That was until one tall, elderly woman with a wide-brim hat on took the podium. A younger woman, her spitting image, stood beside her, holding the microphone.
“I can hold my own microphone,” the older woman barked.
“Okay, Momma, but I’m right here,” the daughter mumbled as several people giggled.
“Most of y’all know me. I’m Henrietta. Me and B been friends for a long time.”
“Amen,” from the room.
“And even though we don’t always get along, I just thank her for being nice today.”
The daughter cued the audience to begin clapping, and they all followed her directive, clapping so long that Miss Henrietta must have finally decided she might as well step down and go back to her seat.
Mark and Sharla shared a sideways glanced and laughed. “There’s one at every church,” he whispered.
Dessert was served, which took Mark to a whole new level of understanding that only a few people on the planet at any given time have received a special gifting and anointing to make German chocolate cake. One of those chosen, called people resided in Peasner, TX.
Mixed with a dollop of Blue Bell ice cream—he remembered that Mama B always served ice cream with her cake—Mark had to wonder if there was any chance he could talk Sharla into moving to the country.
The white-haired gentlemen across from Mark and Sharla proclaimed, “I don’t know why Jesus is taking so long to come back. He’s missing out on this cake and ice cream.”
Irreverent, maybe, but Mark had to laugh because that cake had to be on the menu at the great feast in heaven.
Several more guests wished Mama B and Frank a wonderful union. Mount Zion presented a desktop grandfather clock to them, engraved with 1 Corinthians 13:4-7, God’s definition of love.
Mark grabbed his wife’s hand under the table. She squeezed his back.
Since they couldn’t all agree on a movie, the family settled on watching the kids play Wii later that night back at Mama B’s house.
There was plenty of food left over from the party, which meant they could stay up all night snacking if they wanted to.
Amani challenged his older cousin, Nikki, in Dance Dance Revolution. She beat him the first time around, which sent Amani on a mission to beat her at least twice. The funny thing was, Amani couldn’t dance, which sent the entire family into laughing fits that could only be topped when Mama B tried her feet at the routines.
Twice, Mark nearly choked while watching Mama B and Amani fumble through moves that were meant for people twice his talent and a third Mama B’s age.
“I’m calling it a night,” Mama B announced. “I’m pooped. Last one up, make sure all the food is put away.”
Sharla rose from her spot on the couch. “I’m out, too.”
“Aw, baby, you can stay up a while longer, can’t you?”
“No can do. Some of us have been getting ready for the party since yesterday,” she smacked.
“Amen,” Debra Kay co-signed.
“Hey, we can’t help it if Mark’s incapacitated,” Otha defended the men.
Mark eyed his cousin. “Man, I did my part. I held open the doors.”
“Cuz, don’t add to the problem,” Otha said.
Nikki took Sharla’s place on the couch as the games continued. Amani against Son’s grandson, Cameron.
As entertaining as they were to watch, Mark couldn’t take his mind off Sharla. From the yellow dress she’d worn to the party to the denim jeans and white top she’d donned afterward, she was beautiful. Sexy. Everything he’d ever wanted his wife to look like, plus she was fun to be around. Somehow, he’d forgotten all that between juggling the church and its responsibilities.
He loved her. And he realized, now, that it was never God’s intent for him to pastor New Vision at the expense of his household. Though, historically, every pastor’s family sacrificed to some extent, Mark couldn’t imagine any pastor being called to abandon the shepherding of his own home.
God, I repent.
He found Sharla already in bed, but was glad when she turned to face him. “I knew you were tired, too,” she badgered him.
“Not really. I just wanted to be near you.”
“Awwww,” she cooed, “that’s so nice.”
Mark hoped she wouldn’t ruin the moment by getting all sappy on him. Mark struggled to unbutton his shirt. Sharla readily assisted him with getting undressed the rest of the way. Man, I love this woman. “You’re on my side of the bed,” he flirted.
“This is not our bed. You don’t have a side,” she argued in a lively tone.
“I want to sleep on the same side as last night. I don’t want my right arm in the middle.”
“But that’ll put me by the vent,” Sharla said. “It got pretty cold in here last night.”
“Let’s turn, then, and sleep at the foot.”
Quickly, they threw the pillows at the other end and switched positions.
“Thanks, babe,” Sharla said, snuggling under the covers once again.
“No problem.”
He listened to his wife’s breathing for a while, thankful that God had allowed everything to work out up until that point. Yet, the fact that they were returning to Houston after service the next day burdened him. Real life awaited them. Real problems, real issues that they couldn’t dodge. Their real world might tear them apart again.
“The party was so nice,” Sharla caroled.
“Sure was.”
“And the way they are, Mama B and Frank. The communion, the love they share…”
Mark caressed the side of his wife’s face. He fingered her hair, something he could never do with the weaves and wigs.
She raved, “There was just something about it that was so…sweet.”
“It’s Jesus,” Mark said.
He heard her head rub against the pillow as she turned to him.
“Is it really?” Her soft breath landed on his lips.
“Yes.”
“If that’s what He is, that’s what I want for me. And us,” Sharla professed. “I want Jesus.”
Mark fought his way up onto an elbow. Accidentally, he poked her with his pinky finger.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry.” Once settled, he spoke to his wife in the darkness. “Baby, Jesus is all I’ve ever wanted for us, too. I mean, I wanted to please God and do everything I could for Him. But I guess I forgot that life in Jesus is what pleases God. I’m sorry for putting pressure on you to be what I wanted you to be, what I thought New Vision needed from me and its first lady. I was wrong.”
“My goodness, can you say that again for the record?” Sharla ragged.
Mark felt her lean forward. He found her lips for a slight kiss. They both lay on their backs again, breathing in the fragrance of their new relationship, where Christ mingled between them, in them, through them.
He heard her swallow.
“There’s something I need to tell you. About Amani.”
“Yeah?”
She exhaled until, seemingly, she had no more air to expel. Then she inhaled and rattled off, “Remember when we were, like, months and months into the adoption proceedings, and we were almost ready to adopt Amani, and at the last minute, that social worker, Demetria, told us that someone from Amani’s family wanted to take him in?”
Mark’s heart sped up, but he tried to keep his voice even. “Uh huh.”
“Well, that person was Lisa Logan, Bria’s mother. And, according to Demetria, the only reason Lisa wanted Amani was because, somehow, she found out that the state would pay her to keep Amani. It wasn’t much, maybe a hundred and twenty-five dollars a month or so, but that was the only reason she wanted him. Plus, that would still give Bria a chance to seek full custody later on.”
“Okaaaay. So what do you want to tell me?” Mark attempted to move the story along.
Sharla’s body shook the bed. She sniffed and blurted out, “I bribed her. I paid her five thousand dollars to drop her custody suit and convince B
ria to give up all rights to Amani.”
Mark risked his right arm to embrace his wife. “What? I mean, why? I mean, over the years, a hundred twenty-five dollars a month would be worth more than five thousand.”
“I know that and you know that, but people like Lisa have never had five thousand dollars at once. It might as well have been a hundred thousand to her greedy behind,” Sharla cried.
“But Sharla, I don’t think the state would have ever given Bria’s family custody of Amani.”
“You think, but I wasn’t willing to risk it. Demetria said she’d seen worse things happen in the system. I just…I loved him so much, and he was a part of me by then,” she wailed. “If we had lost Amani, I would have lost my mind—especially since we’d just had the miscarriage. I couldn’t! I couldn’t lose him!”
Mark pressed her forehead into his neck. “Shhhh, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay.” Her hot tears spilled onto his shoulders.
“No, it’s not. Maybe Bria found out. Maybe she’s going to turn me in for bribery,” Sharla huffed.
“Baby, if she turns you in, she’ll have to turn her mother in, too.”
“I know, but,” Sharla sniffed, “evil people stick together. They could come up with some crazy story and turn against me. And send me to jail. And get Amani ba-a-ack,” she huffed. “I think that’s why the detective has been giving me such a hard time. He knows more than he’s saying—even Hernandez said so. He’s building his case against me.”
Mark kissed his wife’s forehead as she continued to bounce with every sob. “Shhhh, it’s going to be okay.”
He wanted to believe his own words, but how could he? If Sharla’s bribe came to light, which was highly possible, given Lisa’s state of mind, his wife might actually end up with a conviction on her record, or serving time. Or even losing Amani, as absurd as that might be after all this time.
Now Mark’s heart ached doubly. How could Sharla have done such a thing? What if they lost Amani on top of whatever punishment Sharla might face? It had gone from a civil case, which he hadn’t even told Sharla about, to something with even more grave possibilities. He could only fathom one way through. “Baby, let’s pray.”
Chapter 30
Amani’s long face in the rearview mirror pained Mark the whole way back to Houston. Obviously, the boy had done a lot more than enjoy himself. He’d experienced the sense of family that he’d been longing for, only to be ripped from it after a few days.
If Mama B weren’t getting married, he’d ask her to let Amani come up for a few weeks when some of the cousins were there. But he wouldn’t dare impose now. She needed some time to get settled with her new husband. Plus, from what Mark gathered, Mama B was moving into Frank’s house. She was going to rent her place out after a while, probably. It wouldn’t be the same.
Amani deserved the opportunity to know his biological family. The boy was wired for connecting with people, no wonder he was miserable. Even if the Logans turned out to be every bit as crazy as Sharla believed—as crazy as Bria had been before she met Christ—they were still his blood. Somehow, sooner or later, he’d have to persuade Sharla to put her pride aside and let Amani meet his people, for his sake.
“You tired yet?” Sharla asked. She was at it again already—nagging.
“Nope.” He was in perfect control behind the wheel for the first time in almost two weeks. Once they hit the highway, it was a straight shot, no sudden turns, nothing he couldn’t handle.
But Mark didn’t want to waste energy getting annoyed. He had bigger fish to fry once he got back home.
He didn’t know how big those fish were until after they unpacked their bags and got comfortable Sunday evening. “I’m gonna go next door to the Moor’s and get the mail,” Sharla said.
When she returned, Mark took one look at her shock-ridden face and braced for trouble. “What?”
Sharla stood with one paper in hand, a wad of envelopes tucked under her armpit. “Oh. My. Word. Mark, this is just the facility fee from the hospital. It’s almost eleven thousand dollars!”
“Let me see that.” Mark bolted from the couch and grabbed the paper from her. Sure enough, there it was in black and white: $10,846.92. “Okay. We got this, Sharla. We got eleven thousand dollars.”
“Yeah, eleven thousand dollars that we’ve been saving up to move into our dream house!” she yelled.
“Well, God knew this was coming up. Maybe that’s why He had us saving our money. He knew we’d need it—”
Amani came jumbling down the stairs, cutting Mark short.
“What the matter?”
“Nothing. Go back upstairs,” Sharla ordered.
“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” Amani shot toward the window. “Is the press here again?”
“No. The press is not here. Hopefully, they’ll never be here again,” Mark redirected Amani’s thoughts.
Amani continued to survey the yard through the slats. “Well, y’all are arguing about something.”
“Go on back upstairs.”
This time, Amani obeyed.
Mark clutched Sharla’s wrist and led her to their bedroom. He closed the door behind them. “Sharla, I know this isn’t what you’d planned on spending this money on. And it’s very possible that we’ll get it back after the dust clears with the insurance.”
“But what if it doesn’t?” She slammed the bill on the dresser. “Mark, this is just the beginning of the bills. We’ve still got doctors, surgeons, labwork, X-rays... You haven’t even started rehab, and the doctors said you’d need at least one more surgery. We’ll be lucky to keep this house, let alone move into the dream house.”
“Hey,” he stopped her. “We don’t do luck, alright? I need you to quit gettin’ all dramatic on me, acting like we don’t have a God.”
Sharla bit her bottom lip hard, gazing out the window. “I just…I don’t see how.”
Mark could almost see the wheels churning in Sharla’s head. She was trying to formulate a solution.
“We need to start moving money overseas, getting stuff transferred to somebody else’s name just in case we’re getting ready to lose everything.”
“Listen to yourself,” Mark interrupted her think-aloud.
“What?”
“This is the problem—this is exactly why we’re both in our messes, trying to solve our own problems instead of leaning of God.”
She bugged out her eyes. “I’m just trying to be practical here.”
“Baby, this is it! This is it! This is where we…where we stop playing the role of believers and actually believe. Together. Didn’t we just invite Him into this marriage last night?”
She shrugged. “Yes.”
“And didn’t we both decide that we are going to trust Him with everything. Everything?” he pumped her up.
“Yes.” Sharla shifted her weight nervously.
“Then what better time to start than right now? No more Ishmael’s, baby. It’s me and you, ride or die with Christ. You in?”
With quivering lips, Sharla sucked in a breath. She wiped a tear from her eye. “I’m in.”
Mark had preached a similar message to the congregation a hundred times before. And he’d believed every word of it because the Bible said so. But as he exhorted his own wife in his own household, he realized that actually stepping out on faith—him first, with Sharla right behind—was about to, as he told her, “take this here thing to a whole new level”.
The first order of business Monday morning was personal prayer time at six, followed by family devotions and communion—a solemn practice both he and Sharla wanted to engage in intimately, thanks to their experience in Peasner, TX.
Amani fussed, of course, because Mark had all but yanked him out of bed at eight-thirty on a summer morning. “Why do we have to pray so early? God will still be up at around, like, twelve or one, right?”
“You can talk to Him again at that time if you’d like. But your Momma and I have some family business to handle today at ten. So, we�
�re praying now. Not that I even owe you an explanation,” Mark cautioned. “When I was your age, I was up at seven during the summertime so I could mow the grass before it got hot. Matter of fact, tomorrow morning, we’re getting up early so I can teach you how to mow.”
“What?” Amani objected a little too loudly.
Mark raised an eyebrow.
Amani slumped. “Yes, sir.”
They gathered in the dining room, with Mark and his Bible sitting at the head of the table. He read from Hebrews chapter 11, teaching his wife and son about faith. Both Sharla and Amani had questions. Mark had to hide his disappointment because they were asking him things he thought they should have already known by that time. After all, everyone sitting at the table had grown up in the church.
But he had to admit to himself, he’d grown up in the church, too, and yet had very little revelation because he rarely cracked open a Bible between Sundays until he was in his mid-twenties. Aside from all that, he could only blame the man in the mirror. If he sat up week after week preaching to hundreds of people, but failed to take the lead in his own household, that was on him.
Lord, I repent.
Sharla had crushed a graham cracker and poured a small amount of fruit juice into three Dixie cups they would normally use for mouthwash. As soon as Mark closed the devotions in prayer, she brought the elements to the table on a plate, handing them to her family.
Amani looked at the crackers and juice and snarled his face. “But…wait a minute…this is a graham cracker and this is not grape juice. Should we be doing this?”
Mark fought his urge to snigger. Poor Amani had grown up around so much tradition, he didn’t realize the power was in his faith. “What matters is that we remember Christ’s sacrifice. He blesses what we bless.”
Amani surrendered, “If y’all say so.”
“We do,” Mark ratified.
Mark had insisted that Danny Hernandez accompany him and Sharla to what would, hopefully and prayerfully, be a last meeting with Rozanno. After listening to Sharla explain in great detail what happened during the “interview”, Mark had decided that crazy detective wasn’t going to keep messing with his wife about shooting into the car. And whatever other suspicions Rozanno had, he needed to put them on the table so Hernandez could adequately prepare a defense.
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