Can I Get an Amen

by Janice Sims

  “Remember you said you’d think about whether or not you’d join the church and Witness, and you’d get back to me with an answer?”

  The memory of the conversation ruffled her mind like wind on water. “Oh yes, I sure did, and I would have, except that I didn’t expect my answer to come like it did here today.”

  Norman squared his shoulders. “Well, my dear, the Lord called you, and you gave Him quite an answer.”

  Valerie noticed how dapper Norman looked in his black double-breasted Ralph Lauren suit. She saw him as a powerful, muscular man who moved with easy grace as he got closer to her. “I guess I did at that.”

  “So what do you say about joining Witness? You can’t keep that gorgeous voice bottled up inside of you; it has to be shared with others.” He put his hands together as if he were begging. “Please? We need you.”

  She paused, pondering her uncertainty. Singing was the last thing Valerie wanted to do, but there was a powerful tugging in her spirit to join the choir. There was a reason she was sent to that church, she thought. Perhaps God wanted her there—to sing. Despite that, she knew she’d have to stay away from Norman because being around him could prove to be dangerous to her state of self-imposed celibacy. On the other hand, there was also the part of her that wouldn’t mind seeing more of him, but Valerie promised herself she’d fight that part. But she wasn’t a fool. She knew that would be real hard because Norman was as fine as he could be, and he always smelled so darned good. “Okay, Norman. I’ll join the choir.”

  Wrapped in a cocoon of euphoria, an infinite peace came over Norman. “That’s wonderful, Valerie, thank you. You won’t be sorry. But now, there’s something we must do.” Taking Valerie by the hand, he led her to Reverend Avery’s office.

  After a short meeting with Reverends Avery and Danforth, Valerie was granted special permission to join Witness before she completed the mandatory six-week new member’s orientation program. Norman explained that the choir needed a new lead soloist, because the current one was so embroiled in her own personal drama that she couldn’t be depended upon anymore. He went on to tell them that he needed time to teach Valerie the solos for the songs he’d chosen for the choir’s big annual concert that fall. Citing the names of the popular gospel artists who’d confirmed their participation, Norman did his best to make them understand that Witness had to be in top form that evening.

  The two ministers questioned Valerie about her church background, consulted with each other, and discussed what had happened to her during the morning worship service. Then, they gave their answer.

  “Valerie, welcome to Witness,” Reverend Avery announced, shuffling through some documents on his desk. Reverend Danforth nodded his head in agreement. “The Lord has placed a call on your life, young lady. And from all the talk we’ve been hearing about the woman with the golden voice, it’s pretty clear where you’re supposed to be. As your spiritual leaders, we would be remiss to let a mere formality stand in the way of you doing God’s work. We’re sure that Norman will help you any way he can, and give you everything you need to make your music ministry meaningful.” The last statement was Reverend Avery’s way of letting Norman know that he wasn’t unaware of his feelings for Valerie.

  Both ministers shook her hand and gave her a warm, friendly hug. They also noticed how Norman looked at Valerie as if he could sop her up with a biscuit.

  “Umph, umph, umph,” Reverend Avery said to Reverend Danforth, shaking his head after Norman and Valerie left the office. “That boy got it bad.”

  Reverend Danforth chuckled, thinking that he wished he could be so lucky as to find a beautiful, classy woman to turn his head. “Well, at least he has good taste!”

  Valerie kept her promise to Norman and joined Witness the following Thursday. No one was happier than Norman when he saw her strutting down the aisle en route to the choir stand. She saw how brightly his face lit up when she arrived, but what she didn’t know was that he was more than pleased that her timing had been so impeccable.

  He’d run into the choir’s unreliable soloist, Sister Carolyn Washington at the convenience store in town, and she had another excuse about why she couldn’t make it to rehearsal. She hadn’t made it to church on consecutive Sundays for months, and he’d already been forced to think about getting a replacement lead soprano singer. Although Norman had the patience of Job, he had to do what was in the best interest of the choir. Valerie joining Witness right then was the answer to his prayer.

  Valerie spent the rest of the evening meeting many of the choir members, rehearsing the songs they’d sing on Sunday, and learning some new ones they’d sing in the future. Because there was a little time left at the end of rehearsal, they went over two of what Norman called “standards.” These were hymns that either of the ministers could request at a moment’s notice and were known to add a good log when the church was on fire.

  Valerie caught on well to everything except the standards.

  “May I see you for a moment, Sister Freeman?” Norman asked, calling her to the piano.

  Valerie went to him, a familiar tremor of awareness coursing through her body as she stood by his side. Norman’s closeness was so masculine, so bracing—so much so that she barely knew how to play it off. “Yes, Norman?”

  “Those standards seem to be giving you some difficulty,” he said in a tone that was more a question than a statement. The faint scent of her perfume wafted past his nose, making him fully aware of her femininity. Glimpses of her womanly well-stacked body made his heart thud in his chest.

  “Yes, they are. They’re rather new to me.”

  “Really, how so?”

  His nearness kindled feelings of fire inside of Valerie. Her arms quivered, and her knees were starting to go weak. Oh Lord, what is wrong with me? Help me, Father! she thought. “We had devotions to start off our services—a little singing, praying, and testifying,” she explained. “Sometimes, the old moanin’ kinds of songs where there weren’t any words were sung, but folks knew the melodies and just hummed along as the Spirit moved them.”

  “Oh, okay, that explains it,” he chuckled. “I tell you what, could you meet me here next Thursday night a half hour before rehearsal starts? I’ll teach you the songs you need to know.”

  Without thinking or consulting her Palm Pilot, she agreed. “Sure, I would like that, Norman.” In more ways than one.

  Over the next few weeks, Valerie began to meet Norman at the piano a half hour before choir rehearsal began. Their private tutoring sessions paid off. Before long, Valerie knew all of the church standards and was able to sing them as if she’d done it all of her life. She breezed through rehearsals, but felt a little off balance because she noticed Norman’s eyes found hers at every turn. At the close of one rehearsal, after the prayer for each member to get home safe and return to church on Sunday, Valerie and Norman became engaged in conversation about one thing, then another. They didn’t realize they were the last ones in the church until the sanctuary became dim.

  “Don’t you young folks know how to go home? You want to stay here all night or something?” fussed Deacon Farley Brown, the longtime janitor. “I’d suggest y’all to get to getting. If you don’t, you will be locked up in here until tomorrow!” They knew he meant business when he shut all of the lights off before they could get halfway up the aisle to the door.

  “What’s his problem?” Valerie complained.

  “He’s eccentric, but he means no harm. He’s really a nice man.”

  “Humph, when he’s asleep?” Valerie stumbled as she walked up the aisle, but Norman reached for her hand and held it, leading her slowly outside.

  “Most of the time, he’s nice. You’ll see that when you get to know him. He just has a certain funny way about him.”

  “If you say so,” she laughed.

  “I’ve had such a pleasant conversation with you that I’m not ready to go home quite yet,” Norman admitted, hoping Valerie felt the same way. “I have an idea. Let’s have coff
ee at the all-night bookstore and café in town.”

  There was nowhere else she wanted to be than with him. “Sure, why not?” she agreed.

  Taking separate cars, they followed each other to the café, where they sipped chocolate lattes and Norman brought Valerie up to speed about being a member of Red Oaks Christian Fellowship. Truth be told, Valerie had looked forward to seeing Norman outside church—especially sitting close to him on the sofa and feeling his thigh “accidentally” rub against her own. Over the next couple of hours, Valerie and Norman enjoyed getting to know each other and sharing each other’s company. She told him about how much she liked living in Red Oaks. She loved being part of a real community that felt like home. “I feel as if I’m doing all the talking, Norman,” she pointed out after a while. “What about you? Tell me about growing up here and what it was like.”

  Norman looked into her eyes, losing himself in their depths, and recounted his childhood. “Red Oaks was always a nice, quiet town, but not unlike any other. It stayed that way until I was about ten and the gang I ran with started to terrorize the people here.”

  Valerie’s eyes became as round as a fifty-cent piece. “Not you, Norman?”

  Her gentle naiveté was precious to him. “Yes, I kind of lost my mind after my mother was killed and my father ran out on me and my two brothers. I was hurting badly, but I didn’t know how to tell anyone. Eventually, I was jumped into the gang.”

  Without realizing it, Valerie took his hand in hers and began to stroke it, hoping he’d feel the care and concern she felt for him. “I’m so sorry, Norman, I had no idea.”

  “There’s no need to be sorry. I had to go through some things in order to grow,” he elaborated, relishing her obvious concern and warmth. “I can’t turn back time as much as I wish I could.”

  “So what happened to you—I mean after your father left you?”

  He lowered his head, opening the door on the unpleasant memories he tried to forget. “My brothers were placed in an orphanage. I was young and cute, so they placed me in foster care, and I went from home to home until I wound up in a reform school because of my behavior.”

  “That’s terrible, Norman.” Sensing that he needed a little TLC, Valerie reached over and hugged him to her breast. “You stayed in foster care until college?”

  Norman smiled. He felt as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He was in the best place any man could be right then. She was so soft and smelled so womanly. “No, Mother Maybelle appointed herself the leader of the church’s prison ministry and used to come over to the reform school. We hit it off really well, and before long, she bullied the judge into allowing her to be my foster mother. She raised me and put me through college. She’s the only mother I really know.”

  “You don’t mean that fly old lady who sits in the second row aisle seat?”

  They both laughed. “Yes, the very same. She’s a handful, but she’s good people. She’s my mama for all intents and purposes.”

  “I knew there was something special about that woman that Sunday I got saved and joined the church.”

  “Mother Maybelle is in a class all by herself,” Norman chuckled. “She’s an enigma, and she has fun being that way. But as a mother, she was the best. I wanted for nothing, and she straightened my hard-headed behind out with a big helping of Jesus, tough love, and a whole lot of hickory switches.”

  They doubled over with laughter, and Norman realized that he really enjoyed spending time with Valerie. “Sounds like you love Mother Maybelle, Norman.”

  “I do—very much.”

  In turn, Valerie told Norman all about her parents her big sister, and her two darling twin nephews. She kept thinking that if he kept on being so sweet to her and so kind, he’d probably meet them all one day.

  By the end of their café experience, Norman had mustered up enough nerve to ask Valerie to be his date at the concert and reception that his students at the University of Georgia at Red Oaks were giving. She accepted, thinking that the event sounded innocent enough that she could go out with him but not feel pressured into committing herself to anything more.

  Valerie’s week was spent pulling together the right ensemble for her first official date with Norman. After he told her that the dress code was semi-formal, she went to a new boutique in town and found the perfect outfit for the occasion.

  As she dressed for the concert, Valerie felt as if she were all thumbs. She couldn’t get herself together if her life depended on it; couldn’t decide on whether or not to wear jewelry with her outfit, or what kind of coat to wear over it. Then, when she got dressed, she put her skirt on backwards and couldn’t find the opening for her top. She knew exactly what was bothering her; the thought of going out with Norman on a social basis both thrilled and frightened her. What if something goes wrong? What if he expects more than just having fun tonight, and I’m not willing, ready, or able to give it? she wondered, second-guessing herself.

  Valerie didn’t know how she’d done it, but she was finally dressed. She had just finished preparing a tiny bowl of milk for Girlfriend when the doorbell rang. Giving herself a final once-over in the full-length mirror, she looked out the peephole and opened the door.

  Resplendent in a two-piece black Pierre Cardin suit and a gold-banded collar shirt, Norman stood tall and straight, looking so devilishly handsome. An air of confidence and self-assurance emanated from him.

  “Good evening, Valerie, I’m so glad you could come with me, tonight.” He beamed, handing her a bouquet of unusual roses. “These are for you.”

  Her eyes froze on his long, muscular form, acutely conscious of how good he looked. “Come in, Norman. Thank you.” She accepted the roses and sniffed their strong fragrance. “These are absolutely gorgeous. I’ve never seen this kind of rose before. What are they?”

  He accepted the seat she offered him in the living room while she put the flowers in a vase. “They’re called Black Baccara roses because they’re black before the bloom begins, then they turn that deep, rich blackberry-maroon color they are now.”

  “Thanks again,” Valerie said, giving the roses another sniff. “These flowers are beyond beautiful.”

  “Not as beautiful as you, Valerie,” he said, delighting in her gentle and overwhelming presence. Her regal movements took Norman’s breath away as he enjoyed the look of her African two-piece brick-red and gold quad set. It was accented by an aubergine dress with a dazzling swirl of gold, belled sleeves, an asymmetrical hem, a matching gold turban, and triple-fan gold earrings. Queen Nefertiti couldn’t have looked any better than Valerie in that outfit.

  “We’d better be going, so I can get my students ready for their big performance,” Norman said, checking his watch.

  Soon they arrived at the college’s auditorium. After checking Valerie’s coat and getting her settled in the third row, Norman excused himself and went backstage to prepare his students for their big night.

  The concert, titled “Jazz Through the Ages,” began and was a resounding success. The students performed a number of songs, highlighting different styles and forms through the twentieth century, and Norman’s directorial skills were even finer than those he demonstrated at church.

  Valerie glowed with pride as she watched him lead his talented students from one style to the next, right into two rousing standing ovations. They performed two encores as the music-loving audience couldn’t get enough of their sound and didn’t want to let them off the stage.

  After the performance was over, Norman was the man of the hour. Valerie stood back until the crowd thinned because she couldn’t get anywhere near him. Between the students who just had to have photos with him, the local music critics covering the event, and the students’ parents who’d wanted to meet the ever-popular Mr. Grant, Valerie had to wait her turn. And she did, noting how it was clear that music was Norman’s calling, his passion—the thing he loved most after God.

  Finally, she made her way through the crowd and congratulated him on a job well
done. Having Valerie’s support of his work made Norman feel more special than he remembered feeling in a long time. He led her upstairs to the Crystal Atrium, where the music department had set up an elegant reception.

  By candlelight, they ate canapés, sipped wine, and talked about Norman’s job. He introduced her to some of his students, and colleagues, and they posed for photos at his students’ requests. They also listened to a speech given by the music department’s chairperson, who touted Norman’s love of music and how well he was loved by his school and his students.

  They ended their evening wrapped tight in the circle of each other’s arms, dancing to a lovely rendition of the jazz classic, “As Time Goes By,” sung by a popular local vocalist. Valerie didn’t have to wonder what Norman was thinking because she felt his male length strong and firm against her as they danced. Spellbound by the provocative smell of his cologne, she enjoyed every naughty inch of what she felt.

  When their eyes met and held, before Valerie could stop him, Norman’s lips brushed hers. It was a tantalizing invitation for more. His mouth moved over hers, possessing Valerie’s lips in a soft, warm kiss. It was a light kiss, but a tender one that sent swirls of delight through her love-starved body. Like a morning glory, her lips opened fully, receiving Norman’s tongue. Seeking each other’s out, they sampled their tastes and flavors, thoroughly enjoying what they were given. Whimpers of desire escaped from Valerie’s throat, causing Norman to kiss her even more urgently. Breathless, and reeling from the sensations, Valerie listened to her heart for the first time in a very long time. Although getting involved romantically was the last thing on her mind, for some reason Valerie hoped that Norman would ask her out again.

  And he did, again and again. Over the next few weeks, they went out for dinner at various restaurants, to plays, art galleries, for walks in the park on unseasonably warm days, and they even drove to Athens, Georgia, for ice cream sodas at an old-fashioned soda shop in the town’s drugstore. They lived for the nightly phone calls they shared before they went to sleep.