The Veil

by K. T. Richey

  Both of them grabbed one of her arms and escorted her down a small hallway and into an even smaller office a short distance away. The pastor’s wife closed the door.

  “I knew it was something about you when you walked into the church.” The pastor sat in a chair on the other side of the desk.

  “I did too. I was going to speak to you before you left the church but you got away from me. You must be a prophet,” his wife said.

  “I’m not a prophet. I only say what the Spirit tells me.”

  “I know you don’t know anything about me. By the way, I’m Pastor Jack and this is my wife, Betty.” The pastor pointed at his wife.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “I know we’re acting strange. But what you don’t know is the Lord had put in our hearts to start a church. We had been praying about it for months. Last week we started fasting and praying for clear direction from God and you walked into our church.”

  Misha was stunned. She was beginning to understand the ministry God had placed her in. She had never seen anything like it before. No one ever talked about people like her. She stopped short of saying she was a prophet. But she was beginning to realize her job was to deliver messages from God. She decided that day to go where God led her and say what He told her, and she knew it would not always be in the pulpit.

  Misha drove back to Atlanta feeling confident in her relationship with God. She felt stronger and empowered to do the will of God no matter what. When she arrived at her apartment, her spirits were high. She praised God for teaching her about the ministry He placed inside of her.

  I am sending Matthew to you.

  There was that name, her childhood dream that was coming back to her. This time was different. She heard his name again. She believed God that Matthew was soon to come and she would be alone no more. She danced all around her apartment until she began to worship. She fell on her knees and worshiped God for who He is and what He was doing in her life.

  The next day she returned to school feeling refreshed and ready for her class. The calendar sat on her desk. The starred December 21st stood out. She could not wait. It was the last day of classes before the Christmas holiday began. She placed an X on Monday and began preparing herself for her class.

  “Hey, girl. How was your weekend?” Judy asked, walking into her classroom, wearing a sweater with a snowman on the front.

  “You’re dressed like we are going to get a snow storm or something. Remember, they call it Hotlanta.”

  “My husband got me this sweater and I’m going to wear it no matter how tacky it is. So how was your holiday?”

  “It was good. My mother and grandmother threw down in the kitchen.”

  “The food was that good, huh?”

  “I’m not talking about the food. You should hear the two of them in the kitchen fussing when they’re cooking. We all stay out of the kitchen. The food was good though. How was yours?”

  “Well, it was kinda special.”

  “Oh yeah? How special?” Misha stopped separating the papers on her desk.

  “Well . . . I . . . Well . . .” Judy began to pace the floor. “It’s just that . . . I don’t know how to say this.”

  “Judy, what is it?” Misha walked to her side.

  “I’m pregnant again. I’m going to have a baby. I don’t want you to feel bad because of . . . well . . . you know.”

  “You’re pregnant? That’s great! I’m happy for you,” Misha squealed and hugged her. “When are you due?”

  “In June. I didn’t want you to feel . . . well . . . I wanted to tell you myself. We waited to tell our parents before we told anyone else. I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m happy if you’re happy. You guys are truly blessed. You guys are going to have four kids. Are you happy?”

  “Yes. I never thought I would have a large family but it’s probably one of the best things that has happened to me. It’s what I needed. The kids are excited, too. They are already fighting about whether they want a little brother or sister.”

  “Judy, don’t think about me. I’m fine. I’m so very happy for you. If you don’t mind, I want to pray for you before class starts.”

  “I would like for you to pray for me. I’m not exactly in my twenties anymore.”

  “Twenties?”

  “Cut it out, Misha. Okay, thirties and that’s where I’m ending it.” They began to laugh as they joined hands.

  “Father, how excited I am for your goodness and how you send us unexpected blessings. We honor your love and grace over our lives. Right now, Father, I have one request—I place my friend, my sister Judy, and her baby in your hands. I pray she have a safe and wonderful pregnancy. I pray both she and her baby remain healthy and strong. Use them as an instrument for your glory. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.” Misha concluded her prayer with a hug for Judy.

  “I better get to my class before the bell rings. Thanks for the prayer, Misha.”

  Misha returned to her desk after Judy left the classroom. She felt a tear roll down her face. Why am I crying? She could feel another one follow the first, then another. She raced to her door and closed it, wiping her face in the process. She walked to the back of her classroom to the corner and leaned her head against the wall so no one could see her. “God, I’m happy for Judy. Everybody’s pregnant now—first Nicole and now Judy. I want a child, from my own body. Please heal my body so I can have my own child, and send Matthew to me. I’m tired of being by myself. I want to be happy like Judy and Nicole. I want a family like my brother. You promised me and I’m standing on your promises. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, Father. In Jesus’ name.” She ended her prayer when she heard the bell ring. She wiped her face, took a deep breath, and walked to her desk as the first students began filing into her classroom.

  The rest of the day, that voice, that negative voice, tormented her with the thoughts that she was never going to get pregnant. The voice teased her about Matthew only being a childhood fantasy and not real. It began to almost torture her as she tried to teach her class. She tried hard to focus on her lesson for each class, yet in her silent moments the voice taunted her.

  During her planning period, she spent the time praying and ate lunch in her classroom. She began to think she was jealous. She prayed against the spirit of jealousy. She didn’t want to be jealous of other people’s blessings. She wanted her own. She had a promise from God and He was faithful. She decided to stand on what God had told her.

  Later that night after grading some papers, she settled down to read her scripture and pray. The feeling of sadness overwhelmed her. Everything in her wanted to be happy about Judy’s and Nicole’s pregnancies. She thought about her brother’s, Judy’s, and Carlos’s marriages and how happy everyone seemed to be. She understood marriage was not a fairy tale. There were ups and downs. But, with marriage, she would have someone to share those moments, whether good or bad, with her.

  Why did God allow her brother to get married before her since she was the oldest? It seemed the true order of things would have allowed her to get married first.

  She went into her storage room, picking up the container her grandmother had given her. She pulled out the quilt and looked at each piece. She decided, as a show of her faith, she was going to start her child’s quilt. She sat down and tried to piece the different material together into something that may have resembled a design. Realizing she did not know what she was doing, she gathered everything together and put it back into the storage container.

  The next day after school, she went to her grandmother’s home. She parked in the driveway, opened the trunk of her car, and pulled out the storage container she’d placed there that morning, and walked into her grandmother’s home.

  “Hey, baby. I didn’t expect you here today.” Her grandmother was spraying furniture polish on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

  “Well, Grandma, I decided to start on my quilt. But there’s only one problem.”
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br />   “What’s that?” She set the dusty cloth on the table and greeted Misha with a kiss on her cheek.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing. Could you show me how to do this? I got some more material and I brought some old clothes of mine. Could you give me some more material? I don’t think I have enough.”

  Her grandmother smiled. Misha set the container on the coffee table and lifted the lid. Her grandmother pulled out some of the old clothes Misha had placed there. Misha pulled out some of the cut pieces of cloth and sat on the sofa.

  “Brang that stuff to the table.” Her grandmother gestured toward the kitchen table. Misha picked up the container and followed her into the kitchen.

  Misha placed the pieces of cloth on the table as her grandmother toyed with the pattern. Asking Misha her thoughts, she placed a bright yellow piece of material that was the shape of a star in the middle. Delighted, Misha squealed. Handing her the scissors, her grandmother began to instruct Misha how to cut the cloth so that the pattern grew from the center piece to a large star that reached to the sides of the quilt.

  After a couple of hours of piecing together the pattern, Misha’s stomach growled. “Grandma, I’m hungry. What did you cook?”

  “Butter beans wit’ ham hock. It’s some cornbread in the oven.”

  “Why did I ask?”

  “You hungry? Fix you up a plate whiles I work on this,” her grandmother said, holding up two pieces of cloth she finished cutting.

  Misha got up and went to the kitchen and fixed herself a plate of food. Walking back to the table she watched as her grandmother carefully cut each piece of cloth, stopping sometimes to rub her aching fingers. Her grandmother was patient, not rushing to cut the cloth. She took the time to match up every piece. Her grandmother hummed old hymns as she worked. The sound was so beautiful to her. Misha wished she had a camera so she would have a picture to attach to the quilt of them working on it together.

  “Misha, you finish eating?” her grandmother asked after noticing the empty plate on the table.

  “I’m full.” Misha rubbed her belly.

  “Go in the closet and get that old sewing machine of mines.”

  “I thought you made quilts with your hands.”

  “Not when I can use that machine.”

  Misha did as she was told and placed the old machine on a table in front of her grandmother. She opened a lid on the machine, reached in, and pulled out a spool of thread. Her eyes peeped over the edge of the machine as she got the thin thread in the small hole in the needle on the machine.

  “Why you lookin’ at me? Git over here and do this thing. I can’t see this. You know my eyes not like they used to be.”

  Misha got up and threaded the needle on the machine and watched her grandmother slowly start the machine while explaining everything she did. Misha stood over her and watched every move. Her grandmother completed the first star out of several pieces of material and held it up for Misha’s approval.

  Misha could not hold her excitement. “It’s wonderful.”

  Her grandmother stood and suggested that Misha sit down.

  “Now, I’s show you how to work this machine.”

  As instructed, Misha slowly turned the balance wheel. She reached for the pieces of cloth her grandmother handed her. She put two pieces together and placed them under the needle. She pressed the foot control, making the needle go up and down as the material moved across the plate. She continued sewing until each piece had formed a star similar to her grandmother’s. Proudly lifting the piece from the machine, she smiled at her accomplishment.

  Misha and her grandmother continued cutting material and pinning the pattern together the rest of the evening. Misha listened to her grandmother share stories of their family history and her upbringing in coastal Carolina. She especially loved hearing her grandmother sing the old songs. Some of them sounded like her grandmother were making them up as she sang.

  At times, she would stop and share a funny story the song sparked about something that happened at church or a family reunion or other occasions. They continued working on the quilt until her grandmother became too tired and Misha went home satisfied and feeling everything was going to work out.

  Chapter 17

  The Christmas break had been just what Misha needed. Two weeks off had been like a gift from heaven. This past year had been a very trying year for her, to say the least. She was now glad that it was officially over. A new year was beginning. It was time to start fresh and new. She was sure this year was going to be better than the last. She was beginning her classes at Clark in a week and she was looking forward to earning her degree.

  She returned to school feeling energized and enthusiastic about the new school year. She walked down the hall, feeling optimistic, with a smile so big on her face it was not hard for other people to notice it. She walked to the library and had a seat at one of the tables, waiting for the staff meeting to start. She reflected on the way God used her during the month of December.

  Throughout December, everywhere she felt in her spirit she needed to go, she went. She saw how God would direct her and when she got there, the people were amazed how she spoke truth to them and declared her to be a prophet sent by God to give them hope. She had become more secure in her ministry.

  She was also happy she was attending New Vision Worship Center, Carlos’s church. The messages the pastor preached were so timely with the way her life was at the moment. She made up in her mind she was there to rest from all the things she had endured. She did not join any of the auxiliary ministries. She did tell Pastor Wells she was a minister. He did not treat her any differently than any other member. However, he never asked her to preach or even sit in the pulpit. Each Sunday, she walked into the church and sat near the back row. At the end of the service, she would get up and leave. Carlos and his wife had told some people she was a minister, but they did not acknowledge her ministry.

  Misha thought on these things as she continued to wait for the other teachers and Mr. Davis to arrive for the meeting. Rummaging in her tote bag, she discovered the picture she’d taken with her grandmother during the holiday. They were holding up the quilt they were making. She planned to put the picture on her desk.

  “Hey, Mimi, you got a minute?”

  Misha looked away from the picture to see Roger standing in front of her. “Roger, you shouldn’t be here.”

  “I don’t mean to bother you. Did you hear about Bishop?” he asked.

  “I’m not going to talk with you about Bishop.”

  “He had a heart attack.”

  “Oh no. When? How is he?” Misha’s hands flew to her mouth. She was truly concerned about Bishop. She didn’t want anything to happen to him no matter how he treated her. “No one called me.”

  “I tried. You changed your number.”

  “I did.” She did not give Roger her new number on purpose. He could no longer call her or have someone else call her. That was one phone call she was glad she missed. “How is he doing?”

  “He’s back at home now. He’s taking some time off.” Roger stood in front of her, waiting for an invitation to sit with her.

  “Well, Roger, I’m glad you told me. I’m gonna have to call to see how he’s doing.”

  “Did you have a good Christmas?”

  “Roger, thanks for telling me about Bishop.” Misha reached her arm in her bag and pulled out a notepad and placed it on the table as Roger stood watching her. She secretly prayed for him to leave.

  “Mimi, you look good.”

  “Roger, don’t start. Please not here.” She returned to her bag. He finally got the message and walked away and sat down at another table. This cannot be some sort of omen as to how my year is going to go. No more foolishness. Not this year. “Please, God, give me wisdom to handle any situation that may arise,” she prayed. She opened her eyes and watched as the other staff members walked into the library.

  Mr. Davis got up with his “new year” speech Misha believed he memorized
and used every year. It was his version of a pep rally for the teachers. At the end of his speech, he introduced a man who looked familiar to her.

  “As you all know, the state school board has hired consultants to look into the school system and see how we can improve the service we provide and also to see which areas could use a little help.” There was a groan from the staff. People settled into their chairs with looks of disappointment on their faces.

  Misha understood what was going on. Now they were going to have someone snooping in their classroom trying to find something wrong. This could only mean one thing: more work for the teachers. She listened as Mr. Davis continued.

  “Each school has a consultant assigned to their school. I want y’all to meet Pete Heckler. He’s the consultant the State has assigned to us.” The man stood and faced the staff.

  How do I know this man? Misha looked at this middle-aged balding white man, who looked very distinguished and well dressed as he stood and briefly addressed the crowd. I know his voice. Where did we meet?

  Misha sat quietly, staring at the man until the meeting was over. Afterward, she walked to greet him as he spoke to Mr. Davis. “Hello, I’m Misha Holloway. I teach history here.” She held out her hand to shake his. His eyes, such a deep blue. How do I know him? “Excuse me, I hope you don’t think I’m being forward, but have we met somewhere? You look so familiar.”

  “I don’t think we have. I think I would remember someone as beautiful as you.”

  Oh brother. “Maybe you look like someone I know. It’s funny, seems like we’ve met before. It’s your eyes. . . .”

  “Miss Holloway, don’t you have to get to your class before the bell?” Mr. Davis asked.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Davis. I thought we’d met before. Maybe not. Well, Mr. Heckler, I look forward to working with you.” Misha gathered her things and walked to her classroom.

  She placed the picture of her and her grandmother on her desk and watched as the room filled with students talking about all the great things they got for Christmas. Amber bounced into the classroom.