The Devil Made Me Do It Read online

  Esther wanted him to know it hadn’t always been bad. “He wasn’t always a predator.”

  “Tell me about him,” Lawton encouraged as his fingers rubbed her arm.

  “When we first met, there was a vulnerability about him. He told me all the time how good I was for him, and how much he needed me, and I guess I needed that. I had let someone down before by not being there for them, and I felt that I could make that up through Roger. Sort of like balancing the cosmos, you know?” Esther hoped he understood her youthful mind-set.

  Lawton only asked, “And did you?”

  “No, the more I did, the more he resented me. Soon the yelling turned into hitting, and I ended the marriage.” Esther spoke without rancor. She had made peace with that part of her past.

  “He abused you?” Lawton rumbled so low Esther almost didn’t hear him.

  She bowed her head. “It’s hard to admit, even now. Yes, he did abuse me—emotionally, mentally, and in the final days, physically. Everything he was doing to my soul, he finally tried to take out on my body. But in some ways, I think I abused him too. My eyes never lit up when he came into a room. I never longed to hear his voice or to see his smile. I couldn’t love who I pitied, and knowing someone will never love you is painful.”

  Lawton shook his head at her generosity of spirit. “You sound like you feel sorry for him.”

  “No, I just forgive him. He tried to make my life a living hell, but the gates did not prevail. The contrary spirit in him failed to overcome the godly spirit in me.”

  Lawton motioned for Esther to move back over to her chair, “A man who findeth a wife, findeth a good thing. You are my good thing, and before it’s all said and done, I’m going to marry you, Esther Wiley.”

  Esther smiled, content to be in this room, with this man. She couldn’t say she was even surprised by his declaration. Their connection was just that special. “Say that to me again. When you can declare your love by getting down on one knee, then you may just have yourself a bride.”

  Lawton grinned, and then began to push the bell for the nurse.

  Esther was alarmed. “What are you doing? Are you in pain?”

  The door flew open, and a nurse rushed in. “Are you all right, Mr. Redding?”

  Lawton’s smile was blinding. “I’ve never been better. I just need to see the doctor right away, and a physical therapist. I’ve got two goals: to get out of here, and to be able to get down on one knee.”

  Esther cracked up as the nurse looked disgruntled at her time wasted and marched off. She looked at Lawton lovingly and decided to share with him all about her childhood as a member of the tenacious three and how their separation shaped her.

  As Lawton settled down and closed his eyes, a small gasp escaped Esther’s mouth. Should she share with Lawton her past with Briggs? She had a deep suspicion that answer was no.

  Chapter Forty-six

  Sunday morning was overcast, the sun hid behind polluted laden clouds. It was as if the sun didn’t want to start the day either. Briggs commiserated with it. The dinner at Mother Reed’s house went downhill from the moment he realized she was only being polite to Monica. Monica was clueless and thought she had won Mother Reed over. The entire ride home was filled with how she would do the same with the rest of the congregation.

  Arriving home, Monica was pumped, twirling, and cha-chaing around the house. She snapped her fingers in triumphant glee. “I have a plan to shut up all the noise at the church. I got you, babe. Listen . . .” Monica outlined her strategy as Briggs pondered her scheme.

  “You know, I hate to say this, but your plan will work better than the one I thought up.”

  “Of course . . . men aren’t as good at this type of thing as us women.” Monica then continued her dance, undressing on the way back to his bedroom.

  Briggs held up his hands. “Hold up there, Gypsy Rose Lee. Grab up those clothes and cha-cha on back to the guest room.”

  “Really? You gon’ put a halt to this?” Monica swept her hands down her camisole, G-string-clad body.

  Briggs shook his head, strolled past her, and locked his bedroom door. He peeled off his socks to doors slamming, brushed his teeth, and cringed at the foul language, and before his head hit the pillow, the breaking started. He fell asleep counting the number of items he would need to replace before the Gregorys came home.

  The morning had been tense, and Briggs was no longer sure if Monica was up to her own plan. He looked at her as they entered the church. She was dressed to the nines and looked beautiful in her burnt-orange designer suit and matching hat. Her Stuart Weitzman rust and tan pumps showcased a catwalk across the checkered tile. He marveled that someone who looked so good could be so tainted. He admonished himself. If he couldn’t bring forgiveness into his own home, how could he ask it of others?

  Dear Father, I pray this works. You said to be as wise as a serpent and as harmless as a dove. And I’m trying. I know that I allowed all this to get out of hand. But if You will just give me mercy, Lord, I promise, I’ll be a better Christian and leader. Please, Father, for everyone’s sake. Amen.

  Briggs and Monica walked into his private office to prepare for service as other members entered through the front entrance of Love Zion Church.

  Esther strolled with her mother into the church vestibule, updating her on Lawton’s progress. Phyllis trailed behind, speaking low to Charles. “Does this feel like déjà vu to you?” Phyllis asked.

  Charles took his wife’s hand and kept up with the others. “Being a part of the Wiley family has never been dull. I seem to remember us coming in here once or twice to do battle. Guess what?”

  “What?” Phyllis asked.

  “God always won.” Charles held her hand. He noted the stares of people, and the muttering that accompanied their promenade down the hallway heading to the sanctuary. He had always admired his in-laws, and today they were doing him proud. No rushing for cover, but they sauntered, heads high, as though they were attending an afternoon stroll through a flowered park. He grinned at Phyllis.

  “You look good, baby. Strut your stuff,” he whispered.

  Phyllis put even more emphasis on the swing in her hips as she tilted her head up in the air.

  Charles admired the view. “Awww, sookie, sookie, now.”

  Phyllis pointed when she sighted a purple plumed hat. “There’s Mother Reed, and it looks like she’s waiting for us.”

  Mother Reed stood staring at the family her heart had adopted when her good friend, Esther’s grandmother, befriended her all those years ago. Together, they had buried Esther’s grandfather, and finally, Mother Reed was left to bury her. They were closer than sisters, and these were her children who were being messed with. She and her God wouldn’t stand for it too much longer. She had heard the sniggers and snippets of, “I’m just telling you, so you can pray for them,” or, “Now, honey, I ain’t the one to gossip, but did you hear about . . .” Mother Reed held her arms open, and Esther stepped into them.

  “I’m sorry, I haven’t seen you. There’s just been so much going on. But you’re too important to me to be placed on a back burner. Forgive me?” Esther bent over to lay her head on Mother Reed’s shoulder.

  Mother Reed smiled at the gentleness of Esther’s touch, and her memories flitted back to when Esther had first laid her head on her shoulder when she was a little freckled-faced girl. As the years passed and their positions switched, Esther still showed reverence by pretending that Mother Reed was physically the same robust woman she once was.

  Mother Reed patted Esther’s hand. “I know your heart, child. I know your heart. What I don’t know is this new young man of yours. I’m gon’ make a lovely supper and hav’ you both over as soon as he’s up and about. You just let me know.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but it’s going to be awhile. Lawton’s pushing it, but healing has its own time table. He’s now in the trauma wing, and then he’ll be moved to rehabilitation.” Esther nodded when her parents walked up.

 
Elizabeth put her arm through her husband’s and spoke to everyone. “We’re all here together, strong, invincible because of the God we serve. Head up, Esther.”

  Hickman winked at his youngest daughter and led the way into the sanctuary. Everyone paused when they saw a vision of loveliness in burnt orange sitting on the dais next to Briggs. Hickman recovered first and continued into the sanctuary. Amid whispers and staring they slid into the pew.

  Comments circled around them, “Well, he left her high and dry, didn’t he?” “Who’s the woman in orange?” “Is that his wife?” “She’s gorgeous. Poor Esther.”

  Esther’s answering thoughts were malicious. I got a man, thank you very much.

  Phyllis directed her glare in a 180-degree sweep, making sure they received her full venomous wrath. She touched her sister in support.

  Abigail Winters slowed at the Wiley pew and bowed her head to Esther as though in mourning. Esther gave her a hostile glare and tuned everyone out. She didn’t come to church for this. She needed a word.

  Briggs approached the podium. “Good morning, Love Zion,” he said in a loud, jovial voice. There was a hush, and then a very weak response from the congregation.

  Briggs smiled confidently. “Now, I know y’all don’t want my wife to think that Love Zion’s members are not pleased to have her here.” There were several gasps and an explosion of murmurs as he started again, “So . . . good morning, Love Zion.”

  “Good morning, Pastor,” a resounding echo retorted.

  Briggs shouldered on. “This lovely lady, who was delayed in coming to be with us, is now here, and as you can see, in full effect!”

  Several members laughed, and some men in the congregation returned, “Amen to that.”

  “I’ll let her speak to you in her own words. Let’s receive her by saying, ‘Thank God for Sister Monica.’” Briggs turned and gestured for Monica to join him.

  The church responded and waited in anticipation as Monica stood at the podium.

  “My brethren, I am so glad to join you and have heard so much about all of you from my husband and dear friends. I have heard about the generosity of saints like Mother Reed and Deacon Clement. However, I would be remiss in not thanking one person in particular. I want to publicly thank a good friend to all, and especially me, Esther Wiley, for assisting Briggs in becoming acclimated to his new job. It’s good to have God’s people in your corner. Am I right, church?”

  “Amen,” they chorused back.

  “Yes, I want to thank you all. It is the pure heart that gets the job done. Oh, before I forget, I also wanted to thank Sister Abigail Winters. It is my understanding that she was very instrumental in keeping our members in ministry. She stirred things up and kept people in constant communication with each other. We need someone who encourages us to stay at the foot of His throne.”

  The church snickered and looked over at Abigail who clutched her purse to her bosom as she rocked in agitation.

  Briggs stood next to Monica and hugged her as he led her to her seat and motioned for the choir to begin ministering. Eyes downcast, he combed the congregation, connecting, and then disconnecting just as quickly, with Esther.

  Monica leaned toward Briggs, her church fan hiding her words. “Well? Am I once again in your good graces?”

  Briggs turned to her and stated between a fake grin, “I didn’t ask you to lie. You laid it on pretty thick about Esther being your friend.”

  “I didn’t say she just was my friend. I said she was a friend to all. By the way, Sister Winters will not be a problem anymore. Someone like her could never get the best of someone like me. Baby, we’re going places.”

  Briggs sighed, “Evidently.”

  Briggs’s sermon had the entire congregation fighting to get a place at the altar. He had pulled them from the valley, and raised them to the mountaintop. There wasn’t a person there that wasn’t shouting to the heavens and asking for God’s mercy. The healing at Love Zion had begun.

  Many of the members stood talking, waiting in the receiving line to welcome their new first lady. Monica dazzled many with her polished manners and haunting beauty. Some went through the line with the gossip residue from before the anointed service still on them as they waited to see if any sparks would fly when Esther got to their new first lady.

  Esther moved forward, examining Monica for a physical flaw in her appearance. It didn’t sit well with her that she couldn’t locate one. Physical perfection was overrated. “First Lady Monica, so glad to see you again.” Esther loudly alluded to Monica’s earlier announcement.

  Monica ground her back teeth in annoyance, and noisily responded, “Is that you, Esther? Girl, you’ve put on some weight since the last time I saw you. You’re kinda chunky there, girl. My bad that I haven’t been to see you.” She coyly tittered behind her hand. “You know how it is when you haven’t seen your husband.”

  Phyllis bumped Esther from behind, egging her on. “No, I’m sorry I don’t. When you have a man like Briggs, it would be foolish to ever leave him alone for too long. Shoot, some big, ol’ bad blast from his past might just snatch him up,” Esther growled.

  Monica’s fingernails dug into her palms. “Honey, you need to remember Lot’s wife. Looking back cost her.”

  Esther gasped that Monica had pulled out the Word of God on her. Phyllis bumped her hard, but Esther disengaged and gave a stiff smile as she nodded; checkmate.

  Briggs’s eyes got large, and he looked to make sure that no one could hear the sparring words exchanged after the women’s initial greeting. The harsher the words, the lower they spoke. Both were gritting teeth and spitting nails.

  “Esther, you and Monica must do this again some other time,” Briggs said meaningfully, looking over her shoulder at the line snaking the hallway.

  Monica’s smile was electric when she took Briggs’s arm. “Well, Esther, you heard from the man, himself. You’ve been dismissed.”

  Esther went total hood in her response. “Oh, you don’t want this. Child, please.” Then she swished away.

  The still air had a supernatural aura. Only the most attuned could hear the symphony of rattles.

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Esther’s boots glided across the worn tile, her coat hanging open as she clipped the visitor’s pass to her lapel. It had been a month since Monica had set the record straight at church, and their ridiculous showdown afterward. She’d endured her mother’s scolding of her behavior and Mother Reed’s silent disappointment. It was a good thing they were the ones standing behind her in line. Esther couldn’t understand what came over her, but she just couldn’t seem to shut up. She wanted to say, like Geraldine, on the old Flip Wilson Show, “The devil made me do it.” But she knew that her Bible-studying mother might have hit her with some old-time wisdom. The devil ain’t powerful, God is.

  The upside of Monica’s arrival? The rumors had died a sudden death. The downside? Monica had arrived. She managed to be everywhere at church where Esther was, lording her position over everyone. In the best of circumstances, Esther admitted it would be hard-pressed to like her. But, for real? This girl was a trip and a half.

  Esther grunted, “Looking forward is the key; just keep moving forward.” Her concentration needed to be on Lawton. She made it to the hospital every day, and when he was moved to the rehabilitation wing, she came at least four times a week. Her honey got bored lying around.

  Their only dark cloud was waiting for Roger’s trial to end and Lawton’s clearance from the car crash investigation. Esther checked her watch and hurried down the hospital rehabilitation wing’s corridor. Lawton’s progress remained impressive. No longer in a wheelchair, his walker was put away two days ago. Getting the hang of using his cane had him hoping his doctor would release him soon.

  Esther reached Lawton’s room, but the hospital bed was empty and the room dark. That’s odd; rehab is usually over by this time of day.

  She settled down in a chair when music floated through the curtain from the next be
d.

  The curtain crawled open, revealing an empty space where the bed used to stand, and in its place was a linen-covered table for two with candles burning in soft luminosity. Lawton held his body tightly to minimize his discomfort, and then limped on his cane toward the set table and motioned Esther over.

  Esther rushed to help him sit. “What have you done, crazy man?”

  After sitting and taking a breath, he eased from the chair and sank in slow motion to his knee, using his cane as a brace. “I was cleared of all charges today, so I’m gainfully employed. The camera showed—yes—I was in a high-speed chase, but the other driver slammed on his brakes causing the accident.” Caressing her hand he kissed it. “The hospital is not the best setting, but I’m on bended knee, and if it means anything to you, I’ll stay here the rest of my life honoring you, as I honor God. There will never be a minute of any day when I won’t love you, and in my last moment on earth, you will be in my thoughts as I go to meet our Father.”

  Teary eyed, Esther sank to her knees and faced him. “And I will marry you and cleave to you. I will submit to you and make you a home where you will be my love. I’ve had wrong, so I know that you are my right.” She leaned forward kissing him sweetly, giving him a seductive smile, then wiggling her bare hand. “I’d like an engagement period of a year, oneness classes, and you need to put a ring on it . . . uh, baby . . . my knees are killing me.”

  Lawton gave a full belly laugh, pulled himself up, and then sat and assisted Esther. “Sweetheart, I’m already ahead of you. We have an appointment with the jeweler two weeks from today. The doctor told me that’s the day I’m out of here. Everything else you mentioned is on the agenda too. A year is fine, because at the end of the year, I get you.”