The Peace Maker

by Michele Chynoweth

  THE PEACE MAKER

  Other Books by Michele Chynoweth

  The Faithful One

  The Runaway Prophet

  Praise for Michele Chynoweth’s Other Novels

  The Faithful One

  “Understanding faith can be perplexing for some of us but the story Michele tells in this profound book is worth reading by all of us. She lets us know that faith is not only a mystery, it is a progression of our lives and a product of God Almighty for us to live by day after day.”

  —Dr. Thelma Wells, (aka “Mama T” of Women of Faith Conferences), Founder of “A Woman of God Ministries” and “Generation Love-Divine Explosion,” Speaker, Author, Television Host, and Professor

  “It often seems that the great characters of the Bible are so far removed from us. We sanitize them and dehumanize them. The Faithful One puts the character of Job into a whole new contemporary light. The story makes his struggles so much more tangible and relatable to today’s audience. Kudos to Michele Chynoweth for helping us get a better handle on what Job may have gone through. It certainly makes my struggles seem much smaller!”

  —Gus Lloyd, Author of Magnetic Christianity and A Minute in the Church and Host of “Seize the Day” on The Catholic Channel

  The Runaway Prophet

  “With another novel that will put you on the edge of your seat, author Michele Chynoweth delights again with The Runaway Prophet. Prepare to be swept up inside this page-turner…through one heart-stopping event after another, Rory and a team of investigators battle against the clock to remove the mafia and the dangerous bomb they’ve planted somewhere underground. The Runaway Prophet will keep you riveted.”

  —Alexandra Karlessas for Delaware Today Magazine

  “The Runaway Prophet is an inspiring story that will entertain and enlighten readers. Michele Chynoweth is a master at creating powerful conflicts and the kind of suspense that makes the read even more gripping. The author knows how to inspire readers by writing about her religious convictions without being pushy and boring. This is a book I’ll recommend to everyone looking for something thrilling and thought-provoking.”

  —5-Star Review by Christian Sia for Readers Favorite International Book Awards

  THE

  PEACE

  MAKER

  ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

  A NOVEL

  MICHELE CHYNOWETH

  New York

  THE PEACE MAKER

  A NOVEL

  © 2017 MICHELE CHYNOWETH

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Published in New York, New York, by Morgan James Publishing. Morgan James is a trademarks of Morgan James, LLC. www.MorganJamesPublishing.com

  The Morgan James Speakers Group can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event visit The Morgan James Speakers Group at

  www.TheMorganJamesSpeakersGroup.com.

  ISBN 978-1-68350-093-3 paperback

  ISBN 978-1-68350-094-0 eBook

  ISBN 978-1-68350-095-7 hardcover

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2016908345

  Cover Design by:

  Rachel Lopez

  www.r2cdesign.com

  Interior Design by:

  Bonnie Bushman

  The Whole Caboodle Graphic Design

  In an effort to support local communities, raise awareness and funds, Morgan James Publishing donates a percentage of all book sales for the life of each book to Habitat for Humanity Peninsula and Greater Williamsburg.

  Get involved today! Visit

  www.MorganJamesBuilds.com

  DEDICATION

  To my best friend and biggest fan, my loving husband Bill.

  Thanks for being my “giant,” letting me stand on your shoulders, and for keeping the faith with me.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to all of the people who have helped me bring this story to you including former New Castle County, DE Chief of Staff Dennis Phifer, Deacon Tommy Watts of St. Margaret of Scotland R.C. Church in Delaware, Robin Axtell, Carol Connelly, Mike Felker, Debbie Albano and to you, the reader, for giving me the opportunity to share it with you.

  “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they

  will be called the children of God.”

  —Matthew 5:9

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The Peace Maker is based on the story of David and Abigail in the First Book of Samuel in the Bible. To put the story in context, The Peace Maker covers most of the Book of Samuel I (from Chapter 8 up through the story of David and Abigail in Chapter 25) and includes many of the plot lines and characters from Samuel I. If you, the reader, care to refer to the characters in the Bible to see how they correlate to the characters in The Peace Maker, see the reference on the next page—and by all means, I hope that the novel encourages you to read the original Book in the Bible!

  The Peace Maker The First Book of Samuel

  Chessa Reynolds Abigail

  Leif Mitchell David

  Darren Richards Nabal

  Ray Silas Samuel

  Henry Mitchell Jesse

  Charles, William & George Mitchell David’s brothers

  Martin Greene Saul

  Leon Slater Goliath

  Wendy Greene Michal

  Victoria Greene Moreb

  Jordan Greene Jonathan

  ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

  PART I

  ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

  CHAPTER 1

  Chessa

  He’s gorgeous.” Chessa Reynolds stared at U.S. Senator Darren Richards’ photo on her laptop.

  “He’s okay.” Amy Darlington peered over her college roommate’s shoulder, arms crossed, unconvinced. “I don’t see why you’re so excited.”

  “Are you kidding? This is huge! I can’t believe The Spectator assigned me the story. I think Senator Richards is going places. Not to mention I think I have a crush on him.”

  Amy shrugged, turned and went back to burying her head in the mountain of books on her desk.

  “You’re just jealous.” Chessa looked at her watch. “Oh no, I’ve gotta run. The conference starts in a half hour, and it’s clear across campus.” She quickly packed her laptop, recorder and notebook into her backpack, dragged a brush through her unruly chestnut colored hair, and applied some lip gloss.

  Senator Richards was scheduled to be the keynote speaker at the annual alumni conference at Columbia University, his alma mater. As a junior enrolled in Columbia’s College of Social Work, Chessa had lobbied to get the assignment for the school paper since she hadn’t written any big articles in weeks, and she figured it would probably look good in her dossier when she went to apply for jobs after graduation. Plus she wanted to see the senator in person.

  She had a good view from her seat in the packed auditorium’s front row, which had been saved for dignitaries and the press. She listened intently as the Alumni Association chairman introduced the senator, who was going to speak on “Facing the Future with Confidence.”

  “Darren Richards is a New York native from the Hamptons who received his bachelor’s degree from Harvard’s Kennedy School of Government, graduated from Columbia Law School and served four years in the military—two of which were in active duty in the US Marines,” the chairman sa
id. “Three years after leaving the military, he opened his own law practice and won his first bid for U.S. Congress. As a Democratic Party leader, he then went on to win the U.S. Senate seat and has quickly become a champion of New York City’s poor and homeless, education and the environment.

  “Won’t you help me give a warm welcome to one of our most notable Columbia alumni—United States Senator Darren Richards!”

  Chessa couldn’t help but notice how handsome the subject of her news story was as he climbed the stage and stood behind the podium to give his address. She felt herself lean forward slightly in anticipation.

  After the applause settled down, Darren Richards addressed the crowd, starting with a humorous story about his life on campus, where almost all students, especially in the School of Law, had a fiercely competitive mentality and would do anything to get ahead. “Instead of saying my dog ate my paper, one time I told my professor my roommate set my paper ablaze over his Bunsen burner when he got mad at me for not helping him with his science project. Unfortunately, it was the truth. ”

  As the audience laughed, Chessa was mesmerized by the young politician’s dazzling white smile. Craning her neck, she could see just a few flecks of gray in what was otherwise a perfect head of thick dark-brown hair that came just to his collar, blue eyes—yes, if she looked hard enough she could just see they were a gorgeous shade of blue that glittered with enthusiasm as he laughed—and…was he glancing her way or was that just her imagination? Her heart caught in her throat. She noticed how his dark-gray suit fit his tall, muscular frame and how he talked with his hands. They looked like nice, strong hands.

  “… and in conclusion, as one of our wisest American leaders in history, President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who also happened to be a Democrat”—more laughs—“said: ‘the only thing we have to fear is fear itself’.” Thunderous applause erupted, and Chessa realized she had missed nearly the entire speech because she had become lost in stupid girlish desire.

  Now what do I do?

  She armed her way through the crowd, bounded up the steps of the stage, and stood in the long line that was forming to shake hands with Senator Richards. She fought to keep her voice from cracking and her knees from buckling when it was her turn to greet him.

  “Hi Senator, I’m Chessa Reynolds, a reporter with The Spectator, and I know you’re probably busy with all of the alumni events planned this weekend but I was wondering if I could schedule an interview with you to—”

  He interrupted her with his magnetic smile, his blue eyes piercing her with curiosity and something else, and offered her his hand. “Of course, Miss Reynolds, I’d be delighted. Unfortunately I have to attend the alumni banquet tonight, but could I meet you afterward? There’s a cozy pub near campus where we law students used to hang out called Rugby’s. That might be a quiet enough place to meet. Is it still there?”

  “Yes, um, okay, but I’m not quite twenty-one yet, almost, but—”

  “That’s all right, I’ll get you in.” He winked at her and grasped her hand—which he was still holding—a little more tightly before releasing it. “Let’s say eight-thirty?”

  “Okay.” It was all she had time to say. An exasperated man in his sixties, standing close enough behind her that she could feel his foul breath on her neck, loudly cleared his throat with impatience. Darren Richards politely turned and shook the man’s hand and continued his banter.

  I am a total idiot, Chessa chided herself as she walked in a fog off the stage. I can’t believe I stammered out that I’m not old enough to get in. Of course he’ll get me in. She felt her pulse quicken at the thought of sitting alone with Darren Richards. During her daydreaming she had done the math and reminded herself he was about twenty years older, and probably in a relationship (although she had glanced down at his hand and noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding band.) Oh well, at the very least I’ll walk away with a story.

  They met as planned at Rugby’s, a dark, smoke-filled bar off Broadway. It had once been a popular hangout for students, but as a number of new establishments had opened over the years, it had become seedier and emptier and mainly catered to locals who came to hang out, get a good sandwich, drink cheaply, watch football, or play a game of pool. It was a Tuesday night and the place was nearly empty. No one bothered to even card Chessa, who slid into a booth, hoping she hadn’t been seen. She felt out of place and waited fifteen long, uncomfortable minutes, ignoring a few stares from the scruffy-looking men who drank at the bar, before the senator finally entered. He was greeted by the bartender, who handed him a tumbler filled with ice and some type of amber liquid—probably bourbon or scotch. He approached her with a huge grin, and seeing she had no drink before her, asked if she wanted a glass of wine. She nodded, wanting to appear experienced and nonchalant. Chessa had drank on a few occasions at college parties, but didn’t really care for the taste or the effect. Almost immediately a waitress placed a glass of white wine before her.

  “Thank you for meeting me, Senator Richards.”

  “You’re welcome, Miss Reynolds. But this is only going to work for me if you call me Darren. Can I call you Chessa?”

  Chessa could feel her cheeks blushing. He remembered my name, she realized.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t meet somewhere nicer,” Darren whispered across the table. “This place used to be quiet and classy when we law school students hung out here. I had no idea it had deteriorated like this.”

  “That’s okay; at least it’s quiet.” Chessa pulled out her reporter’s notebook and a pencil, deciding not to bring out her tape recorder. Stay casual, but remember you’re on duty, she told herself.

  The rest of the evening was a pleasant blur. Darren was easy to talk to and made her feel comfortable, peppering their conversation about the state of New York and its future with funny stories about his life as a student at Harvard and Columbia, and the challenges of his first political campaign.

  Chessa hadn’t had much for dinner and started feeling a little tipsy after her second glass of wine. She held up her hand when the waitress delivered their third round of drinks. I need to stop before I make a fool of myself, she decided. She noticed that, meanwhile, Darren drank her glass of wine and his third martini, but she wasn’t concerned. He can obviously handle his liquor, unlike me, she thought. She reminded herself that she also had to walk the two miles back to her dorm room in the dark. She checked her watch, and must have looked panicked, because Darren spoke up.

  “Don’t worry, I can drive you back,” he said. “I’ve got to make sure The Spectator’s ace reporter gets back safely to write a good story about me. I need all the positive press I can get.” He laughed softly, and Chessa wondered if he might be flirting with her.

  He stood and offered his hand to help her out of the booth, then held her coat for her. He waved to the bartender and patrons who recognized him, then opened the door and led her out into the blustery night and quickly into his sleek black sedan. Chessa was nearly as impressed with the car as she was with the man. She looked around its interior, admiring the soft leather seats and new car smell, which mingled nicely with the scent of his cologne.

  The ride seemed to go by too quickly, and within minutes the sedan pulled up along the circle in front of Chessa’s dorm. She thanked the senator as he opened her car door and again offered his hand to help her out of the vehicle.

  “You know, Miss Reynolds, this has been the most delightful interview I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a lot of them,” he said, holding her hand in his. “Perhaps I could have the pleasure of your company again soon? Could I get your number and give you a call next time I’m in town? I have to go to D.C. for the next few weeks on business, but I’ll be back in New York for the holidays, and I’d love to take you out to a much nicer place.”

  Chessa’s heart hammered in her chest as she wrote her number on a page in her reporter notebook, ripped it out, and handed it to him. Can he really be interested in me? He’s a man of the world and I’m just a schoolgirl, j
ust a…As if to answer her unasked question, Darren leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, bidding her goodnight.

  She smiled as she walked dreamily to her dorm room. Amy won’t believe this one.

  ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

  Being a reporter and writing for the paper was Chessa’s second love. Her first was her mission to help underprivileged women who were victims of domestic violence or abuse.

  She wasn’t sure how she’d developed her career goal. Perhaps it started around the time her parents divorced when she was twelve. She remembered attending group counseling sessions for students in her grade school in Greenwich Village who were children of divorced or widowed parents, and admiring the woman who had led the group, thinking she’d like to be a counselor like her someday, helping others.

  Chessa recalled the intense anger she had felt when her alcoholic father left her mother for the last time. Even though Stephen Reynolds had walked out the front door dozens of times over the years after the many shouting matches he had with his wife, he always returned. Sometimes it would take a day or two, but he always came back. Until the last time.

  Often Chessa would try to intercede between her parents when they argued, if the argument wasn’t too intense or violent. She would play peacemaker by standing in between them and trying to divert their attention, asking them for a snack, to help with homework, anything she could think of. One time she even brought home a stray cat and hid it in her bedroom until she heard the yelling start, and then brought it out to show them. That time, the yelling only got louder, and the cat was booted out the door and she was sent to bed early.