The Veil

by K. T. Richey

  He went to the hospital and visited her mother even though she was not a member of his church. He was so encouraging to everyone he met. He was well respected in the community and was a force to be reckoned with when it came to community revitalization and economic empowerment. He treated the ministers with utmost respect and just like they were his natural children. Roger would go on and on about the things he was being taught about church leadership and the ministry. Happy he was her pastor, she looked forward to finally discussing the gift with him.

  Bishop Moore, a tall, stout, dark-skinned man in his late sixties, greeted her with a big hug and asked her to sit in one of the large brown leather chairs in front of his desk. He commended her for her work with the junior missionaries and advised her about their new project that would be starting at the beginning of the year. Finishing up the missionary work, Misha felt it was the proper time to talk to him about the gift.

  “Bishop, I need to ask you something.”

  “Go ahead, daughter.”

  “Well this is kinda hard for me. I’ve only told one person before today and Roger said I should talk to you about it.”

  “Sounds important. Wait a minute. Let me close the door.” Bishop managed to get his large body up from the well-worn chair behind his desk and went to the door and closed it. He returned to his seat and continued the conversation. “What is it, daughter?”

  She took a deep breath and then started. “Bishop, all my life I have known things.”

  “Things? What type of things?” he said, sitting up in his chair and clasping his hands on the desk in front of him.

  “I don’t know how to explain it. But, I know things I shouldn’t know, about people, places, things, and stuff like that. It’s beginning to bother me. Like a few weeks ago, I knew the husband of one of my coworkers was out of town and he was getting a promotion. She told me today he got the promotion. I don’t know how I knew. I just knew and I only met her husband once, briefly, last year.”

  “How long has this been going on?” Bishop asked, leaning on his desk.

  Misha twirled her fingers nervously as she sat in the chair that sank in from wear. “All my life.”

  “I’m glad you came to me. What do you think it is?”

  Misha searched for the words to describe exactly what was going on with her. How could she tell him her dreams were not ordinary dreams? They were insight into the future. She could not explain how she could look at a person and know their entire life story without them mentioning a word. Would he think she was crazy? Goodness, she was just ordained into the ministry. She did not want to appear weird.

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t happen all the time. I’ve prayed about it. Roger seems to think it has something to do with me going into the ministry.”

  “What do you think?” he asked but Misha could not answer. She did not know.

  Bishop began to minister to her about spiritual gifts and told her to study 1 Corinthians 12. He scheduled an appointment with her to give her a spiritual gifts questionnaire.

  “Bishop, what do I do until then? This is becoming more irritating than anything. It seems like it’s happening more and more. I can’t make it stop. Like for instance, when I look at you, I see this dark-skinned woman with a short, natural hairstyle. She has two children, boys, standing beside her, and she is waving and smiling.”

  Bishop’s eyes widened and he jumped to his feet, slamming his hands against the desk. His chair rolled back and hit the wall. Misha jumped, startled at his reaction. His smile was gone. She could see the veins beating through the skin of his forehead and neck. “What are you talking about? You don’t know anything about me. How dare you walk into my office trying to trick me with gossip, pretending the Lord is showing you something. Do you think I’m some kinda fool?” he shouted.

  “Bishop, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I need your help. I came for help. That’s all.”

  “Do you think you’re the first one to think they can pull something over my head? Who sent you here?” he said, walking around his desk and staring at her.

  “Roger told me to talk with you. I didn’t say anything to him about the woman.”

  “So you and Minister Williams think you can take over this ministry with your lies and gossip. You think you’re sneaky. You need to try again. I built this ministry up to what it is today and I’m not about to let the two of you come in here and destroy it.”

  “Bishop, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only came here for help. I need to understand what’s going on with me.” Misha could not believe his reaction.

  “So you thought you could pretend you were a prophet and make me admit to something that’s not true?”

  “Bishop, I—”

  “It’s time for Bible Study. Please leave my office. I have to prepare for service. We’ll continue this conversation later.”

  Misha left his office, bewildered at what had just happened. She didn’t understand the reaction she got from him. Walking down the long hallway and down the short set of steps to the main sanctuary, she tried desperately to hold back the tears. She found a seat near the front of the church and silently prayed to herself about what happened and asked God for direction. Roger sat down beside her and kissed her lightly on the cheek, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Mimi, what’s wrong?” he asked, noticing her eyes on the threshold of tearing.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Misha whispered, holding her head down, trying to keep the tears from falling.

  “Did you talk to Bishop?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll tell you after Bible Study.”

  The praise team got up and began service, and afterward the large group of people was divided into smaller classes with the largest, the adults, remaining in the sanctuary. Roger sat beside her with his arm around her shoulders. Bishop came out and began to address the congregation.

  “There comes a time in everyone’s ministry when we have to do things we don’t want to. I’ve been praying in my office about this and I feel this is what God wants me to do.” He stood at the podium, fumbling through the papers in front of him.

  Something bad was about to happen. Misha could feel it. His every word was directed at her even though he did not look at her. He began to teach on witchcraft and the hold it could have on people. Misha fidgeted in her seat as she listened to him speak. Roger was engrossed with every word. At one point, he stood along with others, voicing his agreement to what Bishop was saying. He talked about the spirit of manipulation and how this was a primary instrument of the enemy. The congregation was taking it all in with such enthusiasm. Misha could not join in. That horrible sinking feeling in her gut wouldn’t let go and kept getting worse. Fear ripped through her as she tried to prepare herself for the storm that was brewing. A cold chill swept through her the longer Bishop continued to speak.

  “Today, a witch came into my office and tried to manipulate me. I will not tolerate a witch in this church. People who operate under a satanic anointing will tear a church up and I won’t have it. Therefore, I want to say to that person she has to leave today.”

  Misha knew what was coming next. She could feel it in her spirit. She prayed he wasn’t talking about her. But, she knew differently. He looked directly at her.

  “Ms. Holloway, when you came to our church, we accepted you as family. But as with any devil, if you wait, the true fruit will appear. The Bible says you will know them by their fruit. Well, now I have seen your fruit. How dare you come in here and try to tell me something about myself? You don’t know anything about me or what goes on in my house. You’re a witch and have a spirit of divination. I will not let a witch come in here and destroy this church. Get out. Get out now and don’t come back. Deacons, help her to the door,” Bishop said, waving his arm in the direction of the door at the back of the church.

  “Wait a minute. What’s going on?” Roger’s eyes were questioning as he looked at Bishop and then Misha.

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nbsp; “Minister Williams, if you don’t like it, you can follow her.”

  Misha looked at Roger, his mouth open and eyes full of wonder. She waited for him to defend her. When he didn’t say anything in her defense, she gathered her jacket and purse and was slowly escorted out the door by two deacons. She could hear the whispers in the crowd as she walked down the aisle to the door. Someone began clapping and there began a slow ascension of hands clapping from the congregation. They were agreeing with Bishop. Misha couldn’t look at them. These were the same people who, only a few weeks ago, applauded her and celebrated her accomplishments. She couldn’t believe they would turn on her so quickly.

  She stopped at the door of the church, waiting to hear one voice stand and defend her. When no one did, she walked out the door. They were going along with Bishop even though they did not know the real story. They blindly followed him and put their trust in him. So whatever he said went. Today, the thing going was her. And where was Roger? Was he coming to her defense? She waited at her car for him to follow her out of the church, but he never showed. One deacon walked to her, apologizing for what happened, but asked that she leave the premises or he would have to call the police.

  She began her journey home until her weeping became so bad she could not drive. She pulled her car into the parking lot of a grocery store and picked up the phone to call Roger, only to get his voicemail. What just happened to her? She didn’t understand any of it. She only wanted answers to what was going on with her. This night she got none. If anything, she was more confused than ever.

  “How could he treat me like that?” she wondered out loud. “He called me a witch. I’m not a witch!” She yelled alone in her car. “God, please help me!” She continued trying to get Roger on his cell until she arrived home. It was after ten when he finally called her back. She was in the bed but sleep eluded her. Tears fell freely onto her pillow. She leaped for the phone on her nightstand when it rang.

  “Misha, what did you say to Bishop? He seems to think I had something to do with it. He wants to sit me down. What did you do?” Roger questioned her.

  “I didn’t do anything. I told him I know things and he got angry. That’s all. He got so upset he asked me to leave his office.”

  “You know how hard I work in the ministry. How could you do something to destroy it? I thought you loved me.”

  “What are you talking about? I do love you. I didn’t do anything. I only wanted help and he got angry. I don’t know why. When I mentioned the woman and kids—”

  “What woman? You told me you didn’t say anything to him. What’s the truth? What did you say about me?” Roger continued yelling in the phone.

  “You told me to talk to him. I was only telling him what I saw. If he got so upset, then there must have been some truth to it. I thought of all the people, I would have your support.”

  “I thought I had yours. How could you do something to destroy my ministry? I thought I knew you. How could you do this to me, to us?” She heard the click of the phone as Roger hung up on her.

  She was so overwhelmed with the situation she cried herself to sleep that night. She could not believe the man she loved was taking someone else’s side in all this. He did not even listen to her. He didn’t even ask her how she was feeling. He acted as if he didn’t care about anyone but himself. This was a side of him she had not seen before.

  The following morning she was beginning to question their relationship when he did not answer her phone calls to him. She went to school, pretending everything was fine, even though there were times when she felt like crying and had to leave her classroom to go into the hallway to get herself together.

  At lunch, she stayed in her classroom with the door closed, trying to reach Roger on the phone. He still was not answering her phone calls. How could he treat her that way? He knew her better than anyone. She never would have thought he would do something like this to her.

  Sitting in her car after school she again tried to call Roger on the phone. He still did not answer her. She called his job and was told he called in sick. He never called in sick. Upset, she left him an extensive voice message and asked him to call her back.

  She started her car and tried to decide if she felt like eating. She didn’t. She drove down the street, not really paying attention to where she was going, praying for God to reveal His will in her life. Her life was going well. She had a good job, so they said. At least, she had a stable job. She had a nice apartment, a saved boyfriend, and she thought she had found the perfect church. Now, with the snap of a finger, it had all changed. She was kicked out of the church and her boyfriend was not talking to her and she did not even know why. In addition to all of that, state testing was about to begin in the school and Mr. Davis was on everybody’s case about test scores. This only added to all the stressors going on around her.

  Suddenly, she could hear her grandmother’s voice. She steered her car in the direction of her grandmother’s house. She was the only one she could talk to about anything—if only she could get through the conversation without falling apart. Her grandmother would give her the answers she needed.

  She pulled in front of the small white wood-frame mill house located near the center of the city. Her grandmother was sitting on the porch as usual, smiling, when she saw Misha’s car slowly turn into the driveway. Before she could get out of her car, the tears were flowing down her cheeks. She ran to her grandmother’s open arms.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?” There was concern in her grandmother’s voice as she took her hand and led her into the small house. Misha looked around the room. She felt at home in the tiny room decorated with pictures of her family. The smell of fried chicken filled the air. Misha followed her to the breakfast nook and they sat at the small table.

  “Everything. Everything.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands.

  “I just finished making some bread and peach preserves. Let me get you some. Have you had dinner? I think there is another piece of chicken in here. Let me see, where is it?” Her grandmother got up from the table and opened the cabinet and retrieved a large plate from the shelf.

  “No, Grandma. I’m not hungry.”

  “Look at you. What you got yo’self all worked up ’bout?”

  Misha told her grandmother everything that had happened. Her grandmother sat at the table listening attentively as Misha opened herself up to her. When she finished, her grandmother started a story of her own.

  “You know you a special child.” She picked up Misha’s hand and patted it.

  “Grandma, you say that about all of us.”

  “Listen to me. You a special child.” She continued, “You the first born grandchild on both sides of yo’ family. Everyone was so excited ’bout you coming to dis world. But the devil tried to take you outta here before you born.”

  “I know Mama had to be on bed rest before I was born so she wouldn’t have a miscarriage.”

  “Yeah, that ol’ devil tried to kill ya. But, God wasn’t havin’ no part of that. When yo’ mama went into labor, your daddy was out of town driving that truck. He was trying to get back before you born. So, I had to go to the labor room wit’ her. You came quick, unusual for a first pregnancy. But there you was, all seven pounds seven ounces of you, ready ta make your appearance in the world.”

  She got up and got Misha’s baby picture from the mantel over the fireplace and gave it to her. “You was a beautiful baby. But, I knew that you’d be diff’rent. See when you was born, you had a veil.”

  “What’s that? I never heard of anything like that. I don’t understand.”

  “When you came out, yo’ face was covered with a thin skin. This a sho sign that you have the gift to see thangs ordinary folk don’t see.”

  “Like a prophet?” Misha was curious. This was the first time she had heard anything like that. No one ever mentioned it to her.

  “Som’in like dat. Runs in our family. You the only child born this way. I know, ’cause I was at all y’all�
�s birth. I wanted ta know.”

  She continued to explain to Misha, in her strong Southern-coastal Gullah accent, that when she was a child she had the ability to tell when something was going to happen. She even knew about things that happened in the family long before she was born. She had wisdom a child should not have and knew things she should not have known. Misha didn’t remember any of the things she was hearing. She did admit she knew things like when people were going to die or private things about people.

  “You have the gift. You have to be careful who you tell. When you went to the bishop, he upset ’cause you told him the truth. You can’t lie ’bout things like that. The Holy Spirit using you to reveal truth and He reveal it to who He please. That was a warning to Bishop Mo’. I bet you not the first one God sent in there to warn him. You an easy target. He thinks ’cause he got rid of you, he got rid of the secret. I bet you anythang those chil’en you saw was his.”

  “Grandma, his children are grown and his grandchildren are teenagers.”

  “Don’t know ’bout all that. But truth will be revealed. I know it hurt real bad for somebody to cuss you like that. But you gotta move on. God’ll lead you. Pray. Pray hard. Now that you workin’ for the Kingdom, devil don’t like it. He be out to get you for sho. So you have to pray. Pray without ceasing. And do what the Lord tells ya. ’Til God sends you somewhere, you can come to my church. Pasta Smif won’t kick you out. He’ll be glad ta have a new memba.”

  “Grandma, Roger, he won’t talk to me now. He’s not answering my phone calls. They said he called in sick today at work. I don’t know why he’s mad at me. I didn’t say anything about him.”