Essie heard Theophilus's car pull up in the driveway and finished rubbing a mixture of oil and setting lotion into her damp hair. She fluffed it up, then glanced at herself in the mirror, kind of liking the way her hair looked "natural." Recently, some of the civil rights workers had started wearing their hair that way. Unstraightened, her hair was soft and curly, with its reddish gold highlights more prominent, and it framed her face nicely, making her eyes show up even more.
Then she heard Theophilus turn the key in the lock. Something was wrong. His footsteps were slow and labored. She wondered if that had anything to do with Mr. Jarvis, and she hurried out to check on him.
When she bumped into him in the hall, he looked like he was close to tears. But he stepped back and looked at her, saying, "Essie! What have you done to your hair?"
She reached out to him, and he grabbed her, pulling her to him and kissing her forehead. She looked up at his face, wondering about the mood and what had happened with Mr. Jarvis. But she could see that he didn't want to talk right now.
He held her close, and weaving his fingers through her soft natural hair, kissed her lips. Essie could feel the sorrow in him and unconsciously pressed her body closer to his, wrapping a knee up around his thigh. He grabbed her thigh and squeezed it, kissing her and sighing deeply. He whispered, "Those drapes drawn tight in the living room?"
Essie said, "The living room?"
"Yeah, the living room. The bedroom isn't the only place for loving."
"I . . . I . . . just . . ."
Theophilus continued to weave his fingers through her natural hair, softly kissing her eyes. Then, with a tender loving look, he took her hand and led her into the living room, to a comfortable and cozy spot on the floor, between the couch and the coffee table. He sat down and pulled Essie onto his lap, shrugging off his suit coat and fumbling with his shirt and tie. Then he coaxed Essie onto the floor beside him as he unbuckled his pants and, kissing her all the while, removed his socks, undershirt, and shorts.
Essie studied the passion in her husband's face, knowing it had been triggered by the aching in his heart and that he needed this loving for comfort. She started to undress, but Theophilus stopped her and began to unbutton her blouse, slowly and teasingly. He trailed kisses down her neck and chest and stomach. He removed her clothing piece by piece. He stopped to nibble at each expanse of warm flesh he had uncovered. By the time he finished nibbling at her toes and kissed his way back up to her mouth, Essie didn't have a stitch on.
Theophilus gazed into his wife's eyes, telling her "I love you, baby" without saying a word. Essie whispered, "I love you, sugar," in his ear, and he couldn't wait another moment to become one with his beloved wife.
Theophilus reached up and, pulling the quilt off the sofa, wrapped most of it around Essie, who was glowing with the heat of their lovemaking. The sheer ecstasy of it had left them both spent and sleepy.
Half dozing, Theophilus wrapped his arms and legs around Essie and kissed the tip of her ear, murmuring, "Baby."
"Ummm hmmm," she purred and snuggled closer to him.
"Baby, I was just thinking about your hair and wondering why you don't wear it like that all the time."
"Sugar, you know I can't walk around with a nappy head."
"Why not?"
"Folks at church would have a fit if they saw my hair like this."
"So, let them have a fit. When have you ever worried about what they thought anyway?"
"Well," she sighed. "I've been rocking a few boats at Greater Hope, even today." She told him about Mother Harold's visit, concluding by saying, "I don't need to make matters worse with my hair."
"Aw, Essie, rock the doggone boat. I like your hair and that is all that should matter to you. Don't tell me you're afraid to wear it like this."
"Now, when I was ever afraid?" Essie asked, with a chuckle. "Are you daring me?"
"You could call it that," Theophilus said, grinning.
Essie knew that when she stepped up in Greater Hope with a nappy head, all hell would break loose. As she thought whose tongues would be wagging, she started liking the idea of creating a big fuss at church. It would be fun to shake up a few of that old guard.
"I'll take that dare. Deal."
As Theophilus kissed Essie on the forehead to seal the deal, the doorbell rang. He grabbed his watch off the coffee table. It was only 8:30, not too late for a parishioner to come calling with some request. He sighed and started to get up but Essie pushed him back down. "Don't you move. You have had enough for one day. We're not dealing with anybody right now."
"But, baby, what if it's an emergency?"
"This ain't no emergency. If it were, they would have called first, just to make sure you would be ready for them when they got here. No, I'm sure this is about some mess. Never fails—the mess starters always show up in the early morning or late in the evening."
Theophilus leaned back against the couch and started to relax. Essie was right.
"Plus, you're tired, sugar. Walked in this house looking peaked and worn down to the bone."
But whoever it was kept ringing the bell right out of the socket. With a sigh of annoyance, Essie got up and went to put on a robe.
The woman at the door was unfamiliar and looked surprised when Essie answered the door, as if she weren't standing right in her own home. Without even greeting her, the woman walked into the foyer asking, "Where's the Pastor?"
Essie now remembered that the woman worked for Willie Clayton, who had not yet made good on her threat to withdraw from Greater Hope. For the moment, she was thinking she was punishing Theophilus merely by withholding her offerings.
The woman continued looking past Essie like she didn't see her and said, "Pastor available?"
Amazed at her boldness, Essie said, "No, he's not available right now."
"But I saw his car in the driveway, so he must be here."
"Well, he may be here but he ain't available."
The woman now studied Essie more closely and it dawned on her that the First Lady was wearing a robe, probably without a stitch of clothing on underneath it. Essie watched the comprehension build on her face and hoped that her attire was enough to make the woman leave. Unfortunately, it wasn't.
"Sister Clayton sent me over here to give these papers to the Pastor," she said. "Sister Clayton said these papers real important and—"
"Give me the papers," Essie said, holding out her hand. What could be so important that it had to be delivered at 8:30 at night? Whatever was in the papers was sure to make Theophilus mad. It was just like Willie Clayton to give her dirty work to someone else—probably some woman who was stuck on the Pastor and would jump at the chance to see him privately, at home.
The woman just stood there, ignoring her hand.
"I said I will take the papers and give them to the Pastor."
Sure enough, the woman looked disappointed. "Well, Sister Clayton told me to put these papers right in the Pastor's hands, and his hands, only. So you'll just have to call him because I am not leaving until I do what I came here to do."
Essie had seen some bold women cross her husband's path, but this one was both bold and rude. She moved further into the foyer, as if she meant to push past Essie. A mischievous voice within Essie whispered, "Let her go."
She allowed the woman to elbow her aside and shove her way into the living room. There Theophilus sat, not in a chair, but on the floor, leaning against the couch, draped in a quilt, but obviously just as naked as his wife. The woman blinked hard in disbelief, stammering, "Oh, oh, Rev. Simmons, I needed to give you this but Essie—"
"Who?" Theophilus demanded. "Are you referring to Mrs. Simmons, the First Lady?"
"Well, I—" The woman couldn't bring herself to honor Essie, standing there half naked, with her proper name and title.
"I'm not taking those papers," Theophilus said. "You had a chance to give them to Miss-us Simmons"—he stretched over the syllables—"but that wasn't good enough for you. So, now yo
u can come to my office during church business hours like a whole lot of other folks been doing lately."
He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes to show the woman that their conversation was over.
Sister Clayton had warned the woman that the Pastor wasn't as nice as he seemed. But he had a lot of nerve trying to throw her out like that.
"You think you bad, don't you, Pastor. Well, keep on thinking that. Just keep on until the day Sister Clayton kicks you out of Greater Hope."
Theophilus knew that the threat was idle. The only one with the authority to remove a pastor in this denomination was a bishop. But it didn't surprise him that Willie Clayton had been telling her people that she was going to get him kicked out of his pulpit.
For the second time that day, Essie was compelled to put a troublemaker out of her house. She pointed to the door, and when the woman didn't move, she said, "If you don't want to see the heifer in me y'all always talking about come out, you better get going."
As she marched out, the woman stopped to shake the papers in Essie's face. Essie snatched them out of her hand, opened the front door, and tossed the papers outside, leaving her to scramble after them as she slammed the door shut. Then she returned to the living room, where Theophilus was sitting with his head tipped back against the couch, with his eyes closed.
She sat down next to him and said, "Theophilus, sugar, you all right?" She took his hand in hers and rubbed it comfortingly, as the tears began to creep from under his closed eyelids.
"Did Mr. Jarvis go home to be with the Lord this evening?"
He nodded yes, putting his head in her lap, and sobbed, telling her how much it hurt that he would never be able to sit and laugh over a Pepsi with Mr. Jarvis anymore.
Essie stroked his hair, thinking that the church was a heavy weight for one man to carry on his shoulders all the time. She sat on the floor holding Theophilus until he fell asleep. Then she put a pillow under his head, covered him up with the quilt, and going into her sewing room, got down on her knees and prayed.
"Lord, the only thing I love more than that man asleep on my living room floor is You. But You know and I know that it's gonna take a whole lot to be the kind of wife You want me to be and the kind of wife he deserves. Help me not to fall short. Teach me, Father, teach me to be the kind of wife You had in mind when You invented wives. Teach me to be the perfect helpmeet. When your son Theophilus is sad, I'm sad, too, Lord. We are one, Father, just as You would have it. I cast all of this pain onto You, Lord, just like the Bible tells me to do. Take this yoke, this burden, and replace it with your peace. Please, Lord, please show me the way to be a good wife."
Chapter Sixteen
ESSIE WAS IN HER SEWING ROOM RIGHT BEFORE SHE left for church, surveying all the unfinished projects hanging on the beautiful purple-painted wooden rack. She loved all colors in the purple family. And there was plenty of it all through the house—lavender, violet, blue violet, magenta, and hot pink. Theophilus always teased her about purple, saying she loved it so much because she was his queen. And the purple item he teased her about the most was a purple-with-shots-of-pink-running-through-it Cadillac convertible, with the white leather interior and whitewall tires that she loved so much.
Essie had never seen a purple car in her life until she spotted it in the window of a car dealership downtown. She kept passing by to look at it, never expecting that a Negro would be welcome in the showroom. Finally one of the salesmen had beckoned her in and personally showed her all of the details of the car. Then one Saturday, she asked if she could test-drive it, knowing full well that such requests were rarely if ever honored for Negroes. But when the salesman surprised her again by agreeing, she returned with Theophilus, who sat in the back with the salesman, talking about the Bible, while Essie drove all over town. She was so happy to drive that exquisite car that she baked the man a sweet potato pie and had Theophilus take it to him the very next day.
And now, for her twenty-seventh birthday, Theophilus shocked her by presenting her with that car. It was an engagement, wedding, birthday, and anniversary present all rolled into one, he told her, adding jokingly, "But I'm sorry, baby— it still didn't cost as much, I'm sure, as that big old diamond ring Saphronia McComb was signifying with and playing the bigshot when she was here, trying to lord it over you."
Essie slid her purple Cadillac into the parking space marked FIRST LADY and pulled to a quick stop, making a little rubber burn, worrying Theophilus over the well-being of those expensive whitewall tires. Her lavender silk suit, accessorized by pale purple sunglasses and a long silver and lavender silk scarf, wrapped loosely around her head and neck, was the perfect look for driving to church in her new Cadillac convertible drop-top.
The first person to see the car was the evening caller Essie had put out of the house a month before. It didn't surprise Essie that she turned on her heel and ran into the church, no doubt carrying the tale straight to Willie Clayton. Essie could well imagine how some folks would carry on about the pastor squandering his money on a purple Cadillac, of all things, for that little slit-eyed, nappy-head heifer he was married to. There had been plenty of sneering, some obvious, some secret, when she showed up last month wearing her hair in a natural. But she got lots of compliments, too.
Whenever they got anything new, some people would get mad, and another faction would get all excited, making a big to-do over how well their pastor and first lady were doing. Those in the mad group always acted like the pastor and first lady had taken money right out of their pockets, and the excited ones seemed to celebrate any new acquisition as their own, as if the pastor and first lady were direct extensions of themselves.
"Umph, umph, umph," Theophilus was saying, holding open the car door. "Baby, what am I going to do with your little fast self this morning?"
Essie just grinned at him. She was feeling real sassy this morning, and as she stepped out of the car, she brushed up against him on purpose.
"Watch yourself. Don't get nothing started you can't finish, now."
Essie laughed at her husband and strutted into church beside him, swinging on his hand not caring who saw her acting "fast." Let those holier-than-thou biddies disapprove of her swinging on her man. One thing she had always done since coming to Greater Hope, as Theophilus's wife, was to let folks see the love and passion, "the juice," flowing between them, just like Theophilus had preached in that sermon that first won her heart at Mount Nebo.
The choir was buzzing today because Mrs. Jarvis was back among them, for the first time since her husband's death. When she moved from the choir to sing, the whole church fell into respectful silence, anticipating her beautiful rendition of the song "I Must Tell Jesus." But she surprised everybody this morning when she sat down at the piano and started singing a song that was the poem she had the pastor read at Mr. Jarvis's funeral. It had been a moving poem, but the melody was so beautiful, folks were moved to tears when Mrs. Jarvis finished the first verse of "Annointed Love."
Theophilus took the pulpit podium during the final strains of the song, directing the organist to keep playing softly after Mrs. Jarvis finished. Then he said, "Church, there ain't nothing the Lord don't know everything about—especially the needs of the human heart. If you believe that, raise your hands high in the air and let the Lord know you need Him. Let the Lord know you want to talk with Him and walk with Him and know that you are His own. Anybody in here this morning need to be with God like that?"
A third of the congregation raised their hands and started praying out loud to God. Caught up in the spirit, Theophilus lifted his own arms high in the air, telling them all, "Church, if you feeling what I'm feeling, you got to give it up to God and start praising Him. Come on! Let's give the Lord shouts of praise up in here!"
Soon the whole congregation was praying and praising, with some speaking in tongues and swaying and calling out "Jesus! Jesus!" Essie had to hold on to the front of her pew, the spirit was running through her so strong. Mrs. Coral Thomas got out
in the aisle and started walking back and forth, crying and saying, "Yes, Lord! Yes, Lord!" as D.S. cried and thanked the Lord for his blessings. He kept saying, "I don't know how I would have made it, if you had not brought me through, Jesus." And Theophilus had to hold on to the pulpit, bending over it, acknowledging God's power in his life. The passion, the power of the Holy Ghost were so strong that he set his sermon aside and let the Spirit guide him through the remaining portion of the service.
"Y'all have to know that the Lord don't play after this morning, don't you," he said.
"No," Coral Thomas answered. "The Lord sho' nuff don't play."
"And you know that if God stopped by here this morning, setting off Holy Ghost–filled fire like He did, He means for us to abide by the leading of His spirit."
Mr. D.S. Thomas said, "Yes, Lawd! You talkin' now, boy."
Folks in the congregation started laughing and Theophilus continued, "Now, Lord knows I had a sermon all prepared to preach today. But this morning, the Lord is leading me to open this church up for some testimonies." He tossed the pages of his sermon into the air, back over his shoulders, and just let them scatter on the floor. "Now, church, who has a testimony burning in their heart?"
At first nobody made a move. Theophilus let his eyes roam around the sanctuary, trusting God to let them alight on the person who had the most to say, who just needed a little encouragement from the pastor. Sure enough, when his gaze fell on Mrs. Jarvis, he knew that she had testimony they all needed to hear today. Walking out of the pulpit, he took her by the hand and led her straight to the podium.
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