Former Rain-Forsaken Box Set

by Vanessa Miller

  “Why do you always say that? You postponed the wedding twice; how is that moving heaven and earth?”

  “That had nothing to do with how I felt about you. For the love we share.”

  Cassandra wanted to spit in his face for the heartache his love had brought her. For how he’d trampled on her dreams. But a pain shot through her so fierce, she forgot about JT and his whore mongering. Forgot how he and Bishop Turner had trained her to be a fine first lady, and let out a yelp that caused Deacon Smalls to peak his head into the office.

  He looked toward JT. “Sorry to interrupt, Pastor. But the congregation can hear y’all. Just thought you’d want to know.”

  JT released Cassandra. She grabbed her belly, fell on her knees, and screamed again. “Well tell one of ‘em to call an ambulance instead of pressing their ear against my door. Can’t you see that my wife’s in labor?” JT yelled.

  “Sorry, sir. We’ll call the ambulance right away.”

  As Deacon Smalls ran toward the phone, JT sat on the floor next to his wife. “Are you okay, Sanni?”

  “It hurts, JT.”

  He put her head in his lap. “Tell me what to do, Sanni. I’ll do anything to relieve your pain.”

  Margie Milner rushed into the office, her three inch pumps crushing down on the plush burgundy carpet. Cassandra pointed at the long dress wearing deaconess as her tears fell into JT’s lap. “Get rid of her.”

  “I’ll do whatever you want, Sanni. Just please don’t lose our baby.”

  CHAPTER 1

  November - 2009

  “Why do you stay?”

  Cassandra’s mother had asked her the same question for the last three years. Ever since she’d foolishly confided all their secrets. She used to tell her mother that she stayed for love, because her sons needed a father. Because she still remembered the man JT used to be, and would wait forever for him to return.

  “Girl, I know you hear me talking to you,” her mother said.

  Cassandra picked up her purse. “Look, Mama, today is the church’s anniversary and the first day of our TV ministry. Let’s just go to church and celebrate with everyone else. Okay?” It took them two years to raise the money for their television ministry and then another year to get the time slot JT wanted.

  Mattie reached in the closet to get her grandchildren’s coats. “You can celebrate with that snake if you want, but I’m going to sit in the church nursery with Jerome and Aaron.”

  Cassandra rolled her eyes. She was getting annoyed with her mother. Mattie was normally a wonderful person to be around, but when they discussed matters of the church, she became cantankerous and insulting.

  “I know you’re not getting upset with me, Cassandra Ann?”

  Cassandra laid Aaron, her eight month old son, on the couch and put his snow suit on him while Mattie took Jerome, her three year old, and put his jacket on him. “Sometimes, I wonder why you even go to church, Mother. I mean, you don’t seem to like anybody there.”

  “I go for comic relief,” Mattie told her daughter as she zipped Jerome’s jacket up. “Which reminds me; I’ve got a new joke for you.” Rubbing her hands together she began, “A pastor and an assistant pastor were in church on Sunday morning arguing over who had the most women.”

  Cassandra raised her hand. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  Mattie ignored her. “The pastor finally told the assistant pastor, ‘I know how to resolve this. Every woman that walks through the door that you’ve been with, you say the word mark, and each time a woman that I’ve been with comes through the door I’ll do the same. Then we’ll see who has the most marks.

  “The people started arriving to church. One woman walked through the door and the pastor said, ‘Mark’. Another woman came through the door and the assistant pastor said, ‘Mark’. Some more women came in and the pastor said, ‘Mark, mark’. Then a few more women strolled in and the assistant pastor said, ‘Mark, mark, mark’.

  “The pastor looked at him and said, ‘Fool, that’s my wife and two oldest daughters. And the assistant pastor said, ‘I don’t care, I said, “Mark, mark, mark” ’.”

  The look of horror and astonishment on Cassandra’s face escaped Mattie’s attention as she laughed all the way to the car.

  As they drove down the street, headed to church, Cassandra wanted to tell her mother that she needed to pray about the things she said concerning men of God. But she couldn’t bring herself to chastise her own mother. So she silently prayed that God would have mercy on her mother and lead her in the right path. Then she tried a safer subject. “JT wants you in the sanctuary with us. Can you please do this for me, Mama?”

  “Girl, who you kidding? Once that jackleg gets to skinning and grinning in front of that camera, he won’t even know if God Himself showed up.”

  Sometimes Cassandra feared that God would strike her mother down for all her disrespect. She couldn’t put it off any longer. “Mama, it’s not right to speak about a man of God in such a way.”

  Mattie Daniels gave her only child a knowing smirk. “What you talking ‘bout? I would never open my mouth against a man of God.”

  ***

  JT was in the pulpit gesturing and pontificating when Cassandra and her mother walked down the aisle and took their front row seats. The pulpit area had been redesigned about six months ago in preparation for the new TV ministry. It had once been cramped and overflowing with choir members. Now the choir sat in the balcony, and wingback chairs lined the side of the pulpit. Only important people were allowed to sit in those wingback chairs. Gone was the acrylic podium she bought her husband on their first anniversary. It had been replaced by a handcrafted red-oak monstrosity.

  “Like I always say,” JT told the congregation. “Nothing gets done, unless somebody does it. Just like the Bible says, faith without works is dead.”

  Cassandra resolved to sit through yet another of JT’s self-empowerment messages. But still found herself wondering where God fit in all his ‘nothing gets done unless somebody does it’ speeches? But Cassandra’s heart was heavy as she thought about how her mother insinuated that JT was not a true man of God. No matter what JT had done, Cassandra had always believed that he was a man of God, but what if her mother was right? What if JT made so many mistakes because he wasn’t a true man of God? She stopped listening to her husband’s message and searched the ‘important people chairs’ for Bishop Turner. Her eyes danced with joy as she spotted the bishop and then leaned down and whispered to her mother. “I can’t help it. I still wish that Bishop Turner had been my father. Why couldn’t you have met him before he married Suzie?”

  Mattie flinched. “Hush, girl, I’m trying to make sense of this fool’s message.”

  Cassandra knew that her mother was not intently listening to JT. But she also knew that her mother hated when she talked about Bishop. So she leaned back in her seat and dreamed a little. Her father had died before she was born, but, she didn’t miss him. Bishop Turner had always been there for her; just like a daddy. So, every night she would pray for God to make Bishop her daddy. She didn’t even mind if she had to share him with his two sons, just as long as he belonged to her also. As she grew older she came to terms with the fact that Bishop would never be her father, and accepted his role as godfather in her life.

  Bishop had introduced her to JT. He even came home early from his Caribbean vacation to marry them. There were days that she knew with everything in her, that she only held onto this marriage to please her godfather.

  She turned back to her husband and listened as he prepared to close his sermon. What happened to you, JT? What became of all your big dreams? What happened to us? None of those questions were appropriate for the first lady of Faith Outreach Church, but her heart was full of them anyway. Even as her husband finished his sermon, walked down to where she sat, took her hand and stood her up to plant a kiss on her lips, she wondered what happened to the feelings that used to soar through her when he did this.


  “What did you think of my sermon, baby?” JT asked.

  “It was all right,” she said as she pulled her hand out of his and made her way to the pulpit where Bishop Turner sat. Giving her godfather a tight hug, Cassandra sighed. “I’ve missed you. How can you stay away so long?”

  “It was not on purpose, my sweet Cassandra. There are just too many fires to put out in the kingdom of God.” He took her head in his hands and placed a delicate kiss on her forehead. “But I promise, not a day went by that I didn’t think of you.”

  “Don’t let Junior or Edward hear you say that. They would blow a gasket.”

  They linked arm in arm and strolled toward JT’s office. “Don’t you worry about my sons; they know that I take my responsibility as your godfather very seriously.”

  Bishop had always been a prominent figure in Cassandra’s life. She knew he would do anything for her, that fact had always brought her comfort. Cassandra just wished that her husband took his responsibilities to her as seriously as her godfather did.

  CHAPTER 2

  Jimmy Littleton’s skeletal frame slow walked all the way home. No reason to hurry. He had no job, no family, and no big bootie woman awaiting his return. He did have a gun, though. And as he stood in front of his dilapidated, roof ‘bout to cave in house, with a forty ounce swinging from his hand, he thought a bullet to the head might be just the buzz he was looking for.

  “Hey, Jimmy,” Charlie, his creepy, thick sideburn wearing next door neighbor, called out. “The police stopped by your place today. I guess you’re done vacationing with us. ‘Bout to run on back home to your nice comfy cell, huh?”

  Jimmy tried to ignore him, but Creepy Charlie’s clamorous laughter could be heard even as he walked into his house, toward the back bedroom.

  Pulling his 9mm from the three legged night stand his mother bequeathed to him, he headed back downstairs toward the kitchen. A tuna sandwich would go good with his forty. Putting the gun on the counter he opened the fridge. Covering his nose, he slammed the fridge as the smell of rotten tuna assaulted his nostrils. The refrigerator had stopped running again. Life sucked.

  If he could find that low life, JT and put him through a slow, painful, eye gouging death, then maybe life would go better for him. After spending six years in prison for a crime he and JT committed, and not receiving one care package from the man that received a get out of jail free card from his silent lips, Jimmy needed to even the score. He’d spent the last nine years of his life searching for his old buddy. Okay, maybe he spent more time behind bars in the last nine years than he actually spent on his search. But he did his best. And you can’t knock the prison connection. They know how to find lowlifes. So it was odd that his lowlife remained hidden. Like he had stopped dealing with criminals all together. But, Jimmy knew better than that. There was no such thing as rehabilitation.

  Every day Jimmy woke, he imagined JT spending his money and laughing at him. Taking a swig from his bottle, he realized that he couldn’t take it anymore. The police were looking for him again. Probably mad about the convenience store he robbed last night. They might be a little upset about the way he tied those clerks up and left them in the back of the store. Why couldn’t they just get over it? At least they found them. He could have shot them in the head. But he took the high road and acted like a Good Samaritan. Nobody was ever grateful. Everybody held a grudge. Even him.

  That’s why he couldn’t go on, couldn’t live another day with a grudge that was causing him to lose focus and mess up simple convenience store jobs. Now the police were on his back again.

  He took another swig, picked up his gun, and headed to the living room. Turning on the TV, he decided to do something unusual. With a smile he changed the channel, thinking how wonderful it would be for the police to come in his house and find him with his brains splattered out and a sermon blaring throughout the house.

  He turned up the volume as he found the Word Channel. Even sinners at the end of their rope could find redemption. Isn’t that what Christians always spouted? “Come to Jesus, He will save you.”

  An anniversary celebration was going on. Praise dancers filled the screen. When he was a kid, his mom took him to see Swan Lake. He still remembered how the ballerinas danced around – leotards flowing gracefully. Happy times. It had been all good when his mother was alive. But cancer took her away, and the bogie man took her place. His father did nothing but drink and abuse him. Thinking about the nightmare on Canal Street made Jimmy lift the gun to his head. He turned his attention back to the TV; wanted to hear some preacher spout off about the goodness of God while he blew his brains out. The pastor was taking his place behind the pulpit.

  Jimmy lowered the gun and sat up. That was no pastor. The man standing before him was JT Thomas. His partner in crime. His enemy. He put the gun on the coffee table. Now he had better things to do than die. Anyway, he couldn’t go before JT, now could he?

  CHAPTER 3

  JT walked into the kitchen with frowning and complaining lips. “Pork chops again?”

  Dawg, Cassandra forgot she’d fixed pork chops last Sunday. “I could smother them, and boil some rice to go with them.”

  JT waved her off. “Just give me what you got. I have a meeting at the church that I need to get back to.”

  She turned back to her stainless steel stove and filled his plate with the baked macaroni and cheese, yams, green beans and a pork chop that she’d labored over at seven o’clock that morning. JT was always hungry when he finished his sermon. She’d learned early on in their marriage that trying to prepare a meal after church wouldn’t do. Her husband hated going hungry and would throw a fit if she tried to get out of cooking. She handed him his plate, fixed her own, then sat down at the kitchen table with him. The children had fallen to sleep on the drive home from church, so it was just her and JT at the dinner table. “I thought the men’s meeting was cancelled?”

  He shoved the mac and cheese in his mouth. He then took a healthy bite out of the pork chop and continued to look down at his plate as if he were in a race that required him to devour his food within the next two seconds.

  “JT, did you hear me?” Cassandra asked.

  Shoving green beans and yams in his mouth, he looked up. “Huh?”

  Cassandra shook her head as she said, “When are you going to stop acting like your food is about to run away from you?”

  He put his fork down and wiped his mouth. “You’re the best cook I know, baby. I can’t stop myself after I take the first bite.”

  “Well, just don’t choke yourself.”

  JT laughed. “I’ve got too much work to do to choke to death.”

  “Which brings me back to my original question.” Cassandra suspiciously asked, “I thought the men’s meeting was cancelled for tonight.”

  “It was. I’m meeting with the choir tonight. We’ve got that musical coming up for Bishop Turner and I want to make sure they understand how important this is. You know my motto; nothing gets done, unless-”

  “I know, I know. But why do you always have to be the somebody doing it?”

  “I don’t have time to argue with you right now, Sanni.” He put on his jacket and bent down to kiss his wife on the forehead. “I won’t be long. Have the boys wait up so I can put them to bed, okay?”

  She grabbed his hand and said, “Sit back down for a minute, JT,”

  “Is it important, baby? I really need to get going,”

  “I think it is. Can you have a seat for a minute?”

  JT huffed, but sat back down. “Okay, now what’s so important that it can’t wait until I get back?”

  “What’s going on with you?”

  “What do you mean? I don’t understand the question,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

  Her hand was on top of his, she glided her hand across his as she said, “You’ve become distant again. Like you were when…”

  JT pulled his hand away from Cassandra and stood up. “Don’t say it, Cassa
ndra. I get so tired of you rehashing the past. There’s nothing wrong with us. I just have an appointment I need to get to.” He looked at his watch like the first President Bush did when he was debating Governor Clinton. “I’m already late. I’ll talk to you about this later.”

  JT walked out of the door and Cassandra let him go. Her marriage was falling apart and she didn’t know what to do. JT refused to talk about the very thing that Cassandra knew was still bothering him, even after all these years.

  She stood up and removed the plates from the table, thinking that it just might be time to call a marriage counselor.

  ***

  Driving down the street, JT smiled to himself. He had accomplished more than most men dreamed about. He was no longer the poor little kid whose mother was a junkie, selling her food stamps and whatever else she could sell to get money for her next high. No, he was somebody. He owned a Bentley and he and his wife lived in a 7,000 square-foot home. A mini-mansion if you will, and JT planned to have a full-fledged mansion within two years. God came into his life, anointed him to preach and gave him a wife worthy of any preacher.

  JT had to admit, Cassandra was all right. She was pretty enough with that smooth chocolate skin and those deep dimples he loved. Her dainty little body would make any man thank God for small favors. Especially when it snuggled up to him on cold nights. She made sure their children were clean and fed. And when he got the itch, she took care of him also. But something was missing. It had to be.

  His cell phone rang, he looked at the caller ID and then pushed the talk button while still driving to his destination. “Hey what’s up, baby?”

  The caller said, “I was just wondering if I was going to see you tonight?”

  He smiled lazily – like a man who’d been left a million dollars by a distant relative he’d never had to take to the grocery store, pick up medicine at the pharmacy for, or stop by to check in on every so often. “Where’s your husband?” he asked.