The Devil Made Me Do It (12 page)

Phyllis's heels clicked through the solemn hall of the hospital. She had been out of touch yesterday, and she received the voice mail that Mother Reed was in the hospital today. She felt bad that she and Charles had both missed being here. She was thankful that the voice mail from Esther relayed Mother Reed's condition. She was out of danger, and she could now have a few visitors. Phyllis was hoping she could be one of them. She wasn't as close to Mother Reed as her sister, but she loved her.

Phyllis entered the room and saw Mother Reed's small frame encased in hospital white.

“Come in, darling. Mother is still here,” she heard her raspy voice state.

Phyllis pressed her hands together. “Praise the Lord you are talking, Mother.”

Mother Reed teased, “Well, chile, Mother been talking pert near seventy-nine years now.”

Phyllis smiled. She knew if Mother's humor was intact, all was well. She pulled her chair up to her bed. “I'm glad it was only a mild heart attack. You rest, I'll just sit here and read you some scriptures. Prayer changes things. I don't want you to tire yourself out trying to talk.”

Mother Reed slowly pointed to a book on her table. “Read that to me,” she instructed.

Phyllis looked at the book,
Joy
by Victoria Christopher Murray. “Isn't this a romance?”

Mother Reed sighed. “Yes, you have a problem with that?”

“Well, Mother Reed, I'm just a little surprised, that's all. This is fantasy, and I would have never thought that the mother of our church would be engaging in this kind of activity,” Phyllis chided, forgetting Mother Reed's condition.

Mother Reed struggled to a semi-sitting position. Phyllis looked horrified. She had overstepped her boundaries.

“Phyllis, you make my backside hurt!” Mother Reed said exasperated. “How in the world did you become such a critical young woman?”

Phyllis was alarmed that Mother Reed was expending too much energy to chastise her. Reprimanded, she grabbed the book and began to read.

Mother Reed decided to let the subject drop. She leaned back and listened to the story, amazed at Phyllis's wonderful voice. It was soothing and expressive. Soon, she drifted off to sleep. Later, when Mother Reed woke, Phyllis was sitting in the same chair reading feverishly.

Mother Reed cleared her throat. “Um, you still here?”

Sheepish, Phyllis held up the book. “It's not what I thought. It's a good story.”

“
Yes, I like a good story. You can't always be in the Bible, even though it is the best book I know.” Mother Reed smoothed out her bedding, her eyes focused on Phyllis.

Phyllis hung her head in shame. “I'm sorry I sounded so self-righteous.”

Mother Reed decided to be frank. “Well, I know you have some hurts, and sometimes that causes us to be discontented with everything in our life.”

Phyllis glared at Mother Reed like she had no idea what she was talking about.

Mother Reed glared back and pronounced, “No harm in admitting you're not perfect, Phyllis. It will really make ya free.”

In a fit of pique, Phyllis stood. “Mother, what are you talking about? Please explain.”

“You and Charles both want a child. Sweetie, some nights you cry from the aching.” Mother Reed shook her head, weary from their pain.

Phyllis gasped at Mother Reed's observation. Had others seen their gnawing desire? Her need?

“Shall I go on?” Mother Reed asked. Phyllis's permission was needed to go down this road.

Phyllis's eyes watered as her knees weakened and she sat. “Please.”

“The abortion didn't cause this. God is not punishing you. He—”

Phyllis bolted from her chair and ran out of the room. She saw some church members walking toward her and headed down the nearest stairwell. She stopped after running down two flights of stairs and collapsed on the landing in uncontrollable sobs. She was so ashamed. How could Mother Reed know her secret?

“I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry,” she cried into the empty stairwell.

 

 

Mother Reed cursed her infirmity. There was a time she could have sprinted after Phyllis and finished what she had started.

“This medication has my brain rattled,” she whispered, “otherwise, I would have said that a lot better.”

The door to her room opened abruptly, and Mother Reed was glad Phyllis came back.

“Look at you, Mother Reed, sitting up and all,” Abigail said as she entered with two other church sisters.

Lord, deliver me from evil,
Mother Reed thought. She needed to finish what she started with Phyllis, and the enemy had just jumped into her camp. Mother Reed looked over at Abigail and immediately felt tired. She refused to call her sister until she became one. This woman had so many emotional cuts and bruises that she tried the most diligent of saints.

“How are you, Abigail?”

“What's more important is how you are,” Abigail said in a syrupy sweet voice.

Mother Reed angled her head to see Abigail's eyes. “Well, the good Lord has seen fit to keep me. So I'm blessed.”

“You caused all of us some new gray hair. Why, I bet you almost everyone from church has been through here in the last couple of days. We even got to meet the new, young, handsome, interim pastor. He and Esther were both right here, together, so worried about you,” she gushed.

Mother Reed knew Abigail smelled blood, and like a bloodhound, she would sniff the trail 'till it led her to her prey.

She turned to Abigail's companions. “How y'all doing? Y'all all right?”

They answered together, “Yes, ma'am.” Janie, the younger of the two blurted, “We're just so glad to see you sitting up and talking, Mother. We thought you was dead for sure.”

Abigail gasped at the sister's comment. Mother Reed couldn't help smirking. She knew that Abigail really hated being with the sisters—as everyone called them—because both were about a Coke short of a six-pack, but they were all she had.

“Janie, Essie!” Abigail barked at both women.

They jumped and looked startled by her outburst. “What?” they chorused.

Abigail's answer was interrupted by the duty nurse entering the room. “I'm sorry, ladies, but you all will have to leave now. Mrs. Reed has to have her rest.”

Mother Reed did somersaults in her head as she leaned forward so that the nurse could fluff her pillows. “Thank y'all for coming,” Mother Reed said merrily.

 

 

The demons crowded Mother Reed's door. They had gained entrance through Abigail, but couldn't come any closer. Mother Reed's hedge of protection was in place. They scurried in retreat when the three women left the anointed one's room. They would report that their enemy was yet with them. The Leader would not be happy and someone would pay.

The clock ticked, as the large scaly tail moved back and forth in time to its beat. Minions scurried back and forth, bringing large pails of scalding water and adding it to the strong sulfur mix on the steaming rocks. The Leader inhaled and felt better after purging his senses of the sweet perfume that earlier filled his air. He stared at the clock, an invention to monitor time, necessitated because of the fall of mankind. He frowned at the pile of ashes by his feet and kicked the remains of the messenger who brought him bad news. He had not taken the news well when his imps reported they had failed to sabotage Mother Reed's recovery. Somehow, even her doctors and nurses were not open to their evil thoughts. Abigail had been of no real help. He was hopeful that her obsession with throwing dirt on Briggs and Esther would turn people against them. It didn't matter what was invented; dirt thrown even haphazardly still clung.

Time was running out. If he didn't make a strong move soon, all would be lost. He could feel the spiritual hedge of protection getting stronger, and he knew he needed to hurry. His next steps would be tricky, but he knew that they would work if everyone held true to the fallen nature of man's character. However, he knew from experience, sometimes man surprised even him. Humans were funny that way. Right when you had them pegged; they did something crazy, like . . . getting saved when they weren't in trouble, committing self-sacrifice, or standing for good.

This time he was sure that all would be well in his world. He would simply line everything up, as perfectly as he could, and afterward, sit back and watch the confusion and chaos unfold. In the meantime, he had a gangster rap concert to cover. Lately, some of the stars had actually sought out God and moved over to His camp. See? You couldn't trust humans. You just had to keep throwing confusion in their path and hope for the best. They were changeable creatures, all of them.

The Spirit of Confusion and Chaos was mad with power. The prince of the air had allowed it full reign. It ran to and fro, seeking those caught in weak and inane moments. It was their lack of faith that fed it. It was now airborne, traveling from house to city. It was hungry to be fed, and the victims never mattered. Today, Esther, Briggs, Monica, and Randall would all feel its teeth.

 

 

This was Esther's “shouldn'a got out of bed, 'cause I sho' is weary in this here well-doing kinda day.” By her mood it should have been raining; instead, it was a beautiful end of summer, sunshine marathon, and the devil was beating on her, instead of his wife. Love Zion's properties had trouble brewing with the zoning commission, and church folk was stirred up over mess that Abigail had spread like manure in planting season. Her mother's phone was ringing off the hook with insinuations concerning her and Briggs being in a relationship. Mind you, Esther wasn't ruling anything out, but a girl had to be asked before she could get on the floor and dance. She shook her cup and gobbled ice to stay cool, crunching cubes under her forceful chews. Suddenly, her forehead crinkled as she was assaulted with jumbled reflections that landed on one horrific thought. What if Briggs heard the rumors too?

 

 

The pen flowed furiously over the paper until the pressure punctured a hole in the yellow-lined notepad. Briggs ripped out the page, balled it up, and threw it toward the waste basket. It landed next to the dozen other balled up papers on the floor. His Sunday message was not getting completed early. From his desk he could see the sun was shining outside, but it was cloudy with a one hundred percent chance of rain in his office. With all the outrageous comments he overheard in passing, he needed Monica to get over herself and come to Detroit yesterday. How could people have him having an affair by just seeing him talk to someone? And what about the one where he was seen coming out of a seedy motel? He wouldn't even entertain defending such garbage.

He knew he should have told everyone a long time ago that he was married, but he had requested Reverend Gregory to keep his personal business private. He had lived in a glass bowl all his life, first as the son, then as the husband. He just wanted people to know him, the man, and the pastor. It might have helped his explanation to everyone that he was never hiding his marriage if he wore his ring. However, it was gaudy with diamonds and gold nuggets protruding from it and the heaviness was uncomfortable when he was working at his desk. Monica wouldn't hear of a more modest style. As a result, it was more off, than on. Since moving here without her constant nagging to put it on, it was definitely more off.

Initially, his idea was that people get to know him without the fawning and adoration that came from being associated with his father and/or Monica. People still came up to him after he preached a sermon and after a brief nicety concerning his message, spent all of their time asking how it felt to be the son or husband of someone so famous. Never mind that Monica hadn't modeled in years. Or, they wanted to know if his father was coming to town soon.

His plan would have been feasible, but Monica was never supposed to take this long to join him. The longer she took, the longer he put off telling people. His pride didn't want to admit his wife was not the dutiful, submissive type. He was more than aware that “pride goeth before a fall,” and that he was tittering on the brink of disaster.

Now, in retrospect, it all looked wrong. When he made the decision to withhold his familial connections, he had no idea that Esther lived here, or that they would be working so closely together. Everything was a mess, and without Monica's presence, it would be difficult to clear it all up. It was time she made an appearance.

 

 

The Spirit of Confusion reveled in the chaos. In Atlanta, it peeked into the bathroom where it saw Monica soaking. As he ushered in an ill wind, he wondered if she and her lover ever left the bed or bathroom.

 

 

Monica soaked in the Jacuzzi, her painted toes bobbing above the waterline. She smiled as Randall rubbed his face back and forth across her satiny skin, inhaling her fragrance. He was a man living his desires.

“Stop, Randall!” she squealed.

“You know that's not what you want,” he challenged.

“Boy, I'm not playing with you,” she countered as she laughed playfully and kicked him away.

Randall climbed into the water, and they continued their fun until her cell phone rang in the adjoining room. He placed a protective hand around her arm. “Don't answer it.”

Monica's eyes narrowed, pinpointing his hand on her arm. “Now you know I can't do that, and you certainly didn't bother to turn yours off earlier.”

He squeezed her once and removed his hand. “I'll get it for you,” he sighed, jumped out of the water, and jogged into the bedroom. When he returned cell in hand, he had a robe wrapped around him, and the ringing had stopped.

Monica was sitting on the chaise lounge toweling herself dry. She reached for her cell and checked the caller ID. The name under the number read Love Zion. “It's Briggs. A little privacy please while I return this call.”

“All right, but don't be long. Besides, you always use speakerphone when you're completing your bath. I could just stand outside the door and listen, but I'm better than that.” Randall pulled the door closed as he backed out of the room.

Monica smirked as she tapped out the number. She wasn't fooled. She knew Randall was at the door listening. “Hello, Briggs?”

“Good, you saw I called. How you doing, baby?”

“I'm fine. Was there a particular reason you called?” Monica was cordial but stiff.

“Can't a man miss his beautiful wife?”

Monica glanced at the closed door. “Sure. But, I'm kind of busy right now. I was working with some of the volunteers at Faith Cathedral when you called.”

“Oh, really? What do you guys have planned?”

“We're planning a summer fund-raiser to assist incarcerated women in reuniting with their children.” The lie flowed out of her mouth, smooth as churned butter.

“Honey, that sounds wonderful. You did let them know that you wouldn't be around to complete the project, didn't you?”

Monica crossed her bare legs, peeved. “Your father has thirty thousand members, Briggs. Someone will finish it. Did you find us the right place to live?”

“Monica, that doesn't matter. What matters is your place is here with me. It's past time for you to come to Detroit. It's been over a month of me learning the day-today operations, the members, and the community, and at last, I'll be preaching on Sunday. You should be here.”

“Briggs, this is the new millennium. Husbands and wives don't live in each other's pockets anymore. Some two-career marriages actually live on different coasts. They make it work,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Well, we aren't going to be one of those couples. And a two-career household has a two-career income. Is someone now paying you for your volunteer time?”

“Oh no, you didn't. As your wife, I have my own duties to fulfill. I'm doing me, while you're there establishing a name for yourself. Stop stressing. I know! I'll come and visit for a week and meet and greet. Would you like that?” Monica suggested. She kept her eyes on the closed door.

“What I would like doesn't seem to count. So I guess I'll have to take a visit. It's past time to introduce you to everyone. Have you spent any time with my parents?”

“Briggs, when you were here I didn't spend time with them. Your dad is always on the road, and when your mom is not with him, she's too busy to worry about her heathen daughter-in-law,” Monica criticized.

Briggs slipped into his well-worn role of the pacifier. “Monica, that's just not true. They have tried to include you in family activities, but you always beg off. They got over our elopement a long time ago. In the future, when we present them with Briggs Jr., they'll become your biggest fans.”

“You have me mixed up with someone sweating their approval,” Monica spat.

Briggs cleared his throat. “Let's keep the sarcasm to a low roar. The purpose of this call is to make sure you're coming to see me. That's all I'm concerned about right now. When can I expect you?”

“I'll call you. Bye . . .” Monica said.

“I love—” Briggs said just as Monica hung up.

Monica heard rustling at the door and knew Randall had headed back to bed. Her hands gripped the edge of the chaise and her eyes sparked anger and frustration. She completed toweling herself off and rehearsed telling Randall that she was going to Michigan. She was not looking forward to his objections. But she wasn't leaving Briggs for Randall until she saw his divorce decree and a wedding ring with her name inscribed on it.

Too many women skipped the sure thing, and then the pie in the sky didn't come through. She always bet on the winner. Men were fickle; she learned that from her dear old daddy. He broke her heart so many times growing up that she should have had stock in Elmer's glue. Her mother did her best trying to mend the jagged pieces together, but the cracks were still there, and only a patient eye could detect them.

Monica strutted out of the bathroom wrapped in her towel. She approached the bed, ready to use every weapon in her arsenal to placate Randall when she shared her news. He looked up appreciatively as she approached the bed; his eyes telegraphed that the phone call was forgotten. She had his attention. He smiled in anticipation and held his arms open for her warmth.

 

 

The Spirit of Confusion and Chaos danced across the Atlanta skyline; it radiated joy in its night lights, and it could hear the effect of its power wash over the city. It didn't do the hell thing; earth and its inhabitants were its responsibilities. Briggs, Esther, Monica, and Randall were all in its path of destruction. It circled around heading north. It was time to return to Detroit and complete its assignment. It had other things it wanted to take care of, like what it had in store for that new young mayor.