Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [20]
After giving the benediction, Rev. James directed Theophilus to stand at the back of the sanctuary, where the church members would form a receiving line to greet him. He then excused himself, claiming that he had to help the trustees count the collection money, but in truth, he wanted to check on the dinner Lee Allie's missionary group was setting up downstairs. Already he smelled baked chicken, which he knew would be crispy-tender, brown, and succulent—just sitting in the pan perfectly seasoned with onions, celery, green pepper, salt, pepper, sage, and paprika. And he wanted to see if Rose Neese had contributed a pot of her famous, spicy-hot chitterlings. Other than playing a round of poker with his closest friends, Booker Webb and Pompey Hawkins, chit'lin's were one of Rev. James's few vices. Susie James often joked to her friends at Mount Nebo that if a chit'lin' ever came to life in the form of a woman, she'd be in some deep trouble. Good a man as her Murcheson was, he had never turned down a chit'lin' and he never would.
Theophilus swallowed hard as he stood there waiting for the receiving line to assemble. The first one to reach him was an elderly man, who gave him a sly wink and said, "Reverend, thank you so much for that sermon. I been tryin' to get some of my hardheaded grandsons to love up on they sweet little wives better than they been doin' for years now. Told my oldest grandson just the other day, that he wouldn't be so tense and cranky if he was sweeter to that girl he married. Told 'im she'd be all over him if he just treated her like she was special and important to 'im, stead of actin' like that po' chile nothin' but a footstool."
Theophilus smiled at the man, who held up the line until he finished what he had to say. "And you know something, son. I'm eighty-seven and I ain't never tense and cranky, 'cause I've always known how to act with my missus. Yes, Lawd. Had a whole lotta juice when I was young and still got a taste of it left in me right now."
Theophilus laughed and marveled at how good this man looked—not a day over seventy. He hoped he had some of that kind of juice left in him when he was eighty-seven.
"I hear you, sir," he said. "I sure enough hear you. I hope the Lord keeps on blessing you like He's been doing all of these years."
The man winked again and thanked Theophilus for his sermon one more time before heading downstairs to eat.
Theophilus kept watching for Essie, who turned up next to last in line. She was wearing a turquoise linen sheath dress that hugged all the right places of her petite, voluptuous figure, with a matching bolero jacket, ivory pumps, and ivory gloves with tiny pink flowers embroidered on the back, and round, turquoise rhinestone earrings with a matching pin. She didn't have on a hat, but her thick, coarse hair was perfectly coiffed in a chin-length flip. When she walked up to Theophilus, he noticed that she was smelling awfully good in what he thought was Chanel No. 19.
When Essie held out a small gloved hand, Theophilus could barely conceal the sultry and non-preacher-like look that spread across his face. He took her hand in his and said, "Sister Lane, Sister Lane. You are adding a little extra sunshine to an already blessed day."
Essie had to admit that he was looking almost regal himself in his robe and black brocade stole with red velvet crosses emblazoned on both sides. Now she was the one who was looking him up and down and had to stop herself—she had never seen a man look that good in his clerical robe.
"Yes, it is a very lovely day, Theophilus," she said.
The woman standing behind her, Mother Laticia Harold, gasped out loud. She had always thought Essie Lane was a fast little number. But to call a pastor by his first name, and at church, was downright shameful.
Essie did her best to ignore Mother Harold's gasp. She smiled at Theophilus again. "You know I was probably the only one in church who wasn't shocked by what you said this morning."
His smile began to fade a tiny bit.