“Sans—you mean without you? Au contraire. Like anyone could ever fully replace you, Dr. Xavier Holden. I’ll see you when you get back. That’s providing you ever do decide to come back.”
He laughed. “Oh, I’ll be back. In spite of what my family says about me being enough for them, just wait until the money starts to get low or run out. You’ll see just how much they wanted me around when they start pushing me out the door to get back to work and bring home some more moola.”
“Have fun. I’ll see you when you get back to the office. Whenever.” She laughed.
Chapter 14
And now she is planted in the wilderness, in a dry and thirsty ground.
—Ezekiel 19:13
Arletha vowed she would never set foot back in Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center ever again. At first Memory was fine about that since she hadn’t been keen on going to anyone’s church anyway. And she’d only succumbed to Arletha’s whining. Yet, it had been three weeks since their last visit, and there was now a gnawing in Memory’s spirit, whispering to her to go again. She couldn’t shake it. She’d tried, but she hadn’t been able to shake it.
“Arletha, I know you said you didn’t want to ever go back to that church with that Pastor Landris again,” Memory said after she entered the kitchen where Arletha stood.
Arletha was preparing spaghetti for the second time in a week. “That’s right.”
Memory sat down. “Have you found a church you like yet?”
“Nope. If you ask me, all of these preachers have gone loco…literally lost their cotton-picking minds. Every one of them. I just don’t understand how the devil has wormed his way into the Lord’s house like he has. It’s a shame and a disgrace.”
“Well, I was wondering if you might consider dropping me off at Pastor Landris’s church on your way to whichever church you plan to attend on Sunday.”
Arletha stopped and looked at Memory. “Please do not tell me you were sucked into that brainwashing jive like all the rest of them going there?”
“I don’t look at what I experienced that day as a brainwashing. Something happened to me when I went there. I tried to play it off myself, but I feel like I’m supposed to be at that church. It’s as though I’m being summoned there for some reason I don’t have a clue about,” Memory said. “I don’t know what it is; I can’t explain it, but I can’t seem to shake this desire to go again.”
“What you need is to get your Bible and study for yourself while I find a decent place to attend. There’s nothing for you at that church. Nothing. Believe you me, if I thought there was a true anointing even visiting let alone residing there, I’d be making my way there myself. That man believes in and teaches things that go against almost everything I grew up being taught was right.”
“So does that make it wrong?”
Arletha looked at Memory hard. “Does that make what wrong? His beliefs and teachings? Him? Yes, it does. Look, if you won’t stand for what you believe and you allow every Tom, Dick, and Larry to come along with all their newfangled doctrine and change your belief, you’re going to find yourself in a whole world of trouble. Women weren’t allowed to wear pants in church when I came along. Now, almost every church you walk in, the women are sporting them like they have a God-given right to. Well, they don’t!” Arletha reached up and took down the noodles in the tall, plastic container from the cabinet.
“Women had their assigned places in church,” she said. “But now you find them all up in the pulpits preaching and such. It’s blasphemy! And it’s not right. I’m not going to participate in this deception. People allowing hip-hop rap, talking about if it’s spreading the gospel it’s okay. It’s not okay in my book. We’ve brought too much of the world into the church and folks are just sitting around almost welcoming these ungodly things as they’re taking over. One preacher even had the nerve to attack one of my all-time favorite songs. Talking about, ‘Why do you want to sing for the Lord not to move your mountain when the Bible tells you to speak to the mountain and to tell it to be thy removed and be thy cast into the sea?’ I love that song, and I believe if there’s a mountain in your way, then you just ought to climb it, ask the Lord to give you the strength to do what you got to do, and keep your mouth shut about it being there as you climb it.”
“So you’d rather climb a mountain than to speak to it and have it just move?” Memory asked, confused by her statement.
“Tell me: Do you really believe you can speak to a mountain and tell it to move and it’s going to move? I mean, really now?”
“Well, you say you believe what the Bible says, and the Bible does state that if you have enough faith you can speak to the mountain and tell it to move and it should move.”
“Is that right? And when did you become such a Bible scholar, Mother Robertson?”
Memory suddenly found herself offended, but she knew she had to be careful. Yes, she was the elder of the two, but Arletha was nothing if she wasn’t judgmental. Memory knew from having been around her, Arletha somehow felt it her duty to execute judgment on others as she saw fit…almost as though she were God himself.
“I didn’t mean to imply I was a scholar, by any stretch of the imagination,” Memory said with a sincere smile. “I’m well aware nobody knows the things of God like you, dearie.” Her tongue poked the inside of her cheek. “It’s almost as if you know every thought God has.”
Arletha cut her eyes over at Memory. “Well, personally, I don’t like that Pastor Landris or his church. And frankly, I believe you should keep as far away from there as you possibly can. No telling what evil will come to you being there. You mark my words, there is no good to come to you if you find your way to that place again.” She started breaking the spaghetti noodles in half and slid them into the pot of rolling, boiling water. “Regardless, I’ll not be the one to ever take you over there unless I happen to be dropping you off for good. I don’t want any misguided vibes coming up in my house. Now you can defy me and go on your own if you want, but I believe you will regret it if you do. I just don’t permit wrong spirits to have access to my home. And evil spirits do have a way of attaching themselves to people, especially when it helps them gain a right of entry to God’s chosen ones such as myself.”
Memory smiled, then nodded. She knew what all that meant. If she went to the church and Arletha found out, she’d likely have to find herself another place to live.
Fortunately for Memory, she wasn’t as bad off as she’d led Arletha to believe. If she ever had to leave, she would do just that. One thing she did feel: God was doing something in her life. Maybe it was just her age kicking in. Maybe the time was getting closer for her to leave this world, and that’s why she was feeling so differently about her life. Maybe she really was just tired. Whatever was going on, she felt herself being drawn in another direction from her usual self. And in truth, she really did want to know what this was all about.
“We’ll be eating in about twenty minutes,” Arletha said. “The sauce is simmering in the cast iron skillet here, and the noodles are almost done. If you want to go and get washed up so you can set the table, that would be great.”
Memory smiled again as she got up. “Of course.”
That was another thing she hated about Arletha: she enjoyed bossing other folks around. It was always her way or the highway. Probably why she never married. Who could stand to be around her for too long? One day though, Memory thought, somebody is going to set that woman straight.
“Well, don’t just stand there looking at me like a Chesh cat. You know how I hate eating late. I have to take my meds and I have to take them at a certain time. Besides, God expects us to do everything decent and in order. That includes our daily living. It’s decent to sit down at the table and eat. I don’t know about you, but I’m eternally grateful to God just for having a roof over my head and someplace to lay it and food to put on the table. Not everybody can say that.” She looked at Memory through her oversized, pink-rimmed glasses that magnified the size
of her eyes five times larger than their normal size.
“Amen,” Memory said as she walked casually away. “A-men to that!” Yep, one day somebody is going to set her good and straight! About a lot of things, too!
Chapter 15
Drink waters out of thine own cistern, and running waters out of thine own well.
—Proverbs 5:15
“Well, hello there. Fatima Adams, isn’t it?” a male voice said behind her.
Fatima stopped. It couldn’t be. She turned around. She was on her way inside the sanctuary, and yes, trailing behind her was Darius Connors along with his wife.
“Good morning,” Fatima said in a deliberately dry tone.
“And how are you this fine, blessed Sunday morning?” Darius was particularly upbeat and cheery, different from the way he usually interacted with Fatima.
“Fine,” Fatima said, continuing on and trying not to look at either of them.
“Honey, have you met Fatima Adams?” Darius said. “She’s been a member here for what? About a year now?”
“Nine months,” Fatima said, trying her best to sound polite instead of irritated.
“No,” Darius’s wife said, “I don’t believe I have.” She walked up and offered her hand to Fatima. “I’m Tiffany Connors, Darius’s wife. Pleased to meet you.”
Fatima shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.” She then quickly turned back around and started walking even faster, hoping to put enough distance between them to ensure she wouldn’t end up having to sit anywhere near them.
The ushers were directing everybody to the seats they wanted to fill up first, as always. Fatima attempted to go over to the other side, but they motioned for her to sit in the row on the side where she had entered. She sat down, and just as she figured would happen, Darius sat right next to her with his wife next to him. She wanted to get up and go to another area, but that would have been too suspicious and too obvious.
You can do this, Fatima, you can do this. Just keep your mind on Jesus.
The dance team came out. Before they began, the leader instructed everybody on how she wanted the audience to participate during certain parts of the song.
“When you hear the words, we want you to turn to the person next to you and sing the words to him or her. Then we’re going to do it again so you can sing to the person on the other side of you. Does everybody understand how we’re doing this?”
“Yes!” The audience’s voices exploded as they clapped with excitement.
The dance team, dressed in a variety of pastel-colored chiffon outfits of the same design, was dancing to “I Need You to Survive” by Hezekiah Walker. Fatima knew this was not good at all. And just as she suspected, Darius made an extra effort for her to feel his heart when he shook her hand during the appointed time in the song.
He smiled at her, purposely making his eyes dance. He caressed the back of her hand in a subtle, circular motion with his thumb. He held her hand longer than was necessary for that portion of the song, causing her to have to pull it out of his hand without making too much of a scene. When they came to the second verse, which was about praying for each other, he forced her to look back into his eyes as the words, “I love you; I need you to survive” were now being sung. He knew the connection they shared whenever they gazed into each other’s eyes, and he played it for everything it was worth. She watched him pucker his lips softly and send her a kiss without anyone else being able to detect he’d just done it.
Fatima was messed up for the rest of the service. She didn’t understand how a person could take a perfectly nice song and use it the way Darius had just done on her. He had rattled her, and what was worst: he knew it. It didn’t seem to faze him in the least that he had been practically flirting with her in church literally right in front of his own wife without her ever suspecting a thing.
“You’re sick!” Fatima said to Darius when he called her after she arrived home from church. She had been so upset with the stunt he’d pulled today. She literally snatched the phone off its base on the first ring after she saw his name pop up on the caller ID. “You should be ashamed of yourself! But I already know that you’re not.”
“Well, you wouldn’t talk to me. And it’s not like I planned it. We just happened to arrive around the same time as you. And the ushers made us sit pretty much where they wanted us to sit, you included. You know all of this. But I do thank God at least I got to tell you in person what I’ve been leaving in messages on your machine for the past six weeks. I love you,” he began to sing the song again, “I need you to survive.” He paused, then quickly spoke again. “Dumping me the way you did and then refusing to talk to me about it is not going to change how I feel about you. And I suspect you feel the same way about me. We have a bond whether we want it to be there or not.” He let out a loud sigh. “The question is: What are we going to do about it?”
“I’m trying to do the right thing. You’re a married man, Darius. Has that fact somehow slipped your mind, even now, after having gone to church with your wife, might I add?” She put emphasis on the words church and wife. “The fact remains: you belong to someone else. This is not right to her, or to me, for that matter.”
“Oh, so I suppose you don’t believe this affects me in any negative way?”
“How? Oh, you mean the fact that you’re committing adultery? It affects you? You’re getting the best of both worlds. You have a wife that you’re building a life with. You have a family…. Then you had me on the side. Had, mind you. Had. Past tense. Your wife wasn’t getting everything she was entitled to. And as for me…”
“What about you?”
“I got the leftovers, the crumbs. I was the one who—at the end of the day—had no one. I was the one who had to wait for you to make or find some time for. You couldn’t care less if I needed you. I was on my own.”
“That’s not true. I cared. I still care. I just couldn’t always get away. And you’re being a big baby about it. Goodness, Fatima, you just need to grow up. You should understand how life works by now. We don’t always get what we want when we want it.”
“So, what’s your point? I should be happy for whatever I get? Is that the way you think I should live my life? Waiting days…weeks…possibly a month for you to be able to slip away and give me an hour or two of your stolen time? Is that all I deserve?”
“What was wrong with that? It’s the quality of time, not always the quantity, that matters most. And you definitely got quality.”
“Of course you would say something like that.”
“You know I love you.” His voice was softer.
“I won’t argue that you don’t. But you know what? I think Tina Turner may have put it best: ‘What’s love got to do with it?’”
Darius paused for a second before he answered. “So, what are you trying to say? You really don’t want to be with me? Do you really expect me to believe it’s over between us just because you can’t have what you want when you want it?”
Fatima started laughing. “You know what, Darius?”
“What?”
“I have someone in my life who truly loves me. He loves me enough that there’s nothing He wouldn’t do for me. He gives me flowers every day, floods me with them year round, but especially during the summertime. He hung the moon and the stars for me. Do you hear me? He loved me so much He gave His life to save me. Me, Darius. Do you hear me? Me. And I want to do right by Him.”
Darius started laughing. “Oh, my goodness. Will you just listen at you? Sounds like you’ve gone over the spiritual edge like so many others these days. Now I suppose you want me to believe that you have Jesus in your life and that’s enough?”
“No. I’m not expecting you to believe anything. In fact, see if you can believe this.” And she hung up. She tossed the silenced phone on the couch and flopped down next to it as she began to cry. She did have Jesus. So why was that not enough?
Darius looked at his now hushed phone. “Oh, my dear, Fatima, it’s not over. You might th
ink it’s over but it’s not. You see, if you didn’t care, you never would have answered the phone like you did. And you wouldn’t be exhibiting such intense emotions. I see what I need to do for you now. We just need some alone time together.” He smiled. “Just me and you, person to person. And we can straighten this all up in no time flat. You and I are not over, definitely not. We’re a long way from being over.” He smiled, put his cell phone back inside his pants’ pocket, and walked back inside the house.
“Find what you were looking for out there?” Tiffany asked when he came back in the kitchen.
“Not yet. But you know me; I won’t give up until I do. I know I put that drill somewhere. I thought it might be in the storage house. Guess I was wrong. I just need to keep searching until I can put my hands on it again.” He kissed his wife on the cheek and grinned. “Dinner smells de-li-cious! Just like you.” He puckered up and kissed the air.
Chapter 16
Seek good, and not evil, that ye may live: and so the
Lord, the God of hosts, shall be with you, as ye have spoken.
—Amos 5:14
Bentley walked into the bedroom and lay across the bed. “I called to make an appointment with Pastor Landris,” Bentley said.
“What did they say?” Marcella asked as she continued to roll her hair.
“He’s booked solid for the next three months.”
“Did you tell them it was an emergency?”
“I asked them to put me on the waiting list in case of a cancellation, but I don’t think you could truly classify my problem as a real emergency.”
“So how are you holding up? Honestly.”
“It’s a challenge. The Internet is really wearing me down. I get e-mails upon e-mails with filthy words…taunting me. Activating and planting thoughts in my head, and it’s just hard to control those thoughts sometimes. Before I know it, I’m thinking about things I shouldn’t be.”
Strongholds Page 10