Mr. Layne squirmed. “Cash is king.”
“Cash it is,” Maxwell replied. “Now, let’s get down to business. What do you know about Pastor Harris and Faith Temple?”
The man leaned back. “How much time do you have?”
“As much as you need.” The possibility of getting incriminating evidence was too exhilarating for Maxwell, and he had trouble containing himself.
“I don’t half know where to begin.”
Maxwell wished there was a way to plop a memory stick in the man’s head to extract the necessary information and then send him on his way with the hundred dollars. Dreaming was a waste of time, and he knew it. Truth was, Maxwell could already tell this was going to be a painful extraction. He braced himself for the man’s long-winded recounting of the story, which seemed to be in the making.
“That Pastor Harris needs somebody to kick his behind.”
“Would that be you?” Maxwell asked.
“Nah, not me. He kind of has a restraining order against me. I can’t go near him.”
Maxwell struggled not to show any reaction. He didn’t know whether to burst out in laughter at Mr. Layne’s predicament or kick him out for being stupid. He’d reserve judgment until after hearing more. “Do you mind telling me what happened between you and the pastor?”
“Long story short, Pastor Harris fired me because his wife had a soft spot for me.”
“Say what?”
“You heard me right. I lost my forty-three-thousand-dollar-a-year job as director of music because that Pastor Renaldo Harris is the jealous type.”
Maxwell still couldn’t quite figure our Mr. Layne. Desperate to believe there was substance in his revelation, he was forced to block out the mounting red flags and kept listening.
“That man ruined my life. I’ve been unemployed for two years, while the pastor drives around in his fancy car. I thought the church would block my unemployment benefits, but they didn’t. I’ll admit that helped out for six months, but that ran out months ago. Since then I’ve been doing odd jobs here and there. Nothing permanent.” The man finally paused, but his silence was brief. “I can’t stand being broke like this. Pastor Harris probably eats steak and lobster every weekend, while my family gets by on cereal, beans, and hot dogs.”
The story sounded eerily similar to Maxwell’s past. He knew too well how it felt to be starving while the church leader lived lavishly on the sacrifices of a bunch of gullible followers. Maxwell’s compassion kicked in. “You have a family?”
“A wife and three kids. I’m ashamed to say that my wife has been juggling two jobs to make ends meet while I’ve been out of work.”
“You haven’t been able to find any job in two years?” Maxwell asked.
Mr. Layne took offense. “None paying that kind of money. Pastor Harris robbed me of my blessing. That job was made for me, and he took it away, just because he could. This isn’t right, and there ought to be something I can do to get my job back. I know you’re that big-time attorney that helps people get paid. Think you can help me?”
Maxwell didn’t respond rapidly. His internal struggle was raging. Although in his desperation, he had committed to overlooking the red flags, his instincts didn’t allow him to be as accommodating. Something was off with Mr. Layne. Maxwell felt it, but he didn’t have anyone else sitting in his office with a beef against Faith Temple or, better yet, Pastor Harris. Maxwell lowered his expectations and played along. “I’ve been known to settle a few hefty civil cases when circumstances warrant that level of action. To be honest, Mr. Layne, as ethically and morally wrong as it might have been to fire you, Pennsylvania is an at-will employment state.”
Mr. Layne had a bewildered look, which Maxwell picked up on.
“Basically, that means an employer can fire you for no reason.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. How can you fire somebody when they have a family to take care of?”
Maxwell didn’t care to give Mr. Layne a legal course. “Doesn’t have to make sense. It’s the law. And unless your civil rights were violated when you got fired, I doubt that you have a case.”
“Seriously, you’re going to let him get away with this?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t see how I can help you, unless your rights were violated.”
Mr. Layne pondered this. “Can we get him on anything else?”
“Like what?”
“Anything . . . You know he’s not perfect. What if I know about some other stuff?”
The comment garnered Maxwell’s undivided attention. Now they were getting somewhere. “Are you talking about mismanagement of church funds, sexual harassment, fraud, or what?” Maxwell questioned. Then he mentioned a few more of the usual infractions.
There was a knock on the door. Maxwell ignored it.
Mr. Layne peered around the room, as if he were searching for notes on the wall, and then spoke. “Actually, I do know more, a lot more.” He started cracking his knuckles. “I didn’t want to put the pastor’s business out there, but there’s a whole lot more to tell if the money is right.”
There was a second knock on the door.
“Hmm,” Maxwell groaned. “Well, I’m definitely interested in hearing what you have to say.”
The knocking persisted.
“Excuse me for a second.” Maxwell was more than irritated. Unless the building was on fire, Mr. Layne wasn’t the only one who’d be in the unemployment line. Maxwell yanked the door open and stepped out, then eased the door shut behind him. “It doesn’t look like the building is on fire. So why are you interrupting me?”
His assistant struggled to speak up.
“I asked you a question. Why did you interrupt me after I gave you specific instructions not to bother me during this meeting?” He spewed his words like nails as his fury mounted.
“Your mother called and insisted that I let you know your father is back in the hospital.”
Maxwell sighed.
“I didn’t know what to do. She was very upset and begged me to get you on the phone. She was hoping you could come down to Delaware this evening.”
Maxwell shut his eyelids and rested his forehead in the palm of his hand. When would he catch a break from those people called family? As angry as he should have been, it wasn’t his assistant’s fault that his mother had stirred a panic. “It’s okay. Call her back and tell her I’ll stop by in the morning,” he said, sounding totally drained.
Just then Mr. Layne pulled the door open and pushed past Maxwell.
“Mr. Layne, we aren’t finished. Where are you going?”
A bit cagey, he replied, “The wife is going to be home in an hour. She’ll be wondering where I am if I’m not there. So I’m out of here.”
Maxwell wanted to scream amid the rising chaos but stayed calm. “I understand.”
“Yeah, you know how those wives can be,” Mr. Layne said, chuckling.
Actually, Maxwell had no idea and considered it a gift. “Go on home, and we’ll follow up with you. You’ll get a call either from me or from a man named Garrett in the next couple of days.”
“Cool. I’m glad to finally get some help. Money has been tight.” Mr. Layne cleared his throat. “Speaking of money, can I get my hundred dollars?”
“Sure. Wait here.” Maxwell went to get the money from the petty cash envelope in his desk drawer. When he returned, Mr. Layne snatched it out of his hand.
“Appreciate it,” he said, folding the five twenty-dollar bills and sliding them into his pocket. There was an awkward pause, and then Mr. Layne continued talking. “Mr. Montgomery, there’s no way I’m going to get home in time on the bus. You think I can get that limo to take me back home?”
“Why not?” Maxell turned to his assistant. “Can you arrange the ride for him?” he asked. “Tell them Mr. Layne is in a hurry, and I’ll pay extra.”
“I like the way you work,” Mr. Layne commented.
“Thanks again for coming in. We’ll be in touch,” Maxwell smirked
and then retreated inside his office. He leaned his head against the door, wanting to vanish. Between Pastor Harris and his father, peace was nowhere to be found. Time stood still as Maxwell rested in the moment. Eventually, he’d move away from the door, call Garrett, and put him in touch with Mr. Layne. But for now, he’d cling to his imaginary solitude, which was evaporating with each breath.
Chapter 3
Maxwell pressed the accelerator, anxious to get the last few miles behind him on his reluctant drive to Wilmington Hospital. It was nine thirty Tuesday morning. He would have already been planted at his desk for at least two hours had his mother not pleaded with him to come to Delaware.
Why was she insistent about him coming to the hospital? Didn’t she know he had no interest in being there? He wasn’t willing to come and play the caring son role each time his father had a heart episode. A stable bridge hadn’t been built over the valley of distance between him and his father. He’d told his mother and sister to call him only in the case of a dire emergency. He doubted that this run fit the criteria. So why did he need to be at the hospital twice in the same month?
He looked into the distance, beyond the white dashed lines on the expressway. Far off in the haze, he could see the twenty-three years that had dawdled by since he’d run from the crowded two-bedroom apartment his parents called home. Back then he’d changed his name from Paul to Maxwell and cut his family out of his life.
The screaming siren and the flashing lights coming from an approaching ambulance rescued Maxwell from the memories lurking in his mind. He steered the car onto the shoulder and watched the ambulance whisk by. After a quick glance down at his watch, he pulled back onto the expressway and hit the accelerator, ignoring the speed limit. He had an urgent need to handle the hospital situation and get back to where he belonged.
Upon reaching the hospital, Maxwell parked his car, walked quickly inside, and headed straight for the information desk. Once he was equipped with the floor and room number for his father, he trudged to the elevator and got on when the doors slid open. When he stepped out of the elevator and onto the fifth floor, a nurse rushed past him. He hopped backward to keep her from slamming into him. There was some commotion at the end of the hallway. People were rushing around with their voices raised. He headed down the same hallway to room 524.
As he got closer to the room, he heard screaming and crying. A woman yelled out, “No, don’t take him. Don’t let him die.” Maxwell felt his heartbeat speed up and a surge of nervous energy pass through his body. Could it be his father’s room? Was his father dead? He took longer steps, refusing to allow his legs to break into a sprint. The screams got louder as he got closer. A doctor and two nurses pushing a defibrillator machine exited the room. Maxwell froze, sucked in a deep breath, and then his body was in motion again. When he reached the doorway, Maxwell was instantly relieved. The screams were coming from room 522. Maxwell swallowed hard as he brushed at the sleeve of his suit jacket.
He walked a few more steps and stopped outside room 524. The door was open. The room was empty, chilly, and quiet. Perplexed, Maxwell made an about-face and went directly to the nurses’ station.
“Paul Montgomery is supposed to be in room 524, but I can’t find him,” he told the nurses seated behind a long counter.
The male nurse asked, “Are you a relative?”
Maxwell hesitated, then answered, “He’s my father.”
The nurse glanced over a chart. “Looks like your father went to radiology for some presurgery tests.”
Surgery, Maxwell thought.
The nurse directed him to a waiting room around the corner. Maxwell’s eyes shot up to the big white clock on the wall behind the nurses’ station. The morning was advancing rapidly. Of course, no one else understood or cared that he had clients waiting for him back at the office. It was a reality he knew well. His priorities had never been considered when it came to his family.
Maxwell headed toward the waiting room. He stopped to collect himself before entering the room. As he stood in the doorway, Maxwell saw his sister, Christine, staring out the window. Her back was turned to him, but he knew it was Christine standing there, twisting her hair around her finger like she did when they were kids. He closed the door behind him, and she glanced over her shoulder.
A hard grin parted her lips. She rushed over to Maxwell and draped her arms around him. “I’m so glad you came. Mom and Dad need both of us.”
Maxwell gave her a half hug with one arm and pushed her back gently to break her hold on him. “Apparently, Mom felt that I needed to be here. Where is she, anyway?”
“She’s with Dad. He’s having some test done,” Christine offered, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Well, she kept asking me to come and wouldn’t let up on the phone calls until I agreed.” He sighed. “So I’m here. But I won’t be for long.”
Christine took a step backward. Her glance scaled his tall figure from head to toe. “Of course you won’t. I’m so tired of this ridiculous ongoing battle that you keep fighting. Okay, so Mom and Dad made a mistake. They trusted Bishop Ellis Jones in what turned out to be a crooked real estate scheme. Haven’t they paid for that mistake?”
“Do you think they have?” Maxwell retorted.
“Yes, a thousand times over,” she answered. “You know they lost practically everything. They had to start over in a tiny apartment, but they made it. We made it.”
“Speak for yourself. The transition wasn’t easy for me,” he said, consciously controlling his delivery. “I had to struggle and make my own way in college without a single dollar from them.”
“All this because they lost your college fund? So what,” she blurted, flailing her arms. “You got a full ride to college, anyway.” Christine brushed her hand over the jacket of Maxwell’s dark blue tailor-made suit. “Law school too.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is that we survived. We’re here. Isn’t that a good enough reason to let this grudge go?”
Maxwell’s left cheek quivered at the same time that his nostrils widened and then deflated. “You can’t tell me how to feel. You don’t even know the whole story.” He jabbed his balled-up fist against his leg twice and darted to the window.
Christine followed him. “Okay, tell me what I don’t know.”
He thrust one hand into his pants pocket and braced the other against the large window frame. For a couple of minutes he was silent, until Christine touched his shoulder. He spun around to face her, and his feelings erupted. “You are right about my scholarship. It got me through college, no thanks to our parents.”
“Good for you. So why are you upset?”
“Because the scholarship covered tuition, a room, and books, and that was it. Food was on me. I had to eat noodles practically every day,” he ranted while pounding his fist into the palm of his other hand. “When I got tired of eating practically nothing, I had to tutor evenings and every weekend for food money. I didn’t have any home-cooked meals or weekend trips home to do laundry. And I darn sure didn’t have my parents yelling my name on graduation day. Why was that, Christine?”
“That was your choice. You didn’t want any of us there.”
“So now you’re going to blame me.” Maxwell yanked his hand out of his pants pocket and clapped his hands together loudly inches from Christine’s face. “When are you going to wake up and see that our father put the church before his own children? My father is—” He stopped abruptly. Maxwell’s heart rate soared. His palms were sweating, and he realized he had been shouting. The people in the waiting room had stopped talking and were fixated on him and Christine. He was mortified. Refusing to be a spectacle, he adjusted his tone.
Christine leaned in closer to Maxwell with gritted teeth and a scowl. “You’re right. I guess I didn’t know how much you were hurt. How could I? You left home at seventeen, during your last year of high school. You changed your name and left us behind like you never knew us, remember?” She sighed and kept
her eyes shut for a short while before speaking again. Her tone eased. “Dad is having open heart surgery and a replacement pacemaker today. We don’t know how long he’s going to be with us.” She gently placed her hand on Maxwell’s shoulder. “Let’s worry about now and let the old stuff go. All that stuff happened over twenty years ago. Grow up and just let it go.”
Maxwell and Christine stood toe-to-toe, with only stale air between them. Suddenly his phone blared from his jacket pocket, signaling the end of this round. Christine snatched up her purse from the chair behind her, and with every step, her heels stabbed the tile floor as she exited the waiting room. Maxwell silenced his ringing phone and put it on vibrate after seeing his assistant’s number on the display. He loosened his tie, checked the wall clock and then his wristwatch. He needed to go, but it didn’t seem fitting to walk out without at least acknowledging his mother. She hadn’t come to the waiting room, so Maxwell walked swiftly back to room 524 hoping to find her there. When he got to the room, his mother was alone, talking on the phone. Her face blossomed as she stretched out her arm and extended an open palm to Maxwell. The moment he touched her hand, she folded him into her embrace. He stood there, stiff, staring at the empty bed. His mother wrapped up the call in seconds.
“I am so glad you came. I’ve missed you. The nurse is bringing your dad downstairs now. They just finished his tests. He will be going into surgery soon,” she told him.
Maxwell felt antsy. Being close to his folks was too much of a reminder. He had clawed his way to the top and wasn’t going to let them drag him back to the worst period in his life. “I can’t stay long. I have to get back to Philly.”
“You’re going to stay for the surgery, right? Your dad is having a special pacemaker put in this morning. I forget what they call it. Anyway, the one he has isn’t strong enough, because his heart has weakened since he had that massive heart attack last year.” She gripped his hand. “You have to stay.” She turned to check the doorway. “Did you see Christine?”
“I saw her. She’s around here somewhere.” Maxwell pulled his hand free and slid it into his pocket.
Redeemed Page 2
