Mother Lakes, who had helped found the church with her husband, had been Edwin's rock. She and Edwin hadn't spoken much since “the event.” But they didn't have to. Mother Lakes was a prayer warrior. She was a spirtual battler. She was vanquishing Edwin's enemies behind the scenes. And she was there for him. She was always there for him. Seeing his mother gave him comfort.
As Edwin scanned the other faces in the congregation, one was still absent— his wife, Patricia. He had called her every single day since Ivan Richardson had exposed him to the world. He called her every evening. She was staying with her mother and spending a lot of time at Kim's, too. Kim was one of the few women in the church to befriend Patricia, who was ostracized by the jealous single women because Edwin had chosen her to be his wife.
Patricia wouldn't speak to him, but she was big enough to let him speak to his kids. His boy only wanted to know, “Daddy, when are we coming home?”
“I don't know, son,” Edwin said.
“Can you stay here with us, then?”
“No, son. But I love you. I'll see you soon. I promise.” That was all Edwin could say.
It was a promise that wasn't up to him to keep. But he would keep it, indeed. His God would see to that. He understood Patricia's pain, her feelings of betrayal, but she couldn't keep him away from his babies.
Kim would take the phone and tell Edwin that Patricia wasn't ready to talk. Kim had been with her in the car, listening to the radio, when that man told the world everything about Edwin's secret past. They were having a “girls' day out,” complete with spa treatment, lunch, and shopping. It was a rare time of fun for Patricia, who had a hard time making friends as the pastor's wife— especially when just about every single woman in the church had had their dibs on the very handsome, very elegant Edwin Lakes.
But Edwin chose Patricia, which made the women who wanted him— which was just about every one of them, single and married— green with envy. Patricia had poured her energies into being the perfect wife, the perfect church matron, the perfect mother. Kim befriended her and convinced her to start taking some time for herself. Ironically, on the day she finally did so— on her girls' day out— the whole day turned dark. Patricia felt more than betrayed. She felt like her entire life with Edwin had been a lie. She couldn't talk to him until that feeling subsided. She wondered if it ever would.
For Edwin, being without Patricia felt worse than being dead. She was his best friend, his confidante, the only person with whom he shared everything— well, almost everything. He was not just lonely, he was lost. The only place where he felt remotely like himself was in the pulpit.
He stood, ready to give his sermon.
He began his sermon with a parable about a fish:
“In nature there is a fish called the Pardachirus marmoratus,” he started. “Don't worry, there will not be a test on this later. It took me two days to practice pronouncing it. It is called the Moses Sole— s-o-l-e— as in the sole fish, not your soul from heaven. It is a small fish found in the Red Sea, the same Red Sea that Moses parted when he led his people out of Egypt. Now, what's so special about this little fish? Well, it swims in some dangerous waters, among sharks, who would just love to gobble him up.
“Now, God is a genius. He created perfect balance and perfect harmony in his universe. He armed this fish, the Moses Sole, with protection. When in danger, the Moses Sole can secrete a milky, poisonous substance that can render a shark temporarily paralyzed. This tiny fish can take out a big, murderous shark.
“We, too, have been armed with a paralyzing poison— but it is poison only to those living outside of the will of God.
It's called God's Word. See, we have Jesus's Soul— s-o-u-l— inside of us. And we can render Satan and his minions paralyzed. We have been given the power of prayer, which can stop the devil in his tracks. We have been blessed with the truth, which will set us free.
“Now, last week, I stood in this pulpit and spoke the truth to you. I see there are quite a few who found that truth to taste like poison, and so they aren't here today. I'm sure that to them the poison from the truth tastes real nasty, too.
“I want to thank those of you who stood by me during these rough times. I love those who are not with us. But I really admire the strength and the courage of those who are here, to build this church and grow God's kingdom. I love you. Let's stay prayed up, let's stay in the Word, and let's keep in touch with Jesus' soul that is within all of us. We have to swim together and protect each other. Never forget: The sharks are always hungry. The sharks are never satisfied.”
Then Edwin made a call for the altar. He asked anyone who was struggling with a problem, or who needed comfort, or who had a heavy heart, to come to the altar for prayer.
Tracee Remington got up. She needed to pray for Aunt Maddie, for her health and for God's will to be done. She also prayed for Ritz. She wanted to pray for Ritz's spiritual healing so Ritz could find her way to God.
Randolph Jordan went up, too. Tracee had called him the night before, inviting him to the service. He had gladly accepted her offer because he had so much on his heart.
He needed to confront his father about his father's thirty- plus-year-old lie without hurting his mother. He also had to meet his sister… again. He needed prayer for the fantasies he had about having sex with his sister. Granted, when it happened, he didn't know she was his sister. But now that he did, he was disgusted with himself. He was disgusted with the whole situation. He cried on his way to the altar. Randolph wasn't the only man crying at the altar.
Four people away, kneeling on the edge of the altar, was Ivan Richardson. When he had outed Edwin on Ritz Harper's radio show, he thought he would feel better. He didn't. He felt as bad as he had ever felt in his entire life. He couldn't shake the sadness, the self-loathing. All of the bitterness and anger he had been harboring against Edwin all of those years had ended up consuming him.
You reap what you sow.
Edwin's sermon that day touched him. Ivan felt guilty and convicted. He needed to see Edwin and ask for forgiveness. He no longer wanted to ruin Edwin— in fact, he had never wanted to ruin Edwin. Edwin had broken his heart. All he wanted was to get Edwin back.
Once he was in the presence of what Edwin had left him for— once Ivan felt the power of Edwin's church— Ivan understood why there could be no ties, no connections, no communications between them. Ever again.
This was a different world. Ivan told himself that he wished he and Edwin could somehow remain “friends,” but deep down, Ivan knew that could never be. He loved Edwin too much to just merely like him.
Today, Ivan was finally ready to face his demons and to face himself. The walk to the altar felt like he was traversing the length of a football field. He was nervous and scared. He kneeled with his head bowed and he shut his eyes, squeezing out the tears.
At the same time, Edwin was making his way down the large number of people at the altar. He placed his hands on their heads and said silent prayer with them. He asked God to grant them peace and to come into their hearts and allow them to have a stronger relationship with Him. He asked God to grant them strength to overcome whatever was troubling them and to find the faith to follow whatever it was that God wanted them to do.
Edwin came to Ivan and he paused. There was something familiar about that bowed head. He hadn't seen this man in this church before, but he knew him.
He placed his hands on the man's head and prayed. When he was done, Ivan looked up, tears streaming down his face. He stared at Edwin and their eyes locked.
“I'm sorry,” Ivan whispered.
Edwin froze. Ivan! Dear Jesus, Ivan!
“I am sorry, too, Ivan,” Edwin managed to say. “I forgive you. Will you forgive me?”
Ivan buried his head in his hands and cried like a baby.
Ivan understood.
To understand all is to forgive all.
Except, maybe, when it comes to a certain New York disc jockey named Ritz Harper.
; 26
After church service at Faith Baptist, Randolph didn't want the day to end. He felt uplifted and bold in spirit, and he wanted to be with Tracee. She was simply so beautiful to behold. Today was the first time he had seen her in something other than casual wear. She wore a blue print wraparound dress, which fit snugly enough to show off her runner's physique. Her calf muscles were smooth and taut, allowing her to forgo stockings. She wore a three-inch navy-blue, open-toe shoe. She had her hair out, curls hanging to her shoulders, framing her face. Tracee even had on makeup— which she didn't need, but it enhanced her beautiful features. Randolph was completely smitten.
He wore a suit— one from his days in corporate America. It was perfectly tailored, and he sported a natty shirt and a perfectly tied Brooks Brothers necktie.
As the two left the church together, some congregants couldn't help but marvel at what a striking couple they made.
Randolph made the first move.
“Do you want to grab something to eat?” he asked.
Church was harmless, Tracee thought, but “something to eat”? That was a date in her book. She toyed with saying no. But her stomach (and maybe some other body parts) betrayed her, and she blurted out “Of course” before her mind had a chance to stop her.
They had driven to Harlem in separate cars. Tracee had Ritz's Aston Martin. She didn't want Randolph to have to pick her up. Besides, she was staying at Ritz's. Ritz would be getting out of the hospital soon, and Tracee would be there to make sure there was a smooth transition for her friend. Tracee thought it would be awkward for Randolph to come to Ritz's house.
They found their cars and agreed to meet up at the Original Pancake House in West Caldwell, New Jersey. Randolph lived in Parsippany off of Route 46. The Original Pancake was way better than IHOP It was one of the few places that served fresh-squeezed juices and turkey sausages in addition to healthy oat bran pancakes. Tracee hadn't been able to work out much since coming to New York. The least she could do was watch what she ate.
It was about a forty-five-minute drive over the George Washington Bridge to Route 46, to Route 23. Tracee drove in near silence, with just the hum of the powerful engine and her thoughts. She thought about how much she was starting to connect with Randolph and how strange that connection was, considering that he was Ritz's brother. She also thought about how and if she was going to tell Ritz. This was a tougher secret to keep than the one about her aunt's health. Tracee easily justified keeping her concerns about Aunt Mad-die's health from Ritz. Ritz was fighting back from near death herself. An emotional blow like that, so soon after recovering, could be too much.
This secret was another story altogether. It was complicated— very complicated. Did Tracee want to tell Ritz the truth? She reasoned that perhaps the news of Randolph being Ritz's brother should come from Aunt Maddie. Aunt Maddie had told Ritz about her mother's death so many years ago. So she was the logical one to tell Ritz about her brother's life.
But Aunt Maddie didn't have time for that drama, with all that she was going through. Tracee knew that the responsibility would eventually fall on her. But the longer Tracee waited to say something, the more trouble it would be when she finally did. What made it even scarier was that Ritz had expressed feelings for Randolph that were anything but sisterly. She thought he was fine; Ritz even talked about conquering him.
Tracee remembered how crazy Ritz had acted when he stopped by to see her and she didn't want to see him because she didn't feel she was presentable enough. Ritz didn't want to see him unless she could look her sexy best. How in the world could Tracee tell Ritz, “Oh, by the way, that sexy dude that you want to sleep with, well, he's your brother! And oh, yeah, I kind of like him myself!”
Tracee was hoping that someone else would bail her out. Perhaps Randolph should do it? No, she couldn't put that on him. She sure wished she had a friend to talk to about this dilemma— Tracee would have been on the phone within seconds to tell her best friend about this wonderful man whom she was falling for. Under normal circumstances, Ritz would be really happy for her. Ritz had been making jokes for months about how Tracee was practically a nun— as in not getting none.
“Girl, how long has it been?” Ritz asked her one night when Tracee was three months into her vow of celibacy. “Look, you got seven more months of this celibacy shit and I'm having you committed. It ain't natural for a woman to be celibate— especially not for that long! Your coochie's going to get dry and grow cobwebs!”
They had laughed. Tracee didn't disagree. She thought that it would be nice to be in a relationship again, but it would have to be the right one— and she was starting to believe that the “right one” might be Randolph.
When she was with Randolph, she felt alive. Her coochie was anything but dry when he was around— quite the contrary. But that would have to be something she would keep to herself, too— for now.
She got to the Original Pancake House before Randolph, thanks to Ritz's Aston Martin and Tracee's daydream driving. He pulled up a couple of minutes later. She was waiting for him at the entrance. The place was packed, as it always was on the weekend. They took a number and sat in the waiting area near the Ms. Pac-Man and Galaga machines.
“So why don't you have a girlfriend?” Tracee blurted out. She was not usually that forward.
Randolph looked startled.
“Um, well, my last relationship didn't go so well. I caught her in bed, in my bed, no less, with one of my friends,” he said. “She said she was tired of me spending so much time working and not with her.”
“Wow!” was all Tracee could say.
“No. It was a blessing. I blame myself for being superficial. I met her in a club, and man, could that woman move her body, which was incredible.…” Randolph caught himself. “Sorry.”
“Why apologize? That's the truth, isn't it?”
“Well, yeah, but I don't want you to think I'm some sort of ho.”
“I think you're a man, and it's normal for a man to be turned on by a sexy woman,” she said. “That just makes you human.”
“I'm working on that part. The human part. That's the part that gets me in trouble,” he said. “I almost lost it that night and wanted to kill her. But something stopped me. I went on a drinking binge, barhopping in New York on a Saturday. When I was done, I ended up in front of Times Square Church. I thought it was fate. I went in, still tipsy, with a hangover looming. The message I got that day, though, changed my life. It was then that I decided to do some pruning. I cut off all of the people who weren't right in my life— which was just about everybody.”
Tracee smiled. She wasn't used to men being so open and real.
“So tell me more about your parents.”
Randolph visibly winced. This wasn't a subject he wanted to talk about.
“I'm struggling with that topic right now,” he said. “I'll be honest, Tracee, ever since I found out about Ritz being my sister, I have been so confused about everything. It feels like my whole childhood was a lie. My father projected this perfect family image to the world— including my mom and me. He was a pillar of the neighborhood— hardworking, church-going. My mom was the perfect homemaker, very soft-spoken, very loving. They seemed like the perfect couple. It was fun growing up in a house with them. They gave me everything I could possibly want.
“Then to find out that my dad, my hero, had a daughter behind my mom's back. I mean, what kind of man walks away from a beautiful little girl? I have to deal with that, Tracee. Everything I believed in feels fake now. What would you do if you found out that someone you loved and looked up to your entire life wasn't the person you thought they were?”
Tracee looked at him. She knew exactly what he was talking about, more than he knew.
“Your childhood wasn't a lie,” Tracee said. “It was what it was. You can't question yourself. Parents don't always do what they're supposed to do. They're human. We put so much faith in them. It's like they're gods and can't do wrong. Most of the time they do things b
ecause they believe it's for our own good. You have to forgive your dad, talk to him, and somehow get him to talk to Ritz. A Jordan family reunion might be in order.”
“Get him and Ritz together? I'm trying to get to the part where I can talk to him about it. I wasn't thinking about him reuniting with Ritz. How do you think she's going to take it?”
“She's not,” Tracee said. “She'll probably cuss him out and tell him never to speak to her again. But you know what— I think that's part of her problem. She lost her mother when she was ten and never knew her father, and I believe that Ritz has been spending her entire life trying to prove that she matters— that she doesn't need anything or anyone to make it. But the truth is we all need someone.”
“Even you?”
“Yes, even me,” Tracee said, smiling. “Especially me. Why do you think I'm trying to build a strong relationship with God? I would rather know that the one who has my back is the One who created the world. I have been so let down by people. Rand, people will let you down— that's the truth. God never will. I don't put my faith in any man.”
“You can depend on this man,” Randolph said, grabbing Tracee's hand from across the table and squeezing it gently. “I'll never let you down, Tracee, ever. If I say I'll do some- thing, I will do it. If I make a promise to you, I'll keep it. Always. No exceptions to the rule.”
Tracee felt tingles shoot through her body. She looked into his eyes and knew that he was sincere.
“Tracee, I hope I'm not being too forward, but I really like you,” Randolph said. “After my last girlfriend, I decided I would wait until I found the right woman. I wasn't going to waste any more time going from woman to woman. I was waiting for someone special, someone who loves God, someone I could spend the rest of my life with. Well, I think I've found her. Yep, I think I've found her!”
Is the Bitch Dead, Or What? Page 12