Trying to Stay Saved

by E. N. Joy

  “Well?” Mother Doreen finally said, dropping her fork on her plate.

  Pastor Frey looked up at her from his breakfast platter and shrugged. “Well, what?” He then turned his attention back to his mound of scrambled eggs and shoveled a forkful into his mouth.

  “Well, what did he say?”

  “He who?” Mother Doreen could barely make out the words that had squeezed around the eggs with cheese.

  “The bishop,” she said, trying to hide her frustration. “Obviously, whatever it was that he said to you the other day has really got a hold of your mind. Because trust me, your mind is certainly not here with me.”

  Pastor Frey stopped eating, the fork covered with hash browns paused midway to his mouth. Mother Doreen was right. His mind was not with her. Seems as though his mind had never really been with her from the time they’d met at the restaurant. He looked up at her, the woman who God had blessed him to be able to court. He looked at her like he was tired, though. Not tired of her. He was just tired of the games, tired of the secrets, and tired of the lies. It was the secrets, games, and lies that had prevented him from fully getting to know her better, sooner, in the first place.

  He’d been so busy living two lives. On one hand, he’d truly been trying to be God’s servant as the assistant pastor to his pastor, mentor, and friend, Pastor Davidson. On the other hand, he’d truly been trying to be too much of a friend to Pastor Davidson by covering up his affair with Bethany. Then, if he’d had a third hand, it would have been the fact that he’d been both attracted to and interested in Mother Doreen’s spirit and was trying to see if she felt the same about him. Well, she had. And once they were able to focus on something other than Pastor Davidson and Bethany, they found the time to admit as much to each another, in hopes that next they could explore wherever it was the Lord wanted to take them. But now, it appeared as though there was still another chapter to the book they’d thought they closed concerning Pastor Davidson and Bethany. An epilogue, so to speak.

  As far as Mother Doreen knew, all of that had been put out in the open, at least between the two families, anyway. The church body heard whispers and rumors. No one had anything concrete, though. Pastor Frey had tried to urge Pastor Davidson to go before the church and tell the truth to his congregation members, but he hadn’t even told the truth to his wife yet, so he refused. But whispers and rumors have always been the kindling in both the church and the world to cause people to form judgment. To cause people to turn their backs on someone. That had been the case with Pastor Davidson. So the congregation began to turn their back on him before he ever came forth with the truth.

  But not Pastor Frey. No more than he’d want God to turn His back on him whenever he fell short of the glory, he’d refused to turn his back on his friend. So he continued, to some degree, covering for Pastor Davidson, but now, it could possibly cause him his position at the church.

  “He wanted to talk to me about Pastor Davidson,” Pastor Frey admitted to Mother Doreen.

  “What about him? I mean, what’s left to tell? He fell from grace, ungracefully, I might add.” Mother Doreen lifted a forkful of food into her mouth. “So he stepped down. No need for the bishop to show up now. It’s not like they need to come kick him out. He walked away on his own.”

  “He wanted to talk to me about Pastor Davidson and your sister . . . Bethany.” Pastor Frey was more specific.

  Still, Mother Doreen couldn’t see why that would have Pastor Frey all distracted. “So what?” Once again she shrugged. “That’s what’s wrong with church folk versus Christian folk. See, Christian folk know how to forgive and move on. Church folk, like one of the apostles back home is known to say, play too much. And he ain’t lying. Church folk like to keep things going. I mean, it’s old news. Tell the bishop and whoever else to let it go and let God. And more importantly, let you do what God has called you to do without them coming here and butting their noses in your business.”

  After that long speech in support of Pastor Frey, all he could say was, “Not really.” Now he looked away from Mother Doreen, as if he couldn’t bear to face her.

  Mother Doreen stopped chewing although she had food in her mouth. She sensed everything wasn’t everything. Something, a piece from the puzzle, was missing; stolen even, and now the thief was about to return it. That thief being Pastor Frey. “What do you mean ‘not really’? I was there that day in the sanctuary, the day Pastor Davidson said he’d be stepping down for a few months and asked you to be in charge of things.”

  “True. I mean, both you and I know why he stepped down, but the heads didn’t know. Not everything.”

  And there Mother Doreen had it; confirmation that everything wasn’t everything. “What do you mean ‘the heads didn’t know’?” she asked, pushing her plate away. All of a sudden she didn’t feel like eating anymore. “Didn’t you two have to tell them what was going on? Didn’t they have to approve everything?”

  “Well, yes and no,” Pastor Frey admitted, now pushing his plate away as well. “We told them Davidson would be stepping down, but we didn’t exactly tell them why.”

  “Why not? That’s like lying by omission; omitting the truth is lying.”

  “Pastor Davidson just wanted to get through it on his own . . . and with God. We figured he’d only be absent two or three months. As you know, that first month was okay. He kept attending Living Word, but then there was all that gossiping, whispers, and rumors. And then Bethany and the kids stopped coming, which, in some folks’ eyes, confirmed the gossip, whispers, and rumors. I think the kids might have told some of their friends at church some things, and then it just escalated from there.”

  “Oh, don’t you try to blame my niece and nephew.” Mother Doreen got defensive. “Pastor Davidson was a grown man in leadership. My sister was a grown woman. Those two made the bad choices they made.”

  Pastor Frey put his hands up in defense in an effort to calm Mother Doreen down. “Now, I’m not trying to blame your kin. I’m just saying that apparently all the gossip and whispering got back to the heads. That’s why they sent Bishop Klein, to see what was really going on, to see if the secret sex scandal going on in Living Word, Living Waters was true. And then, of course, Bishop sees me planting one on you right there in my church office.” Pastor Frey put his head down in shame.

  Mother Doreen just sat there. She closed her eyes as her head slightly moved from left to right. “You didn’t do it. God gave you the opportunity to right your wrong,” Mother Doreen started, “but instead, you just put on your robe like it was a Superman cape and mounted the pulpit like you were here to save the world. Never mind all that was at stake by you just being honest about everything. What? Were you afraid that if you told the truth they’d take your cape and throw both you and Pastor Davidson out there on your butts? Then you wouldn’t be able to supposedly save the world from evil—”

  “I was there to save the world!” Pastor Frey stood as he shouted the words. “I’m here to save this world from the evil that walks the Earth seeking whom it can devour. I’m here to save the world from hell and damnation. I’m here to save the world’s souls. Do you know how many souls the words I have delivered have saved in these last few months?” Once Pastor Frey realized that his abruptness had startled Mother Doreen and that he had the attention of everyone in the restaurant, he slowly sat in his seat.

  After a pause, he spoke again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so upset. It’s just that in spite of what you think and what things look like, I love the Lord. I love God with all my heart.”

  “But your love and your loyalty to man just keeps getting in the way of your love for God, huh?” Mother Doreen felt no pity. “Do you honor Pastor Davidson so much that you’d compromise the honor of God and His Word? Do you?”

  Pastor Frey was silent as he thought about the words he was about to say. “I love no one before God.”

  “But yet, somehow, you’re still under that man’s thumb, looking out for his best interest wh
ile compromising your own walk with Christ. You could have told the truth, Wallie.” This was the first time Mother Doreen had ever called Pastor Wallace Frey by the nickname she secretly called him in her mind.

  “Wallie” was also the name that only his late wife had called him. He’d once told God in prayer that if God wanted him to have another wife, give him a sign and have her call him by that name. Mother Doreen had no idea of the confirmation that had just rolled off her tongue.

  Pastor Frey always knew there was something special about Mother Doreen. She was everything he could ever want in a wife, in a first lady, as he knew in his spirit he’d been called to lead a church. And he had been leading the church, and now, Mother Doreen had jumped right in and started helping him. She was his helpmate. This was the woman he was going to marry . . . just as soon as he divorced the devil.

  “You could have admitted your part in all of this,” Mother Doreen told him. “And you could have trusted that if this was the position God had for you in the kingdom, leading the congregation at Living Word, that He would have moved the heavens and earth for you to do so. God would have touched Bishop’s and whoever else’s heart that has any say-so to forgive you. He would have given them the eyes to see that you were the chosen one to lead the church.”

  “But then it would have been as though I were throwing Pastor Davidson under the bus in order to take over his position,” Pastor Frey reasoned.

  Mother Doreen couldn’t believe her ears. After all that had been said and done, Pastor Frey was still set on covering for his former pastor. She wiped her mouth with her napkin and with teary eyes stated, “It’s time for me to go.” Mother Doreen stood.

  “Wait, I’ll walk you to your car.” Pastor Frey pulled out his wallet to leave some cash on the table for their breakfast.

  “No.” Mother Doreen held up her hand to halt him. “It’s time for me to go back to Malvonia.” She picked up her purse and turned to walk away as she whispered the words, “Good-bye, Wallie.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  “Code Blue!” the nurse shouted after entering Broady’s hospital room as a result of Eleanor’s panicking shouts and cries.

  Other nurses and hospital staff began to run in the room in droves.

  Lorain was trying her best to calm Eleanor down, but the moment Eleanor had heard the machine beep and saw the flat lines on the monitor, she lost it.

  “There’s something I need to tell you about—” Those were the only words Lorain had gotten out of her mouth. She’d been all set, all prepared to tell her mother the truth about the man she married; the truth about the man she married and her daughter. But the truth never even had a chance to escape her lips. The machine had interrupted her, almost deliberately.

  Nurses and doctors came running from every direction, and there Lorain and Eleanor stood in the middle of it all. It was like they were caught up in a tornado.

  “We’re going to have to ask you two to leave the room,” one of the nurses ordered.

  Eleanor was frozen stiff.

  “You’re going to have to go wait out in the lobby,” a second nurse stated.

  Eleanor was still frozen, so Lorain had to guide her out of the room as if she were a mannequin in a department store. They remained in the waiting room for what seemed like forever. It was forty-two minutes. Well, actually forty-one minutes and fifty-eight seconds. Eleanor had stood. Only Lorain sat. But as Doctor Healshire made his way toward them, in slow motion it seemed, both women stood. His lips moved. There was no sound, but it was evident by the expression on his face what he was saying.

  All of a sudden there was sound, and the sound was Eleanor crying out. She was crying out in pain, so much pain that the yelp, the screech mirrored that of the one Lorain had let loose that day in the girl’s bathroom years ago in middle school. It sounded like a rabbit’s cry out, but it was a woman’s cry. It was the same cry that so many women could relate to; could understand. It was the cry of a woman in pain. The pain came from loss; loss of a loved one, loss of innocence. Loss of peace of mind. It was the cry of a woman who’d been beaten, abused, molested, raped, and abandoned. It was the cry of a woman who had lost her child, had to bury her child. It was the cry of a woman who’d been misled, mistreated, and misused. It was the cry of a woman evicted from her apartment, having to take her babies to a shelter, or to a friend’s couch, or even to a friend’s basement . . . or on the streets. It was the cry of a woman being delivered from the memory of some of the things she used to do to eat, to pay the bills, to feed her family, or to get her next high . . . or to get her baby daddy to give her money for the kids. No matter the woman, it was the same cry. It was a secret language that only another woman could understand. Lorain understood. She understood the pain. Although it was a different kind than that of her pain, she understood. She understood her mother’s pain.

  It was a secret language; a woman’s cry.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Paige sat on her living-room couch trembling in tears. She wasn’t sure if Nita’s testimony had helped her or hurt her more. Help in the sense that she needed to hear one of the worst-case scenarios possible when it came to domestic violence; enough to make her do something about it other than make poor excuses for her husband or hope that things get better. Hurt in the sense that now her heart was hurting, aching over a decision she might have to make, a decision she didn’t want to have to make. She’d said going into her meeting with Nita that she was going to do just the opposite of what Nita had done in her abusive relationship. Well, Nita said she stayed in it. Did that mean that Paige needed to get out of it? Did that mean that she needed to leave her husband? And she asked Nita just that. That was a decision Nita refused to make for Paige, but she did give her something to think about.

  “Sister Nita, are you saying that I should get a divorce from Blake?” Paige had asked her. “The Bible says that God hates divorce.”

  Nita shook her head. “No, I’m not saying you should get a divorce, but need I also remind you that it says in Malachi, chapter two, verse sixteen, that ‘. . . For the Lord, the God of Israel, saith that he hateth putting away: for one covereth violence with his garment, saith the Lord of hosts: therefore take heed to your spirit, that ye deal not treacherously.’ Basically, God is saying He hates a man covering himself with violence. God hates what your husband is doing to you,” Nita told Paige, and then continued with, “First Corinthians, chapter seven, verse fifteen, says, ‘But if the unbelieving depart, let him depart. A brother or a sister is not under bondage in such cases: but God hath called us to peace.’ In other words, God is saying that a man or woman should not be bound in such circumstances; God has called us to live in peace.”

  As Nita spoke to her in the sanctuary, an internal struggle raged inside of Paige’s head. The same internal struggle that was going on inside of her now as she sat on her couch. Did God want her to subject herself to Blake’s abusive treatment? Would He want any of His daughters subjected to such abuse and harm? But what if she did leave? That would probably set Blake off even worse. He’d probably come after her and hurt her and anybody who tried to help her.

  Nita had offered Paige her couch if she ever felt she needed to get away, but Paige couldn’t see putting the poor woman in a position to get hurt by someone else’s husband. Not after all the hurt her own husband had put her through. But what really surprised Paige was when she declined Nita’s offer. She’d expressed the fact that she loved her husband and couldn’t imagine ever being apart from him no matter what. Nita didn’t think she was stupid. Paige felt bad because way back when she’d heard about the years of abuse Nita had suffered, the first thought that had come to her mind was, She’s stupid for staying that long. Her stupidity played a part in the death of her own children.

  Paige never thought she’d see the day where she felt so stupid. But Nita didn’t make her feel stupid. And on top of that, Nita believed her. Nita believed her when she told her of the verbal insults Blake spun at her. Nit
a believed her when she told her of the bruises she’d endured at the hands of Blake, and that Blake was responsible for her arm being in the sling. Paige might have lost a few pounds and went down a size or two, but she was still bigger than Blake. Some might believe that there was no way he could abuse her and get away with it as big as she was. But Nita had believed her.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I share our conversation with Pastor,” Nita had told Paige. “As the shepherd of this house and our spiritual leader, Pastor needs to protect the sheep. And maybe Pastor or myself as individuals can’t fully help, but together, we can at least make any necessary referrals.”

  Nita saw the skepticism reveal itself across Paige’s face. “Don’t worry, it’s not like we are going to put you on blast to the congregation or anything. Trust me, you have my complete confidentiality when it comes to that. And I’m sure I speak for Pastor as well. But we won’t use confidentiality as an excuse not to seek help for you. We won’t use confidentiality as a means not to keep you safe.” Nita was firm. Paige was confused.

  Placing her hand atop of Paige’s, Sister Nita said, “Look, I know you don’t feel like Blake would ever do anything to the extremes of what my ex-husband did to me, but let it be known, you are still in danger of being hurt. Your arm being in a sling is confirmation. This is just the tip of the iceberg, Sister Paige.”

  Looking down at her arm now, Paige knew Nita was right. Paige had, at first, minimized the painful death grips and whacks Blake had subjected her arms and hands to, and now it had escalated to this: a sling.

  “God, if you don’t step in now and direct my path, I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Paige said as she sat on the couch holding her injured arm.