The Devil Made Me Do It Page 12

  “How are you, Abigail?”

  “What’s more important is how you are,” Abigail said in a syrupy sweet voice.

  Mother Reed angled her head to see Abigail’s eyes. “Well, the good Lord has seen fit to keep me. So I’m blessed.”

  “You caused all of us some new gray hair. Why, I bet you almost everyone from church has been through here in the last couple of days. We even got to meet the new, young, handsome, interim pastor. He and Esther were both right here, together, so worried about you,” she gushed.

  Mother Reed knew Abigail smelled blood, and like a bloodhound, she would sniff the trail ’till it led her to her prey.

  She turned to Abigail’s companions. “How y’all doing? Y’all all right?”

  They answered together, “Yes, ma’am.” Janie, the younger of the two blurted, “We’re just so glad to see you sitting up and talking, Mother. We thought you was dead for sure.”

  Abigail gasped at the sister’s comment. Mother Reed couldn’t help smirking. She knew that Abigail really hated being with the sisters—as everyone called them—because both were about a Coke short of a six-pack, but they were all she had.

  “Janie, Essie!” Abigail barked at both women.

  They jumped and looked startled by her outburst. “What?” they chorused.

  Abigail’s answer was interrupted by the duty nurse entering the room. “I’m sorry, ladies, but you all will have to leave now. Mrs. Reed has to have her rest.”

  Mother Reed did somersaults in her head as she leaned forward so that the nurse could fluff her pillows. “Thank y’all for coming,” Mother Reed said merrily.

  The demons crowded Mother Reed’s door. They had gained entrance through Abigail, but couldn’t come any closer. Mother Reed’s hedge of protection was in place. They scurried in retreat when the three women left the anointed one’s room. They would report that their enemy was yet with them. The Leader would not be happy and someone would pay.

  The clock ticked, as the large scaly tail moved back and forth in time to its beat. Minions scurried back and forth, bringing large pails of scalding water and adding it to the strong sulfur mix on the steaming rocks. The Leader inhaled and felt better after purging his senses of the sweet perfume that earlier filled his air. He stared at the clock, an invention to monitor time, necessitated because of the fall of mankind. He frowned at the pile of ashes by his feet and kicked the remains of the messenger who brought him bad news. He had not taken the news well when his imps reported they had failed to sabotage Mother Reed’s recovery. Somehow, even her doctors and nurses were not open to their evil thoughts. Abigail had been of no real help. He was hopeful that her obsession with throwing dirt on Briggs and Esther would turn people against them. It didn’t matter what was invented; dirt thrown even haphazardly still clung.

  Time was running out. If he didn’t make a strong move soon, all would be lost. He could feel the spiritual hedge of protection getting stronger, and he knew he needed to hurry. His next steps would be tricky, but he knew that they would work if everyone held true to the fallen nature of man’s character. However, he knew from experience, sometimes man surprised even him. Humans were funny that way. Right when you had them pegged; they did something crazy, like . . . getting saved when they weren’t in trouble, committing self-sacrifice, or standing for good.

  This time he was sure that all would be well in his world. He would simply line everything up, as perfectly as he could, and afterward, sit back and watch the confusion and chaos unfold. In the meantime, he had a gangster rap concert to cover. Lately, some of the stars had actually sought out God and moved over to His camp. See? You couldn’t trust humans. You just had to keep throwing confusion in their path and hope for the best. They were changeable creatures, all of them.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Spirit of Confusion and Chaos was mad with power. The prince of the air had allowed it full reign. It ran to and fro, seeking those caught in weak and inane moments. It was their lack of faith that fed it. It was now airborne, traveling from house to city. It was hungry to be fed, and the victims never mattered. Today, Esther, Briggs, Monica, and Randall would all feel its teeth.

  This was Esther’s “shouldn’a got out of bed, ’cause I sho’ is weary in this here well-doing kinda day.” By her mood it should have been raining; instead, it was a beautiful end of summer, sunshine marathon, and the devil was beating on her, instead of his wife. Love Zion’s properties had trouble brewing with the zoning commission, and church folk was stirred up over mess that Abigail had spread like manure in planting season. Her mother’s phone was ringing off the hook with insinuations concerning her and Briggs being in a relationship. Mind you, Esther wasn’t ruling anything out, but a girl had to be asked before she could get on the floor and dance. She shook her cup and gobbled ice to stay cool, crunching cubes under her forceful chews. Suddenly, her forehead crinkled as she was assaulted with jumbled reflections that landed on one horrific thought. What if Briggs heard the rumors too?

  The pen flowed furiously over the paper until the pressure punctured a hole in the yellow-lined notepad. Briggs ripped out the page, balled it up, and threw it toward the waste basket. It landed next to the dozen other balled up papers on the floor. His Sunday message was not getting completed early. From his desk he could see the sun was shining outside, but it was cloudy with a one hundred percent chance of rain in his office. With all the outrageous comments he overheard in passing, he needed Monica to get over herself and come to Detroit yesterday. How could people have him having an affair by just seeing him talk to someone? And what about the one where he was seen coming out of a seedy motel? He wouldn’t even entertain defending such garbage.

  He knew he should have told everyone a long time ago that he was married, but he had requested Reverend Gregory to keep his personal business private. He had lived in a glass bowl all his life, first as the son, then as the husband. He just wanted people to know him, the man, and the pastor. It might have helped his explanation to everyone that he was never hiding his marriage if he wore his ring. However, it was gaudy with diamonds and gold nuggets protruding from it and the heaviness was uncomfortable when he was working at his desk. Monica wouldn’t hear of a more modest style. As a result, it was more off, than on. Since moving here without her constant nagging to put it on, it was definitely more off.

  Initially, his idea was that people get to know him without the fawning and adoration that came from being associated with his father and/or Monica. People still came up to him after he preached a sermon and after a brief nicety concerning his message, spent all of their time asking how it felt to be the son or husband of someone so famous. Never mind that Monica hadn’t modeled in years. Or, they wanted to know if his father was coming to town soon.

  His plan would have been feasible, but Monica was never supposed to take this long to join him. The longer she took, the longer he put off telling people. His pride didn’t want to admit his wife was not the dutiful, submissive type. He was more than aware that “pride goeth before a fall,” and that he was tittering on the brink of disaster.

  Now, in retrospect, it all looked wrong. When he made the decision to withhold his familial connections, he had no idea that Esther lived here, or that they would be working so closely together. Everything was a mess, and without Monica’s presence, it would be difficult to clear it all up. It was time she made an appearance.

  The Spirit of Confusion reveled in the chaos. In Atlanta, it peeked into the bathroom where it saw Monica soaking. As he ushered in an ill wind, he wondered if she and her lover ever left the bed or bathroom.

  Monica soaked in the Jacuzzi, her painted toes bobbing above the waterline. She smiled as Randall rubbed his face back and forth across her satiny skin, inhaling her fragrance. He was a man living his desires.

  “Stop, Randall!” she squealed.

  “You know that’s not what you want,” he challenged.

  “Boy, I’m not playing with you,” she countered
as she laughed playfully and kicked him away.

  Randall climbed into the water, and they continued their fun until her cell phone rang in the adjoining room. He placed a protective hand around her arm. “Don’t answer it.”

  Monica’s eyes narrowed, pinpointing his hand on her arm. “Now you know I can’t do that, and you certainly didn’t bother to turn yours off earlier.”

  He squeezed her once and removed his hand. “I’ll get it for you,” he sighed, jumped out of the water, and jogged into the bedroom. When he returned cell in hand, he had a robe wrapped around him, and the ringing had stopped.

  Monica was sitting on the chaise lounge toweling herself dry. She reached for her cell and checked the caller ID. The name under the number read Love Zion. “It’s Briggs. A little privacy please while I return this call.”

  “All right, but don’t be long. Besides, you always use speakerphone when you’re completing your bath. I could just stand outside the door and listen, but I’m better than that.” Randall pulled the door closed as he backed out of the room.

  Monica smirked as she tapped out the number. She wasn’t fooled. She knew Randall was at the door listening. “Hello, Briggs?”

  “Good, you saw I called. How you doing, baby?”

  “I’m fine. Was there a particular reason you called?” Monica was cordial but stiff.

  “Can’t a man miss his beautiful wife?”

  Monica glanced at the closed door. “Sure. But, I’m kind of busy right now. I was working with some of the volunteers at Faith Cathedral when you called.”

  “Oh, really? What do you guys have planned?”

  “We’re planning a summer fund-raiser to assist incarcerated women in reuniting with their children.” The lie flowed out of her mouth, smooth as churned butter.

  “Honey, that sounds wonderful. You did let them know that you wouldn’t be around to complete the project, didn’t you?”

  Monica crossed her bare legs, peeved. “Your father has thirty thousand members, Briggs. Someone will finish it. Did you find us the right place to live?”

  “Monica, that doesn’t matter. What matters is your place is here with me. It’s past time for you to come to Detroit. It’s been over a month of me learning the day-today operations, the members, and the community, and at last, I’ll be preaching on Sunday. You should be here.”

  “Briggs, this is the new millennium. Husbands and wives don’t live in each other’s pockets anymore. Some two-career marriages actually live on different coasts. They make it work,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Well, we aren’t going to be one of those couples. And a two-career household has a two-career income. Is someone now paying you for your volunteer time?”

  “Oh no, you didn’t. As your wife, I have my own duties to fulfill. I’m doing me, while you’re there establishing a name for yourself. Stop stressing. I know! I’ll come and visit for a week and meet and greet. Would you like that?” Monica suggested. She kept her eyes on the closed door.

  “What I would like doesn’t seem to count. So I guess I’ll have to take a visit. It’s past time to introduce you to everyone. Have you spent any time with my parents?”

  “Briggs, when you were here I didn’t spend time with them. Your dad is always on the road, and when your mom is not with him, she’s too busy to worry about her heathen daughter-in-law,” Monica criticized.

  Briggs slipped into his well-worn role of the pacifier. “Monica, that’s just not true. They have tried to include you in family activities, but you always beg off. They got over our elopement a long time ago. In the future, when we present them with Briggs Jr., they’ll become your biggest fans.”

  “You have me mixed up with someone sweating their approval,” Monica spat.

  Briggs cleared his throat. “Let’s keep the sarcasm to a low roar. The purpose of this call is to make sure you’re coming to see me. That’s all I’m concerned about right now. When can I expect you?”

  “I’ll call you. Bye . . .” Monica said.

  “I love—” Briggs said just as Monica hung up.

  Monica heard rustling at the door and knew Randall had headed back to bed. Her hands gripped the edge of the chaise and her eyes sparked anger and frustration. She completed toweling herself off and rehearsed telling Randall that she was going to Michigan. She was not looking forward to his objections. But she wasn’t leaving Briggs for Randall until she saw his divorce decree and a wedding ring with her name inscribed on it.

  Too many women skipped the sure thing, and then the pie in the sky didn’t come through. She always bet on the winner. Men were fickle; she learned that from her dear old daddy. He broke her heart so many times growing up that she should have had stock in Elmer’s glue. Her mother did her best trying to mend the jagged pieces together, but the cracks were still there, and only a patient eye could detect them.

  Monica strutted out of the bathroom wrapped in her towel. She approached the bed, ready to use every weapon in her arsenal to placate Randall when she shared her news. He looked up appreciatively as she approached the bed; his eyes telegraphed that the phone call was forgotten. She had his attention. He smiled in anticipation and held his arms open for her warmth.

  The Spirit of Confusion and Chaos danced across the Atlanta skyline; it radiated joy in its night lights, and it could hear the effect of its power wash over the city. It didn’t do the hell thing; earth and its inhabitants were its responsibilities. Briggs, Esther, Monica, and Randall were all in its path of destruction. It circled around heading north. It was time to return to Detroit and complete its assignment. It had other things it wanted to take care of, like what it had in store for that new young mayor.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Briggs ended the call with Monica and began talking to himself as he tore through his desk. “Man, sometimes . . . Lord, give me a clean heart.” He exhaled and answered his ringing phone.

  “Briggs, it’s Esther. How are you?” she stammered.

  To Briggs’s ears, she sounded nervous. “Hey, it’s going. How are things checking out with the zoning commission?”

  “No news to tell you just yet, but I’m looking into things. All of this is just too suspicious. Sooner or later the dirt will come out. In the meantime, we’re going to have to call an emergency meeting of Love Zion’s board members.”

  “I’ll have Naomi schedule it. And I’ll keep praying on it; in the meantime, you keep me posted on whatever you need me to do.” Briggs needed a segue to the conversation he really wanted to have with Esther.

  “Okay, sounds like a plan. So, I guess I’ll see you later?”

  Briggs knew this was his chance. “I do have something else to talk to you about.”

  “Church business?”

  Briggs coughed up his nerve. “No, it’s a personal matter.”

  “Oh?” Esther sounded puzzled.

  Briggs hesitated before he spoke. “I’d like to do it in person, if you don’t mind.”

  Esther stammered again. “What’s going on?” Her voice escalated. “I thought you said everything was okay. I know, you know, to let church gossip pass you by. Don’t let people saying we’re in a relationship get to you. Ignore them, it will die down, and in the interim, no one is really hurt. It’s not like you’re engaged or have a wife.”

  Briggs’s time table just moved up. “Esther, we need to talk today. Can you swing by here? No, better yet, let me meet you.”

  “Okay, now you’re scaring me. What’s going on?” Esther sounded rattled.

  Briggs’s voice was determined. “We’ll talk when I see you.”

  “I’m on my way home. Come by my house. The address is 16555 Edinborough Road. So, I’ll see you in a few?”

  “Yes, I’ll be there shortly,” Briggs said.

  A short while later, Briggs hung his head as he waited for Esther to answer the door. Letting people get to know him without his father or his trophy wife seemed like an innocent plan. He thought of it as a man needing to test hi
s waters and learn who he was for himself. Now, it seemed underhanded and sinister in nature. He honestly never meant to mislead anyone, especially Esther, someone whom he admired and thought of as a real friend. He wished he could either turn back the hands of time or put this off another week, day, or hour.

  The door opened. He was out of time. There she stood, and his heart lurched, but he rejected the feeling. Entering her home he noticed the beautiful décor and how well it all came together. Her home reflected her character . . . warm and inviting.

  On the eastern side of Esther’s home, there was cackling of merriment and imps danced in glee as they looked through her kitchen window. A taller shadow dominated the grassy area.

  A large, curled claw shoved the small, scaly, pimpled hunchback imp standing before him.

  “You dare to stand in front of me, Imp One? Get behind me quickly and you might live. I want to see this unfold,” The Leader demanded.

  “My apologies, O Great One,” the imp said and slithered swiftly behind his leader. “I move, O Titled One. This is so exciting. It is all coming together.”

  “Stop drooling, stupid peasant. You are such a troll,” The Leader said. “This is my plan, my victory. You have done nothing but cause mishaps and missteps. I should make you leave.”

  “Oh no, please. Finally, something is going your way. Let me celebrate with you. Let me be your cheerleader. I can do it. I can, I can!”

  “By all that is evil, shut up! I had to request Confusion and Chaos because of your impotence. Do you think I need you fawning over me?”