Read Online The Yada Yada Prayer Group Gets Caught by Neta Jackson - Free Book Online Page B

can’t kiss their troubles and make it all better. They’re grown but they need Somebody, Lord, who will walk with them, holding their hand when we can’t. So I’m praying for Rochelle now, Jesus!” Adele Skuggs, owner and chief beautician at Adele’s Hair and Nails, reached deep in her spirit and her voice rose. “You know she’s got that baby and that good-lookin’ husband. Whatever she needs prayer about is about them too—”
    Ooo. Right on, Adele!
    â€œâ€”and whatever is hurting Rochelle is hurting Avis and Peter too. So, Jesus, we ask You right now to take charge of this situation . . .”
    I was breathless.Did Adele know what this was about? No, she couldn’t! But before she finished, she’d prayed up and down for Chris Hickman, for Pete Spencer, and threw in most of the other Yada Yada kids for good measure.
    RUTH DIDN’T LOOK PREGNANT—YET. She’d always been a bit thick in the middle, and her usual dark dresses had little shape. In fact, as I hugged her good-bye at the end of Yada Yada, I couldn’t help wondering if she was mistaken. “You all right, Ruth? You didn’t say much tonight.”
    â€œPuh! What’s to say? I talk too much about this baby, people start to argue with me. ‘You? Pregnant? A bad joke. Must be cancer. Oy gevalt , at your age. Poor Ben.’ ” She snorted. “Better to keep my mouth shut.”
    A car horn outside pumped three long brassy notes. “Yo-Yo! ” Ruth yelled out my front door. “Tell Ben to keep his shirt on! I’m coming, I’m coming!” Then she patted me on the arm. “Thanks for asking, Jodi.You, I don’t mind. And . . . we need prayer.” She bit her lip. “A lot of prayer.”
    We hugged a long moment, and then she was gone.
    Chanda was the last to leave. “Sista Jodee! Can you give me a ride home? ”
    â€œAck! Chanda, Denny has our car.” I yanked open the screen door. “Maybe the Garfields haven’t left yet.” But the taillights of the big Buick were already winking away. I stifled an expletive or two. Why didn’t Chanda grab a ride with Adele or Avis when she had a chance?
    I faced Chanda. “Sorry, Chanda. No car. Denny took Amanda to a movie.”
    â€œWhen dey be back? ” Chanda flopped down on our couch. “Mi can wait.”
    It was all I could do to keep my mouth from dropping open. The nerve of this woman! I wanted to clean up after Yada Yada, then relax and read a book or something. Not babysit Chanda George. Then I had a revelation. Stu! Stu lived upstairs. Stu had a car. I’d just run up and ask if she could—
    â€œWanting to talk ’bout someting, anyway.” Chanda dug around in her oversize bag. “Mi hoping you and dat mon of yours know someting about dese time-share vacations.” She pulled out a wad of glossy pamphlets and a business-looking folder.
    I parked my Stu idea and sank down on the couch beside Chanda. You’re a selfish brat, you know that, Jodi Baxter? Money or no money, Chanda is a single mom and probably very lonely. How much time do you actually spend with her, anyway? I took one of the folders. Hawaii beckoned.
    â€œNow dat—” Chanda’s eyes shone. “Dat’s mi free vacation to Hawaii! Hawaii, Sista Jodee! Airfare, t’ree nights, two meals a day—all free! What you tink about dat ? ”
    That I didn’t believe it for a minute. “What’s the catch? ”
    She looked confused. “Catch? ”
    â€œThat’s it? You won a free vacation? Or is there something else? You said something about time-share.”
    â€œYes, yes, dat vacation be mine. Easy as squish big mosquito. Just go to dis reception an’ listen to all dey facts about ‘time-share’ vacations, den pick up mi free tickets. No obligation, dey say. First time free!”
    Reception. Slow death by sales torture was more