Everybody Say Amen (14 page)

I
t had been less than a week since the judge granted Jonathan visitation, but it seemed like a month. Jonathan was extremely nervous as he stood outside Angela’s door. He looked at all the cars in Angela’s driveway and thought maybe he should have let Rachel and David come with him to pick up Chase. Not that they could’ve done anything against Angela’s crazy family, but he would’ve loved the support right about now.

Jonathan reached over and rang the doorbell. It seemed like an eternity before someone answered, even though Jonathan could clearly hear voices inside.

Finally, the door swung open. Jonathan’s plastered-on smile faded when he saw Buster, Angela’s ex-convict cousin.

He stood in the doorway glaring at Jonathan. “Angela, the fairy is here!” he called out, without removing his gaze or trying to disguise the look of utter contempt on his face.

Jonathan ignored his comment as he walked inside. A teary-eyed Angela stood in the entrance to the living room, tightly squeezing Chase’s hand. Her parents, brother, and some other people he didn’t recognize were all standing around glaring at him like they wanted to kill him dead right there. Jonathan didn’t know if he should speak to them or what. He finally decided to just focus on why he’d come.

“Hi, Chase,” he said, easing toward the little boy. “Do you know who I am?”

Chase slowly nodded. “My mommy said you’re my daddy.”

Jonathan smiled widely. “I am.” His heart warmed at the sight of his mirror image.

“My mommy said you couldn’t find us,” Chase announced.

Jonathan looked up at Angela. He had been wondering what she was going to say to the boy. She stared at him blankly. He could sense her hatred for him.

“But I’ve found you now,” Jonathan said, turning his attention back to Chase. “And I don’t ever intend on letting you go again.”

“Hmphh,” Mrs. Brooks grumbled, as she stood tapping her foot. Hostility was written all over her face.

Buster stepped toward Jonathan. His broad shoulders were eye level to Jonathan. Between his size and the sixty tattoos covering his body, he definitely looked scary. “Don’t let me hear about you having no punks around my lil’ man here.”

Jonathan wanted to tell him to go check in with his parole officer or something, but he didn’t need any more drama.

“He can’t do dairy products,” Angela finally said.

“It makes me break out in hives,” Chase proclaimed.

Jonathan studied his son. What else didn’t he know about Chase? He had so much lost time to make up for.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Mrs. Brooks suddenly lashing out. “How can everyone just stand around here like this is all right!”

Angela turned toward her mother. “Mother, we’ve been through this a thousand times. We don’t have a choice.” Her voice was shaking.

Mr. Brooks put his arm around his wife, obviously trying to calm her down. She jerked away.

“No! This is ridiculous. Chase doesn’t know him! I can’t stand you!” she screamed at Jonathan as she stepped closer to him. “I wish you were dead. I wish Angela had never met you!” Angela’s brother, Darryl, grabbed Mrs. Brooks and pulled her into the kitchen as she continued to go off.

Jonathan was ready to get out of there. Chase was standing wide-eyed, obviously shaken up by his grandmother’s outburst.

“Well, Chase,” Jonathan said, reaching his hand to the little boy. “I have a full day planned for us. Do you like baseball?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He looked nervously toward the kitchen.

“Well, I figured we’d go check out a Houston Astros game. Then maybe go to Incredible Pizza. Does that sound like a plan?”

Chase slowly nodded. Jonathan couldn’t tell if he was upset about going with him or about the scene that had just unfolded.

Angela lifted Chase’s chin. “Baby, don’t worry about Granny. She’ll be fine. She’s just a little upset.”

“Why doesn’t she like my daddy?” Chase asked softly.

Angela hugged her son. “You know how your granny gets worked up about stuff.”

“So she’s not gon’ be mad at me for goin’ with my daddy?” Chase asked.

“Of course not,” Angela replied. Jonathan admired how strong she was trying to be because he could tell this was killing her.

She pushed him toward the door. “Now, you go have fun so you can tell me all about it, okay?”

“Okay,” Chase said, finally seeming to relax. He turned to Jonathan. “I’m ready.”

Jonathan grinned as he took his son’s hand and led him outside. Chase stopped right before he got in the car and looked up at him. “Mr. Jonathan?”

“Yes?”

“Can I call you Daddy?”

Jonathan had to swallow to get rid of the lump in his throat. “Nothing would make me happier.”

Chase flashed a huge grin as he climbed in the car. Jonathan couldn’t help but feel this was the happiest day of his life.

R
achel was seated next to Lester, who was at the head table looking down at his agenda. “Okay, the next order of business is what to do about the decline in tithes,” Lester said as he looked over the paper in front of him.

Deacon George Wright, one of her father’s friends before he tried to vote him out, passed a piece of paper to Deacon Todd Smithers, who was sitting next to him. Deacon Smithers read it, then shrugged at Deacon Wright. Like Rachel, Lester noticed the exchange.

“Gentlemen, is there a problem?” Lester asked.

Both men looked at each other. Deacon Smithers finally spoke. “Well, Reverend, some people are wondering why Sister Rachel is attending this meeting.”

Rachel narrowed her eyes at the men. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I’m just saying this is church business and all,” Deacon Wright chimed in.

“And I’m not a part of this church?”

“Yes, but…”

“Then what’s the problem?” Rachel said, cocking her head.

“Well,” Deacon Wright said. “We just think you need to leave the church business to the menfolk.”

Rachel looked at them like they’d lost their minds. “You’re kidding me, right?” When they didn’t respond, she turned to Lester. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. It was obvious this wasn’t the first time he was hearing this protest.

“I’m always in the business meeting,” she pointed out. “Why is it a problem all of a sudden?”

“Well, the board feels you’re trying to change long-standing traditions by implementing all of this newfangled stuff. And we feel Zion Hill might be better served if you directed your talents somewhere else,” Deacon Wright said as he fidgeted in his seat.

“Its bad enough y’all tried to run my daddy off,” Rachel said, recalling the close vote to fire her father seven years ago. “He didn’t go quietly and neither will I. As long as I’m first lady, I will sit in on any meeting I please.”

Everyone seemed to be looking to Lester to jump in, but he just stared down at his agenda.

“Reverend Adams,” Deacon Wright snapped.

Lester sighed. “We have a full agenda. Can we just get down to the next order of business?” He paused. “Brother Gipson, you have a status report on the budget?”

Brother Gipson began sifting through some papers. “Yes, according to today’s offering of $12,090, we are still short of the estimated monies needed for the building fund.” He looked up and shook his head. “Pastor, maybe you’d better preach on the importance of tithing next Sunday.”

“I agree and I also make a motion that we send letters out to the nonpaying people suggesting that they ought to begin giving,” Deacon Bishop Long said.

“I second that. I want to add an amendment that the members who tithe the most will have their names listed on the back of the church bulletin,” Deacon Wright added. “And Brother Long had a great idea we were talking about earlier. On Sundays, why don’t we put a microphone by the tithing basket and as members come up they can say how much they’re giving. It’ll be kind of an accolade for the big donors and inspire others to give just as much.”

“Shoot, maybe they’ll try to outdo each other.” Deacon Smithers laughed.

Rachel didn’t think the men could possibly be serious. She glanced around the table. Lester and another deacon looked a little uncomfortable but everyone else nodded like they thought that was the best idea they’d ever heard.

“So you mean to tell me y’all want to call out the members who aren’t paying their tithes?” she asked.

She heard several groans. Deacon Wright leaned over and mumbled something to Deacon Long.

“You got something to say, Deacon?” Rachel said.

Deacon Wright sat up. “I was just saying, this is exactly why we don’t want you in here, always fighting us. We know what’s best for this church.” Obviously frustrated, his gray eyebrows were furrowed into a V at the bridge of his nose.

“And what’s best is calling folks out based on how much they’re paying?” Rachel’s tone was incredulous. “Maybe our members can’t give their ten percent in money and spend the week giving their time to the church instead. How are you going to measure that?”

“This isn’t something we came up with,” Deacon Long said. “The Bible clearly states that the Lord gets His ten percent first. First fruits, remember. All that other stuff is irrelevant.”

Lester rubbed his neck like he knew things were about to get ugly.

“Reverend Adams, I don’t mean no disrespect, but you need to get your woman under control and let her know the menfolk got this covered,” Deacon Wright growled.

Before Lester could reply, Rachel leaned forward. “Get me under control? You should know, Deacon, no one controls me. Now, if I got something on my mind, I’m gonna say it.”

“Boy, ain’t that the truth,” someone mumbled.

Lester decided it was time he stepped in. “Look, why don’t we just talk about this reasonably? We have to address the tithing issue, but maybe calling out members is not the answer.”

“Then what
is
the answer?” Deacon Wright scowled. “We need to get a better infusion of funds into our coffers.”

“Why? Are you in need of a new Cadillac, Deacon?” Rachel didn’t give him time to answer before turning back to the board. “Will someone please tell me where in the Bible it says you have to acknowledge what you’re giving in order to honor God and edify his Kingdom?”

“I didn’t even know you knew what ‘edify’ meant,” Deacon Wright muttered.

Rachel ignored him and turned to Lester. “Lester, I think it’s ridiculous to even consider this. We know half our members are struggling just to stay afloat. Our charity fund is depleted. We go start calling people out, we’re sure to run them off. Yes, we want people to give their ten percent, but getting to that point is a spiritual journey our members must make on their own.”

Everyone in the room frowned, except Lester. A small smile formed on his lips. He had never looked more proud.

“Rachel has a point,” Lester said. “Our focus is not on forcing people to give, but helping them to grow spiritually so that they’ll
want
to give.”

Deacon Wright threw his pen on the table in frustration. Lester ignored him. “Let’s move on to the next item on the agenda.”

As Deacon Long began talking about the Men’s Day program, Lester squeezed Rachel’s leg under the table as he flashed her a smile. She knew exactly what he was thinking because she felt it, too. For the first time since Lester had taken over at Zion Hill, they felt like a team.

R
achel glanced at her watch. It was a quarter after six. She still had time to run into Walgreen’s and pick up the pictures of the Good Girlz community service project before heading to their next meeting.

Rachel was so thrilled with the direction the girls were going. Even more surprising, she was amazed at the joy she was getting out of heading up the group. She really enjoyed her time with them. There were only four—two had dropped out—but she still felt like she was making a difference in their lives. She couldn’t wait until Nia was old enough to join. Even though the group was mainly for troubled girls, she knew Nia would enjoy being a part of it.

Between thoughts of the group and how well she and Lester were getting along, she was in a really good mood.

Rachel pulled her car into the Walgreen’s parking lot. The pictures were supposed to be ready by noon, so hopefully, she could just run in and out.

“Hello,” a perky blonde said as soon as Rachel reached the counter. “How may I help you?”

“I’m here to pick up some pictures.”

“Sure. One hour?”

“No, two-day processing; they’re supposed to be back today.”

“Okay, do you have your ticket?”

Rachel patted her jacket pocket. “Shoot. I left the ticket in the jacket I had on when I dropped the film off. It should be under Adams, first name Rachel.”

“Hold on, let me check for you.” The clerk looked through the stack of pictures. “I don’t see…wait, is this it? Mrs. Lester Adams?”

“That’s me.” Rachel nodded. She didn’t remember putting them in under that name, but oh, well.

The clerk pulled out the envelope and handed them to Rachel. “I just need you to sign this since you don’t have the ticket, okay?”

“No problem.” Rachel handed the woman her debit card, then scrawled her name in a thick book as the woman quickly rang her up. In less than five minutes she was back in her car. Rachel tossed the pictures on the passenger seat and made her way to the church.

Once she parked, she grabbed her purse, the pictures, and her Bible and looked around. “Good, I beat everyone here,” Rachel mumbled. The last thing she wanted was for the girls to be waiting outside the church.

Rachel unlocked the door and went into her office. She put her belongings on her desk and smiled as she picked up the pictures. She was so proud of how well their community service project had gone. Rachel opened the envelope and pulled out the pictures. The smile left her face as she looked at the first picture: a tall white woman holding a Pekingese puppy, a huge smile across her face.
Why does that woman look familiar?
Rachel flipped to the next picture, which showed the woman in a sexy negligee. Then, suddenly, it dawned on Rachel: “It’s that floozy from church!” she exclaimed. “How did her pictures get mixed up with mine?”

Rachel flipped through the pictures, each one showing the woman in a different provocative pose, wearing less and less clothing. Rachel was about to throw the photos in the trash when she came across the last batch of pictures. The first was a photo of Lester sitting in someone’s dining room, the woman on his lap. They both had huge smiles on their faces. Rachel’s mouth dropped open in stunned disbelief. The next picture was of the woman as she leaned in and kissed Lester; the last was of the woman, Lester, and the dog. They looked like one big happy family.

Rachel felt like she was going to be sick.
What was Lester doing with this woman? Why did she look so blissfully in love?
Her head began pounding and her vision became blurry. “There’s got to be an explanation. I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing,” she mumbled, squeezing the pictures in her hand.

A knock on the door made her jump. She quickly stuffed the crumpled pictures into her purse. “Yes,” she said, trying to make sure her voice didn’t crack.

“It’s Camille and Angel.”

Rachel had to make herself calm down. The Good Girlz group was here and she needed to put the pictures out of her mind.

“Ummm, I’m coming.” She took a minute to compose herself before standing and making her way to the door. “Hi, girls,” she said as she swung the door open.

“Hi, Miss Rachel,” said Camille, the leader of the group. “We were just wondering if we could bail on tonight’s meeting. It’s the big game tonight, Madison against Yates.”

“Yeah,” Angel chimed in. “We forgot to ask about it. I know Jasmine isn’t going to be here because her brother is playing.”

“And we’ve already talked to Alexis, she’s just down the street, but she wants to go to the game, too. Please, please, please,” Camille begged.

If only they knew! Their pleas were music to Rachel’s ears. “Okay, fine. You girls go have fun and I’ll see you next week.”

Both girls looked like they were surprised to get a yes from Rachel so quickly. They hugged her before taking off.

Rachel plopped back down in the chair. She was tempted to go find Lester and just start beating the hell out of him, but she had to think this through. For once in her life she had to be sensible. She couldn’t just go off half-cocked thinking about how she was going to kill Lester. She had to carefully plan how she was going to kill him.

Rachel took the pictures out of her purse. Her chest felt tight, squeezing her heart painfully. She contemplated calling her husband’s cell phone. No, she didn’t need to talk to him. Not yet. There was no explaining it. Pictures didn’t lie. No wonder he’d been so quick to want to forgive that floozy! He was the one she was having an affair with. And the woman had come into church probably to taunt Lester. Or maybe just to mess with her. How could he do this to her?
Why
would he do this to her? This tramp was so brazen that she’d even put her pictures under
Mrs
. Lester Adams. Did she
want
Rachel to find them? Or was that how she actually saw herself?

Rachel had so many questions and so few answers.
But you’d better believe I’m going to get some answers
.

She stood up, took a deep breath, and prepared herself to head home, shaking her head as she willed the tears back. “Lester Lawrence Adams, there had better be an explanation for this. Because if not, you picked the wrong woman to cheat on,” she said as she closed the door to her office and headed home.