The Last Sunday Read online

  “I know it was a little over the top, but that’s just how Samantha is.”

  “A little over the top! Two Picassos. Did you see that security system? It alone must have cost at least a million dollars.”

  “Don’t let it upset you,” Percy said, missing the point of her anger.

  “You can’t think that all of that was okay. Especially with them giving you a lousy five hundred and fifty thousand a year. I can’t believe you’re not as angry as I am.”

  “Honey, we’ve always said we aren’t doing this work for the money. It’s about spreading the gospel. It’s about ministering to the sick and—”

  “You don’t have to remind me what the work is about,” she snapped. “I went to the same racist, Bible-thumping, dogma-preaching college that you went to, remember. I know the speech, so don’t lecture me. You know as well as I do there’s no justification for spending that kind of money, especially when it’s coming to you in ten-dollar increments from old ladies and widows living off their husband’s pensions. It’s reprehensible.”

  Cynthia neglected to mention the near orgasm she had had when she entered Samantha’s walk-in closet. The closet was larger than her living room and dining room combined. The walls were lined with designers she had seen only in magazines. Shoe racks filled with shoes in every color seemed to cascade like rainbows from the ceiling. There were two sets of matching Louis Vuitton luggage, hats, purses, scarves, and gloves. Cashmere, leather, chiffon, and silk spilled from the walls like sweet honey from the rock.

  Cynthia wanted it, and she wanted it all, but she never fully admitted it to herself. The calling of God was the perfect camouflage for the true desires of mortals. The wealth flaunted in her face and just beyond her reach made her fingertips ache.

  “They ought to be ashamed of themselves. And did you see the way everyone was fawning over them?” she ranted on during the car ride home. “I thought that one woman was going to cream her panties in the foyer when she saw that Picasso.”

  “Cynthia, please! Is that really necessary?”

  “I’m sorry, but the entire evening left a horrible taste in my mouth.”

  Now, years later, the rancid taste of jealousy was still in her mouth.

  From her dining room table, Cynthia dialed Scarlett Shackelford.

  “Scarlett, it’s Cynthia. How are you, dear?”

  Scarlett was still reeling from her confessions to Gideon and her confrontation with Samantha. David had not been home in two nights, and Natalie was beginning to ask questions.

  “Not good, Cynthia. This is not a very good time for me. Can you call me back later?”

  “This will only take a minute.”

  Scarlett plopped down on the sofa and said, “Okay, but could you please make this quick? I have a terrible headache.”

  “This is about Samantha.”

  “I assumed so,” Scarlett replied scornfully. “You put me in a very awkward position, Cynthia. I thought you had the votes locked up. I held up my end, and you couldn’t even get your own husband to vote against her. I looked like a fool at the meeting. I thought you could count on Hattie’s vote.”

  Scarlett shivered when she recalled the night the board of trustees installed Samantha as permanent pastor.

  The board of trustees had sat nervously around the table in the recently christened Pastor Hezekiah T. Cleaveland Memorial Conference Room. The special closed meeting had been convened at the request of Reverend Kenneth Davis. The only item on the agenda was the selection of the permanent pastor of New Testament Cathedral.

  Kenneth sat at the head of the table as the convener of the meeting. Hattie Williams’s wooden cane rested on the conference table. Her purse, filled with Kleenex, peppermints, and a pocket Bible, rested on her lap. Reverend Percy Pryce sat to her left, three chairs down. Despite his best attempts at appearing calm and detached, he could not hide the glimmer on his upper lip, which betrayed the churning in his stomach.

  Kenneth nervously checked his watch. Scarlett Shackelford sat stiffly three chairs to his right. The pills she’d taken before leaving home that evening had effectively erased the remains of her shattered emotions.

  “I don’t think she’s coming,” Kenneth said, checking his watch again. “It’s already twenty past eight. We were supposed to start at eight.”

  “Maybe we should start without her,” Percy said softly.

  “She’ll be here.”

  All heads turned to Hattie.

  “How do you know that?” Scarlett asked coldly.

  “Because she’s already in the building,” Hattie said. “I can feel her.”

  Scarlett rolled her eyes and said impatiently, “I say we call the meeting to order right now and get this over with.”

  As she spoke, the security guard swung one half of the double doors open and Samantha appeared in the threshold. Kenneth and Percy leapt to their feet, while Hattie and Scarlett remained seated. Before entering, Samantha made eye contact with everyone at the table.

  “Good evening, Brothers and Sisters,” she said confidently. “I apologize for my lateness, but I was attending to church business. Please sit down, Brothers.”

  Reverend Davis walked to the console and poured a glass of water. “Would anyone else like a glass before we get started?”

  A chorus of “No” and “No thank you, Reverend,” followed, and he made his way back to the head of the table.

  Samantha sat four chairs to the right of Scarlett, which placed her the farthest from the head of the table. She crossed her legs and leaned back in the high-backed leather chair.

  Kenneth placed the glass of water beside a single sheet of paper, five pens, a stack of index cards, and a small tape recorder. After pressing the RECORD button on the tape recorder, he said, “I now call this special meeting of the Board of Trustees of New Testament Cathedral to order at eight twenty-five on this day of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Thank you all for coming on such short notice. As you know, we are convened to decide an issue of the utmost importance. The sole agenda item is who will serve as the permanent pastor of New Testament Cathedral.”

  Samantha raised her hand and was immediately acknowledged by Kenneth.

  “I would like to know what prompted this sudden need to appoint a permanent pastor,” Samantha said calmly. “It was my understanding that I would be given ample time to demonstrate to this body and the congregation at large that I am fully capable of serving in that position on a permanent basis. Is one month the trustees’ idea of ‘ample time’?”

  No one spoke as Samantha waited patiently to see who would lead the charge. Finally, Percy leaned forward and clasped his hands together on the table. “Pastor Cleaveland,” he said, clearing his throat. “This is in no way a reflection on how we feel about your leadership during this trying time. I think I speak for us all when I say under the circumstances we feel you have done an amazing job in holding the congregation together and keeping the vision of Pastor Cleaveland alive and on track.”

  “Then what is this all about?” Samantha asked, her question punctuated by a flick of her French-tipped nail on the table.

  Kenneth stepped in. “It’s just that some of us feel we may not have fully factored in your feelings when we placed you in this position. We . . . I mean I, feel we may have acted too hastily, and selfishly, I might add. You just lost your husband. The center of your life. Reverend Pryce is willing to step in and give you the time you and Jasmine need to—”

  “Reverend Davis, I am very aware that I just lost my husband,” Samantha interrupted, “but contrary to popular belief, he was not the center of my life. God is the center of my life, as I hope He is yours. I loved my husband, but I also love New Testament Cathedral. I helped found this church when it was in a storefront on Imperial Highway before any of you ever heard of the Cleavelands or the Cleavelands had ever heard of any of you.” Samantha leaned into the table. Her tone became firmer, and the words came more rapidly as she spoke. “Hezekiah and I built this
ministry from the ground up, and now you think just because he’s gone, you can snatch it from under my feet.”

  “Now, hold on, Reverend Cleaveland,” Percy said, jumping in and gesturing with both hands. “No one is trying to snatch New Testament away from you. We all recognize the significant contributions you have made to this church, and we all appreciate everything you’ve done to make New Testament what it is today. We’re only thinking about what’s best for you. That’s all. This is not an indictment against you.”

  “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.”r />
  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.