The Last Sunday

by Terry E. Hill

  Silence fell between them. The only sound that could be heard was the gentle gurgling of the spa in the distance and the purr of Parker at their feet.

  Danny finally spoke. “You’re right, Gideon. I do love you. I’m just afraid.”

  “Afraid of what? You shouldn’t be afraid to love.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll lose you, just like I lost Hezekiah. I loved him, and look what happened. She took him from me, and now she’s threatening to take you. I couldn’t take that, Gideon.”

  “She’s not going to take me from you. I promise. No one will ever be able to separate me from you. I’ve searched my entire life for you, and now that I have found you, no one is going to come between us.”

  Danny wanted to believe him. He needed to believe him. He had never imagined that so soon after Hezekiah’s death, he would be within a breath’s length of a man so warm and so loving. A man who summoned the same feelings of love from deep in his heart. It had taken a lifetime for him to find Hezekiah and only a second to lose him. And now the same feelings of warmth, security, and love were upon him again. This man had simply appeared in his world, unannounced and with no warning.

  The loneliness and despair he had felt in the months after Hezekiah’s death had been slowly replaced with comfort and hope. The same reflection he saw in Hezekiah’s eyes was there in Gideon’s. Danny felt he existed once again when Gideon looked at him. He existed because Gideon could see him. He was alive because Gideon could feel the warmth from his weary body. There was value in his words because Gideon could hear him and said the same words back to him.

  Danny trembled as Gideon pulled him closer. “I love you, Danny St. John,” he whispered. The words seemed to skim across the glassy surface of the turquoise pool, then echo through the palms and spill down the hill into the canyon below.

  “I love you, Gideon Truman,” Danny whispered back, finally releasing the words from his heart. “Please don’t leave me.”

  Chapter 7

  “I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Why haven’t you returned my calls?”

  “I’ve been busy, David,” Samantha replied sharply. “In case you haven’t heard, I’m opening one of the largest churches in the world this Sunday.”

  David sat down behind the desk in his home office. He was relieved to hear Samantha’s voice, despite the sharp tone in her response. The office was dark except for the glow from a laptop computer. A picture of Samantha beaming in front of the new glass cathedral filled the screen. The caption below read, “Pastor Cleaveland welcomes you to New Testament Cathedral.” The remains from his third brandy sat dripping condensation onto a leather blotter.

  “I just wanted to hear your voice. How are you?”

  “Never mind that,” she snapped. “Are you alone?”

  David looked at the closed door. He could hear Scarlett rattling pans in the kitchen. “Yes. Scarlett is in the other room. Why? What’s wrong?”

  “I got a call from Gideon Truman. He told me that Danny St. John is still alive. That’s what’s wrong.”

  “Alive!” David exclaimed. “Are you sure? That’s fantastic! That means I didn’t kill him.”

  “No, David, that is not fantastic, you fool. If he talks, you and I will stand trial for attempted murder.”

  “But it was self-defense. He was blackmailing you. You thought he had a gun.”

  “None of that matters. I can’t be involved in anything this sordid. The press will eat me alive. There’ll be a drawn-out court case, and even if I’m found innocent in the end, I will most definitely lose everything.”

  “But . . . maybe he won’t talk. He is just as guilty as you,” David said pleadingly. The entire conversation had unfolded in his head long before the words were spoken. He knew and feared where it was leading. “Maybe we scared him enough that now he’ll just disappear,” was his feeble attempt at heading off the inevitable.

  “It’s too late for that. I told you Gideon Truman is the one who told me. So obviously, he’s not too afraid to talk.”

  David let out an exasperated sigh, and the full weight of his body sank into the desk chair. With a trembling hand, he reached for the drink on the desk and in one gulp downed the remains. The taste of melted ice cubes was followed by the smooth, earthy flavor of brandy.

  “You need to give him the money. Give him more than what he asked for,” David said pleadingly.

  “And what about Gideon?” was her matter-of-fact reply.

  “Offer him money too. Every man has a price.”

  “I won’t pay those sons of bitches a fucking nickel, and I’m disappointed that you would suggest it. This is obviously too much for you to handle, so I’ll deal with it myself.”

  “Wait a minute, Samantha,” David said, jumping to his feet. “Don’t hang up. I’m just trying to come up with possible solutions.”

  “There’s only one solution, and I think you know what it is.”

  Samantha skillfully let her last statement hang in the air to allow the full weight of its implications to settle in.

  “You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying,” David finally uttered.

  “It’s the only solution.”

  “But . . . are you talking about . . . murder?” he whispered.

  “I’m talking about keeping us out of jail so we can continue to do God’s work.”

  “I can’t do it, Samantha.”

  “So you were lying to me when you said you would kill a thousand men for me and that you would do anything I told you. I guess you were also lying when you said you loved me.”

  David’s hesitation came as no surprise to Samantha. She was used to the weak constitutions of men. She had mastered the art of manipulating fainthearted men to do her bidding after years of moving Hezekiah with the nimble hands of a master puppeteer.

  Before they married, Hezekiah’s dream had been to be a missionary in Uganda. Samantha had dutifully agreed and had encouraged his dream, until their wedding day in the little church in Compton. From that point on she had employed every tactic she had learned from watching her mother mold and transform her father into the pastor of one of the largest churches in the city at that time. And just as they were for her mother, sexual coercion, guilt, flattery, and threats were the tools she employed to make Hezekiah into the man she needed him to be. In time, she convinced him to open the small church in the storefront on Imperial Highway, and New Testament Cathedral was born.

  After years of practice there was nothing Samantha could not convince a man to do on her behalf. There was no mountain too high to climb and no pit too deep to fall into for the love and approval, or even the simple approving glance, of Samantha Cleaveland. Those who were gay, straight, black, white, and every hue in between were susceptible to her mesmerizing smile and smoldering sensuality.

  “You know I wasn’t lying,” David responded with force. “I love you. I worship you. I would do anything for you, but—”

  “If you really loved me, David, you would not allow them to do this to me. You’re weak and a liar. Just like Hezekiah.”

  “Don’t compare me to him!” David shouted. “Don’t ever compare me to him. I’m more of a man than he ever was.”

  Samantha stepped up the pressure. “No, you’re not. He wasn’t much of a man, and neither are you.” Her timing was perfect, as usual.

  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it. I’m just—”

  “Never mind, David. I should have never expected more from you. You’re wasting my time now. Go back to your wife and daughter and have a blessed life.”

  “Don’t hang up, Samantha!” he shouted. “I’ll do it, damn it. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove how much I love you.”

  At that moment the office door flung open and Scarlett seethed in the threshold. “Who are you talking to, David? Is that her?” she shouted.

  David turned abruptly and placed his hand over the mouthpiece. “What are you screaming about?” he asked angrily. “I’m on the phone.”

 
; “I heard everything you said. Are you talking to Samantha Cleaveland?”

  David returned to the call. “I have to go. I will call you later.”

  “Is that Scarlett?” Samantha asked cautiously.

  “I have to go now,” he repeated.

  “Don’t say anything about this to her, David.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “I heard you,” Scarlett said, approaching David. What will you do to prove how much you love her? What did she ask you to do?”

  “That’s none of your business, Scarlett. You’re being ridiculous. I can’t talk to you when you’re this hysterical.”

  “You’re in love with her. She’s out of your league, David. She’ll chew you up and spit you out, just like she does everyone in her life.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I suggest you get out and leave me alone.”

  “I won’t leave you alone!” she shouted even louder. “You’re my husband, not hers! I’m warning you, David. She’s evil. She’ll destroy you if you get too close to her.”

  “Shut up!” he shouted, raising his hand, as if to strike her. “Shut your fucking mouth! You lied to me all these years about Natalie. God only knows what else you’ve been lying about, so how can you judge anyone?”

  “I’ve told you a thousand times I lied only to protect Natalie. It was a mistake. I should have told you the truth.”

  “It’s too late for that now.”

  Scarlett walked closer to David. She raised her hand and placed it gently on his cheek. “It’s not too late, David,” she said pleadingly. “It’s not too late to save our family.”

  David violently pushed her hand away. “Family,” he replied mockingly. “We are not a family. Natalie is not my daughter, and she never was.”

  “I never told you she was.”

  “You also conveniently didn’t tell me she was the bastard child of Hezekiah Cleaveland. Always protecting your own ass, regardless of who gets hurt. And believe me, Scarlett, you hurt me deeply. But to be honest, I don’t think that really matters to you. What really matters to you is that you maintain that ridiculous victim routine you’ve crafted your whole fucking life. ‘Poor, poor me. Look at how poorly the world has treated me. Look at how Hezekiah abandoned me. Look at how cruelly Samantha treated me. Now look at how my no-good husband is treating me, even after I told him the truth. The world is so cruel.’ Well, I’ve got a news flash for you, Scarlett. I don’t care anymore,” he said sarcastically. “Boo the fucking hoo. My advice to you is that you should do whatever it takes for you to sleep at night, and you can fucking bet I’m going to do the same.”

  With his final words spoken, David pushed her aside and exited the room.

  “She’s going to destroy you, David!” Scarlett shouted to his retreating body. “She’s going to destroy you, just like she did Hezekiah. I’m not going to let her destroy my life again, David!”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, my guest tonight is Pastor Samantha Cleaveland,” the host said with a British accent. “For the one or two of you out there who don’t know who she is, I’ll tell you. Pastor Cleaveland has the distinction of being one of the most popular pastors in the world and is the head of one of the largest congregations in the United States.”

  Samantha sat across the acrylic desk from Jonathan Moran. His boyish looks were broadcast live to the home of millions each evening on CNN. Studio lights and the electric blue set made his cheeks look unnaturally rosy.

  “Welcome, Pastor Cleaveland. Thank you so much for joining us this evening. I have to tell you I have been looking so forward to meeting you in person.”

  Samantha wore a Versace floral two-piece lace suit with four crystal buttons, a notched collar, and long sleeves with scalloped cuffs. “Thank you, Jonathan. It’s a pleasure for me to be here.” Her black hair caught every ray of artificial light that pointed in her direction.

  “I don’t mean to gush,” the host continued, “and I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you are an exquisite woman. I, like most other people in this country, have seen you on television, and I thought you were stunning, but my heavens, you are even more beautiful in person. I hope that doesn’t offend you.”

  “Not at all,” Samantha said, flashing only a portion of her signature smile. “On the contrary, I’m flattered.”

  “Good. Now that that’s out of the way, and you’ve reduced me to a jabbering schoolboy,” he said with a shy smile, “let’s talk about what’s going on in your life. I know you most likely would prefer not to talk about it, but I feel like we must. You lost your husband, Pastor Hezekiah T. Cleaveland, in one of the most horrific and astonishing ways anyone could possibly imagine. I guess there’s no delicate way to put it, but he was killed right in front of you, in the pulpit of your church, New Testament Cathedral, in Los Angeles. I can’t even begin to fathom what that must have been like for you.”

  Samantha indulged the tiresome host and responded, “I don’t mind talking about it, Jonathan. It seems the more I talk about it, the quicker I’ve been able to heal. Sometimes I can’t believe it actually happened. One moment he was standing in front of me, full of life, and the next, he was lying in my arms, breathing his last breath. I still have a hard time accepting the fact that he’s actually gone. It all happened so quickly.”

  “Do you have any idea who did this?”

  “The police have very few leads. They’ve warned me that the more time that passes, the more unlikely it is that they will be able to identify his killer.”

  “That must make you furious. I mean, that this—I hesitate to even call him a person—that this animal is still out there and could possibly never be apprehended.”

  “It did at first, and that’s the natural response when a loved one is taken from you unnecessarily. I’ll admit I initially wanted him to be arrested and to suffer the same fate he inflicted upon my husband. But the more I prayed about it and the more I was able to let go of my anger and turn it over to God, the better I began to feel. The Bible tells us that God will never put more on us than we can bear, and after this test I truly believe that.”

  “Now, you, in a very short time after his death, were installed as the pastor of your church. Some of my colleagues in the media have been very harsh and have criticized you for not waiting an appropriate amount of time after his death. Some have called you, and I’m quoting here, ‘power hungry.’ How do you respond to those who have said that you’re just not ready and this was simply a desperate move on your part to hang on to the religious empire you and your husband built?”

  “I would say that everyone is entitled to their opinion,” Samantha said, unfazed. “But at the end of the day that is all it is, an opinion. If they knew the facts, I don’t think they would say those things.”

  “Then, please tell us the facts. What possessed you to step into the position of pastor only two short months after your husband’s death?”

  “The simple answer is that I was asked by the board of trustees to take over the position. Whether it’s true or not, they felt I was the best person to continue the work of our ministry in the absence of Hezekiah. Believe me, I wanted nothing more than to go to my room and lie under the covers for the rest of my life after it happened, but God had a different plan for me. So when they approached me with their decision, I was shocked and, I must admit, a bit terrified.”

  “Why terrified? Weren’t you always deeply involved in the day-to-day operations of the church, and you’re an ordained minister, correct?”

  “That is correct. I am an ordained minister, and I hold a doctorate in theology from Brighton Theological Institute. I also have an MBA.”

  “I don’t think anyone has ever questioned your qualifications. I’ve heard you speak on several occasions, and each time I was so moved, you left me on the verge of tears. It’s more the timing of the appointment.”

  “What most people don’t realize is that Hezekiah and I built New Testament Cathedral
together.”

  “Really? I, for one, didn’t know that.”

  “Yes. Hezekiah was a charismatic and bigger-than-life man. He had an uncanny mastery of the scriptures, and I truly believe he had a special connection to God. But the day-to-day operations of the church, the television ministry, and all the national and international components of the work were primarily my responsibility. Even many people who are intimately involved with us had no idea of the depth and breadth of my involvement in the church, and to be honest, I preferred it that way.”

  Jonathan looked at his guest with a doubting eye as she spoke, but the cameras chose not to share his skepticism with the nation.

  “I enjoyed being the ‘wind beneath his wings,’ as the song says. He was my husband, and he was called by God to be the head of our household and the church. I was very content living in his shadow.”

  Jonathan couldn’t stand being part of the obvious deception and decided to quickly change the direction of the conversation. Samantha’s glow had slowly begun to dim for him.

  “Now, this is a very exciting week for you. You recently completed the construction of your new cathedral, and this Sunday you’ll hold the first worship service there.”

  “That’s correct,” Samantha said, sensing the almost imperceptible decline in his juvenile infatuation. She proceeded with her usual charm, but now it was tempered by caution and humility.

  “This was Hezekiah’s dream.” As she spoke, images of the cathedral, the beautiful couple waving from the pulpit, and Samantha veiled in black at his funeral flashed on a giant screen between them. “His vision was to build a church that could accommodate the entire New Testament Cathedral family. Now we can all be together at one time, like a family should, and feast together on the word of God. This could have never been built without the love and dedication of my husband and the love and generosity of millions of our supporters around the world.”