Everybody Say Amen

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  “Just shopping, or looking for something in particular?” she asked.

  “Just looking around, actually.” Rachel took in Linda’s whole demeanor. She was one of the most respected first ladies in town. Yet she didn’t look like a typical first lady. Like now: She had her curly hair pulled back in a ponytail and wore a designer sweat suit. Still, she exuded elegance.

  From what Rachel had heard, Linda didn’t take any mess from the women at her church—even though Pastor Morgan was one of the most handsome preachers in town. As Rachel studied her, she doubted that this woman ever had to get ignorant like she had with Nikki Rollins last week. Rachel suddenly felt the need to open up to her.

  “Sister Morgan, when you get some free time, can I talk to you?”

  “I’m free right now.” Linda set down the stationery she had been holding. “I’ll just get this another time.”

  Rachel put her book back on the shelf. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  They walked across the street to Starbucks, where both of them ordered a venti café mocha, then took a seat on the coffee shop’s patio.

  “How do you stay strong? I mean, with people at the church and their expectations,” Rachel asked after they had made small talk for a few minutes.

  “Prayer, honey, lots and lots of prayer.”

  “But I bet the women at St. Luke’s don’t try you like they try me. I mean, if they’re not trying to come on to my husband, they’re disrespecting me or gossiping about me.” Rachel couldn’t believe she was being so candid, but she’d finally found someone she felt could relate to her plight.

  Linda smiled. “You forget, I’ve been first lady for thirteen years. Believe me when I tell you, they tried me. I just had to let them know they couldn’t get away with it.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do, but everyone’s giving me a hard time about it.” Rachel sighed heavily.

  Linda slowly sipped her coffee. “Maybe it’s the way you’re going about it,” she finally said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “How do you put these women in their places?”

  “I go off on them,” Rachel replied, like that was the only possible answer.

  “That’s what they expect you to do. And that only gives them ammunition,” Linda said. “You have to take the high road.”

  Rachel sucked her teeth and shook her head. “Unh-unh. My mom took the high road. I can’t do that.” As much as she loved her mother, Rachel had vowed to never be like her—submissive and soft-spoken. Granted, her mother had put people in their place when push came to shove, but Rachel didn’t have that kind of patience. She had to let these people know she wasn’t playing from the get-go.

  “Oh, I knew Loretta, bless her heart. She was the epitome of a strong, black woman. But she was a rare breed. That’s not me.” Linda flashed a smile.

  “Me either.” Rachel was glad someone could understand where she was coming from.

  “You know what,” Linda said. “Why don’t you come to the First Ladies Council—it’s an organization of first ladies here in Houston. We meet monthly to exchange ideas and offer support.”

  Rachel had heard about the group, but she’d figured they were a bunch of stuffy old women who would stand in judgment of her.

  “I don’t know.”

  As if she were reading Rachel’s mind, Linda said, “Don’t worry about putting on airs. We all try to be ourselves when we get together. Most of our days are spent trying to fit into a particular mold, so when we’re together we’re footloose and fancy-free.” She grinned. “Please, come as my guest. We meet at St. Luke’s this Saturday. Just one meeting. If you like it, come back. If you don’t, no harm done.”

  Rachel considered the idea. “Sure, why not?”

  Linda stood. “Then it’s a date. We’ll see you Saturday.”

  Rachel stood as well and leaned in and hugged Linda. “Thank you very much.”

  “You’re welcome. Until then, stay prayerful,” Linda said.

  “I’ll do that,” Rachel replied.

  A whole group of women who understood what she was going through? Come to think of it, Rachel thought, that’s exactly what she needed.

  Chapter 14

  Jonathan ducked down in his seat as the football came tumbling toward his car. The lanky boy with two missing front teeth didn’t look his way as he retrieved the ball and tossed it back to his friends. Jonathan eased up and smiled as he watched Chase throw the ball. He’d been sitting outside Angela’s house, watching his son for the last hour. It had taken days of detective work, but he’d finally found out where she lived by renting a car and following her mother over here two days ago.

  It had torn at his heart not to be able to go and talk to his son. What was especially sad was that Chase probably wouldn’t know who he was even if he did go and talk to him. Jonathan wondered what Angela had told Chase about him. He hoped she hadn’t made him out to be some sick, confused individual.

  Chase seemed so happy playing with his new friends. He was an adorable little boy and Jonathan could see himself in every inch of the little boy’s face. This was the closest Jonathan had ever been to him. Angela had moved before she gave birth and he didn’t find out where she lived until Chase was nearly two years old. He had had to go through the church files to locate a forwarding address for her tithing statement. Then he’d flown to Atlanta and had done exactly what he was doing now, sitting outside their house and watching his son. Angela and Chase looked so content; Jonathan couldn’t help but wish they had all stayed a happy little family. What would his life have been like if he had stayed married to Angela and kept his secret forever?

  Jonathan was so lost in thought that the vibrating phone in his jacket pocket caused him to jump. He fumbled trying to get it out of his pocket.

  “Hello,” he answered.

  “Hey, big brother. What’s going on?” Rachel’s voice bellowed through the phone.

  “Hey, little sister. Nothing much.”

  “Nothing? Did you see Chase?”

  Jonathan sighed. It had been Rachel’s idea that he try to see his son. Only Rachel had suggested that he walk right up to the door and ring the bell and demand that Angela let him see Chase.

  “Yeah, I saw him,” Jonathan said.

  “Oh, wow,” Rachel responded. “How does he look? Did he know who you are? When are we going to meet him? I bet Nia is going to love him.”

  “Whoa, slow down, Rachel. I didn’t talk to him.”

  “Why? Angela wouldn’t let you?” Rachel’s tone immediately changed.

  “No, I didn’t even go in,” he admitted.

  “Why not, Jonathan? We talked about this. You have just as much right to that child as she does.”

  “I don’t know, I’m just trying to take things slow.” Jonathan rubbed his bald head. This whole situation was stressing him out.

  “You need to give him a chance to meet you before you go to court. That way he won’t act all scared.”

  Jonathan was just about to respond when something hit the driver’s-side window. He jumped and almost dropped the phone.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Angela shouted, banging on the window.

  Jonathan got his bearings then spoke into the phone. “Rachel, I need to call you back.” He snapped his cell phone closed before she could say anything. He opened the door and stepped out of the car.

  “Hi, Angela,” he said, facing her.

  “Don’t hi me. I wanna know what you’re doing outside my house!”

  “I was just in the neighborhood and well…”

  “Stop lying! Are you spying on us? How did you find out where we lived?”

  Jonathan sighed. “Angela, I’m trying to be there for my son. You won’t let me near him, so I have to see him however I can.”

  Angela looked like she was fighting back tears. Jonathan felt horrible for her. She was still as beautiful as ever. He was a little shocked at the closely cropped ha
irdo she now wore, especially because it was dyed a light golden brown. Although it looked good on her, it was so out of character for the Angela he knew. The thing that got him the most, though, was her beautiful almond-shaped eyes. They now bore the look of a woman who had seen her share of pain. It hurt his heart to know that he’d caused that pain.

  “I can’t believe you,” Angela continued. “Why are you doing this to us? Why won’t you just leave us alone?”

  “I can’t do that,” Jonathan softly said. “It’s killed me not being a part of my son’s life.” He suddenly smiled as Chase came racing over. He wanted to take him in his arms and shower him with kisses.

  “Hey, Mommy. My new friends say I’m way cool,” Chase beamed. He turned toward Jonathan. “Hello, my name is Chase. I just moved here.” Chase held out his hand, which Jonathan shook gently. Chase had a huge grin across his face. “Are you my mommy’s new friend? I have five new friends already.”

  “Hi, Chase. My name is Jonathan and I’m an old friend of your mommy’s.”

  Chase cocked his head and squinted his eyes. “Mr. Jonathan, you look like that picture my mommy has hidden in her dresser drawer.”

  Angela looked like she wanted to clamp her hand over his mouth and shut him up.

  “My mommy said that’s a picture of my daddy,” Chase continued.

  Jonathan felt his heart drop. So Angela had told Chase about him.

  “My daddy was the best,” Chase boasted proudly. His expression suddenly turned solemn. “He died when I was just a baby.”

  Angela had heard enough. She put her hands on Chase’s shoulders and turned him toward her. “Sweetie, let’s not bore this man with our stories. Why don’t you go back and play with your friends, or better yet, go ask them if they want to come in and get some Kool Kups.”

  Chase’s eyes lit up at the prospect of the frozen Kool-Aid cups. “Wow!” He took off to where his friends were still playing without even saying good-bye.

  Angela watched him run off.

  “You told him I was dead?” Jonathan asked. He never imagined Angela would stoop that low.

  “You’re dead to us,” she replied coolly.

  He tried to fight back the anger that was building in the pit of his stomach. “Well, you’re just going to have to tell him you lied.”

  Angela folded her arms. “I don’t have to tell my son anything I don’t want to tell him.” She stepped in close. “You listen to me, Jonathan Edward Jackson. You chose your life; you have no say-so in ours. Stay the hell away from my house, my child, and me!”

  Jonathan looked at Angela in shock. This was so not the woman he knew standing before him right now. This woman was filled not just with pain, but with hate.

  “I won’t be denied my child any longer,” he said, matter-of-factly.

  Angela looked like she wanted to kill him right there in the middle of the street. “I swear to God, you don’t know who you’re messing with. But you will.”

  With that she turned and stormed up the steps to her house.

  Chapter 15

  Rachel entered the conference room at St. Luke’s and stared at the group of women seated at the mahogany table. She suddenly felt uneasy. These women were seasoned first ladies. Take Dorothy Rattlin, who was seated at the head of the table, looking like a CEO of a major company. She’d been a first lady for one of Houston’s mega churches for a gazillion years. And Donna Childs? Shoot! Her husband served on the board of the University of Houston. Not to mention Suzanne Caldron, whose husband had been a spiritual advisor to Clinton when he was in office. These were some major players. What in the world was she doing here?

  She was about to bolt when Linda spotted her. “Rachel, I’m so glad you could make it.” She walked over and hugged Rachel, before taking her hand and leading her to the table.

  The women stopped talking and looked at Rachel, who suddenly felt self-conscious in her Baby Phat blouse and capri pants.

  “Ladies, this is Rachel Adams; her husband is pastor of Zion Hill,” Linda said.

  The women smiled warmly at her, easing her nervousness.

  “Please, have a seat,” Dorothy said.

  “And welcome,” Suzanne added.

  Rachel sat down and quickly scanned the room. In all, there were about twenty women there. Linda sat in the seat next to her.

  “We were just finishing up some business about a citywide charity event we’re hosting,” Dorothy said.

  Rachel smiled as they continued their business. She was actually intrigued with all that they were doing, because many of their ideas were along the same lines as hers.

  Thirty minutes later, they were wrapping up the business part of their meeting. “Well, I think we’ve had a productive meeting,” Dorothy said. “Now, to my favorite part: What’s bothering you this week?”

  Several of the women chuckled.

  Rachel’s eyes lit up. Did they actually come here and discuss all their personal business? Were they actually truthful about the stuff that was bugging them?

  Linda leaned in and whispered, “Don’t worry, we have sort of a code that what’s talked about here, stays here. You will be amazed at how refreshing it feels to be able to release some of your frustrations.”

  Rachel gave her a look of approval. She was loving the council already.

  “Let me go first,” said a woman Rachel didn’t recognize. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Sharony Livingston, first lady of New Bethel. I just want to say that I’m sick and tired of my church members who have no regard for the pastor’s family. They want him at events that are not even related to church! George had to leave dinner last week because one of the members was buying her daughter her first car and she wanted her pastor there because it was a special occasion.” Sharony dramatically rolled her eyes.

  Several women in the room nodded like they could definitely relate.

  “You ain’t never lied,” another lady added. “Louis hasn’t been home one night out of the whole month because everybody’s got somewhere they want him to be. They could care less about the fact that he has two kids of his own that he never sees.”

  Rachel felt like she was in the Twilight Zone. Where had this group been all her life?

  “Speaking of kids, if one more person tries to pump my children for information about what’s going on between me and my husband, I’m going to lose it,” another woman added.

  “Oooh, I hate that,” Suzanne said. “But you have to learn to be quiet and pray about it and let God handle it.”

  “Well, I definitely need you all to say an extra prayer for me, because if one more woman bats her eyes at my husband or wiggles her big butt trying to get his attention, I think I’m going to lose it,” a woman sitting toward the end of the table said.

  “Gloria, I don’t know why you keep letting those women get to you. You know they’re just trying you,” Donna said.

  Rachel definitely could understand that. She felt like she was being tried on a regular basis.

  “I know some of them are trying me,” Gloria replied. “For some, it’s not even about me. They just want my husband to notice them. But I have to be honest, I’m scared that one day he’s just going to give in to the temptation.”

  “Ladies,” Dorothy said, trying to regain control of the meeting. “Remember, we want these to be more than just gripe sessions.” She turned to Sharony. “Sister Livingston, you have got to put your foot down with the congregation and your husband. Let him know you and your children need him just as much as the members do.”

  Rachel fought back a smile. Her mother could’ve definitely benefited from this group because Lord knew, she’d rarely put her foot down when it came to Simon. Rachel was especially impressed with the candid way the women spoke.

  “And Gloria,” Dorothy continued, “as we tell you every meeting, you’ve got to turn that over to God, or you’re going to drive yourself crazy. You’ve got to trust your husband, pray that he continues to be strong, and know that if and
when something ever does happen, it will be revealed to you. Until then, there’s no need to drive yourself crazy with worry. Too often, we as women try to fix things.”

  “When what we need to do is go to the ultimate handyman, Jesus,” Donna added.

  Gloria nodded like she knew they were right, but Rachel could tell from the look on her face she was having a hard time with it.

  Linda patted Gloria’s hand and said, “You have to keep in mind that the members’ expectations of their pastor and his family are often based on their opinions of what he should be and not on the Bible.”

  “Like hats,” Donna chimed in. “I hate hats, but some member is always trying to get me to wear one because ‘that’s what first ladies are supposed to do.’ ”

  Dorothy nodded. “You have to be strong and just make sure you don’t lose yourself in other people’s image of who you’re supposed to be.” She looked at Rachel. “But let’s see if our guest would like to jump in. Sister Adams, anything you’d like to get off your chest?”

  Boy, there weren’t enough hours in the day for Rachel to say what was on her mind. But she figured she’d start with the thing that was bugging her the most. “I can’t get the members at my church to respect me. I try to be who they want me to be—to an extent anyway. I try to be friendly with the members—most of them, at least. I work hard for the church, but they still don’t respect me. I mean, maybe it’s because I’m only twenty-seven, I don’t know.”

  “Maybe it’s because you wear low-cut Baby Phat blouses and tight blue jean capris,” one of the women mumbled.

  Rachel’s eyes grew wide. Dorothy threw an admonishing look at the woman, who shrugged and said, “I just said what you all were thinking.”

  Dorothy smiled at Rachel. “As you can see, we believe in being honest here. And while Sister Murray could’ve found a more tactful way to put it, she’s right.”

  Rachel looked down at her top. She hadn’t thought anything about it when she threw it on this morning, except that it was cute.