The Devil Made Me Do It (11 page)

Mother Reed and Esther sat in her kitchen finishing their cake. Esther looked good; her face fresh and glowing, her makeup impeccable, and the pale pink jogging suit was lovely on her, accentuating the positive features in her figure and camouflaging the negative.

Esther smiled in appreciation and said with her mouth half full of cake, “Ummm, so good . . . how've you been?”

“Oh, baby, Mother's been fine.”

Esther licked her fingers. “Anywhere you'd like to go today? I don't have to be at church until four o'clock, so we have time.”

Mother Reed's smile widened. It was just like Esther to be so attentive. “No, baby, but it would be great if we could sit and play a game of Scrabble.”

Esther flicked her hand in the air. “So you can beat me, like I stole something again?”

“Now, don't be a spoilsport. Look over in the buffet cabinet and bring the game here. It's time to teach a young lady some manners.”

Esther left the room and was quick to return. As she set up the game, Mother Reed put on her bifocals and rubbed her hands together. She loved keeping her brain agile. “Esther, have you found that special young man yet?”

“No, ma'am. But you'll be glad to know that I finally opened my heart to the possibilities of having someone. I've even done a little daydreaming.”

“All God needs is a willing heart. Don't worry, he's coming soon,” Mother Reed said as she placed letters on the Scrabble board spelling out her first word. She looked up at Esther through her lowered lids. “You remember I was close to your grandmother?”

“Yes.” Esther was searching out her word on the game board.

“Good, God-fearing woman. Me and my Anthony, her and your grandfather, we used to have some good times together.” Mother Reed was fond of those memories.

“That's nice,” Esther squinted focusing on the game board.

Mother Reed pushed the game board aside for a moment. “When you were little you hated your name. Do you remember that?”

Esther sat back looking skyward. “Yes, it was old-fashioned. I wanted a cute name like the other girls.”

“Do you remember what your grandmother told you?” Mother Reed rubbed Esther's hand to make sure she was listening.

Esther's face creased with concentration. “Something about my purpose and how I would have authority over darkness.”

Esther's grandmother passed when she was ten years old, and she was so spiritual toward the end that half the time, Esther didn't understand what she was talking about. She remembered that after some people visited, her grandmother shook her fist at the shadows on the walls and rebuked them. Then the house seemed to get real light. She would mumble about people not living right and spirits being left in her house.

“Your grandmama was a wise woman. Ooh, I miss that girl. When your mama was pregnant with you, she wasn't in the church. We called it backsliding then. Your grandmama and I began to pray and fast for her and your daddy to come back to the Lord. Baby, it was during all this praying that your grandmama prophesied your birth and that you would be named Esther.”

“I do know the story of Esther in the Bible.”

“Did you understand that scripture says Esther won the favor of everyone who saw her? Baby, there is power in favor. This was a woman of faith, courage, loyalty, and obedience. She could have used her favor for her own good, but she used it for the good of her people. She's your namesake; there's a reason you are in social services and a reason you are so active in the ministry.”

Esther nodded. “Yeah, most of the time, I love my job.”

“That's not why I'm telling you all this, chile,” she said, somewhat exasperated.

“I'm listening,” Esther said in a rush.

Mother Reed tapped her. “Hear me good, little girl.”

Esther felt a sense of anticipation.

A commanding voice floated out of Mother Reed's small frame. “The time is coming when the Esther in you will rise. You have been positioned for such a time as this. You will be raised up as an instrument of God to avert the destruction of the church and its work. Thus said the Lord.”

Mother Reed noted Esther's look of uncertainty. She smiled and pulled the board game back. “Let's finish this game, daughter. I know that ya have things to do. I do so 'preciate ya time,” Mother Reed knew that when the time came, Esther would remember what she said. She had planted the seed; God would see to the increase. She just wanted to be there to help guide Esther through the crucial moments.

 

 

Briggs was reading when he saw a pale flash of pink pass by. He went into the hallway as Esther entered Reverend Gregory's office. He told himself he was headed down there because he needed to remind him of something, not to see Esther. As he entered, the Reverend and Esther were already in conversation.

“So you see, it's going to be important not to miss the deadline on both of these buildings,” Esther said.

Reverend Gregory held out a piece of paper. “Our problems are deeper than that; look at this letter.”

Esther read over its contents. She looked up flabbergasted and noticed Briggs standing in the doorway. She acknowledged him with a nod before she began a rant against the writers of the letter. “We are in violation of zoning laws? We went through all the proper procedures to get the transition house opened. They can't do this,” she exploded.

“They can, and they have. What an awful time for me to be leaving town.” Reverend Gregory looked up and waved Briggs over. “Come on in, Briggs. We have a hornet's nest dropping into our laps.”

“What's happened?” he asked. Esther handed him the letter to read.

“Can you call the mayor's office and ask for a meeting?” Esther paced agitated by the news.

“I did call him. This is the week of the gang summit and he's out, but they promised to let him know when he checks in that I need to speak with him.”

Esther whipped around in the small space. “And you're leaving at the end of next week?”

Reverend Gregory wiped the perspiration off his balding head. “I have to. On top of everything else, the doctors called and we really need to be with Jeanette right now.”

Esther stopped and touched the reverend in compassion. “We're praying for her.”

“Sir, I won't let you down. Leave this with Esther and me,” Briggs said. “I pray that your faith faileth not. God is not going to let the adversary take something as vital as our transition program. Those families need decent housing. It brings them the opportunity for a new life. Whatever force is coming against it, it will fail.” Briggs prophesied with fervor.

“Speak life, son, speak life,” Reverend Gregory raised his hand in solidarity.

Esther clapped. “Here, here.” She applauded Briggs determination to take charge and steer them into clear water. “I sit on boards with people who may help. I'll make some calls. I thought when we held all the open community forums, that we had addressed all of their concerns about that ‘element' moving into their neighborhood. This zoning problem is just a way to keep certain people out. I see it every day at work.”

“Don't worry,” Briggs placed his arm around Esther's shoulder.

Reverend Gregory advised them that he had a busy day ahead. He reminded them that they all needed to do what they could to begin to mitigate the damage that the letter was already doing. He had been fielding phone calls all morning from concerned church members and family members of residents of the homes. It seemed some duty-bound citizen put the word out on the street that the housing program was in trouble.

“Esther, Briggs, I expect you both to work on this night and day and get this thing turned around. I'm counting on you,” he said and waved them out the door. Before they could leave, Reverend Gregory was already taking a phone call.

“Let's go down to my office and strategize a plan of attack. Since you know all the key players, you'll be instrumental in helping me to know the best approach to take with each of them,” Briggs said to Esther as they left the reverend's office.

Esther moved ahead of Briggs. But before they could reach his office, Reverend Gregory's door swung open and he stepped out, calling both their names. His face had gone pale. “That was Mother Reed's neighbor. Mother was just rushed to the hospital. It looks bad!”

Esther and Briggs exchanged looks of horror and took off running toward the stairs. “I'll meet you there,” they heard Reverend Gregory yell as they ran down the church hallway and out into the parking lot.

 

 

The Leader stood in the shadows of the ambulance, watching Mother Reed labor for breath. He swayed back and forth on the curve of his elongated body, sending out signals of distraction to the paramedics. As the machine beeped a solid line, he swayed faster, knowing that his mission for the old woman was almost finished.

Mother Reed could feel the presence of the outsider near her. She clutched a small, worn piece of paper in her hand, and began to battle in her spirit against the powers that sought to ensnare her. She would not let them take her without a fight. Her mind was clear, and her purpose was unfinished. She knew what awaited her on the other side and was not afraid to sleep, but it was not time to get weary in well-doing. She began to reach deep into her spirit and call on Jesus.

The Leader felt coldness center on his heated scales, a soft sigh was blown into his inner ear, and he retched at the thought of an angel's breath touching him. Knowing who had entered, he reared forward to protect what he felt was rightfully his. He swung his large head around and raised his pointed tail. Angels three deep lined the small ambulance. They advanced toward him, so he lurched against the panels of the van and passed to the other side. As he stood in the road looking after the vehicle, he continued stealthily toward the hospital. He was not giving up.

Hearts racing, two anxious people flew through the double doors of the emergency room at Henry Ford Hospital.

Esther's steps faltered. She was back in a hospital. A dark tomb of a cold structure she hadn't entered since Sheri's untimely death. This arctic breathing, concrete torture chamber designed to take loved ones and leave devastation in its wake. It claimed to help the sick, but few people she knew who entered ever left. It was a selfish lover, taking but rarely giving back. First in its iron clutches her beloved grandmother and father, then Sheri, and now it wanted Mother Reed.

She slowed to a halt and watched as Briggs approached the desk and inquired about Mother Reed's condition. Her hands tightly clenched in an effort to control the erratic thumping of her heart.

Briggs turned and was surprised to see Esther still near the entrance. Her face pink flushed and perspiration glistened across her forehead. His long-legged gait disposed of the space between them. He covered both her clenched hands with his.

“You okay?” he asked. “We'll find something out soon. The unit clerk is checking on her now.”

“I just need a minute,” she said short of breath. “I'm worried about Mother Reed, but I'm also a little squeamish about hospitals.”

“Let's pray, and then all other concerns will fade.” Briggs escorted Esther over to the waiting area where they could pray in private.

Both failed to notice several Love Zion members as they entered the hospital lobby.

“Sister Wiley, Sister Wiley,” Deacon Clement rushed toward them, his toupee slipping forward in his haste.

Esther snatched her hands from Briggs's grasp. She couldn't remember when he had taken hold of her. Briggs frowned at her actions, but remained silent.

Esther faced Deacon Clement. “Deacon Clement . . . You've heard?”

“Yes, yes. We came as soon as we could,” He dabbed his handkerchief across his head, secretly straightening his toupee in the process.

Sister Abigail Winters stood next to Deacon Clement. She scrutinized Esther, then Briggs with furrowed eyebrows. Although this was a solemn occasion, Abigail was Love Zion's consummate mudslinging gossip maven.

“We are so very sorry about Mother Reed, dear. We all know how close the two of you were. I mean, are . . .” Abigail snidely remarked as she inched closer to Esther and Briggs.

“Thank you, Sister Abigail. We all love her, and we know that God is able,” Esther sniffled with disdain. She wished a hole would open in the floor to consume Abigail and her faithless comments.

Abigail dismissed Esther—there was no love lost there—as she focused her attention on Briggs. “Yes, yes. Is this your young man? He is a handsome one. You've been holding out on us.”

Esther's face was flush, and she stammered to answer, but Briggs stepped in.

“Hello, as a matter of fact, I'm Pastor Stokes, your interim pastor. I'm sorry we're meeting at such a grave time, but I'm glad to see the love that is evident between the members of Love Zion.” Briggs's gaze was intense as he placed emphasis on the word
love
.

Deacon Clement briskly shook Briggs's hand. “Welcome, son, welcome. I was under the weather when the deacon board met you. We're glad you're here.”

Abigail studied Esther and Briggs. Deacon Clement knew by the expression on Abigail's face that something was not to her liking. Esther, having experienced Abigail's rumor mill before, also saw the wheels turning in her devious mind.

Esther was priming for a fight. She couldn't wait for God to deliver Abigail from her messiness. She was about to derail Abigail's mudslinging by explaining why Briggs was holding on to her when her parents arrived. She breathed a sigh of relief because if anybody could handle Abigail, it was her mother.

“Esther, how is Mother Reed?” her mother asked as she anxiously approached.

Esther's father stood close waiting for her answer.

“Mama, we haven't . . .” Esther began to sniffle . . . she had just been with Mother Reed.

Briggs held out his hand to Mr. Wiley. “We haven't heard anything yet. Sir, my name is Briggs Stokes. I'm the new interim pastor for Love Zion.”

Mr. Wiley shook his hand. “Good to meet you, young man. Sorry it was today. We love Mother Reed like our own. When things get a little less hectic, we'll have to sit down and get to know each other.” His grip was strong like the man.

“Thank you, sir, I'd like that.” Briggs took measure of Mr. and Mrs. Wiley—both attractive people. They looked as he had imagined all those years ago.

Mr. Wiley placed a supporting arm around Elizabeth. “And this is my wife, Elizabeth Wiley.”

“Mrs. Wiley.” Briggs took her hand and bowed his head in acknowledgment of the introduction.

Mrs. Wiley patted his hand and gave him a sincere smile.

Abigail loomed over their introductions. “Oh my goodness, haven't you two met the new pastor, Sister Wiley?” Not giving them time to answer, Abigail continued. “He and Esther looked so close, why . . . we mistook him for her young man.”

Esther knew her mother was an old hand at church politics and had a Ph.D. in the shenanigans of Abigail Winters. Abigail was in her usual somber colors, gray or black. Today, she sported a gray polyester pantsuit that sagged on her thin frame. Her cast iron-gray hair was in an old-fashioned French roll, and her pinched mouth was turned downward in its customary fashion. Only her eyes were alive, stone black and piercing with interest.

“Abigail, I'm glad that you are now better informed,” Mrs. Wiley said, dismissing her; then she turned to the others. She sensed it was time they joined the real struggle at hand. “I feel that we all need to be praying for Mother Reed. I feel urgency in my spirit that the time is now.”

Her urgency reminded everyone why they had gathered as Briggs led them in prayer for the recovery of Mother Reed.

 

 

Lights chased across the face of the small monitor screen as it foretold Mother Reed's condition with small steady beeps. The doctor stood in the corner discussing the need for bypass surgery with a cardiologist.

As The Leader stood unnoticed in the background, he fumed at the turn of events in the lobby. He had sent fear in to stir up Esther's memory and to prevent her from focusing on Mother Reed.

The Leader knew that self-absorption had derailed many miracles in the making. But, Briggs's reassurance and Elizabeth's spiritual discernment cast out all fear. As a backup, he rounded up Abigail Winters, one of his best church workers. She was usually able to stir up trouble everywhere she went.

Abigail's unhappy childhood kept her gnawing at the happiness of others. Yet, love overcame bitterness, and even the old hag prayed for Mother Reed. He had forgotten the time Mother Reed had nursed Abigail back to health when no one else cared.

He began to feel faint and sickly. The essence of sweet perfumed prayers was getting to him. He called to his minions and demanded they stay, while he went down into the tunnels so he could be refreshed. They squawked but obeyed as he sent scalding licks of fire against their faces.

He entered the dark, dank earth and slithered back and forth, unsure if he would win this round. He needed a new game plan; he was losing too many battles lately, and the master was not pleased with him. He knew one thing; before he was sent back to the pits, he would destroy everything in his path, including all the fools in the lobby.

 

 

The number of people in the hospital waiting area had multiplied in the last hour. Everyone who loved Mother Reed was in attendance and in prayer for her recovery.

Reverend Gregory pushed up from his kneeling position and quieted his members. “Saints, I can feel the peace of the Lord with me now. Mother Reed will be all right. No matter the outcome, she's in God's hands.”

“Yes . . . mmmm, in God's hands,” Deacon Clement echoed.

“While so many of our church's faithful are gathered here, let me make introductions. Some of you have already met Pastor Stokes. He's a fine, godly young man and will lead you well in my absence,” Reverend Gregory held out his arm for Briggs to come forward.

Abigail moved around the crowd whispering small words to small minds.

Briggs smiled and acknowledged everyone. But, Reverend Gregory saw when Abigail passed by, faces changed from welcoming to disapproving.

Reverend Gregory knew his people well, including Sister Abigail. But, there were times when a pastor's intervention caused even more dissension. He looked over at his wife. They had been married so long that First Lady Gregory knew her husband's desires just by looking at him.

“We're all so grateful to the Honorable Bishop Stokes for loaning us his assistant pastor, and son,” First Lady Gregory advised everyone.

The room became a buzz of conversation. As intended, those who were ready to snub Briggs stopped when they realized who his father was. Many of them had stood in the back of coliseums among thousands, just to hear his rousing and passionate sermons. His son was to be their interim pastor? Wait until they called their friends....

Briggs saw the faces of those before him change instantly. He was saddened that once again it was his father's name that opened doors, not his own relationship with God. Inside his hurt, he searched for the one face that could sooth his wounded ego—Esther.

Once Abigail's intentions were clear, Esther moved to the background. She was the center of hurtful rumors when she was married to Roger, and she vowed never to have her business in the church community again. Esther learned through that experience that everyone shouting, “Hallelujah!” wasn't heaven bound.

She felt Briggs's hurt, but to go to her friend and ease his pain with a kind word and a soothing touch would only make matters worse. She could only send silent waves of comfort and hope he received them.

Mrs. Wiley walked forward and opened her arms to Briggs. “I want to welcome you again. We, at Love Zion, pride ourselves on our friendliness and kindness. My husband and I are here for you as are the rest of our family.”

“Especially Esther,” Sister Abigail whispered, though she said it loud enough for most to hear.

“Yes, of course, Esther, Phyllis, and my son-in law, Charles, are all faithful members of Love Zion, and more important, of God's will in our lives. We're at your service.”

Abigail frowned at the rebuke she received from Elizabeth's comments. She crossed her arms and clamped her mouth shut at the snickers she heard at her expense.

“Let them laugh,” she mumbled. “I saw those two, and something was up, and I aim to be watching them.”