Goodness and Mercy Read online

  Princess Rose swung her head around with a smile and looked straight into her stepfather’s eyes. “I know that, Daddy Landris. But I’ve heard you say how important it is for girls, and especially young ladies, to see men treating their wives right. That way when they grow up and get out in the world, they’ll know what to look for in a man when they do decide to get married. I’m taking notes.” She held up her steno pad.

  “Is that what you’re doing there with your notebook?” Pastor Landris asked. “Taking notes on what a good man and wife should be?”

  “No.” Princess Rose giggled. “I’m taking notes on the inauguration and everything else that’s happening on this day. It’s for school. We’re supposed to write an essay as though we’re writing it for the history books. So when Mommy keeps telling me to pay attention because this is history being made, I’m trying to pay attention so I can write things down. I’m going to write my essay when I finish as though I’m writing history. Only, I get to write mine as it’s happening and fresh on my mind. I want to include the human angle as well.”

  Johnnie Mae laughed. “The human angle? Well, all righty, then. Go on with your bad self, Miss Lady.” She high-fived her daughter, who giggled, then fell back on the sofa.

  “Let’s see. Now, where have I heard that before?” Pastor Landris rubbed his perfectly trimmed goateed chin. “Yes, that’s right. This gorgeous, famous author named Johnnie Mae Taylor, who’s actually married to some little jackleg preacher named George Landris, legally making her Johnnie Mae Landris, that’s where.” Smiling, Pastor Landris directed his full attention at his wife as he spoke. He then turned back to Princess Rose. “Maybe you’re going to grow up and be an author, just like your mother,” he said.

  “Hold up! Wait a minute! Don’t be calling my husband jackleg. He’s anything but a jackleg preacher,” Johnnie Mae said. “Them’s fighting words, Mister.”

  Princess Rose laughed at both her parents. Isaiah glanced up on occasion as he worked with his puzzles. Isaiah loved putting puzzles together. He would take four or five different puzzles, dump all the pieces into a big pile, and mix them all together. He would then put all the puzzles together almost without batting an eye. And these were onehundred-piece puzzles. He went through lots of boxes because he was so good at it.

  A straight-A student who loved English, Princess Rose was in the fourth grade. Her fourth-grade teacher really wanted to skip her to the fifth grade, but upper management in the school system was bucking that idea. Princess Rose would have already been in the fifth grade had her birthday not come after the school’s cutoff date. If you weren’t five by that date, you couldn’t start kindergarten. Born December eighteenth meant she was closer to six when she began kindergarten and seven for the first grade.

  Princess Rose didn’t mind too much. There were lots of children in her class whose birthdays didn’t make the date. Her BFF (Best Friend Forever) was Shannon Henderson, an Octoberseventh-born baby. She and Shannon had been friends for as long as she could remember. They did almost everything together. At least, as much as the two of them could finagle. Like double clicks needed to launch a software program, the two of them had a lot in common. One was that they both had baby brothers who, at times, could be little monster brats.

  Johnnie Mae would tell Princess Rose not to call Isaiah a brat or to say that he was bad. But Princess Rose knew a different little boy than they saw. And her brother could indeed be, on occasion, both a brat and bad. He just did his little deeds on the sly, and their parents only saw things when Princess Rose was trying to make him do right.

  Johnnie Mae often reprimanded Princess Rose, telling her she was just a tad too bossy for her own good. Daddy Landris would merely laugh and say she just had a lot of spunk. He would then smile, lean down and, in a manner resembling a whisper (even though Princess Rose knew her mother could hear him quite clearly), say, “Truth be told, you’re exactly like your mother.”

  Princess Rose would grin, then give her stepfather a big hug.

  Without a doubt, Princess Rose loved Daddy Landris!

  Chapter 8

  The elder women as mothers; the younger as sisters, with all purity.

  —1 Timothy 5:2

  Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center would be playing host to its own Inaugural Ball on the evening of January twentieth. Johnnie Mae had bought her dress as soon as she knew the church was planning to do this. She would be wearing an Amsale gown—a strapless, lustrous, gorgeous, rosewood brocade evening dress of rose, black, and pink, with an asymmetrical dropped waist that was shirred along one side. The fully lined dress contained netting underneath that caused the skirt to appear as though it was standing all on its own.

  Gabrielle was excited about attending the church’s Inaugural Ball on Tuesday. She’d heard others say (and she’d believed) that once a person gave his or her life to Christ, there was nothing fun left to do. She determined that was why so many waited until they got old to get serious about Christianity. But Monday, she’d worked alongside Fatima Adams and twenty other volunteers much of the day feeding the homeless and the less fortunate at the church. Additionally, they gave away clothing the church had collected, as a way of service. This was her induction into giving back, and she loved it! They even had evening wear for the women, suits for the men, and dress shoes for both to choose from. This would allow them to attend the church’s Inaugural Ball the following night if they wanted to and not feel out of place because they didn’t have proper evening attire.

  Barbers and hairdressers, who as a general rule normally took off on Mondays, donated their time and talents to help the underserved look their best. It spoke volumes to what a press or perm and a curl for the women and girls, a clip and an edge for the men and boys, and a clean shave for the men could do to lift up a person’s self-esteem.

  Gabrielle had never known how wonderful something as small as serving someone a meal, watching the joy on a mother’s or father’s face as a warm coat fit perfectly on his or her little one, could make one feel. For the first time in a long while, she felt wonderfully alive. And it wasn’t because she’d felt blessed to have food or clothing when others didn’t. It was because she was blessed to be a blessing—blessed to be able to serve. It was an honor to take low, to help lift someone else up. No amount of money could buy that feeling. Perhaps this was how Miss Crowe felt when she had helped me all those years ago, she thought. Giving of one’s self and time—priceless.

  Having watched all the daytime events unfold, Gabrielle was looking forward to Tuesday night’s Inaugural Ball. People wouldn’t have to fly to D.C. to feel a part of the celebration. Oddly enough, after watching others get excited about their gowns on Monday, her biggest concern was still if what she was planning to wear was appropriate for a church function. When Fatima had told her about the ball that first Sunday night, she’d asked what church folks normally wore to these types of affairs.

  “We wear what most people wear to a ball,” Fatima said. “As long as it’s not over the top, Christians are pretty much like regular folks who attend balls. Do you have a gown already?”

  “I do, but it’s strapless. I certainly can’t wear a strapless gown to a church ball, especially now that I’m saved.”

  “My gown is strapless.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, it would be okay for me to wear something that doesn’t completely cover me from my neck down?” Gabrielle asked, no longer concerned about her neck being exposed, knowing that those nasty bruises would be gone.

  Fatima let out a small chuckle. “Yeah. It’s fine. I’m serious.”

  “I don’t know. I would hate to have people staring at me because I wore the wrong thing.”

  “If it worries you or makes you feel uncomfortable, then get a shawl and wrap it around yourself. But you’re going to find lots of women there wearing strapless gowns.”

  Gabrielle hesitated a second. She shook her head. “I just don’t know. I don’t w
ant to come off too sexy or anything like that, and principally not at a church-sponsored function.”

  “I’ll tell you what. If you don’t believe me, I’ll be happy to do a three-way call. I can add someone else from the church on the line who can affirm what I’m saying. You can ask them—”

  “Oh, no, Fatima. No. That’s not necessary,” Gabrielle said. “And please don’t think I don’t trust or believe what you’ve said. You seem quite knowledgeable about church stuff. It’s just being a Christian is totally new to me. But I trust what you’re telling me. I just don’t want people getting the wrong impression of me merely because I don’t know all the dos and don’ts yet. I don’t want to show up wearing the wrong thing.”

  “So, does this mean you’re coming to the ball?”

  “Yes.” Gabrielle held her s, making a hissing sound.

  “Great. Then, it looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other over the coming weeks. Wednesday is Bible study, which is the time for you to attend your New Member’s class. You get to ask all kinds of questions there. Next Sunday night, you’ll be baptized. I plan to be there for that. I’m so excited for you! Possibly we’ll run into each other at Bible study the following Wednesday. But so many people attend church service and our corporate Bible study, it’s hard to say who you will or won’t see at any given service.”

  “Corporate Bible study?”

  “That’s when, instead of breakout Bible study sessions in different areas of the church, we all meet in the main sanctuary as a group—the entire congregation. And Pastor Landris is teaching a great series: ‘How to Stand During Difficult Times.’ Thousands of congregants come to our regular Bible studies. Attendance is almost as much as one full Sunday morning service. But I’ll see you Wednesday at New Member’s Bible study because this is my week to work.”

  Gabrielle inquired about clothing when she attended the New Member’s Bible study. She later asked the teacher about what would be appropriate to wear to a church ball. The teacher confirmed what Fatima had told her.

  Still, on the night of the ball, Gabrielle was unsure about her dress. She’d never known how selfconscious she really could be about something like this. All of this was so new to her.

  A person who prided herself on always being on time, Gabrielle walked into the ball at six o’clock sharp. People instantly embraced her. She had never felt as though she belonged anywhere as much as she was being made to feel she was welcome at Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center. She received compliments constantly on how beautiful she looked in her dress. She felt people were genuine with their words, and not just being polite. But things really hit home when one of the Mothers of the church (as she later learned they were collectively called) beckoned her to come over to their table and told her she looked nice. “But you really need to lose that shawl. You look like an old woman,” Mother Gladys Franklin said.

  Gabrielle smiled and took off the shawl. They introduced themselves, and seeing there were two empty seats, she decided to sit at the table with them.

  Gabrielle was dressed in an ABS (Allen Schwartz) gown—a sage, brown, tan, and ivory ombré printed sheer silk chiffon, pleated at the top, draped insets extending from the front to the back, an empire waist, full sateen underlay, and strapless. Fatima arrived at the Inaugural Ball thirty minutes after it began. She couldn’t help but laugh when she finally came upon Gabrielle sitting at the table with the Mothers of the church.

  She hugged Gabrielle as they greeted. “This is what you thought could be construed as a floozylike outfit?” Fatima asked Gabrielle as she grinned.

  Gabrielle laughed as she looked her newfound friend from head to toe. “Now, I never used the word floozy. And any doubts I had about my dress, well . . . let’s just say I wholeheartedly stand corrected. Please forgive me if I, in any way, offended you.”

  One of the Mothers began a deep, low chuckle. The others merged in. “You two look like twins. Y’all have on the same outfits,” Mother Franklin said, pointing at both of them. “Except Fatima’s dress is black and silver and yours is . . . exactly what color would you call that?” She directed the question about her dress color to Gabrielle.

  “Sage, brown, tan, and ivory,” Gabrielle said, recalling the colors touted on the Web site when, on a whim, she’d ordered the dress a few months back.

  “Did y’all plan this that way or what?” Mother Franklin asked, directing her question to either one of the two.

  “No, ma’am. We did not plan this. It’s just how God happened to work it out,” Fatima said.

  “Well, I don’t know just how much God really had to do with it, but y’all look real pretty,” Mother Franklin said. “Real cute.”

  Gabrielle smiled and gave a quick nod. “Thank you.”

  “Ooh, child. Take a gander at who just came strolling in,” Mother Franklin said, pointing for Fatima to turn around and look.

  Fatima turned and saw Trent walking in with someone she’d never seen before. She and Trent had been seriously dating now for a year. They first met about three and a half years ago. She’d just ended her three-year affair with Darius Connors and was leaving a counseling session with Johnnie Mae Landris after Pastor Landris’s series on “Strongholds” caused her to make major changes in her life. She had thought it was too early and would be unfair to start a relationship with anyone so soon after Darius. So she’d kept Trent at bay. Of course, when Trent pressed her about going to a movie or out on a date, she had only told him that she needed time to heal completely after having just ended a long and complicated relationship. A year and a half later, they started doing more things together as friends.

  She didn’t dare tell Trent who she’d been in this relationship with or the unflattering and embarrassing sordid details surrounding it. Namely, that she had been dating a married man. Nor did she tell him that the married man was a member of their congregation. She made sure she avoided Darius as much as possible, which was made that much easier with his slack in church attendance after their breakup.

  His wife, Tiffany, had recently joined the New Convert/ New Member’s Ministry. Fatima had to admit: she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that.

  Fatima hated that she’d been the other woman. It had been easier when the wife had been an abstract composite created entirely by a deeply wronged party. A person she’d heard only bad things about, where she’d even felt somewhat justified in her actions. There were times when she had even been made to feel she was doing a good thing . . . a noble service actually, because the wife was not doing right by her man. But after she ended things with Darius, and after she’d seen this same woman working hard to take care of their three children (and Tiffany turned out to be as nice as she wanted to be), it made Fatima feel she’d been more like the scum of the earth than anything else.

  Trent stopped at an empty table in the middle of the room and sat down. Fatima didn’t want to leave Gabrielle there alone with the Mothers of the church. But she also didn’t want to hurt the Mothers’ feelings by implying she didn’t want to sit with them if she and Gabrielle left them.

  “Goodness gracious, child. Will you please go with your friend so she won’t be standing there trying to figure out how not to hurt our feelings,” Mother Franklin said to Gabrielle. The other Mothers began to nod in agreement, two of them shooing her to leave. “Go on. Go.”

  Fatima smiled. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Fatima said to the Mothers. “Thank you for understanding.”

  “Oh, don’t thank us. It’s like it says in Psalm thirty-seven, verse twenty-five. Or is it verse twenty-nine ?” Mother Franklin said. “No, I believe it’s verse twenty-five—”

  “Gladys, will you just tell us what the scripture says and quit fretting over getting the verse number right?” Mother Robinson said.

  “No, now I believe the scripture with the word fret in it is Psalm thirty-seven and one, ‘Fret not thyself because of evildoers.’ Yep, I know that one fine. Done used it quite a few times myself over my li
fetime. Fret is definitely in Psalm thirty-seven and one,” Mother Franklin said.

  “Mother Franklin, will you just quote whatever scripture you were about to quote before these young folk here turn as old as the six of us?” Mother Robinson said.

  Gabrielle couldn’t help but giggle a little as she stood there with a gigantic smile on her face. These women were a laugh a minute and so down-to-earth.

  “I just didn’t want to be leading this child here wrong,” Mother Franklin said, pointing her head Gabrielle’s way, a strand of her white hair looking like a lone finger wagging at Gabrielle from underneath her hat. “She just got saved a few Sundays back, was baptized two Sunday nights ago. Ain’t you the one that practically Fred Astaired your way up to the altar on first Sunday and started shouting when you came up and out of the water on that second Sunday night? I declare the way you glide across a room . . . you seriously need to consider joining the dance ministry here at the church.”

  “She cain’t join the dance ministry. Pastor Landris just sat that gal down that was over it,” Mother Smith said. “Remember? I tell you, sin will mess you up every time. Y’all better hear what I’m telling ya. You cain’t be up there in leadership and living any kinda way. Not at this church you cain’t.”

  “Unh-uh, sho’ you right,” Mother Franklin chimed in. “Pastor Landris don’t play that. Not here,” Mother Franklin said. “All these folks thinking they can keep living like the world, sleeping with folks they ain’t married to while they up in front of folks that know what they’re doing. Unh-uh, that don’t fly at this church. It might fly in other churches, but you can’t be no leader here and think Pastor Landris is gonna overlook something like that. He’ll shut down the whole ministry if he has to. Won’t he do it?” She looked over at Mother Robinson and the others, who nodded in agreement. “I done seen him do it before. But he’s fair now about how he do it. He ain’t got favorites. Don’t care how much he personally likes you. Right is right and wrong is gone. He does not play. Not when it comes to the Lord’s business and the Lord’s house.”