The Other Side of Divine (6 page)

“I know. That's why, early on, I wanted to do this thing you can do to determine paternity while the baby is still in the womb. There's only a brief window where it can be safely done, and it costs about two thousand dollars, which is fine if you have that kind of money lying around since insurance companies don't pay for that sort of thing. I didn't have the money, not like where my husband wouldn't have noticed. My mother and father are struggling since my daddy is out of his position as an Alabama congressman. It's like the two of them are starting over. My mother even briefly took a part-time job, if you can believe that.”

“Yeah. Your father is Lawrence Simmons.”

Paris twisted her mouth a few times. “Yes. Although these days, as his family, it's not something you go around bragging about like in the past. I don't know just how much you truly know when it comes to my father and Gabrielle—”

“If you don't mind, I'd like to just keep the conversation on that which pertains to you,” Johnnie Mae said without giving away what she may or may not know.

“Okay,” Paris said. “Anyway, I talked with the other man about possibly doing this test, but that didn't pan out so well. In fact, he's pretty certain this baby is
not
his. In truth, that might seem plausible except for how long my husband and I have been trying without there ever even being a false alarm of success. Then the one time I happen to do something like this with another man and voila, I'm pregnant.”

“So you feel then that most likely this baby is the other man's and not your husband's?” Johnnie Mae said.

“I pray this baby is my husband's. I don't know what I'm going to do if it's not. Honestly, my husband would likely never know if he's not his. I mean, I know. The other man has been told, but I can fix that easily by telling him he definitely isn't. And with the exception of me telling you right now—”

“Which you could very well come back later and tell me the baby definitely is your husband's and I would be none the wiser as well,” Johnnie Mae said.

“Well, I'm not going to come back and purposely lie to a preacher's wife. I recall the story about those two people in the Bible who fell dead after they lied. . . .”

“You're talking about Ananias and his wife, Sapphira, who lied to Peter about how much their land had sold for when they were selling possessions and bringing the money to benefit the ministry,” Johnnie Mae said. “The problem wasn't in them keeping back part of what they sold the land for, as the land was theirs to do with as they pleased. It was their flat-out lying about it. And Peter told Ananias that Satan filled his heart to lie not to them but to the Holy Ghost. He and his wife didn't have to lie. We do have to be careful because a lie is not necessarily to people, as we believe it to be, but to the Holy Ghost, which is a dangerous thing to play with.”

“Yes,” Paris said. “And from what I know about Pastor Landris and this ministry, there's no way I would go there. So for now, I don't know if this baby is my husband's or not. So you see what I'm dealing with here. I just need some godly advice on what I should do. Do I tell my husband now or wait until the baby gets here? In truth, I could do a normal DNA test, much less costly and without my husband's knowledge,
after
the baby is born. That way, if the baby is his, he never has to go through any pain concerning this. If the baby isn't, we can deal with that fact from there.”

“So you're asking me whether you should tell your husband that you cheated on him, albeit only that one time, and that you're not sure if the baby you're carrying is his or not. Is that what you're asking?”

Paris bit down on her bottom lip. “Yes, ma'am. That's what I'm asking. Plus, I needed to get this secret out of me. It's been eating away at me, just like Pastor Landris preached on Sunday. The devil has been having a field day with my mind and I needed someone to confide in. I wanted to talk with Pastor Landris, but that wasn't doable at this time—”

“So you ended up with me instead,” Johnnie Mae said with a warm smile.

“I wouldn't put it quite that way at this point. God knew what He was doing. He knew what I really needed. I would say He
blessed
me to talk with you instead.”

“Praise God for that. This
is
what would seem to be a great dilemma. The question is: Do you keep this secret from your husband, believing it will maintain peace in your household at least until there's a reason to possibly tear things up? Or do you tell your husband the truth that he deserves and has a right to know, the fact that he may not be the baby's father.”

Paris placed her hands up to her face and pressed hard as she waited on the answer this woman of God was about to tell her. But at least she'd made a step toward lightening her load on what had become a tempest-tossed ship.

—Leviticus 19:33

 

 

 

Z
achary Wayne Morgan walked quickly through the door his aunt Esther held open for him. “I came as quickly as I could get here,” he said to her. “Where is Gabrielle?”

“She's upstairs with her father. We're supposed to be sitting down to eat, but the two of them have been up there for a while now.”

“Dr. Z!” Jasmine said, running into his arms. “I didn't know you were coming in time for dinner.”

He hoisted her up into the air and smiled. “My favorite little girl in all of the world!”

“You always say that,” Jasmine said.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I'm fine. I told them I felt fine, but they still wouldn't let me go to school. I'm going tomorrow though. I absolutely love school,” Jasmine said. Zachary set her back down. “I guess I need to set a place for you at the table. I'm glad I suggested we eat in the dining room tonight. It's just growing and growing bigger and bigger with more people by the minute.” She illustrated the way it was growing with her hands.

“Sounds good, Miss Jazz. Go on and fix a place for me.” Zachary watched as Jasmine skipped merrily away.

“Okay, Aunt Esther. What's going on?”

Esther walked toward the den as Zachary followed. She sat in a chair while he sat scooted on the edge of the sofa. “Her father showed up. Gabrielle's father is here. Twenty-five years and without warning, he just shows up on her doorstep.”

Zachary sat back a little. “She certainly never indicated to me that she knew he was getting out any time soon, let alone getting out now.” Zachary stood up. “I should go up and check on her.”

“Zach, wait. I don't think you should do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I believe she's okay with him, for now anyway. They need some room to breathe . . . to talk if they want. If you go up there, she'll know I called you almost as soon as he cleared the doorway and I could make my way to the phone,” Miss Crowe said. “This is still her house. If she wanted him gone, she could have done that.”

“But she didn't,” Zachary said.

“Nope, she didn't. Instead, she's letting him stay, at least tonight.”

“So what do you think about that?” Zachary asked.

Miss Crowe shook her head slowly. “I don't know. He doesn't appear to be a threat or a danger to her. He claims he's changed.” She tilted her head slightly. “I was listening in when they were still down here. He says he's saved now, a new creature in Christ.”

“That's what they all say when they go in,” Zachary said. He began to pace in front of the sofa as he scratched his head. “I don't know, Aunt Esther. I want to protect Gabrielle. Do you know how much that man has hurt her so far?”

Miss Crowe nodded. “Absolutely I do. But Gabrielle is a grown woman. She's able to make her own decisions. All we can do is keep our eyes and ears open. And if we need to step in to protect her, we just have to pray we can and do and that she'll have the right mind to listen. But he's her father.”

“Yeah. And I know how important a father can be in a little girl's life.”

“Precisely. And it doesn't matter how old a daughter is. She'll always be a little girl looking for love and attention from her father if he appears to be trying to give it, sincere or not.”

“Well, you met him,” Zachary said. “Do you think he's a threat to her?”

“I don't know. All I know is even though he's like a stranger about to dwell among us—all of us really, because you know I'm not going too far from Gabrielle, not at this point—he's still her father in need of a place to stay.”

“Thank you, Auntie. Because we're too close to becoming husband and wife now for someone like him to come in and mess everything up,” Zachary said with a harsh edge to his voice.

Miss Crowe nodded. “I know, Zach. And you know I've been doing what I can when it comes to working on your mother. But she's still bound and determined that you're not going to marry Gabrielle.”

“Well, my mother is not going to stop us. But Gabrielle's father—”

“Benjamin Booker,” Miss Crowe said. “But he says everyone calls him Bennie.”

“Well, Benjamin ‘Bennie' Booker, whatever his name, is not going to get in the way of our happiness, either. I'll respect him as long as he's on the up and up,” Zachary said. “But the first sign that he's up to no good—”

“Zachary,” Gabrielle said, almost sprinting across the room toward him.

He hugged her tight. “I hope you don't mind,” Zachary said. “But I just felt like coming over for dinner and eating with my family.”

“How coincidental,” Gabrielle said, looking at Miss Crowe with a sly grin. “You just
happened
to show up right after my father arrived. Isn't that something?”

Miss Crowe turned away from Gabrielle's stare.

“Are you all right?” Zachary asked, gathering her up by the shoulders as he looked into her beautiful brown eyes. At thirty years of age, the good doctor knew when he should be on high alert.

“I'm good,” Gabrielle said with a smile. “I would have liked to have been forewarned about my father coming today. But what's done is done. We're moving on from the hand we've both been dealt.”

“The table is set and the food is probably cold,” Jasmine said, strolling into the den. “I've never had so much trouble getting people to do right in my life.” She was being completely and purposely overdramatic.

“Coming right now,” Gabrielle said, raising her index finger in the air. “And if we have to microwave our plates to reheat our food, then that's what we'll have to do.”

Zachary was the last one to step out of the den. He and Bennie, almost having bumped into each other, were now face to face.

“Hello,” Bennie said. “My name is—”

“Mr. Booker,” Zachary said. “Pleased to meet you. My name is Zachary Morgan. I'm Gabrielle's fiancé. Please forgive me for not shaking your hand, but since we're about to sit down and eat, I'm sure you wouldn't want to contaminate your clean hand by shaking mine.” Zachary smiled.

“It's okay. I'm sure whatever germs are there won't kill either me or you,” Bennie said, holding out his hand to Zachary.

Zachary looked down at his hand, then at Gabrielle. He took Bennie's hand and gave it a quick pump.

Bennie nodded as he seemed to be sizing Zachary up as well. “You have a good grip on you there, young fellow,” Bennie said. “Yep. That's a good solid handshake right there if ever I met one.”

They went into the dining room and sat down. Zachary sat with Gabrielle on one side and Jasmine on the other. Miss Crowe and Bennie sat next to each other on the other side of the table. Unlike times past, no one, this time around, sat at the head of the table.

—Judges 2:3

 

 

 

I
t was Valentine's Day and Darius was fully moved into his new place of residence. He'd gotten his unemployment check, but as always, it was never enough for all he needed. Every time he saw Tiffany she was complaining that he wasn't giving her anything to help out with the children.

“You were the one who put
me
out. Remember? If I wasn't trying to pay for somewhere to live on a daily basis, I could be putting that money here and toward our children,” Darius had said to her a month earlier. “If you'd let me come home, we could work together instead of against each other. This isn't good for our children, Tiffany. I hope you know that. I apologized to you for what I did years ago. I don't think it's fair that you're punishing me
and
our children for something that happened some five years earlier. It's just wrong, Tiffany. And you're wrong.”

It hadn't helped matters when he'd stopped by the house around Christmastime and met Clarence Walker, the minister of music from their church, coming out of his house. He'd blasted Tiffany, accusing her of playing footsy with Clarence. She'd laughed in his face as he went from one extreme to the other, first accusing her of having an affair with the once-upon-a-time exotic dance club owner before he gave it all up to serve the Lord, then accusing Clarence of being gay.

Tiffany told him he was wrong for stereotyping Clarence just because of his music position in the church.

“How can he be gay but having an affair with me, a woman, at the same time? You're just talking crazy, Darius.” Tiffany was clearly frustrated with her husband. “You need help. Clarence came by to bring us some food and other things we needed. The church blessed me and
our
children with groceries, clothes, and some toys for Christmas. Clarence just brought the things over so I wouldn't have to carry them all by myself. The man was merely being a blessing, something you might want to try sometime yourself.”

“Sure, Tiff. Sure. I
bet
he was just being a blessing. But you'd better be careful. I know how men's minds work. They see a woman in distress and that's their inroad to them. Clarence never liked me. I suppose he just wants what I have, and he'll do whatever it takes to make it happen, including making me look bad if he has to.”

“Clarence is not trying to talk to me. He's just being a good Christian brother.”

“Okay, Tiffany. Let your guard down at your own peril. I'm trying all I know how to make things back up to you and you won't give me the same chance you're seemingly giving this Clarence snake in the grass. I asked you to let me come home; I asked you to give me one more chance. We have history. . . . We have children together, Tiffany. And I can't even manage to get a decent audience with you. But good old Brother Clarence can. It's just wrong.”

“Darius, you're not serious about working things out between us. You're not.”

“I told you we can go talk to Pastor Landris together whenever you want. I told you that a little after I left back in September.”

“But you're not serious, Darius. Didn't you tell me that Pastor Landris offered you a place to stay at that house they have—?”

“It's a halfway house, Tiffany. I'm not going to stay at a halfway house with a bunch of drug addicts, alcohol heads, and known losers. I'm just not.”

“But if it will help us—”

“This discussion is over,” Darius said. “We need to get back together. You need to let me come home. You know I don't like this stupid separation. And I certainly don't want a divorce. But if you want a fight, then we can fight. But I'm not going to give up on us so easily. You might, but I'm not. How can we work things out if you're over here and I'm somewhere else? Communication is the key to any relationship succeeding. And we don't need some jack-legged preacher telling us that. I want to come home, Tiffany. My children need me and you know it.”

“Your children need you to grow up and be the man and father God is calling you to be.”

“I am that. At least, I'm trying. We fall down, but we get up. Right? Isn't that what the song says? You're the one standing in the way of progress here.”

“No . . . you're not trying.”

“Okay, Tiffany. I'm not going to stand here and argue with you. Okay? I'm going to pray for you 'cause you need real prayer.”

Tiffany laughed. “You're going to pray for
me
? I'm not the one who was doing the wrong in this marriage, repeatedly doing it after you said it wouldn't happen again.”

“What you're doing now is wrong. And you know what they say: Two wrongs don't make a right.” Darius reached into his pocket and pulled out folded dollar bills. “Here's some money to help pay on the cell phone bill. I need my phone, especially since I'm out here busting my behind trying to find a job so I can do more for you and our family.
You
might not want to do right by me and
our
children, but I'm not going to let you drag me down in the mud with you. I'm going to pray for you, and I pray God will open your eyes to what you truly had in a man like me. If you need me or if my children need me, I'm only a phone call away. But I'm not going to run up behind you when you're not trying to do right yourself.”

Tiffany shook her head. “You are truly a piece of work.”

“Well, I'm going to warn you: Watch yourself with that Clarence dude. And don't leave my daughters alone around him, either. Any man who will put women on stage to dance out of their clothes, there's no telling what he'll do if left alone with our daughters. For that matter, I don't want him around our son, either. Because I'm going to tell you, Tiffany: If I find out that man ever puts his hand on
any
of my children in the wrong way . . .” He balled his fist and held it with his eyes closed in the air. “Just don't be naïve when it comes to Mr. Wonderful. Do you hear me?”

“Are you
quite
finished?”

Darius stood back and grinned. “Yeah. I just need you to hurry up and come to your senses. I'm getting tired of having to find a place to stay while you're getting it together. You know you need me. You know you miss me. We belong together. You need to quit playing these little games. They're getting old.”

“Bye, Darius.” She walked to the door and opened it, tapping her feet as she waited.

He strolled over with an added swag, deliberately taking his time. “Tell the kids I'll see them next week. And as soon as I get a permanent place, that's if you and I are not going to get back together, I'll be getting them for some weekend visits. I pray it doesn't have to come to that and you grow up and we work things out.”

Tiffany didn't say anything but continued to hold the door open.

Darius walked past her, took one step back, leaned backward on his heels, and gave her a soft peck on the cheek. “See ya, baby. I love you.”

That conversation had taken place at the beginning of January before he'd shown back up again in late January asking if he could at least stay the night on the couch. Two nights of sleeping outside in his vehicle with Tiffany knowing it had not moved her in the least. The Connors magic was not working. He'd then made up his mind that he was going to see Pastor Landris and try doing things
their
way. And that was when divine intervention had just happened along, and he'd met Divine, as he called her, or Miss Delilah Vine as she was legally known.

He and Divine had hit it off from the first bite of omelets and grits before topping things off with chocolate-dipped strawberries they devoured for breakfast.

“I like the way you clean up,” Divine had said when he stepped into the kitchen after showering and shaving.

“Well, thank you. And I
love
your home. This is yours, isn't it?” he said. “You never did answer me earlier when I asked.”

She smiled. “It's mine, all four thousand five hundred square feet of it.”

“So is there a Mr. Vine somewhere?”

She laughed. “Nope. Just me. No ties, no strings, no headaches.”

“So you consider a man to be a headache?”

She brought a plate with breakfast over to him and, cutting off a piece of the omelet with a gold-plated fork, placed it gently on his tongue. “Not at all. I just don't care to be owned or possessed. It's the possessiveness that I don't care much for.” She watched his mouth as he chewed the omelet, which was perfectly seasoned and perfectly cooked. “Are you a possessive man, Darius?”

He smiled as he swallowed. “You want an honest answer?”

“Always,” she said with a slight Eartha Kitt–like purr to her voice.

He grinned. “I don't like much sharing what's mine. So I suppose you can say I am possessive in that way. I suppose that means you and I would never have a chance together.” He tilted his head slightly as though he'd asked a question and was patiently waiting for an answer.

“I hear that possession is nine-tenths of the law. You're here with me right now, eating my food, instead of home with your wife and children. So I suppose there's always a chance for
anything
in this life.” She set the plate down on the table and sat down. Darius followed her lead and sat as well. She picked up a slice of bacon and held it up to his mouth. “Is pork okay or are you a turkey man?”

He laughed, then bit the crispy bacon that almost made him release a moan, it was just that good. “I'm pretty flexible and somewhat easy to please,” he said. “And you . . . you, Miss Delilah, are certainly living up to your name. You keep doing what you're doing and I will be divulging all my secrets as to where my strength lies in no time at all.”

It had been three weeks since that first day when he had been graced to meet Divine. He thought for sure he'd died from exposure outside his house and gone to Heaven, merely dreaming of the subsequent encounter with this woman called Divine. She was the most perfect woman he'd ever met. She didn't put requirements on him. She owned a mansion that he was allowed to stay in without having to fork over one red cent. There was always more than enough to eat. And after only two weeks, she'd given him a new iPhone with all the great things he normally couldn't afford with his and Tiffany's phone service.

Tiffany had called him after not hearing from him in two weeks.

“I was just checking to be sure you're okay,” she had said.

He knew she was worried about him since he generally checked in with her at least twice a week. Seeing him sleeping outside their house those two days, and then not hearing from him anymore after that, must have scared her. He could tell she was shifting a bit. He laughed as he saw how much she still cared. But now it was too late. If she wanted him out of her life, well, she was about to get what she wanted. Because he felt he'd found Heaven here on earth and there was no reason to give this up now.

Divine worked in the pharmacy department of one of the chain stores. She would get up and go to work, seeming to love what she did. He still didn't know how she was able to afford all the things she possessed: the mansion, the Jaguar, the expensive clothes (which included a closet dedicated to just her shoes, most of which were the red bottom kind), the cost of maintaining the house, and eating at the most expensive restaurants the times they went out to dinner.

When he got his unemployment check, he tried to step up and give her some of it, but she told him to keep it. In fact, not only was she now paying for his cell phone, but also she had bought him clothes and shoes and given him a Rolex watch (although that could have been one she'd given another man and was now merely recycling, but still . . .). She even broke him off a few hundred-dollar bills when they went out.

“I like for my man to at least
appear
to be taking care of me when we're in public,” Divine had said when she gave him five one-hundred-dollar bills that first time out two days after he was at the house.

Dinner for the two of them was only one hundred and fifty dollars that night. And when he tried to give her the change left over, she refused to take it. Yes, he could really get used to living like this.

So on Valentine's Day, he bought several boxes of candy and two dozen yellow roses. He stopped off at Tiffany's house with three small boxes of candy for his two daughters, Jade and Dana, and his son, Junior. They were so excited to see him and to get their own boxes of chocolates, especially since he hadn't given them anything for Christmas or Dana anything for her birthday that had just passed.

“I can't stay long. I just wanted to drop these off,” Darius said, handing Tiffany one yellow rose. She smiled, seemingly relieved that he was still alive.

“You look to be doing well,” Tiffany said, scanning him from head to toe. He was perfectly put together and he knew it: hair, face, clothing, and shoes all setting him off the way he liked.

“I am. All is well,” he said with a smirk. “God is good, that's all I can say. And I thank Him for divine blessings that have come my way.” He chuckled a little.

“Yeah,” Tiffany said. “Look, I guess you noticed Friday that your cell phone was disconnected. You didn't bring me any money to pay it and I can't pay all of this by my—”

“Here.” He handed her two hundred dollars.

“It's too late now. It's already been turned off. While you were out there throwing your money away on fancy clothes and shoes—”