Pastor Scott cracked his reverie. “Today is a happy day, regardless of your relationship with your son or daughter. I don’t know what battles you’re fighting right now. I don’t know how submerged you are in your valley, but Psalm 34:1 says, I will bless the Lord at all times. His praise shall continuously be in my mouth. You can read the other verses.” He shook his finger at the audience. “When is the best time to extol the Lord?”

  The congregation responded, “At all times.”

  He nodded. “You’ve gotten the worst news you’ve ever received about your child. When you open your mouth, what should come out first?” He cupped his ear, listening for their answer. “Complaints are not an option. God expects more from us than lip service. Your soul, spirit, and body should be in sync. Read Luke 19:40. Praise is the one thing we’re not supposed to contain. It’s automatic . . . in good times, in bad times. Everything that God created will praise Him. The wind, the sea, the water, the grass in the pasture, even the stones give off praise. It’s all about being in the presence of God, showing off his handiwork.”

  Parke agreed with everything his pastor preached, but lacked the mental strength to give the Lord Jesus more than lip praise. He was angry, disappointed, heartbroken, and confused. His mind wandered.

  “I need to get through to you today. It’s simplistic, but praising the Lord works. If He tells you something, believe it. Remember, the devil likes attention. Don’t give it to the snake. Focus on God, and He will speak encouragement, peace, salvation, promises, prosperity, and more to your spirit.

  “Life is not a cartoon where a scene can be rewound when it comes to God’s blessings. Once the impartations of blessings leave His mouth, His words penetrate to the intended targets on earth. According to Isaiah 55:11: So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth. It shall not return to me void, but it shall accomplish what I please, and it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it. That sounds pretty definite to me.”

  Without formally labeling it, the pastor had preached his Father’s Day sermon. Closing his Bible, Pastor Scott took a deep breath and walked from behind the pulpit. “Now, this is the part of the service where there is an uneven exchange. If you surrender to God today, He’ll give you more than what you walked in here with.”

  Pastor Scott lifted one arm while holding the cordless mike in the other. “This is your altar call. Open to anyone, especially fathers. This is your day to repent where you are, ask God for His mercy and forgiveness, then come and walk down the aisle to the altar where there is a change of clothing for you if you’re ready for a wash cycle in your spiritual life. The baptismal pool is ready, and God’s expecting you. Lead the way for your children and they will come.”

  Malcolm nudged Parke. “Hey, look over there.” He waited for Parke to follow his line of vision. “That’s one of the researchers at my firm. I’ve been inviting him, but like me, some folks are stubborn. His mother was killed by a drunk driver and he’s been mad at God ever since.”

  What is it with the drunk drivers? Parke frowned. He watched the young man stroll to the waiting minister at the altar. Parke wondered if the man was temporarily swayed by the message, or if he really wanted salvation.

  God spoke, I’ll judge the hearts of men.

  CHAPTER 24

  Monday morning after breakfast, Cheney was straightening the kitchen before she had to drop off Kami for a weeklong stay at Christian summer nature camp less than forty miles outside the St. Louis area. Parke teased her more than once, “Let the honeymoon begin.” When the phone rang, she glanced at the time on the wall clock. Cheney hoped Parke would grab it. By the third ring, she answered. “Hello?”

  “Is this Mrs. Jamieson?” the voice was polite, proper, and hesitant.

  “Yes.” Cheney tried to recognize the caller. She grew impatient. It was too early for solicitation. Plus, she and Parke were registered on the Do Not Call list, and their bills were current. “May I help you?”

  “My name is Gilbert Ann.”

  Cheney’s breath froze; her heart had a tantrum in her chest. Although she was momentarily speechless, Cheney managed to swallow. The previous night, after getting Kami to sleep, Parke seemed distant as they were lying in their own bed. Through her persistence and coaxing, Parke reluctantly admitted why he was so distracted after what seemed to be an enjoyable Father’s Day.

  “It’s over, Cheney. There can be no more attempts to validate he’s my son,” Parke had barely whispered.

  It was one more setback, one more hurt, and one more time they had to run back to God for counseling. They cried about what they had lost, but eventually laughed, reminiscing about some of Kami’s antics. Blinking, she focused on the man on the other end of her phone.

  “If you and your husband have time today, my wife and I would like to meet with you,” Gilbert requested. The cockiness Parke had pegged on Gilbert Ann was absent in his voice.

  On cue, Parke strolled down the back stairs. He appeared refreshed. The cleansing of their souls seemed to rejuvenate him. His nostrils flared in appreciation of her long, flowing blue-and-green skirt and blue top. He twisted his mouth in a flirt. When he acknowledged the worried expression on her face, his pending seduction went cold turkey. He nearly leaped down three steps trying to get to her.

  Parke mouthed, “Who is it? What’s wrong?” His stare indicated his concern.

  When he stepped closer, Cheney covered the phone and mumbled, “It’s Gilbert Ann. He and his wife want to meet with us.”

  Huffing, Parke not so gently plucked the phone out of Cheney’s hand and slapped it against his ear. Cheney winced. That had to hurt, but Parke didn’t seem fazed. He put his game face on before saying a word.

  “Good morning, Gilbert.” Parke listened as conflicting emotions played across his face. After a few minutes, he finally gave Cheney a hint of an outcome. “Give me the day, time, and place, and Cheney and I will be there.” He glanced at Cheney. “In an hour?”

  Shaking her head, she tapped her wristwatch. “I’ve got to get to work. I have trouble tickets stacked on my desk from Friday. It’s top priority,” she said in a hushed tone as Parke listened patiently.

  “Oh, baby, I’m sorry, I forgot,” he whispered in her ear then returned to his phone conversation. “Gilbert, this afternoon would be better for us. Yes, I’m sure our meeting is important, but my wife and I have commitments this morning that can’t be rescheduled.” Parke paused, nodding. “Yes, one o’clock is fine. Let’s meet at Hendel’s Market Cafe and Piano Bar on Saint Denis in Old Town Florissant. We’ll see you there.”

  Cheney exhaled when Parke disconnected and met her gaze. She tried to gauge his reaction to the call. He didn’t have the same jubilance and anxiety he had after his very first conversation with Gilbert. Today, Parke appeared a tad annoyed. Childishly, she wanted to cheer when her husband actually made demands. Next, she wanted to pop him upside his head for taunting Gilbert again. “Well, what do you think that’s all about? You don’t seem happy.”

  Resting his fist on his waist, Parke looked away, grimacing. “It’s because of God that I haven’t developed hypertension over this situation. I refuse to let this man jerk my chain. If I can’t have the child who may be my son, fine. This Gilbert will not dangle the boy over my head like a mistletoe, where I’m supposed to get warm and fuzzy feelings every time he calls because he feels I’ll gladly do his bidding because of the boy. Next thing I know, he’ll want to extort money from me if he mentions the boy. It ain’t going to happen.”

  He pounded his fist on their granite counter. “Enough is enough.” The engraved determination on Parke’s handsome face was confirmation he wasn’t bluffing.

  “We’ll find out,” she said in an attempt to comfort her husband.

  Snapping out of his reverie, Parke kissed Cheney. “I’m really feeling God’s leadership on this one. I’m heading to the office; then I’ll pick you up at your office in a few hours. We’re a team, baby.”

  He kissed her again, lingering a few moments.

  Cheney grinned. At times, she loved her husband’s stubbornness, especially when it came to them as a family. “Watch out Anns, the Jamiesons are coming.”

  At 12:51, Parke and Cheney were shown to the patio seating at Hendel’s. Parke considered the century-old former grocer’s storefront as an intimate hideaway for lunch or dinner. Trees towering over the brick-covered ground and bells tolling from a neighboring church added to the historic atmosphere. It was close to their home and Cheney’s work.

  After Parke pulled out the chair for his wife, he took his seat. Relaxing, Parke squeezed her shoulder as he looked around. He didn’t try to hide his smirk. In a sense, Gilbert was doing Parke’s bidding by driving across the city to his turf. Once they indulged what their adversaries had to say, he could enjoy lunch with his wife.

  Cheney took a deep breath. “This time next year, Daddy could be in prison. It’s funny; when Grandma BB was in jail, I worried, but deep down inside, I believed she could hold her own. I’m not getting that same feeling if Daddy is incarcerated. It seems so surreal.” Cheney’s voice cracked as she searched for any focal point besides her husband’s face.

  Parke teased Cheney’s chin with his thumb. Leaning over, he brushed a kiss against Cheney’s lips. “God gave me you, and we’re going to make it despite this drama that’s more twisted than what’s on a soap opera. You have me, Cheney, whenever you need me.”

  Gilbert’s appearance interrupted the love zone Parke was enjoying with Cheney. An attractive woman, evidently Gilbert’s wife, accompanied him as a hostess escorted them through a rose-covered archway. Standing, Parke nodded a greeting then shook Gilbert’s hand when the couple reached the table.

  After the pleasantries of introducing their wives, Parke got to the point. “Is something wrong with my son?”

  “Relax, Parke. GJ is fine—if he is your son.” Gilbert met Parke’s challenge.

  Gilbert’s attire was low key. The suit was absent in favor of a tan short-sleeve shirt and brown trousers. His wife was fashionable, but conservatively dressed in a casual suit.

  Parke cringed. The child’s rename was really starting to grate on his nerves. “Then what is this about? Last I heard—as a matter of fact, a few days ago—I was instructed not to contact you, yet you practically summon my presence. Man, if you’re setting me up . . .”

  Cheney forced her fingers into his clenched fist, loosening the tension. Parke held his tongue.

  After the strained formalities, Gilbert and Harriett sat without an invitation. A waitress approached them. This time around Parke had an appetite. Without scanning a menu, he ordered a seafood stuffed mushrooms appetizer for him and Cheney.

  “Would you like to see the menu, sir?” the young girl asked the newcomers.

  The Anns shook their heads and asked for water. “I won’t waste anyone’s time. I’ll consent for Gilbert to take a paternity test. If it is confirmed that you’re his biological father, I’m willing to terminate custody for you to adopt him.”

  Cheney gasped. “What?”

  “Just like that.” Parke snapped his fingers. He squinted and drummed his fingers on the white plastic-covered wrought-iron table. This sounded too easy. “Umm-hmm. How humbling, how magnanimous, how—”

  “Parke!” Cheney nudged him, but he didn’t look her way.

  “I’ve got this, babe. Now, why would you want to do me any favors, Mr. Ann?”

  When Gilbert was about to explain, the waitress returned with four glasses of water, giving their guests a few minutes to stall. Whereas the others took sips, Gilbert gulped down a large portion.

  “Mr. Jamieson, Harriett is four months pregnant.” His wife reached across the table and covered Gilbert’s hand. “We couldn’t believe it after six long years.”

  Parke was dumbfounded. Too many emotions whirled in his mind. Although congratulations were probably in order, Parke didn’t see that as a reason to throw a child back into a broken system. He glanced at Cheney. Her eyes were glazed with tears, but Parke couldn’t decipher what her reaction meant.

  The waitress returned with Parke and Cheney’s order. Although she said earlier she was hungry, Cheney didn’t touch her plate. Parke silently said grace and took a bite, trying to digest the new information along with his food. Parke chewed slowly as all eyes around the table remained on him. Wiping his mouth, he nodded for Gilbert to proceed.

  “Three nights ago, God spoke to me in a dream. I was on a beach with a baby in my arms. For some reason, I lifted it up to the sky as in a form of worship. As I lowered the child—I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl—a pair of large, strong hands were waiting to take the baby. I placed the infant in a makeshift cocoon. It seemed as if God’s fingertip scripted the words, using the light in the sky against gray clouds: Give him up.”

  Parke wasn’t ready to break open the bottles of sparkling white grape juice. Doubt began to seep in. What if he wasn’t the father of Gilbert’s adopted son? Parke pushed aside his plate. His appetite was quenched as his spirit bore witness, and his heart pumped in recognition of what Gilbert had revealed.

  Gilbert swallowed. “Parke, I know that even without a paternity test that you are Gil—I mean the boy’s father. God gave me one more confirmation. That was Friday night. Sunday morning, Father’s Day, marked the third day Harriet hadn’t been feeling well. My wife’s mother, also a great woman of God, phoned early with the strangest request: take a pregnancy test.

  “What was so odd about it was she knew the diagnosis doctors had told us more than ten years ago. It took some convincing, but finally Harriet did as her mother suggested.”

  Parke could feel Cheney’s leg trembling under the table. She pinched the tablecloth and refused to make eye contact with him. When he discreetly laid his hand over her thigh to still her movement, his hand shook from the intensity.

  Gilbert chuckled. “Actually, we retook the test five more times after the first one came back positive. We can’t believe my Harriett has been with our first child for four months!” He grinned at his blushing wife. “The doctors confirmed it this morning.”

  Not to be outdone, Parke spoke up, “Yes, my Cheney and I have been on the receiving end of the Lord’s blessings and miracles.” He squeezed her knee and the shaking ceased.

  “It didn’t take the doctor’s confirmation about the pregnancy for us to release Gilbert Junior. God was getting us ready. We’ll initiate the termination process of our parental rights immediately so you can legally adopt the son God gave you.”

  Parke never thought he would ever hear Gilbert willingly give up custody of the boy. The building of an engaging smile was crushed when Gilbert held up his finger.

  “I do have one condition.”

  I knew it! Parke couldn’t speak as he tensed in his seat. He fought back steam coming through his nose.

  “I want to be a part of his life from afar. I want to know how he’s doing, and I want to be his self-appointed godfather.”

  As the second-born son, Malcolm would be designated as the godfather. Parke couldn’t allow his brother to be robbed of that right. Parke folded his hands and adjusted his shoulders. “I’m afraid I’ll have to deny one of your requests, and it has nothing to do with being vengeful. The Jamiesons are a tight family. My brothers and I have positions we are destined to fill as descendants of Prince Paki and Elaine. The firstborn son must carry the Parke Kokumuo name. Male uncles, if any, become his godfathers. They also have to marry women with strong character who can nurture a prince.”

  Parke had his own chuckle, pointing his thumb toward Cheney. “Brains and beauty,” he teased then choked with emotions. Despite all he didn’t have, he would be considered a blessed man by this tenth great-grandfather’s standards. “Gilbert, the bottom line is you and your wife don’t need titles to be part of our family.”

  “Amen,” Cheney spoke for the first time.

  “Thank you,” Harriett whispered with a smile.

  After a moment of silence, the couples took deep breaths as Gilbert reached in his back pocket. Pulling out his wallet, he opened it and picked through several business and credit cards. Mixed in the stack was a lone picture. When Gilbert slid the picture toward the Jamiesons, it stopped in front of Parke. Mesmerized, Parke’s mouth dropped.

  “That’s me . . . oh my God, that’s me.” Parke was in awe as he stared into the eyes of the little boy he’d helped create.

  Cheney leaned over. “He’s adorable. Parke, the resemblance is uncanny. He’s definitely another Jamieson.”

  “That’s what I thought the first time I saw Parke,” Gilbert confessed. “Of course, I wasn’t going to tell you that.”

  The men exchanged chuckles as Harriett reached across the table and covered Cheney’s hand with hers. “We know you’ll love him.”

  “There’s no doubt we have plenty of love for him,” Cheney assured her.

  Gilbert slapped his palms on the table, grinning. “Time to eat.”

  The waitress appeared immediately. Gilbert ordered enough food for everyone at the table. Parke was too excited to put another thing in his mouth. As he examined the picture, Parke further scrutinized the eyes, mouth, nose, and the shirt he wore. He looked for scars, birthmarks, and insect bites. He wondered at the brand of the blue-and-orange plaid shirt that clothed the child. His boy.

  Parke was still grinning when the Anns’s orders arrived. The strained mood turned festive, until he sensed Cheney’s silence. Her shoulders shook. Lifting his arm, he engulfed his wife and snuggled her closer to him.

  “Mrs. Jamieson, are you all right?” Harriett asked.

  Cheney nodded, but Parke wasn’t so sure.

  CHAPTER 25

  What was Rainey thinking to allow the twins, Peter and Paul, to challenge him to almost two hours of reading a day? Their bickering started outside in the waiting room and followed them into his office.