Lady Elect Read online

  “Your body is the Lord’s temple, and no one, not even your husband, should be allowed to abuse and destroy it. If he isn’t willing to seek counseling for his abusive behavior, then you should pack your things and leave. Because the next time he lays unholy hands on you, you may not survive it. And you should seek professional help from an abuse therapist for yourself. It isn’t normal behavior for you to have accepted your husband’s fury for so long. Ask the therapist to help you find out why you willingly tolerated his mood swings.

  “And you have to learn who you are in God. My husband taught me that women must realize their worth and own it. Because if we don’t own it, we become vulnerable. And vulnerability is a pathway for the devil to destroy us, often through the very ones who claim they love us.”

  Lance was well pleased with Arykah’s Christ-like attitude. Maybe he could go ahead and sit Mother Pansie down after all. He’d have to wait and see. He tightened his tie around his neck and leaned back in his chair while he watched God work through his wife.

  Arykah dabbed the young lady’s tears with a Kleenex tissue that she had pulled from a box on Lance’s desk. “And you have to always protect your gates. Gates are openings that lead to your soul. Through our eye gates we may have seen our parents become victims of spousal abuse. And because we see it, our souls accept it as normal behavior.

  “That’s a trick of the enemy. Our ear gates can become flooded with damaging words spoken to us through verbal abuse.

  “I once dated a man who constantly told me that I was too fat, that I wasn’t pretty, that I was unattractive, and that I would never be loved by a man. And I believed that lie for years before Bishop Howell deposited a word of release into me. I tolerated that man’s behavior because it was what I had become used to.

  “And we have to protect our vagina gates also. Mother Pansie may have told you that it was impossible for a husband to rape his wife, but that was absolutely not true. How do you feel when your husband forces himself on you for sex?”

  The young lady sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I feel violated because he’s so rough with me. He never kisses me. Never asks how I feel or if I’m in the mood for sex. He just tells me what he wants, and then takes it from me and demands that I do things I don’t want to do. And sometimes he bites my breasts until they bleed. And after he’s done, he calls me dirty names.”

  Arykah was flabbergasted, and Lance was appalled. But he sat silent and let Arykah do her thing that she was doing so well.

  Arykah knew all too well what it felt like to be in the arms of a man that didn’t love her. Listening to the young lady’s story brought tears to Arykah’s own eyes. She squeezed the woman’s hands for comfort. “When I’m with my husband, I feel safe and secure. I feel protected and adored. He cares what my feelings are. There’s no dirty name-calling. There’s no hurt or pain. Only love, comfort, and security. When a man takes his wife’s body by force and inflicts sexual pain upon her, he’s raping her. And what you must do is start loving yourself and get out of this relationship because it’s not holy, which means it’s not of God.”

  Arykah looked across the desk at Lance to see, through his facial expression, if she had crossed any lines. Lance softly smiled at his wife and nodded his head in agreement with everything she had said. He was well pleased.

  “Bishop Howell and I will always be here for you, and we want you to feel free to come to us for anything. We are your spiritual parents, and we’ll do all that we can to encourage you and keep you strong in the Lord,” Arykah assured the young lady.

  Lance stood and encouraged the young lady to follow Lady Arykah’s advice. He assigned certain scriptures pertaining to strength, courage, and peace for her to study.

  He led the three of them in prayer for the young lady’s strength and peace of mind.

  The young lady hugged and thanked them both, then walked out of Lance’s office and closed the door behind her.

  Arykah looked at Lance. “You need to deal with Mother Pansie.”

  That meeting was still fresh in Arykah’s mind as she and Lance stood in the middle of their master bath. “Lance, you know what happened the last time Mother Pansie counseled a young lady, but if you want her to sit in on the session with Darlita and me, then so be it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, we’re a team.”

  Lance kissed Arykah passionately and guided her back to the bed.

  “Do we have time for this before church, Bishop? Don’t you have to preach in a couple of hours?” she asked, wanting Lance just as much as he wanted her.

  Lance removed Arykah’s bathrobe. He let his towel slip from his waist. “This will help me preach real good.” He enjoyed his wife in between the Egyptian cotton sheets.

  Later that morning, on the South side of Chicago, the sanctuary at Freedom Temple Church Of God was filled to capacity. Every seat, approximately five hundred of them, was spoken for. The congregation was in high praise when Lance and Arykah appeared in the doorway entrance to the center aisle.

  The praise and worship leader signaled to Adonis Cortland, the head musician, to lower the organ’s pitch while she announced their pastor and first lady. “Please stand and receive Bishop Lance and Lady Elect Arykah Miles-Howell.”

  With Arykah standing on his right, Lance passionately placed his open palm on the small of her back. Arykah wrapped her left arm around Lance’s waist, and they walked confidently as husband and wife down the center aisle. As he did Sunday after Sunday with a smile on his face, Lance escorted Arykah to the first pew and greeted Monique, Arykah’s personal assistant, with a peck on the cheek.

  Four months ago when Lance walked into the sanctuary for the first time as a married man, he moved his ten deacons from the front left pew to the front right pew. He reserved the front left pew for Arykah, her guests, and Monique. Arykah was now in Lance’s full view.

  Mother Pansie hadn’t taken that rearrangement too kindly. It had been tradition that the mothers sat behind the deacons on the left side of the church. But with the deacons sitting across the aisle, Mother Pansie had to constantly look at Arykah’s back side.

  Lance sat in the pulpit among his assistant pastor, Minister Carlton Weeks, to his left. The associates sat on the right side of Lance. Minister Darryl Polk, Minister Tyrone Williams, and nineteen-year-old Minister Alfonzo (Fonzie) Kyles, whom Lance was leaning toward promoting to youth pastor, each shook Lance’s hand and gave him a hearty, “God bless you, Bishop.”

  Lance looked at Arykah, then winked his eye and smiled. She returned the gesture.

  Monique nudged Arykah with her elbow and whispered, “I saw that, First Lady. You and the bishop should know better than to partake in foreplay in the sanctuary.”

  Arykah chuckled and leaned into Monique for privacy. “If you would’ve been in our bedroom two hours ago, you would’ve seen some real foreplay.”

  Monique gasped, and it caused a few heads to turn their way. She met Arykah’s lean and kept her whisper, “On a Sunday morning?”

  On the pew behind them, Mother Pansie tried desperately to hear Arykah and Monique’s conversation. She saw the wink Lance had given his wife. And because Arykah and Monique were leaning into each other whispering and gasping, Mother Pansie concluded that their conversation may not have been appropriate for the sanctuary. She tapped Mother Gussie Hughes, who sat on the right of her, on the knee and nodded her head in Arykah and Monique’s direction.

  Mother Gussie, affectionately known as “Momma G,” hadn’t liked Arykah since the day she had first called the church asking to speak to Bishop Howell. As the church’s secretary, she had interrogated Arykah about why she was calling. Once Arykah revealed that she wasn’t a member but just a friend of Bishop Howell, Mother Gussie felt she was just another single lady all too eager for the pastor to place a ring on her finger.

  Mother Gussie had had her own plans for Lance’s future. As soon as her granddaughter would have gotten paroled and delivered
her third child, Mother Gussie had planned to bring her to the church and introduce her to the pastor. But only weeks after she had answered Arykah’s phone call, Bishop Howell introduced her as his wife.

  Mother Pansie and Mother Gussie both turned their noses up at the form-fitting, crimson-red, knee-length crochet dress Arykah had decided to wear to church that morning. They couldn’t help but notice the three-carat diamond platinum studs shining in Arykah’s ears. Her lobes were completely hidden. Arykah’s hair was pulled back into an elegant ponytail that revealed the matching six-carat diamond teardrop necklace around her neck. As Arykah giggled and whispered in Monique’s ear, the mothers saw her bright red lip gloss. Her perfectly decorated eyelids were adorned with false eyelashes.

  Arykah felt their stares. She purposely placed her left hand on Monique’s right shoulder to give the mothers something to really be hot about. When Mother Pansie and Mother Gussie caught a glimpse of the massive diamond ring, coupled with the diamond tennis bracelet on the first lady’s wedding finger and wrist, their breaths caught in their throats.

  Arykah heard the gasping sounds and turned around with a smile. “Hello, Mothers. It is so good to see you both on this fine Sunday morning.”

  The looks on the mothers’ faces confirmed to Arykah what she already knew. They didn’t like her and preferred she didn’t speak to them. But Arykah didn’t wait for a response. She knew it wasn’t forthcoming anyhow.

  When her mission had been accomplished, Arykah turned back around and found Lance’s eyes staring into her own. He gave her a half smile and slowly shook his head from side to side, indicating to Arykah that she should be ashamed of herself for meddling with the mothers. She winked her eye at Lance. He smiled broadly, then turned his head to focus on the choir rendering in song.

  The mothers hadn’t seen Arykah’s feet yet. She felt Mother Pansie and Mother Gussie would probably have a heart attack if they saw her red stilettos that were adorned with Swarovski crystals.

  Many congregants approached the altar for prayer after Bishop Howell had preached a lengthy sermon on prosperity. The associate ministers came from the pulpit to assist their pastor with laying holy hands on the people. Lance called for Arykah to stand by him when he ministered to women. That was new for Arykah. She hadn’t understood what Lance wanted her to do at that time. When he ministered to a woman, he’d ask Arykah to give her an encouraging hug. Arykah felt honored to be in ministry with her husband. It was exhilarating.

  The last woman Lance instructed Arykah to hug was Darlita, the woman she was to counsel after morning service. She stood before Arykah with a tear-stained face.

  Because Arykah knew Darlita’s story, she immediately pulled her into her arms and began praying for Darlita’s strength and sanity. Arykah was the first to pull away when she had finished praying, but Darlita didn’t let go. She held on to Arykah as if she was in a safety zone. It was as if Darlita felt that if she let go, her world would collapse.

  “Come on, sweetie, let’s go to my office,” Arykah said.

  Monique saw Arykah guide Darlita from the sanctuary and knew that was her cue to grab Arykah’s things and follow them. Mother Pansie also saw Arykah leaving the sanctuary with Darlita. As soon as Monique stood to leave, so did she.

  Upstairs in Arykah’s office, that was adjacent to Lance’s and just as large, Monique placed Arykah’s Bible and purse on top of the desk and stated that she was going back down to the sanctuary to pay her tithes and offerings.

  Soon after Monique had left Arykah’s office, Mother Pansie burst into the room. She was out of breath from rushing up two flights of stairs. “First Lady, the bishop asked me to sit in on this meeting you’re having.”

  Arykah wanted to curse, but remembered her surroundings and the promise she had made to God. “That’s fine, Mother Pansie, come on in.” Arykah placed two chairs on the opposite side of her desk for Darlita and Mother Pansie, but Mother Pansie had positioned herself comfortably in Arykah’s chair behind the cherry oak wood desk.

  “That’s my seat, Mother.” Arykah made the statement as calmly as she possibly could, but Mother Pansie was already working on her last nerve. When Mother Pansie had taken her rightful seat, Arykah told Darlita that Pastor Howell had requested that Mother Pansie, the president of the Mothers Board, sit in on the counseling session.

  Before Arykah started the meeting, she silently prayed that the Lord would help her control her emotions, but came to the conclusion that if anything popped off between her and Mother Pansie, it would be her husband’s fault.

  She opened her right desk drawer to briefly glance at a poem she had written for herself shortly after some of the women at Freedom Temple revealed their true feelings about her position as the pastor’s wife. The poem was for her own self-encouragement whenever the enemy came upon her to eat of her flesh.

  Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere

  Me in my high heels and short skirts

  Decorated in things that sparkle and shine

  That’s right, ladies

  Pastor Howell is all mines

  He chose me because I am the cream of the crop

  Looking at y’all, humph, do you even shop?

  Take a long, wide glimpse of your today

  Give it up, haters, because I’m here to stay

  Don’t need to explain nothing to you

  Only to the one I’m married to

  I see you looking, can’t help yourselves

  Compared to me, you’re like bookends on a shelf

  Trying to be a nice woman to you in church

  Having to bite my tongue is hurting me so much

  My girl, Monique, got my back with her raw words

  To make all you wannabes run like a charging herd

  So, keep on whispering, talking, pointing, and looking

  I promise you, I don’t care

  Whether you accept me or not

  I ain’t goin’ nowhere

  Arykah shut the drawer and kicked off her stilettos under her desk. “Mother Pansie, Sister Darlita is here seeking counsel. Her husband has committed adultery a third time. He isn’t a member of this church, and according to Darlita, he doesn’t want to give marital counseling a chance.”

  The first thing that came out of Mother Pansie’s mouth to Darlita was, “It’s your own fault that your husband is unfaithful.”

  “How in the heck is it her fault?” The words flew out of Arykah’s mouth at the speed of lightning before she had a chance to catch them, not that she really wanted to.

  Mother Pansie looked at Arykah with raised eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

  Arykah swiveled her high-back leather chair in Mother Pansie’s direction. “What do you mean it’s Darlita’s fault that her husband is unfaithful? What is his responsibility to the marriage? Surely you’re not suggesting that Darlita forced her husband to put his shaboinka inside of another woman.”

  Mother Pansie’s eyes bucked out of her head. She placed her hand over her heart as if she was going to pass out. She wished Bishop Howell could have been there to witness his wife’s outspokenness. “With all due respect, First Lady of only four months, if a woman keeps her house and takes care of her husband’s needs, he wouldn’t stray. And it would be wise for you to take heed to this advice I’m giving.”

  It hadn’t bothered Arykah when Mother Pansie reminded her of how long she’d been the pastor’s wife. Whether she’d been married for four months or forty years, she would not sit there and allow Mother Pansie to make Darlita think that her husband’s infidelity was her fault.

  The enemy got the best of Arykah. She forgot that she was there to counsel Darlita.

  She set her gaze on Mother Pansie. “First of all, my marriage is on point. And you will not sit in my office, in my presence, and convince this sister to accept the blame for her cheating husband. The devil is a liar.”

  Mother Pansie was vested; she had put in her time. She had been the church mother for over thirty-five years. More than half of the women i
n the church, she helped raise from infants. She refused to let some fat heifer from the street walk into the church and take over her position and teach the women to be disrespectful and rude. She scooted forward in the chair and pointed her finger at Arykah. “Now see, I don’ told the bishop that you weren’t first-lady material. You need to show some respect. You only been married a short while. What do you know about being a wife? Sometimes a woman’s gotta go through—”

  Arykah stood up from her desk and raised her voice. She wouldn’t let Mother Pansie complete her sentence. “I don’t give a rat’s behind how long I’ve been married! And as far as respect goes, old woman, you’ve got to give it to get it.”

  Darlita sat still. She didn’t know what to do.

  Mother Pansie stood up. She breathed in hot coals and exhaled fire. She raised her pitch to match Arykah’s. “Just who in the heck do you think you’re talking to, li’l girl? You ain’t nothing but a two-bit tramp that latched on to the bishop. Ever since you been here, you ain’t done nothing but walk around here like you’re better than everybody else.

  “I don’t care how bright your bracelets and earrings shine or what you’re driving. You’re still trailer trash, and you need to crawl back under the rock you came from.”

  Arykah instantly felt herself being drawn into a zone. She was so mad that she literally felt her head spin three hundred sixty degrees around on her shoulders. The little girl from the movie The Exorcist had nothing on Arykah. Arykah was possessed and fully under the devil’s command. She stepped out of herself to watch herself perform a scene from The Matrix movie. Arykah had never performed a back bend in her entire life, but at that moment, she was as flexible as a rubber band. In a circular slow motion, she bent backward and was getting ready to leap forward over the desk.