Chapter 3
“Talk to e!” Jessica didn’t bother waiting for Pamela to say hello.
“Are you crazy calling me this early on a Saturday morning?” Pamela asked, although she’d been up for over an hour.
First she prayed, then read her Bible. Pamela needed direction from God about her new relationship. Thoughts of Micah Stevenson had invaded her mind since his departure ten hours ago. With every thought, she longed to see him again.
“Girl, stop playin . I want details now. You know you should have called me the second you got in.”
Pamela strung her along. “There’s nothing to tell. We just had a little dinner, that’s all.”
“Pamela Roberts, don’t make me come over there and beat it out of you,” Jessica warned.
“I told you, we went to dinner, that’s all.”
“I’m putting on my coat and searching for my boxing gloves.” Pamela remained quiet. “That’s it, I’m on my way.”
‘“Girl, we went to the Dead Fish!” Pamela screamed into the phone.
“No, you didn’t.”
“He overheard us talking about it. Would you believe that man chose the best table in the house?” Pamela took a breath. “Let me back up. He brought me flowers, and he was wearing Sean John. The food was good; the conversation great. We even shared a sundae for dessert.”
“This is just ridiculous. The man looks good, and he’s attentive, plus he has manners. Over here, Lord!” Jessica yelled. Pamela envisioned her waving her hands in the air to get the Lord’s attention.
“But the best part is he loves commercials just as much as I do.” Pamela was bubbling.
“Humph,” Jessica smirked. “I knew something had to be wrong. He sounded too good to be true. He’s crazy just like you are.”
“Keep making fun of me, and I won’t tell you how we ended the evening,” Pamela warned.
“Spill it!”
“He kissed my hand!” Pamela giggled. Jessica remained silent. Pamela figured her friend was too busy shaking her head to respond.
“You really like him, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I’m not rushing into anything. We’re taking the time to get to know one another.”
“One thing’s for sure. I’ve never heard you this giddy over a man before.”
“Seriously, Jess, I’m going to take my time and make sure I hear from God on this one.”
“God had better speak quickly before you find out he likes latching as much as you do. It’s a wrap if he does.”
“That depends on what the Lord has to say about it.”
“When the Lord finishes telling you what you already know, ask Him where He would like for me to stand so I can be found.” Jessica’s request had Pamela bent over with laughter.
“Good morning, Pastor Jackson.” Micah respected his uncle to the point he addressed him as pastor even when they were in private. Micah joined him at the breakfast table and helped himself to a glass of orange juice.
“Good morning to you,” Pastor Jackson said, adding emphasis to the word you. Micah suspected his uncle wanted the details from his evening with Pamela.
“Is that Micah’s voice I hear?”
“Yes, sweetheart, it’s him,” Pastor Jackson answered his wife.
“Good morning, First Lady.” Micah kissed the woman who’d taken on the role of mother in his life for the past two years.
“You tell me how good of a morning it is,” his aunt responded as she sat in the chair opposite him. “You know I was waiting for you to call me last night.”
“I’m sorry, Auntie, I was too excited to talk.” That was the truth. After leaving Pamela’s town house, Micah went home and tried to relax. It was useless, because every time Micah thought of Pamela’s smile or the touch of her hand, he’d get excited all over again. Like a CD set on auto repeat, the evening replayed continuously from start to finish in his mind until he finally fell asleep with a smile on his face.
“What about now? Can you talk now?”
Micah appreciated his aunt’s directness almost as much as he did the love and care she lavished upon him. He finished his juice to find his aunt and uncle staring at him with oversized grins.
“All right, I’ll tell you,” he surrendered. “Pamela and I had a wonderful time last night. I took her to dinner at a place she wanted to try and found out we have a lot in common; from our taste in music to our shared love for commercials.”
“I didn’t know she’s a little touched like you are,” his uncle chuckled.
“Robert, leave that child alone. It’s all right for him to like commercials, just like it’s all right for you to like pickled pig’s feet and hot sauce.” First Lady turned her attention back to Micah. “Do you think she’s the one?”
Micah’s smile was a dead giveaway to the positive answer they were seeking. “I’m praying about it real hard. So far, she seems like the one, but it’s still early.”
“I think she is the one. The mere fact that her male child picked you is enough for me.” His aunt sat back and folded her arms.
“I think she’s the one also, but there’s still a lot she doesn’t know about me.”
“I assume you are referring to your past?” his uncle questioned.
Micah nodded.
“Son,” Pastor Jackson began, “you are in Christ now, and that makes you a new creature. Your past is just that; the past. If she’s the one God has ordained for you, she won’t hold it against you.”
Micah agreed with his uncle in theory, but in many cases reality and theory didn’t match up, especially in the church.
“Son, have you talked to your mother lately?” his uncle asked.
Micah knew the unpleasant subject of his mother would eventually come up, but he still didn’t want to discuss her. What would be the point? His mother hadn’t changed. For as long as he could remember, Helen Stevenson did two things every day—drink and curse until she passed out. Some days she added eating to the list.
As a child, there were many days in which Micah was left to fend for himself. Some nights he had to find his own place to sleep because Helen was passed out and had forgotten to leave the front door unlocked, or she’d bring home a friend and needed her privacy.
“I called her last weekend, but she passed out in the middle of the conversation,” Micah said. “I did send some money to the electric company to make sure she’s not living in the dark again.”
Pastor Jackson shook his head. “I don’t know what happened to my sister. She hasn’t been the same since your father was murdered in that robbery. All I can do is keep praying for her.”
“That’s all anyone can do until she decides to stop hurting herself,” Micah surmised.
“I’m not going to stop praying for my baby sister until the day she dies,” Pastor Jackson said. “But in the meantime, I’m also praying for your new relationship. I can see great things happening for you.”
Micah refilled his glass, hoping his uncle was right.
Pamela unplugged the vacuum and placed it back inside the utility closet.
“Finished,” she said out loud to the empty apartment. It had taken her nearly the entire day, but she’d managed to clean every room in her town house. The only thing left to do now was to take a hot bubble bath. Before she reached the stairs, the telephone sounded. “This better be important,” she mumbled before answering the phone.
“Pamela, I need to talk to you. It’s very important.” The seriousness in Micah’s tone caught her off guard. What serious matter did they have to discuss?
“I’m listening,” she responded.
“What I have to say to you, I need to say it in person.”
Micah was making her nervous. Their relationship was too new for this type of urgency. “When do you want to talk?” she asked, hoping the good feeling she had about their relationship wasn’t about to end.
“Right now, I’m outside your door.”
“Okay,” she answered and wished she had more time to prepare
for whatever news Micah was about to broadcast. She replaced the cordless phone on the charger and slowly walked to her front door. She took a deep breath, and then opened the door.
“Pamela, I have to tell you something.” Micah stepped inside.
“Oh God,” she mumbled. What did Micah have to say to her that would cause such a grim expression of distortion on his normally handsome face?
“What is it, Micah?” She still held the door open, thinking she might need it for support in the near future.
With a straight face, he looked her dead in the eyes and said it. “Pamela, I just saved a ton of money on my car insurance.”
It took a moment for her to realize Micah had just reenacted one of her favorite commercials. “Micah Stevenson, are you crazy?” she yelled and at the same time slammed the door. “Coming over here scaring me half to death. I thought something was really wrong with you.”
“Something was wrong,” he said once he stopped laughing. “I was missing you.”
“You missed me, so you decided to come over here and scare me?” she asked with her hands planted on her hips.
“No.” He stepped toward her and reached for her left hand. “I missed you, so I came here to hear you laugh.” He then kissed her hand and got what he wanted. Pamela giggled and blushed.
“I owe you one, Denzel,” she said, after reclaiming her hand.
“Denzel?”
“You deserve an Oscar for that performance.”
“You have to admit, that was funny.”
She thought about it and agreed. It was funny. She shared a laugh with him until she remembered she was wearing old sweats and a hair scarf. Instantly she was embarrassed. She smelled like pine and disinfectant, which only added to her sudden discomfort. Micah didn’t seem to mind at all.
“Looks like you’re in the middle of housecleaning. Would you like for me to help you?”
Pamela was taken by surprise with his offer. “Thank you, but I’ve just finished. I was about to take a bath when you pulled your little prank.”
“I won’t keep you then. Like I said before, I missed you and wanted to hear you laugh, that’s all. I’ve gotten what I came for. I’ll let you enjoy your quality time alone. I know you don’t get much of that.” Before Micah turned the doorknob, he made her an offer. “If you ever need help with Matthew, call me. I’d be more than happy to take him off your hands for a few hours so you can rest, run an errand, or whatever.”
“I appreciate that, Micah. Thank you.” She really meant that. No one but Jessica had ever made that offer. It was challenging being a single mom with a limited support system. Her parents lived forty-five minutes away, so she couldn’t rely on them to pick up Matthew from afterschool care on the days she ran late at the title company. Or take him to the park or the movies. Pamela promised Matthew she would sign him up to play T-ball in the spring, but she didn’t have any idea how she was going to keep up with the practice schedule and games. Baseball was her son’s love, and she would find away.
“If you need something fixed around the house or your car worked on, call me,” Micah added. “I’m not a handyman or mechanic, but I’ll make sure it gets fixed.”
“What if I don’t need anything? Can I still call you?”
“Pamela Roberts, you can call me anytime.” His wink caused her to blush again.
Pamela didn’t wait to lock her door before she started praying. She called on the Lord with her hand still holding the doorknob. All the way up the stairs and into her private bathroom, she sought direction.
So far, Micah was everything she desired. He was like no other man she’d met. Micah was a leader, and she liked that. He didn’t wait for her to ask for assistance, he freely made himself available to her and to her son. He respected her as an individual and even respected her space. She didn’t receive that kind of veneration from her late husband.
“God, give me some direction before I fall in love with this man,” Pamela mouthed, and then closed her eyes and succumbed to the soothing bubbles of the bath she had prepared.
Chapter 4
Sunday morning, Praise Temple Church lived up to its name. The praises were extra loud and plenteous. It all started with Deacon Blake’s opening prayer. Every time Deacon Blake prayed, the presence of God would fill the house. This was amazing, because when Deacon Blake wasn’t praying, he was sleeping. He would sleep right on through the choir’s “A” and “B”selections and Pastor Jackson’s sermon. But when he prayed, Deacon Blake was wide awake. Often people would be slain in the Spirit by the time he yelled his final hallelujah. Deacon Blake was so dedicated to praying, one Sunday he double-parked his Cadillac on one of the busiest streets in Oakland, just so he wouldn’t miss his spot on the program.
Pamela closed her eyes and listened carefully to words the choir echoed. “God’s got a blessing ... with my name on it . . . God ’s got a blessing. She wondered what blessing God had for her. Was it a husband for her and a father for her son? Pamela opened her eyes and looked across the sanctuary in his direction.
Watching Micah praise God, a smile instantly creased her face. Pamela imagined Micah praised God the way King David had done after returning with the Ark of the Covenant. She looked slightly to the left only to find the first lady whispering something into Pastor Jackson’s ear, and then pointing in her direction. No doubt they knew how well Micah’s and her date had been. By their smiles, they were certainly pleased.
“Look at that,” Jessica nudged Pamela. “They’re already welcoming you into the family.”
“That’s a little premature, don’t you think?”
“Try telling that to Micah. I saw the way he was watching you earlier.”
Pamela found Jessica’s adequate observations irritating. “This is why I don’t like sitting by you; you talk too much.”
“Would you like for me to trade seats with Brother Stevenson?” Jessica rolled her eyes, but didn’t miss a beat with clapping her hands and receiving her blessing.
“Would you like for me to trade seats with Minister Combs?” Pamela shot back. Those words made Jessica lose her rhythm and her smile. Jessica rolled her eyes again, but she didn’t say another word.
Pastor Jackson took his sermon from Matthew 7:1.
Judge not, that ye be not judged.
“There are some people in the church who have become professional judges although they haven’t spent five minutes inside of a law school. They haven’t been appointed or sworn in, but they’ve taken it upon themselves to judge the lives of others. The worst part is they hold people in bondage long after God has set them free.”
“Talk about it, Pastor!” Pastor Jackson always had an amen corner.
“God forgives anyone who comes to Him with a sincere heart, and He is able and willing to deliver all of us from sin. The Bible clearly tells us if we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”
“That’s right!” the amens were in high gear now.
“But now we have these self-appointed judges, who have the audacity to hold the past over our heads and question our deliverance. They have the nerve to want you to prove to them that you’re free when God has already declared you free. They want to condemn you for mistakes in the past and totally discredit your present victories. The worst part is these judges have just as much active sin in their lives right now, but they’re hiding theirs by focusing on ours.”
“Preach, Pastor!”
“Tell the truth up in here!”
“Saints,” Pastor Jackson wiped his forehead with the engraved hand towel, despite the fact he wasn’t sweating,“some of you who have just finished dancing all over the floor and shouting hallelujah the loudest sit on your high bench and judge others.”
The amens quieted down.
“If someone looks, acts, or dresses differently, their salvation is called into question. Today, I want to pose a thought for you to ponder. Maybe God uses people in diverse ways because He�
��s a diverse God. He is not limited to our small minds and these four walls. We can’t box God into our tiny mind set.”
Pamela listened, thankful she wasn’t one of the people Pastor Jackson was talking about. She was careful to treat everyone with respect and was always open-minded to new people and ideas.
Micah listened too, praying Pamela wasn’t a self-appointed judge.
No sooner had Minister Combs recited the benediction, Jessica lit into Pamela. “What do you mean by implying I like Anthony Combs? I have never said that.”
“I’ve seen you stealing glances at him on more than one occasion. During his last sermon, you jumped and yelled hallelujah more than his mama,” Pamela answered calmly, completely ignoring Jessica’s attitude.
“You know he is not my type. He’s bald and too short. Besides, I can’t stand those bright shiny suits he wears all the time. Plus he has an eight pack across his midsection and I like six packs.”
“So, you have been checking him out.”Pamela looked in Minister Combs’s direction. He was receiving another homemade cake from the first lady. Pamela waved, and he waved back.
“Ugh!” Jessica stomped out of the sanctuary.
Micah met Pamela in the vestibule and offered to drive her to her parents’ home in Vallejo to pick up Matthew. She gladly accepted.
After changing into casual clothing, Micah met Pamela at her town house. To his surprise, she wasn’t quite ready to leave.
“Come in,” she said. “I have something for you.” She pointed to her granite countertop where two empty glasses were placed.
Micah didn’t have any idea what the glasses were for, but her smile was so welcoming he obeyed. He followed her over to the counter and watched quietly as she filled the two glasses with milk. She then reached inside the cookie jar for her favorite chocolate cookies with crème filling.
“Bet you I win,” she said, offering him a cookie.
Micah’s laughter echoed in her medium-sized kitchen. He couldn’t believe it; she was challenging him to a crème-licking and cookie-dunking contest.
Right Package, Wrong Baggage Page 3