Deadly Charm (9 page)

“Where were you when Zeekie drowned?”

“I'd gone upstairs to an empty room for
lectio divina
. I do it every day at nine
A.M.
”

I raised an eyebrow. “I don't think I know any fiery Pentecostals into
lectio
. Isn't that practice a bit too high church?”

“Rocky introduced me to it.”

Rocky! Him and his Tony Jones books. He had a copy of
The Sacred Way
surgically attached to him.

Ezekiel looked almost shy about his
lectio
practice, like I'd discovered a dirty little secret. I wondered if he thought I was mocking him. “I take it that you don't teach this.”

He smiled. “No. This is personal. The ancient traditions changed me. I've been slowly adding new practices to my life for the last five years. I know you don't have much respect for me, darlin', but this sinner is actually repentant.”

“You're still a flirt.”

“Just around beauties like yourself.”

“I'm no beauty.”

“Ah, but you're wrong about that, darlin'. And it's not just the outside that looks good to me.”

“I suck.”

He smiled at me. “Maybe that self-deprecating quality is just plain lovable.
Bell
.”

“Cut it out, Thunder.”

“Old habits die hard. My granny used to say, ‘When you see a pretty gal, if you don't look once, you're not a man, and if you look twice, you're not a man of God.' I'm trying to be a man of God. That's the gospel truth.”

Like I could judge him. I stumbled through the ruins of my own sinful sexual past every day, trying to make my way back to God.

Lord, give me your wisdom. How would you deal with a man like him?

And then the awe-inspiring voice of God:
The same way I dealt with you
.

I hung my head, thoroughly chastised by the Lord. A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed, and I went back to
his
lectio
practice. “So what do you do during your time in the empty room?”

“I spend an entire hour in a place where there are as few distractions as possible.” His excitement about the subject shone in his eyes. “You know there are four distinct movements?
lectio, meditatio, oratio
, and
contemplatio
.”

I nodded. I could see he loved the discipline.

“I take a passage from Scripture that I chose ahead of time, and I spend some time reading it, slowly. Several times.”

“What else do you do?”

“Then I meditate on it. I try to make it personal, see how it relates to my own life. If a particular word or two stands out, I meditate on that.”

Again, I nodded my encouragement, not that he needed it now. He had brightened like a child at Christmas.

“Next I respond to the passage. I open my heart to it. This is where the conversation with God begins.”

His voice had such a soothing quality. This was the most authentic talk I'd shared with him. His obvious connection to God through this spiritual exercise charmed me. “And then what happens as you open up to God?”

He took a deep breath, as if he were breathing in God's Spirit. He released it slowly, like a sigh of pure pleasure.

“My favorite part is
contemplatio
. By now I've spent the better part of an hour getting my mind ready to meet God in this movement. I just listen to God, sissy.”

He called me sissy, the Southern endearment for sister, and I doubted if he'd noticed.

“I free my mind of my own thoughts. I don't think about
holy things or the cares of the world. Just me and my Father.”

I had to admit how much that impressed me—a former prosperity and deliverance preacher practicing
lectio divina
and loving it. He had a satisfied grin on his face. A spiritual romantic. No wonder women captivated him like they did King David. He was a lover at heart.

I had to focus, though. I didn't want this man's attractiveness to fool me into not seeing what he was—a suspect, until he was proven not to be. I thought about what he said about going into an empty room. To my knowledge all the rooms in the Rock House house were occupied.

“Which room is empty?”

“The attic. Rocky has been painting it, working on turning it into a nursery for Elisa's baby.”

Okay. That shouldn't have made me feel like he'd kicked me several times in the stomach, and yet…some strange noise burst out of my throat.

Ezekiel took my hand in his. “Are you all right?”

I nodded, still unable to speak.

“You do know that God has heard your prayer, darlin'? You have what you want.” He gave “have” an extra syllable. “Take care of your tumor, sissy.”

“It's probably a cyst or something. I don't know how you knew about that. Maybe you have some kind of gift. Maybe you're just a great manipulator, but—”

“It's a tumor, and it
can
hurt you.”

Honestly! He sounded just like he did on television. I cleared my throat. “You can drop the honey-coated voice of the prophet bit. We're not on camera.”

He sat back. Grinned at me. “You don't like me, do you?”

“I don't know you, Mr. Thunder.”

“Maybe you should get to know me. You might find that we're a lot alike, darlin'.”

I gave him a tight, fake smile. “I don't think we are, Reverend. And don't call me darlin'.” Again I reminded myself that I needed to stop attacking Thunder and get as much useful information as possible. “Who else was home when the accident happened?”

“Just my folks—Nikki, Lou, Joy, and the children. Rocky's staff and Elisa had gone over to the church for a meeting. Rocky was…I'm not sure where he was.”

At my intervention
. But I wasn't about to tell Thunder about
that
.

“Did anyone else know you were in the attic?”

“I'm sure everyone did. Like I said, I do it every day at nine
A.M.
” The tone of his smooth voice only held a hint of irritation at my interrogation.

I didn't say anything. Just cataloged the facts he gave me in my too fatigued brain.

“Bell?”

I looked at Ezekiel. I didn't say he could call me Bell, but I suddenly felt too tired to play the name game.

Again, Ezekiel took my hand in his. “I appreciate your interest in my son, but this was nothing more than a tragic accident. If it's anything other than that, I'm certain God will swiftly and mightily avenge my son's death.”

This from a man who told the media he expected God to raise his son from the dead.

“Good luck with that,” I said.

I meant it, too.

 

I found Sister Joy milling around the kitchen. Her dress was casual today. She wore a simple denim jumper with a red turtleneck underneath. Her hair was pulled into a chignon; a few tendrils had escaped, grazing her neck. She'd made herself a sandwich and was turning away from the counter most likely to sit at the small kitchen table when she saw me. She started and her hand flew to her chest.

“Excuse me,” I said. “I didn't mean to frighten you.”

“Child, you scared me half to death.” She fanned herself, though the room wasn't hot.

“May I sit with you for a bit?”

“I'd be happy for the company. Get my mind offa…” She waved her hand in front of her face as if the gesture would halt the tormenting memory and threatening tears. She took a handkerchief from the pocket of her jumper and dabbed at the moisture brimming in her brown eyes. This honey-colored woman reminded me of so many women in my family. She could be my aunt.

We both sat at the table across from each other. When she set the plate on the table, I reached out and squeezed her hand. “I'm so sorry for your loss, Sister Joy. My name is Amanda. I sat behind you at the crusade Wednesday night.” I fought back my own threatening tears. Zeekie seemed to be a gift to all who
knew him. I needed to be focused, or I'd never be able to help Zeekie as he'd cried out for me to do in my dream.

“Lorda Mercy!” she said. “I didn't think I could cry so.”

“You must have been very close to Zeekie.”

She rocked a bit. “Honey, don't you know, I loved him like he was my own child. I never married or had children. Zeke's kids are about as close as I ever got to being a mama. I took care of that child since
that girl
brought him home from the hospital.”

Something about the way she said “that girl” gave me the feeling Sister Joy didn't head up the Nikki Thunder fan club.

“You must have been with Ezekiel for a long time.”

“A long time,” she repeated, voice full of nostalgia.

“Tell me,” I said. “I love a good story.”

She pushed the plate toward me, offering half her sandwich. I took it and thanked her. There's something about sharing a meal and a story, no matter how meager the meal may be. Maybe the heart opens with the mouth, as memories fresh and sweet as strawberries picked off the vine, still warm from the sun, spill out of souls.

“I grew up with him and, honey child, don't you know, that boy was as slick then as he is now.”

I feigned ignorance. “Slick?”

“Oh, yes, ma'am. You know he is.”

She grinned at me. Yes. I knew.

“Even as a boy, he knew how to charm the ladies. That was one pretty brown boy.”

Her wistful smile said so much more than her words. She'd loved him most of his life.

“Was he ever your beau?”

She lay her palms flat on the table. “Oh Lord, no. We were just friends, but I was always there for him. I was the girl next door. We went to each other's birthday parties and to Sunday school together.”

She smoothed imaginary wrinkles off her jumper. I wondered if she'd counted the cost of loving him, even back when she was still a girl.

“How did his ministry begin?”

This time she smiled broadly. “We'd gone to revival under the big tent when we were fifteen years old, and he gave his heart to Jesus that night. Cried like a baby on a makeshift altar that was just a handmade bench on the grass at the front of the tent.”

Sister Joy sat quietly, hands crossed on her lap. She looked lost in reverie. I took a bite of the heavenly turkey sandwich she'd made—real turkey, not cold cuts. My taste buds rejoiced. I nodded, my mouth full, to encourage her to finish.

She touched her neck briefly. She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands. “Wasn't too much longer after that and he got to preachin' and teachin' himself. All the old folks said he was like a little prophet. Well, he loved the book of Ezekiel, and we got to calling him that. The old folks called him a son of thunder. He put them two together, and Ezekiel Thunder was born. That was his destiny.” She had a faraway look in her eyes, as if she really believed in his calling.

“What was his name before?”

“Norman Dickson.”

“Did you go with him when he went to pursue his destiny?”

“Wished I could have. But he'd always come back home, and I'd be there.”

I wanted to let her know how grateful I was for all that she'd shared with me. “This is the best turkey sandwich I've ever had,” I said.

She grinned and took a bite of her half. When she finished chewing, she blurted out what I'd already surmised. “I've loved that man since we were children.”

Again I touched her hand. “I know what it is to love someone like that. I haven't known him most of my life, but I feel like I've waited for him. Always. Like there was a Jazz-shaped hole in my life that I was always keenly aware of. What I lack in time I've made up for with fierce passion. My feelings for him astonish me sometimes.”

She gave me a knowing glance and a nod, then took another bite. “I went to work for Ezekiel when I was about twenty. His ministry was growing fast.”

“You stayed with him throughout everything? Even when the ministry had all those problems?”

“Yes, ma'am. I believed in Ezekiel Thunder. I was there when he met Jesus, and that was real. All those things that came later, those weren't real. I
knew
him before all that, when he was just a boy who loved Jesus.”

“Did he know how you felt about him?”

“He couldn't miss it. I didn't have to tell him.”

“And he never even considered you?”

“He kissed me once. One starry night when we sat on a grassy hill talking about everything under the sun. It was my first and only kiss.”

Poor Sister Joy. One kiss, and she was her beloved's for the rest of her life. I understood it.

“What happened to Zeekie, Joy? How did he end up drowning?”

Her face clouded with grief. “I don't know. Nobody gave that boy a bath but me. I have to wonder if the whole thing was that girl's fault.”

I didn't think “that girl” was Zekia. “What makes you say that?”

“She didn't have a mother bond, if you ask me. She doesn't have a bond to anybody. She knows how to open her skinny legs, but not her heart. She's not right, that Nikki. You mark my words. That girl told me to relax and do some Bible reading and she'd handle things with the kids. She never handles anything with the kids.”

She sat back against the chair, posture as straight and elegant as she. Shook her head and pressed her lips into a flat line. “I blame myself. I shouldn'ta trusted her.” A fresh wave of tears spilled down her cheeks. “I'd told myself I wasn't those children's mother, but I
was
, Bell. I was his mother. I shoulda given him his bath. He'd be here today if I'da given him his bath.”

“Do you think she would intentionally harm him?”

“That gal isn't right. I wouldn't put anything past her. I can't stand her, I'm ashamed to say. I hate the day Toni brought her home.”