Come Sunday Morning (14 page)

“How do you know my name?” he asked.

“I know a lot about you, Danny. May I call you Danny? This is about Hezekiah Cleaveland.”

Danny began to walk away.

“I've never met him.”

“I know all about you two,” Lance said as he followed Danny through the crowd. “And I've already spoken to Pastor Cleaveland.”

Danny stopped in the center of the room when he heard the words. He fought off the urge to run to the nearest exit.

Lance stood behind Danny and spoke in a whisper. “If it's not true, Danny, you can deny it. This is the only chance I'm going to give you.”

Danny did not respond. It was clear that the stranger in the wrinkled sport coat knew something of his relationship with Hezekiah. But how had he found out?

“This will only take a minute, Danny,” Lance said in a soft and reassuring tone.

The sound of Lance's voice jarred Danny from his silent contemplation. His eyes focused again on the whirl of activity around him.

“Meet me in front of the building in five minutes,” he said without looking at Lance. “I have to finish helping someone.”

Lance stood on the busy street in front of the center and took the last puff from a cigarette. Noise from traffic streaming by drowned out the loud conversations and blaring television set from the room he had just left.

Through the windows he could see Danny bending over to speak to the weathered old man in the lobby. After a few moments Danny approached him on the street.

“Thanks for agreeing to talk with me, Danny. I know this is difficult for you.”

Danny did not respond.

“Would you like to comment on your relationship with Pastor Cleaveland?”

“Who told you about that? Did Hezekiah say something?”

“I'll be honest with you, Danny. Hezekiah didn't confirm your relationship.”

“Then what makes you think it's true?”

“I have a source who is very close to Hezekiah who can prove that you two are involved.”

“Who?”

“I can't say. I can tell you, though, that I have been given a substantial amount of evidence that proves it.”

“Why are you doing this to him? Do you hate him that much?”

“I'm not doing anything other than my job. This is a significant story, and people have a right to know about it.”

“Why do they have a right to know something so private about him?” Danny asked. “He has rights too. He has the right to have some part of his life to keep to himself.”

“I'm sorry, Danny, but he doesn't. When Hezekiah became a public figure, he gave up the right to privacy. Every part of his life is fair game and subject to public scrutiny. He must have told you that.”

“He's told me a lot of things, but that doesn't make them right.”

“So you admit that you do know him,” Lance said gently, as though speaking to a small child.

Danny's eyes drifted wearily to the procession of cars that sped by. “Is there any way I can convince you not to pursue this? You're going to hurt a lot of innocent people.”

“I'm not trying to hurt anyone. I just want the truth, and I want to give you a chance to tell your side of the story,” Lance said innocently.

Danny looked sharply back at Lance. “You don't give a fuck about all the good Hezekiah has done for this city. What's important to you is furthering your career, and if someone gets hurt, or a few lives are ruined in the process, you justify it by saying, ‘I'm just doing my job.' Well, you've come to the wrong person. I'm not going to help you do your job.”

Danny peered deeply into Lance's widening eyes and continued his tirade. “For the record, Mr. Savage, I have never met Hezekiah Cleaveland. I have no desire to meet Hezekiah Cleaveland, and if my name appears in your paper in relation to this lie, I will contact my father's law firm in New York and they will be happy to sue the
Los Angeles Chronicle,
and you personally, for slander and defamation of character.”

With these final words Danny adjusted the backpack on his shoulder, tipped his head in a gesture of farewell, and fell into step with the flow of pedestrians.

Lance stood astonished as Danny disappeared into the moving crowd. He had severely miscalculated the cunning of his prey.

Hezekiah has schooled him well,
he thought while fumbling anxiously for the package of cigarettes.
Cynthia had better be right about this.

S
amantha and Hezekiah still had an undeniable physical attraction, despite the chasm that had developed between them. Hezekiah was a man who found refuge and peace in the pleasure that physical contact gave him. Samantha, however, viewed erotic pleasure as simply another means by which to possess the body and soul of her prey, if only for a few brief moments.

The further apart they had grown over the years, the more intense their lovemaking had become. Hezekiah and Samantha woke together to find their bodies entwined, as they had on so many mornings before. As Hezekiah slowly emerged from his sleep, he felt his morning erection pressing against Samantha's soft thigh. Gentle brushing from the satin of Samantha's nightgown made her nipples stand firm.

By the time they had gained full consciousness, there was no turning back. Hezekiah grabbed the hair on the back of her head and pressed her lips to his. Their nightclothes provided ample shields for raw emotions, and their bodies did what seemed only natural. Hezekiah pinned her arms above her head as she twisted violently beneath the weight of his body. Her hands broke free and she plunged her fingernails into his back. He refused to allow her to squirm from beneath him, and she refused to be released.

“Fuck me. Hezekiah, please fuck me,” Samantha whispered as she held him close.

Blankets and sheets lay in a bundle at the foot of the bed. Hezekiah entered her with such force that her head, cushioned only by the pillows, rocked the huge headboard. After moments of intense rhythmic pounding, Samantha forced her body on top, with Hezekiah still deep inside her. Her straddled legs held him like a vise beneath her silk nightgown. Her breast broke free from the garment as she moaned with each downward plunge. He slapped her face and grabbed her neck as if to choke her. In time he released her, not to spare her life but to slap her buttocks as though encouraging a horse to run faster.

Hezekiah groped for the side of the mattress when he knew the end was near. The edges of the large bed extended beyond his reach, so he gripped the sheets and braced himself for the reward of the pounding he had endured.

For the brief moments of climactic pleasure, the two could only hear, see, smell, and feel the overpowering sensations rushing through their bodies. There was no hate, no jealousy, and no remorse. There was only ecstasy.

Samantha collapsed, spent, on her side of the bed. She brushed the hair from her face with her last bit of energy. Hezekiah's chest continued to heave in attempts to regain the breath he had lost. Slowly their eyes focused on the light surrounding their bed. The feelings they had just shared began to dissolve and were replaced with remorse. Remorse for succumbing to desires they thought were no longer shared. Desires that only complicated their journey. The course of which was now irreversible.

No words were exchanged. They had none left. All that had to be said from that point on required no response. There were no more questions. There were only answers.

Hezekiah got out of bed, nightclothes still intact, and went into the bathroom. Samantha lay with her back to him, hoping he would be quick and leave her to wash from her body and memory what would be the last time he was in her, and she in him. Still in a daze she angrily kicked the bedcovers to the floor and checked the clock on her nightstand. Why had she done it? She searched for the answer in the light of the window and fought back tears when there was no response.

 

Danny stood at his living-room window looking out into the busy street below. The tidy apartment was filled with flea market and garage sale finds. His bare feet were planted firmly on an Asian-print rug he'd found abandoned at a curb, and a tea table bought at a thrift shop held his morning cup of coffee.

Female joggers, with ponytails bouncing behind, ran along the sidewalk. From his window he could see four homeless men bundled in sleeping bags at a bus stop across the street. He had never offered his services to the group of regulars, fearing that if he had, they would discover where he lived and return for additional kindness. The little apartment was his only refuge, and even he could not share it with the needy people to whom he had dedicated his life.

There had been no rest for him the night before. He tossed in bed and watched infomercials on television. Twice during the course of the restless evening, Danny had picked up the telephone to dial Hezekiah's cell phone, but each time he resisted. The next conversation would surely mark the end of their relationship.

Through his twenties Danny had searched for the one man willing to look in his eyes and tell him honestly what he saw. Did he see a kind man with a loving heart, or a hideous monster intent on destroying all in its path? Was there a child playing behind his brown eyes, or a weary old man eager to share all that his life had taught?

But no one had stayed long enough or looked deeply enough to explore the depths of Danny's heart. No one, until Hezekiah.

Hezekiah offered himself as a mirror, reflecting images that Danny had never seen before. When they were together, Danny saw his own countenance for the first time in Hezekiah's comforting smile. He felt his own warmth in Hezekiah's embrace. He heard his joy in Hezekiah's laugh and tasted his fears in his kiss. Without him the light in his soul would be dim once again, and the Danny he had come to know would be lost forever.

Danny's cat, Parker, purred around his feet, waiting for the morning tummy rub that was long overdue. Footsteps from the neighbors above leaving for the day could be heard on the stairs near his door. Danny asked himself, over and over again, the same questions in his mind.
Is Lance Savage bluffing and really has no proof? How did he find me? Who could have known? How can I continue living in this city once everyone finds out?

The questions were unending, and no answers came to provide refuge from his fears. Fear had prevented him from going to work that morning, and also from scratching Parker's fuzzy gray belly. His life was ending; yet the joggers continued to run, smiling news anchors continued reporting tragedy after tragedy on television, and steam continued to rise from his coffee cup.

As the cat's purring grew more insistent, Danny, without moving his feet, bent down and gently scratched his stomach. Parker rolled blissfully onto his back, and then the telephone rang.

It could only be Hezekiah at that hour of the morning. The ringing echoed through the room, but Danny could not move. After the fourth ring the answering machine on the table responded. “Hi. You've reached Danny. I'm not in right now. Please leave a message at the tone.”

Hezekiah's strained voice came through the black box.

“Hello, Danny,” Hezekiah said softly. “I called your cell, and I called your office this morning, but they said you were out sick. I hope it's nothing serious. Look, baby, something pretty serious is going on and I need to talk to you as soon as possible. You know I love you. I'll try again later.”

A tear rolled down Danny's cheek as he continued to comfort the little rescued cat at his feet. There was no longer a need to remain at the window. There was no safe place for him to stand. The world had forced open his front door and barged in without invitation. The books on the shelves, magazines on the coffee table, and the chipped plates in the cupboard no longer belonged to him.

He looked around the room. The pale walls had lost their warm glow. The voices on television seemed louder than before. Had the walls inched in closer? Did someone rearrange the furniture? Were the leaves on the potted plants suddenly wilting, and had Parker stopped purring at his feet? Nothing in the room seemed familiar anymore. On that morning Danny found the world to be lonelier and more frightening than he had ever imagined possible.

 

Hezekiah sat quietly in the rear of the limousine as Dino drove toward the church. He thought about how much he loved sex with Danny and compared it to the regrettable physical encounter he had just had with Samantha. They both were wildly passionate and tinged with the slightest hint of abuse. But at this point in Hezekiah's life, Danny was now his companion of choice.

Although Samantha had been silent for much of the previous evening and the morning, she seemed to handle his startling revelation with a surprising amount of restraint. They had exchanged no further words on the subject, which led him to believe she had resigned herself to the situation.

He thought of her beauty and knew she could have any man she selected. He would leave her wanting for nothing.
She can have that awful house.
He would continue to pay for her extravagant lifestyle. Samantha had never worked a day in her life and the only line on her résumé would read, “Dutifully served as the wife of Pastor Dr. Hezekiah T. Cleaveland.”

She was nineteen years old when they met. Tall and skinny, but mature for her age. While other girls were throwing themselves at the feet of the handsome young man, Samantha ignored him. She considered him incapable of providing her with the life she knew she deserved. Nonetheless, he pursued her relentlessly, taking her for walks on campus and bringing her mother flowers every time he came to visit.

Samantha gradually began to see in him what he had always seen in himself. A man that could stir the souls of anyone he came in contact with. A man whose magnificent future was as apparent as his striking good looks. He knew he was handsome, but he had never relied on his looks to get ahead. He had something more important, sincerity. When he spoke to you, even if only to say hello, it was as though no one else in the world existed. You had his full attention, and whatever you had on your mind was important to him.

The limousine turned into the parking lot of the church. As he walked toward Catherine's office, he heard the telephone ringing. At the door he could see Catherine crying, with her head on the desk.

“Catherine,” he shouted and entered the room. “Catherine, what's wrong?” He lifted her by the shoulders. “Stop crying and tell me what happened.”

She looked as if she had been physically assaulted. Mascara ran down her cheeks and a scarf was twisted around her neck like a hangman's noose.

“Samantha was just here. She fired me.”

“Fired you. Why? What did she say?”

“She accused me of covering for you. I didn't even have a chance to defend myself. She just stormed in, fired me, and left.”

Hezekiah could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He had learned to tolerate the sometimes volatile behavior of his wife, but he could never stand by and allow her to attack innocent people. “She crossed the line this time. You didn't deserve to be treated that way.”

“Now what am I going to do?” she asked through sobs.

“Come on, stop crying. This entire thing is my fault. You had nothing to do with it.”

“Pastor Cleaveland, you've got to tell her. She wouldn't listen to me.”

“Don't worry, Catherine. She can't fire you. I hired you and I'm the only one who can fire you. Everything is going to be fine,” he said, hugging her. She rested her head on his chest. “I'm so sorry you had to go through this, Catherine.”

“I've never seen her that angry before. I thought she was going to throw something at me. I was frightened. Why does she treat people like that? She has no right.”

When her sobs began to subside, Hezekiah said, “You let me worry about Samantha. Now go to the ladies' room and clean yourself up,” he said, smiling. “Remember, we've got twenty million dollars to raise.”

The intoxication from thoughts of Danny mingled in his head with rage at Samantha and pity for the trauma-stricken Catherine. He now knew what he had to do. Leave Samantha, move in with Danny, and accomplish this feat while maintaining the ministry he had dedicated his life to.

He could tell people that Danny was his housekeeper, or maybe the son of a dear friend in Texas.
There has to be a way to make this work,
he thought.

Particulars of the complicated process raced through his mind. The church was not big enough for the both of them. Samantha would have to leave it and join another one. There was no way he could look at her each Sunday in the audience with venom darting from her eyes. He could pay her to leave the church. Promise her something, anything she wanted, to let him go and allow him to start a new life.

 

Hezekiah, Samantha, and Jasmine sat at their dining-room table having dinner. Etta busily set platters and bowls of food around the well-appointed table. No one spoke and eye contact was avoided.

Over the years Etta had seen the Cleavelands at their best and at their worst. This night was unprecedented, as far as she could recall. She could not begin to imagine how the evening would end, but she hoped she would have the opportunity to retire to her quarters before things got out of control. Her heart went out to Hezekiah as he sat at the head of the table with Jasmine to his right and Samantha to his left. She often wondered why he stayed with her. Why did he put up with her lavish spending and her often unpredictable temper?

“I hope the meat is cooked the way you like it, Pastor,” she said as she placed the last dish on the table.

“I'm sure it's fine, Etta. Thank you.”

“If you need anything else, I'll be in the kitchen.” Etta said a silent prayer for the Cleavelands as she retreated from the room.

Jasmine shuffled food around her plate with her fork. She had grown to hate the dinner ritual. Her mind jumped from remembering the wild events of the previous evening to anticipating the ones scheduled for that night. She tried to ignore the tension between her parents as she prepared an excuse for leaving the house.

“Daddy,” she said innocently, “I need a hundred dollars. I'm going out this evening.”

Before Hezekiah could answer, Samantha stepped in. “Where are you going?”

“I was talking to Daddy.”

Hezekiah sat and barely listened to the exchange. He had a rule not to get involved in arguments between his wife and daughter. He felt the relationship between a mother and daughter was far too complicated for any man to understand.