Читать книгу Sex In The Sanctuary - Lutishia Lovely - Страница 8

Tai feigned illness to get out of morning services. Well, she didn’t really lie. She was sick—sick of perpetrating a fraud, acting as though everything was hunky-dory when it wasn’t. She just didn’t think she could go through the motions of blessed-first-lady-without-a-care-in-the-world today. She went downstairs and crossed the lovely yet cluttered atmosphere of the living and formal dining room and entered the large, ranch-style kitchen. At one time this had been her favorite place.

She poured a cup of coffee and even though it was only ten in the morning added just a touch of Bailey’s Irish Cream. Tai didn’t drink often. In fact, she’d never drunk alcohol before until a friend’s baby shower, when she was twenty-six. Not that she thought it was a sin. It was just something she’d never been exposed to, or interested in trying. But this morning she felt that she had some serious soul-searching to do, some decisions to make. And she didn’t think God would mind too much if she asked Mr. Bailey to join her in the process.

Tai leaned back on the island counter and stared out the window into their spacious backyard. She didn’t really see the large oak tree or her children’s brightly colored swing set and battered jungle gym. She didn’t hear the sounds of the robin and crow vying for attention in God’s feathered friends’ choir. Tai didn’t notice that the tulips she and her daughters had planted were budding open with bright color swatches of pink, purple, yellow and red, and had formed a nature necklace around the oak tree’s huge trunk. When Tai looked out into this Sunday morning all she could see was Hope Jones. Petite and powerful, funny and fiery, spiritual and seductive, she was in many ways the exact opposite of Tai’s subdued, almost shylike personality. Hope reminded her a bit of Vivian, except Vivian had more class in her toenail than this woman did in her whole body.

It was, in fact, her similarity to Vivian and her zeal for God that Tai had initially appreciated when Hope had come to the church as a transplant from Tulsa, Oklahoma. She even had the same hourglass figure as Vivian, much to Tai’s weight-gaining chagrin. Hope had landed a job in Kansas City and said the second thing on her agenda after finding a place to live was finding a church home. She’d fit in immediately with the members of Mount Zion Progressive Baptist Church, a place where the membership, two thousand strong and growing, was more like family than anything else. Hope had attended the same type of close-knit church in Tulsa, though that congregation was much smaller, and she was always searching for the things of God. She had been active in her home church from the time she was baptized at the age of seven, until she left Tulsa. She’d been first a student and later a teacher in their Sunday School, a member of the drama department and lead singer and codirector of the church choir. Her father was head of the Deacon Board, a group of men who carried out the business of running the church under the pastor’s direction. Her mother had been the pianist for years, until she and Hope’s father divorced and her mother had moved her membership to the Methodist church on the other side of town. Hope had stayed at the Baptist church with her father and her friends and by the time she left had become a leader who was now sorely missed. At least those were the facts as told by Mrs. McCormick, and Juanita normally got her facts pretty straight.

Hope had literally exploded onto Mount Zion’s small scene, a kaleidoscope of energy and enthusiasm, just what the church’s youth department needed. She’d immediately become invaluable to its director, Sister Juanita McCormick, and—although Tai didn’t notice it at first—to her husband as well.

It wasn’t his first affair. That had happened years ago, right before Princess, their second child, was born. That one she had seen coming a mile away. Tootie “the Floozie” Smith had been her nemesis since high school, a woman who always wanted what she couldn’t have. She’d had an on-again, off-again relationship with King until Tai and King got married. And she was a sore loser. Not only that, but Tai thought Tootie had as much use for God as a blind man for reading glasses. So when Tootie Smith walked into a Wednesday night prayer meeting wearing a loud, multicolored jacket over what basically amounted to a cat suit, Tai knew that one of the devil’s helpers had just entered the building.

She didn’t blame Tootie entirely. It took two to tango, and like Tai always told King, “She didn’t make a vow to me, you did.” Things had been a little rough during the first part of their marriage. After much soul-searching she’d finally admitted that one, maybe she had been too young to get married, and two, they’d had no time to really adjust to being a married couple before their son Michael was born. At that time King was working sixteen-hour days trying to get the church established, and Tai, along with being a new mother, was supplementing the income with a full-time secretarial job at Sprint. They barely saw each other those first three years, and when they did they were either too tired or too frustrated or both to share quality time.

Like Michael, Princess wasn’t planned. She came along on one of those rare Friday evenings when King came home early and Tai wasn’t tired. They’d shared a nice dinner and then moved to the den to watch a movie. King popped popcorn while Tai put Michael to bed, and it wasn’t long before their own passion surpassed that of the lead character in Spike Lee’s She’s Gotta Have It. That movie had stirred up controversy in the Baptist circles, and some clergy had urged their members not to see it. Well, King and Tai had rented it to see what the fuss was about. But they never saw the ending. Nine months later, the King had his Princess. But not before Tootie had him.

Tai, seven months pregnant, had taken Michael and headed to Chicago to attend her brother’s graduation from Northwest University. King had planned to go, too, but a last minute crisis at the church had prevented him from leaving. Tootie could barely wait until Tai got back to give her the news. She and King had slept together, at their home, in their bed. Tai never slept in that bed again. In fact, she and King moved to a new house and bought all new furniture shortly after Princess was born.

Tai had been devastated, but she never thought about divorcing King, although she did move to her parent’s home for a couple of months. She was pregnant when she found out about the affair, and it was over before the delivery. King swore it was a one-weekend fling, a seventy-two-hour period where in Tai’s words, “He lost his frickin’ mind!” Indeed, Tai saw Tootie only once or twice after the incident. Word had it she moved to Los Angeles to pursue a singing career. King promised her it was a mistake that would never happen again, and for the next few years, they were very happy. That happiness led to twins Timothy and Tabitha, born three years after Princess. This pregnancy was planned; having twins was not. Yet having been fruitful and having multiplied, the Brooks felt their family was complete. King then visited the doctor for a little “snip-snip” to ensure their childbearing days were over.

The twins were almost a year old when Tai found out about Karen Ward. Like Tootie, Karen was not a member of their congregation; in fact, Karen never stepped foot inside the church. That placed her a miniscule step ahead of Tootie in the class department, but still won her no brownie points. She occasionally attended The Good Shepherd Community Church, with a mostly White congregation, on the city’s north side. Tai and King met her when they went to Byron White’s Fourth of July party. Byron was King’s best friend at the time. Karen was Byron’s cousin from the small town of Iola, about one hundred miles from Kansas City. When King met Karen, Tai had almost put his and Tootie’s affair behind her—almost. She still remembered feeling just a twinge of something when during the course of the afternoon she saw King and Karen laughing together and then later saw Karen staring at King before Tai caught her eye and Karen quickly looked away. Thinking she was just being oversensitive, Tai shook off her feelings of discomfort, and if not for the innocent ramblings of a little child, she may never have learned the truth.

She’d agreed to take the Sunday School’s beginner’s class, those between the ages of six and eight, to the park and then for pizza. This in celebration of their successfully completing the “I’m in the Lord’s Army” study course, which included among other things, memorizing the Lord’s Prayer and Twenty-third Psalm. She and the two other chaperones had spent a vigorous, yet for the most part unchallenging, day at the park and were chomping on pepperoni pizza from Chuck E. Cheese when little Danielle, Byron’s daughter, walked over to her.

“Hi there, Miss Angel,” Tai cooed as she opened her arms for a big hug from Danielle.

“Hi, Queen Bee,” the child cooed back, using the title the church family had bestowed on their much loved first lady. “Where’s Pastor King?”

“He’s probably at the church or at home studying. You like our pastor, don’t you?”

Danielle nodded her head yes and inched even closer into Tai’s embrace. “Aunt Karen likes him, too. She likes him a whole bunch.”

Tai became stock-still at that point, and Sharon, one of the other chaperones, almost shushed the child. But Tai held her hand up and encouraged Danielle to keep talking.

“I’m sure she does,” Tai continued, smiling pleasantly at the little cherub-cheeked messenger whom she was sure God had sent. “All of God’s children are supposed to like each other, right?”

“Uh-huh,” the girl conceded. “But I didn’t know we were supposed to kiss and hug the way Pastor King and Aunt Karen do when they see each other.”

“Where did you see them together?” Tai asked, her voice barely above a whisper and her hand absently stroking the little girl’s long, twisted braid.

Danielle, happy to be the center of attention with what was obviously a pretty important story since it held two adults spellbound, continued on in the blind ignorance that only six-year-olds enjoy. “Oh, at Daddy’s house, and one time when I was staying with Aunt Karen, Pastor King came over to her house and helped us bake cookies.”

“Really?” Tai whispered, her eyes shining with tears but not spilling over.

“Yes,” Danielle replied thoughtfully and in a whisper, too. “Then they went in Aunt Karen’s bedroom while I watched Barney. Then I fell asleep.”

Tai hugged the child close while wiping her eyes quickly. Sharon grabbed her hand and spoke silent volumes of “sistah-girl sympathy.” Tai looked at her with the obvious question in her eyes. Sharon, a longtime member of the church and staunch supporter of her first lady, leaned over and whispered, “As God is my witness, I won’t tell a soul.” She never did. About a year later her husband was promoted and their family moved to Texas. Tai still marveled at Sharon’s trustworthiness and ability to keep a confidence. She no longer, however, liked Chuck E. Cheese.

Tai never knew when the affair started or how long it lasted, but again, King promised her it was the last time. That it had been only a physical thing that meant nothing to him. Tai didn’t believe him. Nor did she care. At least that was the lie she told herself. He had taken the very thing that her life with him had been built on, trust. He’d destroyed her self-esteem, already eroded after four children and fifty extra pounds.

This time it was King’s mother, Sister Maxine Brook, who saved the marriage and Tai’s sanity. She and King had again separated following his adultery. This time King moved out, or rather got kicked out, by his very pissed off wife. Hoping other people’s problems would lessen her own, Tai immersed herself in Oprah, The Young and the Restless and white wine. King returned, but the children became her primary focus, and if not for them, she’d have had to look strenuously for a reason to go on living. Mama Max had phoned one day when Tai was feeling particularly low. Two hours later, she knocked on the door with a meatloaf, a pot of spaghetti, a huge apple cobbler and a dose of age-old attitude that only a mother of the church could possess.

“Baby,” Sister Maxine began as she warmed the food on the stove, pushed up her sleeves and started cleaning a kitchen that hadn’t seen soap for days. “I know you’re hurting. I understand. And I also know you can let this do one of two things. Break ya or build ya.”

Tai reached for her glass of wine and countered, “But, Mama, you don’t understand, you’ve never been down this road.”

“Oh, yeah? You think you’re the first one who’s had to deal with one of them bitches!”

Tai almost choked on her chardonnay. In all this time of knowing Sister Maxine, she’d never heard her say so much as “darn.” Yet here was this matronly diva, still the epitome of style with straight-legged black pants, an extra-large jungle print top that reached midthigh and coiffed hairdo swept up and secured into a fashionable French bun, rolling “bitch” off her tongue as if it wasn’t the first time. Tai stared at her wide-eyed.

“Mama Max!”

Mama Max just gave her a look and then swiveled around to stir the spaghetti. “You got any more of that?” she asked without looking back.

“What?” Tai asked, still amazed Mom had “gone there.”

“That what you’re drinking.” She replaced the lid on the spaghetti and reached for the loaf of French bread and butter. “Pour me a glass and I’ll tell you a story. And shut your mouth before a fly gets in.”

Mama Max went on to tell her about the time almost twenty years earlier when “the Rev acted like a plum fool.” It had been while they were out of town, at a convention in the big city of Dallas, Texas. Sistah Max had been born and raised in a small town and moved to an even smaller town when her husband got his first church. Their marriage experienced its share of ups and downs, but she’d been happy. She’d gone back to the hotel right after service and was in a sound sleep when the phone rang. “Sistah Brook,” an unfamiliar voice had whispered into the receiver. “I don’t mean to be nosy or rude, but I just saw your husband come into the lobby, and I don’t think he’s headed to your room.”

“Who’s this?” Mama Max demanded, now wide awake and sitting up.

“You can just say…I’m my sister’s keeper.” Then the line went dead.

Mama Max jumped out of that bed as if lightning hit and started praying in tongues. “Give me the spirit of discernment, Holy Ghost,” she intoned as she paced back and forth and around the room. After about fifteen minutes a number came to her clear as day—915. Without hesitation, Mama Max slipped on her caftan, pulled on her slippers and checked her always perfectly coiffed hair in the mirror before leaving the room and heading for the elevator. When she reached room 915, she knocked on the door. After a moment, a quiet voice asked tentatively, “Who is it?”

“It’s your worst nightmare!” Sistah Max explosively responded. “Wife of Bishop Stanley Obadiah Meshach Brook and mother to his four children: King, Queen, Daniel and Esther.” Sistah Maxine was yelling for the world to hear. “Open up this door, you two-bit hussy. I think you’ve got something that belongs to me!”

Tai was incredulous. She’d never have that kind of nerve. “What happened?” she squealed, leaning forward as though she were watching a thriller on television.

“What do you think happened? She opened the door. My husband came out, and by this time a few more guests had come out of their rooms as well. Assured that I was the center of attention, I made an announcement. I said real calm and quietlike, ‘You low-life trollop, if I see you or anyone who looks like you with my husband again? I will kill ya and tell God I did it!’” Sistah Maxine’s eyes were twinkling as she relived the story. She buttered the last piece of bread, placed the bread back in the foil and placed the foil in the oven. Before continuing, she took a long swallow from her glass.

“Well, you know that the next fastest way to spread a message besides telephone is tell a church member. The story was on more people’s lips than that night’s sermon. I became a hero of sorts to the married women and someone not to be messed with to the would-be husband-stealing floozies. It probably didn’t hurt that I signed up for a gun permit as soon as I got back home.”

“You did what?” Tai exclaimed. No longer able to sit still, she jumped up and reached for a knife and a tomato to begin the salad preparations.

“Oh, I never got a gun,” Sistah Max went on calmly as she plucked lettuce leaves and placed them in a colander. “But word got out that I had applied.” She took a delicate sip of wine before continuing.

“The Reverend was in the doghouse for about six months, and I got some of the best jewelry of all our years of marriage. I told him I would not forgive him a second time, and even though vengeance belonged to God—the next bitch I caught him with would think it belonged to me. To this day, to my knowledge anyway, he’s never strayed.” She turned off the fire under the spaghetti, eyed Tai with a slightly raised eyebrow and sly smile, announced that dinner was ready and said she’d “fetch the chil’ren.” Then she drained her glass, patted her coiffed do and walked out the kitchen while humming “I’m a Soldier in the Army of the Lord.”

Tai smiled at the memory of her mother-in-law all those years ago. That particular heart-to-heart had influenced Tai’s decision to stay married. Mama Max had always been a pillar of strength, but after that day, their relationship took on a new meaning, a more sisterly bond. Tai and King got back together, and although it was different, they were able to pick up the pieces and put them together reasonably well. To his credit, King had gone out of his way to assure her of his love for her and their children. He’d cut back on his overloaded schedule, brought her flowers and gifts, spent more time with her and the kids, and they’d even splurged on a two-week vacation to Orlando, Florida, and Disney World. But Tai never got over the betrayal totally, and after that, all women were suspect. She even felt she’d developed a sixth sense where women who might threaten her marriage were concerned, and that was why Hope Jones was not a surprise.

Remembering Hope made Tai’s smile disappear. She rose from the couch where she’d downed her second cup of coffee with Bailey’s. She opened the refrigerator but deciding she wasn’t hungry, poured a glass of water instead. She wanted to call Vivian but knew they would still be in church. She needed her friend desperately but didn’t know if she wanted to have this conversation with her. Again. To this day, King denied anything was happening with Hope Jones. Something was going on. King came home later and later. When he was home, he stayed in his office. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Tai’s intuition told her King was using strike three. She would not be fooled.