He could tell she was taken aback by the capacity of his apartment and sheer volume of his stuff. She recovered quick as she approached him. “I’m making myself available to you in every way imaginable.”
“I see,” Abe said while she nibbled on his neck again. “Lord God, I see, but—”
“I think you understand what that means,” Blanche said, this time it was she that was leading him to the bedside lounger. “C’mon, we spend so much time together, and the church is growing because of our partnership. This was bound to happen, right?”
Abe’s defenses were steadily weakening. He let his mind believe that this was a natural progression in their relationship. He introduced her to the non-cluttered side of his bed. This time he was the aggressor, covering her with his unbridled desire.
“Yeah, I like a man that calls the shots,” Blanche panted. “We call the shots.”
He thought his mind was playing tricks on him. The Spirit of the Lord was no longer speaking to him, and it wasn’t Blanche’s voice he was hearing either. This was an extreme case of déjà vu, because he was hearing Marion Butler. He rolled off of her, but she persisted to grab and pull at him, so he gave her a slight push. “No,” he said.
His vulnerability scared and shamed him. “We can’t possibly call the shots. Do you know how disastrous that would be if we did?”
He rose from the bed to get some distance. He tried to put things in reverse by zipping, fastening and re-adjusting his clothes.
“I guess you never heard of letting a girl down easy.” She bent at the waist where she sat to find her shoes. He took a seat next to her on the edge of the bed, hoping to make contact with her downcast eyes.
“Many days when we were out together I’d wonder what you really thought of me. I’d like to think that I was really that witty when you’d laughed at my jokes, and l would love to believe I am really that irresistible that you actually wanted to spend all that time with me. This is who I really am.” Abe pointed to the packed ledges and shelves around the room. “I’m lost in my own world most of the time. I hide behind stuff; I’m a fraud. I haven’t written my own sermon in God knows when. Just when God was speaking to me again, tonight, of all nights, I end up here with you. I can’t. I got to play by His rules.”
Blanche hastily re-buttoned her blouse and rose to her feet. She smoothed her clothes and managed brief glances with him. “Well . . . umm, I’ll be going then before you begin to think any lesser of me than you probably already do. It’s just that . . . I thought, and well, this has been one big mistake. Thank God I didn’t cause you to sin. You’re a good man. I don’t know what came over me.”
He had already sinned. They both had crossed the line with their intentions. He was just thankful the Lord was merciful, because he felt doubly guilty for choosing her company over the Lord’s this evening.
“I hope this little incident hasn’t ruined our partnership or The Ministry of Support,” she said, moving toward the door quickly. Abe marveled at the tempter’s form. She could have bought him for five cents a year ago, but he knew he was worth more in God’s eyes. She was worth more also. He suspected no one had ever told her as much. She was just as confused as he was, he thought.
Abe grabbed her arm, determined not to let her go. “You don’t get off that easy. I get that your motivation is to take the church to new heights, and my natural man surely wants to get swept up and go with you, but you have to know who I am and I have to know who you really are. I still want to get to know you, Blanche. That is how we see if we mesh in the spirit. You have to tell me who you really are though.”
She turned to face him, this time less ashamed, yet less assured. “I don’t know.” She looked to the ceiling to gain composure, and then at him. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” She bolted from the apartment before he could get himself together to chase after her.
Abe stayed there until her scent and touch were a distant memory. He didn’t hear from her when she arrived home as was their custom. He didn’t hear from the Lord anymore that night either.
Chapter 19
An Elevated View
Vanessa awoke temporarily unaware of what day it was. The light shone through the sheers that covered the blinds at her bedroom window, which meant it was well past seven A.M. She heard a doorbell ring and thought it was in her dream, but now the knocking was an unmistakable reality. It coincided with the throbbing in her head. Willie and their new house guest must have gone out, she thought. If he told her where he was off to this morning, for the life of her, she couldn’t recall it now.
Her pregnancy had brought about selected amnesia. At church, both Vanessa and Willie forgot to mention to everyone around them in ministry that she, the co-pastor and esteemed first lady of the church, was with child. Surely they could use the prayers of the righteous, because they were struggling to come to terms with it. He was walking on egg shells and she on tissue paper not to divulge anything. Once inside their own home, they forgot how to love one another. Willie went out of his way to let her know how much he disapproved of everything from the general care she gave herself to her overall attitude. He resented the fact that she made him keep the pregnancy a secret. He didn’t realize that the contempt he expressed wouldn’t breed happiness. She couldn’t muster up the energy to be anything but indifferent. They were becoming married strangers.
Vanessa carried her fuzzy robe with her down the stairs and covered herself before opening the door. She caught Alexis’s backside heading for her car at the curb. She hesitated for a moment before calling out to her.
“I’m so sorry, Pastor Vanessa; I hope I didn’t wake you. I guess Pastor Willie hasn’t gotten back from taking Roy to get some clothes and a suit for his arraignment tomorrow,” Alexis said, back-tracking.
I guess he checks in with someone, Vanessa thought. She crafted her tissue paper smile as she held the front door open for her. She chose the kitchen table to entertain her guest although she had no intention to cook for her.
“I was over at Starbucks, I should have called. I could have bought you something.”
“I can’t . . . I’m trying not to drink coffee,” Vanessa said.
“Right,” Alexis said, swallowing quick as if she felt guilty for sipping her coffee now.
That son-of-a-gun husband of mine told our secret, Vanessa thought. Vanessa tightened her robe around her. Both sets of eyes did a roaming view of the room in search of the next awkward topic. “Help yourself to that Danish over there. You’re practically family.” Vanessa tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. She would have gotten it for Alexis, but her bottom half had become an anchor that was not so easy to hoist these days.
Alexis took her suggestion. Vanessa had to ask for forgiveness for her disdain toward this ridiculously skinny sister. “Are you losing weight?”
“I’m not trying to, honestly. It’s this job. I’m sure Pastor Willie has told you that Roy’s public defender wasn’t optimistic at all about isolating Roy’s case from his co-defendants, which means they will be tried together, and Roy could do time for their crimes.” Alexis returned to the table with a section of Danish on a paper towel.
Vanessa was clueless. She remembered nodding her head or mumbling something when Willie asked if Roy could stay with them, at least until a trial date was set. Every morning Willie and Roy left out together, leaving Vanessa to drive herself around during the day. Roy kept to the spare room off the basement when he wasn’t sitting around talking with Willie. Vanessa made sure they were all fed at night. Roy was a welcome distraction.
Alexis fanned her eyes before rubbing them. “I’m sorry. It’s just not looking too good. Then I am covering this for Inside 7, which might not have been such a good idea. My executive producer said he loved a jailhouse interview, and it looks as if he’ll get his wish. I thought I had this in the bag.”
Vanessa got up this time to get a tissue. Upon closer inspection of her countertop, she noticed the blood pressure cuff sitting beside her
bottle of pre-natal vitamins and the travel case it came in. It was her husband’s subtle reminder for her to check her numbers daily as the OB/GYN suggested the early part of this week when he insisted upon going with her to an appointment. The doctor was worried that she was having pregnancy induced hypertension. She tried to ignore her husband’s constant worry and over protectiveness. Just like she pretended not to know that he palmed her belly at night.
Vanessa brought a box of tissues and the equipment sticking haphazardly out the top of its case back to the table. “You’re going to need one of these if you don’t stop. You are a journalist, Alexis, not a judge and jury. That is why we have a High Priest and Supreme Judge in heaven. You and my husband might have chosen to help Roy, but apparently you were divinely assigned this case, and it ain’t over until God says it is, you hear?”
Alexis nodded, sniffling into her tissue. “I know; it’s so easy to give up. I’m a good writer. I could fudge a report for next week’s show, but I was supposed to do the definitive investigative work that would make the prosecutors release Roy and take a good look at the system as a whole. I’m supposed to prove that I am talented and deserve to be an anchor, not because I am pageant-queen privileged like all the men, and even that hater, Lizzy London, seem to think.”
“I know what you are talking about. Preaching is still very much an ole boy’s club as well. You feel as if you have to work twice as hard to prove yourself, to be accepted as a spiritual leader even in the body of Christ.”
“It may seem men and women are equal in broadcasting, but the men give up very little control behind the scenes.”
Vanessa nodded her understanding, resting her hand innocently on her belly. She noticed Alexis staring at her and immediately withdrew her hand. She sighed, “I guess Willie has told you.”
“Yep,” she replied sheepishly. “How many months are you now?”
“Almost five,” Vanessa replied.
Alexis leaned over to get a rub. “You’re going to pop like a top in a minute. You must be elated.”
Vanessa’s stomach growled, causing Alexis to remove her hand. “I’m a forty-three-year-old woman. Should I be elated?” She rose to find herself something to eat, because being pregnant took her from zero to famished in no time. She pulled a piece off the Danish loaf to nibble on before checking the refrigerator for something more substantial.
“That isn’t so old. Wasn’t Elisabeth from the Bible up in age when she—”
“Don’t go there,” Vanessa warned.
They both chuckled, but it got quiet quickly, causing Vanessa, who was cracking eggs for an omelet, to turn around. I know this girl is not crying again, Vanessa thought. “Lord, chile, you’d think you were the one pregnant the way your emotions are up and down.”
This seemed to make Alexis cry more. Vanessa felt her headache returning. She cut the stove off, but brought the Danish with her to the table.
“What’s going on?” Vanessa asked.
Alexis tried to pull herself together. She was at the end of her tissue. “I’m all right. If anything, you’ve given me hope that there is another chance for me to conceive.“
“Sure you’ll get your chance,” Vanessa stroked her back. “Wait . . . another?”
She nodded her head and sighed. “Four years ago I made the hard choice to get rid of my own baby.”
“Adoption?” Vanessa asked.
Alexis just looked away. “I was new to the city. I didn’t have a husband or any support. I thought I had no other choice.”
“What about the father?” Vanessa said as if she could now offer her an alternative. “Or your grandfather and church family?”
Her laugh was loud, almost sinister. “The father was the son of the bishop’s good friend who wrote me a Dear John letter before I could tell him. The good bishop, on the other hand, was the one who told me, ‘Strait is the gate and narrow is the way. It doesn’t widen for anyone, Alexis, especially one in your state. We have to be examples. We can’t let our actions and our decisions prevent others from passing through.’ That might be ambiguous to anyone else, but to a twenty-four-year-old admitting she had made a mistake and seeking forgiveness, it told me in no uncertain terms that he wanted me to get rid of it.
“So I took the first thing smoking to DC, determined to break into television broadcasting here like I had always planned to do, and raise my child.” She sighed heavily. “But competition was stiff and my break didn’t come immediately, neither did my forgiveness.”
“Wait, let me stop you there.” Vanessa leaned in. “God’s forgiveness is immediate. Your problem was you were looking for forgiveness from the wrong person.”
“To make a long story short, Pastor Vanessa, I terminated the pregnancy. Do you know I talk to my grandfather almost every week and he has never asked me about the baby and I have never told him what I’ve done either? In the end I felt like I was more of a hypocrite than he was.”
Instead of that strong on-air personality Vanessa was used to seeing on television, she was seeing a more vulnerable little girl. Vanessa closed her eyes temporarily and whispered a brief prayer that God would heal Alexis’s heart.
“That was why I hated the nickname Milky so much,” Alexis said.
“Milky?” Vanessa questioned.
“That’s what the crew calls me—another long story,” Alexis dismissed.
“You’ve got to tell me.”
She inhaled deeply as if she needed a full tank of air to tell this story. “Before I left Kannapolis, a cow at a local town fair doused me with milk on-air, for the whole world to see.” She hunched her shoulders as if to question her dumb luck. “I was that cow, plump and just a manufacturing plant for that baby I carried and tried to hide from everyone. We are designed for this one great purpose, which is to sacrifice everything, our bodies, our time, and our resources to bring this life into the world, but I chose to sacrifice that life for my career. It’s nothing worse than living with regret, you know?” Her last words were a pitiful squeak.
Vanessa had never been the most compassionate person. She knew the importance of empathy when counseling members about their problems, but today her heart cracked like an egg, and sympathy poured out. She wept with Alexis, not entirely because of the shame of Alexis’s situation, but also for her own.
“Stop, you’re not supposed to be getting upset like this. You’re blessed, Pastor Vanessa, especially since your older, but wiser. This just means I’m going to be overprotective of you and your little one. Let’s prop your feet up. What do you need done while I’m waiting?” Alexis asked, looking around for a way to be helpful. “Here, let’s take your blood pressure.”
“Give me that, girl,” Vanessa insisted. “Although I better take it before my Triage nurse-slash-husband comes back.”
Vanessa pulled one arm out of her robe and fit the cuff around her arm. She powered the digital reader on and pushed start. When the machine beeped, she stared at the monitor. It read 140 over100. She turned it toward Alexis to view.
“Is that high?”
“I think so,” Vanessa said. “I’m supposed to call my doctor if it’s high. Normal is around 120 over 80.”
“Oh my goodness,” Alexis panicked. “Give me the number and let me call her.”
“Wait,” Vanessa said, glued in place. She looked at her watch, and then toward the door. Where was Willie? “Let’s do another reading.”
Vanessa peeled out of her robe, giving Alexis a more pronounced view of her expectant body under the silk camisole top and lounging pants. She adjusted the cuff and restarted the machine. This time she hesitated before looking. The reading was consistent with before.
“What’s your doctor’s number? I’m going to call.” Alexis took charge.
Vanessa rattled off the number and listened while Alexis relayed her dilemma to the receptionist. Alexis tried to give Vanessa a try-not-to-worry smile as she waited. Vanessa restarted the machine a third time, hoping her numbers had gone down and she c
ould tell them all it had been a false alarm. She never got a chance to look at the numbers, because Alexis had hung up the phone and turned to her.
“What did they say?” Vanessa asked.
“She said for you to come in, but if your pressure doesn’t come down by time you get to the office, you need to be prepared to be admitted to the hospital.” Her face showed grave concern as she dispatched the information. “Oh my goodness, Pastor Vanessa, what do you need me to do?”
“Go with me.”
Chapter 20
Not so Wise Counsel
“Counseling isn’t where you hash out your wedding day agenda, but rather where you hash out your life,” Willie said to his sister-in-law who consumed the first fifteen minutes of her pre-marital counseling session with new wedding details and directives. Tuxedos were the topic. “How do we go from our counseling overview to looking through bridal magazines? You’re doing a lot of planning for a hypothetical wedding with no definite date. You’ve got a good man, here. Geez, can’t the man pick out his own tuxedo?”
“You need to mind your business, Willie Green,” Keisha said, folding over a binder where she kept clippings from various bridal magazines encased in their own sheet protectors.
Today was not the day, Willie thought to himself. If it weren’t for this session with Keisha and Paul and his desire to get them down the aisle as soon as possible, he wouldn’t have even graced the church today. He had been with Roy all morning preparing, shopping, and meeting with his lawyer. He had put in his time. “Anything discussed in my office is my business, and that’s Pastor Green to you.”
“Hold up, time out, this is not going to work. Where is Luella? We need to get switched to Vanessa’s calendar after all,” Keisha said, standing.
“Luella’s gone home. That is why Roy is out there now manning the front desk. Anyway, you and your sister aren’t really speaking, remember?” Willie smirked. “So sit. I hope you all are ready to begin. I like to keep my sessions between forty-five minutes to an hour.”
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