Mercy at Midnight by Sylvia Bambola

Author:Sylvia Bambola [Bambola, Sylvia]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Heritage Publishing House
Published: 2016-07-18T04:00:00+00:00

When Cynthia opened the door of the Day Care Center, she found Effie sitting on a blanket with the children reading Boy with a Sling. She waited for Effie to finish before joining the group. She could see by the smiling faces that no one had tired of the new playthings.

“I just wanted to tell you that after dinner and cleanup, we’re going to have a birthday cake for Jonathan in the kitchen.” Cynthia helped Effie to her feet. “I hope you and Daisy will come.”

“It’s Pastor’s birthday? Well, sure we’ll come. Only . . . I can’t afford to bring no gift or nothin’.”

“Just bring yourself, and Daisy of course.” Cynthia’s smile faded when she noticed worry lines creep across Effie’s forehead. “What’s wrong?”

Effie gazed at the children playing at the other end of the room. “Nothin’. Nothin’ you need to worry your head about.”

Cynthia placed her hand on Effie’s shoulder. “Jonathan said we’re staff and need to stick together, help each other. So tell me, what is it?”

“Well . . . when you said birthday, it made me think of my son. His birthday’s next week.”

“I didn’t know you had a son.”

Effie ushered Cynthia out into the hall. “Daisy misses her brother somethin’ fierce. She don’t miss her daddy, but her brother . . . they were just like that.” Effie crossed two fingers. “I try not to say much about him in front of her.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s gonna be fourteen next week. He thinks he’s a man, but he’s just a boy. A hurt, scared little boy. And angry. He’s got a lot of anger. You don’t grow up with violence in your home without gettin’ angry.”

Effie pointed to the empty space where a front tooth should be. “The day my husband did this was the last time I saw my son. Jeff tried to defend me, and my husband nearly killed him. Jeff said he wouldn’t live another day under his father’s roof.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Three months. I worry about him. I worry myself sick. I know he’s out there takin’ on the world, tryin’ to lick it like he did his daddy. But now that I know Jesus, I wish I could tell him about another Daddy, a Father who loves him, cares for him. He needs hope. He don’t have no hope. That’s what gets ‘em, you know. A boy needs hope or he don’t grow right. If a tree gets battered enough by a storm it gets all gnarled and twisted. That’s what happened to Jeff. He’s all twisted up.”

“I’m sorry, Effie. I had no idea. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. It must be hard not knowing where he is.”

“Oh, I know where he is. That’s why it hurts so bad. That’s what makes me worry so much. If I could just get to him, see him, tell him I’m alright, and give him a chance to see what Jesus has done for me—a job, a roof over my head and Daisy—to give him hope.

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