judge Wright had lost his wife suddenly six years prior to Mrs. Pfeiffer’s death. But Mr. Pfeiffer did not know if Judge Wright understood what it was like for a part of his very being to be buried in the grave with her.

Although Mr. Pfeiffer deeply grieved, he desperately wanted to breathe again. So, he didn’t protest.

Before Mr. Pfeiffer could place an order for his hot, lemon water, Judge Wright swallowed the last bite of his turkey club sandwich. Let’s go, Judge Wright commanded very sternly.

Mr. Pfeiffer slowly grabbed his hat and stood up. While inside the cafe, it was obvious Mr. Pfeiffer did not want to be anywhere but home, but once he walked outside the doorway of the cafe, he stood upright and self-possessed as if he had overcome all his troubles. 

Both men walked towards the elevator to the third floor of the courthouse. They were proud men who owned their steps. They presented themselves like two, strong men in their thirties and not in their late seventies.

Follow me, Rudy, said Judge Wright.

Judge Wright opened the door to the back of the courtroom as Mr. Pfeiffer followed him. I want you to listen to a juvenile case I have in thirty minutes. If you like this young fellow, you gon’ take him! Judge Wright mandated.

I have reviewed every piece of his file, and he doesn’t belong here, and you don’t need to be at home sulking, Judge Wright said as he pointed his finger in Mr. Pfeiffer’s chest. Now, I know you have a lot to offer this young man. So, the two of you are going to help each other! Judge Wright concluded.

Although he appeared disinterested, Mr. Pfeiffer heeded attentively to the concern in Judge Wright’s voice. Mr. Pfeiffer sat in the back of the courtroom and heard Micah’s case. At the end, Mr. Pfeiffer briefly locked eyes with Judge Wright then dropped his head signifying his agreement with Judge Wright’s observation.

Nearly an hour later, Micah’s lawyer and social worker escorted Micah to meet Mr. Pfeiffer. Mr. Pfeiffer did a double take. He could not perceive by Micah’s stature that he was fifteen years old. He was five foot two and severely malnourished. He was ungroomed and looked like he weighed less than eighty pounds.

Micah had been in custody for six months and became property of the state after no one claimed him. But Mr. Pfeiffer agreed to receive him. The social worker introduced Mr. Pfeiffer and Micah while the female lawyer with a Jamaican accent spoke directly with Mr. Pfeiffer.

Mr. and Mrs. Pfeiffer had been foster parents before, so Mr. Pfeiffer was fully aware of the process. They had no biological children, so Mr. Pfeiffer did not know how to form a father-son relationship with Micah, but he was about to be tested.

Both he and Micah exited the courthouse treading unfamiliar territory.

3 A NEW HOME

IT WAS SHORTLY AFTER three o’clock in the afternoon, and Micah locked step with Mr. Pfeiffer as they walked out the courthouse to the car. Mr. Pfeiffer took long, hard blinks as he walked straight ahead. He struggled to grasp that the person walking beside him was also walking with him.

Both said few words.

When they arrived at the car, Mr. Pfeiffer unlocked the car door with his key fob. Micah timidly sat in the passenger seat and leaned back with his head barely touching the tip of the head rest. Mrs. Aria Pfeiffer had been deceased for two years, so to have someone sitting in the passenger seat where only Mrs. Pfeiffer sat was awkward for Mr. Pfeiffer.

With the air conditioning blasting and inspirational, jazz music playing softly, Mr. Pfeiffer drove his black, full-size luxury car twenty-seven miles per hour through the downtown streets. The late afternoon bustled with busy cars and sidewalk vendors. Rude drivers honked their horns at Mr. Pfeiffer in frustration as they maneuvered their vehicles around his slow-moving automobile. Mr. Pfeiffer made a fifteen-minute drive home, one hour and forty-five minutes as he took the back roads and scenic routes home to observe the sights.

Micah bopped his head slightly to the jazz sounds. He appreciated the slow drive that allowed him to see a community that was only blocks away from where he grew up, but he had never seen. Micah gazed outside the passenger window like a tourist on a tour bus. When Mr. Pfeiffer finally reached the neighborhood, it appeared Mr. Pfeiffer drove even slower as he viewed all the surroundings. From the dog out for a walk, to the mail carrier delivering mail, and the residents entering the corner store he watched as if he had not seen his neighborhood in a very, long while.

Mr. Pfeiffer finally pulled in the driveway of his one-story, sky-blue house built in the nineteen fifties, with a black, cast-iron fence fully surrounding its spacious and well-manicured, dark, green lawn. A glass and gold screen door to a mother-in-law suite could be seen from the street as they pulled up towards the left side-back of the house. Neither liked to talk, so the four quiet minutes they sat in the car before getting out and walking to the front door were awkward.

When Mr. Pfeiffer finally opened the front door, Micah’s mouth flew open with it. The outside of the home was traditional, but the inside of the home was uncharacteristically modern and more spacious than it appeared from the driveway. Micah stood in the living room for ten minutes with his two, very tattered, black bookbags hanging on each shoulder. Mr. Pfeiffer mumbled some inaudible words then left Micah standing in one spot mesmerized.

Although the entire house was decorated like a hotel in a magazine with a lot of live plants, wall portraits, and decorative pillows, it appeared no one lived in it. The gorgeous, black and white, velvet sofa and love seat and burgundy accent chair that sat in the center of the living room looked like no one had ever sat on it. The desk in the corner of the open and spacious living room and the sixty-four-inch television mounted on the wall looked untouched. The open spaced kitchen with the seemingly endless, black, marble countertops and white cabinets to the left of him looked like no one had ever stepped in it.  

The sound of the fragrance outlet devices plugged in the walls buzzed throughout the house as they filled the air with the smell of fresh, winter pinecones.

Micah had never seen so much beauty in one place in his entire life. Everywhere Micah looked he saw something beautiful.

When Mr. Pfeiffer returned to the living room, Micah was still staring and standing where Mr. Pfeiffer left him. For the next few hours, Mr. Pfeiffer did not speak a word to Micah, not even a hello or his name. Whenever he needed to communicate, he just pointed.

Mr. Pfeiffer eventually walked Micah to the bedrooms that were to the right of the living room. He pointed straight ahead to the bathroom at the end of the hall.  Then he led Micah to the room with a queen-sized bed with blue and pink, floral linen, a dresser and a sewing machine that looked like a desk with an eight by ten picture of Mrs. Pfeiffer hanging over it. Mr. Pfeiffer pointed inside the room directing Micah to go in but would not even inasmuch as glance in it. Mr. Pfeiffer went into his own bedroom, which was positioned directly across from Micah’s room. He slammed his door, locked it, then stayed there for another two hours.

Micah sat on the edge of the bed then suddenly felt uncomfortable in a comfortable house. He had never had his own room and never a real bed. The house was eerily quiet. Micah unnervingly put his few belongings in the room and rushed back to the living room. 

Later that evening when Mr. Pfeiffer got up, Micah was sitting in the living room on the sofa watching television. Mr. Pfeiffer went into the bathroom, groomed himself then walked into the kitchen to grab some hot, lemon water.

Mr. Pfeiffer walked out of the kitchen, stopped in the living room, and looked at Micah very subdued.

Young man, I’m gon’ get straight to the point, Mr. Pfeiffer said lowly with phlegm in his throat. I have two rules for you. Don’t lie to me, and don’t steal from me... I can’t trust a liar, and I can’t trust a thief. Now, I know you’re fifteen years old. I know you dun had some troubles, and I know you gon’ make some mistakes. I can respect an honest mistake, but I ain’t never respected a liar or a thief; I don’t care what kinda collar he’s wearing.  Just be honest, Young Man, Mr. Pfeiffer said as he cleared his gruffy voice.

Mr. Pfeiffer looked towards his bedroom then looked at Micah and cleared his throat. Have you been in the kitchen yet? he asked.

No, Micah responded.

Huh, Mr. Pfeiffer sighed. He worriedly looked at Micah’s frail body and mumbled in a low tone, Now, you don’t have to starve. There is food in the kitchen. If you’re hungry, eat. Mr. Pfeiffer pointed in the opposite direction of the kitchen. The bathroom is to the right down the hall. You don’t have to waste away in here. Just wash your hands and clean up behind yourself each time is all I ask, he guided.

You got any questions for me? Mr. Pfeiffer asked.

No, Micah responded submissively.

Huuuuh, Mr. Pfeiffer took a deep breath and expelled a long, deep exhale, then he dispassionately corrected Micah. Young Man, when responding to me or anyone else in any generation older than yours, it’s yes Sir, no Sir, yes Ma’am, no Ma’am, Mr. or Mrs. Do you understand?" he guided.

Yes Sir, Micah responded timidly.

Good, Mr. Pfeiffer said. Mr. Pfeiffer slowly walked out the living room back into his bedroom, locked the door and stayed in there the rest of the night.

Micah could not make himself go back into the bedroom that night not to even get a blanket, so he finally fell asleep on the sofa after midnight with his arms folded in his shirt to stay warm.  Afterwards, he slept in the living room on the sofa because he needed the noise from the television to sleep; and there was only one television in the entire house.

Mr. Pfeiffer stayed in his room nearly twenty-three hours a day. Most days, he would trudge from his bedroom to the kitchen, back to his bedroom like a robot with a mug in his hand. He would not see even Micah, nor inasmuch as look in the direction of the sofa or television.

During the first four weeks, Micah and Mr. Pfeiffer had very little interaction. The loneliness felt familiar for Micah though the house looked nothing like home.

4 THE MELTING

NEARLY TWO MONTHS HAD passed, and Mr. Pfeiffer desperately desired to get out of his zombie routine. So, he gradually sat in the living room with Micah more hours out the day. He mainly read his newspaper, or a book, or if he watched television, he only watched the Earth and Worlds Channel.

During the first week of Mr. Pfeiffer spending more hours with Micah, he appeared unwaveringly ruthless to Micah. Micah felt he could not catch a break. By the end of the week, Micah began to question if Mr. Pfeiffer’s home was the right place for him because Micah did not think anything he did was good enough for Mr. Pfeiffer. Even if he made the smallest slip-up, it seemed Mr. Pfeiffer was on his heels to correct him.

It was Saturday night, and Micah had a bad attitude with Mr. Pfeiffer for always saying something to him. Micah was reclined on the sofa flipping through a magazine while Mr. Pfeiffer sat in the accent chair across from him reading the Derbigny City Post newspaper. Micah appeared to be in deep thought.

Mr. Pfeiffer mumbled in a very, low tone, Young Man, would you like something to eat?

Micah turned up his lips and responded, Yes, Sir, though Mr. Pfeiffer neither saw him nor heard him.

Mr. Pfeiffer cleared his throat and asked Micah again a little louder. Young Man, would you like something to eat?

Micah dropped his magazine and replied louder in an insolent tone, I said, yeah!!!

Within seconds, Mr. Pfeiffer swiftly placed his newspaper on the sofa table and exclaimed in his deep, reverberating voice, Aye Young Man!

Micah jumped and sat up straight stiff as a board with his heart palpitating.

Mr. Pfeiffer quickly leaned forward with his arms resting on the armrests and looked at Micah with a stern look on his face. Usually, Mr. Pfeiffer mumbled when speaking with Micah, but his clear, commanding tone in that moment let Micah know there would be no room for negotiations. Mr. Pfeiffer’s voice rolled like thunder.

In this house, respect is not an option; it’s the standard, Mr. Pfeiffer bellowed as the plant on the sofa table in front of Micah vibrated fervidly.  He leaned forward and listed: You will respect me... You will watch your tone... You will watch your attitude... And you will follow the rules.

The walls in the living room shook as Mr. Pfeiffer spoke. Now, you gon’ check yourself, and you gon’ do it quickly, ‘cause disrespectin’ the person who’s feedin’ you, ain’t wise!!!

Mr. Pfeiffer picked up his newspaper, opened it and leaned back.

Micah relaxed his shoulder and let out a deep sigh as he subtly held his chest.

Seconds later, Mr. Pfeiffer folded his newspaper and swiftly sat at the edge of his seat.

Micah instantly sat up straight again.

Mr. Pfeiffer pointed towards the front door and strongly emphasized, Now, any rudeness you may have picked up, you gon’ leave outside that door because this house wasn’t built to tolerate no disrespect. Mr. Pfeiffer’s voice resounded. Now, I’ve no doubt you’ve seen rough, but you ain’t ready to see tough. Do you understand what I’m saying? he asked Micah.

Yes, Sir, Micah replied nodding his head quickly.

Mr. Pfeiffer leaned back and calmed himself before speaking another word to Micah.

Micah sat on the edge of the sofa appearing very anxious.

Mr. Pfeiffer calmed completely then placed his elbow on the armrest. He looked at Micah and re-asked in a deep, humble tone, Young Man, would you like something to eat?

Yes, Sir, Micah replied humbly and loud enough for Mr. Pfeiffer to hear him.

Mr. Pfeiffer folded his newspaper and placed it on the end table then went into the kitchen and prepared Micah a tuna sandwich and fresh lemonade.

Whenever Mr. Pfeiffer addressed an issue, he said what he had to say, and it was over; he moved on from it. But Micah thought Mr. Pfeiffer going from calm to corrective to calm again was insane.

While Mr. Pfeiffer was in the kitchen, Micah mumbled to himself, Man, this man crazy! He mo’ crazier than Mr. Rashard wit da bad drugs who walk up ‘n down K Street spinnin’, laughin’ and talkin’ all loud to himself n’ stuff. Micah closed his eyes tightly and held his head back. I gotta get outta here! he whispered to himself.

Micah never wanted to hear Mr. Pfeiffer raise his voice again. The next few days, he was overly submissive. He said, Yes Sir, twice whenever Mr. Pfeiffer asked a question to ensure Mr. Pfeiffer heard him. He watched his tone and his attitude constantly.

The following two weeks, Mr. Pfeiffer came in the living room every morning and sat with Micah for three hours. But late one Friday, Mr. Pfeiffer coughed profusely all night and did not meet him on Saturday morning. So, Micah checked on him.

Micah knocked on Mr. Pfeiffer’s bedroom door.

TAP. TAP. TAP.

You Okay, Mr. Pfeiffer? He leaned his forehead close to the door and asked gently.

HACK! HACK! HACK! Mr. Pfeiffer coughed forcefully.

You, Okay? Micah was concerned and asked louder.

HACK! HACK! HACK! Mr. Pfeiffer continued to cough and could not respond.

Micah stepped away from the door and went into the kitchen to grab Mr. Pfeiffer some water. As he searched the cabinets to find a glass, he saw a small, black, plastic container, with an old, worn, three-by-five index card taped to the top of it that read ‘Aria’s Recipes."

Micah prepared the water but was too nervous to knock on the door again. So, he sat at the kitchen table. He got up, grabbed the black container, and nervously flipped through the recipe box filled with three-by-five index cards with different recipes.

Micah was amazed to see that Mrs. Pfeiffer had recipes for meals as simple as ‘The Perfect Butter and Jelly Toast’ to as complex as ‘Smoked and Tender Fillet Mignon, Smothered in Aria’s Delicate Bearnaise Sauce.’ At the end of each recipe read, ‘Made with love, Aria’ in cursive writing.

Micah smiled lightly just reading the recipes because it reminded him of the days his mom taught him how to cook before she met Silas. As he looked through the cards, he saw a recipe that read ‘Rudy’s Special Hot Lemon Water’ at the top of the card.

The instructions read: ‘In a small pot, bring six ounces of water to a boil. Pour hot water in an eight-ounce mug. Combine four tablespoons of raw, unfiltered honey and three and a half tablespoons of freshly, squeezed lemon juice to the water. Let stand for one minute. Stir gently for ten seconds. Then serve hot.’

Fa Reeeaaaal??? Micah whispered to himself awestruck. He was taken aback that Mrs. Pfeiffer had a recipe for hot water. Micah immediately stood up and searched through the cabinets to find where all the pots, pans and utensils were. Then he prepared the hot, lemon water for Mr. Pfeiffer.

Micah grabbed a saucer and nervously walked back to Mr. Pfeiffer’s room with the mug rattling on the small plate. He didn’t know if he would get in trouble if he knocked again. But he knocked anyway.

TAP. TAP. TAP. Micah knocked gently with his pointer finger knuckle.

TAP. TAP. TAP. Micah knocked again.

Mr. Pfeiffer finally whispered forcefully, Come in, Young Man.

Micah opened the room door and his eyes bucked wide open again. Micah took one step in, and his shoulders relaxed. The room was not as modern, but it was just as beautiful, spacious, and clean as the living room. Micah tiptoed to Mr. Pfeiffer’s side of the bed. He placed the hot, lemon water on a black, mug warmer that was on the nightstand next to the bed where Mr. Pfeiffer was resting. He turned on the mug warmer, then he tiptoed back out.

When Micah closed the door behind himself, it felt like he had just stepped off a cloud of feathers. He looked back and downward to confirm that the floor was the same. He suddenly understood why Mr. Pfeiffer preferred to spend so many hours in his bedroom.

Micah slowly returned to the kitchen mesmerized. He sat at the table and looked through all the recipes. The recipes were so thorough, it was as if Mrs. Pfeiffer literally left her voice in the kitchen. Though he never knew her sound, as he read each card, Micah could still hear Mrs. Pfeiffer teaching him how to prepare each meal. As Micah stood next to the stove and cooked, he finally felt at home.

Even though Mr. Pfeiffer didn’t really eat much, Mr. Pfeiffer kept the refrigerator stocked with food to ensure he could feed Micah. That morning, Micah prepared homemade lemon-lime pancakes, scrambled eggs with melted, mild, cheddar cheese and chicken, applewood bacon. When Micah had finished cooking, he cleaned the kitchen then went into his bedroom and ate with his bedroom door wide open. The clanking noise from Micah’s fork hitting his plate woke up Mr. Pfeiffer.

Mr. Pfeiffer got up and walked to Micah’s room with his hot, lemon water wearing his gray and burgundy robe over a white t-shirt and navy-blue pajama pants.

Thank you, Young Man, he said. I haven’t had my water like this in a long time. He cleared his throat. I feel better, he acknowledged.

Micah nervously looked at Mr. Pfeiffer and nodded his head.

Mr. Pfeiffer left Micah’s room and walked into the kitchen. Next to the washed, tea kettle on the stove was a plate covered with aluminum foil. Micah had used the dark, green marker in the kitchen to write the name: MR. PFEIFFER on a white index card.

Mr. Pfeiffer sat down and ate all his food, then he walked back to Micah’s room.  Micah was sitting on the bed swinging his legs while staring at the eight by ten picture of Mrs. Pfeiffer.

Mr. Pfeiffer wanted to say more about the food, but he mumbled out another thank you. Thank you, Young Man, he said. Mr. Pfeiffer saw Micah’s empty plate sitting on the bed next to Micah. Next time, we’ll eat in the kitchen, Mr. Pfeiffer said as he dropped his head.

Yes, Sir, Micah tensely replied.

Micah was surprised Mr. Pfeiffer was still standing in the doorway, so he made conversation.

This yo wife? Micah asked.

Mr. Pfeiffer didn’t bother looking at the picture. He just looked down and shook his head yes.

Yeah, that was my wife, he nodded and cleared his throat again. She passed away two years ago, Mr. Pfeiffer informed humbly.

Mr. Pfeiffer, she PRETTY! Micah said over-emphasizing the word. She even write pretty.

Mr. Pfeiffer never looked up, so he thought Micah was referring to one of Mrs. Pfeiffer’s short and sweet, love notes that she frequently left around the house for Mr. Pfeiffer to read.

Yeah, she was, Mr. Pfeiffer said as he stared at the floor. She was a beautiful lady inside and out. She made me beautiful, Mr. Pfeiffer said as he smiled lightly.

Mr. Pfeiffer looked up briefly and glanced at the picture. She never liked taking pictures though, Mr. Pfeiffer said as he dropped his head again. That one was taken three years ago when I surprised her with a new car that she never drove, he smiled. She was just never much into materialistic things... never was, he stated quickly then abruptly walked back to his room.

Micah didn’t know why Mr. Pfeiffer left suddenly, but he appreciated the nearly four minutes he talked to him. So, he asked brief questions about Mrs. Pfeiffer more often.

Instinctively, because most of the women Micah knew were away, but not gone forever, for the longest time, he always unconsciously referred to Mrs. Pfeiffer in present tense. Whenever he spoke about her, he’d say, She is beautiful. She likes nice things. She has expensive taste. She is talented.  Micah’s mind never processed Mrs. Pfeiffer’s absence as death because he never found out if his mom had died. 

Whenever Micah cooked Mrs. Pfeiffer recipes, he placed them back in the order she had them as if she would use them later. He cleaned the entire house as if she were coming home from work at some point; just like he did for his mom. He took care of his room, every piece of artwork, and every plant as if she were going to check them later.

The talk of Mrs. Pfeiffer in present tense is what Mr. Pfeiffer welcomed and needed. The more Micah regarded Mrs. Pfeiffer; the more Mr. Pfeiffer lightened up. Mr. Pfeiffer began to see Mrs. Pfeiffer as someone who once lived rather than someone who died.

The dense ice broke between the two of them, and over time it slowly began to melt. Mr. Pfeiffer was still isolated, and Micah was still closed and distant, but they were gradually warming up to each other. Micah sought to cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner whenever he had an opportunity; and Mr. Pfeiffer sat, talked and ate together in the kitchen with Micah.

Mr. Pfeiffer began sharing his wisdom with Micah. And Micah began to see just how deeply philosophical Mr. Pfeiffer was.

5 THE MEN’S BOOK CLUB

IT WAS THE THIRD SATURDAY in June, and Deacon Bernard Babineaux (pronounced Ba-bi-no), one of Mr. Pfeiffer’s close friends had invited Mr. Pfeiffer and Micah over for a Bar-B-Que dinner at his home. After Mrs. Pfeiffer died, Mr. Pfeiffer had not visited nor socialized much with anyone. But with Micah being present and helping, he was slowly resuming his duties as deacon and head of the executive board at church after a nearly two-year sabbatical. Deacon Babineaux served on the Deacon’s Board with Mr. Pfeiffer, so he had more access to him than others though their moments were few after Mrs. Pfeiffer’s demise.  Deacon Babineaux saw Mr. Pfeiffer at church and encouraged him to bring Micah around to socialize more during the summer. Mr. Pfeiffer agreed.

Let’s go, Young Man, Mr. Pfeiffer said as he walked in the living room.

Micah hopped off the sofa and ran to the front door to leave with Mr. Pfeiffer.

Micah confusedly looked at Mr. Pfeiffer dressed in a pink, dress shirt and gray slacks, and brown dress shoes. I thought you said we goin’ to a bar-b-que, he said.

Mr. Pfeiffer picked up his keys and grabbed the knob to open the front door. Yeah, we are, he answered.

Micah snickered and shook his head. You not dress’ like you goin’ to no bar-b-que.

Mr. Pfeiffer opened the door and Micah stepped out onto the stairs.

Mr. Pfeiffer stepped behind him and held the door partially open. Young Man, people dress the way they see themselves, he guided in his low tone. If they see themselves as a leader, then they dress like a leader; but if they see themselves as a hoodlum, they gon’ dress like a hoodlum.

Mr. Pfeiffer closed the door and searched for the house key on his ring of keys. I tell ya what, he mumbled as he ruffled through his keys. A man who walks into a bank wearing robber attire, will get looked at like a robber, and treated like a robber, even if he is making a deposit. If that man wants people to see him differently, then he gotta dress differently, Mr. Pfeiffer concluded.

Mr. Pfeiffer found the house key and prepared to lock the top deadbolt and bottom doorknob. Before Mr. Pfeiffer could lock the door, Micah abruptly stepped forward and squeezed in front of Mr. Pfeiffer. Excuse me, Mr. Pfeiffer, Micah said as he reopened the door.

Micah ran in his room and quickly took off the white t-shirt and blue jeans he was wearing and put on the orange, polo shirt and black slacks that Mr. Pfeiffer bought for him the weekend he first arrived.

Micah hurriedly ran back outside to the front gate where Mr. Pfeiffer was standing. Mr. Pfeiffer passed Micah the house key. Micah locked the top and bottom locks and quickly walked to the car with Mr. Pfeiffer.

Mr. Pfeiffer lightly smiled. You look nice, Young Man, he complimented.

Micah grinned proudly.

Mr. Pfeiffer said instructively, See, Young Man, the way you dress impacts the way you feel and how you act. If you dress like a wealthy man, you gon’ feel like a wealthy man, and you gon’ act like one. But if you dress like a slouch, you gon’ feel like a slouch, then you gon’ act like one.

Mr. Pfeiffer and Micah got in the car. Mr. Pfeiffer started the ignition and continued talking. From now on, each morning you wake up, I want you to brush your teeth, wash your face, shower, put on your deodorant, and get dressed for the day, Mr. Pfeiffer taught Micah.

Yes, Sir, Micah replied submissively.

From that day, the moment Micah’s feet touched the floor, he did as Mr. Pfeiffer instructed and got completely dressed even if all he had done was watched television and read books the entire day.

Mr. Pfeiffer drove to the Babineaux’s and parked in front of their burnt-orange, two-story house that had brown columns, and a wide, tan-colored front porch. A long-paved driveway sat to the left of it; and a great, big yard with a covered patio attached to it sat to the right side of it.  Mr. Pfeiffer and Micah got out the car and strolled up the walkway in the middle of the yard while Micah struggled to carry a ten-pound bag of ice.

Deacon Babineaux heard the car door close and walked out the front door to greet them. Oh! Y’all made it, huh! he shouted excitedly. Genie said y’all would come!!! he grinned.

Mrs. Babineaux heard Deacon Babineaux greet Mr. Pfeiffer and Micah, and she walked with her hands clapped together.

Well, look who came to bring light to our lives today, Mrs. Babineaux said proudly as she beamed at Micah.

Hi, Ms. Genie, Micah said with a deep grin on his face.

Deacon Babineaux pointed his thumb at Micah. See, what I told you; when that boy gets around Genie, he turns to mush, he said to Mr. Pfeiffer.

Mr. Pfeiffer and Deacon Babineaux looked at Micah and smiled. Micah could not remove the huge grin off his face despite their teasing.

The Babineauxs were a warm and loving couple. Deacon Babineaux was Mr. Pfeiffer’s oldest and longest friend. He was an educator and a leader of leaders who always maintained an even tone. Even when he had to be emphatic, he was mindful of what he said, and the way he said it. He was honest, but never hostile. Mrs. Genene Babineaux, Deacon Babineaux’s wife was a people magnet. She was warm and welcoming and never liked any type of contention. Although she was gentle, she’d escort anyone away from her home who threatened the peace in it. Mrs. Babineaux had a viewpoint that was unmatched. No matter what the occurrence, she had a gift of always presenting everything from a unique perspective.

Mrs. Babineaux pointed at the ice. You can place that right there on the porch. I’ll have Bernie Jr to grab it and put it in the cooler for you, she said to Micah.

Yes Ma’am, Micah said as he placed the ice against the porch.

Mrs. Babineaux asked, Would you like something to eat? Before Micah could respond, she looped her arm around his elbow and escorted him up the four, porch stairs and inside the house.

Micah entered the foyer and stared inside the large, great room. A pine, wood staircase that led to the four, upstairs bedrooms could be seen from the great room. It was his first time being inside their home, and his reaction was similar to seeing Mr. Pfeiffer’s house, but everything in the Babineaux’s home was traditional. Though the house was very, neat and clean, and everything had its assigned place, it was livelier. It felt like people lived there.

Mrs. Babineaux released her arm from around Micah’s elbow and interrupted his enthrallment. Now, we don’t want our shoes to do inside the house what they’re meant to do outside the house, so we’ll just take them off right here and place them on this rack, she said to him guiding him to remove his shoes.

Mrs. Babineaux and Micah walked through the great room into a hall that led to a bathroom, kitchen, the master bedroom, and a formal dining room.

The bathroom is to your left, she informed. Wash your hands and meet me in the kitchen right over there, she said. I’ll have your plate of food placed on the table by the time you’re ready.

Micah went into the bathroom to wash his hands then walked in the kitchen. Mrs. Babineaux was tidying her kitchen and humming a hymn in her second-soprano voice. Micah had never heard such beautiful sound, so he eased at the table where his plate of lobster, macaroni and cheese, bar-b-que, beef short ribs, glazed carrots, and crawfish bread and a glass of iced tea were placed. He picked up his fork and ate slower than usual, so he could hear Mrs. Babineaux hum song after song.

Micah took forty minutes to eat while Mrs. Babineaux tended to the kitchen.

The doorbell rang, but Mrs. Babineaux remained in the kitchen with Micah.

Dr. Eric P. Johnsom, Mr. Pfeiffer’s physician friend and his son, Tank had arrived and Deacon Babineaux and Bernie Jr, the Babineaux’s older son went to the front door to greet them. Mr. Pfeiffer sat on the patio listening to an audio book Bernie Jr had set up for him while he waited on them to return. On their way back, James, Mrs. Babineaux youngest brother was watching the football game, and the men got distracted when they saw their team preparing to score.

Suddenly, Mrs. Babineaux and Micah heard a loud sound of cheers and applause coming from the great room. YAY!!! the male voices cheered. TOUCHDOWN BABY!!!

Oh, it sounds like we have more guests, Mrs. Babineaux said as she wiped her apron. Maybe I should take you to meet them.

Mrs. Babineaux and Micah walked into the great room and saw that Dr. Johnsom, Deacon Babineaux, Tank, Bernie Jr, and James were sitting and