Tender to the Touch

by Nicole S. Rouse

Genres: African American; African American Christian; Christian Fiction

Synopsis

For the past eleven years, Reverend J. Amanda King served as an anointed and powerful leader for the women's ministry of Faith Tabernacle Church. Though thousands of women have been blessed by her leadership, J. Amanda is most fond of the ministry she built with five of her sorority sisters. To them she is more than a spiritual leader and counselor. She is their sister and true friend. The bond of the sisterhood is tested when J. Amanda's old flame, "Hunky" Crawford, resurfaces and pleasant memories of their life together seem more appealing than the one she shares with her husband, David. In time, J. Amanda remembers why she ultimately chose David over Hunky, but is she too late? Hunky exposes secrets that threaten to destroy J. Amanda's relationship with her husband and line sisters forever and lead to a startling death. Will J. Amanda salvage her relationships and get her life back on track, or will she give up on God and accept the consequences for turning her back on her faith?

Release date: July 30, 2013

Publisher: Urban Christian

Print pages: 288

Sample

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 to walk in there ahead of Yolanda. Unsure of what to do, she faced the sorority president. “Should I—”

“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.

“Jonathan turns to the armor bearer, who is standing right by his side, and says, ‘Let’s go to the outposts. Perhaps the Lord will help us, for nothing can hinder the Lord.’ Now, the armor bearer could’ve told Jonathan that he was crazy or that he’d have to go into battle alone, but get this. . . . The armor bearer replies, ‘Do what you think is best. I am with you completely, whatever you decide.’ I don’t know about you, but that’s the kind of friend I want by my side. In times of trouble, I don’t want someone who’ll just throw in the towel. I want someone who will cover me, whatever I decide.”

J. Amanda shared a few quick stories about her pledge process to demonstrate how she needed her line sisters. They were forced into situations where they had to trust each other and have each other’s backs, no matter how challenging things became. “Those women have been a great support system for me because they knew me when I was out all night dancing at a party and they know me now as God’s servant. They don’t judge me or purposefully hurt me. They keep me covered.” J. Amanda was preaching so hard, she started to sweat. “They check me when I’m wrong, and they respect me when I’m right. They love me, flaws and all.”

Wiping sweat from her brow, J. Amanda sauntered behind the podium to wrap up her sermon. “While we shouldn’t put our friends before God, we do want to thank Him for friends that sincerely have our backs in great times and in times of struggle. When you’re going through something, and you can’t pray for yourself, you ought to have people you can call and just say, ‘Cover me,’ and they immediately go to God on your behalf. Women of God, it’s important to have strong, positive friendships in your life. Friends who will keep you covered.”

J. Amanda dropped the microphone on the podium and threw her head back. “Lord, I thank you,” she moaned as tears fell from her eyes. As the women in the sanctuary praised God in their own way, she faced the ministers behind her. “Thank you for covering me,” she cried. With tears still in her eyes, she turned back around and looked at Tionna and Kenya, who were also crying. “I got you,” J. Amanda mouthed as she pointed to her friends. “I got you covered,” she repeated, and from their eyes, she could tell they had her covered too.

After the service, J. Amanda waited for Tionna and Kenya in her office. As she sat alone in the room, she felt empty inside. She’d just preached a message that blessed a great number of women, yet there was still something missing in her own spirit. “God, you continue to amaze me,” she whispered. Despite being in a barren place spiritually, God was still able to use her for His glory. She had challenged the women to build and maintain positive friendships, yet she was holding on to a secret. How can my friends cover me if I don’t tell them the truth? she asked herself.

The truth was that she was growing weary but doing a good job at hiding it. For the last year, she had followed a strict schedule as her ministry flourished. She’d been preaching at different churches a few times each month, teaching leadership classes at church three times a week, and overseeing the women’s ministry. Life at home was just as structured. On the evenings that she was not preaching, she cooked dinner and checked homework. In between her daily duties, she washed a load of clothes, vacuumed, or cleaned the bathroom and kitchen. And on cue, every Sunday and Thursday night, around 4:00 A.M., she made love to her husband.

J. Amanda tried not to complain, but her spirit was longing for a change. But what kind of change?

There was a knock on the door, and J. Amanda told her friends to come inside. Tionna entered the room first in her signature four-inch heels. At five foot eight, Tionna was the only woman she knew who could wear skinny heels every day, all day long. Tionna had the body of a twenty-five-year-old woman, and if her hair wasn’t completely gray, she could’ve passed for one.

“You were on fire today,” Tionna said as she placed her handbag on an empty chair.

“I was about to call the firehouse,” Kenya joked as she pulled her thin, long auburn locks into a ponytail.

J. Amanda perked up in their presence. She wasn’t sure when or how she wanted to share what was going through her mind. “I felt on fire,” she replied in jest. “For a second, I thought I was going into early menopause.”

Kenya walked to the coat closet and opened the door. She studied her curvy figure in the full-length mirror posted behind the door and laughed. “And what was up with that dance? I told Tionna I needed you to lay hands on me so I could get my dance on. I wanna feel the Holy Ghost too,” she said, shaking her hands rapidly, as if they were tambourines.

“We need to cover that crazy child in prayer,” Tionna teased.

“Don’t play with the Holy Spirit, Kenya. Cynthia would give you a swift kick for that remark,” added J. Amanda. Saying Cynthia’s name reminded her of the weekend ahead. “I can’t wait to see all my girls.”

Kenya closed the door and stood next to J. Amanda’s desk. “We’re going to have so much fun,” she said and loosened the first two buttons on her snug shirt. “Is Jazz coming?”

“I spoke to her last night. She’s excited about seeing everyone,” J. Amanda confirmed and then stared at Tionna. Kenya stared at her too.

“Oh, please,” Tionna snarled. “That’s what she told you.”

Tionna and Jasmine were the only two line sisters who didn’t get along, but J. Amanda prayed that would change this year. Jasmine mentioned that she was willing to work things out if a moderator controlled the conversation, and as always, J. Amanda had volunteered.

“Don’t you think it’s time to heal old wounds?” she asked.

“Ha!” Kenya laughed aloud and walked back to the closet to freshen up her makeup. “God’s gonna have to perform a miracle.”

“I’m not going to make any promises,” Tionna replied. “The two of you should just be happy I even agreed to be in the suite with her.”

“We should all be one big happy family,” J. Amanda asserted.

“Listen, we’ll always be connected, but there’s no rule that says we have to be close,” Tionna replied. “I have five other line sisters to keep up with. That’s quite enough for me.”

“I heard that,” Kenya said and put on an extra coat of mascara. She loved the thick eyelash look. “But enough about you and Jasmine. I need to get out of here.”

“Where are you running off to?” J. Amanda questioned.

Kenya put her makeup case back in her knockoff Gucci bag and then sashayed her full-figured body to the door. “I’m going to dinner with Alphonse.”

“Alphonse?” Tionna and J. Amanda said in unison.

“You heard me right, lad. . .