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“Yeah, I’ll see you over there.”
“Just walk toward the back. The hall is located behind the church,” he said, taking the hand of a man standing beside me.
By the time I stepped through the doors of the hall, I knew my plan to stay was a mistake. I sensed that the woman in red had told everyone that I was Kyle’s “friend.” Why? Because everyone was looking at me. And as soon as I walked in the room, the girlfriend game of defense/offense was in full swing. By offense I mean they were pretty much lining up to get their shot at the good pastor. And by defense, I mean they were keeping my ass away from the good pastor.
Tasha and I had planned many plays like that to get the attention of men we liked, but these church women set a new precedent for defense/offense. I felt like I was going up against the damn Los Angeles Lakers when I stepped up to the dinner line. By then I’d totally given up on speaking to Kyle. Every time I came within arm’s length of him, some old woman jumped in his face before I could get a word in. One woman had the nerve to ask Kyle if he’d seen the dress her daughter had on in church. They were like vultures. Anyway, I figured I’d be better off getting something to eat and speaking to Kyle later—once I was back downtown and safe from full-on tackle.
“So where’s your church home?” asked a woman who had to be ninety, putting string beans on my plate.
“Oh, I go to St. Mark’s,” I replied, smiling. Surely this sweet little old lady wasn’t part of the defensive line.
“Oh, that’s wonderful. Nice to see young ladies going to church.” She put what had to be half a teaspoon of beans on my plate.
“Yeah, thanks. Can I have some more beans?”
“Sure, baby.” She put about half a teaspoon more on my plate. “You know, with you being here for Pastor Hall, I was hoping you were at least a Christian woman.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, almost certain I hadn’t heard her correctly. “I’m not here for anyone.”
“Don’t be sly with me, girl,” the old woman said, giving me the evil eye over her glasses. “Now, you just need to know that the pastor is going to marry a woman of this church.” She pushed my plate back toward me with the spoon from the string beans. “I have three granddaughters in this church and I’m not going to see him bring someone in here when there are well-raised Christian women right here in the church. And not a Methodist either.”
“Okay,” I said. It was all I could do to keep myself from jumping over the table and choking the last bit of life out of her. This woman was playing hardball. And her ninety-year-old ass was winning. I mean, you can’t argue with an old woman.
“And the next time you sit in the front row of the balcony”—she leaned in toward me—“don’t wear such a short skirt.” She stepped back and rolled her eyes. “Okay, baby?” She smiled pleasantly. “Now, go on and get more to eat. We have much to be thankful for today. Yes, we do. Praise God.”
I took my teaspoon of string beans and a dry-ass biscuit and spent the rest of the afternoon sitting at the table with the children.
I’d gone up against the Lakers and, like most teams, I’d lost.
“They’re not that bad,” Kyle said, standing by my car door as I got in. After an hour and a half at the children’s table, I’d decided it was time to raise my white flag and leave.
“Yes, they are. They had it in for me from the moment I walked in. I was about to call in reinforcements. The woman with the string beans was a mad woman.”
“Sister Wildren? Oh, she runs the day school and our outreach program for the army troop we adopted in Iraq. She’s one of my most dedicated members. I can depend on her for anything.”
“What about the one in the red suit?”
“Hmm.” He laughed. “You may have a point there, but for all of her antics, Sister Glover is a good fund-raiser. She led the fund-raiser we did for the Hurricane Katrina victims. With her help we were able to house eight families and pay for day care. That woman is very dedicated to serving the people of God.”
“It sounds like you’re dedicated to having her back,” I joked.
“Well, at least someone wants to get with me.” Kyle laughed but I could tell he was dead serious.
“I’ll just say, when the time comes, you won’t have any problems finding a wife.”
“Maybe I don’t want someone in there.” His smile faded and he bent to my level in the car. “Maybe I want what’s out here.”
Now, why did this man always have to find a way to say things like that? Things that seeped into my heart and made me blush from the inside out. Kyle always seemed to have the perfect words for the perfect moment. It just wasn’t the perfect situation.
“Kyle, I told you we can’t—”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” He cut me off, putting his index finger over my lips. “I was talking about this lady who lives down the street. She’s more my type. She’s Catholic and she’s seventy-two…and Italian, but she’s a hottie.”
I laughed so hard I honked my horn by mistake with my forehea
d.
“Stop being silly,” I said.
