Darrin’s eyes light up. “I am definitely the man for the job.”
Now, this is a shock. Daddy must feel something good in his spirit about Darrin, because he doesn’t usually bring people close to him this soon after meeting them. Maybe the Lord told Daddy that Darrin is his future son-in-law. Ooh … that makes me want to speak in tongues. Hah! Glory!
Daddy hands me the article. “You’ve got to read this. Brother Darrin is an exceptional writer. You were right to recommend him for the newsletter.”
I quickly scan the article. “This is good. There are a few changes that I’d make, but for the most part, it’s good.”
“Changes?” asks Darrin, both his eyebrows raised in defense.
“Nothing major,” I say with a bit of an attitude. “There are some areas that could flow better. That’s all.”
“You know, Emoni used to write in college,” Daddy says with a look of pride.
“Daddy—”
“And she’s good, too! She does most of the writing for the newsletter.”
“I do some of the writing.”
Darrin laughs. “Let your father brag about you, girl!”
I crack a tiny smile but drop my head to prevent Darrin from seeing it. After all that clownish jocking of Dorcas last night, he’s on punishment from any niceties from me. He’s got to earn my smiles.
Oscar swings the office door open and strides in as if trying to make an entrance. I almost burst out laughing because he looks more than ridiculous. He has this stern look that reminds me of the Buckingham Palace guards who aren’t supposed to move a muscle even if touched.
“Bishop, I’m sorry I’m late. My mother needed—” Oscar stops midsentence when he notices Darrin seated in front of Bishop’s desk. “Brother Darrin,” he says, making the greeting sound like an insult.
Darrin responds in kind. “Trustee Williams.”
This is interesting. There is some tension between these brothers, and I think I like it. Well, I’m loving Darrin’s tension, but I can do without Oscar’s.
Just like he did at the banquet, Daddy is ignoring their antics. He says, “Brother Darrin, I’ve got another assignment for you. I’m speaking in Savannah next Saturday, and I want you to document it. I feel there’s going to be a tremendous move of God on that day.”
“I’d be honored, Bishop.” Darrin smirks in Oscar’s direction.
“Bishop,” Oscar says, smirking right back at Darrin, “may I speak with you in private?”
“Of course.”
Darrin and I take this as a cue to leave the office, but he takes his time. I think he’s deliberately trying to rile Oscar, which puts him that much closer to earning a smile from me.
We’re standing in the hallway outside of Daddy’s office, and suddenly, I’m nervous. Alone with Darrin, and I’m equipped with nothing but wisecracks and insults. I don’t have any idea how to let this man know how appealing he is to me, or how I wish he’d forget all about Dorcas. I don’t even know what to do with my hands. I smooth my hair, play with my skirt, and smooth my hair again. He just keeps grinning at me, which is doing absolutely nothing for my frazzled nerves.
“So, do you like Atlanta so far?” I ask. I’m praying that he doesn’t notice the tremble in my voice.
Darrin responds lightheartedly, “I love it here! At home, I’d be pulling out my winter wardrobe.”
“But it’s only the beginning of October.”
“My point exactly.”
“Well, we’re glad to have you here.”
“You are?” His sly smile lets me know he’s teasing me.
Now I’m all flustered. “F-freedom of Life is glad to have you, I’m sure.”
“Oh … I thought you meant—”
“Why are you flirting with me?” I ask angrily. “Don’t you like Sister Dorcas?” Might as well put it all out on the table. I need to know what’s really going on.
“Whoa!” Darrin exclaims. “Can you and I be friends?”
“Of course we can. I’m sorry.” So I see he’s going to avoid the Dorcas discussion.
“It’s cool.”
“But what I meant was that you came to our church and hit the ground running. Daddy loves hard workers.”
Darrin takes a bow. “I aim to please.”
“Really? Is that what you’re doing with Dorcas? Aiming to please?”
He puts his hands up in surrender. I’ve won this round—I think.
“Dorcas and I are only friends, too, Emoni. I’m not in Atlanta to find a woman.”
“Right, right. You’re here to launch your career.”
He nods. “That’s correct.”
“But chasing a little tail in the meantime won’t hurt nothing.”
Darrin’s eyes widen. Guess he’s shocked that the bishop’s daughter knows anything about chasing tail. Actually, I don’t. And I’m coming pretty close to exhausting all of my scant knowledge of men. I hope he doesn’t see right through me.
“Girl, don’t start nothing, it won’t be nothing.”
Darrin’s warning sounds like a challenge, and I’m totally up for it. “What if I want there to be something?”
Darrin looks relieved when Daddy’s office door opens, saving him from answering that question. I’m relieved, too!
“All right, son,” Daddy says to Darrin. “Looks like it’s going to be the four of us this weekend.”
“Four of us, sir?” Darrin asks.
“Yes. Emoni and Oscar will accompany us to Savannah. It should be a great time.”
Darrin nods and smiles at me. “That sounds perfect.”
“Oscar will pick you up around eight in the morning.”
Oscar adds, “Be ready. I hate tardiness.”
“How about I drive my truck and meet you there?” Darrin says with a hint of irritation.
Oscar responds in kind: “That is an excellent idea.”
Daddy shuts them both down. “No sense wasting gas money. There’s no reason why four children of God can’t put up with each other for a few hours.”
“Of course,” replies Darrin through clenched teeth.
I leave the hallway with a wave, almost certain that at least one set of eyeballs is following my every move. I can see that Darrin is not going to make this easy. Obviously, he’s used to women falling all over him.
So, I’m standing in the doorway to Sascha’s bedroom, watching her read a magazine and trying to get up the courage to ask for help. I’m in over my head with this Darrin thing, but I do know that I want him, and not just in the holy way that a woman of God would want a husband. I want him want him, which completely and utterly terrifies me.
“Sascha, can I talk to you for a minute?” I ask, trying to sound as agreeable as possible.
Sascha finally looks up from her magazine. “What is it?”
I peek down the hallway like a criminal on the look-out. When I’m sure the coast is clear, I close Sascha’s door. She seems shocked when I sit down on the edge of her bed.
“I need your help,” I admit.
Sascha is suspicious. “With what?”
I take a deep breath. “I want Brother Darrin to notice me instead of Dorcas.”
“I can’t believe you’re asking me to help you.”
“I don’t have much time. I’m going with Bishop to Savannah on Saturday, and Darrin’s going, too.”
“Is Dorcas coming?” Sascha asks.
“No. That’s why I want to look really nice.”
Sascha taps her finger on her chin, deep in thought. “Wait a minute. How is Oscar going to feel about all of this?”
“Who cares? He’s not my boyfriend.”
“But Emoni, you know that he likes you. He’s always liked you.”
I am not going to allow her to make me feel guilty about Oscar. Why does everyone think I should settle for him? No one ever tells pretty girls to settle for the only man who might ever want them.
“But I don’t like him that way,” I reply quickly, dismissing any
further conversation about Oscar. “Are you going to help me or not?”
Sascha folds her arms and lowers her eyebrows in what looks to be a serious expression. “I don’t know if I should. You haven’t exactly been the best sister lately, with all of your tattling and whatnot. What’s in it for me?”
“How about the fact that if Darrin becomes my man, then I won’t have any time to pay any attention to you and Mr. Kevin?” I reply with a grin.
“Good enough!” exclaims Sascha. “The first thing we need to do is get you to the spa for a facial. That acne is not the business.”
“Okay, then what?”
“Um … let’s see. Straight to the MAC counter. You need some good foundation and lip gloss.”
“I don’t do makeup.”
Sascha stands up from her bed and places both hands on her hips, looking exactly like Mother. “Do you want my help or not?”
“Yes, but why does it have to involve slathering makeup all over my face?”
“Because your face is pretty, but you’re always hiding it under some bangs.”
I lift the bangs. “Umm … did you forget my acne problem?”
“No, I did not! The only reason it’s a problem is because you’ve always got those greasy bangs hanging in your eyes. I’m going to get you a deep-cleansing facial and some good makeup. Don’t worry.”
“Okay.” She sits back down on the bed. A serious expression has come over her face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing, really. It’s just that … Well, now that we’re sharing things … Can I share something with you?”
“Sure.”
Sascha reaches under her pillow and pulls out a small jewelry box. She opens it to show me an engagement ring with what looks like a half-carat marquis-shaped diamond.
“Nice ring. Whose is it?” I ask.
“Mine. Kevin gave it to me last night.”
My eyes are about to pop right out of my head. “Where did Kevin get the money to buy this? He asked you to marry him?”
“This ring is the reason he hasn’t gotten his car fixed. And yes, he asked me to marry him.”
“Wow … but why aren’t you wearing the ring?”
“Because I haven’t said yes yet.”
Now, this is shocking. First of all, the fact that Kevin even opened his mouth to say “marry me” has me really twisted. How about what Mother always says—why would men buy the cow if they’re already getting the milk? And second of all, the fact that Sascha hasn’t said yes is throwing me for a loop.
“Wait,” I say, hoping the answer to my next question is no. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
Sascha lowers her eyes and nods. “Yeah. Only a couple of weeks, though.”
I can’t even find the words in the English language that will convey my feelings. “You … How could … My God, Sascha … What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know, Emoni, but please don’t tell anyone.”
“Have you told Mother? Daddy?”
“No, I haven’t told either of them, and I don’t plan to anytime soon.” She seems irritated, like I’m the one dropping bombs.
“Well, soon you won’t have to tell them. It’ll be obvious.”
A tear forms in Sascha’s eye. “Maybe not.”
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of getting rid of your baby!” I gasp for air.
Sascha is crying now. “I don’t know. It seems like the best option for everybody.”
I grab both of Sascha’s hands in mine. “I know we don’t do this very often, but please, Sascha, let’s pray about this.”
She nods, so I continue, “Lord God, we come to you right now. We ask forgiveness of our sins. We ask that you wash us clean with your blood. Oh Lord, please help Sascha to see that no matter how this child came to be in her womb, the baby is not a mistake. Father God, help her through this tough time, and let her know that your strength is made perfect in her weakness. Lord, allow her to know that I am there for her as a sister, confidante, and friend. Lord, we thank you and we love you. In Jesus’ name.”
Sascha says amen, and we sit on her bed. I’m embracing my younger sister and stroking her hair. Somehow it doesn’t seem the right time to talk about makeovers and new boyfriends.
Chapter Seventeen
Darrin
I’m used to women falling all over me.
Not trying to sound cocky or anything, but it’s been the story of my life. It started in the first grade, with Melissa Sanford trying to sharpen my pencils for me and then wanting to give me the snack cake from her lunch.
Most of the time women make it easy for me. Too easy. Even saved and sanctified Dorcas is easy as pie. If it weren’t for me trying to live right, we’d already be on the altar begging the Lord to forgive our fornicating ways.
But Emoni is different.
I don’t think she even knows what she’s doing, which is the pure beauty of it all. I know she digs me, that is without question. But she has been challenging me ever since that first day at church, when she caught me admiring her behind.
I wouldn’t be a man if I weren’t thrilled by the prospect of a challenge. But how would she feel about me if she really knew me? If she knew my whole purpose for being in this city was to bring the bishop to shame?
And about the whole shaming the bishop thing … I don’t know about that, either. It’s starting to bother me. Maybe it’s because I’m taking a liking to Bishop Prentiss and his ministry. He shows more interest in my talents than my own father.
Anyway, I’m in my kitchen preparing dinner on a Friday night. I’m making my creamy shrimp pasta with freshly baked garlic bread and a tossed Caesar salad. It’s a good thing I work out on the regular, because if I didn’t, my stomach would be looking like Oscar’s.
I don’t think anyone from back home would believe that I’m cool with being at home alone in my apartment, cooking dinner and watching television. Friday used to be the start of my weekend. Friday would be the first night of dates and booty calls that lasted through Monday.
But I’ve been doing what Bishop Prentiss laid out for us in Bible study. I’ve been reading my Bible. Didn’t really know what to read, so I just started at Genesis, giving myself a refresher course on everything. I’m praying a lot, too. I’ve never prayed this much in my life.
The water for my angel hair pasta is beginning to boil when the telephone rings. I read my parents’ number from the caller ID.
“Hi, Mom.”
“How did you know it wasn’t your father?” Priscilla asks.
“Dad doesn’t call.”
“And apparently, neither do you. Why is it that I had to hear from Shayna that you got baptized?”
“I was going to tell you. Why are you still talking to Shayna? We broke up, you know.”
Priscilla replies, “Nonsense. She says that you two are reevaluating your relationship. That doesn’t sound like a breakup to me.”
“Trust me, Mom. I’m done evaluating with her.”
“Don’t be so hasty. She’s a lovely girl and from a good family. She’d make a wonderful wife.”
Usually, I don’t mind Priscilla dabbling in my business, but she is getting very close to crossing the line over Shayna. And why is she calling my mother? I’m going to have to handle her the hard way, and I’ve been trying to avoid that.
“So you’ve gotten quiet,” says Priscilla, “and just when I was about to ask you about your story. How is that coming?”
“Honestly, I have no idea what I’m going to write about. If Bishop has any flaws, they are not apparent on the surface.”
“Your father is not going to be happy about that,” responds Priscilla. I can hear her frown from her tone.
“But I am getting very close to the family. I’m writing for the church newsletter, and I’ve made friends with the oldest daughter.”
“Ah! Now I see why poor Shayna has been discarded. You’ve met another woman.”
“You’re wrong,
Mom. Shayna was history before I even came down here. She just refuses to accept that.”
“Well, you know what they say—persistence breaks down resistance.”
Who says that? “Mom, persistence will lead her to stalker charges.”
There’s a knock at my door. “I’ve got to go. Someone’s at the door.”
I hang up the phone and go over to the door, my stomach growling after I’ve taken a whiff of the baked bread. After the conversation about Shayna, I’m almost afraid to look through the peephole.
I let out a huge sigh of relief when I open the door to Dorcas. “To what do I owe this visit?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I was home and didn’t have anything to do. I thought you’d like some company if you were home, too.”
“Your instincts were right. Come on in.”
Why did I invite her in? What am I thinking? I don’t know if I’m strong enough to have her pheromones all up in my personal space. She’s wearing loose-fitting sweats and her infamous ponytail.
She’s glancing around my spotless apartment; I see her taking it all in. I hope she doesn’t think I’m a neat freak or a freak in general. See, I’m already slipping— referring to myself as a freak.
“Have you eaten?” I ask as I start a new pot of angel hair pasta. Between phone calls and opening doors, I’ve overcooked the first one.
Dorcas shakes her head. “No, I haven’t. I thought we could order some takeout, but what you’re cooking over there smells delicious. What is it?”
“It’s my creamy shrimp pasta. I perfected the recipe about three years ago,” I declare proudly.
“What’s in the sauce?”
“You want to know my secret recipe?”
Dorcas laughs. “You don’t have to worry about me stealing it. I’m afraid I’ve never tried to cook something so complex. I’m a steak-and-potatoes girl myself.”
“I guess I can tell you, then. I use fresh cream, shallots, garlic, Parmesan cheese, and a little white wine.”
“Wow! Where did you learn to cook like that?”
“Don’t sing my praises yet!” I lift a wooden spoon full of sauce to Dorcas’s lips. “Here, taste this, and then tell me what you think.”
Dorcas sips a small amount of the sauce and squeezes her eyes shut. “Mmm” is all that she can say.
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