Path of the Wicked

by Jennifer Stanley

  Trish mentioned the name of an injured neighbor and Quinton asked for a prayer for a coworker going through a divorce. The Bible study group bowed their heads as Savannah led them in a short prayer. After they had all said their amens, they opened their workbooks and began to discuss the anger they felt over how Joseph’s brothers had caused their father such poignant heartbreak.

  “I can’t believe they lied to their father and shoved that blood-stained robe in his face. They made him believe his son was dead and yet Joseph was very much alive!” Nathan exclaimed. “I know things weren’t peachy for our guy Joseph. I mean, he was sold into slavery for crying out loud, but at least wild beasts hadn’t ravaged him. Can you imagine Jacob, an old man, lying in his tent night after night, his dreams haunted by the violent death of his favorite son?”

  “Shouldn’t have placed one son over another, though.” Jake clicked his tongue as though scolding Jacob in person. “Ruins families all the time.”

  “Those brothers must have been on the verge of boiling over for years,” Trish commented. “I think having Joseph tell them about his dreams of the sheaves of wheat and the eleven stars bowing down to him was more than they could take. The idea of being subservient to a spoiled brat must have made them see red.”

  Jake snorted. “And not the fancy red of Joseph’s fancy robe, either. Goat’s-blood red.”

  “But I simply can’t imagine how they could watch as their father tore his clothes and cried out loud in his grief,” Cooper said with feeling. “How could those brothers return to tending the flocks, to their regular lives of eating, sleeping, working, and trading stories around the fire while their father suffered like that?”

  Quinton turned his coffee mug around in a circle on his desk. “I guess they just buried the subject among them—pretended that Joseph did simply disappear and that it was all for the best. In fact, they probably thought that they had showed restraint by not killing Joseph. You can fool yourself into believing a lie you’ve told over and over, don’t you think?”

  Nathan nodded in agreement. “When I read Genesis thirty-seven, I started to imagine my own father and how he’d feel if my sister or I were killed. It’s hard enough for a parent to lose a child, and Joseph’s death was sudden and brutal. No wonder Jacob aged overnight.”

  Cooper pictured her own parents settled at their kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading different sections of the newspaper. She imagined the phone ringing, her mother answering and listening to the kind of heart-rending news that no parent can bear to hear. She clearly envisioned how her mother’s strong hands would grip the receiver as her face crumpled in pain. Cooper then saw her father, never a large man to begin with, suddenly shrink in stature until he was almost invisible, struck to the core by loss.

  Unbidden tears sprang to her eyes as she visualized her parents’ grief and she quickly brushed them away. After all, she and Ashley were healthy as a pair of oxen, but Jacob’s anguish was genuinely felt by Cooper and her friends. That was what she loved so much about getting to know the people in the Bible. They were so much like the people she encountered on a daily basis—filled with pride, hope, flaws, faith, love, desire. It was their human qualities that caused generations of readers to turn to them again and again in search of wisdom and comfort.

  Cooper was not the only one moved by their discussion. Trish also looked tearful. “When I think of anything bad happening to one of my beautiful and precious princesses, oh, I just can’t even say it! Poor Jacob! That poor daddy!”

  “The worst thing is how many years passed until he was able to hear that Joseph was actually alive and well,” Savannah said. “But that’s getting ahead to next week’s lesson.”

  The group shared the remainder of their homework answers and then closed their workbooks. Savannah asked if anyone had announcements to make or final prayer requests before they concluded.

  Quinton cleared his throat. “If y’all don’t mind, I wrote a song last night.” He turned to Bryant. “I was thinking about you, Bryant, and how upset you must have been yesterday. So it’s kind of a comfort song for you and everybody else that might need a dose of holy TLC. It’s called I Am With You.”

  Trish sat up straighter in her chair. “You mean, you’re going to read it out loud to us?”

  Quinton picked at some crumbs on his plate. He squished them between his fingers and then wiped them onto his napkin. He seemed to be coming to some kind of decision. “Um, I was hoping someone else would read part of it. I’d rather not recite my own words.”

  “I’d volunteer,” Savannah joked, “but that won’t do you much good.”

  “I ain’t got a very nice readin’ voice,” Jake said and then nudged Cooper in the elbow. “You’ve got a good voice. I’ve heard you singin’ in church. Give it to Cooper,” Jake ordered, and Quinton responded by handing the paper to her.

  Cooper rose from her chair and edged away from her desk by an inch. “I feel like I’m reciting a poem for school,” she murmured with a goofy smile and read:

  With every sunrise that stirs you awake

  With every fresh start, each new mistake

  Take me with you, take me with you

  On the train, in the car

  As you’re gazing at the stars

  Take me with you, take me with you

  At your desk, standing in line

  Making lists, wishing for time

  Take me with you, take me with you

  Turn your face toward the sun

  Mine is not a lukewarm love

  I am with you

  I’m always with you

  When you’re dancing in the rain

  When you’re huddled up in pain

  Take me with you, take me with you

  With your toes dug in the sand

  As you journey through the land

  A day of work, of joy or strife

  When you kiss your child good night

  When you laugh, when you cry

  When you bid a friend good-bye

  Take me with you, take me with you

  I am here, touching your skin

  I am knocking, now let me in

  Turn your face toward the sun

  Mine is not a lukewarm love

  I am with you

  I am always with you

  Cooper folded the paper and sat back down. Her group offered Quinton a smattering of applause.

  “I could almost hear a melody in my mind,” Nathan said. “Too bad we don’t know someone who could put your words to music.”

  Jake, who had been strumming invisible guitar strings with his eyes closed, sat up and gave his friend a thumbs-up. “It could use a bit of tweakin’, my friend, but I like it. I ’specially like that line about the lukewarm love, ’cause real love ain’t lukewarm one bit.”

  “Genuine love is more like a hearth fire,” Savannah agreed. “That steady warmth of home.”

  Bryant reached over his desk and clapped Quinton on the back. “Thank you for the song. Can I keep a copy?”

  Looking pleased, Quinton handed him another piece of paper. Cooper folded her copy and placed it inside her workbook.

  “I sure hope old Mrs. Davenport felt someone with her at the end,” Bryant said, his tone noticeably less despondent than at the beginning of their meeting.

  “I’m sure she did,” Nathan gave Bryant’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

  As the group finished off their coffee and threw away their trash, Cooper returned to her desk and absently began to cut a plantain into tiny pieces.

  “You look like you’re planning to feed a toddler. Or do you just like your food smashed into little bits?” Trish asked wryly. “You don’t have to eat it, you know. I won’t be offended. I didn’t even cook this stuff.”

  “The food’s delicious, Trish. It’s not that,” Cooper answered with a start. “I’m just wrestling over whether to tell you all something.”

  “Well, it’s too late now for sure!” Jake declared. “You can’t say someth
in’ like that and then go all quiet. No way. Come on, out with it!”

  Cooper hesitated. Her friends grew silent, gazing at her with a mixture of expectancy and impatience.

  “Service is gonna start,” Jake reminded her. “Do I have to go out to the Mr. Faucet van for my toolbox and torture the secret outta you?”

  “Hey, I’ve got a toolbox, too, buddy.” Cooper tried her best to look tough.

  “Yeah, but have your tools been where my tools have been?” Jake countered.

  “Okay, you win!” Cooper held out her hands in supplication. “It’s just that I overheard some things both times we were at Door-2-Door’s headquarters,” she confessed. “And what I heard was kind of awful. I wasn’t sure if I should say anything but . . .”

  Reluctantly, she told her friends about the thefts and the similarities between Mrs. Davenport’s and Mr. Manningham’s deaths.

  “So what are you implying?” Trish asked dubiously when Cooper was done. “That someone deliberately harmed these elderly people?”

  “Seems clear as glass to me!” Jake roared. “Stealin’ from folks who’ve got no one livin’ with them for protection! Findin’ the one or two precious things they’ve tucked away like a crow hidin’ a piece of tinsel.” He balled his meaty hand into a tight fist and the cross on his bicep rippled. “That’s a lowlife scumbag to take from the helpless. I’d like to meet him in a dark alley.”

  “Lali said that both clients died suddenly, in their chairs? With no signs of illness the previous day?” Nathan asked Cooper, his long face sorrowful.

  Cooper nodded.

  “And they were both victims of the Door-2-Door volunteer burglar?” Quinton inquired.

  “Wait a minute,” Bryant interjected. “We don’t know that the thief is a volunteer. I mean, other outsiders must go inside these people’s homes.”

  “Like who?” Trish demanded. “You heard what Lali told us during orientation. Door-2-Door arranges for food delivery, light housekeeping, yard work, and home repair. They even take care of driving their clients to important appointments and seeing to their pets’ needs. That’s why I wanted to sponsor a route. Door-2-Door does so much more than provide nutritious meals.”

  “What about medical treatment?” Bryant argued. “These folks need regular check-ups, right? My mother sees a doctor all the time and she’s fit as a fiddle. These folks can’t get driven to doctor’s offices that regularly, can they? Do they even have the money to pay for health care?”

  “I think Medicaid pays for a nurse to come to their homes, but I don’t know how often,” Savannah said. “I could ask Pearl, the woman who helps me with my errands. Her daughter’s a nurse.”

  “The point is, someone’s mighty shady!” Jake exclaimed. “And it’s our duty to make sure that no one hurts any more of these folks. I don’t wanna hear about another robbery or . . . anything worse. We’ve got to figure out just who we’re workin’ with every Saturday and sniff out the dirty rat that’s hidin’ behind a mask of charity.”

  Most of the Sunrise members nodded in agreement, but Trish looked unhappy. Cooper suspected that the Realtor was concerned that they wouldn’t be subtle enough in their investigations and that the reputation of her company might suffer as a result. “They’re all lovely people,” she said defensively. “We can see that for ourselves.”

  “But think of Joseph’s brothers,” Jake calmly replied. “Look what they did because they felt slighted. People haven’t changed much since Joseph was betrayed by his own family. What do you think, Savannah?”

  Savannah ran a hand over her long, black braid and sighed. “What is happening to those people is certainly unjust. Our elderly should be given all the love, dignity, and respect they deserve.”

  “But do you believe we should get involved?” Quinton asked timidly.

  After a long pause, Savannah nodded. “A line from the fourth chapter of Genesis comes to mind: ‘Sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it.’ ” She looked intently at her Bible study group. “Someone has opened the door wide and invited sin to step on in. My friends, sin has become this person’s master. I believe we have been called to get involved—to find out who this wolf in angel’s robes is before someone else falls prey to their poisoned heart.”

  Cooper hesitated before the entrance to Blythe, a West End boutique featuring delicate lingerie, fine linens, and unusual soaps and body oils.

  “Come on.” Ashley pushed her sister through the door. “Nothing’s going to bite you in there.”

  The store’s interior was a haven to all things feminine. Silk nighties hung from scented fabric hangers, lustrous cotton robes and towels were draped over iron headboards, sheer panties were fanned out across an exquisitely embroidered coverlet, and bras in all shapes, textures, and hues were tidily arranged along the length of one of the side walls. Candles, bottles of lotion, massage oil, and special bath treatments released a mixture of fruit, floral, and musky aromas into the air. Cooper paused to inhale a lavender candle, but Ashley grabbed her by the arm and pulled her over to where the store manager waited by the dressing rooms.

  “You have to get measured, Coop.” Ashley pointed at the curtained stall. “Get in there and take your top off. And your bra. Whatever you’re wearing under that shirt is no good, so there’s no sense in seeing what size it is. Sarah here will give you your true size.”

  Seeing no means of escape, Cooper removed her shirt and white cotton bra. She balled the bra inside her T-shirt, folded the ensemble in half, and placed it on the chair inside the dressing room. Then, crossing her arms over her chest, she reluctantly mumbled, “Ready.”

  Sarah stepped inside the stall and gently wrapped a sewing tape measure around Cooper’s chest. She then brought the end of the tape under Cooper’s arm and repeated the process, measuring a few inches higher on Cooper’s breasts than she had before. The moment she dropped the tape, Cooper covered herself with her arms again.

  “You’re between an A and a B cup,” Sarah told her. “Are you looking for a bra that can provide more definition?”

  “Yes, she is!” Ashley declared and burst into the dressing room, which now felt rather crowded. She brandished a red and black bra trimmed in lace. “Something like this.”

  “No way,” Cooper interjected. “I’d like a plain color, please. And no lace. It’s too itchy.” She turned to her sister. “Get out of here, Ashley!”

  “Well, since I’m treating, I get final veto power!” Ashley called from the other side of the curtain and then she and Sarah began to confer over which bras to give Cooper to try on. As they whispered and giggled together, Cooper sat on the dressing room chair and hugged her T-shirt to her chest.

  After a few moments, Sarah put an arm through the curtain, respecting Cooper’s obvious desire for privacy, and offered her a selection of ten bras.

  “The green one is a water bra,” Sarah explained. “It’s very comfortable and will really enhance your natural shape.”

  As Cooper pushed on the padded cups of the green bra, which was a lovely shade of pale jade, the material gave way as though it were stuffed with Jell-O. “Weird,” she murmured suspiciously, but decided to humor Ashley by trying it on. Surprisingly, Sarah was right. It was exceedingly comfortable and for once, Cooper looked like she had some curves.

  “Feel free to try it on under your shirt,” Sarah suggested, “so you can see how seamless it is.”

  Following her recommendation, Cooper unfolded her T-shirt and pulled it on, pivoting sideways in the mirror as she admired her fuller, more rounded breasts. With her narrow waist and flat stomach, the bra gave her a more marked hourglass shape. Cooper stared at her enhanced feminine figure, feeling a blush creep up the smooth skin of her chest and neck as she admired her alluring reflection. Stuffing her old bra into her pocket, she pushed the curtain aside and collided into Ashley, who held three more bras in her hand.

  “I’ll take this one.” Cooper turned to Sarah. “Can I just wear i
t out?”

  Sarah nodded and retrieved a pair of scissors. “Certainly. Let me cut the tag off for you.”

  As Sarah wrapped up a matching pair of pale green panties in tissue paper, Ashley sulked. “No one buys the first bra they try on. You are so not fun to shop with.”

  Cooper kissed her sister on the cheek. “I know. Thanks for putting up with me.” Sarah then announced the total cost of their selections and Cooper’s jaw dropped in shock. “Ashley!” she hissed urgently under her breath. “I could get two entire outfits for that amount of money. I can’t accept this kind of gift.”

  “Yes, you can.” Ashley handed Sarah her gold card with a flourish. “Just make sure you get some use out of these. And I expect to hear all the juicy details. That’s the price of my generosity.”

  “If there are any, you’d be the only one I’d tell,” Cooper said, and then she and Ashley headed back to Gum Creek. Ashley planned to join the Lees for their customary Sunday dinner while Cooper dined with Nathan at Can Can Brassiere, the trendy French restaurant in the heart of Carytown.

  “Don’t you meet him there, girlie,” Grammy advised with a wiggle of her finger. “It’s best you leave your truck at his place. That is, if you wanna put that new figure of yours to work.” She cackled and pointed at Cooper’s chest.

  Cooper’s neck grew warm. “He asked me to meet at Can Can, so I can’t change plans now. It would be kind of pushy.”

  “So be pushy!” Grammy declared with a smile. “But you don’t need to worry, granddaughter. You’re lookin’ just like a flower this evenin’. He won’t be able to let you go home, anyhow.”

  Stroking her butterfly pin, Cooper blushed. “Thanks, Grammy.”

  “Oh, and you need to take my cardboard cat carrier with you,” Grammy ordered as Cooper turned to leave.

  “What? Why?”

  Grammy shrugged. “I’ve got one of those feelin’s that an animal’s lookin’ for me. Just take it and set an old lady’s heart at ease, would you?”

  “Sure, Grammy,” Cooper answered and gave her grandmother’s withered hand a light pat. “Though I expect all I’ll be bringing home in the carrier is a Can Can doggie bag.”