Chapter 6
Love’s Triangle
SUCCESSFUL MARRIAGE IS always a triangle: a man, a woman & God.
Samson was tossing and turning in his bed and was ridden with guilt. Precious had asked him several times if he was all right. “Of course I am all right,” Samson answered. “Why wouldn’t I be all right? It’s just that I can’t sleep. Must have been the coffee I had tonight.”
Finally, Precious had gotten up to make him a cup of hot milk with honey. “That’s what my mother always made for me when I was a kid,” she had said in an effort to help. “It always worked for me.” But Samson knew it wasn’t going to do the trick for him.
He had made love to Delilah and that after he had promised Precious to better his life and not fall for other women again. She would be so disappointed if she would find out. And God? Well, God already knew about it anyway, but Precious didn’t and she couldn’t know about it. But what was worse, Delilah was now in his heart, in his mind and in his blood. He felt this irresistible urge to go see her, to hold and kiss her. He wasn’t sure anymore Delilah was hungry for the Word of the Lord, but the passion that coursed through his body was way beyond his control. He threw himself over on his other side again and his dreadlocks hit Precious in the face.
“Samson, please.”
“What?”
“I need to get some sleep, Samson…it’s three in the morning.”
“I know,” Samson muttered. “I can’t help it.”
“Shall I sing for you, Samson?”
“Sing; in the middle of the night?”
Precious clicked on her nightlight. “It used to comfort you, remember. It’s how we met.”
Samson nodded. “All right, sing for me, Precious.”
Precious touched Samson’s cheeks. “I know you’re having a battle, Samson, but it’s all going to work out. God is near and I love you very much.”
“Sing, Precious.” Samson bit the inside of his cheek. “Don’t preach. Just sing.” Samson closed his eyes.
Precious thought for a moment and after she turned off the nightlight again she started to sing. Her rich, melodious voice filled the darkness and to Samson’s ears it was like heaven had opened. His muscles relaxed as he let out a sigh. If only he could fly away on the wings and the tone of Precious’ beautiful voice. The world she was singing about was so much better than the world he was still a part off. He was ashamed to admit it, but he knew it was true.
Does Jesus care when I’ve tried and failed
To resist some temptation strong;
When for my deep grief I find no relief,
Though my tears flow all the night long?
Oh yes, He cares; I know He cares,
His heart is touched with my grief.
When the days are weary, the long nights dreary,
I know my Savior cares. *
When Precious leaned over a few minutes later to see if Samson was still awake, she let out a sigh. It had worked. He was softly snoring.
* Hymn by Frank E. Graeff
*
Samson blushed when he read the letter. He looked around to see if anybody had seen him reading it, but all the deacons seemed busy. Besides, reading a letter was not suspicious. But the content was and nobody should read this. He wrinkled the letter and stuck it deep inside his wastebasket.
The letter had been delivered with the twelve o clock mail and simply read, “To Reverend Samson Jackson.”
His secretary Annie had given it to him.
“There’s mail for you, Reverend.”
“Thank you, Annie. Who is it from?”
Annie shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t know, Reverend. It has no return address.”
Samson had put it on his desk and had forgotten all about it, but an hour later he saw it again and he opened it.
Dear Samson
Samson, I was reading my Bible and felt the Lord tugging at my heartstrings. I read Proverbs 7. It’s like a prophecy for you and me:
“…I’ve got all the makings for a feast and I’ve come to call you, hoping to catch sight of your face—(and your dreadlocks!)
I’ve spread fresh, clean sheets on my bed, colorful imported linens. My bed is aromatic with spices and exotic fragrances. Come, let’s make love all night, spend the night in ecstatic lovemaking! My husband’s not home; (as you know he ran away, and he won’t be back ever).”
This is the Word of the Lord, Samson. I’ve got a cabin near Crystal Lake on Penroad drive, number 5. Please meet me there Saturday afternoon at one o clock and do not break my heart.
Forever yours
Your humble handmaiden
Delilah!
The letter was from Delilah. It was obvious. Samson sighed. What was he to do?
A rush of desire welled up as he imagined being alone with her in the cabin. Apparently Delilah felt the same way about him as he felt about her. Even a woman as beautiful as Delilah fell for him. What a wonderful thought. And he longed for her too. He had often been daydreaming about her and now there was a golden opportunity to nestle himself again in her outstretched arms and smell the rose petalled scent of her soft and mellow skin.
No! It had to stop.
Samson shook his head. He couldn’t keep cheating on Precious. He had promised her he would turn over a new page. And he was going to be a father. The baby in Precious’ tummy was growing steadily and he needed to pull up his socks. And what about God; what would God think?
But to just dump Delilah…That wasn’t right either. It would break her heart and her heart had just been broken by that stupid husband of hers. Samson groaned as he thought of it. What man would just leave his wife like that and run off? That man had not even wanted to counsel anymore. No, he couldn’t let Delilah down. Not at this stage.
But neither could he start a relation with her.
Samson sunk back in his swivel chair and leaned back. He felt a slight headache coming up again.
Maybe he would go to her cabin, just one last time and then never again. He would explain the situation to Delilah. She was a spiritual woman and would certainly understand. That way he would break it off gently and they could both still be together one last time, reveling in each other’s love.
Samson nodded to himself and licked his lips. It was a good plan, at least the best he could come up with.
Deacon Boyle could do the preaching for him as a standin and Precious was usually busy on Sunday with Mary Culbert’s church. He just had to find a good excuse why he had to stay away for a few nights.
Maybe the pastor’s meeting in Hicksville?
He had told Precious he wasn’t going to go, but it would be the perfect excuse. At least Precious wouldn’t question him about it and she would never find out.
Would he call Delilah to let her know he would be coming?
Maybe he would call from an outside payphone. One couldn’t be careful enough these days.
He opened his drawer and grabbed a package of Advil. Then he buzzed Annie on the intercom.
“Annie, would you have a glass of water for me. I’ve got a headache.”
“Sure, Reverend.” Annie’s cheerful voice sounded over the intercom. “I’ll be right in.”
Samson sighed. Life was complicated sometimes. But he was managing it well and that was all that mattered.
Chapter 7
Confession
CONFESSING YOUR SINS is no substitute for forsaking them.
“And Delilah said unto Samson, Behold, thou hast mocked me, and told me lies: now tell me, I pray thee, wherewith thou mightest be bound.”
Judges 16:10
Samson arrived early at the cabin that Saturday afternoon. It had taken him a bit of an effort to find Penroad Drive. It turned out to be a narrow dirt road off the main road that led up to the mountains overlooking Crystal Lake. Although driving up the road was difficult as the road was full of stones and potholes, Samson was impressed by the beauty around him as he drove higher and higher through the vast forest. At
several points the road offered a magnificent view of Crystal Lake and its greenish waters that sparkled in the afternoon sun, but most of the way the road on either side was lined with majestic fir trees that reached high into the cloudless, blue sky. To Samson they looked like mighty sentries ready to defend him in this important enterprise. After all, he wasn’t really doing anything wrong, since this meeting was all for the good of the Kingdom. His enemies wouldn’t agree of course. They would probably judge his actions as another one of his so-called illicit escapades. That’s why he had to keep this meeting secret. Thankfully, he was not born yesterday and knew what to do.
Precious hadn’t noticed a thing. He told her he had received an urgent message from the Hicksville Protestant Alliance that he couldn’t be missed for the meeting. “Might be staying two nights,” he told her. “You know how these meetings go!”
Precious shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know how these meetings go, Samson, but if you think God wants you to go, I’m not standing in your way.” She had smiled at him and wanted to pray for him.
Although Samson had convinced himself he was on a legitimate mission, somehow he did not feel too inspired by the prospect of having Precious pray for him. She had stepped up to him, but he stepped back. ““I-It’s fine, Precious. Just pray for me while I am gone.” He looked at his watch. “I am late as it is.”
Precious raised her eyebrows. “Samson, if you are too busy to pray, you are too busy.”
But Samson had just given her a quick kiss and walked out the door. “Bye, Precious. You keep the home fires burning.”
Samson chuckled about his statement about home fires when he drove up to Delilah’s cabin. Delilah had mentioned she would get the hearth ready since the cabin was equipped with an open fire. Samson couldn’t wait to see her.
“But where was number 5? The road was getting narrower and if perchance another vehicle would come down the mountain, he would face some serious problems.
Then he saw a wood cabin up the hill and Delilah’s car was parked nearby on a clearing. The cabin was overlooking Crystal Lake and Samson whistled. Beautiful.
The log cabin was built on a foundation of stones and rocks and a wooden staircase was leading up to a covered veranda where the sturdy front door was slightly ajar. Had Delilah heard him coming and already opened the door? She had started the fire for gentle plumes of smoke curled up from the stone chimney on top of the roof. After Samson parked the car and got out he sniffed the scent of the fir trees. The silence was overwhelming. There were birds and he could hear the wind through the trees, but the noises he was accustomed to; the screeching of tires and shouts from people and the general hubbub of city life were strangely absent. For a moment, he overlooked the terrain and he marveled. What a beautiful place. And he was going to share it for two days with Delilah.
Then he ascended the stair and pushed the door open.
“Delilah? Are you there?”
There was no answer and he stepped inside. The place smelled old. A bit musty and…well, like wood.
“Delilah?” he shouted again. “It’s me, Samson. Are you home?”
Then he heard her melodious and tantalizing voice. “Hello, Samson. I am in the living room. Come on in.”
Samson stepped further into the narrow hallway. Before him was an open door. That must be the living room.
And there, in front of the fire on a tiger skin rug was Delilah. Her slender fingers were holding a glass of wine and she was wearing a see-through white nightgown. Her hair was loosely hanging down and she threw Samson a small kiss with her full red lips.
“D-Delilah… W-what a lovely surprise.”
Delilah grinned. “Who else had you expected to find, my handsome dreadlocked hero? Come and let me serve you some wine.” Delilah got up and walked to the cabinet to fish out a crystal goblet and filled it with the rich, red wine that was standing ready. “I heard you coming, so I already poured myself a glass,” she said with a wink and after she had handed the glass to Samson she lowered herself back on top of the tiger skin.
“Come, my hero. Sit down next to me.”
Samson just stared. He did not see the beautiful wooden interior of the log cabin. He did not notice the deeply varnished chairs around the round table. He did not see how the light fell in through the spacious windows and cast warm lines onto the polished mahogany floor. All he saw were those luscious eyes of Delilah and those red lips that called him closer and closer.
He downed his wine in one gulp and then yielded in one swift move to his baser instincts. Delilah was ready and let her lips do the evil work. She had won.
Samson would fall and the money was hers.
*
“I-I c-can’t take anymore,” Samson’s voice was slurred, but Delilah was not about to give her prey even an inch of freedom and she filled Samson’s goblet again to the full. “Come, my love, let us fill our bellies with joy. This glass is in celebration of our love.”
“Y-Yeah,” mumbled Samson. “I-in celeblat…uh…b-bration of our l-love.”
When Samson had slobbered up the contents, Delilah leaned over and rested her head on Samson’s chest while she played with his dreadlocks.
“Tell me, Samson. What makes you tick?” she asked. “How come you always outsmart Pastor Armsteadt and his ilk?”
Samson giggled. “A-armsteadt…H-he’s b-bad. I am s-special. C-chosen above m-many.”
“Are you?” Delilah asked.
“Y-you n-never heard of J-Jeremiah Black?” Samson stumbled through his words. “G-God told him I am special. That’s why I have b-bladdroccks…uh…d-dreadlocks.”
“You do?”
Samson nodded. “J-Jah.”
Delilah grinned. You sound Amish like that.”
Samson looked confused. “A-Amish, me? N-No way. Amish are p-pure. I killed a man.”
“What?” Delilah raised her eyebrows and lifted her head. “What did you say?”
“Y-Yeah…I k-killed S-smiley Jimbo and his w-wife.”
“Who’s that?”
“H-He was my friend. But not anymore. H-He’s really called W-wiredart…uh, Direheart.”
A sly smile appeared on Delilah’s face. “Are you talking about that man and his wife that died in that fire? You killed them both?”
“H-his wife was s-s-stupid. I d-didn’t think Jimmy would burn down the house.”
“Who’s Jimmy?”
“J-Jimmy Fox. W-we did it together.”
“So you killed two people?” Delilah asked.
Samson nodded his head. “J-Jah…N-not very nice of a paftor…pastor, is it?” Then he laughed. “B-but nobody knows so it doesn’t matter.”
“You are right Samson,” Delilah said. “Nobody knows.”
“Y-you are lovely, Bedilah…C-can I kiss you some more?”
“No,” Delilah said while a cold look appeared in her eyes. “You’ve had enough.”
Everything turned in Samson’s head. He tried to concentrate, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even move his hands. Where was he? And who was that woman before him that was staring at him with such cold, evil eyes?
Then everything became dark… Samson had passed out.
Chapter 8
The Hardest Lesson
LOVE IS THE hardest lesson
“And he awoke out of his sleep, and said, I will go out as at other times before, and shake myself. And he wist not that the LORD was departed from him.”
Judges 16:20
When Samson woke up he had a splitting headache. As he lifted his head, the pain cut through him like a knife. Immediately he lowered his head again and rested it on the ground. He tasted moss and mud. What was that?
He felt a cold wind that washed over him and he shivered. It was raining and he was soaked.
But where was he? Why was he outside?
He had to get up; headache or not. Samson forced himself on his knees and as soon as he sat up he felt the urge to vomit.
God, why don’t you help me?
He reached for his dreadlocks. They always comforted him when he was in trouble. But he couldn’t find them.
Strange. Were they behind his back? Samson felt everywhere, but he couldn’t find his dreadlocks. When he felt his head a shock went through his body. His dreadlocks…were gone. Somebody had cut them off. As Samson felt his head his fingers slid over tufts of hair of different sizes. Whoever had cut it had not taken any care, but just cut them randomly.
His beloved hair; his pride and joy was gone… His hair had been the sign that he was chosen…Where was Precious? She could give him some Advil.
But Precious was nowhere in sight. He focused and saw a big tree not too far away. What was that tree doing there? He crawled towards it in order to rest his back. He had to think. In front of him was a dark cabin; a log cabin?
Why was he near a log cabin? Then he saw his car. Images of a beautiful woman forced their way into his mind.
Then he knew.
Delilah.
She had done this to him. Now he remembered. He had gone to her log cabin for one last time. But what had happened? If only his head wouldn’t hurt so much. He remembered driving up here. But after that everything was blurry. And why had she cut his hair?
And there, in the rain and the mud, perched against a tree with a pounding headache, Samson broke. Big tears rolled down his cheeks and fell into the puddles in which he was sitting.
One thing was certain; this time there was no way out. Life as he knew it was about to change.
*
When Samson stumbled into the house early Sunday morning, Precious yelped as she saw the miserable heap of moving wet mud that stood before her in the living room. She blinked her eyes. Who was that? He looked somewhat like Samson…but this sorry sight of a man couldn’t be the strong and charming Samson she knew. But he was wearing Samson’s coat…She put her hand in front of her mouth and gasped. It was Samson.
“S-Samson,” she said as she got up. “Where do you come from?”
Samson just lowered his head and said nothing. The water was still dripping from his clothes and formed a little puddle near his feet.
“Are you all right. D-did you have an accident?” Precious got up and walked over to him. “Samson…Look at me. What happened? Why aren’t you in Hicksville?”
Pastor Samson's Secret Sins: The Story Of A Strong Man of God With A Weakness For Women Page 13