The Devil Made Me Do It Page 11

  “Don’t worry,” Briggs placed his arm around Esther’s shoulder.

  Reverend Gregory advised them that he had a busy day ahead. He reminded them that they all needed to do what they could to begin to mitigate the damage that the letter was already doing. He had been fielding phone calls all morning from concerned church members and family members of residents of the homes. It seemed some duty-bound citizen put the word out on the street that the housing program was in trouble.

  “Esther, Briggs, I expect you both to work on this night and day and get this thing turned around. I’m counting on you,” he said and waved them out the door. Before they could leave, Reverend Gregory was already taking a phone call.

  “Let’s go down to my office and strategize a plan of attack. Since you know all the key players, you’ll be instrumental in helping me to know the best approach to take with each of them,” Briggs said to Esther as they left the reverend’s office.

  Esther moved ahead of Briggs. But before they could reach his office, Reverend Gregory’s door swung open and he stepped out, calling both their names. His face had gone pale. “That was Mother Reed’s neighbor. Mother was just rushed to the hospital. It looks bad!”

  Esther and Briggs exchanged looks of horror and took off running toward the stairs. “I’ll meet you there,” they heard Reverend Gregory yell as they ran down the church hallway and out into the parking lot.

  The Leader stood in the shadows of the ambulance, watching Mother Reed labor for breath. He swayed back and forth on the curve of his elongated body, sending out signals of distraction to the paramedics. As the machine beeped a solid line, he swayed faster, knowing that his mission for the old woman was almost finished.

  Mother Reed could feel the presence of the outsider near her. She clutched a small, worn piece of paper in her hand, and began to battle in her spirit against the powers that sought to ensnare her. She would not let them take her without a fight. Her mind was clear, and her purpose was unfinished. She knew what awaited her on the other side and was not afraid to sleep, but it was not time to get weary in well-doing. She began to reach deep into her spirit and call on Jesus.

  The Leader felt coldness center on his heated scales, a soft sigh was blown into his inner ear, and he retched at the thought of an angel’s breath touching him. Knowing who had entered, he reared forward to protect what he felt was rightfully his. He swung his large head around and raised his pointed tail. Angels three deep lined the small ambulance. They advanced toward him, so he lurched against the panels of the van and passed to the other side. As he stood in the road looking after the vehicle, he continued stealthily toward the hospital. He was not giving up.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hearts racing, two anxious people flew through the double doors of the emergency room at Henry Ford Hospital.

  Esther’s steps faltered. She was back in a hospital. A dark tomb of a cold structure she hadn’t entered since Sheri’s untimely death. This arctic breathing, concrete torture chamber designed to take loved ones and leave devastation in its wake. It claimed to help the sick, but few people she knew who entered ever left. It was a selfish lover, taking but rarely giving back. First in its iron clutches her beloved grandmother and father, then Sheri, and now it wanted Mother Reed.

  She slowed to a halt and watched as Briggs approached the desk and inquired about Mother Reed’s condition. Her hands tightly clenched in an effort to control the erratic thumping of her heart.

  Briggs turned and was surprised to see Esther still near the entrance. Her face pink flushed and perspiration glistened across her forehead. His long-legged gait disposed of the space between them. He covered both her clenched hands with his.

  “You okay?” he asked. “We’ll find something out soon. The unit clerk is checking on her now.”

  “I just need a minute,” she said short of breath. “I’m worried about Mother Reed, but I’m also a little squeamish about hospitals.”

  “Let’s pray, and then all other concerns will fade.” Briggs escorted Esther over to the waiting area where they could pray in private.

  Both failed to notice several Love Zion members as they entered the hospital lobby.

  “Sister Wiley, Sister Wiley,” Deacon Clement rushed toward them, his toupee slipping forward in his haste.

  Esther snatched her hands from Briggs’s grasp. She couldn’t remember when he had taken hold of her. Briggs frowned at her actions, but remained silent.

  Esther faced Deacon Clement. “Deacon Clement . . . You’ve heard?”

  “Yes, yes. We came as soon as we could,” He dabbed his handkerchief across his head, secretly straightening his toupee in the process.

  Sister Abigail Winters stood next to Deacon Clement. She scrutinized Esther, then Briggs with furrowed eyebrows. Although this was a solemn occasion, Abigail was Love Zion’s consummate mudslinging gossip maven.

  “We are so very sorry about Mother Reed, dear. We all know how close the two of you were. I mean, are . . .” Abigail snidely remarked as she inched closer to Esther and Briggs.

  “Thank you, Sister Abigail. We all love her, and we know that God is able,” Esther sniffled with disdain. She wished a hole would open in the floor to consume Abigail and her faithless comments.

  Abigail dismissed Esther—there was no love lost there—as she focused her attention on Briggs. “Yes, yes. Is this your young man? He is a handsome one. You’ve been holding out on us.”

  Esther’s face was flush, and she stammered to answer, but Briggs stepped in.

  “Hello, as a matter of fact, I’m Pastor Stokes, your interim pastor. I’m sorry we’re meeting at such a grave time, but I’m glad to see the love that is evident between the members of Love Zion.” Briggs’s gaze was intense as he placed emphasis on the word love.

  Deacon Clement briskly shook Briggs’s hand. “Welcome, son, welcome. I was under the weather when the deacon board met you. We’re glad you’re here.”

  Abigail studied Esther and Briggs. Deacon Clement knew by the expression on Abigail’s face that something was not to her liking. Esther, having experienced Abigail’s rumor mill before, also saw the wheels turning in her devious mind.

  Esther was priming for a fight. She couldn’t wait for God to deliver Abigail from her messiness. She was about to derail Abigail’s mudslinging by explaining why Briggs was holding on to her when her parents arrived. She breathed a sigh of relief because if anybody could handle Abigail, it was her mother.

  “Esther, how is Mother Reed?” her mother asked as she anxiously approached.

  Esther’s father stood close waiting for her answer.

  “Mama, we haven’t . . .” Esther began to sniffle . . . she had just been with Mother Reed.

  Briggs held out his hand to Mr. Wiley. “We haven’t heard anything yet. Sir, my name is Briggs Stokes. I’m the new interim pastor for Love Zion.”

  Mr. Wiley shook his hand. “Good to meet you, young man. Sorry it was today. We love Mother Reed like our own. When things get a little less hectic, we’ll have to sit down and get to know each other.” His grip was strong like the man.

  “Thank you, sir, I’d like that.” Briggs took measure of Mr. and Mrs. Wiley—both attractive people. They looked as he had imagined all those years ago.

  Mr. Wiley placed a supporting arm around Elizabeth. “And this is my wife, Elizabeth Wiley.”

  “Mrs. Wiley.” Briggs took her hand and bowed his head in acknowledgment of the introduction.

  Mrs. Wiley patted his hand and gave him a sincere smile.

  Abigail loomed over their introductions. “Oh my goodness, haven’t you two met the new pastor, Sister Wiley?” Not giving them time to answer, Abigail continued. “He and Esther looked so close, why . . . we mistook him for her young man.”

  Esther knew her mother was an old hand at church politics and had a Ph.D. in the shenanigans of Abigail Winters. Abigail was in her usual somber colors, gray or black. Today, she sported a gray polyester pantsuit that sagged on her th
in frame. Her cast iron-gray hair was in an old-fashioned French roll, and her pinched mouth was turned downward in its customary fashion. Only her eyes were alive, stone black and piercing with interest.

  “Abigail, I’m glad that you are now better informed,” Mrs. Wiley said, dismissing her; then she turned to the others. She sensed it was time they joined the real struggle at hand. “I feel that we all need to be praying for Mother Reed. I feel urgency in my spirit that the time is now.”

  Her urgency reminded everyone why they had gathered as Briggs led them in prayer for the recovery of Mother Reed.

  Lights chased across the face of the small monitor screen as it foretold Mother Reed’s condition with small steady beeps. The doctor stood in the corner discussing the need for bypass surgery with a cardiologist.

  As The Leader stood unnoticed in the background, he fumed at the turn of events in the lobby. He had sent fear in to stir up Esther’s memory and to prevent her from focusing on Mother Reed.

  The Leader knew that self-absorption had derailed many miracles in the making. But, Briggs’s reassurance and Elizabeth’s spiritual discernment cast out all fear. As a backup, he rounded up Abigail Winters, one of his best church workers. She was usually able to stir up trouble everywhere she went.

  Abigail’s unhappy childhood kept her gnawing at the happiness of others. Yet, love overcame bitterness, and even the old hag prayed for Mother Reed. He had forgotten the time Mother Reed had nursed Abigail back to health when no one else cared.

  He began to feel faint and sickly. The essence of sweet perfumed prayers was getting to him. He called to his minions and demanded they stay, while he went down into the tunnels so he could be refreshed. They squawked but obeyed as he sent scalding licks of fire against their faces.

  He entered the dark, dank earth and slithered back and forth, unsure if he would win this round. He needed a new game plan; he was losing too many battles lately, and the master was not pleased with him. He knew one thing; before he was sent back to the pits, he would destroy everything in his path, including all the fools in the lobby.

  The number of people in the hospital waiting area had multiplied in the last hour. Everyone who loved Mother Reed was in attendance and in prayer for her recovery.

  Reverend Gregory pushed up from his kneeling position and quieted his members. “Saints, I can feel the peace of the Lord with me now. Mother Reed will be all right. No matter the outcome, she’s in God’s hands.”

  “Yes . . . mmmm, in God’s hands,” Deacon Clement echoed.

  “While so many of our church’s faithful are gathered here, let me make introductions. Some of you have already met Pastor Stokes. He’s a fine, godly young man and will lead you well in my absence,” Reverend Gregory held out his arm for Briggs to come forward.

  Abigail moved around the crowd whispering small words to small minds.

  Briggs smiled and acknowledged everyone. But, Reverend Gregory saw when Abigail passed by, faces changed from welcoming to disapproving.

  Reverend Gregory knew his people well, including Sister Abigail. But, there were times when a pastor’s intervention caused even more dissension. He looked over at his wife. They had been married so long that First Lady Gregory knew her husband’s desires just by looking at him.

  “We’re all so grateful to the Honorable Bishop Stokes for loaning us his assistant pastor, and son,” First Lady Gregory advised everyone.

  The room became a buzz of conversation. As intended, those who were ready to snub Briggs stopped when they realized who his father was. Many of them had stood in the back of coliseums among thousands, just to hear his rousing and passionate sermons. His son was to be their interim pastor? Wait until they called their friends....

  Briggs saw the faces of those before him change instantly. He was saddened that once again it was his father’s name that opened doors, not his own relationship with God. Inside his hurt, he searched for the one face that could sooth his wounded ego—Esther.

  Once Abigail’s intentions were clear, Esther moved to the background. She was the center of hurtful rumors when she was married to Roger, and she vowed never to have her business in the church community again. Esther learned through that experience that everyone shouting, “Hallelujah!” wasn’t heaven bound.

  She felt Briggs’s hurt, but to go to her friend and ease his pain with a kind word and a soothing touch would only make matters worse. She could only send silent waves of comfort and hope he received them.

  Mrs. Wiley walked forward and opened her arms to Briggs. “I want to welcome you again. We, at Love Zion, pride ourselves on our friendliness and kindness. My husband and I are here for you as are the rest of our family.”

  “Especially Esther,” Sister Abigail whispered, though she said it loud enough for most to hear.

  “Yes, of course, Esther, Phyllis, and my son-in law, Charles, are all faithful members of Love Zion, and more important, of God’s will in our lives. We’re at your service.”

  Abigail frowned at the rebuke she received from Elizabeth’s comments. She crossed her arms and clamped her mouth shut at the snickers she heard at her expense.

  “Let them laugh,” she mumbled. “I saw those two, and something was up, and I aim to be watching them.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Phyllis’s heels clicked through the solemn hall of the hospital. She had been out of touch yesterday, and she received the voice mail that Mother Reed was in the hospital today. She felt bad that she and Charles had both missed being here. She was thankful that the voice mail from Esther relayed Mother Reed’s condition. She was out of danger, and she could now have a few visitors. Phyllis was hoping she could be one of them. She wasn’t as close to Mother Reed as her sister, but she loved her.

  Phyllis entered the room and saw Mother Reed’s small frame encased in hospital white.

  “Come in, darling. Mother is still here,” she heard her raspy voice state.

  Phyllis pressed her hands together. “Praise the Lord you are talking, Mother.”

  Mother Reed teased, “Well, chile, Mother been talking pert near seventy-nine years now.”

  Phyllis smiled. She knew if Mother’s humor was intact, all was well. She pulled her chair up to her bed. “I’m glad it was only a mild heart attack. You rest, I’ll just sit here and read you some scriptures. Prayer changes things. I don’t want you to tire yourself out trying to talk.”

  Mother Reed slowly pointed to a book on her table. “Read that to me,” she instructed.

  Phyllis looked at the book, Joy by Victoria Christopher Murray. “Isn’t this a romance?”

  Mother Reed sighed. “Yes, you have a problem with that?”

  “Well, Mother Reed, I’m just a little surprised, that’s all. This is fantasy, and I would have never thought that the mother of our church would be engaging in this kind of activity,” Phyllis chided, forgetting Mother Reed’s condition.

  Mother Reed struggled to a semi-sitting position. Phyllis looked horrified. She had overstepped her boundaries.

  “Phyllis, you make my backside hurt!” Mother Reed said exasperated. “How in the world did you become such a critical young woman?”

  Phyllis was alarmed that Mother Reed was expending too much energy to chastise her. Reprimanded, she grabbed the book and began to read.

  Mother Reed decided to let the subject drop. She leaned back and listened to the story, amazed at Phyllis’s wonderful voice. It was soothing and expressive. Soon, she drifted off to sleep. Later, when Mother Reed woke, Phyllis was sitting in the same chair reading feverishly.

  Mother Reed cleared her throat. “Um, you still here?”

  Sheepish, Phyllis held up the book. “It’s not what I thought. It’s a good story.”

  “Yes, I like a good story. You can’t always be in the Bible, even though it is the best book I know.” Mother Reed smoothed out her bedding, her eyes focused on Phyllis.

  Phyllis hung her head in shame. “I’m sorry I sounded so self-righteous.”
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br />   Mother Reed decided to be frank. “Well, I know you have some hurts, and sometimes that causes us to be discontented with everything in our life.”

  Phyllis glared at Mother Reed like she had no idea what she was talking about.

  Mother Reed glared back and pronounced, “No harm in admitting you’re not perfect, Phyllis. It will really make ya free.”

  In a fit of pique, Phyllis stood. “Mother, what are you talking about? Please explain.”

  “You and Charles both want a child. Sweetie, some nights you cry from the aching.” Mother Reed shook her head, weary from their pain.

  Phyllis gasped at Mother Reed’s observation. Had others seen their gnawing desire? Her need?

  “Shall I go on?” Mother Reed asked. Phyllis’s permission was needed to go down this road.

  Phyllis’s eyes watered as her knees weakened and she sat. “Please.”

  “The abortion didn’t cause this. God is not punishing you. He—”

  Phyllis bolted from her chair and ran out of the room. She saw some church members walking toward her and headed down the nearest stairwell. She stopped after running down two flights of stairs and collapsed on the landing in uncontrollable sobs. She was so ashamed. How could Mother Reed know her secret?

  “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry,” she cried into the empty stairwell.

  Mother Reed cursed her infirmity. There was a time she could have sprinted after Phyllis and finished what she had started.

  “This medication has my brain rattled,” she whispered, “otherwise, I would have said that a lot better.”

  The door to her room opened abruptly, and Mother Reed was glad Phyllis came back.

  “Look at you, Mother Reed, sitting up and all,” Abigail said as she entered with two other church sisters.

  Lord, deliver me from evil, Mother Reed thought. She needed to finish what she started with Phyllis, and the enemy had just jumped into her camp. Mother Reed looked over at Abigail and immediately felt tired. She refused to call her sister until she became one. This woman had so many emotional cuts and bruises that she tried the most diligent of saints.