Reverend Feelgood

by Lutishia Lovely

Genres: Romance

Synopsis

Lutishia Lovely, author of A Preacher’s Passion, pens this provocative tale about a minister and his congregation caught up in a whirlwind of scandal. The young Reverend Nate Thicke has made quite the reputation for himself,but when he falls in love and gets married, he swears to become a one-woman man. Most of his congregation forgives him for his past sins, but some aren’t quite ready to give the Reverend a second chance.

Release date: March 1, 2012

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 336

Sample

Three Years Earlier

Nate Thicke yawned, casually stretched his six-foot-three-inch frame, and gave the woman beside him a kiss on the forehead before getting out of bed. He strolled from the king-sized showpiece to the master bath in all his naked glory. At twenty-eight, he was in the best shape of his life, thanks to a mindful diet and the recent addition of a personal trainer to his church’s official staff.

The woman in his bed, his administrative assistant, Ms. Katherine Noble, admired his plump, hard backside and long, strong legs as he left the room. She especially loved how his dark brown blemish-free skin glistened with the fine sheen of sweat that had resulted from their lovemaking. They’d been lovers for a long time, and while she knew their relationship would never be more than that—had known from the beginning—she had fallen in love with him anyway. Even though she knew the day would come when he would take a wife and start a family. Even as she hoped he could continue to be her spiritual covering, her sexual satisfaction, as both his father and grandfather before him had been. Katherine had been a Thicke woman for generations.

Katherine rose and walked to a floor-length mirror that occupied a corner of the elegantly decorated bedroom, the black, tan, and deep purple color scheme her design. She eyed herself objectively, critically, turning this way and that. At fifty-three, her body easily looked ten years younger. It still held most of its firmness, her butterscotch skin was still smooth and supple. The stretch marks from her single pregnancy thirty-two years ago were long gone, rubbed away with cocoa butter and the luck of excellent genes. She tossed her shoulder-length hair away from her face, brought her image closer to the mirror. The fine crow lines around her eyes and on her forehead were deepening slightly, she noticed, and she detected a puffiness that hadn’t been there five years ago. There was a slight sag to her chin, and even though she’d been the same weight for twenty-five years, it looked as if her cheeks were sunken, hollow, and not in a good way. These imperfections were not noticeable to the average observer. Most people who saw Katherine either admired or envied her for the attractive woman she was.

She turned to the side and continued her perusal, a frown accompanying her critique. Her butt had never been big, but it had always been firm. Until now. Now it hung loose and soft, like a deflated balloon, obeying the gravity that she tried to defy. A discernible dimpling of unwanted cellulite challenged her vow not to age. She cupped her cheeks, pushed them up, and thought about butt implants.

“Get out of the mirror. You’re still fine.” Nate walked from the bathroom into his massive closet and began to dress.

“I’m sure you say that to all your women,” Katherine responded, without rancor. “But even if you’re lying, it makes me feel so good.”

Thirty minutes later, a showered and dressed Katherine sat across the desk from Nate in his roomy, masculine home office. She looked the epitome of decorum in her black skirt that hung below the knee, and a pink and black polka-dotted blouse with a frilly lace collar that tickled her chin. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, and black, rectangular reading glasses sat perched on her nose. Anyone entering would see a scene of utmost respectability.

A “matronly” older woman who had known Nate since he was born, Katherine had been considered the perfect choice as his assistant when he became senior pastor four years ago, the perfect barrier between him and all the young, single female members who clamored for his “counsel.” Her position was the perfect cover for their ongoing liaison. No one ever questioned why she was in his home; no one guessed that she spent as much time in his bedroom as she did in his office. Of course, Nate’s residence in a gated and guarded community was beneficial as well—very few eyes could pry.

“You had something you wanted to discuss with me?” Katherine asked after Nate had finished a call with a church deacon.

“Yes,” he answered.

Katherine waited. In bed, at first, she had been the teacher, he the student. She had been the older woman, he the enthralled teenager. She’d been in control. But those roles had reversed a long time ago. Now he was her boss, and the more experienced lover. He was now clearly in control. So now, even though she could tell that his mind was in turmoil, she didn’t push, but waited until he was ready to speak.

Nate cleared his throat and began toying with a paper weight on his desk. It wasn’t so much that he was getting ready to talk with Katherine about what God had told him; she’d often been a sounding board. It’s just that this time, he wasn’t sure how she’d react to what he had to say.

“The Lord has spoken to me,” he began in a tone of authority. “He has given me confirmation on who’s to be my wife.”

Katherine let out the breath she’d been holding. Is that all? she thought. At once, she quelled the surge of jealousy that rose to the surface, determined to not deny this woman what she knew she could never have, Nate’s hand in marriage. It was why she’d denied her own feelings when Nate came to her some years ago and said he’d been led to become Simone’s biblical covering. How could she protest his decision to have sex with her daughter? Katherine, along with the older Thicke men, had been Nate’s mentors, his example, encouraging him to indulge his conjugal rights as a spiritual leader in their church. That’s how he had wound up in Katherine’s bed. And now, this is how she would always have a key to his home . . . as his mother-in-law.

Katherine was certain of God’s message to Nate that Simone was to be his wife. After all, she was perfect. The two were good friends, had practically grown up together. At thirty-two, Simone had never been married and only had one child. Like her mother, Simone was a stunner, the family’s Creole blood prominent in her features. Three inches taller than Katherine’s five foot six, Simone had Katherine’s beautiful hazel green eyes, a full pouty mouth, large breasts, and long black hair. She was educated and cultured, perfect “first lady” material for a prominent, up and coming minister. And to top all this off, Simone had the voice of an angel. Beyoncé, Rihanna, Mariah: these successful women had nothing on her daughter, either in looks or voice. This is what Katherine had envisioned on that first night when she knew Nate and Simone were sleeping together, when she had to make room for her daughter in her pastor’s crowded bed. And now her dream was coming true!

Katherine reached over and placed her hand over Nate’s. “Don’t worry, Nathaniel. I knew this day would come. Everything is going to be fine, trust me. Simone is going to make a beautiful bride and a fabulous wife.”

Nate’s dark brown eyes met Katherine’s hazel green ones. He forced himself not to squirm or break the stare. He had heard from God, and knew in his heart that his decision was right. For the first time since walking into the office, he blessed his longtime lover with a dazzling smile of straight, white teeth set against skin so dark and creamy smooth one wanted to lick it.

“Katherine, you’re right, as usual. The woman God has chosen for me will make an excellent wife, and she will be the perfect first lady. But it isn’t Simone.”

Katherine snatched back her hand, stunned into silence. Within seconds, however, she found her voice. “Who could it be if not my daughter? There’s nobody in our congregation who compares to her!”

Katherine thought back to Nate’s busy schedule, and the increasing amount of time he spent ministering in other churches.

“Oh, my God, that’s it. You’ve found someone outside of Palestine. Is it someone from Mount Zion Progressive, or one of those silicone-injected, weave-wearing minister chasers in LA?”

Katherine stood and walked to the window behind Nate’s desk. Then she stopped, one hand on her hip, and swirled his chair around until he faced her. “You know I respect your anointing. I’ve never questioned your ability to hear God’s voice. But, Nathaniel, I have to question it now. I’m positive that Simone is the woman you should marry.”

“And I’m positive that it’s her daughter, Destiny. Katherine, your granddaughter is the one who will be my wife.”

“A man of God has needs,” Katherine said calmly. She emphasized the word man by drawing out the last letter in the word.

“I won’t allow it,” Simone replied with equal composure, looking at her manicured nails as if she were discussing the weather. “I won’t let him sleep with Destiny. She’s sixteen, still a child.”

“She’ll be seventeen in three months,” Katherine countered. “Older than you were when you got pregnant.”

Simone jumped to her feet. “But it’s supposed to be me, Mother! That’s what you told me, remember? And for the past four years, that’s what I’ve believed. That once Nate got older, ready to settle down, it would be with me!”

“I also thought it would be you, baby, was sure of it. But God has spoken, and now we must heed the voice of His servant. You are no less chosen now than you were yesterday. You are the mother of our man of God’s future wife. You’ll always have an important role in the ministry.”

At this point, Simone wasn’t interested in Nate’s ministry. To tell the gospel truth, she was worried about her role in his bed, a role she didn’t want to relinquish.

“She’s sixteen. I can’t believe you, as her grandmother, don’t find Nate’s intention to marry her at this young age appalling.” Simone waited for Katherine to speak. When her mother remained quiet, Simone continued. “You might not have a problem with it, but I do. Destiny’s too young,” she repeated defiantly. “End of discussion.”

Katherine sighed as she watched her proud, hurt daughter leave the living room. Simone had a right to be angry, Katherine knew, and she took her share of blame for stroking her daughter’s expectation of becoming Mrs. Nathaniel Thicke, and first lady of the Gospel Truth Church. But she couldn’t agree with her daughter that Destiny was too young.

Should I tell her? Katherine pondered. Should I tell Simone the whole story about Nathaniel, and me, the Thickes and the Nobles, and our church’s tangled, tarnished traditions?

Katherine was twelve years old when she found out about the “man of God” and his special “needs.” The lesson had been taught forcefully and thoroughly: initially painful, later pleasurable. Katherine was a quick learner. As she left her daughter’s house, she barely noticed what rarely happened in Texas—a January snowfall. She got into her custom-colored, deep purple Cadillac and drove toward the Gospel Truth Church offices . . . and she remembered.

“Mama, Reverend Thicke touched me.”

Naomi Noble closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. And so it continues, she thought. The pain she felt for her daughter was brief, replaced by a sense of duty and resignation. She turned to face her youngest child and only girl. “A man of God has needs, Katherine. I told you that, been telling you for years. Reverend Thomas Thicke is a man of God, a covering for the daughters of his flock. And only those who are special, chosen, are touched by him.”

“But, Mama, it didn’t feel good. It hurt.”

Naomi stopped in midstroke, the doily she was crocheting momentarily forgotten. “Why? Did he put his peter in you?”

For a moment, Katherine was confused, wondering what a disciple of Jesus had to do with what had happened in the pastor’s office. “Peter?” she repeated.

“Peter, snake, ding-a-ling . . . Did he put his thing in you?”

“Oh, no, ma’am,” Katherine answered, a blush creeping up from her neck to her scalp.

“Then how did he hurt you?”

Katherine bowed her head. She was too embarrassed to say what had happened, and when Naomi continued to stare at her, Katherine burst out crying and ran to her room.

Moments later, Naomi followed. Armed with the family Bible, she entered her daughter’s darkened room and noted the curled up bundle underneath the quilt. Naomi pulled a chair up to Katherine’s bed and spoke in a soft voice. “Katherine, baby, I need for you to look at me. What I have to say is important. I need to teach you what it means to be chosen.”

When Katherine hesitated, Naomi continued in a soft yet stern voice. “Ain’t a thing for you to be embarrassed about, Katherine. The man of God has needs, that’s all, and certain daughters of the flock are chosen to help meet these needs. Reverend Thomas is being your spiritual covering, baby.”

By now, any other mother would have been at this molester’s house with a shotgun. But Naomi taught what she’d learned and experienced, actually condoning the unthinkable practice that had been passed down from her mother.

Katherine wiped her eyes and sat up against the backboard. “But Nettie told me it was nasty to let boys touch you . . . down there.”

Naomi’s voice rose. “What are you doing talking to Nettie or anybody else about God’s business? Girl, you better learn to cover the man of God like he covers you . . . lest the Lord strike you dead, and me along beside you!”

The thought of losing her mother in such a horrid fashion terrified Katherine. “I didn’t tell her about Reverend!” she wailed.

“Well, how does she know then?”

“’Cause last week . . . we were talking about boys.”

“What boys?” Naomi hissed. “Who have you been whoring around with?”

“Nobody, Mama!” Katherine’s eyes grew wide and tears threatened. How was it that she’d be a whore if a boy touched her but what had happened today was okay? “Reverend is the only one who touched me, Mama. I promise! But how come Reverend Thomas can do it, but it’s bad if somebody else does?”

Naomi spoke slowly, enunciating every word. “Because Reverend Thomas Thicke is a man of God. He is your covering, protects us, keeps us safe. Hasn’t he been almost like a father to you since your daddy run off?”

Katherine nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“He’s the reason we can stay in this fine house and I can buy those pretty dresses you wear. Because we’re special, because you’re special, child. Nettie ain’t special, she’s common. A man of God can’t share with her what he can with you. When the man of God has needs, only special women, ones who are chosen, can take care of them. Do you understand?”

Katherine was beginning to. She nodded again, slowly.

“And don’t you tell nobody about what goes on between you and the man of God, do you hear me? Nobody! Less the Lord strike me down and you along with me. That old, ugly Nettie don’t need to know nothing about this here business. And she ain’t your friend.”

“But, Mama—”

“She ain’t! She’s acting like it now because y’all are still kids. But give it time, when she feels her flower blooming and boys start buzzing around it. Then she’s going to be jealous of you. They all will. That’s why you have to do like the Bible says: don’t let your left hand know what your right hand is doing. I mean it, Katherine. Don’t tell a soul.”

Naomi had opened the Bible then, and quoted scriptures from the Old Testament. Scriptures that spoke of covering, sometimes a man with his own daughter, and then Naomi explained how such coverings were God’s will. Much as her mother had when Naomi was Katherine’s age, Naomi taught her daughter that what was wrong for other people was okay for them, because they were doing the Lord’s work. After she put down the Bible, Naomi continued Katherine’s education in being special, and how to please God’s man.

It was another two years before Reverend Thicke’s penis replaced the finger that had penetrated Katherine’s innocence. By then she had become well versed in her role as a daughter of his flock. True to her mother’s predictions, others became jealous, especially Nettie. Later, Nettie would have reason to hate Katherine, and that she didn’t, even to this day, was why Katherine respected her more than any other woman. Their unlikely friendship had lasted for more than four decades.

Also true to her mother’s prediction, Katherine became the topic of gossip and the object of scorn for most females in their small town. More than once, she was accosted by a church mother after coming out of the pastor’s parsonage, especially when Thomas’s wife, Mrs. Nancy Thicke, wasn’t there.

“You ain’t got no business in there when the Missus ain’t home,” one would say.

“She asked me to come over,” Katherine would reply.

“Well, just what in God’s name would she ask you to do while she ain’t there?” another would demand to know.

Katherine would respond as her mother had taught her: “Something noble.”

Katherine pulled into her parking space in the church lot and walked through the side door that led to the executive offices. The issue with Destiny was pressing, but her personal affairs couldn’t interfere with church business. The pastor’s anniversary was coming up in six months, and as always, Katherine intended to make sure it was the grandest one in the district. This year was especially important because representatives from a new, forward-thinking organization called Total Truth would be in attendance. Katherine hoped to align their ministry with these megachurch entities, in hopes of pushing Nate’s star higher, faster.

Katherine had to focus on the anniversary for another reason—Jennifer Stevens. This new member had been at the church a little over a year and was already trying to act as if she ran things. The fact that she was from a big megachurch, Mount Zion Progressive, didn’t impress or intimidate Katherine one bit. Jennifer wasn’t the first twit who’d “heard from God” and changed her zip code to Palestine, Texas, in hopes of changing her last name as well. She’d seen many Jennifers come and go.

Katherine wasn’t intimidated, but she was astute. She was paying close attention to how Jennifer was trying to weasel herself into Nate’s inner circle, with her knowledge of the national church landscape, connections to the Total Truth board members, and tight skirts highlighting her big, juicy booty. The trysts Nate had with other church members were harmless. After all, old members knew the rules and, more importantly, knew that the Nobles ruled. But this Jennifer chick, I’m going to have to slow her roll. Katherine’s brow knitted as she pondered how to make sure nothing and no one came between Nate and her Destiny.

Nettie Thicke Johnson had already been praying for hours when the phone rang. I need to get that. She rose from her kneeled position at a chair in the living room and headed for the cordless phone in the kitchen. The phone had rung several times during her conversation with God, but since this was the first time she’d thought to interrupt their dialogue, the others had obviously not warranted her immediate attention.

Most speculated that the prophetic anointing that was on Nate’s life came from the prestigious line of ministers on his father’s side. That was only one of several mistakes one made where Nate’s attributes were concerned. Nettie, his mother, was the one in the family with “the eye,” the ability to prophesy so accurately that she could not only tell you the color of underwear you wore at the moment, but the pair you’d choose a week from now. Her son’s brilliance was also courtesy of his mother, as was the compassionate heart that often got his lower extremities into so much trouble. Nettie knew her son well and had finally concluded: Two out of three ain’t bad.

“Hello?”

“Nettie? Maxine Brook.”

“Lord have mercy, Mama Max!” Nettie’s mood immediately brightened at the sound of her voice. Maxine Brook had four children of her own, but she mothered almost everyone she met. Everyone loved her for it, and everyone affectionately called her Mama Max. “As I live and breathe, sistah, the Lord put you on my heart just yesterday. Told me you’d be calling.”

“Well, chile, your hearing is good because the Lord sho put you on my heart a couple days ago. The Reverend Doctor has been ailing a bit, but I knew I’d call first chance I got. He’s resting now, praise be to the Almighty, so here I is. How you doing, Nettie Jean?”

“Oh, tolerable. I can’t complain.”

“Gordon?”

“He’s fine, too.” Gordon Johnson was Nettie’s quiet, hard-working husband of the past nine years.

“And the ministry?”

Nettie’s sigh was barely audible. “God is good.”

“God may be good but that quality don’t always extend to church folk. Talk to me.”

“Oh, Mama Max . . . you’ve been on this road long enough to know what the scenery looks like. It ain’t changed since you and Mama first became friends.”

Nettie’s mother, Amanda, met Mama Max when both were minister’s wives surviving harsh winters and even harsher congregations in the Texas countryside. Ten years her senior, Amanda became Mama Max’s confidante, and Mama Max had known Nettie since she was a child. When Amanda went to be with the Lord more than a decade ago, after battling cancer, Mama Max stepped in and did her best to fill the shoes that no one else’s feet could ever truly fill. She’d done a pretty good job of mothering though, supporting Nettie through crises and controversies, always there with a dose of “Mama Maxisms” and a listening ear.

“Naw, chile, you’re right about that,” Mama Max replied. “The felines might change from a pedigreed Persian to an alley cat but at the end of the day . . . it still comes down to pussy.”

“Mama Max, you get on away from here with that kind of language!”

“Chile, don’t act like I shocked you. You’ve been knowing me too long to think I’d change. So am I right?”

“About what?”

“About the problem revolving around puss ’n boots. Some woman’s pussy and some pastor’s boots?” Mama Max whooped at her own Maxism. “Nettie Jean, you’re fifty-four, got three kids, and been in church your whole life. The truth ain’t always pretty but it’s usually pertinent. And you know I’m telling the truth.”

Nettie laughed. “Well, there is a little something going on.”

Mama Max crossed her legs and waited, took a sip of black coffee and looked out her picture window at the snow-covered lawns of a Kansas winter.

“It’s Nathaniel. He’s getting married.”

“To who? When? How long has he known the girl?”

“Whoa, Mama Max, one question at a time. Her name is Destiny. They’re going to have a long engagement, and he’s known her since, well, since she was born.”

“Known her since . . . Nettie? Are you trying to give me a heart attack so I can join your mama in paradise? You better explain yourself and quick, lest I be on the first thing smokin’ outta Kansas for Texas. Nate may be grown, but he ain’t past a good butt whoopin’.” Even as she spoke, Mama Max picked up a newspaper off the coffee table and swatted the furniture twice—for practice.

“It’s Katherine’s grandbaby, Destiny.”

“Katherine Noble? Lord have mercy, Jesus, and Mary, mother of God, why can’t the Thicke men stay away from those Noble women?”

“Well, I could use your words to provide an answer, Mama, but I don’t want to be disrespectful.”

“Go ahead, girl. Tell the truth and shame the devil. It’s puss ’n boots, baby, the man of God’s ultimate wea. . .