The First Lady's Choice

The First Lady’s Choice

It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.

K. K. Harris

The First Lady’s Choice

Copyright © 2015 K. K. Harris

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This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.

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DEDICATION

This dedication goes out to my wonderful husband and rock, thank you for always having my back. You are literally the wind in my sails that keeps me moving forward. When things seem too hard to bear and my ‘to do list’ seems too long, you offer the right words to calm my spirit.

I love you dearly today, forever, & always.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First and foremost, I would like to thank the one who sits up high and looks down low, thank you Lord for deliverance. Without the path being set before me, I wouldn’t be the entertainer I have come to be today.

Thank you to my hubby for supporting me and pushing me to aim higher. Thank you to my family for standing by me and always lending an encouraging word. Most importantly, thank you to the readers; I really appreciate all of your reviews whether private or public. You encourage me to keep doing what I love to do.

Continue to pray for me and I will do the same for you.

God bless, Kanika

Prologue…

When life seems to throw the biggest curve ball, where do you go? How do you dodge it? Where is your safe haven? When the chips seem to fall in all the wrong places, who are you supposed to run to?

Here I am a thirty year-old married woman with nowhere to go. Just as I thought this day couldn’t possibly get any worse, it did. Waking up this morning, I never could have imagined the outcome of a confrontation; a confrontation over someone else’s indiscretions to add insult to injury. All the proof that has made itself present to me was about to drive me mad; I had to bring it to his attention.

Although I knew, he would be angry from being accused of such a God-awful act, however this angry I didn’t anticipate. I couldn’t have anticipated him to overreact the way he did. The sadistic smile he brandished after he lashed out was the nail in the coffin. Angry I can see, denial, sure why not but abusive—HELL NO. I never would have pegged William to be so heavy-handed.

I bitterly laughed to myself at the term heavy-handed for it was a true understatement. To be a man of the cloth, he certainly could have fooled the hell out of me. The sad part is no one would ever believe me if the events of late were spoken aloud. Pastor William P. Foster was an upstanding pillar in the community and an outstanding preacher of the word. No one would ever believe that he was a proven cheat and now wife-beater could be added to the list.

Maybe not beater because I managed to fight him back enough to get away. The fact that he put his hands on me period was enough really to see I was married to a complete stranger. All because he was called out on his indiscretions, he lashed out. In all honesty, I was doing my best not to exaggerate without hearing his side of the story first. When I had every right to show up and show out over the new discoveries, I tried to be a Christian about it. Now it seems my calm demeanor was pointless.

Fleeing the supposed safety of the place I called home, I found myself wondering aimlessly around town. Dallas Texas had never seemed so large until tonight. It never bothered me, the endless exits to nowhere that were steadily appearing on the expressway. Tonight, it was a constant reminder that I was stuck with absolutely nowhere to turn. The closest family member to Dallas lived in Galveston; there was no way I would make it without crashing.

After all, I had worked a full shift and not to mention waiting around forever for William to return home from a weeklong business trip. Only the imagination would make me guess where he really was or what he was really doing while away. No telling whom he was away with, for that matter. Nothing else could surprise me about him at this point. He has proven to be a true narcissistic prick with a temper.

Who is it? A deep voice asked through the door. The sound of the voice always brought a sense of calmness to my fragile nerves but today it seemed impatient.

… As bad as I wanted to shout my name, the frog in my throat didn’t allow it. It was a given that he would look in the peephole anyway so I could never understand why he would always ask. Finally, the locks began to turn and the door was opened.

What are you doing out so late?

Sorry to interrupt… I… I couldn’t form a complete sentence to save my life. Here I was standing on a friend that I had practically written offs doorstep late on a Friday night. My life was in utter turmoil and sadly, my mind was tempting to slip into the gutter. ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’

Megan, what’s going on? Tremaine asked. He sounded generally concerned.

Tre, is everything okay? A female voice said on the other side of the door. I never imagined someone else would be here so late.

How stupid was I not to realize he would have company. Tre was a very attractive young man with women all over Dallas chasing in behind him. Common sense would have told me he wasn’t alone because he never made a move to invite me inside. He had only stood in the gap with one massive arm braced at the top of the doorframe and the other holding the door. While he spoke with his female company, I made the conscious decision to leave.

I apologize for interrupting your evening, it’s nothing. I don’t know what I was thinking. I rambled out attempting to flee as quickly as possible. The intense look he shot at my retreating form didn’t go unnoticed. Like a bullet, his hand shot out to pull me to stop abruptly.

What the hell… He was trying to focus in on something. In the process of looking everywhere but directly at him, I almost forgot the real reason I came here.

Just go back…

What is that on your face? He questioned.

Oh, that…

Yeah, that…

It’s…

Don’t you dare tell me it’s nothing? Who did this to you?

Tre, calm down, I tried to get him to lower his voice.

Calm down? CALM DOWN?!

TRE, we are in the hall remember?

Come inside.

No, I don’t want to intrude.

Come on, he pulled me into his apartment despite my many attempts of pulling away. In the back of my mind, I feel some type of way showing up on his doorstep this way but I didn’t know where else to turn. I have always despised being helpless but here I am, what I hate most. Desperate… Destitute.... Destroyed... A disaster… A damsel in distress well on my way to becoming bitter.

Sunday Morning Worship

Push rewind…

There was a chorus of Amen’s that could be heard all over the church. Several other adlibs were thrown in for a more powerful effect. I have grown quite accustomed to the enthusiasm of the faithful members in the congregation. Even in the rare times that the sermon is a repeat from a prior time, the people around still find it in their spirit to praise the word from the preacher.

In order to save face, I have to be one of the those constant amen's as if my enthusiasm isn’t there, the world would halt on it’s axis. Being married to the said preacher and all really puts the spotlight on you as well. Surely, people don’t worry about what I say or do, how I act, and definitely what I choose to wear. Bull… That’s all they seem to do. All around me are hypocrites and unholy people who judge my every waking step.

Honestly being first lady should not turn into a full time job. ‘You shouldn’t curse.’ ‘Never lose your temper.’ ‘Never dress down, always show professionalism.’ ‘Show you are a lady, never speak out of turn.’ ‘Mother board, all white on first Sunday, and dress accordingly, befriend the other clergies wives, and never be yourself.’

The title first lady should not require me to give up so much of my own identity. Thankfully, I am very different from the over-the-top buffoonery but I am not this poised shell of a woman either. The title is held higher than necessary if you ask me but no one ever does. In my opinion, the added bonus to holding this dreadful title is learning to multi-task. Thanks to this job, I can say amen on cue, write a grocery list, and mull over my complaints in my head.

Lord knows I don’t want to be ungrateful or just downright full of complaints but I’m only human. Everyone gets tired of the same old routine day in and day out. Prayerfully, he knows my heart or at least that is the line I constantly use. I smile to myself thinking about other things I could be doing right now besides sitting stiffly with this huge hat on my head. ‘I hate hats,’ I mentally rolled my eyes.

Amen! Hallelujah! Thank you Father, Rang out around me, meaning I had almost missed the pinnacle of his closing out the sermon.

‘Father God of all things holy, help me to understand my purpose.’ I prayed constantly. It was an autopilot prayer. Although the word says not to let our prayers become rehearsed and redundant, also it states to speak what is on our hearts. Oddly enough, that is in my heart EVERY DAY. I question my purpose on this earth. ‘Does that make me depressed?’ Besides holding the heart of the prestigious Pastor William P. Foster, what more could a girl ask for?

Megan D. Foster, first lady of Grace and Favor United Missionary Baptist Church was the longest introduction I have ever heard. When I first met William ten years ago, I thought for sure the title of the church he originated from was a joke. No one would name his or her church that many names. Well fooled me because that is exactly what it was called. His father founded G.F.U for short, quite some years ago but it had come full swing when he was appointed head pastor.

The membership more than doubled over the last five years of him being the head of the church. Most think it was an easy, natural transition from father to son but alas, it was not. Even with William being ten years my senior, he still had to prove himself worthy in his father’s eyes to relinquish control. Although his father’s health was deteriorating at a rapid speed at eighty years old, he still put William through a series of tests.

When the test switched its attention to me was when I knew this was a serious matter. I never knew being the woman of the church meant so much to an organization. Oftentimes I have caught myself wondering did the late Mrs. Beverly Foster suffer from extreme stress overload. Unfortunately, I was never fortunate enough to meet the woman face to face for she died four years prior to our meeting. They say she passed away from complications of a severe stroke.

‘What I wouldn’t give to have a sit-down conversation with the woman,’ I thought to myself constantly over the last five years.

Wonderful sermon, wouldn’t you say Sister Foster? One of the mothers of the church asked me. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to gather all of my belongings before I was cornered with questions.

Indeed Mother Tidwell, Pastor really moved my spirit this fine morning.

Indeed he did.

His mother would be so proud, Mother Franklin stated looking away wistfully.

She was a fine woman, she was. The others reflected over the statement. That was another reason why I always felt unworthy.

That woman could sho’ nuff sang, couldn’t she?

Yes, all the women chimed in.

I wish I would have been fortunate enough to get to know her as you all have.

I’m sure she would have loved you, the nicest one on the board said. Mrs. Winters was the leader of the pack at the age of eighty-five but she had an all-seeing eye. She didn’t say much but when she did everyone listened.

Thank you, Is all I could muster up because that was as good as it gets around these parts.

Lady Foster, one of the deacons greeted interrupting the deliberation that was going on.

Deacon Tibbs, I returned his stale greeting.

Pastor stated that he will see you at home. He needed to attend a few meetings after service.

We rode together though.

Yes ma’am, he wanted me to see you home. Honestly, I have never cared to be in close proximity of this one in particular deacon. Something about his eyes is always shifty, like there was an ulterior motive at all times.

Perhaps I can make a suggestion, Lady Foster. Mrs. Winters slyly eased her presence into another conversation. Since you have been left to fend for yourself, as the pastor is tied up in business, you should come to Sunday dinner at my home.

Oh Mrs. Winters, I couldn’t impose that way.

You won’t be imposing at all, will she Tre?

Of course not grandma, you are always welcome to kick back with us, you know that. Tre added his two cents with a smirk. The family has already included you anyway, he added as a joke but it was the truth. I considered these folks as an extended family, my Dallas family.

Fine, I pretended to be put out. Let me run tell the pastor of my decision so he doesn’t worry.

Don’t worry, I will let him know. Deacon Tibbs left in what I thought was a bit of a huff but soon shrugged it off. ‘Why would he have his panties in a bunch?’

Off we go then, Mrs. Winters hobbled along with her cane. To me, it always seems she is just holding the cane and walking with it in her hand. If anything, she uses it as a weapon when people were in the way.

I will go pull the car up. Tre announced.

For what, I can walk.

I know grandma, I was just…

Can’t you walk Lady Foster?

Yes ma’am, I sure can. I laughed at Tre’s expression; he was calling me a ‘traitor’ with his eyes.

After you miss lady, he gestured with the hand holding the bible. I couldn’t help but giggle.

Tremaine Winters had become one of my closest friends since moving to Dallas. Although he was four years younger than I was, he was a good dude. We met of course through his grandmother but we have been cool ever since. He would be considered the stepbrother I never had. From funny pick-me-up text messages and Facebook posts, to his family treating me as if I were one of them.

Sunday dinner invites, family reunion inclusions, and even helping me with an emergency crisis a time or two—he was there. His mom was a hoot; she worked a lot so she didn’t get to attend service on a regular. Being a nurse at the county hospital, Miss Nancy was always on call. When she wasn’t able to bring Miss Ruby to church, Tre would slide right on in. His older brothers both attend other churches with their families.

On Sunday evenings, they treat it like an episode of Soul Food though. Chicken, macaroni, greens, cornbread, and so much other stuff that made you have to change clothes to accommodate the fiddles. On several occasions, my husband and I had been invited to attend their family gatherings but normally William is otherwise engaged, leaving me, to stand in his absence.

To be honest, I couldn’t complain one bit once I got to know these fine people. The first time was a little awkward but soon I warmed up to everyone. While we were at church, we kept it cordial but as soon as we are on the outside, it’s a normal setting. That was probably the reason why I favored them over my in laws. They were never completely accepting to William marrying someone from outside of their realm.

Considering I am from Galveston Texas, a little ways from Dallas, I would be an outsider. Although all Texans normally stick together, this reality couldn’t be further from the truth.

Do you have a change of clothes in your gym bag today?

Lil’ girl, why are you always rifling through my bag?

Because I’m not going to mess up this good white suit, duh…

I can lend you a housecoat when we get home.

Uh no ma’am, I will pass on the duster.

What’s wrong with my house-coats? Miss Ruby asked as if she were offended when everybody knew she was just jesting. Instead of answering, Tre and I busted out laughing. You children don’t know anything about comfort.

I will take your word for it Miss Ruby. When we leave the church is when formalities are thrown out of the window. This family refers to me as Meg or Megan.

Keep on walking around here sagging with Tre’s big ole clothes on then. I don’t understand how you call that comfortable.

Grandma just cause you strip out of everything to slap on a duster means nothing. Some folks like stuff with material.

Hush up boy.

That’s right hush up Tre.

You hush; I can still make you walk.

You will do no such thing.

I’m just playing grandma, no matter how worrisome Meg is.

Aww, pookie, that’s so sweet, I placated him as if I were talking to a baby.

Yo, really?

Yep really.

~

Dinner was good as always. I enjoyed spending time with the Winters, for it felt like a true family unit. Laughing, joking, sharing, and overall welcoming to the outsider that was intruding on their family time. Even though they never complain about me being there, I still felt like I should not. The selfish part of me always accepts when invited over though.

I’ll see you around, sis. Tre gave me a side hug as I prepared to get out.

Alright lil brother, be good.

Always girl, he said giving me his signature smirk.

Hmhh…

What is that supposed to mean?

Mama Nan told me about those little girls tipping around the house.

Mama be tripping, ain’t nobody tipping around the house.

They are trying to get all up under you. You go head then.

Whatever girl, the chicks she is talking about…

Tipping through looking for you, I interrupted him.

It ain’t even like that. They are just friends.

Whatever you say pookie, I said rolling my eyes. See you later. Have a good week at school and be safe.

Cool, you too. Tre waited in the driveway until I was safely inside.

From the looks and sound of things, William still hadn’t returned home from wherever he was ministering at. Picking up my cell phone, I see no notifications from him whatsoever. Obviously, he wasn’t worried about my whereabouts. Being that it was after eight in the evening, I figured either he would be home waiting on my return or would have at least called.

Alas, nothing from him and from the looks of it he hadn’t arrived home at all yet. I was starting to wonder where he was and what he was doing. So many times, I have talked myself out of being negative about his constant absence through the last few years. What started out as a ministry that we were working on together turned into a one-man show.

In the beginning, it was always a united front. Where he went, I went. Wherever he ministered at, I was in the front. As of late, I started to wonder was he tired of me. Admittedly, I know I started to complain a bit about never having a moment for ourselves but what woman wouldn’t. We had yet to discuss the possibilities of starting a family. I say it’s time, he says not yet.

With him pushing forty, that really doesn’t leave a lot of time. I am starting to believe that it may never happen for me. Considering that I am pushing thirty doesn’t really make things easier to comprehend. Let’s be frank, who wants to start having kids well into their thirties? Of course, there is nothing wrong starting a family at forty but how many actually want to do that.

Well not all except my darling father in law, Ray Foster and his wife had William until he was forty. Not entirely sure but I was not looking forward to William being an exact replica of Ray. Nor did I have any intentions to be exactly like the late Alberta Foster, it was not going to happen.

Not a day goes by and I am not reminded of that very fact. Being that I own a business let alone work period. ‘She should be at home, a housewife, and take care of the duties around there,’ I can recall members of William’s family say on a regular. The truth is, what the heck would I do at home all day? We don’t have any children, no pets, and half of the time I am the only one here. Whom am I cooking and cleaning after? Myself, that’s who, so why not occupy myself with a hobby?

A hobby that William always admired in the beginning of our marriage but now it seems that it was more of a burden to him. He had begun to complain about me not being home throughout the day. My argument was, for what, there was nothing at home for me to tend to certainly not him. As the older generation would always say, ‘the devil is sho’ nuff busy.’ Right now, something was definitely standing in the gap that suddenly appeared between William and me. From the feel of it, no doubt it wasn’t good either.

Church Affairs

An endless hamster wheel is what I am feeling like today. My funky mood could be stemming from the endless bought of PMS I am suffering from. Then again, it very well could be that my husband of seven years didn’t arrive home until the wee-hours of the morning a few days ago. The night I returned home from the Winters, I tried to stay up and wait for William to return home.

However,