Good Catholic Girl

"Ritchie, you wanting you a waffle?" May asked, getting to her feet.

"Momma, eat, huh? Ain't going kill me wait another minute," the man said.

He rubbed Scott's tightly coiled hair. The man surprised Kampala by leaning over the back of her chair and giving her a hug and a kiss to her cheek. Amhara tilted her sticky face up and offered her cheek to Uncle Ritchie for a kiss.

"How was work?" Scott asked as Ritchie took a seat at the table.

"Rough," was Ritchie's answer.

Kampala looked and saw tears in Ritchie's eyes. She turned and looked at Scott.

"Want talk about it?" Scott asked quietly.

"Don't never become no God damned cop, you hear?" Ritchie spat, got to his feet and left the room.

"I go see," Tony said. "Might want wait a minute on making him a waffle."

A few moments later, Ritchie returned to the kitchen. May got up and began making a waffle. Ritchie sat down just as Tony returned to the kitchen. Both men had red eyes.

"Dad decided he'd have a few beers. Had his kids in the car with him," Ritchie said quietly. "He's fine, not a damned scratch on him. All three of the kids? Died on impact. Baby wasn't even in his car seat. That God damned son of a bitch. Too drunk even put his baby in the car seat."

Scott got to his feet, walked around and hugged his brother. Kampala watched as the two men sobbed in each other's arms.

"I light a candle for them babies," May said, putting the waffle in front of her boy.

"Yeah, Momma, you do that," Ritchie agreed.

"You like being a cop. Most of the time, right?" Kampala asked as Ritchie began shoveling the waffle into his mouth.

"Most of the time? Wouldn't be nothing else in the world," Ritchie agreed. "Most of the time? I love it. I love the uniform, love the job, pride comes with the job."

"And then..." Kampala said.

"And then, get calls like this one. Cars ain't made hit columns of the I Ten and survive," Ritchie said. "What about you? Like being a momma?"

"I love it," Kampala agreed.

"Like being a student?" Ritchie asked.

"I love it," Kampala said.

"Good. You a good, you a great momma. And I'm guessing you probably a great student," Ritchie said and finished eating his waffle.

"Ritchie! How you even taste that?" May snapped.

"What? Tasted fine. It was boogers, right?" Ritchie smiled and kissed his mother's cheek. "Good night. I'm going bed."

Christmas Day, Kampala and Amhara arrived at the Jeffries house just as Timmy and Becky and their brood were arriving. Anna Bee immediately came to Kampala's car to help get Amhara out of the car seat. The girl also helped her parents by herding the seven year old and five year old toward the front door.

"No," Anna Bee snapped when Charlie wanted to stay outside to play with his new football. "Need see if Santa Claus came here. THEN y'all can go outside and play."

"You not my boss," Charlie said.

"Want go in Time Out?" Anna Bee snapped, yanking the screen door open.

"She uh, she know she's not the momma, huh?" Kampala asked Becky.

"Want to bet?" Becky smiled.

Santa Claus had come; the fat guy in the red suit had left each child two presents apiece. And Maw-Maw was in the kitchen, busily making doughnuts.

Uncle Scott and Uncle Ritchie also had one present each for the children. So, altogether, the kids had a haul of four presents apiece.

Within minutes, there were children's faces and hands sticky from the doughnuts, there was a sea of wrapping paper all over the living room, the house was in a mild uproar.

"Kampala, it like this at your house on Christmas?" Becky asked, smiling.

"No ma'am. Santa Claus don't never come to the Projects," Kampala admitted.

"What your family do on Christmas?" May asked, curious.

"Drink, get all loud and stuff, fight, sleep it off," Kampala admitted.

"Huh," May said.

"Amhara? What you think of them slippers, huh?" Scott asked, affectionately tugging on the girl's panda bear covered feet.

"Tell your Daddy 'They're the coolest!'" Anna Bee coached.

"They the coolest!" Amhara agreed.

"Anna Bee, Uncle Sottie's not..." Timmy started to say.

"Yeah he is," Tony and May interrupted.

"Yeah, he is," Kampala said, linking fingers with Scott.

"Yeah I am," Scott said.

"Well, then. Yeah, he is," Timmy shrugged.

*.*.*

Gordon and Kelly King sat on the hard plastic seats of the U.L.D. Stadium, politely clapping when other names were called out. When a Nicole King woman's name was called out, they both stood and cheered. There were three Nicole King Scholarship recipients at this ceremony.

"That's my girl!" Gordon called out when Kampala Afrika Jefferson's name was called out.

Kampala beamed and waved in the direction of the shout. She received the scroll from Dean Sims, then held the scroll up high for her family to see.

After a few more speeches, the families were allowed to leave the hot, humid stadium.

"Mr. King! Mrs. King!" Gordon and Kelly heard.

They turned and saw Kampala hurrying toward them. Gordon smiled and held his arms wide.

"Thank you, thank you so much," the young woman said, squeezing the man tightly.

"Thank you, Kampala," Gordon murmured, patting the young woman's back.

"You're the reason we do the Nicole King Scholarship," Kelly said as she too received a hug from Kampala.

"We having us a party at the house; y'all stop by?" May asked the Kings.

"Please?" Kampala begged.

Gordon punched the address into his phone and the GPS immediately started chattering, telling him where to go.

"Tell it to wait until we get to the car," Kelly laughed.

The house was small, but somehow the Jeffries managed to squeeze Scott and Ritchie and Ritchie's girlfriend Britney Theriot and Timmy and Becky and their seven children and Kampala and Amhara and Gordon and Kelly King in the living room and the hall and the kitchen. Had the Jeffersons accepted Kampala's invitation to the graduation ceremony, accepted the invitation to the party, the Jeffries would have somehow found room from them as well.

"Yeah, Uncle Ritchie goes to Happyland Day Care to get Amhara," Scott was telling Kelly King.

"And next thing I know, I got this blonde munchkin ready rip my head off," Ritchie laughed.

"Well! I didn't know who you were," Britney defended.

"I mean, look at her," Scott laughed. "She's what? How tall are you Britney? Three? Three and a half?"

"I'm four foot ten and you know it," Britney shrilled.

"And my brother's six three. AND has a three fifty seven strapped to his side and this girl's in his face," Scott laughed.

"Thank God Amhara vouched for me," Ritchie agreed, squeezing Britney in a one armed hug. "But I knew this one was the woman for me, hear?"

"I keep praying my boys get them a good Catholic girl," May said. "And that? Girl do whatever it take protect her children? Aw cher! Can't get you no better than that, huh?"

"Now, Kampala, I asked you this last year, when I got my job," Scott said.

Ritchie smiled and tightened his grip around Britney's shoulders. May looked up from the chicken and sausage gumbo she was stirring.

"And you told me I had to wait until you graduated," Scott said, pulling out a small box.

Kelly put her hand to her mouth. Britney's blue eyes went wide. Becky and Timmy smiled.

"Well, you're graduated and I'm asking you again, Kampala Afrika Jefferson, will you marry me?" Scott asked, sinking to one knee in his mother's crowded kitchen.

"Mr. Tony, you have give me away, and Britney and Becky, you going be my bridesmaids, Miss Kelly, you be my maid of honor?" Kampala babbled happily, accepting the ring.

THE END

**Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I thank you sincerely for reading my stories.

I especially thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad, and those that take the time to rate my stories.

I do not, however, read emails. Most that I have read in the past were so venomous, hateful, that most of the time? I simply delete them without reading them. So, want to waste time on a lazy Sunday afternoon? Send emails for me to delete. Otherwise, just leave your hateful, intentionally hurtful rants in the Comments portion of this story for all to read and enjoy.

To the Anonymous that keeps asking for a follow up story on the white cop-black girl from my story "Honey, Sweetheart & Sugar" in the Group Sex category, I've absolutely no plans to write their story. There is no story there. They found each other, they fit together well, they enjoy one another. End of story. But I do thank you for reading my stories, I do thank you for your interest in two minor characters from one of my stories.

In a world full of different cultures, races and backgrounds, there is no room for racism. Have a swell day.