He Who Is a Protector (Sadik Book 3)

by Love Belvin

  He clicked his teeth with his tongue as he shot the gun he formed with his hand. “Bingo,” he sang. I rolled my eyes. “Don’t sweat it. You can have my sign in. The login is my first initial and last name. My password is that backward.”

  “That’s a weak password.”

  Jason shrugged with his brows, sitting back in his seat. “I’ve got way too many damn passwords to remember. Besides, I know how to Google.”

  I gasped. “Is that a jab?”

  “The true jab would be you falling asleep on me last night at your place. That was cold.”

  “It was late!”

  “And you had company.”

  I shook my head, gaping at him with an imperceptible smile in my eyes.

  Robert’s soft chuckle broke my reverie. “Yeah. I guess you can call it that.”

  I blinked his way. “Thank you, Robert.”

  “For finding the keys?”

  “No. For giving me the best idea I’ve had in a long time.” I was headed his way with my laptop wedged beneath my arm. “I’m going to kiss my baby goodbye and grab my purse.”

  I had work to do while we traveled to Paterson to pick up Tasche, then on to Harlem.

  “We give You praise…

  We give You praise.

  We give You glory…

  We give You glory.

  You have all power…

  You have all power.

  You give us mercy…

  You give us mercy,” the small group of singers at the microphone led, and the massive choir behind them emphasized.

  There were dancers in ballet-like costumes twirling around in unison on the stage with the singers and below on the main floor. The place was ginormous and spirited.

  “We worship You, our Strong tower!” the choir belted.

  The music and presentation was like a Broadway production. Live, it was magical and engaging. This was nothing like the streaming experience. Inside the walls of Redeeming Souls for Abundant Living in Christ was as theatrically moving as I imagined Disney to be, even more. Everyone on stage radiated joy or was with an expression of glee. Even the woman who showed Tasche and me to our seats in the center column row carried a cherubic countenance. The smiles, nods, and warm gestures couldn’t have been for simple show. This all—from the engaging singers to the expressive dancers, warm greeters, to the musicians who were clearly gifted–had to be studied and practiced. It had to be believed by the people administering moving energy.

  Tasche and I looked like agents, being the only two in our row not swaying rhythmically like everyone else in the house. She sat and I stood to have a better vantage point of the production. My hungry eyes swept around the two-story sanctuary. I couldn’t get this overwhelming feeling online. Everyone I could see was on their feet, dancing and singing.

  The up-tempo song ended and the start of another, a more slow, dramatic piece began. A few shouted their praise almost in anticipation of the mood-switch that was taking place. Again, magical. This vibe was a human experience of divine unity I’d never seen before. Growing up under the Muslim faith, at most, my father would emphasize Islamic platitudes repetitively and expect us to abide by them without the benefit of enforcement by way of congregating with fellow-believers and religious leaders. This was—

  A thwack to the side of my knees had my head jerking down. Tasche waved me closer.

  I bent to give her my attention and she shared directly in my ear, “You see Trent Bailey and StentRo up there?” She pointed to the balcony. I couldn’t make either out right away and felt self-conscious for gaping, so I resumed my seat to continue to peruse. “There’s a section up there for celebrities only, so don’t stare too hard, yo. Lex said it’s for their privacy. If you try to take one pic, you get taken outta here. Ezra don’t play when it come down to his peoples.”

  Surreptitiously, I shared, “I can see Trent. Doesn’t Ragee come here, too?”

  “Yeah, he do,” she replied. “Young Lord be stopping through once in a blue, too. His lady into this shi—” She coughed into her hand. “Into all this.”

  I nodded. That’s when I finally spotted Stenton Rogers. His lanky frame shouldn’t have been that difficult to identify amongst mostly average height people, but he was in the front row on the balcony, which blended with those behind him. He wore yellow-lensed glasses and a fedora as he two-stepped with a little girl in his arm.

  Another whack to my shoulder had me yanking my head to Tasche again. She appeared cool and collected in her seat as she jerked her chin toward the stage. The first new attraction from the last time I’d gazed that way was a large coat of wooly hair, bouncing in the air. Only one woman I’d met had possessed such an interest. She was tall with a commanding presence and held a servant posture.

  I stood quickly to my feet as all those around me had been so I could get a better view of the elaborate stage. Lex sauntered out onto the stage without pomp, holding a device portfolio. She moved ahead of her equally arresting husband with the thick beard and hypnotizing aura. Both their heads were toward the floor and their pace was one to not attract more attention than they naturally would, being the leaders of this influential organization.

  The husband and wife split with Bishop Carmichael going to a wooden, high-winged clergy seat on the stage behind the six-people singing directly into the microphones. I watched as Lex continued to the glass lectern and lay the portfolio on top. She then journeyed over to her husband and leaned over him with closed eyes as her palms lay over his broad shoulders. His head was bowed, eyes squeezed closed as Lex mouthed over him. As she spoke, her hand traveled from his shoulders to his head, then his forehead. Ezra’s body jerked abruptly and his hands shot into the air as he mouthed something inaudible, too. This strange transaction didn’t go on long enough for me to figure out exactly what had taken place. Before I knew it, Lex stood to full height and calmly left the stage as quietly as she’d appeared. She ended up on the floor in a special section with mostly collared men and women.

  As I stood, I wondered how much of the behavior was taught versus organic for Lex. It had to be a trained procedure. Any friend that close to Tasche had to have some level of ratchetness in them. Hell, even I had a measure in me: I threatened the biggest, Black drug lord in the state of New Jersey with turning his son against him.

  A few minutes later, the emotion-provoking song created a heightened atmosphere. Bishop Carmichael rose from his seat, traversing to the lectern. A wireless microphone was placed on his robe as he observed the short man, leading the choir and the musicians. Ezra strolled toward them singing along, though his voice couldn’t be distinguished among the choir. He clapped his hands in praise. He also lifted a hand of orchestration for the musicians a couple of times. The parishioners were all caught up with the moment of joint worship, something I’d never experienced live.

  The music quieted and Bishop Carmichael had returned to the lectern. “Good morning, tabernacle.” I recognized those deep raspy vocals. The audience cheered in reply as he opened his portfolio. “Welcome to Family and Friends Day at Redeeming Souls for Abundant Living in Christ Family Worship Center. It is an unqualified privilege to gather amongst the people of God.” A charming grin curved his lips. The room reacted to that small yet intimate gesture from him. “I know I declare this every week now, but I won’t be before you long. My wife has laid hands on me a few minutes ago for covering, and the sooner I’m done—” An abrupt chorus of laughter ripped through the air. The Bishop nodded this time, sharing a full beam. “You know the rest.”

  Even I had to chuckle, taken by his intimate gesture and affection for the woman seated to my right, who cracked a modest smile.

  “Okay.” He took in a deep breath. “While you’re on your feet, let us petition Jehovah Shammah…”

  They were flocking to the stage in droves. I’d seen this countless times online. People were screaming and shouting praise. Some even expressing raw emotion I was sure had to do with their circumstances rather than prai
se. The entire building, it felt, was caught up by the stimulating message Bishop Carmichael shared. He’d closed the homily but was still fired up, declaring God’s power and willingness to heal and correct. The only people in my peripheral unmoved were Tasche and men and women I was now convinced served as security for the church. They stood motionless like secret service officers.

  Like my husband and father-in-law’s bodyguards…

  Being in the sanctuary was a moving experience. This was the height of the production, but it was far from simulated. This was a transferring spiritual occurrence if I’d ever imagined one before. I wasn’t accustomed to this liturgical order of service, but I was definitely affected by it. How could I not be? I actually felt an unusual and contagious wave move over my body that, mixed with his words, inspired a flame of hope.

  I, too, was inspired to go to the stage—provoked, it felt, by an unnamed energy. The only two things preventing me from acting on my emotional inclination was I didn’t know what to do or request if I got up there and was received. Secondly, and most terrifying was I was still aware of the Ellis family being under guard, and I’d breached the orders of my own husband even being here.

  So, I remained in place, fighting to contain my emotions. My palms were clasped and eyes squeezed shut as I silently voiced my fears, desires, and gratitude, something heavily addressed in the homily earlier. In between, I watched as Bishop Carmichael prayed over flopping bodies until he peacefully closed the service with rasped words of encouragement.

  Two hours later, we were in the church’s dining room. That area was massive, too, impossibly outfitted for thousands of attendees. While there weren’t as many present in here as there were in the sanctuary, because of the Family and Friends Day themed service, this place was packed. It was tastefully decorated and filled with rectangular and round-shaped tables to give that family feel. As guests of the first family, Tasche and I were assigned seats at the Carmichaels’ table with their associates. Notably, none of the celebrity members attended this part of the service. I couldn’t wait to debrief with Tasche later about why. I was sure it was the obvious reason. Not that it mattered: the only one I would have been thrilled to see was Ragee, and he hadn’t attended service today.

  The food provided was pretty good and in generous portions. My nerves were frayed from being this close to a man who, too accurately, predicted my future so far. He was rather intense, not addressing the table much and patiently attending to each person interrupting his meal with a question or greeting. He assisted Lex with feeding their newest baby—another girl—whom I learned was named Christ Harmony, pronounced Chris with the “T” silent. Their middle child, Mia Grace, seemed glued to him the whole dinner, only going to her mother when baby Christ needed to be fed and burped by dad.

  The site of this family’s dynamic had my belly fluttering. They were functional, balancing leadership and partnership in the public’s eye. Tasche, while enjoying her girlfriend’s children, didn’t want to be there. She asked that we leave after the service. Lex and I insisted that we stay for food since we’d traveled such a distance. After eating, when Tasche wasn’t tending to the kids, she sat stiffly, appearing grossly awkward. It was comical. I was grateful for her agreeing to stay. More than for the Carmichaels, I felt like I belonged here, in this atmosphere of clarity.

  “Mommy,” an adorable mocha princess called out so sweetly. The Carmichaels’ oldest daughter, Lisa-Mare, patted her mother on the arm across from me. “I gotta potty.”

  “Oh, sweat!” Tasche leaped to her feet and raced toward the girl’s side. “C’mon, lil’ buggy. Auntie TT gotta potty, too. I’ll take you.” They began to take off. “I’m just like mommy, ‘member. You can’t sit on the seat. You gotta hold on to TT like you did before.”

  I watched them thread through the sea of chairs moving about the restaurant-sized dining room with an expanded heart. Tasche looked no older than twenty-five; she’d preserved herself well.

  “Aren’t they adorable?” The voice startled me, forcing me to whip my head in the opposite direction. Lex had somehow landed in the seat next to me.

  I pulled in a relieved and pleasantly surprised breath. “Completely.”

  “I’ve been dying for a moment alone with you. Thank God T’s in love with that little girl. She treats her like they’re the same age sometimes.” My brows lifted, reacting to that knowledge. “My husband believes Tasche lives vicariously through our daughter.” Lex tossed her head in a shrug, long thick locks of hair bouncing about. “I’m just grateful my friend didn’t run the moment I began pushing out babies now that I have one on each tit, as Ms. Remah would say.”

  “To say she wants no more kids, Tasche’s excellent with them,” I noted.

  Lex nodded, eyes avoiding me when she shouldered me. “Soooo…”

  I scoffed, amused by her horrible act of clandestineness. “Pardon me?” I giggled.

  “The last time I saw you, you were fleeing for your life. Now, you’re here and seem very much at peace, spirit calm and open.”

  “And very pregnant,” I added, eyes elsewhere as I threw that fact out there. “Again.” I nodded.

  Her entire lengthy body swung to face me. I turned to find Lex’s face lit up like the Fourth of July sky in suburban town, USA. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Her eyes flew to my mid-section, which was hidden behind my opened, sleeveless duster.

  “Nope.” My hands brushed down my tapered nape, fighting to control my smile of elation.

  I loved being pregnant. Was thrilled to give Sadik another baby.

  “Is that another thing we have in common?”

  I leaned in to hear amongst the chatter of the room. “How do you mean?”

  “You mentioned not fitting into his world, but apparently you can’t protect your uterus, like me. You have a back-to-back pregnancy like me.” She rolled her eyes while beaming.

  “Not just pregnant, but married.” I lifted my left hand, wiggling my fingers. That’s when I recalled I didn’t have a wedding band, only an engagement ring. “It happened so out of the blue, and things are moving so fast, as you can see.” My hands moved to cup my small belly. “I don’t even have a wedding band.” I took in a deep breath. “But yup.” I popped the “P” on that word. “We sent the clergy with the signed paperwork for filing.”

  “Wow!” she breathed.

  I nodded while going for my purse. “That’s why I have to give you this.” I discreetly handed her an envelope practically under the table. “You were so generous to me last summer, you have no idea. I feel foolish in retrospect, but I needed you more then than I needed water. I have to reimburse what you gave me.”

  Lex’s eyes lit wide once she realized my actions. Her gaze shifted over the area, I guessed, to see if anyone was watching. “We don’t accept reimbursements, Mrs…” she prompted me for me.

  “Ellis,” I returned. “Mrs. Sadik Ellis, which is why I have to do this. This is the money you loaned me with interest. At the very least, consider it a donation to your organization. I can’t explain the terror I felt those weeks your donation kept me afloat. There’s no way I cannot address it. Sadik would be insulted if he knew.” I tried containing my amusement with a hand over my mouth. “He’d have my head if he knew the extremes I went through to run from him.”

  “Are you safe?”

  That reasonable question brought Bishop Carmichael’s homily earlier to mind. He shared how when Jesus encountered an unsuspecting Peter and asked to use his boat, Peter permitted him, not thinking much of it. Jesus used it to go and minister, and once he returned, he offered to take Peter fishing…at night. At night. Jesus told him to go cast his net for a great, massive catch. At night. The Peter guy had to wonder how smart it was to go out that night when he’d previously been unsuccessful. But he went, in an “act of faith” as Bishop Carmichael put it.

  When Peter went out and caught such a great multitude of fish, the net couldn’t hold them. Several things happened. The first was P
eter was generously loaning his boat. The second was his obedience even when things were not looking good for him. He and his brother had been out fishing earlier, which yielded nothing.

  In using this biblical story, Bishop Carmichael wanted us to understand how God can bless us even in the least desirable circumstances. More than that, He gives us the tools we need to achieve our desires. A discouraged Peter had a boat. He had a faulty net, but he also had a crew to repair it with, and faith to walk in. That faith allowed him to achieve his need. Sometimes you have to utilize what you have to be used to create what you need.

  It made me consider my own circumstances. For years, even before my father passed, I desired a family. Once my parents passed away, that yearning intensified. Abshir never satisfied the definition of family. Losing them left me broken. Then, entered Sadik. I’d been fearing being connected to The Ellis family because of their legal illegitimacy. Even more recently, fissures had been found in their remarkable bond. The family had been painfully breaking down.

  After experiencing the message today, I’d walked away with a revelation. Maybe I’d been given the family I desired for so many years. Perhaps I’d been given that through this flawed dynasty. I’d seen them strong and functioning. I’d witnessed the Ellises whole, glued, and at their best. So, yeah. Maybe things had been awry as of late, but if I viewed their strength as a tool and worked from there, I could see the gift in what they were to me. What if God had been working in my favor all this time?

  “But the Lord will be with you. The Stranger you’ve never known knows each strand of hair on your body, has covered you since your conception, and will continue to during this next phase of your life.” Ezra’s words from over a year ago flooded my mind.

  I decided I needed to view, not just Sadik, but the Ellises as a blessing instead of a crime family I should distance myself from. I’d been sensing that over the past few months, but today solidified my resolve. Just like Peter was fishing at night, the least likely time most would think fish could be caught, I had to believe in this family at a time when they were wounded. And especially the man in question because he’d been out already—