Allene

"You can never go wrong doin' right" Allene Small whispered to herself as she thought about the events that were about to unfold. She couldn't count the number of times she'd repeated those words during the nine decades she'd lived on earth, or in the six that she'd spent as a spirit waiting to reemerge into the world she'd once known.

Allene had enjoyed a rich, full life in her day. She'd experienced ups and downs, joys and heartbreak, and eventually, the calm peace that living ninety-eight years had brought her. She'd been widowed at a young age, outliving her beloved husband and eventually all her siblings and her children, as well as some nieces and nephews. She'd witnessed fiery crosses burning in the night, emblazoned with hatred and fear. She'd endured oppression before joining activists who fought for justice, civil rights, and social change. She'd watched one decade roll into the next as presidents and heads of state came and went, by consequence of elections or death. And she'd seen men ride in horses and buggies, fly planes in the sky, drive motorized vehicles along busy streets, and then miraculously walk on the moon.

Allene felt grateful and blessed to have lived long enough to experience things that many had not. She was also thankful that for as long as she could remember, she'd known an invaluable truth most couldn't fathom—that there was life after life. The peace she'd found in that knowledge had comforted her during times of trouble.

Now as she sat in her trusty old rocking chair, surveying the colorful flowers that graced the large wrap-around porch where she'd been sitting all morning, her heart held excitement and caution about what she knew lay ahead. She took a deep breath and inhaled the sweet fragrance of the rose, azalea, and magnolia bushes flanking the front of the house. "This old place sure 'nuff has stood the test of time," she said with a smile. "Isaiah and Henrietta would be right proud, God rest their souls."

Allene loved being back in Nedine, South Carolina, the small town where she'd lived out the best parts of her days. She looked out as far as her eyes could see, noting that while some things had changed, so many had remained steadfastly the same. The large, white placard displaying THE SMALL PROPERTY in black calligraphy still towered at the edge of the road a few hundred feet away, announcing to visitors that they had reached the grounds of the grand residence that her son, Isaiah Small, had built from the ground up.

At the time, Isaiah's had been one of the largest homes in Nedine as well as the two surrounding counties, and today it proudly continued to hold that distinction. This was a huge feat for a black man, then and now. After Isaiah died, Allene had moved from her tiny house a few miles up the road, and settled into the quiet comfort of living with Isaiah's devoted widow, Henrietta, whom Allene had loved as her own daughter.

After Henrietta passed away, John, Isaiah's and Henrietta's son, cared for the house with great love and attention. Even though John had moved away to Raleigh, North Carolina, to start a banking empire and carry on in his father's successful footsteps, he'd made sure to preserve the family homestead where he'd been born and had many fond memories of growing up. Several times a year, John, along with his wife, Elizabeth, and their daughter, Victoria, would return to Nedine to make sure the house was well maintained and that any necessary repairs were made.

once John's age and declining health prevented him from making trips to his beloved hometown, he'd hired a property management company to oversee the upkeep. After his death, his daughter, Victoria, had picked up the torch and seen to it that her father's birthplace was kept in good order. Allene was proud that her son's legacy was still intact, along with much of the land, rental properties, and other real estate holdings that had been passed down from one generation to the next.

"They're all gonna be here soon. Even the ones who ain't supposed to come," Allene said with reserve. "But then again, I reckon that ain't such a bad thing, 'cause nothin' happens by mistake. There's a plan for everything, we just gotta play it out to the end."

Allene nodded to herself as she looked up into the gray, stormy sky. It had been raining nonstop since early this morning. Heavy at times and light at others. Allene felt happy every time she heard the pitter-patter sound and the fresh smell that God's liquid glory created in its wake. She remembered back to the days she'd spent in her tiny home, and how she'd loved to listen to the rain dance atop her roof and beat against her windows. The natural rhythm had been soothing, and always made her feel a sense of peace—as if whatever had been wrong could be made right by the water that came and washed things away.

Allene wished so badly that the rain could clear out the troubles awaiting her family. Having the gift of prophecy, she was able to see some of the challenges that were on the horizon, and the struggles her loved ones were surely going to face. She wanted to intervene by warning them of what was coming, and tell them what they needed to do in order to avoid the problems heading their way. But age, wisdom, and experience had taught her that some things couldn't be interfered with, or manipulated. Only time, patience, and living through the situation could rectify whatever was wrong.

This was why Allene knew that choosing to do the right thing would never lead her down the wrong path. She'd been a witness to situations that had borne out that evidence time and time again, and she knew without a doubt that bad intentions could easily lead to devastating consequences. Conversely, she also knew that if one had good intentions and did what was fair and just, regardless of the circumstances, things would eventually unfold into a favorable outcome.

Allene knew that some of her family members were carrying heavy burdens, and to her disappointment, one in particular was plotting a hidden agenda, heading in the wrong direction by ignoring what was right. "Lord, help me guide Alexandria so she can help our family," she whispered aloud, looking up into the sky. "I waited a mighty long time to come back, and now, I'm ready. I just hope they're ready, too."

It had been nearly a year since Allene had first made her spirit form known to anyone in the land of the living. She'd reached out to Alexandria, her great-great-granddaughter, because she'd known it was time to make contact. Alexandria was a special young woman, who, like Allene, and Allene's great-grandmother before her, possessed the gift of prophecy.

The gift of prophecy was a precious ability that had been passed down through the generations, only by way of the female members of their family, dating back to the Akan people of Ghana, West Africa. The gift was a sacred and valued treasure that people both revered and feared within Allene's family, as well as the outside community.

During Allene's lifetime, her gift had allowed her to foretell events in advance of them happening. She could discern good from bad in the blink of an eye. She could sense when danger was approaching or when peace would prevail. She knew people's thoughts without ever having to engage them in conversation. And she could accurately declare good fortune or disappointing loss for those seeking her advice on any given situation.

Now as a spirit in the land of flesh and blood,...