The Eleventh Commandment (28 page)

1.
Frieda was largely responsible for the problems she dealt with in her marriage. How do you feel about her? Did your feelings change once you knew more about her?

2.
Some situations may have remained hidden had Cordella not gotten involved. What do you think about her? What about her son, Clark?

3.
What are your thoughts about Trisha? Compassion? Understanding? Suspicion?

4.
If you were faced with a situation similar to the one Hope dealt with, how would you handle it?

5.
Bo and Darius faced a pretty serious threat to their union. Do you think their marriage will survive? Why or why not?

6.
Regarding Stacy and Hope, do you agree with the type of support each gave their husband?

7.
If you were Stacy, would you have handled what happened to her differently? Why or why not?

8.
In more than one situation, temptation from outsiders threatened to cripple the relationship(s). What do you think about men or women who go after someone who is married? Do you think it is their responsibility not to do it, or the married person's responsibility not to take the bait?

9.
As men go, Gabriel Livingston is one of the good ones. Do you agree with what appears to be his decision where Frieda is concerned?

10.
What are your thoughts about the eleventh commandment?

1

Here Comes the Bride

P
rincess Brook stood with her father at the back of his church, and today Mount Zion Progressive Baptist was SRO—standing room only. She was a vision in white. Her princess cut wedding dress (with a name like that, what other style could she wear?) was a stunning combination of silk and chiffon, with Swarovski crystals creating an intricate design on the bodice before continuing—as though sprinkled by Glenda the Good Witch herself—along the skirt and twelve-foot train. The cut accented her perfectly sized breasts and small waist, while giving just a hint of the bootylicious that completed the brick house that one of her mother's old-school favorites sang about in their hit song. The dress was strapless, revealing smooth, blemish-free caramel skin, but a tiara-held veil provided appropriate modesty, and her “something borrowed,” a teardrop diamond necklace that her father had given her mother years ago, was the perfect accessory around her gracefully slender neck. The purposely messy upswept do fashioned from her straight, shoulder-length hair further highlighted the borrowed gift...and Princess's heart-shaped face.

“Are you ready, baby girl?” King Brook asked.

She nodded. “Are you?”

Princess's megaminister father looked liked glory hallelujah and Jesus, have mercy combined, decked out in a black tuxedo complete with tails and waistcoat. The silver cummerbund and bow tie were perfect accents for his deep chocolate skin, his closely cropped hair, and expertly trimmed goatee—all working in his favor. Many women were already breaking their necks to look back and take multiple peeks. The feigned fainting would come later...when he smiled.

“I'm ready to walk you down the aisle,” he said, after gazing at the daughter who seemed to have grown up overnight. “And I guess I have to give you away. But you'll always be my baby girl.”

“Stop it, Daddy,” Princess admonished, fanning her eyes to dry unshed tears. “You'll ruin my makeup by making me cry!”

The Musical Messengers, a group who'd performed many times at Mount Zion Progressive, broke out into a jazzy, gospel-tinged version of the traditional wedding march and within minutes, Princess stood at the altar. King kissed her cheek, shook hands with her soon-to-be husband, and walked behind the Plexiglas podium.

“Dearly beloved,” he began, his voice a sexy baritone that over the years had caused many a lustful thought, “we've gathered here today to join my daughter, Princess Nicole Brook...” He faltered, his voice growing raspy with emotion. More lusting occurred. After clearing his throat, he continued. “My daughter, Princess Nicole Brook, and Rafael Scott Stevens together in holy matrimony.”

The words continued, but it was as if Princess was in a fog. She couldn't hear a thing. She stood there smiling at a man whose love for her could fill an ocean... and she was thinking about someone else.
Kel... No! I dare not even think his name! He's a part of my yesterday. This man, Rafael, is the man I want in my life. I love you, Rafael! I do! Rafael...Rafael...Rafael...

As Rafael began speaking, Princess forced her mind back to the very important matter at hand. “I give you this ring,” he said, sliding a beautifully cut diamond onto her French-manicured finger, “as a symbol of my love and faithfulness. I commit myself to you: mind, body, and soul. Let this ring forever be a reminder of the words I've spoken this day.” There were tears in his large, chocolate brown eyes, which peered from a handsome, clean-shaven face. Rafael was the color of toffee, and just as sweet...all five feet ten inches of him were filled with integrity and devotion.

Princess continued to stare at him, knowing that it was her turn to recite vows, and willing the words to come out.

“Princess, is there anything you'd like to say?” King asked, gently encouraging his disconcerted daughter and bringing a bit of levity to the solemn affair.

Princess managed a slight chuckle as she took a deep breath and repeated what Rafael had said, sliding a simple, platinum band onto his thick, manicured finger.

“If there is anyone present who knows of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Was it Princess's imagination or was her heart precariously close to thumping out of her chest? She looked at her mother, Tai Brook, who stared back at her with an unreadable expression. Princess's mind went back to a conversation they'd had just days ago.

 

“Mama, were you in love with Daddy when y'all got married?”

“I thought I was, but honestly, I didn't even know what true love meant when your father and I said ‘I do.' ”

“So when did you know that you were in love with him—not only that you loved him, but that you were
in
love?”

Tai had looked up from the reality TV show she'd been watching and muted the sound. “Why are you asking me this, Princess? Are you questioning whether or not you're in love with Rafael?”

“No,” Princess had answered, a bit too quickly. “Rafael and I grew up together. I love him very much.”

Tai pressed the issue. “But are you
in
love with him?”

Princess shrugged.

“Let me ask you this. Do you feel the same way about Rafael that you did about Kelvin?”

“Of course not, Mama. They're two different people.”

“Exactly. You're always going to have a certain feeling about the first one, your first love, Princess. There is an excitement there, the thrill of experiencing something you've never felt before, which never happens twice. But don't confuse that feeling with true love. Anybody can see why you'd be attracted to Kelvin. He's tall, dark, handsome, and now successful and rich. But when it comes to relationships and being there for the long haul, traits such as faithfulness, loyalty, devotion, honesty...those are the ones that matter. As you think about the man you're about to marry, and whether or not you should, think about those things. Rafael is a good man, baby,” Tai finished, reaching out to place her hand on Princess's arm. “He comes from a good, Christian family. And he absolutely adores you. I believe that he will do everything in his power to give you a great life.”

 

After a very brief pause, King continued. “Then by the power vested in me, and in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, I now pronounce you man and—”

“No!”

A collective gasp went up from the crowd.

“No!” Six feet and five inches of delectable determination made his way down the aisle that King and Princess had walked just moments before. The murmuring that had begun as soon as the handsome young man had uttered those two letters followed him down the aisle, pew by disbelieving pew, turning into a slight cacophony as he reached the front.

Tai stood, a look of horror plastered on her face. Rafael's parents were looking between her and the stranger who now stood between their son and his soon-to-be wife. Princess's grandparents were as wide eyed as hooting owls. Camera phones were being snapped and flying fingers were sending texts.

His next words silenced the crowd as much as his first one had sent tongues wagging. “You can't marry him, Princess.”

The eyes of a deer caught in headlights could not have been wider. She opened her mouth, but words were frozen along with her body.

“Don't do this to us, baby. You're my girl. I love you!”

Rafael was the first one to come out of the surprise-induced shock and react. “She's not your baby,” he growled, taking a step toward Kelvin, a balled fist at his side.

“Oh, and she's yours?” Tense seconds passed as the two men glared at each other. “She'll never love you, dog,” Kelvin continued. “She can't give you her heart.
I've
got that.” He turned to look at Princess...which was why he didn't see the fist that connected with his jaw.

Kelvin stumbled back, but quickly recovered. He pushed Rafael with enough force to send the slighter man stumbling into King, who'd moved from behind the podium with the thought to step between them. King had been a second too late, and was now on the bottom of a wrestling pile as Kelvin, who'd jumped on top of Rafael, who was still halfway on top of King, was now pummeling Rafael with his fists. Rafael was pummeling back. Words that shouldn't be used in church were flying between them.

“Stop! Both of you!” Princess cried, kneeling down into the fray. But it was as though she hadn't spoken, almost like she wasn't there. They kept swinging and swinging, each punch landing harder than the one before. King finally wrestled himself from beneath the two fighting men, but this move caused Princess to fall over.

“She's mine!” she heard Rafael cry before hearing the sound of knuckles hitting flesh.

A similar sound preceded Kelvin's response: “In your dreams, you punk-ass mutha—!”

Pow!
Another moment of fist and flesh connecting.

Where are the ushers? Where's security? Why doesn't someone stop this fight?
Princess tried to right herself, but her dress was twisted around her legs, effectively imprisoning them better than a mummy wrap ever could. She kicked and she kicked, but to no avail. She couldn't get up and she felt that unless she did the man she was in love with and the one she was about to marry would kill each other.
God, please help me.
And as had always been the case, God came through. He helped her. How, you may be wondering? The answer is simple.

Princess woke up.