Finding Our Way

By CaSandra McLaughlin and Michelle Lenear-Stimpson

How does a mother escape the stress of living with her grown children? 

Patrice Reed is retired, but between church life and home life with her two adult daughters and grandson, there is no time for her own life. That is, until she meets Theo Santoro, who makes her recognize that she's missing out on her best life.

 

A wanna-be reality TV star, Quida desires fame regardless of the cost. And motherhood is cramping her style.

Jade, a plus-sized millennial, struggles to find her place in the family and in the world.

Can Patrice and her daughters find their way to peace under one roof?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michelle Lenear-Stimpson
• Release date: May 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215660089

Book preview

ONE

patrice

Hello, Patrice, this is Mother Dawson from Mount Hebrew Church. How are you?

Patrice Reed grabbed the remote control from her coffee table and quickly pushed mute so Mother Dawson wouldn’t hear the bleep-bleep-bleep covering curse words from the stars of Get Him Back, Patrice’s new favorite reality television show. Watching this show every Tuesday evening was her one secret vice, and she needed to keep it under wraps so the folks at Mount Hebrew wouldn’t look at her sideways every Sunday.

Yes, Mother Dawson, I’m blessed and highly favored. And you? Patrice asked in a high-pitched, sing-song voice. Since Patrice retired two years earlier from her job as an insurance claims manager, word had gotten around church that she was free during the day.

I could complain, but I won’t, Mother Dawson answered in her own sugary sweet tone. I know it’s late notice, but I have a favor to ask of you.

Sure thing. Patrice sat up straight in her bed, as though she were suddenly the subject of a white-glove inspection. Did she sound cheerful enough? Willing enough? Anxiety wormed its way up Patrice’s spine because, in that moment, Patrice realized she hadn’t even heard Mother Dawson’s request, and she’d already agreed to do whatever her pastor’s mother asked.

First lady has to attend another engagement at Shiloh Baptist, and she’s taking the armor bearers with her. Would you mind assisting me for tomorrow night’s service, in case I need something?

It would be an honor, Patrice said, nodding as though Mother Dawson could see her through the phone. Do I need to be at church early? Patricia put Mother Dawson on speaker and scrolled to look at her phone’s calendar. She calculated the change in her schedule already. Wednesday night Bible study started at 7:30 p.m. Even if she had to get there a little early to help Mother Dawson, she could still make that ridiculous Yoga class her best friend, Letha, kept raving about at 5:00 p.m., get home by six, showered, dressed, and up to the church by 7:15. This shouldn’t be a problem.

Well, Mother Dawson paused, I actually need you to come to my house first. To help put the final touches on my outfit. And then take me to the sanctuary. And, of course, anything I need while I’m there. And bring me back home. That all right? She ended the request on a begging note, like she herself had just realized how much she was asking of Patrice.

Patrice looked around her room, her eyes landing at the shopping bag on top of her dresser. She had purchased a new, moisture-wicking shirt for her first yoga class with Letha. Truth be told, she hadn’t been looking forward to the class as much as she’d just been looking forward to spending time with Letha. But now she’d have to postpone. Again.

A banging came at her bedroom door, followed by Momma!

H–hold on, Mother Dawson. Patrice muted her phone to avoid embarrassment and rushed to the door. She swung it open and gave Quida a death-stare. What, Quida? I’m on the phone.

With who? her daughter demanded to know. Quida’s bushy, fake eyelashes swept down and then up again as she surveyed Patrice, the whole time wearing a condescending frown.

Really, Patrice should have been the one throwing an unapproving glance at Quida’s unseasonal, half-way-naked outfit. Like her mother, Quida was blessed with a shapely figure and buttery smooth light brown skin. But unlike Patrice, Quida believed in covering her body with tattoos rather than clothes.

I’m on the phone with Mother Dawson, Patrice responded to the unnecessary inquiry.

Quida smacked her lips and flashed her blinged out two-inch coffin nails. Really, Mom? Church folk calling the house again?

What do you want, Quida?

I have to go handle some business. I need you to watch BJ for a little while.

What else is new?

"And what if I have something of my own to do?" Patrice pushed back.

Quida rolled her eyes. We both know your calendar is as clear as a glass of water, Momma. We live in Nora, Texas. Home of the Frog History Museum.

"You don’t know what’s on my agenda. What if I do have something to do? Somewhere to go?"

Quida shrugged, bringing the curls of her Diana Ross throwback wig up to her chin. If you have somewhere to go, take BJ with you. Simple.

"Why can’t you—"

Hello? Patrice? You still there? Mother Dawson’s confused voice rang through the phone.

Quida wiggled her fingers. Toodles. Your duty calls. She twirled and headed down the hallway toward the front of the house.

Did you make dinner for him? Patrice hollered, already knowing the answer to that question.

Quida threw her answer over her shoulder on the way out the door. Just fix him a plate of whatever you eat.

Patrice closed her bedroom door and took a deep breath. Lord, help me. She unmuted the phone and switched her attention back to Mother Dawson. I’m sorry I kept you holding. There’s just…stuff going on at my house sometimes. A part of her hoped Mother Dawson would ask about the drama. A woman her age, with great-grandchildren, might be able to offer some advice.

The devil is busy, was all she offered.

Patrice stared at the phone for a second. This wasn’t about the devil, this was about her daughter. Really, both of her daughters, Quida and Jade. Her grandson, BJ. Even Patrice herself. That good old standby cliche about the devil’s doings wasn’t helping anything.

I’ll be at your home around six-thirty. Can you text me your address?

Sure thing, baby. The Lord’s gonna bless you for your sacrifice! Mother Dawson said as they ended the call.

Patrice wanted to believe Mother Dawson, but so far it seemed all these sacrifices only brought opportunities for more sacrifice.

A crashing sound startled Patrice. Instantly, flashes of worst-case scenarios rushed through her mind. A water leak in the attic? A burglar? Was BJ all right?

Patrice stood and opened her door again. She bee-lined it to Quida’s room, where she found BJ watching television and playing on his tablet simultaneously.

Hi, Granny. His smile never got old, and it was especially amusing now that he had no front teeth.

With her biggest fear assuaged, Patrice smiled back at him. Hi, BJ. Did you hear that sound?

He shook his head. I didn’t hear anything.

That boy went deaf when he was on that tablet.

A slew of curse words blared from the speaker on BJ’s device, sending Patrice into an alarmed status yet again. BJ, what are you listening to?

It’s just a song on Youtube, Granny.

She grabbed the tablet from him. This is inappropriate. Patrice maneuvered to the settings and re-activated the parental controls, a practice she had learned by watching a Youtube video of her own. More than once, she had warned Quida about letting 6-year-old BJ run wild on the internet. She had even showed Quida how to change the controls whenever BJ got on the tablet.

Momma, we can’t cover him in bubble-wrap and protect him from everything. Dang! Quida had fussed during the device tutorial.

I didn’t let you watch any and everything when you were his age, Patrice had fussed back.

And a lot of good your protection did, huh? Quida mocked. Look at me now. Didn’t go to college. Single mom with a wack baby-daddy. Living at home with you. In fact, both of your grown kids are living at home—and Jade is almost 30. Great job, Mom.

As much as she wanted to slap the fire out of Quida, she was only speaking thoughts Patrice had already cried about. Maybe if Patrice had been a better mother, Quida and Jade would have turned out better, and poor little BJ wouldn’t be sitting here listening to explicit lyrics of a rap song and God only knows what else he encountered on Quida’s unlocked tablet.

She gave the machine back to BJ.

Aww man, he moaned as he scrolled through, eyeing the grayed images that he could no longer click. You blocked everything.

I blocked what you shouldn’t be watching. You hungry?

BJ hopped off the bed. Two locs flopped over his eyes. I am now.

Good. Get washed up. We’re having spaghetti.

Mmmm! My favorite. He skittered off to the restroom.

Patrice smiled again, warmed by her grandson’s gratitude.

Since BJ said he didn’t hear the crashing sound, Patrice returned to her side of the house and started checking in closets. She found the source of the racket in the coat closet. The rod had broken, sending everyone’s coats and a few umbrellas to the floor.

Patrice knew it was only a matter of time before this and many other little areas of wear-and-tear in the house gave way. In addition to this rod, the property needed gutters cleaned, weather-stripping, fence repair, fresh tile in the kitchen, and new coats of interior and exterior paint for starters. The to-do list grew longer and longer each year, but with taking care of Quida, Jade, and BJ, Patrice could never save up enough or get the time to get it done.

Patrice hauled the coats and umbrellas to her bedroom. She threw it all on her bed and mentally planned to somehow add the garments to her own overcrowded closet. There were still a few months before winter set in. Maybe she’d get around to getting things fixed for real for real this time because the house wasn’t going to put up with this kind of neglect much longer.

Her phone dinged with a message from Letha. Can’t wait until tomorrow!

No sooner than Patrice began to bask in the light of BJ’s glow, a shadow of guilt covered her again. She figured she might as well get this over with. She texted Letha back.

Sorry. Have to cancel again. Something came up at church for tomorrow night.

Letha sent an angry face.

Sorry!!! Patrice apologized again.

Three dots appeared on the screen. Patrice held her breath. She hated situations like this, when she really wanted people to