Come Sunday Morning (11 page)

Hezekiah tensed. “Danny?” he said questioningly.

“It's all right, Hezekiah,” Danny reassured him.

Hezekiah stood up and the couple flanked his sides. Danny took the picture, and the couple left smiling and apologizing profusely for disturbing their dinner, but only after asking Hezekiah to sign a menu they had taken from their table.

“Danny, I don't think that was a good idea. Pictures like that end up on the Internet.”

“I realized that. That's why I took the picture so I wouldn't be in the photo. If you hadn't allowed them, they probably would have taken one of you from a distance and I would have been in it too.”

“Sounds like you've done this before. Are you sure I'm the only famous person you've dated?”

They both laughed and Danny replied, “I'm sure. And, believe me, you'll also be the last.”

In the grand gold-gilded theater a bronze diva on the stage passionately sang the aria to her man:

“I loves you, Porgy, don't let him take me. Don't let him handle me and drive me mad. If you can keep me, I wanna stay here with you forever, and I'll be glad.”

She pleaded and wept to the rapt delight of the audience.

“Yes, I loves you, Porgy, don't let him take me. Don't let him handle me with his hot hands. If you can keep me, I wants to stay here with you forever. I've got my man.”

Hezekiah affectionately brushed Danny's shoulder with his. Their knees touched as the songbird so graciously provided the prophetic soundtrack to their lives.

C
atherine functioned as if it were a typical day at New Testament Cathedral. Telephone calls were returned, decisions made, and problems were solved.

Who could have leaked the story to the press?
she thought while laboriously attending to the daily chores ascribed to a chief operations officer. Everyone was suspect.
Maybe it's the secretary who screens Hezekiah's calls, or maybe Dino Goodman, the pastor's driver. I've never trusted him. He must have known something was going on. Maybe he's being paid to sabotage Hezekiah.

The list of suspects grew and rationales for betrayal abounded as five o'clock drew near.

“Ms. Birdsong,” came a voice from the intercom in her office. “Reverend Pryce is here for your five-fifteen appointment.”

“Give me two minutes and then tell him to come in,” was the instruction that followed.

Catherine quickly looked into a mirror behind her desk to check the remains of makeup under her puffy eyes. Once again she swallowed mouthwash and returned the little bottle to her purse under the desk.

“Hello, Catherine. Sorry I'm late.”

From across the room Percy honed in on Catherine's troubled face.

“You look terrible. Is there something wrong? Have you been crying?” he asked, approaching her with an outstretched hand. “What has Hezekiah done to you now?”

The comment was initially said in jest, but as he walked closer, he detected the faint remnant of a tear in the corner of her eye.

Catherine extended her hand and allowed it to be enveloped by Percy's hearty grip.

“I'm fine, Reverend Pryce,” she said, pointing to the chair in front of her desk and inviting him to sit. “What did you want to see me about?”

“Catherine, you can't fool me. I know something is wrong. We've known each other a long time. I think of you as a friend, and I hope you feel the same about me. Has Hezekiah done something to upset you?”

Catherine looked away, avoiding his sympathetic gaze. There was silence for a moment and then she spoke, “Percy, something terrible has happened and I don't know what to do about it.”

“Then tell me about it, maybe we can figure it out together.”

“It's about Hezekiah, but he told me not to discuss it with anyone.”

Percy threw his head back and laughed aloud.

“How many times have we both heard that over the years? We each know sometimes it's necessary to discuss our concerns with others we trust to make sure our perspectives are clear and unclouded by fear. Now tell me. What's going on? Maybe it's not as bad as you think.”

Catherine proceeded to recount the antagonistic meeting with the reporter. It was a relief for her to tell the story to a man as wise as Percy. If anyone would know what to do, it would be Percy.

He listened attentively, shifting several times in the seat and occasionally interrupting to ask questions.

“What did Hezekiah say?” and “When is the story supposed to run?”

Catherine concluded her tale by saying, “I've never been this worried about anything in my life. I think I'm going to have a breakdown.”

Percy's last question was “Who else knows about this?”

“I made the mistake of telling Kenneth. He's threatened to call Lance Savage and sue the
Chronicle.
”

“Don't worry, I'll talk to Kenneth.” Percy then flashed a comforting smile and said, “Catherine, it doesn't sound all that bad. You know these crazies come out of the woodwork every few years. This St. John person is probably some nut who's obsessed with Hezekiah. I'll bet if I put a little scare into him, he'll stop spreading these lies.”

“That's just it, Percy. I'm not convinced it's a lie. Hezekiah never denied it and swore me to secrecy. Why would he do that if it weren't true?”

“What kind of mood was Hezekiah in this afternoon?”

“I have no idea,” she said fretfully. “He canceled all his appointments. I haven't seen or heard from him all day.”

“That's not like him. I'll see if I can reach him on his cell later this evening.”

“Please don't tell him you spoke to me. Tell him you ran into Lance in the hall and he told you.”

“Don't worry about that. I won't even mention your name. In the meantime we should meet with Naomi and Reverend Davis to see if we can come up with a plan for damage control, just in case the story does eventually run. Will you set that up?”

“Are you sure they can be trusted? How do we know one of them didn't leak the story in the first place?”

“Why would they do something as stupid as that? If Hezekiah is ousted, they'll both be out of a job.”

“I know, but I just don't trust anyone,” Catherine said.

“Right now we don't have a choice.”

The two walked toward the door and embraced.

“Oh my God,” Catherine said. “You wanted to talk to me about something. I'm sorry, Percy. This has got me so distracted.”

“Don't worry about that. We can talk about it later. This is much more important.”

 

Catherine had called together key staff members to decide how to address the impending scandal. Percy took the seat of power at the head of the table in the conference room. Catherine and Naomi sat to his left, with Rev. Kenneth Davis to his right.

Naomi broke the silence at the table and asked, “Where is Hezekiah? Shouldn't he be here to talk about this?”

“I thought the whole discussion might make him uncomfortable,” Catherine replied. “He doesn't know we're meeting.”

“I think that was a mistake,” Naomi said nervously. “If he finds out we discussed this behind his back, he'll be furious.” As she spoke, she began to gather her belongings from the floor. “I don't want any part of this.”

Reverend Pryce leaned forward.

“Wait a minute, Naomi. There's no reason for him to find out. I just wanted us to put our heads together and come up with a plan. This meeting never took place, as far as anyone outside this room is concerned.”

Naomi searched the faces in the room for signs of agreement. Everyone signified yes by nodding.

“All right, I'll stay. But if he finds out about this meeting, I'll deny I was ever here.”

“Good, then,” Percy said with relief. “I tried to reach Hezekiah all last night, but he didn't answer his phone. Has anyone talked to him about the alleged affair?”

Kenneth Davis then spoke. “I spoke with Hezekiah, and it's not alleged. He confirmed the whole story. There is, in fact, a Danny St. John, and they are involved in a sexual relationship.”

“How long has it been going on?” Percy asked.

“He said for about a year.”

Percy threw his hands into the air in disbelief. “I don't believe this,” he said. “If that story is printed, all hell is going to break loose.”

“We're all aware of that, Percy, but there just might be some way to convince Lance Savage to kill the story.” Kenneth looked at Naomi. “You know Lance better than all of us. What do you think? Can he be bribed, frightened off?”

Naomi shook her head. “I don't think there's any way he's going to let this slide. I've seen him in action. He's relentless once he gets his hands on anything sensational, and he stands to build a national reputation on this.”

“Come on, there's got to be some way,” Percy interjected. “Every man has a price. We just have to find out what his is.”

“The construction budget has one million dollars in discretionary funds,” Reverend Davis said to no one in particular. “I think we should offer to buy his silence. That's the only way.”

Catherine sat silently while the three debated the plan's merits. The conversation progressed more rapidly than she had wished. She finally spoke. “I think we're getting ahead of ourselves here. What I'd like to know is who leaked the story in the first place. That's what's most important.”

Naomi looked at her impatiently and said, “That's irrelevant. It's out, and now we have to deal with the consequences.”

“I disagree,” Catherine protested. “Let's say we are able to silence Lance. Whoever the source is could easily find another reporter to pick it up. We'll eventually have to buy off every reporter in the city.”

Reverend Davis leaned back in his chair and said, “She's right. Whoever this person is, he or she is obviously very close to Hezekiah and has something to gain by him not being the pastor. Any ideas?”

“It could be anyone,” Catherine said. “Even one of us.”

Catherine's last words unleashed a flurry of retorts. Naomi bolted to her feet. “If you're suggesting I'm responsible, you're crazy. I'll be out of a job if this ever gets out.”

Percy raised his voice. “I take personal offense at your accusations, Catherine. I've devoted the last five years of my life to this church and I deserve better than that.”

Kenneth held up his hands in an appeal for calm. “Hold on, everybody. No one is accusing anyone, but we do have to look at every possibility. Who else could have got that close to Hezekiah to know about this?”

“How about Dino, his driver?” Catherine asked. “He must have known about it. Even though I don't trust him, I think he would rather take a bullet in the head than see any harm come to Pastor Cleaveland.”

Everyone nodded in consensus. Puzzled expressions formed on their faces as they pondered who might be the Judas.

Catherine, with great caution, broke the silence.

“I know this might sound crazy, but I'm going to say it, anyway. What about Samantha?”

The puzzled looks quickly changed to shock and horror.

“Catherine, how could you even think something that horrible?” they all chanted. “Samantha worships the ground Hezekiah walks on. She would rather die than see him publicly humiliated.”

Catherine recoiled into her chair.

“I know, you're right. I just wanted to put it out there.”

“Well, please don't ever say anything like that again,” Reverend Pryce said passionately tone. “She's going to be hurt enough when she learns about the affair. I'd hate to see her hurt even more if a rumor like that started circulating.”

Catherine sat chastised. “I'm sorry. I'm not suggesting she did it, but we have to look at all possibilities.”

“Look, this idle speculation isn't getting us anywhere,” Kenneth said with his hands clasped in front of his face. “We could be here all day trying to figure out who did this. I say we go back to our original plan and offer Lance money. If the story resurfaces again later, then maybe we'll have more time to flush out the source. Not now, though. We don't have the time.”

“Kenneth is right,” said Naomi. “If we're going to act, we have to do it quickly.”

“Are we all in agreement?” Kenneth asked.

Naomi and Percy both said yes, but Catherine simply stared out the window.

“Catherine, what about you? Do you agree or not?” Naomi asked.

“I don't think it's going to work, but if that's our only option, then yes, I agree.”

Kenneth clapped his hands and said, “All right, then. I'll meet with Lance this afternoon and make the offer, and hopefully—”

“Wait a minute, Kenneth,” Percy said. “I want to come with you. I'd like to have a few words with him myself.”

“You don't want to upset Lance,” Naomi said. “He's in control. If you threaten him, he'll turn you down flat.”

“I won't threaten him. I just think we should hedge our bet with a little intimidation. Let him know if he reneges on the agreement, there will be serious consequences.”

“It's risky, but it might help in the long run,” said Kenneth. “Okay, Percy, as soon as I set up a time for the meeting, I'll call you.” Kenneth stood and said, “Wish us luck, everybody. We're going to need it.”

 

Hezekiah sat and read a magazine in the waiting room of Dr. Joseph Canton. The room was bright, and light reflected off the many chrome and glass surfaces. A piano concerto by Mozart played almost undetected in the background. Religious publications with the virtuous faces of the ecclesiastical elite on the covers were fanned neatly on the coffee table. A brass crucifix hung over the door leading to the doctor's office. A modern clock ticked on a console behind an unoccupied receptionist desk.

Hezekiah made the trip to the Anaheim therapist not for absolution but rather to somehow relieve his apprehension through an unorthodox form of confession. He did not expect to hear words of encouragement. No Christian psychiatrist would condone his behavior, but maybe he could understand it.

Dr. Canton had served as psychiatrist and confidant to some of the most influential clergy in the country. When he explained to the receptionist that he was about to make a decision that would affect thousands of people and change his life drastically, Hezekiah was scheduled promptly for a session.

“Reverend Cleaveland,” the receptionist said after returning from the doctor's inner chamber. “Dr. Canton is ready for you now.”

Hezekiah entered the office and shut the door behind him before he focused on the figure standing behind the desk.

Dr. Canton was a tall, lean man with shiny white hair. His gray suit hung loosely on his body, and wire-rimmed glasses sat on the tip of his pointed nose. He walked toward Hezekiah, extended his hand, and said, “Hello, Pastor Cleaveland. I'm Dr. Joseph Canton. Please come in and sit down.”

“Thank you for seeing me at such short notice. Your secretary was very kind.”

“How can I help you? Of course everything we discuss within this room will be kept in the strictest of confidence.”

The two men sat at angles to each other in slick leather chairs facing the front of the desk. The room did not reflect the modern style of the reception area. The walls were painted a forest green with a lighter shade as trim. Wood shelves filled with psychiatric journals, textbooks, and numerous versions of the Bible lined the walls. The carpet was a dark shade of burgundy bordered with a warm floral scroll. The same music from the waiting room played from sources unknown.