“Visit Roger in prison. Have him write a letter, manipulate it where he causes Esther to believe she has failed him. Oh, and stir up Lawton’s jealousy of Briggs for the next several months. Esther still hasn’t had that Briggs conversation with him. I believe we can still do something with jealousy; it’s such an ugly human emotion. Then go to Briggs and whisper words of love for Esther to him. Have him believe he cannot live without her and have him disrupt the wedding. And, when Briggs and Esther feel they can now be together, I want Monica to announce she’s pregnant. Let’s keep a link between her and Briggs. Do you have all of that?” he yelled.
“Oh yes, Great One,” Imp One stated as he headed to the prison yard. Did he say, have Esther get pregnant, have Briggs love Monica? Oh dear, oh dear, the imp thought as he struggled to remember his assignments. The thought of demon ashes blowing through his subconscious had shattered his concentration.
Chapter Fifty
Mother Reed straightened her wig as she finished her prayer for Roger. She had prayed it crooked. She wanted that young man saved and free. Just because he was physically in prison didn’t mean he had to be bound up in his spirit. He was brought to their family for a reason, and Mother Reed believed that God was not finished with him. How could He be, if He kept bringing him into her spirit?
In a stark prison yard, miles away, Roger sat and listened to the prophet speak to the assembled eleven men. For the motley crew, the prison yard had become a sanctuary, and the ground they walked on, holy.
Prophet’s voice reverberated through the inmates perched on worn wooden bleachers. “I say that as Paul prayed and the prison doors opened, so shall they open for you. Your minds, in the seat of your souls, shall be free. Brother Roger, please step forward.”
Roger sprinted forward when he was called.
“Please, brother, roll up your sleeve,” Prophet told him.
Roger, who was embarrassed by his past, was reluctant, but did as he was told. Where a serpent’s inked picture was once prevalent, his arm was now mangled burned flesh.
“Roger, explain to our three newest disciples how you hurt your arm. Don’t be ashamed; that’s a trick of the enemy. God loves you. Let your testimony free someone else,” Prophet said with compassion.
Roger stood ramrod straight as he gave his testimony. “I was an abuser of drugs, alcohol, sex, and most of all, people. I had a wonderful wife, but the enemy continually pointed out what he labeled as flaws to me. She was too fat, too self-righteous, too educated, too much of a daddy’s girl, too much in church. I believed the enemy and mistreated her. I let her pay for all the bills and all the hurt in my life. I wasn’t accountable, she was.”
Roger breathed deeply. “One drunken night, I used her money to get a serpent’s tattoo on my arm. That night began the end of us, and my life spiraled completely out of control. She finally had the good sense to leave me and even gave me the house she had paid for when she left. I’m in here for breaking into her new house because I wanted to kill her. I met Prophet after being jumped my second month in here. I’m not anybody’s punk, so I was plotting my revenge on how I was going to get each one of these cats back. Prophet approached me, and my life hasn’t been the same.”
He looked around the group. “First, I hung out with all you guys because there is protection in numbers, but then I started to see the real me and in my remorse, I grabbed some rubbing alcohol I stole out of the infirmary, threw it on the serpent, and threw a match behind it.”
One of the men spoke up. “Man, what was that supposed to do?”
“I thought I’d burn the enemy out of my life. But the enemy didn’t want me to have Jesus, so he was willing to manipulate my mind and tell me I wasn’t worth saving. Some guard ran into my cell and put the fire out. I spent four days in the hospital, and when I came out, I vowed that this serpent would never have me again. I don’t let him speak to me anymore without me calling on Jesus and telling the enemy to get behind me.”
All the men stood up and shouted. Some had tears in their eyes because of their own personal abyss that they had endured and survived. The world might not have known it, but they were free indeed.
Imp One stared in dismay at the gathering. Who was in charge of this prison? They were failing terribly. He released a loud screech, and the demon in charge came forward. “What is happening here? Why are there saints assembling in this place? This is our territory!” Imp One raged.
“Those few puny men—they’re weak. They have all been abused—physically, mentally, sexually, and emotionally all their lives. When they came here it was just more of the same. The one they call Prophet was treated worst of all. He was on the verge of suicide the night he cried out to a mother who had abandoned him as a child. But somehow, a flickering light came into the room, and he began to moan and to ask for forgiveness for his numerous sins, especially the one concerning killing his own father. Ever since, he’s been reaching out to other lost souls. There is no need to worry; they are few. A remnant, at best.”
“Fool!!!” Imp One roared, as he spun away to see what damage he could do.
Roger was in his cell writing. He didn’t know why, but a strong urge came over him to write Esther. As he wrote, old feelings of pain, rejection, and anger flowed from his poisoned pen.
He barely acknowledged the sound at his cell door. “Who are you writing, brother?” Prophet asked.
“Esther.”
Prophet frowned and came into the cell. “I’m being led to share something with you, brother. Did I ever tell you that I finally found my mother?”
Roger slowed his breathing and placed his pen on the small metal table. “No, Prophet, you didn’t. How? You’ve been in here a long time.”
“Yes, I have. Going on thirty years. I’m fifty-four. Should’ve been in here before then. I wallowed in filth, and anger. When I was seventeen, I believed I killed my father. It’s a pain I lived with, so I didn’t cry about being in here for a robbery and rape I didn’t commit.”
Roger was silent, hearing these details for the first time.
Prophet continued his tale. “My daddy was a mean-spirited man, beat me like I stole something daily. Told me I was so worthless, even my mama didn’t want me. It was years before I found out from a relative that my mother didn’t abandon me, but that she suffered similar abuse from him before he kicked her out of our house for a new woman. It turned out the woman only wanted my daddy for his money. He always was a shrewd businessman. Anyway, even this woman couldn’t stand the harshness of living with such an evil man, and finally she left, taking him for a lot of money in the process. After that, his rages got worse. One night, the beating was so bad, I knew that if I didn’t kill him, he was gonna kill me. So I fought back, and after landing some good punches, I threw him down a flight of stairs. I ran into the night and never returned. I later saw on the news that his death was ruled an accident, and I was left with a house, money, and anger at the world.”
Roger whispered, “Then what happened?”
“I tried to find my mother, but all of my father’s relatives pleaded ignorance. So, in my bitterness, I began to do drugs, but you can’t shut down pain. It comes back. I couldn’t drink, dope up, sex up, or strike out enough to stop it. Seven is the number of completion, and seven years after I came into the money, I met my fate. Some girl I had been playing with set me up for a fall. I didn’t know she was underage, not that the person I was then would have cared. I’ve been sitting here ever since. She sued me in civil court after she had me thrown into prison for raping her, even left some of her jewelry in my bedroom so they would add burglary to the charge. She was awarded two hundred fifty thousand dollars. Even after that payoff, I’m still a rich man. My father had a million-dollar insurance policy that I’ve never touched. Her corrupted lawyers didn’t even know about it because I never claimed the blood money. I did the paperwork ten years after I got in here. It has been gaining interest for the last twenty years.”
Prophet stroked his goate
e. “God had a plan. When I got here, I was so bitter, I spent my first five years racking up more time. I’m finally up for parole this year, and I’m going to look up my mother and do some good in the world. My investigators tell me she is still living. We had a scare a few months ago, right before you came here, and I went into a season of fasting and praying for her. I feel in my spirit that she’s getting better now.”
“Have you contacted her since you found out?”
“No, I don’t want to talk to my mother for the first time through prison bars. I know that the one who the saints call Mother Reed would forgive me, but that’s not God’s plan. I want to hold her in my arms and tell her I love her and that we can be mother and son at last.”
“Did you say Mother Reed? My ex-wife used to go to church with a Mother Reed. She was very close to the family.”
Prophet exclaimed, “The investigator tells me that my mother’s surrogate family is named Wiley.”
“Man, that’s my ex-wife’s maiden name. The Mother Reed I know is your mother. Prophet, she is a powerful woman of God. I can see the connection.”
Prophet cried tears of joy. “God doesn’t miss a beat. Listen to the end of my story. I found out a year ago that my father didn’t die from the fall I caused. His second wife came back to the house with her lover for more money after I ran that night. When my father refused, they killed him. Her ex-lover revealed it last year after he found out he was dying of cancer. He wanted absolution from a priest. The priest convinced him to turn himself in.” Prophet shouted with joy. “And, you’re here, and you know my mother to boot . . . He’s Alpha and Omega!”
Roger just sat in wonder. All his illogical anger was gone as Prophet finished with his plans for the future. “I’m hoping that when I leave, you will help lead the prayer group. They’ll need a man who, though tempted, will not falter. That’s why I wanted you to remember the burn on your arm today. The enemy can try, but it’s our job to make him fail.”
Roger was solemn, reflecting on the responsibility he was being given.
Prophet stood. “Man, finish your letter, and then come and find me. I want you to tell me all you can remember about my mama.”
Roger smiled. He was excited for Prophet. He looked at his letter to Esther and tore it up. He picked up his pen to rewrite it. He now had something he could do for someone else after being a taker for so long.
He chuckled to himself. I might have tried this giving thing a long time ago if I had known it felt this good.
Esther opened her front door and leaned out to get the mail. It was cold outside, and the weatherman predicted snow. She had some after-holiday shopping to do, but she wanted to wait until later in the day. She was curious about the envelope with all the special stamps on it. You rarely saw letters anymore. She hesitated when she saw the letter’s return address was a prison. Why was Roger reaching out to her? Her life was so good right now, she didn’t want to feel bad and that was Roger’s usual gift to her—making her feel bad. She threw the letter on the table, walked away, stopped, and went back for it. If she didn’t open it, she knew that she would always wonder what he had written. She threw caution to the wind and ripped it open.
Dear Esther,
I pray this letter finds you well. I want to say I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused. It was never about you, but my own failings. I am responsible for me being here, no one else. Strangely, I’m at peace, and God has showed me that freedom is beyond these bars. Freedom is spiritual. When I first thought about writing this letter, I was focused on getting you to forgive me. In the old days, I would have manipulated you and made you feel guilty. But this God thing has me trying to figure me out, so I can stop making the same mistakes. Some days, I’m exhausted just examining the minefields of my past. You know I never talked about my family and there were reasons for that. I still won’t go into details, just know that I never experienced love, not even with you. What were we thinking when we married? Maybe we thought if we could hold on to someone, we would somehow feel better. I hear you’ve found the real thing, and you’re getting married—be happy.
Here’s the part of my letter where you and I get to help the people we love. I have a mentor who is known by the name of Prophet; his real name is Joshua Huntley. This man is Mother Reed’s son. He is a true man of God and has helped many of us in here find our way. He is for the Kingdom. He will be out soon, and I was hoping you would help me make his homecoming a blessed event . . .
Sincerely,
Roger
Esther hiccupped her tears as they fell on an already sodden letter. She couldn’t lie and say she didn’t regret her time with Roger, because she did. If she had to do it all over again, she would have skipped ever knowing him. But at least now, she could say this chapter in her life was closed. When he went to prison, she kept waiting for the other shoe to fall. She had thought he was out of her life before. Is he really gone this time? she wondered. She could only hope.
Moving into the kitchen, she filled a glass of water from the faucet, sipped, and breathed deep to minimize her heaves. She dried her tears with the kitchen towel, and clutching the news to her chest, thought about what this would mean to Mother Reed. They all knew she had a son, but it was rare for Mother Reed to mention him. Whenever someone tried to get more information, she just got a faraway look in her eye and asked you to leave it alone. Esther would write this Joshua, known as Prophet. She needed to make sure that he was not up to something. But if he could turn someone like Roger around, he must be the real thing.
Esther wondered if she could pull off a grand wedding and surprise celebration at the same time. Lawton had enticed Esther to move the wedding date up two months. Instead of a yearlong wait, they were tying the knot ten months after his proposal. They wanted to stay holy, and it was getting pretty hard to hold out. Their marriage oneness classes had taught them a lot about each other. They were still in attendance, but barring some deep secret, even Lawton’s pastor was convinced that they were ready. At any rate, with a little help, she would figure it all out.
Today was a day to celebrate. Esther’s time in her counseling sessions pointed out her residual pain from childhood. Who would believe that denying her the role of Cinderella would open up a lifetime of unworthiness? She found out her later young adult self-absorption was her attempt to deny her inner pain and to feel special. Her trying to atone for Sheri’s death by being everything to everyone was the last piece of her pain puzzle. It was a toxic circle.
Thanks to Pastor Adams and counseling, she was facing her pain and reconciling with her own imperfection. This gift for Mother Reed would be the pinnacle of her wedding celebration.
Chapter Fifty-one
Monica set a plate of steaming spaghetti in front of Briggs. She poured sweet tea in his frosted glass and stood with her hand on her hip. “You need anything else, sweetheart?”
Briggs shook his head and marveled at the change in Monica over the last months. Lord, don’t let me wake up if I’m dreaming.
She cleared her throat. “I was wondering if you thought it would be a good idea to start a teen girls group at the church. The program for the young men has taken off so well that I think we should consider branching out.”
Briggs questioned her. “Who would run it? I’m already busy with the new young men’s program, and I’m hesitant to add more to my schedule right now. We did promise to make more time for each other, and I don’t want to go back on my word.”
“What would you think about me running it?” Monica touched Briggs’s shoulder. “Hear me out, please. My childhood was pretty rocky and as a result, I made some mistakes because I didn’t have a Mother Reed in my life. I’ve been watching these young girls in church, and while the young men’s pants may sag, these girls’ leggings are too tight, and their blouses too low.”
Briggs chuckled. He was delighted that Monica was really sincere in wanting to do something for someone else.
“Don’t laugh at me, Briggs,” Monic
a sulked.
“You’ve got it all wrong. I’m pleased that you came up with this all on your own. I don’t ever remember you wanting to be involved in church like this.” Except when you were faking it, he thought. Briggs shook off the past and vowed to keep moving forward.
Monica clapped her hands. “Good. Guess who I’m putting on the committee?”
“I can’t imagine. Enlighten me,” Briggs said as he continued to eat his food.
Monica announced. “Ta, ta, ta, da . . . Sister Abigail Winters.”
Briggs’s fork paused midair. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. One thing I learned in the modeling business, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. I promised she would no longer be a loose cannon at church, and I meant it. And, just to show you, I’m keeping all my promises; I did as you asked and scheduled us for counseling sessions. I’m ready, now.” She placed her arms around Briggs’s neck and snuggled into its crook. “Besides, we have to keep my baby’s daddy happy.”
Briggs threw down his fork and pushed his plate away. “Yes!!!” He grasped Monica around the waist, and she squealed as he placed her over his shoulder and headed down the hallway. He pushed the half-open door to their bedroom in and slammed it behind them, the food long forgotten.
With the northerly wind whipping around the city, the temperature in the Stokes’s bedroom was Caribbean hot.
Lawton and Esther cuddled on the Wileys’ love seat. It had been a great dinner, and afterward, the family lounged in shared contentment.
Mrs. Wiley called over to Esther. “Did you remember to ask Tamela to let her youngest be the flower girl?”
“Yes, Mama, she was excited, but still ghetto.”
Her mother grinned. “What did she say?”
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