Sex in the Sanctuary (16 page)

The clink of metal on china was the only sound heard in Carla’s massive dining room. She smiled, noticing that conversation had all but ceased as the committee of Ladies First enjoyed her culinary skills. Carla loved to cook, always had, and the biggest thanks she could receive were the sounds she now heard.

“Girl, this is delicious!” Vivian declared, taking a break from eating only long enough to wipe her mouth with a napkin and take a sip of tea. “I think this is the best salmon I’ve ever tasted.”

“I second that emotion,” Terri added. “I would ask you how you made it, but I’m sure it’s another of your secret recipes that cannot be divulged.”

“You got that right!” Carla grinned, taking another helping of spicy rice. “Besides, if I told you how I cooked it, you could then make it yourself and may be inclined to no longer grace my dining room with your lovely presence.”

“Oh, so that’s how you keep your friends,” Minister Rebecca teased.

“That and my winning personality!” Carla didn’t miss a bite or a beat.

Later, as the women settled into Carla and her husband Stanley’s comfortable family room amid slices of peach cobbler and cups of coffee and tea, Vivian gave her update on the S.O.S. Summit. She lauded the invaluable assistance of Millicent Sims, who had become her special assistant on the project. Vivian admitted that much of the schedule’s smooth coming together was in no small part due to Millicent’s efficiency and enthusiasm.

“Are you sure she’s not bucking for first lady herself?” Carla asked after Vivian once again extolled her praises.

Vivian thought about the meeting she’d had with Millicent. When Millicent had admitted to her that she was in love and that she believed the man was her future husband. She didn’t offer the man’s name and Vivian didn’t press. She did say he was a member of the church. Vivian hoped she wasn’t talking about Cy Taylor because he’d clearly stated that he wasn’t interested. Still, they spent a lot of time together working on various projects. Vivian had admonished her to stay prayerful, and to make sure she was hearing from God. Millicent believed she’d already received signs of confirmation that this was indeed the man that God chose for her before the foundations of the world were laid. Vivian was all too familiar with the dreamy look in Millicent’s eyes as she talked about her future husband and the desired role that they, as a couple, would play in the ministry. Again, Vivian admonished her not to put the cart before the horse, but to make sure she was clear on God’s desire versus her own. After all, everyone and their mama wanted to be Cy’s wife.

“Earth to Vivian, come in please!” Carla implored dramatically.

Vivian wasn’t aware that she’d been deep in thought and hadn’t answered her friend’s question. She decided to be tact
ful and keep Millicent’s aspirations and her thoughts of said aspirations to herself.

“I believe every woman wants a Godly man, and no, that doesn’t mean my husband,” she began carefully. “However, I think Millicent would make a wonderful preacher’s wife. I’m sure you’ll all get to know her better as the summit nears, since she’ll be overseeing the administrative responsibilities.”

The women continued giving their updates and solidifying the flow of topics. Everyone had been thorough and presented outlines that not only impressed Vivian, but excited her. These women were as committed to S.O.S. as she was, and their sincerity showed in the quality of their work. Vivian felt this was the start of something good, something better than she’d imagined. Minister Rebecca and Terri McDaniels were presiding over the Spiritually Speaking segments, Pat and Chanelle were handling Setting the Standard versus society’s Status Quo, Vivian and Ruth were covering the topic of the Sanctity of Sisterhood and Carla, along with Tai, would lead the way on Sacred Sex.

Carla was excited about working with Tai, whom she’d met a couple years ago during a Brook family visit to California. She didn’t know her well, but Carla sensed a depth to Tai that was rarely seen in others. She also felt Tai was suffering, that something somewhere wasn’t right. At first, Carla had questioned whether the particular section regarding sex was the best place for Tai to participate, but when Vivian told her she’d heard God on the matter, the subject was closed.

Carla had spoken with Tai at least once a week since then, and now understood Vivian’s confidence. Tai was open and honest, another “real” sistah. Yes, there was definitely more there than met the eye. Without anything to confirm it, Carla also suspected trouble in Tai’s marriage. Tai hadn’t offered and Carla hadn’t asked, but it was the things not said that caused Carla to draw this conclusion. She looked at Vivian
and wondered if she should say anything. She knew Vivian was tighter than a steel drum when it came to keeping a confidence. No, it would be better for Carla to “watch and pray,” knowing that if she was to know more, the information would come when the time was right.

Vivian wrapped up the meeting with what she thought was exciting news. Iyanla Vanzant was to be their luncheon speaker. Vivian’s respect for these, her Ladies First comrades, had risen to new heights when she suggested this non-Christian choice and received open attitudes, intelligent discussion and, finally, agreement. Vivian always had her own mind and views on what and who were acceptable to God, and often thought outside the typical Christian box. She’d been given a copy of Iyanla’s
Acts of Faith
several years ago and read other books that she’d written since then. Being a Yoruban priestess discounted her from most Christian circles. Vivian understood, but this summit wasn’t just for Christian women, it was for hurting women, and she felt Iyanla’s own experience afforded her the compassion and understanding necessary to reach beyond religious, cultural and racial lines and soothe bruised hearts with words of wisdom.

Minister Rebecca dismissed them in prayer. The ladies parted, full of excitement and anticipation for what was quickly becoming the meeting of the season, one not to be missed.

The soothing sounds of instrumental music greeted Millicent as she opened the door to Beverly Hills Bridal Boutique. She smiled. Almost immediately she was transported into the world of fairy princesses and knights in shining armor. For this shop surely held every woman’s fantasy and a pivotal part of Millicent’s future.

She reached out to touch the varying styles of satins and silks, her hands tracing the intricate workings of beads and lace. She fingered the sheer veil nettings and allowed the wispy yards of fabric to drape her skin.

“That is one of our loveliest designs,” the saleswoman said, smiling brightly as she joined Millicent next to the silk and pearl garment. “It’s a Vera Wang.”

“It’s absolutely breathtaking,” Millicent responded.

“With your slender figure, you’d look amazing. When is the big day?”

When is the big day?
Wasn’t that the question of the century? Millicent wasn’t sure
when
she’d marry Cy; she was only sure that she
would
marry him. “We’re still working out
the details,” she responded casually. “But one can never start shopping too soon, right?”

“Absolutely,” the saleswoman countered. She walked with Millicent, who’d moved on from the Vera Wang dress and stood next to an equally gorgeous Oscar de la Renta design. “Do you have a particular style in mind?”

“I’ve been looking through bridal magazines and have some definite thoughts. I think I’ll just browse a while and see if anything catches my fancy.”

“Well, we’ve got some of the best designs in the country. My name is Shannon. Call me when you’re ready to try one on or need further assistance. I’ll be glad to answer any questions you have.”

Millicent thanked her and continued looking. Her thoughts were a whirlwind, jumping from Cy to her wedding day, to her conversation with Sister Vivian and finally to the prophetess whom she’d seen a few days ago.

It was at a small Pentecostal church in south central Los Angeles. Usually, Millicent shunned these small, nondescript “holy roller” congregations. But she’d been listening to an AM radio station, a Christian channel that broadcast a variety of ministers and their sermons. It wasn’t a station she listened to often, but on this particular day she’d been scanning the dial when Prophetess Clare Baldwin from Jackson, Mississippi, came on and issued the word of the Lord, prophesying to callers on matters from men to marriage, children to jobs. A force outside her seemed to draw Millicent to the woman’s fiery delivery and incantations. She’d tried to call in using her cell phone, but the station’s line stayed busy throughout the broadcast. Then the announcer mentioned that Prophetess Baldwin would be at God’s Temple Pentecostal Church that evening and would be coming with the word of the Lord. Millicent pulled over and wrote the address down.

She’d felt a bit apprehensive and more than a little out of place as she’d entered the small, shabby sanctuary. The benches were old and worn, some covered with marks and scratches made years ago by bored, restless children. The carpet on the floor was a dingy blue, almost gray, with unraveling threads and worn spots from years of high heels and shoutin’ shoes. The walls had been white once upon a time, but now were a combination of faded yellows and muted ivory, darkened by the sun and a painter’s neglect. A large brown stain snaked down one wall, evidence that not only the sanctuary but also the roof was in need of repair. There was an upright piano on the left side of a raised pulpit, looking shiny, new and out of place amid the dreary surroundings. A Hammond organ was on the other side, the red upholstery on the bench worn and faded. There was a tiny choir loft behind the pulpit and a faux stained-glass window in the center, with part of the “stained-glass” peeling off. On the right side of the window was a large cross, on the left side a hand-painted sign that read “Jesus Saves,” a poorly drawn dove with an olive branch under the lettering.

A front-row saint by her own admission, Millicent had taken a tentative seat in the next to last row of the tiny edifice. She estimated it could probably seat a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty on a good day. There were about ten people sitting in the sanctuary when she arrived, and if she wasn’t so determined to get a word from the Lord concerning Cy, she would have tucked tail and run the moment she’d stepped inside. In fact, she was thinking about doing so when a lady came up behind her and said, “Praise the Lord!” in a voice that would have awakened the dead. Millicent jumped, then turned and looked into the kind, grandmotherly eyes of one of the church mothers, so assumed because of the white dress and lace hanky almost entirely covering the woman’s gray hair. The woman laid a hand on Millicent’s shoulder,
giving her a couple of pats, and with a nod of her head walked around Millicent down to the first row, greeting all of those sitting in the pews by name and then getting on her knees and saying a quick prayer before she dropped her purse, took off her jacket and eased onto the hard wood pew, where she began humming to herself and rocking side to side.

Millicent had been sitting almost an hour before a young man, twenty-ish, walked to the piano. She silently thanked God for her church’s timeliness. For a service to start an hour later than scheduled was unthinkable at Kingdom Citizens’, and as the church filled up, Millicent realized that evidently these members knew their church was on CP time. The pianist began playing an instrumental piece that Millicent didn’t recognize. She did recognize his wonderful playing ability, though, and closed her eyes to focus on the music. After several minutes he began to play “My Soul Loves Jesus,” and Millicent could finally sing along.

They sang and played and prayed for another hour before Prophetess Clare mounted the pulpit along with a large, severe-looking woman and a man who Millicent correctly assumed was the pastor. Clare appeared younger than Millicent had imagined and was attractive in her own simple, plain way. Her jet-black hair was pulled back into a tight bun, no bangs, wisps or tendrils escaping. Her face was devoid of make-up. The prophetess also dropped to her knees as she entered the pulpit, staying there quite a while before getting up and sitting in the second of the three pulpit chairs. She sat quietly and solemnly, her eyes closed, elbows resting on the chair arms and hands clasped in prayerlike fashion as she swayed softly to the sounds of worship.

For two more hours, Prophetess Clare preached, prayed and prophesied over those in the audience, as God led her. Millicent prayed each time the prophetess finished with one person that she would be next, but it seemed that the prophet
ess was going everywhere except in her direction. She had almost given up when the prophetess came from behind her and said, “You! Stand up and hear the word of the Lord!”

Millicent’s legs began to tremble as she looked into the eyes of this woman who looked young but seemed old. Her eyes were black and seemed endless—and even if you wanted to, you couldn’t look too long. Following the example others had set, Millicent bowed her head, closed her eyes and waited for the prophetess to continue.

“You are searching,” the prophetess began. “Searching for answers, searching for love.” Millicent’s heart skipped a beat.

“You’ve been asking God a question and demanding a sign. But the word of the Lord says there will be no sign. Listen to His instructions, believe what He says and put feet to your faith. If you trust and obey, you will find the path that God has ordained.” She went on saying that Millicent was a chosen woman of God and would mentor young women as she led them to Christ. She would try to remember later what else she’d said because the only thing that kept replaying over and over in her mind were the words “put feet to your faith, put feet to your faith, put feet to your faith…” Millicent was so grateful for the word she received that she’d put a hundred dollars in the offering plate.

The next day Millicent had had a meeting with Sister Vivian, but chose not to confide in her, at least not to the point of revealing Cy’s name. Instead, she’d bought fifty dollars’ worth of bridal magazines to plan her wedding and travel magazines to choose the perfect honeymoon locale. She’d already begun making lists of potential bridesmaids, flower girls and musical selections. For the rest of the week she daydreamed constantly, seeing herself at the altar, amid an adoring crowd at Kingdom Citizens’. Pastor Montgomery in front of them and Cy at her side.
Put feet to your faith,
she heard over and over like a litany in her mind. It was this
litany that propelled every other action, including her standing in this bridal shop at this very moment. This litany that motivated her as she lovingly fingered the dress in front of her, endless yards of silk and crepe de chine fashioned in an off-the-shoulder design. The cinched waist flared out into a wide princess-style skirt. The detachable train was almost twenty feet long. The veil was attached to a tiaralike crown, inlaid with cut glass that sparkled like diamonds and surrounded a single pearl in the center of its headband. Millicent smiled. “I’ll try this one,” she breathed to the saleswoman, who was immediately by her side.

“This one will be perfect,” Shannon volunteered happily. “Yes, perfect,” Millicent responded. And she sounded totally convinced.