Your Love Is King Page 6

  “Good morning,” she said. “You’re up early for an off day.”

  I opened the refrigerator door and peered inside. “Yeah, I’m going to church, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. You did say something about that the other day.”

  I fixed myself a bagel with cream cheese, a few grapes and strawberries, and took a seat at the table across from Carla.

  “Um, so, does the offer still stand?” she asked.

  “What offer?”

  “To go to church with you guys.”

  I looked up at her. “Of course it does. Carolyn’s picking me up around 10:30.”

  Carla smiled. “Okay, let me go and get ready. Um, which church is it?”

  I shrugged. “I honestly can’t remember the name. Carolyn was invited by a girl who works on the oncology unit. I think her father’s the pastor or something. Anyway, she and Ronda went a couple of weeks ago and she said the service was awesome.”

  “Well, I hope so. I could use some awesome worship right about now.”

  I nodded and watched as she headed out of the kitchen. We could all use that, I thought.

  ~*~

  The four of us filed into the Spirit and Truth Worship Center just minutes before service began. It was a huge church and the sanctuary was full of people. We sat near the back, and I took the few moments to glance through the church bulletin. On the cover was a picture of a handsome, older African American couple—the pastor and his wife.

  As music began to fill the sanctuary, many members of the congregation sprang to their feet and clapped their hands. I ended up having to stand, myself, just to get a good view of the choir. I made a mental note to be sure and get there early next time so I could get a good seat.

  I closed my eyes and swayed and clapped to the rhythm of the music. It felt so good to be in church, and that choir could definitely sing! As the lead singer began singing the first verse of Hezekiah Walker’s “I’ll Make It,” I opened my eyes to get a glimpse of him. I nearly fell over when I saw the man with the smooth voice clutching the microphone, singing his heart out.

  No, it can’t be him, I thought. Maybe I’m just too far back to be sure, but that sure does look like—

  Carla nudged me and whispered, “Hey, isn’t that the white guy from that jazz band up there singing? You know, your Justin Timberfake?”

  “It looks like him, but it can’t be,” I replied without taking my eyes off of him.

  But truthfully, he had the same mannerisms as Chris, and by the end of the song, I was just about certain that it was him. What was he doing in a black church singing like a black man and looking really nice at the same time? He was dressed in a black suit and pink shirt with a black tie, and he sure wore it well.

  The choir finished the song and I took my seat and watched as Chris King walked over to the music pit. I wondered just what he was really all about. I had to admit to myself that there was definitely something intriguing about him and, well, that I was kind of attracted to him. He was tall and handsome and just plain fine, but I still couldn’t see myself dating him. It just seemed too weird.

  The service flowed smoothly, but it was a contrast to the services I was accustomed to. This was a non-denominational church, and several elements of Baptist worship were missing. It was definitely a different experience for me, but I liked it. The sermon was a powerful mixture of preaching and teaching, and the pastor was full of fire!

  After the service ended, I quickly made my way to the front to speak to Chris and found myself at the rear of a crowd of his admirers. Evidently, several of the women at the church had set their sights on Mr. Chris King, and I can honestly say that I understood why. He seemed like quite a catch.

  I stood there and waited for a few moments before deciding to leave. I hated to keep my friends waiting. I had just made it back to where Carolyn, Ronda, and Carla were waiting for me when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Startled, I spun around to see that it was Chris.

  “Ms. Marli! I thought that was you,” he said with a bright smile.

  I couldn’t help but to smile back. “Yeah, I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed service, but you were occupied back there. You have a great voice.”

  “Thanks. I really appreciate that. That song is a little above my octave range, though.”

  I shook my head. “No, you were perfect.”

  “Well, thanks again.”

  We stood there in awkward silence for a moment and since I didn’t have the good sense to do it, my friends introduced themselves to him.

  Chris smiled and shook their hands. “I’m Chris King. Nice to meet you all.” He turned to me and asked, “Um, have you thought anymore about that date?”

  I adjusted my purse on my shoulder. “Um, well…”

  “Well, if you’re game, you can take me up on that offer right now,” he continued.

  I glanced at Carla and the other ladies. “Well, Chris, I kinda made plans already.”

  “No, no. You can eat dinner with us anytime,” Carla said with a sly smile.

  “Yes, you two go right ahead,” Ronda interjected.

  “Um, uh…” I stammered. Were they trying to set me up?

  “Well, Ms. Marli. What do you say?”

  “Um… okay, I guess,” I finally answered with a shrug. What else was I supposed to say?

  I said my goodbyes to my companions and followed Chris out to his vehicle.

  “Where are we gonna eat?” I asked as he drove through a neighborhood of well-kept homes with neat lawns.

  He glanced at me and smiled. “The best place in town.”

  “Oh, okay. What do they serve?”

  “Soul food.”

  I laughed. “Soul food?”

  “Yeah, soul food. You don’t like soul food?”

  I raised my eyebrows and looked over at him. “So because I’m black I gotta like soul food?”

  He flashed me a serious look. “Why you gotta go there? Is everything about race with you? I just thought you’d like the food, that’s all.”

  I dropped my eyes, feeling a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It was a joke, really.”

  “Well, would you rather we ate something else?” he asked, still sounding serious.

  I shook my head and quietly said, “No, it’s okay.”

  “You sure? I don’t want you thinking that I’m trying to stereotype you or racially profile you or something.”

  I sighed. “I said it’s fine, and I really am sorry.”

  He smiled. “Okay, we’re here then.”

  He pulled the car onto the driveway in front of a neat, two-story house only a few blocks from the church.

  “This is a restaurant?” I asked as he opened the car door for me.

  “Nope, it’s my parents’ house.”

  My eyes widened as I looked up at his face. “Your parents’ house?! You want me to meet your parents? Chris, you don’t even know me.” This might sound bad, but the thought of sitting at a table full of white people eating dinner really did not appeal to me.

  “I’m tryna get to know you… if you’ll let me. By the way, what’s your last name?”

  “See, this is crazy. You don’t even know my last name!” I whispered as we approached the front door.

  He raised his eyebrows. “That’s why I’m asking. What is it?”

  I shook my head. “Meadows. It’s Marli Meadows.”

  “Okay, dang. Was that so hard, woman?” he said as if I was being absurd.

  I rolled my eyes. “How do you know they’ll even want to meet me?”

  “Because I know my own parents. Stop being so uptight.”

  I had just about decided at that point to turn around and leave. I could’ve called Carla for a ride or even called for a cab. Nevertheless, I stayed. Maybe I wanted to see his parents’ reaction to me. But then again, if he’d really never dated inside his race, there might not have been any reaction at all. For whatever reason, I didn’t leave Chris’s side, and I didn’t resist when he grabbed
my hand and held onto it.

  Chris rang the doorbell and we stood there for what seemed like hours before a familiar-looking black woman finally answered the door. Wow, they have a maid, I thought. No wonder he can afford that Mercedes.

  A huge smile spread across her face as she reached up and hugged Chris. “Chris! I didn’t know you were coming for dinner. Thought you’d be headed back out of town with the band.”

  “Naw, we don’t leave until the middle of next week. Besides, you know I wasn’t gonna miss Sunday dinner at home,” he replied as he planted a kiss on her cheek. Then he turned to me. “Marli, this is my mama, Elizabeth King. Mama, this is Marli Meadows. She’s new to St. Louis.”

  I know I must’ve been looking crazy as I mechanically shook Mrs. King’s hand. This woman was Chris’s mother? It couldn’t be. Chris was not mixed. He was very obviously white. Wasn’t he?

  “Hi,” I said weakly.

  “Nice to meet you, Marli,” she said warmly and then returned her attention to Chris. “Chris, your father’s in the living room. Dinner’s not quite ready yet.”

  He kissed her on the cheek again. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Chris held my hand as he led me through the foyer and into the modestly decorated living room. The house was filled with the aroma of something truly heavenly. I couldn’t readily identify what was cooking, but it definitely smelled good.

  When we reached the living room and I saw Mr. King sitting in a recliner, I realized why Mrs. King had looked so familiar. I’d seen their faces on the front of the church bulletin. Mr.—or should I say Reverend—and Mrs. King were the pastor and first lady of the church.

  “Old man, how’d y’all get here so quick?” Chris quipped as he approached his father.

  Rev. King stood from his chair and embraced Chris. “Chris! I wasn’t expecting you.” He smiled at me. “Who we got here?”

  “Dad, this is Marli. She’s new in town. I told her this is the best place to eat in St. Louis.”

  Rev. King shook my hand. “Well, you won’t be disappointed. My Lizzie can sure enough cook.”

  I smiled. “Thanks for having me.”

  “No problem. Any friend of Chris’s is welcome here. He’s my special boy, you know,” he said as he looked proudly up at Chris, who stood a couple of inches taller than his father.

  I smiled and took a seat on the sofa. Chris sat next to me and engaged his father in warm conversation as we waited for dinner. I could tell that they really shared a special bond.

  I glanced around the room and eyed the photographs that decorated the various tables as well as the top of a piano. There were a few family portraits which included Rev. and Mrs. King, Chris and three young ladies. Chris was the only white person in any of the photos. There were pictures of him and the girls as children, teenagers, all the way up to adulthood.

  This really was his family, and I was itching to know how it all came to be, but I dared not ask him and sound even more race-obsessed than he already thought I was. I turned my attention back to his and his father’s conversation and tried to push the questions out of my head.

  “So Marli, how long have you been here in town?” Rev. King asked.

  “Um, a little over a month,” I replied.

  “Marli’s a nurse, like Ava,” Chris offered.

  “Really? You working over at University, too?” Rev. King queried.

  “Um, yes, sir. I’m on a three-month assignment there. I’m from Arkansas.”

  “Arkansas. Got some relatives in Arkansas. Never can remember the name of the town, though. How’s your stay here been so far?”

  “Good. I like it here.”

  “Good, then maybe you’ll decide to stay,” Chris said with a wide grin.

  Ten

  “I Never Thought I’d See the Day”

  Dinner was nice, really nice. Mrs. King lived up to her reputation, and I thoroughly enjoyed her chicken and dressing, green beans, and homemade macaroni and cheese. After dinner, two of Chris’s sisters, Ava and Lana, showed up and shared chocolate pie with us. They were both beautiful, short, and round, just like their mother.

  During my visit, I learned that Chris was the oldest child and that Ava was the baby. Ava, of course, was a nurse, and Lana was a teacher. A third sister, Jayne, lived in Chicago and was a pastor’s wife and stay-at-home mom.

  Being there with them felt nice. They were a very close-knit family, and the love they shared was infectious. Chris was the adored big-brother, and he took his role as the protector of his sisters very seriously. He was both comfortable with and accepted by his family, two things that were never true of me and my family.

  We’d been at his parents’ house for hours, and I really wouldn’t have minded staying longer, but right before nightfall, Chris decided to take me home. As we rode along in his Mercedes, I peered out the side window with a faint smile on my face.

  “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked.

  I turned to him and nodded. “Yeah, I did. Your family is wonderful. You’re very lucky.”

  “I am,” he agreed. “I thank God for them every day.”

  “You should.”

  A few minutes later, Chris parked his car on the lot in front of my building. He turned to me and smiled. “So, when are you gonna ask me why I’m a white man with a black family?”

  I shook my head. “I wasn’t gonna ask.”

  “Really? You’re not curious at all?”

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t curious. I just figured if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me sooner or later.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “So you plan on there being a later for us, huh?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. Anything’s possible.”

  “It sure is.” He paused. “Okay, so my mama, Mrs. King, was really good friends with my biological mother; they grew up together. They were more like sisters, really. When she and my father, Rev. King, were newlyweds, they would babysit me all of the time. Mama didn’t know until after my biological parents died in a car accident that they’d put it in their will for her and my dad to raise me if anything happened to them, since neither of them had any family left. I was only a year old when they died. I’ve been a King ever since.”

  “Wow, so they adopted you, officially?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, but they let me keep my original last name, Russell. When I turned twelve, I told them I wanted it changed. That’s when I became a King.”

  “That’s beautiful, Chris. It’s plain to see how loved you are. Your parents are some good people.”

  “Yeah, they sure are.”

  “Was it odd, you know, being the only white person in a black family?”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. I don’t even remember my biological parents. This is the only family I’ve ever known, and my parents never treated me any different than they did my sisters. I was praised when I did good and punished when I misbehaved just like Lana, Ava, and Jayne. I didn’t even realize there was anything different about me until I got a lot older, like seven or eight.”

  “Really? What happened then?”

  “Some kids at school teased me about my family being black and me being white, called me some weird names. I ran home and told my mama what they said and she explained to me that I was different, but that there was nothing wrong with me. I never forgot that.”

  “Well, you are different, but in a good way.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Aw, thanks, Ms. Marli. I’m glad you think so.”

  We sat there in silence for a few moments and then I said, “Well, I guess I’d better be heading on up there.” I gestured toward the apartment building.

  Chris smiled. “Yeah, let me walk you.”

  “I can take care of myself, you know? I don’t have to have an escort.”

  “Aw, now. I’m just getting to know you. I can’t let anything happen to you.”

  He grabbed my hand and we walked silently through the building to my floor. Once we reached my door, he leaned over and kissed me sof
tly on the cheek.

  “Thanks for having dinner with me and my family, Ms. Marli,” he whispered.