by Shana Burton
Kenny nodded. “What did they do with Daddy’s body at the hospital?”
“They have this place where they keep all the deceased people. It’s called a morgue.”
“Isn’t he gonna be cold in there and lonely?”
“No, that’s just his body. His soul—the part of him that made him alive and that makes all of us special—is gone. Without the soul, the body has no feeling. It’s like a shell, just dead skin.”
“Is Daddy’s soul going to hell?”
“No. Why would you think that?”
“’Cause he was a bad person. He hit you, and he was mean. People like that don’t get to go to heaven.”
“Your dad wasn’t a bad person. He was a very complicated man who had a lot of demons inside of him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes people can get so ashamed or so hurt about something that they harden their hearts. Then they can’t hear God when He’s trying to talk to them. They don’t hear Him telling them right from wrong.”
“Why was Daddy so mad all the time?”
“Your father couldn’t read, so that limited a lot of his options. He couldn’t go to college or get the kind of job he wanted, and it made him angry and frustrated. He could’ve gotten some help, but he never told anyone the truth about his problem with reading. That’s why it’s so important to let people know when something is wrong or if you’re hurting. They can’t help you if they don’t know.”
“Do you let people know when things are wrong? Did you tell Lawson and Reggie how mean Daddy was to you?”
Kina was convicted by her own words. “No, I didn’t,” she admitted. “And because I didn’t say anything, the situation just got worse. Now, it’s affected all of us in ways I could’ve never imagined.”
“But you said when you’re scared or sad, all you have to do is pray.”
“That’s true. God didn’t give us a spirit of fear. Even though you pray, God expects us to do some of the work too. I prayed for your dad, but I should’ve gotten some help too, and made sure that we were both some place safe.”
“Are we safe now?”
“Yeah, baby.” She held her son close to her body. “Thank God, we’re safe now.”
Chapter 51
“I think I’ve finally figured out what I want in life and what’s really important.”
—Sullivan Webb
“How are you holding up?” asked Lawson, bringing Kina a cup of hot cocoa as she, Angel, and Sullivan sat around her apartment following E’Bell’s graveside funeral.
Kina curled her legs underneath her and wrapped her hands around the mug. “I’m okay, I guess. I expected today to be difficult. Kenny took it a lot harder than I thought he would.”
Angel empathized. “I know. I think it really hit him that his father is gone when they lowered his casket into the ground. My heart ached for him. Are you putting him in counseling like we discussed?”
“He has his first session tomorrow afternoon,” replied Kina. “I was thinking it wouldn’t be such a bad idea if I went for counseling myself.”
“It’s a great idea,” said Lawson. “You’ve been through a lot, Kina. It’s time to start the healing, and talking about it with a professional can help you do that.”
Kina nodded. “How’s Duke’s family, Angel? They must be about as big of a mess as I am right now,” lamented Kina.
“Well, we all knew Theresa was sick, so her death wasn’t really a shock to anyone. The girls have a lot of questions, and Duke and I are doing our best to reassure them that everything will work out for the best. Her funeral is tomorrow. That’ll be the real test.”
Sullivan shook her head. “Two funerals in one week. As jacked up as my life is right now, I don’t envy you having to go through that.”
“You know, I work with dying patients every day, death is a part of my job. But when it hits home like it has this week, I feel totally helpless and unprepared for it. My heart goes out to them and to you and Kenny, Kina.”
“Thank you, Angel. And thanks for being so cool about letting me have some time off. I just needed some time to get my affairs in order and get my mind right.”
“No problem. Take as much time as you need. Sully’s been pitching in and taking up the slack.”
Kina blinked back. “Sully, you actually set foot somewhere other than a mall?”
“Or in a smoldering pile of you know what?” joked Lawson.
“Thanks to stepping into that pile of you know what, I have a lot of extra time on my hands,” answered Sullivan. “Who knows? I might be able to score a few brownie points from God and Charles by volunteering my services.”
“It’s nice to see you serving others as opposed to servicing others,” teased Lawson. “You know I’m just playing with you. We’re all happy to see you thinking about someone other than yourself these days.”
“How are things between you and Charles?” asked Kina.
“He left me,” reported Sullivan. “Charles is gone, and I don’t think he’s coming back. I tried to call to let him know that I was thinking of him today and that he could count on my vote. He wouldn’t even come to the phone.”
“It’s only been a few days,” Angel pointed out. “He just needs some time. The election will be over one way or another tomorrow, then he can settle down some and focus on your marriage.”
“Now, this might sound a little insensitive, but I hope you weren’t too distraught to cast your vote this afternoon,” said Lawson, sitting down after re-filling her cup. “I think Charles is going to need every vote he can get.”
Sullivan huffed. “You can say it, Lawson. He needs every vote that my little tryst with Vaughn doesn’t cost him.”
Lawson sipped her drink and muttered, “Well, you said it, I didn’t.”
“It’s Charles’s election night. I should be there with him,” insisted Sullivan.
Angel held Sullivan down. “You should stay put! I drove by the church on the way over, and it was crawling with people and camera crews setting up shop. Save yourself the hassle and the embarrassment.”
“But I’m Charles’s wife!”
“You’re also the woman who got caught creeping with Vaughn, and now the whole world knows it. If you go over there, you’ll only cause a scene. The pastor has enough on his plate without you adding to the drama,” warned Lawson.
“Vaughn and I aren’t even together anymore. Besides, I think the press needs to hear my side of the story instead of feeding off Willie Tucker’s diet of sleaze and scandal.”
Angel turned on Sullivan’s television. “Don’t make this about you, Sully. If you go down to that church, it will be all about you. This is Charles’s night. Let him have it.”
Lawson pointed to the screen. “Hey, they’re about to do an election update. Turn that up!”
Angel turned up the television in time to hear the reporter announce that Charles had just called his opponent to concede the election after the numbers showed him trailing by forty percentage points once the last precinct entered its results.
“Poor Charles,” said Angel. “He must be devastated.”
Sullivan bolted up. “I’m going over there. Charles needs me.”
Lawson tried to stop her. “You going over there is the last thing he needs. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll call and let him know you’re thinking about him.”
Sullivan slipped into her coat. “No, this is something I have to do. I’ve got to face the firing squad sooner or later, right? Might as well get it over with.”
Sullivan stood in front of the church doors, daring herself to go in. She knew that Charles and his supporters had gathered there to watch the campaign results trickle in, and she knew that she would be blamed for his crushing defeat. Despite that, she felt like she needed to be with Charles and offer him a word of comfort, even though she risked getting cussed out in the name of Jesus in the process.
For the first time, she felt alone. She didn’t have her girls to ba
ck her up or her expensive clothes to hide behind, just a worn blue wrap dress she’d purchased three years prior. There was no drink to calm her nerves, and she had no prepared venom to hurl at her naysayers.
“It’s just you and me today, Lord,” said Sullivan. “If they dish it, let me be strong enough to take it.”
Sullivan walked into the sanctuary with her head held high, though not quite as high as usual. Rather than inconspicuously taking a seat in the back, she strutted to the third pew and sat down, nodding “hello” to the onlookers who watched her with wide eyes and opened mouths.
Sullivan heard a woman behind her mumble, “I know she didn’t just walk up in here like she’s the virtuous woman we all know she’s not.”
“Is that Pastor Webb’s so-called wife?” asked the female seated next to her. “I hardly recognized her without a tongue down her throat.”
“I guess Satan does exist!” exclaimed a choir member as she brushed past Sullivan. “She’s the devil, and she’s wearing her blue dress to prove it.”
“Look at her,” spat one of the deaconesses. “She ain’t got no shame.”
A couple in front of Sullivan turned around to personally snub her with their condescending looks. “How can she show her face here after what she did to a good man like Pastor Webb?” asked the wife as they faced the pulpit again. “Pastor ought to stone her like they did cheatin’ women back in the day.”
Sullivan didn’t mind being hated for the right reasons, which for her were always tied to envy and jealousy. But to be hated because they thought she was scum brought Sullivan to a low that she’d never experienced. She figured there was no point in letting them sharpen their tongues on her, so Sullivan grabbed her purse and stood to leave.
Charles spotted his wife as she made her way down the aisle toward the door. “Wait!” he shouted and rushed to the pulpit. “I want to say something. I want everyone to hear it, especially you, Sullivan.”
Sullivan stopped and groaned inwardly but took a seat on the pew closest to her. As if her semi-private humiliation weren’t enough, Charles had now gotten on the microphone to ensure that the damage done was total. Even though she didn’t want to hear what he had to say, she knew he needed to say it for his own peace of mind, so she sat and braced herself for being made a public spectacle all over again.
Charles cleared his throat and began speaking. “First of all, I want to thank everyone who supported me. The countless hours you put in campaigning for me, knocking on doors, posting signs in your yards, and driving people to the polls is appreciated more than you could ever know. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” The people applauded.
Charles looked directly at Sullivan. “Now, I know that there are going to be many theories and rumors about why I lost this race, but I’ve learned that God has a way of working things out according to His will. If this position isn’t what He wants for me at this time, I thank Him for removing me from a situation that might’ve led me away from His will and His plan for my life.
“I won’t go into the details of the shady tactics that my opponent tried to use against me, but everyone here knows that the most brazen one was an attack on my wife. Regardless of what she may or may not have done, Sullivan Webb is still my wife, and I love her. She has my utmost respect and always will.”
His words incited an uproar from those seated in the audience. One campaign aid jumped out of her seat and shouted, “You’ve got to earn respect, and that stuck-up heifer don’t deserve your respect, Pastor, and nobody else’s! She has brought shame to you and shame on this church! I know you’re too good a Christian to say it, but don’t worry. I’ll say it for you!” Her tirade was met with “amens” and approving nods from the others.
Sullivan pursed her lips together and silently reminded herself that the Bible said to bless those that curse you. She dug her nails into the pew’s cushion to keep from slapping anyone.
Charles quieted the congregation. “I realize that my wife may not fit your preconceived notions of what a First Lady ought to be. She might not look the way you think she ought to. She probably doesn’t dress the way you think a First Lady should. Her walk and her talk are a little different. She’s got swagger, as the kids say. She’s beautiful; she’s got style.
“But there is so much more to this woman that I’m so proud to call my wife. She’s got a heart big enough to fill this whole room. She genuinely cares about people, and you would be hard-pressed to find a more loyal and more giving friend.”
Charles disconnected the microphone and carried it as he moved into the audience, traipsing up and down the aisle. “I’ll be the first one to say that Sister Webb has her faults, just like the rest of us. The enemy tempts and attacks her the same way he does everyone else in this room. In fact, the only difference between anything she’s done and what most of you have done is that she got caught. That shouldn’t make her less human in your eyes; it should make her more human. Don’t judge her or judge our marriage, and don’t ever forget that your own marriages are just one mistake away from being in the same position as ours.
“You know, I could take this trial and let it make me bitter and angry and question the very existence of our loving and merciful God. Instead, my praise and my faith have only gotten stronger. Now, the next time a member comes to me who’s dealing with betrayal or adultery in a marriage, I can say, ‘I know how you feel,’ and mean it. More importantly, I can say, ‘God can lead you out of it. I know because He did it for me and here’s how.’
“Some of you have demanded that Sullivan come before the church and confess her sins and beg for the church’s forgiveness. A few of you have even called to tell me I ought to shame her in front of the entire congregation, but I’m not going to do that.
“Yes, my wife has sinned, she’s fallen short, just like the rest of us. But the fact remains that sin is sin. You may not have done what she did, but if you’ve ever lied on somebody, you’ve sinned. If you participated in gossip and slandered my wife’s name, you’ve sinned. If you had an abortion or cussed somebody out or lusted after someone else’s husband or wife, you’ve sinned. If you woke up in somebody else’s bed this morning, or skipped out of church to sleep in, or used the Lord’s name in vain, you’ve sinned. My sins are no greater or better than yours. And yours are no better or worse than my wife’s.
“You want me to stand up here and parade her sins, but what if it was you? Would you want to stand here in judgment and condemnation for everything you’ve ever done wrong in your life? We’ve all messed up, but the important thing is that she has acknowledged her sins and repented. She is forgiven by her God and her husband, so it’s really nothing for anyone else to say about it.”
Charles stopped in front of Sullivan’s pew and extended his hand. “Sweetheart, come here.” Sullivan cautiously tiptoed over to him and placed her hand in his.
“You are my wife,” stated Charles, “and you are the First Lady of this church. Hold your head high, and know that you are the righteousness of God, no matter what anybody in here has to say.
“My saying this might drive some people away from the church or cause them to turn on me, but I can’t worry about that. I’m not looking for a church made up of perfect people. This is a rest haven for the weak and weary who come seeking the Lord and His protection and forgiveness. No one in here has a heaven or hell to put you in, and that includes me. I can’t waste my time focusing on the crisis, but rather, how God is going to lead us out of it.”
“Do you mind if I say something?” whispered Sullivan.
Charles passed her the microphone. “Say whatever is on your heart.”
Sullivan gripped the microphone and looked out into the congregation. “First off, I want to thank my husband for the kind words and his forgiving nature. I know that despite your best efforts, some of you—probably most of you—will still think I have no place at your side or at this church. If my actions have crippled anyone’s walk, I’m sorry. Whether or not you believe that,
I truly am, but this isn’t about me.
“The fact that my husband can stand here and stick up for me when he has every reason not to shows what an extraordinary man he is, and if you’ve ever questioned whether or not he is a man of God, I think he’s answered that question.” Several people applauded. “I messed up. I know I did, and I accept whatever repercussions may come of it. Even though God is forgiving, nature and society are not so forgiving. I will have to reap the harvest I’ve sown, but please don’t take my sins out on my husband. He’s a good man and an anointed pastor. Don’t turn on him for loving me. He’s only doing what God told each of us to do, which is walk in love. That’s all I wanted to say.” She gave the microphone back to Charles.
A few people clapped; others grumbled amongst themselves. Charles held onto Sullivan’s hand as he spoke again. “Now, you’ve heard from me, and you’ve heard from my wife. You are free to stick around as long as you want to dissect the ‘hows’ and ‘whys’ of it all. There’s plenty of food in the back. Feel free to help yourselves and take some of it home if you’d like. Again, I thank you all for coming. I thank you for your support, and I love each and every one of you in here. God bless and good night.” With that, he whisked Sullivan to his office and locked the door behind them.
“Charles, you really didn’t have to do that,” said Sullivan, who was appreciative but didn’t feel worthy of his public support.
“Yes, I did. That wasn’t just about you, Sullivan. I’m tired of the church keeping down the very people we’re here to lift up. Do you think you’re the only spouse in there who’s cheated? A lot of people who needed to be convicted were, and a lot of people who needed to be were set free.”
“Well, I was if they weren’t. I thank you for that.”
“Don’t thank me, thank the Lord. I’m only trying to follow in His footsteps. I can’t really claim to have faith and be forgiven if I can’t withstand the pressure when I’m being tested.”
Sullivan nodded. “You’re right—no test, no testimony. I hope you’ll remember that when the press is ripping me into shreds in tomorrow’s paper, saying that I cost you the election.”