A Love So Deep (13 page)

“We talked, and I saw something in him, this wonderful quality you don’t find much of these days. I was attracted to him. After a while, he seemed to light up and thaw out a bit. Graham told me about his wonderful family, Amanda, Elizabeth, and Deborah. I heard how your dad met your mother, how she was love at first sight, how the sun rose and set with her. I feel as though I know Amanda even though I never had the opportunity to meet this wonderful woman.

“Your dad and I did not sleep together. When he picked me up this afternoon,” Rita lied, “I brought my clothes for tonight’s show with me. This is my last night in town, and we spent today soaking up God’s beauty. It really is a beautiful world God has created. I really need to get going now, but I’d like you to know this, you can feel however you like about me. But cherish your dad, he won’t be here always. He loves you, and most of all, he needs you.”

Tears rolled the length of Deborah’s face forming large drops that sought refuge as they ran the course from eyes that looked so much like Graham’s to the edge of her chin that was so much Amanda’s. Her fuchsia silk jacket that blanketed her black three-quarter-length chemise became a dumping ground for those tears.

Everyone in the room sensed Deborah’s embarrassment after Rita’s speech. Deborah stood in the middle of the room. No one was sure what her intentions were, but it appeared she wanted to go to her father—maybe ask for his forgiveness. She shifted first on her right leg, then the left, taking turns at ten-second intervals while all eyes awaited her next move.

Elizabeth remained planted with a puzzled look on her face. She glanced first at Rita, then toward Graham and finally allowed her head to fall slowly in shame. When Liz lifted her head again, her eyes were full, full of water from the tears she hadn’t shed before. Tears she’d held at her mother’s funeral—trying to be strong, the rock for everyone else.

Liz glanced out of the living room window. Riley and Grant were having one of those man-to-man talks on the sidewalk. Then a question came to mind.
What would Riley do if I passed away? Do I expect him to not seek companionship or get married again?
She looked into Graham’s eyes and smiled. Liz reached out for her dad and hugged him with all her might. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too, baby.” And Graham rubbed the top of Liz’s head like he did when she was a little girl.

“I’m sorry, Rita,” Liz whispered.

Rita nodded her acknowledgment.

Liz and Graham clung together like paper and glue. Deborah stood alone, suddenly betrayed by her sister. She seemed deep in thought and no one was able to read her mind. She abruptly stood erect, straightening her face and clothes, as if reassembling a jigsaw puzzle that had accidentally come undone.

Deborah looked in Graham and Rita’s direction, letting her eyes travel from one to the other. She didn’t run to Graham like Liz, although her inner soul wanted to. Liz had given in too quickly. Words were trying to come. For some reason, they remained blocked.

“We’ve got to go,” Graham said. “You all lock the door behind you.”

Deborah and Liz watched as the couple got into their dad’s car, waving to Riley and Grant before departing.

S
ister
Mary Ross was armed with the hottest piece of news since the whole world found out Jesse Jackson was someone’s baby-daddy. Mary Ross wasn’t going to be able to keep this news to herself. She had to tell somebody—this was
CNN Headline News
, a nine and a half if using a scale of one to ten.

“Had the nerve to kick me out of his house…and he’s the sinner. Hmph,” Sister Mary Ross fumed out loud, stopping long enough to extract the last piece of sweet potato pie from her refrigerator. The kitchen was just large enough to hold Mary, the refrigerator, the kitchen sink, and the oven she used to prepare meals for her future intended, Graham Peters, but it wasn’t too small to hold back what Mary was going to shout to the world. “Martha Carter won’t like it all when I tell her what that son-in-law of hers has been up to. No, she won’t.”

What should be her first course of action? “Loretha would know the answer,” Mary said out loud between bites of pie. “She won’t believe this.” Loretha was wise in her ways and was better than most shrinks when it came to giving advice.

Mary dialed Loretha’s number—her hot fingers anticipating what her hot lips were going to say. Mary Ross was going to have Deacon Peters, and no low-life hussy singer from some hole-in-the-wall nightclub was going to steal from her what she had waited for a lifetime to take!

R
ita
had been gone close to a week, and life as Graham knew it prior to Rita had resumed—except for the pity parties. Even Amanda had failed to make an appearance in Graham’s nightly dreams. Graham and Rita spoke nearly every day for hours at a time, unable to get enough of each other. Graham was consumed with the very essence of Rita—like rain absorbed into the earth, saturating his already rich soil. Deborah and Elizabeth had taken some of the fire out of Rita’s zest to get to know Graham better; however, Graham’s adamant plea to be patient and let love abide, tore at Rita’s heart strings.

They explored possibilities of a life together with subtle hints of marriage—in the very distant future. They talked about Graham leaving Oakland and possibly settling in Seattle. They talked about children, although both were well past their prime, and Graham was just fine nurturing his grandchildren and giving them all the love they needed. They spoke of consummating the love they shared for each other giving no care to what others thought—not that anyone would be privy to that bit of knowledge when it happened. Just like Deborah, Liz and Sister Mary Ross had speculated that the two of them had been together; let all of those sitting at the foot of judgment judge them—who cared? It was none of their business anyway.

There was an immediate matter Graham needed to take care of. He had not spoken to Charlie in over a week. Graham thought Charlie would have shown up at his doorstep by now, but it was quite evident Charlie was hurt by being “put off” by Graham.

Graham reached for the phone to call Charlie when the doorbell rang. He walked the few feet to the door, peeked through the curtain, and gasped at Charlie’s lean figure standing on the front porch. Graham became tense and coiled his body, ready for Charlie’s onslaught of questions and accusations. But he was glad to see him.

Graham’s sweaty palm turned the knob to the front door. They found each other’s gaze wishing the other would say something first, an awkward moment between best friends. “Hey Charlie, good to see you. I had just picked up the phone to call you.”

“Umm,” Charlie murmured. “May I come in?”

“Yeah, buddy. Come in. You’re not a stranger here,” Graham retorted.

Charlie shrugged his shoulders and smirked, his head tilted to one side. “I feel like a stranger.”

Graham remained quiet as he moved aside for Charlie to enter. Charlie let his eyes roam about the room as if it was his first time setting foot in Graham’s house.

They went into the kitchen, their customary hangout. Charlie’s eyes continued to rove about—like a spy trying to uncover an encoded secret, a bloodhound on a hot trail. Charlie’s behavior amused Graham somewhat; however, he was in love with Rita Long and that was that. He was now a single man whom had long ago left the playing field but found himself in left field ready to play ball. He couldn’t help it that after all this time Charlie wasn’t able to do any better than Shelly.

“Word on the street is…,” Charlie began.

“Word on the street is what, Charlie?” Graham asked mockingly, putting up an invisible shield to block what he was sure would come next.

“Word is…you slept with Rita.”

Graham took his time and stood up from the table, assuming a position that made clear he was about to lay his point on thick. “Word is…it’s a lie. And you can go and tell whomever you got that piece of misinformation from that that’s the word and that whatever I chose to do and with whomever I chose to do it with is no one’s damn business. Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, how you’ve been, Charlie?”

Charlie couldn’t believe that he had been in Graham’s house all of five minutes and had gotten slam-dunked on his first lay-up. The game was over, history, and there would be no referee to hear his protest. He’d leave the subject of Rita Long on the back burner for now. He’d be ready for Graham the next time—for sure it would come up again. Graham was truly the victor this time, however, next time Charlie would be ready with a block, steal, dribble, and ten baskets.

Charlie wasn’t sure why it was important to know what had transpired between his best friend and Rita—maybe it was the fact they had been friends for nearly fifty years and had always shared secrets. Well, maybe not all secrets, but nevertheless, they had shared almost everything.
Yeah, almost everything
, he thought. But now he felt his friend had kicked him to the curb, and Charlie had a sudden urge to get them back on track.

Charlie diverted his attention back to Graham whose smug look and taste of victory were written all across his face.

S
ister
Mary Ross couldn’t wait to get to the church house. There would be fireworks tonight; she felt sure of it. Well, she was going to be right there, telling her side of the story when the time was right. The
word
was out—so expedient was the church grapevine that it didn’t miss any area code or prefix in its attempt to inform the masses. Every deacon, deaconess, missionary, minister, and congregational member of the church on Market Street, including Pastor Fields, had become privy to Sister Mary Ross’ bit-of-gossip—whether by first, second, or third person.

The saints were gathered for Wednesday night Bible Study, but their minds weren’t on the powerful story of Saul, once a persecutor of Christians, whose name was changed to Paul after a great light blinded him while on the road to Damascus. Many had come to get the real scoop on Deacon Graham Peters who was said to be seen in the company of a nightclub-singing floozy—and right in his own home, dishonoring the sanctity of his recently departed wife’s spirit. Two months had barely passed, and now the gossip threatened to taint not only Deacon Graham’s reputation but the church’s good name as well.

“Samson and Delilah. Nothing like a woman to bring a man down.”

“Chile, have you ever heard of such? From the church house to the nightclub.”

“And so soon after his wife’s death. He probably was cheating on Sister Amanda all along.”

“They ought to throw him out of the church. Such a disgrace.”

“Sista, he can ask for God’s forgiveness. God forgives seventy times seventy.”

“Yeah, that’s what they say, but don’t sound like the deacon is thinking about repenting. Sounds like he is dipping and sticking.”

“Sista, shut your mouth and don’t be so loud. You ain’t heard no such thing. But I’m going to tell you what I think. I think Sister Mary Ross over there is a little sweet on the deacon. You know, she’s the one who supposedly saw the two together and ran back and told everybody.”

“Sounds like you might believe that rumor.”

“Well, Mary did see them together. And what was she doing over at the deacon’s house, anyway?”

“You think there’s a little jealousy somewhere?”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

Tongues ceased to wag and all became deathly quiet as Deacon and Sister Elroy Carter entered the sanctuary. Most pretended to read their Bibles as they awaited Reverend Fields’ arrival. Many in the congregation held their heads down avoiding the Carters’ eyes that they believed might have held the look of shame. Yes, the Carters had heard the rumors, too, not sure whether to believe what they heard from the lips of Sister Mary Ross. The congregation wanted to know, and the Carters, bless Amanda’s soul, would have to hear along with the rest of them.

Reverend Fields coughed when he entered the sanctuary causing the congregation to stir—putting their sanctimonious attitudes in check. He looked over the crowd; there hadn’t been this many people at Wednesday night Bible study or even a business meeting in a long time. Reverend Fields knew why they had come.
God strike them dead,
he thought, all the while asking God to forgive him of his evil thought. Well, he’d let them fidget in their seats a little while longer, because he was going to let God orchestrate this meeting. After all, this was Bible study and not the gossip hour.

Reverend Fields picked up the glass of water from the tray set out for him. The reverend rarely ever took a drink of water unless he was in the midst of a sermon and his throat became parched from the several octave levels he’d taken the congregation on his wild ride to the truth of the gospel. All eyes were on him, and he took a sip from the glass, prolonging their agony just a few minutes longer. He swallowed hard, put down the glass and began to pray.

Bodies leaned in close so as not to miss anything Reverend Fields might say, especially as it pertained to the sins of the deacon who was not there to defend his position. Reverend Fields prayed for the lost and the lonely, the homeless and motherless, the drug addicts and convicted felons, those in need of a financial blessing, and those in need of just a word from the Lord. The reverend reminded the crowd that God sat high on the throne and looked down low and could see the
SINS
of the
WHOLE WORLD
—implying that Deacon Peters wasn’t the only one in need of God’s help. “You who are without sin, cast the first stone,” the reverend demanded, peeking ever so quickly from behind his once tightly closed eyelids to see if he had elicited any furrowed eyebrows. Seeing none, he said, “Amen.

“We’re going to defer tonight’s scheduled Bible study lesson on the Apostle Paul to talk about forgiveness.” There was a rumble from the congregation, but Reverend Fields ignored it and plowed on.

“We serve a good God, an awesome God. If it had not been for Him, many of us wouldn’t be here today. God loved us so much that He gave His only Son to die for the sins of the whole world. Imagine that—the whole world. I can’t say how many billion or trillion people that might be. It doesn’t matter how good you are or how bad, God gave each and every one an equal chance to repent of their sins so they can join the Savior in His heavenly home when the time arrives.”

Reverend Fields looked out into the crowd. Disinterested faces met his eyes, but he didn’t care. The Lord told him to share this message with his people, and that’s what he was going to do. He continued, “I want you to go to the book of Mark the sixth chapter and the twenty-fifth through twenty-sixth verses. It says, ‘And when you stand praying, forgive, if ye have aught against any: that your Father also which is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses. But if ye do not forgive, neither will your Father which is in heaven forgive your trespasses.’”

“We want to know what you’re gonna do about Deacon Peters!” someone shouted out.

“Yes, I was there,” Sister Ross chimed in, standing up and facing the congregation with a smug look on her face. Now they were getting to the heart of what everyone really came to hear. “I saw the deacon and that nightclub floozy with my very own eyes, all huddled together professing their love for one another.” That wasn’t quite the way it was, but no one knew differently.

“You are out of order, Sister Ross, and so is anyone else bent on disrupting Bible study.”

“Well, Reverend, what are you going to do about Deacon Peters?” an elderly, portly gentleman, Deacon Harris, asked. Head of the Deacon Board, Harris was set in his old-school ways. “You do wrong; out you go. I say we dismiss Peters from the Deacon Board and any other auxiliary he’s on. This is a disgrace to the church.”

Voices rose from every corner in the sanctuary acknowledging agreement with Deacon Harris.

“Just a minute, folks. Since you want to talk about Deacon Peters, we’ll talk about Deacon Peters. He has done nothing wrong. Sister Amanda has departed this life leaving Deacon Peters a widower. While I don’t understand how and where he met this woman you all speak of, we can’t conclude anything until we speak with Deacon Peters first. There is nothing wrong in his seeking out the company of another woman; the deacon is a free man. And as I said earlier, if any of you are without sin, then cast the first stone. But Deacon Peters has not sinned.”

“Well, you’re missing the point, Reverend,” Sister Mary Ross interrupted. “No disrespect to you, but Sister Amanda has been gone for a little over two months. Out of respect to the church, his family…” At this, Amanda’s mother stood.

No one expected it, and all eyes were on Sister Martha Carter as she rose. Deacon Carter looked a little uneasy—not sure what his wife was about to do. Martha had put on some weight in her latter years, and her generous serving of hips held her left hand steady as she propped it on her left hip and proceeded to the center aisle. Her head leaned forward as if ready to do battle.

“I’ve sat and listened to just about enough of this, Sister Ross. You don’t care what the church thinks of Amanda’s good name. You and my daughter never did see eye-to-eye, and Amanda believed you were a little sweet on her husband.”

The crowd gasped. Sister Mary moved closer—but a safe distance from Martha. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Martha. It’s that no-good son-in-law of yours and his disgraceful ways that’s the topic of this discussion.”

“My granddaughters have told me how you seem to be hanging around Deacon Peters’ house all the time. Every time they go by, you show up on the pretense of taking him meals he doesn’t even eat! Got your nose all in his business. And if you continue this charade…trying to trample my son-in-law’s good name through the mud, I’m going to have to ask the church for forgiveness. Because there’s no telling what I might do to you!” Deacon Carter jumped up to quiet Martha.

“I’m all right, Elroy,” Martha said, holding up her hand for him to leave her alone. “And another thing, Sister Ross, Deacon Peters had a good, virtuous woman for forty years and just maybe he’s looking for another. But rest assured, it won’t be you. I’m through, Reverend. I apologize for the disruption, and I ask for the saints’ forgiveness.”

Reverend Fields clapped his hands, happy that Sister Martha had told old Sister Mary off. The reverend swiftly raised his hands. “That’s enough, Sister Carter and Sister Ross,” the good reverend said, oblivious to the fact that Sister Carter had already relinquished her stand. “This is the House of the Lord. We are going to pray and dismiss Bible study until next week. I’ll be speaking with Deacon Peters, but in the meantime, I want you to read the book of Proverbs 31 and Psalms 34:13—words for each of us for everyday living. God bless you all and good-night.”

The sanctuary of the church on Market Street was as quiet as an empty schoolroom. One by one, the congregation single-filed out—no after-church fellowshipping, no whispered words, even on the sly.

Sister Carter looked in the direction of Sister Mary Ross who deliberately kept her head turned in the opposite direction. Sister Carter had won this round, and Mary Ross wasn’t ready for further battle right now—at least not just yet. Everyone was looking at her like she was the buffoon, causing a ruckus where there shouldn’t have been one.
In time
, Sister Mary Ross thought,
I’ll have Deacon Peters all to myself
.

Elroy and Martha huffed and puffed as they made their way to their pale yellow 1975 Coupe de Ville. The Carters had outlived their only child, Amanda. Now in their early eighties and with a good life behind them, Martha wasn’t about to let no “old maid, never had a man, jealous to the bone” wannabe talk about her daughter and son-in-law with disrespect. She wasn’t having it.