The Deal, the Dance, and the Devil (26 page)

Shaking her gently, I whispered, “Alana.”

Her eyelids quivered, then slowly opened. “Mom.” Her voice was full of sleep.

“Listen, I’m going to church.”

She pushed herself up. “Okay,” she squeaked. “I’ll get up …”

“No, no. I’m going. You go back to sleep. Just make sure that when you get up, you help Ethan with breakfast, okay?”

“’Kay.” She stretched, released a drawn-out moan. “Is Daddy going with you?”

Her mention of her father doubled the size of the lump in my throat. I didn’t have to answer her, though; her head was back on her pillow, her eyes were closed, she was once again asleep.

Another two minutes and I was inside the car. Twelve minutes, just like I thought.

I’d always been good at estimating time. Always had complete control over the minutes and hours of my day. But not this weekend. Not only did time control me but time had slowed down, giving Shay-Shaunté more time with Adam. Time was nothing but torture.

Why hadn’t I seen this before? Why hadn’t I known that this was going to happen? Now that I was living through the consequences of our decision, it seemed so clear. There was not a woman on earth who would’ve ever agreed to this.

“So, why did I?” I whispered.

I had plenty of answers: I’d done it for the children, for Ruby, even for my broke-down family. But wasn’t I, wasn’t Adam smart enough to count the cost? Shouldn’t we have measured our decision?

But that’s not what we’d done. All we’d seen was the money. Now we were locked in—in a deal with the devil.

Inside the church parking lot, I pulled into a faraway space at the other end of the lot, then stuffed my uncombed hair under my hat. Lifting my coat collar as high as it would go, I got out of the car. With my head down, I marched forward.

The choir already had the sanctuary rockin’. The usher recognized me and, with a smile, directed me toward the front, where I normally sat with my family.

I shook my head, then ducked into the far end of the very last row. I didn’t want to see anyone today—I was just here for the hope.

The service proceeded quickly, through another song by the praise team, the offering, and the welcoming of visitors, though I didn’t greet a soul.

Finally, Bishop Cash rose, wearing his special-occasion burgundy-and-gold robe. “Happy new year, church!”

The congregation greeted him the same way.

“Welcome to two-k-eleven; isn’t that how the young people say it?” He laughed, and many joined him. “I pray that everyone within the sound of my voice and those outside of these walls had the best New Year’s ever.”

I groaned. I didn’t mean to do it so loudly; didn’t know that I had, until the lady next to me glanced my way with a frown.

Bishop said, “Well, on this first Sunday of the new year, I’ve got something for y’all; is that all right with you?”

“Preach!”

Bishop Cash laughed. “That’s what I plan to do. But before I begin, I want you to know that anything I say today, I’m not talking about you.” He pointed to the congregation, and the sanctuary filled with laughter. “’Cause I don’t want to get no emails, no snail mail, no hate mail, nothin’! You hear me? ’Cause this is not ’bout you; it’s all about me.” He pounded his fist against his chest. “And my life. And how I’ve had plenty of days … and plenty of nights … where I found myself … dancing with the devil!”

The musical director hit the keyboard with one of those
da-da-da-daaaaaaaaa
s—like something dark was about to happen.

I sat up straight in that pew.

Cash said, “I admit it.” He swiped a handkerchief across his brow once more. “I’ve danced with the devil. But at least I’m not ’shamed to tell the truth.”

“Amen, now!”

“Oh, somebody, help me now, because you see, there are plenty of times when we do things and we blame it on the devil. And I got a secret for ya … sometimes, it ain’t the devil’s fault. Sometimes, all that trouble came from you.”

Most of the congregation laughed; I trembled.

“Come on, somebody. Sometimes, trouble comes because
you did something you weren’t supposed to do or you didn’t do something that you were supposed to do. Amen!”

The congregation chanted the same behind the Bishop.

“But I’m here to tell you that the most dangerous times, I say, the most dangerous times, are when it is the devil … listen to me now.” He paused. “… it
is
the devil”—his voice was real low—“and you don’t even know it!”

Brent went to work on the keyboard again, and now many people were on their feet. I would’ve stood too,—if I’d been able. But the Bishop’s words had me frozen.

“Yes, I tell you,” the Bishop kept on, “there are times when the devil has knocked at our door, sat at our table, played with our kids—and we don’t even recognize him. Because we’re Christians: Nobody can touch us. And then we find ourselves all up with the devil. Can I get an Amen?”

The bishop got a lot of “Hallelujahs” and as many “Preach its” to go along with the “Amen!” But not a word came from me, though the tears had already begun to pool in the corners of my eyes.

“Once we start dancing,” Bishop Cash continued, “it’s hard to stop. We’re caught up now ’cause the dance looks good, feels good, and we think it’s gonna do us good. But it’s counterfeit, Saints. Because the dance is just a distraction to take your focus away. ’Cause when you’re distracted, the enemy can get all up and involved in your life. Yeah, just a way to keep you dancing over here while he’s taking away everything from you over there.”

I closed my eyes and the tears began to fall—this was happening to me and Adam. We’d made a deal, and now we were dancing with the devil.

“Oh, yeah, Saints, I’m telling you, it’s happened to me. The devil has slithered right up to my door, and it wasn’t until we’d had a couple of drinks and started dancing and then the devil
stepped on my feet that I recognized. I had to jump back and say, ‘Oops, there it is! That ain’t nothin’ but the devil.’”

The congregation roared like they were at some kind of comedy show.

And I cried.

“But here’s the thing,” Cash said, slowing down. His voice was lower now. “We’ve had a good time laughing about this, but you know what? This isn’t even funny when it’s happening to you.”

I would’ve cried out “Amen” if I’d been able.

He said, “The thing is, Saints, let’s not get so caught up in our problems that we don’t recognize our enemies. You may not want to admit it, but there are people who hate you. People who have come into your lives to destroy you. People who have come to steal from you and even”—he lowered his head—“come to kill you.”

There was nothing but silence, and I had to fight hard to keep my sobs inside.

“I’m not trying to scare you, Saints. This is not a fire-and-brimstone church. I don’t believe in that. You know I believe in the prosperity that God has for you. But if you want to be prosperous, you have to prepare sometimes to do battle. And you can’t fight … and dance at the same time. You can’t be friends with your enemies.”

It was only because of the host of praises that filled the sanctuary that no one could hear my cries.

“I will close with this: Dance with the devil if you want to, but don’t expect to get out without at least getting burnt!”

Everyone around me was on their feet, but I didn’t have the strength to stand. Bishop Cash had been talking about me. About me and Adam. About Shay-Shaunté.

But this message had come too late for us. We’d made the
deal, we were doing the dance. All that was left was to find out how hot our burns were going to be.

My head hung so low that it was almost in my lap. While everyone around me stood in praise, I bowed in reverence, praying that even though we’d done wrong, God’s mercy would somehow protect us from the fervent flames of Hell’s fire.

Chapter 43

T
HE CHILDREN LEFT ME ALONE;
I guess they thought I needed some quiet space.

That was a problem, though—because with each of them behind their own closed doors, the house was so still, so silent that it was suffocating.

I’d been terrified all day—ever since I’d heard Bishop’s message. I couldn’t stop wondering if, when Adam came home, he would bring Hell’s fire with him.

That’s what I’d been pondering for the last seven hours, torturing myself as I watched the second hand of the clock tick slowly toward the forty-seventh hour.

I tore my eyes away from the clock for just a few seconds, and I saw my reflection in the antique-silver leaning mirror. Did I really look like that? So sick, so tired, so empty? I was horrified.

I crawled to the bottom of the bed, rolled off, then crept toward the mirror. The linen dress I’d worn all day was crinkled
with wrinkles, but it wasn’t my clothing that made me look like a disaster zone. My eyes were dark with dread. My skin was dry and dead. My lips turned downward, as if my soul knew that I’d never smile again. My hair was matted against my head, evidence that I hadn’t enlisted the help of a comb since Adam had left.

Adam had just spent forty-eight hours with Shay-Shaunté. He couldn’t find me this way.

That realization gave me life and I hopped into the shower for the second time that day. Not because I felt dirty but because I wanted to feel clean. I took my time making decisions: lotioned my body with the Japanese cherry blossom fragrance that Adam loved, chose the low-rider designer jeans that he’d given me for Christmas and paired them with a classic, tailored white shirt. Before I put on my makeup, I moisturized my face, then applied my foundation—not too heavy—mascara, and clear lip gloss. There wasn’t much that I could do with my hair in the time that I had. But blessedly, Adam’s favorite style was off my face, pulled all the way back. So with gel, I twisted my hair into a simple bun, to look pleasing to my husband.

I didn’t rush on purpose, trying to use up the minutes, hoping that as much time as possible would’ve passed when I stepped back into my bedroom.

It was ten minutes to nine and I looked like the wife Adam loved.

For the first time in more than forty-eight hours, I smiled. I sat on the edge of my bed. And waited.

Chapter 44

I
T WAS TEN MINUTES AFTER NINE.

Not a call, not a text, not an email.

Not a sign of Adam.

I couldn’t breathe sitting down, so I paced in my bare feet.

It was funny the way time passed now, moving quickly. The seconds ticked by … from ten after nine, to nine thirty, to nine forty-five.

I never sat down. I walked with the time, kept pace with the seconds so that I could keep thinking, keep breathing, keep living.

Now it was ten o’clock.

He’d spent forty-nine hours with Shay-Shaunté.

I wondered: Was she going to pay me for overtime? That thought made me giggle. I pressed my fingertips against my mouth, pushing my laugh back inside. But it exploded past my lips anyway. I closed my bedroom door so that my children wouldn’t hear me. I didn’t want them to see me losing my mind. Because I had no doubt that’s what was happening. Insanity—a
patient vulture—had been hovering all weekend. Now it had swooped down and taken its prize; I was going crazy for sure.

Why was I laughing? Was it because I didn’t want to cry? I couldn’t answer that—all I knew was that I couldn’t stop. I laughed like a hyena, sounding almost diabolical, but I had no control.

So I just kept laughing. And laughing. And laughing.

As the clock ticked to ten thirty, I climbed, fully dressed, under the covers. Then time sped toward eleven. Between my giggles, I tried to calculate how much more Shay-Shaunté was going to owe me. And what would she give me if Adam never returned?

Never returned?

Those two words stopped the laughter. Now my tears were fast and furious, destroying the perfect palette on my face. But what did it matter? Adam wasn’t going to see my face, or any part of me.

He wasn’t coming home.

My greatest fear was coming true. Was it her looks? Or her money?

But then, in the darkest hours of the night, car lights beamed into my bedroom. I sprang up. The lights remained, shining, and I waited. Then I heard a car door slam.

I scooted to the edge of the bed. Counted … one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Then two beeps of the alarm, the signal that a door had been unlocked and opened.

I closed my eyes.

Footsteps that I couldn’t hear, but movement that I could feel. I took one thousand breaths, and then I opened my eyes.

Adam stood in the doorway to our bedroom, his garment bag hanging low off his shoulder.

I rushed to him but stopped two steps away. He hadn’t moved toward me. Just stood. With dark eyes and a sad face.

Was his sorrow because of me? Because he’d had to come home?

I gulped back fear. Let a “Hi,” squeak through my lips.

He nodded and let his bag drop, but said nothing.

I searched for words, though I couldn’t find anything profound to say to the man whom I’d loved since forever, who was coming home from spending a couple of nights with another woman. Because it was all different now. I’d never been with another man, but now, he’d been with another woman.

So what was I supposed to say? The only thing that came to mind was, “How are you?”

He shrugged and still stayed quiet.

Not knowing what to do, I took another step forward, then stopped again. I wanted to get closer but couldn’t. I wanted to touch him but didn’t. Because there was a shield around him. A block that prevented me from moving forward. It was like a force field, an aura that was stopping me. Shay-Shaunté’s aura?

But finally, he moved. Came to me and wrapped his arms around me. Held me as if he hadn’t forgotten the love of his life.

I closed my eyes and breathed normally. For the first time in fifty hours, I breathed like I was going to live. It didn’t matter that he was late—all that mattered was that he was home.

Adam pulled away, though, much too soon, because I wanted to hold him forever. But he took two giant steps back. “I need … to take a shower.”

Those were his first words to me? A shower? Why? Had he just …