Holy, holy, holy. Lord God Almighty.
Early in the morning, our song shall rise to thee.
Holy, holy, holy. Merciful and mighty.
God in three persons, blessed Trinity.
It was as if Jesus Himself entered the room as she danced. Hope could feel His presence envelop her. Indeed, it was as if her feet hardly touched the floor, as if her body became an instrument of the Most High, moving of its own volition while staying in perfect timing and harmony with the other dancers. Tears streamed down her face as the Father seemed to take her in His massive arms, kiss her cheek and whisper words of eternal love and devotion. She knew in those moments that she should never feel lonely and was never alone, that He was always near and would always be with her. She smiled at Him then, and looked into a light so radiant it seemed to fill the entire auditorium. The music seemed to pulsate from within her, and suddenly it was as if she and He were the only ones in the room. No one moved or spoke for several moments after the music ended. For each had entered into their own personal worship with the Savior, their own spiritual serenade led by the Almighty.
Hope’s usual excitement in hanging out after service in the pastors’ reception area was dampened by the knowledge that Cy Taylor would probably be there with the lovely Millicent on his arm. Nevertheless, she put on a bright smile, grabbed Rashiid’s arm and as always was humbled, giving God all the glory for what they’d witnessed. She’d introduced Pastor King to Rashiid and was shocked when not only did Queen Bee speak to her, but actually complimented her on the AOH ministry. Wow, wonders never cease, she remembered thinking before she felt someone’s eyes on her.
Cy and Millicent walked over to the Brooks as Hope and Rashiid stood talking to them. Cy was so close Hope could smell his cologne, a subtle, mesmerizing fragrance of sandalwood and spices, musky and poignant even in its toned-down state. She was reserved yet gracious as King introduced them. Cy’s large, warm palm engulfed Hope’s hand and squeezed it gently. Millicent’s handshake was cold, limp. She moved closer to Cy and placed a possessive hand on his arm as she summarily dismissed Hope and engaged in conversation with Sister Vivian, as the Montgomerys had come over to join them.
Soon Millicent, Queen Bee and Sister Vivian were in deep conversation, and Hope turned toward Rashiid, preparing to leave. In that moment, a hand touched her arm, stilling her movements and causing an uncontrolled shiver to shoot up her arm and continue throughout her body. She turned to Cy, who gently and almost imperceptibly stepped away from Millicent and the first ladies, placing his back to them and facing Hope directly. Associate Minister Tyson chose that very same moment to come up to Rashiid, complimenting him on his suit and welcoming him to Mt. Zion. Even though they were in the middle of a crowd, it was as if Hope and Cy had created their own oasis. For a brief moment, the din of noise and mingling masses ceased to exist, and they were alone. It must have been just a few moments, but it felt like forever.
“I enjoyed your dancing. You’re incredible.” Cy’s eyes pulled Hope into their immense depths.
“Praise God,” she said softly. Hope’s determination to not be moved by Cy was not working.
Cy smiled at her nervousness, knowing that she would be surprised to know that it mirrored his own. “Oh, yes, glory to God for creating someone as lovely as you.”
Hope doubted if her wobbly legs could hold her upright, and she squeezed her hands into fists to try and calm her trembling. A thousand words rushed through her mind, but not one of them would come out. Instead, she stood there staring at the man of her dreams like a bump on a stump. Say something, fool! “You’re too kind,” she finally whispered, her eyes lowering as she spoke.
Cy looked around surreptitiously before continuing. Millicent was still engaged in conversation with the first ladies. There must be a God! “I’m staying at the Chateau le Roux,” he intoned quietly. “Please call me in the morning. I need to speak with you and, uh, that’s not going to be possible tonight.”
Hope was flattered for a moment before anger kicked in. The dog! How dare he! His fiancée not five feet from him and here he was trying to hit on her. Well, she was not the one, and she was going to let him know it! She rose up to her full height of five-foot-four and narrowed her eyes for effect as she hissed, “Are you sure your fiancée won’t mind?” she asked with indignation. Before he could answer, Rashiid rejoined her, and she grabbed his arm and swirled away, leaving Cy standing speechless behind her.
Hope had thought that was the end of it. She was almost glad for the incident because the knowledge that he was a player helped to cool her heated ardor and place more mental distance between them. She’d almost been tempted to go out to breakfast with Rashiid, but her body had other, more pressing ideas. Like sleep. So once again, she’d gone home alone and for once was thankful for the hectic week she’d had. The lack of rest and constant running had allowed her to fall asleep immediately, keeping unwanted thoughts and dreams and unfulfilled promises out of her mind.
No one could have been more shocked when her phone rang the following morning at seven A.M. Hope rolled over to talk to her mama, because only her mama would call her that early on a Saturday morning.
“Hey, Mama,” she uttered in a croaked whisper.
There was a moment’s pause before a deep voice intoned, “This isn’t your mama.”
Hope shot straight up in bed, suddenly wide awake. “Who is this?”
“Cy Taylor.” Another brief pause. “Good morning.”
“Good, uh, good morning.” Was she dreaming? She took the phone away from her ear, looked at it and placed it against her ear again. “How did you get my number?”
“I can be fairly resourceful when the circumstances require it. And your statement last night required that I speak with you further, not to mention that I had wanted to speak with you anyway.”
“What statement was that?” As if Hope didn’t know.
“Why don’t you join me for breakfast and we can discuss it?”
Hope’s anger began to flare again. That was the problem with handsome men. They thought they could get anybody they wanted. “Look, Mr. Taylor—”
“Please, call me Cy.”
“Look, Mr. Taylor,” Hope repeated emphatically. “You’re probably used to getting every skirt that swishes in your direction, but if you think I’m going to rendezvous with a practically married man, you’d better think again!” Hope had thrown back her covers and was now pacing, nude, across her bedroom floor.
Cy wasn’t moved. “You’re spunky. I like that.”
“Look, first of all, I don’t appreciate you calling my house like this. Whoever gave you my number was totally out of line and probably had no idea that Millicent was your fiancée. Secondly, I don’t know about the women in California, but this woman respects herself and her sisters enough to not hang out with somebody else’s man. Now, I don’t know your girl personally, but from what it looks like, she knows you and quite well, I might add. So do her and me a favor, go back to California and leave me alone!” Hope was surprising herself with the indignation she felt with this virtual stranger. Just yesterday she’d almost wet her panties when the man shook her hand!
Cy remained calm, actually enjoying himself. After so many women throwing themselves at him, it was refreshing to hear a female try to put him in his place, however misplaced that place she tried to put him was. “Are you finished?” he asked with a smile in his voice. “Because if you are, it’s my turn.”
Hope was silent. She sat back on the bed, grabbing her bed-spread and covering herself as she did so.
“The person you can get angry at for giving me your phone number is your pastor, King Brook.”
“Pastor?” Hope was incredulous.
“That’s right. As far as he knew, you were unattached, and since he knew I also am single and after I assured him my intentions were honorable, he had his assistant look your number up so I could give you a call.”
“But I heard…”
&n
bsp; “Well, you heard wrong. Millicent is not my fiancée. We are not involved in a relationship of any kind other than that we’re both members of Kingdom Citizens’ Christian Center and work on church-related projects together from time to time.”
“But it looked like…”
“Looks can be deceiving. Now, are you going to join me for breakfast or not, because I’m a busy man and if you’re not going to meet me, I can get on a plane and head to…a friendlier environment.”
Hope smiled for the first time since she picked up the phone. “Well,” she hesitated just to let him know she could. “I guess I can meet you.”
“Do you know where this hotel is?”
“I’ll find it,” she replied.
“Good, is an hour enough time?”
“Yes, I’ll see you in an hour.”
Hope jumped on the Internet for directions to the hotel. She made it there in just over an hour and, to her surprise and delight, enjoyed a wonderful breakfast with Cy. He was warm and down-to-earth, and though she never would have guessed it, they shared several things in common. For one, his paternal grandparents had lived in Oklahoma, so he and Hope knew many of the same places. They both loved gospel music, especially the more contemporary, nontraditional variety. They both loved to travel, although Hope hadn’t traveled nearly as much as Cy. And they both loved God. Cy also seemed impressed with her writing. He was pleasantly surprised to learn she’d written the poetic piece delivered right before their final dance number the night before. He’d actually done a little acting back in his college days, memories of which evoked more than a little laughter as they sat enjoying the morning.
Hope was more than pleased with Cy’s company as they sat eating and sharing, a pleasure that continued as he asked her to show him around town. She was a bit worried about how his over six-foot frame would fit into her little MG, but he pressed the seat all the way to the back, tilted the cushion and made himself at home. She took him around the Plaza where his upscale and expensive hotel was located, then down to some of the more touristy sites like the Crown Center Shopping Center and the famed 18th and Vine jazz district. They toured the Negro Baseball League Museum and the Mutual Musicians’ Foundation, the first of its kind for Black jazz musicians. They sat down and listened to an impromptu jazz session in progress before having lunch at Papa’s, a neighborhood hole in the wall with the best hamburgers in town. Given his love for jazz music and good food, he was duly impressed with Hope’s tour and with her.
They went back to his hotel and spent more time in the lounge area, sipping drinks and getting to know each other. Finally Hope, thinking that surely she was keeping the man from important business, feigned an appointment and said she had to be on her way. Cy looked visibly disappointed. Later, Hope wanted to kick herself because she missed him even before she went through the hotel doors. Before she left, however, Cy had given her his home, office and cell numbers and then stood to walk her to the door. He waited with her as the valet brought her car around, then waited as she stepped inside. He leaned down and looked meaningfully into her eyes. Hope stopped breathing, feeling she would faint if she didn’t leave that very moment. Cy sensed her “need to flee” and placed a hand on her arm. The caress, though gentle, sent shards of energy through her. She gripped the steering wheel to keep from throwing her hands around this man and kissing him with the passion of a woman who’d been celibate for far too long.
“Thank you for a wonderful day,” he said softly.
“You’re welcome,” she replied. She started breathing again, inhaling and exhaling in short, jerky beats.
Cy leaned forward slowly and licked his lips. Hope closed her eyes. The kiss was soft and chaste and brief—and on her cheek! Her lips immediately got an attitude. “Until next time?” he whispered, the breath fanning the tendrils of hair around her ears.
Hope swallowed but couldn’t speak. Instead she sat mesmerized, staring at his lips. A car pulled in behind them, thankfully jolting her out of immobility. She simply nodded and put her car in gear. She didn’t remember the drive home. She entered her apartment as if on a cloud and sank into her couch still dazed. The message light was flashing, and she punched it numbly. She recognized Cy’s voice immediately, and once again her breath caught in her throat. At this rate, she’d need CPR every time she was near the man. Then she thought of Cy giving her CPR, and her breathing resumed, quick and erratic. “You are a very special woman, Ms. Hope Jones,” he said with certainty. “Thanks again for the day. I look forward to returning the favor soon, by inviting you to Los Angeles.”
Hope and Cy had spoken by phone often since the conference at Mount Zion Progressive. It seemed they never ran out of things to talk about, and Cy was knowledgeable about so many topics, Hope could listen to him all day long. He’d wanted her to visit him in Los Angeles right away, but they’d tentatively agreed she’d come two months later, in October, when she could get time off from work. Everything had happened so quickly, so unexpectedly. Maybe this was why Hope was having such a hard time accepting the situation as real. She kept thinking that the clock was going to start chiming twelve and she’d have to run out of the ball, leaving behind a glass slipper.
It wasn’t a glass slipper but a leather sandal that Hope slipped her foot into as she got up from the bench to rejoin Frieda, who judging from the time she’d been inside, had obviously decided to buy the outfit she’d seen in the window along with half of the rest of the store.
God, my Jehovah, Awesome Wonder
Cy’s eye roved impassively over the standing-room-only Sunday morning crowd. Praise and worship was in full swing. If the swelling numbers were any indication, Kingdom Citizens’ would definitely need a larger building sooner than anticipated. As it was, the church had gone from one to three morning services per Sunday, and there was talk of adding an extra service to accommodate the thousands of members who attended the midweek prayer hour and Bible study. This thought caused a slight frown to crease Cy’s brow. Pastor Montgomery was trying to talk him into taking on a more visible teaching role in the ministry, perhaps even presiding over one of the Sunday services or heading up a midweek service, should one be added. Although Cy would do almost anything to help his friend and spiritual mentor, he knew God was moving him in a different direction, and that in fact, Cy wasn’t even sure he would continue in the ministry in his present position. He felt that his would become more of a supportive, behind-the-scenes role, one where his visibility would be limited to the board and business rooms instead of the pulpit.
The fact of the matter was Cy had never been comfortable in his role as a minister, that he’d only agreed to be an associate minister during a time when the church was sorely in need of competent male leadership. The membership had literally exploded in the last three years, and on top of that, Pastor Montgomery’s teaching had become more and more in demand both nationally and internationally. Pastor Montgomery was looking for a strong right-hand man, someone he could depend on to continue to lead the congregation during the times when the call of God would lead him around the world. Cy’s brow creased again. He was not that man, and the time was swiftly approaching when he would have to let Pastor Montgomery in on this fact.
Cy shifted in his chair and looked at the other ministers sitting in the pulpit. His glance rested on Allen Anderson, a quietly intelligent man in his late fifties, who’d been at the church since its inception. As sincere as Pastor Anderson was, however, and as much as he loved God, Cy knew that he didn’t possess the depth Derrick needed to help him lead the masses on a regular basis. He quickly scanned the other three associate ministers sitting around him and just as quickly dismissed them as possibilities. The first, Dave Kroenig, was knowledgeable and charismatic enough. Unfortunately, he was in the middle of a messy divorce, one that would surely overshadow his effectiveness in leading the congregation. Another, Brother Ben Snyder, led such a sin-filled life that Cy was loath to sit next to the man, lest lightning strike him down for being such a h
ypocrite in the pulpit. Cy knew he wasn’t perfect, but Jesus! Was there no end to the testing of God’s mercy? Kenneth Brown, a young man in his twenties, showed great promise and, out of all of the other men, was the one whom Cy would embrace most readily. He didn’t know whether the man had the maturity necessary to handle a position of such authority, but maybe with mentoring he could in time.
Cy felt an intense stare and turned his attention from the choir to the crowd. Millicent. He’d figured as much, although there were more than a few women during each service who tried to catch his eye. He would never get used to the scrutiny, yet he’d learned to live with it. He managed a slight smile and nodded briefly. Millicent smiled and gestured that she needed to talk to him. What else was new? Maybe meeting her for a quick lunch wouldn’t hurt. After all, during the conference in Kansas, it appeared she’d finally gotten over the idea that he was her husband and realized that a friendship was all they’d ever have. She’d spent most of her time there with King’s wife and Sister Vivian. Millicent would make someone a good wife, and he sincerely wished her the best. Yes, he’d meet with her and help her out as best he could. She, like all the other women who clamored for his attention, deserved to find happiness in her life, and he would do whatever he could to make that possible.
Sex in the Sanctuary Page 22
