Chapter Eleven
Hello, Mr. Washington, thanks so much for meeting me.” Jimmy Snow stood up and extended his hand.
“Thank you for the invitation. I know most station owners don’t get directly involved with their cast, but I set out to do something totally different with Revelations . By the way, I gave your camera crew the afternoon off. This meeting doesn’t need to be filmed.”
“That’s fine with me. Frankly, the cameras make me nervous. Please have a seat,” Jimmy offered, then sat down also. As he did, he noticed Julian looking around the room. “I hope you don’t mind meeting here at The Spiritual Blessings Café. Since it’s a part of the church, I have lunch here often.”
“No, I don’t mind at all. I was just admiring the atmosphere.”
The Spiritual Blessings Café was one of the ideas that Jimmy Snow was adamant about being a part of his church’s recent expansion. It was reminiscent of a college coffee house with bistro-style tables and chairs. The ambiance and décor were warm and inviting. Gospel artists such as Yolanda Adams, Byron Cage, and Kirk Franklin were gently piped through the speakers, offering subtle background music. Near the back of the café was a computer lab that also featured free Wi-Fi service. The café served specialty coffees and teas, as well as an assortment of soft drinks and juices. During the morning hours, they offered a continental breakfast of homemade muffins, pastries, rolls, and bagels which were baked and donated by church members. The lunch menu consisted of an assortment of cold sandwiches and salads.
“This is one of my favorite spots at the church. All of the food is prepared by church members, and it’s extremely delicious,” Jimmy said.
A lanky teenager with long micro braids approached their table and handed them two menus. “Are you having the usual, Bishop?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you, Lena.” He turned to Julian “What would you like, Mr. Washington?”
Julian looked up from his menu. “Please call me, Julian. Um . . . What’s the usual?”
“I usually have a Rueben sandwich with potato salad,” Jimmy answered.
“Sounds good to me.” Julian closed his menu and handed it back to Lena. When she was gone, he turned to Jimmy. “Why are there no prices on the menu?”
“That’s my favorite part about this place. It’s operated totally on donations from the members. There are no set prices. If you can afford to pay something, we have an offering box. If you can’t, then you’ve just received a blessing.”
Julian raised one eyebrow. “You mean to tell me that any bum off the street can come in here and eat for free? I’m surprised the place isn’t overrun with deadbeats and homeless people.”
“You know, that opinion isn’t rare. Some of my own members shared the same sentiment when I first suggested this place. We have some homeless people who are regulars, but this isn’t a soup kitchen.” Discreetly, Jimmy pointed to a young lady sitting nearby with her laptop computer. “It’s for the college student on a budget.” He turned slightly in his seat and motioned toward the computer lab. “It’s for the single, unemployed mothers with kids to feed. She’s using the computers to search for a job, and her kids will have something nutritious to eat.”
Unimpressed, Julian continued. “I’m sorry if I sounded harsh. My point is how can you afford to keep this place running? I know the food is donated, but you have overhead. I mean, this place is nice, really nice. The money has to come from something besides donations.”
Jimmy nodded his head. “I understand your point. But there’s something I’ve learned over the years. It doesn’t take money to have ministry. If you concentrate on ministry, the money will come. God will provide it. If you chase the money, your ministries will suffer.”
Lena returned with their lunch just as Julian was about to protest further. He held his tongue as she laid the plates on the table and returned to the kitchen. “That sounds good, Bishop, it really does. But it’s not realistic.”
Jimmy turned around in his chair and pointed toward the front door. On the wall directly above the entrance Julian saw a beautifully etched verse of scripture. “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you” (Matthew 6:33).
Unable to argue with scripture, Julian decided that further protest was futile. Instead of speaking, he picked up his sandwich and took a bite. The corned beef inside was tender and juicy. Grabbing a napkin, he caught the juice before it began to dribble down his chin. “This is delicious,” he commented.
“My wife makes them. They are my favorite.”
The mention of Bishop Snow’s wife brought Julian’s thoughts back to the real reason he’d agreed to the meeting. “Oh, yes, your wife. Isn’t she the reason you wanted to speak with me?”
Jimmy put down his sandwich, then chewed and swallowed the bite he’d just taken. “My wife, Yolanda, was very disappointed after the premiere last week. It’s gotten even worse since the first episode aired to the public last night.”
“I don’t understand. Your segment was one of the most popular.”
“You may not know this, but I never wanted to do this TV show. It was all my wife’s idea, and you know how wives can be when they really want something.”
Julian shook his head. “No, I don’t. I’ve never been married.” I was saving myself for my beloved Ophelia, he thought.
“Oh, well, anyway, Yolanda was insistent that we do the show, and I only agreed to it in order to please her.”
Julian nodded his head, encouraging him to continue.
“You see, my wife has always wanted to be an actress. At one time that was all she dreamed of. So this show is really important to her, and she was really disappointed that she had such little camera time.”
Julian was taken aback. The reason she wasn’t featured more prominently was because all of her footage was sitting in his theatre room and the editors did not have an opportunity to work it into the show. Realizing he couldn’t explain that to Jimmy, he faked concern. “Really? Are you sure it wasn’t more?”
“I’m sure. My wife has been screaming, ranting, and mumbling ‘forty-five seconds’ over and over again since the premiere.”
“Well, I understand her concern. Although it’s primarily a show about the ministers, we want to include the families and wives as much as possible. I’ll speak with the producer to see if we can add in a little more of her footage.”
“Thank you. I understand that the show is primarily about the ministers, but a large part of my ministry is keeping my wife happy,” Jimmy laughed.
Chuckling politely, Julian reached for his potato salad cup, then took a bite. As soon as it hit his palate, his taste buds grabbed him and dragged him backward in time.
“Ophelia, you make the best potato salad in South Carolina.” He grinned at her and took another bite.
“I bet you say that to all the girls. It’s my granny’s recipe. I just threw it together. Besides, you said you loved my chicken supreme and my lemon pound cake. You love everything I cook.”
“I know I shower you with compliments, but this is different. When we get married, I want you to serve me potato salad for dinner every night.”
Ophelia’s eyes grew wide, and she stared at him. “Married? But we’ve only been dating a few weeks.”
He took her hand into his. “I know, but this is right. I can feel it. There is no other woman for me on this earth. You are everything and the only thing that I want. Marry me, Ophelia. Be my wife.” That was the first time he proposed, but it wouldn’t be the last.
Jimmy Snow’s hand waving in front of his face brought him back to the café.
“Are you okay? You spaced out for a minute.”
Julian struggled to regain his composure. He pointed at his plate. “This potato salad is wonderful. Which one of your members donated this?”
Jimmy beamed with pride. “My wife made this also. She’s a wonderful cook, don’t you think?”
The potato salad sealed everything for Julian. Anderson had done as Julian asked and gathered as much background information on Yolanda Snow as he could. Julian had learned that she had the same birth date as Ophelia. Just like Julian and Ophelia, Yolanda was a native of Greenburg, S.C. Ophelia moved to Atlanta after college, the same as Yolanda Snow.
While looking over the information, Julian tried to convince himself that it was all just a bizarre coincidence. Ophelia was dead; he had visited her gravesite many times. He’d also considered the possibility of identity theft. It wasn’t unheard of for someone to forage through the obituaries and assume another person’s life story. That theory sank when he realized there was no reason for Yolanda to assume Ophelia’s life, unless she also took her name.
So he’d agreed to meet with Jimmy Snow in the hopes that he could fill in the holes in the story and somehow get confirmation or denial that Yolanda was or was not his beloved Ophelia. He’d only caught a glimpse of her during the premiere party, and he was reluctant to approach her unless he was positive of her identity. During lunch, he’d planned to coyly ask questions about her without letting on his true intentions. Gobbling down another bite of potato salad and savoring the flavor, he realized there was no doubt. Yolanda and Ophelia had to be the same person.
Leaning forward, he began his rehearsed line of questioning. “Yes, your wife is an amazing cook. Tell me, Bishop, how did you two meet?”
“We were introduced by a mutual friend. After my first wife passed away, I spent my time concentrating on raising my kids and didn’t get out much. So my friend invited me to a cookout, Yolanda was there, and the rest, as they say, is history.”
Although he was telling the story of meeting his wife, Julian noticed that a sad look washed over Jimmy’s face. “Is everything all right, Bishop?”
“Yes, I just get a little sad when I think of it. I mean, meeting Yolanda was the best thing that could’ve happened to me. It just saddens me that our friend who introduced us never got to see how great it turned out.” Jimmy took a slow sip of his tea and sighed. “I still can’t believe that a guy can walk into a TV news station and open fire on innocent people like that. Greg never even saw it coming.”
“Greg Foster? Are you telling me Greg Foster introduced you to your wife?” Julian’s mouth was gaping open.
“Yes. Did you know him?”
“Um . . . no . . . but I used to watch him on the news. Everyone in Atlanta remembers the night that gunman shot him on live television.”
Jimmy nodded. “Yolanda went to high school with Greg, and he was one of my members right here at the church. I still miss him.”
Julian had also attended high school with Greg Foster. They’d kept in touch over the years, and it was Greg who had sent him the letter telling him that Ophelia was dead. It was a conspiracy. He introduced Ophelia to this guy, while telling me she was dead. Seething with anger, Julian took another bite of potato salad and reveled in its calming effects. “Well, he must have thought that you two were perfect for each other.”
Jimmy laughed. “Yes, he did, but I wasn’t so sure at first. I thought she was just another flaky wannabe actress. Atlanta is full of those types of women, and I didn’t think it would be good for me or my children. I mean, Yolanda even changed her name to try to get more acting roles.”
Tea spewed all over the table as Julian abruptly and violently spit it out. I was right. She changed her name. Feeling embarrassed, he grabbed napkins and began cleaning it up. “I’m so sorry. I thought I tasted a bug, but I guess it was just a piece of ice.”
Lena rushed over with a dish towel and helped the two men clean up the spill. Noticing that they were done eating, she offered to remove their plates.
“Yes . . . thank you,” Julian stammered. “Um, do you do takeout? I’d love a cup of that potato salad.”
“Well, no sir, I’m sorry, but we don’t,” Lena answered.
“It’s fine, Lena. Mr. Washington is my personal guest today. Please go ahead and give him the potato salad. He loves it,” Jimmy said.
After Lena left the table, Julian felt that he finally had enough courage to ask the question that was burning his heart, tongue, and soul. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “What was your wife’s name before she changed it?” he asked.
“Oh, I don’t think I should tell you that. Yolanda was so embarrassed by it that she hates it when she runs into old friends and they refer to her by that name.”
Just then Lena returned to the table with the takeout cup full of potato salad. “This is the last of it. Bishop Snow, can you tell Ms. Yolanda we need more?”
“I certainly will. Thank you, Lena.”
Julian carefully took the cup and held it lovingly in his hand as if it were a very fragile and priceless piece of crystal. After staring at it for several minutes, he suddenly looked up as he felt eyes on him. Jimmy and Lena were staring as he tenderly caressed the side of the cup. Quickly he set it down on the table. “Um . . . yes, thank you.”
Lena gave him another side-eyed look, then walked away giggling.
“Are you okay, Julian? I don’t mean to pry, but you’ve seemed sort of out of it this afternoon,” Jimmy said. “Is there something you need to talk about?”
Laughing nervously, Julian shook his head. “No, it’s nothing. I’m a bachelor, so it’s not often that I get good home-cooked food. Now, you were about to tell me your wife’s real name.”
“Oh no, I wasn’t.” Jimmy shook his head emphatically.
“You know, Bishop, this is typical. You called me here to ask me to feature your wife on the show, and I have graciously agreed to that. But you are not willing to cooperate. I really don’t see how I can feature her, unless I know everything.” Julian was growing tired of beating around the bush with Jimmy. Inside, he was a bundle of emotions.
“I don’t understand. What difference does it make to you what her real name is?”
Julian reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table as a tip. “Before we began shooting this show, I had my producer run background checks on all of the participants. The reason we do that is to make sure that there are no surprises. We ran a check on Yolanda Snow, and now I find out that’s not even her real name.” He stood up from the table. “It’s in our best interest that we keep her low profile. The last thing I need is for some overzealous reporter to find out her real name and then tell us she robbed three liquor stores back in 1999.” He grabbed the cup of potato salad and turned in the direction of the door.
“Wait, don’t leave. I didn’t even think of that. You’re right. Of course I’ll tell you her real name.”
An evil grin spread across Julian’s face. Quickly erasing it, he tried his best to look disinterested; then he turned around and took his seat. “I’m an understanding man. We’ll do our background check, but otherwise, I promise it will be just between the two of us.”
Looking around, Jimmy made sure that none of the other patrons in the café were eavesdropping on his conversation. Then he leaned in close and motioned for Julian to lean in as well so that he could share his wife’s secret. “It was Ophelia Guzman.”
Underneath the table, Julian’s legs quivered and buckled. His eyes closed, and he slowly slipped out of the chair and wilted onto the tile floor, passed out cold.