by Dynah Zale
Love,
Dynah
[email protected]
Prologue
1961
“Albert, make sure you get back here before the sun goes down.” Those were the last words Albert heard his momma say before he raced out of his aunt’s house and down the dirt road toward the church. It was his turn to pick up his family’s monthly stipend of government milk, butter and cheese the church distributed every month.
Albert ran a few feet before losing momentum. He slowed down to a turtle’s pace and dragged his feet along the dusty road while kicking up rocks along his path. It was hard being the oldest of three. At twelve years old, he was the man of the house. He chopped wood, washed clothes, cooked and even worked a part-time job with his uncle. Albert would do anything to help out his momma.
From across the field Albert could see the sky turn different shades of pink, a sure sign that the sun was beginning its descent to retire for the night.
Albert jogged the remaining distance to the church. The last to arrive, he pushed through the church doors and gathered in his arms the last package sitting on the table.
“I didn’t think you were gonna make it here in time.” The reverend’s smile condemned him for being so tardy. “Your momma called and said you were on the way.”
“Yes, sir. They need this stuff to prepare our Easter Sunday dinner tomorrow,” Albert replied.
“Are you ready to star as Jesus in the Easter play?”
The reverend and Albert walked to the church doors together.
“Yes, sir.” Albert regarded it an honor to portray Jesus and took his part seriously. He rehearsed his lines at least twice a day and prayed for a flawless performance.
“Good.” The reverend patted Albert on the back and guided him out the door. “It’s getting dark out, would you like for me to give you a ride home?”
Albert opened his mouth to accept the offer, but quickly changed his mind. The Reverend liked to talk, and he had bad breath. Albert couldn’t fathom being locked in a car with him for any period of time.
“That’s okay, Reverend. It won’t take me long to walk home.”
“Okay, son, but make sure you go straight home. It’s unsafe for a young man to be out alone after dark.”
Albert waved good-bye and pressed on toward his final destination. Suddenly, he stopped. Only a few hundred feet away from the church steps Albert heard the familiar call of crickets. Certain he could catch at least a dozen crickets for his fishing trip before nightfall, he disregarded the strict instructions from his elders to go directly home and stopped by the banks of the swamp that stretched out behind the church.
Albert pushed his way through the thick brush and knelt down close to the ground. He set the package by his feet and listened closely for the crickets’ mating call.
He was on the verge of capturing his first prey, when out of nowhere, the roar of the reverend’s car engine frightened the crickets into silence. In a swift motion, the car’s headlights swept over Albert. When he looked back, Albert saw the Reverend’s car driving off into the distance.
Caught unexpectedly, Albert looked around at the darkness that surrounded him. Without him realizing it, the moon had crept into the sky and its light cast an uneasy feeling deep down in Albert’s bones. Regret filled his mind. He should have obeyed his momma. As he prepared to gather his things and leave, Albert stood up straight to stretch his legs. Then, he heard a menacing voice holler, “Get ’em, boys.”
Without warning, Albert’s frail, thin eighty-pound body was lifted up off the ground. He kicked and screamed for his captors to let him go, but it was to no avail.
“Shut him up,” another man commanded before Albert’s mouth was gagged with a handkerchief.
His eyes frantically perused the white faces that surrounded him, searching for a look of empathy. Instead he found a slew of pale faces, all with beady black eyes that expelled hatred from within their soul.
While a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around Albert’s neck and held him in an unbearable chokehold, sharp fingernails pressed hard into his arms.
From behind the gag, Albert released muffled and distorted cries for help. The men shoved him against a nearby oak tree that sat in close proximity to the church’s front door. Next, they pulled his hands around the tree and tied him to it.
Albert was terrified. At school, stories circulated the schoolyard about missing children who were rumored to have been torched alive. Their bodies were burned until there was nothing left but ashes.
“Is he tied to that pole tight?” Wet, sweaty, loose strands of hair hung in the man’s eyes as he chewed on a piece of hay. “Fellas, look at what we’ve caught. Didn’t your momma tell you not to go anywhere by yourself?” The man’s tart breath ripped through Albert’s nostrils.
Tears gathered in the corners of Albert’s eyes, but he wouldn’t allow them to see him cry.
“What do you think we should do with him?” The man swallowed the remainder of his beer from the can, dropped it to the ground and crushed it with his boot.
“I think we should stone him.”
While everyone laughed at the man’s suggestion, the guy who asked the questioned held up his hand to quiet everybody. “A modern-day stoning is not a bad idea.”
“I was just joking.”
The two men talked as the others tortured Albert by pulling his hair and spitting in his face.
“I wasn’t. Stone him like they did in biblical times.” The burly white guy snatched up a huge rock from the ground and tossed it from one hand to the other.
Albert’s vulnerability gave his oppressors power. Their ringleader felt like Goliath, and Albert was David. Through his eyes, Albert was a worthless nigger. His chapped lips, knotty hair and charred skin were enough reasons for him to rid the earth of his kind.
The white man stepped a few feet away from Albert, and with all the strength of a baseball player trying to strike out a batter, he threw the rock at Albert’s face. It hit him an inch above his right eye. His skin split open, exposing a bloody wound. Again, the man picked up a few more rocks, and with even more force, he aimed each one at Albert’s face. The other men mimicked their leader’s actions, and within minutes they were simultaneously stoning Albert with rocks. Every rock was treated like a missile that was aimed at Albert’s face and body. He was defenseless against their torture, and while they attacked him they jeered and taunted him by calling him names.
“Hold up!” Another man pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “We can’t do this . . .” he said to the crowd.
Albert’s swollen left eye prevented him from clearly seeing the man who was shielding him from their torture.
“. . . Without a crown for his honor.” He strutted up to Albert and placed a crown made of barbwire down on top of his head.
Everyone watching laughed heartily.
“Where’d you get that from?” someone asked.
“I used this to keep the sheep at Old Man Crother’s place safe from those sly foxes that come around at night.” He pressed the crown down hard on top of Albert’s head so it fit securely.
The pressure of the crown felt like thorns being crushed into Albert’s skull, and he cringed at the pain. A small stream of blood slid down the side of his face and onto his shirt.
“This is your lucky day, kid,” the man teased. “You can pretend to be Jesus and ask God to forgive us for our sins.”
The entire group of men screamed out in laughter.
The minute the man removed himself from the line of fire, the constant hammering of rocks being thrown against Albert’s slim body continued. Ultimately, he endured the suffering until he finally passed out.
Albert’s head dropped down in front of him, and his body slumped forward. The men noticed his body become limp and stopped their persecution against him. The man in charge tried to push the kid’s head straight up, but it instantly dropped back down. The power he’d had ten minutes prior was gone.
The kid was dead. The rocks in his hand fell to the ground, and he ordered everyone back in their pick up trucks. They left the scene as dark rain clouds moved in and rain poured down on the kid’s head.
The rain revived Albert long enough for him to part his lips to speak with God, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
It rained all night, and the following day was Easter Sunday. The boy’s body was discovered at sunrise service.
Chapter 1
December 2007
The serious look on Reverend Simms’s face spoke volumes throughout the church.
“ ‘Why are you persecuting me?’ That’s what Jesus said to Saul,” he screamed from the pulpit. “I want everyone here to recognize how some of our ways are displeasing to God.” He slammed his fist down on the podium. “We gossip. Oh! Do we gossip?” The reverend exaggerated his words. “We gossip so much that we’ll talk about anybody. We talk about our friends, our family, our co-workers, and we even talk about complete strangers. ‘Look at him with that shirt on that’s two sizes too small.’ ”
The congregation giggled.
“The things we say about others, whether it’s said out loud or private thoughts we keep to ourselves, hurt God. Let me give you an example. Yesterday, the daily newspaper reported a story of a junior high student who died as a result of an eating disorder. When they laid her to rest she weighed a mere forty-six pounds. The reporter talked with family and friends, but the most frightening revelation came from the girl’s best friend.” Reverend Simms read directly from the news clipping. “The thirteen-year-old was apparently the victim of vicious name-calling by classmates. Fatso, hippo, and wide load are just a few of the insults that were hurled at her within the hallways at school. To lose weight she starved herself, purged her meals and allowed herself to only eat two meals a week.”
Reverend Simms rubbed his chin, heavy in thought. “Those children who did the teasing did not set out to intentionally kill their classmate. They thought they were being funny. But the consequences of their words were slowly killing not only her spirit, but also the healing process of her loving herself. They were persecuting her through their speech. My final words—Beware of what you say to others.”
The moment Reverend Simms sat, the women’s choir rose to their feet. Clothed in matching button-down blouses and blue denim skirts, they waited for their cue. Danyelle, the soloist, climbed her way out of the cramped and crowded choir box over to the microphone. The piano keys spun a familiar melody that embraced her soul.
Danyelle closed her eyes and swayed her forty-four-inch hips from side to side. Without thinking, she pushed a single braid away from her eye before performing her rendition of “Oh Mary, Don’t You Weep.”
The passion Danyelle poured into the song was reflected in the tears she cried. Her strong soprano voice touched everyone. A few members dropped to their knees, while others waved their hands back and forth, thanking God for his goodness. Sister Gardner did her usual insanity act by grabbing the Christian flag, lifting it high in the air and sprinting through the church as if she had just lit the Olympic torch. Afterward, she always claimed Jesus had embodied her spirit.
Once the song concluded and Sister Gardner finished her marathon, Reverend Simms again approached the podium.
“I’m not going to hold you this morning, but I must mention two things. First, I would like to thank Reverend Baxter for joining us again for the second Sunday in a row.” He turned around to give his colleague a firm handshake. Then the congregation rose to their feet and gave him a round of applause. Reverend Simms stepped to the side and encouraged him to speak to the crowd.
The strikingly handsome thirty-something man possessed a close resemblance to Matthew McConaughey. His blue eyes sparkled. Golden locks of hair swept away from his face. His smile was charming. Dressed in black from head to toe, he stepped up to the podium. A tarnished cross dangled from around his neck. “Thank you, First Nazareth and Reverend Simms. It’s such a blessing to be in the house of the Lord. Now, I know when Reverend Simms told me to come back soon, he didn’t think I’d be back the very next week.” He laughed. “But my family and I”—he pointed to his wife and three young children who sat on the first pew—“enjoyed ourselves so much, we had to come back again.”
Everyone applauded.
“Now I understand why Reverend Montgomery comes into work dancing on Monday mornings. He’s filled with the Holy Ghost.”
Reverend Colin Montgomery was First Nazareth’s new associate pastor. One year ago the church began its hunt for Reverend Simms’s successor. They prayed for a man of God who was not only a counselor, but also a teacher of the Word. Then they stumbled upon Colin at the Philadelphia Bible College. He was a professor there and happened to be looking for a church to call home. Colin was immediately interviewed and hired. His youthful spirit was refreshing, and that helped win the teenagers over to Christ.
“Church, Reverend Montgomery and Reverend Simms are both anointed. It’s obvious how much they care about this church and their community.”
The church gave Reverend Baxter a round of applause, and Colin stood to give him a manly hug.
The bond shared between Colin and Reverend Baxter went beyond the usual boss-employee relationship. Colin felt like he could talk to him about anything. Reverend Baxter was a shining example of the kind of preacher he strived to become.
Reverend Simms stepped back up to the podium. “Lastly, the time has come for anyone interested to register for our annual Singles Retreat. This year it will be held at Split Rock Resort in the mountains of Northern Pennsylvania, and before anyone asks, yes, Reverend Montgomery will be attending the retreat.”
The single ladies blushed, the married women laughed, and the men in the church seemed upset over the amount of attention the new associate pastor received from the ladies. Reverend Montgomery’s face turned red from embarrassment. He ran his fingers over his soft, curly hair. His thick eyebrows and heart-shaped lips made him the most sought-after man in the church. Women, young and old, flirted endlessly when in his presence.
“How old is Colin?”
Dean, Olivia’s boyfriend, gave her a questioning look.
“I’m asking for my sister,” she quickly cleared up.
“Twenty-seven,” he whispered.
Satisfied with her man’s answer, Olivia sat back in her seat with her four-year-old son Bryce sitting quietly on her lap. She nudged her cousin Val with her elbow to get her attention. “Cuz, are you going to sign up to go on the resort with me?”
Without hesitation, her fiancé, Julian answered for her, “Valencia will be a married woman soon, and she won’t have any reason to attend a singles retreat.” He wrapped one of his long, thin arms around her shoulders and hugged her closer to him.
Olivia giggled inside. It was amusing to watch how overprotective Julian was of Val. Their love for one another seemed stronger than ever. Three years ago, Olivia thought she would never see them this happy again. The rough time they endured when Julian was drafted into the NBA put a rift between them that seemed beyond repair. The lure of money, women and cars was too much for Julian to bear. He gave in to his lustful desires, and a disastrous affair destroyed all Val’s trust in him. Eventually he came to his senses and realized his mistake. Humiliated, he begged Val for a second chance. It took her a while to forgive him, but once she did, Julian wasted no time. He proposed, again. Their wedding was less than a week away.
Julian reached over Olivia and tapped Dean on his knee. “Yo, man, keep your woman in check.”
Dean turned his lips into a loving smile before planting a soft, gentle kiss on Olivia’s cheek. She giggled like a teenager in love.
They’d been dating for close to two years, and it was apparent to any bystander that they were madly in love. A day wouldn’t go by without someone asking, “When’s the wedding?”
Dean West, a devoted Christian, also was raised at First Nazareth and lived on the same block as Olivia w
hen they were kids. Growing up, Dean was quiet, kept to himself and didn’t have many friends. Throughout high school he was often found in the library with his head buried in a book. Right after graduation he left Philadelphia to attend Tuskegee University on a full four-year academic scholarship.
Like Olivia’s parents, Dean’s parents died when he was young. When he was eight months old, Dean’s mom and dad were killed in a car accident, leaving him in the custody of his paternal grandparents.
It wasn’t until he’d finished school and returned home from Alabama that Olivia appreciated his less-than-average looks. The product of a white father and black mother, his blonde, curly hair and blue eyes were in stark contrast to his full lips, wide nose and chestnut brown complexion. He was nicknamed “Soul Man” after the movie, because of his close resemblance to the main character.
At the onset of their relationship, their love for one another blossomed. Dean treated Olivia like a precious jewel and would do anything to make her and Bryce happy. He loved them both and couldn’t wait until they were a family.
Olivia felt blessed to have Dean in her life. He was not only a good man, but also a positive role model for her son, unlike his father. Bryce’s biological father, Bryant, was currently doing time in a federal prison for trying to sell their son through an illegal adoption. Olivia would never forget the way he manipulated and used her. By being so naïve she almost lost her son forever.
That experience marked the beginning of a life makeover for her. Determined to make a drastic change, she cut twelve inches of her hair, leaving a short, classy, chic haircut tapered above her ears. Then she upgraded her outdated wardrobe by dressing more like a mom instead of a grandma.
Her final act of independence was noted by moving out of the apartment she shared with her sister. She no longer lived with Danyelle. Her need to be a responsible parent meant putting distance between her son and her sister’s weed smoking.
Bryce bounced up and down on Olivia’s lap and pointed excitedly. Olivia figured by her son’s reaction that he’d spotted Tressie sneaking into church. Late as usual.
