Diary of a Mad First Lady Read Online Free Page B

see that she wanted to be me. Her plan included taking over my life. As me.
    Trying to figure out my next move, I sat looking at Daphne as she swayed softly along with the choir that was now singing J. Moss’s “Forgive Me, Oh Lord.” I knew that it was wrong to think it, but I just didn’t want God to forgive her. I wanted her to pay for every single thing that she had done to try to annihilate my life. Sure, that wasn’t the Christian thing, but I was mad. And there weren’t too many Christian-like thoughts coming to mind right now.
    “Baby, you’ve got to snap out of it,” Darvin said as sweetly as he could. “Don’t let the devil steal your joy.”
    What did he just say? Was he being the husband or the Pastor right now?
    If he was being the husband, then that was the wrong thing to say, and if he was being the Pastor, then he’d better find someone else to give a word to, because I didn’t need it. Not that one anyway. Because the devil was sitting right in the back of our congregation, and she had already stolen my joy.
    The rest of the service went by in a blur. I was extremely agitated that the joy I had when I started the day had been replaced by dreary gloom. My stomach was starting to feel upset, and I felt like I was about to hurl every morsel of my breakfast onto Darvin’s tailored suit. He was sitting there looking so good in the charcoal gray suit that he had chosen to complement with a smoky gray shirt, matching tie, and black gators. And if that weren’t enough to make him look as if he’d just stepped out of fashion heaven, the salt-’n-pepper hairs that were peeking out of his goatee were sinful enough to drive any woman to hell if she wasn’t careful.
    Admiring my husband and his delightful taste in clothing took my mind off Daphne, but only for a moment. My pleasure was short-lived, because I returned to my previous thought. Why was Daphne back?
    My eyes swerved back to the place where Daphne was sitting, but she was no longer there. I blinked, making sure that my contacts hadn’t become dry, thereby giving me the illusion that people were disappearing. What I did see clearly was Darvin taking his place at the wooden podium to deliver his sermon. I turned and saw my two assistants sitting behind me. I saw Mother Hampton dozing off to sleep in the Amen corner, and I saw Deacon Brown following suit, his snores becoming a part of the amens and hallelujahs.
    What I didn’t see was the person who had just occupied the last seat on the back row. Beads of sweat began to rise on my face like condensation on the outside of a cold glass of water. I tried to think positive and not believe that something bad was about to happen as Darvin began his sermon on faith.
    “Church, we’ve got to believe that no matter what we go through, no matter what situations we face, God is right there,” he said.
    Hmph. Where was God when that psycho Daphne was trying to kill me?
    Bad memories flooded my mind. Among the many things she’d done to sabotage my life—running my car off of the road and poisoning my food—convincing a locksmith to change all of my locks, leaving me to stand outside in below freezing weather at ten o’ clock at night trying to get into my own house, was just low-down and dirty.
    God, I know you’re always there, but I have to wonder sometimes if you’re always looking.
    Darvin was deep into his message before I started to listen again.
    “When you can’t do anything else, put your trust in God! Believe that He will make a way out of no way! Believe that He will turn your darkness into day!” Darvin proclaimed. “Why do I want you to believe today, saints? Because if you believe in God’s Word, I’m a witness that it can and will change your very life!”
    Darvin spoke with power. He inspired and had people standing on their feet, shouting praises to God. Mother Hampton, who had been asleep just minutes earlier, was now tearing down the “amen corner,” stomping her size 13