The First Lady Read online

  I shot him a dirty look. “You know what, James?”

  “What’s that, Bishop?”

  “You gon’ make me step on your other toe in a second.”

  I stepped toward him, slamming my foot on the floor in front of his feet, and he jumped back.

  “Stop playing, Bishop,” James whined.

  “Who’s playing?” I stomped my foot near his again, then laughed. “Look, I’m going to find Marlene in the common area. We’ve got dinner plans.”

  “Dinner plans with Marlene tonight? Dinner with Monique on Saturday, and didn’t you have dinner with Savannah Dickens not too long ago? I don’t know, Bishop. If I didn’t know you so well, it would seem to me like you’ve become quite the Casanova lately.” James chuckled.

  I rolled my eyes at his not-so-humorous joke. If indeed I was getting back into dating, no one in the church was going to make it easy for me, including my good friend.

  “I’ll see you later, James, because you’re making way too much of nothing.”

  “Am I, Bishop?”

  As I headed away from James, I didn’t answer him, but I did wonder if he was right. Dinner with three different women in the same week. Had I just allowed myself to become First Jamaica Ministries’ most eligible bachelor without even noticing it happen?

  I waited for Marlene for almost two hours before I got my briefcase from my office and decided to head home, figuring she’d forgotten about our dinner plans. Actually, I was hoping she’d just forgotten, because I’d called her house three times and got no answer, so I was a bit worried about her. I tried to reassure myself that everything was fine, but just in case, I’d stop by her place on my way home.

  When I reached the church parking lot, I was surprised to see Lisa Mae Jones, the widow of my late friend, Pastor Lee Jones, standing in the parking lot next to her car with the hood up.

  “Car troubles, Sister Lisa?”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with this thing, Bishop. I’ve never been good with cars. Lee used to always handle that.” She sounded defeated.

  “Well, I’m not that great with them, either, but let me have a look.”

  “I appreciate that. I probably should have just gotten a ride home with Sister Alison when she offered, but I was sure I could get this thing started,” she said. “That’ll teach me to be stubborn.”

  I smiled at her joke; then I got in her car and turned the key. “Well, perhaps Sister Alison was right. The car won’t start for me, either.”

  Even though the question was obvious, I still had to ask, “Do you have any gas?”

  “I think I do.” She didn’t sound very confident, and I was fairly certain of what I would see when I looked down at the gas gauge. It was empty. I almost wanted to laugh at the thought of this woman trying to start her car, never once realizing the problem was simply an empty gas tank. But this was my friend’s widow, and I couldn’t do anything but feel sorry for her helplessness.

  “Sister Lisa, I think you’re out of gas.”

  “Oh, my goodness, I am so embarrassed. I feel like a fool. How in the world could I forget to put gas in the car?”

  I was wondering the same thing myself, but I stepped out of the car, placed my arm around her shoulder, and said, “No reason to put yourself down, Sister. It happens to us all. I ran out of gas a few weeks ago myself. Thank goodness, I’d just pulled into a gas station. Listen, why don’t I give you a ride to the gas station on Liberty, and then we’ll get some? Do you have a gas can?”

  She shook her head. “Like I told you before, Bishop, I don’t know anything about cars other than I’m supposed to put gas in it. And as you can see, I’m not very good at that.”

  “Well, I’ve got a can at home in my other car. We could shoot over there and get it, or I could drop you off at home tonight, then have one of the brothers drop your car to you in the morning.”

  “Maybe we should do that. It’s late, and I don’t think either of us should be out here this time of night.”

  “Okay, but I’d like to have a bite to eat first. I’m famished. Do you mind if I stop by McDonald’s or Popeye’s first?”

  “I certainly do mind. If you’re dropping me at my house, you can finish off the pork chops I cooked before Bible study.”

  My mouth started to water. “You made pork chops?”

  “I sure did. I thought Lee Jr. was coming over, so I made plenty.”

  “How is Lee? Is he still studying at St. John’s Seminary?”

  “Yes. He wants to be just like his father … and you.”

  “Well, he is a fine young man. We need more young men to come into the clergy.”

  “We sure do. Now, Bishop, what are we gonna do about those pork chops just sitting there at my house? I’ve got some homemade bread and some onions I could fry up. We could make some pork chop sandwiches.”

  My stomach started to grumble. “Well, Sister Lisa, who in the world could say no to some pork chop sandwiches?” I escorted her to my car, and we headed to her home in Rosedale.

  8

  LISA

  I watched happily as the bishop ate my pork chops like they were going out of style. I had to give my girl Loretta credit. Our plan had worked even better than expected. Siphoning the gas from my car and waiting for the bishop to come out of the church was a brilliant idea. What man of God, especially a man the caliber of Bishop T.K. Wilson, would leave a woman stranded at night with a broken-down car? But offering him pork chops to get him to come over to my house was really just a stroke of genius. Charlene had told me years ago that pork chops were the bishop’s favorite food, so I’d been perfecting mine since her death.

  “Sister Lisa, I’ve gotta tell you like the kids would say—these pork chops are slammin'.”

  I watched the bishop finish off his third pork chop, cleaning the plate. “Why, thank you, Bishop. Would you like another one?”

  Without hesitation, he nodded. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  I placed two more pork chops on his plate and a small heap of fried onions. Watching him eat brought a warmth to my soul. Like my late husband Lee, Bishop T.K. Wilson could put away some food. He also knew how to conduct a conversation with a lady. We’d talked about so many things on the ride to my house and as I warmed up the pork chops and fried the onions. I was truly enjoying his company.

  “So, Bishop, how’s your family?” I asked.

  “They’re fine. Dante and Tanisha are still down in D.C. He’s working for a big-time law firm while she goes to school and takes care of the baby. And as you know, Shorty and Donna are working for the church, running the youth ministry. Oh, and all three of my grandchildren are just a joy.”

  “That’s good. So, how are you holding up after Charlene’s death?” I hated to ask the question, afraid that it would ruin the mood of this enjoyable evening. But Charlene’s death was like the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room; sooner or later the subject would have to come up. I would just have to try to use the conversation to my advantage, to show the bishop what a good, understanding listener I was.

  “Sister Lisa, it’s hard. It’s real hard. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish she was still here with me.”

  “I know how you feel. I think about Lee every day too. But it gets easier with time. Believe it or not, I’ve even gone on a few dates in the past six months,” I lied. The only man I’d been interested in was the bishop, but I’d learned a long time ago that men love competition.

  He looked up at me, surprised. “Really? I didn’t think you dated.”

  I frowned. “Well, I’m not a spring chicken anymore, but I have my suitors.”

  I had a thought to be offended until I heard his reply. “I’m sure you do, Sister. You’re a very attractive woman.” There was an awkward silence for a moment before he asked, “So, are your suitors anybody I know?”

  “Oh, one or two of them maybe, but like I said, they were just dates. Nothing serious. You see, Bishop, I won’t settle. I need an intelligent, strong man, s
omeone who’s devoted himself to God but is worldly at the same time. It’s very hard to accept any man less than the one I was married to. I just won’t lower my standards for anyone. You’ll see when you start dating … if you haven’t already.” I searched his face for any signs of an answer to my probing but saw none. “No one will compare to Charlene. Sure, you may find someone prettier or younger, but will they have her substance? Will they be able to stand next to you in the pulpit? Not every woman can be the first lady of her church. It takes a very special woman, like your Charlene. A very special woman, Bishop.”

  He finished off another pork chop and sat back in his chair like he was in deep thought. “You know, Sister, I never thought about it that way.”

  “That’s because you had a strong first lady with you from the start.”

  “Truthfully, I hadn’t given much thought at all to finding someone to fill the space left after my wife’s death. It just seemed too soon. But now I hear there’s grumbling among the women of the church. Why does everyone seem to think I need to get married anyway?”

  “Well, speaking for myself, I don’t think you should do anything until you’re ready, Bishop. The grieving process is different for everyone. But at the same time, I do understand the position of the church. What you may seem to forget is that while you took care of the spiritual side of the church, your wife took care of the social aspect of it. While you may have kept things together in the pulpit, the social structure of our church has been crumbling.”

  “You think so?” He looked like this was news to him, and he was truly concerned.

  I hesitated, thinking out my response before I continued. “Yes, I do. We haven’t even started work on the Toys for Tots drive. Have we?”

  “Not to my knowledge, but that’s something Charlene …” His voice trailed off as he no doubt thought about his late wife and her role in the church. “It’s one of the many things the first lady used to handle.”

  “Exactly. See what I mean? And what about this summer’s revival? Do we even know where it’s going to be?”

  “Wow, that’s something else I hadn’t thought about.”

  I had planted the seed in the bishop’s head, making him fully aware of how things had been slipping since the first lady’s death. Now it was time to make him realize that I was the perfect woman to pull everything back together.

  “I know how much you must miss her. We all do. I hadn’t even thought about all these social things, either … until I got this.” I reached over into my bag and pulled out the letter Charlene had written me. I handed it to the bishop.

  He asked, “What’s this?” but I could tell by his expression that he wasn’t surprised I had it. It crossed my mind that he could possibly be the one who taped it to my door. Still, I had to operate under the assumption that he really didn’t know what I had.

  “It’s a letter from your wife. I found it taped to my door a few days ago. I don’t know how it got there. The only thing I could think of was that she had written it before her death, then left it with someone to deliver. It seems she thought that with both of us widowed, you and I would be perfect for each other.”

  “Really?” he asked with raised eyebrows, and this time I believed he really was surprised. I guess he wasn’t the one who’d left it on my door. I watched as he read the letter, but his face did not reveal his thoughts.

  He folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope, then handed it to me. He made eye contact briefly, and said, “Yes, it’s from her.” But he offered no explanation for how he was sure it was from Charlene and quickly looked toward the floor. I couldn’t tell if the glistening in his eye was a tear or just a reflection.

  We sat in silence for quite a long time before he took a deep breath, then spoke. “So, what do you think of this?” he asked.

  I reached out and placed my hand on his, but he still wouldn’t look up at me. “I think your wife loved you very much, Bishop. And I think she believed that if we tried, the two of us would make a great team.” I watched him close his eyes tightly, perhaps trying to hold back tears. I asked gently, “What do you think?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. As much as I wanted him to make this easy, to just turn to me and say it was a great idea, I understood why he couldn’t. I had been where he was now emotionally, in the first months after I lost my husband. It’s not a simple thing to move on after losing a loved one. I was ready to do this, to become the next first lady as soon as possible, but I couldn’t rush the bishop. I had to play this carefully so I didn’t scare him away. It was important to be subtle as I guided his heart in my direction, but he had to feel like he was the one who decided he was ready. So I sat silently while he gathered his thoughts.

  Finally, he looked up at me and said, “Frankly, I’m embarrassed and don’t know what to say. I mean, she made a lot of good points in her letter. I did tell her I thought you were a very attractive woman. I also told her Lee was a very lucky man and that you were a great first lady.”

  Well, that was promising. I kept my composure, but I wanted to blush. It was one thing to read it from Charlene, but it was another to hear him say he thought I was attractive and was a great first lady. “Thank you, Bishop. I’ve always thought you were a very attractive man too.” There was an awkward silence between us for a few more seconds. “And there’s really no need for you to be embarrassed. Like I said, I think your wife loved you very much. It couldn’t have been easy to write a letter like this.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t. And you’re right, I shouldn’t be embarrassed.” What he said next sent a wave of adrenaline through me. “She sent me a letter too.”

  “She did?” I had to struggle to sit still because I was so eager to know what his wife wrote to him. “What did it say?” I asked as calmly as I could.

  “Well, there was a lot of personal stuff in there, and she also said a lot of what she said in yours, except she didn’t specifically name anyone. She just said it was time for me to move on and that the church and I needed a new first lady.”

  Well, she didn’t name me specifically, which was a little disappointing, but at least I knew Charlene had told him it was time for him to start looking for a new wife. This would make my job a little easier. If he took her advice, at least I wouldn’t have to do any more to help him see that it was time. Then I could get right to work on convincing him how perfect I would be for him and his church.

  “So, do you agree with what she said?” I asked.

  “I’m starting to. At least I think it’s time that I started to date.”

  My heart started to beat fast. For a moment, I lost control and blurted out something much less subtle than I had planned. “So, would you consider me … I mean, to go on a date?”

  He hesitated briefly, raising his hand to smooth out his salt-and-pepper beard. I was relieved when I actually saw a small smile cross his lips. “Yes, Sister Lisa, I would consider you. You just have to give me a little more time to figure this all out.”

  “Bishop, take all the time you need.”

  9

  SAVANNAH

  “I had no idea I would need to bring a box of Kleenex to a Yolanda Adams concert,” I said as the bishop and I walked from Westbury Music Fair to the car in the parking lot. “I must look a mess with this mascara running down my face. I don’t know why I let Daddy talk me into wearing makeup in the first place.”

  Daddy had claimed, when he brought home this bag full of cosmetics, that he was just supporting Sister Sophie’s independent Avon business. But I knew better.

  “Actually,” the bishop said, “I thought you looked just fine. As a matter of fact, you still do.”

  “Oh, Bishop, you’re just being nice,” I said, fighting as hard as an angel trying to escape hell by not blushing. This was the second time this evening the bishop had made me blush. The other time was during the concert when he grabbed my hand and held it. Of course, Yolanda Adams had asked the entire audience to grab their neighbors’ hands and
repeat some song lyrics after her. But it didn’t seem the bishop was holding my hand just because he had been instructed to do so. He made me feel like he genuinely wanted to.

  “That’s not it at all, Sister Savannah,” the bishop corrected me. “You do look fine. Fine enough to stop for coffee if you’re not too worn out.” He looked down at his watch and said, “It’s nine-thirty,” then looked back up at me for my response.

  “Well, I could stand a cup of coffee,” I said with a smile as we approached the bishop’s car.

  “Then coffee it is.” Like a gentleman, he opened the car door for me, and we were on our way.

  It took us a good fifteen minutes just to get out of the crowded parking lot. By the time we arrived at a diner, it was close to ten o’clock, and I needed a cup of coffee just to stay awake. I generally stay out this late.

  “I swear, I’d give anything to do what Yolanda Adams does—singing unto the Lord all over the world for a living,” I said as we waited for the waitress to bring us our coffee. “Now that’s living.”

  “Whew-wee, Sister Savannah! If you could have seen how your eyes just lit up,” the bishop said to me. “You said that like it’s truly your heart’s desire.”

  “Well, it is, Bishop,” I said sincerely.

  “Then why haven’t you done anything to pursue it?” he asked in an encouraging tone.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know the first thing about that business. I wouldn’t even know where to start, Bishop. Besides, I’m no Yolanda Adams.”

  “You sure aren’t. You’re Savannah Dickens,” he said with authority. “You’ve got your own voice and style that you can’t compare to Yolanda Adams’s.”

  “You really think so, Bishop?” I asked, waiting for more confirmation and praise, something I heard so infrequently from my father and was so glad to get anywhere I could.