taking his last forkful and pushing the saucer away. “I swear you make the best peach cobbler in the State of New York.”
“She used measuring cups and all this time, Bishop.” Daddy winked at me. “She wanted to make sure it was just perfect for you.”
“Daddy!” I silently mouthed.
“Well, then, measuring cups must be the secret to why your cobbler always tastes just perfect,” the bishop complimented me.
“Thank you, Bishop.” I blushed. I didn’t mean to blush. I didn’t want to blush. I just did.
I had been eyeball-to-eyeball with the bishop during Bible study, but he had never made me blush before. Maybe it was because I had never noticed just how creamy his chocolate skin was or how becoming his salt-and-pepper beard was. I hadn’t noticed a lot of things, so maybe I hadn’t noticed the bishop noticing me.
No, how silly is that?
I thought, and quickly disposed of the idea.
“Bishop, can I ask a favor of you?” Daddy said, then continued without giving him enough time to respond. “I just put some money down for Savannah to go to that revival next week in the Poconos. I was going to go as well, but when I remembered that that’s the weekend of my wedding anniversary, I didn’t think I’d be up to it. Not saying that I’m allowing the spirit of grief to take over me, but it’s just that … you know.”
“Oh, I understand, Deacon,” Bishop said, putting his hand on his shoulder.
“Since I can’t go,” Daddy continued, “I was wondering if you could keep an eye on Savannah for me.”
“I don’t see why not,” the bishop said. “And if I can’t, God watches over all of His children. But I’ll make sure I say a special prayer that He watches over this one.”
The bishop looked over at me and smiled. I know that I usually only see the bishop when he is in serious mode at the pulpit, but I swear I had never seen him smile so many times in my life. Not only had he looked over and smiled at me, but even though it was at Daddy’s request, he was going to say a prayer for me as well. Not just any prayer, like he had probably done for many people, but mine was going to be special. Maybe that was the bishop’s way of telling me that I was special.
Suddenly, an uneasy feeling came over me. Daddy used to say I was special once upon a time too. But he had a funny way of showing it.
“Well, it’s getting late, and I promised Sister Alberta that I’d stop by this evening and have a talk with that son of hers,” the bishop said, rising from the dining room table. “You know the youth today.”
“Don’t I?” Daddy said as he stood up along with the bishop. “Savannah, why don’t you go on and walk the bishop to the door while I clear the table?”
“What?” I said with a puzzled look on my face, as if I had spotted an alien. Daddy would rather cut off both his hands than have to lift a dish to clear the table. He always said that was a woman’s duty. This had to be a test. I wasn’t about to let him clear that table so I could hear him rant and rave later about how he had to do a woman’s job because I wasn’t woman enough to do it. No way!
“Oh, no, Daddy,” I insisted. “You go on and relax. I’ll clear the table after I see the bishop out.”
“Great idea,” Daddy said, winking at me as he retired to his bedroom.
Whew! I had passed the test.
Seeing the bishop out was uneventful, according to what Daddy probably had in mind for us. He thanked me for a wonderful evening, and I sent him on his way with something to remember me by—a slice of peach cobbler to go.
As I was clearing off the dinner table, the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” I called out to Daddy, who I knew wouldn’t get up to answer the door anyway.
“You Savannah?” a young man asked when I opened the door.
“Who wants to know?” I replied.
“Are you Savannah Dickens?” he said more sternly.
“Well, yes, but—”
“Here,” he said, handing me a lavender envelope addressed
“She used measuring cups and all this time, Bishop.” Daddy winked at me. “She wanted to make sure it was just perfect for you.”
“Daddy!” I silently mouthed.
“Well, then, measuring cups must be the secret to why your cobbler always tastes just perfect,” the bishop complimented me.
“Thank you, Bishop.” I blushed. I didn’t mean to blush. I didn’t want to blush. I just did.
I had been eyeball-to-eyeball with the bishop during Bible study, but he had never made me blush before. Maybe it was because I had never noticed just how creamy his chocolate skin was or how becoming his salt-and-pepper beard was. I hadn’t noticed a lot of things, so maybe I hadn’t noticed the bishop noticing me.
No, how silly is that?
I thought, and quickly disposed of the idea.
“Bishop, can I ask a favor of you?” Daddy said, then continued without giving him enough time to respond. “I just put some money down for Savannah to go to that revival next week in the Poconos. I was going to go as well, but when I remembered that that’s the weekend of my wedding anniversary, I didn’t think I’d be up to it. Not saying that I’m allowing the spirit of grief to take over me, but it’s just that … you know.”
“Oh, I understand, Deacon,” Bishop said, putting his hand on his shoulder.
“Since I can’t go,” Daddy continued, “I was wondering if you could keep an eye on Savannah for me.”
“I don’t see why not,” the bishop said. “And if I can’t, God watches over all of His children. But I’ll make sure I say a special prayer that He watches over this one.”
The bishop looked over at me and smiled. I know that I usually only see the bishop when he is in serious mode at the pulpit, but I swear I had never seen him smile so many times in my life. Not only had he looked over and smiled at me, but even though it was at Daddy’s request, he was going to say a prayer for me as well. Not just any prayer, like he had probably done for many people, but mine was going to be special. Maybe that was the bishop’s way of telling me that I was special.
Suddenly, an uneasy feeling came over me. Daddy used to say I was special once upon a time too. But he had a funny way of showing it.
“Well, it’s getting late, and I promised Sister Alberta that I’d stop by this evening and have a talk with that son of hers,” the bishop said, rising from the dining room table. “You know the youth today.”
“Don’t I?” Daddy said as he stood up along with the bishop. “Savannah, why don’t you go on and walk the bishop to the door while I clear the table?”
“What?” I said with a puzzled look on my face, as if I had spotted an alien. Daddy would rather cut off both his hands than have to lift a dish to clear the table. He always said that was a woman’s duty. This had to be a test. I wasn’t about to let him clear that table so I could hear him rant and rave later about how he had to do a woman’s job because I wasn’t woman enough to do it. No way!
“Oh, no, Daddy,” I insisted. “You go on and relax. I’ll clear the table after I see the bishop out.”
“Great idea,” Daddy said, winking at me as he retired to his bedroom.
Whew! I had passed the test.
Seeing the bishop out was uneventful, according to what Daddy probably had in mind for us. He thanked me for a wonderful evening, and I sent him on his way with something to remember me by—a slice of peach cobbler to go.
As I was clearing off the dinner table, the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” I called out to Daddy, who I knew wouldn’t get up to answer the door anyway.
“You Savannah?” a young man asked when I opened the door.
“Who wants to know?” I replied.
“Are you Savannah Dickens?” he said more sternly.
“Well, yes, but—”
“Here,” he said, handing me a lavender envelope addressed
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