The Other Side of Goodness (18 page)

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Authors: Vanessa Davis Griggs

BOOK: The Other Side of Goodness
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Pastor Landris stood up and walked back to his side of his desk, laying down the information she'd just given him. “We haven't found a match just yet, but we'll definitely be praying that God moves mightily in this situation. I'll be praying, as well, that the birth father will step up and do the right thing. Is he still married?”
“Yes . . . to the same woman. They have three children, and the doctors say that a sibling has a higher chance of being a match than even the parents,” Gabrielle said. “So while we're praying, can we also pray that if he ends up having to, that he figures out how to bring his children in to be tested. Pastor Landris, I'm not trying to hurt Jasmine's birth father
or
his family, nor am I trying to take him down in any way. I'm not. I'm not trying to mess up his career or his standing in the community. That's not my intentions at all.”
Pastor Landris smiled. “He sounds to be a powerful figure . . . someone of prominence and importance.”
“He is.”
“Well, let the Holy Spirit lead you on how to handle him. Men of power and influence can be ruthless if they feel threatened in the least. Trust me on this from personal experience. And according to how powerful and influential this man is—”
“He is quite both.” Gabrielle was debating whether she should tell Pastor Landris everything, including Lawrence's name. “Pastor Landris?”
“Yes?”
“What should I do if this man refuses to do whatever he can to help?”
“Is the man
that
cold and evil?”
“Evil is a pretty strong word. But I believe he can be ruthless if he has to be. And I don't think he would hesitate for a minute to destroy anyone who might get in the way of his ambitions, including me and a little girl who desperately needs him right now.” Gabrielle dabbed her eyes. “So as not to speak
totally
ill of him, let's just say that he's on the
other
side of goodness, and we'll leave it at that.”
“Would you care to tell me who this man is?” Pastor Landris scrunched his face into a frown. “You don't have to now, but if you want to or even
need
to . . .”
“I
want
to tell you. But for now, I think it best that I keep his name to myself.”
Pastor Landris nodded. “Okay. But if you should change your mind, know that I'm here for you. Let me ask you this though: Does anyone else besides you know who he is?”
Gabrielle twisted her face. “Are you concerned that he might actually do something to physically harm me?”
Pastor Landris shrugged. “Who can ever say what another will do to protect what one thinks is important to him or her. I'm not saying that he will or won't. But you never know for sure about folks these days. And a man with power and influence is one I wouldn't turn my back on when I walk away from him. Don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying that God won't protect us no matter who might try to harm us. But God also gives us common sense He expects us to use.” Pastor Landris sat down.
Gabrielle considered his words. “To answer your question about anyone else knowing his name besides me, Zachary does. He knows pretty much everything.”
Pastor Landris smiled. “Brother Zachary. I see you and he are yet going strong.”
Gabrielle blushed. “He is
so
wonderful.”
“Do you love him?”
“Pastor!”
Pastor Landris laughed a deep, jolly, baritone laugh that made one think of Santa Claus. “Now you
know
I don't play around here. So, are you two in love?”
“Yes. I'd say we are.”
“And you're both keeping yourselves holy?”
Gabrielle became totally serious. “Oh, yes, sir. Absolutely!”
“All right, then.” Pastor Landris grinned. “You two can let me know when we need to start premarital counseling. You know Johnnie Mae will insist that she and I handle the two of you ourselves. My wife is crazy about you.”
Gabrielle couldn't help but to smile. Johnnie Mae had been like a mother to her since she'd become a member of the church and started dancing there. “I love her as well. You both have been there for me in ways I only wish other folks could know. Not many have a pastor and wife in their lives like the both of you. You're not on some power trip. It's not about money and prestige. You
really
care about God, and you
really
care about us—Jesus's lambs and sheep.”
“That's because I know who all of you
ultimately
belong to, and that is Jesus—the Good Shepherd. I'm merely an under-shepherd. Jesus told Peter if he loved Him to feed His lamb . . . feed His sheep. I love God, and I'm going to be sure I take care of, as well as feed, His sheep.” Pastor Landris glanced down at his watch. “I suppose my next appointment has been waiting long enough.”
Gabrielle stood up. “I'm so thankful God laid my name on your heart. I have wanted to talk to you so badly, but I just know how busy you are.” She threw the balled-up, spent tissues left into the trash can on the side of his desk.
“Well, no matter what the secretaries around here do to keep me on a tightly held schedule, God will definitely rearrange things to fit in what He desires. That's exactly what God did today. If you need to talk some more, you just let me know.”
“Thank you. And I promise I'll try not to bother you if I can at all help it.”
“Gabrielle, you're a daughter here. And children
always
have privileges that others don't. You're not a bother; you're part of this family . . . a part of the body of Christ . . . a supplying joint. And believe me: You're nothing like some folks who try to take up all my time, for taking-up sake.”
“I assure you: If I need to talk with you about anything more dealing with this, I'll be judicious with your time. Pastor Landris, I appreciate you so much.” Gabrielle headed for the door. “Now back to work. I have a lot of catching up to do.”
Gabrielle closed the door behind her and breathed a sigh of relief.
God, You are so awesome! Thank You.
She did a skip and a hop, smiling as she went along.
On that night, Gabrielle finished up the conversation with Zachary concerning Andrew.
No, there was
no
chance that Andrew Holyfield was Jasmine's father. No way at all.
Chapter 26
But he answered and said, It is not meet to take the children's bread, and to cast it to dogs.
—Matthew 15:26
 
 
 
L
awrence met with Andrew. He confronted him with the information he'd learned about him indeed having known Gabrielle Booker, now Gabrielle Mercedes, prior to his daughter introducing them, just as Paris had accused. Lawrence asked him point-blank whether or not he and Gabrielle had ever slept together. Andrew told him that whatever he and Gabrielle may or may not have done, and when they may or may not have done it, was neither his business nor his concern. Lawrence made it clear that whatever affected his daughter, indeed, was both his business
and
his concern.
Lawrence's battle plan was to get tested, and when he learned he was not even remotely a possible candidate for the next step, he'd confront Andrew for him to be tested. That would most likely cause Andrew to tell the truth about his relationship with Gabrielle. Lawrence
was
tested and told he was indeed a “remarkably great candidate” to be a possible match as a bone marrow donor for the coded number he was applying to be tested for. Whether he would be a good match with his bone marrow matching the recipient was another matter completely. The woman he spoke with had used those words. But he'd heard the real meaning between what she may or may not have realized she was confirming: that he
was
the father of this child.
His emotions were all over the place now. He wasn't sure how he felt about the revelation. He had another child out there. A child he'd never seen before. A little girl. A little girl that would die if she didn't get the donor she needed. He hadn't realized just how much this meant to him until he found himself silently praying that he would be a donor match.
Of course, William would say he was only praying for this outcome because he was aware of the potential fallout and damage control that would need to be mounted on his behalf if his other children became involved. But for reasons he couldn't quite grasp with total clarity, there was more to this than self-preservation. There was a little girl out there, carrying parts of his DNA, and he didn't know her at all. And if they were unable to find a match for her, she very well might die.
But surely they'd find a match. If not now, then definitely soon . . . before she died. Wasn't that how it always worked?
Lawrence felt there had to be a way for him to be able to help this child and still keep everything else he cherished dearly and had worked hard to obtain in life. He and William had concocted a good backup plan in case he turned out to be a donor match. They would just have to implement that plan. He would reportedly “be out of town” for a few days, give the necessary bone marrow, recuperate, and get back to his normal life soon after. But if it turned out that he wasn't a donor match, they would then need to implement the other plan. He would have to. He couldn't take a chance that Gabrielle might go public. And he truly had no reason to believe she wouldn't.
William didn't believe she'd actually do it. He felt they could intimidate her with the fear of her possibly being charged with extortion of a government official. William believed he could convince her just how brutal messing with them might be for her. William's team was known for digging up embarrassing photos (framing whoever their target was at the time in a horrible light). Whether the photos were real or staged, only William and the people he hired to produce them knew the truth.
But Lawrence didn't want to take a chance with this one. Gabrielle had more going for her than the others they had threatened in the past to decimate. Gabrielle had shared an apartment with his daughter Paris. Sure, he could use as a defense that he'd been set up. But it definitely didn't bode well that Gabrielle was eighteen at the time this alleged setup would have occurred. In fact, he could end up looking like a child molester to some, and at best, a dirty older man who'd taken advantage of a teenage girl, to others.
No, the best route—he and William had come to agree upon if he wasn't a match—was to begin their much-discussed Operation Become a Possible Donor campaign.
And that's where they all were right now—in the midst of this possible bone marrow donor campaign. Of course, as predicted, Paris was giving him a fit about doing it, voicing what a ridiculous idea she thought it was.
“Why do I care about somebody in need of some bone marrow transplant?” Paris said at the family gathering Lawrence had called to discuss his latest endeavor.
Malachi laughed. “Leave it to Miss Compassionate over there to put voice to what she really thinks.”
Paris rolled her eyes at her twenty-six-year-old chiseled brother. “It was not Miss
Compassionate
,” she said, believing he was talking about her win in the last pageant she was ever in. “It was Miss
Congeniality
, Malachi Everett.”
“Yeah,” Malachi said with another round of laughter. “Right . . . right. How could I ever get those two things mixed up?” he teased.
“Because maybe you're not as smart as you want everybody to believe that you are, Mister Business Admin Grad Banker Exec,” Paris said.
“That's enough, you two,” Deidra said, looking at Paris first, then Malachi. “Paris, I think what your brother is trying to say is that what you just said is not a very compassionate thing to say.”
“I'm merely saying what all of you are thinking, but too scared to say,” Paris said. “I don't want to donate anything to anybody . . . ever. Least of all, donate anything from my body. I figure if God intended for us to have them, He would have given us spare parts when we were born.”
“Oh, you mean like the two eyes, two ears, two arms, two legs we have? So we would have a spare if we needed it?” Malachi teased again. He stopped grinning when his mother shot him another look.
“Well, to be honest: I'm just wondering whose bright campaign idea this was.” Deidra looked to her husband first, then over to William.
“Probably William's,” Paris said. “It sounds like something he would come up with. He's always trying to devise some wild scheme to get Dad votes. He's the genius behind Daddy switching to the Republican Party. I suppose that's going over so horribly that they're scrambling to find a way to take the focus off of
that
stupid move. Because if he tried to switch back, he'd be branded a real flip-flopper.”
Deidra looked at William, who was neither confirming nor denying anything. She turned to her husband. “This really
did
just seem to come out of nowhere. I mean, I've known you all these years, and you've never shown even the
least
bit of interest in anything
remotely
like this. You won't even donate blood. And now you want this entire family to subject ourselves to this in support of a bone marrow transplant? Is this someone that you or William happen to know? What? Help us all out here.”
“Listen, we just wanted to bring attention to something that gets little attention, especially in the African American community.” William drew all eyes his way. “I personally think it's a wonderful way to show compassion for our fellow man while serving the community and educating them on something few know about.”
“In other words, we just found the mastermind behind this great idea,” Paris said, folding her arms and sitting back hard against the couch where she sat next to her husband. “Well, I for one am not doing it! I'm not. So you can count me out of this family function this time around.”
“Surprise, surprise!” Malachi said. “Paris doesn't want to do it.”
“I wish you'd mind your own business, Malachi,” Paris said. “Oh, wait! That's right; you don't have much business to mind these days since your
girlfriend
found out you had two other women on the side and dumped you.”
“Paris, stop it!” Deidra said.
“Well, he started it,” Paris said. “All I said is that I don't care to participate in Daddy's or William's or whomever the genius was that came up with this . . . lame plan. I have that right to decline, and I'm
fully
exercising my right! And anybody who doesn't like it can—”
“Paris!” Deidra gave her the look that said she was serious about her stopping, and she meant now.
Paris shrugged. “Fine. So Malachi's in. Who else?”
“Hold up,” Malachi said. “Now I haven't said I was in.”
Paris grinned and danced her head around a few times. Deidra looked at her sternly again and Paris stopped and sat still.
Lawrence covered his face with both hands. “Argh!” he yelled from between his fingers before taking his hands down. “Listen. I'm not asking anybody to be a donor. I'm merely asking us, as a family, to unite and show how truly caring we are when it comes to the plight of others.”
“Yeah, but what happens if one of us turns out to be a match or something?” Malachi said. “Has anyone thought that far ahead?”
“Can I be honest with you?” William said. “The likelihood of any of you being the level of match needed for the person we've chosen to highlight for this campaign is probably not all that high. It takes a lot even to be a
good
match. But just think: We could inspire someone who hadn't considered this or didn't even know there were folks in need like this, to come forward. And from our actions, someone out there
may
end up being a match. Wouldn't that be a marvelous thing?”
“But it's like you're asking us to put what's ours out there to help someone who's not even in our family,” Paris said.
Imani laughed.
Paris leaned forward and looked at Imani. “What's so funny?”
“I was just thinking about this scripture I just read the other day in the Bible,” Imani said.
Paris chuckled. “Yeah, like you actually read the Bible just because. Imani, you really don't have to try and impress anyone here. It's just the family . . . and, of course, William. We're not on the campaign trail trying to make Dad's constituents think we're the perfect little wholesome family who reads our Bibles daily.” She waved off Imani.
“But I do read the Bible. And I happen to enjoy reading it,” Imani said.
“She really does,” Deidra said. “Go on, Imani. What were you about to tell us?”
Imani looked at Paris, then her brother, before letting her eyes rest on her mother. “It was the scripture about the Canaanite woman. The story in Matthew fifteen where this woman comes to Jesus about her daughter that was demon possessed and she was trying to get her daughter some help.”
“For sure you can't get any better help than coming to Jesus,” Lawrence said. “Go on, Imani.”
“Well, the woman was a Gentile and, of course, Jesus was a Jew. When she asked Jesus to have mercy on her and to help her daughter, Jesus's disciples started telling Jesus to send her away because the woman was bothering them,” Imani said.
“That sounds familiar,” Paris said under her breath, but loud enough for her mother to give her a sideways look this time. Paris pantomimed the zipping of her lips and nodded.
“Go on, baby,” Deidra said as though she didn't know the story and was interested in hearing what happened.
“Jesus told the woman that He wasn't sent to folks like her, but to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. As I stated, the woman was a Gentile, as was her daughter, so Jesus was telling her that He wasn't sent for them. But then the woman did something awesome. She came to Jesus and worshipped Him. She said, ‘Lord, help me.' That was it. She didn't say anything to insult Him or get back at him—nothing like that. She was merely trying to get help for her child.” Imani scooted more to the edge of the chair where she sat. “Do you know what Jesus's answer was to her plea?”
“He's Jesus,” Paris said. “Of course we know. He either went and healed the woman's daughter or He spoke a Word and her daughter was healed
that
way.”
Imani smiled. “Nope. Jesus said, ‘It is not meet to take the children's bread, and to cast it to dogs.' That's what Jesus said to her.”
Paris jerked back. “What? Jesus said
that
? He called the woman and her daughter dogs?” Paris turned to her father. “See, Dad; there you go! There's your answer, coming from the mouth of one who
apparently
studies the Bible way more than any of the rest of us do. Jesus called the woman and her daughter dogs. That means not everybody should be helped, which means that we as a family don't have to care about this child we don't even know or anybody else, for that matter.” Paris stood up. “So I suppose this means we can go home now. Come on, Andrew—”
“Where again is that in the Bible?” Malachi asked, his cell phone out. “What scripture is that again?”
“I'm not finished yet,” Imani said, more to Paris.

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