Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [125]
He turned toward Rev. James.
"Am I right, Bishop?"
"Yes, Lord. You know you got that right, Bishop."
Chapter Thirty
THE GENERAL CONFERENCE ENDED WITH THE blowup Bishop Jennings had predicted. The almost-fight between Theophilus and his adversaries that morning was only a prelude to the monumental battles that raged not only over the selection of bishops but between those pastors who had joined the preachers' club and their irate parishioners. At least forty congregations were anxious to find out who their new bishops would be, so that they could petition them for new pastors. But the first big eruption came with the selection of the bishops. As Bishop Jennings had thought, Ernest Brown didn't win a seat. In fact, he didn't even make a decent showing. And once the church folk smelled blood, they voted down every candidate who was visibly connected with Ernest Brown and the club. Both Jimmy Thekston and Willie Williams were passed over, and men who no one ever expected to win stepped up to fill their vacant seats.
One was another pastor from Michigan, a faithful man who had long been denied the support of Bishop Lawson Giles, who took all of Ernest's votes. But an even bigger surprise came at the eleventh hour, when there was one seat left and no front-runner to fill it—and so Josiah Samuels won hands down. What amazed Theophilus about Reverend Samuels winning a bishop's seat was that he was one of the first members of the preachers' club. But he reminded himself of Bishop Jennings's words—that the business they were in was a lot bigger than one man's mess.
What bothered Theophilus most was that nothing happened to Otis Caruthers. He would remain a bishop (located or not) and continue to receive a stipend from the denomination. He had not been turned over to the authorities when the Richmond city police started sniffing around the funeral home for evidence of illegal activity, much of which pointed to Bishop Caruthers. All Theophilus could think was that God wanted Otis Caruthers around just to keep them all on their toes, mindful that the devil was still very busy at church.
He leaned over and tied his shoes—Stacy Adams, with all of that fine leather detailing he appreciated—then stood up and went to look at himself in the large mirror inside the closet door. One of the things he liked most about their new house in St. Louis were the mirrors on the doors of the cedar-lined closets. He decided now that he looked pretty good in the black silk gabardine pants and the finely crafted black clerical shirt he was wearing. Good enough to greet his new congregation at Freedom Temple Gospel United Church in the heart of St. Louis's North Side.
He tilted his head to the side, to check his profile from another angle, and then smiled at Essie, still wearing her slip, who caught him at it and gave him a "boy, you know you ought to be a-shamed of yourself" look. He turned around and wrapped her in his arms, making sure to grab a good handful of her butt.
She pushed at him playfully. "Negro, you are too hopeless."
"Maybe so. But I am your hopeless Negro."
She laughed and showed him the envelope she had been holding in her hand.
"Who's this from?"
"Saphronia."
"Saphronia? Why would she write us?"
Essie pulled the letter out of the envelope, scanned it a few seconds, and said, "First, she wants to thank us for sending her to Bishop Jennings. Says she loves Atlanta and feels very fortunate to be working under Mrs. Jennings as the speech therapist for her elementary school. Said that she is beginning to feel a lot more like herself."
"I bet she is feeling more like herself because she ditched that clown, Marcel Brown."
Essie shrugged and said, "I guess so."
"That Negro must have been miserable to be with. What else does she say?"
"For starters, that Marcel's ex-girlfriend, Precious Powers, turned in some more of his books, ones that proved how much of the church's money he had