“What if something happens to—?”
“Hello.” Mr. Lambert entered the open bedroom door. “We’re running late for the church. Your sister went ahead with the kids, except for Joel. He wants to ride with us.” Mr. Lambert strolled over to Monica and took the sleeping baby from her arms. “I’ll put him in his car seat. Come on, ladies, let’s go. People are waiting for us at the church.” Mr. Lambert left the bedroom with the baby.
“Ready?” Mother Lambert asked Monica as she stood to her feet.
Monica took a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be,” she replied, slipping her feet into a pair of black high heel pumps. Next, Monica scooped up off the bed a big, black hat with white ribbons around it and slipped it on her head. “Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
Mother Lambert took her daughter’s hand in her own, and the ladies walked outside where Mr. Lambert and Joel were waiting by the SUV.
Joel walked up to Monica, wrapped his arms around her, and said in a trembling voice, “It’s going to be all right, Miss Monica. God has got him now.”
Monica squeezed Joel gently, then pulled back to look at him. Tears filled her eyes as she took in the distinguished-looking young man decked out in his black-and-white suit. “You look so much like your father,” she said, straightening Joel’s black tie. “Okay. I guess we should go.”
Minutes later, with everyone loaded in the van, Mr. Lambert drove out of the driveway onto the main street. Monica was wringing her hands and breathing nervously through her mouth as she gazed through the window deep in thought.
“Seems like we have a great turnout today,” Mr. Lambert noted as he pulled into the church’s crowded parking lot. “All the spots are gone,” he complained, driving around and searching for somewhere to park. There was nothing available. “Okay, I’m going to let you guys off here. I’ll drive around to the back and see if I can find a space.” Mr. Lambert unlocked the doors, got out, then helped his wife with the baby out of the van.
Joel hopped out as well. “Miss Monica?” He looked up at her anxiously. “Come.” He held out his hand to Monica, who was still sitting in the van.
Monica took a deep breath and released it. She took ahold of Joel’s hand and stepped out of the van. Up ahead, the small church appeared like Mount Everest. Suave is in that church, Monica thought. Lord, I never thought I’d see this day.
“I have the baby. Come on.” Mother Lambert walked toward the church with the baby over her shoulder, leaving Monica and Joel to follow.
As they slowly walked down the aisle to their seats at the front, Monica noticed that the church was packed to capacity. The organist was playing a somber rendition of “Amazing Grace,” which only intensified Monica’s anxiety.
Monica sat at the end of the long bench in the front that was reserved for the family. She looked over at her sister and Suave’s children—Raven, Rayden, Janelle, Alissa, Angel, Tiana, and Natasaja, and also little Mr. Chin. Joel was seated in the second row beside Mother Lambert, now holding his sleeping brother in his arms.
“Praise the Lord, brethren,” Associate Pastor Reverend Deeks said loudly into the microphone. The organist stopped playing, and everyone grew quiet. “Thank you all for coming out this morning. Romans 6:4 declares, ‘Therefore we are buried with him by baptism into death: that like as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so, we also should walk in newness of life.’ Glory be to God.”
“Hallelujah,” “Glory,” “Amen” filled the church.
“Everyone, please stand to your feet.”
With a loud sigh, Monica stood. She looked up at the pulpit, noticing that a black curtain blocked off most of it from the congregation.
“Firstly, we welcome the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost in our midst today.” The curtain was pulled back to reveal a glass pool in the middle of the pulpit. Standing in the water was the senior pastor, Reverend Harper. Beside him was a tall man wearing a white shirt and white pants, his long dreads pulled back in a ponytail hanging down his back.
Monica burst into tears, and the children screamed. Mother Lambert began speaking in tongues, waking up the baby, and Mr. Lambert yelled from the back of the church, “Won’t He do it!”
The congregation clapped and cheered excitedly.
Suave lifted his hand and waved, a stream of water running down his face. Through his tears, Suave saw the blurry images of his family and cried harder. Sixteen months ago, he never thought he would ever see their faces again when he was shot and left for dead.
* * *
“Suave!” Alwayne screamed, jumping the steps two at a time to get to the body lying on the ground. “Someone call 119! Hurry!”
At least four church brothers were on their cell phones calling for help for Suave.
Alwayne knelt beside Suave, unaware that Suave’s blood was seeping into his pants. He grabbed Suave’s hand and felt for a pulse... but nothing. “Suave,” Alwayne repeated over and over. He pressed his finger to Suave’s neck, but he still didn’t feel a pulse.
“Gather around and pray!” Bishop Hudson instructed, and everyone complied, beating on heaven’s door on Suave’s behalf as they waited on the ambulance.
Alwayne sobbed openly. “You have come such a long way, Suave. Fight! You hear me, Suave? Fight for your life, my friend.”
A few minutes later, an ambulance screeched into the church’s parking lot, siren blaring and lights flashing. Two paramedics jumped out with a gurney and ran over to Suave. “Out of the way, sir,” one said to Alwayne. He quickly felt for a pulse, looked up at his colleague, and shook his head. As one paramedic began CPR on Suave, the other paramedic applied pressure to the bullet hole in Suave’s stomach.
“Keep praying, brethren.” Bishop Hudson was speaking in an unknown language, walking
