Stepping Down (18 page)

While
Mark, Amani, and the rest of his cousins went bowling, Sharla hung behind with
Mama B and Debra Kay to rest. They’d finished decorating the church—which
included blowing up fifty balloons with their very own lips, a feat that nearly
wiped Sharla out.

Now
that the house was silent and empty, except for the cutest little 3-year-old
girl who was far too sleepy to go bowling, the women had a chance to sit down
in the kitchen and chat.

In
addition to tomorrow’s engagement dinner, Debra Kay and Mama B still had quite
a list of tasks to accomplish before the actual wedding in three weeks.

“I
can’t do but one thing at a time, Debra Kay,” her mother fussed as she wiped
the countertops clean again.

“Momma,
come sit down.”

Mama
B closed her eyes and sighed. “Okay, okay.”

Sharla
pulled a chair for the tired woman to utilize.

“Thank
you, sweetheart.”

“You
gotta take it easy some time, that’s what I’m always trying to tell Mark.”

“Well,
you know how men are. They feel like it’s their job to fix the world,” Mama B
advised.

Sharla
chuckled softly. “So it’s not just my husband?”

“Please,”
Debra Kay said. “It’s in their blood. Especially a decent man. Tugga’s always
been the kind to try to help people, unless he’s not on your team. You ever
played Monopoly with him?”

Sharla
squinted her eyes, trying to remember. “I don’t think so.”

Mama
B gave a high-pitched hoot. “Don’t ever play with him and Son. Chile, them two
was about to tear my house down playing Monopoly. Mark didn’t back down ‘cause
Son was older. Them two so competitive, I had to stop the game ‘til they could
get all that testosterone under control.”

“And
you remember, Momma, they found the game and set it up again after you and
Daddy went to sleep? And they got busted for arguing so loud!”

Sharla
had no trouble believing that story. Mark and Amani talked so much trash when
they played video games together, she wondered if it was actually productive
father-and-son time. “I just want Mark to slow down, stop being so wound up and
busy with work.”

“Shoot,
I wish mine would
keep
a job!” Debra Kay exploded. “Don’t get me started
on the other end of the spectrum.”

“You
right, don’t get started, hear?” Mama B warned her.

Debra
Kay stood, rolling her eyes. “I’mma go check on the baby. Y’all call me back in
once y’all start talking about something other than husbands because I have
nothing nice to say right now.”

“You
doin’ the right thing, ‘cause you know I’m not gon’ sit up and listen to no
woman bad-mouth her husband in front of me,” her mother agreed. Then she turned
her attention back to Sharla.

“Sounds
like you and me in the same boat,” Mama B surmised. “I’m marryin’ a doctor. He
got his office hours and such, but he cares about his patients. If one of ‘em
takes a turn for the worse in the middle of the night, I know good and well
he’s gonna run up to the hospital.”

Sharla
hung her neck out. “So…are you gonna be
okay
with that?”

“Yes,
I think so. Long as he don’t turn on a whole bunch of lights and wake me up,”
she giggled.

Sharla
couldn’t imagine any woman being okay with her husband being gone from home so
much, even if it was for something urgent. “What about
you
? I mean, his
job is going to take him away from
you
. Doesn’t that…upset you at least
a little?”

Mama
B bit her bottom lip. “I can’t say it won’t concern me a teensy bit, but you
got to remember I been widowed for eight years. I’m perfectly content bein’ by
myself. I wouldn’t be marryin’ Frank if I didn’t believe he would add joy to my
life. I sure ain’t signin’ up for no extra headaches and drama in this last
quarter of my life.”

“You
know? I might actually be okay with Mark being gone so much if I knew that he
was being called away to life-or-death situations,” Sharla guessed.

“I
think what Tugga does is more important than being a doctor. I mean,
eventually, all of Frank’s patients die—we all gon’ die. But a preacher’s
work never dies, goes on into eternity. Can’t be nothin’ more important than
that,” she explained.

Sharla
looked down at her hands. “I never thought of it like that.”

Mama
B lifted Sharla’s chin with a finger. “Sweetheart, what’s on your mind?”

Tears
brimmed Sharla’s eyes as she poured out the truth. “Mark could have died in the
accident, and I would have been a single mom left to raise a boy all by myself.
All for
the church
. And this same church has turned against him right
now. Why can’t he see that he doesn’t mean as much to them as they do to him?
Why would he put them before us?”

She
collapsed into Mama B’s arms, crying like a baby.

The
woman’s chest vibrated as she asked, “Honey, the church isn’t the enemy. The
enemy
is the enemy. Are you standing beside your husband in the battle?”

Sharla
rose up, wiping her nose. “No. I mean, at first I thought I was, but it’s like
the expectations kept getting higher and higher because I was a first lady. I
couldn’t talk to anyone, couldn’t tell anyone how I felt because I didn’t want
it to make Mark look bad. And now, I can’t even ask anyone else to mentor Amani
because that would make Mark look like he’s not being a good father. It’s like,
I’m always on stage in this play. I don’t want to be a first lady, I’m not…all
deep
and…I’m just not
there
yet.”

“Where
is
there
?” Mama B asked.

“
There
is…” Sharla paused, then pointed, “like
you
. You probably pray every day,
read your Bible all the time. And you don’t let people gossip around you. Like
just now, I wanted to hear what Debra Kay had to say about her husband. Even
though I know it’s wrong to talk about people, I like it. Like, I love juicy
gossip and people arguing and drama on reality television shows. It makes me
feel good. But Mark says it’s a sign that I’m a baby in Christ. If I have to
stop watching my TV shows, I don’t think I’ll ever be a mature Christian.”

Mama
B patted Sharla’s hand and groaned, “Mmm, bless your heart.”

“Anyway,
that’s just one example of
there
, which is where I’m
not
.”

“Honey,
you got a whole bunch of stuff poppin’ off inside of you. You worryin’ about
Tugga slowin’ down when you the one need to cast all your cares on the Lord
before you have yourself a nervous breakdown.”

Sharla
had heard that one before. From Mark himself. “I know. I do need to stop
worrying so much.”

“You
need to stop worryin’
at all
. Stop worryin’ ‘bout what folks think about
you as the first lady, stop worryin’ ‘bout if you there yet in Jesus, and stop
worryin’ ‘bout Amani and Mark. Turn both of ‘em over to the Lord.”

“But
what am I supposed to—”

“Mmm-mmm,”
Mama B stopped her sharply. “I know you ain’t asked for my advice, so I’m just
gon’ tell you one thing. Mark is a full-grown man. You can’t make
no
full-grown man do nothin’, even if what you tellin’ him is right. The best
thing you got in your corner is the Holy Ghost. He can tell your husband stuff
in five minutes you been tryin’ to tell him for five years.

“Chile,
I don’t sit up prayin’ and studyin’ the word every day ‘cause I don’t have
other stuff to do up through the day. I pray and study the word ‘cause after
walkin’ with Him fifty years, I know everything work out better
His
way.”

Sharla
swiped her eyes. “But what about the TV shows?”

Mama
B waved her hand. “Don’t you worry ‘bout that. God said He’d write His words on
your heart. He got a plan for everybody. Might be He gon’ work on something
else in you first, heal up a hurt or restore your joy. You seek His face. When
and if y’all get to the point where He get ready for you to stop watching those
shows, He’ll take the taste for ‘em right out your mouth. Let Him do it however
He want to, and don’t get confused ‘cause I guarantee you, ain’t nobody
there
until we get out this physical body, according to the word. All you got to do
is give Him a blank check with your life.

 “But
how? It’s not that easy,” Sharla whined. “All my life, people have said, ‘Turn
it over to Jesus, stop worryin’’ but that doesn’t work.”

“Have
you ever actually
tried
it?”

Sharla
thought about the question. The last time she tried to leave her most precious
possession in God’s hands, He hadn’t come through for her. She’d lost the baby.
And then, when she tried to adopt Amani, God almost let Bria’s mother get
custody. She answered honestly, “Yes, I
did
trust God about something.
But He didn’t do anything, so I had to
handle it myself.”

“And
what did that get you?”

She
answered matter-of-factly, “It got me what I wanted.”

“And
doing it your own way didn’t cost you anything?”

Without
warning, the pieces of this situation came together in Sharla’s mind like a
puzzle. What she’d done all those years ago, when she took matters into her own
hands to ensure that she got to keep Amani, was at the root of all their current
troubles. Her preoccupation with making sure that Amani lived up to the risk
she took, her insecurities as a mother, even the whole situation with Bria
could be traced back to the underhanded way she’d resolved her own problem.

“You’re
right. It has cost me something.”

Mama
B nodded. “Don’t get caught up on it, though, Sharla. We all done wrong. We
keep God plenty busy fixin’ our mistakes. Even now, you can ask Him to come in
and make it right.”

Sharla
threw her arms around Mama B’s neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Chile,
thank God.”

Mark
had to readjust his brain for a moment because it was odd seeing Mama B sitting
next to Frank, but they made a handsome couple seated at the head table. The
room bustled with chatter, laughter, and fellowship as members of both sides of
the family and respective church members filled the hall.

Sharla’s
signature decorating skills could be seen in the purple and green centerpieces
and tiebacks on the chairs. “Baby, you did a wonderful job.” He pecked her
lips.

“Thank
you.”

Had
Amani been sitting next to them, he probably would have gagged. However, Amani
had found a place with three other teenage cousins and never looked back once
he got to Peasner.

Pastor
Phillips stood and opened the party with prayer, followed by a speech, thanking
Mama B for her service to Mount Zion since its inception. There was hardly a
dry eye left in the building. When his voice began to crack, even Mark got a
little misty. Those people loved Mama B. Not because she was on the roll or
because she’d donated the land for the church or even because she served so
faithfully. They loved
her
, period.

Next,
Frank stood. “I have to admit, I feel kind of bad stealing Mama B away from Mount
Zion.”

A
good-humored rumble filled the room. “But we’ll be back. Pastor Phillips is a
gem. Over these past months, he’s almost become a second father to me. As you
all know, I’m a father. I know what it’s like to marry your daughter off, so I
wouldn’t dream of not visiting Mount Zion often.”

Pastor
Phillips led the applause.

“B
and I have decided that, before we eat, we would like to share the sacraments
with those closest to us. More than anything, our union is centered around
Christ. It’s because of His sacrifice that we have a picture of perfect love.
We do this in remembrance of Him.”

Pastor
Phillips called for all clergy in the house to come forward and officiate
communion. Members of Mount Zion, presumably ushers, distributed miniature
juice cups and broken cracker pieces. Then, Pastor Phillips read from Luke 22,
reminding everyone of communion’s significance.

Mark
looked out in the audience. There couldn’t have been more than sixty people
there. So much smaller than what he was used to at New Vision. Yet somehow, the
solemnity of the moment seemed magnified.

His
eyes met with Sharla’s.
What?
He focused harder to confirm his
suspicion.
Yes, she is crying.
Alarm bells went off inside him.
Why is
she crying?
What have I done wrong now?

Though
he was in no hurry to be belittled, he couldn’t be comfortable with Sharla
crying. As soon as communion concluded, two ladies approached the podium to
sing a song, freeing the clergymen of their duties.

Mark
rushed back to his seat. “What’s wrong?”

She
dabbed at her eyes. “That was beautiful.”

Relief
swept through him. “Yes, it was.”

Whatever
diet Mark might have thought about following would have to wait until he got
out of Peasner, TX, because the food could not be refused. Even the simple
salad, obviously made with garden-fresh lettuce, tomatoes, and onions, tasted
amazing.

“Baby,
you got to get some of these recipes,” he told Sharla.

“I’ll
try,” she said, keeping her eyes on the plate, “But some of this stuff just
won’t taste the same. You’ve got to make it with country
water
, country
eggs
,
and country
vegetables
from country
soil
. All I know is, we’ve
got to come back here again.”

“Mamasita,
you ain’t said nothin’ but a word.”

Between
dinner and dessert, Pastor Phillips allowed well-wishers to come up and give
their two-minute congratulatory remarks to Frank and Mama B. People told funny
stories, gave sage advice, and stuck to the time limit, for the most part.

That
was until one tall, elderly woman with a wide-brim hat on took the podium. A
younger woman, her spitting image, stood beside her, holding the microphone.

“I
can hold my own microphone,” the older woman barked.

“Okay,
Momma, but I’m
right here
,” the daughter mumbled as several people
giggled.

“Most
of y’all know me. I’m Henrietta. Me and B been friends for a long time.”

“Amen,”
from the room.

“And
even though we don’t always get along, I just thank her for being nice today.”

The
daughter cued the audience to begin clapping, and they all followed her
directive, clapping so long that Miss Henrietta must have finally decided she
might as well step down and go back to her seat.

Mark
and Sharla shared a sideways glanced and laughed. “There’s one at every
church,” he whispered.

Dessert
was served, which took Mark to a whole new level of understanding that only a
few people on the planet at any given time have received a special gifting and
anointing to make German chocolate cake. One of those chosen, called people
resided in Peasner, TX.

Mixed
with a dollop of Blue Bell ice cream—he remembered that Mama B always
served ice cream with her cake—Mark had to wonder if there was any chance
he could talk Sharla into moving to the country.

The
white-haired gentlemen across from Mark and Sharla proclaimed, “I don’t know
why Jesus is taking so long to come back. He’s missing out on this cake and ice
cream.”

Irreverent,
maybe, but Mark had to laugh because that cake
had
to be on the menu at
the great feast in heaven.

Several
more guests wished Mama B and Frank a wonderful union.  Mount Zion
presented a desktop grandfather clock to them, engraved with 1 Corinthians
13:4-7, God’s definition of love.

Mark
grabbed his wife’s hand under the table. She squeezed his back.

Since they
couldn’t all agree on a movie, the family settled on watching the kids play Wii
later that night back at Mama B’s house.

There
was plenty of food left over from the party, which meant they could stay up all
night snacking if they wanted to.

Amani
challenged his older cousin, Nikki, in
Dance Dance Revolution
. She beat
him the first time around, which sent Amani on a mission to beat her at least
twice. The funny thing was, Amani couldn’t dance, which sent the entire family
into laughing fits that could only be topped when Mama B tried her feet at the
routines.

Twice,
Mark nearly choked while watching Mama B and Amani fumble through moves that
were meant for people twice his talent and a third Mama B’s age.

“I’m
calling it a night,” Mama B announced. “I’m pooped. Last one up, make sure all
the food is put away.”

Sharla
rose from her spot on the couch. “I’m out, too.”

“Aw,
baby, you can stay up a while longer, can’t you?”

“No
can do.
Some of us
have been getting ready for the party since
yesterday,” she smacked.

“Amen,”
Debra Kay co-signed.

“Hey,
we can’t help it if Mark’s incapacitated,” Otha defended the men.

Mark
eyed his cousin. “Man, I did my part. I held open the doors.”

“Cuz,
don’t add to the problem,” Otha said.

Nikki
took Sharla’s place on the couch as the games continued. Amani against Son’s
grandson, Cameron.

As
entertaining as they were to watch, Mark couldn’t take his mind off Sharla.
From the yellow dress she’d worn to the party to the denim jeans and white top
she’d donned afterward, she was beautiful. Sexy. Everything he’d ever wanted
his wife to look like, plus she was fun to be around. Somehow, he’d forgotten
all that between juggling the church and its responsibilities.

He
loved her. And he realized, now, that it was never God’s intent for him to
pastor New Vision at the expense of his household. Though, historically, every
pastor’s family sacrificed to some extent, Mark couldn’t imagine any pastor
being called to abandon the shepherding of his own home.

God,
I repent
.

He
found Sharla already in bed, but was glad when she turned to face him. “I knew
you were tired, too,” she badgered him.

“Not
really. I just wanted to be near you.”

“Awwww,”
she cooed, “that’s so nice.”

Mark
hoped she wouldn’t ruin the moment by getting all sappy on him. Mark struggled
to unbutton his shirt. Sharla readily assisted him with getting undressed the
rest of the way.
Man, I love this woman
. “You’re on my side of the bed,”
he flirted.

“This
is not our bed. You don’t have a side,” she argued in a lively tone.

 “I
want to sleep on the same side as last night. I don’t want my right arm in the
middle.”

“But
that’ll put me by the vent,” Sharla said. “It got pretty cold in here last
night.”

“Let’s
turn, then, and sleep at the foot.”

Quickly,
they threw the pillows at the other end and switched positions.

“Thanks,
babe,” Sharla said, snuggling under the covers once again.

“No
problem.”

He
listened to his wife’s breathing for a while, thankful that God had allowed
everything to work out up until that point. Yet, the fact that they were
returning to Houston after service the next day burdened him. Real life awaited
them. Real problems, real issues that they couldn’t dodge. Their real world might
tear them apart again.

“The
party was so nice,” Sharla caroled.

“Sure
was.”

“And
the way they are, Mama B and Frank. The communion, the love they share…”

Mark
caressed the side of his wife’s face. He fingered her hair, something he could
never do with the weaves and wigs.

She
raved, “There was just something about it that was so…
sweet
.”

“It’s
Jesus,” Mark said.

He
heard her head rub against the pillow as she turned to him.

“Is
it really?” Her soft breath landed on his lips.

“Yes.”

“If
that’s what He is, that’s what I want for me. And us,” Sharla professed. “I
want Jesus.”

Mark
fought his way up onto an elbow. Accidentally, he poked her with his pinky
finger.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry.”
Once settled, he spoke to his wife in the darkness. “Baby, Jesus is all I’ve
ever wanted for us, too. I mean, I wanted to please God and do everything I
could for Him. But I guess I forgot that life in Jesus
is
what pleases
God. I’m sorry for putting pressure on you to be what I wanted you to be, what
I thought New Vision needed from me and its first lady. I was wrong.”

“My
goodness, can you say that again for the record?” Sharla ragged.

Mark
felt her lean forward. He found her lips for a slight kiss. They both lay on
their backs again, breathing in the fragrance of their new relationship, where
Christ mingled between them, in them, through them.

He
heard her swallow.

“There’s
something I need to tell you. About Amani.”

“Yeah?”

She
exhaled until, seemingly, she had no more air to expel. Then she inhaled and
rattled off, “Remember when we were, like, months and months into the adoption
proceedings, and we were almost ready to adopt Amani, and at the last minute,
that social worker, Demetria, told us that someone from Amani’s family wanted
to take him in?”

Mark’s
heart sped up, but he tried to keep his voice even. “Uh huh.”

“Well,
that person was Lisa Logan, Bria’s mother. And, according to Demetria, the only
reason Lisa wanted Amani was because, somehow, she found out that the state
would pay her to keep Amani. It wasn’t much, maybe a hundred and twenty-five
dollars a month or so, but that was the only reason she wanted him. Plus, that
would still give Bria a chance to seek full custody later on.”

“Okaaaay.
So what do you want to tell me?” Mark attempted to move the story along.

Sharla’s
body shook the bed. She sniffed and blurted out, “I bribed her. I paid her five
thousand dollars to drop her custody suit and convince Bria to give up all
rights to Amani.”

Mark
risked his right arm to embrace his wife. “
What
? I mean,
why
? I
mean, over the years, a hundred twenty-five dollars a month would be worth more
than five thousand.”

“I
know that and you know that, but people like Lisa have never had five thousand
dollars at once. It might as well have been a hundred thousand to her greedy
behind,” Sharla cried.

“But
Sharla, I don’t think the state would have ever given Bria’s family custody of
Amani.”

“You
think, but I wasn’t willing to risk it. Demetria said she’d seen worse things
happen in the system. I just…I loved him so much, and he was a part of me by
then,” she wailed. “If we had lost Amani, I would have lost my
mind—especially since we’d just had the miscarriage. I couldn’t! I
couldn’t lose him!”