Beyond a Reasonable Doubt: The Journey of Sister LuellaSue Mayberry

By A. Haywood

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt: The Journey of Sister LuellaSue Mayberry What does your Christianity look like to you? Or to those outside your world? Is yours confined to within church walls, or is it lived outside of them? And if it is lived out, what does it look like? Beyond a Reasonable Doubt is a fictional multifaceted character-driven story that explores one woman's journey who was thrown into the raging currents of life, and her only dream was to become a Christian. Each of our lives has profound effects on those within our sphere of influence. As the world's view broadens its definition of Christianity, is she living her dream?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644169322

Book preview

Part 1

We Are Who We Were

Chapter 1

Just Another Day

Somewhere up north in Chicago, LuellaSue and her sister, Hattie, played tag in the backyard with the water spurting from the hose, running around playfully as girls do. It was 110 degrees outside. Although the house was only 850 square feet, the water cooler in the window was no match for the bolstering heat that had invaded its walls and was being held captive. It was as if the house had its own personality and refused to give up its warmth, to its inhabitant’s dismay. The girls were thrilled when their mother, Viola, told them to go outside and play. Water fights were a refreshing cool down from the heat. No one would ever know that they were safer outside than they ever were inside.

Fiona Larue lived three houses down from the girls. She and LuellaSue had become best friends. She, too, weary from the heat, had come down to join them. It was still hot as light gave way to the darkness. They all knew it was only a matter of time before their fun together would end. Viola hadn’t called yet, but they knew it was time to go in.

LuellaSue’s father was serving a life sentence in prison, and when he left, Viola’s life had fallen apart. She was an alcoholic, a mean filthy mouth drunk. Whoever said that having a baby does not make a woman a mother must have known Viola. Her daughters endured the brunt of her dissatisfaction with her life. She had no shyness with men, and when one was present, it was the only time that the house was not a battlefield. Hattie was the product of one of those occasions. Not sure which one.

Viola was always ready for a fight—one in which her perceived enemies, her children, LuellaSue, and Hattie could not fight back. Nor could they ever hope to win. When there was no man around, she couldn’t stand the sight of her children. She was only pleasant to them during the stay of whatever live-in boyfriend was there. Although Viola received monthly food stamps, her definition of dinner for the children meant adding wieners to the boxed macaroni and cheese or top ramen. With a man, her assaults upon them were softer, less persistent, as if that was possible. The family income qualified the children for school breakfast and lunches; therefore, their physical growth was not stunted due to her lack of care. She and the current boyfriend might even take one for ice cream, but never both together. She said that it cost too much.

LuellaSue often went to church with Fiona and her mother. Oh, how Luella admired the church women who would strut into church with their suits, hats, and matching shoes and handbags. How would they hold their heads so high. She knew the very air they breathed up there had to be life-giving. They looked like they didn’t have a care in the world. Luella knew she lived millions of miles from their world but promised herself when she got out of the mechanics of her life that daily churned out one misery after misery, she’d make it her life’s mission to breathe their air, walk their walk, and talk their talk.

Patrick Piney Brown was twelve years old when his father died. He had taken him fishing that day. Piney continued to struggle in his childlike ability to bait his hook, so he admiringly watched his father do it for him. He looked up into his father’s eyes and asked him, Do you think that I will ever be able to do that right?

His father simply replied encouragingly, Piney, stick with me, son, and you will learn to do this and a whole lot more, as he handed Piney the fishing pole. They sat quietly drinking in the rays of the sun that were splintered between the branches of the trees. Piney playfully played peekaboo with each ray all the while sipping on the red Kool-Aid and nibbling on the bologna sandwiches his mother had made for their outing.

Suddenly, the red-and-white floater began bobbing up and down. Although always expected, Piney was startled every time, as if being awakened, only to begin this tug of war between himself and his catch. After all, it was what they had been waiting for all day—a fish to be unexpectedly lured by the promise of food only to find itself suddenly struggling for its very survival. When the fish opened its mouth to satisfy its hunger, only then would it realize that what had enticed it to eat to maintain its life had also ensured its death.

Doing it right like his father was all that Piney wanted to do. He not only looked to his father for fishing tips but how to navigate the minefields of life. His father had mastered both in his son’s eyes and was an excellent example. He provided and protected, and Piney knew that he loved them. Mama didn’t work, but Daddy bought her a new car ever year. She had all the clothes she wanted, and the family had never gone without anything. Having everything he wanted was all that Piney knew, and he idolized his father. He was the best provider and protector a child, much less a male child, could hope for. Piney had heard someone say that a male child could never become a man unless he sees a man. For Piney and his brothers, their father was that man.

Piney began to tug on the line that was now secure in the mouth of that poor creature. The fish, panic stricken, struggled relentlessly to release itself from the snare all the while being pulled out of the water. Finally, when the hook, which had been concealed by the snack, was finally released did it realize that it was no longer in the water world that it knew as home; all the familiar smells were gone, the shoreline was gone, for now he was in a pail of water.

Bill, Piney’s father, was an itinerant preacher. He traveled from church to church to spread the good news of Jesus Christ. He was nice, polite, and giving. Everyone loved him. People would travel for miles to hear him preach. His sermons were profound and soul stirring. He had a charismatic personality, and the Word of God flowed like melted butter through his lips. He was not only loved by everyone but also trusted.

Piney doted on his father, watched every move he made, and listened to every word he said. For him, his father was the spiritual barometer for Christian behavior. He knew then that he wanted to be the kind of Christian that his father was—kind, loving, and tender toward all the family, even though he was gone a lot. He especially loved the way his father always played with his mother. The way he would sneak up behind her and plant a kiss on her neck when he thought that no one was around. She would always act surprised and giggle as she pushes him back. Piney knew she wasn’t. There was always a smile on her face as she continued doing whatever it was that she had been doing. It was just the way they were. Every night that his father was home, he tucked the children in bed and said their good night prayers with them.

While catching a few more fish, Piney and his father talked about politics, family life, and some of the dos and don’ts of manhood. After which, they went home. Home, opulent by some standards. Large white columns stood between to support the red roof and porch. Twelve large steps led up to the porch, which adorned the two stained-glass double oak doors. The porch was semienclosed by a four-foot picket fence. It wasn’t out of place, though. It looked like every other home with its individual quirks in this gated community.

Chapter 2

The Day Life Changed

It was on a Saturday afternoon. Mother went to the store and told the Piney and the children to play outside, and not disturb their father, who was taking a nap. They were at play outside when they heard a bloodcurdling scream. It was so loud and piercing that they couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Piney ran up the back stairs into the house, followed by his brothers and sister, only to find his mother on her knees with her face lying in Daddy’s lap, screaming and crying unintelligibly.

Daddy wasn’t moving, Mama was pounding on his chest, begging him to breathe. Then reality set in. Daddy was dead. Piney knew his world would change, only he didn’t realize how much. His barometer and heart portrait of what it meant to be a Christian, a father, a husband, and everything else he’d seen his father portray and all that he knew about his father would be forever altered, forever crumbled, broken into a million pieces with no hope of anything remotely recognizable of the man, the father he had come to know.

As she approached the gated community, the woman expected to have to have to fight her way in. However, when she arrived, the gate was open and unmanned. She drove erratically through the well-manicured neighborhood, every tree was trimmed, every lawn green, every flower bed had been tilled to keep any unwanted weeds from growing. Not a morsel of dirt out of place. Each home was at least three thousand square feet, she guessed, with two or three garage doors; some had boats parked alongside their Lexus, Navigators or Escalades. Who lived like this? It was clear that no one around here even emptied their own garbage or dusted a table. She envisioned maids with aprons serving tea to the misses of the house.

The article on the Internet included his picture. She knew as soon as she saw it. Although the name was not the same, it was him even after all these years. Below was the name and the address for condolences.

About two weeks after his father’s death, Piney came home from school, and a lady was in the kitchen with his mother. They were crying and yelling. There were three children, strangers, sitting on the couch in the living room. Piney struggled to understand the verbal mayhem but couldn’t. He thought that he heard the lady say that his father was not only her husband but the father of the strangers on the couch, her three children. They had been married for eight years; then he left.

Piney couldn’t believe his ears nor his eyes as he surveyed the child strangers sitting on the couch. Although older, they looked as lost and confused as he was. Spellbound in his tracks, he knew that he must have heard it wrong. His father had three outside children and another wife? No, that couldn’t be. His father was a good God-fearing man, a preacher who loved his mother and family. Another woman, another family? No, this couldn’t be. Piney sat down on the chair across the room from the others, staring inquisitively between them but never speaking. The oldest one vaguely resembled his younger brother, but that had to just be coincidental.

Piney just knew that what he thought he had heard wasn’t right. He remembered how his father criticized those womanizers, as he would call them—men who shunned their responsibility to their families and chased after other women. Shameful and adulteress, hell bound through the church door. He couldn’t be one of them. He just couldn’t!

Piney surmised that this lady was probably one of the women his father had aided while on one of his trips, and she had taken a liking to him. Everyone always told Mama how handsome Daddy was and what a good man he was. How grateful she should be that he had married her. Mama would just smile. Yep, that woman would take her children and go back to wherever it was she came from. He just needed to wait. Mama would straighten her out.

Before the yelling in the kitchen could stop, there was a knock on the door. Piney rose to answer it, and standing there was Pastor Mike from one of the churches his father had preached at. He was visibly upset. May I come in? Although hesitant, Piney stepped back to allow him entrance. Pastor Mike heard the commotion from the kitchen. However, it did not deter him from heading in that direction.

Once the women realized his presence, they calmed down some. Pastor Mike addressed Mama first. Sister Brown, I am sorry for your loss, but I was wondering if you know with whom Reverend Bill invested our money?

Invested your money? What money? I don’t know what you are talking about, she responded still upset and now even more confused.

Pastor Mike started out slowly but deliberately, "Reverend Bill said that he had met a man who had promised an eighteen-percent rate of return on investments. Can you imagine our excitement? This kind of information is usually left on Wall Street, but now, thanks to your husband, it was within our grasp.

Reverend Bill had collected and invested several thousands of dollars from the small churches he visited over the years, and the churches had received earnings on past year’s investment. Generally, that money was just redeposited to maximize our returns. Although it sounded too good to be true, so is salvation through grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone. Reverend Bill explained there was no risk of us losing our money. We never had a name of the investor, and now that he’s gone, our money is tied up, and we need it. We are all small churches with very little means. Some of our members took out personal loans to meet the minimum deposit requirement. This was our opportunity to make a difference in the lives of our communities, provide after school tutoring, learning centers for the neighborhood children. You know, to show them that Christ can really make a difference. I hope you understand, Mrs. Brown, that I know, we know, that this is a very difficult time for you, but, again, please look at our side. We need our money. I’m sorry, Ma’am, he said, addressing the other woman, in the urgency of our situation, I didn’t introduce myself or get your name.

She simply rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, That no-good son of a bitch, and exited the kitchen. With her children in tow, she slammed the door as she left the house.

My husband never told me anything about his business dealing, Pastor Mike, Mama, leaning against the sink, said as she continued to cradle her head in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably.

I hate to burden you with this revelation, and I am actually surprised that Reverend Bill had never said anything to you about the good work he was doing for the Lord.

Continuing to sob, she said, Right now, I can’t help you. I just don’t know anything about my husband’s business. If you give me some time, I will look into it, and I promise I will get you the information you need so that whatever money is due you can be returned.

That will be good enough for now, but remember without this money, some of our churches will have to close their doors. Where then will the people go for the words of life? I’ll call on you again in a couple of weeks. You should know something by then. All Mama could do was escort him to the door as he reiterated his condolence. Mama closed and locked the door. Piney got the sense she was trying to shut out all the ugliness that had invaded her world and taken residence in her home.

A sigh of relief came over Piney’s face as his mother, although