Fifteen Years (13 page)

“Thank you.” Josiah had no intention of sitting anywhere near the front.

The male usher at the door smiled his greeting just before presenting Josiah with an envelope in which he would place his
monetary contribution if he so deemed. Josiah accepted the Tiffany blue envelope, then pointed toward the corner seat on the back row, indicating that it was where he wanted to sit.

Though the edifice was large, it was more wide than long. The pews and carpet were the same blue as the offering envelopes. Josiah estimated that the church seated eleven or twelve hundred worshipers, and although it wasn’t filled to capacity, there were easily a thousand people already inside. The church membership had grown by leaps and bounds since the three or four hundred that were there when Josiah was a boy. For the first few minutes of his arrival, all he could do was take in the sight of it all. It felt good to be back in the place where he’d had his first worship experience.

Josiah’s attention snapped to the choir stand as they began singing a new song. The piece was a slow tempo worship song that was probably considered by most gospel music lovers to be a classic. “The Anointing” had been made famous by John P. Kee and the New Life Community Choir in the ’80s. Josiah remembered it best as a song that the Smiths would play in the cassette player of their van back in the days that he shared their home.

Josiah watched as an eye-catching female stepped from the soprano section of the choir and took the mic to perform the lead vocals. “Good gracious alive.” When the middle-aged woman sitting next to him gave him a critical glare, Josiah knew that he had said the words out loud and not just in his mind as he’d hoped. He squirmed in his seat and made every effort to avoid eye contact with his disapproving neighbor. The sister in the choir stand was much easier on the eyes anyway.

The girl with the microphone didn’t appear bashful, but her lean build wasn’t convincing that she was up to a task the size of John P. Kee’s hit. Josiah expected the sound that eventually came from her mouth to be as delicate as she looked, but the soloist
proved that looks could be deceiving. When she opened her mouth, the hairs on Josiah’s arms came to full attention. He could feel them pushing against the fabric of his shirt.

When she reached a pinnacle in the song, balled up her left fist, and reared back as she held a lengthy high note, the crowd rose to its feet, blocking Josiah’s view of the pulpit. Undaunted, his eyes locked onto one of the big screens that hung from the church ceiling. It provided a better view of the sister whose angelic voice had managed to get the church in such a frenzy. Slender curves and smooth, flaxen skin made her physically alluring. Her facial appearance bore a striking likeness to fashion mogul Kimora Simmons, only this singer was a bit thinner and fell far short of Kimora’s six-foot stature.

Josiah flipped through the church bulletin in search of her name, but it wasn’t listed. When he realized what he was doing, Josiah couldn’t help but chuckle. He had just turned into Craig Wilson. Scanning a church program in hopes of learning an attractive woman’s identity was definitely something his best friend would do.

When the rousing song ended, Josiah stood with the others and gave the choir their much deserved accolades, but his applause was more for the soloist than anyone else. Josiah wondered if she were married … and whether or not she was a triple B. She was definitely beautiful, and since she was working in ministry within the church, Josiah couldn’t imagine that she wasn’t a Bible-believer, which was the most important “B” of them all. And brilliance was relative. If she wasn’t a college graduate, he could deal with that. A person didn’t have to have a college degree to be bright. But idiocy was a deal breaker. He couldn’t see himself in a relationship with a woman who acted like a Lucy Ricardo or a Rose Nylund. Not even a beautiful Bible-believing one.

Becoming aware of his ridiculous wandering thoughts, Josiah shook his head at his own craziness. He’d been around Craig too long.

“Let’s just take a moment to bask in God’s love,” the pastor said as he took the podium. “Truly, His love makes the difference in our lives. Let’s worship the Lord this morning. Let’s worship Him in the beauty of holiness.”

Josiah tried to concentrate on worship, but now he had been provided with a new distraction. He was confused by the man who now held the microphone. When the choir director introduced the second song, he said that the next voice they would hear would be that of Pastor Charles Loather, but the man in the pulpit wasn’t the Charles Loather who had served when Josiah lived in Atlanta.

The new Pastor Loather eventually took his text and began ministering to the crowd, but Josiah remained detached, suddenly wondering if he were in the right place. It would be more than coincidental for this church to have the same name as the one he attended fifteen years ago and for the pastor to have the same name as the one who served as shepherd here fifteen years ago.

Forty minutes after the sermon began, Bibles were being closed, with Josiah barely retaining one word of the day’s message. He scanned the crowd for familiar faces as the altar call was made and droves of people vacated their seats to receive special prayer.

“Please, God,” Josiah whispered. “You didn’t bring me this far to waste my time. I know you didn’t.”

When the altar call ended, he searched more faces as the people made their way back to their seats.

Still nothing.

The choir stood once more and began singing one last song as the congregants were encouraged to prepare their tithes and offerings. Church leaders stood across the front of the church, holding
gold buckets in their hands to receive the monetary contributions.

Josiah took a fifty dollar bill from his wallet and stuffed it in the envelope he’d been given upon entering. He didn’t bother to fill out the personal information on the envelope. Instead, Josiah simply checked the box marked
VISITOR
and tucked the flap inside. He flinched at the sight of those around him who so readily grazed their tongues across the glue on the flap before sealing the envelope shut. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that.

With joyous music setting the tone, Josiah followed the orders of the usher and fell in line with the others who marched toward the front to place their monies in the buckets. He wanted to catch a closer view of the sister who had led the song earlier, but Josiah was afraid that his fixation would be too obvious. His eyes remained focused in front of him until he looked in the face of the woman who was holding the offering bucket that he was to drop his envelope into.

For a fleeting moment, she held him prisoner. This one captivated him for a different reason. Josiah searched her face, and she searched his right back. Gathering himself as best he could, he managed to release the envelope and continue the trek to his seat. God was merciful enough to allow Josiah to make it to his place on the pew before his legs gave way.

He sat glued to his seat, not even able to stand for the benediction as instructed. And while others rushed to vacate the building after the last “Amen,” Josiah remained in place, trying to collect his strength, trying to gather his nerves. He needed to get it together. He’d found her, but he needed to find her again. This might be his only chance to …

“JT?”

Josiah’s heart was placed under arrest when he heard the voice of the woman who had been the one to give him the two-letter nickname at the age of eight.

“Lord, have mercy, Jesus.” Her words were slow, and her voice owned a slight tremble. “JT, is that… is that you?”

He didn’t have to find her. She’d found him. It had been fifteen years, yet she remembered.

A MINI FAMILY reunion was taking place on the back row of Kingdom Builders Christian Center. For the longest time, Joanne and Josiah sat in a solid embrace. Joanne’s tears soaked the shoulder of Josiah’s expensive suit jacket, and although he didn’t weep as heavily as his foster mother, a thin trail of moisture streaked Josiah’s cheeks too. No doubt, the lingering members wondered what was going on with the two of them, but no one interrupted the scene.

When Joanne finally released him, she placed a hand on each of Josiah’s cheeks and stared at him as though there might be a chance that she was seeing things. She was at a loss for words. Josiah would have broken the silence, but words escaped him too.

“What are you doing here?” Joanne mouthed the words more than spoke them. Her faint whisper could barely be heard.

Josiah removed her hands from his face and brought them to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to each of them. He’d found the only real
mother he’d ever had. “I came hoping to find you and Dad,” he answered.

In one swift move, Joanne jerked her hands away from him. At first Josiah thought that he had offended her by the parental title he’d used, but then she grabbed at the purse that hung from the strap on her shoulder and said, “Your daddy is gonna have a fit.” She was laughing and crying at the same time. “He’s gonna think I’ve finally lost my mind.”

Josiah watched as she pulled a cell phone from her pocketbook, and he could only guess that she was getting ready to call his foster father. She dialed a few numbers and then held the phone to her ear.

“Tom, get out here.” New tears were coming as she spoke. With her free hand, she held one of Josiah’s as though she thought he’d leave if she didn’t. “Get out here as fast as you can. I got a surprise for you,” she said. There was a brief pause, and then she spoke again. “No no no … I’m all right. It’s a good cry. Come on now. Let the other deacons take care of the money today. You got something better to do. I’m sitting in the back row.”

The latter part of the conversation told Josiah that his foster father was in the building. His heart was already pounding, and now it was drumming harder. This was almost too much to take in at once. He hadn’t expected it to happen like this.

“When you walked around to the offering basket, I knew it was you,” Joanne said. “To this day, I’ve never seen a man with eyes quite the color of yours. Not a black man. Those eyes will give you away every time.” She exhaled and placed her hand over her chest like her heart was about to explode. “Look at my baby,” she exclaimed, leaning away from him as though making an attempt to get a panoramic view. “I can’t believe it.”

The sanctuary was empty now, and the sound that the side door
made when it was forcefully pushed open, echoed throughout the church.

“Joanne?”

Thomas had brought backup. A much younger, slightly taller man walked behind him as he headed toward where they sat.

“Is everything okay?” Thomas’s eyes darted from Joanne to Josiah, and then back to his wife again. “What’s going on, baby?” It was clear that the tears in Joanne’s eyes concerned him.

“Look.” Joanne’s bottom lips trembled as she spoke the word. When Thomas appeared confused, she used her hand to lift Josiah’s chin and turn his face toward the men who stood beside the pew.
“Look
, Tom,” she stressed. “Look at those eyes.”

Reality didn’t come as quickly for Thomas as it had for his wife. He took a pair of glasses out of one of the inside pockets of his suit coat and placed them on his face. His eyes said it couldn’t be who he thought it was, and Thomas leaned in closer for verification. Then without a word, he removed the frames from his face and handed them to his quiet, but observant bodyguard.

“Hey, Dad.” Josiah didn’t know how long he’d be able to imprison the rush of tears that begged for parole.

“Don’t you ‘Hey, Dad’ me, boy. Get up from there and give your old man a hug!”

Josiah had barely made it to his feet before Thomas pinned him in a bear hug. For a man who had to be in his midsixties, Thomas was strong. He lifted Josiah from the floor and turned him in a full circle before setting him back down and releasing him. Josiah was impressed by his physical power.

“JT … Josiah Tucker!” Thomas looked at him from head to toe. “Look at you. A grown man. And a good-looking one too. What you been up to, son? What are you doing here? How long are you gonna be here? Look at you!” He hugged him again, and the
exuberant pats he delivered to Josiah’s back were almost painful.

Josiah hadn’t felt this much love since … well, since the last time he saw his foster parents. Josiah wiped away a tear. “I’m on vacation, and I thought I’d come and try to look you all up. I wanted … I needed to see you again. I hope I’m not imposing at all. I just—”

“Imposing?” Joanne’s voice shrieked. She was standing at his side in no time flat, and her eyes punished him. “You can never be an imposition, and don’t you
ever
let me hear you say that again.” She reached up and used her thumb to erase the remaining moisture that the tear had left on his right cheek.

“Yes ma’am.” Rising emotions made Josiah’s smile unsteady. Somehow it felt good to be reprimanded. Maybe because he hadn’t been chastised by a parent in years. Maybe because he hadn’t had a parent in years. “I’ll be here for at least a week. I have some days to play with.”

“Well, we’re glad to have you.” Thomas looked over his shoulder, and then looked back at Josiah. “You know who this is, right?” he asked, pointing at his bodyguard.