Holy Ghost Corner

by Michele Andrea Bowen

  Craig was glad that his client was running late. He pulled out his Bible, which he knew looked odd in this setting, and searched for a scripture that would speak to what he was feeling. It seemed so strange to be able to watch Jethro get unraveled. But he was thankful for that small blessing.

  He was about to text-message his wife for some help with this, when verses 7, 8, 12, and 13 of Psalm 140 practically jumped off the page. It read:

  O Sovereign Lord, my strong deliverer, who shields my head in the day of battle—do not grant the wicked their desires, O Lord; do not let their plans succeed, or they will become proud.

  I know that the Lord secures justice for the poor and upholds the cause of the needy. Surely the righteous will praise your name and the upright will live before you.

  Craig figured that Jethro must have gotten his business in order. He had put the papers away, was sitting back in his chair calmly sipping on his drink, and scoping out a woman he obviously was intent on taking somewhere for something he had no business whatsoever doing. He hoped that whatever Jethro did tonight was good to him. For all of Jethro’s maneuvering and machinations, Craig knew that his man-made plans would crumble like a sandcastle swept away by a strong wave when he faced off with a business plan that had been anointed by the Lord.

  He started to call Lamont but became obedient to the whisperings in his heart to let go and let the Lord work it out in accordance to His perfect way and perfect will. As soon as Craig put his cell away, he felt tremendous peace and joy. It was going to be something sitting back and watching how the Lord was going to deal with the powerful Jethro Winters and certain members of the DUDC.

  Chapter Sixteen

  THERESA PULLED HER HAIR UP INTO A HIGH PONYTAIL and secured it with a sparkling black and lavender band. She turned to admire her brand-new, lavender velour athletic suit with black satin piping around the edges of the sleeves and down the length of the pants. Her black, quilted satin house shoes with “Theresa” embroidered on them with lavender silk thread were the perfect complement to this oh-so-stylish outfit.

  She twisted and turned in her mirror, making sure that her ponytail had the right amount of bounce in it—didn’t want to look too girlish, just perky. But something just wasn’t quite right. She peered in the mirror—no makeup. Even though she was at home and wanted to give the appearance of being natural, she still wanted to look good.

  Theresa dusted her cheeks with blush, put on mascara, and added a feather-light touch of raisin lip gloss. She checked herself in the mirror one more time and realized that something was still missing—earrings. She went and retrieved a pair of one-carat amethyst studs set in white gold. Only thing left was some perfume—something that everybody said smelled good on her. She pulled the Hanae Mori off her perfume shelf and sprayed her neck, wrists, and clothes. She even put some in her hands and dabbed at her hair.

  One more mirror check revealed that she was ready to meet Lamont Green at the door and casually hand him the brand-new cell phone Vanessa insisted she replace after stomping his to pieces. It had been Rhonda, Vanessa, and Lena’s idea that she go to the trouble of dressing up in something that was what they called the “down-low knockout” gear. In other words, she was supposed to get all fixed up, while at the same time giving the appearance that she was comfortable and dressed for staying at home. While it sounded simple, pulling it off had been something of an event. It took a lot of work to give the impression that your appearance was natural and effortless.

  Theresa did a quick check of the house to make sure everything was in order—fresh-scented towels, milk-and-honey-scented hand soap, hand lotion, and sandalwood-scented potpourri in the guest bathroom; fresh fruit, muffins, and pretty napkins laid out on the kitchen counter; the lighting was soft but not so soft it was suggestive; lights turned on outside; and good music. Vanessa had recommended The Quiet Storm show on the radio because, she said, “it gave the impression of being perfectly content to spend a simple and relaxed evening at home.”

  She ran around the house checking it and making sure all was just right a second time and then stopped cold, right in the middle of the family room floor.

  “Why,” Theresa asked herself out loud, “am I acting like this man is coming over for a romantic evening with me? He’s not my man. We’ve never been on a date. We haven’t even shared a kiss . . .”

  She stopped on that one. They had shared a kiss—the memory of it so poignant, she could still feel his lips and how the entire length of his body felt pressed up against her own. As much as Theresa wished it were not so, she was in love with Lamont Green. She hadn’t tried to be in love with him but it just happened and she couldn’t help it.

  It had been a long time since she had loved a man. That last time she got her feelings hurt. She had moped around for weeks and played Vesta’s song about the lady running to the church to verify if her man was marrying somebody else so many times, the CD started melting. She had been just about as stupid as the lady in the song, too—especially when she considered going to the church before the ceremony just like the lady in the song and making a big fool of herself. It was only after talking to her friend Yvonne, who was living in Richmond, Virginia, at the time, that she knew better than to go over there with that mess.

  Yvonne had said, “Girl, it’s one thing for Vesta to be belting out all of that misery about I thought it woulda been me. And like I wish I could tell the sista in the song, I am telling you—if there was an inkling of a chance the bride coulda, shoulda, woulda been you, don’t you think that the brother would have said something before he was standing at the church eagerly waiting to say I Do to someone else?”

  All Theresa could do was laugh. Yvonne was right. If that man would have thought anything about her, at the very least, he would have sent her a chain e-mail. Bug always told her that she was blessed to have the good sense to surround herself with friends who were Proverbs-wise and never failed to give good counsel.

  He was right, too. Proverbs-wise friends were definitely a blessing. And they could stop you from doing some stupid stuff if you listened to them. She would never forget when Chablis “Table Wine” Jackson ran into the very same problem she had without a posse of wise friends.

  Chablis’s former man, whom she’d been apart from for three years, met and married a very sweet woman. But for some reason—despite that Chablis only saw this man once a year at the CIAA basketball conference, and shared a few “for ole times’ sake” dances to a favorite slow jam at a couple of the tournament’s after-parties—she managed against all rational thought to harbor the notion that one day he would woo her back into his arms. So, when she ran into the brother and his new wife at the CIAA, rather than greet them with a respectful hello and congratulations, the knucklehead blurted out, “I heard you got married.”

  And before the man could say a word, she leaped into, “So, why didn’t you call me and tell me and get my permission ’fore you ran off and jumped the broom,” right in front of his wife.

  But the wife, who Theresa knew for a fact surrounded herself with wise folks, put Chablis in her place. Instead of cutting the fool, Miss Lady took her husband’s hand and then looked up into his eyes with the sweetest smile lighting up her face. He was so touched until all he could do was return the favor and lean down to kiss her gently on the lips.

  And before Chablis could regroup and make another move, the wife said, “Chablis, my husband is a good man. A good man doesn’t desecrate the sanctity of his relationship with the woman he loves, cherishes, and is intent on making his wife by asking an old flame for permission to marry her.”

  She made the statement with such gentle, firm, and no-nonsense sincerity, the husband immediately apologized for unwittingly putting his “boo” in the line of fire for that insult. Theresa hoped that when she married, she had that kind of dignity and fortitude to set right an errant woman who sought to diminish and put asunder what the good Lord had obviously put together.

  She checked the tim
e—it was almost eight. Lamont said that he would stop by after he left the office at seven this evening. She found herself feeling excited, scared, and then kind of silly for getting all in an uproar because Lamont was coming to her house. Theresa took a few deep breaths to calm her nervousness, cupped her hand over her mouth to check her breath, and put three breath strips in her mouth that made her eyes water because they were so strong.

  The doorbell rang just as she was about to get some water. She went to the door, resisting the urge to holler out, “Hold on, I’ll be right there.”

  Lamont was standing on the porch, blowing into his gloved hands because it was so cold outside. She turned the knob and then remembered that she hadn’t unlocked the top deadbolt and didn’t have the key in the lock, either.

  “Hold on, I’m coming,” Theresa said, hoping she wasn’t sounding too loud and country, as she ran into the kitchen and searched for one of the spare keys. Finally, she returned to the door, and fidgeted with the key and the front door just like some little old lady who wasn’t sure if she wanted to let in whoever was on the other side.

  She pulled the door wide open, hoping that the smile on her face wasn’t so big it made her look goofy. Theresa wanted to give the impression that Lamont coming by the house like this wasn’t overly special to her—when, in fact, she was so excited to see him, she had to resist the urge to jump into his arms when he walked through the door.

  Lamont was still mad at Theresa for throwing that tantrum and stomping his cell phone to bits. He really didn’t want to come by her house to get the new phone. As far as he was concerned, she could have just as easily mailed it to him. But he let James convince him to pick it up in person.

  As soon as that door opened, and Lamont saw Theresa standing there glowing and all giggly like she was fifteen years old, he felt kind of bad that he couldn’t return the favor by smiling back at her. He wondered why it was that men and women could be on different pages like that sometimes. He’d seen the same thing with his parents, and James and Rhonda.

  There were times when he’d been at James’s house waiting for him and talking to Rhonda. The garage door would lift and Rhonda would get excited at the mere sound of her husband’s car rolling up into the garage. By the time the door beeped and James walked in, Rhonda was all lit up like a newly decorated Christmas tree.

  But one look at James’s face let Lamont know that his brother and sister-in-law were not on the same page. And this became evident when James barked out his concerns over what on the surface were legitimate everyday matters—like Rhonda not checking the status of her checking account before spending money, her forgetting to make a business call, or not getting enough details when she did make the call. And Rhonda, who obviously felt bad, would offer a reasonable explanation, only to get her feelings hurt when James came back with a logical criticism she honestly couldn’t dispute.

  But as his feelings for Theresa grew and he felt the growing pains of true love, coupled with the tangible results of all the prayers he knew were going up on his behalf, the Lord had blessed him with insight into this problem he knew many men did not have. Recently, when he was privy to one of James and Rhonda’s tiffs, the Lord gave him two scriptures from the Amplified Bible.

  The first came from Colossians 3:19, where it says, Husbands love your wives [be affectionate and sympathetic with them] and do not be harsh or bitter or resentful toward them. And the second was the more detailed Ephesians 5:33, where husbands and wives are instructed in the following way: However, let each man of you [without exception] love his wife as [being in a sense] his very own self; and let the wife see that she respects and reverences her husband [that she notices him, regards him, honors him, prefers him, venerates and esteems him; and that she defers to him, praises him, and loves and admires him exceedingly].

  Lamont truly believed that if husbands and wives read those two scriptures regularly and adhered to them, they would always find themselves on the same page. When the wife made one of those inevitable girl mistakes, the husband would gently guide her, while at the same time taking the more frustrating aspects of the problem to the Lord—confident that the Lord would help her get it right, protect them while she worked to do it right, and show him the best way to handle these dilemmas for the two of them.

  And when the husband made one of those inevitable boy mistakes, the wife would seek out the Lord’s guidance for how to get it right, depend on the Lord to give her the words to explain why she had a hard time with those activities to her husband, and open her heart so that the Lord could send love and cherishing through her to her man. And he’d noticed that this last part was real hard for many women, who instead of turning things over to the Lord, tried to teach their husbands valuable lessons by doing the complete opposite of what that second scripture commanded them to do. A wife following those commandments would think twice about punishing her husband by cutting off his love supply like the utility company cut off your water when you failed to pay the bill.

  Watching the radiance in Theresa’s face dull, snapped Lamont to attention. The Lord had given him two valuable scriptures, and here he was practicing the very thing he’d recently admonished his brother about. He tried to think of something to say that would match what his heart told him was her excitement at seeing him. But all he managed to say was, “Close the door. It’s freezing outside.”

  “Oh, okay,” Theresa answered, at a complete loss as to what she should say next.

  “You gonna let me get past the foyer? Or am I one of those type of guests?” Lamont inquired, secretly wishing that she would invite him into her kitchen to stay awhile.

  “Huh?”

  “I want to come in and visit, Theresa.”

  “You do?” she asked him incredulously.

  Lamont nodded and took off his brown suede coat and matching cap, and gave them to Theresa to hang up. He walked into the kitchen, noting with great pleasure what she thought was her quiet perusal of his person. Because he certainly hadn’t missed a thing concerning how good she was looking, in her “I took a lot of time putting this outfit together, to look like I walk around the house looking like this all the time” suit. He’d never seen her hair up and liked how cute and perky the ponytail looked on her. And all of that soft lavender up against her beautiful chocolate skin was getting to him.

  Theresa loved the way Lamont was dressed tonight—blue jeans, thick oatmeal cable-knit turtleneck sweater, and navy Timberlands. The sweater showed off his broad shoulders and the jeans revealed a round, muscular backside. When she caught herself staring at his behind, she took a deep breath and thought, “Girl, get a grip.”

  “You gonna offer me some fancy tea and one of these muffins?”

  “How you know I have some fancy tea?”

  “Girl, pleaz,” he said. “All a body gotta do is take one look at this kitchen—has fancy tea written all over it.”

  Theresa’s eyes traveled around the familiar landscape of the kitchen and she chuckled. Lamont was right. The very pale pink-tinted walls, cream tile, pink/lavender/sky blue tiles on the counter and backsplash, coffee mugs that matched the tiles, chrome appliances, and white wooden shutters practically screamed “fancy teas, fancy teas.”

  “Okay, you win. What do you want?” she asked him, pulling out a lavender, lacquered-wood tea chest that was eighteen by eighteen by three inches. She opened it to reveal what had to be close to one hundred tea bags.

  “Dang, girl. You really need this much fancy tea?” he exclaimed and selected one of the plainer teas in the box—Constant Comment.

  Theresa reached for one of the pastel mugs.

  “Oh . . . no. I ain’t drinking tea out of a foo-foo mug. Get me something more substantial than that.”

  “Okay,” Theresa said, and went and got him Bug’s favorite one—a huge purple, with gold trim mug.

  “Thank you,” he said as he enjoyed being served a moist pumpkin muffin and the tea, especially when she put the cream and sugar in it for him. �
��Aren’t you going to have something, too?”

  “Yep,” Theresa answered, as she got her favorite mug out of the dishwasher, and made herself a cup of cinnamon-flavored tea. She selected a chocolate muffin and sat next to Lamont.

  “I bet you eat most of your meals here, right?”

  “Umm . . . hmmm,” she answered with a mouth full of muffin. “It’s one of my favorite spots in the house.”

  Stephanie Mills’s “Power of Love” came on the radio. Theresa sipped on her tea and closed her eyes.

  “One of my favorite Stephanie Mills songs,” Lamont said softly and started snapping his fingers.

  “Me, too,” was all Theresa said, as she allowed herself to get lost in the pulsating blues beat of the music.

  Lamont wished that they weren’t sitting here eating and drinking right now. He would have given anything to grab Theresa’s hand and hold her tight in his arms on what he thought was one of Stephanie’s most sensual songs.

  That song ended and was followed by Gerald Levert’s “Made to Love You.” Theresa loved herself some Gerald Levert—had every CD he’d ever made, going all the way back to when he was singing with the R&B group LeVert.

  “They are jamming tonight,” Lamont said.

  “Yeah, they are,” Theresa answered quickly, so as not to interrupt one good note of her boy’s song.

  That song ended, only to be followed with “You Bring Me Joy,” by Lamont’s favorite singer, Anita Baker.

  “They must be trying to get somebody pregnant tonight,” Lamont said laughing.

  “Why would you say that?” Theresa asked him.

  “Are you listening to all that music on the radio? It’s cold outside and this music is so warm and toasty, you can’t help but want to snuggle up to somebody, listening to all of that. Anita, Gerald, Stephanie. Shoot, if Marvin and Teddy Pendergrass come on next, I’m taking advantage of the moment and get all snuggled up with you.”