by Janice Sims
“Why are you looking at me so hard?” she asked, walking in. “You’ll make me think you’re interested in me and at last that Christian-Baptist persona you have has gone bye-bye.”
The smile he wanted to suppress made its way to his lips and ultimately his whole face. He liked her sarcasm.
“You fascinate me, Renata, that’s all. And as for the Christian-Baptist thing I got goin’, no chance of me lettin’ that go. As a matter of fact,” he said leaning forward, peeling himself off the wall, “you should try it sometime.”
Her hard frown shocked him. He hadn’t imagined her reaction would be so strong.
“I thought we had an agreement. I won’t try to get you in bed, overtly that is, and you won’t try to convert me.”
“When did we ever agree to that?” he asked, motioning for her to take a seat. She remained standing.
“Who are you kidding, Devin? We’ve had that unspoken understanding since the moment we met.”
He grunted, stood across from her. She was right. It was no secret she was attracted to him. He’d seen the admiration in her eyes and in her demeanor. At first, he thought she was going to turn out like so many other women he’d met—and even a few of the women in his church—making it known in no uncertain terms that they were available, very, very available.
But where others had fallen short, Renata had remained respectable, and far from desperate.
“What were you thinking just then?” she asked.
“I was thinking that you aren’t as obvious or as obnoxious as some women.”
“Gee, thanks!” she said, slapping her hand against her thigh.
“Sorry, that didn’t sound right. What I meant is I know there’s an attraction between us. I know you’re attracted to me.” She struck a pose that would make any ghetto-fabulous woman on Soul Train proud. He guessed he’d better try again. “I know that we are attracted to each other.”
The smile that softened the pose was worth waiting a lifetime for.
“So,” she said, approaching him. “What are we going to do about it?”
Oh, what to do, he thought. Hadn’t he been imagining that very thing for several days now?
She was approaching him. Pretty much the same way he’d imagined once. Only in his mind, he’d stopped her from getting too close, told her that a physical relationship was not only too soon, but out of the question, and had mumbled something about being born again.
But reality, as is often the case, was quite different from imagination. When she was less than three feet away, he reached for her, pulled her in fast, breathed hard.
Her fragrance closed his eyes. From afar, she’d always smiled, sultry and alluring. But up close, she smelled like a raging fire, wild, hot, untamable. He pulled her into his body. She molded perfectly, and before she could say one more thing, he took her mouth.
Their moan was synchronous. The sound of their mutual pleasure excited him further, made him drive deeper into her mouth. He sought the slick soft muscle of her tongue and ravaged it. Was selfish with it. And the way she gave it, freely, made him feel like he owned it. He pulled her closer, frustrated by the space separating them, and let the fire between them build.
Their hands traveled slowly over each other’s bodies; then their exchange became more urgent, more driving, more frantic. Needy. How long had they each been waiting for this? Too long, as they groped each other for more feeling, more intensity, and a deeper connection.
He wished he could have imagined the sensations raging through his body. But not even a fantasy could have prepared him for the realities of Renata’s mouth.
It was sweeter than the sweetest dream he’d ever had. And just when he was about to pull her closer, pull her all the way into him, and, goodness help him, take valiantly whatever came next, Renata pulled back.
“Woman, you are habanero hot and have no qualms about seducing a Christian man. How do you sleep at night?”
His words were serious, but his tone was playful. For that she was grateful, and decided to play right back.
“I’m just testing your word.”
His arm circled her waist easily, warmly, strongly. He pulled her back into him. Her body brooked no argument. Just slid into the hard contours of his chest.
“You’ll get enough about testing my word.”
“Never,” she whispered, nearly out of breath, but certainly out of patience. She’d waited so long to feel his strength. Imagined this moment too many times and could not wait another second to take in his heat.
“What I want to do to you is…”
“Primitive” he finished.
Both their chests heaved as they tried to stop touching each other.
“We wouldn’t have to get buck wild,” Renata offered. “I mean, really…can you imagine…us?…”
Devin breathed deeply. “Yes, I can.”
“Me, too,” she added.
They kissed again, more tentatively this time. Then, better sense seemed to halt their sensuous attack.
Renata felt tingly. “For a minute, I was having some crazy thoughts.”
“You can say that again. Crazy, crazy thoughts.”
“I mean there’s no way we could…is there?” she asked.
Devin pursed his lips. “Absolutely not. I take my faith very seriously.”
“Yes you do. I mean, I admire you for that. Seriously.”
“Of course, that was a serious kiss we shared. I don’t want you to think I’m making light of what happened.”
A smile tickled the corners of Renata’s mouth. “No, no. I wouldn’t think that.”
“Good,” Devin murmured.
Renata assessed the situation and felt guilty about putting Devin in a position to betray his faith. “Well, I’d better be going. I just stopped by to…um…uh…I don’t even remember why now.”
He nodded and took half a step backward. “You’re sure you have to go?”
“Woo, yes…I’m sure.”
She turned to leave. The warmth of his hand caressing her back stopped her in her tracks.
He turned her toward him. “Don’t go,” he said. “I want you near me right now.”
And just then, a phrase came out of him that he never thought he’d hear himself say, “And I promise not to try to recruit you into God’s good service.”
Renata threw her hands into the sky, “Thank ya, Jesus!” Then her hand few across her mouth in apology. “Sorry,” she said, but he was already laughing.
“It’s okay. I’m getting used to you and your—your heathen ways.”
“So,” she said, “Is there anything else around here you’re getting used to?”
He didn’t want to smile at her remark or acknowledge in any way that he had given in. That his defenses had crumbled the moment he’d happened upon her fantasizing at her desk, and that all he’d been doing since then was put up a bold front.
But his move toward her belied his intentions. And the broad smile warming his face was a dead giveaway. And for sure, his fingers brushing back strands of hair from the front of her face was a definite tell. But the sure-fire bet, he thought as he leaned toward her, breathed the smoky fire-heat of her, was this kiss he was about to press softly against her lips.
Only, she wouldn’t let him…go slowly. He stepped closer, pressed deeper, as her heat rose, flared in intensity, summoned to him, and—God bless it—he was ready to go.
The inside of his body felt combustible. He reveled in rediscovering what it meant to need desperately, urgently, to remember passion, and what it meant to yearn for another. When Renata pulled away, his soul cried out for more.
“Renata,” he whispered, stepping back from her once more, determined not to go too far with her.
She smiled. “What time is it?” she asked, eyes drunk with passion.
“Eight,” he said, without looking. His internal clock was pretty good. He was usually only off by five or so minutes. “Why?”
“Because,” she said, snuggling cl
oser. “I was just thinking that maybe we could hang out tonight, visit Malcolm working at the church…stay out of trouble.”
He twisted the cross at the end of his necklace between his thumb and forefinger. A pang of guilt surfaced and retreated. Devin took a deep breath.
“I think that’s a good idea,” he said.
Malcolm watched Miss Connor and Mr. McKenna and shook his head. They hadn’t forgotten about him, but they were so into each other that, unless he injured himself seriously, they probably wouldn’t look his way any time soon. He wanted to laugh and often had. They didn’t know they were in love, but over the weeks that had passed. He’d bet that everyone else did.
They said they had both come to check on him, to see how he was doing. And in a way, that was Miss Connor’s job. But he’d been working at the church for several weeks now. And he’d gotten the sweeping, mopping, and taking out the trash thing down. He’d also tried his hand at moving furniture and fixing a few things. Brother Mack had shown him how to replace warped tile, spackle a wall, and rewire a light switch. It wasn’t the greatest job, but it was kinda fun sometimes.
The best thing of all was that he was getting paid tomorrow. He couldn’t wait to show his paycheck to Mr. and Mrs. Smith. He knew they would be proud of him. And he also knew that he would treat Mr. Smith to that barbeque dinner he was always talking about. Even if he couldn’t chew it. If his dentures didn’t work, he would buy a meat grinder and grind up the pork.
He couldn’t wait!
He emptied the big trash can and took one more look at the two grown ups who acted more like children than some of the kids he hung around with. At least the kids he knew admitted that they liked each other and went for what they wanted.
But the two adults just kept trippin’ like they had all the time in the world to get to the point.
Malcolm let himself laugh anyway. He calculated his six-fifty-an-hour income in his head.
Maybe he would buy them something, too.
As soon as Mr. McKenna and Miss Connor left, he released a deep breath of frustration. The eyes were on him again. Malcolm kept propelling the sweeper in front of him. Kept his head down. He was starting to like manual labor. It was quiet, he could use his muscles, and no one bothered him. Well, at least it had begun that way. He’d started out this job quiet and by himself. But a few of the old folks had something against him. They were always staring at him, and now they had taken to making sure that someone just happened to be around every time he cleaned up. Malcolm ignored it. He’d been told to respect his elders, even when it seemed like they were disrespecting him. He had, however, mentioned it to Miss Connor. When they had their last weekly meeting, she’d asked him how things were going and he’d been honest.
“It could be better,” he’d said, hoping he didn’t sound ungrateful.
“Better how?” she asked.
“It’s the people, man. I mean, they are on me.”
“Explain ‘on me.’”
“I mean, I can’t move. I can’t even wipe my own a—uh, behind—without somebody checkin’ for me. If they don’t want me at the church, they should just tell me.”
“Malcolm, I’m sure they are happy to have you at the church.”
“Then can’t you tell them somethin’?”
He would have thought that the best place for a sinner was in a church. He glanced quickly at the old man straightening Bibles in the pocket of the pew across from him and realized that in some cases that wasn’t true.
Nine
When the phone rang, Devin was in the middle of a long dream. He and Renata had been on a picnic. At first, they were surrounded by the members of the congregation, but after a while, their audience disappeared and it was just them. They had been laughing, talking, and running like children all afternoon in the dream.
And then the phone rang.
“Yeah,” he said, barely awake and refusing to open his eyes under protest.
“Brother McKenna, you better come down to the sanctuary. We’ve got some trouble.”
He sat up, eyes wide with concern. “Why? What’s wrong?” And then his blood ran cold. “Has something happened to Malcolm?”
“Yes. You’d better get down here.” And before he could ask more questions, Sister Patterson hung up.
Devin bounded off of the bed and headed for the closet. He yanked on his clothing, wondering if he should call an ambulance. But if it was life-threatening, or if the boy had been injured, certainly one of the members would have called the paramedics.
As he headed out the door, he wondered two things. What could be so urgent that they would call him to the sanctuary, and, second, why apprehension shot through his veins so acutely for a young man he’d harbored reservations about in the past?
Devin jumped into his SUV and sped down the street, hoping the answers to his questions were only minutes away.
“Praise God,” Sister Patterson said as he entered the church. The sanctuary was dark and quiet. “I convinced them not to call the police until you could get here.”
“Police?” Devin asked. Now dread replaced his apprehension. He followed Sister Patterson into the pastor’s study and scanned the room. Brother Banks and Sister Courtney stood, looking like they’d just eaten rotten eggs. Malcolm, on the other hand, looked as though he could kill someone with his eyes. Right now, his assassin’s glare was blaring in Devin’s direction.
“What’s happened?” Devin asked, hoping to defuse the bomb of tension in the room before it went off.
“They set me up!” Malcolm blurted.
“Satan is a liar!” shouted Sister Patterson.
Sister Courtney folded her arms in front of her. “Yes, he’s a thief and a liar!”
“Thief!” Devin said, the word sinking in his stomach like a stone.
“Yes. I knew this no-goodnik would show his true colors in the church,” Sister Courtney continued.
“My mama used to say, ‘The devil is still the devil, even on Sunday,’” Brother Banks said.
Sister Patterson’s jaw was clenched so tightly, it was a miracle she could speak. But she did. “The moment he set foot in this church, I knew he was trouble, but nobody asked me. They just—”
“Hold on a minute,” Devin interrupted. “What did he steal?” He stepped back a bit and stared at the three, who reminded him of an old-time gospel choir that would be better off singing, “I Know I Been Changed,” than accusing a young boy of stealing.
“A painting,” Sister Patterson replied.
“And not one of the old ones,” Brother Banks added.
“He stole one of the new ones,” Sister Courtney finished.
Devin glanced at Malcolm, The boy shook his head.
“Man, what would I do with a painting like that? I don’t even know anybody who likes art, especially that kind.”
“See what I’m tellin’ ya, Brother McKenna? Only a heathen would call it that kind.”
“That’s not what I meant!” Malcolm snapped.
“Would did you mean?” Devin asked, wanting to hear his explanation.
“I mean I just can’t relate is all.”
“The only thing you can relate to is a jail cell, young man,” Brother Banks said, picking up the phone. “I’mmo see cain’t I arrange one for you.”
Sister Patterson worked her neck as she talked. “Look, Brother McKenna, the only reason we’re here at the church, especially on a Saturday night, is that someone had to keep an eye on this boy. And for him to be given permission to clean up by himself so soon, well…something like this was bound to happen.”
“Devin…Mr. McKenna…I told Miss Connor they were checkin’ for me. Just not on the positive at all. But the only reason they left me alone so soon is because I do a good job! I’d like to see one of y’all do as good a job as I do! Heck, none of y’all want to empty no damn trash and clean up after yourselves!”
“Malcolm! That’s enough!” Devin shouted.
The boy’s eyes widened like saucer
s. So did everyone else’s in the room. Realizing that he must have raised his voice just a little too loudly, Devin measured his volume this time. “Malcolm, please wait for me outside.”
“What about One Time?” he asked, referring to the police.
“No one’s going to call the cops. Just wait for me. Okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, but not before getting off one last round of lethal stares.
“All right,” Devin said, taking a seat on the edge of the desk. “Which one of you saw him take the painting?”
“Brother Banks noticed that the painting was missing,” Sister Patterson said.
“Brother Banks, does Malcolm know you saw him take it?”
“Well…,” Stuart Banks said, getting that look he always had when it was his turn to bring refreshments to the entrepreneurial ministry meeting and he’d forgotten to do it.
“I didn’t see him take it. I just noticed that since we been ‘on watch’ tonight, that the painting had disappeared.”
The words ‘on watch’ stuck in Devin’s mind. He would ask about that later.
“Sister Courtney, did you see him take it?”
“No, but…”
“Sister Patterson?”
“You know what, Devin McKenna, I don’t have to see the devil to know that he exists. Now, when we got here this evenin’, that painting was on the wall. Now it’s not, and the only people in the church—”
“Stop,” Devin said, holding up his hand. He couldn’t stand to hear another word. He had to get out of there. Renata was having an adverse effect on him, because just then a profane retort came to his mind. Something about Jesus and the Pharisees. But he’d been taught to respect his elders, so he didn’t say it. Instead, he said, “Look, don’t call the police. I’ll contact Pastor Avery. Let him know what’s going on. In the meantime, I’ll do what I can to get to the bottom of this and, with any luck, get the painting back.”
“We’ll give you a week, Brother McKenna. After that, I’m going to speak with Brother Ewing,” Sister Patterson said.
Devin took a deep breath. Brother Ewing was also Lieutenant Ewing of the Red Oaks Police Department. The last thing Devin wanted was a scandal in the church. And that’s just what would happen if these three had their way.