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Authors: Lutishia Lovely

BOOK: Divine Intervention
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25
Family Affairs
V
ivian placed her hand behind her neck and moved her head from side to side. There was no doubt that she was stressed, and no doubt that she was literally carrying a world’s worth of worry on her shoulders.
It had abated for a time. Following Tai’s prayer and a brief conversation with her parents, who’d gotten up even earlier than her after arriving at the house last night, a peace that surpassed understanding had enveloped Vivian. It continued as she navigated LA traffic, arrived at Cedars-Sinai, and conversed with Dr. Black. Having had a feeling of what to expect from reading his life story, she was immediately put at ease with his obvious wealth of textbook knowledge combined with a refreshing and soothing down home charm. Dr. Black had been born in Tuskegee, Alabama, to educator parents, and had grown up in Ohio. He’d been fascinated by medicine his whole life, and this continued interest and dedication was immediately evident as he discussed plans for his latest patient. So why had veiled anguish returned to Vivian? Because she’d just left Dr. Black’s office and learned that after performing initial tests on Derrick’s senses, reflexes, mental status, and memory, the doctor had scheduled an MRI. He wouldn’t reveal his thoughts before conclusive evidence was available, but Vivian knew enough to know why MRIs were mostly conducted—brain tumors. There was a very good chance that this was what caused her husband’s symptoms, and an at least fifty percent chance that the tumor was malignant.
“Hey, sistah.” When Carla Chapman had called as Vivian made her way to the hospital, she’d been assured that she didn’t need to add to her already busy schedule by coming to the hospital. But her first lady friend had showed up nonetheless. She was in the hallway by the waiting room, talking on her cell phone when Vivian rounded the corner and thus, was the first person to see her following the meeting with Dr. Black. “What did you find out?”
Vivian took a deep breath and prayed away the unshed tears. “They’re going to perform an MRI . . . tomorrow.”
Carla hid her surprise. “That’s probably best.”
“Yes. The sooner they know what they’re dealing with the faster they’ll be able to treat it.”
Carla enveloped her spiritual sister in a big bear hug, love oozing from every pore. “My dear, dear sister. I cannot imagine what you’re going through. But it’s going to be all right, Vivian. The outcome isn’t up to Dr. Black. It’s up to God.”
“Thank you, Carla. I consider myself a person of faith, but in times like these . . . it’s good to be reminded.”
Carla ran her hand across her friend’s tense back. She thought about how much she loved Lavon, and how devastated she’d be if he were suddenly snatched from her. Then she looked up. “Vivian, Derrick’s son is here.”
Vivian straightened up and turned around. Later, she’d congratulate herself on the blank face she delivered to the obvious lovebirds coming her way. Oh, they tried to play it off; their countenances properly subdued and concerned. But with one look at Princess, Vivian saw a young lady wearing an after-love glow—the relaxed, contented expression of one who’d been satisfied completely. Vivian was more than aware of that look. She’d worn it herself on countless occasions. The recent conversation with Tai flooded into her mind.
“Kelvin and Princess are at a hotel, instead of your house? Ah, hell.”
“Now let’s not jump to conclusions, sistah. They could be in separate rooms.”
“Oh, come on, Vivian. That’s like saying that cows could fly and we both know better than that.”
The cows Vivian was looking at weren’t becoming airborne anytime soon. “Hello, Kelvin . . . Princess.” The greeting was about as dry as the Mojave Desert.
Kelvin leaned in for a hug. “Sorry we’re late, Mom Vee. We overslept.”
How telling, since I’m sure you overslept together.
“I’m glad you’re here.” And she was.
Princess, meanwhile, had peeped Vivian’s eyes as she and Kelvin had approached. She correctly guessed that Vivian’s reader radar was as strong as ever and knew that she needed to call her mother... now! She stepped to Vivian and gave her a heartfelt hug. “Hey, Aunt Viv. How’s Uncle Derrick?”
Vivian filled them in on the latest.
“Mom Vee, you look exhausted,” Kelvin said when she’d finished. “Are you going to go home and get some rest?”
“Maybe later,” was Vivian’s answer. “Princess, have you talked to Tai?”
“I’m getting ready to call her right now.” Princess gave a nod and then walked back toward the front door, pulling her phone out of her purse in the process. She swallowed fear along with her spit and took another calming breath as she waited for her mother to answer the phone.
“Princess, what the hell is going on up there?” Tai asked upon answering. Not “hi, how are you,” or “how is Uncle Derrick?” but rather “what the
hell
was going on?”
This alerted Princess to the fact that Tai probably knew three things: that she’d arrived in LA the night before, that she hadn’t seen Vivian last night, and that she and Kelvin had spent the night in the same hotel.
Damn, damn, damn!
After a few seconds of intense thinking that had followed hours and days of the same, Princess decided that honesty was the best policy. “Mom, you may not like what I’m getting ready to tell you, but I’m very happy with what is happening right now.”
Chagrin didn’t begin to describe the sound of Tai’s voice. “What’s that, Princess, besides you laying up with Kelvin at his hotel?”
Princess took another deep breath, this time swallowing anger before she answered. “I was where I should be,” she said slowly. “With my husband.”
A train could have been driven through the silence that ensued.
“I’m trying to hold my temper,” Tai finally said, talking like someone trying to explain the alphabet to a two-year-old. “If you’re there with Rafael, then why didn’t you say so straight out the gate?”
“I’m here with Kelvin,” Princess clarified.
An explanation obviously clear as mud in Tai’s mind. “I get that,” Tai said, exasperation evident. “But Rafael is there, too?”
“Mom, Rafael is not here. Kelvin and I got married last night.”
Later, Tai would have sworn that the earth stopped spinning in this moment. “You. What?”
“Mom, please, don’t freak out. I love Kelvin, and God does, too. I believe I’m in His will.”
Well, I’ll be damned,
is what Tai thought. “Uh-huh,” is all she said. She was in such a state of shock that she didn’t even realize that she’d hung up the phone without so much as a good-bye to her daughter.
For Tai, the next few hours went by in a haze. She talked to Vivian, who commiserated with her on the news that Princess had delivered, broke the news to a staunch Mama Max, and tried without success to reach Kelvin’s mother, Janeé. By the time King called, whom she hadn’t tried to reach only because she knew he was in the air, she was numb of all feeling, and had almost convinced herself that what she’d heard earlier was only a dream.
“Hey, baby. We just landed in Barbados. There’s another plane in our gate right now so it will be about fifteen minutes before we actually get to deplane. I’m sorry about not calling you during the layover in Dallas, but Daddy left a pretty interesting message on my cell phone and I spent the entire layover talking to him. Tai, you’re not going to believe what he told me.”
“Yeah,” Tai responded before he could go further. “You’re not going to believe what I’ve got to tell you.”
Pause. “Okay, I’m listening.”
“Your daughter got married. To Kelvin . . . your ex-mistress’s son.”
“What?” King’s loud reaction caused several heads to turn.
“My sentiments exactly. From the moment Derrick passed out during Princess’s wedding, I’ve felt sick to my stomach . . . before that actually, but
anyway
. When she told me yesterday that she was flying to LA with Kelvin, because she was so concerned about her uncle, to hear her tell it, my anxiety increased. But what could I do? I felt a bit of comfort because there was no way she’d do something stupid with Kelvin since she and Rafael were still basically engaged. Well, I thought wrong. Your daughter left one man at the altar and married another.”
“I’m stunned, baby. I mean, honestly, what was she thinking? Look, we’re nearing the gate now. As soon as I get settled, I’ll give her a call, talk to her and Kelvin. In the meantime, what’s happening with Derrick?” After Tai gave him the update, he said, “Okay, baby, I’ll call you back in an hour or two.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
King and his team—which included his assistant, Joseph, the minister of music, and a scaled-down band and praise squad—prepared to exit the plane. King was in first class, the rest of them in coach. That is why he was the first one to hit the Jetway, and the first one to get his breath taken away by the stunning beauty standing next to a driver who held a placard bearing the words M
OUNT
Z
ION
. When she smiled, revealing a perfect set of straight, white teeth, his heart almost stopped. Fortunately his legs kept moving long enough for him to reach her side.
“Hello, Pastor Brook.”
Her lyrical accent sounded like ambrosia to his ears. Could this possibly be the daughter of his dear friend, Pastor Wesley Freeman? The one whom he remembered wearing pigtails and bangs? “Charmaine?”
She chuckled, and King felt his dick smile. “I know it’s been a while, Pastor, and, yes, I’m quite grown up. We have a limousine to transport your staff, but you, man of God, are to come with me. My father awaits you at our home.”
Within a matter of minutes, a storm of tsunami proportions developed in the mind of prolific, successful, mega-pastor King Brook. On the one hand was his ongoing concern for the health of his best friend, Derrick Montgomery. On the other was the bomb his wife had just dropped—that his daughter had married his ex-mistress’s son. And last but certainly not least was the myriad of undeniable fireworks going off between him and the daughter of a man whose church he’d fellowshipped with for more than a decade. As she draped a casual arm around his waist and expressed her excitement at his arrival, King too felt a growing excitement . . . one that would become a major game changer... for everyone.
26
Step By Step
M
ama Max pulled a perfectly done rump roast out of the oven. She raised the top on her cast iron casserole dish and spooned beef juices over caramelized pieces of carrots, onions, celery, and potatoes. Satisfied that the perfect amount of tenderness existed between vegetables and meat, she turned off the oven before replacing the dish inside it, removed the skillet of golden brown corn bread and placed it on top of the stove, and stirred the pot of greens that after two hours had been reduced to fork-tender goodness. Wiping her hands on her apron, Mama Max then looked at her watch and hummed a familiar tune as she left the kitchen and headed toward her master bedroom to freshen up for dinner.
“Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Lord. Yes, you’ve brought me, from a mighty, a mighty long way...a mighty long way! Thank you, Jesus.” She climbed the stairs and entered her bedroom, having removed her apron in the kitchen downstairs and now crossing over to the walk-in closet to change her blouse. The craziness of the past weekend involving her granddaughter, and seeing Obadiah after an almost one-year absence, had Mama Max examining emotions she hadn’t felt in years. Memories long buried had risen to the surface and the need to make sure and weighty decisions clamored for her thoughts. Cooking what some would consider a Sunday dinner on a Monday night and inviting her trusty neighbor over to enjoy the meal and pass the time was a perfect way for Mama Max to insure that she kept her own mental normalcy intact. The doorbell rang just as she spritzed herself with Elizabeth Taylor’s White Diamonds perfume. She continued to hum as she walked down the stairs, crossed the room, and unlocked the screen door.
“Evening, Henry.”
“Evening, Maxie. Something in this house sure smells good.”
“Rump roast and all the fixings,” she threw over her shoulder.
“Your food is always delicious, Maxie. But I just got a whiff of some flowers or something like that.”
“Oh, that’s my perfume. Tabitha got it for my birthday. Every time she’s over here she makes sure I’m wearing it.”
“Your granddaughter gone already?” Henry had followed Mama Max into the kitchen and sat at the island, watching her work. Without asking if it were wanted, Mama Max placed a cold glass of water in front of him. “Thank you,” he said, before downing almost half the glass.
“Yeah, one of her friends picked her up. They were going to the mall, I think. Or to the movies.”
“Do you like going to the movies?”
“These days there’s not much out there that I want to see.” Mama Max cut the freshly baked corn bread into squares and placed some on a plate. “But I do love me some Tyler Perry.”
Henry and Mama Max continued their small talk while she sliced a large heirloom tomato and a sweet white onion. After placing these on a smaller plate, she motioned to Henry. “If you’ll put these on the table, I’ll fix our plates.”
Henry did as requested, then came back into the kitchen and poured himself more water from a pitcher in the fridge. “Do you want some water?”
“I believe I’ll have some of that tea in there.”
The two sat at the table, Maxine said grace, and they both dug into their food. After a few moments of eating in silence, Henry leaned back, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and took a long drink of water. “Maxie, I swear your cooking is about the best I’ve ever tasted.”
“Go on, now, Henry. I’ve tasted Beatrice’s food before. Your mama can cook!”
Henry finished chewing a piece of the fork-tender rump roast. “Not like this. No wonder they say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Woman, you’re going to make me fall for you!”
“You get on out of here, Henry Logan!” Mama Max admonished. “I’m probably old enough to be your mama!”
Henry chuckled. “I know you women don’t like to tell your ages, so I won’t ask, but I’m sixty-two.”
“Hmph. Please, I’m not one of those women. I thank God for every one of these seventy-three years.”
“Get outta here, Maxie. There’s no way you’re seventy-anything. You could pass for fifty, fifty-five years old.”
“Boy, either your mouth is lying or your eyesight’s bad . . . or both!”
“Ha!”
Mama Max laughed, enjoying her and Henry’s exchange. Following Obadiah’s leaving her for Dorothea, Mama Max’s self-esteem had plummeted. She was a proud woman who kept her own counsel, so nobody really knew just how badly Obadiah’s betrayal had affected her. In public, she was the strong, righteous woman people had come to know and love. But the nights were sometimes hard. True, it had been years since she and her husband had shared the same bed. But they’d shared the same house for more than half a century. Obadiah wasn’t only her husband, but until last year, she’d considered him her closest friend. The fire of passion may have played out years ago, but Mama Max felt their lives had settled into a comfortable companionship. Each partner had their place and knew the rules. He preached the Word, she took care of him and home. She liked quilting and crocheting; he liked fishing and fiddling with golf. He watched sports, she preferred reruns of
Good Times
and
Sanford and Son
. Their conversation wasn’t anything particularly special, centering mostly around church and family, but Mama Max had thought it was enough. Obviously, it wasn’t.
“Forgive my being forward,” Henry continued, “but you have to know that you are an attractive woman.”
Mama Max thought back to the cherry red suit she’d worn yesterday, after having visited the hairdresser who’d fried, dyed, and laid her hair to the side. “I clean up all right, I reckon. But you best be careful, Henry Logan. If I recall correctly, Beatrice mentioned something to me about your having a wife.”
A brief frown marred Henry’s smooth brown countenance. “I was married,” he acknowledged, finishing up the last bites from his plate. “But we got divorced after she had an affair.”
Well, this certainly got Mama Max’s attention. She was too near him not to hear him. “I’m sure sorry to hear that.”
“I was, too, at the time. Remember my telling you about the problems I had after Vietnam?” Mama Max nodded. “Well, one of those problems involved my, uh, being able to perform my husbandly duties.” Henry wiped his mouth, looking uncomfortable. “It’s not easy for a man to talk about . . . these kinds of things. But you seem the type of woman who’d understand.” He proceeded to tell Mama Max about the injury that at times caused him to be unable to perform, and the multiple affairs that his wife had had as a result of this problem. “What about you, Maxie? All this time I assumed that you and Obadiah were divorced, but after hearing the ladies at the church talk yesterday, it sounds like y’all are still married.”
“That’s the official version, that he’s down in Texas helping out a ministry,” Mama Max said without thinking. But somehow, strangely, she wasn’t sorry that she’d been truthful. Aside from her son and daughter-in-law, King and Tai, and her dear friend, Nettie, who lived in Texas, Mama Max hadn’t been able to share the burden of her marriage with anyone. Henry’s obvious concern and compassion were palpable, creating a safe space for Mama Max to reveal her secrets. “But between you and me,” she continued, cocking a brow and giving Henry a “don’t spread my business” look, “me and Obadiah are still married only in name. He’s actually down there helping out his mistress of the past forty years. He left me for her last year.” Mama Max tried to deliver this last sentence with a strong, dispassionate voice, but her eyes misted over.
“I’m sorry, Maxie.” Henry reached over and squeezed Mama Max’s arm.
Mama Max covered the weak moment with a wry smile. “I’m still standing,” she responded, getting up and gathering their empty dishes. “The Lord is my help. No, no, keep your seat. I can handle these few little dishes. We cleaned these plates real good, but I hope you left room for that peach cobbler I’ve got warming in the oven.”
“C’mon now, Maxie. I’ve always got room for your sweets.”
Mama Max had only been in the kitchen a few moments when she heard the screen door rattle. “Henry, can you go and unlock that front door? It’s probably Tabitha coming back to get that Eye Pad she left here.”
Henry walked to the door and, considering the recent conversation, was a bit surprised to see who was on the other side. “Yes?” he said by way of greeting, unlocking the door and opening it just a few inches. “May I help you?”
An immediately indignant Obadiah rose up to his full height of six feet. The man in front of him looked familiar, and he quickly placed him as the one who’d been seated next to Maxine in church yesterday. “You don’t have to do nothing for me,” Obadiah finally answered, taking a step forward. “I’m Maxine’s husband and this is my house. Who are you?”
“I’m Henry Logan, the neighbor and friend who’s going to make sure you don’t hurt her no more.”
A raised eyebrow was the only sign of Obadiah’s surprise. That and his raised voice. “I suggest you move out the way before I have to move you out of it.”
“Who is it, Henry?” Mama Max asked from the kitchen.
Henry stepped aside to let in Obadiah. “Your husband.”
A surprised Mama Max came around the corner carrying two bowls filled with peach cobbler. “Obadiah? What are you doing here?” She continued to the dining room, where Henry quickly joined her. “I thought you’d be back in Dallas by now.”
Obadiah’s eyes narrowed as he took in the homey, cozy scene—Henry sitting at the dining room table that his preaching had bought, eating the cooking that for almost a year Obadiah had missed. His nose caught a whiff of one of his favorites, rump roast and potatoes, and that peach cobbler was smelling so good that Obadiah wanted to take the pie-filled fork that even now was on its way to Henry’s mouth . . . and stab him with it.
After another awkward moment where Obadiah felt like a stranger in his own home, he straightened his back, swallowed a big dose of pride, and left the room. For the next several seconds, the only sounds heard were those of his heavy footsteps on the home’s wooden stairs.

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