The Devil Made Me Do It (27 page)

It was Saturday, and Monica and Briggs were on their way to Mother Reed's. After Tuesday's emotional breakdown, they continued talking throughout the week. A house does not make a home, and Briggs would not share his bed. Monica hoped that this evening would turn all that around. She missed the lure of a rock-hard body, and she needed to keep thoughts of Randall at bay.

She had chosen a demure outfit and had promised herself to only speak when spoken to. She meant to put her best foot forward. In the past, her mouth had gotten her in trouble with some of the older women at church. She wouldn't make that mistake today.

Briggs continued to fill her in as he drove. “Mother Reed is not only the mother of the church, but she has become a surrogate mother to me. You know how busy my parents are, and in the short time I have been here, Mother Reed has become very dear to me.”

“I understand, Briggs, and I promise to get along with her. I'm really looking forward to this.” Monica looked at Briggs for his approval.

In an accusing tone, Briggs said, “You've never wanted to meet or spend time with the church elders before.”

Monica turned. “But I'm different now. And when you finally say you forgive me, it will be worth it to you. You'll see.”

Briggs pulled up in front of Mother Reed's large brick home. “This is a very nice house, Briggs,” Monica said, surprised.

“Yes, Mother Reed's husband provided for her well, and she believes in living a modest lifestyle.” Briggs parked.

 

 

Mother Reed watched Briggs park from her living-room window. She came out on the porch, hands on her hips. “Well, bring the child in out of the evening air. She's such a pretty little thing,” Mother Reed exclaimed as she hugged Monica and drew back from the coldness of her spirit.

“Come in, come in,” she hugged Briggs and led them into the living room.

Briggs was puzzled. “I haven't sat in this room since I first met you. It would be fine for us to sit in your kitchen.”

Mother Reed continued into the room. “Chile, Monica looks so pretty I would hate for her to get her clothes all full of kitchen smells or spills. We'll just rest c'here a might before we head to the dining-room table.”

Briggs's puzzlement grew. “The dining-room table? Mother, you shouldn't have gone to all this trouble. You don't even use your dining room. We'd be fine in the kitchen. Right, Monica?”

“Absolutely, please don't go to any bother,” Monica said, eager to please.

Mother Reed smiled, but failed to change their eating arrangements. “I'll be right back. Let me check on something in the kitchen.” She went into the kitchen and shuffled around the stove mumbling all the way, “All right, then, Lord. I don' seen enough. My thoughts are not Your thoughts, Your ways are not my ways. But you must really gon' pull somethin' off on this c'here situation. That child's heart is cold as ice. She ain't sitting in my kitchen, tainting the air with her unclean thoughts. Um, um, um.”

She returned to the living-room. “Well, children, let's eat before it gets cold,” she announced as she took food into the dining-room. When she reentered the kitchen, she passed the table with place settings for three. She grabbed more food, turned, and bumped into Briggs, who entered behind her to help with the heavier serving bowls. He eyed the place settings and went back into the dining-room, where a duplicate dining-room table was set.

Mother Reed felt bad. Briggs had saw her duplicity, but it couldn't be helped. When she was a young girl, her grandmother always fed who she considered family in the kitchen, and she would feed those who were thought of as company in the dining-room. She always said that her kitchen was too intimate, and the heart of her home, and not everybody could sit in it. And family wasn't defined by blood; she had a roguish cousin who was never allowed to sit at their grandma's kitchen table.

She could tell by Briggs's response to the seating arrangements and his sluggish movements he understood what her actions meant. Monica was company.

 

 

So far, it had been a quiet Saturday night for Esther. Her head was bent over a book in the cold, sterile room. When she arrived at the hospital, Lawton lay sleeping and per his protective mother, she shouldn't disturb him.

“Good book?” a raspy voice asked.

Esther looked over at the man who, with every glance, seemed to telegraph her tomorrows. “Not as good as talking to you. I've been passing the time waiting for this real good-looking brother to wake up.”

“If I could paint, right now, I would sit up in this bed, and use the colors of the rainbow to describe my feelings for you.” Lawton stared at Esther, and then burst out laughing. “Dang, girl, you got me waxing poetic and all that. Don't you go telling people I'm whipped, especially not my mama.”

“Oh, baby, I'm
especially
gon' tell your mama,” she laughed with him.

“See, you're not playing fair. You've met my mama. That's a formidable woman. When Dad died, she didn't miss a beat. Maybe that's why I love an independent woman; I'm looking for my mama.”

“Honey, I do not want to be your mother.”

Lawton held his hand to his head. “Feel my temperature. I think I just caught a sudden fever.”

Esther placed her hand on his forehead. He caught her hand and laid it across his chest.

The room was quiet as they enjoyed each other's company. They could hear activity in the hallway as an orderly dropped what sounded like numerous metal trays. This could have disturbed the mood, but it was too thick with the knowledge they both had stumbled on to something solid and good.

Lawton looked at Esther and said under his breath. “I wonder if you understand that you're in my future.” He then sighed. “I'm wanting out of here.”

Esther understood his mood, because suddenly, she wanted him out of there too. “What does the doctor say?”

Lawton grunted. “Who? The one who fears my mother? She's threatened to sue everyone in here if I am not 100 percent perfect when I leave here.”

Esther put down the book in her hands and crossed her legs. She swung her hair back from her face and leaned into Lawton. “Then she better call the lawyer. You weren't 100 percent perfect when you came in,” Esther said, laughing.

“Now a man should not be abused when he's lying helpless in a hospital bed. Woman, do you have no shame?” Lawton pretended to be insulted.

“No shame at all. I'm becoming quite transparent, and I believe that's a good thing. But if I were the doctor, I would tread light around your mama too. The woman does not play.” Esther shivered.

Lawton noticed her actions. “Is she being difficult? You've been looking a little strained these last few days. Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“It isn't your mother. There's been a little drama lately,” Esther said in a hesitant voice.

“What kind of drama?” Lawton used the bed's remote to tilt the bed forward.

Esther decided to share all. “The day of your accident, unbeknownst to me, my ex-husband, Roger, broke into my house. He lay in wait for me, but I was here. As a favor, Phyllis and Charles went to my house to pack a small bag for me.” Esther pointed her finger at Lawton. “I had no intentions of leaving you until you were out of danger.”

His jaw rigid, Lawton nodded for her to continue. “Roger shot at them. It's my understanding that if not for a bottle of Vernors Ginger Ale, my sister would be dead. Charles overpowered Roger in a fistfight, and now Roger is in jail.”

Lawton's gaze was brooding. She waited for the outburst; she knew she should have told him more about her past with Roger.

“Come here.” Lawton held out his arms, and Esther cautiously joined him on the bed. She made every effort not to disturb any tubing and wires and to keep most of her weight on her leg that was on the floor. It was awkward but effective.

Lawton fingered her hair and kissed her brow. Emotional, he groaned, “It's times like these that I am so sure of my feelings for you. When you were speaking, all I wanted was to hold and protect you from Roger and all the other predators of the world.”

Esther wanted him to know it hadn't always been bad. “He wasn't always a predator.”

“Tell me about him,” Lawton encouraged as his fingers rubbed her arm.

“When we first met, there was a vulnerability about him. He told me all the time how good I was for him, and how much he needed me, and I guess I needed that. I had let someone down before by not being there for them, and I felt that I could make that up through Roger. Sort of like balancing the cosmos, you know?” Esther hoped he understood her youthful mind-set.

Lawton only asked, “And did you?”

“No, the more I did, the more he resented me. Soon the yelling turned into hitting, and I ended the marriage.” Esther spoke without rancor. She had made peace with that part of her past.

“He abused you?” Lawton rumbled so low Esther almost didn't hear him.

She bowed her head. “It's hard to admit, even now. Yes, he did abuse me—emotionally, mentally, and in the final days, physically. Everything he was doing to my soul, he finally tried to take out on my body. But in some ways, I think I abused him too. My eyes never lit up when he came into a room. I never longed to hear his voice or to see his smile. I couldn't love who I pitied, and knowing someone will never love you is painful.”

Lawton shook his head at her generosity of spirit. “You sound like you feel sorry for him.”

“No, I just forgive him. He tried to make my life a living hell, but the gates did not prevail. The contrary spirit in him failed to overcome the godly spirit in me.”

Lawton motioned for Esther to move back over to her chair, “A man who findeth a wife, findeth a good thing. You are my good thing, and before it's all said and done, I'm going to marry you, Esther Wiley.”

Esther smiled, content to be in this room, with this man. She couldn't say she was even surprised by his declaration. Their connection was just that special. “Say that to me again. When you can declare your love by getting down on one knee, then you may just have yourself a bride.”

Lawton grinned, and then began to push the bell for the nurse.

Esther was alarmed. “What are you doing? Are you in pain?”

The door flew open, and a nurse rushed in. “Are you all right, Mr. Redding?”

Lawton's smile was blinding. “I've never been better. I just need to see the doctor right away, and a physical therapist. I've got two goals: to get out of here, and to be able to get down on one knee.”

Esther cracked up as the nurse looked disgruntled at her time wasted and marched off. She looked at Lawton lovingly and decided to share with him all about her childhood as a member of the tenacious three and how their separation shaped her.

As Lawton settled down and closed his eyes, a small gasp escaped Esther's mouth. Should she share with Lawton her past with Briggs? She had a deep suspicion that answer was no.

Sunday morning was overcast, the sun hid behind polluted laden clouds. It was as if the sun didn't want to start the day either. Briggs commiserated with it. The dinner at Mother Reed's house went downhill from the moment he realized she was only being polite to Monica. Monica was clueless and thought she had won Mother Reed over. The entire ride home was filled with how she would do the same with the rest of the congregation.

Arriving home, Monica was pumped, twirling, and cha-chaing around the house. She snapped her fingers in triumphant glee. “I have a plan to shut up all the noise at the church. I got you, babe. Listen . . .” Monica outlined her strategy as Briggs pondered her scheme.

“You know, I hate to say this, but your plan will work better than the one I thought up.”

“Of course . . . men aren't as good at this type of thing as us women.” Monica then continued her dance, undressing on the way back to his bedroom.

Briggs held up his hands. “Hold up there, Gypsy Rose Lee. Grab up those clothes and cha-cha on back to the guest room.”

“Really? You gon' put a halt to this?” Monica swept her hands down her camisole, G-string-clad body.

Briggs shook his head, strolled past her, and locked his bedroom door. He peeled off his socks to doors slamming, brushed his teeth, and cringed at the foul language, and before his head hit the pillow, the breaking started. He fell asleep counting the number of items he would need to replace before the Gregorys came home.

 

 

The morning had been tense, and Briggs was no longer sure if Monica was up to her own plan. He looked at her as they entered the church. She was dressed to the nines and looked beautiful in her burnt-orange designer suit and matching hat. Her Stuart Weitzman rust and tan pumps showcased a catwalk across the checkered tile. He marveled that someone who looked so good could be so tainted. He admonished himself. If he couldn't bring forgiveness into his own home, how could he ask it of others?

Dear Father, I pray this works. You said to be as wise as a serpent and as harmless as a dove. And I'm trying. I know that I allowed all this to get out of hand. But if You will just give me mercy, Lord, I promise, I'll be a better Christian and leader. Please, Father, for everyone's sake. Amen.

Briggs and Monica walked into his private office to prepare for service as other members entered through the front entrance of Love Zion Church.

 

 

Esther strolled with her mother into the church vestibule, updating her on Lawton's progress. Phyllis trailed behind, speaking low to Charles. “Does this feel like déjà vu to you?” Phyllis asked.

Charles took his wife's hand and kept up with the others. “Being a part of the Wiley family has never been dull. I seem to remember us coming in here once or twice to do battle. Guess what?”

“What?” Phyllis asked.

“God always won.” Charles held her hand. He noted the stares of people, and the muttering that accompanied their promenade down the hallway heading to the sanctuary. He had always admired his in-laws, and today they were doing him proud. No rushing for cover, but they sauntered, heads high, as though they were attending an afternoon stroll through a flowered park. He grinned at Phyllis.

“You look good, baby. Strut your stuff,” he whispered.

Phyllis put even more emphasis on the swing in her hips as she tilted her head up in the air.

Charles admired the view. “Awww, sookie, sookie, now.”

Phyllis pointed when she sighted a purple plumed hat. “There's Mother Reed, and it looks like she's waiting for us.”

 

 

Mother Reed stood staring at the family her heart had adopted when her good friend, Esther's grandmother, befriended her all those years ago. Together, they had buried Esther's grandfather, and finally, Mother Reed was left to bury her. They were closer than sisters, and these were her children who were being messed with. She and her God wouldn't stand for it too much longer. She had heard the sniggers and snippets of, “I'm just telling you, so you can pray for them,” or, “Now, honey, I ain't the one to gossip, but did you hear about . . .” Mother Reed held her arms open, and Esther stepped into them.

“I'm sorry, I haven't seen you. There's just been so much going on. But you're too important to me to be placed on a back burner. Forgive me?” Esther bent over to lay her head on Mother Reed's shoulder.

Mother Reed smiled at the gentleness of Esther's touch, and her memories flitted back to when Esther had first laid her head on her shoulder when she was a little freckled-faced girl. As the years passed and their positions switched, Esther still showed reverence by pretending that Mother Reed was physically the same robust woman she once was.

Mother Reed patted Esther's hand. “I know your heart, child. I know your heart. What I don't know is this new young man of yours. I'm gon' make a lovely supper and hav' you both over as soon as he's up and about. You just let me know.”

“Yes, ma'am, but it's going to be awhile. Lawton's pushing it, but healing has its own time table. He's now in the trauma wing, and then he'll be moved to rehabilitation.” Esther nodded when her parents walked up.

Elizabeth put her arm through her husband's and spoke to everyone. “We're all here together, strong, invincible because of the God we serve. Head up, Esther.”

Hickman winked at his youngest daughter and led the way into the sanctuary. Everyone paused when they saw a vision of loveliness in burnt orange sitting on the dais next to Briggs. Hickman recovered first and continued into the sanctuary. Amid whispers and staring they slid into the pew.

Comments circled around them, “Well, he left her high and dry, didn't he?” “Who's the woman in orange?” “Is that his wife?” “She's gorgeous. Poor Esther.”

Esther's answering thoughts were malicious.
I got a man, thank you very much
.

Phyllis directed her glare in a 180-degree sweep, making sure they received her full venomous wrath. She touched her sister in support.

Abigail Winters slowed at the Wiley pew and bowed her head to Esther as though in mourning. Esther gave her a hostile glare and tuned everyone out. She didn't come to church for this. She needed a word.

Briggs approached the podium. “Good morning, Love Zion,” he said in a loud, jovial voice. There was a hush, and then a very weak response from the congregation.

Briggs smiled confidently. “Now, I know y'all don't want my wife to think that Love Zion's members are not pleased to have her here.” There were several gasps and an explosion of murmurs as he started again, “So . . . good morning, Love Zion.”

“Good morning, Pastor,” a resounding echo retorted.

Briggs shouldered on. “This lovely lady, who was delayed in coming to be with us, is now here, and as you can see, in full effect!”

Several members laughed, and some men in the congregation returned, “Amen to that.”

“I'll let her speak to you in her own words. Let's receive her by saying, ‘Thank God for Sister Monica.'” Briggs turned and gestured for Monica to join him.

The church responded and waited in anticipation as Monica stood at the podium.

“My brethren, I am so glad to join you and have heard so much about all of you from my husband and dear friends. I have heard about the generosity of saints like Mother Reed and Deacon Clement. However, I would be remiss in not thanking one person in particular. I want to publicly thank a good friend to all, and especially me, Esther Wiley, for assisting Briggs in becoming acclimated to his new job. It's good to have God's people in your corner. Am I right, church?”

“Amen,” they chorused back.

“Yes, I want to thank you all. It is the pure heart that gets the job done. Oh, before I forget, I also wanted to thank Sister Abigail Winters. It is my understanding that she was very instrumental in keeping our members in ministry. She stirred things up and kept people in constant communication with each other. We need someone who encourages us to stay at the foot of His throne.”

The church snickered and looked over at Abigail who clutched her purse to her bosom as she rocked in agitation.

Briggs stood next to Monica and hugged her as he led her to her seat and motioned for the choir to begin ministering. Eyes downcast, he combed the congregation, connecting, and then disconnecting just as quickly, with Esther.

Monica leaned toward Briggs, her church fan hiding her words. “Well? Am I once again in your good graces?”

Briggs turned to her and stated between a fake grin, “I didn't ask you to lie. You laid it on pretty thick about Esther being your friend.”

“I didn't say she just was my friend. I said she was a friend to all. By the way, Sister Winters will not be a problem anymore. Someone like her could never get the best of someone like me. Baby, we're going places.”

Briggs sighed, “Evidently.”

 

 

Briggs's sermon had the entire congregation fighting to get a place at the altar. He had pulled them from the valley, and raised them to the mountaintop. There wasn't a person there that wasn't shouting to the heavens and asking for God's mercy. The healing at Love Zion had begun.

Many of the members stood talking, waiting in the receiving line to welcome their new first lady. Monica dazzled many with her polished manners and haunting beauty. Some went through the line with the gossip residue from before the anointed service still on them as they waited to see if any sparks would fly when Esther got to their new first lady.

Esther moved forward, examining Monica for a physical flaw in her appearance. It didn't sit well with her that she couldn't locate one. Physical perfection was overrated. “First Lady Monica, so glad to see you again.” Esther loudly alluded to Monica's earlier announcement.

Monica ground her back teeth in annoyance, and noisily responded, “Is that you, Esther? Girl, you've put on some weight since the last time I saw you. You're kinda chunky there, girl. My bad that I haven't been to see you.” She coyly tittered behind her hand. “You know how it is when you haven't seen your husband.”

Phyllis bumped Esther from behind, egging her on. “No, I'm sorry I don't. When you have a man like Briggs, it would be foolish to ever leave him alone for too long. Shoot, some big, ol' bad blast from his past might just snatch him up,” Esther growled.

Monica's fingernails dug into her palms. “Honey, you need to remember Lot's wife. Looking back cost her.”

Esther gasped that Monica had pulled out the Word of God on her. Phyllis bumped her hard, but Esther disengaged and gave a stiff smile as she nodded; checkmate.

Briggs's eyes got large, and he looked to make sure that no one could hear the sparring words exchanged after the women's initial greeting. The harsher the words, the lower they spoke. Both were gritting teeth and spitting nails.

“Esther, you and Monica must do this again some other time,” Briggs said meaningfully, looking over her shoulder at the line snaking the hallway.

Monica's smile was electric when she took Briggs's arm. “Well, Esther, you heard from the man, himself. You've been dismissed.”

Esther went total hood in her response. “Oh, you don't want this. Child, please.” Then she swished away.

The still air had a supernatural aura. Only the most attuned could hear the symphony of rattles
.