Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [15]
She shook her head a few times just thinking about the preacher and Mother Harold.
"But Mama—" Essie began.
"But Mama nothing, Essie Lee. Every preacher ain't like that and you doggone well know that fact is the truth. Rev. James is a good man who loves God and takes his pastoring seriously. And you think Rev. Simmons is okay, too. Otherwise, you sure were some fool to let him come over here to see you. You know, Essie Lee, some preachers really do want to do right."
"And you think Theophilus is a man that wants to do right?"
"Umm hmm. I think Theophilus, as you seem to be callin' him now, wants to do right," Lee Allie answered with emphasis on his name.
Essie looked embarrassed. She didn't want her mama reading any more into this situation than she knew she already had. She said, "Well, he'll just have to convince me he is all that you saying he is."
Lee Allie gave Essie a "look" and dismissed that foolishness with a wave of her hand.
Chapter Three
THEOPHILUS STOOD IN THE PULPIT OF ESSIE'S church exactly one month from the day he met her at Pompey's Rib Joint. Mount Nebo had a small congregation of about 160 members from in and around Charleston on the rolls. Most of them were working folk—domestics, gardeners, farmers, seamstresses, cooks, factory workers—with a sprinkling of those who counted themselves among the middle class (two teachers, the secretary for the Negro undertaker in Oakland, the head janitor over at the white high school, and the assistant head cook over at Ole Miss in Oxford). With its plain, red-brick exterior and simple inner decor, it was a warm and welcoming place that was lovingly cared for by its members—as evidenced by its expertly shingled roof, its manicured lawn, and the flowers planted all around the building, as well as its immaculate interior, which gleamed and smelled of fresh lemon wax.
Theophilus held on to each side of the pulpit podium, rolling his shoulders back, looking out on the congregation, and not feeling all that confident about his sermon. He gazed at the folks sitting in the plain, polished pews and focused his attention on a baby girl who looked like a big chocolate doll in a frilly pink dress and matching bonnet trimmed with pink ribbons. He wondered, as he watched the father hold her up on his shoulder, what it would feel like to hold his own baby girl in his arms. He looked at the baby a few more seconds and shifted his attention back to his sermon. So far, he had been quiet this morning—not one whoop, shout, or even the use of a rhythmic cadence of words to emphasize a point. And even though he had some reservations about this sermon, he knew he had captured everybody's attention with his title, "Lovin' Your Woman like Jesus Loved the Church."
The inspiration for it had come when he was listening to B.B. King sing "Sweet Sixteen." He loved the song and the way B.B.'s voice glided up and down the melody, just as Theophilus imagined his fingers were gliding up and down the neck of his guitar, Lucille. At the end of the song, the call and response between B.B. and the other singers reminded him of a church service. He wanted to preach a sermon that echoed what B.B. did in that song. And, while he always prayed that the Holy Ghost would work through his preaching, to unite and uplift the congregation, challenge them, and speak to their hearts—he really did want to impress Essie Lee Lane.
One or two of the older women had pressed their lips together when he gave the name of the sermon, making him a little nervous about starting, but he noticed that it made the younger women sit up in their seats and look a lot more attentive. And he became even more encouraged when he looked at Essie sitting with her mother and Mrs. Rose Neese, and realized that she was waiting to hear what he had to say.
Theophilus took a sip of water from the glass that was sitting on a table behind him and wiped his forehead and the corners of his mouth with a soft white handkerchief. It was warm in the small sanctuary. He wiped his cheeks and forehead again and