Strongholds Read online

  He looked hard into her brown eyes. “I have an addiction.”

  “An addiction? To what? Drugs?”

  “No.” He looked down at his hand, then back up again. “Porn.”

  “What?” She flopped down in a chair at the kitchen table. “Porn?” Her voice shrieked. “Porn? When did this happen?”

  “I’ve had this problem for a while now. It started back when I was a teenager.”

  “But I don’t understand. You were a deacon at the other church we just left. You’re on track to work in the ministry now that we’re members of Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center. And you’re telling me you’re addicted to porn? Pornography? So what are you saying? I wasn’t enough woman for you that you had to go elsewhere?”

  “Come on, Marcella. It’s not like I actually cheated on you.”

  “Yes, it is! It’s exactly like you cheated on me. You’re telling me you have a need…a desire to look at other people…other naked people…naked women other than me, your own wife, in order for you to be satisfied? My God, that is so sick, Bentley!”

  Bentley squatted down and tried to hold her hands. She jerked away.

  “Marcella, please listen to me. Just give me a chance to try and explain.”

  Marcella looked him in the eyes as she wiped away tears that now flowed from her own. “Go ahead. Explain. Tell me how inadequate I must be as a wife. Tell me how unattractive I must be that it would cause you, even after we married, to sneak behind my back so you could be with other women.”

  “I’m not with other women. They’re just pictures and movies. Not real flesh. Entertainment, just like those books you’ve been reading lately. You know the ones.”

  “Oh, don’t you dare. Don’t you dare! There’s no comparison!”

  “No comparison? You read books that go into detail about sexual encounters. Remember you’ve read passages to me and to some of your girlfriends over the phone to show how ‘juicy’ the story was. Those books described certain acts and body parts so vividly, who needs photos! But that’s okay. I don’t suppose you see that as a problem: the fact that you get turned on by books without pictures because they’re only words. Well, images are pictures. And words create images. You love to read your little romance novels and to watch your little soap operas, too. What do you think those seemingly innocent type things are doing for you?”

  Marcella looked at him. With teeth clenched, she spoke. “Don’t you even try it! Don’t you dare try and turn this on me. We’re talking about you looking at naked pictures of women and men performing sexual acts. You know how I feel about men who look at porn. So don’t you dare use me as a scapegoat or try to justify what you do!”

  “I wasn’t,” Bentley said as he stood up, reached down to grab her and pull her close to him. “I didn’t mean to say all of that. All I came in here to do was to confess to you that I have a problem. Two Sundays ago, you asked why I went to the altar. Well, I went up there for prayer hoping that would solve everything. But it didn’t. And I have tried, Marcella. I am trying. Every pornographic thing I had here in the house, I threw it away. But all I can think about lately is getting some more. I need help! I’m attending the Deliverance support Bible study, but I need your help, too. I don’t want to do anything to lose you; I need you in my life.”

  Marcella cried as she allowed him to hold her.

  “We’re going to fix this,” he said in between her sobs. “Together. You and I. I promise I’m going to find a way to make things right. You mean too much to me. Our family means too much. I’m confessing my sins to you just like the Bible says to do. And I am going to beat this! Just please, stick with me. I need you.”

  Chapter 7

  For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.

  —2 Corinthians 5:21

  “I don’t know what I could have been thinking,” Arletha Brown said as soon as she and Memory started out of the church’s parking lot following the service. “Before I thought about it good, there I was standing up there at the altar with that preacher, sporting—what do they call them? Dreadlocks? Yeah…dreadlocks to be prayed for. Me, standing up there with all those sinners who, God only knows, are committing all kinds of un-God-like acts against my Father in heaven. I must have just gotten caught up in the wave or something.”

  “Well, you weren’t the only one. I went up there as well,” Memory said.

  “You probably went because you saw me. I’m sure your respect for my walk with the Lord caused you to examine your own life in that moment and compare it to mine. Of course you would come up there when you saw me. You figured if I was up there, it was the right thing to do. I’m so sorry, Elaine. I’m usually careful about what I do in my life. I don’t know what happened with me today. Maybe they really are a cult. And maybe that Pastor Landris did some kind of mind control stuff that caused us not to think straight.”

  “I don’t think they’re a cult,” Memory said. “He’s a powerful preacher.” She saw the disapproving look Arletha threw her way. “In my opinion. I’m just trying to figure out why his name is familiar to me. But a lot of what he said made so much sense. It’s practical, everyday-living type teaching.”

  “A lot of what he said made sense for those who are practicing sin. I just can’t believe I got suckered into going up there. I don’t have any sin in my life. I usually am at church six days a week except here recently. I’ve been in church all of my natural-born life, really. I treat folks right. I mean, look at you.” Arletha glanced over at Memory as she got on the freeway. “You needed somewhere to stay, and what did I do? I took you in just like the Bible says for us to do. I’m not charging you much to stay with me. I just allowed you, a stranger, in my home like the Good Book says is the right thing to do.”

  “You did, and I appreciate that more than you’ll know, too.”

  “I know you do. But I did it because the Lord speaks about those type things in His Word. They’re important to Him. You came to Birmingham with nowhere to go. You couldn’t get into an apartment on your own. And then to hear how your own flesh and blood—your daughter and granddaughter—turned their backs on you the way they did. Especially after all you did for them. Your husband dying, leaving you to be a single mother whose own mother ended up dying while you were still rather young. You having to fend for yourself without any support system at such a tender age.”

  Arletha continued, shaking her head slowly as she spoke. “Your daughter having been burned in a fire like she was…I can’t even imagine what all you’ve endured. And then for your family to leave you out on the street with no place to turn like they did, that’s just a sin and a disgrace. Taking you to the bus stop and dropping you off, leaving you there all alone. But the devil is a lie! ’Cause God has provided for you through me. And I’ve got a feeling,” she began to sing the words, “everything’s gonna be all right!”

  “Yes. And I thank you for allowing me to come live in your home.” Memory looked out the window. It was strange. Since she had gone forward to be prayed for, something different was going on inside her. When she first met with Arletha on that day, she didn’t exactly tell her the whole truth. Everything she told her, other than that her name was Elaine Robertson, was a variation of a lie. And she almost totally lied about her name, which would have backfired on her since Arletha ended up asking for some form of identification before she would allow her to step foot into her home. Memory had something that still had Elaine Robertson on it. She didn’t tell Arletha that her first name was Memory or that her daughter, Lena Patterson, lived in Atlanta, just two hours away.

  “You can never be too careful,” Arletha had said. “I may be a child of God, but Satan would like nothing more than to put a soldier like me completely out of service. Well, God gave me good sense and a gift of discernment. And my senses tell me even though you appear to be a nice person, I need to make sure you’re who you say you are.”

  “I understand,” Mem
ory had said, while handing her an old ID card with that name clearly printed on it. “I don’t drive so I don’t have a license. This is all I have. I hope it will do,” she said. Arletha looked at it and nodded her approval.

  But Memory stood ready to flee at a moment’s notice, just in case. Her bags remained virtually packed at all times. She’d originally only needed a place to lay low until she could figure out what her next move should be. Arletha’s place turned out to be a blessing in disguise. No one would ever think to look for her there. No paper trails. Things were working out perfectly, better than anything she could have planned herself.

  That was, until today. As she sat there in church listening to this man pour his heart out to the people, a heart that clearly loved God and loved God’s people, Memory suddenly realized who she really was in Christ. There was nothing she had done in her past that was so bad that she couldn’t come back to the Lord and ask Him for forgiveness. She had wronged so many people, so many over these past decades.

  Starting with her own mother, who had done nothing but try to show her love and protect her all of those years. She had wronged Lena, oh, how wrong she had treated her own child. How could she have come back home after her mother died and taken everything away from Lena, her own flesh and blood like she’d done?

  She’d left her sixteen-year-old daughter to practically fend for herself with nothing. She’d taken everything her mother left for Lena and sold it. She had—in actuality—bullied her own child and stolen her inheritance. And for what? Just so she could do what she wanted to do. Today for the first time in her life, walking up to that altar, she’d openly acknowledged she hadn’t really cared about anyone other than herself.

  Memory thought about the necklace…the famous Alexandrite necklace. The only thing Lena had left from the past. And what had Memory done? She came looking for Lena, not because she cared about her. Not because she was family. Not to ask for her forgiveness. She came because there was a million-dollar reward on a necklace she believed Lena still held in her possession. Memory had come for the necklace, pure and simple. And nothing or no one else had mattered. But she had also learned the hard way: you really do reap what you sow.

  Whatever had occurred to her when she went to the altar, she knew she had to shake it off. It didn’t pay to be nice. Lena was living proof of that fact. Look at what being nice and doing the right thing had gotten her: mistreated, stepped on, used, and abused by the very people she tried to love and help. The last thing Memory needed was to go soft, especially now. And whoever was looking for her might be out there trying to find her still. She had to shake off this feeling of wanting to tell the truth. She had to shake off this desire to want to confess all she’d done and this feeling of wanting to talk with someone about it.

  She sat on the couch in the den next to Arletha and listened to her as she went on about how righteous she was because of her works. Memory may not have been as religious as Arletha, but she knew that we are made righteous because of what Jesus did. It was crystal clear to Memory that Arletha was neck deep in religious traditions. Arletha believed what she was told by others as being gospel without question or without ever searching scriptures and seeking the true interpretation from the Holy Spirit for herself.

  Memory smiled as she thought about the story of the prodigal son. How most folks focused on the son who did the outward sins. As she listened to Arletha going on and on, even after they arrived at the house, about how perfect she was, how right she was, how wrong everybody who contradicts her was, Memory couldn’t help but see the other son in the story—the supposedly good son.

  The son who became upset when his brother returned home after finding himself in the pig pen…the son who—because he was only focused on himself—couldn’t celebrate a lost soul coming back to his father. A father who had watched and waited for his son to one day return back to him; a father who put a ring on his was-dead-but-now-he’s-alive son; a father who told his servants to kill the fatted calf so they could make a joyful noise in celebration of his son’s return home. Memory’s thoughts were directed toward the other son, who appeared perfect on the outside, but inside, he had what could only be described as sins of the heart, and he didn’t even know it.

  It was obvious to Memory that Arletha was representative of the good son, the son who stayed home and didn’t do anything wrong. The son who believed himself righteous because of all he had done, not realizing he was righteous because of what his father had done for him.

  “But by the grace of God, go I,” Memory said.

  Arletha turned to Memory. “What?”

  Memory didn’t realize she’d just spoken those words out loud. She turned and smiled at Arletha. “I was just thinking about how well some people have it and how they think it’s because of who they are and what they do. But you know, I realize if it wasn’t for the grace of God, where would any of us be?”

  “What?” Arletha said again as she frowned at Memory. “Sister Elaine, what are you babbling like a brook about?”

  Memory smiled. “Oh, nothing. I was just thanking God for His grace and mercy.”

  “See what I mean? I’m talking about that cult-leading preacher over there brainwashing those unsuspecting folks into believing his lies, and you’re mumbling about grace. We will be saved after we are judged by how well we live down here on earth. God is going to see who lived right and who was living wrong. He’s going to judge us based on those criteria, and I don’t want to hear no mumbo-jumbo from some woman-haired-looking man talking about just accepting Jesus as your savior makes one saved.”

  She sucked her teeth and lifted her nose higher into the air. “But by grace? Yes, accepting Jesus gets you started. But you’ve got to live right and perfect. That’s why I don’t have time to be trying to lead folks to Christ. I’m too busy trying to get into heaven my own self. I’m gonna get mine; the rest of them had better be trying to get their own the best way they can. You included. And if they don’t make it in, it won’t be any different than in Noah’s day when he built that ark.” She patted her face with her handkerchief as she got up off the couch and beckoned for Memory to follow her as she headed for the kitchen.

  “Noah told them folks it was going to rain,” she said as she glanced at Memory. “But did they listen? No. When it started raining, they were beating down the door trying to get in. But it was too late then. That’s the way it’s going to be for a lot of these folks living today. Well, I’m planning on being in heaven to sport my long, white robe and wear my golden crown with all my jewels encrusted in it. Oh, Miss America won’t have a thing on me! Praise the Lord. It’s just good to be on the Lord’s side.”

  Memory looked at Arletha and smiled. Yes, this was definitely a great hiding place. No one ever seemed to care to come around dear Sister Arletha Brown. And the more Memory sat and listened to her talk, the more she came to understand just why.

  Chapter 8

  Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.

  —James 4:7

  Darius was determined to talk with Fatima. Every day, for three weeks, he called and left a message on her home answering machine.

  “Look, Fatima. I’m not giving up on us. I love you too much, girl, just to let you walk out of my life like this. You’re going to have to talk to me eventually. You can’t turn me away forever.”

  “Fatima, this is Darius. Listen, I really need to talk. Things aren’t going well with me and my wife these days. I just need a friend. Somebody to talk to, that’s all. Do you remember when you told me no matter what, we’d always be friends? Well, I don’t have anybody who understands me like you do. Come on now, if you’re there, pick up. I just need to talk. I love you, Boo.”

  “Look, girl. Now this has gone on long enough. I don’t deserve to be treated like this. I’ve been straight up with you from the beginning. You knew I was married, so don’t be acting like I did you wrong. You can’t just shut a man down like this. I thought you were
different from the other women out there. I’d expect something like this from somebody trifling, but not from you. All I’m asking you to do is talk to me. That’s all. Talk.”

  “Now see, Fatima. A real woman would have at least cut things off to a man’s face. You know you’re wrong. But that’s okay. That’s o-kay. You of all people know: God does not like ugly. What goes around comes around. You’re gonna reap what you sow. Whatever you put out there is going to come back to you one of these days.”

  “Okay, okay. Listen. I was wrong for what I said the last time. I’m just so messed up right now, I don’t know what to do. You won’t talk to me. I’m losing my mind over here. Is that what you want? Me to lose my mind? To go crazy? You know I’m crazy in love with you. I didn’t realize how much you meant to me until now. They say you don’t miss your water until your well runs dry. Well, girl, I miss you. My pure, sweet water. What do you want from me? You want me to leave my wife? Is that what this is about?”

  Fatima had listened to each message, sometimes more than once. She was even tempted to save a few of them, but in her spirit she heard, “Delete it. Don’t even go there.”

  “God, this is so hard!” she said as she lay on her back across her bed. “You know I love him. And you know how much I love him. I’m trying to do the right thing here, but these feelings just won’t go away. What am I supposed to do with these feelings I have for him? Tell me, God. What am I supposed to do with my love? I love him. I don’t have a clue how to turn off these thoughts that keep popping up in my mind. I can’t seem to turn off my heart from loving him either. Do you have any idea how hard it is to see his number come across my caller ID and not pick up, or to hear his voice and resist literally snatching up the phone? Do you know how much I want to be inside his arms right this minute so I can forget about the miserable days I’ve had without him for what feels like forever? Do you have any idea just how much I really, really miss him?! I’m trying to do what’s right, but this hold is so strong.”