Diary of a Mad First Lady (30 page)

“I . . . I can’t just pack up and leave,” I stuttered. “I have a job. A home. A church that I’m heavily involved in. How do you expect me to just move so hastily?”

He released my arm as people began coming out. “You have two weeks to do whatever you need to do. After then, if you are still here, I promise you I will be having a meeting with the pastor and his wife. I’m sure they would love to alert the police of your violation of their restraining order,” he said as a smirk came across his face.

Doubt crept into the crevices of my mind. How could everything I’d worked for be vanishing before my eyes? I’d done everything to not get caught, but had yet gotten caught. If he or Twylah exposed me, then I was sure to end up in jail. No judge would ever understand that I’d done everything I’d done in the name of love. No one would understand the depths or the heights one was willing to journey to be with the one they cared about.

“Do we have a deal, Ms. Carlton?” he asked again.

“Yes,” I replied.

He smiled. “Good.”

I turned to walk away.

“Oh, and Daphne?” he called, louder than I wanted him to.

“Yes?”

“Nice seeing you again.”

With that, he went the other way. I watched him saunter away, proud of what he’d done. Little did he know, this was not enough to stop me. I had two weeks to figure out what I was going to do, and when you’d been waiting as long as I had to finally get what you wanted, nothing would stop you.

And two weeks was plenty of time.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Daphne

Three days had passed since my encounter with Solomon. I’d tried unsuccessfully to find out the whereabouts of Twylah. She was the biggest threat to me; not her brother. Hopefully, that amnesia was still in effect, because the last thing I needed was her returning and stirring up trouble for me before I could accomplish my goal.

Today, my newfound plan was going into full swing. I realized that my hopes of staying in Atlanta after Darvin and I were married had been dashed.

If Twylah was going to be living here with her brother, then surely they would cause trouble for me. So, the question then became, how would I ever convince Darvin to leave the sacred Mount Zion Baptist Church?

I smiled at my own brilliant plan. I could not believe that after all of this time, I never even considered the possibility of what was to come.

As I maneuvered my way through security at the Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport in Atlanta, I looked down at my plane ticket. I was headed to Baltimore to meet with the fine folks of the Bethelite International Baptist Church. They had been trying to contact Darvin in hopes of getting him to replace the pastor that had recently died. I remembered hearing Darvin mention it a time or two, but I didn’t put much thought into it.

Until now.

The members at Bethelite had been brushed off time after time by those intercepting the calls at the church. All staff and leaders had been instructed by Michelle to forward all calls from them to the voicemail—ultimately to the trash pile.

I happened to be in a meeting one night when a call from Mrs. Ruby Jiles, chairwoman of Bethelite’s pulpit search committee, had come through. Tony, our church’s graphic designer, picked up the call, and later explained to the three of us in the meeting that the woman had been desperately trying to get a phone conversation with Darvin. At that time, I couldn’t fathom Darvin speaking with anyone from another church, especially if they were trying to recruit him. I didn’t want him to even consider moving away from Atlanta. Away from me.

Three days ago, I changed my mind. It was the perfect solution to my problem. Bethelite was a much-respected church in Maryland, and according to the gossip floating around in the various ministry circles, every hopeful pastor and current pastor alike was trying to court Bethelite’s search team in hopes of becoming their next pastor. They were a five-thousand member congregation in one of the richest areas in Baltimore. From my own research and findings, I discovered that the coveted position meant a substantial, high six-figure salary, a comprehensive benefits package, four weeks paid vacation, a sprawling 10,000 square-foot mini-mansion (in the name of a parsonage), two vehicles—one for the pastor and one for his spouse—and other perks that made me hop on Priceline.com to book my plane ticket.

I had a friend from back home in Florida design a new website for Mount Zion, which boasted a picture of Darvin as the pastor and me as his new wife. When I’d contacted the church office, I gave them the link to the “new” site that posted additional contact information for Darvin. Mrs. Jiles returned my call within the same hour, and was immediately thrilled that she had finally made headway, in hopes of trying to secure Darvin as their next pastor.

We had a great conversation. I informed her that Darvin would not be able to make the initial visit that they were requesting with their board of directors, but that I would come in his stead, to make the initial introduction and express any concerns or questions he might have in considering their offer.

Much to my surprise, it worked. She was more than happy to have me come up and speak to them. She expressed that they had been trying to reach his wife, when unsuccessful at reaching him, but to no avail. So, speaking to me was just as good.

I smiled as I took my first class seat on the plane. In a few hours, I would be taking on my first major role as Darvin’s wife, at the new church we were going to be leading. I had no doubt in my mind that they would offer the position to Darvin; they had sought him too aggressively. And by the time I finished my introduction, they would be calling before I could land back in Atlanta, practically begging him to take the job.

I squiggled in my seat until I found the most comfortable position to lay back and get some rest. There was a long day ahead of me, and I needed to make sure I was alert and ready for any questions they might throw at me. I was sure they were going to ask what happened to his first wife, but I already had an answer. A good one, too.

The limo driver picked me up, and talked the entire ride about how excited everyone was about meeting me.

“Lady Johnson, we have been planning for the last couple of days to make your stay in Baltimore a very comfortable and enjoyable one,” he said.

“We are elated that you are here.”

Lady Johnson. I loved the way that sounded.

“And I sure do appreciate all that you’ve done. The hotel accommodations that you all made, I must say, were truly above par.”

“Well, we try to display a spirit of excellence in all that we do, and we stop at nothing to make sure our leaders and our guests are taken care of,” he said, placing emphasis on
leaders
.

I was at a loss for words. So, is this what it felt like to be a first lady? I could definitely get used to this. I looked out at the scenic attractions we were whizzing by, and silently thanked God for once again coming through for me.

When I walked into the massive edifice of Bethelite International Baptist Church, I was awestruck. It reminded me of the first time I’d gone to Mount Zion, only this church was twice its size. Every imaginable amenity a church could have was found in this building. There were flat screens built into almost every wall, with videos of ministers welcoming anyone who might walk through the doors. There was a coffee shop located off of the main lobby, and a bookstore attached to it.

Now, as I was standing in the foyer, tears were forming in my eyes. Here I was, preparing to meet with a team who would one day consider me their first lady. It was such a relief to know that no one at this church could ever hold anything over my head about my past, or anything I’d done. No one here would ever find out who I truly was. Yes, I was safe here. Peace and serenity enveloped me like a mother to her newborn baby. The fight was almost over.

“Lady Johnson,” a small, petite woman said as she made her way to me.

She extended her hand to shake mine. “My name is Sister Charlene McHammond. I am the church’s executive director of administration, and will be escorting you to the area where the meeting will take place. On behalf of our great staff and board, we are so glad that you made it to our city safely, and we anticipate a wonderful evening of fellowship with you.”

“Thank you. I’m honored to be here.”

Wow. What a professional introduction. She could teach Mount Zion’s staff a thing or two.

We both said our good-byes to the limo driver, and I thanked him for his hospitality.

The woman and I went down a hall and through some double doors that led to another part of the huge building that was labeled
THE
ADMINISTRATIVE
WING
II

We breezed by one office after another. I wondered how many people were on their staff. From the looks of it, it took an enormous amount of people to run such a large organization.

As we walked, I took in the photographs of former pastors, their wives, and children, if they had them. I couldn’t wait for Darvin’s and my face to grace the church’s hall of fame.

There were also pictures of children playing at past events, and pictures of celebrities who were either members or had visited the church at one time. However, the last picture struck a nerve with me. It was a picture of Jesus, with a scripture underneath it that read:

B
E
NOT
DECEIVED
, G
OD
IS
NOT
MOCKEDFOR
:
WHATSOEVER
A
MAN
SOW
,
THAT
SHALL
HE
ALSO
REAP
.–G
ALATIANS
6:7

I almost went into a coughing fit. Those words inscribed on that gold plate underneath that picture were the same my mother had last spoken to me. I hated I’d ever seen that darn picture, because now I would be haunted by its words.

“Is everything okay, Lady Johnson?” the woman asked, noticing my slower pace.

Once again, hearing someone refer to me as Lady Johnson sparked my fire. “Oh, yes. I’m sorry. I was just taking the time to admire the pictures on the wall,” I lied.

“Okay, well, we are here.”

Butterflies, birds, and any other flying creature were flying around in my stomach. Nervousness was overtaking me. Excitement had the best of me. I was becoming an emotional mess.

We walked in. “Fellow church members and board of directors, please welcome Lady Dawn Johnson,” Charlene said.

Applause erupted in the room. Were they clapping for me, at my arrival? Say it wasn’t so.

“Thank you—all of you. It is such a delight to be among you this evening.”

An older, bald gentleman wearing a three-piece suit with an antique timepiece hanging out of its front pocket, said, “No, we are delighted that you’ve come. My name is Elijah Skoch.” I could tell he was very distinguished.

“Lady Johnson, I’m Ruby Jiles. We’ve been speaking on the phone the last couple of days.”

“Aw, yes! How are you?” I moved to hug her. I felt as if I’d known her forever.

She smiled. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the team.”

One by one, she introduced me to two additional females and three additional men. Alice Manning was the first female. She looked to be in her late forties. Bertha Parker was the other woman, and reminded me of my high school librarian. I wondered what part she played in the decision making. Deacons Larry Parkison and Scott Wilborn were the last two men to be introduced. They seemed to be the no-nonsense type, and had very formally shaken my hand.

“Now that we’ve all had our introductions, why don’t we get started with this meeting?” Mrs. Jiles said.

They pointed to the seat they had reserved for me at the head of the twelve-person conference table. At my place, someone had positioned a notepad, a pen, a bottle of Evian, mints, and a tray of assorted fruits.

“Lady Johnson, I guess we’ll get straight to the question we’re all dying to know. When did the wedding take place between you and Pastor Johnson?” Mrs. Jiles asked. She looked around at the others. “We thought it was a little odd that he was married again so soon. We remember when he got married to his first wife a few years ago. Never really met her, but because Pastor came up to preach often, we knew of his nuptials.”

Okay, so they were going for the big one off the top. I was already prepared. “Well, we are newlyweds, Mrs. Jiles. We’ve tried to keep it under the radar a little, because we didn’t know how people would accept our decision to be married so soon after his divorce became final. But, nonetheless, Darvin needed a helpmate to assist him in this ministerial journey, and that happened to be me. We were in love, and I’m sure you know that you can’t help who you fall in love with, or when you fall in love with them.” I took a sip of water. “So, here I am.”

“What happened to his first wife? Why did they divorce, if you don’t mind me asking? Was another woman involved?”