by Sammie Ward
“No. But you wanted to.”
The pastor drew in a deep breath. Garrett can be so stubborn, he thought. He wondered where he got it from; his wife would tell him to look in the mirror for the answer.
“Why are you putting words in my mouth?” he asked. “Have I ever asked you to leave?” Pastor Martindale lifted his brow as he studied his son. Garrett was sulking. “This is your home. Whenever you’re home, your mother and I don’t have to worry about you.”
“You don’t have to worry about me when I’m not home.”
Pastor Martindale walked up the small set of stairs onto the stage. “Parents never stop worrying about their children, even after they’re grown. Matter of fact, that’s when they worry about them the most. You’re out in California. Lord knows what you’re doing out there, or with whom you’re running around.”
“I’m not running around. Give me some credit to know the difference between right and wrong.”
Pastor Martindale placed the black briefcase on top of the piano. “If you knew the difference between right and wrong, you wouldn’t be singing that worldly music. People bumping and grinding all over each other, leading to God knows what. I taught you to make a joyful noise unto the Lord, not Satan.”
Garrett nodded in agreement. “Yes, you did. I still make a joyful noise to the Lord.”
“You can’t serve two masters, son.”
Garrett wasn’t in the mood to argue with his father. They’d had this conversation a thousand times. Nothing was going to change. He loved singing secular music as much as he did singing gospel. He loved singing, period.
“Father, we’ve been over this. I know how you feel. I give God praise for blessing me with the musical talent to reach people through my music. It’s true you taught me to make a joyful noise to the Lord, but you also taught me to follow my own heart, be my own man. That’s what I’m doing,” Garrett said, placing a hand to his chest, “being my own man.”
“I see there’s no point talking to you.” Pastor Martindale looked at Garrett through hooded eyes. “I’ll leave it alone.” He pointed at his son. “For now.”
“What are you doing here so late?” Garrett asked, hoping to change the subject.
“Making arrangements for the Gospel Explosion. The Praise and Worship Choir has been invited to sing.”
The Gospel Explosion was an annual event that hosted the best gospel artists and choirs in inspirational music. Garrett had never been invited to participate.
Garrett beamed. “Congratulations,” he said. “When is it? Where is it?”
Garrett knew his father still had big plans for the Praise and Worship Choir. Their latest CD, The Living Word, had done well, but sales had dropped off since he left the choir.
“Atlanta,” Pastor Martindale sighed. “In three weeks. A choir cancelled. I received a phone call asking if we were interested in performing.”
“Of course you said yes.”
“Of course. We don’t have as many strong singers as we once did.” He gave Garrett a sympathetic look.
Garrett smiled. It would give him another reason to stay in town.
“So, what do you say?”
“God is in the plan.”
“He always is,” Pastor Martindale agreed.
* * *
“Hold up, Trinity.”
Jogging in place, Trinity turned around to see Leigh bending over at the waist, taking deep breaths.
“Come on, girl, we still have two laps to go,” Trinity said. “You can make it.”
Leigh responded by shooing Trinity away.
Trinity took off at a steady pace, jogging around the school track. She was doing her best to erase all traces of what had almost happened between her and Garrett.
“I don’t see how you do it,” Leigh said as Trinity completed the last lap.
“Three times a week,” Trinity said. “It’s easy once your body gets used to it.” She began stretching to cool her body down.
“I should be in good shape. I chase two small children around all week and work a full-time job.”
They both laughed.
“Whew!” Leigh fanned herself. “That last lap almost killed me.” She glanced at Trinity. “What’s going on? You look like you’ve got something heavy on your mind.”
Trinity looked at Leigh. “Nothing.”
“Come on, Trinity.” Leigh placed her hands on her hips. “I know you well enough to know when something is on your mind. Is it Garrett?”
“What makes you think it’s Garrett?” she asked as they walked toward their cars.
“Just a hunch.” Leigh said. “By the way, how was the picnic?”
Trinity managed a bland smile. She knew Leigh was trying to get her to open up. Evidently Garrett’s appearance at the school with picnic basket in hand caused Leigh’s imagination to kick into overtime.
Leigh grinned mischievously. “Come on, give. Don’t leave anything out.”
“There is nothing to tell.”
“Whatever you say.” They’d reached their cars. “Well, if you need a shoulder, call me.”
“Thanks.”
Leigh carefully eased her body in the driver’s seat. “I’m going home, take a nice hot bath, and then allow my husband to give me a full body massage. Every muscle in my body aches.” She closed the door.
Trinity waved and watched Leigh drive off before getting into her own car. She wished she had someone to do the same thing for her.
She glanced at her watch. She had enough time to go home, shower, and make it to her hair appointment with Lucas.
* * *
“Heard you had dinner with Garrett Martindale,” Lucas said as he draped the black plastic cape around her shoulders.
The technician next to Lucas, Starr, peeked over to hear Trinity’s response, then nudged the client in her chair, whose mouth gaped open.
Trinity was caught off guard by Lucas’s comment. Obviously news traveled fast around town.
He wove his fingers through Trinity’s hair.
“My source tells me you two have been spending a lot of time together.”
“Your source is wrong.” Her tone was dismissive.
He leaned her head back into the shampoo sink. “He’s usually on target. Did you go out with him?”
Trinity ignored his questions.
“Hrump. I’d love to go out with him,” Starr chimed in. “Then tell everybody who’d listen.”
“I know that’s right,” her client added. “Can you get a sistah an autograph?”
“Forget the autograph. Can I get him?” another woman asked.
“Amen,” Starr quipped.
Though Trinity and Garrett weren’t a couple, the last thing she wanted to hear about was other women’s attraction to him.
Thirty minutes later Trinity moved over to the nail station, where she got a manicure and pedicure. By the time she arrived home it was six o’clock.
When she got home, she saw that her father had left a message, and so she called him back.
“Hello, Dad.”
“Hi, pumpkin. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. I couldn’t be better.”
“I haven’t spoken to you in a couple of days,” he said.
“I know. I plan to stop by tomorrow after church,” she responded.
“Then I will see you in church tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there. I love you.”
“I love you, too, pumpkin.”
Trinity smiled as she hung up the phone. He hadn’t called her “pumpkin” in a long time. She changed into a pair of black shorts and a T-shirt. She hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, so she went into the kitchen and inspected the contents of the pantry. There was nothing there she could cook in a hurry.
She found a frozen dinner in the freezer and popped it into the microwave.
While she waited for the dinner to heat, she went into the living room and got her students’ test papers from the manila folder she’d brought home. She�
�d given a pop quiz today and wanted to see the scores.
She placed the stack of papers on the dining room table. It was going to be a long night. That was fine with her. She wouldn’t have time to think about Garrett. He should be on his way to Los Angeles and back into the arms of Imani, who was more than willing to fulfill his sexual needs.
Somewhere around 11 p.m. Trinity fell asleep on the sofa. She woke up early Sunday morning, took a shower, had breakfast, and left for church.
She spotted her father escorting Mrs. Rose to a pew on the front row. He gave Trinity a wide grin as she took a seat.
The congregation poured in and the Praise and Worship Choir took their seats. A few minutes later, Pastor Martindale strolled into the pulpit, followed by his assistant, and Garrett brought up the rear, dressed in a choir robe.
Trinity was pleasantly surprised to see Garrett take a seat at the piano. She thought he’d already left town. Maybe he was leaving later on today, she thought. Garrett motioned for the members to stand. Her father turned toward her, obviously pleased that Garrett was leading the choir. She smiled weakly.
The choir sung “Made Up Mind,” originally done by John P. Kee and the New Life Community Choir. The words reached out and touched the hearts of everyone in the building. Garrett rode the spiritual wave moving throughout the room, singing with such conviction that the entire church was shouting and dancing in the aisles.
Listening to him, Trinity couldn’t help but think that it didn’t matter for whom Garrett performed; he was truly talented.
After the choir performed, Pastor Martindale walked to the pulpit, gave Garrett a nod of approval, and then waited until the congregation calmed down before he spoke.
“Praise the Lord,” he began in his deep voice. “My son, my son,” he said, shaking his head and still beaming at Garrett. He paused for dramatic effect. “What can I say? You got them fired up for the Lord, now it’s time to save some souls.”
Amens echoed throughout the congregation.
Trinity stood and waved her hand in mid-air in approval; she knew bringing souls to the Lord was Pastor Martindale’s mission. After Garrett’s fiery performance, she was sure he’d accomplished that this morning.
The service continued with sermons, Bible readings, testimonials, and some people giving their lives to the Lord.
After the service Trinity mingled for a few minutes, making sure she avoided direct contact with Garrett. Their eyes met a couple of times, but she quickly looked away. He didn’t come over to speak; she had to admit she was disappointed.
Trinity pulled up in front of her father’s house thirty minutes later, and she was surprised to find another car parked next to his in the driveway. Since her mother’s death, Lyle didn’t entertain many guests at his home.
“Come on in, pumpkin,” Lyle said, standing in the doorway. He was grinning from ear to ear. He gave her a tight hug, kissing her on the forehead.
Trinity walked inside and stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes fell upon Gail Lynch, a middle-aged, dark haired Caucasian woman who had been a member of the church for many years and worked with her father with the Youth Ministry.
“Hello, Gail,” Trinity said, trying her best to mask her surprise. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. How are you, dear?”
“I couldn’t be better.”
A moment of silence fell between the three.
“Uh, Gail and I were going out for a bite to eat,” Lyle said, breaking the silence. “I waited to see you.” He was watching her face with great intensity, as if seeking her approval. He hadn’t been with another woman since her mother passed.
Trinity raised her hand in front of her. “Dad, you go ahead. Enjoy yourself.”
“Why don’t you come along with us?” Gail asked, standing next to Lyle.
“No. No. Go ahead. I don’t want to be a third wheel. Some other time,” Trinity replied. She looked down at her shoes, then at Lyle and Gail, and muttered, “I better let you guys get going.”
“Let me walk you out,” Lyle added quickly.
Trinity whispered a goodbye to Gail and led her father out the door. Another moment of silence fell between them. Lyle sidled up alongside Trinity and placed his arm around her waist.
“Why didn’t you tell me about her?” Trinity asked.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner,” he began. “I didn’t know how you would react to me dating again.”
Trinity sighed. “Dad, you have been alone for a long time. I’m glad to see you with someone.”
At her car, Lyle asked, “So, what do you think about Gail?”
Trinity couldn’t help but smirk. “I think she’s nice,” Trinity said, glancing over her shoulder. Gail stood in the entrance, staring at the pair.
“So you approve?” Lyle asked.
“You don’t really need my approval, Dad,” Trinity answered. “But if you want it, yes, I do approve.”
Lyle smiled. “I’m glad. If I decide to settle down with someone, she has to get along with my daughter.”
Trinity was thoughtful a moment. She never really thought about her father getting married again, but she was glad he had decided to move on with his life. She was sure that her mother would be happy for him.
“Is it serious between you two?” Trinity asked.
“Only God knows. We’ve only been going out a month, so we’ll see.” He breathed deeply. “I was thinking about your mother. You know, I haven’t been out with anyone since she died. All this dating stuff is very strange to me.”
Trinity rubbed his arm. “Mother would want you to go on with your life. She wouldn’t want you to be alone.”
“I know, pumpkin. I know.” He gave her a hug. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
“I’m going home. I have papers to grade and lesson plans to work on. After that, I’m just going to relax, maybe curl up with a good book.”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe your old man has a date and you don’t. What about Garrett?”
“Garrett is probably leaving today.” She leaned against the car.
“No, he isn’t. He’s going to be in town for at least three weeks. He’s leading the choir at the Gospel Explosion.”
Her body stiffened in surprise. The possibility that Garrett would be in town for the next couple of weeks both thrilled and bothered her; she wasn’t sure whether fear or excitement would win out.
“Are you sure?”
“That’s what Pastor Martindale told us in the church meeting last night.” He looked at his daughter in puzzlement. “Didn’t he tell you?”
“No,” she answered suddenly. “We haven’t spoken recently.”
“I’m sure he will tell you. I wish you were still singing. With him leading the choir, it would be like old times. You guys made good music together.”
Trinity sighed. “Daddy, he’s not joining the choir. He’s only leading the choir at the Gospel Explosion.”
“I know, but you never know what might happen between now and then. I have to get back inside. We’ll talk later.”
Trinity settled behind the wheel. Lyle leaned in the window, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Drive safe.”
“I will,” she said, pulling away from the curve.
As she drove, she could not stop herself from pondering what her father revealed. Garrett wasn’t leaving town. She pulled to a stop at a red light and tapped her manicured nails on the steering wheel. That explains his presence in church this morning, she said to herself.
She stepped on the gas and sped across the intersection. She wasn’t going to worry about it; she’d just stick to her decision to avoid him as much as possible.
Trinity turned the corner onto her street to see a woman leaning against a black Mustang parked outside her house. She pulled into the driveway. As she got out of her car, the African-American woman strolled toward her.
“Trinity Blake?” the woman asked.
Trinity frowned, wondering who sh
e was, and how she knew her name. “Who’s asking?”
“My name is Michelle Goodwin. I’m a writer with Black Flavor Magazine,” she explained, her whole face spread into a smile.
All Trinity had to do was hear “writer” and “magazine” and the conversation was over.
“We have nothing to talk about.” Trinity turned, heading toward the door.
“I know you’ve been out with Garrett Martindale since he’s been in town. I thought you would like to elaborate on your relationship,” Michelle said to Trinity’s retreating figure.
Trinity spun back around. “I said no comment.”
“That’s not what I saw,” Michelle boasted.
Trinity quirked her eyebrow questioningly. “What are you talking about?”
“This.” Michelle opened a brown folder and handed Trinity a photo.
Trinity was at a loss for words. The picture was of Garrett kissing her. It was taken the night after Garrett’s performance at Cadence. How long had Michelle been following them? Were there other photos of them together? It was an innocent kiss, but she was sure Michelle would never believe that.
“Well?” Michelle prompted. She was proud of herself. “The picture doesn’t lie.”
“Again, no comment,” Trinity answered in annoyance as she handed Michelle the photo.
Michelle grinned. She held up the folder with the photo. “I wonder what Imani will think about your friendship,” she said.
Trinity rushed inside the house. She threw her purse on the sofa in frustration and paced in anger. She couldn’t believe what just happened. Was everybody crazy? She could just see the headlines now. Garrett, Imani, and the other woman. What a mess. What was she going to do? What could she do?
She stopped in mid-stride, looking at the phone. She’d call Garrett. He’d know what to do. A trembling finger punched in Garrett’s cell number. How ironic, she thought. Just as soon as I decide to avoid him, our paths cross again.
* * *
“I’m sorry, Trinity,” Garrett said as he listened to her tell how Michelle ambushed her in front of her house. She was upset. She had reason to be. She wasn’t used to dealing with reporters. What Michelle did was underhanded, even for her. She wouldn’t have tried that tactic with him because she knew he would tell her to take a flying leap. Trinity was too nice of a person.
