Tender to the Touch, page 1
Tender to the Touch
Nicole S. Rouse
www.urbanchristianonline.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Readers’ Guide Questions
About Author
Copyright Page
As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens
another.
~Proverbs 27:17
A good friend is not someone who has to agree with everything you say and do.
A good friend is someone who challenges you to be a better person.
This book is dedicated to all my good sister friends. . . .
Acknowledgments
My relationship with God has been the greatest blessing in my life! As I enter a new season, I have learned to trust Him a little more and complain a whole lot less.
There are so many people that have touched my life during this literary journey. I’d like to thank:
My exceptional mother and wonderful family. I am blessed to have you all in my life.
Dannette Hargraves and Jenlene Arrington for listening to my ideas at all hours of the day and keeping me motivated.
My agent, Sha-Shana Crichton, and my editor, Joylynn Jossel-Ross, for their encouragement and inspiration. I appreciate your wisdom and guidance.
My sorors and friends. Life just wouldn’t be the same without your presence.
My pastor, Bishop Millicent Hunter, and The Baptist Worship Center family. What an awesome place to learn and grow stronger in Christ.
Church ministries (especially First Baptist in Jeffersontown, Kentucky), book clubs (especially Valencia Samuel’s book club in Illinois. I miss you ladies!), bookstores, libraries, sororities (especially Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc.), and my faithful readers and supporters.
I pray that you’ll enjoy Tender to the Touch. . . .
Prologue
The blood covering J. Amanda’s hands did not belong to her. Neither did the blotches of blood on her casual brown khakis. In total shock, she dragged her body across the recently remodeled kitchen floor, and as she leaned against the refrigerator, she stared at the faint smears of blood that had trailed her. Numb to her surroundings, J. Amanda wiped her trembling hands on her pants, then subconsciously reached for the gold cross hanging from her neck. Oh my God! What just happened? she asked herself.
As she looked around the kitchen, she covered her mouth with her red-stained hands. The smell of death surrounded her. How could she be so foolish? In her quest to find happiness, she had damaged the lives of her loved ones and close friends. What had happened in the kitchen was all her fault, and no one could convince her otherwise. “This can’t be real,” she mumbled in disbelief. “God wouldn’t do this to me. I’m only thirty-nine years old.”
Feeling like a failure, J. Amanda crawled back to the center of the room in tears and stopped by the gun that had fired the fatal shot. It was only a matter of time before the police arrived, and she knew that once they assessed the scene of the crime, she would be headed to jail.
J. Amanda had disappointed everyone—her family, her friends, her ministry, and, most of all, God.
Reaching for the gun lying by her leg, she wiped the tears from her cheeks with each arm. This is the price I have to pay for taking my eyes off of you, she sobbed. Then, slowly, J. Amanda closed her eyes as she lifted the gun to her temple, and in a childlike voice she moaned, “I’m so sorry, God.”
Chapter 1
J. Amanda
Instead of getting ready for bed at 11:15 on a Tuesday night, Jennifer Amanda King sat in a parked car, dressed in black sweats and combat boots, on a tiny street in West Philadelphia. With eyes glued to the clock on the dashboard, Jennifer anxiously tapped the steering wheel with her left hand. If her instincts were correct, tonight would be the beginning of her initiation into Eta Omicron Pi Sorority, Inc.
Jennifer couldn’t believe the moment had finally arrived. Since she was five years old, her paternal grandmother had groomed her to be a part of the family legacy, and she couldn’t wait to become a member. The sisters of Eta Omicron Pi were intelligent, driven, and creative women who had a passion for uplifting and serving the community. They were also fun-loving and the best female steppers on campus.
At 11:18, someone dressed in similar clothing rushed past Jennifer’s Ford Mustang. Jennifer’s eyes followed the young woman as she hurried down the street and into the house that she would soon enter as well. It was dark outside, but she recognized Kenya Harris’s short auburn Afro. It was no surprise that Kenya would also be one of the interested women invited tonight. Jennifer had seen her at several of the sorority’s events. Though she hadn’t developed a friendship with Kenya, they acknowledged one another in passing on campus.
When Kenya entered the house, Jennifer glanced at the clock again. Eleven twenty-three. She still had seven minutes. Jennifer played with the keys dangling from the ignition. Patience was not an inherent trait. She wanted to get out of the car and walk up and down the block to waste time, but it was late and she didn’t want to risk being seen. She also didn’t know much about West Philadelphia neighborhoods. Though she grew up in Camden, New Jersey, and was familiar with inner-city living, Jennifer often said, “I’m only comfortable in my hood.”
Besides the fact that she was in a strange place and was wary about her surroundings, Yolanda, the current president of the sorority, had given Jennifer strict instructions. “Come to my house dressed in black sweats, black army boots, and white undergarments at eleven thirty. Not one minute earlier or later.”
Before Jennifer could ask questions, Yolanda had hung up the phone. Such impolite behavior would’ve rubbed some people the wrong way, but Jennifer knew better. Her aunts, who pledged at different schools, had informed her that this would happen. It was also a clear indication that the pledge process was about to begin.
Jennifer turned off the car and wondered who else would be inside the house. Aside from the eight members in the chapter, the young women with whom she’d share this experience would also be in attendance. Kenya would be one of them, and so would Tionna Jenkins.
Discretion was key, and all the interested women were told not to share the details of their conversations with anyone, but Jennifer and Tionna had bonded as friends their freshmen year at Temple and made a pact to keep one another informed no matter what. Jennifer was glad Tionna was also given instructions to be at the house tonight. She couldn’t think of a better person to go through the process with.
The time on the clock changed to 11:27, and Jennifer thought it was now safe to get out of her car. She’d just have to pace her walk to the house. Though nervous, she was ready. Her grandmother, aunts, and cousins all shared several pledge stories in hopes that Jennifer would be prepared for whatever happened. However, fear of the unknown still loomed over her.
With each step toward her destination, Jennifer recited the first scripture that came to mind to help ease the uneasiness in her stomach.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. . . .”
When Jennifer reached the front steps, she checked the watch on her arm. Eleven twenty-nine. “Perfect!” she mouthed as she climbed the steps and walked to the front door.
Jennifer stared at the watch until the numbers got blurry. She knew she had to follow Yolanda’s instructions, and as she waited for the time to change, Jennifer could hear bouts of laughter inside. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be as bad as she had imagined, after all.
A minute passed, and Jennifer didn’t hesitate to ring the bell. Quickly, she took the watch off her arm and stuffed it into her left pocket. Another minute passed, and she was still waiting outside on the porch. “Can’t they hear the bell?” she mumbled.
Leaning slightly to her left, Jennifer glanced through the front window. There was one light on in the living room, and she could see the shadows of several people standing around. Jennifer twisted her lips and took a deep breath. Should she ring the bell again? Jennifer stood up tall, and as she lifted her hand to ring the bell a second time, the door opened.
The jovial face that once belonged to Yolanda Miller had disappeared.
Unsure of what to say or do, Jennifer smiled and softly said, “Hello.”
“Hey,” Yolanda replied with a slight smirk as she slowly pushed the screen door open. Yolanda looked Jennifer up and down and then motioned for her to come inside.
Carefully, Jennifer walked past Yolanda and stopped in the center of the living room. All the darkened figures that she’d seen through the window a few seconds ago were gone. She heard murmurs coming from the kitchen, but Jennifer didn’t want
“Did you bring the notepad?” Yolanda interrupted as she checked Jennifer’s attire more closely.
With shaking hands, Jennifer reached inside of her bra and pulled out a small notebook.
“Good,” Yolanda said. “Now, follow me.”
Walking a few paces behind Yolanda, Jennifer immediately noticed five women dressed in the exact same attire standing against the wall when they entered the kitchen. All but one of the women she knew.
“Okay, ladies,” Yolanda said to get their attention. “Line up in size order and face your big sisters.”
In less than a minute, the interested women formed a line as they were told. Jennifer stood at the front of the line, followed by the one woman she hadn’t seen before. The woman was trembling, and Jennifer grabbed her hand in hopes that it would put her at ease.
With at least a dozen members surrounding her, Yolanda walked up and down the line, carefully eyeing each potential member as she spoke. “Welcome, ladies. Should you make it through this process, you will be the nineteen eighty-nine fall neophytes of Eta Omicron Pi. The women behind me are now your big sisters, and from this point forward, I am the dean of pledges,” she said proudly. “You will refer to me as Dean Cyclone.”
One of the big sisters handed Yolanda a dark bag. “Face the basement door,” she continued as she took a bunch of blindfolds from the bag. The girls turned to their left, still in a straight line, and one by one, Yolanda blindfolded them all. When she was done, Jennifer could feel Dean Cyclone standing in front of her. “Jennifer, Cynthia, Zora, Kenya, Tionna, and Jasmine, tonight you will . . .” Yolanda stopped mid-sentence. “Wait a minute. I think we have too many Jennifers in this chapter.” Yolanda tapped Jennifer’s shoulder. “What’s your middle name?”
“Amanda,” Jennifer blurted. Anxiety caused her to speak too loudly at times.
There was a brief moment of silence, and then Yolanda spoke again. “From now on, you’ll be called J. Amanda. I think I like the ring of that.” Several big sisters agreed, and Yolanda continued her speech. “Like I was saying, tonight you will begin a process designed for strong and intelligent women. Once you walk down the stairs, you will enter into a new world, one of sisterhood and strength. Should you all finish this pledge process, you will be an official member of the greatest sorority in the world. You will also be a part of a sisterhood that will love you, support you, and stand by you until the end of time. Now, ladies, it’s time for your journey as an Eta woman to begin.”
About eleven years later . . .
J. Amanda rose from her seat on the pulpit and strolled to the podium as Faith Tabernacle’s choir concluded a musical selection. She surveyed the two-thousand-seat sanctuary filled with women and rested her eyes on two special ladies seated on the front row. Though Tionna and Kenya were members of the church and often sat near the front every Sunday, tonight’s women’s fellowship was extra special. The word God had implanted in her spirit was inspired by their friendship. The sermon was also special, because in less than twenty-four hours, she would be heading to Temple University to participate in alumni weekend and reunite with the five women with whom she had pledged Eta Omicron Pi Sorority, Inc. Though she’d been in touch with all of her line sisters through the years, the last time they were all together was close to eleven years ago.
As the choir sang the last note, J. Amanda pulled the microphone close to her mouth. “Hallelujah!” she repeated three times. “Give the Lord a hand clap of praise, for He has been good to all of us. If it had not been for the Lord who was on my side, oh where would I be? If that’s your story tonight, throw your head back and shout, ‘Thank you, Lord.’ For the Lord is great and greatly to be praised.”
Sounds of praise filled the sanctuary, and J. Amanda was overwhelmed with emotion. With little warning, she broke into a dance of praise. Every time she stood before the women of God, she had to thank Him. Going into the ministry was not the plan she had designed for herself.
Growing up in a single-parent home in Camden, New Jersey, as the youngest of five children, she took full advantage of being the “baby” of the family. Before meeting J. Amanda’s father, her mother had been a widow for almost three years. As the story had been told, J. Amanda’s mother wasn’t interested in finding love again. She was focused on raising her four children: Rose, age eleven; Kyle, age ten; and twins Tanya and Tamika; age seven. Eventually, her father’s charm and persistence changed her mother’s mind, and the two began to date. The romance escalated, and in less than a year, J. Amanda was conceived.
This did not go over well with J. Amanda’s paternal family. They didn’t approve of having children out of wedlock. It didn’t take long before the tension between the two families tore her parents apart. Although they never married, both parents played a crucial role in raising her.
By the time J. Amanda was a teenager, her oldest sister, Rose, was living in her own apartment. They wore the same size clothes, so she had access to all her sister’s latest fashions and frequently entertained friends at her sister’s apartment on the weekends. In fact, it was at Rose’s apartment that J. Amanda lost her virginity at the age of fifteen.
Kyle, her older brother, didn’t go out much during the week, because someone had to watch J. Amanda while their mother was working a second job at night. This didn’t keep him from inviting friends over to their home. While Kyle socialized with his friends, J. Amanda would often sneak a beer or a cigarette into her room just for kicks.
J. Amanda’s twin sisters enjoyed entertaining as well. Though they were the first to attend college in their family, they partied on campus just as much as they studied. On the weekends that J. Amanda wasn’t at Rose’s apartment, she was in New Brunswick partying with the twins.
Looking back over her life, she realized there was never a dull moment. Her past was colorful and exhilarating, to say the least, but her father’s family had kept her balanced. While her mother’s family was loud, bold, and social, the other side of her family was conservative and well educated. In fact, J. Amanda’s paternal grandmother took an interest in her after her parents parted ways. She was determined to see that her granddaughter excelled in life. And J. Amanda was grateful. If it hadn’t been for her grandmother, she wouldn’t have gone to college, she wouldn’t have joined a sorority, and she wouldn’t have known about God’s love and power.
Despite attending church most Sundays with her grandmother, J. Amanda limited her relationship with God. God was someone she talked to briefly every morning, as her grandmother had taught her to do. He was also someone she called on in the heat of trouble. She memorized key scriptures but rarely recited or applied them on a daily basis. But something happened one Sunday while she was singing in the young adult choir. As she belted out the lyrics to “I Won’t Complain,” J. Amanda thought about all the times God protected her during the rough seasons in her life, and began to cry. That day, God opened her eyes, and the words to the song became real.
From that day forward, she changed her lifestyle and joined several ministries in the church to keep busy. It didn’t take long for her to stand out as a leader. J. Amanda became a minister at the age of twenty-eight, and God used her experiences, personality, and vigor to encourage and bless others. Ten years later she was a dynamic preacher known throughout Philadelphia and in many parts of New Jersey and Delaware. Women traveled to Faith Tabernacle Church to hear her speak at every third Sunday service and at the women’s fellowship once a month.
J. Amanda stopped dancing around the pulpit and grabbed the microphone from its base. Facing Pastor Olivia T. Bowman, she willed her tears not to fall as she thanked Pastor Olivia for giving her the freedom to spread her wings. Pastor Olivia blew kisses to her protégé, and then J. Amanda turned back to the congregation.
Excited about the word in her heart, she began the sermon with fire and zeal, quickly elevating the emotions of the women. Preaching from the book of First Samuel, she focused on Jonathan, the son of Saul. When she reached the fourteenth chapter, J. Amanda couldn’t keep still. She closed her Bible and then walked to the front of the podium. “The Bible tells us that there was a war going on against the Philistines, and Jonathan felt moved to go to battle without telling his father. But he doesn’t go alone. His armor bearer is with him. Now, this is the part that I like,” she said, dancing from side to side as the organist played a mild beat in between her phrases.
