Shaniqua asked her question by just tilting her head.

Jeremy said, “Call him before you show up to the church and don’t tell him I gave you his number.”

Then, he took my hand and we almost ran back to his car.

Chapter 4

It had taken us days, no weeks, to get over meeting Shaniqua. I still wasn’t able to add a last name to her first one because Robinson didn’t fit. It didn’t fit for so many reasons. It didn’t fit because it was UNBELIEVABLE.

But it seemed that it was true, or at least that was what Jeremy and I believed. No one had come to talk to us, but the signs were in the little things that were happening. Like how Reverend Robinson’s name had suddenly been removed (as the founder) from the church’s letterhead, from the assigned parking space sign, and from his office. Then, Jeremy had called the Robinson’s (like he’d done so often) and their phone had been disconnected. And finally, Shaniqua never did show up at the church, though neither one of us had any doubt that she would have if she didn’t get what she’d wanted. Something was going on, someone had been paid off, though Jeremy and I hadn’t been privy to anything that was going on. But we didn’t need to be, we’d met Shaniqua. We knew the truth.

None of that was my concern, though. All I cared about was Jeremy and how all of this was affecting him. He’d been crushed, but he hadn’t been deterred. If I’d bet that the truth about Reverend Robinson would have changed Jeremy’s mind about being the Senior Pastor at Pilgrim’s Rest, I would’ve lost a million dollars.

In fact, my man was even more on fire about getting that chair on the altar. It was like he wanted to step in for his father figure. Maybe make things right because Reverend Robinson had done so much wrong.

But it wasn’t going to happen. Not that I had any doubts in my man’s abilities, but there was a guest pastor bouncing around the altar right now, who had just lit a flame to this sanctuary.

Now, Reverend Robinson knew how to drop the word, too. Many a Sundays he had members shouting out their hallelujahs and waving their hands in the air. But I couldn’t remember a time when everyone in the two thousand seats or so that were filled, were on their feet, shouting and swaying, dancing and praising. I wanted to shout and sway and dance and praise myself, but all I did was press my hands together and rock a little. I contained myself because of Jeremy.

From the corner of my eye, I took a peek at him. He was doing well, at least he was standing. Jeremy's lips were pursed and his arms were straight at his side, though his eyes were on the pulpit, as if he were engrossed in the Reverend Derrick Harwood’s teaching. It was an act, albeit not a good one, but Jeremy was getting better. He looked more engaged than he had in the past three Sundays.