Preacher and The Prostitute

by Barrett, Brenda

  “You’ll manage,” Mark said sardonically. “I have every confidence that Fisher and Smith hired you to this accounting firm because of your competency and not just because of your good looks.” He said it with a question as his eyes crawled over her suggestively.

  Maribel cringed at the blatant look of lust in his eyes. The look reminded her so much of the past and how she used to revel in that sort of attention; now it left her feeling nervous and dirty.

  She knew she was a good accountant; she had a very good head for figures and had passed her ACCAs and accounting degree with flying colors. She comforted herself with the fact that the company’s head, Mr. Fisher, would not have hired her if she weren't very competent. The firm was too big, and their reputation too important, to ruin with the hire of an airhead beauty.

  Mark knew that and was only being rude and degrading to let her know who was in charge. His weak and mean attempts reminded her of a schoolyard bully who only wanted to show that he was bigger and meaner than everyone else.

  The implications of what he had done finally hit her as she contemplated it. She brushed by him as he stood in the passageway leading to the offices.

  She had to work flat out on these accounts. She could forget sleeping and eating for the next three days. He did it deliberately, the worm. She was not one of the women in the office who was bowled over by his handsome looks and phony charm when he had just arrived at the branch, and he had never forgiven her for that.

  She couldn’t quit the job now, she thought feverishly as she entered her office. The world of accounts was a fickle one; she had just been working at Fisher & Smith for seven months. Any employer after this one would wonder why she would leave such an impressive world class firm without a solid reason.

  She couldn’t tell them that her supervisor looked at her like a sex-starved maniac and dropped innuendos to her when he was sure that nobody else would hear. It would be her word against his and the evil sicko would probably tell people that she came on to him.

  She sighed and ran a hand through her hair and then realized that she had caught it up in a bun this morning, in an attempt to look stern, bookish and ultra professional. She was trying to go with the Sister Claudia look but she had still gotten the slimy once-over from the rotten critter.

  I hate him.

  Then she turned on her computer monitor and saw the thought for the day on the screen: ‘Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God and everyone who loveth is born of God and knoweth God.’

  “Lord, I am sorry, I don’t hate Mark. I detest his personality pretty strongly.”

  “Talking to yourself?” Vivian stuck her head through the door.

  “Yes,” Maribel said, disgruntled. “Have a seat. I was just told by our very august boss that you and I are to work on the Fowler account for the next three days. It looks like we’ll have to live here for the next couple of days, in order to meet the deadline.”

  “You lie,” Vivian gasped. “Why would he do that? Fisher and Smith are all about quality, not haste.”

  “Well, my thinking is that he wants me to fail,” Maribel sighed. “For some unexplained reason Mark Ellington has a fascination with me. I have been here for seven months and was quite happy until they transferred him from the downtown office. Since then, he is always giving me suggestive looks and his conversations are always steeped in sexual innuendos.”

  Vivian gasped, “He is so handsome. I think he is a bit taken aback by your aloofness.”

  “Taken aback is a mild phrase compared to the passive aggressive, tacky sexual undressing looks I get from him.” Maribel shuddered as she opened the file drawer and searched for the Fowler folder.

  “You should report him,” Vivian said decisively.

  “And say what, that Mark looks at me like a starving man about to devour a plate of food?”

  “That might not work,” Vivian said thoughtfully. “Abigail in Human Resources has this thing for him and might think you are exaggerating or worse, lying.”

  “Found it,” Maribel said, pulling out the file and returning to the overflowing desk. “Okay, here is what I will do. I will try to clear up all of these by lunch time,” she gestured to the desk. “I suggest that you do the same to your desk and then meet me in the conference room, and bring your laptop. We need to work for the rest of the day.”

  “What about the Mark issue?” Vivian said, standing up.

  “I will pray about it, as I do about everything else, and the Lord will take care of it.”

  “Or you could get married,” Vivian said jokingly, “and put to rest the rumors going around the office that you are a lesbian.”

  Maribel smirked. “I will get married when the Lord sends Mr. Right. As for the rumors, I hope you put them to rest when you hear them.”

  “Of course.” Vivian rolled her eyes. “I know that you are a Christian woman on the wait. Like so many …”

  “Lunch time … Vivian,” Maribel cut in impatiently.

  Vivian laughed and walked through the door.

  Pastor Brian Edwards. Brian glanced at his nameplate on the door and entered the spacious vestry that adjoined the secretary’s office at the back of the church. He felt a tingle of anticipation, even though he had only accepted the job to pastor the church after long prayer sessions asking the Lord to show him the right decision to make. He had felt an almost compulsive need to come back to his parents’ country—Jamaica—to do some sort of ministerial work with the people on the island.

  The Lord had worked it out and he was offered the post as senior pastor for this church, while the previous pastor was heading for Canada to pastor the churches he had just left. It had seemed like an ideal swap at the moment, but he still had prayed about it just to be sure God was leading him to serve in Jamaica.

  He had not gotten an earthshaking ‘yes’ thundered from heaven, but rather an urgent desire to work in this part of the world. He was enjoying the feeling.

  He glanced around the office and left his briefcase on the desk. He would personalize it somewhat during the day. He knew that his vestry days would be pretty swamped with consultations from members who wanted private counseling sessions and others who wanted him to sign papers and do all manner of administrative duties. He already had five marriage counseling sessions scheduled from the previous pastor's diary, and he hadn’t even properly met the members of the church yet. He knocked on his secretary’s door and waited for her to answer.

  “Come in.”

  She was talking on the phone when he entered, and he sat in front of her desk. She had several copies of church bulletins scattered across her desk.

  “Coming, Pastor Edwards.” She clamped her hand over the phone’s mouthpiece. “I am on the line with Pastor Curry from Trinidad. He is scheduled to speak next month on family day; he is running his itinerary by me.”

  Brian nodded and whispered, “Take your time, and tell him I said hello.”

  She continued talking while he skipped through the church publication, quite awed by the number of activities that the church had going on. They had cooking classes on Thursdays; he made a mental note to attend. He was really helpless in the kitchen. He skipped through the publication and turned back to the congratulations section. A picture caught his attention.

  “She’s beautiful,” he whispered to himself. She had fluffed-out shoulder length hair, which was thick and had hints of curls; her eyes were light brown and had an almost catlike curve. She had a button nose and soft lips, which looked as if they were painted the softest shade of pink. She had a vulnerable expression which hinted at an innocence he found touching. He stared at the picture so long that he had no idea that his secretary had come off the phone and was staring at him.

  “That’s the congratulations page,” she said to him.

  He cleared his throat and looked up. “So I see, Sister er …”

  She laughed, “Sister Patsy Brown, sir.”

  “Yes, Sister Patsy.” He had to remember that; where
was his brain? He had seen beautiful women before; it was just that the picture had touched some unseen triggers in him. He suddenly felt his age and the fact that he was lonely and needed to find himself a helpmeet.

  “Well Sister Patsy … I am sure we will work well together to further the Lord's work.”

  She looked at him hopefully. “Yes Pastor Edwards, I worked really well with Pastor Green. I only want to know if it’s all right if my grandson Keron comes and waits in the office here for me on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

  “Sure.” Brian sat up. “I thought we had after-school care here.”

  “Yes, but Keron is a bit too hyperactive for the after-school-care helpers.”

  “Did you see your picture?” Patsy showed him the front of the publication with the headline, New Pastor Comes to United Church.

  “Nice,” he nodded, barely glancing at his picture. He turned back to the congratulations section and asked her, “Who is this?”

  “Oh, that is Sister Thelma’s daughter Rose.”

  Brian looked closely at the caption and frowned. “But this says ‘congratulations to Sister Maribel for joining the award winning United Church choir. Keep on singing for Jesus.’”

  “Oh, that picture,” Patsy laughed. “I thought you were pointing to the larger picture.”

  Brian had barely seen the larger picture.

  “Well, that is Sister Maribel Contrell; she recently joined the choir. According to Sister Claudia she has an angelic voice. I can’t wait to hear her myself.”

  Brian got up, smiling. “I can’t wait to hear either. Well Sister Patsy, I am off to sort out my office. I should be meeting one Sister Francine, who is supposed to drop off my house keys; she told me that she is the best housekeeper this side of Jamaica. Please send her through when she gets here.”

  Patsy nodded and he walked off, turning back for one of the copies of the publication. “Just to familiarize myself with the happenings,” he said to her as she busied herself around the computer.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “I can’t believe we finished this monstrous pile of work.” Vivian looked at Maribel blearily. “What time is it?”

  “Six o’clock,” Maribel said tiredly. “It is days like these that I miss coffee.”

  “Why don’t you drink it?” Vivian asked, stretching.

  “Has in caffeine,” Maribel mumbled as she shut down her computer. “Caffeine not good. Dehydrates your body.” She was talking in staccato notes and could hardly formulate a thought. “I have to sing tonight at the new pastor’s reception my church is having.”

  “Okay,” Viviene yawned, “I have been running on two hour nights for the past three days. I don’t even remember what day it is.”

  “Thursday,” Maribel yawned, and clapped her hand against her mouth. “Did you hear my jaw bone crack?”

  Vivian started gathering her things. “Yup, if it breaks you can't sing tonight. I am so glad Peter dropped me off to work this morning. I have to call him now to ask if he’s ready. I couldn’t imagine driving all the way to Portmore now.” She fished out her cell phone from her handbag pocket and dialed the numbers quickly.

  “Well,” Maribel stood up and pushed her laptop into its case, “I told Monster Mark that I would be here at nine o’clock tomorrow, a full hour before the presentation to Mr. Fowler and his team, so I need to get some sleep after the reception tonight.”

  Vivian spoke in the phone quickly and turned to Maribel. “Paul is on his way. I can walk you to your car and wait for him in the parking lot.”

  “Okay.” Maribel yawned again. “Can you imagine me singing amen … yawn … snore.”

  “Sing it for me,” Vivian said as they headed through the door.

  Maribel grimaced, “Let me just tell you that it was Sister Claudia’s grand idea to have me singing lead with the choir doing backup.”

  Vivian laughed, “Your voice can’t be bad if they are having you sing solo for the new pastor.”

  Maribel giggled as they entered the elevator. “I told Sister Claudia that I was going to be working late, so she said come at half past seven and then go back to work.”

  “Determined,” Vivian said as the elevator doors closed, “now sing it.”

  “Singing Amen …” Maribel crooned, “Amen … Amen … Amen… now listen to a story … is talking about my Jesus … Amen …Amen …”

  Vivian was bobbing her head and humming. She followed Maribel to her car. “I absolutely wish I was going to be there,” she said longingly as Maribel got behind the steering wheel. “You have a wonderful voice.”

  “Thanks,” Maribel beamed at her. “After I leave here, I am just going to run to my apartment, have a quick shower, and jump into a simple red dress.”

  “Your favorite color,” Vivian said smiling.

  “And then I am going to grab a yogurt and some fruit.”

  “Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” Vivian said in a motherly voice and laughingly waved as Maribel backed out of the parking lot. “You will need your pearly whites to be gleaming when you sing Amen.”

  Maribel laughed and drove off. She played the CD with the song and wondered why Sister Claudia would have her singing a song with a choir that she had not even practiced with. What if she messed up and got tongue-tied or something? She pulled up in front of her apartment building fifteen minutes later, thanking God that she had not encountered much traffic; she barely had enough time to reach the church.

  Brian knew the moment that she came into the church hall. The place was beautifully decorated with streamers and balloons. Tables were arranged around a head table where he sat with his church leaders and elders. The atmosphere was convivial, with some a cappella songs playing in the background. The church sisters were fussing about him, but there was nothing unusual about that; he was used to church sisters fussing.

  And then she came in. Her face looked slightly flushed, as if she had been running. She was in a red dress, which fell demurely below her knee, and she was frantically looking around for somebody. He almost smiled when she placed her hand over her heart dramatically when she saw Sister Claudia.

  He wondered if she was as beautiful on the inside as she appeared outwardly. If she was, surely she would have been married by now? No church brother would leave such a gem unspoken for. He sat, pondering her age, as the buzzing around him continued.

  She looked to be in her early twenties, possibly twenty-three, he guessed as he stared at her fixedly. She was whispering something to Sister Claudia and licked her lips nervously.

  He could tell that she was nervous because her eyes kept darting around the church hall, and then they rested on him. It was too sudden to glance elsewhere so he kept her gaze. Every sophisticated gesture that he knew and used to repel amorous overtures escaped his head. He wanted to act nonchalant and distant, not letting on that he liked her, but his gaze just helplessly clung to hers, the seconds ticking away slowly as his attention was caught in the brown orbs of Sister Maribel Contrell.

  Maribel gazed at him; now she knew why there was almost a fight over him at Women’s Ministries meeting. His face was beautiful, all the features of perfect symmetry, but it was his eyes … they were kind eyes; they drew her in, read her deepest thoughts, and then spoke acceptance.

  She had to physically shake herself to turn away from the eye lock that they shared. She had never in all her years as a connoisseur of men felt such a connection with a particular man, and she hadn’t even met him yet. She felt slightly exposed, nervous and vulnerable after that look.

  She blindly staggered to a table and sat down. Her emotions were flayed with a look, her thoughts were in a jumble and a nervous pulse was fluttering in her hands.

  “There you are,” Cathy said, sitting across from her.

  “Hey Maribel,” Greg, Cathy’s fiancé, said as he sat down beside her. “You didn’t even give me a chance to act the chivalrous husband-to-be and pull out your chair,” he said to Cathy.

  Cathy snorted. “You s
uccessfully demonstrated your chivalry when you did not sit on the car horn when you came to pick me up.”

  Greg grinned and turned to a still dazed Maribel. “Why do you humans of the female persuasion take so much time to get ready?”

  Maribel, struggling to get her fluttering pulse under control, tuned into her friend’s conversation belatedly. “I don’t take long to get ready.”

  She sneaked a peek at the pastor again to make sure that her initial reaction to him was not a fluke. She was sleep deprived and hungry; she could have imagined that intense eye lock.

  She hadn’t gotten to eat that yogurt after all, and the banana she had grabbed while she rushed to leave the house had not been very firm, so she had abandoned it in the car.

  He was still there; his skin was deep chocolate, his head completely clean shaven and his beard and moustache neatly trimmed.

  He was talking to one of the church elders and it was as if he sensed her regard; he looked up at the same time. This time he waved.

  “Oh my,” Maribel whispered, whipping her head around, and her eyes clashed with Cathy’s. Greg was busy talking to a church brother beside him, but Cathy was looking at her knowingly.

  “I knew it,” she whispered, leaning toward Maribel. “I knew something was up when we came in; you didn’t look like yourself. You like him.”

  “I don’t …”

  “Stop it, lying lips are an abomination unto the Lord and they that speak truly are his delight,” Cathy said gleefully. “So go ahead, Sister Maribel, lie to me!”

  “No, I … Well I … Cathy, this is ridiculous. I haven’t even met him.”

  “Aha," Cathy said, glancing around and whispering fiercely, “but you don’t have to. You are shaking. Praise the Lord, I am alive to see this; Maribel has finally rejoined the land of the living where men are concerned. Do you know that the last time I actually saw you in a relationship was that weekend when you left the school campus to stay with that guy—what was his name again? Oh right, Jim.”