Read When Sunday Comes Again Online

Authors: Terry E. Hill

Tags: #Fiction, #African American, #General, #Urban

When Sunday Comes Again (21 page)

“If you have a problem, let me help. I'm here for you now, full-time.”
“What do you mean, full-time?” Samantha asked suspiciously.
“I mean I've left Scarlett.”
“You did what?” Samantha asked coldly. “Why on earth did you do that?”
“Because I'm in love with you, Samantha Cleaveland. I want to be with you.”
“Don't be ridiculous, David. Go back to your wife. I don't want you. I don't want anyone right now. For Christ's sake, I just buried my husband.”
“That's all the more reason for you to be with me. You need me. A woman like you needs a man in her life. What is the problem you're dealing with? Tell me about it. Let me help.”
Samantha looked David in the eye. She could see the desperation and longing. She could also see the tent in his expensively tailored slacks.
“I don't think you can help me, David. I don't think anyone can,” she said and walked to the desk and sat down.
“Try me, baby. I'm here for you.” David walked to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Tell me. What's going on? Do you need a lawyer?”
“No, no, I don't need a lawyer. I've already got lawyers coming out my ass.”
“Then what is it? Tell me.”
Samantha sighed, as if exhausted. She looked toward the window and said, “All right, David, I'll tell you. I'm being blackmailed.”
“Blackmailed?” David shouted. “By whom? For what?”
“I don't know who it is. It's about Hezekiah.” Samantha pulled a silk handkerchief from her purse and dabbed a nonexistent tear from her eye. “It's horrible, David. Hezekiah was . . .” Samantha paused. “Hezekiah was involved with a man for two years before he died.”
“What do you mean, involved?”
“Sexually. Someone found out about it. They can prove it.”
“How much do they want?”
“The first payment is two million dollars. He said he'd keep coming back for more every year. There's no end to how much he'll demand.”
“Oh my God. Have you called the police?”
“I can't get the police involved. I'd be ruined. The church would be ruined. New Testament could never survive a scandal like this. If it came out, that would be the end of the entire ministry, and there's more.”
“More? What else?”
“He's threatened to kill me if I don't pay.”
David kneeled down in front of her. “Kill you? What did he say?”
“He said if I didn't pay him every time, he would contact the media and then hunt me down like an animal and kill me.”
“Baby, this is horrible,” David said, squeezing her hand. “What are you going to do?”
“I don't have a choice. I have to pay him, and I'll have to keep paying him every time he asks. David, I'm so afraid.”
“Maybe I should talk to him.”
“And say what? ‘Please don't do this anymore'? It won't work, David. There's nothing you or anyone can do. I'm going to meet him tomorrow night and give him the money.” Samantha reached under the desk and slid out the duffel bag. “Here it is,” she said, unzipping the bag to reveal the piles of cash and the revolver.
“What is that for?” David asked, looking at the gun.
“I told you he said he'd kill me. I want to be able to at least protect myself if necessary.”
“Samantha, you can't go out there alone. It's too dangerous. You don't know what kind of psychopath this guy is. I'm going to come with you.”
“No,” Samantha said, standing and walking to the window. “He said I had to come alone.”
“Then I'll follow you from a distance. Give me the gun. If it gets out of hand, I'll be right there.”
Samantha smiled. “You are such a sweet man. I don't want to get you involved in this.”
David walked behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I'm in love with you, so that automatically gets me involved.”
Samantha leaned back into his arms. “Have you ever shot a gun before, David?” she asked, staring out over the construction site of the new cathedral. “Do you think you could actually kill a man?”
She could feel David's heart pounding in his chest. He did not respond. Samantha leaned farther back and pressed her waist against the mound that was growing in his pants. She twisted slightly from side to side and whispered again, “Do you think you could kill a man?”
David could smell the sweet aroma of her perfume. Her warm breath sent an intoxicating bouquet to his nostrils. Before he could think, he heard the words slip from his lips into her ear. “For you I would kill a man.”
 
 
Scarlett clumsily rummaged through the mirrored medicine cabinet in her bathroom. She pushed hairbrushes, bottles of lotion, and shaving creams aside, causing a container of dental floss to tumble to the counter, with minty string trailing behind. Her hands shook as she searched frantically for her Zoloft prescription. She finally found it behind two plastic bottles of peroxide. She shook the bottle, but she had taken so many after Hezekiah's death, it was empty. Next to it, however, was her prescription for Xanax, and behind that a full bottle of Prozac.
Over the years her therapist had prescribed a variety of antianxiety potions and notions to deal with the stresses that had defined her life. Zoloft was her favorite, but today she would settle for a Xanax. Scarlett swallowed the pill without water. Her knees wobbled as she made her way into the living room. Her head had not stopped spinning since the startling announcement from her husband earlier that day.
It's happening again,
she thought as she stumbled to the sofa in the center of the room, blanketed in pink, green, and purple pillows. A pristine brick-framed fireplace, which had never known fire, served as the focal point of the room. Most notably there were no photographs on the mantelpiece, or anywhere else in the room, of Natalie, David, or herself. Large potted plants flanked a sliding glass window that opened to a paved patio and a modest backyard. In the center of the window was a small lemon tree, whose fruit no one in the home had ever tasted.
Scarlett ran her trembling fingers through her disheveled silky hair. She had long since given up on trying to stop the tide of tears that had been flowing since David left the house.
She's doing it again,
she thought as she looked at the tree sagging from bulbous lemons on the verge of bursting and falling to the ground to rot.
Why does she have to destroy everything I love?
The telephone on a table next to the sofa rang as she pondered the mysteries of her life. She didn't answer. On the third ring she heard, “Hello, Scarlett. This is Cynthia Pryce. When you have a moment, could you please call me? I need to talk to you about Samantha Cleaveland. My number is seven-six-one—”
Scarlett lunged across the sofa and grabbed the receiver. “Cynthia,” she said with no hint of sorrow. “Hello. I was in the garden, picking lemons from my tree, and didn't hear the phone. How are you?”
“I'm doing well. Do you have a few moments to talk about a church matter?”
“I do, but could you hold on for just a moment? I need to put these lemons in the sink.”
Scarlett put the telephone on mute, wiped her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her blouse, and took three deep breaths. The little pill had begun to work its magic. Her hands had stopped shaking, and the pain from the thought of her husband leaving her was reduced to only a dull, throbbing ache. She longed for her Zoloft. One pill and she would have been completely numb by now.
“Cynthia, I'm back. I'm making lemonade for David and Natalie. Now, how can I help you? You said something about Samantha Cleaveland.”
“Yes. Scarlett, this is kind of a sensitive topic. I hope I can count on your discretion.”
“Of course. Now, what is this about?”
“Percy and I were approached by some of the other trustees. Now, understand if it were only one, we wouldn't have paid much attention to it. But we've been approached by a number of them.”
“About what?” Scarlett asked impatiently.
“About Samantha Cleaveland. You see, dear, some of the trustees feel they may have acted in haste by naming her as interim pastor so soon after Hezekiah's death, God rest his soul. We were all terribly devastated by Hezekiah's death, and obviously not thinking clearly. They feel we put the needs of the church before her needs. As I'm sure you will agree, the pain a woman feels after the loss of a spouse is second only to the loss of a child. The poor woman has just lived through one of the most traumatic things a woman can experience, and here we are, thinking about ourselves and the church. It's terrible, just terrible, and some of the trustees feel they've made a mistake by acting so quickly.”
Scarlett listened intently to the woman's rambling. She easily detected the tinge of deceit in her voice. Cynthia had never been able to fully conceal her contempt whenever she spoke of Samantha Cleaveland, no matter how hard she tried.
“Hello . . . ? Scarlett, are you still there?” Cynthia asked into the silence.
“I'm here. Go on,” Scarlett said.
“Well, as I was saying, people feel we really must act quickly to correct this lapse in our judgment . . . for Samantha's sake.”
“What trustees said this to you?”
Cynthia answered quickly, “I really can't say, dear. They've all spoken to me, us, in the strictest of confidence. But trust me, it's more than a majority of the trustees.”
“So why are you telling me this?”
“Well, dear, as a member of the board of trustees, and as a woman, don't you think you have some responsibility to Samantha, as well? Surely you must see that action must be taken to protect her and give her time to heal, don't you?” Cynthia asked.
“So what are you proposing?”
“I'm not proposing anything, dear,” Cynthia said innocently. “Rather your fellow trustees are proposing that Samantha be relieved of the awesome burden of pastor, at least for the time being, and be allowed to properly mourn the loss of her husband.”
“And who do the
trustees
propose to replace her with?” Scarlett asked, already knowing the answer.
“Isn't it obvious? Percy,” Cynthia said, barely concealing her arrogance. “It will completely turn our lives upside down, but Percy has convinced me that it is the right thing to do for Samantha and for New Testament. Believe me, dear, it is the last thing I want for my life right now, but I do feel some responsibility to my sister Samantha and to the memory of Hezekiah. I've spent many nights praying about this, and the Lord told me that my husband is right.”
Scarlett wasn't offended by the woman's transparent attempt to deceive her. Neither was she insulted at being considered so naive as to believe she wouldn't recognize a blatant power grab. Instead, she was pleased that someone else had taken it upon themselves to challenge Samantha Cleaveland's absolute and unbridled power over New Testament Cathedral and, more importantly, her life.
“You know,
dear,
” Scarlett finally said, “I've never really thought of it in those terms. I'm not sure what we were thinking. I guess it was as you said. We must have all been so traumatized after Hezekiah's death, God rest his soul, that we never considered how this would affect Samantha. The poor woman must be going through hell right now, and all we could do was think of our own needs. I feel just terrible about this.”
“We all do, dear. We all do. I'm so glad you agree.”
“So how are the
trustees
proposing we reverse the vote?”
“There will be a special meeting of the board of trustees where Percy will be nominated to serve as the pastor. Can I . . . I mean can New Testament and Samantha count on your vote?”
Scarlett did not hesitate with her response. “Definitely, Cynthia. I have always felt Percy would make an excellent pastor. I'm sure Samantha will be relieved. You, I mean New Testament Cathedral and Samantha, can count on my vote.”

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