to me. “This is for you.”
After the young man walked away, I closed the door and walked over to the couch, puzzled about the letter he had just given me. I slowly sat down and eyeballed the envelope before opening it. I pulled out a handwritten letter.
What is this? I wondered. And who in the world could it be from?
A LISON AND THE F IRST L ADY
I stepped out of my car and opened the back door, picking up the vase that held the lavender-colored lilies I’d placed on the floor behind my seat. Stepping onto the grass, I walked about thirty yards, until I was in front of the four-foot-wide, three-and-a-half-foot-tall headstone, where I placed the flowers, very pleased with myself. Charlene had loved fresh-cut flowers, and I had made it my business to see that she had some at least once a month since her death. I kneeled down and pulled up the few weeds that had sprouted since my last visit. Then I read the headstone inscription with tears in my eyes:
HERE LIES CHARLENE WILSON, WIFE, MOTHER, AND FIRST LADY OF FIRST JAMAICA MINISTRIES. EVEN IN DEATH HER PRESENCE WILL
ALWAYS BE FELT.
1962–2006.
I don’t think I’d ever read truer words. Charlene’s presence was going to be felt for a long, long, long time when we got finished.
I stared at the gravesite and could almost see my best friend in her favorite cream-colored church dress, leaning against her own headstone, waiting to hear the latest news about her husband and his pursuers. When she was alive, Charlene would never admit it, but she loved gossip as much as anyone. She knew every rumor, theory, and secret about anybody who attended First Jamaica Ministries. She just never spread any of it unless it benefited her, her family, or the church.
I wiped the tears from my eyes, then spoke to my friend. “Hey, Charlene, I gave them all their first letters. All in all, so far everything is working out exactly the way you planned. Marlene and the bishop are supposed to go to dinner tomorrow night. Gurrrl, she is walking around Forty Projects with her hair all done up like she’s about to go on
America’s Next Top Model.”
I laughed, and I swear I could hear Charlene laughing with me.
“And from what I hear through the church grapevine, Lisa Mae’s about to make her presence felt in the next few days. From what her best friend, Loretta, has told me, she’s had her eye on the bishop for a few weeks now and feels the church is ready for a new first lady.” The thought of Lisa Mae being the next first lady brought a smile to my face because she was my personal favorite of all the candidates.
“Oh, and once again, I have to give you credit for thinking of everything. If I hadn’t taken the job as the bishop’s new secretary right before you passed, I wouldn’t have known any of this. Fast-ass Monique Johnson tricked the bishop into dinner at her house the other night, saying she was having some bogus meeting with the bookstore committee. I did some checking, and get this—I couldn’t find one person who was even on this supposed bookstore committee. No need to worry, though. He was only there for about two hours, and you know if he was there any longer, I would have walked my behind right up to her door and said, ‘Sorry I’m late for the meeting.’ If I have anything to say about scheduling them, you can bet that from now on, any meetings with her will be held at the church.
“I guess you’re wondering what’s going on with Savannah Dickens, but I don’t have much to say except that the bishop’s had dinner with Deacon Dickens this past Sunday. The bishop didn’t even mention her, other than to say she cooked the food. One thing’s for sure, I’m going to keep my eye on the deacon because he’s been hanging around the administration wing of the church a lot lately, and I’m sure he’s up to something. I just haven’t figured it out yet.” I knelt down and straightened up the vase and flowers.
“Well, Charlene, I gotta go to work before
After the young man walked away, I closed the door and walked over to the couch, puzzled about the letter he had just given me. I slowly sat down and eyeballed the envelope before opening it. I pulled out a handwritten letter.
What is this? I wondered. And who in the world could it be from?
A LISON AND THE F IRST L ADY
I stepped out of my car and opened the back door, picking up the vase that held the lavender-colored lilies I’d placed on the floor behind my seat. Stepping onto the grass, I walked about thirty yards, until I was in front of the four-foot-wide, three-and-a-half-foot-tall headstone, where I placed the flowers, very pleased with myself. Charlene had loved fresh-cut flowers, and I had made it my business to see that she had some at least once a month since her death. I kneeled down and pulled up the few weeds that had sprouted since my last visit. Then I read the headstone inscription with tears in my eyes:
HERE LIES CHARLENE WILSON, WIFE, MOTHER, AND FIRST LADY OF FIRST JAMAICA MINISTRIES. EVEN IN DEATH HER PRESENCE WILL
ALWAYS BE FELT.
1962–2006.
I don’t think I’d ever read truer words. Charlene’s presence was going to be felt for a long, long, long time when we got finished.
I stared at the gravesite and could almost see my best friend in her favorite cream-colored church dress, leaning against her own headstone, waiting to hear the latest news about her husband and his pursuers. When she was alive, Charlene would never admit it, but she loved gossip as much as anyone. She knew every rumor, theory, and secret about anybody who attended First Jamaica Ministries. She just never spread any of it unless it benefited her, her family, or the church.
I wiped the tears from my eyes, then spoke to my friend. “Hey, Charlene, I gave them all their first letters. All in all, so far everything is working out exactly the way you planned. Marlene and the bishop are supposed to go to dinner tomorrow night. Gurrrl, she is walking around Forty Projects with her hair all done up like she’s about to go on
America’s Next Top Model.”
I laughed, and I swear I could hear Charlene laughing with me.
“And from what I hear through the church grapevine, Lisa Mae’s about to make her presence felt in the next few days. From what her best friend, Loretta, has told me, she’s had her eye on the bishop for a few weeks now and feels the church is ready for a new first lady.” The thought of Lisa Mae being the next first lady brought a smile to my face because she was my personal favorite of all the candidates.
“Oh, and once again, I have to give you credit for thinking of everything. If I hadn’t taken the job as the bishop’s new secretary right before you passed, I wouldn’t have known any of this. Fast-ass Monique Johnson tricked the bishop into dinner at her house the other night, saying she was having some bogus meeting with the bookstore committee. I did some checking, and get this—I couldn’t find one person who was even on this supposed bookstore committee. No need to worry, though. He was only there for about two hours, and you know if he was there any longer, I would have walked my behind right up to her door and said, ‘Sorry I’m late for the meeting.’ If I have anything to say about scheduling them, you can bet that from now on, any meetings with her will be held at the church.
“I guess you’re wondering what’s going on with Savannah Dickens, but I don’t have much to say except that the bishop’s had dinner with Deacon Dickens this past Sunday. The bishop didn’t even mention her, other than to say she cooked the food. One thing’s for sure, I’m going to keep my eye on the deacon because he’s been hanging around the administration wing of the church a lot lately, and I’m sure he’s up to something. I just haven’t figured it out yet.” I knelt down and straightened up the vase and flowers.
“Well, Charlene, I gotta go to work before
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