“If the church splits, it won’t be because of me,” Andrew said.
“Yes, it will, Andrew,” Sandra said. “We’re the ones who lied and stole. A wise woman”—she glanced at her mother—“told me that you couldn’t build a firm foundation with lies. Well, we didn’t start Showers of Blessings with a firm foundation, but we can leave it with one.”
“We’ve put everything into that ministry, Sandra,” he pleaded. “We can’t walk away.”
She smiled sadly. “I don’t want to walk away, Andrew. It breaks my heart to even think about it, but we have no other choice.”
“Nobody denies how much you put into the church, Andrew,” Jacob said, “and we’re willing to keep paying your salary for as long as needed, but you cannot continue as the spiritual leader of the church until you get your house in order.”
To Andrew, it sounded as though they were giving him room to return to Showers of Blessings once he’d overcome his addiction, but his pride wouldn’t let him ask. He hadn’t decided he was stepping down yet.
“Sandra has already come back to Praise City,” Pastor McCorry said. “We’d like you both to come back. Home is where you go to heal, and Praise City is your home.”
“We need to get back to basics, Andrew,” Sandra added, “you, me, and the boys. We’ve gotten off-track and we need to get back on. I think going back to Praise City is the way to do it.”
Andrew looked around the room. The sad faces looking back at him made him want to scream. He hadn’t wanted things to come to this. All he’d wanted was to follow the path God had for him, be a good husband, father, and minister. These folks were telling him he’d failed at all three. He wasn’t sure he believed them.
Chapter 23
Even though Sandra felt extremely conspicuous when she entered the Showers of Blessings sanctuary on the following Sunday, she wore her best smile and greeted everyone she saw.
“We’re so happy to have you back, First Lady.”
“We’ve missed you. I hope you enjoyed your time with your parents.”
“Don’t stay gone so long next time.”
All the warm welcomes had Sandra tearing up. They made up for the behind-the-hand whispers she saw and the smirks that were sent her way. With her parents and the McCorrys by her side, she made her way to her usual seat in the second pew from the front on the left of the aisle. She tried to enjoy the service, but her anxiety got the best of her. The intervention hadn’t gone as planned. Andrew had listened, but he hadn’t agreed to anything. She didn’t know if his statement this morning would be one of defiance and fight or one of apology and repentance. She prayed for the latter.
A collective sigh went up from her little group when Andrew stepped into the pulpit and up to the podium. She guessed they were as anxious as she was about what Andrew would do.
As she looked at him standing there, a mosaic of their life together flashed in front of her. She recalled all the times she’d stood with him and stood up for him. She despaired that this might be the day she’d publicly defy him. But that’s where they were. If Andrew refused to do the right thing, she’d have to do it for him. Her mother squeezed her hand in support, and she smiled down at her. One wonderful thing to come of this disastrous situation was her renewed relationships with her parents and the McCorrys.
“Good morning, church,” Andrew said. After the returned greetings, he continued. “It’s a brighter day at Showers of Blessings this morning because First Lady Sandra is back with us. Why don’t you stand up, sweetheart, so everybody can see you? The way folks have been asking about you, I think they get more from seeing you than they do from hearing me.”
Sandra stood and waved as the congregation laughed at her husband’s comment. She watched as Andrew instructed one of the ushers to hand her a microphone. She took it and said, “It’s good to be back at Showers of Blessings. But sometimes you have to go away to see things clearly. And today, church, I see more clearly than I’ve seen in a long time. I see a long and prosperous future for Showers of Blessings and each of us here. The pastor is going to set us on a new path today. We have to trust God and walk in it. God bless you all.” Amid a round of applause, she handed the microphone back to the usher and sat down.
“Now that’s a First Lady, y’all. Believe it or not, her job is harder than mine. You know why? Because she has to put up with me.” He paused while he waited for everybody to stop laughing. “Not only does she have to put up with me, she has to keep me in line. That’s the hard part. We preachers can get a big head sometimes. A good First Lady knows how to deflate that big head without killing the spirit.” He paused again, and this time he turned to her, his heart in his eyes, and smiled.
“This morning, church,” he continued, “I want to tell you a story about a hardheaded preacher with a gambling problem and the softhearted first lady who refused to give up on him.”
Sandra’s heart grew warm as her anxiety eased. Andrew was going to do the right thing. They were going to make it. God had given them another miracle just as Andrew had said He would. How could she have ever doubted him?
Second Chance Blessings
MARILYNN GRIFFITH
Chapter 1
“Don’t do this, Bri,” Craig said to his wife in an even voice. “You don’t mean it.”
“Get this end, Tenisha,” Brianna said just as calmly, encouraging her girlfriends to lift the head of the bed her husband was sleeping in. A week before, they’d made love in that bed for what Brianna vowed would be the last time if he didn’t make something happen. Evidently his time was up.
Craig gave his wife’s friends a stern look as they approached the four corners of the bed. “Can you ladies leave us alone for a minute?”
The redhead, who’d never liked him, spoke first. “Time’s up, Craig. She’s done with all your games. We’ve been the ones here with her while you’re on the road with your girlfriends. Now you blow your knee and want to give up—”
“I got hurt, Tina—”
“You and my grandmother. What do you want, a cookie? You know how this works. If you want a certain kind of woman, you have to be able to take care of her.”
Craig wrapped the sheet around himself and got out of the bed, but not before noticing how Asia took him in with her eyes. Brianna was so busy trying to dog her husband that she didn’t even notice the look her girlfriend was giving him. A month ago, Craig would have been a raving idiot right now, cursing and breaking things until all these women ran out of his house crying. Instead, he watched as Brianna and three of her friends—one who’d flown in from Tampa for the evil deed—packed seven years of their life together into a U-Haul truck.
A few months ago, he’d considered doing the same thing. He’d even gone as far as telling his best friend Dante that he was going to leave, but God had other plans. The one thing Craig was sure he’d heard from God was that he shouldn’t leave his wife. Now she was leaving him.
“Girls, wait by the truck. Let us talk for a minute.” Only when the crazy crew had gone outside did Craig try one last time to stop her.
“I thought you loved me. Forgave me. We were going to make a go of this.”
“Maybe I was in love with who I thought you were, Craig. And now with your knee…Who knows if you’ll get another contract. You’re certainly not too worried about it. The money is going fast. I need to get out while there’s still something to get.”
She might be disappointed then. “About that…”
Brianna spun around like Wonder Woman. “What? What did you do?”
Craig shrugged. There was no use trying to hide it. “There’s not much left. I made some investments. The bank failed and…”
She slapped him.
Hard.
Before she could do it again, Craig caught her wrist. She was crying now, the sloppy kind of crying that she never let him see. He’d only heard it from the other side of locked doors. Until now.
She beat his chest with her fists. “I gave up everything
for you. Everything. And for what? For you to give everything away? You’re always giving somebody something, taking somebody’s advice. Didn’t you tell me that those who really love you don’t care about your money?”
Except for you, of course. “They don’t.”
“Then why? Why do you always have to give people things?”
It was a good question. Nobody had asked Craig for anything. Maybe he couldn’t take being just like everybody else. It scared him. Maybe he needed to do something big to feel good. It didn’t matter now. It was done.
Craig held Brianna, even though she fought him. He kissed her hair. “I guess it’s the same reason you’re always buying something. We’re messed up, both of us. But you’ll always be my angel. Always.”
She looked at him with empty eyes, then pushed his arms open and walked away.
Craig swallowed hard and turned to the window, knowing that watching her go was a waste of time. She wouldn’t be turning back.
The bonds of matrimony now existing between the Plaintiff and the Defendant are dissolved on the grounds of irreconcilable differences, and the Plaintiff is awarded an absolute decree of divorce from the Defendant.
If it weren’t for the pain shooting through his knee and Dante snatching the paper away, Craig might have spent another week sitting on the floor in his empty house reading his divorce decree.
“Come on, man. Put that down.” Dante was the only one to come and help Craig move out. Nobody wanted to be around a loser. Craig got that. When other guys had gotten injured and lost their deals, lost their lives, Craig had shaken his head and gone on to the next game. The last time he’d cared enough about a guy to go check on him was when Dante got cut years ago. Now his old friend was here to return the favor. All Craig had left were his Super Bowl rings, and the way Brianna was acting, they’d be on eBay pretty soon.
“She’s changing her name, too. Back to Davis. Can you believe that?”
Dante shot Craig a look. He and Brianna had never quite gotten along, but both were careful not to disrespect the other.
“Actually, I can believe it. Now come on. The divorce papers state that you’ve got until today to get out. Let’s go. I don’t want to get into it with her.”
Craig shook his head, fumbling through the stack of papers Brianna had been so kind to have hand-delivered from the Surrey County Courthouse. As if a career-ending knee injury and the announcement that he was being let go from the Atlanta Falcons wasn’t enough. It was raining good news.
Dante dragged his friend toward the door. “Not that I can blame her much, though. You treated that woman bad, Craig. Y’all two deserve each other. Looking at the two of you, I’m glad that I got cut back in the day. I know you think my life is little, but I’m loving my little life right about now. This is madness.”
Craig was inclined to agree. In the past month, Brianna had slashed his tires twice; filed for divorce; pretty much sold everything in the house out from under him, except for the clothes on his back; and made passionate love to him. Twice. It was past crazy. When he complained to a teammate, the guy had laughed and said that Craig should be happy Brianna hadn’t burned the house down.
Craig didn’t laugh. In a way, burning the house down might have been better. Things would look the way he felt, like everything was ruined. Destroyed.
With God, nothing is impossible.
The verse, fresh from his aunt’s mouth on the phone this morning, had once been Craig’s inspiration. It mocked him now. Sure, nothing was impossible. He was living proof of that. It was the “with God” part that worried him. For a long time, Craig’s only church had been a prayer in the end zone. How could he go back and find God now?
Dante opened the front door. Craig slung his duffel bag over one shoulder and looked around the mansion he and Brianna had shared: eight bedrooms, a home movie theater, formal dining room, and a library. Almost twenty thousand square feet. He’d told Brianna it was too much, but she said they needed it to entertain. True enough, it was what people expected, but he wished they’d just kept what they had before, what they needed.
He’d thought it would have been full of children by now, but it had never been the right time, not for Brianna and, honestly, not for him. He wished now that they had made the time, that he had a piece of their love, their life, to remain in the world.
“Is that it? That bag? That’s all you’ve got?” Dante was looking back, too, probably remembering the parties held there. All those people. Where were they now?
Reluctantly, Craig grabbed at the cane his doctor had recommended. He hated to use it, but he had to start somewhere, and walking without it was almost impossible.
Almost.
With great effort, Craig stepped to the door. “This is it. All I’ve got left.”
Craig took a deep breath and considered how fragile life could really be. He’d had everything: a trophy wife, a showcase house, and a pro football career on the rise. Then his knee snapped and so did his life. Cut from the team, divorced by his wife, and abandoned by most of his friends, here he stood with a duffel bag and a cane, forced to go back to his aunt’s house in Tampa. Forced to concede that no matter how hard he’d tried, Craig Richards had failed.
“You ready, man? We don’t want to miss the plane,” Dante said.
“Actually, I’d love to miss it,” Craig said. “Heroes only get one-way tickets.”
Dante gave his friend a weary smile. “And losers come back home?”
Craig shook his head. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay, man. Your head will deflate soon enough. Let’s get you home.”
Craig almost fell off the plane.
There were people, hundreds of them, waiting. They had signs that said, WELCOME HOME, CRAIG! or WE LOVE YOU, RICHARDS!
“What’s going on?” he whispered to Dante.
His friend laughed. “You’re going on, man. You have no idea. Come on.”
Craig went, waving to the crowd in confusion, but happy and angry at the same time. Didn’t they get it? He’d lost everything. Gone were the days when he could come home bearing gifts or leave the pastor a fat offering, so they could stop cheering. This wasn’t the Super Bowl. It was a disaster. So why didn’t anyone seem to notice but him?
He saw his aunt in the center of the crowd. She’d been a mother to him when his own mother worked three jobs, a family when there was none when his mother died. She grabbed him as if he were a little boy instead of a broken man.
“Auntie, what is all this? Why are these people here?”
“We’re here because we love you, baby. Because God loves you. Did you forget that up there in Atlanta in that fancy house?”
Craig sighed and hugged his aunt, feeling all her years bony to his touch. He’d been gone too long. “Yes, ma’am. I think I forgot a lot of things.”
Craig could barely walk, but young men followed him everywhere, offering to carry his bag, give him a ride home. One young man, clean-cut with glasses and a full beard, silenced the others and extended his hand.
“You don’t know me, but I’m a big fan. My sports clinic would like to offer you free rehabilitation and therapy for your knee for as long as you’re in Tampa.”
Before Craig could turn it down, his aunt reached across him and shook the young man’s hand. “Thank you so much, son. He’ll be down there. I’ll bring him myself. We appreciate you, baby.”
Craig forced a smile as the guy extended a business card to him with an initial appointment time scrawled on the back. He knew how much therapy and rehab cost, and no business would make it giving that kind of service away for free. Not that it was going to help him play again, if that’s what they were hoping for. Craig would be content just to walk without a cane.
“Thanks, man. I’ll do one appointment, but I can’t accept more. You can’t afford not to charge for that. I appreciate your kindness, but I want to be clear—I’ve got nothing. I’m not even going to be playing anymore.”
The you
ng man smiled. “I know. I hate that I won’t see you running the ball again, but this has nothing to do with that. I just wanted to say thank you. You know, for all you did for me. If it wasn’t for you, there wouldn’t be an Agape Sports Medicine at all. I think you paid for every one of us to get through community college.”
Craig pulled up short, ignoring the pain that shot through his knee. “I don’t understand. How could I have paid your way to school? I’ve never even met you.”
His aunt giggled while Dante opened the car door for her. “Well, now, you know I could never spend all that money you sent on me.”
Craig closed his eyes. Women. They were unbelievable. “I told you to invest it, for you to have in case something ever happened and I couldn’t play. Something like now!”
His aunt smiled, totally ignoring his rising tone of voice except for a squeeze on the wrist that had always meant that he should watch his mouth. “I did invest it, son. I just invested it in people. I think you’ll be amazed to see how some of those ‘securities’ have turned out.”
As the day went on, his aunt’s house filled with people and hickory smoke funneled from the grills lined up across the backyard. In fits and starts of introductions and watching pots on the stove, his aunt told him about the Craig Richards Foundation, something he’d always thought was a joke when his aunt had mentioned it.
Aunt Tee had been using Craig’s money to help people for years while he and Brianna were burning through it. After his fourth invitation to dinner by a family who’d been helped by the Foundation, Craig felt something inside him break. Mortgages, medical bills, college tuition, home renovations, even the church day care center was bankrolled by his money. All the investments he and Brianna had made: a house that now wouldn’t sell, funds that had gone bust, more cars than they could drive—none of it compared to what his aunt had done by seeding into people instead of just things.
“Are you coming to church tomorrow?” asked a little girl with a red tongue from her melting Popsicle. “They gonna pray for you, since you poor now.”
A Million Blessings Page 9