Harlan gazed across the crowd, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, barely a whisper. "But Mother Teresa was not as concerned about hunger or illness or the breakup of families. The woman who witnessed the absolute worst in human misery, who lived among the poorest of the poor, and who saw every horrific disease known to man was more concerned with a different affliction, and that affliction, brothers and sisters, was loneliness."
Harlan raised his voice on the next sentence, and he began to speak quickly, as though he couldn't get the words out fast enough. "Loneliness. That feeling of isolation and the thought that nobody cares. It eats through the human heart and soul like maggots, because when people suffer loneliness they feel unloved, and when there is no love, there is nothing!" Harlan pounded on the podium and shouted the word. "Nothing!"
People in the congregation shouted, "Amen!"
Harlan jumped from the stage and walked down the aisle, and the crowd turned in their seats in order to see him. He stood by the back door. "I'll say it again!" he shouted. "Where there is no love, there is nothing!
"Love does conquer all, brethren. Where there is love, there is no loneliness. Where there is love, there is hope." The crowd cheered, once again rising from their seats.
Harlan hurried toward the front of the church and climbed the stairs to the stage. The congregation continued to cheer.
"Love, brothers and sisters. I get excited just saying the word. L-o-v-e," he spelled out. "The same love that God showed us when he gave his only begotten son so that we should not perish but have life everlasting. Shout Amen!"
The crowd began shouting the word. The choir broke into a rousing gospel song. Music blasted through the church, and Harlan began to dance as he gazed toward the heavens, arms lifted high in the air. He clapped his hands, keeping time to the music, and the choir members joined him, dancing and reaching their arms toward the heavens. The congregation began to dance as well.
As the last chords faded, Harlan became serious. "I'm going to make an unusual request tonight," he said. "I know this ministry needs funds to keep it running, and I know there are starving people in distant lands, but tonight I'm asking you to make a love offering for those in your town who don't know where their next meal is coming from. For your neighbors," he added. "For those sad faces we see standing in front of the unemployment office, for the boys and girls who attend schools with holes in their shoes. Many of those who are standing in this congregation tonight," he added softly.
"I am not going to collect one dime for this ministry while I'm in town, and I'm not going to send the money away to some country you've never even heard of. The money you give tonight will stay right here in Sweet Pea, and I aim to see that it fills those bare cupboards and that our children have what they need. That's what we're all about, dear folks. Love Ministry is all about loving and giving, and that is what chases away loneliness.
"Now I know there are some who can't afford to give much, and to you I'd say this: The Lord knows your heart. Follow your heart. And for every penny you give, this ministry will match it tenfold."
The people applauded.
Jamie looked around, noted the hopeful expressions on the faces of those around her. They believed in Harlan Rawlins. He had reeled them in. Damn, he was so good.
Jamie turned and looked at Max. He met her gaze, and she could see her own thoughts mirrored in his eyes. He did not like Harlan Rawlins. Max, like Jamie, was wondering how a man could prey on people who had nothing else to give.
"It's not enough to chop wood for a fire to keep a family warm," Harlan said. "You need to go out there and set their hearts on fire for Jesus!"
More music, more dancing.
"Does anyone here need a miracle tonight?" Harlan shouted above the din, drawing Jamie's attention to the front once more.
The crowd cried out.
Harlan smiled. "Some of you, perhaps many of you, know that I was converted at an early age. I was only ten years old when God sent me a vision that I was to preach to the world, that I was to go forth and heal in his name. Let God grant you a miracle tonight, brothers and sisters. Allow God, who has chosen me, a simple preacher, a sinner of the worst kind, to act as his vessel. Come to Jesus!"
People began lining up in the aisle. Jamie hesitated only a moment before she joined them. She could feel Max's eyes boring into her. He was, no doubt, wondering what she was up to. So let him wonder.
Harlan spoke to a man at the front of the line and then raised his microphone to his lips. "Brothers and sisters, we have a man who suffers chronic back pain and is unable to work. He has sought the help of doctors to no avail. Well, I will tell you, there is a power that can heal all pain and suffering. This power doesn't have medical degrees on his walls and he doesn't have to put us through rigorous tests to find out what's wrong, because he knows what ails us before we ask. Bow your heads, brethren, and let's pray for a miracle."
The people bowed their heads, and Harlan put his hands on the man's back and said a prayer for him. Jamie watched closely. For all she knew, the man could have been planted in the crowd to make it look as though Harlan was actually capable of healing the sick. For all she knew, there could be dozens planted in the congregation for the same reason.
After much praying, Harlan raised his hands and shouted, "Receive your miracle, brother!" Harlan ordered the man to touch his toes, and the man touched his toes, not once but several times. The crowd became jubilant as Harlan moved on to the next person.
After fifteen minutes of waiting in line, Jamie stepped up to Harlan. She was nervous, her palms damp. She wiped them on her denim skirt. "I am a sinner, Reverend," she said quietly.
"You're in the right place, sister. We welcome sinners here." Harlan perused her from head to toe, and his bright blue eyes flickered with interest. "Are you looking for a miracle tonight?"
She nodded. "I need to be healed of an addiction."
"What's your name, dear lady?"
"Jane." Jamie winced inwardly; it was the first name that came to mind. Probably would have served her better if she'd used a sexier name.
Harlan put one hand on her shoulder and held up the other. "Brothers and sisters, we have a woman here who wants to be cured from an addiction. Now, I don't know if she is addicted to drugs or alcohol or both, but God doesn't care, because he can whip the worst of them. You don't have to go to the Betty Ford Center to get well. God only asks that you kneel before him. 'Ask and ye shall receive,' the Bible tells us."
Harlan returned his gaze to Jamie. "Sister, what addiction would you like for the Lord to take from you tonight?" he asked.
Jamie covered the microphone with one hand. "It's, um, really, really personal."
Harlan didn't bat an eye. "The Lord forgives even the worst of us."
She hung her head. She could smell Harlan's cologne, feel the heat from his body. "I'm a, well, a woman who can't seem to get enough of ..." She didn't finish.
Harlan was obviously hanging on to her every word. "Say it, sister."
"It's an s word. I'm too embarrassed to tell you." It had seemed so easy when Jamie had rehearsed it in front of the mirror in the motel room and again in her rearview mirror as she'd applied her new lipstick called Oral Promise. I'm a sex addict. I'm a sex addict. But now the words wouldn't come.
And dressed as she was, with her breasts shoved up to her chin, she figured Harlan Rawlins had to be about as dumb as they came not to figure it out.
"Turn around and face your brothers and sisters and tell them, dear woman. The Lord says you must confess your sins in order to be forgiven. Tell us what this s word is that fills you with such shame you can't even utter it."
Jamie faced the expectant crowd. All eyes were focused on her. "I, uh, um ..."
"Say it, sister!" a woman yelled.
Jamie's heart pounded in her chest. "I like to, um ..." She paused and took a deep breath. "Shop!" she finally cried.
The people looked about as though confused.
Jamie did
a mental head slap. She had blown it. People would see her as a fake; she would never get close to Harlan. She didn't dare look in Max's direction.
The crowd was quiet, the look on Harlan's face confused. Jamie's face burned with embarrassment. "I'm a shopaholic!" she shouted. "I know it doesn't sound so bad, but I can't control my spending. I see a half-price sale and I get all tingly. I'll buy everything on the table whether I need it or not. If I see a sweater on sale, I can't just buy one, I buy ten. My husband cut up all my credit cards, but I went out and got new ones. The bank foreclosed on our house. We can't afford food."
She finally had their attention. Jamie grabbed Harlan's microphone. "I am addicted to blue light specials and red dot sales. I can't resist a bargain."
"We understand, sister," Harlan said, reaching for his microphone.
Jamie held it aside. She was on a roll. "I'm so ..." She paused and hung her head. "Sick!"
The crowd nodded sympathetically.
From his place in the second row, Max rolled his eyes and shook his head sadly. In the back, Dave edged away from a man who was scratching himself.
Jamie turned and raised her eyes to Rawlins's. Still holding the microphone, she covered it with one hand so that the congregation could not hear her words. "What I just said was a lie," she whispered. "I'm not really a shopaholic. I'm a sex addict. I just couldn't bear to tell everyone."
Two blond brows shot high on his head. Sweat beaded his brow. "I'm sorry for putting you on the spot."
Jamie swallowed. "I'm so ashamed."
He put his hand on her shoulder, and he squeezed it, massaged it, actually. "Brothers and sisters, we have heard this young lady's confession, and we both know how hard it is to battle an addiction." He turned to Jamie, and his eyes were bright with interest. "Sister, are you willing to go into private counseling with me in order to beat this?" he asked. "Because you know with the Lord's help we can lick it once and for all."
"I'll do anything," she said. She fluttered her lashes, hoping they didn't stick to her cheek. "Anything."
Harlan swallowed so hard his Adam's apple bobbed erratically. "I'll speak with you after the service."
Jamie saw the promise in his gaze that made her suspect he wasn't exactly thinking along spiritual lines. "Oh, thank you." She clasped his hand tightly, bent down, and kissed it. The crowd applauded. She lingered for a moment, letting her warm breath fan over Harlan's skin, and she was almost certain he shivered.
Jamie reclaimed her seat in the front row. It was all she could do to keep from grinning. "Gotcha," she whispered.
* * * * *
Jamie exited the church some minutes later after setting an appointment with Rawlins for the next day. She headed straight for her truck, where Fleas waited. Danged if she wasn't beginning to like the dog. That didn't mean she planned to keep him. He needed to live on a farm where he'd have plenty of space to run. Not that she'd actually seen him run or even move at a fast pace, mind you. He sort of ambled about. Mostly he slept.
Jamie suddenly felt a presence. Max.
He grabbed her wrist. "Oh, no, you don't."
Jamie turned. Had they not been surrounded by people, God-fearing church folks, she would have let him have it right there. After what she'd been through she was ready for a showdown. Instead, she very politely extricated herself from his grasp.
"Max, I'm only going to say this once. Get out of my face and my life."
"What do you think you're doing here?" he demanded.
"Going after a story, that's what."
"I specifically told you—"
Jamie hated that she still found him so attractive. "I don't give a rat's tail what you told me, Holt," she said. "Go away."
"Not until you explain that outfit. But first, let's start with the hair."
Jamie hitched her chin high.
"Not that it's any of your business, but this outfit, not to mention the wig, is designed specifically to entice Harlan Rawlins. It's all part of my plan to get close to him. Learn his secrets."
"How did you get here?"
Jamie was thankful he hadn't pushed for more information with regard to her plan. "I bought a truck." She motioned to the pickup. Fleas's head was propped on the side, and he was drooling.
"Damn, Jamie, that's the ugliest thing I've ever laid eyes on."
He could be so annoying, she thought. Max Holt had a way of getting under her skin in the worst way. "So it has a little rust on it. I got it for a steal."
"I'm talking about the dog."
"Don't bad-mouth my dog, Holt," she said. "It just so happens he's pure bloodhound. Comes from a family of champions."
"Right."
"And I figured I needed a guard dog."
Max looked dumbfounded as he glanced from the dog back to her. "A guard dog? Looks like he couldn't catch a dried biscuit. You know, you're taking a huge risk being here. This could be dangerous."
Jamie crossed her arms in a businesslike manner. "I have to do it, Max. I need the story for my newspaper. And I'm following my dream."
"Your dream is to dress like a hooker and drive a junk heap?" he asked.
"Very funny. I had a lot of time to think during my drive here, and I realized I needed to make some changes in my life. I'm tired of writing about high school football games and city council meetings. I want a story with some meat in it. As for the way I'm dressed, I'm on assignment."
"You sound pretty serious about this."
"I've spent my life doing what was expected of me." Which was true, she reminded herself. She'd spent years taking care of a sick father and trying to save the family newspaper from one calamity after another. "I'm done with people-pleasing, Max. From now on, I only have to please myself."
"I'm glad to hear it, Jamie," Max said. "It's about time you started thinking about yourself. But we still need to talk." He glanced toward the truck he and Dave were sharing and found his friend leaning against it, watching the crowd. Max waved, managing to get his attention. "I'll catch up with you later!" he called out to the man. Dave nodded, climbed into the truck, and drove away.
"Here, give me the keys to your truck," Max said. "We can talk at my cabin."
"Excuse me?" Jamie snatched the keys from his reach.
"I think it's great, what you're doing, but I refuse to stand by and allow you to put yourself in danger."
Jamie waved a hand in front of him. "Hello-o-o? Did you already forget what I just told you? I'm doing this for me. Besides, you dumped me."
"I did not dump you. You jumped out of my car and refused to get back in."
Jamie noticed they were drawing stares. She hitched her chin high. "Look, Max, I don't want to make a scene, OK? But if you don't leave me alone I'm going to have to slug you."
He grinned. "You wouldn't really hit me."
She hated when he grinned like that. It just emphasized his sexiness. She could almost imagine her bones getting soft under her skin. Trouble was he knew exactly what he was doing to her. "What do you want, Max? You only grin like that when you want something."
The smile turned lazy. "What I want and what I need are two separate things, but would you at least give me a lift back to my cabin? My ride just drove away."
Chapter Four
"Your ride left you?" she said. "Sounds like you got a problem, Bubba."
Max arched a brow. "Bubba?"
"All right, I'll give you a ride if you'll promise not to say anything to annoy me."
He looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure that's possible."
Jamie almost laughed. "Put some effort into it. And no more wisecracks about my dog."
They climbed into the truck, and Jamie started the engine.
"This thing is pretty rough inside," Max said.
"See that, you've already done it. Annoyed the hell out of me."
"Only because you're still angry with me because I didn't think you should get involved in this, er, job."
"In order to be angry with you, I would have to be emotionally
invested, and that's just not the case."
He chuckled. "Face it, Swifty. You're still hot for me."
"I can't hear you," Jamie said, turning on the radio. All she got was static. She pushed the button, and a country-western song came on. Max started to say something, and she turned up the volume to drown him out. She was not going to let him goad her. All at once, Fleas pounced against the window and began growling.
"What the hell?" Max said.
Jamie hit the brake and turned around in her seat. Fleas's teeth were bared. He clawed the glass as though trying to get at Max. "Oh, damn, I forgot. He hates country-western music." She turned off the radio.
Max stared, open-mouthed.
She glanced over her shoulder. "Sit!" she ordered the dog.
Fleas paced for a moment, then sank onto the bed of the truck. Jamie turned and caught Max's astonished look. "He hates country-western music," she repeated.
"I'll try to keep that in mind. Turn right once you pull out of the parking lot."
Jamie did as she was told. The truck bounced along the pockmarked road.
"Where are you staying?" Max asked.
"I found a motel in town."
Max looked surprised. "In Sweet Pea? Dave said there were only two places. One is being repainted, and the other one is a dump."
Jamie offered him a grim look. "That means Dave and I are staying at the same place."
"No, he's staying in Knoxville. I offered him the spare room at my place, but the mattresses and pillows are stuffed with feathers. Dave has allergies. You're welcome to use the spare room, Jamie."
"No, thanks."
"It would be easier if we worked together. We could share information. I have a complete printout on Rawlins, the kind of information you can't get anywhere else."
Jamie looked at him. "I'm not going to ask how many laws you broke getting it. What kind of information?"
"I'll let you look through it if you like."
Oh, he was a cool one, Jamie thought. "I can find out what I need on my own."
"Whatever you say, Swifty."
"I told you to stop calling me that."
"It suits you." His voice dropped. "Especially now that you've got all that curly red hair. And I'll have to admit that skirt does your legs justice."
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