Is it true that a human being can cast a spell on another person? Is practicing witchcraft a myth?
Bridgette and Marvin, the security guard, were at each other’s throats daily. Why do you think Bridgette raced to the hospital to see about him?
Considering all of the heartache and pain that Amaryllis had caused a lot of people, is it difficult to accept her character as a bad girl gone good?
Coming Soon
LADY ELECT
An excerpt
Chapter 1
Arykah Miles-Howell and her best friend, Monique Lynnette Morrison-Cortland, along with Monique’s cousin, Amaryllis Price, and Amaryllis’s best friend and roommate, Bridgette Nelson, sang and danced to the music of R&B group Kool & The Gang.
“Oh, yes, it’s ladies’ night, and the feeling’s right. Oh, yes, it’s ladies’ night, oh what a night,” the ladies sang.
For the past four months, the full-figured beauties had rotated each other’s living rooms on every third Saturday evening for their monthly “Fat Girl” party. This particular evening, the living room in a five-bedroom, six-and-a-half-bath estate, in Covington, a subdivision in Oakbrook Terrace, was filled with joy and laughter.
As hostess, Arykah changed CDs and led her girlfriends in the electric slide, as each of them held flutes filled with virgin Bahama Mamas.
“Come on, sistas. Step it to the left, now rock it to the right, take it on back, now jump two times. Uh-huh, uh-huh, now jump again. Now swing it all around and take it to the ground,” Arykah instructed along with the CD.
Collectively, the ladies would tip a scale at nearly nine hundred pounds. A lavish buffet table consisting of honey barbeque Buffalo wings, taco salad, a tray of rolled salami and ham slices, and fresh baked Hawaiian bread sat front and center in the home’s two-story foyer.
“Ain’t no party like a fat girl party,” Bridgette, a size 14 and the smallest of the group, said as her bulging eyes roamed over the food. Two dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts were the first of the feast to catch the ladies’ eyes when they had entered Arykah’s front door earlier that evening.
Sweating to the music, Monique was the first to sit down on the plush white Berber carpet to catch her breath. She let her head fall backward on the cushion of the custom-made, ivory-colored, Nicolette suede chair.
“Come on, cousin. I know you ain’t tired yet. This is only the second song,” Amaryllis teased.
Monique absorbed the sweat beads on the tip of her nose into a Kleenex tissue. She had become a newlywed just four months ago, and her then size 20 figure had grown larger to a size 22W. “I ain’t as thin as I used to be. I can’t do all of that bending and twisting and jumping. And I told Arykah that I was on a diet. If she was a true friend, she wouldn’t have served all that fat food.”
Arykah took a sip of her exotic drink while keeping up with the dance movements. “It’s a fat girl party, Monique; you know how we do it. Did you expect me to serve a lettuce, tomato, and cucumber salad? What the heck were you thinking?”
Monique inserted the tissue in her blouse to soak up the wetness in her cleavage. “Well, now that you’ve mentioned it, a salad with fat-free dressing would have been a nice change.”
Arykah stopped dancing and placed her right hand on her hip. She then shifted all of her weight onto her right leg. “What, are we rabbits now? I think there’s a bag of carrots in the fridge. You want me to get you some? Keep in mind, Monique, you’ve inhaled four doughnuts and just about ate all of the salami. And don’t even go there about bending, twisting, and jumping. Because you ain’t got a problem with bending, twisting, and jumping for that super fine husband of yours.”
Monique chuckled. “That’s because Adonis understands that ten minutes is all I’m good for. And when my ten minutes are up, he does all the work with my two hundred forty-seven pounds.”
Bridgette, Amaryllis, and Arykah burst into laughter.
“Does he work it, girl?” Bridgette asked.
“Adonis works it so good I think he had Energizer batteries implanted,” Monique replied.
Amaryllis snapped her fingers in the shape of the capitol letter Z. Over the past year, she had allowed herself to balloon from a petite figure eight to a size 16. “All right, cousin, I ain’t mad.”
“I know that’s right,” Bridgette agreed.
Arykah was out of breath. She collapsed on the floor next to Monique, panting for air. “Do you remember where we were only four months ago? I was doing my realty thing and wasn’t even thinking about a man,” she said to Monique.
Monique wiped sweat from around her neck. She thought back to the mistake she had almost made with her ex-boyfriend, Boris Cortland, who just happens to be her husband’s cousin. “And I was about to destroy my life. Marrying Boris would have been like committing suicide.”
Bridgette and Amaryllis joined Monique and Arykah on the floor. “I remember it like it was just yesterday,” Amaryllis said.
“Me too,” Bridgette added.
Arykah shook her head from side to side in disbelief. “Monique, when you called out Adonis’s name at the altar, I almost fainted. Even though he and I had planned and hoped that things would turn out the way they had, I was stunned that it actually did. I was so happy when you called from Jamaica and told me that Adonis had proposed to you in midair. You said you needed a maid of honor, and I begged Lance to come to Jamaica with me.”
“Who would’ve thought that Lance would propose to you, only minutes before Monique walked down that sandy aisle?” Bridgette asked Arykah.
“And who would’ve thought the two of you would have a double wedding?” Amaryllis added.
Arykah looked at them both with gleam in her eyes. “God thought it.”
Two hours after the sun had risen over Lake Michigan, Pastor Lance Howell lay in the middle of his California king-size bed. He was waiting for his wife to emerge from their massive walk-in closet. Sunday mornings was fashion-show time in the Howell household. Arykah appeared in the closet doorway. She was dressed in a navy Dolce & Gabbana silk sarong dress that tied on the left side of her waist and hugged every curve of her plus-size figure.
“Okay, Pastor, tell me what you think of this one,” she said.
Lance exhaled loudly and extended his arms behind his head. “Cheeks, why do you make me go through this torture every Sunday morning? I think it’s lovely on you, just like the other nine outfits you tried on prior to that one.”
“What about the length of this dress? My knees are showing.”
“So, what?”
“You don’t think it’s inappropriate for the first lady to show her knees in church?”
Lance got up from the bed and walked over to Arykah. He wrapped his arms around her wide waist and snuggled her neck. “Why don’t you just go to church naked so I can watch your butt cheeks jiggle when you walk? You know I like that.”
Arykah chuckled. “You need to get saved. If your congregation could hear half of the things that roll off of your tongue, they would vote you out of the pulpit.”
Lance playfully tapped his wife’s behind on his way to the shower. Arykah’s backside was his favorite area on her body and he’d nicknamed her accordingly. “Cheeks, they can do whatever they want. It won’t change the fact that I am in love with my wife.”
Arykah took off the dress and laid it on the bed, among the other outfits she had modeled for Lance that morning. Then she slipped into her bathrobe and followed him into the master bath. She sat at her vanity, next to their his-and-her marble sinks, where she applied moisturizer to her face.
“So, you and I have a deal, right?” Lance asked from the shower.
Arykah rolled her eyes into the air. She knew what he was referring to but asked the question anyway. “What deal are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you allowing Mother Pansie Bowak to sit in on your counseling session with Sister Darlita Evans after morning service.”
“Lance, Darlita asked if I would meet with h
er to discuss how she should handle her husband’s third adulterous affair. It’s a private issue, and I think it would be wrong to add a third party to the session. Besides, Mother Pansie doesn’t like me.”
Arykah faced opposition the moment Lance announced to his congregation that he had married a woman who wasn’t a member of The Freedom Temple Church of God. Lance knew the rules of the church, that it was forbidden for the pastor to marry outside of the immediate church family. Though he was raised to believe that myth, Lance chose to follow his heart.
When Lance asked Arykah to stand and he introduced her as Lady Elect Arykah Miles-Howell, few people clapped or offered a smile of congratulations. Mother Pansie, along with the entire mothers’ board, stormed into his office immediately after the benediction to express their disapproval. The mothers pleaded with their pastor to see that it wasn’t fair to the hundreds of single women sitting under his nose Sunday after Sunday. Surely, he could have chosen a more traditional lady, unlike Arykah Miles—who was much too bold, very outspoken, short-tempered, and not likely to be controlled.
“Pastor, think about your reputation. She’s not first-lady material.”
Lance embraced each mother. He thanked them for caring about his well-being, then ushered them, one by one, from his office. Truth be told, Lance was in love with the too bold, very outspoken, short-tempered, and not likely to be controlled Arykah Miles.
“What makes you think Mother Pansie doesn’t like you, Cheeks?” he asked from the shower.
“She told me so.”
“Maybe you misunderstood her. What were her exact words?”
“She said, ‘I don’t like you.’ I wanted to tell her to kiss my you-know-what, but I know I must respect my elders, no matter how old and wrinkled they may be. Plus, I promised God that I would stop cursing.”
Lance didn’t respond right away. He rinsed the soap-suds from his body, then lathered the sponge again. He knew Arykah wasn’t exaggerating. Mother Pansie had openly expressed her dislike for his wife on many occasions.
“Pastor, her skirts are too short, and her lipstick is too red.” “Pastor, you shouldn’t allow her to wear high heels that tie up around her ankles with diamonds on them. It draws too much attention to her legs.” “Pastor, first ladies should not be seen with blond streaks in their hair.” “Pastor, why do you allow her to wear her arms out in the sanctuary?” “Pastor, why did you allow that woman to keep her maiden name? She’s openly disrespecting you when she doesn’t carry your name, and your name alone.”
“As church mother, Pansie Bowak has been counseling the women for years. But I would like for you, as my wife, to take over that responsibility. Just think of it as a training session. I only ask that you allow Mother Pansie to sit in on a couple of marital counseling sessions so that you can get a feel on how troubled marriages should be handled.”
Arykah applied Johnson & Johnson’s baby oil gel to her elbows and the heels of her feet. “Humph, I already know how troubled marriages should be handled. I believe that if a husband or wife cheats, it’s up to the injured spouse to decide if they want to stay in the marriage. There is absolutely no excuse for adultery but if the marriage is strong enough to survive it, then to God be the glory. This Negro has stepped out on Darlita three times. I’m well aware that the morally correct advice that I should give her is to turn the other cheek. But heck, Darlita only has two cheeks, Lance and she’s already turned them both.”
Lance stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He stood behind his wife and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’m worried about how you’ll handle this situation with Darlita. Remember that God hates divorce.”
Arykah was about to cut a hangnail when she stopped abruptly and looked in the mirror at her husband’s reflection. A serious expression was displayed on her face. “And He hates adultery too.”
What was Lance to do? He married a woman who was headstrong and sugarcoats nothing. He imagined Arykah advising Darlita to set the house on fire with her husband in it.
Lance stood Arykah up and turned her around to face him. “I know it’s a struggle adjusting to the role as the first lady, but when you’re giving advice to the women, you must always refer to the scriptures. You can’t give advice based on your personal feelings on a matter. I don’t want to see every woman who is dealing with infidelity leave your office with a made-up mind to divorce her husband. That’s why I think it’s important to have Mother Pansie sit in on a couple of sessions.”
Arykah turned her head away from Lance. He cupped her behind and squeezed. “Please, Cheeks, do this for me.”
Arykah smiled, even though she knew what she was up against. Mother Pansie was old school and from the South. She believed that women were inferior to men and a dutiful wife should always do what she’s told.
After the benediction two Sundays ago, a young lady confided in Arykah that she was troubled in her marriage. She confessed that she had been a punching bag for her husband’s stress relief method for the past eight months. She told Monique what Mother Pansie had told her—that if her husband didn’t beat her, he didn’t love her. Hot under the collar, Arykah marched the young lady straight to Lance’s office. “Pastor, we have a problem.”
Behind closed doors, Lance listened as the young lady revealed that her husband was facing a layoff. Their mortgage was being threatened, and her husband wouldn’t seek counseling to deal with his emotions. She had become subjected to rape and beatings on a daily basis.
Lance looked at his wife and discerned her spirit. The expression on Arykah’s face was horrible. He had married a firecracker and knew without a shadow of a doubt that Arykah wanted to advise the young lady to drug her husband, wait until he fell asleep, then cut off his member and arms. That was a sure way to cease the torture she was going through.
Lance could’ve counseled the young lady himself but wanted to afford Arykah the opportunity to step in as his wife, as his right hand, and as the first lady, to become a mentor to the women in the church.
Arykah was from the streets. She hustled for years to get to where she was. Even today, Lance still saw signs of Arykah’s roots taunting her. Though she wanted very much to be delivered from her abusive past relationships, Lance knew he had to continue to cover his wife in prayer and work through her struggles and insecurities with her.
But Arykah was now a pastor’s wife. Lance silently prayed for God to write on her tongue. He cleared his throat and loosened his necktie in preparation for damage control. Once he gave Arykah the go-ahead, there would be no telling what would come flying out of her mouth.
“First Lady, what do you advise this sister to do?” he nervously asked.
Both Arykah and the young lady sat in chairs opposite of Lance. Arykah held the young woman’s hands in her own. “I want you to know that God loves you, and He didn’t create you to be anyone’s punching bag. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. It is unacceptable for a man, any man, to put his hands on you in anger. If Mother Pansie told you that your husband loved you while beating and raping you, she was sorely mistaken.
“Your body is the Lord’s temple, and no one, not even your husband, should be allowed to abuse and destroy it. If he isn’t willing to seek counseling for his abusive behavior, then you should pack your things and leave. Because the next time he lays unholy hands on you, you may not survive it. And you should seek professional help from an abuse therapist for yourself. It isn’t normal behavior for you to have accepted your husband’s fury for so long. Ask the therapist to help you find out why you willingly tolerated his mood swings.
“And you have to learn who you are in God. My husband taught me that women must realize their worth and own it. Because if we don’t own it, we become vulnerable. And vulnerability is a pathway for the devil to destroy us, often through the very ones who claim they love us.”
Lance was well pleased with Arykah’s Christlike attitude. Maybe he could go ahead and sit Mother Pansie down after all. He�
��d have to wait and see. He tightened his tie around his neck and leaned back in his chair while he watched God work through his wife.
Arykah dabbed the young lady’s tears with a Kleenex tissue that she had pulled from a box on Lance’s desk. “And you have to always protect your gates. Gates are openings that lead to your soul. Through our eye gates we may have seen one of our parents become victims of spousal abuse. And because we see it, our souls accept it as normal behavior. That’s a trick of the enemy. Our ear gates can become flooded with damaging words spoken to us through verbal abuse.
“I once dated a man who constantly told me that I was too fat, that I wasn’t pretty, that I was unattractive, and that I would never be loved by a man. And I believed that lie for years before Pastor Howell deposited a word of release into me. I tolerated that man’s behavior because it was what I had become used to.
“And we have to protect our vaginal gates also. Mother Pansie may have told you that it was impossible for a husband to rape his wife, but that was absolutely not true. How do you feel when your husband comes to you for sex?”
The young lady sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I feel violated because he’s so rough with me. He never kisses me. Never asks how I feel or if I’m in the mood for sex. He just tells me what he wants and then takes it from me and demands that I do things I don’t want to do. And sometimes he bites my breasts until they bleed. And after he’s done, he calls me dirty names.”
Arykah was flabbergasted, and Lance was appalled. But he sat silently and let Arykah do her thing that she was doing so well.
Arykah knew all too well what it felt like to be in the arms of a man that didn’t love her. Listening to the young lady’s story brought tears to her own eyes. She squeezed the woman’s hands for comfort. “When I’m with my husband, I feel safe and secure. I feel protected and adored. He cares what my feelings are. There’s no dirty name-calling. There’s no hurt or pain. Only love, comfort, and security. When a man takes his wife’s body by force and inflicts sexual pain upon her, he’s raping her. And what you must do is start loving yourself and get out of this relationship because it’s not holy, which means it’s not of God.”
Crossroads Page 21
