Practicing What You Preach Read online

  “I knew tonight was going to be good! That’s why I love Pastor Landris, and I hate to miss his teachings. He brings the Word in such a way that even the children get it.”

  “I saw those children’s eyes totally fixed on him as he spoke. And the teenagers, my goodness. They were standing up, giving high fives to each other, and praising God.”

  “I know. I saw them. But they’re always like that with Pastor Landris. He’s so good at getting across his message.”

  “Yes, I love how Pastor Landris held up that envelope with the word ‘God’ on it that second time, pulled out the envelope with the word ‘Jesus,’ then started teaching out of John seventeen, twenty-one through twenty-three, visually showing how Jesus abides in God and how when we accept Jesus, we abide in Him by pulling out the ‘Me’ envelope. And if Pastor Landris had stopped right there, that would have been enough for us to chew on for the rest of the week. But then he went and pulled out that card with the word ‘Holy Spirit’ from inside the envelope that said ‘Me’ to show how the Holy Spirit was now in ‘Me’ as ‘Me’ abides in Jesus as ‘Jesus’ abides in ‘God.’ Oh, man.” Marcus slapped the steering wheel with his hand. “That was too awesome! I thought I was going to get up and start running around the sanctuary myself, giving out my own high fives!”

  “And then Pastor Landris flipped the script to show that when Satan or an enemy comes at me, how they have to go through God, through Jesus, just to get to me.” I couldn’t help but grin, thinking about that. “And even then, should my enemies happen to get to me, I still have the Holy Spirit and Jesus inside me. Oh, that was so powerful!”

  “You’re right. That was powerful. He had us all on our feet when it reached that point. I’m going to tell you, I’ve never heard so much praise and shouting in my life. Y’all know how to have church!” Marcus continued to shift his gaze between me and the highway. “I enjoyed myself. Thank you so much for inviting me. Oh, wow! I had an awesome time.”

  Marcus tightened his grip on the steering wheel, then relaxed with a smile across his face. “It’s only eight-fifty. How about we get something to eat?”

  I nodded. “Sounds good to me,” I said. I hadn’t eaten anything since a banana I had during my morning break. I had skipped lunch trying to play catch-up on my errands due to the time I’d lost last night when I took Nae-nae’s mother to the grocery store.

  Marcus stopped at my favorite fast-food place, and I got my usual double-decker hamburger with melted Swiss cheese, sautéed onions, and mushrooms. There was no reason to give him a false impression of me by going for a salad I didn’t really want. He got the same double-decker, only with bacon. We decided to get our orders to go, which worked out perfectly. It gave us a chance to talk in private at my apartment while we ate.

  “So, tell me about yourself.” I took a bite of my hamburger and chewed as I listened.

  “Well, let’s see. I’m twenty-nine. My family moved from Dallas to Birmingham when I was five, and I’ve been here every since.”

  “Do you have any sisters and brothers?”

  He took a big bite of his burger. Barbecue sauce gushed out onto his fingers. He took his napkin and wiped the sauce off. I couldn’t help but think what a waste of good sauce. I’d have just licked it off my fingers and kept going. That’s when it tastes its best.

  “I have two sisters and two brothers,” he said after he swallowed. “I’m the knee baby, which, growing up, could be quite interesting at times.” He bit into his burger again.

  “Do they still live here?” I asked.

  “No.” He chewed, then swallowed hard. “My sisters married and moved away. My older brother is in the military so he moves around a bit. And my baby brother is incarcerated.” The tone in his voice dropped when he spoke of his younger brother.

  I dabbed both corners of my mouth daintily with my paper napkin. “I’m sorry to hear about your baby brother.”

  “Yeah, me too. We were close growing up, so it makes it doubly hard. It was drug related, of course. I tell you, I wish our people would wake up and see how this drug stuff is destroying our families, our communities, and enslaving our men, especially our young men,” he said. “So what about you? Do you have any siblings?”

  I smiled. “I have an older brother. I’m the baby.”

  “Oh, so that must mean you’re absolutely spoiled,” he said, grinning as he took a long draw from the straw of his super-sized drink.

  “I am not,” I whined, then caught myself. “I am not,” I said again, making the words sound more grown-up this time around. “And before you ask, yes, my brother still lives here. He’s real tall, about six-five, weighs about two hundred and fifty pounds, and he adores his little sister. So I would watch myself if I were you,” I half teased.

  He smiled and nodded. “Duly noted. I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”

  “Okay, you don’t wear a wedding ring, but I still like to ask just to be sure. Are you married, or separated, legally or otherwise?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  I grinned. “Gay? On the down low? Attracted to men in any way, shape, or form other than sheer admiration?”

  He tilted his head downward as he looked at me. “No,” he said. “Now, what would make you ask me something like that?”

  “It’s just one of my dating rules’ questions. My mantra is: assume nothing, and if you want to know, ask.”

  “I’m divorced,” he said, volunteering the information before I could ask. He took another bite of his burger and chewed a few times before adding, “and I have a child.”

  My grin instantly fell from my face. “Divorced? And you have a child?”

  “Yes and yes. A little girl. Her name is Aaliyah, and she’s five.” He then leaned down and over, I can only assume to get a better look at my face. “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” I lied.

  What I should have told him was the other one of my three rules when it comes to the men I date. I don’t date married or separated men. I don’t date men I even suspect may be on the down low. And I don’t date men who are divorced. I once dated a guy who was younger than me, although I prefer a guy who is older. So I’m no prude or anything like that. I’ve even dated a guy who had two children, so children weren’t a deterrence for me. My rules are in place to protect me before I get too deeply involved with a man, any man, no matter how awesome or heaven-sent he may appear to be.

  The first two rules need no explanation. And it would have been too much trouble to go into full details regarding my third rule. Suffice it to say: there are too many scriptures in the Bible about being with someone who’s divorced for me to deal with anyone who is divorced. I don’t profess to be a Bible scholar by any means. Nor do I imply that I know all that’s behind those scriptures, either.

  But what I do know is that there is something about it being a cause for a charge of adultery. And honestly, I have enough problems and sins of my own to have to ask forgiveness for; I really don’t need to add someone else’s charge of sin to my ever-running account.

  “So”—I flashed him a smile as I finished up my sandwich—“tell me about your daughter.”

  Listening more out of politeness now, although the way he spoke of his little girl was truly endearing and inspiring, I knew full well this would be the last time the two of us would be seeing each other. At least seeing each other on any type of personal basis.

  Such a waste. God, this is so unfair! Do you hear me, God? I really liked him, too.

  Chapter 5

  But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should show forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into marvelous light.

  —1 Peter 2:9

  I must admit: Caller ID is a wonderful thing. I really had a great time with Marcus. And had I answered the phone when he called the day after our date, I most likely would have let him talk me into another one. With Caller ID, I ended up allowing his call to go to the a
nswering machine, fully planning on calling him back when I felt strong enough to turn down any and all invitations or continuing relationship talks. Friday, he called me at work.

  “Well, I suppose you’re really busy, since you haven’t returned my call,” he began.

  “Yeah, it’s busy everywhere. You know how it gets sometimes. And I have this wedding that I’m working hard on.” I immediately began to look for an excuse to get off the phone as quickly as possible. “It’s also really jumping here today,” I said.

  “I enjoyed our date on Wednesday night,” Marcus said, his voice deep and strong. “To be honest, it’s the most fun I’ve had in years, other than with my daughter, of course.”

  “Yes, it was nice,” I said. My heart started to pound faster, then skipped one beat.

  “What do you say that we do it again? Go on another date. Your choice again.”

  I allowed the silence as I searched for the right words. “You know, I don’t think so.” I made sure the tone of my voice was not mean. I wasn’t trying to put him down.

  Now it was his turn to be silent. “Oh, so you don’t care to go out with me again? Well then, I suppose things didn’t go as well on our date as I had thought.”

  I could feel myself softening. I didn’t want him to think I didn’t like him or that there was anything wrong with him personally. He really is a nice guy. “Marcus, honestly I’m just so busy these days. That’s all.”

  “I realize you’re working hard on that wedding. I’m scheduled to be in a wedding. I know a lot of work goes into planning one, even though my part has so far only entailed being fitted for a tux and committing to a night for a rehearsal and that one day for the actual wedding. What I’m saying to you is that I don’t mind waiting. After you finish—”

  “Listen, Marcus, I think it would be best if we just let this whole thing go. It was fun, but I really do need to stay focused. All right? I have dreams, and I just realized I really need to work hard at them if I want any of them to manifest themselves. You understand.”

  I heard him sigh. “Sure,” he said. “Of course. I understand.”

  “Okay, then good. Well, I need to get back to work now. Okay?”

  “Melissa.” Marcus said my name with such tenderness. “Will you keep my phone number? And if you change your mind, if you ever want to go to Bible study again together, or anything, anything at all, even if you just want someone to talk to, I’m a great listener. Will you please give me a call?”

  He was making this so hard. “Sure. Yeah, sure,” I said. “Listen, I need to catch this call. Good-bye.” I took the other call. After I finished, I placed my forehead firmly in the palms of my hands. “God, why is it nothing ever seems to work for me?”

  I hadn’t lied when I told Marcus I was too busy to pursue a relationship or to talk to him. He’s seen how busy this place gets. A few times, even he has had to come back because things were so hectic. Dr. Brewer’s schedule gets all out of whack when he has to do an emergency C-section. This leaves me having to call and let patients know we’re running behind and having to reschedule those who either can’t wait or can’t be here at a later time.

  Two years ago, when Dr. Brewer worked in an OB/GYN practice with four other doctors (one of whom was a female), they were able to cover each other easily. The downside was the complaints from patients who preferred a certain doctor but were forced to see all of the doctors so they would be familiar with whoever was on call. A lot of Dr. Brewer’s patients were upset when they were in labor and found they had no real say-so when it came to which doctor would deliver their baby.

  The breaking point for Dr. Brewer came when one of his patients was treated badly by one of the associates. On top of that, she was a high-risk patient. He’d asked why she hadn’t called him, since he happened to be available that day, especially since the doctor on call was already tied up and a backup doctor was required to come in.

  “I did ask for you,” she had said. “In fact, I begged for you. I was told very nicely it didn’t matter what I wanted. Then that doctor came in, and he treated me like I was some charity case or something. There I was in pain and in trouble, and he talked to me like I was some kind of a bother to him. To be honest, he talked to me as if I should be glad he was doing anything at all for me. He eventually told me that I should have thought about all this before I went out and got pregnant. Although he tried to laugh it off like he was merely joking, I didn’t appreciate his sense of humor one bit.”

  Well, that was the last straw for Dr. Brewer, and the last time he allowed one of his patients to go through anything like that. He informed me he would be moving back into his own private practice again. And when it was time for that patient’s six-week checkup, our new office is where she came.

  “I’d rather get a backup to fill in for me when I can’t be there than to have my patients go through something like that ever again,” Dr. Brewer said. I think he hated that practice as much as his patients did.

  If you knew Dr. Brewer, you would have known he wouldn’t stay with those others for too long. I’ve worked for him for ten years. He was impressed with my skills and hired me right after I graduated from high school. I can say this with conviction: he truly cares about the people who come to him. I think it broke his heart to have those patients who had sought him out—including one who had been with him from the beginning of his twenty-three-year practice—have their babies delivered by one of the other doctors. He’s just that kind of physician, a relationship doctor. Dr. Brewer cares about people.

  His love for people is why I think he lets Marcus come and talk with him as much as he does. Although I wholly admit that Marcus also seems to be a nice guy. Maybe nice people just need to learn how to tell people to take a hike—in a nice way, of course. I’m working on that myself. It’s too bad Marcus is divorced. I was totally feeling him. In fact, I was starting to believe he may have been sent to me by God, an answer to a prayer.

  Oh well, I’m sure one of these days the right man will come along for me. I just need to wait on the Lord, although it is getting hard. And I know You know this already, Lord, but I’m not getting any younger down here.

  In the meantime, I have this big wedding to pull off in stellar fashion. Angela’s family will begin arriving next week for the wedding. The rehearsal and rehearsal dinner are scheduled for that Friday night. With the wedding party Angela was having along with all of her and Brent’s families, the rehearsal dinner was proving to be almost as large and as much work as the actual wedding and reception.

  One positive thing about being this close to the wedding is that I will be too busy to dwell on what might have been with Marcus. After all, it was only one date. One date where we’d done nothing grand or spectacular other than go to Bible study and talk afterward while eating a burger.

  Get over it, Peaches. Let’s move on. Peaches, are you listening? Forget about Marcus. Face it, it just wasn’t meant to be. Onward and upward! I said to myself.

  The ringing phone cut through my thoughts like a hot knife through soft butter. I shook my head as I answered the phone. “Dr. Brewer’s office, this is Melissa speaking.”

  Chapter 6

  Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.

  —Galatians 6:2

  Gayle Cane, Angela’s cousin from Asheville, North Carolina, arrived on Tuesday evening the week of the wedding. She had apparently decided to come early enough to help out wherever she could. She was staying at the designated hotel. Seeing it was needed, I took off the rest of the week starting Wednesday. To help out Angela, who was becoming more and more stressed as Saturday drew closer, I picked Gayle up from her hotel on my way to Angela’s apartment that morning.

  Gayle told me she had been a home care nurse for an elderly woman for the past three and a half years. From what I gathered, Angela and this second cousin weren’t all that close, but Gayle needed to talk to Angela before everyone else arrived in town.

  With so much to do
and so little time to do it, I suppose that’s why I was around to hear most of their conversation. In and out of the room, working in my space away from Angela and Gayle as they feverishly arranged the names of those who had RSVP’d for the reception on the seating chart, I guess they must have forgotten I was there as their conversation grew deeper and more intense. I could have told Gayle that this really wasn’t a great time for talks, especially not ones rooted in family secrets.

  Gayle was bringing Angela up to speed on things that had happened after Angela left Asheville four years ago.

  “After Grandmother—well, your great-grandmother—died, you decided to leave and come to Birmingham to live,” the tall and rather slender Gayle said. “You know I bought her house to keep down all that confusion and arguing about who should inherit the house, since Grandmother didn’t have a will.”

  “I know, and I appreciate you for stepping in and doing that. It’s amazing how people, family folks, start acting all crazy after a relative dies and has something everybody thinks they’re entitled to when they’re gone. I couldn’t believe how everybody started fussing and fighting after Great-granny died. I’m sure she never thought they would act in such a way.”

  “I know. That’s why I just offered to buy the house outright at fair market price and let them divide up the money. Anyway, shortly after that, I took a job working for this woman named Sarah Fleming.”

  “Sarah Fleming? You mean, the Sarah Fleming?” Angela asked.

  “You knew her?”

  Angela stopped writing and turned her full attention to Gayle. “Not personally, but I kind of know the story surrounding her. I was there at the beginning of things, when she first came back to Asheville. I was the one who took Johnnie Mae Landris to the house to meet Montgomery Powell the Second that first time she went to see him and to try and see Sarah after she moved back to Asheville. I never got to meet Sarah Fleming. So how did you end up working as a nurse for her?”