The Veil

by K. T. Richey

  The Veil

  K.T. Richey

  www.urbanchristianonline.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Discussion Questions

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Copyright Page

  For JMADP

  Now concerning spiritual gifts, brethren, I would not have you ignorant. Ye know that ye were Gentiles, carried away unto these dumb idols, even as ye were led. Wherefore I give you to understand, that no man speaking by the Spirit of God calleth Jesus accursed: and that no man can say that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost. Now there are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit. And there are differences of administrations, but the same Lord. And there are diversities of operations, but it is the same God which worketh all in all. But the manifestation of the Spirit is given to every man to profit withal. For to one is given by the Spirit the word of wisdom; to another the word of knowledge by the same Spirit; To another faith by the same Spirit; to another the gifts of healing by the same Spirit; To another the working of miracles; to another prophecy; to another discerning of spirits; to another divers kinds of tongues; to another the interpretation of tongues: But all these worketh that one and the selfsame Spirit, dividing to every man severally as he will.

  —1 Corinthians 12:1–11

  Chapter 1

  Misha could see. Not like the ordinary person. Yes, her vision was 20/20 but it went beyond that. Misha could see through the falsehood of everyday life displayed in the people she came into contact with. She could see through the lies people told. She could see the unspoken, the hurt and pain. She could see the secrets pushed back in time and memories. She could see the joy and tragedy of the future. She could see it all as she sat in her classroom, waiting for the bell to ring.

  “Class, remember, there’s a test next Friday on the Spanish-American War,” Misha yelled, as her class of ninth graders ran to the door at the loud clang of the bell. It had been a long day. There was a fight between two girls in her second period class and Mr. Davis, the school principal, used her lunch break to discuss his upcoming vacation. She wished he would spend the time talking with the school superintendent or the school board about the outdated books she had to teach from, or the fact she only had twenty-six books for the thirty-two students in each one of her classes.

  She had always wanted to be a teacher. When she was a child, she would play the teacher to all of her dolls and stuffed animals. History was her thing. She loved history. She loved the History and Biography channels and watched them religiously. The thrill of learning about ancient civilizations and people inspired her in many areas of her life. She felt it was important to learn from the successes and mistakes of other people. She engrossed herself in books dealing with history from all over the world. So it was no surprise she chose history with emphasis in education as her major in college.

  Now, in her second year of the first teaching position she received out of college, she was beginning to doubt her career choice. Dreams of excited students and supportive coworkers were fading to the realities of uninterested students, mediocre test scores, demanding administrators, and gossiping coworkers. Her students did not see the excitement of history. The thrill of learning about the Spanish-American War, the Civil Rights movement, and other vital parts of American history were only backdrops to iPads, hormones, and whatever it took to be popular. No matter what she did to make history exciting for them, each class became more and more a torment for her.

  She felt that possibly it could have been better if the other teachers did not keep her name as the topic of their conversations every day. As a fashionable twenty-three-year-old, she could not show up in colorful sweaters with characters on them like other teachers. Although her clothes were not expensive designer items, everyone thought they were. She was an excellent shopper and could smell a bargain before she entered a store. Fashion was more of a passion than history. Besides, she tried to look nice every day for herself and her man, Roger.

  The thought of Roger put a smile on her face as she packed her cloth tote bag with the pop quizzes she had given her classes that day. They had been together since her junior year at Howard. They were inseparable and had so much in common. He was a Christian and he treated her with the utmost respect and honor. Her family loved him and kept hinting to them that they should get married. He was a minister in his church and busy social worker for a local nonprofit organization for low-income youth. He was passionate about his work but he always tried to find time for her. Tonight was one of those nights and Misha was looking forward to being with him. This was a big weekend for both of them, as Misha would step into the pulpit as a minister for the first time. She needed a distraction to keep the nervousness at bay.

  She sat down in her classroom, waiting for the halls to clear and the buses to leave the parking lot, before she decided to leave. She did not like going to her car while the hallways were packed with kids. There was always some confusion going on and she did not like to discipline girls and boys who were much taller than her small five feet four inch frame. She felt threatened by them, although she did not want to show it. In the classroom she tried to act tough, as if nothing bothered her. But there were times when she was afraid she would get hurt, like today.

  She sat at her desk, reviewing the lesson plan for the next day and listening to the sounds of all the people in the hallway, when she was interrupted by a knock on her door.

  “Hey, Misha, you busy?” another teacher asked.

  “No, I’m only glancing over some stuff. What’s up?”

  “Some of us are going to happy hour at the Curb sports bar. You wanna go?”

  “I’m sorry. I thought you knew I was a Christian. I don’t go to happy hour. But you guys have fun. Thanks for thinking about me.”

  “I’m a Christian too. But I need a break. You don’t have to drink. That fight in your class today didn’t stress you out?”

  “I prayed during my break. It got better,” Misha answered, knowing she was still stressed out about the fight. One of the girls threatened to hit her. Not wanting the girl to get kicked out of school, she left that bit of information out when she wrote their referral to the principal. Even though teaching was not what she thought it would be, she still cared about her students.

  “Well, if you change your mind, we’ll be there until about six.”

  “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The teacher left her sitting alone again in the classroom and Misha could hear the loud sounds quieting. She picked up her tote bag and sweater that lay on the back of her chair, walked down the partially empty hallway, dodging students idling around, and went toward the parking lot to her car.

  “Misha, you’re not going with us?” Judy, another teacher, asked, as she stopped her in th
e hallway.

  “Thanks for the invitation. I have a date tonight and I have to grade some papers before he gets there.”

  “New love. Must be nice.”

  “What are you talking about? You should be happy. From what I hear you have a good husband and marriage.”

  “I can’t complain. We’ve been married twelve years. He’s good to me and the kids.”

  “Yeah, and it’s going to get even better when he gets back and finds out he has that new promotion.”

  “What?” Judy stopped in the hallway and reached out for Misha’s arm. “How did you know my husband was in France?”

  “Your husband’s in France? I didn’t know that.” Misha’s eyes widened. She had no way of knowing Judy’s husband was out of the country. Judy never mentioned it to her.

  “But you just said ‘when he gets back.’ How did you know about the promotion?” Judy said, placing her hands on her hips.

  “What promotion? What are you talking about?”

  “Misha, my husband is in France working at the international headquarters of his company. He’s in line for a promotion on his job. If he gets it, I may be able to quit teaching. How did you know about that?”

  “I didn’t until you told me. Are you sure that’s what I said?”

  “Well, I don’t know how you knew, but I receive what you said. I want to quit this job. These kids and Mr. Davis are getting on my nerves. You spoke the word today and I receive it. Hey look, if you change your mind, call me on my cell,” Judy said, dipping into her classroom.

  Misha made her way to her gray Honda Civic and began her journey to her apartment on the other side of town. She was thankful that as a teacher she was able to get home before the evening rush hour. Traffic in Atlanta was horrendous during rush hour. With the Westdale High football team having an away game, she didn’t have to collect tickets at the gate before tonight’s game, one of the many other duties she had due to staff cuts. Not only was she ticket master, she had bus duty and was a hall monitor. But, tonight she belonged to Roger. He could massage away the stress she was feeling in her shoulders. Shrugging her shoulders, she wondered what food Roger was bringing to her apartment this evening. She did not want pizza. Chinese would be good.

  As she stopped for a red traffic light, she quickly pressed the number one on her cell phone: the speed dial number for Roger.

  “Hey, honey. Don’t forget the food. Get Chinese,” she said once Roger answered the phone. “You know what I like.”

  “Mimi, I forgot. Can you pick it up? We’re having an emergency staff meeting for the community health fair we’re having next month. Somebody messed up real bad and we have got to figure out how we’re going to handle it. I’m going to be a little late. You can get you something and I can grab something on the way to your place. ”

  “How long do you think you’re going to be?”

  “I don’t know. Look-a-here, I’ve got to go. I love you, baby. I’ll see you later.”

  Misha sighed in disappointment. It looked like it was just going to be her and the exciting world of grading papers. She had so looked forward to snuggling with him while he watched the movie he picked out. She in turn would be dreaming about this or that and eventually fall asleep until he woke her when he was about to leave. It would take her mind off preaching her first sermon this weekend. But tonight, the plan had changed due to his work. Helping the community was a passion that he loved. His commitment to the community was one of the things she loved about him. He knew what he wanted out of life. His plan was to get in on the ground floor, then work his way up to executive director. He wanted to know everything about running an effective organization. His main goal was to start his own nonprofit focusing on helping children. Focused, goal oriented, and task driven—it was everything she envisioned would make him a good husband. But, why didn’t it make her happy? She shook her head. She was only tired.

  Hearing the blaring sounds of the car horns behind her, Misha breezed through the traffic light just as it was changing from green to yellow. Something inside her kept telling her Roger was not going to show up. As she continued the twists and turns to her home, her thoughts drifted to her conversation with Judy.

  Judy’s husband is in France? He’s up for a promotion? How could she have known this? Outside of school, there was not much she knew about Judy and her family. To some it would have been strange for her to know this information, but not to Misha. All her life, she knew things she should not have known about people, events, and places. When people questioned her about it, she would try to deny she said anything. Never understanding how or why it happened, she just seemed to know things. There were times when she felt as if there were someone standing at her side, whispering in her ear about situations or important decisions she had to make. She could look at some people and know everything about their lives, even intimate details. Then there were times like today; she would say something in conversation and didn’t realize what she was saying. Because of this, she didn’t have many friends. People always thought she was spying on them. She wasn’t. Somehow, she just knew.

  “God, I pray if this is you, confirm it with Judy’s husband getting the promotion,” she prayed as she pulled into the parking space in front of her apartment.

  Westdale was a small community near College Park, Georgia, in the suburbs of Atlanta. Although the area was filled with urban sprawl, it continued to have a country feel with farmland still embracing the community near her home. Sometimes, she would get up early in the morning to drive past the farms and look at the cattle and horses that dotted the two-lane road that led to her apartment. She knew it would only be a matter of time before the developers would convince the owners to sell the property. But, until then, she was going to enjoy everything it had to offer.

  Roger is not going to make it tonight, she heard in her spirit. But it will be okay. He will call. She knew when she got that feeling, it was always right. So she settled into her routine, ordered Chinese for dinner, and began grading her papers for her class.

  It was after eight when Roger called to say he had just gotten out of his meeting and was tired. Hearing his soft, faint voice she discouraged him from coming over. He did not put up a fight as he agreed to meet with her tomorrow.

  “Honey, it happened again.” She sank back into her sofa, leaning her head on the soft pillows and stretching her legs along the adjacent pillows. She placed the papers she had been grading on the floor and wiped her eyes as she listened to Roger.

  “What happened?”

  “You know. I knew something I shouldn’t have.”

  “What was it?”

  She told him about Judy’s husband, and how relieved she was that Judy didn’t get suspicious of her but accepted what she said as a sign her husband would be promoted.

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but it seems like it’s happening more and more now and I can’t seem to make it stop. I don’t know what to do.”

  “It’s all right. It’s a gift that’s being manifested because you’re about to go into the ministry. Have you talked to Bishop as I suggested?”

  “Not yet. I might mention it to him after my initial sermon Sunday.”

  “Good, I know he can help you. I wished my meeting didn’t last so long. I really wanted to see you tonight. I miss you.”

  “I miss you too.”

  They settled into a deep conversation about their love for each other. Misha could hear the sound of Roger closing the door in his apartment. Afterward he began to pray for her, asking God to give her direction with her gift and help her understand its purpose for her life and the Kingdom. Misha listened to his prayer, needing to feel the deep, wanting love she thought she ought to have, but something was missing.

  “Baby, I’m wasted.” Roger yawned. “I would like to get to bed early, but I have to finish this grant I’m writing by next Friday. So it looks like I’ll be up until the late-night hours.”

  “Well, if you have to go.”


  “Mimi, I love you. One day I’m going to make you Mrs. Roger Dale Williams. I promise. I can’t afford it now. My ministry is just beginning to get started and—”

  “Don’t think about all that. What’s important is the two of us are together now. God has a set time for everything.”

  “I know, but there are days I really want to be with you. We’ve been together almost four years and I’m tired of coming home to an empty apartment.”

  “Then let’s just do it. Let’s get married. My income is decent.” Misha sat up on the sofa. She was tired of coming home to an empty apartment too. With their combined salaries and the elimination of one apartment and its bills, they could make it just fine. She felt they had known each other long enough to get married, although she would get a nervous feeling every time she or he mentioned it. Even now her stomach trembled as she talked about it.

  “Mimi, we have two car payments, two student loans, and don’t forget my credit cards. We can’t afford it right now. I promise you, soon. We’re going to touch and agree our finances will get better and we’ll be able to come together.”

  “Then pray, Roger.”

  Listening to Roger pray, Misha secretly prayed he would find another, better-paying job soon. Since he’d gotten this job, she was seeing less and less of him. It took so much of his time. She prayed it would be soon as she longed to be held and touched as a man would touch his wife on a daily basis.

  It had been a long time since she had sex. But she wanted more than sex. She wanted to make love to Roger, as husband and wife. She wanted it to be special. Something that was fruitful in mind, body, and spirit—an act that would bear witness to their love and could be seen on their faces, spirit, and in their children. One day soon, she hoped.

  Chapter 2

  Sunday had finally arrived. Six months of counseling with Bishop along with six months of classes with Elder Pringle on the doctrine of the church, the day had finally arrived. Misha was nervous as she stepped into the pulpit to deliver her initial sermon. She sat down in the center chair, which gave her a clear view of the entire church. Familiar faces filled the pews, waiting patiently for her to speak. The children in her junior missionaries group were sitting together on one side of the church near the front. Her family was sitting in the center pews. The deacons, dressed in gray and black suits, were lined up across the front row of all three sections. The youth choir sat behind her in the pulpit. She could hear the children moving restlessly as they prepared to sing.