He Restores My Soul (The Langston Family Saga Book 1) Read online

  He Restores My Soul

  The Langston Family Saga: Book 1

  LaShonda Bowman

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  The Langston Family Saga continues in…

  Wanna Know More?

  Copyright © 2015 by LaShonda Bowman

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  To Sister Number 1 A.K.A. The Blackorean

  You’re perfect & I love you

  Chapter 1

  Would God strike me down for lying in church?

  That was the first thought that came to Pam Langston when the Master of Ceremonies at her mother's homegoing service asked that someone from the family say a few words.

  It was an overcast, midwinter morning and the sanctuary of New Life Tabernacle Church was filled to capacity. R&B legends and gospel superstars packed the pews. City officials and dignitaries from at least five different denominations crowded the platform.

  Most of the singers and musicians in the building had been trained by Dr. Mahalia Marie Langston. Some during private lessons, others through her work with various choirs around the country. In one way or another, everyone in the building felt they’d been her son, daughter, brother or sister.

  But the "family" the MC was referring to was Pam Langston and her two sisters, Kristina and Tamia.

  "And would it be too much to trouble Ms. Langston for a song?" He looked directly at Kristina, flashing a toothy grin.

  Pam felt her sister stiffen. It wasn't an unusual request. It seemed Kristina couldn't step outside her front door without someone asking her to sing. That wasn’t an issue. Singing at their mother's funeral, however, was.

  Pam grabbed her sister’s hand and squeezed it. Kristina understood what it meant and immediately relaxed.

  Pam didn't want to speak at her mother's funeral any more than Kristina wanted to sing. But she was willing to take the bullet if it meant sparing her sisters any more trauma than they were already experiencing just by being there. She stood and approached the podium as the sanctuary broke out into applause.

  By the time she got onto the stage and took the microphone, she was shaking. From where she stood, she could see the full length of her mother's polished mahogany casket, covered with yellow roses. She reached out and grabbed the top of the pulpit for support, while she closed her eyes and tried to compose herself. Various members of the congregation showed their support by shouting, "It's all right, baby,” "Take your time" and “Help her, Jesus.”

  Pam knew people thought she was devastated and grieving along with the rest of the mourners. She knew that that’s how she was supposed to feel.

  She'd heard from friends that’d lost their mothers over the years what a tragedy it was. The effect it had on one's life to lose the person that loved you more than anyone else ever could. But that hadn’t been her experience.

  Pam opened her eyes and looked at her sisters. They sat clinging to each other, stiff and stoic. Like her, they were trying to hide their true feelings. Feelings no person seated in the sanctuary could ever understand.

  They were all trying to hide the fact that when they looked at their mother's casket and were overcome with tears, it was not from sadness or loss, but an overwhelming sense of relief.

  "You've heard about Joe Jackson, right? Well, this one right here?" Pam motioned toward the casket. "This was Josephine Jackson."

  The room roared with laughter.

  So far, so good. Maybe I won’t have to lie after all.

  "For most of you, that needs no further explanation because you either came up under her in one of the choirs she directed and recorded with or you took vocal or piano lessons in our childhood home."

  At the word "home,” she could see Kristina flinch. The house they grew up in was many things, but a home wasn't one of them.

  "For those of you that don't know, let me break it down for you. My mama must've learned how to use a ruler from a pair of nuns, because she sure didn't rely on it for measuring things. If you hit the wrong key, she’d rap your knuckles. And that was on the piano. God help you if you were hitting the wrong note while singing! I guarantee you were leaving that house with bigger lips than you came in with!"

  Again, the crowd exploded with laughter and scattered applause. All over the building people nodded in fond memory. The only ones not laughing were Kristina and Tamia. Then again, Pam hardly expected them to.

  Once the laughter died down, Pam continued. "I can say, without a shred of doubt, our mother was the most influential person in our lives. The impact she made will last for years to come."

  Amens and more applause came in agreement.

  "I would like to thank Pastor Thomas and all the members here at my mother's home church for all you've done for us over these past few days. And all of you.” She extended her arm toward the sanctuary. "I thank you on behalf of my sisters for being here and supporting us, as well. So many of you have shown your love and respect for our mother through flowers and cards and kind words.” She put her hand over her heart. “Please know that we appreciate it from the bottom of our hearts."

  The audience stood and applauded as Pam turned to locate the MC. He rushed to her side to take the microphone. As he helped her down the steps from the podium, he whispered in her ear.

  "God really blessed you girls when He gave you your mother. Hopefully, you'll carry on her legacy and find your way back into the fold. The church doors are always open. Don’t waste all the godly training your mother spent her life instilling in you.”

  He flashed his toothy grin for the second time that day, so Pam decided to be polite and smile back.

  It was all she could do not to punch him square in the face.

  Chapter 2

  When the Langston sisters entered the hotel ballroom being used for the repast, the space became hushed. That's what usually happened when Kristina Langston entered a room. She had the looks of a model and the voice of an angel—a combination that made for indescribable star presence.

  The minister from New Tabernacle that had accompanied the sisters from the burial escorted them to the table reserved for family. Over the next two hours, the three of them watched the minutes tick by as mourner after mourner came to express their sympathies.

  Although it was already well into the afternoon and they were indoors, Kristina kept her sunglasses on, just as she had since they’d left the hotel that morning. Pam could only imagine the looks her sister was giving from behind her shades. But if the comments she made now and then under her breath were any indication, they were all better off with half Kristina’s face hidden.

  After what seemed an eternity, the line in front of their table dwindled enough for them to see an end in sight. They’d already endured a mountain of memories and tea
rs and even had one woman pass out from grief right in front of them.

  Pam tried to remind herself that the mourners were well-meaning, but still, it was hard to sit through. The woman she and her sisters knew was nothing like the woman they’d spent the last few hours hearing stories about. And it wasn’t as if they could tell anyone the truth, because no one would even believe them.

  A squat man wearing an orange and yellow plaid suit straight out the seventies approached the table and jutted his hand out at Kristina. It was something that had happened repeatedly that afternoon. Although all three were Mahalia’s daughters, Kristina, being the most famous, was the one people gave their attention to. Not that either of the other two minded. They were accustomed to it. Tamia, as a background singer for Kristina, was used to being seen in her shadow. And Pam, as her manager, was used to not being seen it all.

  "Ms. Langston, I’m Malcom H. Block, head of the music department at New Tabernacle. Let me just say how heartbroken I am over your loss. Your mother was a beautiful, beautiful soul. The international gospel community has lost one of its pioneers with her homegoing.” He paused and cleared his throat, then smoothed his jacket lapels with the palms of his hands. “I was wondering…has anyone told you about the citywide musical we’re having in honor of your mother? Oh, there's never been anything like it! Multiple denominations and a mass choir made up of nine churches. It's really going to be a sight to behold. The choir’s singing all of your mother’s songs, including the duet you recorded with her. Perhaps the Spirit will move you to even join in.” He started laughing, positively tickled by the possibility. “What a treat that would be! I can just imagine her smiling down from heaven!"

  He’d kept his hand extended, although Kristina didn't take it. Out of the corner of her eye, Pam could see Tamia trying to hide her smile. Anyone that knew anything about Kristina Langston, knew that she didn't shake hands with strangers. She was friendly and always genuinely happy to meet with fans, but under no circumstances did she ever encourage the spread of germs.

  Instead, Kristina only smiled at him.

  That’s it. He’s going down, Pam thought.

  That smile was Kristina’s way of “killing them softly”. She’d used it to slay more than one man in her lifetime. And by the looks of Mr. Plaid, she’d struck again.

  "Unfortunately, our plane heads out tonight. But we’re truly touched by the church community honoring our mother. We wish we could attend. But know that we’ll be there in spirit."

  The man was so mesmerized by her dazzling smile, velvet smooth voice and the fact that she was giving him her undivided attention, Pam wasn’t even sure he comprehended a word she’d said. Either way, he walked away nothing but grins.

  After he left, Kristina leaned over and whispered to her sisters, "Haven't we served enough time today? I don't know how much more of this talk about Saint Mahalia I can take."

  "The line is almost done. Just a few minutes more, then we'll leave. I promise." Pam whispered back.

  A young lady came up and offered her sympathies in a rush and then launched into a monologue about what a big fan of Kristina’s she was and asked her what in the world could her fans in the Dallas-Fort Worth area could do to get her to come there on her next tour.

  Kristina looked over at Pam and now it was Pam's turn to hide her smile. It was like a game between them. Kristina had been asked the question at least a hundred times and each time she gave a different answer. Pam had started looking forward to how creative her sister would get with each one.

  Kristina had repeatedly refused to make a stop in the metroplex since she’d become a big enough name to do so. Never mind that she had a huge fan base there. Never mind that ticket sales would be astronomical. When Kristina Langston made up her mind, wasn't nobody changing it. And she’d decided the day she left Dallas and Mahalia’s house, she wasn't coming back.

  Pam watched Kristina put on her most sad and apologetic face. The same one she used in the music videos featuring her tragic love songs or the movies where the leading male had done her character wrong. She launched into an incredibly complex explanation about agreements and riders and stadiums and promoters. Things that the young woman had no clue about, but that sounded very important and complicated. Kristina talked about how horrible she felt that her metroplex fans had to go all the way to Houston or Austin to hear her and that on the next tour, she'd be sure to fight for them adding a date to her schedule.

  By the time she finished, the girl was practically in tears over the compassion of her favorite superstar and Pam had nearly bought the whole explanation herself.

  Finally, the last two people in line approached the table. Yet another duo of young men hopelessly enamored with Kristina. However, both politely made eye contact with each of the sisters and not just Kristina. They offered their sympathies and explained their family’s connection to Mahalia.

  "We wanted to tell you how much your mother meant to us. We were going through a rough patch, financially, when she stepped in to help us. I don't know where we would be if it hadn't been for her. In fact, she became a part of our family. Like a grandmother—“

  Kristina stood so abruptly, she bumped the table and nearly knocked over the glasses of iced tea. Tamia shot a glance at Pam. They knew what her reaction meant. Kristina had had enough. Yet another comment about what a saintly person their mother had been, put her over the edge. Kristina bent over and snatched up her purse.

  "I'm sorry, but if you'll excuse me."

  She took off toward the ballroom doors and without saying a word, Tamia jumped up and rushed to catch her.

  They were out of the ballroom and halfway down the corridor of the large hotel when Kristina looked back over her shoulder. "I can go to the bathroom by myself, T.”

  Tamia, the youngest and the shortest of the three, practically had to run to keep up with her sister’s long strides. "I know. I'm just coming in case you need some help."

  Kristina stopped and twirled around to face her. "What? You gonna come inside the stall and roll up the tissue paper for me?"

  Tamia shifted her weight from one leg to the other and looked around to make sure no one is in earshot. "Krissi—”

  Kristina put her hand up to stop her. "I'm not gonna do anything. Sometimes a bathroom break is just that. A bathroom break." She kissed her sister on the cheek. "But thanks for looking out for me, okay? Now go sit your behind down. Someone needs to be in there to hear about what a wonderful mother we had."

  At first, Tamia didn’t move. But then, Kristina put one hand on her hip and cocked her head to the side, pulling rank. Reluctantly, Tamia gave in and turned around. Kristina watched and waited to make sure her sister actually went back into the ballroom before she continued down the corridor in search of the ladies restroom.

  When she found it, she went inside and looked under the stall doors to make sure it was empty. Satisfied she was alone, she entered the handicap stall at the farthest end of the room.

  A quick glance around made her realize she’d have to settle for the top of the tissue holder as her surface. She fished inside her bra for the small baggie filled with the white powder. Her sisters rifled through her handbag on a regular basis, so she'd taken to hiding her stash in more creative places.

  Credit card and rolled paper in hand, she got to work.

  And not a moment too soon. With all the people that had been buzzing around since earlier that morning, this was only her second hit of the day. And she’d been feeling the effect of going without for so long.

  Wiping the white residue off her nose, she took out her compact to check and make sure she’d left behind no evidence. Already, she could feel the drug doing its work, giving her the lift she needed. She tossed the mirror back into her purse and started to rid the stall of any evidence, just in case one of her sisters decided to be cute and come up behind her to check things out.

  But then, something went wrong.

  At first, Kristina thought it was because the b
atch wasn’t as cut as her previous buy. She felt strange, but wasn't worried or startled. But soon, she realized that the reaction she was having was not due to the coke’s purity.

  She became lightheaded and reached out to the wall for something to steady herself. Finding nothing, she lost her balance and stumbled backwards, the cold, marble surface breaking her fall. She clawed at her chest as she fought to take a deep breath. She didn’t know whether what she was feeling was real or the result of panic, but it was as if her heart were seizing. She blinked and shook her head, trying to normalize her vision and get rid of the spots floating in front of her and the flashes of light that seemed to come from the sides of her eyes.

  As Kristina slid to the floor, she realized that this was it—the moment her sisters had spent the last few years in constant fear of. And immediately, Kristina was sorry. Sorry they would have to deal with it, but not sorry it was happening.

  Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the clacking of high-heeled shoes across the marble floor of the bathroom. From where she lay on the floor of the stall, she could see a pair of red shoes and a pair of black. The two women were talking at high volume as they came in the restroom, but it didn’t matter. Even if Kristina had wanted to call out for help, she couldn’t move, much less speak. But that didn’t prevent her from hearing every word of their conversation.

  "I mean, I guess she still looks good…for a crackhead."

  A high-pitch laugh sounded. "Girl, no!"

  "Yes! Why do you think she always wearing them sunglasses?"

  Kristina watched the pair of red shoes stop in front of the floor to ceiling mirror that ran the length of the wall.

  “Naw, girl. You know how celebrities are, they wear sunglasses all the time because they think it hides them. Besides, I grew up with them at Mt. Zion Baptist. Kristina’s always been shy.”

  "You mean stuck up."

  Both women giggled. "I'm guessing you're not a fan?"