Mercy, Mercy Me

by Ronn Elmore

  Actually, it was clear to Dwayne that there was plenty they could do to save the marriage. With the right help, he had seen relationships far worse go on to flourish.

  Renee and Jamal’s problems with each other weren’t so terrible they couldn’t be remedied. The real problem was that neither knew what to do about them. Though they loved God—and even each other still—they had few reliable tools to work with. To paraphrase the lament of the apostle Paul: They had the will to deal with each other lovingly, but when it came down to how to perform it, they were clueless.

  Neither Renee nor Jamal had come from a household where the skills of a godly marriage (good communication, conflict management, mutual submission and respect, and demonstrated affection) had been modeled before them. So when they grew up and went out on their own and jumped the broom, they ended up trying to do something they hadn’t seen done very well themselves.

  When you ain’t seen it done before, it ain’t so easy to do. The sad part was that their children were watching them twenty-four/seven and learning, for better or for worse, the way a husband and a wife were supposed to treat each other.

  Dwayne dropped his head in his hands and rubbed his face as they left the room after their session had come to a close.

  “What’s up, boss? Boy, do you look tired,” Monique teased as she sauntered into the office, her blond hair twisted back into a French roll and her trademark short skirt rising along her long mocha-brown legs, and handed him a stack of clients’ folders for the next day’s appointments.

  “I’m not tired. I just have something on my mind.”

  “Well, I’m out of here. Got a date. Don’t work too late.”

  “I won’t.”

  Monique rolled her eyes as if she didn’t believe him and then walked out of the door. She had grown to know his moods quite well, and though it seemed that different worlds had always separated them, Monique was closer to Dwayne than she was to most anyone and could tell him most anything.

  Dwayne had always been surprised at Monique’s resolve and cheeky outlook in spite of all she’d been through, but then again, he attributed that to the time she’d spent in the Grandison home. Still, having had two young children and divorcing only recently, he couldn’t help but feel she didn’t take life as seriously as she should. Yet, surprisingly enough, she had worked out perfectly for him, the perfect mix of sister girl panache and down-home Texas wit with sound uptown judgment. When he heard the front door close and lock behind her, he leaned back in the reclining chair.

  He’d been this way since lunch—not able to concentrate as Nina’s smiling face lingered in his mind. There was something about Nina that Dwayne could not erase from his psyche. Maybe it was the way she looked at him, with those intense brown eyes. He’d felt an immediate connection.

  Nina sat at the round dining room table and took off her glasses. She massaged her temples, then put her reading glasses back on and returned to the yellow sheets of paper stretched in front of her.

  The floor creaked behind her and Nina turned. “Omari, what are you doing up?”

  He rubbed his eyes with his fists. “I was thirsty. May I have a glass of water? I’m really thirsty.” He put his hand to his throat and coughed weakly.

  Nina twisted her lips in doubt, but stood and walked to the adjoining kitchen, taking a small glass from the dish drainer on the counter and half filling it. A minute later, Omari handed the glass to his mother, but stood in place.

  “Go back to bed, young man,” she said, pointing in the direction of his room.

  Without argument, he hugged Nina tightly. ”I love you, Mommy.”

  She kissed his cheek, then turned him around, slapping him playfully on his butt. “It’s almost midnight. Back to bed, buster.”

  She watched him scurry down the long hall to his bedroom and she sighed. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered.

  Omari was the treasure that had risen from the rubble of her life. From the outside looking in, anyone would have thought she was blessed, but most people didn’t know the rough road she’d taken. Shaking her head, even she was amazed that she’d made it.

  When she spoke at high schools now and told how she wished her life had been different, her words were always met with shocked stares. Thanks to cable networks like TV Land and reruns, Nina’s face was still known, even to this new generation of youngsters.

  She knew all too well what they were thinking. How could someone who had been lucky enough to be acting in a top television series at the age of six say she wasn’t lucky?

  But by the time she explained her two suicide attempts, her battles with drugs and bulimia, and her failed marriages, the students’ stares always switched from shock to sympathy. But it wasn’t their sympathy she was after. She only wanted them to hear her message—that luck had nothing to do with her life. It was only the grace of God that had granted success so early and His mercy that had pulled her through when it seemed life had let her down. Nina wanted her testimony to help others, providing hope for deliverance from drugs, drinking, and promiscuity.

  She shuddered at the thought of her “not distant enough” past—days that were further behind her spiritually than in years. A chapter of her life that had, since its closure, given way to a robust resilience that had brought maturity, earthiness, and the confidence of one who had been to hell, survived, and then lived to tell about it. She pushed her five-foot-four, 115-pound frame from the table and tiptoed down the hall to check on Omari. Though he had only gone to bed five minutes before, he was sleeping soundly, his arms wrapped tightly around his pillow. She kissed his forehead, pulled the comforter over him, then tiptoed from the room.

  As she returned to the dining table, she looked at the clock. Nine-thirty. She’d work just a half hour more, then go to bed. But when she finally rose from the table, it was almost one.

  Chapter Four

  As the men continued their argument, Beverlyn twirled the glass of water she held, then sighed and stood, walking to the enormous windows of her Canal Street Plaza office. Her ankle-length purple chiffon sheath flowed gracefully behind her. The debate continued, but Beverlyn tuned the voices out, focusing in on the soft lights of the park below. Darkness was descending, but from her twenty-seventh-floor window, she could still see Jackson Square illuminated by lights from the surrounding Hilton and Marriott hotels.

  She reveled in the thought of being on top of the city that once held her beneath its feet. She now sat in a top-floor office, overlooking the same park where she used to beg and steal.

  “Do these people realize who Beverlyn Boudreaux is?”

  With the mention of her name, Beverlyn turned around.

  “L.W., we need the equipment, but this has to be a good deal for everyone.” She returned to her desk and ran her fingers through her short-cropped layered hair.

  The stern look in L.W ‘s eyes told her to let him handle this, and as she took a sip of water, he turned back to Michael Grossman, the man in charge of procuring the production equipment. He handed Michael a folder.

  “I’m sure you understand my concerns, Mr. Grossman. These numbers are not good enough and we’re running out of time. We move to Los Angeles in less than a month. The production facilities are ready and the scheduling is set to go; the only thing missing is what you told us you could handle.”

  Michael, flushed red with L.W.’s reproach, turned to Beverlyn for support. But she dropped her gaze, confirming what he already knew—indeed, what everyone knew: that Linson William Lejohn really ran Beverlyn Boudreaux and the ever-expanding enterprise that bore her name and was said to be pulling in millions of dollars annually.

  Michael turned back to L.W. “Mr. Lejohn, I’ll keep working on this—”

  “You have forty-eight hours.” L.W. abruptly cut him off and then stood.

  Michael stuffed the folders into his briefcase and nodding in acknowledgment, swiftly exited the office. Beverlyn swiveled her chair around, facing the window again, her back to L.W. She
could hear him as he returned to his seat.

  “Beverlyn, I know you think I’m being hard.”

  “Not at all, Uncle Linson.” She turned toward him, calling him by the name she used only when they were alone. “I just believe he presented a good deal and we should be fair.”

  “We need to be smart. I don’t want people taking advantage of us because we’re Christians and they know we have a lot of money.” The sardonic wit riddled with insecurity was part of L.W.’s persona. His smile faded so easily into a grimace that it was hard to tell them apart.

  “Now, Uncle Linson, I’m hardly going to let anyone walk over me.”

  “Listen, what’s this I hear of your agreeing to appear at the Glory Time Conference in Jackson, Mississippi?”

  “Well, I have the time and I made a promise.”

  “Beverlyn, you’re way beyond that conference. They can’t pay your rate. You’d have to fly coach to meet their budget, and it would be sending a signal that people can offer you just about anything. That conference won’t draw more than five hundred people. We’ve worked too hard to get you top dollar on the circuit and here you are!”

  “Oh, Uncle Linson,” she cut him off. “I really hadn’t wanted to do it anyway. The woman just caught me off guard. I’ll have Kim make my apologies. However, I will be doing the Spirit Alive Conference.”

  “But they’re not even paying.”

  “Yeah, but Kim thinks she can get a cover story if I agree to do the conference.”

  “Well, let’s see if we can’t get them to nail that commitment down, and if they have dollars for performers in the budget, I don’t see why they can’t pay you, even if they’re doing a cover story.”

  “But,” she started to argue, and then stopped. She knew that despite anything she had to say, her uncle was going to do this his way, just like he’d been doing for the last twenty-five years. Besides, there was little for her to complain about. L.W. had moved her into areas she hadn’t considered, including a highly successful spoken-word ministry that grossed upwards of two million annually, and book publishing. Her latest book, Sex and the Single Christian Woman, was selling out at all the nation’s Christian bookstores.

  Now L.W. was taking her beyond anything she could have imagined. The Jubilee Network was an idea presented just twenty-one months ago. He’d worked endlessly to make it a reality, but now as this latest achievement was at hand, she had her doubts, and worried that they might be in over their heads.

  “Beverlyn, let me handle all of this,” L.W. said. “This is a great move. You’ve seen the projections. We’re talking a lot of money, and I’m not going to kid you, there are some risks involved, but God hasn’t failed us yet.”

  The numbers—that was her hot button and L.W. knew it. She needed money so she could do all the things she dreamed of: starting a Christian camp for children whose families were too poor to send them away, or scholarships for poor young men and women who aspired to major in music. She wanted to fill in all of the gaps she had faced when growing up. And she also wanted to call her own shots. For too long, she’d not been taken seriously on the Christian front. She was either too pretty or too young or a woman. She was finally close to letting people know just how wrong they’d been about her and what she could do. Yeah, she was about to give the African American church world something to talk about.

  “Beverlyn.” Kim entered the room. “Your two P.M. with Gospel Alive magazine is here.”

  Chapter Five

  And the final question,” Nina said. “Should we and, if so, how will we attract men beyond our church members?”

  Dwayne leaned back in the seat and intertwined his fingers behind his head. He had rolled up the sleeves of his starched shirt two hours before when his meeting with Nina had first begun. He smiled as Nina answered her final question the way she had addressed all of his concerns—professionally and succinctly.

  “Well?” Her forehead crinkled with anxiety as her eyes searched his for the answer she wanted to hear. When he remained silent, she tried to smile through the grimace that betrayed her concern. “So, Dwayne, what do you think?”

  Dwayne leaned forward, resting his hands on the conference room’s cherry wood table. From the sanctuary, they heard the faint sound of a keyboard and soft voices as the youth choir practiced. The words of the song settled into their silence:

  Order my steps in Your Word, Dear Lord.

  Lead me, guide me every day.

  Finally, he said, “Well, I don’t know… um,” prolonging her suspense. “I, um… well, actually”—he stood up, turned away from her, then slowly turned back around—“nothing would please me more.” With that, he could hardly contain his laughter.

  At once, she playfully nudged him, then lunged her arms around his neck. “All right!”

  It was an automatic reflex when Dwayne returned her hug.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  Both Nina and Dwayne jumped at the voice behind them. They turned almost simultaneously to find Lafayette leaning against the doorpost, a wide grin occupying his face.

  “Dwayne has agreed to join us, Pastor.”

  “That is good news.” Lafayette swaggered toward them in a casual black Georgio Armani slacks set. “It’s good to have you back home, man.”

  “And Dwayne has shared some good baselines for the dialogue,” Nina explained to Lafayette.

  “Who knows? I might have to move over.”

  “Don’t get any ideas,” Dwayne said, reacting to the smirk on Lafayette’s face. “I’m taking this one step at a time.”

  “I know.” Lafayette got serious. “Then again, who knows what could come of this?” He stopped, his eyes darting between Nina and Dwayne as he turned toward the door. “You guys just keep doing what you were doing before I interrupted you.”

  Dwayne squinted as he stared at the door, wondering about his brother’s comment.

  “There is just one thing to discuss,” Nina said, her voice still filled with excitement.

  Dwayne turned his attention back to her.

  “We should meet regularly for the next few weeks until the program is up and running,” she said. “And it would be good if you could come to one of the sessions I lead.”

  Dwayne pushed away from the table and began rolling down his shirtsleeves. “Great,” he said, surprised by his own excitement.

  “So when should we meet again?”

  “I have to check my calendar.” He stood and lifted his jacket from the chair next to him. “Call my office tomorrow and Monique can schedule something in.”

  “Okay.” Nina tilted her head. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, I just… have somewhere to go.”

  “I have something for you two.” Lafayette came into the room with two gold-inscribed cards and gave them to Nina.

  “These are VIP passes to the Beverlyn Boudreaux concert and after-party,” she said. “These are for me?”

  “For you and Dwayne.” Lafayette smiled. “I thought this would be an excellent way for the two of you to celebrate. Sean Wiley donated a block of tickets to the church and I can’t think of a better way to thank you both.”

  Nina’s gaze dropped. “Well, I don’t know …”

  “Lafayette …” Dwayne’s voice was tight.

  “You don’t have to thank me,” Lafayette said, oblivious to the tension that now choked the room. “I’m glad to do this.” He walked out, leaving Dwayne and Nina alone again.

  “I don’t know why Pastor did that,” Nina said nervously. “Listen, we don’t have to go. Besides, I’m not so sure I could get a sitter …”

  “It’s not that …”

  “Dwayne, you don’t owe me an explanation.” She paused and looked up at the clock. “Speaking of sitters, I think I’d better get home and relieve mine.”

  Dwayne watched in silence as she filled her briefcase with the folders scattered across the table, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. He stood by helplessly, lost in the
awkwardness of the moment.

  Her smile was weak as she put on her jacket. She’d known that Lafayette had meant well, but in the heat of the moment, it seemed he’d ruined everything. She put the strap of her briefcase over her shoulder and extended her hand. “Thank you, Dwayne, for joining the team. I’ll give your secretary a call tomorrow.”

  “Uh, well… ,” he countered as he watched Nina step from the room. Once alone, he fell against the wall. How could Lafayette have done something so stupid? After snatching up the invitation, Dwayne straightened his jacket and went to find Lafayette.

  Dwayne’s breathing was somewhat labored when he entered Lafayette’s office, and the peace that he usually encountered upon entering the room escaped him now as he paced back and forth in front of the desk. He still thought of this as his father’s office, even though Lafayette had been senior pastor for over eight years. Not that he didn’t respect his brother, though at this very moment, respect was the furthest thing from his mind.

  “I didn’t know you were still here,” Lafayette said, entering the room and letting the door close behind him. “I saw Nina leave and assumed you’d left as well.”

  With Dwayne’s silence, Lafayette knew something was wrong.

  “Something on your mind?”

  Dwayne shook his head and then looked at his brother. “How could you do that?”

  Lafayette drew back, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “What are you—”

  Before Lafayette could finish, Dwayne cut him off. “How could you embarrass Nina and me like that?”

  Lafayette raised his hands and reached toward his brother, but Dwayne stepped away. “Dwayne, calm down and lower your voice. I only came up with the idea after you and Nina told me the news. It was a knee-jerk reaction and, I thought, a pretty good idea. I’m sorry, but why are you so angry?”