Free Second Sunday by Michele Andrea Bowen Page B

finally woke up later that morning,” Viola continued, “girl, I was so tired, I almost forgot why I was doing
     all that fast-tailed mess. Had to drink a sixteen-ounce RC Cola to wake up and straighten Wendell out on hiring Rev. Wilson.
     But, Nettie, girl, it show was good. I pray that I have some more work to do for the church real soon. ’Cause you know, the
     Lord’s working in this kind of mysterious way is right up my alley.”
    Katie Mae, who had not been at the meeting with the other women, had gotten an earful about the “ghetto heifers trying to
     run her church” from her mother-in-law. The entire Johnson clan, including Cleavon’s cousin Rufus, who was on the search committee,
     was very upset over this Rev. Wilson–versus–Rev. Hamilton thing. She knew she would have to tread carefully with Cleavon because
     he was bound and determined to hire Earl Hamilton.
    So she decided to try a “tough-love” approach. Saturday morning she got up real early, dressed, and then nudged Cleavon, who
     was very sleepy, and told him, “I have to go and see about my grandmother. She’s been complaining about her arthritis and
     needs some help today. You will have to watch the kids until I get back.”
    “Huhhh,” said Cleavon, barely awake.
    “The kids shouldn’t be any trouble,” Katie Mae lied, knowing full well that she and Cleavon had the baddestacting children
     in church. Then she ran out of the house, hopped in her car, and drove off, not in the least bit worried that Cleavon would
     try to track her down—he hated talking to her grandmother.
    Katie Mae did go over to her grandmother’s house, but not to help, since her grandmother was in perfect health. Instead she
     went over there to eat, hang out with her cousins, watch TV, and sit around the table talking about how much Cleavon’s family
     got on everybody’s nerves. When she came home, it was late and the kids were acting crazy—fighting, shrieking, and running
     wild in the house. She got them settled down, then went looking for Cleavon and found him stretched out on their bed with
     a damp towel draped across his forehead.
    Katie Mae sat down on the edge of the bed. “You alright, Cleavon?” she said soothingly, knowing full well that he wasn’t.
    “I’m tired,” he said softly, which let her know he was exhausted. Normally, Cleavon would have torn the roof off the house
     over her leaving him with the kids like that. But when he was this tired, with his defenses down, she had a chance of reasoning
     with him.
    “You worried about this business of hiring the new pastor, huh?”
    “No Katie Mae, I am just tired from dealing with your bad-tailed children all day,” he replied.
    “Well, Cleavon,” she said, “you know you probably won’t feel so tired once this pastor business is over with. I know that
     you can’t back out of interviewing Rev. Hamilton at this late date, but you are not obligated to hire him, either.”
    Cleavon wanted to jump up and hit the ceiling but couldn’t muster the energy to act out. He just glowered at Katie Mae from
     under the towel. She was nervous, he could tell, which meant those bossy women’s-libber friends of hers had put her up to
     trying to sway him to hire George Wilson. He opened his mouth to get her straight but quickly realized that force might drive
     her into their camp. So he shifted tactics, taking her hand and patting it gently.
    “Baby, let’s let the church business rest for now,” he said. “I missed you today and need a little
tendin’
to. Go put those children to bed and come on back up in here and take care of your man.”
    “Okay, Cleavon,” Katie Mae said brightly, thrilled at such an unexpected show of affection from her husband. Maybe it didn’t
     really matter all that much who became their pastor, she began to think. After all, Earl Hamilton did have some impressive
     credentials.
    After she hopped up to get the kids, Cleavon got undressed, slipped under the cool