Your Pastor, My Husband

by B. M. Hardin

  Your Pastor…My Husband.

  B.M. Hardin

  Copyright©Savvily Published LLC 2014

  ISBN-13: 978-0991528158

  ISBN-10: 0991528158

  Savvily Published LLC

  Twitter: @Savvilypub

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/savvilypub

  Email: info@savvilypublished.com

  This book is solely a work of fiction. All people, places and locals are strictly products of the author's imagination.

  This story in no way or form describes the author's religions beliefs or personal evaluations.

  ~********~

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my beautiful readers.

  I simply can not thank you all enough for supporting me and my dream.

  ~**********~

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost, I have to give thanks to God. Without him; I wouldn't be who I am today.

  I'd also like to thank my family and friends. Your support and encouragement means the world to me. You challenge me and push me; and I am truly grateful for each and everyone of you.

  I would also like to give a big thanks to Ms. Marie of “Edit Me Marie” for taking the time to look over and edit my work. I found you by mistake but I am truly thankful for all you have done. www.editmemarie.com

  To all of my readers and supporters...

  Thank You again! Your support means the world to me and I hope that you can see it in my work!

  B.M.Hardin

  Your Pastor...My Husband

  ~***********~

  Chapter One

  I smiled as I admired my husband from the pulpit.

  My husband, Pastor Shelton Cartwright, was still as charming, witty and handsome today as he had been the very first time I’d laid my eyes on him.

  I still remembered it as though it had only happened yesterday.

  A few years ago, I was going through some things.

  To be honest, I was alive…but I wasn't actually living.

  Some may not know what that means or feels like---but let me be the first to say that living a miserable life; was pretty much not worth living at all.

  But after all was said and done, and when all else failed, there was only one place left for me to turn to…the church; God.

  My very first time attending New Hope Missionary Church, Shelton took my breath away.

  I remembered staring at him, hungrily, trying my best not to lust after his flesh during the church service.

  But it was almost impossible.

  I was having so many impure thoughts that I was afraid that at any moment God himself was going to personally get up from the throne, walk right out of Heaven, just to come and personally escort my lusting butt to the gates of Hell.

  But Lord knows I was trying.

  Who knew that a Pastor could be so darn sexy?

  Shelton's stature made my mouth water.

  His shoulders were broad and they were accompanied by his strong back and inviting muscular arms.

  If I remembered correctly, I daydreamed about the way that his arms would feel wrapped tightly around me.

  And he didn't have a wedding ring on his finger...

  Oh yes; all I needed was five minutes alone with him!

  His skin was the same exact color as warm, sweet, mouth watering butterscotch.

  Just looking at him caused me to lick my lips. Shelton's tall frame moved comfortably, effortlessly around the pulpit.

  His facial hair was neatly groomed and since I was only on the second pew; because all of the other sinners had taken all of the empty seats in the back, I was close enough to get a clear view of his million dollar smile and his daring, deep dimples.

  Surely the Bible must have been referring to him when it said that men were created after God’s own image.

  This Pastor was f-i-n-e!

  And I just had to have him.

  The entire first part of the service, I struggled with trying to keep from wondering how he looked; with his clothes off.

  Finally, I got myself together and thought about the Pastor on a different level.

  I couldn't help but wonder why a handsome, middle aged man would take on such a big responsibility; such as being a Pastor of a church.

  What made him want such an important role or title?

  Why would he want to be the head of a church and such a huge task of being responsible for hundreds of people’s salvation?

  From looking at him, I assumed that he couldn't have been any older than thirty.

  Maybe thirty-five at the most.

  When the lady sitting next to me finally initiated light conversation, I didn’t hesitate to ask about the well dressed, stallion of a man standing behind the wooden podium.

  From what I understood, he had just transferred to the church not even a month before, after the unexpected death of the late Pastor Armstrong.

  She explained that at first there was quite the debate as to why he should take on the role; versus the job being given to one of the other older, more seasoned, Associate Pastors.

  But nevertheless, he was voted in, with high hopes of bringing in the younger generation.

  And from the looks of it; he had done just that.

  Looking around the church, it was a fairly good mixture of young and vibrant; as well as old and wise.

  There were a tons of younger women in the crowd.

  I was sure that most of the women were showing up just to see the main attraction…Pastor Shelton; and I as well; was taking a number and getting in line.

  I was going to make it my business to come pay Pastor Shelton a little visit; as many Sunday’s a month as I could.

  But all jokes aside, and outside of his wicked good looks, once I got my mind out of the gutter and actually listened to the words that were coming out of his mouth; Pastor Shelton had this whole preaching thing on lock down!

  He was good...and I mean real good.

  His words encouraged me; his words inspired me.

  I’d heard good preaching before; but he got down on my level.

  I understood him; I could relate to him.

  His words soothe my troubled spirit and mended my broken heart and on that very day, I found myself standing in front of him at the altar---asking for salvation, and begging God for forgiveness.

  All of that was five years ago.

  Now, as you can see, I was still a work in progress.

  I wasn’t then nor am I currently the most Christian lady in the building.

  I was nowhere near as saved as some or as holy as others, but I had come a mighty long way in just a few years time.

  I wasn't brought up exactly in the church; I hadn't gone as much as I should have, so it all took some getting used to.

  But Shelton had been more than patient with me.

  He never judged me.

  He'd always said that he knew my heart and he knew that I was trying my best.

  And that was all that he could ever ask of me.

  Even on that day, I had come broken and unholy.

  Whether it was by fate, or by divine destiny...Pastor Shelton found favor in a little ole’ wrench like me; and that was all I ever needed.

  All I’d ever wanted was for someone to actually see me...and Shelton had.

  In a way that no one ever had before.

  Shelton had shown me a better way of living and for that I vowed to give him nothing less than my love, my loyalty and my respect for as long as there was breath in my body.

  I’d always told him that he was my guardian angel; I was sure of it.

  Shelton's sudden yell, brought my mind back from the past, and I focused on his present day sermon for only a second.

  He was preac
hing about being out of the will of God and about having free will.

  It was as if he was talking about the old me, which again caused my mind to wonder.

  I tuned out my husband once again, and I started to reminisce about the past.

  My Mama named me Maxine; but Maxi was what I preferred to be called.

  Back then, couldn't nobody and I do mean nobody, tell me nothing that I didn't already know.

  At least that's what I'd thought.

  I had it all figured out; I had all of the answers.

  A life of no worries was the way that I preferred to live and I did exactly what I wanted to do with no regrets.

  It was my life...and I was going to live it the way that I wanted to.

  Basically I was wild, stubborn and selfish; and I didn't care who knew it.

  That's just the way that it was.

  But the truth was that I was a young, naive girl, who thought that time was on her side; until I discovered some bad news...it wasn’t.

  Now, don't get me wrong; I wasn't all bad business.

  I was down to earth, ambitious, and I was an all around Southern Bell; a drop dead gorgeous natural beauty.

  My beauty was flawless, without a stitch of make-up; which couldn't boldly be said by too many folks these days.

  I'm just saying.

  I could cook like I was born in the 1920's and the way I could clean a house, would make you feel comfortable enough to eat right off of the floor...no five second rule necessary.

  And on top of everything else, I was smart too.

  Graduated at the top of my class to be exact. But somehow, none of that mattered when you used what was between your legs...ten times more than what was inside your head.

  My whorish ways got me into more trouble than I bargained for.

  I was always looking for the easy way out, even if I had to spread my legs to get it.

  A long story short, I didn’t mind being used; as long as I could use them in return.

  But it didn’t take long for me to learn that thinking that way; would never get me anywhere…except in a situation that I absolutely did not want to be in.

  And I had my ex-husband to thank for teaching me that little lesson.

  Yes, that’s right; Shelton, the Pastor, was my second husband; although that was my little secret.

  Neither he, nor anyone else for that matter, knew anything about my past marriage.

  I was taking that secret with me to my grave; point...blank...period.

  Sure, at times, I felt bad for keeping such a big secret away from Shelton; but what he didn’t know---wouldn’t hurt him.

  Besides, for the most part, it really wasn't worth mentioning.

  You see, though it’s sad to say this, but one of the best days of my life was the day that the police showed up on my doorstep to tell me that my husband...the first one…was dead.

  Someone had shot him down in the middle of the street; leaving his lifeless body cold, soaking in a puddle of his own blood.

  To be honest, I wasn’t surprised by his death.

  I was more...what’s the word… relieved.

  Yeah, that’s it.

  Hell, if you really wanted to know the truth, I was just a little bit jealous that someone else had beaten me to the punch.

  But thank God, more or less, that someone else had the nerve to kill him first.

  Lord knows that I would have loved to have been the finger behind that trigger.

  They never found his killer; at least I don't think.

  But oh how I wanted to just tell them...

  Thank You.

  Yep...I'm dead serious too.

  My ex-husbands' name was Richard Monroe; but in the streets he was known as Mr. Ricky.

  Ricky was a part of everything; anything that was illegal.

  From drugs and weapons; all the way down to trafficking women.

  There wasn't much else to say except that Ricky loved playing dirty, and he always wanted a piece of the pie...money that is.

  And you could bet on your life that he would do anything to get it.

  And he would take it in any way that he could get it.

  To him, money was everything.

  To Ricky...money was power.

  Actually; our entire marriage, money had been his wife…I was just his mistress.

  Basically, Ricky was always about making a extra dollar.

  I’ll admit; at first, I was blinded by his wit, average good looks and not to mention all of the nice things that he could do and provide for me.

  In the beginning, Ricky gave me all of his time and all of his money; and for me, that was enough.

  Maybe it shouldn't have been---but it was.

  But who could blame me?

  Coming from a single parent home, with just my Mama, the attention of a man was something that I’d always lacked and secretly craved.

  I never got the chance to know my Daddy. Mama told me that he was killed while serving in the Army; only a month before I was born.

  She’d said that he died a hero; defending his country and that was something that I should have been proud of.

  Maybe so; but I’d always felt some kind of resentment toward him.

  No, I didn’t hate him or anything like that; after all, who could hate a hero?

  But it would have been nice to have gotten to know him.

  There were a ton of things that I would have appreciated learning from him…especially when it came to men.

  There were just some things that Mama couldn't explain to me or teach me.

  In my opinion, Mama never really got over losing Daddy and she never bothered to remarry.

  Sure, she had a few buddies that she screwed in her spare time, but none of them had been important enough or even worth introducing to me…like…ever.

  I mean, never had I witnessed Mama with a man.

  For years, I grew up thinking that she was into women; until I was old enough for her to tell me that she had men to take care of her needs...when she wanted them to.

  Still, none of them had ever made it to or inside of our home.

  So, it was always just us.

  That was it.

  Now, let's be clear; Mama took damn good care of me.

  I always had more than enough.

  She was a strong, independent, and educated black woman and she tried her best to make sure that I would become the same.

  Mama stayed on back, and despite my efforts, or lack thereof, she got me through high school and then pushed me through college.

  Mama had done everything just right.

  She had done everything that she could.

  The only thing she couldn’t do was give me the love that only my Daddy could have given me; that and the real scoop on what to expect when it came to men.

  Mama said that Daddy had been her first...everything; and that he was the only man that she'd ever loved.

  He was the only man that she had ever given the honor of claiming her or her heart, so understanding how men worked, was one of the only topics that Mama didn’t have all of the answers to.

  She had a few...but not many.

  Mama always had so much to say, about everything...except when it came to her.

  Only a year after I graduated from college, Mama died from breast cancer.

  Apparently she'd known about it for years, but had never bothered to mention it.

  Not one single word to anybody; not even me, her daughter, not even once.

  And her sickness wasn’t the only secret that it appeared that Mama had kept from me.

  Going through her diary, though she never really came out and said it, it seemed as though all along, my Daddy had been alive. Her diary didn't say too much, but it had said enough.

  Her thoughts and comments ever so often suggested that Daddy was indeed alive...and not dead.

  It was though she'd kept me away from him for a reason.

  Either that; or he had stayed away on purpose.

  Bu
t he wasn't dead; I was sure of it.

  Using a few learned skills from Mama, right after her death, I’d even tried finding him by name, and by every other piece of information that Mama had ever given me about him.

  But my attempts failed.

  Either I was extremely unlucky or he really had died and I was just twisting Mama's privately written words, and making them something else.

  But whether he was dead or not; I could only assume that Mama had her reasons for lying to me.

  She always did everything for a reason and with purpose.

  But I would have loved to have known the truth...about everything; especially hers.

  Not that you could ever truly be prepared for death, but knowing the truth would have made things easier for me to deal with.

  Or maybe it wouldn’t have.

  Nevertheless, with Mama gone, I was all alone. I was all on my own and that was something that I had trouble getting used to.

  The money that Mama left behind for me, eventually ran out.

  Though I had a degree in Psychology, finding a job in my field wasn’t as easy as I had hoped it would be.

  So, I was stuck working dead end jobs that had absolutely nothing to do with my education or my training and I finally learned what it meant to struggle.

  And let me tell you...the struggle was real!

  No matter what I tried, no matter how hard I worked, I just couldn’t seem to get ahead.

  I was simply looking for a way out of my hard times...and that's where Ricky came in.

  It was on my twenty-fifth birthday that I met Ricky at a local bar.

  Ricky was splurging and the center of attention.

  From the very beginning I was able to label the type of man that he was and make my assumptions.

  It was obvious that he was into the street life; a drug dealer is what I initially assumed he was.

  It was clear that he felt as though money made him a man; as though it gave him power.

  His personality was bold…and loud.

  He didn’t have the slightest clue as to what using your inside voice actually meant; which was amongst the list of things that I hated about him.