Read Divine Intervention Online
Authors: Lutishia Lovely
Divine Intervention (23 page)
47
Every Goodbye Ain’t Gone
O
badiah sat stewing in the living room, holding a newspaper that he wasn’t reading and looking out the window without seeing a thing. It didn’t matter that Maxine insisted she and Henry were just friends, the fact that she wouldn’t stop her daily walks with him, even after Obadiah had asked her to (quite kindly, he would have added had anyone asked), was a serious stick in his craw. Not to mention the cakes and pies that she routinely took over, along with helpings of whatever dinner she’d prepared. Nor did he appreciate the smirk he swore happened every time Henry looked his way. It didn’t matter how Maxine felt about Henry. Obadiah hadn’t missed how Henry looked at Maxine; he was convinced that joining her for prayer service was not the type of meeting that her neighbor had in mind.
badiah sat stewing in the living room, holding a newspaper that he wasn’t reading and looking out the window without seeing a thing. It didn’t matter that Maxine insisted she and Henry were just friends, the fact that she wouldn’t stop her daily walks with him, even after Obadiah had asked her to (quite kindly, he would have added had anyone asked), was a serious stick in his craw. Not to mention the cakes and pies that she routinely took over, along with helpings of whatever dinner she’d prepared. Nor did he appreciate the smirk he swore happened every time Henry looked his way. It didn’t matter how Maxine felt about Henry. Obadiah hadn’t missed how Henry looked at Maxine; he was convinced that joining her for prayer service was not the type of meeting that her neighbor had in mind.
“I’m getting ready to put an end to these shenanigans,” Obadiah mumbled, tossing the newspaper aside as he rose from the couch. He walked over to the window, looked up and down the street, and tried to spot his wife and her neighbor.
Don’t you think you need to end something else first?
Obadiah scowled. He knew the voice of God almost as well as he knew his own. “Yes, Lord, I need to end things with her. I need to do right by Dorothea and send her on her way.”
Then what are you waiting on?
“She’s not going to like it. I’m not ready to face her drama.”
Are you ready to face your own?
A host of memories assailed Obadiah as he stood looking out the window. He’d loved Dorothea since they both were in their twenties, having met her shortly after his second child, Queen, was born.
The year was 1961. Obadiah was twenty-three years old and already a preaching sensation. His deep baritone, tall stature, and wealthy knowledge of scripture were known throughout Texas and beyond, as was his suave dressing and conked, Jackie Wilson-inspired hair. He’d always had a way with the ladies and the fact that he was married didn’t stop them from flocking to his anointed side like moths to a flame.
The night he first saw Dorothea, she took his breath away. She was easily the classiest, most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, could have given Lena Horne a run for her money any day of the week. During the service, he put her out of his mind, but after church—when he found himself seated next to her at the hosting pastor’s dinner table—he knew that he had to have her. She’d felt the same way, and let him know it.
“I can love you hard, but I can’t love you long.” That’s what he’d told her that night, before several rounds of lovemaking. But he did end up loving her long—for more than forty years.
“I love Maxine more,” Obadiah said, as if the statement was a revelation to his own ears. And in a way, it was. He’d taken many parts of Maxine for granted: her love, wisdom, faithfulness, and her God-fearing ways. He’d lessened the importance of what she’d been in his life, not only as a loyal companion but as the mother of his children and a faithful friend.
She’s always been a good mother.
She’s always been a good mother.
And a good wife—don’t leave that out. A wife who deserves better than how you’re treating her.
“You’re right, Lord,” Obadiah said. He turned away from the window and passed a hand over weary eyes as he made his way to the phone in his study.
There’s never going to be a good time for this conversation.
And even though he knew that it was probably one best handled in person, he couldn’t wait the ten hours it would take to drive to Dallas or even the ninety minutes it would take to fly.
There’s never going to be a good time for this conversation.
And even though he knew that it was probably one best handled in person, he couldn’t wait the ten hours it would take to drive to Dallas or even the ninety minutes it would take to fly.
“Obadiah! Where are you?” Dorothea had picked up on the first ring.
“I’m still in Kansas City, but I’ll be back this weekend.”
“Thank God. I was about to go crazy down here without my joy stick.”
Obadiah cleared his throat. “I’ve got to end things with us, Dorothea. I love you, but I’m married to Maxine and I can’t leave her. I know this will hurt you and I’m sorry. But I’m a man of God who’s been living in sin. I’ve got to get back in His will.”
A pause and then, “What happened? Did somebody find out about our arrangement here?”
“This ain’t about nobody finding out. It’s about me doing the right thing.”
“What, did Maxine finally get to you? According to you, she was fine with our being together, and even threatened to take over the divorce matter herself to speed things along. Right?”
“That was just hurt talking.”
“I don’t get it!” Panic raised the volume of Dorothea’s voice. “We’ve been basically living together for almost a year. She let you go. We’re supposed to be getting married. I’ve waited forty years!”
“I know, sugar. I’m sorry.”
When Dorothea spoke, Obadiah could hear her tears. “Don’t do this, Obadiah. Don’t let go of our love. If you have to go back home, fine. I understand you’re a man with a reputation to uphold. But don’t end us. I’ll do whatever it takes, whatever you want.”
“I’ll always love you, Dorothea. But I’ve made up my mind. I need to stay with Maxine if I want to make heaven my home.”
“She doesn’t love you like I do.”
“I know.”
“She won’t even sleep with you!”
“You’re right.”
When Dorothea spoke her voice had changed, hardened to a tone that Obadiah had never heard. “Come back to me, you selfish motherfucker! Come back or I’ll tell everybody about us!”
Obadiah sighed. “Do what you need to do, Dorothea. I’ll have a couple deacons from Gospel Truth come over and get the rest of my things out of the apartment before the end of the month.” Dorothea was openly crying now. “There’re some good men down there in Dallas, Dorothea. Some who’d give their eyeteeth for the pleasure of your company. It’s not too late for you to meet one and enjoy these last years of your life. And even though it will be hard knowing that I’ll never see you again—and believe me, it will—this is how it has to be.”
“All these years,” she whispered, her tone returning to one more familiar even though it was filled with torment and pain. “I gave you all these years of my life, bided my time, accepted your crumbs. And this is how you thank me?”
“I’ll continue to pay the rent on your condo—”
“This isn’t about money, Obadiah! I love you. I want
you
!”
you
!”
Obadiah placed a hand to his cheek, surprised to find that it was wet with tears. “I hope that someday you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me, Dorothea. I feel bad, girl, but there was no way that somebody wouldn’t get hurt in all this. I’ve hurt everybody, made a mess of things. Now it’s time to make amends. Good-bye, Dorothea.” He waited for a response and, hearing none, slowly placed the phone on its receiver.
In Texas, Dorothea stood clinging to her cell phone, long after she’d heard the call disconnect. “No,” she whispered, sinking to the floor. “No!” She landed in a heap, cried her heart out, cursed Obadiah, God, and the day that Mama Max had been born.
It’s over, he said. Just like that. And having someone else come get his things? He didn’t even have the decency to come in person to break my heart.
It’s over, he said. Just like that. And having someone else come get his things? He didn’t even have the decency to come in person to break my heart.
Dorothea wasn’t sure how long she lay on the floor. But the longer she did so, the madder she got. So angry that by the time she sat up she was filled with malice—and a plan.
“I might go away, Obadiah,” she spat, angrily swatting away the remaining tears as she stood. “But I will not go quietly.”
48
Falling
K
ing was texting someone he shouldn’t, but looked up as his assistant, Joseph, came away from the carousel at baggage claim with his luggage. He hurriedly typed the last line:
ing was texting someone he shouldn’t, but looked up as his assistant, Joseph, came away from the carousel at baggage claim with his luggage. He hurriedly typed the last line:
You deserve better than me. Stay beautiful.
“Car’s waiting for you, Doc,” Joseph said, once he reached King’s side. “Barbados is paradise, but I bet you’re glad to be home.”
King didn’t know how he felt about being home, or anything else right about now. But he provided an answer that sounded nice. “You know what they say. There’s no place like it.” The two men headed toward the door. “Thanks again for all your hard work,” King continued. “Especially the three days while I was away, visiting Derrick in LA. Hadn’t been for all you and Benjamin did, they would have wanted me to stay another week.”
“I never thought we’d find someone to replace Lavon when he left. But Ben’s one heck of a media director. And he loved Barbados. Don’t be surprised if we’re looking for someone to replace him soon.”
King gave Joseph a sideways look. “You know something I don’t?”
Joseph shrugged. “I know brothah man was feeling that sistah with the golden voice. The one who looks like Rihanna and sounds like Yolanda?”
“Yeah, I bet a bunch of brothahs are feeling her.”
“He was eyeing the pastor’s daughter, too, with her fine self.” King congratulated himself on appearing nonchalant. “I’m not surprised. But he may have to get in line.” They reached the car. “All right, then,” King finished, giving Joseph a soul brother’s handshake. “Take off the next couple days. Get some rest. I’ll see you after that.”
“Thanks, boss. Call me if you need me.”
King got into the luxury Town Car and settled back against its soft leather seat. It had only been two weeks, but felt more like a lifetime since he’d been home. He knew why. Everything had changed. King looked at the passing scenery as the car merged from the I-29 onto the I-635. He took in the flat landscape dotted with hotels, restaurants, and office buildings. That’s what was in front of him. But in his mind’s eye he was seeing turquoise blue waters, powdery white sand . . . and Charmaine.
Ah, man! How’d you get back here, huh? You said you weren’t going to do this again. Ever! You promised Tai, promised God.
And for almost three years now, he’d kept that promise. With the way women threw themselves at him it hadn’t always been easy. But he’d turned into the dick dominator and forced himself to say no to the offers he’d gotten. Right before the trip to Barbados, he’d had a wealthy Kansas City realtor offer him carte blanche to her millions to be a chick on the side. And he’d said no. Before that it had been a well-known gospel singer and before that it had been the new, attractive, thirty-something member who tithed into the thousands, attended church every Sunday, sat in the third row, and ate him up with her eyes. And those were just the serious offers. There was something about this six-foot dark chocolate brother with the hulky build and husky voice that drew the women better than a magnet did steel. Until two weeks ago, his resolve to remain faithful had been as strong as steel. And then came a game changer with long, thick hair, velvety skin, and a sultry voice that spoke what was on her keen mind. King had been blindsided, and even though he’d said no the first time she’d offered her virginity, had told her to find a man who could love her in the way she deserved, it had not been enough. She’d kept coming, Derrick had insisted that he finish his work on the island, and her father had—gasp, sputter, and gasp again—given somewhat of a blessing on seeing his daughter. “I’ve always respected and admired you,” her father, Wesley Freeman, had said. “And since even before becoming an adult, my daughter has always loved you.” He’d then pierced him with an unreadable look. “God’s will be done.” King didn’t know whose will it was; all that he knew was that he was lost and turned out like a mutha—
Bzzz.
The vibrating phone interrupted the quiet. King felt a myriad of emotions as he looked at the ID.
And for almost three years now, he’d kept that promise. With the way women threw themselves at him it hadn’t always been easy. But he’d turned into the dick dominator and forced himself to say no to the offers he’d gotten. Right before the trip to Barbados, he’d had a wealthy Kansas City realtor offer him carte blanche to her millions to be a chick on the side. And he’d said no. Before that it had been a well-known gospel singer and before that it had been the new, attractive, thirty-something member who tithed into the thousands, attended church every Sunday, sat in the third row, and ate him up with her eyes. And those were just the serious offers. There was something about this six-foot dark chocolate brother with the hulky build and husky voice that drew the women better than a magnet did steel. Until two weeks ago, his resolve to remain faithful had been as strong as steel. And then came a game changer with long, thick hair, velvety skin, and a sultry voice that spoke what was on her keen mind. King had been blindsided, and even though he’d said no the first time she’d offered her virginity, had told her to find a man who could love her in the way she deserved, it had not been enough. She’d kept coming, Derrick had insisted that he finish his work on the island, and her father had—gasp, sputter, and gasp again—given somewhat of a blessing on seeing his daughter. “I’ve always respected and admired you,” her father, Wesley Freeman, had said. “And since even before becoming an adult, my daughter has always loved you.” He’d then pierced him with an unreadable look. “God’s will be done.” King didn’t know whose will it was; all that he knew was that he was lost and turned out like a mutha—
Bzzz.
The vibrating phone interrupted the quiet. King felt a myriad of emotions as he looked at the ID.
“Hello, Tai.”
“Hey, King. You’re back?”
“Just landed not too long ago.”
“Are you on your way home?” In the past, it hadn’t been unusual for King to arrive from out of town and head straight to the church. The staff was plentiful and capable, but King had been hands on from day one. “I’m asking so that I can know when to serve dinner.”
“I’m on my way; should be there in about thirty minutes.”
A pause and then, “How are you, King? You sound distracted.”
“Just tired, Tai. From Barbados to LA back to Barbados again, and all of the work that happened while there—it was a grueling two weeks.”
“I can only imagine. Did you guys get done what you set out to accomplish?”
King nodded. “Pretty much. I was able to meet with ministers from more than a dozen Caribbean and African nations and the evening services were standing room only.”
“The one and only King Brook was in town. What did you expect?”
The smile in Tai’s voice made King’s heart clench.
Damn!
In this moment, he hated himself for being weak, for having given in to his flesh and the lure of a woman’s lusciousness. There was more to it, King knew, but he refused to think about that now. He refused to give in to any flights of fancy about what could happen and who it could happen with, refused to entertain the carrot that Wesley and his contingent of ministers had dangled in his face: heading up a new organization of ministers and church leaders representing African, Asian, and Caribbean nations, an organization with millions of dollars and a blank slate. And most of all, he refused to give in to his strong feelings for Charmaine Freeman. Another day, another time, and who knows what might have happened. But King didn’t live in “another.” He lived in now: as the married father of four children, the senior pastor of a thriving ministry, and a core member of an American ministerial organization called Total Truth. And he intended for things to stay that way.
Damn!
In this moment, he hated himself for being weak, for having given in to his flesh and the lure of a woman’s lusciousness. There was more to it, King knew, but he refused to think about that now. He refused to give in to any flights of fancy about what could happen and who it could happen with, refused to entertain the carrot that Wesley and his contingent of ministers had dangled in his face: heading up a new organization of ministers and church leaders representing African, Asian, and Caribbean nations, an organization with millions of dollars and a blank slate. And most of all, he refused to give in to his strong feelings for Charmaine Freeman. Another day, another time, and who knows what might have happened. But King didn’t live in “another.” He lived in now: as the married father of four children, the senior pastor of a thriving ministry, and a core member of an American ministerial organization called Total Truth. And he intended for things to stay that way.
“King? Did you hear me?”
“I’m sorry, baby. What did you say?”
“Never mind. I’ll let you go.”
“Sorry, baby. I’ve got a lot on my mind. When I get home, I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Okay, bye.”
King had barely disconnected that call before his phone rang again. “Hey, Dad.”
“Son,” Obadiah said.
“Tai said that you’d driven back to Kansas City. Are you still here?”
“Yes, and I plan to stay here. I plan to reconcile with your mother . . . if she’ll have me.”
King closed his eyes in relief. “That’s great, Dad!”
“Well, now. Don’t put the cart before the horse. She hasn’t taken me back yet.”
“Hey now, you think I don’t know who I’m talking to? It’s just a matter of time.” Until now, King hadn’t realized how badly his parents being separated had made him feel. But now he had something to compare it to: a heart bursting with joy. King leaned forward and pushed the button to close the partition. “So how’s that going—you being at the house but not yet back in Mama’s good graces?”
Obadiah cleared his throat before responding. “Would you believe that woman won’t let me back in my own house?”
“What!” King sat up straight. “Are you at my house?”
“No, son. You know how I like my own space; I didn’t feel comfortable staying there this long.”
This long?
“How long have you been here?”
“How long have you been here?”
“About a week.”
“Where are you staying?”
“One of those extended stay places.”
“Daddy, that’s a shame.”
“Naw, it’s all right, son. Really, it is. Come to find out, I’ve needed this time to myself, time to think and reflect. Time to get my priorities straight and my house in order.”
“What about . . . the other woman?” King knew Dorothea’s name, but he rarely said it. “She all right with this?”
“Ain’t none of us all right. Son, I know I haven’t always been the best example and for that, I sincerely apologize. But if you ever hear anything that I say to you, hear this: love your wife. Honor your marriage vows. Because outside of them is just a bunch of pain and heartache. You hear me?”
“I hear you, Dad.”
The two men talked for a while longer, until King was just five minutes away from his home. He’d come close to disclosing his own recent discretion, but figured if anybody ought to hear about it first, it should be his wife.
King Brook, son of the Reverend Doctor Pastor Bishop Overseer Mister Stanley Obadiah Meshach Brook Jr., was the epitome of an apple who hadn’t fallen far from the tree. But unless his wife showed him grace and mercy, King would fall some more.
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