Free Song of Solomon by Kendra Norman-Bellamy

rules that we went over in class. We will do what?”
    â€œStay together,” the children chanted.
    â€œAnd we will what?”
    â€œUse our inside voices.”
    â€œAnd we will what?”
    â€œKeep our hands by our sides.”
    â€œUnless we are what?”
    â€œGiven permission to touch something.”
    Neil laughed to himself and hoped the rookie school teacher realized that for the children, repeating the rules was much easier than following them. He predicted that he, Shaylynn, and Miss Berkshire would have their hands full for the next few hours.
    Satisfied that they were clear on the memorized rules, Miss Berkshire stood at the front of the bus and instructed the students to form a line. As the children made their dismount and the line ahead shortened, Neil extended his arm in a silent invitation for Shaylynn to step into the aisle ahead of him. As she did, his eyes automatically scanned her shapely form. Nice. Real nice. Now that he knew Shaylynn wasn’t the married woman he’d thought her to be before she set the record straight at their first meeting, checking her out in such an exploratory manner didn’t feel so out of order.
    Resuming their conversation would be difficult now that their duties as chaperones had officially begun, but Neil knew that he had to find a way.

Six
    â€œThree hours and counting. You must be on a roll in here.” Theresa approached CJ from behind, massaged her fingers through his short, coarse hair, and then sealed it all with a kiss on his shoulder.
    Swiveling around in his dark chocolate leather executive chair where he’d been sitting and jotting down scripture notations, CJ faced his wife of four years with an appreciative grin. He not only liked what she said, but also what he saw. To him, few women could hold a candle to First Lady Theresa Loather. She was top light and bottom heavy, and most days she wore her thick shoulder length hair pulled up into a bun that was held together by some chopstick-looking hair accessory. Brown designer frames sat on her nose, but the frames didn’t come close to hiding the prettiness of her face. To most men, Theresa’s school teacher–like guise probably wouldn’t be the most appealing one, but CJ loved it.
    His home office, sparsely decorated with only a fully stocked bookshelf (mostly biblical reference guides and law officer handbooks) and a few family photos and ministerial certificates on the walls, was the one room of the house that Theresa rarely entered. Especially on Wednesdays. That day, more than any other weekday, was when CJ was hard at work outlining what would ultimately become his sermon for the upcoming Sunday. But on those infrequent occasions when his wife crossed the threshold of his study space, CJ always welcomed the intrusion.
    â€œHey, baby.” He reached for the steaming cup of coffee that she dangled in front of him like a fishing lure. “Ahhh. A jolt of java. Just what I need to get me through the second half of my studies. Thank you, Resa.” It was the nickname she had been given by her parents as a child, and the name CJ most often used when speaking with her. He took a second to blow into the cloudy brown liquid and to inhale a whiff of his favorite vanilla hazelnut fragrance before placing the mug on his desk to cool.
    â€œI’d like to see what sort of message you’re going to come up with that will top last week’s. Whew!” Theresa used both her hands to fan herself like the thought of it all ignited a flame in her soul. “It was some kinda hot up in that church Sunday.”
    Shaking his head, CJ replied, “I wish I could take the credit for that, but it was no doing of mine, that’s for sure. If you’ll recall, the Spirit took over, and I never got the opportunity to bring the message.”
    Theresa disagreed. “Oh, you brought the Word, Pastor Loather; make no mistake about it. ‘When God Is In The