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behavior today. I’m trying with all of my might to be the wife and first lady you want me to be. I’m aware that the enemy is constantly pulling at me, taunting me, and practically begging me to act a fool.”
    Arykah recalled how she let Mother Pansie get under her skin and regretted it. She sat up on the edge of the divan and covered her face with her hands and started rocking back and forth. “Father, please help me. I want to be pleasing in Your sight. I want to stop cussin’, and I want my husband to be proud of me. I don’t want him to hesitate to use me in ministry. Please, God, please strengthen me to walk among my enemies and not give in to the temptation of saying things that’ll have me in here repenting every night.”

Chapter 3
    Bright and early Monday morning, Mother Gussie Hughes was sitting at her post outside of Lance’s office with her cellular phone held up to her ear. “Pansie, we have to come up with a plan to get that broad out of this church. We just can’t sit back and let her think she’s running thangs around here. And it ain’t no use in tryin’ to talk some sense into the bishop. She’s got his nose so wide open, all he can see is her big wide butt in those short, skintight skirts.” She saw Lance approaching and quickly ended her call.
    â€œOkay, thanks for calling. I’ll talk to you soon.”
    â€œPraise the Lord, Mother,” Lance greeted as he passed her desk on the way to his office.
    A pregnant pause presented itself before Mother Gussie responded. “Praise the Lord, Bishop.”
    Lance noticed she had delayed her response and stopped in his tracks. “How are you feeling this morning?”
    She exhaled heavily. “I’m still in the land of the living. I guess that’s a good thang.”
    The last time Lance asked Mother Gussie how she was feeling, she wasn’t nearly as chipper. “My left foot is in the grave, and my right foot is on a banana peel.”
    Lance proceeded to his office and sat behind his desk. Mother Gussie prepared his coffee with two teaspoons of cream and four individual packets of Splenda. It was hot, light, and sweet; just the way he liked it. She set the mug on Lance’s desk and placed herself in a chair across from him.
    She took notice of Lance’s attire. Since he’d been married, he’d traded his conservative dress code from crisp white button-down shirts, an occasional necktie, and slacks, to T-shirts and blue jeans. Lance always wanted to look professional just in case he was called out to minister to someone. He had never wanted to look too casual. Mother Gussie wondered if he still felt that way. There was no doubt in her mind that Arykah was responsible for Lance’s carelessness. To Mother Gussie, the black turtleneck sweater and black denim jeans Lance was wearing made him look more like a regular member of the church than a conservative pastor. She hadn’t yet seen the new black cowboy boots Lance had decorated his feet with. They were a Christmas gift from Arykah.
    â€œBishop, you know who Brother Jackson Cartwright is, don’t you?” Mother Gussie asked.
    Lance logged on to his desktop. With about five hundred members on the roll, he tried to jog his memory. “Brother Cartwright, Brother Cartwright. No, I can’t say that I do. Is he active in the church?”
    â€œNo, he’s not active, but he does attend church every Sunday, and he is a faithful tither,” Mother Gussie answered. “You eulogized his wife, Justine, last May when she was killed in a hit-and-run car accident.”
    â€œOh, yeah, yeah, yeah, now I remember Brother Cartwright. How is he doing?”
    â€œNot too well, I’m afraid. He called the church this morning and said his only son, Justin, had been found dead late last night.”
    Lance sat straight up in his chair. “My God. What happened?”
    It was then, when Lance