Saved Folk in the House
If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. In such case neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Portions of this book have been previously published in novella form.
Copyright © 2006 by Sonnie Beverly
All rights reserved.
Published by Warner Books with Walk Worthy Press(TM)
Warner Books
Hachette Book Group
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The Warner Books name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
First eBook Edition: May 2006
ISBN: 978-0-446-55404-6
Book design and text composition by L&G McRee
Contents
PART ONE: Saved Babies’ Daddies
PART THREE: Out of the Mouths of Saved Babes
“ZAKIA, WE NEED TO TALK,” HER HUSBAND SAID.
Zakia was relieved Jay didn’t seem to be upset with her for not cooking dinner again. That was good. Less pressure on her.
“Jessica is pregnant. She’s the finance secretary at my church.”
“So?”
“The baby is mine.”
The revelation that he was having an affair sent Zakia into a state of shock. She was numb and couldn’t speak, so Jay continued.
“You are obsessed with your church, neglecting me and your family, alienating your friends. Now, what about your marriage? Is that the kind of God you want to serve, one that makes you lose everything important in your life?”
Zakia mustered all the strength she had to speak.
“Get out,” she managed to say without bursting into tears. It only took him minutes to pack a few things. He left her sitting on the bed, still in shock . . .
To my loved ones who left me way too soon: Book, Cherry, Tiger, Angel, and Jean.
Always my survival tools: The Love of God, The Blood of Jesus, The Peace and Comfort of The Holy Spirit and The WORD of God.
My mom, Ms. Claudette G. Beverly, who is my rock-solid foundation and home base where I am always safe; my aunt Gwen, Mrs. Gwendolyn B. Mitchell, who is wisdom and elegance, grace and beauty, trust and understanding personified: I am who I am because you two gave me the best of you.
My spiritual aunt, Mrs. Katie White: you have what you say. You told me to just love, believe, and trust Him and everything will be all right. Well, guess what? Everything is better than all right.
Shaunonell
(my children, who have always filled my heart with joy, pride, and hope for the brightest of futures for our family): Shaun Chappell, take it to the big screen. Shannon Chappell, take it to the stage. You twins are my fruit, extensions of me, and can do all things through Christ, Who strengthens you. You have the baton (vision), now run with it. Shannell “Yale” Chappell, you are too many things, so you let me know if you are going to sing, dance, design, write, act, major in journalism, be a foreign correspondent, or practice law. Just let me know when you and Jesus decide.
The Quivers (my godchildren): Scott and Sánta, Saván and Christian. All my children sure know how to take care of each other, and that makes my heart glad.
My church families: Faith Alive International Ministries and pastor, Dr. Steve Parson Sr.; my big boo, Mrs. Florence Taylor, you are the epitome of accountability; my pop, Elder Richard Luster, you are a model of class and grace; Brother’s Keepers Ministries; my unk, Rev. Harold Luster, always wise, always
GQ
sharp; and especially my guardian angel, the right Rev. Ray N. Smith Sr., you are all that and a bag of chips, with your calm, cool,and clean self; his wife, who he confesses deserves the Congressional Medal of Honor, Sis. Karlyn Smith. I love and appreciate y’all so, so much. World Changers Church International and pastors, Dr. Creflo and Taffi Dollar, thank you for exposing me to the world we are called to change.
The Professionals from Walk Worthy Press and Warner Books: Denise Stinson, my mentor and publisher, who let me know that she is not my mother—I love your style. My editors: Karen Kelly, who knew that I had a lot to say and just how to help me say it, and knew what to say, and especially, what not to say. Thank you for your patience and kindness, KK; Chandra Taylor, for hooking me up even while you were going through.
My girlfriends that substitute as my checks and balances: Denise Wooldridge, thanks for taking me to paradise, while keeping me on that spiritual straight and narrow; LaFarn Burton, the hangingest role model I know, who never gives up on folk; DC Pam Dickerson, the closest thing to a real sister I have—you’re my Gayle, girl; Vanessa Michelle Grey, my love for you continues to grow, even if we don’t talk for months; Ascension, Inc.—The Philosopher, Charlita Wye; The Intellect, Tanisha Jackson; and the one who will always and forever keep it real, Davina Thomas. You’re my inspiration and my FGs. Octavia Lee Hall-Banks, you know the deal. You are all my sheroes.
Tyler Perry and Oprah, and my partners Joyce Meyer, Kenneth and Gloria Copeland, Marilyn Hickey, and Bishop T. D. Jakes, for all you do to help a sister stay encouraged by seeing with her own eyes what God will do with the willing and obedient.
Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock: And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock.
MATTHEW 7:24-25
Saved Babies’ Daddies
Richmond, Virginia
I will therefore that the younger women marry, bear children, guide the house, give none occasion to the adversary to speak reproachfully.
1 TIMOTHY 5:14
O
h. My. God.
Help me, Jesus,” Zakia Wilkes said to herself as she made eye contact with one of the finest men she had ever seen. The stranger approached her as she stood on the front steps of her dormitory.
“How you doin’, baby, with your pretty self?” he said in a deep, sexy voice. He slowed down long enough to acknowledge her with a smile, but he did not stop.
“Fine,” she stammered in a barely audible baby voice. She dreamily watched him go through the front door of the dorm. When he was out of sight, she sighed heavily.
How am I going to stay focused here at Manna State University for the next four years and get my degree with all these men around?
Zakia wondered.
She had never seen so many fine-looking men in one place at one time. There were beautiful black men in every shape, size, style, and color. Impressive black men who were Christians, Muslims, sophisticated, funny, smooth, cool, and intelligent. They were from all over the world, and they overwhelmed her with their mere presence.
Since Zakia arrived on the beautiful, huge campus with its magnificent blend of modern and nineteenth-century architecture four weeks ago, after her high school class of 1984 end-of-the-summer party, she had been awestruck. The landscape boasted lovely, colorful gardens with huge shade trees and benches where the students socialized between classes. Statues of college beneficiaries and famous African-Americans such as Frederick Douglass and Harriet Tubman dotted the campus and reminded the students of their heritage and purpose.All the men Zakia saw looked like they were ready to meet the challenge. In the beginning, when one of them paid her a compliment, she either found it difficult to speak or simply got weak in the knees. She was much more in control of herself now, but every once in a while, she’d be overcome and revert to her awestruck behavior.
Zakia was a pretty girl, sweet, innocent, smart, andintimidated by her mother. She had a reverential fear of Alexis Wilkes, which kept her out of any serious trouble and helped her to make the best decisions in most situations, but she was in Baltimore, three hours away from home and Alexis in Richmond. She needed strength to handle this newly found freedom.
After she had gotten herself together from the exchange with the fine stranger, Zakia contemplated what part of campus she was going to explore next. Just as she decided to check out the library, the fine stranger and a beautiful woman came back out of the dormitory holding hands. He looked at Zakia without smiling. Zakia smiled at the woman, who returned her greeting with a friendly grin. Zakia glanced at the man, who maintained a serious expression.
Okay. Now, how am I going to do this?
Zakia thought.
These men flirt with you, get you all hot and bothered, then when they’re with their women, they act like they don’t know you. Okay, I see. That’s the game here too. I played it in high school.
The only difference was that during high school, Zakia was the player, thanks to her twin brother, Zachary, and his gang, the Execs. Besides, the guys in high school seemed a far cry from the worldly Manna men. She determined very quickly that she’d have to learn some defense.
In high school, Zakia was Miss Popularity. Her mother, Alexis, was a strong black woman who didn’t stand for any bad behavior from anybody, including the father of her children. Rahlo Brown was an old-school player who had three children by two different women. One time when they were doing really well and Alexis had fleeting thoughts of having a nice wholesome together family, she allowed herself to want to marry Rahlo when the twins were four years old. Then she found out that Rahlo had fathered her neighbor Mavis’s baby girl. So much for a wholesome family. Alexis depended on no one but herself, and she trained her little ones to be as self-sufficient as she was. Rahlo, however, was expected to provide for the twins financially.
It was no secret in the neighborhood that Rahlo was Mavis’s baby’s daddy. Four-year-old Zakia was thrilled beyond measure when she overheard her mother on the phone fussing to her friend Jean Harris about what a dog Rahlo was, messing with a neighbor right around the corner and giving her children a baby sister by some other woman and that she would never marry him and he better take care of the twins or she would have him locked up.
I have a baby sister
was all Zakia cared about. She told Zachary.
“We have a baby sister.”
“Where is she?” Zachary asked.
“At Miss Mavis’s house.”
“Why is she at Miss Mavis’s house?”
“Because Miss Mavis is her mommy.”
“So how can she be our sister?”
“ ’Cause Daddy is her daddy too.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, but Mommy told Miss Jean that we have a baby sister and Miss Mavis is her mommy. Let’s go see her.”
“Okay,” Zachary said, following his sister into the kitchen.
“Mommy, we’re going outside to play,” Zakia said to her mother, who was in another zone.
