The Truth Is the Light Read online

Monday night, twenty-seven-year-old Gabrielle Mercedes and thirty-year-old Zachary Wayne Morgan were in Gabrielle’s kitchen cooking fajitas. They’d gone to a highly acclaimed play Sunday night and had a wonderful time. Few Broadway plays made their way to Birmingham, Alabama, whenever those plays happened to travel outside of New York. Afterward, Zachary surprised Gabrielle with tickets to The Color Purple scheduled for the BJCC Concert Hall in October. Gabrielle couldn’t believe that after all these years of wanting to, she was finally going to see this Broadway hit.

  The doorbell rang. Gabrielle glanced at the digital clock on the stove. “I wonder who that could be.” She cut the heat on the gas burner to simmer and rinsed her hands at the sink, drying them on the large dish towel she kept draped across the oven door handle for just that purpose.

  “I got this,” Zachary said, turning the heat back to medium as he took over stirring the rectangular strips of marinated steak in the large cast-iron skillet with plans to add fresh sliced red, yellow, and orange sweet peppers and red onions at the very end to maintain the vegetables’ firmness. The doorbell rang again, this time repeatedly.

  When Gabrielle saw who was standing there pressing the doorbell, she practically yanked her front door open.

  “Well, it took you long enough,” Aunt Cee-Cee said as she fanned her face with her right hand and stepped inside. “You must have been in the bathroom or something.”

  Cecelia Murphy was Gabrielle’s aunt on her father’s side. She’d taken Gabrielle in—raised her since she was three (close to four) years old after her mother was killed and her father convicted of her murder and sentenced to twenty-five years in prison.

  “No. But I was busy. I have company in case you didn’t notice the car parked outside when you pulled up,” Gabrielle said, trying hard not to show her frustration.

  “You mean that black two-thousand-and-something Lincoln Town Car? I just thought you’d bought yourself another vehicle.” Aunt Cee-Cee tilted her head back, nose up. “What’s that I smell? Smells like it’s coming from the kitchen?” She started walking in the direction of the scent. “It smells like someone’s sautéing onions and peppers.”

  “We’re making fajitas,” Gabrielle said, still holding the opened door, since she hadn’t asked her aunt to come in. She was now hurriedly trying to figure out what she needed to do to lure her aunt back toward her and out of the door.

  “Well, it smells to me like I have fantastic timing,” Aunt Cee-Cee said as she continued, undeterred, toward the kitchen. Gabrielle closed the front door and hurried to catch up with her uninvited, unwelcome, and undeniably unpredictable guest.

  “Seriously, Aunt Cee-Cee, this really isn’t a good time right now—”

  Aunt Cee-Cee stepped into the kitchen and saw Zachary just as he was turning off the burner and lifting up the large, cast-iron skillet. He raked a little of the steak, onions, and colored peppers mixture onto a flat flour tortilla.

  “Well, hello there,” Aunt Cee-Cee said as she walked toward Zachary. “Well, well, aren’t you something? You must be the Handsome Chef.” She let out a slight chuckle. “There’s the Iron Chef. So I can only conclude you have to be the Handsome Chef who makes house calls.” She scanned him from his head to his chest as she smiled.

  Zachary looked at Gabrielle, who now stood next to the frumpy-looking visitor.

  Zachary set the skillet back down on the stove. “No, but I thank you for the compliment. I’m Gabrielle’s friend, Zachary Morgan.”

  “I’m Cecelia Murphy”—she extended a hand—“Gabrielle’s aunt. But everybody calls me Cee-Cee.”

  Zachary quickly wiped his hand on the towel and shook Aunt Cee-Cee’s outstretched hand. “All right then, Cee-Cee. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Ah, that’s what you say now. Give it some time.” Aunt Cee-Cee laughed, then hopped up on a bar stool at the kitchen counter. “That sure does look good. I’m starving. Gabrielle, why don’t you fix me one of those things Zachary’s making. Oh, and can you get me something cold to drink? I need to wet my throat.” She fanned her face again with her hand. “You wouldn’t happen to have a beer or wine cooler around here, would you?”

  “No, I wouldn’t.” Gabrielle’s response was stern and cold.

  “I would be glad to go and get you something,” Zachary said, obviously wanting to make a good first impression. “There’s a Quik Mart about five miles from here—”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Gabrielle said before Zachary could finish his sentence. “I have something to drink in the refrigerator. She can drink one of those.” Gabrielle turned and looked squarely at Aunt Cee-Cee. “Besides, she’ll not be staying long enough for you to go get anything and make it back.”

  Aunt Cee-Cee glared at Gabrielle only briefly before she broke her stare with a warm (though obviously phony) smile. “Gabrielle’s right. I won’t be here that long. So”—Aunt Cee-Cee turned her attention back to Zachary—“are the two of you dating?”

  Neither Gabrielle nor Zachary answered.

  “I said, are you two dating?”

  “Yes,” Zachary said when he realized Gabrielle wasn’t planning on answering the question. “But we’re actually calling it courting.” He couldn’t hold back his own blush.

  “Courting? Oh, how cute! You don’t hear that word much these days. I suppose it’s better than wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.” Aunt Cee-Cee slid down off the bar stool and sat in a chair at the glass-top kitchen table. She looked at Gabrielle, her way of letting her niece know that she was still waiting on both her food and drink.

  “Gabrielle is a special woman. We want to do things right,” Zachary said. He looked at Gabrielle once more, who still hadn’t moved to get her aunt a plate or beverage.

  “So, Mister Handsome Chef, what do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a d—”

  “Aunt Cee-Cee, why don’t I fix your fajita to go?” Gabrielle promptly went and picked up the plate with the fajita Zachary had already begun making.

  Aunt Cee-Cee fastened her gaze on Gabrielle like a laser. “Because I’m not going yet. And honestly, the quicker I get something to eat, the quicker I’ll get out of here. I’m hungry, and I don’t care to eat while I drive. Like texting, it’s dangerous to drive and eat. In fact, there should be a law against both.” Aunt Cee-Cee softened her face with a smile.

  After rinsing her hands, Gabrielle hurried to finish rolling the fajita for her aunt.

  “Now,” Aunt Cee-Cee said, turning her full attention once more toward Zachary. “You were saying. What is it you do for a living? Because I hope you know I wouldn’t want my niece, who’s like a daughter to me . . . raised her myself, hanging out with no scrub. That’s what they call a guy without a job who lives off others, right? A scrub.”

  Zachary laughed a little. “Well, you know, you might call me a scrub.”

  Aunt Cee-Cee pulled her body back and placed her right hand over her heart.

  “Hold up,” Zachary said with a chuckle. “Before you conclude that I’m not good enough for your niece, allow me to clarify. I’m a doctor. In my line of work, I wash my hands a lot, a whole lot. So technically speaking that makes me somewhat of a scrub.”

  “A doctor.” Aunt Cee-Cee’s words were flirty and sweet. “Oh, my goodness. Mercy me. My Gabrielle is courting a doctor, a real doctor. Well, isn’t that something.” She smiled at Gabrielle before turning back to Zachary. “What type of doctor are you?”

  “A burn specialist. I specialize mainly in burn victims, although lately I’ve been spending my time equally in the emergency room when I’ve been needed.”

  “A multitasker,” Aunt Cee-Cee said. “Gabrielle, why haven’t you called and told any of us that you’re courting a doctor?”

  Gabrielle set down the plate with the fajita and a can of Pepsi in front of her aunt. “The last few times I’ve phoned, you haven’t taken or returned my calls,” Gabrielle said.

  Aunt Cee-Cee eyed the can. “You got Coca-Cola instead of Pepsi? I pref
er Coke.”

  “All I have is Pepsi. But I can give you water if you’d prefer that. Water is wet.” Gabrielle smiled, knowing full well her aunt never drank water, not even with medicine.

  “Oh, no. Pepsi is fine. I was just asking. I think somewhere in the Bible it says we don’t have because we don’t ask.” Aunt Cee-Cee picked up her fajita and took a cautious bite. “This is really good,” she said. “Handsome Chef, you’re a great cook. The meat is so tender and moist and has such a marvelous flavor.” She took a bigger bite.

  “Actually, Gabrielle did all the work. The tender and taste is from the marinade. Lime juice breaks down the meat to make it tender and give it that flavor. She marinated it overnight. I merely stirred and added the vegetables when she went to open the door.”

  “I’m sure you’re giving Gabrielle way too much credit. I’m willing to bet you did a lot more than you’re letting on. The peppers and onions are perfect.” She took another bite, then opened her can of soda. A hissing sound escaped when the top popped. “Aren’t you two going to eat before it gets cold? It’s really delicious.” She smacked as she spoke.

  Gabrielle was about to say something when Zachary moved over to her, put his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her in close. “We like ours cold,” he said.

  “Suit yourself,” Aunt Cee-Cee said. When she finished that one, she asked for another. She chatted on about how terrible things were at their house financially and her not knowing what they were going to do as she woofed down a third fajita. She then asked for yet another one. “Oh, but could you wrap that one up for me as a to-go?” she said. “Those are so good.” She licked her fingers, then wiped her mouth with a napkin.

  Both Gabrielle and Zachary looked at what remained in the skillet. Originally, there had been enough for them to have at least two full fajitas each. Aunt Cee-Cee had eaten three and was asking for one more. If they made her the one she was asking for now, there would only be enough left for one fajita. Gabrielle made the last two fajitas and gave them both to her aunt.

  “Oh, aren’t you the sweetest thing!” Aunt Cee-Cee said when Gabrielle handed her the wrapped fajitas. “Would you mind putting them in a bag for me? And if it’s not too much to ask, would you put two cans of soda in the bag as well? Your uncle Bubba will need something to wash his fajita down with.” Aunt Cee-Cee stood up as she waited on Gabrielle to finish.

  Gabrielle put the fajitas and drinks in a grocery bag and walked her to the door.

  “I’ll call you later tonight,” Aunt Cee-Cee said. Then she whispered, “Is the doctor spending the night tonight?”

  “No, Aunt Cee-Cee. We won’t be doing things like that. There’ll be none of that.”

  “You mean he’s not spending the night right now. But you don’t mean you’re not planning on doing anything with that man until or unless you get married, now, do you?”

  “You mean sex before marriage . . . fornicating?”

  “Well, you don’t have to be so graphic about it. But, yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Listen, honey, you don’t need to let a man like him get away. That’s a real catch you have in there.” She tilted her head in the direction of the kitchen.

  “Aunt Cee-Cee, I’m a Christian now. I told you that. I gave my life to the Lord. God frowns on fornication. Zachary and I agreed we want to do things God’s way, and only His way. And that means keeping ourselves pure until we’re married to whomever.”

  Aunt Cee-Cee started laughing. It sounded more like an animal in severe pain than human. “Yeah, well, trust me. I know plenty of Christians, and being a Christian doesn’t seem to be stopping most of them from fornicating or committing adultery. I’ll tell you this: You’d better take care of that man and his needs or he’ll find someone who will. Take it from Aunt Cee-Cee; I know how men can be. Sure, in the beginning they’ll tell you they’re in total agreement about something like being chaste. But men are wired totally different from women. Men don’t need as much emotional bonding as we do to move to the next level. That man is tall, light-skinned enough, handsome, can cook, or at least will pick up a spoon and help out, he has a job, and he’s a doctor to boot. Oh, you’d better at least let him sample the cake batter and not have to wait for the baked cake.”

  “Good night, Aunt Cee-Cee.” Gabrielle opened the front door.

  “I’m going to call you either later tonight or tomorrow. Better yet, why don’t you just call me when you’re free so I won’t interrupt anything. You’d best heed what I just said. Call me, now. I have something I desperately need to talk to you about. It’s important, so don’t take long in getting back with me. It can’t wait any longer than a day.”

  Gabrielle mustered up one more smile. “Good night,” she said.

  After Aunt Cee-Cee left, Gabrielle closed the door. She stood there for a few minutes, her forehead resting softly on the door as she quietly listened for her aunt’s car to crank. Hearing the car drive away, she exhaled slowly.

  “Wow, what a character,” Zachary said.

  Jarred slightly by Zachary’s presence, Gabrielle turned around and forced herself to smile yet again. “Oh, you don’t even know the half of it.”

  “Just from those thirty-five minutes, I believe I received a pretty good introduction,” Zachary said. “So . . . where would you like to go eat?”

  Gabrielle put her hands up to her face to compose herself, then took them down. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe she did that. Wait a minute—yes, I can. That’s classic Aunt Cee-Cee. And the funny part is, she has no idea that what she just did was totally wrong or completely selfish. No idea at all.”

  “Oh, she knows,” Zachary said. “I get the distinct feeling Aunt Cee-Cee knows exactly what she’s doing. Exactly.”

  Chapter 3

  Go from the presence of a foolish man, when thou perceivest not in him the lips of knowledge.

  —Proverbs 14:7

  “Marshall, your son is being baptized Sunday night at six. Are you planning on being there or not?” fifty-four-year-old Zenobia Walker said as she waited, not so patiently, on the phone for her ex-husband to respond. When it came to their two sons, there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do to keep them from being hurt.

  Sixty-four-year-old Reverend Marshall Walker took his time in answering his second ex-wife, ten years his junior. He’d married her straight out of high school, and he still knew how to put a little starch under her collar. “Zenobia, I’ve already had this discussion with Clarence. He called me Sunday night after going to that Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center and rededicating his life—”

  “He says it’s not rededicating, Marshall. Clarence says this is his first time honestly giving his life to Christ. I know that’s hard for you to appreciate since you’re the last one on earth who’ll admit you don’t perform miracles. But this is an important event for your son, and I would think you’d want to be there to support him in this,” Zenobia said.

  “Our son is not a little boy anymore. He’s a grown man now. That means he’s used to disappointments in life. I already have something scheduled. It was scheduled long before Clarence decided to get baptized . . . again. Frankly, I still don’t understand the logic behind a person choosing to go into the water twice. It’s not the water that saves us anyway. It’s our faith in Jesus Christ. I baptized him with water when he was twelve. Believe me, he’s not going to get any cleaner just because he wants to go down into the water again. But if that makes him feel better, then more power to him.”

  “Okay, Marshall. It’s obvious you haven’t changed one bit. That’s one of the reasons you and I didn’t make it as husband and wife. Can’t nobody tell you nothing! You think you know everything and everything has to go your way. You don’t care about anybody but yourself. Well, I’m going to pray for you because you’re wrong about this. You’re so wrong. Your son has been out there in the world for decades now doing God knows what. Then one fateful day, he goes to a church. He hears the Word. Okay, I’m sorry if it wasn’t your church. But
the point is, he heard the Word. And God’s Word caused him to see that he needed to make a change in his life . . . that he needed to hook up with Jesus. He saw that it was time he got right with the Lord.” Zenobia let out a sigh.

  “So, whatever it is that you have to do,” she continued, “I don’t see how anything could be more important than your being there to support your son during this, if it’s at all possible. Clarence is finally doing what you’ve always wanted him to do,” Zenobia said. “He’s doing what you and I have been praying to God to happen. Clarence has given his life to the Lord.”

  Reverend Walker released his own loud and audible sigh. “Zenobia, I told you: I have a commitment already. Otherwise, I’d be there. You know that my life is not my own anymore. I have responsibilities and obligations. As I said to Clarence on Tuesday when I spoke to him again, if I didn’t already have something scheduled, I would be there. But I do. And I’m not one who breaks one commitment for another commitment later. That’s just not how I conduct my business. You’ll be there for him. I’m sure Knowledge will come if he’s available. Clarence knows how happy I am that he’s made the decision to change his lifestyle. And if he needs me, you and he both know I’ll be right there for him. As I stated to you earlier: I’ve seen him go down in the water before. Just because he decided that particular water baptism at age twelve didn’t count doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Nor does it mean that I must rearrange my entire life and schedule to accommodate what they, over there, decided to schedule, on short notice, I might add.”

  Zenobia nodded her head, her medium-length, feather-cut hair moving as though it were trying desperately to stay with each of her nods. “Fine, Marshall. I’m going to pray for you.”

  Reverend Walker laughed. “Oh, you don’t have to pray for me. God and I are straight. Everything is wonderful in my life. But if you want to pray just to be doing something, then by all means, pray away.”

  “See.” Zenobia slowly shook her head as she primped her mouth. “I don’t know why I even bother trying to be civil to you. Listen, you have a wonderful time Sunday night doing whatever it is you’re going to be doing. All right?”