Everybody Say Amen (7 page)

L
ester opened the refrigerator, pulled out the orange juice, poured a glass, then put the carton back in the refrigerator. He walked over to the toaster and dropped a piece of bread in. He stood there waiting on it to brown. When it popped up, he snatched it out, grabbed a paper towel and sat down at the kitchen table and began nibbling on his toast.

Rachel sat across from him at the table. “So, you’re just not going to say anything to me all morning,” she said, staring at him.

Lester didn’t respond and just kept chewing.

“Lester, I said I was sorry for staying out so late.” Rachel had tried to stay mad, but his refusal to even talk to her when she finally made it in last night and told him where she’d been had caused her to break down and apologize.

Lester finally stopped chewing and glared at her. “A club. My wife, the first lady of one of the best churches in Houston, was up in a nightclub, doing God knows what, with God knows who.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. She should’ve just lied when she came in last night. But Lester was waiting up and she felt bad enough about the conflicted emotions running through her mind over Bobby that she’d told him she’d gone out to Visions.

“I wasn’t doing anything but hanging out,” Rachel said.

“Hanging out? You’re dang near thirty years old, why do you still feel the need to hang out?” Lester was furious. Rachel couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen him so angry.

“I won’t be thirty for three more years. And you say that like thirty is old or something anyway. That’s crazy! I’m still young and if I want to go out and have a good time now and then, I don’t see the problem with that.”

“You don’t see the problem?” He got up and started pacing across the kitchen. “We lead by example, Rachel! How am I supposed to get up and preach to people about how wrong it is to be hanging out in clubs until all hours of the night when you’re doing that very thing?”

This argument was starting to get on her nerves, especially since Lester was starting to sound just like her father: always worried about what the people of Zion Hill would think. “I don’t care how or what you preach. You got the calling. I didn’t. I try to be supportive of you and that church, but you can’t even respect me enough to stop these tramps from getting all up in your face, so why should I respect you enough to stay out of the club?”

“So this is all about Nikki, isn’t it?”

Rachel glared at him. “Hell, yeah, it’s about Nikki!”

“Rachel, I have asked you over and over, please do not curse.”

“Oh, give me a break! ‘Hell’ is not a curse word. Heaven or hell, remember?”

“That is not the context in which you used the word.”

“Whatever, Lester.” She rolled her eyes.

Lester stared at Rachel. “You are being ridiculous. I need you to grow up and start acting like a proper first lady.”

“And how does a proper first lady act, Lester? Like my mother? News flash: It ain’t happening. You knew that when you married me. You knew that when you decided to take over my daddy’s church, and you know that now. And you just seem to forget all that I
have
been doing. I’ve turned the youth department around. I go to all the little church functions, the boring meetings, the sick and shut-in visits, the stupid bingo games. I even taught some Sunday school classes, and you want to talk to me about being proper?” Rachel was fuming now, too. Granted, maybe she shouldn’t have been at the club, but if he’d been doing the right thing—keeping the floozies out of his face—she would’ve never gone in the first place. “Since when did you get so self-righteous anyway?”

Lester let out an exasperated sigh as he picked up his glass from the table and took it to the sink. “Rachel, I’m just trying to live a godly life and I want my family to do the same.” He poured his juice out, then put the glass in the dishwasher before turning back to face her. “You’re always talking about your mother, but you could learn a thing or two from her ability to handle things properly. I was talking to your father about this very thing—”

“Why are you talking to my father?” Rachel interrupted.

“Because I don’t know how to get you to see that we’ve got to do better.”

“I don’t
have
to do anything! You married the wrong person if you want someone like my mother. And if my daddy couldn’t change me all those years he tried, I don’t know what makes you think you can.” Rachel leaned back and crossed her arms. “And for your information, I’m trying to be a proper first lady, as you call it, but I’m not gon’ be no fool either. And if you can’t do what I ask, then I can’t do what you ask.”

Lester sighed again. “Fine, Rachel, what do you ask?”

“Keep the skanks out of your face.”

Lester nodded. “I will keep the skanks out of my face.”

“I’m serious, Lester. ’Cause I can’t promise you I won’t act a fool.”

Lester forced a smile. “You? Act a fool? Never.”

“I’m serious, Lester. You know what I’m capable of. Don’t make me go there.”

“Whatever you say, Rachel. I don’t want to argue with you.” Lester popped the last piece of toast in his mouth. “I have to get over to the church. The electrician is coming.” Lester leaned down and kissed her on the top of the head, which meant he was still salty with her.

Rachel watched him leave. He reminded her so much of her father, from his walk to the way he handled situations. Even his demeanor was like Simon Jackson.

She’d always heard that most women marry a man just like their fathers. She’d just never believed that saying would apply to her.

A
ngela slid the check to the tall, burly mover and shook his hand. He glanced at the check, which included a hefty tip, and smiled.

“Thank you so much, ma’am. And if you ever need Three Brothers’ Movers again, please don’t hesitate to call.” He smiled again before taking off to the truck.

Angela closed the door, then turned and surveyed her new home. At twenty-five hundred square feet, it was just right for her and Chase. She loved the hardwood floors, spacious kitchen, and oversize living room. She sighed as she looked at all the boxes. What she wouldn’t give to go back to Atlanta. She had been looking forward to coming home. Her parents were still here and it would do Chase good to be around his grandparents and cousins. But that quickly diminished after she’d found out how far Jonathan would go to be a part of her son’s life.

“Mama! Did you see my room? It’s so big!” Chase came barreling down the stairs. He could barely contain his excitement.

“Of course I saw it, baby. I picked it out.”

“Man, it is so cool,” Chase squealed. “I wish Donnie and Steve could see it.” Angela expected Chase to get a little nostalgic when he talked about his best friends back in Atlanta. But he appeared to have forgotten them already, especially when he noticed the group of boys riding their bikes outside. “Can I go play outside? I wanna meet them boys riding their bikes.”

“Yes, you may go outside and introduce yourself to
those
boys riding their bikes,” Angela said.

Chase ignored her correction and ran outside. Angela smiled. He had never been a shy child. He was such a handsome little boy. He had a head full of curly hair and beautiful brown eyes. Unfortunately, he was the spitting image of his father. It had taken months of counseling for Angela to get over the nauseous feeling she would get every time she looked at him. She would find herself staring at Chase and playing out every moment of her relationship with Jonathan, trying to figure out signs she missed, how she couldn’t have known her husband was gay. And although she hated to admit it, there were times when she’d look at her son, see Jonathan, and find herself getting angry. When she caught Chase playing with Constance’s daughter’s Barbie doll one day, she’d nearly lost it, screaming and throwing the Barbie doll against the wall. It had scared poor Chase to death. That’s when she knew she had to get help.

Angela had been doing well. Counseling had worked and she had tried her best to move on. It had helped that he hadn’t really tried to see her. He’d sent money and letters, but she’d never responded. Now, everything was changing.

“And why, pray tell, are you standing here in the middle of your living room with the front door wide open?”

Angela smiled at her mother, whom she hadn’t even notice walk up. “Hi, Mom.” She reached out and hugged the older woman. “Chase took off to go play and left the door open. I was just staring at him and got lost in thought.”

“Umm-hmmm,” Mrs. Brooks said as she closed the door. “I saw that little mongrel out there, acting like he didn’t want to kiss me around his new friends.” She laughed. “I absolutely love this place.”

Angela followed her into the kitchen. “That’s one of the perks of working in corporate America.”

“All these perks just for buying clothes,” her mother said, shaking her head.

Angela laughed. There was so much more to her job as a buyer for Macy’s. People thought all she did all day was buy clothes. She fumbled in a box and pulled out a large coffeemaker. “Sit down, I’ll make us some coffee,” she said as she plugged it in.

Mrs. Brooks moved another box and sat down at the kitchen table. “You have your work cut out for you.”

“I know. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should’ve had the movers unpack, too.”

After fixing both of them a cup of coffee, Angela placed the sugar bowl and cream on the table, then sat down across from her mother.

“So, have you heard from that lowlife, Jonathan Jackson?” Mrs. Brooks snarled.

Angela smiled. You’d think her mother was the one Jonathan had hurt. She hated him with every bone in her body. “No, he hasn’t been in contact with me since I got the custody papers, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time.”

Mrs. Brooks dropped two sugar cubes in her coffee. “So this silly custody suit is real?”

“Yes, it’s very real.”

“I tell you what, you better not let my grandson around that fa—”

“Mama!”

Mrs. Brooks shrugged. “What? I call it like I see it. And ain’t no sense in sugarcoating it.”

“I know, but still.”

“Fine, I don’t want my grandson around his kind.”

“Even if it’s his father?”

“Especially if it’s his father.” Mrs. Brooks sipped her coffee. “I mean, how is that child supposed to understand that?” She shook her head. “And I’m just so disappointed in Reverend Jackson. I hated leaving Zion Hill, but he accepted his son’s amoral behavior and that is just wrong.”

“I guess you never know how you will react until you’re faced with that situation,” Angela responded. She couldn’t understand why she was taking up for Jonathan. She definitely didn’t agree with his lifestyle choice and she sure as heck didn’t forgive him for what he’d done to her. But her mother was so negative about most things, sometimes she made Angela want to look for the positive. Angela shook that thought away. There were no positives in letting Jonathan see Chase.

“Please,” Mrs. Brooks responded. “Let your brother come home talking about how he’s gay. As much as me and your father love him, he’s history. The Bible says that God intended for man to be with woman, not man with man. Such is the righteous path of God.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Mama.” Angela rubbed her temples. Was this what she was going to have to deal with on a regular basis now?

“Well, you know we will spare no expenses. We’ll hire the best lawyers, private investigators, whatever it takes, to win this case.” Mrs. Brooks patted Angela’s hand. She looked around before leaning in toward her daughter. “Your daddy swore me to secrecy on this because he didn’t want you to know.” She paused and took a deep breath. “But we already have a private detective following Jonathan.”

Angela raised her eyebrows in shock. “What? For what?”

Mrs. Brooks sat back proudly. “You know them funny people engage in deviant sexual behavior. And when Jonathan Jackson goes into one of those gay strip clubs, or picks up some strange man in an adult bookstore, our cameras will be right there to capture him. Once a judge sees those pictures, this will be a nonissue.” She smiled like she had it all figured out.

Angela sighed. She definitely didn’t agree with her mother’s underhanded ways but she knew it was useless to argue. Besides, she did want to do everything possible to keep Jonathan away from Chase. Maybe that meant she would have to play dirty. And after all the pain Jonathan had caused her, she wasn’t above getting down and dirty. Was she?

R
achel scanned the shelf, trying to find something to pique her interest. She was looking for a good spiritually based book to help her be strong in dealing with the people of Zion Hill.

She pulled out a new book by Juanita Bynum and started reading the back cover.

“That’s a good one. I think I’ve read it twice.”

Rachel turned toward the soft voice. “Hello. Linda Morgan, right?” She remembered the brown-skinned woman with the warm smile from a church leadership conference they had attended together.

Linda nodded. “How are you today, Sister Adams?”

“Fine. How are things at St. Luke’s?”

“Same story, different day. But God is keeping me strong.”

Rachel couldn’t help but smile. Linda was actually one of the nicest first ladies she’d ever met. She’d even sent Rachel a note telling her to call if she ever needed help with anything, although Rachel had never done so.

“Just shopping, or looking for something in particular?” she asked.

“Just looking around, actually.” Rachel took in Linda’s whole demeanor. She was one of the most respected first ladies in town. Yet she didn’t look like a typical first lady. Like now: She had her curly hair pulled back in a ponytail and wore a designer sweat suit. Still, she exuded elegance.

From what Rachel had heard, Linda didn’t take any mess from the women at her church—even though Pastor Morgan was one of the most handsome preachers in town. As Rachel studied her, she doubted that this woman ever had to get ignorant like she had with Nikki Rollins last week. Rachel suddenly felt the need to open up to her.

“Sister Morgan, when you get some free time, can I talk to you?”

“I’m free right now.” Linda set down the stationery she had been holding. “I’ll just get this another time.”

Rachel put her book back on the shelf. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.”

They walked across the street to Starbucks, where both of them ordered a venti café mocha, then took a seat on the coffee shop’s patio.

“How do you stay strong? I mean, with people at the church and their expectations,” Rachel asked after they had made small talk for a few minutes.

“Prayer, honey, lots and lots of prayer.”

“But I bet the women at St. Luke’s don’t try you like they try me. I mean, if they’re not trying to come on to my husband, they’re disrespecting me or gossiping about me.” Rachel couldn’t believe she was being so candid, but she’d finally found someone she felt could relate to her plight.

Linda smiled. “You forget, I’ve been first lady for thirteen years. Believe me when I tell you, they tried me. I just had to let them know they couldn’t get away with it.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, but everyone’s giving me a hard time about it.” Rachel sighed heavily.

Linda slowly sipped her coffee. “Maybe it’s the way you’re going about it,” she finally said.

“What do you mean?”

“How do you put these women in their places?”

“I go off on them,” Rachel replied, like that was the only possible answer.

“That’s what they expect you to do. And that only gives them ammunition,” Linda said. “You have to take the high road.”

Rachel sucked her teeth and shook her head. “Unh-unh. My mom took the high road. I can’t do that.” As much as she loved her mother, Rachel had vowed to never be like her—submissive and soft-spoken. Granted, her mother had put people in their place when push came to shove, but Rachel didn’t have that kind of patience. She had to let these people know she wasn’t playing from the get-go.

“Oh, I knew Loretta, bless her heart. She was the epitome of a strong, black woman. But she was a rare breed. That’s not me.” Linda flashed a smile.

“Me either.” Rachel was glad someone could understand where she was coming from.

“You know what,” Linda said. “Why don’t you come to the First Ladies Council—it’s an organization of first ladies here in Houston. We meet monthly to exchange ideas and offer support.”

Rachel had heard about the group, but she’d figured they were a bunch of stuffy old women who would stand in judgment of her.

“I don’t know.”

As if she were reading Rachel’s mind, Linda said, “Don’t worry about putting on airs. We all try to be ourselves when we get together. Most of our days are spent trying to fit into a particular mold, so when we’re together we’re footloose and fancy-free.” She grinned. “Please, come as my guest. We meet at St. Luke’s this Saturday. Just one meeting. If you like it, come back. If you don’t, no harm done.”

Rachel considered the idea. “Sure, why not?”

Linda stood. “Then it’s a date. We’ll see you Saturday.”

Rachel stood as well and leaned in and hugged Linda. “Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome. Until then, stay prayerful,” Linda said.

“I’ll do that,” Rachel replied.

A whole group of women who understood what she was going through? Come to think of it, Rachel thought, that’s exactly what she needed.