Scarlet rejoined New Testament after her marriage ended and soon became a trusted and valuable member of the church. Hezekiah, who never lost his deep feelings for her, eventually appointed her to the board of trustees.
She had harbored loathing for Samantha Cleaveland for years, and now that intensified. She always suspected that Samantha would want to take over the church if Hezekiah ever died, and Scarlet vowed to do all within her power to prevent it if she ever tried.
As the teakettle on her stove simmered, the telephone rang.
It was Willie Mitchell. “How are you, Scarlet?”
“I’m fine.” Like everyone else, Scarlet knew that when Willie called, he wanted something.
“I’m calling about the trustee meeting this week. We’ve got to decide who is going to replace Pastor Cleaveland, God rest his soul. I wanted to know who you were going to support.”
“What do you mean, who? There is only one obvious choice—Reverend Pryce.”
“Scarlet, you know I never like to disagree with you, but how about Samantha? She is much more qualified, and I think Pastor would have wanted her to replace him.”
Scarlet leaned against the counter and laughed. “Samantha Cleaveland? Why would we do that? I never have, and never will, consider her for the position. Also, we need someone right now. The woman must still be in shock. Her husband’s body isn’t even cold yet, and she already wants to be pastor.”
“You know Samantha better than that, Scarlet. She’s a fighter.”
“I know that. But she’s not a pastor. I’ve never trusted her to have the best interest of New Testament.” Scarlet grew impatient. “You’ve caught me at a bad time. We can talk about this at the trustee meeting.”
“All right, Scarlet. Just think about it, would you?”
“I’ve already thought about it. Good-bye.”
Scarlet sat down at her kitchen table and wondered why Reverend Mitchell was so intent on Samantha becoming pastor. Had she bribed him? Her concern grew. Typically, if Reverend Mitchell wanted something from the board, he usually got it. She would have to work twice as hard to convince them not to select Samantha Cleaveland.
27
Willie Mitchell slammed the conference table and jumped to his feet. “Everyone, please, please be quiet. If this room does not come to order, I’m going to end the meeting right now.”
It was the Thursday after Hezekiah’s funeral. The five members of the board of trustees exhibited their frustrations by throwing pens onto the table, slamming notebooks, and rolling eyes in disgust. They had gathered to decide who would replace Hezekiah. Reverend Davis, Scarlet Shackelford, and Hattie Williams each spoke adamantly in favor of appointing Reverend Pryce. Reverend Mitchell and Rev. Larry Sullivan supported the appointment of Samantha Cleaveland as pastor.
Percy Pryce and Samantha did not attend the meeting. Samantha had already given Willie instructions not to adjourn the meeting until they appointed her as pastor. “Do whatever it takes, Willie. I’m counting on you.”
Willie wiped the sweat from his lip and went on. “Now, I’ll be the first one to agree that Percy has served this church well over the years, but, no disrespect to Reverend Percy, he is no leader. He never did anything around here without asking permission first. We need someone who can inspire us through this difficult time. We need someone who can take charge and show the world that New Testament Cathedral is here to stay. We need Reverend Samantha Cleaveland to stand in the pulpit as pastor and tell the world that New Testament is going to be all right.”
Scarlet Shackelford responded, “Samantha Cleaveland is in mourning. We need someone right now. There’s already talk of some people leaving. We can’t wait for Samantha to pull herself together. It takes time for a woman to get over the loss of a husband—”
“I spoke to Samantha before this meeting,” Willie interrupted, “and she said, if appointed, she would be prepared to assume the position immediately. You know she’s a strong woman.”
Reverend Davis jumped in. “Yes, but how will members react when they hear we’ve appointed a woman as pastor? Sorry, Sisters, but you know it’s the truth.”
“Come on, Reverend Davis,” said Larry Sullivan. “There are women pastors all over the country. And remember this isn’t just any woman. Samantha Cleaveland helped Hezekiah build this ministry. I think we owe it to Pastor’s memory to at least appoint her as interim pastor, and give her a chance.”
“Reverend Sullivan makes a good point.” The room fell silent as Hattie Williams spoke. “I admit I have concerns about Samantha Cleaveland, but this isn’t about her. It’s about the survival of New Testament. It’s about keeping people coming in those doors every Sunday. The church needs to regain some stability. And if that means putting another Cleaveland in the pulpit, then, I guess, I’m in favor of it.”
There was silence. Willie’s stomach muscles relaxed. He knew no one could resist the wisdom of Hattie Williams. Now that she was on his side, his battle was almost won.
Scarlet felt betrayed. She never imagined that Hattie would side with Samantha Cleaveland. She had seen the way the old woman looked at Samantha every time she saw her.
Willie broke the silence. “Scarlet, are you at least willing to support Samantha as interim pastor? We’ll all keep a close eye on her, and if it doesn’t work out, we’ll find someone else.”
Scarlet did not speak.
Willie went on, “How about you, Reverend Davis? Are you willing to give her a chance? Remember, it’s for the church.”
Reverend Davis avoided looking into the red eyes of Reverend Mitchell. They had been there for almost four hours, and he was exhausted. He closed his folder and said, “I’ll agree only as interim pastor, and only if we review her performance every month.”
Willie slammed the table and said, “Good. I knew you’d do the right thing. Come on, Scarlet. You’re the last vote. This has to be unanimous.”
Scarlet searched the eyes of her fellow trustees. They all avoided her glance, except for Hattie.
Scarlet finally spoke. “All right. I’ll agree on one condition—that you appoint me as head of the committee in charge of her monthly evaluation, and finding her replacement.”
“Wait a minute, Scarlet. You’re getting ahead of the process. Let’s take this one step at a time—”
“No, she isn’t, Willie,” Hattie broke in. “Somebody has to do it, and I trust Scarlet. Appoint her the chair of the Evaluation and Search Committee and you have my vote.”
Signs of agreement were seen around the table. Relieved heads nodded yes and eye contact was made, again. Willie had no choice. “All right, then. It’s unanimous. Reverend Samantha Cleaveland is now interim pastor, and Scarlet Shackelford will head the Evaluation and Search Committee to find a permanent pastor if we, as a board, determine that Samantha is not suited to serve as permanent pastor. Meeting adjourned.”
He hit the table with his fist. Samantha would not be pleased, but he had done his best.
Samantha received the call just after nine o’clock that night. She’d been clutching her phone and chain-smoking cigarettes in her study.
“Samantha, you’re in, baby. It was unanimous. You’re the new interim pastor of New Testament Cathedral.”
After the word “interim” registered, Samantha spoke. “What do you mean, interim?”
Willie’s stomach churned. “It was the only way I could get Scarlet Shackelford and Hattie Williams to agree. They almost ruined it.”
“I knew you would screw it up.” Blood began rushing to her head. “Why did you let them get away with that?”
Willie’s voice began to shake. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. We can drag this out for years. Pretty soon they’ll forget it’s a temporary position.”
It was now time for Samantha to perform her final chore. Willie had been a bundle of nerves since the murder. She hoped now to give him the final push over the edge. She steadied herself and said, “Willie, I’ve been thinking. You’re the only perso
n who can connect me to Hezekiah’s death, and that makes me nervous.”
“What are you talking about? I’m in this shit as deep as you are. Who the hell am I going to tell?”
“No, Willie, you don’t understand. I’m not involved in this ‘shit’ at all. As a matter of fact, I might make a call tomorrow to my friend Jack, the chief of police. I’m thinking of telling him I remembered an argument between you and Hezekiah in which you threatened to have him killed. After they start snooping around, it won’t take the police long to figure out that you murdered Virgil Jackson too.”
“Why are you saying this? You know I love you. I’ll never say anything to anyone.” Pain in his gut caused beads of sweat to form on his brow. The walls in his living room began to move closer around him. He gasped for breath, and managed to choke out, “You fucking bitch, I’ll kill you if…”
Samantha laughed. “Thank you, Willie. Now I can honestly tell Jack you threatened me too.”
“I’ll tell them everything,” Willie sputtered. “I’ll tell them you paid Virgil to kill him…that the whole thing was your idea.”
“You are as dumb as I thought. You forget, I never paid anyone anything. Besides, who would believe a fat, sweaty, good old country boy like you over me?”
Willie dropped the telephone and jolted to his feet. He kicked over the coffee table in a rage and began ransacking his living room. He then retrieved the phone from the floor and cursed aloud. “You fucking whore, how could you? I did all this for you and you threaten to fuck me over like this.”
Samantha listened calmly for a moment and said, “Willie, you sound upset. It’s late and I just lost my husband, so I’m going to bed. Good luck with your trial.”
Willie heard the dial tone and threw the phone across the room. His stomach convulsed as he continued the rampage. Pictures were knocked off walls, the television was tipped over, and lamps pulled from sockets and thrown to the floor. He violently lifted the sofa from the floor and saw the gun he had hidden there. He grabbed it and randomly fired a bullet into a mirror. The sound of the gun caused the room to spin around him. The pain in his gut made him drop to his knees. He tried to focus, but the walls only twirled faster.
The pain felt as though he had been kicked by a wild horse. He placed the gun between his sweating lips. The last bullet in the chamber went through the roof of his mouth and out the top of his head. It lodged in a wall, and the room suddenly stopped spinning.
28
The white gloves swung open the double doors once again. The faithful stood to their feet. The choir marched down the center aisle and sang: “We are on our way. We’re on our journey home. We are on our way. We’re on our journey home.”
Reverend Pryce stood firm in a black suit behind the podium as he spoke. “Brothers and Sisters, this is a sad time for New Testament Cathedral. We have lost two of our leaders, and our friends. The tragic death of Reverend Willie Mitchell is a sad reminder for us all never to let go of God’s hand. No matter how heavy the load gets, we need to hold on to his hand. Hold on to Jesus, and He will never let us fall.”
Through muffled tears the congregation responded, “Amen, Preacher. Amen.”
“God also saw fit to call home our beloved pastor. Now, it’s not our job to question why.”
“Tell it, Reverend,” echoed from the rear of the sanctuary.
“It’s our job to look to God and say, ‘Whatever my lot.’”
“Yes, Lord,” came the reply.
“Thou hast taught me to say, ‘It is well. It is well with my soul.’”
Cries of agreement erupted throughout the room.
Reverend Pryce went on. “As hard as it may seem, we’ve got to go on. We’ve got to let the gentle hands of God heal our hearts and get on with the work of the church. Our beloved first lady, Sister Samantha Cleaveland, has suffered a great loss. Sister, we know your heart is heavy right now. But know that God is going to see you through. Just hold on, Sister. Hold on.”
Samantha sat in the seat of honor on the pulpit. The gold braiding on her white robe glistened in the light.
There was a hush in the room as Reverend Pryce continued. “She’s a strong woman. She’s a godly woman, and the Lord is going to bless her greatly. In spite of her grief, and in spite of her sorrow, Sister Cleaveland has agreed to do what is best for New Testament Cathedral. Ladies and gentlemen, Brothers and Sisters, it is with great pleasure I present to you our new interim pastor, the Dr. Reverend Samantha S. Cleaveland.”
Samantha approached the podium, and the faithful jumped to their feet. Applause burst from the back of the sanctuary and rode like a wave to the front and up through the choir stand.
The crowd chanted, “Thank you, Jesus. Yes, Lord. Yes, Lord.”
Scarlet Shackelford’s hand reached past the mints and hand lotion in her purse for a tissue. How could this have happened? she thought. How could this woman who has tormented so many now be standing in this sacred place of honor?
The congregation continued to show their approval for the next moments as Pastor Samantha Cleaveland basked in the glow of the stained-glass windows and bright lights. She stretched out her arms and the long robe unfurled to its full and radiant splendor. Her eyes looked upward, then back to the adoring adulation of the faithful.
Samantha interrupted the praise and spoke her first words as pastor. “Good morning, New Testament Cathedral! Does anybody here know that God is still a good God?”
In response to her question the congregants jumped once again to their feet and released a thunderous round of applause.
The silk flowers in Cynthia Pryce’s hat trembled as she struggled to contain her rage. She searched the room for a sympathetic face but found none. She loathed the grace with which her husband relinquished the podium to Samantha, and she wished she had married a man more like Hezekiah Cleaveland.
Samantha interrupted the clamoring mass a second time. “I am a living witness that God is in the business of healing. I wouldn’t be here this morning if it were not for Him.”
Jasmine held the bottle of sleeping pills in her hand. Her bedroom was dark. She had succumbed to the grief of losing the man who loved her so much. The man who held her hand when she was a little girl and protected her, as best he could, from the dangers of the world. How can I go on without Daddy? she silently questioned.
She had always believed that only her father would notice if she were no longer on earth, and now that he was gone, there was no reason to remain. She could either die in the dignity of her own room or in a crack house in South Central. Thoughts of her mother did not enter her mind as she swallowed the handful of blue tablets. Her fears were soon replaced by the warmth and comforting embrace of sleep.
Samantha adjusted the microphone and said, “Yes, my heart is heavy, but I’m going to praise God, anyhow. I’m going to continue the work of my late husband, Hezekiah T. Cleaveland. We are going to finish the construction of our beautiful new cathedral, and then continue to spread the gospel of Jesus Christ through this country and throughout the world.”
Hattie Williams sat quietly while those around her danced and shouted praises in the sanctuary. Her eyes were closed, but her heart was open. Light from the windows touched her hands as she looked up and prayed silently, God have mercy on New Testament Cathedral this Sunday morning.
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Come Sunday Morning Copyright © 2011 Terry E. Hill
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