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  Chapter Ten

  Doreen entered the church with thanksgiving. This was the day that the Lord had made, and she was so glad about that. She felt so blessed to see another day through God’s grace and mercy that her spirit could do nothing less than rejoice. As the praise and worship team led the church in a few hymns, she sang like her life depended on it. She belted those praise songs out of her belly like she was giving birth. Her praise led to a worship so deep that even when the song was over Doreen didn’t want to come out. She couldn’t come out. She didn’t come out—not until about ten minutes afterward when all the other praise and worship members had already left the stage and gone to their seats among the congregation. Even as she walked to her seat, tears streamed down her face as she mumbled in her prayer language to God.

  The announcements had been read and her father had already started preaching by the time Doreen made it to her seat. She was none the wiser of what had been going on in the sanctuary, though. She had been in the Lord’s presence. She had His attention. It was as if she’d reached out and touched His garment, and now that she had a good grip on Him, she didn’t want to let Him go.

  “That’s right, Sis, give Him some praise,” Doreen’s little sister, Pauline, whispered in her ear as Doreen took a seat next to her. Pauline, or Paula as everyone called her, was the third daughter. She patted the top of Doreen’s hand. “It’s gon’ be all right. You just keep praying, praising, and worshiping. God will get you through.”

  Doreen looked at her little sister and smiled. Pauline had always been wise beyond her years. That child loved the Lord and was after His heart so badly, she would have given David a run for his money. Preacher Girl was the pet name their father had for her. He said out of all his children, she was going to be the one to take over the church after him. And that was something big coming from Mr. Hamilton, because it wasn’t too long ago that he felt women had no business behind the pulpit unless it was to do announcements or sing. Guess God showed him. God done went and born to him the very thing he felt shouldn’t exist—a woman preacher.

  God certainly does have a way of changing folks. Doreen was glad about that, because hopefully, God could keep working on changing her. Her mother had been right last year when she told Doreen that she was going to go through hell with Willie. The past year had indeed felt like hell.

  That next day after Doreen had gone back to Willie from her parents’ house, and for the next month or so after that, things had been great. Willie had even taken up joining Doreen for church three Sundays in a row. It wasn’t too long after that, though, Willie turned back to his wicked ways. He was back hanging out at his parents’ place all night, gambling, drinking, lying, and God knows what else. Doreen didn’t know what else, but certainly God did. Doreen didn’t want to know either. This was a time when she didn’t mind being ignorant of Satan’s devices, knowing some things just hurt too badly. The ironic thing about it was that sometimes not knowing hurt even worse. Doreen knew one thing though; she had a family that prayed, and with their prayers and those of her own, she could get the victory over any situation the devil threw her way.

  After church, Doreen felt rejuvenated and brand new. God had restored so much in her, it was as if she had the strength of Samson now. She didn’t even let the fact get to her that Willie had brought only half his paycheck home this week when he stumbled in drunk in the wee hours of the morning. He’d gamble off most of their bill money, but she would make it work. As a matter of fact, she would be prepared for things like this by finding a way to contribute her own money to the household.

  “Pound cakes and dinners!” Doreen said out loud as she walked up to her house. “I’ll sell pound cakes or chicken dinners. Heck, I might even sell ’em in that old juke joint,” Doreen laughed. She then thanked the Holy Spirit for giving her such a good idea. Doreen was leaning more toward pound cakes. She made the best pound cakes that side of Kentucky. Everyone in the church had told her so. Every time the church was having a bake sale or some kind of event that required the members to bring food, the first thing everyone would ask was, “What did Sister Doreen bring?” Then they’d charge right over to her dish and get to devouring it.

  Doreen could burn in the kitchen like nobody’s business. She had to. With her mother helping her father so much with the church, she had to help out a lot at home. Cooking was her favorite thing. A gift from God is what most called it. Well, she would take her gift and use it to bless the finances of her home.

  “Willie? Willie, guess what? The Holy Spirit just gave me a wonderful idea,” Doreen exclaimed as she barged into the house. She couldn’t wait to tell her husband about the entrepreneurial spirit that had just been dropped into her being. She was so excited to share her news with Willie that she didn’t even stay for fellowship in the dining hall like she usually did. She had raced straight home instead.

  Usually Willie was always sitting in the living room in his favorite chair watching television when Doreen got home from church, but to Doreen’s surprise, not today. Only his shoes sat in front of the chair. Doreen walked over and picked them up and sighed. “That Willie. I’ve told him a million times about leaving his shoes laying around. What’s he want me to do? Trip over them and break my . . .” Doreen’s words trailed off as she spotted another pair of shoes, but unless Willie wore black open toe patent leather high-heel shoes, this pair was not his. They certainly weren’t hers.

  All of a sudden Doreen gasped, and Willie’s shoes fell out of her hand and to the floor. Both her hands dropped to her belly, and she held it as if she was trying to keep her insides from spilling out. Her eyes became moist as she shook her head and mumbled, “No, Willie, not in my house—not in our house . . . in my bed.”

  She began to tremble as she picked up the pair of women’s shoes. She began taking steps toward her closed bedroom door. The closer she got, she could hear some whispering and shuffling around inside. Doreen reached for the doorknob. Did she really want to know what was going on, on the other side of that door? Would whatever she saw lead her back to her parents’ home, and for good this time?

  Just standing there at the door with her hand on the knob she had yet to turn, Doreen waited for the answers to all of the questions that had been running through her head. None came—not soon enough anyway, because before she knew it, she had flung the door wide open.

  “Doreen, baby! What you doing here?” Willie said as he stood over by the open window with no shirt on and his britches barely pulled up.

  Doreen looked around the small room. Willie was alone. She walked over to the closet, opened the door, and did a search. No one was in there. She walked over to the bed, kneeled down, and looked under it. No one was there. She stood back up and shot Willie a glare.

  Nervous as all get out, Willie asked, “Wha . . . what are you looking for, sweetness?” As he spoke, he inched in front of the open window. Just then, Doreen heard some tires peeling off. She ran over to the window, but Willie was there to block her.

  “What you doing, honey? I’m so glad you’re home. I’m so glad to see you.” Willie swooped Doreen up and embraced her, spinning her around in the air as if he hadn’t seen his wife in a month of Sundays.

  “Put me down this instant, Willie Tucker,” Doreen spat as she wiggled and squirmed out of his arms. She immediately stuck her head out of the window only in time to witness the dust the speeding car had left behind. Doreen wasn’t no betting woman, but she was sure enough willing to bet the farm that whoever owned that getaway car also owned those high-heel shoes she held in her hand. “Who was she, Willie? Who did you have in my house?” Doreen was so angry, but she was hurt more than anything as she said the words, “In my bed? That’s our bed, Willie.”

  “Woman, you crazy. Ain’t no other woman been in this house,” Willie said with a straight face.

  “Oh yeah? Then who do these belong to?” Doreen held up the shoes to a dumbfounded Willie.

  “Uh, well, uh, why, those belong to you,”
he stammered. “Yeah, I, uh, won them in a card game last night at the bar. I laid ’em out for you so I wouldn’t forget to give them to you.”

  “Is that so?” Doreen asked, not believing a word that came out of his mouth.

  “Yeah, that’s the truth. I swear to God.”

  Doreen cringed and took a step backward, almost falling out of the window. She’d much rather fall out of the one-story window and land in the bush that sat outside their bedroom window than get struck by the lightning bolt that was about to come down and take out old Willie.

  Sensing the disbelief in his wife, Willie added, “For real. Some guy made his wife take ’em off and put them right in the pot. I just happen to win them. I mean, I know they might be a little high for you, but I figured it just might be time for you to give a few new things a try.”

  Was Willie trying to tell his wife something with that last comment of his?

  “Try new things, huh?” Doreen said. “Well, let me tell you this much, Willie; I don’t want what another woman has already had.”

  He shrugged. “Fine; then. I’ll just give ’em back to the fella whenever I see him again.” Willie reached for the shoes, but Doreen pulled them away.

  “That won’t be necessary. You just go on about your business. Get yourself cleaned up while I fix you some lunch to hold you over until dinner,” Doreen told him.

  Willie swallowed hard. “But, uh, what about the shoes?”

  “Oh, these shoes right here?” Doreen played dumb. She looked the shoes up and down. “They’re not my style. But don’t worry; I’ll make it a point to find the owner of them myself and give them back to her personally.”

  “Uh, well, are you sure?” Willie looked as if he’d swallowed a rotten egg whole and was about to throw it back up.

  “Positive.” Doreen twitched up her nose.

  “Well, fine then. I guess I’ll go and take that shower.” Willie turned around and practically ran into the door. He looked back over his shoulder at Doreen and smiled, then tripped out the bedroom door and made his way down the hall to the bathroom.

  The strong, in control expression Doreen had on her face turned into a weak, sad one. Her head that she’d been holding up felt like it weighed 200 pounds as she let it drop.

  “Why do I put up with his mess?” she asked herself out loud. She didn’t have to ponder on the answer. She loved Willie. He was her husband. And like her mother and God’s Word said, God didn’t like divorce. Divorce would have most certainly been the easy way out, but Doreen feared a divorce might be more hurtful and painful for her to deal with than staying married.

  The moistness in her eyes turned to tears and fell. She was hurting. She was hurting bad. “God help me,” was all she could say as she turned and looked back outside the window. It was then she received a new revelation for the term “Ram in the bush.”

  Doreen looked down at the shoes again. “If the prince could find Cinderella with a single shoe, surely I can find the woman who has been sleeping with my husband with two.”

  Chapter Eleven

  It was only early Wednesday evening and Our Place was jumping. One who didn’t typically frequent such spots would have sworn it was a Saturday night. Well, Doreen was one of those people, but on this particular evening, something had led her here. This feeling took over her that literally had her jump right up from her seat and head over to Our Place to look into some things.

  “So this is why Wednesday evening Bible Study has such a poor turnout sometimes,” Doreen said to herself as she entered the joint. “Folks too busy up in here doing the devil’s work.” She scanned the room. Spotting Willie on the dance floor crooning to the music of the house band with some female, Doreen realized that her husband was one of them folks she was referring to.

  The blood raced through her body as she watched Willie’s hands start at the nape of the woman’s neck, and then take an evening stroll down her back and land on the park bench—aka the woman’s butt. He cupped her behind as if he were testing melons in the market.

  Next, Doreen watched Willie whisper something in the woman’s ear that made the redbone’s skin flush with red. When he immediately whispered something in her other ear, whatever it was caused her to playfully slap him. But at the same time, it must have turned the woman on because she cupped Willie’s bottom just the same as he was cupping hers and the two began crooning and rocking together. They were nose to nose. It looked as if Willie wanted to take his lips and lay one on her. He probably would have if he hadn’t all of a sudden been hit with a Word from God.

  Literally, Doreen had crept over to Willie and his dance partner, taken her Bible out of her purse, and whacked Willie a good one upside the head.

  “Woman! What the he . . .” Willie couldn’t even get his curse word completely out he was so stunned. Now his hands no longer rested on the woman’s bottom, but massaged his throbbing head instead. “Doreen, what did you do that for?”

  “Do you really have to ask?” Doreen stood there tapping an angry, agitated foot on the ground.

  “Heck, son,” Willie’s father walked over and said, resting his hand on his son’s shoulder, “why, your wife here was just trying to knock some sense into you is all.” Willie’s father couldn’t help but start laughing. A few others standing around did the same as the house band ceased playing music since they were no longer the center of attention.

  “Maybe if you had taught him how to treat a woman when he was coming up, I wouldn’t have had to knock sense into him. It would have already been instilled.” Beads of sweat formed on Doreen’s forehead within seconds of her making that comment. She’d never been that bold in her life. Always the peacemaker, she was the one who tried to avoid tension and smooth out any that existed. But had she just said what she had to her father-in-law? By the look on his face—yes, she had.

  “Excuse me?” Mr. Tucker said to his daughter-in-law. “What did you just say to me, little girl?”

  Doreen swallowed hard, but didn’t respond. Her own common sense, and to avoid even more tension, told her to take it back, but she couldn’t. She meant it; every word of it. The way her Willie was treating her was the exact same way he’d seen his father treat his own mother all these years. Doreen’s mother had told her so. She’d warned her it was all her husband knew, and therefore, that’s the way he’d treat her unless the good Lord Himself broke the curse.

  Obviously, after thirty years of marriage, Mr. Tucker’s behavior hadn’t done any harm to Willie’s parents’ marriage. They were still together and appeared to be happy after all these years. Maybe her mother-in-law was cut out for that type of husband-and-wife relationship, but Doreen wasn’t.

  When it came to her own parents, over the years, Doreen had never seen her father treat her mother with anything but respect; and vice versa. So she didn’t know how to deal with this type of behavior from her husband. And boy, oh boy, did she wish she had asked somebody before she’d gone and gotten on her father-in-law’s bad side.

  Doreen didn’t know what kind of reaction she was going to get from Mr. Tucker as she stood there with sweaty palms . . . and a sweaty forehead.

  “Son,” Mr. Tucker said to Willie while he glared Doreen down, “I reckon you better get the wifey here in check.” And that’s all he said as he popped a cigar in his mouth and walked away while nodding to the band to continue playing. “Drinks on the house,” he said over his shoulder, staring once again at Doreen as if to let her know that her words hadn’t cut him deep at all. But they’d at least nicked him; that much she could tell.

  Doreen let out a sigh of relief as Mr. Tucker walked away. She’d never heard that he was the kind of man to put his hands on a woman in a rough manner, but there’s always a first time for everything. She silently thanked God she wasn’t his first casualty. Instantly she felt as if there was no relief in sight as now Mrs. Tucker strolled her way.

  When during Bible Study Doreen had gotten this funny feeling that something was going on with Willie, sh
e had no idea it would erupt into all this. Now she wished she’d kept her behind planted right in that pew instead of sneaking out early and coming to the juke joint to investigate. Mr. Tucker may not have been the violent kind and resort to putting his hands on her, but the verdict was still out on Mrs. Tucker.

  “You heard what my husband said,” Mrs. Tucker said with a smile as she put her arm around Doreen. “Drinks are on the house, gal. Come on and throw one back with your mother-in-law.”

  Doreen tried not to show her nervousness. Mrs. Tucker was being too nice to Doreen after the way she’d just talked to her husband. “Well, uh, thank you, uh, ma’am, but I don’t drink.”

  Mrs. Tucker leaned in and began talking to Doreen like she was telling her a top secret. “Do you see any of those good church folks of yours hanging around in this here juke joint?”

  Doreen looked around. “Well, uh, no, ma’am. I don’t think so.”

  “Then nobody will know. There’s nobody in here to go run back and tell your pappy that his good little Christian daughter had a drink or two.”

  “But God will know,” Doreen was almost afraid to say. Her mother-in-law was being way too nice. She had no idea what she had up her sleeve.

  “Okay; then, I’ll have a hard drink and you can just sip on some of that wine God’s son, Jesus, whipped up.” She chuckled, and to be courteous, Doreen chuckled. That’s when Mrs. Tucker shuffled Doreen on over to a table in the back corner while Doreen looked at Willie and pleaded for him to save her. But she had no such luck. She’d come to the juke joint looking for answers. Well, Mrs. Tucker was not only about to school her, but hand the answer key to her on a silver platter.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Doreen Nelly Mae Tucker! You left being fed at God’s house to come have drinks with Satan?” Mrs. Hamilton was furious as she cupped her Bible in her hands against her chest. An armor bearer stood on each side of her, warding off the invisible evil spirits that they just knew were lurking in a place like that.