Righteous Ways

By Rhonda McKnight

Fear creates prisons only faith can deliver us from…

Fame, wealth, and success are the focus of Samaria Jacobs' platinum-coated dreams. She's living the blessed life as the wife of music producing phenomenon Mekhi Johnson…until past mistakes land her a prison sentence, derailing her already fragile hope.

Flailing between depression and anxiety, Samaria finds solace in forsaking her privileged lifestyle in favor of volunteering at a women's shelter, biding time until she moves from the palace to the pit to serve her prison sentence. But when Grammy award-winning artist Benxi struts her way back into Mekhi's studio, Samaria is convinced her husband's former flame wants to create more than music. Benxi wants him back.

Will the desperate situation of an old friend make her examine her life at its lowest moment and find that even in her fear, shame, and sorrow that God has given her the capacity to love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rhonda McKnight
• Release date: Feb 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393656449

Rhonda McKnight

Rhonda McKnight is the author of several bestselling novels, including An Inconvenient Friend and What Kind of Fool. She is the winner of the 2015 Emma Award for Inspirational Romance of the Year. She loves reading and writing books that touch the heart of women through complex plots and interesting characters in crisis. Themes of faith, forgiveness, and hope are central to her stories. Originally from a small coastal town in New Jersey, Rhonda writes from the comfort of her South Carolina home. Visit her online at rhondamcknight.com; Instagram: @authorrhondamcknight; Twitter: @rhondamcknight; Facebook: @BooksByRhonda; and Pinterest: @rhondamcknight1.

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Rhonda McKnight

Copyright © 2015 by Rhonda McKnight

ISBN: 1523443669

ISBN-13: 978-1523443666

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the author, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the story a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places and incidents is entirely coincidental.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Also by Rhonda McKnight

__________________

Jordan Family Series

Give A Little Love

Live A Little

Second Chances Series

Breaking All The Rules

Unbreak My Heart

Samaritan Woman Series

An Inconvenient Friend

What Kind of Fool

Righteous Ways – New!

Shame On You – April 2016

Other

A Woman’s Revenge

Secrets and Lies

Dedication

For Sherri Lewis because you are one righteous sistah. Love ya!

Acknowledgments

My sons, Aaron and Micah ...you endure and overlook much as I write. You inspire me to my personal best and I pray I inspire you in the same way. My parents, Bessie and Jimmie McKnight and siblings, Cynthia and Kenneth ...thank you for the love and support.

I want to thank two special readers, Betty Gammi Williamson and Linda Fegins for inspiring me to go deeper with Samaria and to always look for opportunities to show the love of Christ through sisterhood. Thanks also to your book clubs, the Daughters of Destiny Book Club at Global Impact Christian Ministries Church, Stockbridge, Georgia and the Glory Girls Book Club of Detroit, Michigan.

This acknowledgment never changes. The only thing that changes is I love her more. My writing partner/sister-friend, Sherri Lewis. Always my cheerleader. I hope I never have to do this without you. Thanks for always being available girl for a read and an edit and encouragement.

Writer friends, Tia McCollors, Tiffany L. Warren and my sisters in Black Christian Reads (www.blackchristianreads.com), I so appreciate your love, encouragement, advice and everything else we share. Victoria Christopher Murray, my mentor, who never lets me forget quality over quantity and Reshonda Tate Billingsley who keeps me laughing about this industry you Brown Girls rock!

God bless your granddaughter, Marleigh, Lisa Cross. Thank you for inspiring me to name my character after your special little gift from God. I pray His favor on her life forever.

Thanks to all my readers for loving Samaria and wanting to read more about her journey to God’s best. She’s evolving!

Righteous Ways

A Good Samaritan Story

____________

Rhonda McKnight

Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind; and, Love your neighbor as yourself.

Luke 10:27 (NIV)

Chapter One

Ihadn’t gotten away with felony theft, so my chances of committing murder and not spending the rest of my life behind bars were slim. I grit my teeth and growled like an angry lion.

Sammie, you need to stop looking at that stupid picture. My cousin Ebony’s brown eyes flared behind the new designer frames I’d purchased for her.

I looked at my cell phone. The image of Bonita Jones, aka, Benxi on the cover of Billboard with my husband. They were seated, Mekhi in a gigantic, tacky, gold throne and her squatting low between his legs like the raunchy, naked, no-talented heifer she was. The caption: Benxi’s New Album Shatters the Ceiling For R&B Artist Debut Sales. Is Mekhi Johnson the New King?

That title should be music to my ears, but I was too crazy to see it for what it was. All I could see was Benxi down-low in front of my husband. I pushed the button to send the photo to trash. I could download it again if I wanted to feel sorry for myself later. I dropped the phone in my bag. I hate my life right now.

Ebony pulled an ugly sweater off the rack she’d been browsing.

I shook my head and she pushed the dud back into the tight mass of clearance items. You have got to pull yourself out of this depression, she murmured the words low and sing-songy. I wasn’t even sure if she meant them for me.

Our eyes met. I cocked my head to the side. And you have to stop wasting your time with the sale rack. All the good stuff is gone before they get to clearance.

Ebony perched a fist on a hip and I knew she was about to give me the I’m-a-poor-working-class-stiff speech, so I stopped her with a raised hand. I’m just saying. I’m paying so would you please take advantage of that.

I would load up if you just took me to Target.

I frowned. She knew I didn’t shop at Target. Not anymore. Not since my husband was featured on magazine covers. I pulled a hanger off the rack and raised it high enough for Ebony to see.

She took the blouse out of my hand and pinned me with a serious look. Don’t change the subject. You’re worse every time I see you.

She was right. I did need to get out of the slump I was in, but knowing I was less than three weeks away from doing jail time was putting a serious dent in my ability to find a happy place. Shopping, my favorite thing in the world, couldn’t help with this pain. And I would be away for a year. Why was I buying clothes anyway?

Ebony looked at the price tag and turned up her nose. It’s not my style.

I took the hanger out of her hand. She’d liked it until she saw the price. I shoved it back on the rack. I don’t want to do this anymore. There’s no point.

You said you needed to get out of the house and stay away from the studio, so you’re doing that.

I shook my head. I know what I said, but now, I regret it. I’m not going to buy a thing. I reached into my bag and removed a credit card. Get whatever you want and get the kids a gift from Auntie Samaria.

I wasn’t really an aunt because Ebony and I were cousins, not sisters. I was a first cousin once removed, but Ebony’s brood was as close to nieces and nephews an only child like me would have, so I made sure they called me Auntie while they still didn’t understand the true relationship.

Ebony took the card and turned it over as if she were inspecting it. I wouldn’t buy my kids a gift from this store.

But I would and it’s my gift, so just pick some stuff out.

Ebony frowned. Why can’t you go to the children’s department and pick out the gifts yourself?

I hate Christmas shopping. You’re here. They’re your kids. You know them better.

Ebony sighed. You love shopping any other time of the year, but hate Christmas shopping. She raised a finger and wagged it at me. You need to work out your issues.

I pulled my coat together and fastened the buttons. I’ll do it. Outside.

Ebony frowned again. So, you’re not even going to stay with me? Everything is overpriced. The only reason I’m in here right now is because I’m trying to spend that gift card you gave me for my birthday.

I reached for Ebony’s neck and gave her a tight hug. I want you to have some nice things. You and the kids. Please don’t deny me this. I let her neck go. I need some fresh air. I’ll be back. If I can’t find you, I’ll call your cell, so listen out for me.

Ebony pushed the card into her pocked. Where are you going?

Right outside in front, I replied, spinning away from her as I spoke. I rushed in the direction of the exit. I had to get out of there. I felt like I had a plastic bag over my head.

The blast of icy air took away the sensation. It was uncharacteristically cold for early December in Atlanta, but it had been a wet fall and wet falls usually turned into cold winters. I debated whether to take a walk or have a seat on the bench to my right. Walking could clear my mind, but my feet hurt. I shouldn’t have worn heels to shop. I’d decided on them because well... I knew in a few weeks I would have to say goodbye to all my footwear. I’d be assigned some prison issued size 8’s to match my new wardrobe... an orange jumpsuit.

Stop it, I whispered. I’m not going to prison. It’s the county jail.

Still, I’d be locked up. I wouldn’t be free. I stuck my hands in my coat pockets and fought the tears that filled my eyes. I wasn’t crying. No crying today. But I was crying. Even if I told myself I wasn’t. I was crying every day for what I’d done to myself.

Regret. I recalled the quote: In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take. Who said that? Some liar. I definitely regret the chances I took. I fell onto the bench.

I people watched for a while. I was glad to be able to immerse myself in nothing. I loved the solitude, but just as I thought about it, a hulking body joined me on the bench.

The fifty-something woman looked at me and I took in her appearance. She looked like a street person...raggedy old used-to-be-red-coat, torn gloves, and battered tennis shoes that needed a good wash.

Good morning, she said. I was shocked that I wasn’t looking at stained teeth. She flashed the opposite...beautiful pearly whites. I wondered...good genes or new homelessness, because she’d seen a dentist or two in her life.

I realized I’d been staring and hadn’t responded. Good, afternoon. I corrected her. It was nearly one o’clock.

Is it afternoon? The woman raised her arm and moved a wristwatch in front of her eyes. She squinted hard and then chuckled. I don’t know why I’m looking at it. It don’t work.

Okay. I rolled my eyes. She got one more time to say something cray-cray.

So, why you ain’t in there shopping? she asked.

It was I who squinted this time. Excuse me?

You came here to buy something. She cocked a thumb in the direction of the store. Why you not in there shopping?

I said excuse me, not because I didn’t hear you, but because I mean excuse you...for minding my business.

She rolled her eyes at me this time. You ain’t got to get nasty about it. I was just asking. I mean why come downtown to this fancy store to sit outside? I’m sure you could do that at your big ‘ole, fancy house.

I squinted again, but before I could ask the next question of this strange woman, the woman herself spoke. I know who you are.

I raised an eyebrow.

You Atlanta famous, baby. She chuckled again. Uh huh, just because I’m homeless don’t mean I don’t watch the news. They got a T.V. She nodded toward the building across the street.

I followed her line of vision. In all the years I’d been coming to this store, I never noticed that a sign over one of the buildings read: Samaritan House.

I know you a record producer’s wife, a drug dealer, you going to jail soon and you just lost a baby.

Now she was really getting under my skin. I wasn’t sure what bothered me more, the fact that a homeless woman knew all my business or that the facts coming out of her mouth were my business. Okay, I did know which bothered me more. The latter – definitely the truth hurt more. But I did need to correct her on one thing... I’m not a drug dealer.

Disapproving eyes swept my body and she grunted.

And how do you know about my baby?

You was pregnant and you ain’t got no baby. Rich, black people don’t give chuerin’ up for adoption. They hire nannies. If you had a baby, I woulda seen it on the news.

Pregnant and ain’t got no baby. Jesus be a keeper, I muttered the prayer under my breath. That stung. Really cut me across my heart. Didn’t this derelict know that it would?

I’m sorry about whatever happened with your baby.

I thought she read my mind. I reached into my bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I offered one to her.

She didn’t accept. Don’t you know smokin’ cause cancer?

I looked at her and smirked. Of course I do. I’m not some teenager you’re educating out here.

Don’t act like ‘cause you grown you have to be smart. There’s uneducated grown fools out here, too.

I could agree with that. At the moment, I was looking like one of them. I stole drugs from my job for someone I didn’t even like or at least that’s how it started. It started with me believing I was stealing for my stupid cousin, June Bug, when in reality