Divine Intervention Read online

  Also by Lutishia Lovely

  Sex in the Sanctuary

  Love Like Hallelujah

  A Preacher’s Passion

  Heaven Right Here

  Reverend Feelgood

  Heaven Forbid

  All Up in My Business

  Mind Your Own Business

  Taking Care of Business

  Divine Intervention

  LUTISHIA LOVELY

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Also by Lutishia Lovely

  Title Page

  Dedication

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  1 - Here Comes the Bride

  2 - Mr. Wrong

  3 - Like a Good Neighbor …

  4 - Friends … How Many of Us Have Them?

  5 - It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday

  6 - Fathers Be Good to Your Daughters

  7 - Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

  8 - Here Comes the Bride … Again

  9 - Ball Of Confusion

  10 - Pray

  11 - What’s Going On?

  12 - Power of Love

  13 - Working My Way Back to You

  14 - I Will Always Love You

  15 - It Ain’t Over Till It’s Over

  16 - Forget You

  17 - Time To Make A Change

  18 - You Dropped A Bomb On Me

  19 - Dilemma

  20 - The Power Of Love

  21 - Got Me Looking So Crazy Right Now

  22 - Meet Me at the Altar in Your White Dress

  23 - Standing in the Need of Prayer

  24 - Sex Ain’t Better Than Love

  25 - Family Affairs

  26 - Step By Step

  27 - A Woman’s Worth

  28 - Daydreaming

  29 - The Sideline Story

  30 - Lights, Camera, Attraction

  31 - Tomorrow

  32 - Yield Not To Temptation

  33 - Let’s Stay Together

  34 - Let It Be

  35 - Ring My Bell

  36 - They Say He’s Just a Friend

  37 - Losing My Religion

  38 - A Healer In The Sickroom

  39 - More Family Affairs

  40 - Like Father, Like Son

  41 - I’ll Make Love To You

  42 - Friends and Lovers

  43 - It’s A Small World

  44 - Hey Ya

  45 - From One Lover To Another

  46 - Home Is Where The Heart Is

  47 - Every Goodbye Ain’t Gone

  48 - Falling

  49 - This Is My Confession

  50 - Father and Son (The Remix)

  51 - Fistful of Tears

  52 - My Princess and Me

  53 - Fire and Desire

  54 - Oh My God

  55 - Back In Stride Again

  56 - Something Inside So Strong

  57 - All The King’s Horses

  58 - End Of The Road

  59 - Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow

  60 - Love Me Down

  61 - I’ll Always Love You

  62 - Love On Top

  A READING GROUP GUIDE - DIVINE INTERVENTION

  Teaser chapter

  Copyright Page

  For all of those who’ve experienced interventions …

  of the divine kind.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Even though it was more than twenty years ago, I vividly remember my first conscious experience with divine intervention. It was also my first experience with an angel. Now, whether or not this angel was already human or became so on my behalf I’m not sure. But what I do know is that Kassoum Kamagate was an angel, my angel, in mideighties Paris, France. He was the instrument that Spirit used for an intervention of the divine kind.

  I was traveling with an edutainment group, Up with People, and we were performing in Denmark. We had a rare few days off and I and a cast mate, Andre Pruitt, got the bright idea of traveling to Paris during this break. After all, France was only eight hours away by car. When would we ever be so close again? I spoke with my host family, whose friend was a truck driver. As it happened, he’d be traveling through France in a couple days. I could ride with him for free! After getting a release from my parents and making plans to meet Andre’s train in Paris, I climbed into the cab of a semi and headed south. (This journey, where the driver spoke no English and I spoke no Danish or German, is a whole other story, but I won’t digress.)

  I arrived in Paris, armed with my luggage and the phone number of Andre’s friend who was studying abroad. Being dumped on the corner of a busy intersection in a foreign country was a bit daunting, but I swallowed my fear and headed to a pay phone to dial Andre’s friend. My first uh-oh. The number Andre had given me was a WRONG NUMBER! Seriously? “Don’t panic, Tish. You can do this.” Even though I had no francs, no friends, and now no idea what the heck I was doing in Paris, I kept up the pep talk. Especially when I saw a brother decked out in dashiki and knit cap, looking like he was from the South Side of Philly or downtown New Jersey. Thank you, Jesus!!! I walked over to him and asked for directions to the Gare du Nord train station. Uh-oh number two. Brothah man is not American, but African. No parlez-vous Anglais!

  Two hours later, I arrived at the train station. YAY! Less than two hours before 8 p.m., when Andre’s train was scheduled to arrive. I hunkered down on my suitcase and waited. Right on schedule, the trains pulled in and people piled out. Searching, searching, searching. No Andre. The trains depart. The people leave. No Andre. What do I do now? Wait for him. Yes, you read correctly. That was my bright idea at 9 p.m. at night in a strange train station in a foreign city where I knew no one. Hurry up and wait. But in my defense, options were limited. I’d arrived too late to have my Danish kroner changed into francs, which meant I had no money. No credit cards either, and by now, only an apple left of the nice little sack lunch my host family had lovingly provided. In other words, I was up you-know-what creek without a paddle! So yes, “just chillin’ ” sounded like a good idea at the time.

  An hour later, the once bustling station was almost empty. That’s probably why I instantly noticed this young, black man walk by, looking at me intently while trying to act as though he wasn’t looking. When he walked by the second time, I looked him directly in the eye, as I’d been taught: on full alert, showing no fear. Uh-huh. I see you. By the third time he passed, I was in full self-protective bluff mode. Frown set. Eyes narrowed. Nucka, what? Finally, he walked over. The following conversation, abbreviated for the sake of this note, was conducted entirely with Kassoum speaking French and me speaking English. Yes, really.

  Kassoum: Hi. Who are you waiting for?

  Me: I’m waiting for my ami. (friend was one of five French words I knew. Merci beaucoup, pomme frites, and qui rounded out my stellar vocabulary).

  Kassoum (with worried look): There are no more trains tonight.

  Me (shrugging): Doesn’t matter. Mon ami is coming here, eight o’clock.

  I emphasized friend and pointed to the eight on my watch, so he wouldn’t get it twisted. I had back-up coming and was sooo not the one!

  We “conversed” for several minutes, during which time Kassoum showed me his ID and work permit (a mechanic) to convey that he was an honest man who meant me no harm. Then he pointed to a group of young tough-looking jokers at the end of the platform.

  Kassoum: See those men down there? They hang around here to prey on people like you. This place will be closing soon. You’ve got to come with me!

  Me: No. Effing. Way.

  After all, the number I’d given both to the group and my parents was wrong. If any
thing happened, no one would ever find my body! More debating, more denying, and then I hear the voice of Spirit: It’s okay. Go with him.

  So I did.

  The trepidation in my spirit and the lump of fear in my throat fled as soon as Kassoum opened his apartment door. It was clean and neat, with pictures of his family on the table and a beautiful one of his native West Africa on the wall. He brought out covers and a pillow for me to sleep on the couch. I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t close my eyes for a second!

  When I woke up, it was six-thirty. Kassoum and I went back to the train station. Shortly after 8 a.m., the tall, lanky body of my friend Andre appeared among the crowd. He’s here! Hallelujah! I introduced the two men, informed Andre about the wrong number, and learned that he’d incorrectly read his ticket as p.m. instead of a.m.! We all hugged and then Andre and I left the station to embark on five fun-filled days in Paris. I felt like Josephine Baker. Bonjour, Paris! This was pre-Internet, so without a correct number, we never found Andre’s friend. Instead, we stayed in a hotel that Kassoum suggested, right across the street from the train station. We saw him often and would wave like old friends. I swore to myself that I’d learn a little conversational French and keep in touch. Sadly, I did neither. But with today’s technology, hope springs eternal that I’ll again run across this angel whom God used that night to keep me safe.

  So now, more than twenty years later and wherever he is, I have just two words for Kassoum Kamagate: Thank. You.

  To this day, divine intervention continues. From the bottom of my heart, I thank the angels who help my literary career soar, and whose love and support are why you’re now holding this book in your hands: my editor, Selena James; art director Kristine Mills-Noble (the cover is divine!); and all the rest of “Team Lutishia” at Kensington Publishing. You guys are amazing. Big hug! My agent, Natasha Kern; promotions guru Ella Curry; book clubs, book stores, and radio shows across the country; every avid reader who’s ever picked up a book in the Hallelujah Love Series or the Business Trilogy and, of course, my family. I love you all. Merci beaucoup!

  1

  Here Comes the Bride

  Princess Brook stood with her father at the back of his church, and today Mount Zion Progressive Baptist was SRO—standing room only. She was a vision in white. Her princess cut wedding dress (with a name like that, what other style could she wear?) was a stunning combination of silk and chiffon, with Swarovski crystals creating an intricate design on the bodice before continuing—as though sprinkled by Glenda the Good Witch herself—along the skirt and twelve-foot train. The cut accented her perfectly sized breasts and small waist, while giving just a hint of the bootylicious that completed the brick house that one of her mother’s old-school favorites sang about in their hit song. The dress was strapless, revealing smooth, blemish-free caramel skin, but a tiara-held veil provided appropriate modesty, and her “something borrowed,” a teardrop diamond necklace that her father had given her mother years ago, was the perfect accessory around her gracefully slender neck. The purposely messy upswept do fashioned from her straight, shoulder-length hair further highlighted the borrowed gift … and Princess’s heart-shaped face.

  “Are you ready, baby girl?” King Brook asked.

  She nodded. “Are you?”

  Princess’s mega-minister father looked liked glory hallelujah and Jesus, have mercy combined, decked out in a black tuxedo complete with tails and waistcoat. The silver cummerbund and bow tie were perfect accents for his deep chocolate skin, his closely cropped hair, and expertly trimmed goatee—all working in his favor. Many women were already breaking their necks to look back and take multiple peeks. The feigned fainting would come later … when he smiled.

  “I’m ready to walk you down the aisle,” he said, after gazing at the daughter who seemed to have grown up overnight. “And I guess I have to give you away. But you’ll always be my baby girl.”

  “Stop it, Daddy,” Princess admonished, fanning her eyes to dry unshed tears. “You’ll ruin my makeup by making me cry!”

  The Musical Messengers, a group who’d performed many times at Mount Zion Progressive, broke out into a jazzy, gospel-tinged version of the traditional wedding march and within minutes, Princess stood at the altar. King kissed her cheek, shook hands with her soon-to-be husband, and walked behind the Plexiglas podium.

  “Dearly beloved,” he began, his voice a sexy baritone that over the years had caused many a lustful thought, “we’ve gathered here today to join my daughter, Princess Nicole Brook …” He faltered, his voice growing raspy with emotion. More lusting occurred. After clearing his throat, he continued. “My daughter, Princess Nicole Brook, and Rafael Scott Stevens together in holy matrimony.”

  The words continued, but it was as if Princess was in a fog. She couldn’t hear a thing. She stood there smiling at a man whose love for her could fill an ocean … and she was thinking about someone else. Kel … No! I dare not even think his name! He’s a part of my yesterday. This man, Rafael, is the man I want in my life. I love you, Rafael! I do! Rafael … Rafael … Rafael …

  As Rafael began speaking, Princess forced her mind back to the very important matter at hand. “I give you this ring,” he said, sliding a beautifully cut diamond onto her French-manicured finger, “as a symbol of my love and faithfulness. I commit myself to you: mind, body, and soul. Let this ring forever be a reminder of the words I’ve spoken this day.” There were tears in his large, chocolate brown eyes, which peered from a handsome, clean-shaven face. Rafael was the color of toffee, and just as sweet … all five feet ten inches of him were filled with integrity and devotion.

  Princess continued to stare at him, knowing that it was her turn to recite vows, and willing the words to come out.

  “Princess, is there anything you’d like to say?” King asked, gently encouraging his disconcerted daughter and bringing a bit of levity to the solemn affair.

  Princess managed a slight chuckle as she took a deep breath and repeated what Rafael had said, sliding a simple, platinum band onto his thick, manicured finger.

  “If there is anyone present who knows of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

  Was it Princess’s imagination or was her heart precariously close to thumping out of her chest? She looked at her mother, Tai Brook, who stared back at her with an unreadable expression. Princess’s mind went back to a conversation they’d had just days ago.

  “Mama, were you in love with Daddy when y’all got married?”

  “I thought I was, but honestly, I didn’t even know what true love meant when your father and I said ‘I do.’”

  “So when did you know that you were in love with him—not only that you loved him, but that you were in love?”

  Tai had looked up from the reality TV show she’d been watching, and muted the sound. “Why are you asking me this, Princess? Are you questioning whether or not you’re in love with Rafael?”

  “No,” Princess had answered, a bit too quickly. “Rafael and I grew up together. I love him very much.”

  Tai pressed the issue. “But are you in love with him?”

  Princess shrugged.

  “Let me ask you this. Do you feel the same way about Rafael that you did about Kelvin?”

  “Of course not, Mama. They’re two different people.”

  “Exactly. You’re always going to have a certain feeling about the first one, your first love, Princess. There is an excitement there, the thrill of experiencing something you’ve never felt before, which never happens twice. But don’t confuse that feeling with true love. Anybody can see why you’d be attracted to Kelvin. He’s tall, dark, handsome, and now successful and rich. But when it comes to relationships and being there for the long haul, traits such as faithfulness, loyalty, devotion, honesty … those are the ones that matter. As you think about the man you’re about to marry, and whether or not you should, think about those things. Rafael is a good man, baby,” Tai finis
hed, reaching out to place her hand on Princess’s arm. “He comes from a good, Christian family. And he absolutely adores you. I believe that he will do everything in his power to give you a great life.”

  After a very brief pause, King continued. “Then by the power invested in me, and in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, I now pronounce you man and—”

  “No!”

  A collective gasp went up from the crowd.

  “No!” Six feet and five inches of delectable determination made his way down the aisle that King and Princess had walked just moments before. The murmuring that had begun as soon as the handsome young man had uttered those two letters followed him down the aisle, pew by disbelieving pew, turning into a slight cacophony as he reached the front.

  Tai stood, a look of horror plastered on her face. Rafael’s parents were looking between her and the stranger who now stood between their son and his soon-to-be wife. Princess’s grandparents were as wide eyed as hooting owls. Camera phones were being snapped and flying fingers were sending texts.

  His next words silenced the crowd as much as his first one had sent tongues wagging. “You can’t marry him, Princess.”

  The eyes of a deer caught in headlights could not have been wider. She opened her mouth, but words were frozen along with her body.

  “Don’t do this to us, baby. You’re my girl. I love you!”

  Rafael was the first one to come out of the surprise-induced shock and react. “She’s not your baby,” he growled, taking a step toward Kelvin, a balled fist at his side.