An Excerpt from Love Like Hallelujah
 
              Vivian watched Stacy watch Darius. It never ends, she thought. The chase was always on, and more and more, it was the females leading the charge. Times had changed, and Vivian couldn’t say she wouldn’t have done the same thing had she been single. Of course, it had been so long since that was the case, she could hardly imagine it. She looked at Derrick and was glad God had blessed her when he did. These days, the field of romance seemed a much trickier one to navigate. As if feeling her thoughts, Derrick turned and gave her a look that only she could interpret. He raised his brows slightly, licked his lips slowly, surreptitiously. She knew he was remembering last night, and the thought made her warm. She diverted her eyes to break the contact. It was as if he were mentally touching her, warming her more.

             Derrick slowly shifted his gaze away from his wife. He still had it, could still melt Vivian with “the look.” He smiled, remembering the first time it had happened. More than fifteen years ago at the Kewana Valley District’s Baptist convention. He’d sensed fire underneath her conservative, understated ensemble, and he’d been right. He’d discreetly questioned his good friend, King Wesley Brook, as the offering was lifted. Vivian and Tai were best friends even back then, so King knew about her. He told Derrick her name was Vivian, that she was majoring in broadcast journalism, and was selective about who she dated. More than one of King’s buddies had attempted a “get to know.” But Vivian wasn’t having it, had been all about business, until Derrick. The four had gone to dinner, Derrick had gotten her number, and just over a year later, she became Mrs. Montgomery.

             Those early years had been crazy. Vivian became an exemplary first lady, albeit kicking and screaming all the way. Her goal had been a broadcasting career. Right out of college, she landed a job as the weekend anchor on a cable station. She worked her way up to noonday anchor, Monday through Friday, at an ABC affiliate station, and then got hired as the primetime, evening anchor in Birmingham, Alabama, an almost two hour drive from Atlanta.

             The commute worked okay for a while. Derrick was busy as an associate minister, and working in real estate. Vivian stayed in Birmingham during the week, but was front row center at the Sunday services. Dedicated to her job and often working ten and twelve hour days, however, she couldn’t be as active in the church as Derrick would have liked.

              But she was active at home. Their love sustained them…soon Derrick got offered his first church, a traditional Baptist congregation of about a hundred people, in the small town of Lithonia, GA. That’s when the tension started. Lithonia was about twenty miles east of Atlanta, even farther from where Vivian worked. Derrick wanted her to quit her job so she could assume the role of pastor’s wife, and all that position entailed. Vivian dearly loved Derrick and wanted to support him, but his suggestion was about as appealing to her as rotting cabbage. She held out for six months, ran herself ragged trying to juggle a full-time job with a full-time ministry. A conversation with one of the long-time members of the Pilgrim’s Covenant membership, Mrs. Faye Moseley, would set Vivian on a different course for the rest of her life.

               It was early on a Saturday morning. Vivian lay in bed, the covers pulled over her head, trying to catch up on the sleep she’d missed all week. Derrick had left earlier, on his way to the church to handle any number of issues continually cropping up in the small but growing spiritual family. The consistent ringing of the phone pulled her from a deep sleep. She looked at the clock, frowned, and decided not to answer. It went silent for a moment and then began ringing again. Whoever it was, wasn’t going to give up. Pre-caller ID, she’d had no choice but to answer, thinking it might be an emergency.  Her frown returned when the cheery voice of Sister Moseley crackled through the line.

             “How ‘do Miss Vivian, this here’s Sister Moseley.”

             "Uh, good morning Sister Moseley,” Vivian croaked. 

             “I’m sorry child, did I wake you?"

             Thinking this was her opportunity to cut the conversation short, Vivian readily answered. “Yes ma’am, I was in the middle of a very deep sleep."

            "Well, I’m glad you’re up now. Can you come to the church? I want us to go have a little breakfast, more like brunch by the time you get here."

            Did she not hear what I just said? Vivian held her impatience. “Is something wrong?” 

            “Not exactly, baby. I just need to talk to ya’ is all. Round ’bout ten-thirty be all right?"

            I guess it’ll have to be, is what she thought. “Yes ma’am,” is what she said. 

             Vivian rolled into the tiny parking lot at a quarter past ten, and was surprised to see Sister Moseley waiting on the sidewalk. Her face lit up as Vivian pulled to a stop, and before she could turn off the engine, Sis. Moseley was opening the door to get into the car.

              They engaged in small talk during the short ride to the Waffle House, a place Vivian later discovered was Sister Moseley’s favorite restaurant for breakfast fare. As Vivian had anticipated, they got down to the heart of the matter once the orders had been taken and the coffee had arrived. Sister Moseley asked her how she liked the church, discussed being a pastor’s wife, and took real interest in Vivian’s descriptions of life as an anchor woman. After she’d eloquently stated her very sound reasons for continuing to work in the highly competitive market in which she was blessed to have landed a job so quickly, even with her husband’s promotion to his own church, Sister Moseley took her turn.

             "Now this might sound like I’m getting in your business, but at my age, it’s what I do—get in folks’ business. You say you love your husband, right?"

             Vivian got a bit perturbed. “Of course,” she replied in a clipped  tone.

             "Uh-huh. And you want the marriage to last a long time, have babies, the whole thing?"

            "Sister Moseley, I don’t mean to be disrespectful but my husband and  I--"

            "That Cook girl, the one that’s so faithful, comes every time the church doors open. She’s a pretty little thang, ain’t she? Acts like she’s got a few screws loose sometimes but, pretty girl. What’s her name, Robin? Yeah, I think that’s her name."

             "This got Vivian’s attention. “What about her?"

             "Oh, nothing, just real dedicated to the ministry is all. Almost becoming your husband’s right hand; she’s got good…administrative skills, I hear."

              The toasty pecan waffle with butter melting sat untouched in front of Vivian. Meanwhile, Sister Moseley was eating like there was no tomorrow.

         “Now that Derrick, he a fine man. I see great things happening for him. Y’all in this here small town right now, but ain’t always gon’ be this way. That preacher is going places. Mark my words. What you have to do is decide whether you want to me by his side when he gets to wherever place that is."

            Sister Moseley gathered the last of her fried egg, waffle and sausage onto her fork and downed the huge bite. She looked over at Vivian’s still untouched and now cold waffle. “Shame to waste that good food, girl; ain’t you gon eat..?"