“And no one was ever the wiser,” Brent said, yawning.
“You tired?”
He yawned again. “A little bit.” He stretched.
“Well, let’s see if we can’t catch a little nap before the boys wake up.”
He grabbed her and let her lay on his chest as he lay back on the couch.
“Brent,” Angela said.
“Huh?”
“I love you.”
He hugged her tightly. “I love you more.”
Chapter 62
Recompense to no man evil for evil. Provide things honest in the sight of all men.
—Romans 12:17
“I’m sorry, Pastor Landris, but I don’t show you as having an appointment, and Reverend Walker gave me strict instructions that he not be interrupted or disturbed,” Mrs. Greer said as she stood in front of the door to physically keep Pastor Landris from going through it when she saw he was not going to stop from her verbal order.
“Well, Mrs. Greer, don’t you worry. I will tell Reverend Walker that you more than gallantly carried out your orders. And that I pushed my way right past you.” He gently touched her shoulder. She moved to the side. He opened the door and walked in.
“I’m sorry to just barge in like this,” Pastor Landris said.
“I tried to stop him, Reverend Walker,” Mrs. Greer said softly and rather unconvincingly.
Reverend Walker stood up. “It’s fine, Sister Greer. It’s fine.” She left. “Pastor Landris, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Had I known you would be coming back, I would have told Sister Greer that my ‘do not disturb’ instructions didn’t apply to you.” He bent his head toward Pastor Landris, then raised it back up. “Please, please, have a seat.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Pastor Landris said. “I don’t plan on staying long.”
“So”—he clapped his hands—“you’ve reconsidered our offer? Is that why you’re here?”
“No. Actually, I came by to bring you this.” Pastor Landris softly laid the large white envelope he’d taken out of the safe onto Reverend Walker’s desk.
“What is this?” Reverend Walker asked, picking it up and examining it closer.
“Something from your past you might recognize. Actually, it was something given to me from a mutual friend. Poppa Knight gave that to me before he passed on. He thought I should have it in case I ever needed it.”
“I don’t understand.”
Pastor Landris sat down, since it was taking Reverend Walker so long to open it and look inside. He watched as Reverend Walker took out the papers and flipped through the stapled document.
“Where did you get this?” Anger surrounded Reverend Walker’s voice.
“I told you: Poppa Knight.”
“I don’t believe you. How did you get something that isn’t supposed to even exist anymore? How?”
“I told you: Poppa Knight gave it to me.”
“Why would he give you something like this?” Reverend Walker shook his head as he scanned familiar pages and words telling of incidents he thought were long-ago buried with his friend and confidant, Paul “Poppa” Knight. “So what did he do, leave this for you after he died?”
“No, actually he asked me to come to his home and gave it to me back in 2004.”
Reverend Walker put the information back inside of the envelope and dropped it with a thud onto his desk. “You actually expect me to believe you’ve had this all this time and you’ve never used it?”
“No offence, but I really don’t care whether you believe it or not. The truth is he gave it to me, and I’ve had it for a little over five years now.”
“Okay, so what do you want in return for this and your silence? You want me to let this deal drop you’re being pressured into doing?”
“I’ve already weighed in on the fact that I’m not doing it, and all of your and Mister Threadgill’s blackmail and bribery efforts mean nothing to me. No weapon formed against me will prosper. No weapon.” Pastor Landris stood up. “I just came by to give you that. That’s it.” Pastor Landris started for the door.
Reverend Walked jumped to his feet. “Pastor Landris, do you honestly think I believe you’re just bringing that to give to me and you don’t want anything in return?”
“That package is yours to do with as and however you please.” He nodded.
Reverend Walker laughed nervously. “Yeah. You probably have other copies just waiting to slam me with, the first chance you think I need to be taken down.”
Pastor Landris turned and faced Reverend Walker. “There are no other copies. I’ve had that long enough to have used it had I wanted to do you harm. If I was ever going to use it for my benefit, it would be now that you and your thug buddies are trying to blackmail, bribe, or muscle me into something I’ve clearly said I’m not going to do. Waiting to take someone down the first chance you get is apparently something you think about. And that way of thinking says more about you than it does about me. Or maybe it does say more about me than it does about you. Who knows?”
“So what are you planning on doing now?” Reverend Walker said, taking a few more nonthreatening steps toward Pastor Landris.
“I plan to pray for you and hope that you repent, for one, and two, stop being so judgmental when it comes to others. What’s inside that envelope makes it abundantly clear that you, of all people, should never criticize anyone who was once a sinner and is now trying to give service to the Lord. If what’s reported in that envelope is anywhere close to being true—robbery, rape, possibly murder—you, Reverend Walker, have no place or room to speak against or judge anyone else about their past sins. I completely understand why everyone condemning the woman caught in the act of adultery walked away when Jesus said, ‘He who is without sin, let him cast the first stone.’ Everyone was likely thinking about their individual sins . . . some of which having dire consequences.”
“So now you’re being judgmental against me? You’re doing to me what you claim I’ve done to others. You’re trying to judge me. You’re no better than I am,” Reverend Walker said with a deep laugh and a bit of disgust.
Pastor Landris chuckled slightly. “You are right about one thing: I have no place to judge anyone, and I have not done that. I don’t know what God will do in anyone’s life that may later cause them to be the best advocate out there for the Kingdom. Peter denied Jesus, and look what he did later in his life. Paul persecuted Christians, and look what happened: two-thirds of the New Testament was written by Paul or influenced from the work he did for the Kingdom of God after his conversion.” Pastor Landris paused.
“I don’t judge others mostly because I realize that God is not through with any of us yet,” Pastor Landris continued. “None of us are perfect. But I am being perfected daily; therefore I forgive you even if you haven’t asked. And I don’t need that envelope”—he nodded toward Reverend Walker’s cluttered desk—“or what’s in it to fight my battle. I’ll let God handle you, Mister Threadgill, and anyone else who dares to unfairly and unjustly come after or against me. Now, if you insist upon going against God by coming after me when I’m walking in His will, then the only thing I can do for you is to pray that God will be merciful to you in His vengeance on my behalf. But I refuse to render evil for evil. Although—between me and you—I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes right about now for all the money in the world.”
“Pastor Landris . . .” Reverend Walker took a few more steps toward him.
Pastor Landris nodded his good-bye and walked out the door. He tipped his head toward the secretary who sat smiling and typing away. “You have a blessed day, now, Sister Greer, you hear,” he said as he strolled past her.
“Thank you. I will, Pastor Landris.” She smiled. “I most certainly will.”
Chapter 63
As snow in summer, and as rain in harvest, so honor is not seemly for a fool.
—Proverbs 26:1
Gabrielle came home after church to hustling and bustling as her uninvited h
ouseguests were loading up their various vehicles with the things they had brought into her house a few days earlier. Aunt Cee-Cee was sitting on the couch in the den.
“My husband has found us another place to stay,” Aunt Cee-Cee said. “Since you were adamant about him not staying here, he found a place where we can all live together. I suppose his timing was perfect, since you were insisting we get out anyway. I’m just glad we didn’t waste the day going to church with you, although I still plan to visit your church someday. I’d like to see for myself what all the hoopla is about.”
“I’m glad things worked out for all of you,” Gabrielle said. “I really am.”
Aunt Cee-Cee smiled at Gabrielle, which only made Gabrielle suspicious of where this conversation might be going. The aunt she knew would not be acting so calmly and agreeably after being asked to leave in the way she’d been that morning, a new place to live or not.
“Gabrielle,” Aunt Cee-Cee said. “When we were moving to come here, I found this letter addressed to you. I’d forgotten about it, actually. You see, it came for you and I had mistakenly put it up, forgetting to give it to you. Then when I did remember, you’d already moved out of our house. I wanted to give it to you even though it is about nine years late being delivered and to apologize for the honest confusion.” She handed Gabrielle a large white envelope.
It was from The Juilliard School of Dance dated the January she was set to graduate from high school. “Why is it opened?” Gabrielle said, noting the envelope’s condition.
“Well, yeah. You see, when it first arrived, I did open it up to see what it was. After that, I put it up, and like I said, I didn’t think about it anymore until after you’d left.”
“But if it came while I was still living at your house, why didn’t you give it to me then? It was clearly addressed to me. Not to the parents or guardian of Gabrielle Booker. It was addressed to me. Why didn’t you give it to me in January when it first came?”
“Because you were giving me so much trouble and I was upset with you,” Aunt Cee-Cee said in a huff.
“How was I giving you trouble?”
“Accusing my husband of trying to come on to you when clearly you were the one at fault, tempting him and everything.”
“I never came on to him. He was the one coming into my bedroom. I told you about it and you did nothing. Then he did it again, and you still did nothing. The third time I came to you, hoping you would protect me, and instead you went to him, and he came and told me I had to be out of the only place I had to live after I graduated high school and turned eighteen. I turned eighteen May thirtieth.”
Aunt Cee-Cee’s nose flared slightly at Gabrielle’s words. “See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. If you had kept more low-key around Dennis, then maybe he wouldn’t have been at a weak moment and thereby tempted. What do you expect to happen with men when you’re bouncing around all perky, laughing and giggling and being silly? It wasn’t his fault.”
Gabrielle nodded. “Okay. Blame the child for what some grown man did that was wrong and inappropriate. Aunt Cee-Cee, if I had walked around him half-naked, which I never did, he still shouldn’t have ever acted that way with me. I was a child. And even if I had come on to him, which again I did not, he was the adult who was supposed to act like an adult and know better than to try to get with a minor. Forget the fact that I was under your guardianship and he was like a father figure to me. He was wrong, and you were wrong for upholding him and not protecting me.”
Aunt Cee-Cee’s eyes became slightly misty. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I didn’t handle that situation quite the way I should have. And I hope you don’t hold any of the past things that have happened against me.”
Gabrielle’s antennae immediately went up again. “So what are you not telling me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I think there’s more to this story and this”—she shook the envelope—“that you haven’t told me yet. We may as well get this all out in the open. Oh, I didn’t tell you who I saw earlier this month, did I? You’ll never guess, not in a million years. Guess who I saw that I haven’t seen in ten years. Guess.”
“Miss Crowe,” Aunt Cee-Cee said.
Gabrielle pulled back, shocked Aunt Cee-Cee had actually guessed, and guessed correctly. “Now how in the world would you happen to know that?”
“Because I received a letter that I’m sure could have only been initiated by Esther Crowe. I thought the woman was dead, but I can see clearly that she’s not.”
“I’m listening,” Gabrielle said. “I can tell this is going to be good.”
Aunt Cee-Cee released a loud sigh, her shoulders heaving up, then down. “When you received that letter there”—she shook her head as she looked down at the envelope, then back at Gabrielle—“it indicated that your entire tuition had been paid in full. Well, when I knew you weren’t going to attend their institution, it took some doing, but I was able to convince them to refund the money to you.”
“How could you do that?”
Aunt Cee-Cee held her head up in defiance. “It took a little doing, I won’t lie. After letting them know you wouldn’t be able to attend, it helped that Miss Crowe had been in that accident, because even though she was the one who’d paid for everything, she wasn’t easily accessible for them to get in touch with to return the money to her.”
“What an awful thing to say. I don’t understand you. I never have.”
Aunt Cee-Cee shrugged. “If you walked in my shoes, maybe you would. But in any event, through a bit of manipulation and somewhat unscrupulous activities, I was able to get them to issue you a refund. And I suppose that would have been the end of things, except Miss Crowe is not dead, and apparently when you went to see her, she found out you never attended the school. When she, or whomever she got to do it, checked on the money she’d paid, they learned it had already been refunded. And I suppose their investigation led them back to you, which actually has led them back to me, since I was the one who signed your name on the refund check.”
Gabrielle sat there speechless. She found it hard to believe what she was hearing.
“Well, say something. I deserve whatever horrible things you choose to say to me. Now, I’m sort of under investigation that might turn out to be criminally bad for me.”
“Oh, you think?” Gabrielle said as she stood and began to pace like a caged lioness.
“I know I have no right to ask this, but will you please talk with Miss Crowe and get her to drop this? I’ll pay back the money; somehow I’ll find a way to get it and pay her back every dime plus interest. I just need you to reason with her. Let her know that I didn’t mean to harm anyone. We just needed the money at the time. It’s been hard. Trying to raise my own four children and then taking on you.”
“Yeah, right. Me, the trouble-making child. Me, the child who brought in a monthly check to you without having much of it actually spent on me. Me, the child who was the maid of the family. And to think: you put me down, and then I grow up in life and people are still trying to put me down. But you know what, Aunt Cee-Cee, I forgive you. For all that you did to me as a child, for bringing down my self-esteem, for breaking my spirit, for treating me like I was nothing, for never showing me any love or respect, I forgive you. I forgive you, not to let you off any hook, but I forgive you so I can go on with my life without having to carry around the baggage of what you did or didn’t do to or for me.”
Aunt Cee-Cee smiled. “Thank you. Oh.” She clapped her hands together and looked upward. “Thank you so much, Gabrielle. I knew you would not hold any of this against me. And I promise you, I’m going to do better. Starting right now, I’m going to do better. And will you please tell Miss Crowe that I’m glad she’s doing okay, and that she’s not going to regret dropping this investigation against me.”
Gabrielle tilted her head slightly. “I’m sorry. But I have no intentions of telling Miss Crowe anything.”
“But I thought you said you forgive me.”
“I do. But forgiveness doesn’t mean you may not have to pay for your wrongdoing. It means I’m no longer your jailer trying to make sure you pay. Forgiveness doesn’t mean you’re going to get away with things you may have done. It just means the person who was wronged is no longer holding hate or malice in her heart against you,” Gabrielle said. “In fact, I’m going to still pray for you. And I hope that no matter what happens, God will use it to help you come to Him and be drawn nearer to Him.”
“So, you’re not going to help me out of this?”
“No. After forgiving you, there’s nothing more left for me to do.”
“You can tell the authorities, or whoever asks, that you signed that check. Or if they ask you to testify that you didn’t sign it, you can just refuse to say anything one way or the other. You could do that.” Aunt Cee-Cee sighed. “Gabrielle, we’re still family.”
“You mean you want me to lie?” Gabrielle said with an exaggerated frown.
“See, that’s why you used to get on my nerves. I tell you what, your day is coming. I remember hearing a preacher say once, when I went to church, that it rains on the just and the unjust. Gabrielle Booker . . . Gabrielle Mercedes . . . whatever you want to call yourself these days, you’re going to get yours. Someday, you’re going to get yours!”
“Aunt Cee-Cee, you are right. It does rain on the just and the unjust. Rain can be a good thing, which means good things come to bad people. And rain can be a bad thing, if you’re flooded out, which means bad things can happen to good people. But the difference, when you give your heart and soul to the Lord, is that whatever is happening in your life—good or bad—you’re not going through it alone. But I have a Savior, and His name is Jesus. And I would love for you to know Him the way that I do.”
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