Pastor Needs a Boo (42 page)

“You know you are something else, Denzelle.”

“So I've been told,” he said, and got all up on Marsha. She tried to back away from him. But there wasn't anywhere for her to back away from to, since she was pressed up on his desk.

Denzelle grabbed the back of Marsha's neck and kissed her deeply and with so much passion, she was scared she wouldn't be able to stop him if he decided to take this matter further.

“I want you, Marsha,” Denzelle said in a low and husky whisper. He slid his hand down over her hip and brought her knee up to rest on his hip. He pressed her back on the desk.

“You feel that.”

Marsha nodded. She didn't know what to do with
this
Denzelle.

He moved on Marsha and said, “Do you feel that?”

“Yes,” Marsha said, hoping he would back down.

Denzelle kissed Marsha again. He had so much heat in him, she could feel it all over his body. If they had been outside in the cold, his body heat would have kept them both warm.

His lips trailed down her neck. She sighed in an effort not to moan. He found that spot on her neck. Marsha guarded that spot like folk clung to their purses in a large crowd. She didn't know how that boy found that spot, and so fast.

Denzelle caught on real quick that he had hit the right spot on Marsha. He had always wondered where the hot points were on this woman, and how to find them. And here was one, plain as day and his for the taking. He kissed her neck again, and ran his fingers across that spot. Marsha moaned softly and said, “What are you trying to do to me, Boy?”

At that point, Denzelle lost all control. He tightened his grip on Marsha and pushed her back on the desk, knocking everything in the way on the floor. He pressed his body on her and kissed her neck again. It tasted like Coco Chanel perfume.

“Ummmm. I want you, Marsha. Right now, right here.”

Marsha knew this was not the time or place or moment for that, but she was having a heck of a time getting out of this situation. It never occurred to her that she wanted Denzelle this much. About the only thing helping her keep it together was that she was scared to death of crossing that line with a man. It had been a long time since she'd made love, and this felt like the very first time.

“I'm scared, Denzelle,” she said, in such a sweet voice that he had to get off of her and pull her up in his arms.

“Ohhh, Baby. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that.”

He kissed her lips gently and said, “Honey, I would never hurt or scare you over something like this.”

Marsha rested in Denzelle's arms. It felt like heaven to be in that spot. She wrapped her arms around his waist and found that she couldn't fight the tears that were now streaming down her face. Marsha thought she'd never be in a man's warm embrace again. And sometimes she wondered how she was going to live out the rest of her life never, ever feeling this again.

“What's wrong, Baby? I didn't hurt you, did I?”

“No.”

“Talk to me, Beautiful,” he told her.

“I'm scared that once I let go, you will back off from me, because you're worried I'm responding to you too deeply and too fast. It's a hard and painful place to be in, Denzelle. And I don't know why men create it. You push and do everything to win this kind of affection from a woman. And when we feel safe enough to respond, you run away—as if we did something wrong.

“I wish God would deal with you all on this. I wish He would do something to make it hurt real bad for you to run, and then only give relief when you turn back and do right by grabbing us to you.”

Denzelle's heart ached listening to those words. Marsha was saying what so many women felt. He was hearing what scared so many men—the truth.

It hurt to know how much hurt brothers had doled out on sisters when they didn't want to handle the raw truth of a woman's feelings about them. You couldn't reach out to a woman, woo her, talk all sweet to her, whisper low and sexy words in her ear, grab and hold her in your arms, kiss her with heat and passion, let her feel your manhood brushing up against her, and then get surprised because she cared enough about you to respond with the passion you poked at in the first place.

What in the hell did a so-called reasonable thinking man expect from a woman? The fact that she even allowed the conversation to begin meant she liked you and thought enough of you to talk to you. Why would a man be surprised or scared by a woman's response to him? It was crazy. And men were engaging in this insane behavior every day.

Obadiah was right. God needed to roll up on every man who'd ever played this game and deal with him in as harsh a manner as that man dealt with the woman in his life. Some of these brothers needed to be forced to watch a good woman bask in the love and arms of another man who had the sense God gave him, when it came to being blessed to find a true treasure. Some of these men needed to suffer like women were out there suffering.

“Marsha, I am so sorry for doing whatever it is that I do to make you feel like this,” Denzelle said, blinking hard to hold back his own tears. His heart was so torn up and convicted. How in the world could he have been so deceived to act like this with a woman who would treat his heart like it was a rare and precious mineral? Men sure did need some serious wake-up calls. And church men needed them more than ever.

 

Chapter Thirty-three

The door to the pastor's office opened, causing Denzelle and Marsha to jump and try to assume a more neutral position with each other. They both sighed with relief when they saw Lena and Obadiah coming through the door.

“Obie, man, you scared the mess out of me.”

“I'm sure I did,” Obadiah told him, as his well-trained preacher eyes took in the landscape of the office. They landed on the empty desk.

“What happened to your desk, D?” Obadiah asked with mischief dancing in his eyes. He didn't dare look at Lena, because he would have lost his composure.

“Nothing, man. You know.”

“Nahh, playah. I don't know. So why don't you school an old preacher like myself?”

“You wrong, Obie. And you know it.”

“Denzelle, what's wrong is that you are so in love with Marsha, you were about to try and make love to her on the desk in your office at church while a big program is going on across the way,” Lena said.

Marsha was both mortified and relieved to hear someone say out loud that Denzelle was in love with her. She knew this deep in her heart but sometimes second-guessed herself on this truth.

Denzelle didn't protest. He held his hands out to the side and said, “Guilty as charged.” He turned to Marsha. “How long have you known this?”

“Known what?”

“That I'm in love with you,” Denzelle told her, shocked at how easy it was for him to say it, now that he had been called out.

“For a while.”

“And that means?” Denzelle hated it when women did that.

“Since you started the Pastor's Aide Club.”

“I see. And you didn't do or say anything? Why?”

“Because it wasn't my place to try and help you know that you loved me. And it certainly wasn't my place to try and help you tell me, Denzelle,” Marsha said in a very firm and soft voice. “I'm not telling a man that he loves me. Not happening.”

Denzelle held out his hand and said, “Come here, Beautiful. You are right. No woman should ever have to tell a man he is in love with her. I don't care how much she knows that man loves her. He needs to say it and lay claim to her.”

“Then tell her, Denzelle,” Lena said. “Tell Marsha how you feel.”

Denzelle held both of Marsha's hands in his. He said, “Marsha, I love you. I've loved you much longer than you've known I love you. Baby, I not only love you, I adore you, Girl. I want you in my life.”

“I love you, too, Denzelle. And I've loved you longer than you've known, too.”

“Marry me, Marsha.”

She looked at him like something was wrong. He said, “Is there a problem with me asking you to marry me?”

“We've never even been on a date.”

“And? Whoever said that things have to always work in accordance with a plan or playbook? Sometimes the Lord does things differently. You have to go with what you know works in your heart—the part of your heart the Lord is pulling at.

“So marry me, Marsha. Marry me right now, right here, right at this moment. We have a preacher, and one witness. We can do this now and then go and get the license tomorrow. Obie will sign it in the morning. Just think of it as us postdating the ceremony.”

“I … always…”

“You always thought you would have a wedding when you remarried, right?” Lena asked her.

Marsha nodded.

“Marsha, you have had to wait a long time for a good man to come into your life. Marry Denzelle right now. You can throw a big fancy party later. But right now, you need to marry this man.”

“Okay,” Marsha said. “I'll marry you right now, Denzelle. But I don't have a ring for you. And it's okay that you don't have a ring for me.”

“I have a ring for you, Marsha. I bought it during a lucid moment when I was able to admit to myself that I loved you. And I can tell you that it was one of the most frightening moments I've ever experienced. Getting shot at during an FBI rumble was never that scary. Girl, I even figured out your ring size.”

Denzelle went to the other side of his desk, unlocked and opened the drawer, and dug down in it. He pulled out a royal blue silk box and flipped it open. In it was the most beautiful wedding ring any of them had ever seen.

“I had this made special for you.”

The ring had a platinum band with six sapphires—a blue stone, two pink stones, two lavender stones, and a blue stone—bordered with high-quality diamond chips.

“It's lovely,” Marsha said through tears, and held out her hand for him to slide the ring on her finger.

They both turned to Obadiah, who pulled a Bible off of Denzelle's bookshelf and turned to the marriage ceremony. He began to read, “Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here…”

It took fifteen minutes for Denzelle and Marsha to become husband and wife. Obadiah, who was now a second witness, and Lena signed a makeshift license he created and printed out.

“This is your license for your personal journal. You can get the other one tomorrow.”

Their impromptu marriage license read:

This marriage is ordained and sanctioned by the Lord on the 19
th
day of April in the year of our Lord, 2014. It is signed by two witnesses, who also bear witness for the Lord, Jesus Christ. These two, Denzelle Flowers and Marsha Metcalf, are joined in Holy Matrimony by the laws that govern the saints of God. They will sign an additional license to adhere to the laws of the State of North Carolina, Wake County, in the United States of America.

Signed and witnessed by:
Obadiah Quincey and Lena Quincey of Durham, North Carolina.

“Don't put this in a journal. You all frame this as a reminder that this is about a marriage and not just a wedding. People have wonderful weddings. You want an incredible marriage,” Lena said. “And you all need to leave.”

“But we have to get the ballots out there, so they will be ready at the end of the program,” Marsha said. She had worked so hard on this and wanted to see it out to the end.

“We've got this, Marsha,” Obadiah told her. “You go with your groom and take care of some much needed business.”

“But, Veronica and Keisha and Dayeesha. And Marcus! What about Marcus? He's my baby, and he wasn't here. Oh, dear!” Marsha put her hands up to her face. She couldn't believe she'd gotten married without the most special man in her life being present. She started to cry.

“Honey,” Denzelle said. “It's okay. It's okay. Marcus knows.”

“Huh?”

“I texted him and tried to get him back here. But he said,” Denzelle reached inside of his coat and pulled out his phone. Here, you read it for yourself:

Handle your business, Rev. I know Mom wanted me to be there for something like that. But, the Lord spoke to my heart and told me to stay put. Said this was real private between you and Mom. And trust me, Rev, I don't have those kinds of conversations with the Lord very often.

Tears streamed down Marsha's face. Her baby was a man. This text was proof. And he approved of the marriage. She said, “This has to be the best wedding present anyone has ever received.”

“I'll say,” Denzelle said. “Marcus is a cool kid. I'm proud to call him ‘son.'”

“Ohhhh, snap, D,” Obadiah said. “You just became a dad. Man, you work fast!”

“What can I say, Obie? I got the right touch,” he replied, and then tweaked Marsha's ear. “Ain't that right, Baby?”

“I guess so,” she said and then immediately wished she had not opened up that can.

“What do you mean by ‘I guess so,' Woman?” Denzelle queried, knowing full well what his wife meant. But he also knew he wanted to mess with her a bit—especially since he could now finish the business he was about to start.

One reason Denzelle had such trouble being around Marsha was that he always struggled to keep his hands off of her. The reason he never asked her on a date was because he knew that he was not going to stop at a chaste peck on the lips and a good night. Denzelle knew he was going to make good on his reputation for being smooth, persuasive, and irresistible if he were alone with Marsha.

It had taken everything he had in him to back up off of her that night she came to his house for the dance contest. But tonight he didn't have to hold back on nothin'. Tonight he could pull out all the stops and make Marsha completely his.

“Well, you know…”

“Nope,” Denzelle said, trying not to laugh. “I don't know ‘nothing.' You are going to have to school a brother on this one, Honey.”