Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [40]
Reverend James was standing right behind Marcel Brown and Sonny Washington. It was clear to him that Glodean Benson wasn't all there, especially watching her like this. What had prompted her to come up from Atlanta and stage a scene at this conference, just when Theophilus was making a place for himself at Greater Hope? He was worried about the effect her entrance was having on Theophilus.
Theophilus sensed Glodean's presence even before he saw her. No wonder Marcel knew about this story. No doubt some folks had been gossiping about it because they knew Glodean would be at this service. He had gotten lulled into thinking that this phase of his life was over, that Glodean wasn't coming back and that he could forget about her threats. Her entrance today made him doubt that she had abandoned her vow to get him. He took out his handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his face.
Eddie leaned over and whispered, "I hope there isn't a show-down between you and Glodean at this conference. If she knows you're seeing Essie, she might want to start some mess. Honestly, man, I don't know how you let yourself get tied up with that."
"All right," Theophilus snapped. "You don't have to keep telling me how much I messed up."
Eddie persisted. "Why did it take you so long to figure out that Glodean was touched in the head? I mean, always having to wear pink should have been your first clue that something was wrong with her."
Theophilus shrugged. The thought that Essie would find out about Glodean filled him with despair. What Essie Lane had done for his heart and soul far surpassed anything Glodean Benson could have ever conceived of doing to his body.
Bishop Jennings got tired of waiting on Glodean to sit down. He scowled at her, and she picked up her pace. But she was still squeezing past the other people sitting on the row when the bishop cleared his throat and began, "The Lord is in His Holy Temple. Let all the earth keep silence before Him."
As soon as he completed the call to worship, the choir started singing a powerful praise song, joined by the congregation and all their esteemed guests. When the choir director was confident that everyone was participating, he signaled to the musicians, who changed the tempo to a faster and bluesier, hard-core gospel beat. Next, he had the soloist step out, got the choir moving to the right rhythm, and led them into a hand-clapping, foot-stomping rendition of the song "Lead Me to Calvary."
Once the soloist got immersed in the feeling of the song, ad-libbing a call-and-response pattern with the choir, the director gave the musicians the sign to push the song up an octave. Now the music got so good that a tiny purple-haired lady stood up, with her patent leather pocketbook hanging off her wrist, daintily grabbed the skirt of her rose satin dress, and danced in the aisle, making sure that her fancy turban hat, wrapped with yards of rose-tinted netting, didn't topple off her head in the process.
When the choir director saw the little purple-haired lady dancing in the spirit, he set the choir rocking from side to side, fueling the excitement of the congregation. Then with a quick clap, he shut down the melody, letting the congregation, vigorously clapping and stomping, carry the bluesy, syncopated beat. A woman standing at the back of the choir loft raised her arms up in the air, whirled in a complete circle, stomped both feet, and called, "Yeesss! Yeeeesssss LORD! Jeeeesuzzz!" in a shout-scream. And the soloist, who had gotten even more fired up by the shout, started singing a cappella, to the rhythm of the handclaps and stomping feet. She was sounding so good until every time she glided and slid back down a note, a choir member shouted, "Sang! Sang girl, sang!"
As the