Jezebel (3 page)

Anabeth nodded. “Reverend Deveraux is a for-sho' man on fire for the Lawd. Jessie Belle, that man can preach. We heard him when we went to Waynesville a couple months back, and your daddy told me right then and there—we had to get him to come preach for revival.”

“Let's hope he don't fall asleep in the middle of his sermon like ol' Reverend Douglas did.” Jessie Belle laughed. “That was so funny.”

Anabeth chuckled at the memory. “Well, I don't think this one will be putting anybody to sleep. Just you wait and see.”

“Listening to an old geezer is not my idea of a good time,” Jessie Belle uttered. “Tent revival is always so boring, Ma. Why do I have to be there every single night?”

“Because you are the daughter of Reverend Elias Holt. Besides, if you want the truth—you need every night of that tent revival, Jessie Belle, because you on the wrong road.”

She groaned. “Ma, don't start…. It's too early in the morning.”

“It ain't never too early to get right with God.”

“Why are we cleaning up the house? It ain't dirty, and besides, he's staying at the rooming house.”

“We can't have Reverend Deveraux coming here for dinner and the house looking a mess. He won't be going back to Baton Rouge talking about how I keep a dirty house. No sirree…I can't have that….”

Jessie Belle crawled out of bed and brushed past her mother. She padded barefoot to the bathroom across the hall. It provided a brief but peaceful escape from the high-pitched tone of Anabeth's voice.

Inside the cramped room, Jessie Belle stripped out of her pajamas and turned on the shower.

Half an hour later, Jessie Belle was dressed and seated at her vanity. She pulled her hair into a ponytail, tucked her T-shirt into her bell-bottom jeans and headed to the kitchen.

“I made some grits and eggs,” Anabeth announced. “You want some?”

“I'll eat later,” Jessie Belle responded. “What do you want me to do?”

“Make sure that you mop the kitchen floor and be sure to dust real good, Jessie Belle. We don't want the reverend thinking we keep a nasty house. Clean the windows inside and out and vacuum.”

Jessie Belle rolled her eyes heavenward.
I'm not the maid,
she wanted to say, but knew that her mother would surely backhand her for being flip.

“When you get done back there, you can get started on the living and dining rooms. I'll never have it said that I don't keep a clean house.”

“I'd better get started,” Jessie Belle said quietly.

She pulled a set of sheets from the chifforobe and changed all the beds. Her mother insisted on having the bed linens changed three times a week. While Jessie Belle worked on the bedrooms, her mother was busy cleaning the bathrooms.

Jessie Belle sent up a quick prayer of gratitude. She hated that particular task, but like her mother, she couldn't stand a nasty house. While she cleaned, Jessie Belle fantasized about the grand estate home she'd have one day along with a maid to keep it clean.

She'd pinned her hopes on Kenneth Walker, her boyfriend of two years, marrying her. He'd promised to marry her before he left to play professional football for a team in California. But when he found out she was pregnant the second time and wouldn't have an abortion, he left town without so much as a goodbye, and Jessie Belle hadn't heard from him since.

Her mother was right. Jessie Belle held the power to control her destiny. She just had to find a suitable husband.

T
raynor Deveraux Jr.'s car felt like a furnace.

The brand-new 1970 Ford Thunderbird felt more like an oven than a car. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a perspiration-stained washcloth. If the heat was this miserable and smoldering now, Traynor never wanted to go to hell.

He read the sign welcoming him into the tiny community of Mayville and sent up a quick prayer of thanksgiving for arriving safely. He followed the directions he'd been given and paid close attention to the signs along the route.

Traynor really wasn't worried about getting lost in a town that was basically one exit in and one exit out.

He made the first left on Apple Road, noting the Cotton Patch Rooming House on the corner, where he would be staying during his visit. He continued driving down the dusty dirt road until he saw the sign for Strawberry Lane. He turned right and immediately began looking for the fourth house on the left.

He parked his car in front of the wooden house and got out.

Traynor's eyes surveyed the area, taking in his surroundings. No wonder his father had to back out of coming. It was a dusty town and would wreak havoc on his father's lungs. His father suffered from a condition known as sarcoidosis, which caused inflammation of the body tissues. His lungs were affected.

Reverend Holt pastored a small church in the farming community. He'd already forewarned Traynor's father that the love offering would not be much. The townsfolk were a poor lot but hardworking and had a heart for the good Lord.

That's all that mattered to Traynor. Born into a family of preachers, he had always known that he'd end up in a pulpit. Traynor preached his first sermon at the tender age of seven. His goal in life was to serve God with his whole heart. Traynor never worried about money. He fully believed that the Lord would provide him with everything he needed.

Traynor wiped his face with the washcloth, and then tossed it back into the open window of the passenger side of his car. He wanted to make a good first impression, so despite the hot, humid June weather, Traynor slipped on his blazer before strolling up the rickety steps to the porch.

He knocked softly on the front door.

The girl that suddenly appeared at the door looked like an angel—innocent, her loveliness breathtaking and ethereal. His father had mentioned in passing that Reverend Holt had a daughter, but he never expected to see such a vision of beauty standing before him. His attention was drawn to the tiny mole on her top lip.

“Can I help you?” she asked sweetly.

A vaguely sensuous light passed between them. Clearing his throat, Traynor managed to respond, “I came to speak with your father…Reverend Holt.”

Her eyes never left his face as she asked, “May I have your name, sir?”

Traynor savored her deep Southern accent. “Traynor Deveraux,” he replied. “Pastor Traynor Deveraux Jr. My father is ill and sent me in his stead.”

She seemed surprised at first but, after a moment, broke into a tiny smile. “Please come inside, Pastor.” She moved to the side to let him enter.

An older version of the girl standing before him appeared in the room. She eyed him from head to toe before asking, “Who is this?”

Traynor introduced himself again.

“Pastor Deveraux, we so glad you could make it,” Anabeth said with a big grin on her chubby face. “My husband will be out shortly. He worked in the vegetable garden most of the morning. Soon as he get hisself all washed up, he'll be right out here to greet you.” She gestured toward the multicolored sofa. “Make yourself comfortable.”

She pointed to her daughter. “This here is Jessie Belle, our daughter.”

Traynor smiled. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Holt.”

“Would you like somethin' cool to drink, sir?” Jessie Belle asked.

He smiled in gratitude. “Just a glass of ice water, if it's not too much bother.” Traynor was mindful not to stare at her. He didn't want to give Jessie Belle or her parents the wrong idea.

“It's no bother at all.”

Jessie Belle left for a few minutes but soon strolled back into the living room carrying a glass of ice water.

She held it out to Traynor, her eyes meeting his gaze.

“Thank you, Miss Holt.”

She grinned, showing off a perfect set of white teeth. “Just call me Jessie Belle.”

Anabeth sent a sharp look to her daughter, sparking Traynor's curiosity. As far as he could tell, the young woman hadn't done a thing. Perhaps her mother desired a more formal relationship between her daughter and strangers. It didn't offend him at all. Traynor admired the fact that Mrs. Holt was very protective of such a beautiful blessing.

Elias Holt joined him ten minutes later.

“Hey, young Deveraux. Welcome to Mayville,” he greeted while shaking Traynor's hand. “I see you met the family. I hope they gave you a proper welcome.”

“Yes, sir,” Traynor responded. “My father sends his regards. He's sorry that he was unable to come. He was recently diagnosed with sarcoidosis and the doctor advised him to stay put for a while until he's feeling stronger.”

“Well, we blessed that he sent you in his stead.” Surveying Traynor from head to toe, Elias said, “I heard nothing but good stuff about you, young man. We all looking forward to hearing what you got to say tonight at the tent revival. We sho' glad you here.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Anabeth, the food 'bout ready?”

“We just waiting on the biscuits,” she responded. “Everything else ready.”

Traynor's eyes strayed to Jessie Belle, who was standing beside her mother. He'd caught her staring at him before she turned away.

Elias followed his gaze and said, “Jessie Belle…she plays the piano for the church.”

She gave Traynor a shy smile before dropping her eyes. He reluctantly tore his gaze away from her, despite the way she radiated a vitality that drew him like a magnet.

Anabeth Holt walked out of the room, but a few minutes later, she called out for her daughter. “Jessie Belle, come in here and help me.”

“Is there someplace I can wash up a bit?” Traynor inquired.

“Sure,” Elias answered. “The first door on your left is the bathroom.”

Traynor walked down the narrow hallway painted in a dull-looking beige color and stopped at a white door. Stepping inside, he turned on the water at the small sink and quickly washed his face and his hands.

He heard footsteps.

“Daddy wanted me to give these to you,” Jessie Belle stated softly, offering a towel and washrag to him.

“Thank you,” Traynor uttered with a smile. He couldn't get over how beautiful she was. Jessie Belle looked like a fashion model in her lavender and white T-shirt with the butterfly on it and the hip-hugging bell-bottom jeans. He noted the butterfly embroidered on the pants along her left thigh.

He wondered briefly if she had a boyfriend. Of course he didn't expect her to have a casual relationship of any kind—she wasn't the type—he could see that clear as day.

After freshening up, Traynor felt much better and went to join the Holt family at the dinner table.

Elias gave the blessing.

Without preamble, Traynor dug in, enjoying the delicious meal that had been prepared by the women. He hadn't eaten since breakfast and the simple fare at a roadside diner didn't taste as good as the food in front of him.

The sensation that he was being watched came over him. Traynor glanced in Jessie Belle's direction and found her eyeing him intently.

Their gazes met and held.

The moment passed and Traynor reluctantly returned his attention to his plate.

Jessie Belle couldn't take her eyes off the handsome pastor. She'd been expecting an old fart but found herself pleasantly surprised to see Traynor standing at the door instead. She didn't know how her parents felt about it, but Jessie Belle was ecstatic that his father couldn't come.

She estimated him to be around the same age as she or in his early twenties at the most.

Jessie Belle loved his deep, dark-colored eyes and quick smile. He wore his hair in a neat well-shaped Afro and his mustache was neatly trimmed. She couldn't help but wonder how much time he spent in the mirror working to get it perfect like that. He was tall and muscular, and his clothes fit him well, like they were made just for him.

Normally, the ministers that came through Mayville were a bunch of old fogies with an eye for the ladies. There had been a few of the rigid Bible-toting ones as well—they were the ones offering to pray for her lost soul.

But what could they possibly know about her?

Jessie Belle searched for something to say. “I can't believe you drove all the way here from Louisiana. Did you drive straight through?”

“I didn't drive from Baton Rouge,” he responded. “My drive was only about three hours total.”

“Oh, you were preaching at another revival or something?”

“I pastor a church in Atlanta. I moved there about three months ago.”

“Your church mustn't be too small,” Jessie Belle said. “That sure is a real nice car you driving. I bet you live in a pretty house filled with fancy furniture, don't you?”

Anabeth sent her a sharp look, but Jessie Belle ignored her mother.

“My father and my aunt thought that a pastor should have a decent home, so they purchased one for me when I took the preaching job in Atlanta. He bought me the car, too.”

“Wow. Your family must be rich,” Jessie Belle murmured softly. “How fortunate for you that your parents are so supportive.”

“My mother passed a couple of years ago,” Traynor told her. “Basically, it's just my father and Aunt Eleanor—she's his sister. We're all that's left now of the Deveraux family.”

He seemed pleased that she was so interested in him, so Jessie Belle continued her line of questioning. “How old are you?”

“Jessie Belle…you can't go around asking our guests questions like that,” Anabeth admonished.

“It's fine,” Traynor stated. “I'm twenty-two.”

Jessie Belle smiled and announced, “I'm eighteen. Graduated high school a couple of weeks ago.”

“Are you going off to college somewhere?”

She shook her head no and quickly changed the subject by asking, “What made you become a preacher?”

“God called me to it,” he responded. “Quite young. I was seven years old.”

She pasted a pretty smile on her face. “How very interesting,” Jessie Belle murmured. “I can't imagine being called at such a young age.”

“It happens all the time,” her father interjected. “I weren't that much older when God called me to spread the Gospel.”

Jessie Belle wasn't interested in hearing her father's story again. She was more interested in learning about Traynor Deveraux and his family. He was cute and, from the looks of it, pretty well-off. He was the kind of man she'd been waiting for. “I know you said that you don't have much family left, so I'm guessing you're an only child like me.”

“I had a sister,” Traynor replied. “She died five years ago.”

“Reverend, you don't have to go telling your life story to my nosy chile,” Anabeth stated. “She's always been curious.”

Jessie Belle knew her mother was only saying that to show good manners. She was just as curious about Traynor as Jessie Belle was. “I apologize if I've offended you, Pastor Deveraux. I was only trying to make conversation.”

His gaze met hers. “You haven't offended me at all,” he assured her. “I'm actually enjoying our conversation. Most people forget that we're also human—not just messengers for the Lord.”

Jessie Belle and her mother shared a secret smile. She returned her attention to Traynor and said, “Please continue…. I want to know everything.”

“That boy is the kind of man you need,” Anabeth whispered when they were in the kitchen afterward. She glanced over her shoulder before whispering, “We've never heard him preach—your daddy's a little worried. The boy's daddy say he can really preach, but we don't know for sure.”

“Hopefully he'll bring some life to revival. Those old ministers Papa always brings to town—they are so boring.
Ma, you know I'm telling the truth
.”

“Some have nearly put me to sleep,” Anabeth admitted with a laugh. “Your daddy don't like putting someone in the pulpit without having heard them first give a sermon, but he trusts and respects Reverend Deveraux, so he's gon' give his son a chance.”

“Pastor Deveraux seems like a nice man,” Jessie Belle murmured. “I plan on really getting to know him.”

“If you play this hand right—you just may end up with a husband.”

“Don't worry, Ma. I'm not messing this up. I don't think this is going to be hard at all. I believe Pastor Traynor Deveraux has some interest in me already. The man can barely keep his eyes off me.”