Taking Care of Moses Read Online Free PDF Page A

doin’?”
    â€œFine,” Randall said. “Is that Moses?”
    â€œYes, it is.”
    The baby slapped his tiny hands against the front of the stroller and smiled up at them.

    â€œHe likes me,” Althea said. “Watch this.”
    She stuck her face down in front of Moses. He squealed and wrapped his chubby fingers around one of Althea’s braids.
    â€œSee?” Althea beamed up at Preacher Ron.
    â€œWhen do you think his mama is going to come get him?” Randall said.
    â€œWell now, I can’t say.” Preacher Ron ran his hand over his smooth, evenly parted hair.
    â€œWhat if she doesn’t ever come back?” Randall said.
    Preacher Ron looked down at the baby clutching Althea’s braid. Moses made a little noise that sounded like “B-a-a-a-a.”
    â€œWell, I reckon we gotta just take this thing one day at a time,” he said. “No use in fretting about what-ifs when we got plenty of for-sures to fret about. Right?”
    A bell tinkled when the door to the beauty parlor opened, and Mrs. Charlotte Jennings came out. Althea peeled Moses’ fingers off her braid and ran over to Mrs. Jennings.
    â€œCan I feel your hair?” Althea said.
    Mrs. Jennings looked irritated, but she leaned down to let Althea pat her stiff blond hair.
    â€œThis is called a French twist,” Althea said to Randall and Jaybird. “Ain’t it, Mrs. Jennings?”
    â€œYes, Althea, it is.” Mrs. Jennings fiddled with the pale blue blanket tucked around Moses.

    â€œIs Miss Frieda gonna take Moses to be with her foster kids?” Randall asked.
    Mrs. Jennings stood up straight and stiff. “No, Randall,” she said. “Moses was delivered to the brothers and sisters of the Rock of Ages Baptist Church. That is the PLAN for Moses. You know about how there is a DIVINE PLAN for each and every one of us, Randall.” Mrs. Jennings had slipped into her preaching way of talking, saying particular words real loud so everyone would be sure and get the point.
    â€œBut what if the divine plan is for Miss Frieda to take care of Moses until his mama comes back?”
    Randall knew he was liable to rile Mrs. Jennings up good, but he just couldn’t seem to stop himself.
    Mrs. Jennings pursed her lips together tight. Red splotches began to appear on her neck. She glanced at Moses and then said in a low, quiet voice, “But that isn’t the divine plan, Randall.”
    â€œStop right now,” Randall told himself. “Don’t you say another word.”
    But no matter how hard he tried to keep quiet, the words “How do you know?” came out of his mouth.
    Mrs. Jennings turned to Preacher Ron. She cocked her head at him and waited.
    Preacher Ron cleared his throat. “Well now, Randall, we know—”
    â€œThat couldn’t be the divine plan,” Althea interrupted.
“’Cause Miss Frieda don’t go to church. She’s a heathen, ain’t she, Preacher Ron?” She ran her hand over Moses’ fuzzy black hair.
    â€œBesides,” she added, “Miss Frieda already has lots of kids and Mrs. Jennings don’t have any.”
    Preacher Ron stood up. “I expect we better get on home now,” he said.
    Randall watched them push the stroller down the sidewalk and disappear around the corner. His thoughts were so tangled he didn’t even answer when Jaybird said, “Let’s go look for cans behind the Winn-Dixie.” And he didn’t pay attention to Althea saying, “Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy.”
    He looked over at the empty space where, just minutes before, the stroller had been. Then he looked up and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass door of Agnes’s Cut ’n’ Curl. He saw his squeezed-up eyebrows and his turned-down mouth, and he knew there was only one word for that look. Worry.
    Randall Mackey’s secret was starting to stir up a little cloud of