Old Time Religion ~ A Love in the City Romance by Dellani Oakes – Part 44

Unexpectedly, the band started playing a song Obi couldn't remember hearing in at least a decade – Give Me That Old Time Religion. Clapping and snapping their fingers, the congregation sang with gusto. The baskets were full to the brim, by the time the ushers collected them at the back of the church.

As the service ended, another surprising song began. Obi wondered who had chosen the music, because if it had been left to the music director, they'd be singing the same four hymns they always sang. Instead, his father and the choir, made their way up the aisle to Don't Let the Devil Ride, an old gospel favorite of Prescott's. The women in the choir, had tambourines, wood blocks, and cowbells, which they shook or tapped as they danced up the aisle behind Prescott.

"Why don't you ever do anything fun like this?" Clive asked.

"Because my liturgical committee would suffer simultaneous brain hemorrhages," he replied, wondering how his father had snuck it by them. Probably by going to the band directly, bypassing the music director. He loved his father's audacity.

The guitarist in the band, was having way too much fun with the upbeat, blues tune. The choir stood at the back of the church, finishing the song. At the end, the congregation were on their feet, dancing and clapping enthusiastically. When the band finished playing, they cheered for them.

"This is the most fun I've ever had in church," Emily said, bouncing on her toes.

"I'm glad you had a good time. We're not usually this lively," Obi admitted with a slight frown.

"Lighten up, Obadiah," Clive said, throwing an arm around his brother. "Dad could always get away with this kind of thing. He just doesn't take no."

"What he does, is make his own yes," Obi replied.

"Then you need to. Just because those guys on the liturgical committee are all old sticks, doesn't mean that you can't get what you want from them."

Obi couldn't disagree, but couldn't fully agree, either. It was easier for his father, because he wasn't the one who had to listen to the brouhaha which would inevitably follow such an event. He was pretty sure that he was going to get a million and one calls on Monday, concerning today's service. He hoped that at least some of them, were positive.

After the service, Obi went up to talk to the band, congratulating them on a great performance.

"Why don't you do that, Father Obi?" the guitarist asked.

"Not everyone enjoys the same music," he hedged.

"They enjoyed that," the younger man countered.

"They did. And next week, if we tried the same thing, they'd probably fire a warning shot. Once in a while, they'll accept. All the time?" He shook his head.

"Maybe we can do something once a month," the music director said. "Because that was a blast."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. It was pretty great."

"Father Prescott said it was your idea," the music director said, frowning a little.

Slightly taken aback, Obi rolled with it. "He and I discussed it. I think doing this once a month, would be a lot of fun. I'll even join you from time to time."

"I'll take you up on that. You gonna introduce me to your new lady friend?"

"Sorry, Porter. Sure. This is Wynter, my good friend. This is her middle sister, Frankie – she's Clive's girlfriend, and that's Emily, the youngest."

"You with one of the Randolph brothers, too?" the guitarist, Cisco, asked Emily.

"Nope. Ran out of brothers. Eric's already got a lady friend."

"No kidding? You live around here?"

"No, I'm from Manhattan."

His face fell.

"But I'm seriously considering moving, provided I can find a job."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a personal trainer for the rich and ridiculous."

"Really? That's kind of cool. As a matter of fact, I work for a gym, too."

"You're not serious."

"Totally. Ask Father Obi."

"He really is. His parents own the Southend Gyms. They're all over the city. How many now? Four?"

"Just about to open the fifth, and we're currently hiring." He grabbed a card from his guitar case. "E-mail a resume to that address, and tell them that I told you to. I can't guarantee a job, but I can guarantee an interview. Getting hired is up to you."

"Thank you. This is so great!" Bouncing excitedly, she kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you so much, Cisco."

"You're very welcome, Emily. May I call you sometime?"

"You may. I don't have business cards, but I'll be happy to give you my number."

"I'd be happy to give you mine, as well."

They exchanged phones, typing in their numbers. Fluffing her already big hair, Emily held his phone up, taking a selfie to add to her contact. Cisco did the same. Laughing, they handed their phones back to each other.

"I expect to hear from you soon," Emily said. With a sharp turn on her heel, she sashayed up the aisle.

"Wow, that's a beautiful woman," Cisco whispered. Sheepishly, he glanced from Frankie to Wynter. Not seeing disapproval, he chanced a smile.

"You said beautiful, not hot," Frankie said, giving him a kiss on one cheek.

"You'd better call," Wynter stated, giving him a kiss on the other.

"I totally will. I promise."

"Good man," they chorused. It was their turn to make a sassy exit.

"Wow," Cisco gasped. "How can you—handle—all that?"

"It gets easier over time," Clive replied.

"Really?"

"No. I totally lied. Each of them can bowl a man over. The three together—unstoppable."

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Old Time Religion ~ A Love in the City Romance by Dellani Oakes – Part 43

"Why do you have an iron here?"

"All the robes I have to wear? You'd keep an iron, too. Can't go out front in a wrinkled surplice."

"Shocking!"

"Some of the church ladies keep me freshly pressed. The vestments go to the dry cleaner's, but they don't always transfer well."

"Gotcha. You know I don't care, right?" He eyed himself in the mirror. "Don't suppose you've got a spare tie?"

"Nope. Sorry. That's as good as it gets."

"Thank you."

"We'd better go sit down, or someone less deserving will sit by our women."

Laughing, the brothers headed to the sanctuary. Walking through the narthex, several people stopped Obi.

"Father Randolph, what are you doing in civilian clothing?" one older man asked with a chuckle.

"I'm taking the day off, Ralph. My folks are visiting, so I asked my dad to step in for the service. You know my brother, Clive, don't you?"

"I surely do. My wife has told me all about you."

Turning his head, as if to hear better, Clive squinted at the older man. "Wife?"

"This is Ralph Bannister," Obi explained.

"Oh, Lorna's husband. Pleased to meet you, sir." He held out his hand, giving the older man a firm handshake. "She speaks of you often, sir."

"No need to sir me, young man. I'm a working stiff, just like you."

"Beg to differ, Mr. Bannister. A man who served his country as a Marine Major, deserves a sir."

"In that case, I'll accept it. Came up through the ranks the hard way."

Chatting, the three men walked into the sanctuary together.

"Lorna's reading the scripture today," Ralph explained.

"We'll save her a spot."

Obi looked around, wondering where Eagle was. He didn't even see him in with the band, who were setting up. Leaning over to his brother, he asked about the youngest Randolph.

"He's not coming," Clive said.

"Great. Because of last night?"

"Yes. You really upset him."

"I upset him?" Obi rolled his eyes. "That's choice. He can say whatever he wants to me, but I stick up for myself, and he has a fit. Will that boy ever grow up?"

"Maybe if we stopped calling him a boy, and coddling him?"

Shaking his head, Obi sighed. "Maybe? Who knows. I'm over it."

"Makes two of us. Oh, here's Mom."

The men stood, guiding Hester to her seat. The organist started the first hymn, and they all stood. Everyone in the congregation sang with great gusto—some with more exuberance than skill. Obi had encouraged them all, talented or not, to sing. It was his theory that nothing praised God as much as music. Fortunately, this flock had enthusiastically taken to the idea.

The service started. Reciting the familiar prayers and responses, Obi felt at peace. During the sermon, Wynter's hand crept over to his. Feeling like teenagers, they held hands between them, where no one would see.

"I'm delighted to be back here at St. Pete's," Prescott began. "It's good to look out and see a lot of old friends and familiar faces. Today's scripture, Matthew 19:26 tells us With God, all things are possible. I firmly believe this. Sometimes, it takes us a while to figure it out. I'll admit, I was one of the slowest. In my family, it's traditional for the first male of the generation, to become a priest. I took religious orders, just like my father, grandfather and great-grandfather. My son, your pastor, is the eldest of his generation, therefore he also sought religious life."

Smiling, he walked around to the front of the podium. "It takes a lot of courage to give your life to the church. It's a vocation which requires much contemplation and prayer, and is not to be entered into lightly. That said, it's a rewarding life, full of ups and downs. We preside over baptisms, but we also must officiate at funerals. We marry young couples, some of whom we've baptized, and watched grow up. We counsel couples when they argue. We console them when one partner dies. We are everything to our congregation, which is why they call us Father."

A few sniffles reached Obi's ears. Closing his eyes, he listened to his father's words.

"Under these vestments, we're only human. From time to time, despite our training, our prayers and calling, we can still lose ourselves in doubt. It's a terrible thing to question your faith, especially when you have so many people counting on you for guidance. There is nothing worse than kneeling to pray, and wondering if He, in whom you have always believed, is listening. The wonder and fear that He won't answer—or He will, in a way we don't want. Then, having to explain to someone else, who is suffering, why their prayers weren't answered by a God, whose will you question. Belief, in the face of doubt, is the hardest thing any of us can do."

He walked down the steps, standing in the aisle in front of the altar. "What can we do in a time like that? Well, you can talk to someone else, who has strong faith. It might be your parish priest. It might be a friend, or family member. It might be a total stranger, whom you meet by random chance—though with God, there's no such thing as random. He puts people in our paths at just the right time. And He puts us in the paths of others. Whether you're a priest or not, your faith can be used to help someone else. In the times of greatest uncertainty, when you feel tested to your limit, that's when you can reach out to someone else who is suffering. Someone who might not ever have had a belief system. Someone who is as miserable as you, or more. For in helping one another, we can build back our own faith."

He spoke a few more minutes, but Obi wasn't giving him his full attention. Instead, he felt the impact of the words hit home. He suspected his father had written this sermon for him, at least it felt that way. The sermon over, it was time to sing another song before concluding the service. Ushers lined up with the offering baskets, ready to send them around as the congregation sang.

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Old Time Religion ~ A Love in the City Romance by Dellani Oakes – Part 42

 "Shoes, and I'm set." He slipped loafers on his feet. Grabbing his jacket, wallet and keys, he declared himself ready.

"Umbrellas," his mother said as they got to the door.

"Good idea," he said. "Thanks, Mom."

"See you at church. Will you be up front?"

"Absolutely." Giving her another kiss, he ushered the sisters out.

Fortunately, his car was in the garage, and they didn't have to make a mad dash to get into it.

"I don't have Mom's clicker," Wynter said with a sigh. "How about I go in and hit the wall switch and grab it out of the car?"

"That sounds like a good idea. That way, when you're all dressed up, you don't have to worry about getting wet," Obi replied.

"Brilliant, Sis!" Emily agreed.

They did just that. The rain had eased off a little by the time they got to Wanda's house. Wynter jogged to the front porch, let herself in, and was distressed to hear noises upstairs. Slamming the front door, she yelled at her sister before going to the garage.

Emily came in, immediately clicking on the music. She purposely chose Cowboys from Hell by Pantera. The loud, raucous song was anything but sexy. She wanted to interrupt them, but didn't hold out much hope.

"Quick showers, five minute makeup and I'll be ready," Wynter said.

"It will take me a little longer," Emily confessed. "My hair is feeling this rain."

"It doesn't have to be slicked back," Wynter said, fluffing Emily's hair. "These curls are gorgeous. Give it a good brushing, it's fine."

"You think?"

"Go big, or go home," Obi said. "I think it would look good on you."

"And I have just the outfit," she said with a grin. Trotting up the stairs to her room, she banged on the wall, which was back to back with the master bedroom. "Time for church, you heathens!" she yelled.

Wynter trotted up behind her, adding her own banging. Obi stood on the stairs, hammering on the wall, singing along with Rob Zombie, who was now growling out the lyrics to More Human Than Human.

The door to the bedroom slammed open. Clive came out, naked and angry.

"What? You can't leave a man alone—?"

"Dude. Pants," Obi said, pointing.

Fortunately, Emily and Wynter were in their rooms.

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks for that. I didn't get to finish."

"Crying in my heart for you—not," Obi replied. "Go change the sheets, Wanda's going to want her room, when she gets home."

"Yeah, get over yourself."

"Never gonna happen."

Muttering and fussing, Clive went to the bedroom, slamming the door. Obi heard the water start in the shower. Rather than wandering around upstairs, he went to the foyer. He was intrigued by the house, so he walked around, looking. Built about the same time as his home, it even had a similar layout, though the reverse of his. He admired the furniture and pictures on the walls, pleased to see more than one family portrait. Hung chronologically, he saw the girls grow up. Captivated by Wynter's smile, he stared at her senior portrait for several minutes.

"Ah-hm," he heard next to him.

Wynter stood beside him, smiling and looking expectant. "I left off the lip gloss, so we won't make a mess."

Putting her arms around him, she gave him a kiss.

"Step away from the woman," his brother said loudly.

Jumping slightly, Obi stepped back, tripping over a hassock. Wynter grabbed his belt, keeping him upright. He froze. With her hand that close to his zipper, he suddenly felt a surge of lust course through him.

"You okay, Bro?" Clive said, rushing to his side.

"Yeah. Fine."

"You don't look fine." He extracted his brother from Wynter's hold.

"No. I'm good."

"Sure you are. Let's get you something to eat, huh?"

"Got food—in the car," he gasped.

"Let's go get it, shall we? The ladies are putting on the finishing touches."

"Is that—what you're wearing—to church?" Obi managed to ask as he walked the car.

Clive slid behind the wheel, after making sure his brother was settled on the other side.

"It's what I've got. Got anything I can wear, at the church?"

"Maybe a shirt, or pants."

"You sure you're okay?"

"A beautiful woman kissed me, then grabbed my belt. Do I look fine?"

"No. Which is why I asked."

"You had to do it," Obi muttered.

"Do what?" Smiling, he hopped out of the car when the women exited the house.

"You know perfectly well what," Obi grumbled.

"Yeah," Clive replied, not really looking at his brother. "Because she's gorgeous, and wanted a good man."

"I hate you so much, right now."

"I know, but you'll get over it." He helped the ladies get in the car. "Next stop, St. Pete's!"

Traffic wasn't too bad between Wanda's house and the church. They made good time. Once the ladies were settled up front, the men explored the vestry, to see if there was anything for Clive to upgrade his wardrobe. They found a pair of Obi's pants and a jacket. Technically, they were part of his uniform, which he kept for emergency changes. Paired with a plain white shirt, which they dug out of the charity donations, he declared himself fit. The shirt looked like it had never been worn, and was fairly wrinkle free. A quick swipe with an iron, and it was just right.

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Old Time Religion ~ A Love in the City Romance by Dellani Oakes – Part 41

"It's after ten. You left three hours ago."

"Time slipped away. We'll close down and head back. I'll drop Wynter at home."

"Okay. I'm taking Frankie and Emily over to their mom's house."

"Thank you. See you shortly."

"See you."

Hanging up, he rose slowly, not wanting to leave her side. "I guess we put reality off as long as possible."

"Mom's worrying?"

"Yes. I suppose I should have called...."

"You needed a break. So did I. And it was—beyond nice." She stood, placing her hands on his firm chest.

"Yes, it certainly was. Thank you for coming with me."

"You're very welcome."

Obi's hand sat on the gearshift. Wynter laid her hand on top of his. Smiling at her, he gave her another soft kiss. He wanted so much more, but knew he needed to take it slowly. He was very fond of Wynter, and she of him. However, mindful of her recent breakup, he was determined to take his time. He hoped he'd made his feelings clear with his kisses.

Clive's car was in the driveway of Wanda's home. The lights were on, and music played. When they got to the house, they found Emily sitting on the porch swing with a glass of wine and an e-cigarette.

"Um, you don't wanna go in right now," she said, slightly shell shocked.

Obi sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Really? I'm so sorry. If you and Wynter want to spend the night at my place, we can do that. Cause if I know my brother—this won't be the last time tonight."

"I'd love that," Emily said. "But you have to guarantee that you two won't—" She made vague gestures with her hands.

Wynter slapped them down. "We would never!"

"Just saying."

"We're not to that point, Emily," Obi explained.

"But you're working on it," she said, wiping her thumb across his lips. It came away with a smear of Wynter's cranberry colored lip gloss.

"Yes, but not yet," Wynter said. "Frankie's always been impulsive."

"So has Clive. Perfect match," Obi said with a grin. Glancing at his watch, he asked Emily how long she'd been outside.

"About thirty-five minutes. Why?"

"They should finish soon, unless he's giving her a special. Let's hope not, or we'll be here all night."

"A—special?" Emily asked hesitantly.

"Don't ask. Listen, I have toothbrushes, t-shirts and boxers you can borrow for the night. We can come back before church."

"Sounds good to me!" Emily said, hopping up. "I'll grab my bag." She retrieved it from the hall table. Locking the door, she declared that she was ready.

"Casa Obi is our next stop," Wynter said with a smirk.

Sending Clive a text, Obi started the car. He didn't expect to hear back from his brother, but he wanted Frankie to know where her sisters were. Not that either of them would notice.

Back at his house, he found a note from his mother on the refrigerator: "We'll be getting up about seven. Leave me a note if you want me to wake you. ♥ Mom"

He left a reply thanking her, assuring her he could get himself up. He also told her that Wynter and Emily were there, though he didn't go into details. She was a smart woman, who had three grown sons. She'd figure it out.

Sleep came easily. For once, he wasn't nervous about having to give his sermon, because his father had that responsibility.

His alarm went off, startling him awake. It was still dark out, but not because of the time. Thick storm clouds lowered and glowered on the horizon. Lightning flashed, followed by a distant roll of thunder.

Shaving carefully, he debated putting on his official uniform. He was still thinking about it, when there was a knock at the door. He knew it was his mother, because she always tapped three times, two times and one time.

"I'm up, Mom," he called from the bathroom.

The door opened and she peeped around. "Wearing the collar today?"

"I was just thinking about it." He stood in front of his closet in his black dress pants and white t-shirt.

"You're not officially on duty. Let Daddy worry about that."

Smiling, she entered the closet, scooting shirts around until she found what she was after. The shirt she handed him was a deep, rich raspberry—not a color he would have bought for himself.

"Where did this come from?"

"I bought it for you. It would please me for you to wear it." Her lips formed a firm line, when he protested. "I know you think it's girly, but it's a gorgeous color, which will look good on you. The women will love it."

"The men will think I've lost my mind."

"Tell them I gave it to you," she said with confidence. "Men understand about appeasing unreasonable, female parents."

"Yes, ma'am."

Undoing his pants, he tucked the shirt in. He was fastening his belt when there was another knock at the door. This time, it was Wynter.

"You about ready?"

"Yeah. We'll drop by your mom's place. It's on the way."

"Great. Thank you."

"I made coffee, and danish," Hester said. "It's set up to travel."

"Great. Thanks, Mom." Obi kissed his mother's cheek.

"You're welcome, darling." She gave him and Wynter each a hug. "Hurry up, son. You can't keep a woman waiting."

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Old Time Religion ~ A Love in the City Romance by Dellani Oakes – Part 40

It was starting to get dark when they reached their destination, but there was a full moon. He'd driven to the river. A path wound from the parking area, down to the river bank. Turning off the car, he smiled at Wynter.

"My folks have a cabin up here. We stayed out here all summer, only going into the city for services. When I was making my decision to join the seminary, I came up here for a retreat. I fished for food, prayed a lot, and completely unplugged from life—no computer, no phone, no TV. It was bliss."

"Sounds like you enjoyed it."

"I did. Very much. This is my favorite place, of anywhere I've ever been. I feel most like me here. After the crash and burn with Cieran, I had decided to come up here for a few days. Then everything else happened, and that plan got postponed. Would you like to see it?"

"I would!"

"Great." He reached into the back seat, grabbing a battery operated lantern. "I put this in here a few days ago, and forgot about it. There's power at the cabin, but no lights along the way."

Helping her out of the car, he looped her arm through his, after opening the lantern. Blue-white light cast bright beams, creating eerie shadows. These danced and dipped as the lantern swung from Obi's hand.

Around a bend in the path, Wynter saw a cabin. It was split logs, with a low, red metal roof. The porch circled it on three sides. Low eaves dropped nearly to the ground, creating a comforting shade against the midday sun.

"Welcome to Rose Cottage," he said as he unlocked the door.

It was then that Wynter noticed that there was a beautiful stained glass panel in the door, covered in dozens of different colored roses. The shutters on the windows, were painted a dark rosy red. In the center of each shutter, someone had cut out intricate rose shapes.

"It's beautiful!" she gasped.

"Thank you. It was built by my great-great-grandfather. Initially, it was the family homestead. Eventually, they had enough money to move into town, but kept the cabin."

"This is wonderful. It's so homey!"

She admired the blond wood floors and rough hewn walls. The furniture was rustic in design, covered in colorful, handmade cloth which reminded her of Native American patterns from local tribes. On the wall, on either side of the fireplace, were framed shadowboxes, with a beautifully embroidered and beaded blouse and shoes.

"Is this Potawatomi work?"

"Yes. My great-great-grandmother was Potawatomi."

"No kidding! That's so cool! We have some Native blood, too. Also my great-great-grandmother. Only she was Tuscarora."

"Cool. Do you have anything from her?"

Sadly, she shook her head. "She died when her children were very young. Their father wasn't able to care for them, so they were separated and put in care."

"That's a shame. I hope they had good homes."

"Some of them did. There were twelve, and the older ones didn't fare as well as the younger ones. They were put into work camps, where they worked fourteen hour days."

"That's criminal!"

"Yes, it is. That's what happened then." Sniffling a little, she touched the frame, stroking the glass. "I can't get over how intricate those designs are. Simply stunning."

"Yes, they are. My grandfather had them hermetically sealed and put here when I was a boy."

"That was a good idea."

"Want to see the rest?"

"I'd love to. How many rooms is it?"

"Living room," he gestured. "Dining area," he pointed to the other side of the cabin, where a sturdy, circular table stood. "Let's go see the kitchen, because you'll love it."

There was a bar perpendicular to the back wall. The kitchen was snug, but well laid out. The sink overlooked the back yard—which was mostly trees. But the way that the house was sitting, there was a view of the river both from this window, and the front porch.

"This is beautiful!" Wynter sighed.

"Want something to drink? We keep it stocked. I've got coffee, tea, sodas and wine."

"Something cold," she replied with a smile.

He got a cold Coca-Cola from the refrigerator, handing it to her. "It's clean on top. I washed it before I put it in there."

"I thought I was the only person to do that!" She smiled, popping the can open.

"You've met my mother," he stated as if that made it all clear.

"Exactly like mine, apparently."

"In all the very best ways." Tapping his can against hers, he smiled. "Cheers."

"Cheers."

It was cool in the cabin, so he started a fire. They sat on the couch, snuggled closely, gazing into the flames. Wynter could tell that Obi was more relaxed than he'd been earlier. She felt calmer, too. The worries of her life slipped away, washing down the river.

They finished their sodas in silence. Obi slipped his arm around her, and she put her head on his shoulder. Turning his head, he tipped her chin, planting a soft kiss on her lips. Wynter sighed happily, smiling a little as they kissed. They spent a long time in one another's embrace.

Obi wasn't sure when they'd passed the threshold of friendship, to something more, but he was happier than he could ever remember being. Wynter filled a gap in his soul, he hadn't even realized was there. He'd heard Eagle yammer on about soul mates, since meeting Sarah. Obi hadn't really ever given it much thought, until the first time he kissed Wynter. It was as if his soul recognized hers, and vice versa.

His phone rang, piercing their solitude. "Yeah?" he answered, not looking at the screen.

"Sorry to bother you, Brother Mine," Clive said. "But Mom's worried."

"We're at the cabin," Obi said.

"Planning to spend the night?"

"No, why?"

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Old Time Religion ~ A Love in the City Romance by Dellani Oakes – Part 39

 

"It's a job, like anything else," Obi said rather sharply. "Just because a man has Father in front of his name, doesn't make him less interesting."

"But it makes him an pawn in the great machine, which is organized religion," Eagle said.

"Excuse me?" Hester bridled at that remark.

"Admit it," Eagle said, talking over his mother. "You both believe the limited dogma you learned at seminary, not the way life really is."

"Explain how life really is," Obi said in a low voice. His tone was deep, dangerous. "No, I'll explain it, from my limited, dogmatic education."

Prescott started to protest, but Obi held up his hand to stop him.

"Let him, Dad," Clive said calmly. "I wanna hear this."

"Go for it, Bro," Eagle said, his attitude more confrontational. Even Sarah's hand on his arm, didn't settle him down.

"Life is full of pain," Obi said softly. "We're born from pain, we grow and live with our pain. Sometimes, it's worse than others. God can alleviate that pain—"

"You mean if you're strong enough, your body and mind do it for you," Eagle interrupted.

"I mean—" Obi inhaled deeply, slowly. "I mean, if you fully rely on God, put your faith in Him, trust and believe, your journey is easier. Your load is lighter. People need to believe in something outside themselves."

"What if I said I don't want to believe in God?" Eagle said, jutting his jaw defiantly.

"My reply would be—I hope you find something to believe in. Because it's pretty dark and cold out there, without faith."

"What if I want to be a Buddhist? A Hindu? Are you going to tell me those are false gods?" his voice grew louder, angrier.

Sarah's face was pale, her eyes wide. This was a side of Eagle she'd never seen.

"If that's what makes you happy, fills you with joy and peace – go for it."

"All those false gods? That doesn't bother you?"

"God has many faces. The Christian God is the same one that Muslims and Jews worship – each with a different name. The Hindu gods are manifestations of aspects of God, which we put under a Trinity umbrella. Their gods are separate personalities, but the power comes from the same place."

"What if I condemn your God as a fake?" He stood, challenging his brother.

"Eric!" his mother gasped.

"You're entitled to believe that," Obi replied, also standing. "And if you really feel that way, Eric, I'll pray for you." Dropping his napkin by his plate, he turned to go.

"You're just going to walk away?" Eric yelled as Obi's hand touched the kitchen door.

Pressing his lips together, Obi inhaled deeply. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his brother vibrating with anger. The family looked horrified.

"I love you, Eric. You're my brother. Say what you want, do what you want. But I'm not going to listen to it in my house. In deference to our mother, I'm not making you leave. I'm also not listening to you another second, or I'll lose my temper." Squaring his shoulders, he felt the anger bubble up like lava. Unable to stop it, he let it flow over. "You've been so coddled, sheltered. You've never been pinned down to this thing, or that. You've been free to explore and find yourself—that's great!" His voice rose in anger. "The rest of us—we've all got jobs. Whether we like them or not—that's immaterial. We're doing the best we can. For some of us, that's dependent upon our faith. A faith that people died to protect. A faith that put food on our table, a roof over our heads, and gave us a loving family. You can belittle what you want, but I won't have you do that in front of our parents. Mom, I apologize, but I have to get out of here before I say something I'll be really sorry for."

Grabbing his wallet and keys, he headed toward the front door. The kitchen exploded with noise behind him, but he didn't care. When he reached into the coat closet for a jacket, he heard someone behind him. Turning, he saw Wynter.

"May I join you?"

"Of course." He held the door open for her.

"You shouldn't drive."

"I'm all right. No pain pills for hours, and my shoulder feels fine."

"Still...I can—"

"Thanks, I've got it."

"Where did you want to go?"

"Anywhere but here."

Nodding, she got in the car. Taking a deep breath, Obi started the car. He had no idea where he was going, deciding to let the spirit guide him.

"I'm sure he didn't mean all that," Wynter said as they drove slowly down his street.

"Yes, he did. It's been coming for a while. Ever since he changed his name to Eagle, and started exploring," he made air quotes, "I knew he'd hit me with it one day."

"How did you know?"

"Sixth sense? I'm not sure, I just did. Maybe it's having our folks here. He feels threatened by our beliefs."

"Why?"

"He doesn't share them. He never has, really. I'm not sure what made him so cynical, but I pray he'll get over himself soon. But I'm not holding my breath."

He turned up the interstate on-ramp. Speeding up, he entered the steady stream of traffic without a care. Cars whizzed by on their left. Checking traffic, he moved left to the second lane. A destination now in mind, he sped up.

"Where are we going?"

He smiled, cutting his eyes at her a second. "You'll see when we get there."

"You're being very mysterious, Father Randolph."

"Obi. Please. When we're together, I'm not Father."

She inclined her head, accepting that. "You're still being mysterious."

"There's some beautiful country around here. I thought you might like to see something other than the city.

"I would, very much."

"Very well."

©Dellani Oakes 2023

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Old Time Religion ~ A Love in the City Romance by Dellani Oakes – Part 38

"And how much do you make for your healing hands?" Emily snapped.

"Nothing. We ask for sponsors, to cover travel expenses, nothing more. If someone wants to give us a gift, we donate it to a local charity in that community. We don't believe in taking money for what God gives us freely."

"Can you do that for my mother?"

"If she wants. I'll ask her." He put his hand on Emily's shoulder. "We're the real deal," he said softly, gazing into her eyes. "We have faith in God, and the skills he gave us. We heal people, Emily."

"Will you heal my mom?" she gasped, a sob escaping her.

"If she wants it. We can't do anything, unless the patient asks."

"Why not?"

"Because they need to believe they've received it."

"We'll ask her," Obi said, gazing into her eyes.

"You should consider joining us," Father Elvis said.

"I don't have the skill for it," Obi said quietly.

"Nonsense. You're a strong healer, you just don't know it. We'll talk."

Prescott was waiting by the front door. They walked out with Father Elvis, whose car was near theirs.

Obi got in back, sitting behind Emily, who scooted her seat up for him. She tried to get him to sit up front, but he refused.

"My mother would smack me, if I even considered getting in the front," he said with a grin.

"Fine. I don't want to be responsible for that."

"My cranium and I thank you."

Father Flannery bid them farewell.

"Thanks again, Father Elvis," Emily said, giving him a hug.

"You're welcome, Emily." He kissed her on top of the head, murmuring something.

Emily didn't seem to hear, but Obi did. It was Latin, asking for God's blessings and healing. He hung back a moment as Prescott helped her into the car.

"Healing?" Tipping his head, he repeated the phrase.

"We all need it," Father Elvis replied. "For Emily, it's not physical, but emotional. Not just her mother's illness has her upset."

"Thank you." He held out his hand. "I appreciate your help and prayers, Father."

"You're welcome—Father."

Back home, Obi walked into the sound of laughter and the scents of a delicious feast. No one was out front, so he assumed they were all in the kitchen. Kicking off his shoes, he wandered back. Clive was pouring Emily a glass of wine. He poured another for Obi.

"To family, friends, and good health," he said, raising his glass.

Repeating his toast, they clinked glasses before taking a sip.

"It was good to see Father Elvis," Prescott said with a smile. "How's he doing?"

"Very well. He helped me give Wanda the sacrament for the sick."

"He's a good man," Hester said. "He grew up in our neighborhood, but he was enough older, you boys weren't in school with him."

"He had to do a project on various religions," Prescott said, topping off their glasses. "He came to our service, and had a long chat with me afterward. He's a very astute fellow."

"I've always liked him," Obi said. "We served on a citywide panel of religious leaders, a couple years ago. He and I were seated next to one another, and found we had a lot in common. He kept offering to Baptize me into the Catholic faith." He laughed, shaking his head.

"You ready for your sermon tomorrow?" Eagle asked their father.

"I sure am. I expect you all in the front row."

"Like we were for our entire youths," Obi replied.

"Unless we were in the band, or choir," Clive added.

"I wondered why you all opted to be musicians," Prescott frowned, a smile tugging his lips.

"We could hide behind the partition, instead of having to be out front for everyone to stare at. I hated being on display," Eagle said with a shudder.

"Try being the man at the pulpit," Obi countered. "See how many people stare at you then."

"Woof—no thanks! I can't even imagine speaking in front of a bunch of people."

"Congregations aren't as bad as other religious," Prescott said. "Have you had to do that, Son?" he asked Obi.

"I belonged to a religious panel which required each of us to speak at least once a year. More often than not, the person assigned would cop out at the last minute, and I'd get a topic handed to me—as I walked in. More than once, I got up there and winged it. Luckily, I have my sermons memorized, and they cover a wide range of topics. Only one time, I got handed—" he paused, thinking. "What was it? Oh yes, Love Thy Neighbor – as applies to all those around you. I drew a blank, until I remembered Dad's Love Thy Brother Speech. I changed it up a little, and used it."

"What's the Love Thy Brother Speech?" Emily asked.

The brothers laughed.

"We had a tendency to smack each other around," Eagle said. "So Dad gave us that speech whenever we drew blood."

"So—roughly every other week," Clive added with a grin.

"It's a corker," Prescott said. "Calls upon brotherly love, Bible quotes, and a bunch of other good stuff. One of my best, if I may say so."

"The others thought so. Because of that speech, I got handed the job of preparing the next one, as well. It was good experience, though. And I met some great people. We had a sister city in Florida, and I got to fly down there to meet those priests. It was a good time."

"I can't imagine finding a bunch of other priests a good time," Eagle snarked, shaking his head.

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