Michael blinked. “Take that back.”
She folded her arms. “I won’t. I quit.”
Two powerful arms snaked around her waist and pulled her so close her nose touched his chin. “Take that back,” he demanded.
Verona rocked her neck and pushed against his arms. A futile attempt, of course. She raised her voice. “I quit! I quit! I—”
Emitting a guttural snarl, Michael grabbed her head and crushed his lips to hers.
Chapter Seventeen
Babies. Babies. Babies. They were everywhere. Out in droves. Or so it seemed at the Source Mall. Dr. Darryl Whitehead, Verona’s gynecologist, had an office in Westbury, Long Island. After the news she had received, she sought retail therapy nearby in Neiman Marcus and Saks Fifth Avenue.
Verona had found the cutest outfit to wear to Bible Study on Wednesday. Several bags filled her hands. Her heart, however, remained void.
She could not have children.
Verona mulled over the news as she dragged her way to her car. “I can’t believe it,” she breathed. She pressed the key to open the trunk. Without care, she tossed the bags in.
Verona slid into her seat and put on her seatbelt. Then she sat there. Blinking. Thinking.
A mom pushed her stroller past her car. A couple walked by with their children. She sat trancelike. Blinking. Thinking.
Dr. Whitehead was certain of his diagnosis. But she knew he was wrong. It was not that she could not have children. Rather, she could not have any more children.
She had given birth before. Verona had a child. A son.
A son her parents made her give away. “Is that why you’re doing this to me, Lord?” she fisted her hands. Tears dimmed her eyes. “Is this some sort of sick poetic justice?” Verona yelled. “I was young. I fought as hard as I could to keep him.”
She gagged, feeling nauseous. Cupping her mouth, she opened her car door and heaved. Nothing came up.
Verona slammed her door and pulled down the visor. Her eyes widened at her tear-smudged face. She reached inside her purse and pulled out her makeup bag. She quickly repaired her face removing all sign of her turmoil.
She plumped her lips and gave herself the final once-over. It took effort, but she started her vehicle and began the trek to MJW Conglomerate. She had a board meeting. Leonard would present the specs on how the company was doing in light of Michael’s resignation.
All the way there, Verona gripped the wheel. When she arrived, she shook her hair. “Show time.” Gone was the dejected woman. In her place was a woman of confidence. Plastering a smile on her face, Verona entered the building. She made her way to the top floor.
Michael.
What is he doing here? Verona’s first thought upon seeing her soon-to-be ex-boss. She patted her purse. She had her two weeks’ notice typed and signed.
Her next thought was how Michael looked unaffected by the kiss they had shared two nights before. He had swept her away and her body sang. Then he had pulled away and faced her with a sardonic grin.
Verona sniffed. She hated how pliant she had been in his arms.
She made her way to her usual spot then changed her mind. She wrinkled her nose. It was odd not seeing Michael at the head. Leonard now occupied his chair. Michael crooked his head toward her in greeting.
Patti was droning on. He gestured the universal sign for yakking. She bent her head to hide her smile not wanting to give him the impression all was well between the two of them. Then she pulled up a chair and sat beside Michael. No use letting others wonder if things had soured between them.
Suddenly, Michael straightened. Keen eyes zoomed in on her face before he stood and yanked her hand. Verona had no choice but to comply. It was either that or risk having her arm pulled out of its socket.
Once outside, Michael asked, “Why were you crying?”
She touched her cheeks. So much for a good cover-up. “I went to the doctor. Heard some difficult news. Female stuff.” She hoped her short answers would shut him up.
No such luck. “What kind of female stuff?”
Verona gave him a look. Do you really want to know? her eyes said. He repeated the question.
“I may not be able to have children,” she whispered, clutching her stomach protectively.
“Is that all?” Michael asked. “I was thinking it was ovarian cancer or something. That’s nothing.”
Nothing. He dared to dismiss her feelings as nothing!
Michael must have seen her face because he took a cautionary step back. “I know it’s something but it’s not life-threatening. When you decide you’re ready to have children, I’ll ensure you get the best fertility experts.”
“I can’t believe you’re so calm. You of all people should know how I’m feeling.” She referred to his infertility.
Michael squared his shoulders. “That’s why I know what I’m talking about.” He had a faraway look in his eyes. “Believe me, if you’re meant to have children, you’ll have them. I know that firsthand.”
Verona nodded. She was too emotional to continue this debate. If she had her wits about her, she would have picked up on the way Michael had said “firsthand” and questioned him a little bit further.
Instead, she opened her purse, which she had grabbed to take with her, and pulled out the resignation letter. With a flourish, she handed it to him.
Michael tore open the sealed envelope. His eyes scanned the letter. Verona tilted her chin higher awaiting his response. Ever so calmly, he ripped the letter in half and placed the contents in her hands.
“You may be a pastor, but you’re a cheat and a thief,” Natalie accused. Her choice of words was harsh but true.
Bishop Combs hung his head. Keith stared at Natalie. “This is what you call going easy on him?” his eyes said.
His assistant shrugged. “What!” her eyes said.
“Bishop, before me and God, please confess,” Keith urged.
The bishop’s bottom lip trembled. He raised troubled eyes to Keith in the face. “I meant to return it. It was only a loan.”
“Only a loan?” Natalie held out her hand. “Well, let’s have it. I take check, money order, cash, or credit card.”
The bishop sat ramrod straight. His chin lifted in the air. “I’m an elder. You have no right to speak to me with such impertinence.”
Keith spoke up. “Let me speak with the bishop alone.”
He had invited Natalie into the meeting for her to present the spreadsheets, which she had done. She outlined the discrepancies. Then she called the bishop a cheat and a thief.
Natalie opened her mouth to protest but Keith gave her a warning look. “Whatever you say, boss,” she said, stuffing her belongings forcefully into her briefcase, slamming the books closed, and doing anything else to make her displeasure known.
“Deacon Broderson isn’t known for discretion,” she said. “He will tell his wife and she’s a gossip. It’s only a matter of—”
“Natalie?” Keith cut her off. He gestured toward the door.
“Make sure he signs those papers.” She stomped out the room.
Natalie referenced the requisition papers Keith had prepared. In essence it was a legal payment plan.
Bishop Combs hunched over. “What am I going to do? When the board gets wind of this . . .”
“It’s not the board you should be worried about,” Keith admonished. “It’s God. What does He think? It’s the federal government. Trust me when I tell you, the truth comes out.”
The bishop groaned. “I ran into trouble with the mortgage and some other business investments. Suzette needed things, a new car, new wardrobe. I planned on returning it,” Bishop Combs mumbled. “I invested the money in the hopes of making a big return, but that flopped. I’m in over my head. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He repeated his apology several times.
Keith tapped the papers. “This is an agreement stating you will repay the foundation in three installments.”
The bishop nodded. His hands trembled as
he signed the form. Shame-faced, he said to Keith, “Please don’t hold this against me, or God.”
“I don’t see this as a reflection against God. Others might. They will add you to the list of hypocritical ministers out there. But not me. You helped counsel me but you’re human. I didn’t build my foundation on you. Whatever you’ve done won’t shake my foundation or my faith.”
“Good. Good.”
“It will shake others, though,” Keith said. “You did wrong. But, I’m glad you’re making amends.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Don’t these people have jobs?” Michael asked.
Verona rolled her eyes. “I didn’t invite you to come with me to Bible Study.”
“I wasn’t aware I needed a special invite to come into God’s house. Doesn’t He welcome everyone?”
“Apparently, fleas as well,” she bit back. Sorry, Lord, but he’s trifling as ever.
Michael creased his forehead. “What’s wrong? We were talking just fine earlier at the board meeting. What could I have done to make you . . .” He stopped, and nodded with a slight grin. “Wait a minute. I know what this is about. It’s about the kiss. I meant to shut down your foolish idea of quitting and it worked. It was just a kiss. Lighten up.”
Michael’s knowing chuckle made her grit her teeth. Even if it killed her, Verona would not respond. To him it was a mere kiss. To her it was everything. It took everything in her power not to give Michael’s cheek a five-fingered salute at his blasé attitude.
Verona stormed down the aisle until she was at the third pew from the front. Ugh. He followed her. Gina had told her this small chapel, used for the midweek services, could accommodate about a hundred people. There were about thirty people in attendance.
“You can’t ignore me, you know.” Michael slid so close to her she felt every breath he took.
Verona’s sanity was now in question. “I can ignore you, just as you ignored my resignation. How did you even know I was here?”
“I know you’re not serious about leaving. That’s why I ripped up that ridiculous letter,” he said. “You really need to find another way to handle your frustrations. To answer your second question, you told me about Gina inviting you.”
Oh, yes. She remembered bragging about it on their drive home from the foundation ball. She was surprised he had remembered as Michael had been frazzled after his run-in with Bill Laurelton.
Verona looked at Michael from underneath her lashes. “I meant it, Michael Ward. Find yourself another guinea pig, because I’m done.”
His eyes raked her from head to toe, taking in her black Donna Karan jersey wraparound dress with matching Manolo Blahniks. With a salacious grin, Michael said, “You’re no guinea pig. You’re a tigress and one in need of taming.”
Now, he chooses to flirt with me! Before Verona could respond, Gina entered the room. Dressed in a casual beige suit, Gina sauntered up to the podium. Verona elbowed Michael to move over, but the ignoramus refused to put distance between them. She scuttled her body away, but he stubbornly closed the gap each time.
With a grunt, she caved and remained where she was because Michael would just follow her.
Gina called the meeting to order. “Bishop Combs is unable to make it tonight. I’ll be standing in for him. Please open your Bibles to James chapter one.”
Verona grabbed one of the Bibles from the pew and located the passage. She recited the books in her head, until she located James. She saw Michael fiddling with his pages and sighed. Handing him her Bible, Verona took his and proceeded to locate the passage.
“Show off,” he murmured.
Verona rolled her eyes, but said nothing.
“Verse 22 says we must be doers of the Word, and not just hearers. What does this mean?” Gina asked.
Verona knew the answer. Gina had a warm smile on her face as she scanned the crowd. Verona noted how Gina’s smile froze once she noticed Michael in the midst. She knew Gina wasn’t pleased to see him there.
After a moment, a couple of hands went up. Gina called on someone.
“It means we’ve got to follow God’s Word if we want to get to heaven,” the young lady said.
“That’s true, Sister Althea, but there’s more.”
Verona felt a poke in her arm. “I know you know,” Michael said. She gave him an intense glare daring him to say something. He saw her face and decided not to push her button. That’s what I thought. Verona jutted her chin in the air. Michael knows tonight is not the night to mess with me.
Apparently Gina did not.
“We have a first-time visitor with us. Everyone, please say a hearty welcome to Verona Stachs. Verona, do you have any idea what the verse means?”
It took a moment for Verona to realize Gina had called her out in front of everyone. She wasn’t sure if Gina had put her on blast with good intentions. Awkwardly, she stood to her feet. “I, ah . . .” She froze.
Michael chucked. She clenched her fists.
A sea of faces waited for her to say something. Suddenly, she was transported to another time in her life.
No, I’m not going back there. She was here, right now. With a firm voice, Verona explained, “To be a hearer of the Word means you know the Word and what it means but it hasn’t impacted your life. On the other hand, to be a doer means you know the Word and you follow up by living the Word, by applying it in your everyday life.”
Seeing Gina’s nod of approval, Verona took her seat. Gina went on with the study.
“So which one are you?” Michael whispered. “A hearer? Or a doer?”
His question hit her core. Verona knew it was the Holy Spirit speaking through him to ask her the poignant question. She closed her eyes and turned away from Michael. She wasn’t ready to go there with God just yet.
As soon as the service concluded, Verona gave Michael explicit orders to wait for her while she sought Gina out. She waited for the crowd to disperse so she could speak to Gina in private.
“Sorry to put you on the spot,” Gina said as soon as they were alone.
“It’s okay,” she replied. “Well, it wasn’t really okay, but I recovered.”
Gina cocked her head. “I was being led by God to ask you to explain that verse. I never call out people like that. For some reason, God is pinpointing you.”
Verona squirmed. Gina told the truth. “I’m not ready,” she shakily admitted. “I’ve got some things I need to work out with God.” Things like why He made her parents dirt poor. Why He made her have to give up her son. Why He had closed her womb.
“Don’t keep Him waiting too long,” Gina warned in a gentle tone. “When God wants you, there is no escaping Him. Where can you run?”
A verse came back to her. “If I make my bed in hell, He’s there.”
Gina arched an eyebrow at her. “Yes, you said it right.” She tilted her head Michael’s way. “I see you brought your shadow.”
What a way to refer to her ex-husband. Verona wondered if Gina had ever been in love with Michael. Gina sounded like she was talking about a stranger and not someone she had pledged her life to before. Verona pursed her lips. It was time for Lady Ward to live what she preached. “Michael, come on over.”
On stilted steps, he approached. “Hello, Gina. You were amazing tonight.”
“I owe it to God,” Gina deflected before asking him, “Why are you here?”
Verona admired her bluntness.
“I need you to stand up for me at the hearing,” Michael returned with equal bluntness.
“Forget it.” Gina stomped off without even a good-bye.
Verona watched her rapid departure. She faced Michael to offer some token word of sympathy. She saw him checking out his ex-wife and her stomach knotted from envy. “You’d better put out that spark before Keith finds out. I don’t think he’d be as willing to help you if he sees you’re still pining for his wife.”
Michael’s eyes widened. “Say what? Whatever I felt for Gina is long gone. I’m not checking her out. I
’m contemplating. I know her. She’ll testify. That’s the person she is deep down. Her good nature will win no matter what she says.”
Verona’s stomach churned and it wasn’t from indigestion. It was jealousy at Michael’s faith in his ex-wife. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. What she wouldn’t give to hear him talking about her like that.
“By the way, I took a cab so I could ride back with you into the city,” Michael said.
Verona slanted him a glance. “You took it for granted I’d . . .” She stopped. What was the point in arguing? She was going to end up taking him anyways. She motioned for him to come on.
She dropped Michael off before driving the short distance to her home. The doorman held opened the door and Verona strolled inside. She could not wait to soak her feet. Lavender Epsom salts.
Upon entering her penthouse, Verona threw off her shoes. On stocking clad feet, she started a bath, replete with candles and her bath pillow. Verona kicked herself for not coming clean about Lauren. She knew Keith said to give him time to speak to Lauren, but between Michael and God, she knew she was short on that.
The verse from James came back to her. What a way to spend a Wednesday night.
Chapter Nineteen
What a way to spend a Wednesday night, or, should she say, Thursday morning!
“It’s been too long, Mousie!”
“Give us more! Mousie! Mousie!”
With a knowing smile at the men’s pleas, Mousie pranced on the stage. She rocked her lower body. Her tail swished across the stage. The roars spurred her on.
With exaggerated movements, she strutted across the stage and executed a perfect split. Sweat poured down her body. Bills were tossed all over the stage. Finn’s minions came and gathered all the cash.
She blew them a Marilyn Monroe–style kiss. As Mousie had directed, the stage effects kicked into gear. Smoke and huge fans blew her dress high above her legs.
More money!
As the lights dimmed, she clenched her fists and stormed off the stage. “I’m tired of this! Why are they cheering? I’m doing everything but selling my goods up there, and their tongues hang out with sick fascination!”
The Fall of the Prodigal Page 8