In Covenant with Ezra (Love Unaccounted Book 1)

by Love Belvin

  His brows furrowed. “Do you have time to kick it for a minute?”

  “For you, I’ll make time,” I assured.

  And we spent the next two hours talking about Jackson realizing he’d found himself in a place where he was unfamiliar. He believed he’d fallen in love. I didn’t believe in the existence of such a destination, but could appreciate a strong attraction and desired to explore a woman for various needs, including partnership. Jackson and Elle—he reminded me of her name—had an undeniable attraction to each other and apparently great chemistry, but lacked the partnership. And he was asking if I could ‘diagnose’ why he was so disinclined to try out some level of partnership with a woman. We took our time exploring that concern. He went on to share elements of their relationship.

  “And now she’s gone and I’m stuck in this awkward place between simply not giving a fuck and moving on to something easier, or going after what I feel like I can’t fucking breathe without,” he ended, eyes cast to the floor in his deepest expressive position.

  “You want her,” I noted out loud, no true emotion in my tenor, because Jackson had enough of it in his heart.

  He swore under his breath then cleared his throat. “I guess I do.” Jackson’s jaw tightened.

  “Then you wait.”

  His eyes met mine, brimmed with confusion. “What?”

  I straightened in my seat, now fueled with confidence and revelation from my earlier conversation with Bishop Jones.

  “You wait, Jackson. The ball’s not in your court. You told her at the cab she didn’t have to go. You said you could work it out,”—as I’d left Alexis a voice message of apology because it was the only thing I knew she’d receive from me—“thereby giving her an opening to be with you, entering in a more formal relationship agreement.”

  Jackson scratched his beard restlessly. “But she turned me down.”

  “She ran for cover.” I waved him off. “Elle is layered by pain and betrayal. What you’re offering has likely never been an option presented to her. She has the ball; and trust me, she’s bouncing it between her hands, figuring it all out.”

  He upturned his palms. “And what do I do in the meantime?”

  I let out a full laugh at that one. I mean a guttural hoot at my question to Bishop earlier being echoed. In the middle of my cackling episode, I caught a glimpse of Jackson’s cracked smile and amused eyes. He had no clue about how eerie this all was.

  “We wait, Jackson. We simply wait for it to work itself out.”

  six

  Lex

  Is a week enough time to forget about a person?

  This was the question I struggled with as I sat on the bus, on my way to Redeeming Souls. It had been that long, plus, two days, since Ezra left my apartment that night. The only thing I’d heard from him was a voice message he’d left the following evening.

  “Alexis, it’s Ezra. I need to formally apologize for my reckless and irrational behavior last night. It was totally inappropriate all the way around. If you choose not to respond, I’ll totally understand.” There was a pause of humility. Was the poetic Ezra at a loss for words? “I am just really sorry.”

  He ended the call. I’d known the following afternoon that I would no longer see him. So when he called that evening, I had a hard resolve. Something didn’t feel right about Ezra’s contact that night. Yeah, I didn’t flirt with him by way of lewd propositions. And I could always sense a predator of some sort beneath his cool veneer. Nonetheless, there was a solid core of morality inside of Ezra. He wasn’t sleazy or fraudulent. Until that night. He shouldn’t have handled me that way. Had it been any other man, I’d be able to get over it. But Ezra was no ordinary man.

  Maybe he won’t notice me. That was my wishful thinking as I stepped off the bus.

  As I rounded the corner and headed to the middle of the block where the church was located, embarrassment at being so late coated me. I’d decided at the last minute to come, seeing that I had off. More than anything my chest was so heavy. The gray areas of my life continued to grow. The uncertainties of my world wouldn’t slow. Something was shifting beneath the surface and I couldn’t put my finger on it. Typically when I felt down I’d find myself here. Not that I’d leave church with a bag of solutions, but again, it just felt like the right place at a sensitive time.

  I entered the receiving area and heard his raspy voice right away. Shit! Why would I assume he’d not be speaking this morning? It was probably because I’d just started catching him on the pulpit a few months ago. By the cadence of his speech I could tell Ezra was well into his sermon. I was lucky to get a seat on the main floor. Lillian was likely in her normal area of the sanctuary. She had no idea I would come this morning—well, this afternoon. Once seated, I gave my complete attention over to the speaker of the hour. Honestly, how could I not? Ezra commanded the stage.

  “Oh, ye of little faith,” he pled, timbre low. “Why don’t you exercise your God-given ability to perform miracles?” He paused, eyes scanning the room. “In John 14:12 Jesus said, ‘Greater works shall ye do.’ Do you understand what He declared?” Those rosary beads sifting between his fingers as he walked the stage with an aplomb shell and an evident fire raging beneath the black fitted robe. “He was just one Man, we as His followers are in greater number and can therefore multiply his deeds greatly. We can call on miracles; heal the sick, raise the dead.” Another penetrative perusal of the room. “Where is your faith? Rest assured, I have mine.” Ezra glanced over his shoulder, motioning action for his men.

  I didn’t think I was that late and missed the entire morning message. It appeared he was going into the benediction.

  “Today, I’m going to exercise my faith and ability to call on miracles. Who’s in need today? I want our Father to heal the people in the tabernacle. I’m petitioning for Rapha to show His hand on this morning, and I am declaring His works. I am believing in the removal of cancer, heart blockages, mental diseases—depression will exist no more—chronic pains will leave,” his voice elevated with each declaration and so did the chorus-like response from the audience.

  With his right hand, while holding the mic with his left, Ezra gestured for someone behind to follow then skipped with swift athleticism down the steps to the floor. In seconds, four men were inches behind him, armed with oil, already in vocal prayer. Several from the clergy section moved to joined him. The place was up in a roar immediately: some praying, others praising, but all affected. I felt a shiver course my spine, an eerie presence hovering over the sanctuary.

  Ezra’s eyes closed, squeezed shut as he mouthed a prayer away from the mic, his lips moving at a rapid rhythm.

  DON’T LOOK AT HIS LIPS!

  My eyes dashed to find his father making his way to the front, praying just the same.

  “He’s here.” Ezra announced calmly. “Your healing has arrived. If you are prepared on faith to receive it, meet us here.” I saw as he handed his microphone off.

  At that invitation, droves of people moved from their seats, charging the altar. The place was reminiscent of a street medley. I lost sight of the front of the church, the crowd grew that thick. There were people crying all around. Babies wailing, countless parishioners clapping, and others shouting their excitement. I tried looking for Lillian with no luck.

  I remained in my seat, not being accustomed to such a change in the service. Then again it seemed lots had changed since Ezra had taken over. A shriek louder than all the other cries caught my attention. I glanced up and saw in the center aisle, just three pews up from where I was sitting a woman had passed out on the floor.

  What the hell?

  Several of the ushers rushed to cover her. Suddenly, I realized the crowd had reached to the rear where I was. I was three seats away from the aisle, but had a pretty decent vantage point. Then I saw him.

  Holy shi—

  Ezra was there, sweating from the top of his head, breathing ragged, yet with entrancing blank eyes. His thick and tall body appeared larger t
han life, but his presence was hugely awkward considering our status at the time. He stood there, unbothered by all the prayers, screams and shouts happening around, just staring at me. My eyes skirted the vicinity, nervously. While I understood this was Ezra the preacher, there was something frighteningly unusual about his air.

  His hand extended to me. Ezra was asking me to come with him. I didn’t want to. Under normal circumstances I would’ve told him to go fuck himself after what he’d done a week ago. But I couldn’t. This wasn’t that sexual deviant who’d lost his cool while I was disadvantaged in my bedroom. This was a man of spiritual authority giving an order. Reluctantly, I took his hand and followed him warily all the way to the front of the church, up to the altar, reminding me of just how enormous this place was. He whispered in a young man’s ear and pointed to a specific section of the church. The guy took off right away, leaving me standing awkwardly with Ezra, emotionally charged people carrying on all around me.

  I wanted to yank my hand from him and run. I’m no longer sold on him, remember? But I didn’t because I couldn’t. My feet felt cemented to the carpet. My neck spun in the direction of a distinctive voice chanting a peculiar group of phrases I couldn’t identify. She was short—like for real short, could be no more than five feet—light creamy skin that was plumped all over except at her joints. Her eyes were small and she wobbled to me. Ezra took to her at the shoulder and positioned her in front of me.

  He even bosses around the seniors of the church!

  Then she touched my shoulders as she continued to shriek her chant. Ezra reached over her to gather my arms and lift them in the air, the prayer posture, I realized. I glanced down and saw her shift into my personal space, so close I could see the intricately laced cloth on her head clipped by bobby pins. Her hands patted my under arms, moved down my sides, aside my breasts and onto my rib cage. What was she doing? My eyes went to Ezra directly in front of me with his hands on her shoulders, eyes closed as he prayed words I could hear over the general commotion of the sanctuary. Her soft arms encased my narrow waist as she continued her odd incantation.

  What the fuck did he tell her!

  In an instant, I hated him, wanted to kill him with my bare hands. My mind raced with how I should react when her hands covered my belly as she continued to trill foreign words. Again, I thought to haul ass. Apparently Ezra shared something extremely personal with this stranger. Shit. He was a stranger himself! What had I gotten myself into? Suddenly, I felt lightheaded, too disoriented to move. Ezra was still engaged in prayer, not at all attentive to my waning state.

  What the hell?

  I was caught in someone’s hands. That’s when I came through.

  Ezra’s big body, leaping over the old woman and almost snatching me from the man who broke my fall, protectively. He walked me across the front of the long altar and into a room off the side. When we passed the threshold, I heard him ask for privacy.

  “Sit here.” He lowered me onto a sofa.

  When he moved to leave, I gained my wits.

  “Ezra!”

  He turned back to me. “I just need to wrap up service. I’ll have someone get your things and water. Please don’t leave until we’ve spoken.” I heard the imploration in his hoarse vocals that somehow turned me on. But that emptiness I saw earlier was still in his eyes. It was as though he’d been a shell of Ezra, not the entire man. That shell was very much still blatant. “Please, Alexis, stay here and rest.”

  I informed him of my acquiescence via diverting my eyes. And he left the room. As he assured, minutes later, my purse, jacket and water were brought to me. My mind wrestled with so much and I felt completely exhausted. I didn’t feel comfortable in this foreign room—hell, building. I felt like I needed a nap before my shift later at Saks.

  Having made my decision, I pulled out my phone and sent Ezra a text. I felt like he, at least, deserved a heads up that I wouldn’t be where he left me.

  Me: I’m tired and need to rest before my shift this afternoon. See you around.

  I found a door on the other side of the room and learned it led out to the hallway on the side of the church. Thank God. I didn’t want to go back in the sanctuary.

  Lex

  Shit!

  I cursed myself when the mascara stick scraped just above my lid.

  No matter what crazy mishap the universe threw at me today, I was doing this. I fell asleep last night so depressed, I didn’t rub one off, and woke up this more with a tight chest. Yet I was determined to get through this day, beginning with work. It had been easy to pass the time with the uncertainty of day. I never knew what type of fire I’d be putting out, but invariably, I’d find a way to extinguish them all.

  I paid a final inspection to my lightly made up face, a daytime look Anushka—of all people—taught me to complement my dark skin.

  Annie…

  “I can’t make it, dawg. I had to take the evening shift since you called out,” she explained.

  I sighed, reminding myself of my final decision before falling out last night, high as hell and sad as fuck about the emptiness of today. Just then my phone trilled.

  Tasche: Yup. The tight ass still wanna hold a meetin. My bad. Hit you lata.

  I rolled my eyes hard in the air as I grabbed my things from the desk and tossed them into my bag. I didn’t want to miss the train and be late for my own damn graduation. On the way there, while sitting next to passengers variably dressed in a range from tights and tanks to suits and ties, I went over all the reasons I should go through with this. The main one ringing in my head that solidified the deal for me last night when I’d momentarily decided not to walk was my mother.

  I recalled the several trips to the Laundromat when she folded the clothes as I played on my Nintendo Game Boy and she fussed about the day that I’d see how pointless playing games was. She said one day I’d use up the time studying for my college degree. I recalled laughing one day in particular.

  “Mommy, college is for smart people,” I scoffed as my coordinated fingers guided my man through the challenging course.

  In the next second, the game was snatched from my grip and my mother’s hand fisted the front of my shirt while she pierced me with a threatening glare, nose to nose.

  “You is smart! You’s smarter than any of the snobby ass people down at the welfare office. You is gonna be more than them, too—get more degrees! You ain’t like me. You got all your brain, you hear me?” she barked with trembling lips.

  I didn’t know if this was one of her recently increasing episodes or what, but I knew not to test her. She would eventually stop tripping and I could breathe again once she released her grip. When she did, my Game Boy reappeared near my hip. I was too wound up to play again. But my mother, on the other hand, had returned to her pre-violent self as she went back to folding whites while smiling daintily.

  “Alexis gon’ have two degrees. My baby is damn smart,” she assured—who, I didn’t know, but my mother was haughty with her declaration.

  That may have been the first time she physically threatened me with her desire for my pursuit of a higher education, but it wasn’t her first time boasting about my unlikely future.

  Well, through all the events of my life that could have easily derailed this accomplishment, I was here, lined up and waiting with respective program-mates to begin our march into the auditorium. As we approached the stage, my heart crumbled at the reality of doing this alone.

  Ms. Remah was in her homeland of Jamaica at my insistence and funding. She didn’t like the conflict, but not even I could deny the sheer joy in her eyes at the prospect of returning home after over fifteen years since her last visit. Her sisters had been at least a dozen times in that period. They’d also had husbands to supplement the cost. She didn’t have a partner, something she was trying to discourage me against.

  My father was a part of the fantasy that I’d created two years ago, about this day, once I’d begun to see the proverbial ‘light at the end of the tunnel’
when I considered the balance of my classes. His release date was scheduled for five months ago, something he failed, yet once again because of his hot temper. How many times did I share with him how special this release would be and why? Some of this accomplishment was for him, too. For the sacrifices he’d made for me. The charge that sent him up north to live out this current bid. I had to suck it up. I’d had my hand in his failure this time.

  I reminded myself of this as my class mounted the stage and each one of my associates were called and their friends and family roared at the sound of their name. Even up to the one before me, Clarissa Rodriguez, the most cowed and reticent of them all had a notable and echoed rumble of response to her name being called. When my name was called, there was the mild applause of etiquette that very few followed. In spite of the dismay flooding my belly, the sadness that loomed over me, I squared my shoulders, smiled brightly and held unwavering eyes as I accepted the degreeless portfolio from the president of the university.

  As I dismounted the stage, my shoulders shrank. I was alone. No one to congratulate me, to high five me, to shout their admiration for this milestone in my life. That’s when I realized I’d made the wrong decision. I shouldn’t have walked tonight. Staying home and dealing with my melancholy alone seemed far more appealing than having to suppress it in front of thousands. As I sat to the left of Clarissa, I scolded myself for being so damn optimistic about such a dark reality. I had no one. Yeah, Ms. Remah would’ve been here if she hadn’t been in the Caribbean, but the truth was she was happy where she was, far more gratified than she would’ve been here amongst the crowd, cheering me on alone. And let me be honest: Ms. Remah wasn’t the cheery, celebratory type. She was best where she was at the time. And I was…here. Alone.

  After leaving the row where I was assigned until the conclusion of my commencement, something beckoned my attention at the far end of the sectioned off area for the graduates’ seating. My heavy eyes roved up and found his big body standing stiff among the roves of people shuffling hastily, trying to make it to their parties. He faced me with one hand full of balloons and another with a large bouquet of flowers. He looked damn good as usual with a blazer, button down, dress pants and oxfords. His eyes were intent, almost reading me, so unlike the emptiness when I’d last experienced them. He’d always seemed to have seen through me and not past me like most people of his status and social group did. His familiar face: thick brows, full nose and sinful lips under that thick beard and mustache. His wide shoulders and the confident expanse between his long legs excited me in a new way. Instead of being flagrantly turned on by his appealing physique, I was warmed by the familiarity of his being.