Church Folk

by Michele Andrea Bowen

  "You know, Thay . . . like she know his real love secrets or something. Like she did something to him in bed that nobody else figured out how to do and he liked it a whole lot."

  Thayline moved away from Essie and put her hands on her hips. "Now you just hush your mouth and quit talking like that. You hear me, baby doll?"

  Essie looked up at Thay, a bit surprised by the harshness in her voice.

  "First off, don't you ever let a woman make you think she know more about your husband than you do. And I don't care if the woman was his first wife! You hear me, Essie Lee?"

  Essie nodded.

  "That thang don't have no direct line into what makes the earth move for Baybro. You better get to remembering that you the only woman who got that kind of power over my brother now. Girl, all you got to do is swing those doll-baby hips a certain way and Baybro get a little sweat on his top lip like he do when he really want something."

  Essie laughed through her tears. She had seen that sweat on his lip many times when there was something Theophilus really wanted—be it loving, cake, a piece of fried chicken, or ice water when it was real hot outside.

  "I see you know what I'm talking about—thought you did. And if you know that, you make Baybro stop those women from careening around him like that. You give him some hell about it and he'll put a stop to it. Sometimes a man needs a little push in the right direction—even a good one, with a good heart like my baby brother.

  "And, baby doll, you get him straight before you move to St. Louis. From what Mother been telling me, that church is filled with some mess out of this world. The two of you gonna have to be on one accord when you get there. And you gone have to walk up in that congregation with an 'I'm the First Lady and don't you people forget it' look written all over your face the very first Sunday you get there."

  Essie recognized the wisdom of what Thayline was telling her. She knew she would have to say something to Theophilus but didn't know how or when. She was telling him, though. She wasn't putting up with any mess from Glodean or any other crazy woman anymore.

  "How many votes do you think you have coming to you next Friday, Rev. James?"

  Murcheson shrugged his shoulders. He was tired. This campaign for bishop was taking its toll on him. He hadn't been all that eager to run for bishop anyway. He was happy at Mount Nebo and there was such nasty politics involved in the race for an episcopal seat, plus the money it took to run a successful campaign for bishop could cost tens of thousands of dollars. Rev. James had seen more than one church go heavily into debt, incurring large second and even third mortgages, just to sponsor the aspirations of one man. He had refused when first asked to run for bishop, and he still refused to put the financial well-being of his church in jeopardy to win an episcopal seat.

  But it was this very attitude that made Murcheson James the ideal choice for bishop for many people in the denomination. A lot of folks were fed up with bishops who acted like they owned the Gospel United Church and wanted a preacher elected who would treat the office as sacred. Their strong urging convinced Murcheson James to lay aside his misgivings and ultimately led him to believe that the Lord had called him to run for this office. And it was only this belief that gave him the courage to enter this race and embark upon an aggressive campaign to get elected bishop.

  It seemed to Theophilus that Rev. James was taking a long time to answer his question. But then it struck him that they were surrounded by preachers, all of whom probably had big ears and their own allegiances. Rev. James seemed to read his thoughts and said, "Son, why don't we take a stroll around the campus. Be good for both of us after sitting in that hot chapel all morning."

  When they were at a decent distance from the other preachers, Rev. James confided, "Theophilus, I think I have 817 delegate votes I can count on."

  Theophilus gave a low whistle. "How did you manage that? You only need 925 to win."

  "Remember when I went to Atlanta for a meeting with SCLC? Well, I had a long lunch with Bishop Jennings there. He pledged his support and immediately started working for me. Said he was impressed with all my civil rights work and the day-care programs I've been getting started in Mississippi. Also said the Board of Bishops needed a preacher with a good track record for faithfully serving the people—a man like me."

  A group of women who were at Virginia Union University for a special pre–Triennial Conference missionary meeting now approached, and when they saw Rev. James, some of them nudged the others, pointing him out as one of the pastors running for bishop. Theophilus was almost surprised that they recognized him, for Rev. James was an extremely modest and unassuming, plain and down-to-earth man, with a keen intellect and a fondness for suits that were just a little bit worn, for comfort. And when he wasn't working at church, he could be found in overalls working his land, happy, content, and talking out loud to the Lord about everything from women and birthing babies to questions about why one seed made a flower and another seed made corn.

  A light brown woman with long reddish hair walked right up to Rev. James and extended a pale-lavender-gloved hand toward him. She took a deep breath that made her breasts swell, looked into Rev. James's eyes, and said in a dramatic and breathy voice, "I'm Mae Wilson and I've been trying to meet you during this conference."

  Rev. James looked at the woman like she was crazy. He looked her over, not to assess how good she looked—she was light-skinned, long and slender, a marked contrast to his wife, Susie, who was full-figured and brown-skinned—but to better measure her character, or lack of it.

  "Mrs.?"

  "Miss, Reverend. I must confess that I live the single life because I have not been so blessed as to meet a man like you."

  At first Rev. James was taken aback by her boldness. But he quickly recovered his composure and told her, "Miss Wilson, I'm not sure what it is I should be saying to you. But, I am sure of this. You need to get out of my face and go spend some time with Jesus. And if you need some extra help with praying, my wife, Susie, is a powerful woman of God and a prayer warrior. She will be more'n happy to pray with and for you."

  Mae Wilson's smile froze on her face. She tried to wiggle away from his rebuke, saying, "Uhh, Rev. James, I am late for my next meeting and don't have time to finish this conversation about your wife and prayer."

  Rev. James gestured at her departing figure. "I'd bet some of Booker's dog track money, she the kind of woman always got to shout when service get going good. And she a bigger she-devil than some old hoochie-coochie gal out in those streets. And I don't know why some of these women think a man always wanting some old lanky, high-yellow girl. Son, give me a fine chocolate gal like my Susie any night. That woman definitely a handful. And a handful is just what this here old country boy needs."

  Theophilus started laughing. They set off walking again.

  "You were telling me about Bishop Jennings. What does he have to do with all of these votes?"

  "Theophilus, most of the delegates like Percy Jennings. He's honest, smart, and a good bishop. Plus, as the next senior bishop, he has an enormous amount of power and there are people who want to stay in his favor. All he did was make a few phone calls, and next thing I knew, the pledged votes came rollin' in. Have to tell you, though, when I first started this campaign, thought I'd have to run more than once just to make a dent. But when Percy Jennings got behind me everything fell in place. He definitely wants me over the district for St. Louis and to send you with me as the new pastor for Garrison Temple. Said as big a mess goin' on in St. Louis, Garrison, or if he get his way, Freedom Temple, got what it takes to be a model church in this denomination."

  Theophilus stopped walking and faced Rev. James.

  "I've been having second thoughts about Garrison Temple. I'm happy in Memphis and not so sure I want to go to St. Louis with all of the mess going on in that church."

  "You lyin' through your teeth, boy," Rev. James said as he leaned toward him and continued in a very quiet voice. "I can only wonder how you are so happy pastoring
a church with a snake in the grass like Willie Clayton and that there Glodean Benson buggin' you, messin' with Essie, and with the two of them reporting everything to that viper, Sonny Washington, who run and tell that crazy Otis Caruthers everything he know about you.

  "Look, I'm your mentor and friend. I'm not leaving you in Memphis and neither is Bishop Jennings. You need to grow and you can't do it at Greater Hope. There some good people there but it was a trainin' ground for something bigger. Whether you know this or not, Theophilus, you got what it takes to be a future force in this denomination. Bishop Jennings grooming you for an episcopal seat, boy."

  "And you think sending me to a church where the current pastor was hospitalized for nervous exhaustion is where I will grow into my potential, Rev. James?" Theophilus asked.

  "Boy, that man don't have what you got. Nice man, but he can't handle no church that big and complex. I agree with Bishop Jennings. If Garrison gone become Freedom Temple, it will only do so under your leadership. Trust me on this one, son."

  It was just like when he was assigned to Greater Hope, Theophilus thought. He believed that the decision was his to make, but it looked like much more powerful hands—the hands of the Master, a power far greater than Rev. James and Bishop Jennings—were pulling the strings. All he could do was go along, praying every step of the way.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ESSIE SAT BACK IN THE COMFORTABLE BLUE CORDUROY chair and finished stitching up the black, burgundy, and silver silk cummerbund she had made for Theophilus's tuxedo. The banquet they were attending this Friday evening was by special invitation only, and she wanted to make sure he looked his best. She turned over the cummerbund and examined it carefully to make sure that every hand-stitched thread was invisible to the eye. Essie was a superb seamstress and this cummerbund, along with the matching tie and handkerchief, would distinguish her husband's tuxedo from everybody else's. She knew that even though men acted like they didn't look at each other's clothes, they did—almost as hard and critically as some women.

  Theophilus walked into the bedroom with a big blue towel wrapped around his waist. He dug around in the suitcase lying on the bed for a pair of boxer shorts, an undershirt, and a pair of black silk dress socks. He splashed on some cologne and selected a pair of black onyx cuff links that were trimmed with sterling silver and had a tiny garnet nestled in the center of the onyx stone.

  Still wearing only her slip, Essie ran a warm iron over the bow tie and cummerbund, then lay them on the bed. She now pulled a pair of silk stockings out of her lavender hosiery bag, and Theophilus stopped dressing to watch her roll the stockings up her shapely legs and hook them to her ivory lace garter belt. She walked over to the garment bag hanging on the door and pulled out her dress. It was champagne silk chiffon, with tiny rhinestones shimmering across a bodice that was cut snugly around the breasts and held up with dainty-looking spaghetti straps. From its Empire waist, it fell to just above the knee and moved softly around the contours of her body when she walked. The finishing touch was its matching, flowing oblong scarf that gave the dress a sophisticated and dramatic flair.

  "Baby, you outdid yourself this time," Theophilus said as she stepped into the dress.

  She stood up and adjusted the straps on her shoulders. He came around behind her to zip up her dress and planted a soft kiss on the back of her neck, saying, "I sure wish I was pulling this little number down instead of up."

  Essie swatted at him and slipped on her champagne satin pumps, dropping the matching purse on the bed.

  "Is my lipstick and makeup all right?" she asked.

  "Um hmm. But you need to change those earrings."

  "Change my earrings? I thought you said these earrings looked good with the dress. I don't have another pair of earrings to wear with this outfit."

  "Yes you do," he said, retrieving a small box from his suit–case and extricating a pair of gold filigree and diamond teardrop earrings.

  He placed the earrings in Essie's hand.

  "I picked these up right before we left Memphis. Been saving them for something special. You like them?"

  Essie's eyes filled up with tears, and she threw the earrings on the floor.

  Theophilus was shocked. "Baby, what in the world is your problem? I buy you a gift and you throw it on the floor?"

  Without saying a word, Essie walked over to her suitcase. She bent over it, with her back to him, so he couldn't see what she was doing until she turned around to face him wearing a pair of pink—

  "Oh Jesus!"

  "Don't call on Him. That's all you can say about these glasses, Theophilus?"

  ". . . Baby . . ."

  "Shut up!" she snapped and, snatching the glasses off her face, threw them on the floor and stomped on them, crying, "Ever since I have been with you, Glodean Benson has been right there with me. Nothing I do can be done without that woman sniffing around my life with my man. And now you go and make it worse by putting . . ."

  Essie was so hurt and mad that she couldn't speak for a moment. Theophilus walked over to her and was about to put his arm around her shoulder when she whipped her arm back and slapped him so hard that it made him stumble.

  "You put that woman in my car," she finished.

  "Baby—"

  "You, Reverend Theophilus Henry Simmons, put that WOMAN IN MY CAR! . . . How could you?"

  "Essie," Theophilus said in his most authoritative, preacher voice. "Sit down and let me tell you what happened. I can't stand to see you upset like this."

  He rubbed his cheek, which felt like it was on fire, hoping it wouldn't look all swollen and bruised by the time they got to the banquet. He looked at Essie, wondering where she hid all that strength in her tiny hands.

  When Essie refused to budge, Theophilus took her by the arms and forcibly sat her down on the edge of the bed. "Don't you move," he said. "I don't have any more patience. Don't get up off that bed."

  She rolled her eyes at him but stayed where she was.

  "Essie, I put Glodean in your car to take her to the hospital. I was in the office and she showed up with her lip busted, two black eyes, and a ripped dress."

  Essie opened her mouth to say "Sonny Washington" when he continued, "Yeah, Sonny. Always heard he beat on his women. But didn't think he would do it to Glodean—acting like he was so crazy about her."

  Essie relaxed some. She thought back to the first time she met Glodean at Mabel's Kitchen. She remembered the look on Sonny Washington's face and thought that he looked like he wanted to hit on her.

  Theophilus saw her face relax and sat down next to her and took her hands in his.

  "Baby, Sonny been whipping Glodean for a while. She's been hiding it from folks, especially her aunt, Willie Clayton. But this last time, he beat her pretty bad, and right in that alley in the back of the church. And I didn't even hear anything—there was so much noise coming from the men working on the roof. Anyway, from what Glodean told me, Sonny drove into that alley, dragged her out of the car and said, 'I'm gone beat the black off your tail, and right in front of your pastor. And if he comes out here to stop me, I will beat the hell out of him, too.' And then he started beating on her, thinking that I would come out there. But since I didn't hear anything, he got more frustrated and threw her down on the ground and walked toward his car.

  "She stayed on the ground when he got back in his car, and when she was sure he was gone, she got up and came to my office. I took her straight to the hospital in your car, because it was right out back and she didn't want anyone to see her. I didn't want to, but Glodean needed to see a doctor bad. She must have dropped those glasses on the floor, and I didn't see them. And Essie, as soon as I got her settled at the hospital, I called Mr. D.S. Thomas and told him to come and take her home when the doctor was through with her. That's what happened, baby. It's the honest-to-God truth."

  Essie looked Theophilus in the eyes, making sure he knew that she believed him, though she doubted that Glodean, even all beat-up and bleeding, would accidentall
y leave those glasses in her car. She was crazy, and she was spiteful. But Sonny Washington was downright dangerous, beating a woman like that and expecting to get away with it. This denomination needed some serious changes. No way a man like that had any business running a church.

  "Theophilus," Essie said with tears in her eyes, "I don't understand why you kept that from me. Don't you know how much I love you?"

  Those words, spoken so softly and with so much emotion, tore through his heart. What was he thinking to believe not telling her would spare her feelings?

  "Baby, I am sorry. Didn't want to upset you but—"

  "Shhh . . ." Essie said, placing her fingertips to his lips. "You can't protect me from hurts that come from your church. But you can do your best to be honest with me. Nothing hurts more than to be kept in the dark. Well . . . putting Glodean in my Cadillac, that might hurt more."

  Theophilus winced, more from what Essie said than the increasing pain in his cheek. He would need to put an icepack on it before they left.

  Chapter Nineteen

  THE BANQUET WAS HELD AT RICHMOND'S NEGRO Masonic Hall, which was decorated lavishly with purple and silver ribbon streamers on the walls and windows, purple satin tablecloths with large silver, gold, and white floral arrangements on each table, and a huge purple, silver, and black banner hanging over the stage that read, WELCOME BISHOPS TO THE 1963 TRIENNIAL CONFERENCE OF THE GOSPEL UNITED CHURCH—LARGEST NEGRO CHURCH IN AMERICA!

  "Theophilus, you know I love purple, but does every single thing have to be dripping in it?" Essie asked, closing the door to the banquet hall after taking a quick look inside to satisfy her curiosity about this affair.

  "I guess it makes sure we never forget that bishops are the linchpins of the denomination."

  "Bishops are the linchpins? Seems to me that church folks hold this denomination together, not these purple-loving men."

  Theophilus frowned at her. "You behave yourself tonight, Essie. This room is full of 'purple-loving men' who don't take too kindly to being criticized and especially by a woman."