The First Lady (25 page)

“Please, Sister Monique, this will take only a moment.” He glanced at Sister Alison, and a funny look passed over her face. Oh, my goodness, I thought, maybe she was thinking that Trustee Black was the father of my baby. After all, I did tell her the father was an important man. But depending on how my meeting with the bishop went, it might not be a bad thing for her to believe it was Trustee Black’s child. That way, if the bishop and I came to some sort of amicable understanding and I was willing to keep his secret for a while, there would be no danger of Alison revealing anything. If she did decide to gossip, it would be Trustee Black’s name she used.

“Okay.” I gave him a friendly nod and waved good-bye to Sister Alison, then followed the trustee into his office.

He motioned for me to have a seat, then got straight to the point. “Sister Monique, I just wanted to make sure everything between you and the bishop was all right.”

I sat with my arms folded tightly and legs crossed, feeling ambushed. The way he asked the question made it obvious that he knew something, if not everything, about what had happened between me and the bishop. Well, he probably knew that we had slept together, but he had only heard the bishop’s side of the story, so I’m sure he didn’t know that his best friend had broken my heart. For all I knew, the two of them had a good laugh together about good old Sister Monique, who opened her legs so fast, a man could get whiplash. This wouldn’t be the first time a man had disregarded my feelings. I decided that if he knew what had happened, there was no sense in beating around the bush.

“No, Trustee. I don’t think everything between me and the bishop will ever be all right… . And I think you already knew that too.”

His eyebrows rose to meet his hairline. “Really? And why is that, Sister Monique?”

I shook my head. “Don’t let my large breast size fool you, Trustee. I’m not stupid. I know the bishop told you about our relationship, or friendship, whichever you prefer to call it. So, do me a favor and don’t insult my intelligence, okay? Now, what do you want?”

“Fair enough, Sister Monique. I’ll get right to the point. It was my understanding that the bishop said everything he needed to say to you. Do you feel there’s more that needs to be said?”

“On the subject of him being weak and choosing a woman with his head and not his heart, I think he knows how I feel. But I do have something else to tell him. Something I think he needs to hear from me.”

“Mind if I ask what?”

I had entered the church that day with such a sense of calm and really hadn’t intended on unleashing my attitude, but this man was starting to piss me off. “Actually, I do mind, Trustee Black.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, because there’s no telling how long the bishop’s going to be taking care of his personal matter.”

I rolled my eyes. “So what are you,” I asked sarcastically, “his cleanup crew while he’s away?”

He smirked at me. “If that’s what you want to call me, then fine, that’s what I am. I helped him clean up his mistake with you by giving him a little nudge in Sister Lisa Mae’s direction. You can hate me all you want, Sister Monique, but I’m telling you now that the bishop has made up his mind concerning his personal relationships. There is no chance of anything between the two of you.”

Did he just call what happened between me and the bishop a mistake? My heart shattered as I imagined the bishop describing it to his friend as just that. Now I was pissed off.

“All right, Trustee,” I began slowly, trying to control the angry tremor in my voice. “You’re his best friend, and since you seem to think you should handle all of his personal matters, I guess you can give him a message for me.”

“Okay, and what’s that?”

I made sure he was looking me directly in the eyes. “Tell him I missed my period, and he’s going to be a daddy.” I folded my hands over my knee, then challenged the trustee with a look that said, “Now what?”

I’d never seen it before, but the man literally looked like he was choking on his words. “Huh?” he exploded. “What did you say?”

Enjoying his distress, I spoke louder and enunciated each word as if it were a dagger plunging repeatedly into his heart. “I. Said. Tell. Him. He’s. Going. To. Be. A. Daddy.”

The trustee lowered his head and tapped his forehead repeatedly against his desk. “Oh, dear Lord,” he muttered before lifting his head to look at me. “Are you sure about this, Sister Monique?” His condescending attitude had vanished, and he sounded scared. You would have thought he was the one who got me pregnant. I relished the moment.

“Yes, I’m sure. I know when I have my period and when I don’t. What, do you wanna see the plus sign on the home pregnancy test?”

“No, no, I believe you.” His brow was creased with worry. “You realize this could get very complicated, don’t you? Everyone in church knows he’s seeing Lisa Mae Jones.” He actually said it as if we were both part of some team whose only purpose in life was to preserve the bishop’s reputation. The pathetic thing was that after everything that had happened, I was still harboring a soft place in my heart for the bishop and just might be willing to join that team.

“No, Trustee.” I sighed, feeling disappointed in myself. As much as I wanted to hate the bishop, to feel indignation about the way I was treated, I couldn’t bring myself to stop caring about him. “It’s not going to get complicated. I care about the bishop, and I know he cares about me.”

I had foolishly hoped, I suppose, that Trustee Black would confirm what I’d said, that the bishop did in fact care about me. My ego could have used that boost. But no, he was still stuck on the same note—his precious bishop’s reputation. Trustee Black couldn’t care less about me.

“And just how do you expect the bishop to react to such news?”

“Trustee, he can react any way he wants to. I have the final call on what happens with me and this baby. I just came to inform him because I thought a man of God would want to know he fathered a child.”

“Well, what do you plan on doing? You’re not going to keep the baby, are you?” Again, he wasn’t concerned about the fact that the bishop had committed a sin, only that his precious congregation wouldn’t view the indiscretion too kindly. He was making me sick.

“Keeping the child is an option,” I told him, though I had pretty much decided that I couldn’t do that. I was enjoying his worried expression.

“Sister Monique, you can’t have a child by the bishop. You’d ruin his career. The man would never be able to preach again.”

Suddenly, it dawned on me how serious this whole thing was. While I was enjoying watching Trustee Black squirm, the reality of the situation was not so easy to accept. The trustee was right. A scandal this big could cost the bishop his church, and I did not want to be the cause of that. In spite of how deeply he had hurt me, Bishop Wilson was a great leader, and First Jamaica Ministries was a great church. It would be in chaos without Bishop Wilson in charge. People needed—their spirits deserved—to be able to hear his message from the pulpit every Sunday. I didn’t know if I could live with myself if I deprived so many people of God’s word.

Tears rolled down my face. “Don’t you think I know that? I don’t want to hurt him, Trustee.”

“Well, we’ve got to come up with some other options.” His tone had softened just a bit, but I wasn’t fooled. I knew that was only because he was starting to believe he could maybe convince me to come over to his side.

“Yes, we need options. That’s why I’m here. I didn’t want to take matters into my hands without at least talking to him. I know I have the final say, but I also have a conscience. The bishop has a right to know about the pregnancy as well as about what I decide to do with the baby. But that doesn’t mean I plan on hurting him.” Tears flowed freely as I thought about how he had hurt me.

“Well, what do you plan on doing?”

“I was thinking maybe adoption. We could find a good Christian home. There are plenty of people who’d want a newborn baby right here at First Jamaica.” The idea to search for a suitable family within the church had just come to me, and I felt like maybe it was some sort of divine inspiration, the best solution for everyone involved. At least I felt that way until Trustee Black shut me down.

“Now, Sister Monique, let’s be for real here for a second. You said you didn’t want this to get complicated, and you didn’t want to ruin the bishop’s career, didn’t you?” I nodded. “Now, do you really think that man would let someone else raise his child? A member of his church nonetheless?”

I remained silent as my mind turned around his words. He was telling me that the bishop would not support the idea of adoption for a child he conceived. But he’d already made it clear that the bishop wouldn’t risk his career by accepting the child and raising it as his own. So, if he weren’t going to raise it and he wouldn’t let anyone else raise it, there seemed to be only one more option, one I had long ago decided was not a choice I could ever make. The trustee’s voice was sinister as he confirmed what I was afraid he was trying to say.

“I think we both know there’s a better solution … a more permanent solution. A solution that a woman who truly loves the bishop would choose under these circumstances.”

Trustee Black wanted me to have an abortion! Would the bishop really support the murder of this baby just to protect his reputation? “I think I should talk to him first,” I sobbed.

“Well, don’t worry about that,” Trustee Black soothed. “I’ll talk to him. What’s important right now is that we take care of the situation.” He pulled out his checkbook without waiting for my response. “Now, if I’m not mistaken, a procedure like that costs around five hundred dollars, correct?”

I looked at him wide-eyed and shrugged my shoulders, only slightly surprised that he expected me to know the answer to that question. My reputation was that bad, even if the rumors were incorrect. Contrary to popular belief, I’d never had an abortion.

He wrote out a check and handed it to me. “Here … this should cover it.”

I took several long, deep breaths before I looked down at the check. It was written to cash in the amount of fifteen hundred dollars.

“This is too much,” I said stupidly. I was so numb, I didn’t even have the wherewithal to just hand the check back to him and storm from the office. I had let this man railroad me into a conversation about something I thought I could never even consider, and all I could do was tell him he’d given me too much money. When would I ever believe I deserved better from the men in my life?

“No, it’s just enough for you to have your procedure and take a nice vacation. Jamaica is nice this time of the year. Have you ever been?”

“No,” I answered, my voice sounding as vacant as my soul felt.

He smiled triumphantly and patted my shoulder. “Well, enjoy yourself.”

“Bishop, when I’m in that studio, I feel like an entirely different person,” Savannah said as she sat in my office during one of her counseling sessions with me. Her eyes were lit up. She stared off as if she were describing a dream instead of reality. “I mean, there’s nothing that compares to the way I feel when I croon over a mike and even when I make my voice dance with full-hearted, strong notes in that sound booth. My music is important to me. That’s what God put me on this earth to do. If I didn’t know it before, then I know it now.”

“Sister Savannah, I believe you’re right. You and music are an undeniable pair,” I said. “You definitely have talent. I know I hear you sing every Sunday at church, but when you were in that studio, it was like a special anointing was all over you. I don’t remember the last time someone’s singing moved me the way yours did in the studio.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Bishop. And your support means a lot to me. I can’t explain how much I really appreciate you.”

“Well, I’m glad to know you’re so passionate about singing. Your voice is an inspiration to many. I know when your father hears that demo, he won’t be able to fight the tears back.” As I had expected, Savannah’s smile quickly vanished from her face. “Is something wrong, Sister Savannah?”

She dropped her head. “No, Bishop.”

I hated to put rain over the cloud she was floating on, but after all, this was a counseling session. Considering that Deacon Dickens was one of the proudest fathers at First Jamaica Ministries, I knew he wouldn’t keep Savannah’s accomplishments from everyone, so she obviously hadn’t let him in on her newfound career. If telling her father about her desire to make music was one of her biggest apprehensions, then it was my job as counselor to address the issue. Savannah had been trying to skate over the subject of her father since our session began.

“Sister Savannah, you suddenly went from glee to gloom. Was it something I said?”

“Well, uh, actually, Bishop,” she stammered, “I haven’t told my father about my song recordings yet.” She looked in my face, apparently awaiting my reaction.

“I’m not gonna lie. I kind of felt that must have been the case. Your father and I communicate quite a bit. He would never keep something like this from me. Why on earth are you hesitant about telling him of your passion for singing?”

Savannah folded her arms across her chest, then started pouting. “A couple years ago, when I merely mentioned it, he hit the roof—ranting and raving about hoochie videos and bootie shaking.” She shook her head. “But, Bishop, that’s not me at all.”

“Hmm … Deacon Dickens is a man of God. He has to understand that you won’t be singing for the world but that you’ll be singing for the Lord. I’m sure he has to know you wouldn’t be gyrating while singing the Lord’s praises.”

“I don’t know, Bishop. He must have thought something along that line. Plus, he said that many of his gospel favorites left singing praises for the Lord to sing secular music. He thinks if I record gospel, the right scout will come along with the right price to convince me into the ways of the world.”

I certainly believed everything Savannah said. For as long as I’d known Deacon Joe, he’d been grounded in the Lord. But, as a parent, I knew we can’t live our children’s lives for them. After raising them right, prayer and trust are all we can do to keep from going crazy over some of the decisions they make. What I couldn’t believe was that the deacon had no confidence in the way he’d brought up Savannah.