The First Lady (34 page)

“Hey, Charlene,” I said, bending over to place the flowers in front of her headstone. I fussed with the arrangement for a few seconds, thinking about the best way to break the news. “I been trying to figure out a way to tell you this, but I guess the best way is just to say it, so here goes.” I took a deep breath to gather my courage. “I … well, we’ve been busted.” I felt extremely uncomfortable having to tell her this. It meant I’d messed up and that we’d have to prematurely stop handing out the letters, which would surely disappoint Charlene.

I reluctantly continued the explanation. “When I got to the church for work this morning, the bishop was sitting at his desk, waiting for me. In his hands were two of the letters you dictated to me—his and Marlene’s—and the handwritten draft of a letter he’d dictated to me a week ago. I think you get the picture.” I cringed as I remembered the look on his face. I don’t think I’d ever seen someone so disappointed in me before. “Let’s put it this way: He matched up the handwriting; he knows I’m the one who wrote the letters, and he’s not happy about it.”

I paced back and forth in front of her headstone as I continued to ramble. “At first he thought I had written the letters by myself, without any help from you. Like I just stole your stationery and started writing. I mean, come on. What reason would I have to do that if it weren’t for you? He thought about that question for a few minutes, and I finally convinced him that the letters were actually your words. I thought maybe he’d calm down a little then, but I was wrong. I mean, Charlene, he’s really upset with me—a lot more upset than I thought he would be.

“He said something like we were trying to play God, and it wasn’t fair to the people we were sending the letters to. Charlene, I never looked at it that way. I mean, we were only trying to provide some guidance for his benefit, right?” I quietly thought about my own answer to that question. “Or is that the lie I convinced myself of?”

I stopped pacing and stood directly in front of Charlene’s headstone. “It’s over, Charlene. The bishop knows what we’ve done, and it’s time to stop it. I won’t deliver any more letters to these women.”

I couldn’t begin to imagine what Charlene was thinking now, but I felt good about the decision I’d made. Still, she was my best friend, and I didn’t want her to feel betrayed, so I made her one final promise.

“The only letter I will deliver is the last one that you dictated for the bishop. I won’t be orchestrating anything from behind the scenes anymore, but at least your husband will know how you felt at the time of your death, and then he can make his own decision.”

I waited to feel Charlene’s spirit comfort me, to let me know that she was okay with this change of plans, but that comfort never came. I said my good-byes to my friend, then told her I’d be back to chat with her soon. I returned to my car feeling like I had let down my best friend, but somehow I still knew I was doing the right thing.

I’d been tossing and turning in my bed from the moment I lay down. As I rolled over onto my side, I looked at the clock. It was only 11:00
p.m.,
though it felt like 3:00 in the morning. My mind was still spinning, as it had been ever since I read the letter Alison had given me, the last one my wife dictated before her death. Charlene made no apologies for trying to orchestrate my love life from the grave, but that was to be expected. I loved my wife unconditionally; still, there was no denying that she liked things to run according to her plans and no one else’s. As I read the letter, I wondered if I could grant her final wish. Was I really ready to choose a new wife and let go of the past? Of all the women I had been considering for the last six months, I knew who I was leaning toward, but I didn’t know if I were ready to make a final decision and if I should choose the woman she wanted me to.

So, my mind was already working on overdrive as I tried to sort through my conflicted emotions. And then, just to complicate matters, I saw Marlene in a way I hadn’t seen her for years. She had taken a shower and was headed down the hallway to her bedroom, wrapped in a towel. Just as she passed my bedroom door, the towel slipped, and I got a full view of her rather nice backside. Since she’d stopped using drugs and started eating regularly again, Ms. Hernandez had developed quite the derriere. I tried to purge the image from my mind, but it only served to dredge up memories of the days when Marlene and I were a couple, in those early years, when I lost my virginity and her body became my playground. She was my first love, and those early sexual experiences are something a man can never forget. For a preacher, this is a hard thing to confess, but I’d been lying in bed, aroused, ever since Marlene dropped the towel.

I said a quick prayer to ask God’s forgiveness for my lustful thoughts, over which I seemed to have no control. Mercifully, I drifted off to sleep not long after I said, “Amen.”

I soon felt something rubbing against my leg.
What the
—
?
I turned over, and the sight of Marlene lying there made me bolt upright, immediately wide awake. Marlene lay on her side, facing the wall, giving me the same view of her naked behind that I’d seen earlier.

“Thomas Kelly?” she murmured in a sleepy voice as she turned over to face me, a smile glazing her lips.

“Marlene? What are you doing in my bed?”

“Shhh.” She placed an index finger against my lips, and in one smooth motion, she grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me on top of her. Even if I had words to speak, she didn’t give them a chance to come out of my mouth as her lips connected with mine.

“Mmm,” Marlene moaned, reaching her hand down between us. I knew this was wrong, but my body was responding just the way she wanted. She took hold of my solid manhood and placed it inside of her.

“Marlene …” I heard a moan escape from my throat. “We can’t do this.”

“Don’t stop, Thomas Kelly. Please don’t stop,” Marlene pleaded, though I didn’t need much convincing. I thrust my hips and she returned the motion. “Ohhhh, this feels so good. Thomas Kelly, you’ve taken the drugs away. Now I need you to be my drug.”

Once again, her tongue entered my mouth and we shared a wonderful, passionate kiss. I lifted my head to gaze into her eyes while we made love, but the vision before me was so startling that I felt my body freeze in midthrust.

“Huh? Monique?” I squeezed my eyes shut as if that could erase the vision, but when I opened them slowly, it was still Monique smiling up at me.

“Yes, T.K., it’s me.” Monique stroked her hands down my back. I reached out to touch her. “Who’d you think it was, Lisa Mae?”

“No, I thought it was—”

She pulled my head toward her. When I felt her soft lips against mine, it sent a spark of recognition to my midsection and I was instantly hard again. There was no way I could forget the fervent kisses Monique and I had shared the first time we made love and no way my body could not respond.

“I love you, T.K.,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “It feels so good that I could cry.” She pushed me gently off of her, then rolled on top.

I enjoyed the view of her hair, loose and flowing, brushing against my chest as she lowered her head and rode me passionately. After a long, deep stroke, she threw her head back and sat up, still straddling my hips.

This can’t be happening,
I told myself as I stared in disbelief at the woman before me. “Lisa Mae?”

“Yes, T.K.,” she said, slowly gyrating her hips. “That’s it. Now say my name.”

Before I knew it, my hands were entwined in her beautiful curls. “You’re wearing your hair down,” I said in awe. I had never seen Lisa Mae looking so relaxed. She flung her head back down and allowed her strands to tickle my face and shoulders, then in a sensual rhythm, she lifted her head again.

“Savannah!” I shouted as I watched her rocking on top of me. “Savannah!” I called out once again, pushing her off me. “I can’t do this with you.”

The room started spinning and everything became a blur. I rubbed my eyes, and when I opened them to try to focus, that’s when I saw all four of them: Savannah, Monique, Lisa Mae, and Marlene. They were sitting on my bed, each wearing a wedding dress and staring at me with pleading eyes.

I looked to Savannah first.

“Bishop,” Savannah spoke, “you’ve been my mentor. You’ve believed in me even when I didn’t. I love you, Bishop. Can’t you see that?”

“But T.K.,” Monique said as I turned to her. “You’ve shown me for the first time in my life what real love is. You accepted me just for me, for what I was and for what I wasn’t. I love you, T.K. I love you.”

Next it was Lisa Mae whose lips parted to speak. “You are the most perfect bishop. I appreciate that about you more than anybody. And with my appreciation comes an understanding and desire to serve God alongside you. T.K., I’ve shown you that I am the perfect first lady. Together we make the perfect team. Will you marry me?”

Knowing Marlene would have something to say next, I allowed my eyes to rest on her. “T.K.,” she said, “we share a child. We share a grandchild. We have a history. You’ve accepted me into your present life. It’s only natural that we should share our futures.”

“What are you all doing here? Why are you here?”

“You know why we’re here, Bishop,” Savannah stated.

“Yes, T.K.,” Monique said. “You know why.”

They all sat quietly, a desperate desire heavy in the air. I felt as though a clock were ticking and a bomb was designated to go off any minute now.

“No,” I said to them. “I can’t do this.” I turned toward the door, wanting to run away, but my muscles wouldn’t move. As I sat helplessly immobile, the door opened.

“T.K., you can’t run from this,” Charlene said when she appeared in the doorway. “You know what you have to do, T.K.”

“Honey?” I looked at the vision of my dead wife, feeling like some sort of Ebenezer Scrooge surrounded by ghostly apparitions. “Is that you? Are you really there?”

“Yes, T.K., it’s me, and I’m here to tell you that you have to make your choice. You have to make your choice now. These four women need to go on with their lives, one of them spending the rest of her life with you. T.K., one of those four is the woman you should be with.”

“But, Charlene, I love them all,” I told her. “Each one has something that makes her special, and it’s that something special that makes me love each of them.”

“You have a big heart, T.K. That’s what I loved about you so much. You can find something to love about everybody.”

“That’s what makes this so hard,” I said. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m afraid of making the wrong choice.”

“You’re not afraid of making the wrong choice; you’re afraid of making
any
choice. Remember, T.K., I was your wife for a long time. I know your heart. You’re having a hard time choosing someone because you’re afraid to let go of me. But I know Alison gave you my last letter, and you’ve read it. You know how I feel. I love you with all my heart, and I have faith that we will be together again someday, but now, First Jamaica Ministries needs a new first lady, and you need someone to take care of you. It’s time for you to move on with your life. Choose one of these women to be your wife.”

Charlene came closer to me and held out her closed fist. Instinctively, I knew she was coming to give me something, so I put out my hand to receive it. Her fingers uncurled, and I saw in her palm the wedding ring I had given her so many years before. She dropped the ring into my hand and said, “It’s time to make a choice.” Then she bent down, and our lips met in one last kiss that was so familiar and comforting.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting up in my bed in a cold sweat, my heart racing uncontrollably. My eyes quickly darted around the room, half expecting to see the women still sitting there. The dream had seemed so real.

The bed was soaked with sweat. I threw the covers off me, then turned and placed my feet on the ground. I looked up at the clock, which read 1:00
a.m.
It had only been two short hours since I fell asleep, but it felt as if I had relived my whole lifetime with Charlene. My love for her was stronger than ever, but I felt a peace come over me as I realized I should move on, and even more importantly, that I could move on.

With a shaking hand, I picked up the phone on the nightstand and dialed James’s phone number.

“Hello,” he answered groggily.

“James,” I said without apologizing for the lateness of the call. “I think I’ve made my decision.”

“Decision about what?” he asked.

“The decision about who I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. I know the woman I want to marry. I want you to meet me tomorrow morning to go shopping for a ring. I know who’s going to be the next first lady.”

The monthly membership meeting was more crowded than usual. Bishop T.K. Wilson made sure of that when he personally called every prominent member of First Jamaica Ministries to make sure they’d be in attendance. They, in turn, called their closest friends to urge them to be there as well. This type of fanfare before a meeting was rare, and speculation ran rampant throughout the congregation about what the bishop had planned. Among those Bishop Wilson had personally requested to be at the meeting were Marlene, Monique, Savannah, and Lisa Mae, all of whom now sat anxiously, awaiting the bishop’s arrival.

Each woman sat whispering to her loved ones—well, all of them except Monique. She didn’t have friends or family who attended First Jamaica Ministries. Sure, she had been receiving a warmer welcome at Sunday services now that she was dressing more conservatively and trying harder to blend in with the crowd, but she hadn’t yet made the leap to any true friendship. So, she sat in the front row, flipping through a pocket calendar, trying to distract herself from her loneliness. She wondered what was so important that the bishop had phoned her to ensure she didn’t miss this meeting.

Perhaps he wants to announce to the members the upcoming grand opening of my new Christian bookstore,
she thought hopefully.
That would be so like T.K. to want the congregation to support me.
They had been speaking quite frequently ever since their reunion at lunch, and T.K. was one hundred percent behind her decision to open the store. Monique was eager to get the business up and running so she could spend even more time with the bishop.