Redeemed

by Patricia Haley

  He grabbed a seat in his study at the church and read the article about Maxwell Montgomery’s investigation of Faith Temple. Of all the churches in the area, Pastor Harris couldn’t figure out what was motivating Maxwell to come after his ministry. The headline read WILL FAITH TEMPLEWITHSTANDTHEMONTGOMERYMACHINE?PastorHarris answered that question for himself. Nothing had been confirmed: there were no improprieties, there was no issue with the church’s 501c3, and the board of trustees was beyond reproach. His salary was managed and paid by the board of trustees. He never touched a dime from any of the offerings that were collected. The treasurer and finance director were bonded and handled the church’s money and investments meticulously. He was certain they could account for every penny, even those that fell onto the floor and rolled into a corner.

  Maxwell had messed around and picked a fight too big for him to handle. Pastor Harris aimed to let him know. He scrolled through his directory. When he found Maxwell’s number, he dialed and waited patiently for someone to answer.

  “Attorney Maxwell Montgomery speaking.”

  “This is Pastor Harris. I appreciate you taking my call. I know you’re busy working on the case against me.”

  “Nothing personal. I’m only doing my job.”

  “Well, I want you to know I don’t have anything to hide. My ministry is an open book.”

  “Are you sure about that? Everyone has something to hide.”

  Pastor Harris sat up straight in his chair. “Does that include you?”

  “Humph. I’m not the one on a stage every Sunday morning, putting on a show to take people’s hard-earned money.”

  “Then why bother digging for information when you can ask me whatever it is that you want to know?” Pastor Harris retorted.

  “You expect me to blindly believe whatever you tell me? That’s called faith, right? Well, the law isn’t founded on faith. It’s founded on proof. You know, a little something called evidence. So I’ll stick with the investigation process. It’s proven to be most effective in the past.”

  “Well, Mr. Montgomery, complete your investigation. When you come up empty-handed, and you will, the doors of the church will still be open to you. Until then, I want you to know that I forgive you and will be praying for you. Have a good day, Attorney Montgomery.”

  The line went dead. Maxwell was the only one still holding the phone. He forgives me? He slammed his hand down on the desk, thinking about the pastor’s arrogance. His breathing got heavy. A vein in his right temple became engorged and began to pulsate at the same rapid tempo as his heartbeat. His anger thrust him from his chair and drove him to pace his office floor. Why did he need forgiveness? For doing his job? For daring to be the one who challenged organized religion? Did he need forgiveness for being the one to hold the church accountable?

  Maxwell marched back to his desk and yanked open the top left drawer. He rummaged through it with determination and fury, shoving things out of his way. The furious attorney latched onto the stress ball as if it were a lifeline. He squeezed it and counted under his breath, “One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three . . .” He stopped when his palm was tired and cramping. His breathing had slowed, and the vein in his temple was no longer swollen.

  He plopped into his high-back chair, planted his arms against the armrests, and tapped his left foot. The intercom on his desk buzzed. Before it could buzz a second time, he reached over and hit the DO NOT DISTURB button. With his head pressed against the headrest, Maxwell slowly swiveled his chair around. His back faced the office door. He closed his eyes and allowed the quiet to wash over him.

  Pastor Harris sat there, silently considering his conversation with the attorney. He was driven by a mission that seemed right. Something the attorney had said echoed in the pastor’s mind. Everyone has something to hide. The pastor considered the implications of those words. Perhaps there was another phone call that he now needed to make—one that Pastor Harris had hoped to avoid, but Maxwell wasn’t giving him much choice. He had to find a top notch defense attorney just in case this battle went the distance. He didn’t know where to begin looking and would have to rely on God for direction.

  Chapter 33

  Sitting on the sofa in her living room, Nicole reached for the glass of wine her fiancé was handing to her. He sat down next to her and placed his glass on the sofa table behind him.

  Nicole fidgeted, like she couldn’t find a comfortable position next to him.

  “Relax so we can talk about our plans.”

  “Not now. I’m tired. I just want to unwind,” she said, sipping the wine.

  “I get that, but every time I bring up the wedding plans, you want to change the subject.”

  “That’s not true,” she replied.

  “Okay, so when are you selling this condo and moving into my house?”

  Nicole was ready for marriage, at least she thought she was. It was refreshing to have a man who knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to commit, but she didn’t want to get lost in his world. She’d worked hard to be her own woman. She was a senior executive who could make her own decisions. Selling her place meant surrendering a piece of her independence. Once she moved into James’s house, he’d be able to call the shots. That didn’t sit well with her.

  “I have not decided whether to sell my condo or keep it as a rental property. We’re still discussing that one, remember?” There were several other issues that had to be resolved, but she didn’t want to deal with it right now. She’d rather change the subject. “I need your help.” She grinned and stroked his forearm.

  “Sure, babe. What do you need?” he said, gazing at her.

  “Well, I sort of committed us to babysitting this weekend.”

  “Who are we babysitting?”

  She snuggled closer to him and offered a soft answer. “My friend’s two-year-old daughter.”

  He leaned back, putting a slight bit of distance between them. “Now, you know I don’t do the kid thing.”

  “Come on. Help me out. We’ll spend a few hours watching a cute little girl play with her toys. It’ll be fun.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Besides, this will give you a good taste of what it will be like as a parent.”

  “Nicole, stop it. I don’t want to debate this. You can’t manipulate me into changing my mind about having kids. I do not want children. I’ve told you that repeatedly, and I mean it.”

  Nicole sat up straighter and faced him. “But you’d be a wonderful father. I know it.”

  “Maybe, but it’s not for me. You know I grew up in a lousy family. My parents argued from sunup until sundown. I have a dysfunctional relationship with my parents and my siblings. It’s a shock that I made it out of there with any type of emotional stability. I’m not doing that to any kid. That’s final.”

  She popped up from the sofa and pushed up both sleeves of her blouse. “You don’t have to help me babysit, but this discussion isn’t over if we plan on getting married. The bottom line is that I want children,” she muttered. “And that’s that,” she stated and headed toward the kitchen, deserting him completely. Her words were heavy with annoyance and hung in the air.

  In his office downtown, Maxwell struggled to focus. He had too much to do to allow his concentration to be derailed. He shoved Nicole from his thoughts. It had been over a week since they had had lunch. He needed to harness his thoughts. He had no time to spare, and there was no room in his mind for anything but exposing the senior pastor of Faith Temple. Maxwell was determined to unmask Pastor Harris in a very public manner. After calling a couple of contacts in the state capitol and the local media outlets, he jotted down another angle to pursue in his investigation. Maxwell wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable with Layne’s story about Pastor Harris and Faith Temple, but there wasn’t any other story that he could leak to the media. A moment later there was a knock on his door. He couldn’t be disturbed. The knocking persisted. He went to the door and snatched it open. His assistant was standing there.

 
“I’m pretty tied up. What do you need?”

  “Sorry to disturb you, but there’s a woman on the phone who will give only her first name, Nicole. She said you’d want to speak with her.”

  Maxwell became chipper. “Yes, uh, please forward her call, and thanks,” he said, closing the door before his assistant could respond.

  The line had barely rung before he grabbed it. “What a surprise hearing from you,” he told Nicole in a lighthearted voice. “You must need an attorney.” He considered the files and papers scattered across his desk, which dared him to stop working. He took the challenge and turned his chair away from the desk and stretched out his legs. Maxwell loosened his tie and gave her his attention, something he would not have done a year ago.

  “Don’t need a lawyer. Just a friend.”

  “Are you okay?” He tightened his grip on the phone. His faint smile dissolved.

  “I guess I’m okay.”

  “You don’t sound okay. What’s up?”

  “Nothing really. I’m just a little frustrated.”

  “I can stop by your place when I finish here if you want to talk. I’ll bring some of that hand-packed butter pecan ice cream you like.”

  “No, that would be disrespectful to James, having you come over. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to pass. I’ll be fine.”

  “I understand.” But Maxwell wasn’t giving up so easily.

  “But didn’t you tell me you need a friend? If so, I’m your man.”

  She laughed.

  They engaged in small talk briefly.

  “So what is it that has you all frazzled?” he asked.

  “I guess I’m still a little upset. James and I had a disagreement.”

  “Couples do have those occasionally.”

  “I guess, but you and I didn’t have disagreements, until I wanted to take our relationship to the next level and you didn’t.”

  “And now you’re getting married.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  He searched for excitement in her voice, but it was yet to be realized. He hadn’t heard it in her voice when they met for lunch, and it wasn’t there now. “Are you happy?”

  Nicole was slow to answer. Seconds later she replied, “I’m getting married. Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

  His ability to extract information from an unwilling party kicked in. “Something is wrong. That’s clear to me as your friend and as someone who knows you. I heard it in your voice when you called. You can talk to me.”

  Nicole cleared her throat but did not respond.

  “Listen, Nicole.” His voice softened. “What’s wrong? I care about you. Whatever you tell me, it stays between us. Let me be your friend.”

  To her, he seemed genuinely concerned. That was unexpected coming from Maxwell. She allowed a quiet breath to slip across her lips. Afterward, words spilled out of her heart like water bubbling up from a fountain. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m happy. At least I have a measure of happiness. Don’t get me wrong. I have no doubt that James loves me. He’s very attentive, makes me a priority, and I enjoy spending time with him. We have a lot in common—”

  Maxwell interrupted her. “You can have a lot in common with an enemy. There has to be more there, right? What is it?”

  “He’s a great guy. He reminds me of you in some ways. He’s very driven and definitely knows what he wants and doesn’t want.” Her voice dipped. “Unfortunately, what he doesn’t want is a child.” She sighed.

  “And you do?”

  “Definitely. As a matter of fact, I don’t think that I can be happy without children in the marriage. I want that special bond with my husband. I want to share the experience of having a child together. The pregnancy, the swollen feet, and especially the midnight cravings, I want it all.” She pressed her palm against her flat stomach to soothe the ache inside.

  Maxwell had nothing snappy or witty to say. For once, words escaped him. Being a friend was more difficult than he’d realized.

  Chapter 34

  Maxwell eased out of the parking lot and into traffic. He took a quick sip from his Starbucks cup and turned off his windshield wipers. The brief summer shower had only antagonized the humidity. He clicked the down arrow on the temperature control unit. As he stopped at a red light, he shifted his cell phone back and forth in his hand. Should he make the phone call he’d been considering for the past couple of days? It wasn’t his business. Would Nicole be angry if he told her what was going to do? The green light gave him the go-ahead, but only in traffic. Still not sure he should do it, he drove another ten minutes toward city hall. In an instant, he whipped his car across a lane of traffic, with a screeching car horn loudly admonishing him. The NO PARKING sign at the curb did nothing to deter Maxwell.

  No sense in calling Garrett for help. Maxwell remembered there was an old business acquaintance he could call. He’d used his services before meeting Garrett. Maxwell punched the CALL button the moment he located the name. The gatekeeper put his call right through.

  “Hello, Mr. Montgomery. It’s been several years since we’ve spoken. How may I help you?”

  “I need a background check on someone.” He tapped his fingertips against the steering wheel.

  “We’d be glad to take care of that for you. You’re not using Hughes Investigation any longer? We would be glad to get your business back.”

  “It’s nothing like that. Garrett’s pretty swamped with a project right now. I simply need the background check. Are you able to do it or not?”

  “Of course we’d be glad to take care of it. I will get one of my investigators on it right away. What information do you have on the person?”

  “The name is James Washington. He’s from the Washington, D.C., area. Probably in his thirties. I think he’s a psychiatrist in private practice. That’s about all I have.”

  “That’s a good start. I will get the information to you by the end of the week.”

  “Friday at the latest, right?”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Montgomery. Not a problem.”

  “Okay. I can wait until then.” Maxwell ended the call and pressed down hard on the accelerator. He was as eager to get to his destination as he was for the calendar to say Friday.

  Quiet filled the house. No barking dog pleading to be taken outside. No wife and children to hustle out of the bathroom. No dirty pots left from the prior evening’s home-cooked meal messing up his kitchen. Maxwell didn’t have to be bothered with any of those inconveniences. He plopped down on the sofa in the living room with a glass of ice-cold ginger ale, a ham and cheese hoagie, and the remote control. The Philadelphia Eagles football game would fill his Sunday afternoon.

  Sitting idly, he tried faithfully to push her from his mind; he had yet to be successful.

  “Mr. Montgomery, I’m almost finished. As soon as I fold the last load of laundry, I’ll be leaving,” his cleaning lady called out.

  “I forgot you were here. You’re always so quiet.”

  “Well, you don’t pay me to talk,” the elderly lady said. “Half the time I don’t believe you should be paying me to clean twice a week, when your house doesn’t need it.”

  “We aren’t going to have this discussion again, are we?” he said, very humored.

  Maxwell enjoyed having her come regularly. She was the closest he had locally to a mother figure. She’d endured a hard life as a single mother who’d put her children through college, only to have her son die of cancer and her daughter in a car accident. She was a trooper with pride who wasn’t looking for a handout. Maybe that was why he was so eager to help, without compromising her dignity. Paying her three hundred dollars twice a week for basically doing nothing was fine with him. The fact that she didn’t go to church and was willing to work on Sundays ensured her employment with Maxwell indefinitely.

  “By the way, I didn’t cash my last week’s paycheck. You made a mistake and paid me five hundred dollars too much. I have the check in my purse. I will get it, and you can write me another one.�
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  “It wasn’t a mistake. Your birthday was last week. The check is right. Cash it. Do something nice for yourself.”

  “Oh my,” she said, choking up. “Every year you remember my birthday. I appreciate it.” She dropped her head. “After my two children died, I didn’t expect anybody else to do anything for me on my birthday, not having any other family and all.” She slipped a handkerchief from her dress pocket. “It means so much to me that you remember my birthday. Not a year goes by that you forget. You’re like a son to me.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

  Maxwell was genuinely touched. “You deserve every dollar I pay you. I don’t have time to even toss a load of towels into the washer. You take good care of this place.”

  “I try, and by the way, I just finished the kitchen floor. Be careful and don’t you scuff it up now.” She snickered at her own comment. “Oh, by the way, I think it was nice of you to attend that deacon’s funeral.” She untied her apron and folded it over her arm and turned to leave.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  The cleaning lady faced her employer. “That deacon who was killed in prison. I figured you’d gone to his funeral. I just think that was nice of you.”

  His arm stretched out toward the TV, and he muted the volume. “I didn’t go to the funeral.”

  She took a couple of steps closer to him. “Oh no? Huh. That’s strange, because my neighbor was a close friend of the deacon and his wife. She told me she saw you there.”

  With his head tilted to the left and with a wrinkled brow, he was adamant. “I was absolutely not in that church, attending anybody’s funeral.”

  “But my friend saw your car there when she walked up the sidewalk. Your plates say JUSTICE. She remembered seeing your car in the driveway a few times when she dropped me off here to work. That’s how she knew your license plates. She said the funeral was so sad. The wife was just torn up, and those poor boys cried and cried.”