The Pastor's Husband

by Tiffany L. Warren

  “All who have it read along,” Pastor Greg says. “ ‘And with great power gave the apostles witness of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus: and great grace was upon them all. Neither was there any among them that lacked: for as many as were possessors of lands or houses sold them, and brought the prices of the things that were sold, And laid them down at the apostles’ feet: and distribution was made unto every man according as he had need.’”

  I bite my bottom lip, feeling a little bit embarrassed that I’m the one who started the money line, because I feel a rebuke coming on.

  “Ushers, come and please collect all of the offerings,” Pastor Greg says. “I want to pray over them.”

  The ushers do as they’re told. It takes a few minutes to gather up all of the envelopes and loose bills, but Pastor Greg is patient while they do it. Then they hold the baskets up and he prays with outstretched hands.

  “Now that we’ve read the Word and prayed, I want to do with this money what the apostles would have done. We have several families who have expressed needs. You don’t have to know the details of their struggles, but I’m going to ask Geneva Monday and her family to come down to the front. And George Perkins. Bring your entire family, if they’re here today.”

  Both families make their way down to the altar. Geneva Monday has a few kids and they all look dingy, not dirty. Their clothes are faded from having been washed probably hundreds of times. George Perkins’s family is just as ragged, but his children are older and don’t look like they appreciate their neediness being put on display for the entire church.

  “I want to bless you all this morning. Each of you will receive one half of this benevolence offering,” Pastor Greg says. “I pray that it blesses you.”

  Then Pastor Greg looks at the congregation. “If any of y’all put a bad check up in here, you should probably come get it now.”

  Everybody starts laughing.

  “Listen, y’all. I want us to have a different kind of worship experience here,” Pastor Greg says. “And I know that my wife concurs with me on this. Love First is about the love of Christ before all. If you want to bless me as your pastor, bless one another. Let’s get our church to mirror one of the first-century churches. Let’s have an environment where no one is in need.”

  “I’m gonna pick on Sister Felicia for a moment,” Pastor Greg says, now openly smiling at me.

  It takes me a moment to grasp what is happening. But Pastor Greg is singling me out in the congregation.

  “Stand up, Sister Felicia.”

  I hurry to my feet. He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

  “Sister Felicia ran down to this altar with an offering, but she has made a much bigger contribution at this church. She’s helped us get a grant for our youth facility.”

  “We can give of our time, ability, skills, and finances to ensure that no one in our congregation lacks anything. You can go ahead and sit, Sister Felicia. Thank you. I appreciate you.”

  Greg continues his preaching, but it goes by in a blur. I can only think about how he called me out specially. In front of the entire church. He said my name, thanked me in front of everyone. He smiled down at me and said my name.

  I am still on a cloud when service ends. My feet barely touch the ground as I float over to where Pastor Greg says hello to the congregation after service. He smiled at me, so now I want to give him a hug and let him know I appreciate him too.

  I’m so focused in on Pastor Greg, I almost crash into Mother Olivia as she blocks my path.

  “Oh, hello, Mother Olivia,” I say in a friendly tone.

  She is frowning. “Good morning.”

  “What’s wrong, Mother Olivia?”

  Her frown goes deeper. “What God has for you is for you.”

  “I receive that, Mother! Why the frown?”

  “Another woman’s husband ain’t for you.”

  Before I can reply, Mother Olivia struts away and gives me her back. The nerve of her. I didn’t do anything. Greg called out to me. I brush off her words, because she obviously doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

  Greg grins as I walk up to him and give him the approved, church-sister hug.

  “I hope you weren’t offended. I wasn’t trying to call you out specifically. You didn’t start that tradition.”

  “I wasn’t offended at all. That was a teaching moment for me. I don’t think I ever knew that was what happened when the people threw money at the apostles’ feet. I learned something new.”

  “Well, I just want you to know that I meant it when I said how much I appreciate the service you’re doing at this church. We need more like you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Greg shakes my hand firmly, and starts to make eye contact with the next person in the line. That was it? Thank you for your service, Felicia. And walk away? After the moment we shared?

  Okay, I see that he is going to be harder to crack than I thought he would be. It’s time for me to pull out the big guns. I’m all his, and he needs to recognize what that means, what we could have, once we move Nya out of the way.

  Our connection is for the advancement of the kingdom, and sometimes the kingdom has to be taken by force.

  CHAPTER 42

  NYA

  Something doesn’t feel right in my spirit. I have no idea what it is, because I haven’t had a vision or anything like that, but I just feel extremely unsettled. I’m getting ready to go and preach this evening, at this church in Philadelphia, so maybe someone in the congregation really needs something from me. A word from God.

  Morning service was good. The pastor preached on the sanctity of marriage and the marriage bed being undefiled. It’s as if he’d spied into my hotel room the night before. Because the pictures I ended up sending Greg looked like something an Instagram groupie might send to an athlete or a rapper. He was happy though, so that’s all that matters. Maybe he’ll forget that he was mad at me for not remembering his grant proposal.

  Back in my hotel room, I’m having a chicken Caesar salad, although I want something heavier. I never eat a large meal before I preach though. There’s nothing like trying to minister with indigestion.

  My phone buzzes with a number that I don’t recognize, but since it’s a Dallas number I answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “Uh, hello? Hello? My word. Hold on, baby.”

  I let out a giggle. I can tell it’s Mother Olivia, and clearly she doesn’t know what she’s doing with her cell phone.

  “Hello? Can you hear me?” Mother Olivia asks.

  “Yes, Mother, I can hear you. How are you?”

  “Is this Nya?” Mother Olivia asks. “I need to speak to Evangelist Nya Hampstead.”

  “It’s me, Mother. It’s Nya.”

  “Oh, well. Hello. You need to come home right away.”

  “What’s wrong, Mother? Is everything all right?”

  “It will be when you brang yo’ behind on home. You been gallivanting around the country speaking at everybody churches, and there’s a woman here. I think she’s trying to run up behind my pastor.”

  I take the phone away from my ear and look at it. Did she just say what I think she said?

  “Come again, Mother Olivia? What do you mean a woman trying to run up behind Greg?”

  “What you think I mean? Some floozy going up to the altar and throwing money at Pastor Greg’s feet, dressed like the whore of Babylon.”

  I know Mother Olivia can exaggerate sometimes, so I’m gonna take “whore of Babylon” with a grain of salt.

  “Mother, are you sure she wasn’t just leaving an offering?”

  “Whatever she was doing, my pastor put her in check. But you need to get home anyway. Greg is sick as a dog too.”

  Now why didn’t she start the conversation with this? I don’t care about a woman trying to go after Greg, but I definitely want to take care of him if he’s sick.

  “What’s wrong with him, Mother?”

  “He’s got a high fever. I gave him s
ome medicine, but you know how he is. He wouldn’t come home with me to let me and Deacon take care of him. Where are you, anyway? Can you get home tonight?”

  “I may be able to get on the first flight out in the morning. I don’t know if there are any more leaving out tonight.”

  “Well, you do whatever you need to do.”

  “Okay, Mother. I will be there. Thank you for letting me know.”

  The sense of urgency in Mother Olivia’s voice makes me worry. As many times as I’ve traveled over these last five years, no one has ever called me and asked me to rush home.

  Immediately, I dial Lady Sandy to let her know I have a change of plans.

  “Hello, Nya. Do you need something? Do I need to send someone over to your room with anything?”

  “No, thank you, Lady Sandy. I’m just calling to let you know I have to fly out first thing in the morning.”

  “But we have that brunch for my sorority. They are giving us a pretty high honor, especially since you’re not a member.”

  “I know, but my husband is sick. I need to go home and tend to him. One of the church mothers just called me.”

  Lady Sandy bursts into laughter. “Is Greg an infant? I don’t see why you would need to miss receiving an award and networking with these women just because Greg is feeling under the weather.”

  I start to explain to Lady Sandy that Mother Olivia wouldn’t have called me unless it was truly serious, and that Greg is incredibly self-sufficient. But then I realize that I’m good and grown. I don’t answer to this woman or her sorority. Lady Sandy has been overstepping her bounds lately anyway. This is as good a time as any to tell her to stand down.

  “Lady Sandy, I am just informing you of my plans to go home. I’m not asking your permission.”

  There is a long silence. For a moment, I think Lady Sandy has hung up on me.

  “Do you have any idea the amount of pull it took for me to get my sorority to honor you?” she asks in a nasty tone that I most often hear from women right before they deliver a spanking to a child.

  She has definitely got me confused with Penelope. I’m not the one. Not today. Not when my husband is sick.

  “Send them my apologies, Lady Sandy. I will see you back in Dallas. Have a wonderful evening.”

  I don’t wait for her to say good-bye before I disconnect the call. I’m sure this is going to cause strife between us and may have damaged the relationship beyond repair. If it did, maybe the season for this relationship is over. My weariness is now spilling over to everything—the way I deal with my husband, and the way I communicate in general.

  I dial Greg’s number and wait for him to answer. After three rings he picks up.

  “Nya?”

  “Yes. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m good. Wait . . .”

  I hear a good amount of gagging and retching in the background. Enough to make me feel worried and one hundred percent sold on my decision to defy Lady Sandy.

  “I just have a little bug, babe. I’m gonna lie down for a little while. I will see you when you get home.”

  “Wait . . . Greg . . .”

  He’s already disconnected the call. I toss my phone on the bed and start to pack my bags. I don’t want to miss that early flight.

  Lady Sandy is just going to have to be mad. If she wants, she can go exert her will over her daughter. As for me and my luggage, we’re getting on a plane at the crack of dawn.

  CHAPTER 43

  NYA

  The first thing I notice when I open the door to our home is that it’s stifling hot. It’s summer in Dallas, and it doesn’t feel like the air conditioning is running. I go straight to the thermostat and turn on the air. Like I thought, the temperature in this house is ninety degrees.

  “Babe!” I call. “Where are you?”

  “Nya?” I hear Greg call out in a weak voice.

  He’s in the downstairs guest bedroom for some reason. The door is cracked, but as I push it open I can immediately tell that Greg is very ill. The room smells faintly of vomit. Greg is in the bed with the blanket pulled up to his chin.

  “You’re home?” Greg asks in a soft voice.

  “Yes, I’m home. Or do you think you’re hallucinating?”

  Greg laughs, and it sounds weak. “I might be seeing things. It’s cold in here. Did you turn on the air?”

  I walk over to the bed and touch Greg’s neck. “You’re burning up. Have you taken something for this fever?”

  “Mother Olivia gave me one of her prescription ibuprofen at church yesterday, but I haven’t taken anything since then.”

  “Lord have mercy. Let me go get you some medicine.”

  I go into the kitchen and put together a tray with water, orange juice, ibuprofen, and a few crackers. I don’t know if Greg can keep anything down. From the smell in the room, I’m thinking he can’t, but he’ll need to eat something with these pills.

  When I walk back into the room with the tray, Greg has fallen asleep. I gently wake him. “Here, take this before you go off to dreamland.”

  Greg takes the medicine and a glass of water from me. When I try to give him the crackers he frowns.

  “No food. My stomach . . .”

  “Try to eat one. You need something on your stomach for the medicine.”

  Greg closes his eyes and takes a bite that he chews slowly. He swallows and washes it down with a little more water.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Nya. I thought I was going to have to call an ambulance.”

  “Silly! You don’t need an ambulance. All you needed to do was tell me you were sick and I would’ve been here. Why did Mother Olivia have to be the one to call me?”

  “I didn’t think you’d come.”

  I shake my head and wipe Greg’s brow with a cool, damp towel. “Well, I’m here. Get some rest.”

  I finally take a deep breath when I’m outside the room. Trying to exhale out any germs and inhale some crud-free oxygen. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Greg this sick.

  Back in the kitchen, I check to see if I have everything to make my chicken noodle soup. It’s just what Greg needs to eat until his stomach is solid again.

  I take a whole chicken out of the freezer and set it in a pan of water to defrost while I cut up the vegetables. Just now, I wonder what Lady Sandy and her sorority sisters are doing at their award banquet. I might be missed, but I think they’ll make it.

  I’m surprised when the doorbell rings because it’s two o’-clock in the afternoon. I don’t want to wake Greg to ask him if he’s expecting anyone, so I wipe my hands with a kitchen towel and go check to see for myself.

  I look out the peephole and there is a woman standing on the other side. She’s holding what looks like a Crock-Pot, and is wearing a snug T-shirt and yoga pants.

  I swing the door open, half ready to start swinging something else. “Can I help you?” I ask.

  “Oh, Pastor Nya. You’re home!”

  So she’s a member of our church. That’s the thing about having a church with thousands of members. You can’t possibly know everyone, although I think I’d make it a point to know this chick. I wonder if she’s the floozy Mother Olivia was talking about. She must be.

  “I am. Were you here for my husband?”

  She looks uncomfortable. “I’m Sister Felicia. I saw that Pastor Greg was under the weather at church yesterday, and I just wanted to make him some soup.”

  I lift an eyebrow, then give her a fake smile. Greg ain’t eating that soup. Making the pastor soup when he’s sick is something the church mothers would do. Maybe even the pastor’s aid committee. Not a single (she’s not wearing a ring) sister in skintight clothing.

  I reach my hands out for the pot. “I would invite you in, but I don’t want you to get sick too. I think this house is full of germs.”

  “Oh, it’s no problem. I think I’m the one who infected Pastor Greg. I just got over this same bug last week.”

  I swallow hard. “You infected him, you say?”
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  “Yes, we had to have a meeting with a huge corporation that’s giving us a faith-based grant for the youth center. I pressed my way even though I was feeling sick that morning.”

  “Mm-hmm . . .”

  “Anyway, we got the grant, so that’s a plus, right?”

  I cock my head to one side and look at her. She’s young. Maybe still in her twenties, but definitely younger than we are. Her body looks toned, like she works out all the time.

  “That is a plus. Downside is, my husband is sick as a dog. Thank you for the soup. I’ll have someone bring your pot to church on Sunday.”

  “I can come pick it up.”

  “No need for you to come back out here. I hope you didn’t have to drive far.”

  She shakes her head. “I live in Southlake too. Not a big mansion like this, but I’ve got a condo about two minutes from here. It was no trouble at all.”

  “A single woman with a condo in Southlake. That’s an accomplishment.”

  She gives me a huge smile. “I’m extremely blessed, Pastor Nya.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I will see about getting the pot from Lena on Sunday.”

  I start to close the door. “All right then. Good-bye. Be blessed.”

  I walk straight to the kitchen with the pot and empty the soup down the garbage disposal while it runs. It smells good, but something in my gut says this girl is on some mess.

  Why can’t God give me a prophetic vision right now, to let me know Felicia’s plans, if she has any? It never works that way, though.

  I go back to chopping vegetables, but I can’t take my mind off that chick who showed up at my door. I take out my phone and go peek to see if Greg is asleep. Then I step outside our front door, sit on the steps, and dial Tina.

  “Everything okay?” Tina says when she answers the phone.

  “Greg is okay. I think he just has the flu.”

  “Good. Do you think Lady Sandy will be mad that you left?”

  “I don’t care if she is. I’ll probably just meet y’all back in Atlanta next week to tape the next few episodes of the show.”

  “Okay. What’s wrong, girl?”

  “How do you know something is wrong?”