The Pastor's Wife by Reshonda Tate Billingsley Page A

found Mrs. Right,” she whined. “Well, I’m Miss Wright, and I’m your Mrs. Right! If that ain’t divine, I don’t know what is!” Debra was shaking, she was so worked up.
    Dorothy Mae stepped up and gently placed her hand on Debra’s arm. “Baby, did you take your medication today?”
    Both Eva and Mamie snapped their heads toward Dorothy Mae and said in unison, “Medication?”
    Terrance looked at Dorothy Mae, confusion etched across his face. “How do you know Debra?”
    Dorothy Mae ignored him and tried to stroke Debra’s back. “Sweetie, did you take your medication today?” she calmly repeated.
    “I told Mama I ain’t taking that mess no more. It makes me drowsy and I don’t wanna be drowsy!” Debra exclaimed. “I need all my senses so I can sniff out dogs like Terrance.” She spun back toward Terrance, her eyes red with rage. “Besides, I thought I’d found me a man and I wouldn’t need those stupid pills anymore.”
    Dorothy Mae gently guided Debra toward the back conference room. “Come with me, sugar. Let’s call your mama, then you can tell me all about how my nephew dogged you out.”
    That seemed to pacify Debra because she sniffed, rolled her eyes at Terrance, then followed Dorothy Mae to the back.
    Fifteen minutes later, Dorothy Mae walked into Terrance’s office, where everyone had gathered. All eyes were on her as soon as she entered the room.
    “We’re listening,” Eva said as she crossed her arms. “I just know you did not try to fix Terrance up with a crazy woman. And I told you that little plan to pretend Debra’s car had broken down was going to backfire.”
    Dorothy Mae looked apologetic. “I’m sorry.”
    “You fixed Terrance up with some cuckoo bird?” Mamie asked, astonished.
    Dorothy Mae plopped down in a chair. “She’s not cuckoo. She has bipolar disorder.”
    “Like I said, cuckoo,” Mamie snapped.
    “Her mother said she’s fine as long as she takes her medication. And besides, every time I’ve ever seen her, she’s been the perfect sweetheart.”
    “Did that raving lunatic look like a sweetheart to you?” Eva questioned. “I mean, good Lord, this doesn’t make any sense.”
    “Yeah, Dorothy Mae. How you gon’ fix Terrance up with somebody like that?” Mamie chimed in.
    “Oh, like the atheist was that much better,” Dorothy Mae retorted.
    “Okay, that’s enough.” Terrance rubbed his head. He had a pounding headache.
    Dorothy Mae diverted her eyes in shame.
    “I can’t believe this was a setup.” He slammed his hands on his desk. “I want you all to listen up and listen up good. First of all, there will be no more blind dates. No carefully orchestrated meetings. Nothing. Understood?”
    “But—,” Eva began.
    “But nothing. No more dates, no more setups, no more accidental meetings. Nothing. Period. Do you understand that?” Terrance knew he’d caught them off guard with the firmness in his voice, but this was getting out of control. “I will find my own woman. And if I don’t find her, then it was not meant for me to have one. Do you understand that?”
    “Fine,” all three of them muttered.
    “Secondly,” Terrance continued, “I’m going home. By myself, and please, unless someone dies, nobody call me until tomorrow.”
    Terrance stomped out of the church determined more than ever to end his search for the perfect wife. After all he’d been through, his future wife was going to have to find him, because he was done searching for the real Mrs. Right.

chapter 22
    “S o is Terrance still mad at us?” Dorothy Mae asked as she put away the last of the dishes in Eva’s kitchen. This was the second Sunday Terrance had skipped out on their weekly meal. This time he didn’t even bother to try to give them an excuse. He just didn’t show up.
    “Your guess is as good as mine.” Eva sighed. It looked like their plan to find Terrance a wife was falling apart at the seams.
    “Well, last Sunday, I heard he was at Red Lobster