Don't Blame the Devil

by Pat G'Orge-Walker

  “Traveled?”

  “Yep. It was mostly around the five boroughs, but now and then we managed to make it out to the Hamptons for gigs and such.”

  Jessie was about to say more, but he saw the deacon fidgeting a bit. He decided to cut the old man some slack. It had been a hell of a ride in the last twenty-four hours.

  “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I’m gonna make it for prayer service this evening. I still have to pick up some things for this Sunday. What are you going to do?”

  “I gotta mix and match an outfit and make a couple of phone calls.” The deacon saw the look on Jessie’s face and smiled. “I promise to keep it at no more than three colors or patterns—how’s that?”

  “That’s a deal.”

  “Jessie, I want to ask you something before you go.”

  “What is it?”

  “Do you think about that young man you shot?”

  “Why do you think I haven’t slept yet? It’s all I can think about, when I’m not thinking about my family. But I did what I had to do. If I hadn’t, we might not be having this conversation.”

  The deacon didn’t respond. He rose and walked over to Jessie. He patted him on his back. “Thank you. You saved my life by shooting that young man. And you don’t take it lightly. I’m proud of you.”

  “As proud of me as if I were your son?”

  “Yes.”

  The deacon walked Jessie to the door. They shook hands, and again neither said what needed to be said.

  Chapter 33

  Saturday Night

  No one could tell that any of the women had been through something as traumatic as time in jail and witnessing a shooting by the way they were laughing and spending time together. Yet, the past two days had worked wonders.

  “Delilah, you put your foot in these collards,” Marty said as she stood in the kitchen, cramming forkfuls into her mouth.

  Delilah nodded as she wiped dripping cheese from the corner of her mouth. “Well, if I put my foot in the greens, you sure enough dropped your drawers in this macaroni and cheese.”

  “I don’t know who hooked up the yams with all these gooey marshmallows, but somebody added the funk to them.”

  “Now that’s just nasty,” Delilah said as she sucked her teeth.

  “That’s why we don’t allow you to cook,” Marty chimed in.

  “I see.” Tamara laughed. “But feet and drawers are allowed in the pots.”

  “Grandmama”—Tamara’s eyes sparkled when she called Delilah by the dreaded name and Delilah smiled instead of shuddered—“I know I keep asking and I guess I’ll continue. . . .”

  “You already know the answer, sweetie.”

  “Humor her, Delilah.” Marty winked. She truly liked the Pillar-free zone she and Delilah had agreed upon. Amazing how much alike they were when jealousy wasn’t an issue.

  “But I want you to do it.” Tamara tried her best to pout, and all it did was make both Marty and Delilah burst out laughing.

  “Okay, you two go ahead and laugh. I’m telling you it will work. All we have to do is choose some outfits with a bit of swagger to them and grab microphones. We can turn out the Family and Friends Day. Ain’t that right, Daddy?” Tamara called out. “We know you’re standing around listening to us.”

  Jessie stuck his head into the kitchen. “I am not.” He walked inside and stood by the dishwasher. “I’m not getting caught up in whatever craziness y’all creating.”

  “Tamara wants us to add swagger to our outfits. I’ve never heard of that designer. Have you?” Marty looked at Jessie and smiled. She was blessed to see him still smiling, knowing what he did and not being able to share it.

  “Well, first of all,” Jessie said as he cracked one of the dozen crab legs lying on the counter by the dishwasher, “I don’t do swagger. I don’t even know what swagger is, but it sounds sinful to me.”

  “Lord, please have mercy, Jessie. You’re my son. You can’t help but have some of that swagger,” Delilah bragged.

  Delilah turned to Tamara. “Swagger is a good thing, right?”

  It was Tamara’s turn to laugh. “Yes, it’s a good thing. And as handsome and well dressed as my daddy is . . . he’s got swagger to spare.”

  “Sounds like some type of disease to me,” Marty added.

  Crab and lobster shells went flying around the kitchen like missiles as Jessie roared with laughter.

  It was a first for them, and truth be told, they truly liked it.

  By that Sunday morning everything was in place for the Family and Friends Day celebration at New Hope Assembly, and the Family Jewels, Deacon Pillar, and Sister Marty were so nervous they couldn’t stand it.

  The deacon had gotten up earlier and dressed not to impress. He’d kept his word and limited his outfit to three colors. He wore a neon red, peach, and navy blue polka-dot custom-made bow tie, to make sure he was seen. He hadn’t bothered to make it laugh-proof, too. He finished his fiasco designer outfit with peach-colored suspenders, a navy blue dagger-collar shirt, and bright neon red pants. Of course, his shoes were black. He’d already gone to the airport the night before and picked up Zipporah Lamb; she was the A&R representative who’d flown all the way from Pelzer, South Carolina, to hear Tamara sing. He’d convinced her to stay with Sister Marty, since she had the room, and he’d pick them both up this morning before service.

  Deacon Pillar’s cousin, affectionately called Sister Betty by most of the folks in Pelzer, couldn’t make the trip with Zipporah, which was too bad. It was she who set it up for the deacon and Tamara. But for Delilah’s sake, it was also good that Sister Betty couldn’t come. Years ago, when the deacon and Delilah stayed a few days with his cousin, Delilah did some nasty little Delilah tricks and his cousin wasn’t happy. He knew they both had long memories—or, they’d probably forgotten everything except that.

  “Will y’all ever stop yapping and come on?” Deacon Pillar called downstairs as he stuffed his purple Royal Priesthood cap in his back pocket. “It’s getting late.”

  A short time later, Tamara and Delilah stood by Jessie’s car while he piled the food into the trunk. “Are the two of you sure we have everything? I’m not trying to come back here for nothing.”

  “You won’t have time to come back here. I guess you forgot you need to take me to Garden City later on so I can check up on my house and get my bills.... I mean my mail.”

  Tamara laughed and hugged Delilah’s shoulders. “Am I going to be like you when I get older?”

  “No, sweetie. You’ll be much wiser than me.”

  Jessie smiled. It was becoming a habit lately, despite all they’d been through and all they still needed to know. And he liked it.

  “Okay, we’re ready.” Sister Marty walked with her dress bag flung over her arm. This morning she’d wear her nurse’s uniform for the grand march. She didn’t think she’d have much time to change so she brought a “swagger” outfit with her. Tamara had chosen a bright yellow and a coffee brown knee-length outfit for them. The suits looked fabulous. The A&R rep, Zipporah Lamb, walked a few steps behind.

  Everything was fine. Delilah waved at Sister Marty and smiled. As soon as she took one look at Zipporah all bets were off.

  “Is that the gal that Jessie said he spoke to last night about you singing for the record company?” She hunched Tamara so she wouldn’t have to talk so loud.

  “Yes, that’s her. She and Daddy spoke for a long time last night. He said she has a very high opinion of the deacon and that she was the goddaughter-in-law of Deacon Pillar’s cousin Betty.”

  Delilah turned back to look at Zipporah once more, and then she stared at Jessie as he looked at Zipporah, too. He was looking a little too hard for Delilah’s taste.

  Zipporah Lamb was a married woman with a small child, yet she looked like she’d just stepped off a runway. Her svelte figure and five-inch heels made her olive-skinned legs look long and lean. She had long, shoulder-length, curly auburn hair. Her hazel eyes with specks of
green glimmered in the sunlight. She’d worn a designer two-piece tangerine dress with matching pillbox hat, complete with netting that rested upon a perfectly shaped nose. The sight of her caused some on the block to stare as sun rays shimmered against white-on-white teeth. Everything about her screamed I’m just visiting Brooklyn and I’ll be leaving shortly.

  She’s as out of place as Monica Lewinsky at the Clinton dinner table, thought Delilah.

  By the time Sister Marty and Zipporah reached Jessie’s car, Delilah had already decided who she would ride with.

  Deacon Pillar drove his Old Lemon as though it were the first time. He’d almost hit several squirrels and there wasn’t a pigeon along the way that didn’t have its wings tested for flight.

  Delilah hadn’t stopped verbally beating on him since they’d pulled away from his apartment. By the time she finished with him, she’d cussed him out and threatened to be the bane of his existence for as long as he lived; as though she weren’t already.

  “Thurgood, you can’t tell me that music woman from Pelzer, South Carolina, being your cousin Betty’s godson’s wife is just a coincidence. You can’t tell me that with a straight face and expect me to believe it.”

  “Dee Dee, the problem is that you won’t let me tell anything.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Thurgood?”

  “Stop your cussing, Dee Dee. We’re on our way to the Lord’s house.”

  “So how far are we from the church?”

  “About another fifteen minutes after I make a stop.”

  “What the hell do you mean, after you make a stop?”

  “I need to pick up two more people.”

  “And put them where, Thurgood? Put them where?”

  “I guess you’ve been running your trap so much you haven’t noticed that I’ve had the truck done over.”

  Delilah’s head spun around as she followed the deacon’s gaze. Sure enough, he’d had another seat installed as well as two long bars that ran along the sides of the interior.

  “Well, it’s a good thing that you at least had the sense to make enough room for all of them you promised rides to.”

  “Please be quiet, Dee Dee. They’re waiting over there.” The deacon pulled up to the curb and parked. He got out of the truck and went around and opened a side panel.

  Delilah’s first thoughts were to get out and take a tire iron to the deacon’s head. But there were too many witnesses and she wasn’t sure how she’d explain going to anger management classes while still displaying violent tendencies.

  A middle-aged woman with her head leaning to the side, her hands pulled almost into an arc shape, managed a smile when she saw the deacon walk toward her. She was in a wheelchair. Mother Johnson from New Hope Assembly was with her.

  Mother Johnson started to push the wheelchair toward the truck. “I can’t thank you enough, Deacon Pillar.”

  “Than ya.” The woman’s speech was slurred, but she was trying to thank the deacon, too.

  “It’s no bother,” the deacon replied.

  “Sister Green, honey,” Mother Johnson said slowly, “this is Deacon Thurgood Pillar. He’s the man that’s gonna testify on your son’s behalf. He ain’t harboring no grudge from the other night.”

  “Than ya.” The woman strained to say more but couldn’t.

  “I’m so grateful.” Mother Johnson spoke as though for the woman. “I hadn’t seen Sister Green in so long I didn’t recognize her son when he came to the center for help. Lord, I feel just as responsible as you must feel. I’ve asked the prayer team to come visit Sister Green here at the nursing home.”

  “I’m sure they’ll do that.” The deacon would be surprised if they didn’t. He’d seen the prayer posse pray for the blind, crippled, and crazy. The woman’s son fitted in one of those categories.

  “Who’s in your truck?” Mother Johnson had gotten the wheelchair close enough to see that there was someone with the deacon.

  “It’s Delilah.”

  “Delilah,” Mother Johnson said once they had Sister Green secured inside the truck. “It’s good to see you again. This here is Sister Green. It was her son who caused all that fuss with the deacon, if you get my drift.”

  “It’s good to see you again, too. And you, too, Sister Green.” Delilah couldn’t look the other woman in the face. It wasn’t that Delilah pitied the woman, because she really didn’t. But she’d wanted to take a rock to the woman’s son’s skull and she felt convicted.

  For the rest of the ride to the church, the deacon traded old Family and Friends Day stories with Mother Johnson. To Delilah, he said not another word. She’d gotten jealous for no reason and started off his day with a nasty attitude. He’d placed her in a supporting role because at that moment she was no longer the star of his Lifetime movie.

  By the time the deacon arrived with Delilah, Mother Johnson, and Sister Green, New Hope Assembly’s Family and Friends Day celebration was in full swing.

  The celebration had started earlier with the sunrise morning service and it would end, as Pastor George always said, “When God said so.”

  They found Jessie and Zipporah seated in one of the pews in the center aisle. They followed Jessie’s finger as he pointed to the seats he’d saved by placing bags on them.

  “Tamara’s gone to join up with the choir,” Jessie told Delilah, who sat down next to him. “I haven’t checked the program yet, so I don’t know when we go up.”

  “I’m feeling the spirit already,” Zipporah said to the deacon. “I’m so happy I came.”

  Delilah continued to ignore Zipporah. Instead she watched with a bit of unexpected sadness as the church nurse rolled Sister Green over to a nearby aisle where the other attendees in wheelchairs sat. She thought about telling Jessie who the woman was, but decided it could wait. She obviously wasn’t going anywhere. Yet Delilah found herself looking over at the woman again, knowing how the woman must’ve felt losing her son once to a mental problem, and then again to the system. Delilah patted Jessie’s knee and smiled, but inside she’d begun to feel sadness because she’d hadn’t lost her son, she’d given him away.

  But sadness had to vacate the premises of New Hope because when the musicians started playing, it was time for fire to rain down. In no time two overweight sisters wearing hats that should’ve come with a warning label hit their tambourines and that lit the match.

  And then the real churchy-hallelujah good time started when the choirs marched in.

  The combined choirs’ colorful robes looked as though Crayola had hooked them up. Then it was time for the vocal Olympics. Singers of all sizes and lifestyles tried to one-up each other. One singer would send a note up through the church rafters and another would bury it in the church basement. There wasn’t a note left that wouldn’t have made Patti LaBelle green with envy.

  And if that wasn’t enough of a show, the combined choirs lost their minds and turned into steppers with their versions of the grand march. And it was Sister Marty and the nurses unit that led the madness. It didn’t matter if a marcher had one leg or two, crutches or arm slings, they high-stepped, Cabbage Patched, butterflied, Laffy Taffied, and even Tootsie Rolled when they could get away with it.

  Everyone sat on the edge of their seats while Pastor George and the First Lady sat like proud parents as the event took off. Everyone knew the NHA auxiliaries delivered when they marched around the walls of the church like Joshua around Jericho.

  And of course, the choirs and the nurses units weren’t the only shows. Any true spirit-filled Family and Friends Day march had to have a knockout finale. It happened when someone in the musicians’ pit hollered, “Give them mothers some.” So of course they knew they could always count on the mothers board to be ready and available to pass out the hallelujahs at a moment’s notice. And when Mother Johnson got up and led those old gals they didn’t disappoint.

  At the end of the march and other spectacles, the ushers always received a nice collection to divide among themselves. The church
affectionately called it the usher board combat pay. Those gatekeepers earned every dollar.

  Zipporah was no stranger to a boisterous church. She immediately felt at home and acted like she was about to lose all her professional cool. From the first note Tamara sang until the last, Zipporah was secretly overjoyed. Of course, she couldn’t let the others know because business was still business and she knew she’d have to negotiate for Tamara’s awesome talent. Yet there were still other parts of the service to shout about. So Zipporah went about getting her praise on and loving it.

  Jessie wasn’t too far behind Zipporah. Just like any proud papa would, he, too, leapt for joy with every solo Tamara led. The only time he kept quiet was when he thought of how proud Cindy would’ve been had she seen their daughter on that day.

  And as for Deacon Pillar—well, he sat peacock proud on another pew with the rest of the deacons. No one would’ve known he had a jacked-up conk hidden beneath his purple Royal Priesthood cap. But then he got caught up in the spirit and then caught out there, in embarrassment. Without thinking he jumped up and threw out one too many hallelujahs, so his cap jumped off, too.

  And when that happened, that’s when Delilah almost fell out.

  She started whooping and doubling over from trying not to laugh harder than she already was, until she caught the attention of some of the ushers. They thought she wanted to shout, but was confined by space. So a few of the ushers raced to her pew and snatched her into the aisle to let her get loose for the Lord.

  At first Delilah was doing what she always did. She was giving her audience all she had. She bucked, jerked, and nearly danced the electric slide before something got ahold of her.

  And if Delilah had to describe what that something was, she couldn’t. At first she felt a warm feeling spread throughout her body. In her mind she heard the words Thank you, Jesus repeatedly, but couldn’t figure out who was saying it.

  With her eyes shut tight and her body shaking, Delilah suddenly remembered sitting in her car outside of New Hope those many years ago, and she cried out, “Thank you, Jesus.”