Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [22]
"Rev. Simmons," Saphronia said in a voice that sounded like a younger version of her grandmother's. "You cannot imagine how delighted I am to have you as a guest at my church. You have such outstanding credentials and do Mount Nebo a great honor by coming here to preach the word to us today."
"Thank you, Sister McComb. It is good to know that my sermon was appreciated."
Saphronia moved closer to Theophilus. She squeezed his wrist and tossed her head, imitating the white coeds she would see sitting at the lunch and soda counters near Ole Miss in Oxford. They had looked so elegant, laughing and shaking their silky tresses over root beer floats—occupying seats she wouldn't have dared to sit in. She looked over her shoulder at Essie, grateful that her hair wasn't that thick and coarse. Essie could shake her head off before that hair would move.
She started to show off her hair again. But the look in Essie's eyes stopped her in her tracks. She turned her attention back to Theophilus, only to find that the big smile on his face—which was quite unlike the polite expression he had trained on her—was directed at Essie.
At twenty-six, Saphronia was ready to get married, and she was determined to marry a minister with a future as pastor of a large and prominent congregation. Rev. Simmons had everything she was looking for in a husband, with one exception—he was dark-skinned. Even his BA from Blackwell College and his master's degree from the Interdenominational Theological Seminary, down in Atlanta, couldn't overcome that. As handsome as he was, Saphronia did not even want to contemplate what her children would look like if he were their father. He would probably just wipe out her good-skin, good-hair genes, and they would come out as black as he was. Still, there weren't too many pastors around with the education and growing reputation of Rev. Simmons.
Saphronia ran her hands down the sides of her beige silk dress. She had selected this dress because she wanted to look like the future first lady of a church when she met Rev.
Theophilus Henry Simmons. Yet, expensive and proper as it was, it made her complexion look washed out and failed to do anything worthwhile for her figure—it was a sharp contrast to Essie's less expensive outfit, which only increased Saphronia's long-standing envy of her.
Theophilus was fully aware by now that Saphronia was trying to impress him with her status as the girl with the most "pedigree" in this little country church. And while he didn't think she was ugly, he was definitely not attracted by her light skin, thin nose, and skimpy lips. But the one thing about her that did make him look was her behind. At first, he thought he was seeing things when he noticed those wide, sexy hips sitting on the back of this tight-lipped woman. Saphronia Anne McComb had the kind of behind that would make a Negro man shout, "Thank you, Lawd!"
Essie frowned at Theophilus. She didn't like that smile on his face and decided that she wasn't standing there another minute, watching a man who had expressed interest in her ogle another woman's butt.
As she started to walk away, Theophilus reached out to grab her elbow. "Sister Lane, please don't run off like that. I was hoping that you would be able to tell me a little more about your church."
She just looked at him, thinking he could learn more than he ever cared to know about Mount Nebo from Rev. James. And she was about to say so when Saphronia chimed in: "Rev. Simmons, I have written a book on our church's history and can tell you anything you want to know over dinner."
Essie had to close her mouth tight before it dropped wide open. She had seen this "book" of Saphronia's. It was nothing more than a little bitty pamphlet about Mother Harold's financial donations to Mount Nebo over the past ten years.
Theophilus didn't miss the expression on Essie's face. He looked at Saphronia and thought to himself, "Sweetheart, Lord knows you are a piece of work."
Lee Allie looked around the dining room to make sure everything was in order