Come Sunday Morning

by Terry E. Hill

  “You could have built thousands of units of affordable housing with the money you’re wasting on that church.”

  The effusive charm and quick wit that had served Hezekiah well his entire life now eluded him. He stood pummeled by the barrage of complaints and threats. Dino walked slowly toward the front of the room and positioned himself firmly a few feet from Hezekiah.

  “Pastor Cleaveland,” said the facilitator above the shouts. “Are you going to respond? These people are angry and frustrated. They deserve some answers.”

  The room fell silent. Hezekiah looked into the angry faces.

  “I think I’ve heard enough,” he said with a scowl. “For some reason you people are under the misguided impression that I need your permission to build New Testament Cathedral. Well, for your information I don’t. We have every permit required by law. We own the property, and at this point no one can stop the project. I came to meet with you as a courtesy, but I’m not in the mood to tolerate your abuse and misguided anger. You should direct it at the mayor and city council, not at me.”

  Gasps were heard throughout, but Hezekiah continued. “I don’t pretend to have the solution to homelessness, and I don’t know of anyone who does. I do know, however, that protesting and focusing your anger toward me is not the solution. It may get you on the six o’clock news, but it does nothing to help the people you claim to be advocating for.”

  Hezekiah turned to the stunned facilitator. “Mr. Facilitator,” he said mockingly, “please do not invite me or anyone else from my church to these meetings again.”

  Hezekiah began to walk toward the exit. He stopped at the door and turned back to the stunned crowd and said, “Also, the next time I see any of you protesting on my property, I’m going the have the police throw you in jail for trespassing. Good night.”

  Hezekiah exited the room, with Dino walking protectively behind. A chorus of jeers and threats erupted.

  “We’re going to shut you down, Hezekiah Cleaveland.”

  “You’ve got no right to talk to us like that. We’re good people.”

  “I’ve never been so insulted in my life.”

  The words of indignation were ignored. When they stepped into the cold night air, Dino asked, “Reverend, are you all right?”

  “No, I’m not all right,” Hezekiah said, turning up his collar. “Just take me back to the Adams District.”

  For the second time that day Dino stopped the car in front of Danny’s home. Hezekiah could see Norma and Ray peeking through the curtains of their apartment. From the rear of the limousine Hezekiah stared into Danny’s window. Nothing had changed. The lights had not been turned on. The day’s mail was still in the box, and Parker was not on the sill.

  Where is he? Hezekiah thought. God, please let him be all right.

  The car was silent for several minutes, when Dino looked into the rearview mirror.

  “Pastor Cleaveland, would you like me to knock on the door? Maybe he came back while we were away.”

  Hezekiah could see compassion and knowing in the reflection of Dino’s eyes through the mirror. He simply responded, “No, Dino. I don’t think he’s coming back. I just want to sit here for a few more minutes. But thank you. Thank you very much.”

  Hezekiah’s cell phone rang four times, but he did not answer it. The caller tried again. On the third ring Hezekiah picked it up. “Hello, what is it?”

  “Hezekiah, it’s Percy. Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all night. We have to talk.”

  “Now isn’t a good time, Percy. Can I call you back in—”

  “This will only take a minute. Now listen to me closely. I know about you and Danny St. John.”

  Hezekiah did not respond. He did not care.

  “If that story appears in the paper, all hell is going to break loose,” Percy continued. “You have to be prepared to respond. Have Naomi call a press conference for tomorrow afternoon so you can publicly deny everything. We can’t afford to let this go without a statement from you. If you don’t refute the accusations, everyone will assume they’re true.”

  “I can’t. I don’t think I can face the public just yet. Danny is missing. No one seems to know where he is.”

  “You need to forget about him, Hezekiah. The rest of your career will depend on how you handle what’s about to come your way over the next few days. If you mess this up, it’s over. I’m going to try and talk some sense into Lance Savage. I don’t know if he’ll listen to reason. You should go home and get some rest. I’ll call you in the morning. And by the way, make sure Samantha is standing with you in the pulpit on Sunday.”

  “I don’t think she will, Percy.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she knows the story is true. What am I going to do, Percy? My life is falling apart. It’s over. I don’t think I can take any more.”

  “It’s not over. We’re going to fight this together, Hezekiah. It’s going to be difficult, but we can get through this if you can just tough out the next few days.”

  Hezekiah did not hear the final words of encouragement. He looked for the last time into Danny’s window and said, “I have to go now, Percy. Just do whatever you think is necessary. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  19

  Kenneth Davis had tried, unsuccessfully, to reach Lance Savage all afternoon. He tried Lance’s number again and was greeted with, “Lance Savage here. How can I help you?”

  “Mr. Savage, this is Reverend Kenneth Davis. I’m an associate pastor at New Testament—”

  Lance interrupted, “I know who you are Reverend Davis. What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to meet with you to discuss the article you’re working on. Would that be possible sometime today?”

  “There’s nothing more to discuss. Besides, it’s too late.” Lance looked at his watch. “I’ve already submitted it to my editor.”

  “Now, we both know it’s never too late to stop a story from going to press. I have a proposition for you that might convince you to put an end to this whole unfortunate misunderstanding.”

  “What kind of proposition?”

  “A proposition that would be mutually beneficial to all parties involved, especially for you.”

  Lance was intrigued. He looked at his watch again and said, “All right, Reverend Davis.”

  “Please, Lance, call me Kenneth.”

  “Okay, Kenneth, I was just about to head home. You can meet me there in one hour.”

  Lance gave his home address and the two men exchanged civil good-byes.

  After disconnecting, Kenneth immediately called Percy Pryce.

  “Percy, I finally got us a face-to-face with Lance Savage. Meet me in front of the church in thirty minutes.”

  “What did he say? Is he going to take the money?”

  “We didn’t get that far. At least he’s willing to listen to what we have to offer.”

  Lance lived in a 1920s bungalow on the canals in Venice. Cars sped along the narrow street within ten feet of his front door. It was a small house with a permanent dampness in the air.

  Lance, wearing faded jogging shorts and a wrinkled T-shirt, answered the door. “Hello, Kenneth. You didn’t say you were bringing Reverend Pryce with you. Is he here in an official capacity?”

  “No, he’s not,” Kenneth said as the two men entered the cluttered bungalow. “And neither am I. We’re not here to speak on behalf of the New Testament Cathedral, or Hezekiah. We only represent ourselves.”

  “Have a seat, gentlemen. Can I get you a beer, or maybe something stronger?”

  “No, thank you,” Kenneth said. “We don’t plan on staying long.”

  Lance retrieved a beer he had already begun and sat on a leather sofa next to Percy. Kenneth lowered his body into a chair in front of them and laid a briefcase on the floor at his feet.

  Kenneth calmly began to speak. “I think it goes without saying that we would appreciate it if whatever we discuss does not leave this room. As far as anyone is concerne
d, this meeting never took place, and if you ever repeat anything we say, we will deny it.”

  “Fair enough,” Lance said, setting the beer bottle on a side table.

  “First of all, we’d like for you to tell us exactly what it is that you know about this affair Hezekiah is allegedly involved in, and with whom,” Kenneth stated.

  “All right, it will soon be public information, anyway. Your pastor has been involved with a Mr. Danny St. John for the last year. They see each other no less than twice a week. Usually, they meet at Danny’s apartment in the Adams District. They also have lunch together on occasions at various restaurants around the city. Danny is an outreach worker in downtown Los Angeles. He’s twenty-eight, and quite a looker, if I might add. Is there anything else you would like to know?” Lance added smugly.

  “Yes,” Percy said. “Everything you’ve just told us sounds relatively innocent. But it doesn’t prove that the relationship was sexual in nature?”

  “I agree,” Kenneth chimed in. “There’s no law against Hezekiah having a male friend. He’s been to my home dozens of times and we often dine out together. That doesn’t make it sexual.”

  Lance stood up and walked to a desk under a window overlooking the canals. He opened a drawer and retrieved a stack of papers held together by a metal clasp. He then thumbed through the stack, pulled a sheet out and handed it to Percy.

  Percy read the e-mail silently:

  My Dearest Danny,

  Last night with you was wonderful. I love holding you in my arms and tasting your soft lips. Each time I kiss you feels as sweet as my first kiss. Feeling your body against mine gives me more pleasure than I ever thought possible. Caressing your soft skin makes me feel like the luckiest man in the world. I am not a poet and I know it, but I want you to know that I love you with all of my heart.

  I wish I could hold you in my arms forever.

  Love you always,

  Hezekiah

  Percy handed the e-mail to Kenneth, who proceeded to read as well.

  “Would you like to see more? That’s one of the tamer ones. There’s a few in there that give you the size of each of their members, and one in particular that goes into great detail about where Danny likes for Hezekiah to put his finger when he’s about to come.”

  Percy quickly held up his hand and said, “No, that won’t be necessary.”

  “One thing I can assure you is that none of the more graphic details of their relationship will be in the article. I don’t think the public is ready to hear what Hezekiah does when he’s about to come,” Lance said with a sly smile.

  “This is so unseemly,” Percy said in disgust. “I can’t believe the Los Angeles Chronicle would stoop to gutter journalism like this. It’s no better than the supermarket tabloids.”

  “Pathetic, isn’t it?” Lance agreed sarcastically. “It’s a new day in journalism. The public craves shit like this, and if we want to stay in business, we’ve got to keep up with the times. No pun intended.”

  “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Kenneth said angrily. “You don’t seem to realize how many people will be hurt if this story is released. Hezekiah will be ruined. His wife and daughter will be devastated. The future of New Testament Cathedral will be placed in extreme jeopardy, and millions of people all over the country will lose a man they deeply love, and many will possibly also lose their faith in God.”

  “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but Hezekiah should have thought of all that before he, so indiscreetly, got involved with a man,” Lance said as he sat back down. “I’m a reporter and I report the news. And this is definitely news.”

  Kenneth proceeded diplomatically with his appeal. “You are obviously aware that the story would cause immeasurable damage to Hezekiah and New Testament Cathedral.”

  “I am.”

  “Is there any way we can appeal to your moral consciousness?” Kenneth asked passionately. “Surely, you must feel some moral obligation to your fellow man. Hezekiah made a mistake, but who among us hasn’t? I’m sure you’ve done many things that you’re not proud of. How would you like it if they were splashed all over the front page?”

  “I would hate that, but you fail to recognize a few significant differences between Hezekiah and myself. I don’t claim any sort of moral authority. I’m not married. I’m not the head of a multimillion-dollar empire, and even more important, I am not on television twenty-four hours a day around the country preaching about the evils of sin.”

  “Point taken,” Kenneth conceded. “Then, let’s approach this from a different angle. Needless to say, we want to put this entire ugly situation behind us all as soon, and as quietly, as possible. To that end, we are prepared to offer you one hundred seventy-five thousand dollars to forget you ever heard the name of Danny St. John.”

  Kenneth retrieved the briefcase from the floor and placed it on the coffee table. He opened it to reveal stacks of one-hundred-dollar bills bound by white paper strips.

  Lance sat erect. “You’ve got to be shit’n me,” he said, laughing. “You think saving your boy’s ass is only worth one hundred seventy-five thousand dollars?”

  “That’s all we are able to come up with.”

  Lance stood up and walked toward the door. “You and I both know that’s not true. New Testament brings in more than that just from the interest you earn on money collected in the Sunday-morning offering plate. Gentlemen,” he said, “I think you’ve wasted enough of my time. I would appreciate it if you’d leave my home.”

  Percy jumped from the sofa. “You fucking piece of shit,” he said, pointing his finger. “Now it’s clear to me what this is all about. You’re trying to get rich off the backs of Hezekiah and New Testament Cathedral. That whole speech about ‘the news’ was a bunch of bullshit. You don’t give a fuck about the news,” he said angrily. “It’s all about money.”

  “That’s some strong language for a man of God,” Lance said. “I’m impressed.”

  “Fuck you,” Percy continued. “If you have half a brain, you’ll take the money and forget about this whole thing.”

  “It’ll take a lot more than that for me to forget Danny St. John. Try half a million, and then maybe we can talk.”

  “You’re out of your fucking mind,” Percy said, “if you think we’re going to give you half a million.”

  “I think that’s a fair price, Reverend Pryce, especially considering it was your wife who got you into this sordid mess,” Lance replied as he opened the front door. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

  Percy looked stunned and then slammed the door shut. “What are you saying? My wife isn’t involved in this.”

  Lance walked away from the door to a nearby telephone. “Are you trying to tell me you didn’t know she is the one who leaked the story?”

  Percy bolted across the room and grabbed Lance by the shoulders. “My wife had nothing to do with this. You’re lying. Don’t listen to him, Reverend Davis. He’s trying to get more money out of us.”

  Reverend Davis stood and said, “Let him go, Percy. Right now it doesn’t matter who leaked the story.” He then looked at Lance and said, “Five hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money. It’ll take me some time to come up with it, but—”

  “It matters to me,” Percy interrupted. He then pushed the now-shaking reporter against the wall, causing a picture to crash to the floor. “I’m not going to let this little bastard extort that kind of money out of us.”

  “Reverend Pryce, you would be surprised at just how low your wife had to stoop to ensure that you become the next pastor of New Testament Cathedral. Take it from me, though. She knows her way around the front seat of a car.”

  Lance began to walk away, but Percy grabbed his neck. The two men struggled.

  “Percy, stop it,” Kenneth said, grabbing Percy by the shoulders. “Let him go. Let’s go.”

  But their scuffle only escalated. A lamp fell from a table. Stereo equipment and CDs lurched from their shelves from bumps leveled by slamming bodies. Lance struggle
d for release as Percy pushed him to the ground.

  When Lance fell, his head banged against the coffee table, causing the briefcase, and all its contents, to topple onto the floor. The reporter lay motionless, with bundles of money scattered around his body.

  “Oh God,” Kenneth said, kneeling next to Lance’s limp body. “What have you done? He’s not breathing.”

  Kenneth tried to revive the limp body of Lance Savage, while Percy panted over his shoulder.

  “Wake up,” Percy said through deep, anguished breaths. “He tripped. Make him get up, Kenneth.”

  Kenneth shook Lance’s shoulders, causing his head to flop from side to side. His arms hung limp and unresponsive to the additional abuse at the hands of such a large man.

  “He’s dead,” Kenneth finally said. “You killed him.”

  “I barely touched him. You saw it. He must have tripped. Oh shit. I don’t believe this is happening. What are we going to do?”

  Without responding, Kenneth carelessly dropped the mass of flesh and immediately began gathering the fallen money, returning it to the case.

  “Quick,” he said, “get all the money, and let’s get out of here.”

  “We can’t just leave him here. We should call the police.”

  “Are you crazy? You just killed a man for no reason. They’ll put you in jail for the rest of your life. Let’s just get out of here. Hopefully, no one saw us come in. They’ll think he was killed by a burglar. Now, pull yourself together and help me pick up this money.”

  Kenneth scanned the room, once the case was filled. Much of its contents lay scattered on the floor, along with the crumpled body. To his satisfaction it looked like the classic botched robbery scene he had seen so often on the evening news.

  “If we pass anyone on the street, don’t make eye contact with them, and try to look natural.”

  Percy looked again at the devastation his hands had wrought and cried out, “I don’t believe this is happening!”

  Kenneth ran to the kitchen at the rear of the house and retrieved a dish towel from the sink. He opened the back door of the house and stepped onto the wooden porch, wrapped his hand in the dish towel and smashed a pane of glass in the back door. With his hand still covered he closed the door and stuffed the towel into his pocket. The broken glass crackled under his feet as he quickly left the room.