His book, which served as a detailed outline for carrying out his plots, was in his hands. The bombing at BWI had been a starting point for him, to “wipe the slate clean of any and all of his past existence.” The bomb he planned to detonate from my phone would have wiped out the community where his sister-in-law’s parents lived. A plan for Mordecai’s demise was in a plot detailed in chapter five. Every plan he had not only caused death and destruction to many random, innocent people, but each plot included a regular haunt of a member of the church that had excommunicated him.
Nobody would have seen the connection, and, after all was said and done, he would have lived life truly as a nonexistent because the people who knew he’d even been born would be buried in their graves, all around the country.
His father’s remains would later be dug up from the cornfields that surrounded the old house. A fractured skull pointed to homicide and Jebidiah Bennett was the only suspect in the case.
“A lot of vicious crimes are a result of relationships gone wrong. The pain and bitterness that can result can lead to extremes. Granted, most of the time, those extremes don’t involve taking another’s life, but extremes in mood, like depression, extremes in emotions, like rage, can be just as debilitating emotionally as a physical loss. If you are dealing with deep-seated pain and bitterness from broken relationships, seek help, be whole. Get your freedom.”
I looked a little chunky on TV, I decided as I again watched my interview on CNN. I’d been exhausted and I looked rough in my sweats and running shoes, remnants of rotting cornstalks still in my hair. SOCIAL WORKER SIENNA ST.JAMES,THETHERAPISTWHOTRACKEDDOWNTHETERRORIST was the caption underneath. The young woman who’d interviewed me live in front of the abandoned farm house in Pennsylvania was from a local station and was obviously new at covering breaking national news. She didn’t have the poise or presence that Laz would have had during such an important interview with the woman who’d led authorities to the correct perpetrator of a terrorist attack.
That I was that woman still felt surreal.
But it felt good.
I’d trusted my instincts, I’d dug for the truth, and I didn’t let fear hold me back, even when it justifiably should have.
Once the authorities arrived following Mordecai’s call, the end of the nightmare came quickly. Special ATF agents were able to remotely disable the detonator tied to my cell phone number, allowing Darci to be freed from the ropes just in the nick of time.
There were no more casualties and Jamal Abdul was free to go home to his wife and two kids.
“Do you, um, like consider yourself, um, to be, like, a hero, Ms. St. James?”
It had been painful watching the news reporter struggle during our live interview. Seeing how challenging it was for her to stay confident under a national spotlight gave me a new appreciation for Laz’s journalistic ability, and, well, his cockiness. He deserved to have that new job in Atlanta. That station was getting a natural anchorman.
“No. I don’t consider myself a hero. I consider myself to be someone who tries really, really hard to do the right thing, whenever I can, however I can do it.” I’d looked directly into the camera as I continued. “Heroes are people who are superhuman, who stand out for having supernatural strength and powers. I’m just a mom, a sister, a daughter, a friend who has flaws and failures and occasional triumphs. Any strength or power I have has come from learning the supremacy of love, the necessity of courage, the freedom in forgiveness, and the joy and clarity that comes from surrendering to the God of it all. No, I’m not a hero. I’m a fighter with more victories than defeats because the people and challenges in my life have developed my muscles and fine-tuned my aim.”
The video ended. I turned off the CNN app that had played it and considered turning off my phone completely; but a text message was waiting.
Roman.
So proud of you, Mom. You’re the strongest woman I know. The police know about RiChard. Ms. Mbali reported him for fraud and found out there are warrants out for him under different names all over the world. Croix and I are working together to make sure justice is served. Things aren’t perfect, but we will all be okay. Thank you for finding my father. He’s not the man I expected him to be, but I will always be the man you raised me to be.
I stared at his message, reread it several times, thought about that picture of him at his fifth-grade graduation. That light blue seersucker shorts suit and bowtie.
I smiled.
I love you and I’m proud of you, I texted back. Tell Mbali to be on the lookout for a package, a belated birthday present for her daughter, your sister. Yes, we will all be okay.
I pressed send and walked back into the building where I had been waiting for nearly thirty minutes. I found an empty bench and sat down.
“There you are!”
I heard his voice and smelled his cologne, even before I saw his face.
Laz.
“I’m so sorry I’m late, Sienna. I had a last-minute change to a story I’m working on and it threw my whole day off. It’s chilly for April, isn’t it?” He blew into his hands, wiped his nose with a tissue. Barely looked my way.
We had agreed to meet at the Walters Art Museum, in downtown Baltimore. It was late Sunday afternoon, the first day of a new week, a new chance, a new everything.
I still had on my church clothes from the morning. My stomach was full from my mother’s Sunday dinner. Chicken and dumplings.
“Yeah, I’m glad I got your message when I did.” He sat down next to me. “I drove straight from taping in DC to try to get here on time.” Our bench faced a painting in shades of yellow and orange. SUNBURST, the sign underneath read. I thought of my own artwork, my portraits and collages. Maybe I could find a local gallery willing to display my work.
A passing thought.
“Sienna, you did good, girl. Your interview. Your determination. I’m in awe of the woman you are.” He glanced over at me. I still hadn’t said anything. “Look, Sienna, I know we have a lot to talk about, but I need you to know that I have done nothing but support you, on a personal level, throughout this whole ordeal. Professionally, I have to do my job. I am required to report stories as they are given to me, and it is my duty to protect my reputation to ensure the integrity of my news reports. I owe it to the station. My actions and on-air reports over the past couple of days were not an attack against you. I’m sure you know that. I have a tough career, Sienna. I do what I have to do.”
“I know, Laz. I can respect that, just like I’m sure you will respect that I have to do what I have to do right now.” Our eyes met. I took out the small gift bag I’d hidden in my purse and passed it to him. “A going-away present for you.”
He didn’t say anything as he opened it. “You’re . . . giving me the lion’s head ring.” He held up the massive jewel. Its rare gems danced in the sunlight of the open foyer.
“You told me I could do what I wanted with the jewels on this ring, that I could take it and reset it as a way of starting over.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to reset it. I want it to stay as is. And I want to give it to you.”
“This thing is worth—”
“Nothing to me.”
Laz raised his eyebrow, cocked his head to one side.
“RiChard was a complete fraud. That wasn’t even his name. Our marriage was a sham. I don’t even need a divorce. I believe I can just get our vows annulled as we married under false conditions, plus he had multiple wives before and after me.”
“Your marriage was a sham, huh?”
“Yes, just like a marriage between us would be.”
“Ouch.” Laz looked away, blew out a loud sigh. “That was a punch below the belt, Ms. Fighter.”
“But it’s true and you know it. You don’t need a wife. You need a worshipper and I can’t worship you the way you want me to.”
A large mass of people came in, looked like a tour group from another country. The foyer became an echo-filled cavern of foreign dialects, loud foots
teps, and laughter. The commotion continued until the group filed into another corridor and then silence filled our space.
“I . . . I can’t keep the ring though, Sienna.” Laz’s voice was barely over a whisper.
“Laz, you told me that you were offering me a chance to take my past, acknowledge it, and start over, and make it work for me in a layout of my choice. That’s what you’ve done. You really have offered me that, and that’s what I’m doing. I’m moving on. I’m leaving my past behind me. I’m leaving it with you. Take good care of it.” I smiled.
He was quiet for a moment; then he nodded slowly. He smiled back at me, the ring dancing on the tips of his fingers.
“It was going to be good for us in Atlanta, Ms. St. James. Dinner parties. Private receptions. I was going to get you a white Benz to match mine for your wedding present.”
“No, it will be good for you in Atlanta. I’m a social worker. Here, in Baltimore. I’m a social worker and a whole woman.”
“That you are, Sienna, that you are.” He bit his lip, nodded again. “Well, you take care of yourself, and if you go chasing down any more terrorists or come across any other newsworthy stories, you got my number.” We both chuckled.
He grabbed my hand and I squeezed his.
Then we both let go.
The air in Downtown Baltimore was chilly for April, I realized as I left the Walters, but the sun was out and not one cloud hung in the sky. For the first time in, hmmm, my entire adult life, maybe, I felt completely whole, completely free, and completely loved and loveable.
With nowhere to go, no plans for the rest of the day, and no fear of the future, I walked all the way down Charles Street to Fayette then Light Street and ended at the Inner Harbor. Colorful boats filled the murky waters and a crowd stood watching a street performer juggle flaming torches while riding a unicycle. I laughed along at his cheesy jokes and then I entered a nearby bakery on Pratt Street.
All that walking and thinking and feeling so free, I believed I’d earned a brownie or two.
It was a new shop and a group of high school-aged boys and girls who were supposed to be working were instead standing around giggling, joking, and playing. Nice that someone had given them a chance. I shook my head and chuckled as they suddenly sobered and ran to their positions around the small, bright dining area that smelled of chocolate, berries, and lemonade.
“The boss is back,” they whispered among themselves, quickly grabbing gloves and aprons, scrubbing tables and straightening chairs.
The door to the kitchen swung open and the owner stepped out. Our eyes met as he set out a tray of fresh-from-the-oven chocolate chip cookies.
Leon.
Reading Group Guide
1. Throughout the novel, Sienna struggles with whether to trust her instincts. What exactly are instincts or gut feelings? What purpose do they serve? Should we trust them? Why or why not?
2. Sienna unexpectedly receives a marriage proposal from Laz. Do you think she should marry him? Why or why not? How does her relationship with Laz compare to the initial relationship she had with RiChard? How does it compare to her previous relationship with Leon? What factors should Sienna consider regarding marriage? What issues, if any, would need to be addressed with Laz before a potential wedding, and how?
3. The man Sienna suspects is a terrorist challenges her to examine what she believes. When looking at the basic elements of her faith, Sienna makes this observation: “Whatever you believe about the origin of life will determine what you believe about life’s value and purpose.” What does this mean? What are your thoughts about her assertion?
4. Laz questions Sienna’s choice to become a social worker. What are your thoughts about his belief that her career choice was somehow related to RiChard? Do you think she is in the right occupation? Why or why not? What factors have influenced your own career choices?
5. Who is your favorite character and why? What about the character’s life, words, or actions speak to you?
6. Consider the character of Sienna St. James. What are her motivations? Her intentions? What are her successes and her failures? In what ways does she grow throughout the novel? What areas of her life need further growth?
7. How would you describe Sienna’s relationship with the Lord? What about her sister Yvette’s walk with Him? Can you relate to where either one of them are spiritually, and if so, how?
8. Sienna acknowledges that there are multigenerational themes of stubbornness and problems with communication and relationships in her family. Reflect on your own family tree and all of its members. Do you notice any common themes, concerns, or issues across the generations? If so, how can these themes best be addressed and by whom?
9. Sienna’s office assistant, Darci, a single mom of twins, appears to take great interest in the man who shows up at the office. What advice would you offer Darci about relationships and men, especially as a single mother?
10. Ava Diggs, Sienna’s mentor, introduces the idea of “mirror moments.” She says, “We go about our days minding our business, then something happens to make us stop and stare and see who we really are, what we really look like, what we’re really made of. Mirror moments tend to be rare, but life changing. Once we see ourselves for who we are, we have to make decisions on what to do with the image we see. Fix it, smile at it. Carry on with or without changes. We are forced to take ownership of the person we’re facing in the mirror.” What are your thoughts about mirror moments? Have you had such moments in your life? What were the outcomes?
Author Bio
Leslie J. Sherrod, the recipient of the SORMAG Readers Choice Award for Christian Author of the Year (2012), has a master’s in social work and has worked as a therapist, just like her current protagonist, Sienna St. James. Her novels, Without Faith, Losing Hope, Secret Place, and Like Sheep Gone Astray have been featured in Baltimore’s Enoch Pratt Free Library Writers LIVE! series, as well as local CBS and NBC affiliates, and on AOL’s Black Voices. She has received a starred review from Booklist and is a contributor to the bestselling A Cup of Comfort devotional series. Leslie lives in Baltimore, Maryland with her husband and three children.
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Sacrifices of Joy: Book Three of the Sienna St. James Series Copyright © 2014 Leslie J. Sherrod
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-6016-2721-6
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 novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
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