The Preachers Son

by Carl Weber

  “Be good to her, young man,” he told me in a misty voice. “She’s the only baby girl I’ve got.”

  “I will, Bishop. I promise.”

  He released me with a nod and returned to his seat. I turned to the first lady and offered my hand but she ignored me, putting hers on the bishop’s back instead.

  “If we’re going to do this, we’d better do it soon,” the first lady interjected, emotionless. “The last thing we want is for Donna to start showing before the wedding. It could lose you the election, T.K.”

  The bishop looked at the large calendar on the west wall of his office. “I can have Reverend Reynolds marry you in two weeks. It looks like the church’s calendar is clear. Is that okay with you two?” Donna’s face was almost white. I could just imagine what she was thinking because the last person either of us wanted to be marrying us was Reverend Reynolds.

  “Why can’t you marry us, Daddy?” She was using this little girl voice.

  “Because I have to give you away, princess.”

  “Well, then I prefer to have Reverend Tate marry us. After all, he is my godfather.” The bishop glanced at the first lady then back at us. I’m sure he sensed something was afoot but he left it alone.

  “Okay, Donna, I’ll give Reverend Tate a call. How’s that?”

  Donna glanced at me and I nodded. “That’s fine, Bishop.”

  “It’s not fine with me,” the first lady protested. “That’s not enough time for me to plan a wedding. Why, I’ve got to get caterers, flowers, music, dresses, and the invitations made. And what about clergy from out of town? My God, where is the reception going to be held?” She threw her hand to her forehead in a dramatic gesture.

  “Charlene, I’m sure you’ll rise to the occasion,” the bishop said quietly.

  “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a miracle worker, T.K.”

  “Well, if we have to, we can have the reception in the church recreation hall,” he suggested.

  “My daughter is not having some cheap reception in the church hall. Do you know how that will look? It’s bad enough she’s marrying him.”

  She gestured toward me again. Donna didn’t show any reaction to her mother’s statements, and I certainly wasn’t about to open my mouth. Bishop Wilson finally defused the situation.

  “Okay, Charlene. Obviously you have a lot of planning to do, but maybe we all need a day to get over the shock of Donna’s announcement before we start worrying about these details. Why don’t we leave this discussion until tomorrow, after we’ve had a chance to get used to the idea of a wedding?”

  She was pouting, but the first lady agreed to his suggestion, and Donna and I were mercifully dismissed from the room. Both of us were too stunned to even speak after we left the room, though she did hold my hand as we walked toward the parking lot. The people who had been congratulating Reverend Reynolds and his wife were now outside in the church parking lot. A few of them pointed our way and started whispering, no doubt gossiping about our just announced engagement. I cringed at the thought of how their conversations probably included me as the bad guy in all this.

  “I’m going home. I have to get out of these clothes. I’ve been wearing them the past three days,” Donna mumbled.

  “Jump in. I’ll give you a ride.” It was all I could manage to say as I climbed into my truck to leave, though we still had so much more to talk about.

  “No, I’m gonna walk to the cab stand. I need to be alone.”

  “Aw’ight, but you should come over later. We need to talk.”

  “Mm-hmm, just not tonight, Shorty. Tomorrow, okay?” Donna answered, avoiding eye contact.

  “Donna, before I go, I just need to know. Do you really wanna get married?”

  She touched her belly as she glanced over at the church parsonage where Reverend Reynolds and his new bride were entering with some members of the congregation. “I don’t think I have a choice.”

  27

  Donna

  After a long, drawn-out conversation with my parents about my wedding plans, my mother had decided we were going to have a small wedding. Her idea of small, though, was somewhere in the neighborhood of one hundred and seventy-five people. Instead of a guest list representing both the bride and groom equally, my mother informed me that she couldn’t possibly reduce her number any lower than one hundred and twenty-five. She was, after all, the first lady of First Jamaica Ministries, a position she sometimes imagined to be as prestigious as first lady of the United States. If this weren’t a shotgun wedding that needed to be expedited, I’m sure my mother would have tried to stretch her list to well over five hundred people.

  Even though her list was small by her standards, I felt like it was a slap in the face to Shorty and his family. They were left with only fifty spaces for their guests, and my mother didn’t seem to see anything wrong with that. By this time I knew there wasn’t any use fighting with my mother over this. She had made her decision, and if I dared to question it, she would be sure to make me feel even guiltier about the fact that I was shaming the family with my pregnancy. Who was I to hold an opinion about my own wedding? There would be no need for one if I had just kept my pants on. Yes, my mother had spent years cultivating this type of guilt in me, so I could already anticipate what she would say to shut me up and get her way. Instead, I kept silent and let her make all the decisions, knowing that I would be left with the unfortunate task of informing Shorty that his family was only one-third as important as the first lady’s.

  Surprisingly Shorty didn’t protest at all when I went to his apartment to tell him. I think he was just so happy we were getting married he would have accepted any number, as long as I was going to be walking down that aisle to marry him. Shorty didn’t care if there were no guests besides the two witnesses required by law. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He did make it very clear that it was important to him for Dante to be there. Shorty loved Dante like his own brother, and he really wanted him to be his best man. The only problem was that Dante wasn’t taking this whole thing very well. My brother had already let my mother know that if he thought she would let him get away with it, he wouldn’t be at the wedding at all. Of course that wouldn’t happen. How would it look for the bishop’s son to stay away from his own sister’s wedding? People would surely gossip about that, and my mother was determined to make this wedding appear as normal as possible.

  Shorty knew Dante was angry. Dante had refused to speak to him ever since my surprise announcement, so now Shorty was afraid to ask him to be the best man. After I promised to ask Dante for him, I told Shorty I had done enough talking about the wedding. It was just too much stress. We sat on the sofa watching Donald Trump’s The Apprentice 2. It’s not that I liked the show that much, but it was comforting to have a distraction from my own reality, even for a little while. Shorty, on the other hand, didn’t seem to want to let the subject go.

  “You sure you wanna get married?” he asked me for the fifth time in five minutes. I guess he still couldn’t believe that we were getting married. Neither could I, for that matter.

  “Yes, Shorty, I want to get married.” I didn’t bother to conceal my exasperation with his constant questioning.

  “And you want the baby to have my last name?”

  “Uh-huh.” I didn’t take my eyes off the television as I answered.

  He reached out and took my hand, staring at me until I was forced to take my eyes off Donald Trump’s bad hair and look at him. He was smiling ear to ear. “How we gonna deal with the reverend? You know he’s going to suspect the baby is his.”

  The mention of Terrance made my stomach lurch. I was still hurting deeply over his betrayal, but I didn’t want to admit it. I put on a brave face, hoping if I just kept saying I didn’t care about him, I might eventually believe myself. It hadn’t work so far.

  “Don’t worry, Shorty. I got that. He doesn’t even know I’m pregnant, and when he does find out, I’m going to make it very clear to him it’s not his baby.”
<
br />   I could see my words comforted him when I looked into his eyes.

  “Donna, you know I love you, right?”

  “If I didn’t before, Shorty, I sure do now.” I squeezed his hand and he turned to me with affection in his eyes.

  Shorty kissed me for the first time in over a year. The kiss was nice, but—I hated to admit it—it just wasn’t Terrance. We kissed for a while, and as time went on, I noticed his breathing was growing heavy and harsh. As I sat there mourning the loss of what I thought I had with Terrance, Shorty was becoming overjoyed at what he saw as a new beginning for us.

  “Donna, you don’t know how long I’ve dreamed about this day,” he murmured as he kissed my neck and massaged my shoulders and arms. His roaming hands and body language told me that he was way more aroused than I was. I grew tense as I realized what was happening. He wanted to take our relationship to the next level. For a moment, I didn’t say anything; I just let him continue, hoping he’d stop. Then his hand slid down toward my thigh and began to creep up under my dress.

  Without delay, I jumped up. “Stop, Shorty. What do you think you’re doing?”

  He stared at me like a contestant on a game show who didn’t know the answer to the million-dollar question. “I thought now that we’re engaged we were going to…you know.”

  “Look, I know we’re getting married, but I’ve already made one mistake giving it up before I went down the aisle. I’m not going to make that mistake twice. I’m not going to sleep with you until after we’re married. I hope you can respect that.”

  It was obvious he wasn’t happy about things, but he sucked it up and smiled at me. I guess he decided that he’d waited this long, what was another week or two? Still, he did decide to remind me of how much I owed him.

  “I hope you’re not trying to play me for Reverend Reynolds, Donna, ’cause I went out on a limb for you. I’m not the one who announced to the world that we were getting married. You did.”

  I felt like I was about to lose my mind. After spending all afternoon with my mother making me feel guilty about getting pregnant, here was Shorty laying another guilt trip on me. In some ways I could understand. He did go above and beyond the call of duty when he let me tell everyone he was the father of my baby. Still, I was so tired of feeling guilty and pressured by everyone. It seemed like I was the last one anyone was concerned about. My mother was only interested in saving the family reputation so that the bishop could get elected, and Shorty suddenly seemed to think I owed him sex for what he’d done for me. Well, I’d had enough. As much as I appreciated Shorty, he was just gonna have to wait.

  “Shorty, believe me, I know you went out on a limb for me, and I am not trying to play you. Once we get married, I’m going to be the best wife I can be for you. I will meet all your needs. I promise. Please just give me some time.” Mercifully, he accepted my words with a smile.

  “You can take all the time you need because I’m gonna be the best husband and father you could ever imagine. I swear you’re never gonna regret this.”

  I wasn’t about to tell him, but I was starting to have regrets already. Shorty was a good man. I couldn’t think of anyone else who would marry a woman who was pregnant when he knew it wasn’t his child. Still, as good a man as he was, he wasn’t the man I loved. He wasn’t Terrance and he never would be, and after next Saturday I was going to have to deal with that the rest of my life.

  28

  Donna

  “Please, Dante. It would mean the world to us.”

  “I’m not going to be in the wedding, Donna, so I damn sure ain’t gonna be his best man. Not after the way you two played me. The bishop and the first lady still don’t believe I didn’t know what was going on between you two.” I was sitting in Dante’s office trying to convince him to be Shorty’s best man in my wedding.

  “I’m sorry, Dante. This is all my fault. Shorty wanted to tell you, but I knew you wouldn’t have approved. I made him promise to keep our relationship a secret.” That old cliché about telling one lie always leading to another is true. I’d probably told more lies trying to cover up the fact that Shorty wasn’t my baby’s father than I’d told in my entire life.

  “You darn right I wouldn’t have approved. I would have stopped it and you wouldn’t be knocked up by my best friend.” He sneered. “And don’t by any means think that I don’t blame you in this, little sister.”

  Dante sounded so hurt. I was tempted to tell my brother the truth to make him feel better, but before I could say anything, there was a knock at the door.

  “Come in!” Dante shouted then looked at me and spoke softly before the door opened. “I’m going to be at your wedding because the bishop wants me to be there, but I’m not going to be in your wedding party.”

  The door opened. “Dante, have you seen your sister? Oh, there you are.”

  My back was facing the door. When I turned around, my heart, which I thought had started to heal the past few days, felt ready to crumble at the sight of Terrance.

  He’d been keeping a pretty low profile since the day he showed up back in town with his new wife. As much as I wanted to hate him, my body betrayed me now, because I still felt that magnetic physical attraction to him. That man looked so good in his designer suit he was making my nipples stand at attention. Thank goodness for padded bras. My face, of course, stayed expressionless, as if carved out of stone.

  “Donna, is it possible for me to speak to you in private?”

  “About what?” Though I wanted to scream, I tried to keep my tone even since Dante was in the room.

  “Your father wanted me to speak to you and Shorty about your premarriage counseling. Do you have a minute?”

  This cannot be happening to me, I thought. Of all the people to be counseling me and Shorty on our marriage.

  “Look, I’ve got a meeting with Deacon Black. Why don’t you two use my office?” Dante sounded more than happy to hand me over to Terrance so he wouldn’t have to deal with me himself. I wanted to cry and beg my brother to stay, but in reality, I didn’t want to be with either one of these men right now. At one time they had been two of the most important men in my life, but now they were both making me feel like shit.

  Dante left and Terrance and I stared at each other for what was probably only a few seconds but seemed like eternity. Finally, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Donna, we’ve got to talk.” He spoke barely above a whisper.

  “Talk? What is there to talk about? We don’t have anything to talk about. By the way, how’s your wife?” My tone was cold and my voice sounded so hollow that it didn’t even sound like my voice anymore. It sounded dead, just like I felt.

  Terrance got right to the point. “You can’t marry Shorty. I won’t allow it.”

  “Won’t allow it?” I was shocked by his arrogance. “How you gonna stop it? Why would you stop it? You’re a married man.”

  “For starters, you don’t love him. You love me.”

  “Ha! What’s love got to do with it?”

  He stepped closer, reaching for me, and I threw up my hands. “Don’t touch me. Do you understand? Don’t you dare touch me.”

  He stepped back. “Donna, baby, please. I know you’re upset, but don’t do something you’ll regret the rest of your life. You don’t want to marry that man.”

  I wanted to smack him, and I’m sure my expression told him that. “Who the hell are you to say that to me? You’re the man who ruined my life. I loved you, Terrance. I didn’t deserve this. You didn’t even have the decency to tell me. You had me sitting in a restaurant you knew you weren’t coming to so you could show that heifer off to my friends and family.”

  He turned away from me. “I know, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to make a scene.”

  “You’re pathetic, you know that, Terrance.” I was crying now. “But what I wanna know is what did I do wrong? Is it because I wouldn’t fulfill your sexual fantasy? I was planning on doing that the night you came home. What did I do, T
errance?”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Donna. It was me. I should have told you about Shawna in the beginning.”

  I stopped my sobbing long enough to ask, “Do you love her?”

  “We have a lot in common. We’re a good team. She knows a lot of powerful people. She can help me get my own church. I want my own church, Donna.”

  “Is that what this is about? We were a good team too, you know. If you had married me, you could have been the pastor of this place someday. Dante doesn’t want it.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Obviously. I still wanna know why, Terrance. Why would you cheat on me?”

  He hesitated and I could tell what he was about to say was a struggle. “I wasn’t cheating on you. I was cheating on her. I’d been with her since before I came to New York. She was overseas studying in Jerusalem when you and I got together. She just came back a few months ago.”

  “How could you do this to me? I gave you the only thing I had left. I gave you my virginity.”

  “Donna, I’m sorry.”

  “Will you stop saying that? All I want to know is, do you love her?”

  “I did until I fell in love with you.”

  “If you loved me, why didn’t you tell her about us?”

  “She knows your mother and father. She’d asked your mother to keep an eye on me.”

  “So that’s why my mother tried to keep me away from you. She knew you were a bastard, engaged to one woman and up here enjoying the attention of all the women of this church.”

  He ignored my statement and changed the subject. “Donna, I need to know something.”

  “What?” I just wanted him to leave.

  “Your father told me you were pregnant. Is that true?”

  I felt the slightest satisfaction knowing that he cared enough to even ask. “Why?”

  “I want to know if it’s my baby.”