Essie tilted her head to the side and wrinkled her nose, as if to reply, "I know but I ain't."
This morning Essie was wearing a baby blue silk sleeveless top with a boatneck front and a V-shaped back, anchored by a matching blue silk bow above a row of rhinestone buttons that stopped where the top grazed the hip of the straight, tailored skirt. She was wearing navy blue pumps with a matching purse, and a wide-brimmed, baby blue silk hat that was pinned on top of a perfectly styled French roll. Her upswept hair was highlighted by silver earrings, and she wore a silver charm bracelet, which made a delightful tinkling sound every time she moved her arm.
In that hat and elegant baby blue suit, Theophilus thought that Essie seemed every bit the First Lady. He thought to himself, "Now, why did she have to walk her little self up in here, looking like my wife."
Essie's presence wasn't lost on Glodean, who was annoyed to see "that little heifer" sitting up in her church on anniversary Sunday, acting as if she belonged there. It had been plain to Glodean at the Annual Conference that she still had the power to work Theophilus's nerves. But today his eyes never strayed from Miss Essie Lee Lane, and he barely seemed to notice Glodean. If there was one thing Glodean Benson couldn't put up with, it was being ignored.
Finally Sister Clayton ran out of steam, and Theophilus gratefully reclaimed the podium. He would trim his sermon a little, he decided, to make up for the time Sister Clayton had wasted and to avoid holding up the church's anniversary dinner at Mabel's Kitchen. And, he had to admit, because then he could be with Essie that much sooner.
Essie stood in the doorway of Mabel's Kitchen waiting for Theophilus. She didn't feel right taking her seat at the head table without him because it was the place usually reserved for the first lady of the church. She considered going to sit with D.S. and Coral Thomas, who had waved when she entered the dining room, but rather than disturb them decided to wait outside on the steps. She was just turning to leave when Theophilus came up behind her and grabbed her around the waist, oblivious to the many pairs of eyes that suddenly locked on to the pastor hugging his woman. Much as Essie loved the feel of Theophilus's hands on her waist, she was embarrassed by this display of affection in front of his congregation. Easing his arms from around her waist, she moved to stand at his side.
"Aaawww, baby, my sermon couldn't have been that bad," he said laughing. "You're acting like—" Theophilus stopped talking when his eyes registered that his whole congregation was staring at them. He stood up straight and tried to look preacherly, as he offered Essie his arm and escorted her to the head table.
Coral Thomas reveled in the sight of Theophilus and Essie together, seeming so deeply in love. She knew that there was nothing more exhilarating than knowing you have found the one that God intended for you, and she truly believed that Essie was her young pastor's other half, the side of himself he was only beginning to discover. Having spotted Glodean at church, Coral only hoped that she had witnessed the romantic gesture Theophilus had just made. Maybe that would convince her that it was time to give him up and leave Greater Hope, taking all of her crazy, pink mess with her.
Glodean had seen the hug, as well as the delight on the faces of her own church members, and it hurt her down to the bone. But she steeled herself against that pain and strategized, hiding out in the stall in the ladies' room. When she finally emerged, she knew what to do.
Glodean hovered in the doorway of the dining room, waiting till the timing was just right. Then she strutted into the room, with her head held high, moving like a queen, enjoying the way the conversations ebbed as all eyes turned to her. She was especially gratified by the panicky expression on Theophilus's face when he realized that she was homing in on the head table. He was right to worry, she thought with a secret smile. She was about to turn this little anniversary party all the way out.
She stepped up onto the platform where the pastor's table stood and approached Theophilus from behind. Then, abruptly, she bent down and threw her arms around him, pressing herself into him and rubbing her breasts across the back of his neck.
"Hello, baby," she said in a husky stage whisper.
Theophilus was so shocked he couldn't move or say a word. Nor could the rest of the congregation, sitting there aghast at her flagrant display. No one could believe that even Glodean Benson would do something this crazy at their church anniversary celebration.
Coral Thomas was outraged. "What the hell is wrong with that crazy, butt-swaying heifer?" she said to D.S. "I'm going up there to tell that hussy a thing a two about herself."
But D.S. caught her by the wrist. "No, Coral, sit down. You can look all you want to but you ain't going up to that table."
"Why not?" she hissed. "Let me go!"
"You got to let Essie stand up to that woman by herself. She the one need to get Glodean straight. 'Cause if she lets Glodean get away with this mess, every fool who gets an inkling for the pastor gone think she got a chance."
Coral saw the wisdom of what D.S. was saying and sat down. "I sure hope that baby girl got it in her," she said.
By now Glodean had shifted her embrace to block out Essie, swinging her hips around so that her behind was staring Essie square in the face.
When Essie had seen Glodean that morning, she vowed that nothing would provoke her into an ugly scene. But this was too much. She thought to herself, "Who does this thang think she is, sticking her big butt all up in my face?"
Ignoring Essie's vibes, Glodean decided to add insult to injury by giving her behind a little self-satisfied wiggle.
"Aww, naw. No way," Essie said under her breath. "That's it!"
Yanking a long, blue topaz pin from her hat, she jabbed it deep into Glodean's behind, so hard that Glodean toppled forward onto the table.
The church members, who had been sitting stunned by the drama playing out at the pastor's table, now burst out laughing at Essie's surprise retaliation. The assistant pastor's wife was so tickled that she got bright red-orange lipstick all over her brand-new yellow gloves as she tried to cover her mouth to stop her discreet little chuckles from deteriorating into flat-out, wide-mouth guffaws.
The shock rushed out of Theophilus, and he sprang into action, catching Essie's arm just as she swung it back to stab Glodean's butt one more time.
"Essie!" he barked.
"Essie, the First Lady of Greater Hope cannot go sticking folks with hat pins when they don't act right!"
Essie was too mad and too fixed on her target to hear Theophilus. She tried to pry her arm out of his firm grip to stick Glodean again.
"I said," he stated loudly, with authority in his voice, "the First Lady of Greater Hope cannot go stabbing her members with pins, no matter how they behave!"
As soon as Theophilus stopped talking, his words hit him, and he felt like he was going to faint. He couldn't believe he had just proposed marriage—not once, but twice—to a woman while she was attacking his former girlfriend with a hat pin in front of the entire congregation at his church's anniversary celebration.
Glodean just lay there a few seconds, too distraught to move, her behind and her heart both aching, after hearing Theophilus propose marriage to Essie. At last she managed to pull herself up off the table and strode out of the dining room as fast as she could, shamed by the laughter that wafted after her like her own perfume.
All Essie could do was stare at Theophilus with bewilderment and joy. Had he really just asked her to marry him?
"Hallelujah," Coral Thomas declared to D.S. as the entire room burst into loud applause. "That's the Lord at work. Talk about some mysterious ways. Yes, Lord! Yes, Lord!"
As soon as they could decently get up from their chairs, church members started flocking to the bathrooms, dying to compare notes on the scene they had just witnessed. The most charitable among them made a beeline for the pay phones, out of compassion for the sick and shut-in, to break the news to their sisters and brothers in the Lord who had been unable to see this little shindig with their own eyes.
Part 3
1963
Chapter Twelve
THEOPHILUS TOOK A LONG SIP OUT OF THE GLASS sitting on the table next to the pastor's chair. He had wondered what would happen if he insisted that the deaconesses put Pepsi in that pitcher instead of the predictable ice water. They would probably fall on their knees, rebuking him and praying for his "backsliding soul" right in front of his face. He had once asked Coral Thomas her opinion, and she had looked at him like he was crazy, saying, "Pastor, did I hear you right? Pepsi in the pulpit pitcher? Who ever heard of such a thing?"
So here he was on a warm Memphis Sunday morning in April with only plain old ice water to get him through the service. He looked at his bride sitting in her new spot, the first-row pew, just below his pulpit, raising his temperature a few more degrees in a delectable-looking navy blue dress. Essie had made that dress and bought the white silk hat she was wearing, just for today, her very first Sunday as the official First Lady of Greater Hope Gospel United Church. It was such a simple and proper little outfit—a soft, cotton voile shirtwaist with no adornment other than the string of pearls she was wearing around her neck. But it looked so good on her that he secretly found it very sexy. He got hot just looking at his first lady. He wiped his face again and started back into the sermon, his rich baritone voice becoming softer and more seductive every time he glanced at his new wife.
Essie couldn't trust those looks her new husband kept stealing at her, looks that had no business coming from his pulpit, especially on her first day as the church's first lady. Before she met Theophilus, she used to wonder why some women got so excited over the sound of the preacher's voice. But she understood now. During their courtship, whenever Theophilus's preaching was packed with fire and passion on a Sunday morning, the hot desire that lingered in his voice on Sunday night used to put Essie on her knees. She had to pray and pray, and keep on praying to hold tight to what she knew was right and resist that man until they said "I do."
This was a fast sermon, moving quickly from what Essie had figured out was Theophilus's everyday teaching-for-living-the-Christian-life phase, to the shouting-all-over-church phase. Today, though, she was so caught up in the sound of his voice that she couldn't have told anyone what he was talking about to save her life. But it must have been good because everybody was right with him, shouting "Amen" and "Praise the Lord" throughout his delivery.
"Ummm . . . and, church . . ." Theophilus said, pausing as Essie shifted in her seat, accidentally exposing the lower part of her thigh. He stopped short for a moment, forgetting where he was, and then recovered himself, throwing her a slick wink that was not missed by a single soul sitting in the sanctuary.
Mr. D.S. Thomas leaned over toward his wife and whispered, "You know something? I think the Pastor got his mind on something other than Jesus."
Coral nodded in agreement. She had told the Pastor he needed to take some time off before coming back to work from his honeymoon. Theophilus was a young man with a strong nature, and it would take him a little extra time to get used to having Essie sleeping next to him every night. And if he had listened to her advice, he wouldn't be standing here messing over that sermon and carrying on like he was.
Theophilus composed himself and mercifully wound up the sermon without any more lapses. By the time the doors of the church were opened and the benediction given, his passion had risen, calmed, and subsided—only to start up all over again when Essie reached him in the receiving line. Wrapping her up in an embrace that was more like a lover's than a pastor's, he kissed her on the lips.
Essie pulled away from him and placed her hand on his cheek, giving him what she hoped was a sweet, "remember we're at church" first lady smile. But he bent down and whispered in her ear, "I wish you were a member of the Pastor's Aide Club because I sure do want some 'aid' when we get home."
Coral and D.S. Thomas, standing behind Essie, watched Theophilus flirt outrageously. It was kind of fun to see a pastor take such obvious delight in his wife. Coral thought to herself how rare it was to see this side of a preacher, because the pastor and the first lady, whether they liked it or not, set the model for married life in the church. What better example could a pastor set for the husbands in his congregation than such an open demonstration of how much he loved and desired his wife.
Theophilus kissed Essie on the side of her mouth, telling her to keep the kiss in that spot until later, so he could move the receiving line along. Coral Thomas then stepped up to him, with a big mischievous grin spread across her face, and said, "Now, Theophilus, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you were more inclined to being frisky with your bride than giving us this week's message from the Lord."
Theophilus was mortified to think that, as fresh as he had been with Essie, the congregation had been able to read the feelings between the lines of that sermon.
"Now, see here, D.S. honey," Coral said, winking at her husband, "our young pastor didn't think that us old folks could still hear passion in a man's voice. And don't you just have to wonder what he thinks really got some of those good sisters to shouting this morning. I mean, even Sister Clayton was hollering and we all know she full of the devil!"
Coral leaned over toward Theophilus and whispered low enough so she wouldn't be overheard, "So, Pastor, are you and Miss Essie coming to our house for dinner before or after that little bit of 'pastor's aid' you were mentioning? I just need to know what time to put my rolls in the oven."
Essie started laughing. Miss Coral was the only person bold enough to say something that embarrassing to Theophilus. With a twinkle in her eye, she said, "Why don't you answer Miss Coral, Theophilus? What's wrong, cat got your tongue?"
"Well, Miss Coral," Theophilus said, grinning at Essie as he turned the tables on her, "I'll have to call you and tell you what time to put those rolls in the oven. Because frankly, I don't know how long I'll be getting me some of this aid. Ain't that right, baby?
"But first," he added frowning, "I have to meet with Sister Clayton."
Willie Clayton was late, thank God. He had been dreading this encounter, and just thinking about it made his head hurt. Most people had no idea of the extent of a pastor's job—teacher, businessman, counselor, intellectual, friend—and now, what else was he? Community defender? Sister Clayton was furious with him, he knew, but he felt that he had no other choice than to defy her, though it might cost the church the considerable income of her offerings. When she finally arrived, even her knock sounded angry.
"Yes?" he said, and Willie Clayton stomped in.
"Pastor," she demanded. "What is this mess I been hearing about you withdrawing your endorsement of Clayton Funeral Homes for our church members?"
Theophilus hadn't told anyone about his intentions but the family who made the initial complaint against Clayton Funeral Homes. But nothing stayed secret for long at Greater Hope.
"You told the Bobo family that you were going to deal with me," Sister Clayton said, now leaning on his desk, trying to stick her face in his.
"Yes, I told Mrs. Bobo that I would deal with you, Sister Clayton. Everybody in this church knows good and well that the Bobos don't have any money. For the life of me, I can't imagine why you would charge them anything beyond your own costs for burying a stillborn baby, let alone refuse to bargain. They'd be paying out that fee for years."
"I offered the Bobo Family the ten percent discount that is promised every member of Greater Hope for that funeral. Plus, I threw in an extra car at no extra cost, to make sure all of them had a ride to the church and the cemetery. You know how their car don't work. Every time I drive by their house, it's sitting up on a cinder block with a car light stuck up under it."
Theophilus hated to admit it, but Sister Clayton was right about the Bobos and their raggedy car. He didn't think there was ever a time there wasn't a broken-down car sitting up on some cinder blocks in their grassless front yard. But raggedy ca
r or not, the Bobos had the right to be treated with compassion by their own church members. For Sister Clayton to have tried to price-gouge the Bobos was just wrong. She wouldn't miss their little bit of money, not this woman who could afford to buy two fur coats to wear in a city where nobody could even remember the last time it snowed.
"Sister Willie Clayton, you do not have a right to the monopoly of the business of your church members. And I am not sending another soul your way," Theophilus said. "I learned just how outrageous your prices are when I called Mr. Butler of Butler-Caro Funeral Homes to see what he could do for the Bobos. He isn't even a member of our church, and he is doing that funeral for half the cost, even after your ten percent discount. Where is your Christian charity?
"And another thing, Sister Clayton, I simply refuse to encourage anybody in this church to buy you another Cadillac, trip to the Bahamas, or new fur coat. You need to know that I have already told the Usher Board to take the Clayton Funeral Homes church fans out of the pews."
Sister Clayton couldn't believe what she was hearing. Greater Hope's members had been patronizing Clayton Funeral Homes since her father first opened the business over forty years ago. People who were grieving didn't shop around, preferring to deal with someone they knew and trusted, so she rarely got complaints about her prices. But if Rev. Simmons started sending people to Butler-Caro, word would get around. She would not only lose Greater Hope's business, which she needed, but also the support of other pastors in the area. She couldn't afford that.
"Rev. Simmons," she said, "you'll regret this—I'm gonna see to it. I wonder how big and bad you'll be when the Triennial Conference rolls around and Greater Hope can't pay its conference fees because your offering box is suffering."
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