Copyright 2010. All rights reserved.

 Men

 Honour all men. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honour the king.

            —1 Peter 2:17

 Shopping for produce at the French Market was always a cathartic excursion for Agatta. She marveled at the brilliant colors and superb forms. She found it amazing that fruits and vegetables were both edible and lovely to behold. Awed that each and every one of the provisions were yielded of the earth. Some sprang from dust, some sprouted on vines, others swelled on trees. All had a skin, flesh, serum, and a core; when ripe, they were sold at marketplace.

            Eagerly she moved down the aisle to a crate of coconuts. She wasn’t serious about purchasing one; the milk was too sweet unless she craved it. She placed her hand among the pile of browns and compared their pigments to her own. Soon she found a close match, and picked it up for further examination. Its dark brown husk gave her the comfort she longed for—commonality. The coconut fit perfectly in her hand. She held it up to her ear, shook, and listened to the tide of its milk. Purely for play, she shook it again, then carefully returned it to the crate. But her hand, as though awaiting the proper moment to separate, clung to the fruit. Actually, her mind wandered off.

            She could slip into fantasia anywhere, at anytime, and the catalyst could be anything. Random occurrences, from the trivial to the sublime could send her thoughts reeling. During such times, the only way to lure her out of the daze was to invade her space.

            Someone was trying to.

            The smell of shaving soap tickled her nostrils; warranting her attention away from the fruit. Then, in a voice that gave her chills, the stranger said, “It ain’t near ‘bout as pretty.”

            Agatta was too stunned to face him right away. His pitch ranged between a howl and a moan. It was strong yet equally consoling. She scanned her history but she found nothing to compare that voice to. What he looked like failed to matter; vocally he had been blessed enough. She looked up. “You don’t think so?”

            “No ma’am, I know for sure.” Tipping his hat, he extended his hand, and said, “Luther McBride.”

            His voice fit. He was black. Blue-black and smooth. Bald. Slightly taller than her man and robust. When he smiled, his eyes disappeared; he reminded her of the laughing Chinamen on the posters. He was not a young man, but he wasn’t old either. His eyebrows were still dark. Whether or not he was good-looking, she couldn’t say. But drawing power—now that he had.

“Pleased to meet you. Name’s Agatta Lugar.” She flagged an elderly vendeuse, and put her goods on the counter as the woman came over to assist her. She paid for a half a dozen bananas, a bunch of grapes, and a bunch of cherries. “Merci.”

Luther asked, “You mind if I walk with you?”

“No sir, I’d be obliged.”

They moved easily along the market’s lightly populated aisles, and walked out toDecatur Street.

It was a clear day, gifted with soft breezes, and a wide-eyed sun. The kind of day that dangled a promise or two.

At first she felt awkward walking with a man other than Sazar, but her uneasiness quickly passed. Still, she half hoped that Luther would abandon her before they reached Dracon’s, where Sazar would be waiting. Hope’s other half wanted to know more about the man with the trombone voice. “You live in town?”

“I do. Not far from here.”

“You work close by?”

“Sure do. At Immanuel Tabernacle, on Robertson before you get to La Harpe.”

“You a preacher?”

“Yes, the pastor.”

“I’m no saint.”

Luther laughed. “Don’t go blotting your name from the roll just yet.”

“I reckon it’s been blotted for me.”

“No sister, as long as you here, there’s grace enough to cover you.”

“It takes a whole lot of grace to sanctify a harlot.”

“My God’s got it.”

“Is it your custom to befriend scarlet sisters?”

“I befriend just about anybody.”

“Even lost souls?”

“Miss Agatta, you not lost—you just lost your way.”

“You aim to help me find it?”

“You’ll get home whether I lend a hand or not, though I’d be right honored to help. I imagine you much closer than you think.”

“To tell the truth, I never thought on it.”

“Sometimes that’s the best way to get close. Just know that God covers you and loves you.”

“Sure sounds good.”

“It is.”

They crossed onto Conti and neared Dracon’s. Agatta saw Sazar out front, leaning on a post. They locked eyes, but she could not pinpoint his mood.

He was not a jealous man, nor was he intimidated by other men of any sort; he was, however, territorial. Women, possessions, space—anything that he laid claim to was best left to him and him alone.

Sazar pivoted around the post, and kind of swayed back on his right heel. Careful not to let it show on his face, he pondered the man walking with Agatta. A man who clearly was not sweet on her.

She perked up like a little girl approaching her favorite doll. Luther honed in on her sudden excitement and the energy between her and Sazar. “Is that your beau?”

“Yeah.”

“Y’all make a fine looking pair.”

“Why, thank you.”

They crossedChartres, and in no time they were face to face with Sazar.

“Good afternoon,” she said.

“It’s better now.” He bent sideways to kiss her cheek.

She turned to her new acquaintance. “Reverend Luther McBride, meet Sazar Jorda.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Luther said.

They shook hands.

“Likewise.” Bewildered, Sazar took a step back and glanced from Luther to Agatta and back again. He raised an eyebrow, “Reverend,” he said, folding his arms and surveying the surroundings, “this is a strange place to spread the good news.”

“I beg to differ. It’s the perfect place. Church folks already saved. It makes good sense to minister to those who’ve gone astray.”

“Maybe they strayed to where they need to be.”

“If so, they’ll stay there.”

“I see. But surely there’s enough work to do around your church house.”

“Oh! Indeed there is, but you see—everything under the sun is God’s, so his work is everywhere.” Luther smiled as he looked Sazar right in the eye. “Ministry can be trying work sometimes, yet it reaps the sweetest rewards.”

“I imagine so; especially when you have nothing else to do.”

“Man has but two labors, the Lord’s work or the devil’s.”

Sazar took Agatta by the hand and coaxed her close to him. “That must be some narrow-minded man.” Cavalierly, he nodded farewell.

“Good day, Mr. Jorda. Miss Agatta.”

            “Bye,” she said softly.

Beneath a cloudless sky the cool halcyon waters ofLake Pontchartrainrippled as gently as a stray breeze along the spine or the sigh of a baby during siesta. Secluded by columns of oak trees draped in Spanish moss, the lake was a longtime gathering place for lovers, religious rituals, picnics, reunions, and retreats. Whether solo or accompanied, the lake held the ace of all aces—it never talked.

Sazar drove to an isolated realm of the lake and parked in the marsh. He roped the horses to a tree, leaving enough slack for them to graze and drink. He waited for Agatta to take off her shoes then helped her out of the carriage.

They undressed. As usual, she was naked first because eyeballing her delayed him. She winked at him, covered her breasts, and walked toward the shoreline. Her hands fell to her sides. Squinting at the sun, she plunged into the water, an ethereal enigmatic mermaid at play in paradise.

He dove in and swam after her. They splashed about for the longest time, then held hands and floated in circles. She threw her head back and closed her eyes. Around and around they spun until she grew dizzy. Next they raced. After six laps of vigorous competition, they drifted back to each other. She laced her legs around his waist and let her arms drape his shoulders while he clutched her rear. Lost in one another’s eyes, they held that stance.

Sazar pecked Agatta on the lip and touched off a series of rapid kisses. Now they were stirred and anxious to get there. Two ecstatic lovers in too big a hurry, so all they could do was play and play they did.

They fell away laughing. She floated on her back while he drew signs on her belly and explored her navel with his tongue.

For hours, they charmed and frolicked until lethargy crept upon them. Now the waters burdened their limbs as they swam back to shore, and fell asleep on a blanket.

They woke up famished, and feasted on fruit, fried pork skins, and lemonade.

With their stomachs satisfied, they lay curled together. “I love you,” he said.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just do.”

“You’re a man of mystery.”

“I’m a man of truth. The first time I saw you it was like seeing the rest of me come home. The best of me at that.”

“Good enough.” She snuggled in his arms.

They lay awhile longer and watched as the sun turned dark orange and sank below the horizon. A locust perched stubbornly on their blanket. Nearby a pigeon devoured a worm for supper.

“I could lay here forever, but we better go,” he said.

“What constitutes forever?”

“Til one of us leaves the earth.”

“That could be a mighty long time.”

“Be it another day or a hundred years from now, I want to spend it with you.”

“Fine by me.”

They sat up and Sazar gathered Agatta’s hands to kiss her palms. As poised as Aphrodite, she lounged under the shifting sky. Once more she bewitched him. This time the birthmark was to blame. He found it delightfully baffling how nature could be so random, yet so precise. Centered, distinctly darker than her coloring, and perfectly round. Seemingly such a small thing, but it was integral to her lure. Though she would have been beautiful without it, with it she was magnificent.

“I love you. All of you.” He kissed the enchanting mark.

“All of me?”

“Yes, the good, the bad, and things I cannot name.”

“Are there things you can’t name?”

“Umh, umh.” He smirked and pinched her thigh.

“Your affection is all joy to me. I’m glad you find comfort in mine.”

“Dolin’, rest assured, I do.”

They kissed.

“Come on girl. It’s getting late. We better hurry.”

Reluctantly, they dressed and collected their belongings.

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