Nobody’s Child (New Life Tabernacle Series Book 1) (24 page)

A
fter a long night
of ministering through music, Marcus Thomas only wanted one thing—to go to bed. His bandmates, however, had other ideas.

"Come on, man. Not even a piece of pie from that diner we hit last night? That sweet potato was better than my grandmama's!"

The group burst into boisterous laughter. They stood at the corner of a busy intersection, still dressed in their concert best, hyped from the rousing performance and more than ready to eat.

Marcus forced a smile and shook his head. "Naw, man. I'm gonna call it a night."

T. J., the band’s drummer, grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “Marcus, it's just after twelve. I know you ain't sleepy yet."

The rest of the band and singers joined in, each offering their reasons why Marcus should stay with them instead of returning to his hotel room alone. Only one person remained silent, the band's bassist and Marcus' brother, Daniel.

One of the singers, Octavia, grabbed his arm and pulled. "Uh, uh. I'll drag you if I have to. Caveman-style. You may be big, Marcus Thomas, but I'm bigger!"

Again, the group erupted into howls and laughter and even Marcus had to grin.

"Yeah, this isn't a negotiation, Marcus. You're coming with us."

''No. Really guys. I've got an early flight tomorrow, but you all have a good time.“

Before anyone else could protest, the keyboardist said, “Oh, wait! I know what this is about. Today’s the fifteenth.” He shook his head. “Y’all might as well give it up. You’re not getting this brotha to go anywhere tonight!”

Octavia clapped her hands. "That's right! I forgot!"

"Yup. In all the twelve years I've known him, this boy don't do nothing but go home and sulk on his birthday."

They all started laughing again.

Octavia punched him in the arm. “Everybody gets old, Marcus. Let's go drown your sorrows in some more sweet potato pie. I'll even stick a candle in it for you."

Marcus just smiled and took out his wallet. He handed Octavia six fifty-dollar bills and said, “You all go eat all the pie left in the place and we’ll catch up in Dallas, okay?"

"Don't have to tell me twice,” T. J. said, snatching the cash out of Octavia’s hand and running across the intersection.

“Boy!” Octavia yelled, giving chase.

The rest of the band members and singers hugged Marcus and gave their birthday wishes, before crossing the street to the diner. Only Daniel stayed behind.

"You gonna be all right, baby brother?"

Marcus took a deep breath and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, man. I just... I can't be around everybody, you know?“

"No need to explain. You know I understand." He put his hand on his shoulder. "I got all this. Just go on and get some rest. I'll call you when we get in tomorrow."

M
arcus entered the hotel lobby
, relieved to see there were no fans gathered. Any other evening, he would’ve been happy to stop and talk to each and every person, even after an exhausting three and a half hour concert, but not tonight.

He usually turned down dates that included November 15th, but the new management handled the bookings for this tour and by the time he realized the mistake, it was too late.

At first, he didn’t think it’d be a problem. He’d gotten so much better with each passing year. But for some reason, the entire day had been a battle. He knew what his old pastor, Emmett Jones would’ve said… “A big battle means a big breakthrough. You must be close, son. You must be real close.”

Marcus headed straight to the bank of elevators at the back. Seconds later, a little bell sounded and the doors opened. He stepped on the elevator and just before the doors closed, a woman ran toward him, calling, “Hold the doors, please!”

Marcus stopped the doors with his hand, allowing the woman to slip in. He couldn’t help but notice how tall she was and wondered if she were a model of some kind. She had flawless, honey colored skin, hazel eyes and thick black lashes long enough to cast shadows on her high cheekbones.

Through the reflection of the elevator wall, he saw her staring at him.

"You're that gospel singer, right? Marcus..."

“Thomas.”

She flashed a brilliant smile. “Right! Thomas.”

He waited for her to push the button for her floor, but she just stood there, looking at him.

“Which floor?"

"Oh," she said, motioning at the only illuminated button. "One-oh-eight. Same as you, I guess." She stepped a bit closer as the elevator began its ascent. "I saw you perform on the Grammys. You're the biggest thing in gospel since... Wow. I don't think there’s ever been a gospel singer as famous as you are right now."

"God is good," Marcus replied, looking straight ahead.

"He sure is…” She said it in a way that convinced him they were talking about two different things. She held out her hand. "I'm Melanie. Melanie Howard." He shook her hand, but she held on for a few moments longer when he tried to let go.

Marcus couldn’t get out fast enough when the elevator doors opened onto the 108th floor. "It was nice to meet you, Miss…

“Howard," she said, as he stepped out of the elevator.

He nodded politely and turned to walk away. She grabbed his arm. Looking him in the eye, she unbuttoned the top button of her blouse. Smiling, she unbuttoned the second.

"It was nice to meet you, too…” She said, as her third button came undone. "But I'd love to get to
know
you. Discretely, of course."

Before she could touch the fourth button, he pulled her hand away.

"It's late. You should get to your room."

A moment passed before she let go of his arm and laughed. Her chin jutted forward and her lovely eyes glinted with disgust.

"So I guess the rumors are true. You rather play with boys than girls, huh? Your loss...fag." She jabbed one of the elevator buttons and the doors closed on her as she gave him a look hateful enough to turn flesh to stone.

He was used to it.

Most people wouldn't believe how often it happened to him.
He
hardly believed how often it happened to him. Idris Elba? Okay. Usher? Sure. But him? Apparently, a man on stage was something desirable, gospel singer or not.

What really surprised him were the reactions to his refusals. He always tried to be polite when he turned down the "offers,” but it didn't seem to matter. There was always an angry outburst.

Between that and his permanent bachelorhood, questions about his sexuality flourished. For every one of his supporters, there seemed to be another that couldn't help but wonder, "Is he?"

He could’ve stopped the rumors. Answered the questions once and for all. Explained why he hadn't seriously dated a woman in almost twenty years. Tell the story of his past. A past that would prove to all the naysayers he was, indeed, a straight man.

But that would never happen.

Because to tell that story, he'd have to relive it. And now, even after all the years that’d passed, he still wasn't sure he was strong enough to do that.

T
he heavy hotel
drapes blacked out the room, making the digital clock display especially bright.

4:20 AM.

Marcus had been staring at the ceiling for the past three hours. He still had another hour before the car service arrived to take him to the airport. He sighed and decided to stop chasing sleep.

With his bags already packed and nothing else to do, he switched on the television. He was flipping through channel after channel of informercials when something caught his eye.

The logo in the corner of the screen read
Classic Gospel Gold
. On-screen were four of his brothers, known to the gospel world simply as, Redeemed. His mother would have preferred the group to have been more than a quartet, but Marcus had other plans at the time.

Even in his current mood, he couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his brothers. The hairstyles and matching outfits were pure nineties flashback, and not in a good way.

The video of his brothers ended and suddenly, Marcus was staring at a younger version of himself. The song was the title track from his first album,
Before and After
. When the music video ended, the host mentioned all the awards the song won, as well as the many records it broke.

Marcus leaned back in his chair.

It had been…what? Eighteen years since he wrote that song. Seventeen since he’d recorded it. Had he known what a big hit it’d become, he might've never released it.

Not that he was ungrateful for the blessings. He thanked God for showing him favor every day. But with the song's success came an onslaught of media attention. And with the media attention, the questions: What inspired the song? Was it based on his own life? What was the story behind it?

At the time, the last thing he wanted to talk about was the story behind those lyrics. While the song went on to minister to the hearts of many, for Marcus, it was also a reminder of extraordinary pain. Years would pass before he even spoke about it. And even then, all he said was, "My inspiration was a letter from someone I loved very much."

He still kept that letter with him, along with two matching wedding bands that'd never been worn.

Marcus closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

He believed God and he believed God would do what He’d promised, but that didn’t mean seeing year after year go by without any change didn't affect him. It did. Sometimes there seemed no end in sight. Doubt would set in and he’d wonder whether he’d die, still waiting.

Those were the times he was tempted to give up. But if life had taught him anything, it was to never give up. Those times of doubt were when he’d lean on the Word and the promises within it. Most especially, Proverbs 23:18…

Until that end manifested, he'd carry the letter and the rings with him as a reminder, to God and himself, of a promise made to be kept.

M
arcus Thomas fell
in love at first sight.

He and his family had just moved to Dallas, Texas and finding a church was the first thing on his mother's to-do list. It was a beautiful and sunny morning when the Thomas family filed into New Life Tabernacle for the first time. Hands were clapping, feet were stomping and the choir was bringing down the house. All of his brothers were singers and musicians, so they immediately loved the place. His mother, on the other hand, was reserving her opinion until she’d heard the sermon.

Marcus didn't care what any of them thought, he'd already seen all he needed to convince him New Life was his new church home.

"Dan,” Marcus whispered, nudging his brother with his elbow. Daniel gave him the look older brothers always gave annoying, younger ones.

"What?"

“See that girl right there?" He pointed to a young girl on the second pew, clapping and swaying to the music.

"What about her?"

"I'm marrying that girl right there."

Daniel sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Junior! You're ten. You ain't marrying nobody."

Before Marcus could reply, the judgment of God came down on the back of his head in the form of his mother's hand.

"You two better stop embarrassing me before I take you out back! You hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Rubbing at the stinging sensation on the back of his head, Marcus smiled as he watched the girl rock back and forth in time to the music. Ten or not, Marcus knew he'd just seen the love of his life.

Carrie, the object of his affection, being only eight, proved to be less forward thinking. After the service, when he proposed, her only response was a blank stare. She had little interest in him or any boy, for that matter. What she was interested in, was all things church.

This, however, did not deter Marcus in the least. It took him a while, but he devised a plan: He would show her just how "churchy" he could be.

At first, it was little things, like making sure he stayed awake during Sunday school and doing errands for his brothers to earn pocket change for the collection plate. None of it impressed her. But then, at age twelve, the church secretary announced a young people's Friday night shut-in and he knew it was the opportunity he'd been waiting for.

Now if Marcus was known for anything, it was being bad, so when he begged his parents to let him spend all night praying, they were dumbstruck
and
suspicious. His mother was one of the adults set to keep watch, so after much begging and pleading, she agreed to bring him along. And just as he’d hoped, Carrie was there with her cousin and grandmother.

People gathered at the altar and knelt in the first few pews and began to pray. Having never been to a shut-in, Marcus hadn't thought to bring a pillow. After ten minutes of kneeling on the hardwood floor, his knees were hurting like crazy. Still, he was determined to see it through. Every few minutes, he'd peek over the pew at Carrie, hoping she'd noticed how holy he was, but each time he looked, her eyes were closed and she seemed occupied with actual praying.

After close to an hour of his kneecaps being on fire, he decided it was time to get some attention.

The young men had been doing a tag-team of sorts, each leading the group for a while until someone else took over. Marcus got up and joined in, walking the floor while shaking his head and wringing his hands.

"Yes! Yes, Lord!" He shouted in response to whatever the current prayer leader said.

He got louder and louder and started having a good time. So good, he decided to do the little jig he saw Deacon Lewis do every Sunday, followed by the two-step Mother Washington did on Wednesday nights. He was having such fun doing his imitations, he hadn't noticed how quiet the room had become.

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Eugenia Anne Thomas coming at him like a freight train. He knew the look on her face all too well. The second she was within arm's reach, she snatched him by his shirt and proceeded to drag him down the center aisle to the back of the church. After she was done with him, it would be all but impossible for him to sit without wincing.