Soon After

by Sherryle Kiser Jackson

  “Pastor Green, this is Alexis Montgomery. I am the assignment reporter that did the remote interview with you at the site of the Harvest Baptist Church on Easter Sunday.”

  “Yes, I remember,” Willie said.

  “I was wondering if I can set up an appointment to sit down with you to discuss a story idea I’m working on that would go into your affiliation with that church,” Alexis said.

  Willie shook his head as he thought of the four months it had taken him to let go of his affiliation to Harvest Baptist Church, where he had served as a pastor for the past ten years. His mini vacation had helped to further remove himself from the recent calamity at his former church and its ramifications on the now homeless members.

  Willie let out a puff of air. He felt a headache coming on. “Ms. Montgomery, I literally just got in the office. Let me get situated and get back to you as soon as I can.”

  “Please, Pastor Green, this meeting, like everything in journalism, is time sensitive,” she pleaded.

  “Ms. Montgomery,” Willie said, cutting off her hard sale with a diplomatic voice. “I am passing the phone to our secretary to get your call back information. Talk to you soon. Be blessed.”

  Willie heard Luella ask the reporter to hold before banking the call again.

  “I’m an administrative assistant,” Luella said.

  “Huh?”

  “You called me a secretary. ‘I am handing the phone off to my secretary.’ My title is administrative assistant.”

  Her tone was serious, but not sassy, so Willie looked at the young woman standing on the other side of the desk briefly to see if he had hurt her feelings, “Sorry.”

  She reached across the desk and handed him a stack of mail and papers secured in folders and bound with a rubber band. “I guess I should debrief you. Wanna go in Sister Pastor’s office or the study?”

  Willie thought about it. “No, I’m going down the hall to my office. Give me a minute, you know, let me get acclimated to being at work again before coming down.”

  Willie approached the door of the office that he used to seclude himself. The door was freshly stained after removing the lettering that read: FIRST LADY’S LOUNGE. This had been the space where his mother-in-law kept his now wife and her sister out of their dad’s hair when they were little and where they entertained the companions of traveling ministers. It was down the hall from Daddy Morton’s personal study and the adjoining office that was now Vanessa’s spacious headquarters.

  His wife was rooted here, and being in a space that was once her father’s had to have special meaning for her, Willie thought.

  Although he had pondered remodeling the office suites to suit them both, he didn’t want to have that debate with Vanessa. It would be like negotiating more closet space at home. It wasn’t worth the breath. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much. Maybe because he was the co-pastor to a congregation of nearly 500 whose office was in a lounge. It was a modest size office minus the gingham covered couches and doily-covered coffee table. In fact, with the addition of his old office furniture and desk set, it was eerily like his office at Harvest Baptist Church. Maybe he was being a stereotypical man, but size did matter.

  The pile Luella gave him got tossed in the center of his desk along with his keys. From his briefcase, he extracted a souvenir photo of him and Vanessa on a dinner cruise. The empty case got placed by the door for the return trip home after placing the photo in a prominent position. He took great satisfaction in booting up his office computer. According to technicians, his computer rendered the only stable connection to the outside world when they had come to work on the church’s system. They had no immediate solution to getting Vanessa’s computer online or maintaining Luella’s connection. He welcomed Vanessa and Luella who had no choice but to come-a-knockin’ every so often on Willie’s door when they needed to reach out to resources beyond the Pleasant Harvest network.

  Willie was trying to figure out the password to the guestbook feature that allowed people to reach out to their ministry online for prayer requests when Luella buzzed to say she would be coming down. He unraveled the bundle he was given earlier so he could be prepared. Contracts for conference space and spreadsheets of allocated funds for the Trinity Conference followed by a few preacher profiles cluttered his desk. There were checks made out with a financial secretary report that needed Vanessa’s authorizing signature. Underneath all that was a call back list of people he didn’t know and drafts of ministry lessons he didn’t create.

  Luella entered after a short rap on the door. She extended more papers for him to grasp. “I accidentally gave you Sister Pastor’s pile.”

  Although he was still gathering Vanessa’s bundle back together, he noticed Vanessa’s pile was considerably thicker.

  “So what do you have for me?” Willie asked.

  “Membership roles, invitations, a couple of messages, and a few commercial Bible study aides to review.”

  “Is that it?“ Willie said.

  “Yep,” she assured.

  Willie looked up at her from her tailor-made suit to her tailor-made smile. He wondered if she could be stashing his work in File 13. He looked through Vanessa’s pile again. Although he and Vanessa had informally designated the membership needs to him and the business end of the ministry to her, who was to say he couldn’t handle both in her absence?

  “Why don’t you sit down, Luella?” Willie said, noticing how she anxiously stomped the heel of her right shoe into the carpet. “How did things really go while we were away? Tell me about Sunday.”

  He watched her sit down hesitantly in the small leather upright chair across from his desk and tilt her legs to the side before crossing them at the ankles. She used Vanessa’s inbox pile that he had given back to her to cover her lap. Willie pushed back in his chair as if he were about to unload his burdens to a therapist.

  “Well, Sunday was interesting. Minister Morton preached. No, it was more like she taught a lesson on Faithfulness. Although she kind of lost people, trying to relate the text to her personal stories about her engagement and wedding planning. It was like Star Jones on The View before her wedding to Al Reynolds.” Luella chuckled, allowing herself to fall back into the pad of the chair. She caught herself and brought back the professional polish with a fake cough. She stood. “It was good though.”

  Keisha Morton was Vanessa’s sister and the current minister to the singles at Pleasant Harvest. She surprised everyone when she informally announced her engagement to Willie’s mentee, Paul Grant, on Easter Sunday.

  “Oh, and tell Sister Pastor that I’d like to personally thank you both for not informing her sister and your sister-in-law that you were going out of town when you asked her to preach.” Her perturbed expression revealed the sarcasm.

  This time Willie chuckled. “She worried you to death, didn’t she?”

  “She called for a moratorium on scheduling things on the church calendars until she decided on a date for the wedding. How dare you go out of town before she officially declared the date for the wedding of the century? Dra-ma,” Luella sang.

  They both shared a good laugh before Willie said, “All I can say is pray for Paul.”

  “Pray for us all,” Luella responded, doing an about face for the door.

  “Wait a minute,” Willie said, halting her retreat. “What about my members?”

  “We had to use the Ministry Tree you came up with. I know Sister Pastor thought it wouldn’t work for a congregation this size, but the chain of command really worked well. We alerted all ministry heads that you were out of town. Plus put a note on our website. Then Theodora Marshall was rushed to the hospital on Wednesday.”

  “And?” Willie said, cutting her off. This is what he had been waiting for. This was the kind of stuff that got his blood pumping.

  “We started at the bottom and worked up. She is a part of the Prayer Partners Ministry. We called the ministry leader, who in turn kept her watchcare deacon and ministry members updated. I even
went to see her myself on Thursday after work. Another member was about to be evicted, but that got resolved. I made you a report that I will email you later.”

  Willie didn’t want a report. He wanted Luella to sit down and describe for him how Sister Marshall looked. Was she rail-thin or did she look about ready for a chicken dinner, as Mae would have categorized it? He wanted to know details about the sacrifices people made to help her and others in need. He wanted to hear how the saints rallied around her and prayed for her strength.

  “Like I said, the Ministry Tree worked well and should alleviate some of the personal responsibility that falls on you and Sister Pastor,” Luella said, practically from the doorway.

  Work so well they won’t need me, Willie thought. “Wait, why do you keeping rushing off?”

  Luella’s voice was anxious. “I forgot that I have to complete some important business for Sister Pastor.”

  “What about the people I asked you about for the Young People’s initiative?”

  “That’s what the membership roles are for, Brother Pastor.” Luella backtracked to his desk. She flipped back the cover and pointed, “See here, I printed a spreadsheet of all our members with children ages eleven to eighteen for the Young Missionaries Program and those who have boys ages six and up for the Scouts. This was based on the combined church census we conducted right after Unification. It should adequately represent our membership. I need to show you how you can sort the database for whatever category you want. Then you can play around with it while you are at work.”

  Vanessa had important business; he had time to play, Willie thought. This church had more children than he had members at Harvest Baptist, with not many church structured activities to promote growth and fellowship. The Young Missionaries program could offer the right young people from their congregation the opportunity to train locally and travel across the nation helping others. Far be it for their administrative assistant, who was also a member, to help recommend some people for the program. A perfectly formatted document did not tell Willie who to approach to help start a scouting program at church.

  What am I complaining for, he thought, she had done her job.

  Luella stood at his desk as if she awaited a hall pass. He motioned for her to sit down again. Vanessa was at home, and her assistant would just have to help him with his pressing business.

  “So, what do we know about this reporter who called?” Willie said, once again pushing back in his chair, this time to cross his legs.

  “She called a couple of times—sounded real anxious to get in touch with you. Then on Thursday people started calling the church after the noon broadcast because they were talking about the fire at your old church again on the news.”

  “I wonder what she wants to talk to me about,” Willie said more to himself than to her.

  “I don’t know,” Luella replied.

  “I guess if I don’t call her back in a timely fashion, she will have to find someone else for her interview.” He began clicking his ink pen to a rhythm to help him think. “What do you think?”

  “I think you should call Sister Pastor. She always knows what to do.”

  “Thanks, Luella,” he said abruptly. She stood for a third time and headed for the door. He didn’t know what he was hesitant for, or why he needed anyone to justify his actions. It was time for him to take charge. “Get me that reporter’s number.”

  “I gave it to you with your other messages, Brother Pastor. It’s number one on your call back list,” she called to him from the hallway.

  He consulted his watch before picking up the phone to dial. It was only one o’clock. It felt as if he had worked a whole day already and it was barely lunch time. He was determined to plow through his membership roles and make some decisions on the Young People’s initiative, then get out to see Sister Marshall at the hospital before heading home.

  There were two numbers listed for Alexis Montgomery. He chose the latter that appeared to be a cell phone number in hopes of connecting the call directly. She picked up on the third ring.

  “This is Alexis.”

  “Ms. Montgomery, this is Pastor Willie Green returning your call.”

  “Great, I’m glad you got back with me so fast. Like I said I want to move on this story quickly. I’m looking to do a series of angles on this story to propose at the next production meeting in hopes of stretching the story to its fullest potential.”

  “I guess you need to help me understand. There was a fire. It made the news. I guess I don’t see what is left to report.” He used his first two fingers of his right hand to gesture.

  “I don’t know if you’re familiar with the Inside 7 segment, but it is our weekly News Magazine where we bring a more in depth coverage on local stories of interest. We get so bogged down with D.C. area politics that this show is devoted to the people of the D.C. Metro area. When I broke the story I knew it had potential, but recent reports and support from our viewers makes us here at Channel 7 believe that this is a story that’s worth investigating further.”

  “I see,” Willie said although he did not completely see his role in the whole thing.

  “I interviewed several people, but you’re the only one I could get in contact with again because I had written down the name of your new church. The initial report sparked quite a bit of mail bag response. Many want to reach out to the members of your former church. I’m sure you’ve been thinking about that to.”

  “My wife and I pastor another church,” Willie responded absentmindedly as a surge of guilt took over him. He had not thought about the people, many of which he used to pastor. He had not thought about the community he loved to service. He had not thought about Charley Thompson, the deacon that was so adamant about staying at Harvest that he rallied members behind his back to sign a petition to stop the move to no avail.

  “Do you think we can get together this afternoon so we can discuss this further?” Alexis asked.

  “I don’t know,” Willie said. Indecisiveness once again was taking hold.

  “Please, Pastor, you are my only solid lead. I went back to the neighborhood today and everyone talked so highly of the church when it was under your pastorate.”

  Willie thought about it. “My afternoon is booked. I have to visit a member in the hospital before heading home this afternoon.”

  “I could meet you at your home. The initial interview won’t take long. I could even bring something to eat.” Willie could hear the desperation in her voice.

  “No,” Willie said, thinking about Vanessa’s reaction if a strange woman brought food into their house. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Maybe you need to call your wife first and get back to me.”

  It was an innocent statement that was said by someone he was sure didn’t mean anything by it. “That won’t be necessary either. You can meet me at my home around 6:30 this evening. I live at 442 Barney Lane in Temple Hills.”

  She thanked him as if she had been waiting all day for that answer. He emptied his lungs out in a puff of air as he replaced the receiver.

  After nearly forty-five minutes of staring down at the membership document Luella had prepared for him, he folded the cover back over. He would be taking work home tonight. He prepared himself to leave for the hospital. He looked at their dinner cruise picture and said, ‘Honey, guess who’s coming to dinner?”

  Chapter 2

  Battin’ Down the Hatches

  Vanessa found herself temporarily caught up in the lives of those appearing in front of the judge on The People’s Court. One episode in particular pit a mother against her own daughter. It was the case of the college refund. The mother was suing the daughter for the amount of her college tuition after the daughter went off to school in her third year and eloped with someone of a different race. The mother, who was obviously hurt and seeking revenge, claimed she didn’t send her daughter to school for marriage, therefore their agreement was broken. So much for forgiveness, Vanessa thought. She found hersel
f calling out to the television, “You need to get your butt out of court and heal your family before the Lord comes back and passes down real judgment for your tail.”

  When she looked at her bedside clock, she realized it was 1:00 P.M. She expected Willie to call her when he reached the office to let her know what tasks lay in store for her upon her return, but she was glad he didn’t. She hadn’t bothered to call him either or check in with Luella. She hadn’t realized how hard she had been working until she woke up this morning immobilized.

  Vanessa had a gift of discernment. Sometimes it wasn’t always a privilege to perceive things beyond what the natural eye could see. Something felt wrong or out of place. Since she could not put her finger on the likely source or severity of the problem, she did nothing. She decided to pray it away. In her relationship with God, she knew Him to be a guide that would send a word in and out of season. Something she would likely preach next week might be the very sustenance for someone’s life next month. She thought about her meditations with the Lord, some that led to sermon topics. Wasn’t it she that just recently preached, “Battin’ down the Hatches,” about the Apostle Paul’s shipwreck on the island of Malta?

  She had told her congregation that being a prisoner, Paul could hardly persuade his captors that the favorable weather they chose to sail in would soon turn deadly. Just like Paul predicted, there was a change of winds and tides, and a powerful storm arose. Before it was all said and done, they had to band the ship with ropes and throw cargo off, eventually crashing off the coast of the island.

  Oh Lord not again, Vanessa thought. She had spent the better part of the morning watching foolishness when she should have been praying. It wasn’t that she couldn’t handle what the devil threw her way. Paul had received assurance from the Lord that although it appeared the ship may go down, there would be no loss of life—all would be saved; Vanessa didn’t feel so sure. Ironically, she remembered using that point in her sermon to get everyone happy when she proclaimed, “Go through the storm. It might seem rough. You may even feel like you’re in isolation, shipwrecked with your problem, marooned on an island with despair. But your promise is on the other side of the storm. There is a rescue team led by God looking for you.” She had even gotten happy herself.