“Knowing you, it has to be a small fortune by now.”
“It is,” she said.
“Then why do you stay if this isn’t what you thought it would be?” he asked.
“You, Joe.” Her voice was thoughtful. “I guess I’m like you in a way. Neither of us can ever go back to where we were.”
“I know what you mean,” he said, opening the cigarette box on his desk and pushing it toward her. She shook her head. He lit one for himself and blew the smoke out into the air. “I’m going to be forty-two this year,” he said.
She was silent.
“They say that men my age go through a midlife crisis.”
She laughed aloud. “That’s at fifty.”
He smiled at her. “It’s a relief to know that. I was getting worried.”
“Well, you can stop worrying.”
“I will,” he said.
“There’s something I have to ask you,” she said hesitantly.
“Go ahead and ask.”
“I’d like to go up to Los Altos to be with Joe,” she said. “It’s very lonely for me down here. Now that the girls are gone I really haven’t any friends. Besides, what kind of a marriage is it when you see your husband only one weekend each month?”
“I can’t argue with you,” he said.
“Of course I wouldn’t go until you found someone who could take over my job.”
“I know that,” he said. “We can start looking tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Preacher,” she said.
“We’ll have to do something about our private account.”
“I’ve had that all worked out for a long time,” she said. “It’s in a numbered account in an offshore trust. The only thing I haven’t been able to work out is how to continue adding to it.”
“I think it’s time that we discontinued that operation anyway,” he said. “There should be enough in there by now to take care of any emergencies.”
She looked at him. “You’re a strange man, Preacher. You really don’t care about money.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You never once asked me how much was in that account. Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Of course I would,” he said. “But I never had to think about it. I knew you were taking care of it.”
She smiled. “I could have been ripping you off all the time and you never would have known.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered if you did,” he said, “I’d love you anyway.”
She blinked back the moisture in her eyes. “You still haven’t asked me.”
“Okay. I’m asking you.”
“Over five million dollars,” she said.
He stared at her. “I can’t believe it.”
“I’ll get the passbook for you,” she said. “You’ll believe it then.”
“I never thought it would come to that much money,” he said. “Now you really have a job.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re going to have to find a way to use that money to help those who need it the most. There are too many sick and hungry in this world where that money would do more good than lying useless in a bank.”
“Remember, that account was started for you to use if Randle tried to do a number on you,” she said.
He got to his feet and walked to the window and looked out. Below him one of the open-sided Churchland buses had stopped in front of a chapel and the passengers were getting off and going into the building. He turned and looked back at her. “Would you believe me if I told you that it doesn’t matter anymore what he does or doesn’t do?” he asked.
She didn’t speak.
He came back to the desk and stood there looking down at her. “I began this ministry to bring more people to God and I’ve done that. And with me or without me, there’s nothing he can do to stop it.”
Chapter Eight
She opened the study door and looked into the room. He looked up, the papers he had been reading still in his hand. She came into the room. “It’s after two o’clock. Aren’t you coming to bed?”
“I have to go through all these papers first,” he answered. “There’s the board meeting tomorrow.”
She came into the room and sat in the chair across from his desk. “The Catholics are right when they forbid their priests to marry.”
He placed the papers on the desk. “What brings that up?”
“The way we live,” she answered. “You can’t be a husband and a father as well as a minister. There just isn’t enough time. You have to establish priorities. And by now I know what those priorities are.”
“You know how much work I have to do,” he said.
“I know,” she said.
“It doesn’t get easier,” he said. “There’s more and more work all the time.”
“And less and less time for us,” she said. “It used to be that at least once in a while we could share an evening together. But not anymore. In the last three or four months we’ve managed to have dinner together just once.”
He was silent.
“And I can’t remember when it was that we last made love,” she said. “I’m not naive enough to believe that the fires that burned so brightly when we were first together would continue forever but it doesn’t seem unreasonable to me to expect a spark now and then. I can’t help thinking that maybe you’re bored with me, maybe I don’t excite you anymore, or even that you have others you find more exciting.”
“It’s nothing like that,” he said seriously. “I’m forty-one years old now and I just don’t have the drives or energies I used to.”
“It’s not your age,” she said. “It’s your work. That’s where you burn yourself out.”
“Maybe,” he said.
“I don’t like what’s happening to me,” she said, tears suddenly in her eyes. “Do you have any idea of what it takes for me to fall asleep every night? Some nights I take pills. Then other nights I light a joint, and when I get stoned enough I fantasize and masturbate myself into a state of exhaustion.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize—”
She rose angrily to her feet. “Of course you didn’t realize. How could you when you think of nothing else but your work? Next to that, nothing is important to you!”
She tore the robe from her shoulders and flung it violently across the desk at him, her naked body gleaming in the reflected light of the desk lamp. “Look at me!” she cried. “Nothing has changed. Everything’s still the same. I haven’t suddenly grown old and ugly overnight.”
“No,” he said, staring at her. “You’re beautiful.”
“No, you’re beautiful,” she repeated sarcastically, her chest heaving angrily. “Tell me, Mr. Preacher, if it were another woman standing here naked before you, would you still be sitting there behind your desk and politely saying ‘you’re beautiful’?”
Silently, he rose and started around the desk toward her, the robe in his hands. He began to place it around her shoulders.
She turned and the robe fell to the floor. “Keep away from me!” she snapped. “The last thing I want from you is a consolation fuck!”
She went to the door and opened it. “You were right,” she said in a cold voice, looking back at him. “I was a fool. I should have had that abortion when you wanted it!”
He stared at the closed door for a moment, then picked up the robe and went back to his desk. The robe still held the faint scent of her perfume. He dropped it into an empty chair, then sat down behind his desk and stared at the robe for a long time. Finally he clasped his hands on the desk before him and bowed his head. “I don’t understand it, Lord,” he whispered with closed eyes. “Tell me. What is happening to me?”
***
For a change Jake Randle let someone else carry the ball. This time it was Dick Craig who did the talking. But as Preacher looked down at the neatly typed plan contained in the blue leather-bound folder that had been distributed to the board at the beginning of the meeting, he
knew this was not something dreamed up overnight. More than a few months had gone into it.
Craig had been more than respectful in his presentation. “It is most important that all of us understand that this plan is not a reflection on the work of any of the board members and does not represent any dissatisfaction on our part with the tremendous leadership given the ministry by Dr. Talbot, which has brought us to the success we now enjoy.”
Preacher deliberately kept his face expressionless. There was no way he would let them see that he knew this was a declaration of war. Let them think they had succeeded in their own version of Pearl Harbor. He continued to listen as Craig droned on.
“Instead, this is a realization that the problems and work of continuing our ministry have become more than any one man can bear and it is unfair on our part to allow Dr. Talbot, no matter how willing he is, to bear that burden on his shoulders alone. It is solely for that reason that we propose to add four members to our board, each of whom will take up an active working position in the ministry under the guidance and leadership of Dr. Talbot.
“Each of these men has been investigated thoroughly and has come to us with more than adequate credentials and experience in other ministries to do the job he has been selected for. Two of the gentlemen will have the position of associate pastor. They are Dr. Thomas Sorensen, former associate pastor of the Liberty Baptist Church in Lynchburg, and Dr. Mark L. Ryker, former associate dean of religious studies at Oral Roberts University. The third gentleman we recommend is Mr. Sanford Carrol, formerly of the Christian Broadcasting Network, to assume the position of program and marketing director. Last, but not least, we recommend Mr. Sutter Duncan, former partner of the accounting firm Price, Waterhouse and Company, to assume the position of secretary and treasurer made vacant by the resignation of Mrs. Beverly Washington last month.
“Complete resumés of these gentlemen are also included in the folder before you. I personally can assure you that Mr. Randle, Mrs. Lacey and I have personally spoken to them and have found them completely in accord with our aims and interests, and feel they will be completely compatible with our organization. Each of them has indicated his willingness to accept a one-year employment contract with us at a compensation of forty thousand dollars a year plus living allowances and ordinary business expenses. We will also have options to renew their employment agreements annually for the next six years at a nominal increase of ten percent per annum.
“I now throw the proposal open for discussion.”
Craig sat down and no one spoke, all eyes on Preacher.
Silently Preacher riffled through the pages of the report. Deliberately he refrained from speaking until they began to stir restlessly in their seats. Then he looked up. “I like it,” he said.
He could almost see the expression of surprise on their faces. He smiled to himself. If they thought he was going to fight them when there was no way for him to outvote them, they were crazy. “But there is one important factor that I think has been overlooked. The franchise operation. With a potential income of three million dollars for this year I feel that we should acknowledge Mr. Washington’s value to this ministry by electing him also an associate pastor and member of the board. If the board could see its way clear to join me in that, I would have no hesitation in making it a unanimous vote for the entire proposal.”
There was silence for a moment, then Randle’s voice boomed across the table. “I see no objection to Dr. Talbot’s proposal. Shall we put it to a vote?”
The motion was carried unanimously.
Craig rose to his feet again. “I move that we adjourn this meeting and call a special meeting of the board two days from now at which the new members can join us.”
The motion was seconded and carried.
Marcus followed Preacher to his office. He waited until the door was closed behind him before he spoke. “Did you know anything about that?”
“No,” Preacher said, walking behind his desk. “Did you?”
Marcus shook his head. “It came out of the blue as far as I was concerned. They played that one pretty close to their vests.”
“I guess so,” Preacher said, sitting down.
“Are you upset over it?”
“No,” Preacher answered. “Should I be?”
“It could be interpreted that they’re going to try to push you out,” Marcus said.
Preacher smiled. “They can try. But it won’t work. The Community of God Church of Christian America Triumphant is incorporated in Los Altos, California, and all the stock is in my name.”
“You mean—?”
Preacher nodded. “We’re nothing but tenants here in Churchland. If push comes to shove I can call a stockholders’ meeting and throw out the whole board.”
“I wonder if the old man knows that,” Marcus said.
“He would if he ever stopped to think about it. But he’s too busy with his own plans for us to ever take the time.”
“You must have had some sharp legal advice.”
“Not really,” Preacher said. “But I remember once when Beverly was talking to a lawyer friend of hers from New York, Paul Gitlin his name was, and what he told her I never forgot.”
“What was that?”
“Never give them anything they don’t ask for,” Preacher smiled. “And Randle never asked me. If he had, I probably would have given it to him.”
“That was a break,” Marcus said. “I have an idea about that program we were talking about. Care to hear about it?”
“Of course.”
“You’ve heard of Jimmy and Kim Hickox?”
“Who hasn’t?” Preacher asked. Twenty years earlier they’d been a leading pop singing duo on records and television. Then their popularity waned unexpectedly and for years not much was heard about them. About seven years before, they began to appear again, born-again Christians, and now they were the most sought-after stars of the Christian television circuit. Still young-looking, clean-cut Americans, they came on with a warm homespun style that people seemed to enjoy.
“I’ve had some talks with them. They’re interested in doing a show of their own. Sing and talk, five days a week. And they both respect you very much.”
“What would they cost us?”
“They would take five thousand a week on a year’s contract. They get ten thousand dollars a show ordinarily. Figure it would cost us another ten thousand a week to tape their show and twenty thousand a week for air time. We could put them on the air for less than two million a year.”
Preacher looked up at him across the desk. “Do you think you can bring in a signed contract with them in time for the next board meeting two days from now?”
“I think so,” Marcus said. “But I’d have to go up to L.A. to see them. That’s where they live.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Preacher smiled. “I’ll call the field and have our jet standing by for you. You come back with that contract. We’ll give them a little surprise of our own. At least they won’t have the complaint that we’re not trying to increase our audience then.”
He looked down at the blue folder he had brought from the meeting when the door closed behind Marcus. Idly he opened it and leafed through the pages. Maybe it wasn’t that bad an idea after all. These were all good men and highly qualified. If they could take over the bulk of the detail work from him, he would have more time for himself. Maybe then he could patch things up with Jane so she wouldn’t feel so left out.
He called his apartment. A maid answered. “Is Mrs. Talbot around?” he asked.
“No, sir,” the girl answered. “She done picked up the children and went out.”
“Did she say where she was going?” he asked.
“No, sir.”
He put down the phone. There would be time enough to tell her later. He pressed the call button. His secretary’s voice came through the speakerphone. “Call Mr. Washington for me in Los Altos.”
A moment later he had Joe on the telephone. “Congratula
tions, Reverend Washington, you’re now a member of the board and an associate pastor of the church.”
“How about that?” Joe laughed. “Does that mean I get more money?”
“Probably,” Preacher laughed. “The really big thing is that you’re the first black pastor of a white ministry.”
“Yeah,” Joe said. “And I got some news for you.”
“What’s that?”
“You remember the pastor of the Little River Church, the first one we went to see?”
“I sure do,” Preacher said. “Pastor Willard.”
“That’s him,” Joe said. “Remember how he cried and felt bad because he couldn’t get it up for his young wife?”
“I remember.”
“Well, he said a miracle happened that very first night he joined up with us. The crowd in his church gave him such a big high, he went right back after the service and gave it to his wife.”
“That’s wonderful.” Preacher smiled. “How did you hear about it?”
“He just called me.” Joe laughed. “His wife just had an eight-pound baby boy. He’s even goin’ to name it after me.”
“Why you?” Preacher asked.
Joe laughed again. “He said what I did that night gave him back his strength.”
Chapter Nine
Preacher finished reading the message on the typewritten sheet before him and looked up as he laid the paper on his desk. He watched while the sound engineer ran the tape back, then locked it into playback as the director listened on the headset.
A moment later the director held up his hand in an okay sign. He took off the headset. “I think this last one does it, Dr. Talbot. If you’ll pick up your telephone, we’ll feed it directly into your line so that you’ll hear exactly how it will come over the wire.”
Preacher nodded and picked up his telephone. It took but a moment for the engineer to rewind the tape and begin the playback once again. His own voice came into his ear.
“Thank you for calling the Community of God Church. This is the recorded voice of Dr. C. Andrew Talbot speaking. We are sorry but all of our lines are occupied at the moment. Your call will be transferred to the first counselor available. Meanwhile, if you will be kind enough to take advantage of your toll-free call to listen to Sister Aretha Franklin’s famous rendition of ‘Amazing Grace’ while waiting, we will be most grateful. But first when you hear the beep, you will have thirty seconds to give us your complete name and address, so that we may be able to direct your call to a counselor familiar with your area in order to be of greater assistance to you.”
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