Preacher's Wifey (6 page)

“Good morning, Lady Allyson. As always, you look gorgeous. That St. John knit was made for you,” said Damita, my assistant at church.

“Thank you. You know your pastor loves to see me in my knits,” I said, smiling my best first lady smile.

“Indeed he does.”

“Pastor, don't forget you and First Lady have breakfast this morning with the deacons and their spouses. Everyone is there except for Deacon Walters. He isn't feeling well this morning and won't be attending the breakfast or service,” said Renae, Byran's assistant.

“Thank you, Renae. Can you go into the conference room and let them know that I am on the premises and will be there shortly?” Byran replied.

“Yes, sir. Do you want apple, orange, or cranberry juice this morning?”

“Cranberry. But I also want a cup of—”

“Coffee. Two sugars and two creams,” she said, finishing his sentence for him.

That irked me. The little heifer was always walking around bragging about how well she knew him. It was obvious to everybody around that she had a thing for Byran. Oh, well. She was too simple. He would never even look at someone who looked like her.

“You have a great memory, Renae,” Byran said.

“That's not a testament to a great memory, Pastor. Anybody could remember how you take your coffee if they prepared it for you several times a day, every day,” Damita said, looking directly at Renae.

Renae shook her head. “Oh, hush, Damita. You are such a hater. But I am not going to let you steal my joy. Because the joy of the Lord is my strength. I bet you don't even know where that is found in the Bible, do you?”

“I am sure you are going to tell us all,” Damita said, rolling her eyes.

“You are right. It is in the book of Nebuchadnezzar, chapter eight, verse number ten,” Renae said proudly.

We all immediately stopped walking. Damita and I exchanged a glance, as did Byran and I. The three of us were waiting on the burst of laughter that was sure to come from Renae at any moment. Instead, she looked at us as if we were the ones who had uttered something so ridiculous.

“You just showed your stupidity, Renae. There is no such book in the Bible. You meant Nehemiah,” Damita said.

Embarrassment flooded Renae's face. She had been serious. “Of course I know that. I was just playing,” she said, laughing nervously. She turned to Byran. “Pastor, you know I was just playing, right?”

“Don't make our pastor lie when you know he has to preach this morning. Our pastor is a man of integrity, and causing him to lie shows just what kind of woman you are—let alone an assistant,” Damita said.

I knew she was talking to Renae, but Damita's words caused me to grimace. Little did they both know we were both already liars. We lived a lie.

“Renae, it is fine. We all make mistakes. I am confident that you knew there was no such book in the Bible called Nebuchadnezzar,” Byran assured his assistant.

“I bet she didn't,” Damita shot back.

“Damita, it does not matter. Let us not highlight our sister's weakness, if that be the case,” Byran said, totally taking control of the situation. He was great at being a pastor. “Both of you ladies are my stellar students in Bible Study. I am proud of the progress you have both made. That is why you both get to have positions that a thousand others would love to have. Only the best could assist my wife and me. And you two are the best.”

He had successfully squashed the beef and had made both ladies feel affirmed. He was quite the charmer.

We walked into our joint office, and Byran darted into his restroom to put on his tie. I walked into my space in the office and went directly to my floor-length mirror to check the status of my perfection. Still satisfied with the reflection I saw, I went and sat down on my oversize, lemon-colored chaise, which flanked one side of the room. It was my favorite piece of furniture in all of the church. No sooner had I sat down than Byran popped in and announced he was ready to head to the breakfast.

We walked into the conference room, where the deacons and their spouses had already begun eating. I surveyed the breakfast choices. From grits to hash browns to pecan waffles . . . there was everything you could imagine.

“Good morning, everyone,” Byran said.

“Morning, Pastor. So glad to have you and our stunning first lady join us for our first Quarterly Deacon's Breakfast,” said Deacon Stanley, the chairman.

“And we are indeed honored to be here,” Byran replied, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me closer. “I see you all have already started partaking in this heavenly feast. My, my, my, this is a lot of food. Who on earth prepared all of this?”

“I would have you to know my wife and Deacon Sparks's wife made everything you see here—and from scratch,” Deacon Stanley said as he looked proudly at his wife, who was sitting next to him.

“Yeah, Pastor, my old lady here is a monster of a cook,” Deacon Sparks added. “That's how she got me.”

The light moment caused laughter to erupt throughout the room.

“Well, First Lady and I are ready to dig in, aren't we, honey?” said Byran.

I nodded. “Yes, Pastor. I'm famished.”

“First Lady, you do look amazing this morning. Actually, you do every Sunday, but that turquoise color really brings out your skin,” complimented Deaconess Adams, one of the younger deacons' wife.

“Thank you, darling. You look radiant yourself,” I said as I sat down in my seat.

As soon as Byran sat down, two ladies from the kitchen staff entered the room. One went over to Byran and the other to me to find out what we wanted to eat. They prepared our orders and brought us our plates. The food was delicious.

“Pastor, again, we appreciate you and First Lady joining us this morning. We are blessed that we get to meet with you on a weekly basis to handle the business affairs of the church, but we also wanted to have a time to get together to fellowship with you outside of business. Also, our wives haven't had the chance to spend any time with you and your wife. So that's why we are here this morning.”

Byran nodded. “I think this was a great idea, Deacon Stanley. I look forward to these quarterly meetings.”

“First Lady, I know it has only been a year, but all of us ladies are just dying to know when we can expect an addition to the first family,” Deaconess Stanley said as the other ladies chimed in, in agreement.

The water I was drinking spewed from my mouth and landed in the center of the table.

All eyes fell on me.

It was an innocent question, but the timing of it could not have been worse. Unbeknownst to them, I had just lost my baby a few days ago, and to be asked about children unnerved me. I was tempted to lose my composure and add tears to the water I had spit across the table, but I remained poised. I went into my first lady role immediately, forced a smile on my face, and gave them an explanation.

“I do apologize, Deaconess Stanley, for my outburst. Your question caught me off guard.”

“No, I apologize, Lady Allyson. I did not mean to pry or offend.”

“Oh no. You did not offend me at all.” I picked up my linen napkin and wiped the corner of my mouth. “I want children. I wanted my baby.”

Byran nearly choked on his piece of bacon. This time all eyes were on him. He quickly grabbed his juice and took a huge gulp.

“As I was saying, I wanted my baby.”

“Honey, do you think this is the time to be sharing this?” Byran asked through gritted teeth.

“These are some of the leaders of our church, honey. If we cannot be transparent with them, who can we be transparent with?” I looked across the table at Deaconess Stanley. “Am I wrong? Can we trust you all to be transparent with?”

Everyone eagerly nodded their agreement. By the looks on the ladies' faces, they could not believe their luck. Their ears were perked up out of a desire to hear this gossip, which was sure to spread throughout the church like wildfire.

Byran frowned. “Still, I do not think it is wise to involve them in our private affairs.”

“No disrespect, Pastor, but we are a part of your family now,” Deaconess Sparks quickly stated, hoping to dissolve any reservation he had.

I studied Byran. His facial muscles were rock solid, and his left eye was jumping. He was hotter than a country day in Alabama.
Good.

“First Lady, what were you going to say?” another deaconess asked.

“For the third time, I wanted my baby.”

“Wanted?
Wanted
is a past tense word. You speak as if there was a baby at some point,” Deacon Sparks said.

“There was up until a few days ago. I—”

“Allyson! Don't go there,” Byran shouted, his tone warning me of possible severe consequences if I kept speaking.

“I had a miscarriage,” I continued, then released an unexpected sigh.

Saying the words for the first time since that god-awful day at the abortion clinic was actually an unexpected relief. While I had not planned to say them in front of the entire deacon board, the opportunity had presented itself, and in some odd way I felt like it was a chance to get back at Byran. Until this moment, I did not realize I had an innate desire to make him pay, but I guess I did. Had it not been for him and all the stress he had put me under, I would not have miscarried, nor would I have been at the abortion clinic in the first place.

I stole a peek at Byran. His rage had intensified. He hated surprises and to be caught off guard. Again . . . good.

The silence was loud in the room. As a result, I found solace in staring at the food left on my plate.

“I'm so sorry to hear about you-all's loss,” Deaconess Stanley said, breaking the ice. “First Lady, I know things like that tend to have more of an effect on a woman than they do on a man. And I think I can speak for all the ladies here when I say if you need anything, and I do mean anything at all, please don't hesitate to call on us. We are here for you, if only just to be a listening ear.”

“Thank you. I . . . we appreciate it.”

One by one, each of the ladies came over to hug me, and not even meaning to, I fell into their comforting trap. The tears snuck up on me and attacked me faster than I had time to wave them away.

“I think it's safe to say that breakfast is now over. Please excuse my wife and me. We are going to our office to regain our composure before it is time for worship. Deacons, again, I look forward to our future meetings and thoroughly enjoyed this one.” Byran pushed his chair back and stood up. “Ladies,” he said, addressing the deaconesses, “thank you for being a shoulder for my wife this morning. As you can imagine, this is a difficult time for both of us, and we appreciate your support.”

“You are welcome. Please let us know what we can do, if anything,” Deaconess Sparks added.

Byran nodded. “We will.”

With puddles still lingering in my eyes, I hugged each of the ladies before Byran grabbed my hand and we exited.

“Pastor, you all are done early. I wasn't expecting you to be out so soon,” Renae said as she struggled to keep up with the fast pace at which we were walking down the hall.

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” Damita said, agreeing with Renae for once.

When we reached our office, Byran stopped them both in their tracks. “First Lady and I need a few minutes alone. Give us a minute, please.”

“That is so sweet, Pastor. I just love watching the two of you express your love for each other,” Damita gushed.

“I don't know how you got that out of what he said. Because if you knew him like I know him, you would know that tone isn't a good one. Trust me, I have heard that tone before, and it was only when he was pissed off about something. Sounds to me like First Lady is in trouble,” Renae snickered.

If we were anywhere else, I would have slapped that outdated gold tooth down her throat. I made a mental note to get rid of her as quickly as possible.

Byran ignored both women and led me into our office. The door had barely closed before he went off.

“You want to explain to me what just happened in there? Because for a minute, I thought you had lost your mind. Are you okay? Because something has to be wrong with you if you for one second considered telling them you had an abortion.” He all but whispered that last word.

“I was never going to tell them I had an abortion. Because I didn't.”

“What?” He shook his head in confusion. “What do you mean, you didn't have an abortion? I am as lost as a blind man on a dark road right now. Did you not go to Augusta the other day to have an abortion? You kept the baby? What are you saying?”

“If you'd stop asking so many questions, I can give you the simple answer. And the simple answer is, yes, I went there for an abortion, but I did not have to have one, because I miscarried while waiting. Go figure.”

I resumed my earlier position on my chaise. I was developing a headache the size of Texas. I looked up at the flat panel that hung on the wall adjacent to my desk as the live feed from the service came through. I could see parishioners filing into the massive eight-thousand-seat sanctuary as the praise and worship team began singing Tasha Cobbs version of “Smile.” People were clapping and swaying to the beat of the song, while others found their seats. I wanted to smile, but I could not.

“Why didn't you tell me? Why have you allowed me to walk around carrying the guilt that you had an abortion when indeed you naturally lost the baby?”

If he had any idea how I was about to go off, he would dismiss himself from my presence. Knowing that nosy Renae was just outside the door kept me calm, cool, and collected.