“Hear that, punk? The police are on their way.” Charles observed Phyllis’s breakdown and took a cleansing breath. “Hold on, baby, hold on,” Charles said through stiff, swollen lips. Incensed, he pressed down harder on Roger, unshed tears gleaming in his eyes.
Briggs strode into the house and stopped in shock; Monica sat motionless on the couch. “Monica?”
Monica’s sulk was tremulous. “I’ve been here since late afternoon, Briggs, waiting for you.” Briggs’s stare at Monica was blank. She gave a slight gulp and redirected her approach. “I came as soon as I could, sweetie. When I was sick, it gave me time to think about everything that was happening. You know, leaving my friends and all, coming to a new place. Yet, you were all I kept thinking about, and I realized wherever you are is home.”
He clapped his hands together. “Brava! Brava! What a performance.”
“That’s mean, Briggs,” Monica countered with a pout of her full lips.
Briggs crossed his arms in defiance. “You finally used the key I mailed you to come here, full of manipulation and falsehood. You’re unbelievable. Do I look stupid to you? Did you ever see me on the little special yellow school bus with my name tag on upside down? I’m a pastor, but I’m also a man, and you are trying my patience.” He marched down the hall to his room.
“Where are you going? Briggs?” Panicky, she scrambled behind him.
“I’m going to bed. When the truth hits you and you care to share it, let me know.” Briggs shut the bedroom door in Monica’s face.
Chapter Forty
Antiseptic fumes comingled with hushed whispers in the ICU waiting room. Many of those who had waited for news of Lawton’s progress had gone home. They had to, Mrs. Redding had insisted, but Esther refused. Mrs. Redding and other family members went in, leaving Esther outside, but stalwart. She curled up in the lobby-room chair, waiting, hoping that Mrs. Redding allowed her at least a moment with him.
She squirmed in the chair. She could feel Mrs. Redding observing her. Holding her breath she prayed she’d be allowed inside to touch and see for herself that Lawton was going to make it. He mentioned earlier in the week his conversation with his mother concerning their budding relationship and his desire for them to meet. Surely she wouldn’t begrudge Esther a visit.
“Esther?” Mrs. Redding took her hand pulling her from her pity monologue.
“Yes, ma’am.” Esther held on to the hand engulfed in hers. “How is he?”
“He came to, briefly, and then fell back asleep. He has a long road of recovery ahead, but I’m hopeful. Would you like to see him?”
“Yes, I promise not to disturb him. And if it’s all right with you, I’d like to stay. Your son is very precious to me.”
Mrs. Redding hesitated in her answer, and then came to a decision. “Sure, honey, and we can take turns sitting with him. Go on now.”
Esther tiptoed into the ICU room. “Oh, sweetie,” she sighed. He looked ashen and weak lying in the darkened room, machines beeping, and his IV hanging above his bed, looming like a prophecy of doom. Esther lightly touched his neck, the only area not bandaged or plugged with tubing.
The nurse was writing down something in his chart as she gave an encouraging smile and quietly left the room. Father, you know I don’t like hospitals.
He lay battered and helpless, nothing like her knight from earlier today. How come you can only slay my dragons? It hadn’t been twenty-four hours, and everything had changed. She pulled her chair up and laid her head near his on the pillow; then she closed her eyes, inhaled, and prayed.
Later, Esther sat in the ICU waiting room and wondered where her sister was with her change of clothes. She was starting to feel a little grimy, and she wanted to be fresh when it came her turn to sit with Lawton again. She didn’t like meeting Lawton’s mother, Mrs. Redding, like this, but they were becoming fast buddies. In the quiet of the night, they were learning each other’s hearts.
Esther yawned and pulled the soft, plush throw Lawton’s sister had left her, over her shoulder. The ottoman in front of the sofa supported her legs, and she was not uncomfortable.
“Esther . . .” her father stormed through the ICU lobby’s swinging doors.
Casting off the throw, Esther scooted forward. “Daddy?”
Hickman Wiley squatted down, placing Esther’s overnight bag next to her.
Esther kissed his cheek. “Where’s Phyllis?”
“Baby, there was an incident at your house—”
“Oh, Lord. Every time I enter a hospital nothing good happens.” Esther stood and paced.
“Everything is all right, now. Charles and Phyllis walked into your home and your ex was waiting. Simple boy meant to rob you. So in a way . . . a good thing did happen. Instead of you, he met Charles’s fists.” He hadn’t intended to downplay the situation, but this had been an emotional day for everyone. Erring on the side of less, rather than more, was needed.
Esther froze. “And they’re really okay?”
“Yes, they couldn’t come because they’re completing a police report. Tomorrow as the home owner, you can go down and press charges. Stay here and take care of your young man. Everything is under control.” Hickman hugged her. “You okay?”
“I’m good, Daddy,” Esther said. “Thanks for the bag.”
He scrutinized her face, satisfied she was handling the news; then he hugged her again and left.
Esther then phoned Phyllis. “Esther, you not over there tripping, are you?”
“Not now. Your bossiness lets me know you’re good.”
“Girl, my baby took Roger out. Remind me to tell you later how awful your taste in men used to be.” Phyllis sounded upbeat on the phone.
“All I can say in my defense is that you should never let the spirit of lack pick your mate. I’ve learned my lesson. I’m in abundance now.” Esther sat back down and put her feet up.
“Yes, you have, and how is Mr. Abundance doing? Any news?”
“Not really. His body is pretty banged up, and the doctors feel total rest is needed. His mother and I are taking turns sitting with him. It’s her turn. Phyllis, I need to put my eyes on you and Charles. I’ll be by to see you first thing in the morning.”
Phyllis negated Esther’s need to come. “We’re both fine. Go do you.”
“I am so sorry.”
“Girl, now that it’s all over, I actually feel sorry for Roger. We’re going to put all of this behind us; Charles and I are safe. Now, see about your man, because I’ve got to see about mine. To tell the truth Charles going caveman kinda turned a girl on.”
“TMI, sis, TMI. I love you,” Esther said. “Give my love to Charles. He’s the man.”
“I will.”
Phyllis closed her cell and looped her arm through Charles’s before she spoke. “Don’t think you’re getting out of that earlier promise.”
He cupped her face and kissed her with his swollen lips ever so softly. “I won’t. Although I’ll need a rain check until these ribs heal. There is no way I am ever going to forget that kind of promise. I love you.” He shuddered. “If anything had happened, I would have gone into heaven or hell after you.”
“Don’t say that, Charles.” Phyllis gently placed her hand over his mouth. “You know I love you too, but there’ll be no following each other into heaven or hell; well—hell, anyway. Let’s go home, baby,” she ended with a loving promise in her eyes.
Charles paused and asked. “Do you think we should have told Esther we were in emergency at another hospital?”
“No. Esther is pretty strong but a lot has been going on. I know the rumors have been ugly, and then there was something going on, at her job, she wouldn’t share with me. Then Lawton’s accident, and now this? We can share it tomorrow.” Phyllis looked down at her watch. It was one o’clock in the morning. She sighed. “Today, honey, we’ll share it all later today.”
Imp One paced back and forth. “All my hard work down the drain, and The Leader coming to see me. Not good, not good
,” he moaned, fretting.
“I told The Leader that it would not be good to use that Roger human,” Imp One screeched. “The same thing that made him weak for us also made him too weak to carry out a simple plan. How hard could it be? Take her, get the money, and then my underling hits the arm that carried the gun and bang, bang, no more Esther. No Esther, no Briggs in the pulpit, and then the Wiley family falls apart. My ultimate gift, no more Mother Reed, because if she lost Esther, she would surely have a heart attack and die.”
The large, lumpy head of Imp One hung low, his shoulders hunched over in grief. “I dislike using humans, especially the flawed ones. The liquor and drugs fog their mind. Roger couldn’t even hear us tell him who was really at the door. I will let him rot in jail. No intervention with any of the lawyers or judges on our payroll. He is to rot!!!”
“We understand no intervention, no help, rot, rot, rot . . .” the imps and sprites chorused.
Imp One lifted his head in defiance. “We were once turned into pigs and run off a cliff, but they are the pigs, the lot of them! By all that is evil in this world, I need a plan. This one must be foolproof, the masterpiece. I cannot and will not be sent to the bottom tier; there is no air there. Even the ash is settled nine hundred feet deep. Nothing moves, nothing!”
The imps and sprites sat with ears accustomed to Imp One’s words. They were all selfish creatures and none cared what happened to him; they just didn’t want to share his fate.
They began to howl in a nervous frenzy as they chanted, “Plan, plan, plan.”
Imp One bent over a large area of ash, and with his tail, started to sketch out the only thing he could think to do to bring everyone in the Wiley clan down.
Chapter Forty-one
Briggs looked at his alarm clock for the tenth time that night. Its large digital numbers read five-twenty. He thought back to his conversation with Esther and knew that if his soul would let him, he could break every vow he ever made with God. She had always been the one he wanted, but they had lost the right to be with each other. They both let go today, and all he wanted was a chance to grieve in private for what might have been. The problem in the next room, he would brave tomorrow. For what was left of his night, he would use to really let go.
The door crept open, and Monica slipped into his semidarkened room. Her peach-colored negligee was barely a wisp of colored cloth. Briggs breathed, “Man, not now.”
Monica drifted over to his bed and sat down so close that Briggs could smell her desperation. Her thoughts were so strong; Briggs felt he could hear them. He’s been here a long time, and if I know him, and I know him, he has been as faithful as a puppy. He has to be feeling that familiar itch that only I can scratch.
“I couldn’t sleep. I was wondering if you were having problems sleeping too.” Monica’s husky low voice swirled into the silence.
Briggs saw her eyes fastened to his naked chest. “Monica, what will this solve? We have so many problems to overcome, and I believe that through God, we can overcome them. Let’s not muddy the waters.”
Monica stiffened, Briggs waited. This is where she would usually storm out. Instead of leaving, Monica asked, “Muddy the waters? Briggs, we would be clearing things up.”
Briggs took her hand.
Yes, her face screamed. She was transparent to Briggs.
He placed her hand back in her lap. “Not until you and I get marriage counseling and you take a series of STD tests.”
Monica leaped up. “What!”
“Please, Monica. Stop the drama. Did you actually think it would be that easy? That you would sashay yourself in here, and it would all be forgotten? Girl, I’m saved, not stupid. You know I couldn’t even speak about the thought of your cheating. Or allow myself to dwell there. But make no mistake about the fact that I am not an ignorant man. I’ve counseled too many trusting spouses with HIV to not use wisdom about this.”
Monica stood with so much fury on her face that she couldn’t speak. She spun around and stomped out of the room.
Briggs could hear the sound of glass hitting the walls and prayed she wasn’t breaking all the first lady’s imported, expensive Lladró knickknacks.
It was Tuesday morning, and Briggs leaned against his office window at Love Zion church and daydreamed. It was a wonderful fall day in Detroit. The sun was shining bright, and the sky was clear of smokestack pollution, but none of that registered for Briggs. He had awakened to the smell of cinnamon rolls, sausage, and Blue Mountain coffee. Monica was doing a Donna Reed routine, and he didn’t know what to say to this new side to her. Whatever happened in Atlanta must have been a doozy. Monica’s usual routine was to tell him to hit Starbucks on his way to work. He wasn’t complaining about the food, just the intent behind the gesture. On his way out the door, she told him she would be cleaning the house and washing his clothes. Monica then stole a smooch to his cheek and smiled serene that she would see him for dinner. Briggs blinked in confusion and scratched his head. If Monica wanted him to die of a heart attack for his life insurance, she almost had her wish because he couldn’t take any more shocks in a twenty-four-hour period.
Briggs shook it off and sat at his desk to study his Sunday sermon. This was his most difficult message. He wanted to preach against the people from the pulpit, but the God in him said no. He wanted to call out the hypocrites and liars, but couldn’t because his conscience was not clear. He had not acted, but he had lusted in his heart. He breathed heavily. This is why you shouldn’t sin. At the end of day, it didn’t allow you to throw any stones. And Briggs wanted to pitch a rock or two.
Last night, after Monica left him alone, Briggs called out to God in frustration, anger, and then acceptance. Yes, he had given Esther the “we’re Christians and we must do the right thing” speech. However, there was still this imp telling him he didn’t have to let go. It said, surely, he could have the dream of his youth. When he admitted to himself his role in his own pain, he got out of his bed, kneeled in a posture of submission, and repented. No lip service, no fake platitudes, just real tears of letting go. His shift brought the understanding that his sermon was needed to heal hearts, not tear them apart.
The phone rang, and as Briggs looked at the caller ID, he picked it up. “Hello, Mother Reed. It’s good to hear from you. How are things? Are you feeling all right?”
“I remember when a body had to answer the phone to find out who was on the other end,” she said, chuckling. “Other than that, I’m blessed. This newfangled diet everyone is making sure I keep to be boring me to tears. Takes all the spice out of enjoying a good meal, but Mother is being obedient.” There was a calculated pregnant pause before she went on. “I was wondering if you had spoken to Charles.”
“No, ma’am. Naomi told me about the incident when I came in this morning, and I tried to call, but his cell went to voice mail.”
“I know this thing hit him harder than he’s sharing,” Mother Reed explained. “That devil don’t mean any of us any good. We gon’ need to hear a powerful message this Sunday, something that will slay the dragon in his steps. We need to steal his thunder, kill them nasty rumors good-bye, and destroy his designs against our church.”
Briggs could feel a spiritual split in the road. He’d tried to check on Charles. Should he call Esther? It would make sense as her pastor, but with his new resolve, he felt they both needed time and space.
Mother Reed interrupted his musing. “You there, son?”
Briggs refocused. “Yes, I was just thinking. I’m seeking God’s counsel more than ever on this week’s sermon. I’m praying for a word that will unite us. I’m disappointed in some of our members, but I’m going to love them even when it seems like they don’t deserve it. I call it loving the unlovable and hugging the unhuggable.”
“God’s done the same for you. If we waited to deserve love, we would all be alone. But God decreed that it wasn’t good for man to live by himself. You keep calling to speak to Charles, okay? He’s acting like ain’t nothing happened.�
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Briggs remembered the truth he had recently learned. “We have a need to be strong, even when bending will assure our position in strength; otherwise, we might just break. He needs an in-time Word to propel his way through this season. The good news is God is already on the job.”
Mother Reed shouted her amen, and then settled down to finish talking. “Phyllis is a good wife, and she’s growing in maturity. But sometimes wisdom has to come from someone who has walked the same path, so the person going through doesn’t make the same mistakes they made.”
“Mother Reed, that’s a nice way to say, ‘Don’t let the boy mess it up by being silent like you did.’ I hear you,” Briggs stated without shame.
“Humph, what you learn the lesson for if it wasn’t to help others bypass it?” Mother Reed asked. “Anyhow, what’s going on with you and your wife? Ain’t it past time she made an appearance? If she did, this other foolishness could filter on out.”
Briggs was saddened people actually brought the lies to Mother Reed. “You’ve heard that nonsense?”
“Uh-huh, I’ve heard it. Don’t know how much nonsense it is. Don’t get me wrong, both of you have a special place in my heart. You snuck in where Esther has been lodged since her birthing. I’ve been praying for that child for years. See . . . I know her spirit; she’s not one to covet nothing her neighbor owns, so I know that she didn’t intentionally do nothing wrong. But, honey, that’s why we have to be prayerful about guarding our hearts. It can run away with us, and the enemy just waiting for a chance to catch us in some mess. And that is what all this talk is—a mess!”
Briggs sat and wondered if he should even try to defend himself when he had already been found guilty as charged. It had taken him a full night of prayer to come to the conclusion that Jesus had paid the price for his shortcomings and to lay in guilt and shame would be to let the enemy win this round. For Briggs, that wasn’t happening. He had cried for what could have been. Now it was important to fight for what was promised.
The Devil Made Me Do It Page 24
