The Prodigal Daughter

by Walker-cook, Lisa

• ISBN13: 9781449751616
• ISBN10: 144975161X
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2012-06-11
• Publisher: Westbow Press

Summary

The circle had not been broken when Elnora Johnson's body was lowered into the cold earth. The virus that she had passed on to her daughter, Martha Johnson-Prescott was alive and still infecting everything it touched. Martha was poised to leave a scar on her children as indelible as the one that had been left on her. Martha's incarceration for three years on a drug charge did nothing to help the struggling Johnson family. In fact, it further divided them. After her release from prison, Martha moves in with her big sister, Maudine Johnson and three of her five children. It does not take long for Martha to realize that her turbulent and reckless lifestyle has caused a rift between her and her children, especially her baby girl, Gabrielle. Finally, after much persuasion from Maudine, the very brokenhearted and low in spirit, Martha, searches for the strength to seek God. What she finds is a God that forgives and heals, the murderer of her husband R. Jacob Prescott, the man of her dreams and a daughter that is determined to make her life a living hell.

Excerpts

Martha sat in the passenger’s seat of her sister Maudine’s vehicle.  Her wide eyes ran all over the beautiful landscape while Maudine signaled to turn left.  Maudine brought the black Escalade to a complete stop at the bend in the circular driveway that led to her large, Mediterranean-style home.  The sight of the two-story house with large windows and high-pitched roof took Martha’s breath away. The completely-white structure, with grayish-blue shingles was beautiful.  She stared in awe while she slowly dragged her wide eyes from one corner to the other of the house that was clearly more than six thousand square feet.       “You sure you live here?!”  Martha exclaimed throwing her voice over her shoulder. At the same time she pointed toward the home and stared.     “You told me you were living large, but this Oprah Winfrey-style here!”     “Oh, please,” Maudine said waving off the implication. On purpose she kept her demeanor modest and her spirit humble. “Oprah Winfrey can buy a house like this many times over.”    “Come on.  Take the compliment. You ain’t doing too bad yourself, girlfriend!”     “Well, I have to agree,” Maudine told her shyly.         “And hey, you deserve your props.”             “I’ve been blessed, Martha, and that’s all there is to it.”    Martha nodded her head in agreement.            “And I’m proud to say that you are my sister. You have been a strong black woman.  You have been independent.  You have handled your financial business.  You have pursued and achieved your dreams.  And you have ended up living in a house like that and driving a vehicle like this. My. My. My.” “Oh, come on,” Maudine began again, waving Martha’s comment off.  “It’s not about me…” Maudine felt good about her life and the way Martha was   piling on the comments.  But she knew it was God and only God.  She refused to take any of the credit for how well she was doing.  And she wanted Martha to know. “It’s about Thee,” Martha interjected finishing Maudine’s sentence and thought.  “But girlfriend you don’t have to be so modest.  I know God is the Giver of every good and perfect gift, but you still have to do some things for yourself.” “Well, little sister you know I have tried to live by faith every since I found the Lord.  And yes, I am a firm believer that His word is true.  I believe that if I seek Him first, then I will live abundantly.  And sweetheart as far as I am concerned living abundantly not only means enjoying love and peace and joy and good health, but also an Escalade, a Mediteranean-style home and even breast implants.”    Immediately, Martha’s stare went from Maudine’s face to her breast. “Nooo!” she said in a low voice as if someone else was present. Maudine nodded. “Yeees!  I know you did not think they were real?  You know I was not greatly endowed in that department.” “They are perfect!” Martha told her still staring at her sister’s breast. “I know and I love them, too.  I would do it all over again.  White women been getting boob jobs and other cosmetic surgery forever, while we Black women always figured it was not for us.  Well, if a boob job is good enough for my white sister then it is good enough for me.” “Hallelujah, sister!” Martha said clapping her hands together and starting to laugh. She then pointed out, “You haven’t changed a bit.  You still tell it like it is.  Don’t you, with your outspoken self?” “I have to be myself,” Maudine told her taking a breath before going on.  “You already know that much about me. I have never been any good at being someone else, but you’re used to nice things, too.  Don’t act like this is the first time you have been exposed to a house like this and a vehicle like this.  You lived in a mansion yourself. And drove the prettiest black Lexus I ever laid eyes on. It hasn’t been that long ago.”   Maudine put emphasis on the word that. Martha shrugged her shoulders and nodded her head in agreement.  For a moment her mind traveled back only a few years earlier to the time when she, too, lived in a big, lovely house; drove a shiny, brand-spanking-new Lexus, black-on-black with gold packaging and carried a Gucci bag.   Suddenly, thoughts of her lovely home and nice car was crowded out by the memories of finding her dead husband’s body behind those lovely walls and driving that brand-spanking-new Lexus, black-on-black with gold packaging wearing very dark shades to hide the black and blue marks circling not one but both of her eyes.  Yeah, the home she had once shared with her abusive husband, R. Jacob Prescott, and their five children was without a doubt a beautiful home, but it was also a living hell. When Maudine realized that her sister had taken a flight back to the past, a part of her wanted to quickly rescue her from that place so that she would not sink any deeper into the pits of that living hell.  Yet, another part of her wanted Martha to hurt the way she had hurt her five children, after the narcotic agents kicked in their door, four years ago, at two in the morning, rustled all of them out of bed, ransacked the house looking for drugs before leading C.W. and Martha, in handcuffs, to a waiting cruiser. Maudine had watched Li’l Jake and Tyler as they had walked the floor many nights going from room-to-room begging for their absent mother, crying and wailing.  She had watched Gabrielle as she fought for her life after suffering some type of virus that dehydrated her, sending her to ICU for two days.  She watched as the pre-teen struggled to make some sense out of the hand she had been dealt. When Mikala and Maureen were having boyfriend issues and severe financial problems, Maudine had stepped right in like a true trooper to calm their fears and buy them what they needed.