Sunday Morning Blues

  K.T. Richey

  www.urbanchristianonline.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Dedication

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  Reader Questions

  About The Author

  UC HIS GLORY BOOK CLUB!

  What We Believe:

  Copyright Page

  To

  JMADP

  Dedication

  What an incredible journey this has been. I would like to thank God for the many blessings and adventures He has bestowed upon me throughout my life and for those in my future.

  I dedicate this book to all the readers, book clubs, bloggers, churches, authors and the many people who have supported my ministry. You have been a wonderful inspiration to me. Thank you for your support.

  To Joylynn M. Ross and the Urban Books family, I thank you for all that you have done for me and the knowledge and support you have given me.

  To my family, I love you. You have been a tremendous source of inspiration, love, laughter and support for me throughout the years.

  To all the first ladies who have been misunderstood, ignored, lied on, rejected and endured through it all, this book is especially for you. God has heard your prayers and will continue to bless you and your family.

  Join me at Ktrichey.com, www.facebook.com/ktrichey, and on Twitter @AuthorKTRichey.

  Peace and Love

  All scriptures are from the King James Version.

  1

  “Mrs. Patrick, we will be taking off in about ten minutes,” the flight attendant said as Shante sat back into the soft tan leather seat of her private Learjet. Never would she have thought that she would own a plane or be a bestselling author. She had come a long way from riding the bus with her baby, out searching for a job in an unfamiliar town. At that time, her face was loaded with so much makeup, she looked like RuPaul’s cousin. She had to do something to cover the scars from the severe beating she received from her ex-husband. She didn’t want people to look at her as if she had some dreaded disease they did not want to catch. That was a long time ago.

  She closed her eyes and waited patiently as the engine of the plane revved up, preparing to take off. Her mind was filled with all the things she had to do when she got home. If only she could concentrate on how God used her to minister at Spirit Life Conference. She was told over fifty thousand people were there and all of them tried to jam the arena the night she preached. There was standing room only, even in the overflow room. Long gone are the days when no one wanted her to preach in their church. Those days were just a faint memory that seemed so distant and unfamiliar. Back then, she had to pay for her own transportation, hotel and meals to travel to cities to preach. She would leave with only a pat on the back and a “good job” coming from the mouths of the people who invited her. Now, one of the most prominent bishops in America and his wife had invited her to speak. Bishop and First Lady LeBeuf were such gracious hosts. She was given the five-star treatment. She usually didn’t preach conferences like these, but this was Bishop LeBeuf. Who would turn down the bishop?

  She pressed the button on her seat belt, unleashing the restraint from her neck. She leaned back in the seat as the plane leveled off. Shante was so tired she could hardly see straight. If only this flight was longer than an hour she would have a little time to relax. This was her seventh conference in a two-week time span. Her body ached from the trek from South Carolina to Michigan, to Texas, to Atlanta, and now back to South Carolina. It was moments like these that made her long for the days when no one knew her and she could walk down the street without someone recognizing her. It didn’t help to have graced the cover of Ebony magazine. Now, everywhere she went, someone recognized her.

  “Mrs. Patrick, here is your water with lemon,” the flight attendant, Joy, said as she handed her the cold glass. She knew exactly what Shante needed before she asked for it. She had been right by her side during this long trip, making sure the long and short flights were most comfortable. The tapping noise coming from the seat beside her interrupted her thoughts. She glanced to the seat across from her where her assistant, LaToya, was busy at work on her laptop. She had gone over their schedule, which never seemed to allow for a break, during this short trip home. As meticulous as she was, sometimes Shante thought LaToya liked the travel more than she did.

  Shante had a longing in her belly for her husband Max and her children, especially her daughter, Camille. Since she moved to New York to work for Band Entertainment, they rarely saw each other. For years, it was only the two of them, a struggling single parent with a bright and happy child who looked at the world with so much optimism. Now, as she prepared for her wedding, Shante had to schedule her trip to New York to help pick out her daughter’s wedding gown around her appearances on the morning talk shows and three book signings. Her heart ached sometimes when she thought about the many nights they sat in their small apartment, dreaming of the day when they wouldn’t have to worry about anything and could go on fabulous vacations. Somehow, Camille’s dream vacations always had something to do with an amusement park, while Shante’s always included the sun and crystal blue water and people speaking with such strong accents that she wouldn’t care what they were talking about.

  Now, Shante lived in the big mansion that was only a dream so many years ago, and Camille was not there and only came for occasional visits when her busy schedule would allow. Yet, they managed to talk with each other almost every day. It was the highlight of Shante’s day. If only their conversations were not cut short by their hectic lifestyles, she could enjoy them more. Shante wondered how Camille found the time to date this wonderful man she was engaged to. Aaron was a prominent music producer and Christian—the most important thing. He truly loved her and treated her well. He was everything a mother would want for her daughter; a saved, successful man of integrity that treated Camille with respect, dignity and unconditional love.

  She was not the only one with the man of her dreams. Max was Shante’s. When they met in college, he wasn’t the type of guy she wanted to date at the time. Shante wasn’t interested in nerdy, career-minded, goal-oriented men. She liked the pretty boys. Funny how time and life changed the outlook on things. It only took a few years after they left college for them to come back together after her nightmare of a marriage ended and the death of his first wife. It seemed as if they were destined to be together. Both of them were single parents and pastors of churches in Charlotte. When Shante picked up her daughter and left her abusive husband, with only the clothes on their backs, the Holy Spirit guided her directly to him.

  Shante wished she could feel excited about seeing Max, but she was tired. He always greeted her like a soldier returning home from the battle. He prepared all the things any girl in her right mind would want; the perfect welcome home meal, a bubble bath, and a soothing massage to relax her mind. That might sound great, but it always ended with sex when all Shante wanted to do was sleep. However, she had been away two weeks, and she knew her man desired the nooky, and it was up to her to give him what he desired.

  Then there were her boys, her stepsons, although she never called them that. She practically raised them. Their mother died when they were very young and as their godmother, Shante took care of them just like their own mother would. Her boys were a joy to her. Having a teenager and two preteens in the house was always challenging. Hopefully, when she got home, it would be peaceful as long as Jonathan, the oldest, had not been into it with his dad again.

  Since he grew and became as tall as his dad, Jonathan wanted to challenge Max’s authority and pushed them both to the limits. Shante wondered what happened to the mild-mannered son over the past few months. He was like a Jekyll and Hyde. Shante was fully aware that she and Max needed to spend more time with him and his brothers, but their ministries kept them busy. She closed her eyes and prayed for peace when she got home.

  Shante shifted her hips from side to side, trying to find a comfortable spot on the cushioned seat, but she couldn’t relax. There were so many things to do when she got home. As the first lady of Deliverance Temple, she had to complete the plans for the women’s conference and make sure the Women’s Fellowship was flowing in the way the Holy Spirit instructed her.

  Max wanted the traditional first lady, but Shante was never the hat-wearing, sit-on-the-front-row-and-smile type of first lady. He was well aware that the church growth was due to Shante’s ministry and not his. Many people attended their church in Columbia, South Carolina, in an effort to get closer to Shante. It pulled at his ego and had been a constant sore spot in their marriage. However, Shante had to learn to sit back and let him do what God instructed him to do at the church and be his behind-the-scenes advisor and confidante instead of Shante Patrick, the internationally renowned minister.

  “Mrs. Patrick, we’ll be landing in a few minutes,” Joy said as Shante pulled her seat to the upright position and snapped her seat belt in preparation to land. Her forty-six-year-old body ached. She had to get in the gym more. She made a mental note to tell LaToya to schedule some time to work out. She used to work out all the time. Her schedule won’t allow that now, and her body was feeling the results of her busy lifestyle of working all the time, eating on the run and sitting up all night on the computer trying to meet the next publishing deadline. Is this the lifestyle she prayed for?

  There were days when she wanted to be the simple wife and first lady standing at Max’s side. She tried to imagine what that would be like. It might be nice to sit on the front row looking like the best-dressed woman in the church saying, “Bless you, baby,” to everyone who greeted her. But that wasn’t Shante, and she knew it. On days like today, she wished the only thing she had to worry about was what she would wear to church next Sunday.

  In addition to all she had to do, Max had thrown his hat in the political ring and was running for county council. He would make an excellent councilman, as he was passionate about the community and its needs. Shante sensed this was only the beginning, and somehow, she felt he aspired to hold a higher political office. Now she had to be the politician’s wife and people were now going to watch everything she said and did more closely. It wasn’t enough for her ministry to be scrutinized; now it’s going to be her whole life. People had already asked about the missing money from her previous church which she didn’t have anything to do with. Her ex-husband, Kevin, caused such a huge mess in her church. He planted seeds of corruption and scandal that had people questioning Shante’s integrity and speculating that some wrongdoing was going on for both her and Max.

  Max had been defending Shante on every hand. He even produced the private investigator’s report showing Shante had nothing to do with the scandal and it was all a scheme devised by Kevin, her church secretary and members of the church board. However, the press won’t let it go. They were still talking about it as if it happened yesterday instead of years ago. What some people would do to get elected as to stoop as low as this! It was beginning to have an affect on their children. They are the ones who were taking the brunt of the lies when the kids at school questioned and antagonized them.

  The bump of the plane landing shook Shante back to reality. She took a long deep breath. The landscape surrounding the speeding plane rushed past her as it slowed to a stop. Shante didn’t think she had ever been this tired returning from a trip. She needed a vacation. She promised herself she would give up her workaholic ways. As usual, she would stop for a short while, get bored and jump back on the wagon again. It didn’t help that now she had agents, managers, editors and a host of other people who made demands of her time. All of this, in addition to her family and church responsibilities, had stretched her to the limits. How long could she hold up this schedule? She was called to preach the gospel, but at what expense? Her commitment said at all costs, but her body was saying, “slow down.”

  The plane slowly coasted down the small airstrip at the private airfield. She was back home. No five-star hotels or gourmet meals or people waiting on her hand and foot. She glanced at LaToya who was gathering her belongings, preparing to leave the plane. She looked so young, seemingly without a care—no husband, no children to go home to, only the peace and quiet of her apartment. There were times when Shante wished that was her life. But it was only a passing thought as the desire to see her family was overwhelming. She did miss them very much. It was back to reality now. She was no longer the celebrity preacher or New York Times bestselling author. She was Shante Patrick, wife, mother, minister of the Gospel and the first lady.

  2

  “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” Deandrea’s son screamed as he escaped from his towel and ran butt naked down the hall to greet his father. Jarrod had just arrived home from his long trip preaching and hosting a Christian talk show. Her twins, R. J. and Andrea, always managed to hear him when the door opened. Holding her daughter in the crook of her arm, Deandrea chased R. J. down the hallway holding the bath towel in her other hand. They had not seen their father in a week, and they delighted in his presence. Her plans were shot. She wanted to get the children bathed and in bed before her husband, Jarrod, returned home. It didn’t work out this time. He arrived early. Now she was going to have to fight to get them into bed.

  “Whoa, buddy. You got all your stuff hanging out,” Jarrod said to R. J. This was his son. He looked just like him, even at three years old. Deandrea set the squirming child down and watched as she ran to greet her open-armed father. He picked both of them up in his arms and lifted them in the air smiling the entire time. Although he was smiling, his eyes were puffy and looked weak. However, he managed to get enough strength to lift two screaming children in the air. He glanced at Deandrea, winked, and gave a slight smile. He was happy to be at home. Deandrea was glad he was at home. She missed him so much when he travels. That was his calling, to preach the Gospel. He had to do it.

  “R. J., you need to get your pajamas on,” Deandrea said as she reached out and took his hand amid his loud protests. This child was just like his daddy, always wrecking her nerves. When they first met, Pastor Raymond Jarrod Fuller and Deandrea were archenemies. They could not stand being in the same room with each other. The seminary had sent Deandrea to his church to do an internship. It was an instant dislike, to say it mildly. They fought all the time. They even had an incident in his mother’s kitchen. His mother, Miss Essie, had a fit when she came into the kitchen and saw they had torn it up with a food fight. To this day, she didn’t let them eat at the small dining table in her kitchen, afraid they were going to get into another fight. She allowed the children to eat there but not the grown-ups. It always brought a smile to Deandrea’s face, thinking about how they met and how far they had come.

  “R. J., go put on your pajamas, and I’ll come in your room and read you a story,” Jarrod said. Instantly, the toddler stopped his protest and obeyed his father. Jarrod did not need to raise his voice or say anything in anger for this child to snap into obedience and run toward his room.

  Deandrea sighed. He was going to have to teach her how to do that one day. Jarrod turned his attention to his daughter who was still squeezing his leg, afraid to let go, afraid he would leave again. She was a daddy’s girl. She had his eyes, big and round, although not as tired as his, still deep brown and bright as the sun.

  “How’s my little girl? I have something for you,” he said.

  Deandrea turned and followed her son into his room to help him put on his pajamas. He always brought the children something back when he travels. If he had the time, he would bring back a toy. If not, he would pick up some candy in the airport or brought snacks from the plane. They loved it no matter what he gave them. Deandrea reached R. J.’s room in time to see that he had his Bob the Builder pajama shirt on backward. She sat on the bed and helped him put his pajamas on and watched as he ran out of the room toward his daddy.

  Deandrea sat on the bed listening to the sounds of happy children and a tired husband who played in the hallway. She looked around the room of the house Jarrod purchased before they met. They were neighbors in the exclusive subdivision in the suburbs of Greenville, South Carolina, and had never met. When Deandrea found out that her enemy lived in her subdivision, in a house that was bigger than her own, she almost flipped. She would have never thought he could afford to live out there. He wore old outdated clothing with run-over shoes and drove this big goose of a car. He was nothing to look at or aspire to marry. He had a terrible attitude and a quick tongue. Combined with her quick tongue, it led to a lot of heated arguments, and they did not care who listened. Everybody kept telling them they were just alike. She did not see it, and neither did he. They almost hated each other and were willing to give up their dreams to get away from each other. What a difference a few days make.

  “Hey, honey. I’m going to put the kids in bed.” Jarrod walked into the room holding the children’s hands while they sucked on the lollipops he’d purchased in the airport gift shop. The twins leaped onto the bed and leaned against him as he sat in the middle reading a book. He looked up at Deandrea and forced a smile.

 

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