by E. N. Joy
As she walked away, she could hear a sound coming from the dumpster. The sound stopped her in her tracks because it sounded like the cries of a baby. With a puzzled look on her face, Lorain slowly crept back over to the dumpster. The cries were louder and harder now. Taking a deep breath, she peeked inside the dumpster. She didn’t see anything but trash. Figuring that her mind was playing tricks on her since it had been doing that a lot lately, she assumed she must have imagined it.
Once more, she walked away, but the cries pierced the air and wouldn’t let her. So, she returned to the dumpster and began moving the trash around. A cardboard box began to move all on its own. It startled her at first, then she watched it move again. Slowly, she reached for the box, and then moved it. Unique’s face stared up at Lorain. This grown woman was lying in a dumpster, her accusatory eyes locked on Lorain’s.
“Jesus!” Lorain called out as she rose up from her bed drenched in sweat. It was dark in her room, pitch-black. There was nothing but the light from her digital clock that read one fifty-three a.m.
She knocked over and broke things on her end table as she hurried to turn on the light. Not knowing what was awaiting her once the darkness was filled with light, she frantically looked around her room.
Lorain could barely control her heart rate. She had to take several deep breaths to calm herself down. Sitting on her bed, she replayed everything that had just taken place in her mind. “Why is this happening to me? What does it all mean? Please, God, I’m going crazy. I just want to rest. I just want some peace.” Lorain’s shoulders heaved up and down as she cried, adding to the pool of water she already rested in.
After a couple of minutes, Lorain decided she needed to refresh herself. She peeled her wet clothes off and then took a shower. She prayed the entire time she was in the shower. She prayed to God and afterward, began calling out orders to Satan.
“Get thee behind, Satan. I have authority over you. You must obey me, and right now, I command you to cancel your assignment on my life, on my mind. In Jesus’ name!”
All Lorain wanted was for the devil to get out of her way so that she could get her mind right. So that she could hear from God clearly and be able to figure out what was going on. She had her own interpretation of the visions she’d just experienced. “Unique is my baby,” Lorain whispered to herself as she dried off. “I threw her away.” A tear rolled down her face. “And her father must be . . .” She could hardly say it, but she did. “Her father must be Broady.” She began to weep.
“Folks aren’t going to believe someone like you.” The words Broady had spoken to her in her vision replayed in her mind.
Lorain knew that he was right. If she did tell anyone about her suspicions, they’d think she was crazy. And she would be inclined to believe them herself. She honestly felt as though she was losing it.
Barely rubbing lotion on her body, Lorain slipped into some dry pajamas. Then she surveyed the mess in her room: the wet, unmade bed and the nightstand with objects in disarray and cluttered. But it could all wait because she had plans to clean her house from top to bottom on Saturday anyway. Making her way to the linen closet in the hallway, Lorain grabbed a sheet and blanket. Then she stopped back at her room and opened the nightstand drawer, pulling out her Bible.
After making a bed on the couch, she began reading the Bible. “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee,” Isaiah, chapter twenty-six, verse three.
Lorain looked up. “Okay, God, I’m going to keep my mind stayed on thee, now please . . . please . . . keep me in perfect peace. Amen.”
Chapter Eight
“Alone in a room, it’s just me and you,” Paige sang before the choir director interrupted her.
“Hold up. Already I don’t believe it’s just you and God alone in the room,” the director said to Paige as they all stood in the New Day sanctuary at choir rehearsal. “It’s you, God, and the million things you have on your mind.” The choir director paused, then breathed out loudly. “Sister Dickenson, why don’t you go take a break? Get a drink of water or something. Then come back and let the Lord use you for real.”
Paige nodded as she exited the choir stands and headed toward the water fountain outside of the women’s bathroom. She wasn’t even mad at the choir director for calling her out. She knew that when she sang for the Lord, she was always supposed to give her best. Whether it was just rehearsal or Sunday morning in front of the entire congregation, she was expected to operate in a spirit of excellence. As of now, she was operating in a spirit of bondage. Something, so many things, were holding her back from giving her all, from giving God her best. She wanted to be focused on the words she was singing to and for the Lord. She wanted the words to come from her heart straight to God’s ear. She wanted it to be a sound that made God smile. This morning, though, all she was doing was making noise with her voice.
Paige leaned over the water fountain and allowed the tiny waterfall to brush across her lips. She wasn’t even drinking the water. She wasn’t thirsty. Just going through the motions, killing time, and trying to get her mind right.
After a few moments, Paige raised up from the water fountain. “Oh, Sister Nita, you scared me.” Paige placed her hand over her heart that had just skipped a beat or two. She had no idea Nita had silently walked up behind her.
“I’m sorry, Sister Paige,” Nita apologized as she held a bucket in one hand and a mop in the other. “I was just going to the women’s restroom to do my Saturday morning cleaning.” Nita looked at Paige’s hand that was still resting on her chest and slightly trembling. “You’re mighty jumpy. Is everything okay?”
Paige’s eyes squinted slightly at Nita. She was trying to read the expression that was on the leader of the Janitorial Ministry’s face. Was Nita truly concerned, or was she fishing? It wasn’t too long ago when Paige felt that Nita was overstepping her boundaries. Right there in the church sanctuary, Nita had practically alluded to the fact that there might be trouble in Paige and Blake’s paradise. She hadn’t outright said anything, but the look in her eyes, her facial expression, and the tone of her voice had said it all.
Nita had approached Paige just moments after Blake had handled Paige’s arm in a not-so-gentle manner. In truth, he’d had a death grip on it. It had been a discreet act, but obviously not discreet enough. Nita had zoomed in on the physical indiscretion like a hawk, then swarmed down on Paige, questioning her and making little comments. Paige had responded by snapping at Nita. And although afterward she felt bad about it, she would do a repeat right about now if Miss Mop and Broom pulled it again. Paige was simply not in the mood. Not today.
“Everything is just fine, Sister Nita, but I do thank you for your concern.” Paige finally allowed her hand to fall down to her side. “But I assure you, there is nothing for you to be concerned about. Everything is fine.” On a scale of one to ten, Paige was about a five in the area of sounding convincing. Not everything was fine, especially when it came to her and Blake. Not right now anyway, but Paige had been praying that things would get better.
For a minute there, things had been going great. The first few months of their marriage had been off to a rocky start, but things started to look up after Paige’s diabetes diagnosis. Blake had been by her side as she adjusted her lifestyle. But then Paige found herself having to point out to Blake the occasions when he’d been overly aggressive. He hadn’t been in denial about it, and when Paige suggested they seek counseling with their pastor, Blake willfully agreed. They immediately started their counseling sessions. To date, they’d only made it to two of the sessions. In those two sessions, though, they’d made great strides, uncovering issues that hadn’t been disclosed during premarital counseling.
Upon returning from their honeymoon, the couple had planned on immediately resuming their counseling, but Paige knew better than to bring that up to Blake. He’d been on razor’s edge since learning of his mother’s pending lawsuit against him. Plus, he’d been tryi
ng to play catch-up at work. She knew he didn’t need the added worries of trying to manage counseling in the midst of all that.
With it being Saturday morning, today would have been a good day for them to squeeze in a session with their pastor, but Paige had to leave for work immediately after 9:00 a.m. choir rehearsal. Blake wouldn’t have been able to make it either. With such short notice, this morning was the only time his attorney could fit him in to go over the lawsuit. The attorney was doing Blake a huge favor by seeing him on a Saturday. There was just too much going on right now, way too much.
Paige definitely had a lot on her mind, but she hoped in time it would get better. It had to. She and Blake would get through this lawsuit business, get back into counseling, and everything would be just fine. Then maybe next time Nita asked her if everything was okay, she’d rank a ten on the convincing scale.
“If you say so . . .” Nita paused before walking into the women’s bathroom. “You know, I heard you back in there. I saw you too.” She nodded toward the sanctuary. “You barely got the first note out, and I could tell something had you bound. You weren’t singing like you usually do. You have a voice that can break off shackles and chains. Sometimes saints can come in here so heavy with stuff on their mind and their heart, and then you sing. It’s like the windows of heaven open up, and whatever has been binding people just falls off them. I bet if you really focused, really spoke those words to God, whatever it is that has you bound will fall off you.”
Paige smiled at the compliment. “Thank you, Sister Nita. That’s so nice of you to say.”
“Well, don’t thank me. I’m just speaking things how I see them. That’s a little something I’m working on—and that pastor is working with me on.”
Paige tilted her head, a little lost.
“You know, speaking the truth on what I see . . . what God shows me,” Nita explained.
“Oh, I see.” Paige nodded. She really didn’t see. Once again, she was just going through the motions.
“Pastor says I’ve been hiding behind a mop and broom for long enough now. It’s time I begin to operate in my other gifts and callings. Kind of like how you are doing with your singing.”
“And what’s your other gifts and callings?” Paige asked. “You know, besides doing what you do already.”
She shrugged. “I’m not all the way sure. That’s why I’ve been in my Word and in prayer more than ever. I’ve tried fasting, but for some reason, going all day and all night without eating is a struggle for me. I have tried doing it from six to six, though. I haven’t gotten any huge revelation or anything yet, but I know it’s coming . . . eventually. It might come much faster if I could afford to miss work and run off on a sabbatical or something like some of the members here can, but my savings won’t let me do that just now.” Both women chuckled. “But I trust God to speak to me and let me know what I need to know right in my very own prayer closet.” She looked up in deep thought. “But I’m almost certain that whatever it is God wants me to do has something to do with my testimony.”
“Is that so?” Paige asked. She knew some of Nita’s testimony; that she was a survivor of domestic violence. From what Paige had heard, it was real bad. Nita had even lost her children to death as a result. Nita had missed her children’s funeral because she had been in the hospital healing. New Day Temple of Faith and the community had stepped up and helped Nita rebuild her life. Paige didn’t know all the details because she hadn’t been a member of the church back then.
“Yes, it is so,” Nita stated. “I think that all that I went through and lived to tell about was so that some other woman doesn’t have to. So that another woman will know that no form of abuse is acceptable—not physical, not sexual, not mental, not verbal insults—and that—”
“Uh, look, Sister Nita,” Paige cut her off. Nita was driving too close to where Paige lived. “I’ve, uh, really got to go. I have to go do this song and then . . .” Paige looked down at her watch, “. . . I’ve got to go to work. But again, I thank you for your concern and, I wish you the best in finding and operating in your calling. Take care.” Paige rushed back into the sanctuary. She was walking a mile a minute as if she were running from someone. She wasn’t running from someone, but she was running from something. She prayed to God it wouldn’t catch up with her. Well, at least, she hoped it wouldn’t follow her back into the sanctuary as she took her place in the stands and proceeded to belt out her solo.
“I open up my heart.” Paige had hit the last note of the Yolanda Adams’s song as if it were the last note she’d ever sing. Applause erupted from the choir stands.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” the choir director cheered. “I felt as though I were watching you and God have a personal conversation.”
Paige nodded her head and held back tears. “You were,” she admitted. “You were.” This time when Paige sang, she let every single word pierce her spirit. The words became a part of her, as if she’d written them herself. Yolanda Adams had given her a script to read to God. And as Paige had concluded, she felt as though God had heard her, forgetting about the fact that everyone else in the room was listening in on it too.
Before Paige got any more emotional, she gathered her things and rushed out to her car. She’d informed her fellow choir members that she was running late for work. So without joining in on the closing prayer, she made an exit, dang near knocking Nita over on her way out the door.
“Oh, excuse me, Sister Nita,” Paige apologized. “Gotta, uh, get to work.”
“I feel you,” Nita replied. “But just remember, no matter how fast you run, it’ll be right there waiting for you when you get there.” Nita winked, then walked away.
Chapter Nine
“It’s been three days,” Mother Doreen said to Bethany.
“I know. It’s hard to believe that little bitty thing is just three days old and gets to go home today.”
Mother Doreen looked through the glass into the hospital nursery and admired her great-niece. She couldn’t believe how much like Hudson the baby looked. “Yeah, I know. She is the cutest baby in the world,” Mother Doreen smiled. But as she turned her attention back to her little sister, her smile faded. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about it’s been three days since that man has been at the house, sleeping in the basement. He’s got to go.”
Bethany steered her eyes away from the baby and shot them like darts at her sister. “Go where? You heard him; he has no home to go home to. First Lady changed the locks. He doesn’t have any money, credit cards . . .”
“Surely he’s got a friend though. Someone from Living Word, Living Water who can take him in; one of the brothers, preferably.”
“Ever since he stepped down as pastor and the rumors got started about him and I, those so-called church folks act like he’s not even alive. They all turned their back on him, including your Pastor Frey. Why do you think he and First Lady stopped attending Living Word in the first place? Same reason as me and mine did.” Bethany looked back at the baby and mumbled under her breath. “And Pastor Frey sure don’t seem to have any control over his sheep. He just sat there and let it all happen. He probably had this all planned out anyway, waiting around to take Davidson’s place.”
“I know you are not going to try to sit here and blame my pastor for messing up the bed that man made.”
“Oh, he’s your pastor now?” Bethany smirked. “Well, your pastor turned on my pastor. Won’t even take the man’s calls.”
“Look, it’s not because he wanted to cut him loose. Trust me, Pastor Frey loves that man only an ounce less than God. And it’s because of that love that God has instructed him to release him from his circle. So, until God says otherwise, Pastor Frey has to separate himself. And if you knew what was good for you, you’d do the same,” Mother Doreen spat. “After all, we serve a jealous God, my dear sister. And that pastor of yours had Wallace wrapped so tightly around his collar, he was beginning to do things that went agai
nst God—like covering up his affair with you.”
“Oh, please. It ain’t like Davidson held a gun to the man’s head.”
“No, but he might as well have. The same way he used his authority from God and as the overseer of the church to manipulate you, he used it to manipulate my pastor as well.”
“Oh, chile, please.” Bethany shooed her hand and sucked her teeth.
“Look at you; a forty-something-year-old woman acting like a silly, young girl.”
“You mean the same way you acted when it came to Willie.”
Mother Doreen flinched at the sound of her deceased husband’s name.
“Now I loved Willie. He was a fine brother-in-law, but you know darn well the man was no saint. He had his ways, and in spite of them all, you remained steadfast as his helpmate.”
“Don’t you go bringing my Willie into this.” Mother Doreen looked up. “God rest my Willie’s soul.” She drew an invisible cross across her heart with her index finger, and then continued. “Besides, Pastor Frey already had a helpmate; he didn’t need you on the sideline.”
“Look,” Bethany threw her hands up, “I don’t even know why I’m having this conversation with you. You don’t have any say as to what goes on in my home. So until my pastor can get on his feet and figure something out, he stays.”
With hands on hips, Mother Doreen spat, “Well, I’ll tell you what; if he stays, then I go.”
