Don't Blame the Devil Read Free

driver behind her.
    Her attention was still on her driving, and she continued talking to God. “I know there’re other problems in this cold, cruel world that occupy Your time. And just like I know folks say that You leave the past in the past, I want to thank You for being bothered with me and all my shame and hurt.”
    And then Delilah lowered her voice as though it were someone else in the car other than her and God. “I mean specifically the shame of having that breakdown, and me leaving my husband and putting my baby boy, Jessie, in foster care all those years ago. I’m sure they’re doing quite well without me and my family curse. I remember throughout most of my teenage years, my mama taught me that it seems like the Jewels just don’t shine that well here on earth….”
    â€œY’all sing that chorus just one more time,” Delilah murmured through her car window that particular Sunday as she pulled into the New Hope Assembly Church’s huge parking lot. Happy she was able to park not too far from the sanctuary, she rolled down her window and braved the heat. The huge, air-conditioned church’s windows were closed, but she could still hear them praising God. Delilah swung her tiny hands from side to side and tapped the steering wheel like a choir director. Oh, how she did enjoy directing a good song almost as much as she did singing one. “Awww, come on now. Give God the glory!”
    Â 
    Delilah’s attempt at pleasing her God caused her to spread her worship among several churches in Harlem and Brooklyn. New Hope was surely becoming one of her favorites. It was the third time she’d visited and praised God from their parking lot. She’d come to choose her place of worship according to which she thought had the best music. So many times the music that poured through open stained-glass windows or oversized amplifiers tugged at her spirit and fed her soul.
    And yet, true to her word, as soon as it became time for God’s message to come forth with all the loud preaching that was brought with it, along with the begging for money part of the service, she’d always drive off before it began. Delilah always managed to feel good after giving God His worship, on her terms.
    However, soon enough Delilah would receive a message of another sort. God, omniscient and the author of the final word for all mankind, had had just about enough of Delilah’s customized worship service. God was about to checkmate the old gal and she’d never see it coming.

Chapter 3
    B efore she could put the car in gear, several people filed through the church’s side exit door. She’d never seen that happen before a service ended. “Well, it’s time for me to get out of here.” She was just about to turn on her ignition when she heard a voice.
    â€œDelilah?”
    Delilah swung her head around and peeked out through the driver’s side rolled-down window. She’d moved too fast; something she didn’t normally do when she heard her name called, without checking to see if there was drama attached to it.
    â€œDelilah?” There was no mistaking that male voice. It sounded closer and a bit more confident than it had a moment ago. But now it had more of an accusatory tone than a questioning one. “Woman, stop trying to act like it ain’t you.”
    The tall, dark-skinned man lumbered toward the passenger side of Delilah’s car. Only a few feet separated him from the Navigator.
    â€œDelilah Dupree…” The man reached the car before he could complete her name for the third time. He had a dark jacket flung over his arm and wore a black-and-white polka-dot shirt and matching bow tie. His white pants didn’t quite fit right, but the suspenders made certain they wouldn’t fall off his lanky body. And the hair—a little sparser than the last time Delilah had laid eyes upon it—still appeared shiny and hard, as