The Last Sunday (18 page)

“You ‘appreciate' my contributions,” Samantha said snidely. “I don't need your appreciation, Percy. It means nothing to me. Let me ask you something. How many millions of dollars have you brought into the ministry this year? How many new members have you brought into the church?”

Percy stiffened his back and said, “This isn't about money. It's about doing what's right by you. Hezekiah would have wanted us to look out for you, and by placing you in this position prematurely, we failed him. You can wait a few years, can't you? Give it time, Samantha. You need time to heal.”

“Let's be honest, Percy. This isn't about me at all. It's about you, isn't it? Did your wife put you up to this?” Samantha said, looking him directly in the eye. “Because let's face it. You don't have the balls to come up with a ridiculous plan like this on your own. Hezekiah always said you were a small-minded, weak little man, and I see now that he was right.”

“That's uncalled for, Samantha,” Kenneth interjected. “Please, I know this is a difficult conversation for us to have, but let's at least try to be civil with each other.”

“
Civil?
You expect me to be civil when you jackals have plotted behind my back to steal my church? Well, let me say to you all, if you think you are going pat me on the head and brush me aside, you are sadly mistaken.”

Kenneth cleared his throat and said gently, “I'm afraid we do have the authority, Samantha. According to church bylaws, section IIA, it is the responsibility of this body to select the pastor.”

Kenneth reached for the single piece of paper in front of him and read aloud, “A pastor shall be chosen and called whenever a vacancy occurs. A Pastor's Selection Committee shall be appointed by the church—that's us—to seek out a suitable pastor. The pastor's election shall take place at a meeting called for that purpose. That's this meeting. The pastor—for the time being, that's you, Samantha—the pastor shall be an ex officio member of all church standing committees, except the Pastor's Selection Committee.”

Kenneth returned the paper to the table and said, “Because you are the interim pastor of New Testament Cathedral at the time this agenda item will be called to a vote, you will, unfortunately, not be allowed to vote on this matter.”

“May I speak?” Scarlett said loudly.

Kenneth leaned back, relieved that someone else had entered the fray. “Please, Sister Shackelford, go ahead. You have the floor.”

Scarlett spun her chair to face Samantha and said, “I'm not basing my vote on you or your feelings. I actually don't think you need time to heal. Do you know why? Because I think you're relieved that he's gone.”

“Sister Shackelford!” Kenneth shouted.

“Let me finish,” Scarlett said deliberately. “My decision is based on the fact that I don't think you are fit to be pastor. You are an evil woman who has demonstrated over the years that you are more than willing to destroy anyone and anything that stands between you and whatever it is you want at the time. New Testament Cathedral deserves better than that, God deserves better, and I know I deserve better. I'm ready to call this to a vote.”

With her final words spoken, Scarlett spun her chair back to its original position. Samantha sat stunned and speechless.

Kenneth held his breath, waiting for Samantha to respond, but she remained silent. Kenneth then leaned forward again and said, “We haven't heard from everyone. Mother Williams, do you have anything to add before we call for a vote?”

Hattie remembered the vision she saw in her garden, of Samantha standing in the pulpit, with thousands of lost souls standing at her feet, crying and raising their hands to the heavens. She clutched the handle of her cane and simply said, “I have nothing to add. I'm ready for the vote.”

“Very well, then,” Kenneth said, reaching for the index cards and pens. “Please write your choice for pastor of New Testament Cathedral on these cards. Fold it in half and pass it back to me when you're ready.”

“May I ask a question before we vote?” Samantha said calmly.

“The discussion is over,” Scarlett said. “Let's vote please.”

“Hold on, Scarlett. Let her speak. Go ahead, Samantha. You have the floor,” Kenneth said, leaning back in his chair.

Samantha looked at Percy and said, “Reverend Pryce.”

“Yes?” he said suspiciously.

“Do you know someone named Lance Savage?”

Kenneth jerked forward in his chair and lunged toward the tape recorder. He quickly pressed the STOP button and, in doing so, knocked over his glass of water. Water splattered down the center of the table, soaking the single sheet of white paper and forming a puddle around the tape recorder

“Oh, God, I'm sorry,” Kenneth blurted out. He jumped from his seat and ran to the console for the cloth napkins. When he returned, the water had begun to drip onto his chair. Kenneth dabbed and blotted the table, his chair, and around the base of the tape recorder until much of the spill had been absorbed.

Samantha watched him curiously and noted his unexpected reaction to the name Lance Savage.

I'm so sorry, everyone,” Kenneth said with a shaky voice. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do it. It was an accident. I'm . . . I'm sorry.”

Percy retrieved more napkins from the console and wiped the remaining drops of water, all while coolly saying, “It's all right, Reverend Davis. Calm down. It was a just a little accident. Calm down.”

Kenneth sank back into the damp leather chair and said through labored breaths, “Samantha, I don't see what that has to do with the matter on the table.”

Samantha returned her gaze to Percy. “Answer my question, Reverend Pryce. Do you know Lance Savage?”

Percy looked helplessly at Kenneth and then back at Samantha and said, “No . . . I don't believe I know anyone by that name.”

“Judging by Kenneth's reaction, I think you do,” Samantha insisted.

“You're stalling, Samantha. What does this have to do with anything?” Scarlett said impatiently.

“To be perfectly honest, Scarlett, I'm not sure. But I'm curious. You see, my assistant gives me a monthly report on the church telephone records. I like to know if anyone is making any unauthorized calls. We had a problem with that a few years ago. You remember that, don't you, Mother Williams?” Samantha continued methodically. “Anyway, in doing so, she noticed two calls were made to Lance Savage.” Samantha looked around the room and added, “Did I forget to mention Mr. Savage was the
Los Angeles Chronicle
reporter who was found murdered in his home on the canals in Venice?”

She then looked back at Percy and said, “The calls were made from your extension to his cell phone and home. And, ironically, they were made on the very same day he was murdered. Quite a coincidence, don't you think? I've been meaning to ask you why you called him, but I've been so busy burying my husband and running the church.”

There was silence in the room. All eyes were now on Percy. Kenneth sat stiff in his seat. The remnants of the spilled water had soaked the seat of his pants. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, and his heart pounded in his chest.

Samantha broke the silence. “Looks like you might not remember right now. That's okay, though, because, you see, if I'm not going to be pastor any longer, I'll have plenty of time on my hands to solve little mysteries like this.” She leaned back in her chair and said with a smile, “All righty, then, Reverend Davis. I think I have my answer. Now let's get on with that vote.”

Kenneth's hand shook as he passed the cards and pens to Hattie, Scarlett, and Percy. He kept one for himself. He used a dry napkin to wipe the sweat from his brow, only to have it replaced by even more.

Scarlett was the first to hand back her folded card. Hattie was next. Percy's hand rested on the table, with the tip of the pen suspended only centimeters above the card. Scarlett, Hattie, and Samantha watched him as the pen finally began to glide along the surface of the card. He stopped and started several times before he finished. He then opened his fingers slightly, and the pen dropped to the table with a thud that echoed off the walls of the conference room.

Percy stared at the card without moving. All he could think of was his wife's final words as he left their condo for the meeting. “Call me as soon as it's over,” she said, brushing imaginary lint from his lapel at the door. “And, Percy,” she continued, “don't screw this up.”

Samantha leaned toward the table and said, “Fold your card, Reverend Pryce, and hand it back to Reverend Davis.”

Kenneth's card was soggy from the droplets of water that had remained on the table in front of him. He was the last to fold his card and add it to the stack of four.

“Thank you, everyone,” Kenneth said nervously. “Here we go.”

“Wait a minute, Reverend Davis,” Samantha said calmly.

“Yes, Pastor Cleaveland?” Kenneth said humbly.

“I think it might be a good idea if you turned the recorder back on. For the record.”

“Of course . . . yes, of course. I'm sorry. I forgot.”

“No need to apologize again,” Samantha said.

Kenneth reached forward and pressed the RECORD button. “Okay, where was I?” He opened the first card and read out the name written on it. “Samantha Cleaveland.” He opened the second card and said, “Samantha Cleaveland.”

Scarlett looked bewildered and betrayed. The numbing effects of the medication she'd taken began to wear off rapidly with the reading of each card.

Kenneth unfolded the third card and let out a gush of air. “Percy Pryce,” he said with a hint of disappointment.

The last card seemed to levitate above the table in front of him. He reached for it, hesitated halfway, and then picked it up. He looked around the room at each person. Scarlett looked at him with a longing glare. Hattie's eyes were closed. She still clutched the head of her cane. Percy's eyes were closed as well.

Samantha looked at him with the cold, narrowed eyes of a woman who was about to lose everything.

Kenneth opened the final card and read it. He then closed his eyes and released a puff of air. “Samantha Cleaveland,” he said, dropping the card to the table. “Let the record show that Samantha Cleaveland is as of this day the permanent pastor of New Testament Cathedral. Congratulations, Pastor Cleaveland.” He then slapped the table with his open palm and added, “This meeting is adjourned.”

Samantha stood immediately and walked over to Kenneth. She reached over his shoulder and pressed the EJECT button on the tape recorder, and the little cassette popped up.

“I'll take this,” she said.

Without making eye contact with anyone there, Cynthia spun on her heels and left the room.

The others sat in stunned silence, and then, one by one, they slowly exited the conference room. The last one to leave turned off the lights.

 

 

In less than one hour Samantha had been installed as permanent pastor. Scarlett now sat on the couch in the living room with the phone to her ear as Cynthia pleaded her case.

“I
never
said I had Hattie's vote,” Cynthia said emphatically.

“I assumed you already had a majority when you told me about this scheme.”

“I thought I did, but Samantha outsmarted us.”

“You mean, she outsmarted
you.
I held up my end of the deal. I voted against her. You're the one who was supposed to have the other votes lined up.”

“I know, and I apologize for that.”

“I don't need your apology. It's too late now,” Scarlett answered.

“That's why I'm calling. I don't think it's too late.”

“It is. She outsmarted you. Percy will never be pastor of New Testament Cathedral.”

“It's not too late!” Cynthia blurted. “Don't say that.”

“Why? There's nothing you can do to stop her. She has the trustees following her now in lockstep. She even got Hattie's vote. I never dreamed
that
would ever happen.”

“I agree. That old lady surprised me,” Cynthia said with a hint of introspection. “I'll never forgive her for that.”

“The congregation loves Samantha. The world loves her,” Scarlett continued bitterly. “When the people see her this Sunday, standing in the pulpit of that glass cathedral, she will be set for life. Everyone will be eating out of her hands.”

“I just don't want to believe it's over. The world has got to know just what kind of woman she is. If people only knew the secret she kept before Hezekiah died, they would see her in a different light.”

Scarlett sat upright on the edge of the couch. “What secret?” she asked cautiously. “What are you talking about?”

There was no need for pretense or deception at this point. Lance Savage was dead. Hezekiah was dead. Reverend Mitchell had killed himself. Percy had all but given up on the idea of being pastor. There was nothing to lose.

“It was about Hezekiah. Samantha knew about him.”

“What about Hezekiah?” Scarlett said, urging her on.

“Hezekiah was having an affair with a man,” Cynthia blurted, with no regard for the impact her words would have. She sent them blindly into the phone, almost forgetting there was another person on the line. “Danny St. John is his name. Hezekiah was going to step down as pastor on the Sunday morning he was killed. Samantha knew it, and I think she stopped him before it was too late.”

Scarlett stood to her feet as the words swirled in her head. She could not form the words to respond.