A Preacher’s Passion

by Lutishia Lovely

  Passion stopped and turned as she exited Carla’s office. “And I’ll be praying that what’s done in darkness comes to light.”

  Carla and Jill watched as Passion strutted out the office, back straight, chin held high.

  “Whoa, what was all that attitude about?” Jill asked, about to get an attitude of her own.

  “It was about Passion being human,” Carla responded quietly. “And about how at any given moment, we’re all doing the very best we can. Continue to hold my calls, please.”

  “Sure, Pastor.”

  Carla walked back into her office, closed the door, and slumped down behind her desk. “Lord, Jesus, what am I going to do?” She prayed quietly, fervently, beseeching the throne of grace for strength to do what she knew was right. Therein lay the confusion: what looked right on the outside and what felt right on the inside were two different things.

  Carla’s eyes misted over as she reached for the phone. Tai answered on the second ring. “Carla? You all right?”

  “No, but I’m gonna be.”

  “Why, what’s up, sistah?”

  “I think I’m getting ready to divorce my husband.”

  32

  It’s a Thin Line…

  Stacy had only seen Darius sporadically since Thanksgiving. It was just as well. Delayed morning sickness was kicking her behind—rather morning, noon, and night sickness. Stacy had called in sick more in the past two weeks than she had in almost three years. People were speculating as to the reason on her job and from what Hope was hearing, at church as well. Stacy didn’t care. Until she told Darius, which she planned to do during their Christmas Big Bear holiday, mum was the word on her condition.

  Stacy turned off the boiling water, poured it over the peppermint tea bag, took the steaming mug into her living room, and sat on the couch to ponder her future. “Be careful what you pray for,” her mother always said. Not only had she prayed, but Stacy had helped God along. One rash decision and baby on the way…just like that.

  Will Darius be as happy about this baby as I am? At three months, Stacy was barely showing. Still, with reality setting in, she wasn’t as confident in her decision to force Darius’s hand and make him commit, especially since he’d forgone spending the Thanksgiving holidays with her in favor of Bo. Stacy didn’t want to believe the rumors about her man, but she could no longer out and out deny them. Maybe he was bi. After she had the baby, she hoped Bo would be “bye” instead.

  What if his anger outweighs his desire to raise his child? What if my pregnancy pushes him away instead of bringing him closer? What if there is somebody else? Stacy sat upright as this last thought crossed her mind. What if there was somebody else in the picture besides Bo? What if there was another female in the mix? Stacy had spent so much time hating Darius and Bo’s relationship she’d never seriously considered anybody else being the fly in her ointment.

  “Forget waiting till Christmas,” Stacy said aloud. “Darius needs to know about this baby now.”

  A short time later, Stacy sat in her car in front of Darius’s condo. As strange as it seemed for a two-year romance, she’d never been inside his place, and had never understood Darius and Bo’s crazy rule about not allowing overnight guests. His explanation about her loud lovemaking was as thin as the walls he used as the main excuse.

  Stacy took a deep breath, opened the car door, got out, and walked toward Darius’s house. She forced her nerves to still as she raised the large brass knocker. Her stomach was strangely calm, and for that she was grateful. The last thing she needed to deliver was a rug full of throw up along with her “you’re about to be a daddy” news.

  She waited and then knocked again. After several long moments, the door opened. She willed herself to look up, hoping to see Darius’s sexy grin. Instead, it was Bo’s sarcastic scowl that filled her view.

  “Yes?” Bo asked, blocking the doorway.

  Stacy decided on a friendly approach. She had the upper hand after all; she was carrying Darius’s baby. “Hey, Bo,” she said casually, as if she stopped by every day. “Darius here?”

  Bo eyed her silently before turning and walking back into the lavishly appointed townhome. He left the door open. Stacy followed him inside. She almost gasped at the sight that greeted her. Darius’s home was stunning.

  “Your place is nice,” she said sincerely, taking in the perfectly coordinated color scheme of brown blends: deep cocoa, tan, beige, and white with starkly contrasted navy accents. Rich artwork and platinum sconces gave the room a regal air, while a large bowl of jelly beans on the Leblon peroba and mahogany coffee table provided a bit of whimsy and casualness to the room. Stacy took in the expensively furnished surroundings in an instant, not missing the unidentifiable scent of something erotic and woodsy from a candle, oil burner, or something similar that permeated the room. “This is nice,” she repeated again.

  “Thanks,” Bo said, looking at her with an expression that was hard to read. He turned abruptly and left the room. Stacy heard him open a door. “We’ve got company,” he said, before conversation continued in a low tone Stacy couldn’t hear. Instead of worrying what craziness Bo was spouting, she took the opportunity to check out more of the home, taking in a picture-perfect dining room and portions of a stainless steel kitchen. Her tennis shoes made little noise on the Caribbean walnut floors.

  Stacy walked over to the upright piano in a corner of the living room and looked at the photos that crowded its top: pictures of Darius and Bo, Darius and his sister Tanya, their parents, Bo’s family (at least that’s who Stacy assumed they were), a family portrait of the Montgomerys, and a modern artist’s rendering of a Black Jesus Christ. There was no picture of Stacy. Before she could digest that unsettling fact, a voice spoke from behind her.

  “This is a surprise.”

  Stacy turned, her heart racing. “I know. I had to see you.”

  “I see.”

  Stacy noticed Bo standing a few feet away, arms crossed in a proprietary manner. Stacy copped an attitude. Bo was Darius’s roommate, but Darius was her man. “Uh, can we go to your room, Darius?”

  Bo’s attitude changed suddenly. “That’s okay, I was just leaving.” He looked from Stacy to Darius before turning on his heel and going back down the hallway. Within minutes, he passed back by the living room on the way to the front door. “See y’all later,” he called out before the door closed.

  An uncomfortable silence ensued; then Darius remembered his manners. “You want something to drink?”

  “That’s cool,” Stacy answered. “Something light…water, whatever.”

  “I have some iced coffee,” he replied, heading to the kitchen.

  The thought of acidy coffee made Stacy’s stomach churn. She followed him. “Maybe some juice—apple or cranberry if you have any.”

  “Apple juice it is,” he replied, pulling two crystal goblets from the custom cabinets and pouring a sparkling cider. He handed her a glass and leaned against the counter. “Cheers.”

  Stacy raised her glass in answer and took a tentative sip. The apple juice was soothing to her palate. Behave, she whispered silently to her and Darius’s child. He or she seemed to listen.

  Darius gently took Stacy’s arm and led her back into the living room. They sat on the couch, silently sipping the apple juice.

  Stacy spoke first. “Nice place.”

  “I know you’re getting ready to go off on why I never invite you over, but I told you, Stacy. Bo and I don’t entertain our female company at the house. It gets too complicated.”

  “It’s okay, Darius. I like having you in my house.” Stacy didn’t want to argue, especially not tonight. She had come to deliver some complicated news, news that would make not being invited as a house guest fail miserably by comparison. Besides, she didn’t feel comfortable in Darius’s surroundings. Admittedly the decor was exquisite but for Stacy it was too polished, too perfect.

  “Wow, Darius, I like your ring,” she said, noticing the unique ring on Darius’s finger a
s he reached for his goblet. “Let me see.”

  Darius held out his hand. Stacy took it in hers and examined the uniquely designed jewelry. “What kind of ring is this?”

  Oh, just my wedding ring. “A little something I picked up in Canada.”

  “It’s nice, different. I’ve never seen one like that before.”

  “Thank you.”

  Another uncomfortable silence ensued. Stacy took another sip of apple juice, then leaned back against the sofa and tried to get comfortable. Her jittery nerves caused her stomach to churn again. Or maybe it was the apple juice. She set the half-empty goblet on a coaster. A million different thoughts raced through her head—serious, witty, sarcastic, somber—different ways to tell this man she’d loved for years that she was carrying his child. For all the words that raced through her mind, none seemed willing to come out of her mouth.

  “I assume there’s a reason you came over,” Darius said. He turned more fully toward her. “You want to tell me what it is?”

  “Yes, Darius, I very much want to tell you why I’m here.” Stacy took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

  Later Stacy would swear the earth stood still in that moment. For what seemed an eternity there was no noise or movement. Darius didn’t blink or breathe. His goblet-filled hand remained poised halfway to his mouth. Stacy didn’t move either, and after a few tense seconds, dropped her eyes.

  “You…what?” he asked, hoping he’d heard incorrectly.

  Stacy sat up on the couch. “I’m pregnant, Darius. We’re having a baby.”

  Darius jumped up. “We? What’s this we business? You told me you were on the pill, Stacy. How are you going to come here and tell me you’re pregnant?”

  “Accidents happen, I guess.”

  “Accidentally on purpose?” Darius asked. “Did you plan this, Stacy? Either you lied that you were on the pill or you stopped taking them. Which is it?”

  “The pill isn’t one hundred percent, Darius!”

  “I can’t believe this bullshit! How long have you been planning this, working on this little project?”

  Stacy wavered between being hurt and angry. Her emotions were roiling. Once again she found it hard to form a coherent sentence. “I…Darius…this—I mean no, it just happened. Things happen, Darius.” She said the last line more forcibly than the others, a touch of indignation adding to her strength.

  “This is fucked up,” Darius replied. “Just wait until—” Bo’s handsome, smiling face swam into Darius’s consciousness. The face that held the lips he’d kissed so tenderly moments before Stacy’s arrival. Bo was right. He warned me about her. And now look…

  Darius tried to calm the raging fury inside him. “Bo warned me about you,” he said in a deceptively calm voice. “But I didn’t listen. He called you a conniving bitch and I defended you—”

  It was Stacy’s turn to jump up. “Bitch! You…defended me? I don’t need you to defend me from that peanut head, chapped lip—”

  “Defended you,” Darius bellowed, “because I thought you were a good woman. I thought you were different from the other females out there, thought you were special.” Darius’s voice lowered but remained caustic. “But Bo was right and I was wrong. You’re nothing special. You’re just like all the rest of the she-hunters out there trying to trap their prey. And you think you’ve trapped me, don’t you? Well, think again, Stacy!”

  The intense emotion of the moment caught up with Stacy in an instant. Light-headed, she stumbled toward the door. She had never been one for tears, and growing up in a house full of boys had toughened her skin from a young age. But hurt, anger, and fluctuating hormones were threatening a boohoo. She was determined Darius would not see her cry.

  Stacy leaned against the foyer wall, willing the tears to dry up and her head to stop spinning.

  Darius was beside her in an instant. “I’m sorry, Stacy.”

  “Move, Darius.” Stacy made a move toward the door and almost fainted.

  “No, I’m not letting you leave like this. Come sit down.”

  Stacy didn’t have the strength to fight him and allowed Darius to lead her back into the living room. His movements guided her to lie down on the couch.

  “Just relax. I’ll be back.”

  Darius returned with a cool washcloth and a glass of ginger ale. “Maybe this will make you feel better,” he said, guiding the glass to her lips. “You’re trembling.”

  “I—I’ll be fine, Darius,” Stacy said, patting her face with the cloth. “The last thing I need is pity. You’ve made it clear how you feel and—”

  “Have you eaten today? Maybe you need something in your stomach, maybe that’s why you felt faint.”

  He was right; Stacy hadn’t eaten all day. Whenever she’d tried, she’d get nauseous.

  “Will you try and eat something?” Darius asked.

  Stacy nodded yes.

  Darius went into the kitchen and pulled out the vegetable stew Bo had made for dinner that evening. He didn’t miss the irony of serving his pregnant girlfriend his husband’s soup. As if thoughts conjured him up, Darius’s cell phone rang.

  “Hey,” Darius said, his voice low.

  “She gone?”

  Darius sighed. “No.”

  Silence on the other end. And then, “What’s wrong?”

  Darius could barely wrap his head around Stacy’s news, much less think of a way to tell Bo. As it was, he knew his already dramatic friend would go off. “We’ll talk when you get here.”

  “Well, when will that be? I don’t think you want me to come back with her there. But then again, I guess we can all engage in a friendly game of Scrabble, or with her ignorant ass it’ll probably be more like babble.”

  “You’re a fool, man.” A slight smile scampered across Darius’s face as he listened to Bo. The need to have his friend close almost overwhelmed him. Things would be okay again once Bo got home. They always were. “You might want to go to the mall, maybe a movie or something. I’ll call you when the coast is clear.”

  A sound of exasperation escaped Bo’s lips. “I’ll tell you now, I don’t like feeling homeless when I have a home. You need to pluck black-eyed Susie off the couch and send her ass packin’. Your baby wants to finish what we started before being so rudely interrupted.”

  “I’ll call you soon.” Darius’s voice dropped to a whisper. “And, Bo? I love you.”

  When Darius carried the tray of soup, crackers, and a fresh ginger ale into the living room, Stacy looked better. She stood at the window, straight-backed, dry-eyed, looking once again like the boyish cutie he’d grown to care about. And for the first time he noticed the bump under her oversized T-shirt.

  “Ah, you’re up,” he said. “Then come into the dining room.”

  Stacy followed him into the dining room but didn’t sit down. “Maybe I’d better go, Darius. I said what I came here to say, maybe we should just let this news settle before we talk again.”

  “You might as well eat, Stacy.”

  Stacy eyed Darius a moment before walking over to the table and sitting down. She had to admit that the aroma rising from the soup bowl was heavenly and for one of the first times since the morning sickness began, her stomach growled.

  “Somebody’s hungry,” Darius said, without humor, but also without sarcasm.

  Not knowing how to take his comment, Stacy didn’t respond. Instead, she took a few tentative sips of the soup before digging in with gusto. The soup seemed to coat her stomach with calm and tranquility, the way her mama’s used to do.

  “I never knew my father,” Darius said, interrupting Stacy’s thoughts. “And my relationship with my mother is, let’s say, interesting. I haven’t seen her for almost five years.”

  Stacy remembered that Darius’s grandmother had raised him while Tanya, who was actually Darius’s half-sister, had been raised by her birth father. But Tanya and Darius had known each other all their lives and were close from the beginning. Stacy reminded Darius that she knew this. He’d
forgotten he’d told her.

  “Yeah, when I was younger, I used to dream of finding my father, of us hanging out, you know, playing ball, going fishing, doing the male bonding thing. I gave up that dream a long time ago.”

  His reminiscing continued while Stacy ate. With each spoonful, she felt stronger. Once finished, she took a moment to collect her thoughts and promised herself to stay calm. “Darius, I can’t say I’m sorry to be carrying your child. I’m sorry you feel the way you do about it. But I’m going to have this baby. And I hope he or she can know its father.”

  Darius sat back heavily in the chair. He looked at Stacy a long moment. “This is a lot to digest, Stacy. I mean, this is probably the worst possible time for me to…What I mean is, I’ve got a lot going on, as you well know. Between the upcoming tour, the ministry, Shabach hatin’ on a brothah, and the record company pushing for another album…And now to bring a baby in the middle of all this? I’d be lying if I said I was happy. I’m very upset about it actually, extremely upset. That said”—Darius got up from the table and stood looking out the dining room window—“I guess I wouldn’t really want you to have an abortion—”

  “I’m having this baby, Darius.”

  “I heard you the first time, Stacy.” Darius turned to her. “Look, let’s not argue anymore, what’s done is done and somehow I have to, no, we have to deal with it. This doesn’t change how I feel about anything else though—marriage, that whole situation. But I will be there to help take care of my child. You are sure this baby is mine, right?”

  “Oh my God.” Stacy got up from the table, stalked into the living room, grabbed her purse from the couch, and headed toward the foyer.

  Darius followed her once again but didn’t try to stop her as she opened the door. “It’s not romantic, but it’s reality. I want a DNA test. And if the baby’s mine, I’ll take care of it.”

  Stacy paused, just outside the Crenshaw/Jenkins residence. She never knew that one could feel as she did in that moment, able to totally hate and absolutely love the same person at the same time. As Stacy looked into the eyes of the love of her life and the father of her child, she said the only three words that seemed appropriate: “Go to hell.”