Don't Blame the Devil (10 page)

J
essie drove while the deacon led the prayer. They'd hoped to simply buy car insurance that would allow Delilah to take back possession of her car and give them back their lives. But Delilah was like a bad rash that was more than skin deep. It was rooted to the bone.

Deacon Pillar had just finished praying for grace, mercy, and strength when he saw Jessie's good hand gripping the steering wheel so tight the veins were about to pop. “Should I pray again?”

“Please do.”

“Y'all acting like it's my fault. How was I supposed to remember every little accident, speeding ticket, or HOV violation?” Up to that point Delilah hadn't said much since they'd left the insurance agency. But she'd finally had enough of pretending not to hear their accusations and prayers to God to save “her lying soul,” as if she weren't His child, too.

“I know it's their prerogative, but how did you manage to get your credit so messed up that the dealership decided not to let you retake the car, even with insurance?” Jessie didn't want to ask but he felt compelled.

“I guess I was doing too much with Peter and Paul.”

“This isn't the time to talk about your nasty love life,” Deacon Pillar snapped.

“Shut up, Thurgood,” Delilah replied. “I was robbing one to pay the other.”

“So what are you going to do now, Delilah?”

“I'm not sure, Jessie. Just drop me back at my house and I'll figure out something.”

Jessie looked at his watch. “It's gonna have to be later. I need to pick up the women.”

As if he'd already read Jessie's mind, the deacon said, “I'm supposed to get a tow to take my truck over on Northern Boulevard tomorrow for repairs. They're gonna need to either change those gears or use some type of solvent to get the goop out.”

“It's almost five o'clock and I've got a board meeting tonight. Family and Friends celebration is coming up shortly, and I'm in charge of putting the program together.”

“Well, since I have no transportation, I was gonna ride with Marty tonight to a movie or something….” He stopped speaking, knowing he probably had given Delilah ammunition for something. What that something was, he didn't know.

“Hmmmm, I doubt if she'll want to take a ride out to Garden City for any reason.” Jessie shook his head. How many wrenches could his mother throw into his life and those around him?

It didn't really matter that Jessie and the deacon's back-and-forth wouldn't get Delilah back to Garden City. Each knew she'd be with them for another night.

All they needed to figure out was where and how to break the news to Tamara and Sister Marty. Hopefully, Sister Marty wouldn't break the deacon's neck.

Delilah, meanwhile, laid her head against the comfort and coolness of the leather backseat.
Jehovah. Either You playing Ping-Pong with my situation, or You've got something up Your sleeve. Either way, I thank You for allowing me another opportunity to get to Tamara.
She lifted her head and her eyes looked directly onto the back of the deacon's woolly-edged conk. She dropped her head and added,
I want to thank You also for giving me a chance to block whatever Thurgood had planned tonight. After I've made him pay for his lying, You and that Madge, Martha, or whatever her name is, can have him back.
“Amen.”

“Were you praying?” Jessie hadn't meant to ask but it'd come out.

“Yes.”

“I've seen her do that a time or two recently.” Deacon Pillar winked at Jessie. “I'm sure she's thanking the Lord for your kindness.”

“Oh, I'm thanking Jehovah for a lot of things.” Delilah smiled and she meant it that time.

“S
o do you want to tell me where she's gonna sleep tonight?”

As she spoke, Sister Marty's black weave bobbed around like it, too, wanted to fight. It'd been that way ever since she and Tamara heard about the latest impending Delilah storm. Enough with the kindness—she was going to speak her mind in her own house.

“I don't know what kind of fool you think I am,” Sister Marty ranted on, “but me having the
S
word won't matter in this situation.”

“The
S
word?” Deacon Pillar had been trying to catch up ever since she leapt from the car and he'd had to chase her home. “I don't understand what you mean.”

“It means that because I have Salvation don't mean I'm stupid.” She was tossing her handmade doilies all over her living room and that wasn't a good sign. It took a lot to get her angry. In this instance all it took was one word:
Delilah.

“I'd never take you for stupid.” Deacon Pillar wasn't in a position to be offended but he truly was. “Why would you think that?”

And that's when Sister Marty used another
S
word. She schooled the deacon right then and there. She ran down her road-to-Christianity fight resume and compared it to what she supposed was Delilah's still-a-hussy one. And then she told him what he needed to do to get rid of Delilah and just how long he had to do it. “It shouldn't be that hard, Thurgood. Neither Tamara nor Jessie wants her around. Hell, buy her a used car if you need to be so kind to her. And if there's nothing between the two of you, what could she possibly have that you need?” When she finished, a smile spread across her face as though she'd just preached the Word to him. “That's all I have to say about this crazy situation.” But it really wasn't because she quickly added, “I've been there for Jessie and Tamara all these years. That she-hussy can't just walk in here and interrupt that.”

That's when the deacon realized why she reminded him of Delilah. Marty was Delilah-lite. Both women were the type that would knock your teeth out and then make you wanna chew a piece of caramel with your gums. And yet he was attracted to that type, and Marty had never said she loved him.

The deacon simply hung his head. He swore in his spirit he heard God speaking to him again:
Pillar, I told you over a week ago to come on home, son, where you'd be safe.

Deacon Pillar allowed Sister Marty to give him a few more of the dos and the don'ts of a one-sided relationship before he'd had enough.

“Sit down, Marty.” Deacon Pillar collapsed onto a nearby chair. He suddenly looked older and more tired than his years. His eyes moistened and he again beckoned Marty to him.

“Thurgood, what's wrong?” Her anger disappeared. She couldn't fight him when he looked already defeated.

“I've got to tell you something. If I don't, I'm going to be a nervous wreck.”

“What?”

“Please,” the deacon pleaded, “as a child of God, you've got to keep this to yourself until I can fix things.”

“Thurgood, are you on a wanted list or something?”

“No, but it would be better than where I am now.”

The deacon finally got Sister Marty to sit. He poured his heart out. He held almost nothing back as he told her about him and Delilah.

By the time the deacon finished his confession, Sister Marty looked older than he was. “My God, Thurgood. Delilah's your estranged wife?”

“I'm afraid so. I married that demon under duress a little more than forty years ago.”

Marty rose. There was no way she could sit after hearing that kind of news. “What about Jessie?” She hesitated, not knowing if she really wanted to know the answer.

Deacon Pillar could've blurted out the complete truth as he had a moment before. He didn't. Instead, he gave her the Thurgood Pillar version. “Jessie was about two years old when I married his mama.” He hadn't totally lied.

“So she'd already had Jessie when you married?”

“Yep, they were my ready-made family.”
A family I'd helped to make.

“Damn, Thurgood. Why didn't you say something to Jessie when you moved in there?”

“I swear, Marty, I had no idea until he showed up at New Hope. I gave up trying to find him and Delilah years before. And then when I looked for an apartment and it was right in the same house, I just kept quiet.”

“Why?”

“By then Jessie was a grown man with his own family. Except for my best friend, Earl Athens, I had no family. I believed it was God who led me to Jessie—if God wanted Jessie to know everything, then God would've let the beans spill right then and there.”

“We're Christians, Thurgood.”

“I know.”

“And what you just said amounts to nothing more than a cop-out and don't make a lick of sense.”

“I know.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, now you've laid this burden on me. I know I promised not to say anything….”

The deacon got up and put his arms around her shoulders. “I'm sorry, honey. I'm in a fix.”

“But this is not all about you, Thurgood. You've got to tell Jessie and Tamara the truth. They deserve better than what you've given them. Jessie believes that his mother is just someone you may have had a fling with years ago.”

“I just didn't want you thinking that Delilah had some kind of hold on me….”

“Thurgood, she does. She's got the wifey-thing noose tightly wound around your neck.”

“Well, that's temporary. I know I wasn't completely honest when I didn't tell her from the beginning about Jessie. I explained to you that helping her find him was the way to my quick divorce. I was going to try and outlast her, but that card's been trumped. I need to find another way to make her give me that divorce so I can move on.”

“Who's moving on with you?”

“Hopefully, you will.”

“I don't like any of this, Thurgood. If I believed Delilah truly had Jessie's best interests at heart, I could understand telling him. He's a grown man who can make his own decisions, but he's just lost his wife.” Sister Marty lifted her head and silently prayed. “I've always protected him, and with Cindy now gone, I've got to step up again. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Isn't there someplace in that equation for me?” The deacon began to wonder why he'd needed to ask. Better yet, why did he?

“Of course there's a place in my heart for you, Thurgood. Like I just said, tell me what to do.”

“I need you to get along with her for a start.”

“Say what! How is that supposed to happen? I'm not using up all my salvation capital on your wife. What else you got?”

“That's it to start off. The rest I haven't worked out yet.”

With the framework of their battle plan laid, the two walked back to the sofa. They continued to sit, for what seemed like forever, in silence. It was finally the deacon who made the first move.

“I'm suddenly not in the mood for a movie,” the deacon said as he turned and kissed her on her cheek. They walked to her door, still hand in hand. “I'm not looking forward to jumping through any of Delilah's hoops, but whatever challenges lie ahead, I won't let them hurt us.”

“I'm depending on you to do the right thing, Thurgood.”

“You can depend on me, Marty.”

“That's a good thing,” she said playfully, poking him in his chest, “because you still have only six weeks to get it together. Or the deal's off.”

“Which deal, honey—me or Jessie?”

“That's entirely up to you, Thurgood.”

 

No sooner had the deacon put the key in the front hall door after he'd walked home from Sister Marty's than Tamara rushed out into the hallway. She held a phone to her ear and was signaling the deacon to wait.

“…But Daddy, I didn't know she was gonna do that…. You told me to let her use the spare room in the basement…. Deacon Pillar just came in the door…. Well, hurry home, please.”

Deacon Pillar's mind barely had a chance to regroup from trying to salvage his relationship with Marty, and now
this
. And whatever
this
was, it could only be more Delilah drama.

“Baby girl, what's going on?”

Tamara began by telling the deacon her father had stayed longer at the church to handle some business. In the mean-time, it was so awkward with just her and Delilah alone in the house, and she really didn't have anything to say to Delilah, so she went ahead and showed Delilah the spare room where she'd spend the night.

“Deacon Pillar, I truly believe she did it on purpose.”

“Did what?”

“She managed to stop up the toilet and break off the showerhead.”

“That's no problem. Let me grab my tool kit and I'll fix it.”

“Well, good luck with that. I told her to wait until I came out of the shower upstairs and she could use it. Delilah didn't want to wait.”

“Where is she now?” Somehow the deacon already knew the answer. All he could do was shake his head. “Is she still up there? I've got to start locking my door.”

“Yes. She's been up there long enough to take a couple of showers. Make sure you count your loose change and silverware. But wait—I have something else to tell you.”

“What is it?” He really hoped it wasn't something that would take all day. He needed to see what Delilah was up to in his apartment.

“I found out some stuff about Delilah,” Tamara began. “Did you know if you look up her information online in Wikipedia that she's got a pretty scandalous background?”

The deacon folded his arms. It was an indication that Tamara should continue.

“It says that she was once connected with a producer named Croc Duggan….”

“Go on….” The deacon was pretty sure what Tamara was about to say, but he wasn't going to divulge it in case he was wrong.

“Delilah almost slept her way through the music industry, and it was Croc Duggan who provided the music she danced to, if you know what I mean.”

“Tamara Jewel.” Deacon Pillar was shocked and angry. “You're gonna talk about something you read and don't know if it's true or not? If you'd read that about Sister Marty, would you have believed or repeated it?”

“No, I wouldn't. But I know Sister Marty. I don't know Delilah like that….”

“And yet, you'd repeat it when you don't even know if she knows anyone by that name or reputation….”

“I'm sorry.” She didn't want to hear any more. She didn't have to know Delilah too well to believe the woman who gave up her father was scandalous.

The deacon left Tamara as well chastised as he could with a straight face. She was becoming almost as bad as her grandmother.

 

As soon as the deacon flung open his door, he saw Delilah. She was straddling a chair with her feet up on his couch while she painted her toenails. It was apparent she was wearing one of Tamara's outfits, which meant it should've been much too young for her. Though he was angry, he still thought she looked good in it. She was also without her wig, which allowed her natural white tresses to fall somewhere between her shoulder blades and her waist. The dress material was flimsy and yellow. And when he finished ogling, he realized Delilah wasn't wearing a bra. Nor from her profile did she look like she needed to.

Without saying a word, the deacon walked into his kitchen and poured something to drink. Within a few moments he returned to his living room.

Delilah said nothing, either, as she continued to watch with eagle eyes from her perch. The reaction from the deacon didn't sit well with her.

“Enough is enough,” Deacon Pillar said sharply. “Blow on them toes to dry them or whatever. You're going home this night.”

“You ain't in charge.” Delilah rose slowly from the chair, no doubt looking for another mayonnaise jar full of change. “My son said I could stay here tonight.”

“What would you know about staying put somewhere?”

Delilah put her head down and continued polishing her toenails as she answered. “I know it was a good thing when I left you.”

Whether she meant it or not, Delilah's words cut through him. They ripped out feelings of any peaceful coexistence on a smooth road to a divorce. He also wanted to pray a moment, but the moment was killed by Delilah's edited version of the truth. It was now Deacon Pillar's turn to put the
T
in truth, something he hadn't fully told in a long time.

“You didn't leave, you fled.” He moved back on the sofa and pointed a finger at Delilah. “I stayed and took a rap and a two-year prison sentence for you, Delilah Dupree Jewel. You stabbed that gangster, Jimmy James Lanier. I took the hit.”

“I know, dammit, and if you want me to say I'm sorry about it, again, I will. I'm sorry, Thurgood.”

“Sorry won't cut it.”

Peace had left and civility was shattered quicker than a lead anchor dropped in a fish tank.

“I loved you, Delilah. Hell, I even loved your dead mama's drawers and I'd never met her.”

“I…I.” Delilah found it hard to speak to the truth, so she didn't.

The deacon's already dark complexion grew darker as he pressed, “There was a two-year-old child involved, Delilah. I didn't want him to be without a mama so I married you. At that age a boy needs his mama. I gave up my freedom for Jessie.”

Delilah felt trapped as she watched a sudden indignation and something akin to a feeling of deep dislike flood over Deacon Pillar's face. He looked as though he was gulping for air and her presence was sucking it all out of the room.

“I gave up my freedom for the boy.” The deacon's voice rose with each accusation. “And you gave him up for
yours.
You didn't nurture that boy, but you for damn sure nurtured your career.”