She Who Finds a Husband (17 page)
Read She Who Finds a Husband Online
Authors: E.N. Joy
This time Blake looked at Mr. Robinson for help. Paige and her mother suspiciously watched them exchange looks.
“Okay, that's it,” Paige said, laying her rubber spatula down. “What are you two up to?”
The men looked at each other, and almost as if Mr. Robinson was going to burst wide open, he blurted, “Blake's got something to tell you, sweetie,” he said to Paige. “Or should I say, ask you?” He elbowed Blake a couple of times, putting him on the spot.
Everyone's eyes were frozen on Blake. “Well, uh, Paige, the real reason why I wanted to come visit your parents was so that I could spend time with your father. I'm a traditional, old school man in some ways, and I believe in one tradition that's worth keeping. I know the day we have a daughter together, I'd want the guy she's serious about to show me the same respect.” Blake looked at Mr. Robinson who gave him a nod and another elbow to hurry him on. “With that being said, Paige, with the blessing of God first, and now your father . . .” Blake paused as he dug a small box from his inside coat pocket.
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Robinson gasped. It was now very clear the purpose of Paige and Blake's visit.
“Blake . . .” were the only words Paige could get out of her mouth before she choked back tears.
Getting down on one knee, Blake opened the box. “Paige Renea Robinson, the woman who I know, that I know, that I know I found only through the grace of God, the woman who I know, that I know, that I know was formed from my rib . . .” Now Blake was choking back tears. “Would you marâ”
“Yes! Yes!” Paige screamed before Blake could even get the full question out of his mouth. “Yes, I'll marry you, my Boaz.” Paige got down on her knees and threw her arms around Blake's neck, squeezing tightly.
Blake steadied to keep his balance as well as hold on to his new fiancée. “Sweetheart? Sweetheart?” he spoke in between Paige's cries. “Calm down. Calm down.” Blake managed to peel Paige's arms from around his neck and look her in the eyes. “Let me finish the question.” He took the ring out of the box and held it with his index finger and thumb. “Paige, sweetheart, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
This time Paige didn't respond at all. She was too fixated on the two-carat diamond ring that Blake held.
“Paige? Paige?” Her mother had to call her name two more times, and then walk over and nudge her before she was brought out of her trance. “Answer the man,” Mrs. Robinson instructed her daughter with furrowed eyebrows.
Paige tore her eyes from the ring long enough to look up at Blake and reply, “I will, Blake Dickenson. I will honor both you and myself by being your wife. In Jesus' name, I will,” Paige cried as Blake slid the ring on her finger.
Blake wiped Paige's falling tears as she stared down at the ring, shaking her head as if she couldn't believe this moment was happening.
“Now how about we eat some of that cake your father was so anxious to get home to,” Blake joked as every one laughed.
“I'll get some plates,” Mrs. Robinson said.
“No, Mom, you all sit down,” Paige insisted, “I'll get it.” Paige walked over to her father who was taking his seat at the table. “And, Dad, I'll get you the biggest piece so that I don't have to get up twice to get you another one.” She leaned down and wrapped her arms around her father and kissed his cheek.
“You know your pops like a book, huh?” Mr. Robinson said, lovingly patting his daughter's cheek.
“Why shouldn't I? After all, I'm just like you.” Paige looked over at her mother and winked, then made her way over to the cabinet to get some plates.
“I'll help you,” Blake stated.
“Knives are in that drawer right there.” Paige pointed and Blake followed her directions and retrieved a knife to cut the cake.
As the two stood over the cake, Blake slicing and Paige holding the saucers for him to put the cake slices on, Mr. and Mrs. Robinson sat at the table holding hands. Paige couldn't remember the last time she'd seen her father show her mother that type of affection. She surmised that she probably couldn't see it before because she was too blinded by the log that was in her eye while trying to pluck the splinter from her father's eye.
“I can't wait to tell Tamarra, Deborah, and the women at the Singles Ministry,” Paige said with excitement as Blake cut a huge slice of cake, for Paige's father. He placed it on one of the saucers.
Blake didn't reply. He cleared his throat before saying, “Paige, your father was right, I had something to both tell you and ask you.”
Paige was uncomfortable with the tone of Blake's voice. “What is it, Blake?”
“It's about a question your father asked me the last time we were here. About my purchasing two tickets to the movies.”
Paige placed her finger over Blake's lips. “Baby, that is the past. I don't care about the woman you had arranged to meet that night. All I care about is the woman God arranged for you to meet that night.”
“Butâ”
“Hey, what's the hold up on that cake?” Mr. Robinson shouted. “You love birds snap out of it. You'll have plenty of years for that mess.”
“Coming, Dad, coming,” Paige said as she walked her father's piece of cake to him, then returned to Blake to get the other pieces. Unbeknownst to Paige, who had carried a secret she'd kept from Blake hoping it wouldn't interfere with the progress of their relationship, Blake now stood with a secret of his own, praying that it wouldn't interfere with them moving forward with marriage.
Chapter Twenty-seven
“Hear my cry, oh Lord. Don't turn your face far from me.”
From the very second Deborah heard those words from Micah Stampley's CD fill the sanctuary, she gasped. The girl representing the New Day dance ministry with a solo performance was interpreting every word of the song with arm and leg movements as well as facial expressions.
Deborah watched intensely as the girl beckoned God to hear her prayer and not turn His face from her in her time of trouble. There had been so many times Deborah thought God had turned His face from her, and with good reason; starting with the obvious reason she gave Him over four years ago. How could He even stand to look at her when most days, whenever she thought about that dreadful act of her past, she couldn't even stand to look at herself? She was sure He'd turned His face from her . . . she was sure of it. But even so, she wasn't going to turn her face from Him. It had taken her long enough to make this decision, but it was final. She would spend the rest of her days repenting somehow, someway, to her Father in heaven. There were so many times she had wanted to beg and plead with God, just as the dancer seemed to be doing before her.
“You okay, sister?” a gentleman sitting next to Deborah asked as he kindly rested his hand on top of her shivering hand. He'd noticed her slight trembling. He'd even noticed the tears spilling down her face and staining her silk top before she had noticed it herself.
Deborah looked down, for the first time realizing how out of control her limbs appeared to be. Her hands were shaking. Her knee was bouncing and she felt as light as a feather. She looked at the man. She wanted to tell him that she was okay, but the words wouldn't come out. Besides that, it would have been a lie. She wasn't okay. She hadn't been okay in years. She'd only made things appear as if they were okay. But now, as a chill ran through her body and she trembled even more, she felt cold; like the covers were being pulled off of her on the coldest night of the year.
“Lord, in the name of Jesus, give this sister whose hand I hold peace in her mind. Peace in her body,” the man automatically began to pray when he saw that Deborah was too moved to verbally respond to him.
While the man closed out his short, whispered, but powerful prayer, Deborah turned her attention back to the liturgical dancer who was now begging and pleading with God to deliver her from the hands of her enemy. The girl's head was bowed and her arms were extended as if she herself were nailed to a cross. She jerked her body from left to right as if the enemy was on each side of her pulling, tugging, and consuming her. Then all of a sudden the girl broke free and raised her arms up to heaven in victory. It was her sign of the deliverance she had received as a result of her cry out to the Lord. The girl repeated the movement again and again, as if there was more than just one thing, more than just one situation and stronghold, she had to be delivered from. On the fourth time around, the music got stronger, the pleas of Micah Stampley got more demanding, and this time when the dancer broke free and raised her arms to heaven, so did Deborah.
“Glory!” Deborah began to shout as she stood straight up from her seat. “Deliver me, Lord,” she cried out. “Deliver me from my enemies. Deliver me from my pain. Deliver me from my guilt. From my shame. Glory! Thank you, Lord. Thank you, Lord. You heard my cry, oh Lord. I know you did. I know you did.” Never had Deborah cried out in such a manner before. She had always gotten her praise and worship on; hand-clapping, shouting, and stomping, honoring God in spirit and in truth, but never had she just given up control of herself and turned her spirit over to the Lord.
“Cleanse me, oh God!” Deborah pleaded. “Hide me and protect me from my troubles, God. Don't turn away from me. Help me, God! Please come see about me, Heavenly Father. Forgive me, Lord. I repent to you, oh God. I took a life, oh Lord, and I'm not the author of life, God, you are. I'm sorry, God! Please forgive me!”
Some members of New Day began to shout and praise God right along with Deborah. They couldn't help themselves as they witnessed the deliverance the dancer had only interpreted actually manifest itself before their eyes. Others shot each other looks as if to say, “Did she just say she took a life?”
Tamarra stood behind Deborah with a prayer cloth, waiting to cover her once she began to rest in the Spirit. Tears of joy flowed down Tamarra's face. There was nothing more she enjoyed witnessing than one of her brothers or sisters in Christ getting their breakthrough. And there was something about a breakthrough that was contagious as other members began to release and cry out to God. The Holy Spirit was definitely filling the temple.
“Thank you for my sister's breakthrough,” Tamarra cried out. “Thank you, Lord! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Thank you, Lord. I love you, Lord. I praise your name.” Tamarra was filled with so much joy. Whatever it was that Deborah had been keeping inside of her, she was now finally releasing it. Like the song said, she'd cried out to God and He'd answered her prayer speedily. She'd received an instantaneous breakthrough. And even though Tamarra was excited and happy for Deborah, she was even more excited for herself, because deep down inside she knew that if God would do it for Deborah, then He would do it for her. Her breakthrough was coming too; of that she was sure.
Chapter Twenty-eight
“I made a complete fool of myself,” Deborah said as she paced back and forth in front of her living room couch. “I'm never going back to that church again. Any church for that matter.”
Deborah couldn't believe she had acted in such a manner in front of the entire congregation. She didn't remember much about the last half hour prior to her arriving back home, but she did remember collapsing on the ground with her skirt flailing in the air. And when she awoke, Pastor was preaching, and she was lying in the middle of the aisle with a prayer cloth covering her. She had sat up, and two people helped her stand. She didn't even look up to see the faces of the persons who had come to her aid. She was too embarrassed. She'd felt like a fool. Here she was lying out on the floor. No telling how much of her business the church had seen or heard, and church seemed to be going on as usual.
She'd seen people fall out in the Spirit before. She'd even been one of those helping hands to get them to their feet after they had rested in the Spirit, but for it to have happened to her; Lord have mercy. Was she that bad off in life? Deborah had always thought that those people who fell out in the Spirit like that were just doing too much. Although Deborah never condemned them in any way, she just felt as though it didn't take all of that to get a praise on, or a breakthrough for that matter. But then again, what Deborah experienced wasn't just a praise. It wasn't just a breakthrough. It had been deliverance. She had to admit that she felt a hundred pounds lighter, as if she'd left weight back at that altar.
While at the altar, she'd felt like someone had taken over her body. Like someone had taken a shovel and begun to dig down to the roots, removing every part of her flesh and emptying out the excess body fat. It was unexplainable as far as Deborah was concerned, and then there was the fact that she didn't even remember hitting the ground.
“It at least had to hurt,” she said out loud as she immediately began to rub her head, checking for any sign of a lump. She closed her eyes and tried to remember exactly what had taken place just a little while ago in the New Day Temple of Faith sanctuary. She tried to remember falling, but the only thing she could recall was a feeling as if someone had lifted her off of her feet and laid her peacefully onto the ground.
She squeezed her eyes tighter, willing herself to remember. Suddenly her eyes jammed open upon remembering something. Something she'd said
. “I took a life . . .”
. “I took a life . . .”
Deborah gasped, buried her face in her hands, and once again, collapsed; only this time she landed on her couch. “Oh God!” she panicked. “Oh God! What did I do? What did I say?”
There was a pounding at the door that startled Deborah so badly that she jumped to her feet. Her heart began to beat just as loudly as the pounding on the door, almost as if they were in competition with each other. There was more pounding from the door. Instantly, Deborah thought about the words she'd said back in the sanctuary,
“I took a life,”
and assumed someone was coming for her. Although she'd only meant to be confessing those words to God, others had heard, and now someone was coming to hold her accountable.
“I took a life,”
and assumed someone was coming for her. Although she'd only meant to be confessing those words to God, others had heard, and now someone was coming to hold her accountable.
Her first instincts were to run upstairs to her room and hide. While in her room she'd pack her bags and prepare to go away in hiding once who ever was at her door left. But where would she go? And who would she be hiding from? God? Adam and Eve had tried that little stunt in the Garden of Eden, and it hadn't worked. So Deborah knew it wouldn't work for her either.
She dropped her arms in defeat and went to answer the door. When she opened it, there stood Mother Doreen. Deborah looked over Mother Doreen's shoulders to see if she was alone.
“It's just me,” Mother Doreen assured her. “I came alone.” She brushed by Deborah, inviting herself into the house which was uncharacteristic of Mother Doreen, who always made it a point to never intrude on someone. But this morning there was something different about Mother Doreen's demeanor, like she was on a mission or something. An assignment. She meant business. And on this day, she was about her Father's business indeed. “I know Pastor tells us when we do drive-bys that it should be at least two or more because you never know what type of situation you'll be walking into. But God equipped me with a legion of angels for this one. So I'm good.”
Mother Doreen walked over to Deborah's couch and took a seat without being offered one. Deborah closed the door behind her, then focused her attention on the woman sitting on her couch. A woman, who in the past, she'd known to be very calm and settled. Yet the woman she was looking at now seemed to have a no nonsense aura about her. And one thing Deborah immediately noticed was that there were no sweat beads.
Mother Doreen picked up on Deborah's perception of her and spoke on it. “I know... I know you're not used to seeing me in such a forward state, but my God told me to come to you. Pastor wasn't even finished giving the Word. Church wasn't even over yet, but the Lord said, âGo see about my daughter now.' And He said for me to come to you boldly and to walk in the authority in which He's graced me for such a time as this. An authority that I had not exercised until this very moment.” She looked up and mumbled, “To God be the glory.”
Deborah stood silent, taking in her sister in Christ's words. Mother Doreen even sounded different. She had such power in her tone. And again, there was no sweat. Whatever fear Mother Doreen might have walked in in the past when it came to confrontation, she had been delivered from. She had been delivered today, right along with Deborah, when she decided to say yes to God and embark upon her assignment. With the way God had moved at New Day, no one would probably leave that sanctuary the same way they had come.
“Come sit down, child.” Mother Doreen patted the spot next to her.
Deborah walked over and sat down next to the church mother of New Day. She was timid like a little girl about to have “the talk” with her mother.
“God said you ain't finished,” Mother Doreen told her.
“What?” Deborah was puzzled as to what Mother Doreen was getting at, and it showed on her face.
“God says you ain't finished yet. You have more to tell Him.” Mother Doreen twitched her bottom to get comfortable as she faced Deborah. “You were about to say too much back there in the sanctuary. God said what you have to say is to Him. For His ears only right now. Later, it will be your testimony. It will be your ministry, but right now, you have to give it to God first. He ain't gon' let you give it to nobody else until you give it to Him first. Whatever this thing is inside of you that you are holding back, give it to Him, child.” Mother Doreen placed her hand on Deborah's stomach. “You've got to birth it out of you. God said He's been trying to push it out of you Himself. He's been using people and situations to get you to push it out, but you won't let go. What you have inside of you is taking up space. See, God wants to birth something new in you, but you won't make room for it because you're protecting that thing that's stillborn inside of you. God says what you have in there is dead. Push that dead thing out, so He can birth new life into you.”
Deborah had been in the book business for years, but never had she been read like one. And somehow Mother Doreen sat there speaking into her life as if she were an open book. But down to the very last minute, Deborah insisted on protecting that thing inside of her. “I . . . I don't know what you're talking about,” Deborah lied. “You or God for that matter.” She gave off a slight chuckle that didn't amuse Mother Doreen the least bit.
“Yes you do, dear.” Mother Doreen's tone had softened back to its normal pitch as she placed her hands on top of Deborah's. “God had to lay you out in the Spirit. He had to allow you to rest in Him. You were about to lose it. The time or the place wasn't there, at church, in the sanctuary.” Mother Doreen cleared her throat. “See, some church folk with that religious spirit think the only place one can be saved and delivered is at the church altar. That's why you got the same folks running down to the altar every Sunday with the same old stuff. God said you can give Him your stuff right in your own living room. Right in your own secret place.” Mother Doreen released Deborah's hands and pointed to the floor. “Your time is now. Your place is right here. Go boldly to His throne of grace and give Him what you owe Him.”
Deborah all of a sudden heard a wailing noise. A cry out as if someone was in pain. When her knees hit the floor, she realized it was her. “I can't. I can't do it, Mother Doreen.”
“Yes, you can. God is calling you higher, but you can't even excel because something is weighing you down. Something is keeping you from what God has for you. He wants to use you mightily, but He can't because you are holding onto something that you feel makes you unworthy of being used. Give it to God, child. Take authority over this thing and give it to God.”
“Jesus!” Deborah cried out. That was the only thing that would flow from her tongue. “Jesus!”
“That's all right, baby. Let it out. When you can't say anything else, call Him! When your brain can't relay the words that are on your heart, just call Him! Call on Jesus!” Mother Doreen stood up and began to pace and speak in tongues. This was something Mother Doreen rarely did outside of her secret place, but she needed to stand in the gap for Deborah right now. She needed to send up a prayer to God that the devil couldn't interpret.
“Jesus!” Deborah continued to cry out. “I'm sorry. You died for me, and yet I've been holding on to something you took to hell for me already; my sins. I'm sorry. Lord, help me! I'm sorry for the sin of fornication, and I'm sorry that instead of covering the sin with Jesus' blood, I tried to cover it by killing my baby.”
“That's right!” Mother Doreen shouted, then followed up with some tongues. “The accuser been standing up there telling God all about it. Now is your time to shut the accuser up. Send him back to hell, Deborah,” Mother Doreen ordered with authority. “Send the accuser back to hell with nothing more to say to God about you that you haven't already told Him yourself.”
“I killed my baby, God. Not my baby, but yours. You give life. I had no right to take it. I repent from the depths of my soul, oh Lord. I'm sorry. Forgive me. I'm sorry that I couldn't even forgive myself. I'm sorry that although I know what your Word says about forgiveness, I didn't believe it to be true for myself. I'm sorry for what I did that day, and for holding onto it for so long.” Deborah's cries were uncontrollable as she thought back to that day in the abortion clinic.
Most of the women in the clinic waiting to abort their babies, hardly looked pregnant at all, especially the girl who sat next to Deborah. Her stomach was as flat as a washboard while the fact that Deborah was with child couldn't be denied. She'd wished she'd invested in just one more “fat suit” to wear to the clinic. Fat suit is what Deborah referred to as all of the oversized clothes she'd worn to hide her pregnancy. Deborah could sense the woman next to her stealing periodic glimpses of her belly. Finally, Deborah looked in the woman's direction and caught her staring down at her belly. That's when, cold busted, the woman decided to speak to Deborah in order to play it off.
“Hi, how are you?” the woman had asked.
Deborah had merely nodded and smiled. A nervous, mental wreck is what she was. But back then, just like she'd done for all those years in between, she hid her true feelings with a smile.
“I'm Helen,” the woman had said, extending her hand to Deborah.
“I'mâ”
“Pregnant,” Helen had finished Deborah's sentence. “Very pregnant.” She rubbed Deborah's growing round belly. “Did it just kick?” she asked Deborah in surprise.
Deborah ignored the girl's comment and simply shook the woman's hand, fighting back tears at the thought that maybe her baby had kicked. According to the medication the doctors had given her to take, there is no way that baby inside of her should be in any condition to move. But what if the meds hadn't worked? What if what Deborah was about to do was no better than burying her baby alive? Why had she waited so long? Why? Why? Why?
Now, once again, Deborah was full of regret, she regretted waiting until her fiancé, Elton, had come back home from playing basketball overseas to tell him that she was pregnant. She was pregnant with his child, whom she'd learned was a son. She'd wanted to tell him face to face. He'd always made his five-year plan clear. It included playing basketball overseas, tightening up his game so that the NBA couldn't deny him a place in the league, marrying the girl of his dreams, who was Deborah, and then having 2.5 kids and a dog . . . all in that order.
He'd been successfully playing basketball in Chile for a full season and things were looking good. He'd proposed to Deborah right before he left the states to let her know that no matter how many miles were between them, she was his girl. Deborah had been attending New Day at the time, and the women of the church even threw her and Elton an engagement party. Pastor had blessed them and even given them a counseling session before Elton left the country. Deborah felt so blessed that God's anointing was truly on their pending marriage. Elton and Deborah even agreed that they would abstain from sex until they were married, which they felt wouldn't be so hard considering they would be living in two different countries. Deborah even stopped refilling her birth control prescription, since she no longer had a need for them.
Other books
Snatched by Ashley Hind
Papelucho y mi hermana Ji by Marcela Paz
The Book of Lies by Brad Meltzer
Divinity: The Gathering: Book One by Susan Reid
Cenotaxis by Sean Williams
Breathless by Cole Gibsen
The Captive Condition by Kevin P. Keating
Deadly Desire by Keri Arthur
Robbie's Wife by Hill, Russell
The Anatomy Lesson by Nina Siegal