A Sinful Calling (3 page)

D
illon pulled the belt of his silk robe tighter with both hands and walked inside his prayer room. He closed the door, took a deep breath, and kneeled in front of the wooden bench. He rested his arms on the purple velvet that covered it and closed his eyes.

“This is the day the Lord hath made, so let us rejoice and be glad in it. Dear Heavenly Father, I come to You right now, thanking You for yet another day and joyful morning. Thanking You for waking me up in my right mind and in good health. Thanking You for my beautiful wife and my awesome church. Lord, I thank You for all the members who have so graciously joined our congregation over the last couple of years, and I thank You for bringing my sister and I so much closer. Thank You, Lord, for my amazing brother-in-law, Levi, who has helped me and the church financially in ways that we couldn't have made it without. Then, Lord, I now come, asking You to direct my path. Show me what we need to do to build up our membership. Tell me what we need to do to grow our church family so that it increases well into the thousands. I also ask that You would help my sister, Alicia, because while she rarely talks about it, I know the death of her first husband is still haunting her. She's very troubled by it, so, Lord, I ask that You give her the kind of peace she needs. Give her what she needs to move on, so that she can enjoy the life she now has with Levi, a man who loves the ground she walks on. Then, Father, I ask that You would change my wife's heart about wanting to become co-pastor. She says that You've called her to do so, and while I realize none of us is supposed to question someone else's faith, I know with all my heart that what she's done is call herself. I know this, because I did the same thing. You never called me, either, but I'm hoping someday that You will, so that I won't have to lie about that anymore. I'm asking You for this blessing, because I'm very good at being a pastor. You gave me the kind of speaking ability that only great ministers tend to have, and I just don't believe You would gift me with those sorts of skills for nothing. I don't believe You would place it in my mind to start a church in the middle of my apartment and then give me more than a thousand members so quickly; not if You didn't want me to be a pastor. Not if You didn't want me to become the most well-known pastor in Mitchell. I just don't believe You would do that and not have your reasons. And my parishioners really love me. They listen to me, they respect me, and they show me the kind of love every pastor hopes for. I realize I still make lots of mistakes and that I struggle with quite a few sins, but in Romans three, twenty-three, it says that we all have sinned and fallen short of Your glory. Then, in first John, chapter one, verse nine, it talks about how if we confess our sins, You are faithful and just and will forgive us for our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. I know some people believe that if you deliberately continue to sin, you won't be saved. But based on everything I've read in the Bible, I have to believe in the philosophy once saved, always saved. Which to me means that as long as I believe in You and I've accepted You as my personal savior, I'm good. Once I accepted You, I was guaranteed a place in heaven. So, Lord, I'm going to try to do better, but I'm glad to know that when I fall astray, You still won't leave me. I'll still have You to come to, and You'll still forgive me and welcome me with open arms. I have to say, though, there is something else weighing heavily on my heart, and since You know everything, You already know what it is…and I need Your help. To this day, no one here knows that after I left Mitchell three years ago, I became an alcoholic; that after Melissa stole all my money and my dad wouldn't forgive me, I drank to mask all my pain. They don't know that I got so drunk I couldn't keep a job or that I sold Aunt Susan's house and spent every dime of the proceeds on alcohol and living expenses. No one knows that losing her home is the only thing that made me go into treatment…and they certainly don't know that, for some reason, over the last three months, ever since I started seeing Porsha, I've had these cravings again. Alcohol nearly ruined my life, and I can't afford to go down that road again. So, dear Lord, I'm asking You to remove that craving from my mind. Remove it from my spirit. Help me to focus on building up my church. Help me to see my dream come to pass of being the wealthiest and most powerful pastor not just in Mitchell, but in the whole state of Illinois. And then if You see fit, help me to become the most well-known pastor in the country. You said in Your Word that You would give me the desires of my heart, so I ask You for these and all other blessings in Your Son Jesus's name. Amen. Amen. Amen.”

Dillon breathed deeply, in and out, more than once, and then opened his eyes. He felt better already, and he was glad he'd finally begun praying. He was also happy about his decision to turn the closet of his home office into his own personal prayer room. When he'd first become a minister, he'd never as much as said his prayers before going to bed, but the more he saw folks praying in church and doing it on televised religious broadcasts, he'd known he'd better join them. He'd even studied the idea and process of prayer, and he'd learned how to do it well. Learned how to say the right things in the right way at the right time. He'd learned how to pray for himself, his family, and his parishioners when they needed it. Actually, he'd gone the whole first year of being a minister before adopting this philosophy, and interestingly enough, he had soon started to believe that prayer did work. He still didn't understand, though, why God answered certain prayers but seemed to bypass others. This was the one thing about being a pastor that he didn't like. He wanted things to happen when he wanted them to happen, and he became frustrated when they didn't. He'd once heard his father give a sermon on patience and waiting on God to do things in His own timing. Dillon understood that theory, but he still didn't care for it, and it sometimes made him wonder if it was really God answering some of his prayers or if some of his good fortune was merely based on luck.

Dillon stood up, opened the door, and walked out to his office. When he did, he heard a knock.

“Come in.”

Raven opened his door and strolled in. “Good morning, sweetie,” she said, hugging and kissing him.

“Good morning to you, baby. Did you sleep well?”

“Not really. I mean, I did this morning, but I tossed and turned a lot last night.”

“Why is that?”

She pulled him over to the two leather chairs positioned in front of his antique wood desk, and they both sat down.

She folded her arms. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course. I wouldn't want you to be anything else.”

“Look, sweetie, you know I love you, right?”

“Yes, and I love you, too.”

“I know that, but you also love your sister.”

“Yeah, that's true, too, but what does that have to do with you and me?”

“Baby, c'mon. You and I have always had a nonverbal, unwritten understanding that your sister doesn't like me. And I certainly don't like her. But that's also why I think she's going to be a problem when it comes to my becoming co-pastor. Didn't you see the look on her face? She completely disapproves, and she even laughed at me.”

Dillon tried not to show any emotion one way or the other, and he didn't dare allude to the fact that he didn't want her being co-pastor, either. He loved Raven, but he also didn't want to share the title of senior pastor with her or anyone else. Never in his life had he believed in having two chiefs run anything, and this was the reason he had no assistant pastors. There were, of course, ordained ministers who were members of the church whom he sometimes asked to deliver the sermon for him, but that only happened if he was out of town or ill. They also weren't on payroll. They were compensated for their individual services, but they weren't employees and probably never would be. So, if Raven became co-pastor, it would only be a disaster waiting to happen. She'd want to give all sorts of input and take over the ministry in ways he wasn't willing to allow—ways he would
never
allow—which would only mean huge problems for them as husband and wife. They'd begin arguing like they'd never done before, and life as they'd known it would be over.

“Honey, why aren't you saying anything?” she asked. “I mean, please don't tell me you agree with her.”

“I never said that,” he told her.

“You know I'm the perfect person to co-pastor with you. I look the part, I can certainly speak the part, and I know how to handle and make business decisions. Most of all, though, the women of New Faith love and respect me. The younger women look up to me, and the older women treat me like I'm their daughter. I have a lot to offer the ministry. Much more than just being the head of the women in the church.”

“But, baby, you're good at leading the women. You do it well, and that's why so many women are joining. They're also very active in the church, and that's all because of you and the way you encourage them. You're a great example for them, and I would hate to see you step down from that position. The women would be very disappointed.”

“I can do both jobs. I can be co-pastor and still head the women's ministry.”

Dillon sighed. “I don't doubt that you can, but if you do both jobs, when will you have time for me? And what about when we decide to have children?”

Dillon didn't necessarily think that any of what he'd just said would be a problem, but he was searching for anything that might change her mind.

“Why aren't you backing me on this?”

“Because I just don't know if it's the right thing for you or for our marriage. Let alone for the church.”

“Wow,” she said, standing up. “I don't believe this. My own husband, who's supposed to be committed to me, doesn't support me?”

Dillon got to his feet and held her hand. “Baby, you know that's not true. I do support you, and you know how much you mean to me.”

Raven jerked her hand away from his. “If you love me, you sure have a funny way of showing it. It's almost like we've been living some sort of façade these last couple of years. If you weren't going to be all in when it comes to our marriage, why did you marry me?”

“Why are you so upset?”

“Because I really want this, and I know God wants it, too.”

“Okay, look,” he said. “I just don't think it's good for a husband and wife to work that closely. Working at the same church is fine, but not sharing the same position.”

“Wait a minute,” she said, squinting her eyes. “Is this because of my past? The way I used to gamble and because I took money from your dad's church? Is it that you don't trust me to be co-pastor? You think I'm going to steal money from our ministry?”

Dillon would be lying if he said her past didn't concern him or give him pause, but he would never admit it to her.

“Look, why don't we talk about this later on, at dinner.”

“Why can't we talk about it now? Why can't you just let me be who God wants me to be?”

Dillon wasn't sure what else he could say at this point, because nothing he suggested was making a difference.

“You know what?” she said. “I don't even want to talk to you right now.”

Dillon grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him, but when he tried to hug her, she yanked away from him again.

“Why are you acting like this?” he asked.

“Just leave me alone!” she yelled. “Don't say another word to me.”

Dillon watched his wife as she stormed out of his office, and he wasn't sure how this was all going to play out. He hoped this disagreement of theirs wasn't going to turn into some huge fiasco, but either way, he wasn't giving in. No matter what Raven said, she wasn't going to be co-pastor. Regardless of how angry she got, it simply wouldn't happen.

D
illon lay next to Porsha Harrington trying to catch his breath, and she lay her head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her and closed his eyes. He'd told himself that he wouldn't see her today, especially after having such a major falling-out with Raven, but in all honesty, his troubles with Raven had made him want to be with Porsha that much more. He was to the point where he thought about Porsha all the time, and he regularly daydreamed about making love to her. He'd done the same thing yesterday when he'd seen her at church. If only she wasn't so good to him. If only she didn't know how to make him feel even better than his own wife could. A few years ago, when he'd slept with his brother's wife, Racquel, he'd decided that she was the best he'd ever had, but Porsha was the new reigning successor. She did things to him that no woman had done, and she didn't seem to have to work hard at it. She acted as though making love was a special gift she'd been given, and no one else could do it the way she could.

It was strange how when Dillon had first taken notice of her, he'd been more interested in the fact that her father had passed away late last year and had left her a few million dollars. Needless to say, Dillon was willing to do anything when it came to getting as much financial help as possible to grow his church membership. He was also thinking ahead to the day they would build or move into a much larger location. So when he'd realized how attracted Porsha was to him, something she'd made known more than a year ago, he'd finally contacted her. He'd then gone to her home in Hoffman Estates, which was a little less than an hour from Mitchell. Actually, she'd once lived in Mitchell herself, but when her father's affairs had been settled, she'd purchased a home closer to Chicago. Still, she hadn't stopped attending New Faith, and she drove there every Sunday without fail. She was a dedicated member who gave generously to the church and its overall ministry—sometimes five and ten thousand dollars at a time—and she'd silently made it clear that if Dillon spent the right amount of time with her, she would continue doing so very willingly.

Dillon had debated getting involved with her, but then he'd remembered what Alicia had told him about her second husband, a man by the name of JT Valentine. She'd told him stories about how one of JT's mistresses had been very wealthy, and the reason he'd slept with her was so she would give him large sums of money. Dillon had never met JT, and he certainly wasn't happy about the way JT had treated his sister, but he'd never forgotten what Alicia had shared with him. He'd known from the minute she'd told him that story that in order to have a successful ministry, he would eventually have to do a few things that weren't so noble. The goal, however, had been that he wouldn't have to do these kinds of things for very long. That is, until he'd slept with Porsha for the first time and realized he couldn't stop. He just didn't want to.

Porsha caressed Dillon's chest, which was damp from all the sweating he'd been doing, and he gently rubbed the side of her arm.

“I wish you never had to leave,” she said.

“I wish I didn't, either, but it is what it is.”

“But it doesn't have to be. I mean, don't I make you happy?”

Dillon opened his eyes, leaned his head back, and looked at her. “Of course you do. Girl, you absolutely drive me wild, and I love being with you.”

“Then leave her, baby. Do it now, before too much time passes. You've only been married for two years, and it'll be a lot easier getting out now than it will be sometime down the road.”

Dillon heard what she was saying, but he didn't respond. He'd known that ultimately Porsha would want more than what he was giving her behind closed doors—mistresses always did—but it was just that he'd been hoping she wouldn't start talking about it this soon. She hadn't before today, and he wondered where all this was coming from.

“And let me ask you something else,” she said matter-of-factly. “You're thirty-two, right? The same age as me?”

“Yeah, but what does that matter?” he asked.

“It doesn't, but I just want to know why you married a woman who's five years older than you. I mean, the woman will be forty in three years.”

“Age has never been an issue for us. It's never been a problem for me, ever. If a woman is younger, the same age, or older, the only thing that matters is how well I connect with her.”

“Do you love her?”

“Why all the questions? Because it's not like you've been asking things like this before.”

“I don't know. I guess I'm just curious. And my feelings for you are getting stronger all the time…I think I'm in love with you.”

Dillon pulled her closer to him again so he wouldn't have to look at her. Not because he didn't want to acknowledge what she was saying, but because he was starting to wonder if he felt the same way about her, too. He didn't know if he was simply in love with the way they
made
love to each other or if he was falling in love with her emotionally. He also didn't know if it was possible to be in love with two women at the same time, because no matter how often he slept with Porsha, he still loved Raven.

“Can I ask you something else?” she asked.

“Go ahead.”

“Doesn't it bother you that your wife is a criminal who served time in prison?”

“No, it doesn't. Everyone makes mistakes.”

“That might be true, but she stole a lot of money from your dad's church, and people who steal almost always do it again.”

“I think we should talk about something else.”

“That's fine, but I just hope you know you can't trust her. And you should divorce her while you have the chance.”

Dillon slipped his arm away from her and sat up. “Look, I'm not saying I don't care about you, because I do. But not once have I lied to you about my wife and the way I feel about her. I love her, and to some degree, I even feel sorry for her because of the gambling problem she had. Worse, when she was a child, she was tossed around between multiple foster homes. She was even abused at one of them.”

“I know all about that. She's given a testimony about it too many times to count. But eventually she was placed in a good home, she got a great education, and she was named CFO at your dad's church at a pretty young age. So, regardless of her childhood, Raven is now an adult who is married and responsible for her own actions.”

“Okay, wait. It's clear we don't agree, and from this point on, we're not talking about my wife. It's disrespectful.”

“Really? But sneaking away from her and making love to me isn't?”

Dillon sat on the side of the bed and looked back at her, but he didn't respond—partly because he truly didn't think it was right for a man to discuss his wife with another woman, and partly because she was right about what she'd said: He was in fact sneaking away from Raven to be with her. And it bothered him. It made him uneasy because normally when a man made the decision to step out on his wife, he did it as a result of his being miserable at home or no longer wanting to be married. But that wasn't the case with Dillon. He loved Raven on a level he'd never loved any woman, but he also loved being with Porsha. So much so that he couldn't imagine not seeing Porsha or making love to her the way he had been over these last three months.

Porsha sat up and leaned back against a couple of pillows. “So you don't have anything to say?”

“Like what?”

“I don't know. Anything. Tell me that you hear what I'm saying, because eventually I'm going to need more than what you're giving me. I won't hide around like some low-rate side chick. I want you all to myself, and I can't help the way I feel. And, baby,” she said, moving closer to him and caressing his back, “you know how happy I can make you. You know I'll be the kind of first lady New Faith deserves. And I'll support the church in every way possible.”

Dillon did hear what she was saying, especially the last sentence she'd spoken. She had proven how much she didn't mind giving to the church financially, and he certainly didn't want to stifle her generosity. So he chose his words very carefully.

“You have to give me some time,” he said. “You can't just expect me to go to my wife and ask her for a divorce for no reason. I do want to be with you, and I appreciate all that you're doing for the church, but if divorcing my wife is the only way you and I can be together, we'll just have to end things.”

“You know I don't want that,” she told him. “I just want to know that you hear me, and that you're going to create some sort of exit strategy. I also realize that I'm sort of wrong for expecting you to leave your wife so soon, when you and I haven't been together for very long. But it's just that I so know in my heart that we're supposed to be man and wife. I wish we'd met before you got married, but since we didn't, we'll have to figure out a long-range plan. So I'll tell you what. I'm going to be patient. I'm going to let you do what you need to do, but at some point we're going to have to talk about this again.”

Dillon didn't like this because no matter what she said, he wasn't planning to leave Raven. At the same time, he also wasn't planning to give up Porsha. He wasn't sure how everything was going to work out, but somehow it would. Not only because he wanted it to, but because it had to.