“Daddy! Grandpa’s here!” Tabitha bounded up the stairs and yelled through the doorway.
“We already ate, Dad. Gramps took us for tacos.” Timothy’s shout was heard as he stood next to Tabitha, just outside the door.
Dad’s here? What does he want? “It must be something important,” King said aloud, and then to the children, “I’m getting dressed. I’ll be right out.” His brow furrowed as he grabbed his navy blue Calvin Klein jockeys and slid them on, pulling the matching T-shirt over his head. He reached for the freshly starched and pressed jeans, slipping them on and stepping into his Nikes, all in one continuous motion.
King tried to remember the last time his father had come over unexpectedly. He couldn’t. He was almost sure the Reverend Doctor Pastor Bishop Overseer Mister Stanley Obadiah Meshach Brook, Jr. had never dropped off the kids before. Oh, no. His father was definitely from the old school where children, aside from being seen and not heard, were women’s work. The fact that he’d taken them out to eat showed that the old man must be softening up with age.
King tucked his white shirt into his jeans and walked over to the dresser. He splashed on some Armani and donned his watch, bracelet and rings. He walked back over to the closet and grabbed a blue sports jacket before heading for the door. His chest seemed to tighten, and an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Why did he get the feeling that his father’s visit was not a social call?
“Hey, Dad.” King entered the living room to find his father staring at a large family photo of him, Tai and the kids. Uh-oh.
“Son.”
King felt oddly uncomfortable. He and his father had never been very close, but they did share an easy-going relationship honed through mutual respect and shared passion in things relating to ministry. The Reverend, as King’s mother often called him, was away from home often, either traveling or fulfilling his myriad duties as pastor, district and national leader, advisor, one-time councilman and evangelist. His mother had always been the stabilizing home influence. King and Mama Max were tight. Usually, that was.
“Uh, can I get you something?”
“A glass of water would be fine.”
Just then Tabitha bounded down the stairs and into her father’s arms. “Hey, Daddy! Ooh, you smell good. Where you going?”
The Reverend turned around as if waiting for an answer to the question himself. “Baby, go get your grandpa a glass of water.”
King turned toward his father as Tabitha headed for the kitchen. “So, Dad, what brings you by?”
The Reverend didn’t respond. For someone known for his prolific speech, he could sometimes be a man of few words. He turned back toward the family photo while humming “Jesus Keep Me Near the Cross.”
“Here you go, Grandpa.”
“Thank you, darling. Now, you run along now. Me and your daddy’s talking.”
King thought that response interesting. Not a word had been spoken.
Tabitha gave her grandfather another hug. “Okay, Grandpa. Thanks again for dinner. It was fun. See ya later.” She started up the stairs and then turned back suddenly. “Is Anna watching us again tonight, Daddy?”
Again both she and the Reverend waited for King’s response.
“We’ll see,” King replied noncommittally. He watched his daughter run up the steps. As if for the first time he noticed her rounding bottom, long, slim legs and graceful yet still childlike movements. King blinked. When had his little girl grown up? The twins had just turned twelve. He turned to his father. “They grow up so fast,” he started, hoping that the topic of children would keep the conversation safe. “I don’t know where the time goes.”
The Reverend walked over to the couch and sat down. He took a long drink of water, belched and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before finishing the glass and setting it on the coffee table. He leaned back against the sofa, put his chin in his hand and stared off into the distance, into a long, long time ago.
“Yeah, time sho’ flies,” he began slowly, sounding like a preacher even in the confines of his son’s living room. His cadence, combined with the honeyed sound of his Southern drawl, drifted like a warm blanket over the room. “Just seems like yesterday y’all were children. One minute your mama was giving you the tittie, the next thing I knew, you was grown.”
King smiled warmly and relaxed. He looked at his watch and walked over to the recliner, sitting at the end of it, elbows on knees. Maybe a little chat with his father wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe now he and his father could establish the closeness he never knew as a child. Besides, April wasn’t going anywhere. Of that, he was certain.
“I know what you mean. Looks like I’m going to have to go out and buy a baseball bat to ward off the young men who think they might have a chance with my daughters. They might, but they’ll have to come through me.”
“Well, they’s comin’, that’s for sho’. That Danny fella must have called the house fifty times today alone.”
“Danny Jackson? Deacon Earl Jackson’s boy? How old is he, fourteen, fifteen? If he touches Tabitha, Dad, I swear, I’ll beat him like he stole something.” King’s hands flexed at the thought.
“Aw, son, calm down now. He’s just a tall thirteen; seems to be a nice enough kid. Know somethin’ about the Word, too.”
“You met him?”
“His aunt lives a couple doors down from us. He was conveniently visiting her when the kids came over.”
King wasn’t ready to hear about his baby liking boys. It was too much. It was too soon. “Convenient, indeed. Me and that boy are going to have a talk.”
The Reverend looked at King for a long moment and then asked quietly, “And what are you gon’ tell him, son?”
King knew it was a loaded question but answered it anyway. “I’m going to tell him to keep his hands off my daughter!”
“Uh-huh.” The Reverend rubbed his chin thoughtfully, still looking into the distance. “And who are you gon’ keep your hands off of?”
Uh-oh. Here we go. So this is the reason for the unexpected visit. King walked over to the large picture window and looked out into the street. Of course, he knew that the Reverend was aware of his indiscretions, that Mama Max and the Reverend shared almost everything. But he and his father had never talked about that or any other personal aspects of his life for that matter. It just wasn’t that kind of relationship. No, their conversations had been ones of God and sports, “churchanity” and Mama Max’s cooking. They talked about the children, world events, the weather, fishing, but not the personal stuff. This was new territory. King turned around, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing his father pointedly.
“What’s on your mind, Dad?”
The Reverend reached for a peppermint in the crystal dish on the coffee table. He carefully unpeeled the hard candy from the wrapper, eyeing his son as he did so.
“Your mama and I been married a long time,” he began. “Going on fifty years. That’s a long time to be with one woman.” He sat back and perched his elbow on the couch arm, rubbing his chin with his hand, a thoughtful expression on his face. King walked back over to the chair and sat down. Instead of looking at his father, however, he continued to stare out the picture window. He noticed the beautiful colors that danced across the Midwest, Indian summer sky, compliments of a setting sun. A bird flew across the window and perched atop the bushes, neatly manicured to border the house front. The sparrow cocked its head as if looking at King and saying, “Yes, may I help you?” Or was it, “You know you ain’t right.” Before King could ascertain the correct message, the bird flew away, and his father resumed speaking.
“When your mama and I first married, I had just got my first church. Your mama was a looker back then, boy. We had practically grown up together, you know, our farms being next to each other and all. We were almost what some might call “kissin’ cousins” because your mama’s great-auntie had married my daddy’s brother’s cousin’s boy.”
King looked at his watch
. If his dad was going to recount his entire lineage, it could take all night. The Reverend, nonplussed, droned on.
“From our early years, your mama loved God. I can remember many a Sunday at Cherry Hill Baptist Church when your mama would get up there and recite those speeches and thangs, so nice and cute like. Play that piano and sing like an angel. By the time I was twelve years old, I knew I was gonna be a preacher, and not much after that I knew your mama was gon’ be my wife.”
King tried to hurry the Reverend along without showing his impatience. “Yes, Dad, Mama has told me these stories many times.”
“Uh-huh. Well, we worked hard, your mama and me, building the church, building the family. And then when y’all was still wee young’uns, the Reverend Doctor Elijah Smith from Tuscaloosa, Alabama, held a revival meeting in the town’s bingo parlor. Changed my life.” The Reverend stopped then, his eyes narrowing as he replayed the events of yesterday on his mind’s memory video.
Would you get to the point? “Uh, Doctor Smith, huh?” King asked, glancing at his watch, more pointedly this time.
“Yessirree, Doctor Elijah Smith. I was still a young buck, just a snot-nosed preacher, and man, I thought that fella was somethin’. Boy, could he preach! Well, one of the elders told him about me, and he had me bring a prayer that night. When I got finished, wasn’t a dry eye in the place.
“Yes, Lawd, after that night, the good Reverend Doctor invited me to join him for the rest of his revivals, and from that day, my ministry took off. Shoot! Just like a rocket. Next thang I knew, I was gone all the time. And next thang I knew, y’all was grown. I can’t tell you the respect I have for your mama, boy. She practically raised you by herself.”
“As I recall, you were home enough. I think I’ve still got some marks on my back from your whuppins to prove it.” King smiled while making the statement; he’d long ago forgiven his father for what would now be easily termed child abuse.
“Well, you know the Word says spare the rod—”
“Spoil the child,” King finished. “I know, I know.”
“But in the meantime and in between times, it would get lonely on the road, you know? And I ain’t gon’ lie to ya,’ son, I didn’t always do right, wasn’t always faithful to your mama. I was young and foolish, full of myself. And these fine, willin’ women would throw themselves at my feet as I went from church to church, behinds out to here, tits out to there. Lord a’mercy! Either the temptation was too strong or I was too weak, one or the otha’. I didn’t have the good sense to realize them was the devil’s morsels I was tastin’. That I should never have sat down at the table, much less took a meal.”
King sat in stunned silence at his father’s honesty. He’d had his own thoughts about his father’s fidelity in the past, but he would have never voiced them. His father was a well-respected pillar of the community, praised as a role model, seen as an icon of leadership in and out of the church. He’d always commanded the utmost respect, in and out of his home. Any thought of impropriety was never so much as whispered. To his knowledge and remembrance, his mother had always treated the Reverend with the utmost respect. His house had not been one of arguments or unkind words. But who knew what went on behind the bedroom doors?
King did remember the women who’d flirt shamelessly with his father when his mother wasn’t around. And he particularly remembered this one woman, Miss Callie Something-or-Other, a pretty, dark-skinned woman with long, coal black hair who used to wear frilly dresses with matching hats and sit in the second row of the church, on the far side by the window. King remembered how he’d gone to the church early one Wednesday before Bible study and went looking for his dad in his study. He couldn’t have been more than eight or nine. He’d barged in after barely knocking and stood wide-eyed as his father held Miss Something-or-Other in a less-than-Godly embrace. Miss Callie had jumped away from his father, thanking him for his “counsel” and assuring him she felt better. He remembered her wiping away a couple nonexistent tears from her eyes before bolting from the study. He remembered his father whopping him upside the head and threatening him with a “killin’” if he ever came into his study without knocking again. King hadn’t thought of this incident for decades, and thinking back on it, he remembered that his mother had never liked Miss Callie, and his mama liked almost everybody. King came back to the present to find his father still speaking.
“Then this woman I’d been seeing was staying at the same hotel with us at the Dallas convention. Somebody told your mama, and she came up to the room, screaming loud enough to wake Abraham from the dead. She threatened the woman, me and everybody else within the sound of her voice. She came home and bought a gun. I thought the woman had lost her mind.” The Reverend laughed heartily at the memory. “It was then I thought I’d better straighten up and fly right. The thought of Maxine with a gun was a powerful convincer.”
“So you never cheated on Mama again?”
The Reverend took a long time answering. “I wish I could say that was true,” he voiced finally. “Just got good at hiding it. No, it took almost losing your mama before I finally realized what my life would be without her, and found out it wouldn’t be much.”
“You mean the cancer.”
His father nodded and rose from the couch. He walked over to the wall and stared up again at the family portrait. “Yeah, when Maxine had that cancer scare, I finally slowed down enough for God to talk to me. And he showed me some thangs. Showed me how I’d gotten my priorities all confused, all twisted in a bunch. How I’d let the church work consume me and hadn’t spent enough time with you children, with your mama. I prayed to God one night in the hospital chapel that if he would give me back Maxine, I’d show Him how much I appreciated her. I been faithful ever since.”
The Reverend turned and looked at his son then. “Lookin’ back, I realize that all those other women put together couldn’t compare with one Maxine Brook. And now I’m so glad that we made it this far and can look back down through the years and see how far God brought us. That we kept our family together, didn’t bring in step this and half that. And you know what else, son? Once I made the commitment to really love Maxine and to only be with her, it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.” He walked over to another picture then, a solo picture of Tai taken ten years earlier.
“You got yourself a good woman, boy. Smart, good-lookin’, even after all them babies. You know I knowed her daddy for years before she came along. We used to meet at conferences and such. Mama real special, too. It don’t take much to find a female, but it ain’t every day you find a real woman.” He continued, as if to himself as he walked toward the kitchen, “I know one thang. If you got a good, Godly woman, one who knows your faults and still loves you, gives ya four fine children and keeps the home fires burnin’ while you’re out on the battlefield fighting for the Lord, it’s only the biggest fool who lets her go. Y’all got any Coca-Cola?” The Reverend headed toward the kitchen humming “Jesus Keep Me Near the Cross” once again.
King didn’t go to April’s that night. In fact, he didn’t go anywhere at all. Hours after his father left he still sat in the oversized armchair, pondering his father’s visit. After following his father into the kitchen and grabbing cans of Coke for both of them, he sat at the breakfast nook with the Reverend and talked for over an hour, his father sharing more of himself with King than he had in years—maybe in forever. They talked of safer, less personal topics, too. They talked about his father’s church district and the National Baptist Convention, about Mount Zion Progressive and the church’s expansion. They talked about the scorching Midwest summer, the lackluster baseball season and who might go to the Super-bowl. When his father left, they’d hugged, an act rarely practiced between them. He’d told his father he loved him, and his father had said the same. Their relationship had gone to another, more intimate level. It was a level King aspired to enjoy for some time to come.
Talking about his parents’ marriage made King pause to think of his own. For
the first time in years, he went back to the beginning. He remembered how in love with him Tai had been, full of open admiration. The feeling had been mutual; her shy smile and gentle nature had melted him like butter. He’d been enchanted with the sprinkle of freckles across her nose and her full, lush breasts. He remembered how scared she’d been when he talked her into having sex that night in Boyd Turner’s borrowed “deuce and a quarter” at the Twin Drive-In. How they’d sneak around to be together because Tai’s father was not willing to hear of his daughter marrying King. Even then he had a reputation with the ladies. But Tai got pregnant and the father relented. King smiled, remembering their simple wedding on her Aunt Beatrice’s hundred-acre farm. Just family and a few friends, but it had been special. He remembered how the sparkle in Tai’s eyes had outshone the water reflected in Aunt Bea’s catfish pond, how the surrounding rolling, green hills dotted with lavender and daisies paled in comparison to Tai’s beauty in her empire-styled gown and rounding belly. Tai had told him how much she loved him and that this was the happiest day of her life because her dreams were coming true.
He remembered how Tai had been his cheerleader, his champion in those early years. How she’d go on and on to whomever would listen about what a great preacher King was, how he was going to lead millions, be a real preacher’s preacher. He remembered how she used to toil with him on his sermons, assisting him by looking up information and securing reference materials. Then she’d take the information and type it up in nice, concise outlines. How she’d draw large, red hearts in the corner to let him know she was with him in spirit as he preached from the pulpit, and that she loved him. She’d walk the streets, with little Michael in tow, passing out flyers inviting people to service. She’d go to the malls and to restaurants, to movie theaters and grocery stores. She’d hang them up at beauty parlors and mom-and-pop establishments. She loved and mothered everyone who came to the church, enveloping the ministry in a warmth recognized by everyone and for which she soon became affectionately known as Queen Bee. While barely an adult herself, she still had a mothering influence. Early on, members sought her out for advice because she was a concerned listener, a trusted confidante. It was no wonder, he mused, that she was such an excellent mother to their children. Instinctively she focused on, gave attention to and nurtured them unconditionally. “Then why doesn’t she nurture me?” he asked aloud.
Sex in the Sanctuary Page 25
