The Devil Made Me Do It Page 25

  Briggs confirmed his new standing. “I’m good, Mother. As a matter of fact, I was going to call you for that very reason. My wife, Monica, is here.”

  “My goodness! You’ve just let me go on and on and haven’t given me your good news. No wonder we haven’t heard from you. You over there courting. Now, Mama gon’ go in this c’here kitchen and pull out y’all favorite food. What she like, Briggs? I’m gon’ make y’all an old-fashioned country feast. So get ready to come on over Saturday.” Mother Reed was excited to be cooking what she considered real food again.

  Briggs tried to catch her enthusiasm, but this was Mother Reed. “We have some problems to get through, Mother.”

  Mother snorted. “So, you fasting all week?”

  Briggs knew he was caught short. “No, ma’am.”

  “Humph, besides the point that you probably ought to be, there’s nothing stopping you from eating. So I ’spect to see you two Saturday. All right?”

  “All right, I love you, Mother. You keep me straight,” Briggs said, smiling.

  “God always sends a ram in the bush, Briggs, always.”

  Briggs felt Mother Reed’s last statement was mysterious. But growing up with elders visiting his home and making cryptic remarks, he was used to deep revelations. He was sure he would understand it later.

  They hung up, each in their own world. Mother Reed was happy about cooking something with seasoning and butter. Briggs was making note to call Charles. Trying to figure out how he would tackle the problems between him and his wife was a steep mountain he would hike up later.

  After a full day at the church, Briggs ended the call he was on with his mother. He was pulling into the gas station and he didn’t talk and pump gas. A young man was filling his tank while his music blared loud through his window. When the gangsta rap fouled the air with cursing, he decided to speak up. “What’s up, young brother? You think you can give us a break on the sounds?”

  The young man’s hardened stare pierced Briggs’s heart. When did we lose these children? he wondered.

  “Man, I don’t know you. Back up off of me,” he barked, pulling his sagging pants up.

  Briggs rounded the car. “Well, now, that can be remedied. I’m Pastor Stokes. I’d like to invite you to Love Zion Fellowship this Sunday, or even on Thursday evening. That’s our youth night. We serve some great pizza.”

  “You serve pizza? Oh, goody, I’ll run right over,” he said sarcastically before he stopped with a look of recognition on his face.

  “Hey, did you say, Stokes. Love Zion? Oh, snap. You that pastor that be getting it on in the church office?” the young man said, laughing. “Yea, I’ll show up at your church, and you can introduce me to them saved little honeys. Shoot, you the mack daddy. Wait ’till I tell my grandma I’m coming to her church this Sunday.”

  Briggs’s mouth stood wide open as he watched the young man get in his car and screech off. The music’s foul lyrics lingered in the air.

  Chapter Forty-two

  An agitated Briggs walked into a house that smelled delicious. He sniffed the air in appreciation. Monica hadn’t cooked liked this since—well—never. He paused before entering the kitchen, wondering what approach was best. He and Monica needed to talk, and then talk some more. He heard humming and looked up to see a vision of Monica he didn’t know existed. She was clean faced, sans makeup, with worn blue jeans molding her slender hips. Her plain blouse hugged her in all the right places, but was not low cut. Her only jewelry, her wedding ring and the two carat diamond earrings he bought her on their second anniversary. No bling, no skintight jiggling.

  Monica smiled. “Good, you’re here. You couldn’t have arrived at a better time. I think your mother’s lemongrass chicken came out perfect. And I just took the rosemary potatoes out of the oven. And if you think I’m playing, wait until you taste the asparagus. I grilled it just the way you like it. Go wash up, and we can sit down.”

  Briggs would have loved to give Monica the silent treatment. But, lemongrass chicken? He could taste the lemon and lime rolling across his palate. Indeed, God directs our path. We just need to be observant and take the right road. Briggs chose the road of obedience.

  “I’ll be right back. It smells delicious.” Briggs hurried to the bathroom.

  He returned to the kitchen and was surprised by the simple, but charming place settings.

  “I hope you don’t mind sitting in here. I thought it would be cozier than the dining room.” Monica continued to place food on the table.

  Briggs rubbed his hands together and started filling his plate. “This looks great.” He placed his full plate in front of him and stretched out his hand to Monica to bless the food. “Father, bless the food for the nourishment of our bodies. Bless the hands that cooked it, and the means to provide it. Allow our dinner conversation to be of one accord. Amen.”

  Monica grinned at the first satisfied moan out of Briggs’s mouth. “Good?”

  “So good, I believe seconds will be in order.” He took a few more bites, and then wiped his mouth with his cloth napkin. “You know, we have major problems a good meal won’t cure.”

  “I know that, but I thought if you saw I was trying, that maybe you would believe we could get past our issues.” Briggs studied her as tears welled in her eyes making them glisten and her appearance vulnerable.

  Briggs took another bite and asked the deciding question. “Can you tell me the truth? And allow me to tell mine?”

  “What if the truth hurts? What if you can’t take my truth?” Monica asked, fearful of his answer.

  Briggs laid down his fork and patted his mouth dry. “I can’t make any promises. I’ve met a wonderful woman. Her name is Mother Reed, and she invited us to dinner on Saturday.” Briggs paused before continuing. “I shared some things from my past with her, and it was the most painful and exhilarating experience. Afterward, I felt free. Maybe with God as our guide we can re-create that atmosphere of acceptance here, tonight.”

  Monica nodded her head in agreement, and they both silently decided to finish their meal in peace.

  Their meal completed, Monica cleared the table, and Briggs went into the family room. He put on a worship CD and walked through the room praying. The room was so peaceful; he could tell Reverend Gregory must have spent some quality prayer time in it.

  Monica stood at the door, tears spilling down her cheeks, her face draining of color. “I can’t do this, Briggs, I can’t. Maybe next week,” she sobbed.

  Before she could turn to leave, Briggs grasped her hand and guided her into the room. “Yes, you can. We have to, or we’re destined to fail even further.”

  “You start then, Briggs,” Monica said through her sniffles.

  Briggs rubbed at the tight feeling in his chest. “I don’t know if you remember when we first met, there was a young lady named Esther I used to talk about.”

  Monica snorted. “You mean you used to sing about, dream about, drink about . . . that Esther?”

  Briggs considered that this was easier said than accomplished. “Okay, let’s lay some ground rules. When we are telling it all, no one gets to interrupt, because it’s hard enough to tell it the first time. No one gets to make snide remarks, even when their feelings are hurt.” Briggs looked over at Monica’s dried tears and heated eyes at the mention of Esther’s name. He noted her small fists balling up in anger. “And no one gets physical.”

  “Yeah, well, you remember all these rules when it’s your turn to listen.” Monica folded her arms with an evil glare. “Continue, Briggs. I’ll be quiet.”

  Briggs cleared his throat. “Esther lives in Detroit.” He heard Monica’s snort and paused. “And, no, I didn’t know that when I took this assignment.”

  Monica nailed him with a piercing glare.

  Briggs stumbled to clear up his statement. “Okay, let me rephrase that. Yes, I knew she lived here, but I didn’t know she was a member of Love Zion. Detroit’s a big place, and it’s been ten years.”

  Monica g
asped when Briggs stated Esther attended Love Zion. She stood, and then sat back down, rigid and unmoving.

  Beginning to perspire, Briggs hurried to finish. “I felt a strong attraction for her when we met again.” Monica clapped her hands and rubbed them together in angst at his admittance. He held up his hand and continued. “An attraction I did not act on.”

  Frowning, Monica folded her arms and waited, but Briggs appeared done. “My turn?”

  Briggs nodded, and Monica unfurled her arms. “I had an attraction too.” She exhaled, her voice becoming brittle. “I, however, did act on it. I’ve . . . had an affair.”

  Briggs grabbed the couch pillow and pounded it against his knee. He strode to the door, and then returned. He gulped, but no words were formed. Finally, he sat and gritted his teeth. A teardrop slid down his face and rested in the cleft in his chin.

  Monica moaned and wept freely. “I . . . don’t . . . want to hurt . . . anymore. Forgive . . . me please,” she hollered.

  Compassionate for anyone hurting, Briggs gathered her in his arms. He held on until the tightness in his chest eased and resolve replaced it. Monica sobbed out her pain, her fears, and her insecurities that she was never good enough for him, his parents, or the church.

  Together, they slumped to the floor. Briggs revealed his own insecurities and his need to be seen as his own man. He shared his feelings of rejection, abandonment, and embarrassment when she refused to take her rightful place and join him in Detroit. He admitted to Monica his shortcomings behind the malicious rumors, and how he now saw the part he played in them.

  They listened, they accused, the rules were broken, and more of Mrs. Gregory’s Lladró was smashed.

  Chapter Forty-three

  Concealing his true state of mind, Charles periodically bobbed his head to the music playing through the stereo earphones on his head.

  He was startled when Phyllis appeared before him mouthing that the telephone was for him as she passed him the cordless.

  Slow to respond, Charles pulled his earphones off. “Hello, Charles speaking.”

  “Hey, man, this is Briggs. I wanted to call and see if you had some time to hang out today.”

  “I don’t need any hand holding, Pastor Stokes. I got this,” Charles barked.

  “It’s not Pastor Stokes calling, it’s Briggs. And, now I know you’ve gotten all my voice mails the last three days. How about if I let you hold my hand? Earlier this week, when I got home, Monica was at the house.”

  Charles mellowed his tone. “Nah, man, you’re kidding. What did she say?”

  “Initially, she said a lot of mumbo jumbo about trying to find herself and missing me. It took all I had not to strangle her. Then it got real.”

  Charles whistled. “Hey, we should hang out for a while. Why don’t you come by the house? Phyllis has a hair appointment every Friday, man. She’ll be gone around four hours.”

  Briggs snickered. “That’s all? Listen, Monica used to leave the house and be gone all day.”

  “Yeah, hair, nails, eyebrows, on and on. I must admit my baby looks good when she gets home. Although, truth be told, that sleeping pretty thing really ain’t that pretty. But when a woman looks good, she acts good, if you know what I’m talking about,” Charles stated jokingly.

  “I hear you,” Briggs said wishing he had the same testimony.

  Esther rode up in the hospital elevator clipping her plastic visitor badge to her cashmere sweater. It had been three grueling days of sitting vigil over Lawton as he fell in and out of consciousness. Not mentally or emotionally ready to go home, she’d been staying in her old room at her parents’. She was learning it was true, home is where the heart is.

  Leaving the elevator, she waved to the hospital staff, stopped at Lawton’s door, and peeped in. She was excited to see that he was alone. Yippee, got my baby to myself.

  “Who’s there?” Lawton asked shakily as he tried to sit up.

  “Lawton!” Esther said, happy and surprised to see he was lucid and talking. She pumped antibacterial wash on her hands and rushed to his bedside.

  “That’s me; at least, I think it’s me.”

  “Sweetie, it’s you. All that big head can’t be anyone else,” Esther teased as she bent over his bed and stroked his face.

  “How are you going to make fun of a man on his sickbed?” Lawton croaked.

  “You’re such a perfect specimen, kidding you is easy,” she joked adjusting his pillow.

  Lawton was quiet and had failed to make eye contact with Esther.

  “Lawton?” Esther asked, unsure of his reaction to her presence.

  Lawton turned and looked directly at her. “Hey.”

  “How do you really feel?” she asked, concerned that he was in pain.

  “Fine,” Lawton answered, turning away from her.

  “Is there something wrong? No, scratch that. Lawton, what’s wrong with you?” Esther was bewildered. She had waited three days for him to wake up. Too many times she had played nice. She was never playing the fool again. “If you don’t want me here, please say so.” Esther couldn’t believe she was getting the cold shoulder.

  Lawton turned and asked sullenly, “Isn’t there somewhere else you’d rather be?”

  “For heaven’s sake, where else would I need or want to be?” she said, exasperated.

  “Church maybe,” Lawton said sarcastic as he grimaced in pain.

  Esther was at a loss as to why such a usually sweet-tempered man was acting so rude. It’s obvious he’s hurting. I’ll just ignore it. “Baby, you had me so worried.”

  Lawton pointed at the wires connecting him to the monitors. “These make me look worse than I feel.”

  Esther was relieved that Lawton’s distance was due to him not wanting to look weak. She decided to share so he would understand that they could be vulnerable with each other. “Poor, sweetie, I know how it feels to be vulnerable. Can you believe that yesterday, my parents told me about a horrible rumor that was going on about me and Pastor Stokes at Love Zion? People are so wrong sometimes.” She shook her head.

  Lawton tried to sit up. “What rumor?”

  “That Briggs and I are having an a-a-affair. If it wasn’t for your accident, I might have been more upset by the lie, but knowing you were here fighting your own battle made mine seem so insignificant.”

  Lawton’s grimace eased at Esther’s simple explanation. Loathed to let her know the damaging thoughts he had harbored and mentally kicking himself for doubting her, he sought the means to move forward. “Don’t let these wires scare you. You can move a little closer. Mom told me you’ve been here every day. Did I tell you how much you mean to me?” Now his demeanor was warm and inviting.

  Esther gave him a relieved smile. “Well, you were acting a little strange when I first came in the room, but you seem to be acting like yourself now. I guess you were just in pain.”

  “In more ways than one,” he mumbled. “Can I have a little kiss? It would be the perfect medicine,” he implored with an impish twinkle in his eye.

  Esther leaned over and placed a tender kiss on Lawton’s forehead. Her heart blossomed, and she felt a feeling of contentment just being able to talk to him. Today’s progress was miraculous. “So tell me, Mr. Serve and Protect, what have you heard from the doctors this morning?”

  “That today, I’ve turned a corner. I’m surprised they haven’t barged in here already. I seem to remember them in and out all night and hearing Mama pleading for them to let me rest.”

  Esther laughed. “I was here too. But, your mother, well . . .”

  Lawton peeked at her. “You were? Well, about my dear mama. I told her that I had asked you to be my wife, and that when we married, we wanted her to come and live with us.”

  Esther stood up sputtering. “But, Lawton . . . I haven’t even said I would marry—live with us? Do you have any idea—?”

  Lawton held his side and grimaced a shaky laugh. “Ooh, that hurts, stop, stop! Your face was so comical. Do I look like a
mama’s boy? Babe, we would drive her crazy!”

  Esther laughed in relief. “I don’t know, after meeting your mama.” When she saw the offended look on his face, Esther tweaked his nose in a gentle way. “I think you better take it easy. Your ribs are bruised and laughing that hard could throw something out of whack.”

  Lawton settled back into his pillow. “Out of whack, Nurse Esther?”

  “Oh, please . . .” Esther stated as the door swung open and the nurse entered.

  The nurse was brisk and professional. “Sorry, ma’am. The doctor will be here shortly. So if you don’t mind . . .”

  Esther moved to leave. “I’ll be right outside, and I’ll come back in when they say it’s okay.”

  “Okay, sweetheart.” Lawton frowned when the nurse pricked him with the needle.

  The door swung closed behind Esther, and Nurse Williams then stuck a thermometer in Lawton’s mouth. He wanted her to finish so Esther could come back in. He hadn’t shared that Sergeant Ford had visited him right before she came in and stated his car chase and subsequent accident was under police investigation. It seemed his partner, Glen, claimed he was reckless.

  Chapter Forty-four

  Charles and Briggs sat nodding their heads in time to the music.

  “I hear that old dude didn’t stand a chance,” Briggs said about Charles’s fight.

  Charles brushed the incident off, even with Phyllis, preferring to perform like the hero who took it all in stride. But he couldn’t pull off the act for himself, and he’d had some sleepless nights since it all went down. His heart froze just thinking about what could have happened.