Relentless

by Patricia Haley

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked.

  “More than I was looking for,” he said without letting his somber feeling show. He schlepped back to his office and got his briefcase.

  He couldn’t stop wondering where in the world Simmons got so much money. From what he remembered, the junior minister worked a modest job as a security guard for a housing development in the city. Deacon Burton didn’t know the exact amount of Simmons’s salary. At the rate of ten percent for tithing, Simmons would have to make about $12,000 a month to justify his level of giving. Deacon Burton was pretty sure the city wasn’t paying Simmons nearly that kind of money.

  The deacon buried his forehead in the palm of his hand. The inkling had converted to facts and facts to a major concern. He pulled the piece of crumpled paper from the briefcase and pressed it out flat on the desk. Jill may have been telling the truth. His flesh said ignore what he’d found, go home, and have dinner with his wife and two sons. Leave the church business to the church folks. The rationale could have worked, except he was the church. Not just as a member of Greater Metropolitan, but as the larger body of Christ. He was appointed to handle the church finances and to operate with integrity. If there was a suspicion of wrongdoing, he had to point it out, no matter who got exposed from the bishop on down. He slammed the briefcase shut and tucked the paper into his pants pocket, not sure what to do next. He had to act, acknowledging that his first allegiance was to God and the church. He had to do something but what?

  Chapter 32

  A muggy, warm breeze blew across the church parking lot and deposited dust into Deacon Burton’s face. He fiercely rubbed his eyes. Once his vision was clear again, he saw Minister Simmons getting out of his car down a ways and walking toward the church with a Bible in hand. Deacon Burton had been at the church for over an hour unlocking doors, checking bathrooms, and preparing the building for Bible Study. He’d also been in the sanctuary down on his knees in prayer. He’d stepped outside to get some fresh air and free his mind as the meeting he planned to have with Minister Simmons weighed heavily on his heart.

  Boldness blossomed and he decided talking with Simmons was an absolute must. There was no better place to confront evil than in the house of God. Deacon Burton closed his eyelids and prayed silently for guidance. A honking horn ended his prayer abruptly as his eyelids popped open.

  “Hey, Deacon Burton, good to see you,” a woman shouted.

  He waved at her but didn’t offer the wide, bright smile he was known to have. He stroked the hairs of his beard twice, glanced up at the bell tower sitting on top of the church, and headed inside as Bishop Jones pulled into his parking space.

  Bible class was lively and very interactive. The small pockets of chatter, which had formed after class, were breaking up and people were leaving. Deacon Burton maneuvered through the maze of members filing from the building as he looked for Minister Simmons. He found him walking down the hallway toward a side exit. “Minister Simmons, can I speak with you. Can we go into one of the conference rooms?”

  “Deacon, I’m sort of in a hurry. Can we talk tomorrow?”

  “Actually, no, I really need to speak with you tonight.”

  “Okay, how can I help you?” Minister Simmons responded and twisted the conference room door’s handle to be sure it was unlocked.

  “I think we’re going to want to have this discussion behind closed doors. Let’s go in,” Deacon Burton said, nodding his head toward the door.

  “Deacon, I’m really pressed for time. Why don’t you walk with me to my car, and we can talk on the way.”

  “You don’t understand. The topic is sensitive. I want to talk about Jill and the prescription drugs.”

  Minister Simmons flung his head from left to right ensuring no one was within hearing distance. “Deacon, what in the world are you talking about?” he asked while thrusting the door open and quickly stepping into the conference room. He tossed his briefcase and Bible onto the chair by the door. Once Deacon Burton was safely inside, Minister Simmons shut the door and pressed the palm of his hand against it hard then turned to the deacon. “Now, what’s going on?”

  Deacon Burton jumped right into the matter. “A few weeks back, I saw a young lady named Jill coming from behind the church. I stopped her. It was late, and she was nervous. I figured she was stealing.”

  “She probably was. What does that have to do with me?”

  “When I questioned her, she had a lot to say.”

  Before the deacon could open his mouth to form the next word, Minister Simmons demanded with a strong tone, “What exactly did she say?”

  The deacon stood in front of the wall-to-wall bookshelves and ran his fingers down the spine of a book. He inhaled his courage and turned to face Minister Simmons. “Well, she said you’ve been forcing her to help you sell prescription medication.”

  “She told you what? You’ve got to be kidding, right?” Minister Simmons’s light brown complexion was immediately changed to a fiery red color, which crawled through his face and lit up his bulging eyes.

  “I wish I were kidding. This is a serious matter and it’s why I’m coming to you.”

  “You can’t possibly believe her.”

  “What if I do?”

  “Then you’d be making a mistake. I’m being falsely accused and slandered. I see what this is. There is no truth to her vile, ugly lies.” Minister Simmons took a few steps closer to the deacon. “How can you bring such a ridiculous accusation to me?”

  “Doesn’t the Bible say go to your brother? Well, here I am, Minister Simmons. We both have a responsibility to God first and then to this church second. This is not something that I could ignore.”

  “Come on, Deacon.” The volume in his voice stepped up a notch. “This is an insult. You can’t go around falsely accusing God’s servant of wrongdoing.” He walked away from Deacon Burton. He shook his head in disbelief and tossed his keys onto the table, causing papers to scatter.

  “Minister Simmons, I couldn’t act as if nothing happened after speaking to the woman. I’m accountable for what I know. So, I am simply asking you if there is anything, anything at all to what she said. Before you answer, I have to tell you, she was quite adamant about the drugs and your involvement.” Deacon Burton stood in front of Simmons and leaned his weight on the table. “Look, if there is something going on, something that’s not right, something that could hurt this church, tell me now. Let me help you. It’s never too late to do the right thing.”

  Minister Simmons stood up straight like puppet strings were directing him. “I’ve been coming here long enough for you to take my word over hers. There is not a blemish of truth to what this Jill woman told you.” He jabbed his index finger into his right cheek and twisted it into his skin like a drill. “My actions and diligent labor in the church should speak for me. If I weren’t a minister, I’d be angry at such a bald-faced accusation.” He stepped to the deacon, allowing minimal barrier between them. “Actually, I am angry.”

  “I imagine you are, but surely you understand why I had to address such a serious accusation. The validity of something like this would not only be damaging for you but for the church, too. We’re both defenders of the gospel, and we must protect the house of God. I had to bring this to you.”

  The two men stared at each other. A vein on the side of Minister Simmons’s neck was throbbing against his skin like the beat of a drum. Small beads of sweat attacked the tip of his nose. “For some reason this woman wants to discredit me, assassinate my Christian character, but I won’t be defeated.” He walked away from the deacon, snatched up his briefcase, and lifted his Bible into the air. Minister Simmons walked out with his words reaching for the deacon. “Don’t waste your efforts on a liar.”

  Chapter 33

  Deacon Burton plucked the thick ring of keys from his pants pocket and locked the door on his way out. Rambling down the hallway, the revelation nagged loudly. Minister Simmons’s defensive tone and the edge in his
voice seemed haunted by fear. Deacon wasn’t discouraged. He had to see Bishop Jones again. Heading upstairs to the bishop’s office, Deacon Burton took the steps one-by-one, sensing his confidence rising.

  Standing in front of the bishop’s door, the deacon folded his fingers into a ball before actually knocking. A thick, weary voice spoke from behind the heavy door separating them. “Who is it?”

  “Bishop Jones, it’s me, Deacon Burton.”

  “Come in. How are you tonight?” Bishop waved him into the office. “You had some great feedback in class tonight.” The bishop stopped writing, silently read over a couple of lines, and laid the ink pen he was holding on top of his notepad. “Did you need something?”

  “Yes, sir, Bishop Jones, I do.”

  “That scowl on your face tells me something is troubling you.”

  “You’re right. I am troubled.”

  “Okay, have a seat. What’s the problem?” Bishop Jones pushed the papers on his desk to the side.

  Deacon Burton leaned forward with both elbows planted into his knees wringing his hands together. “Bishop, that Jill woman said you and Minister Simmons are involved with these so-called prescription drugs. I just spoke with Simmons about it.”

  “And, what did he say?” Bishop Jones asked, taking off his reading glasses.

  “He said it wasn’t true.”

  “Did he now? Well, I think you’re putting too much energy into this. It’s like I said before, you can’t assume everything you see or hear is accurate.” Bishop Jones picked up the thick Bible on his desk with both hands. “Deacon, it takes God’s Word, our patience and prayers, to help folks through their spiritual issues and challenges. I told you Jill is a very troubled young woman. I can’t share with you right now the things she discussed with me. Just know I’m on top of it, and I’ll do all I can to help her. As for Minister Simmons, we have some decisions to make regarding his leadership failures. You should know I won’t allow anything to tear down what the Lord has allowed us to build.”

  “Bishop, there’s something I think you need to know.” Deacon Burton stood, pulled out a handkerchief and brushed it across his forehead. He stared directly at the bishop without saying a word.

  “What is it, Deacon? What is it you think I need to know?”

  Large raindrops began crashing into the window. With no warning, the clear night’s sky had erupted into a torrential downpour. The deacon’s resolve was swept off topic for a brief second. “If there’s some shady business going on here, God’s wrath could be upon us.”

  “You are right, Deacon. It’s a message I’ve been preaching for months. I’m glad it has resonated with you.” Bishop Jones said.

  “No, I’m trying to tell you we have to be sure we’re clean and that the church is clean. The offering coming into the church also needs to be clean. And I’m concerned about the large amounts of tithing Minister Simmons is paying to the church.” Deacon wiped at his forehead again and pushed the handkerchief into his pocket.

  “Minister Simmons pays his tithes faithfully. That is what I expect from each minister on my staff.”

  “Yes, but I’ve checked the contribution database. He definitely pays his tithes faithfully. It’s the amount of money that I question. He’s tithing between a thousand and sixteen hundred a month. Unless something drastically changed with his job, there is no way, he’s making over ten thousand a month. His money has to be coming from somewhere else. Jill swears Minister Simmons is caught up in some type of drug business. That would account for the kind of money he’s giving to the church.”

  “I wouldn’t rush to judgment. We don’t know what’s going on in his household. Only God knows the whole truth. Have you considered Minister Simmons may have gotten a raise? Maybe his wife got a raise. I don’t know, maybe they came into an inheritance or one of them is working a second job. What I do know is that I’m thankful Minister Simmons is faithful in his stewardship. You know as well as I do that we have some members who are yet growing.” The bishop cleared his throat, took a sip of water from the glass sitting on his desk then gazed over his shoulder and out the window. The rain continued to fall hard.

  “Bishop, aren’t you concerned?”

  Bishop Jones moved his hand slowly back and forth over the top of the Bible that was within arm’s reach on his desk. “I’m concerned about a lot of things, Deacon. I’m concerned about the community projects the church is involved with. I’m concerned about getting our youth off the street and into a safe haven. Every one of those initiatives takes money. I’m concerned with doing the right thing and helping souls find their way to Christ. We’ve got plenty to be concerned with and someone paying their tithes is just not at the top of the list.”

  Deacon Burton lifted his hands up in front of his chest and pressed them together tightly. “Well, I’ve done what I’m supposed to do. I’ve given you the information. Thank you for hearing me out.”

  The bishop pushed his chair back from the desk. He walked up close to the deacon, squeezed his forearm with one hand and patted his shoulder with the other. “You’re a good man, Deacon. Now, you go on home and don’t let this worry you any further. I’ll lock up the church tonight.” Bishop Jones guided the deacon right on out his office with a firm hand on his back and words rumbling in his ear. “Everything is under control.”

  Bishop closed his office door and leaned his forehead against it while holding on to the doorknob. The deacon had left the room but his questioning and convicting presence remained. Bishop hurried to the window. Through the thick raindrops attempting to cloud his view, he could see Deacon Burton hurrying to his car. The deacon made no attempt to shelter himself from the downpour of rain crashing on top of his head and over his body.

  “We have to be sure we’re clean, that the church is clean. The offering coming into the church also needs to be clean.” The deacon’s words continued haunting the bishop as he sat at his desk working on Sunday’s sermon. Bishop paused to rub his eyes. He let his head fall onto the thick, cushioned headrest. He knew the deacon was right. Everything had to be clean and would be. Admittedly, Satan had tempted Bishop with quick money in a moment of desperate financial need. Thank God for strength and grace. He’d clung to every ounce in resisting the drug deal. He’d offered Simmons more salary as an incentive to stop his involvement, but he couldn’t tell Deacon Burton. He couldn’t tell anyone.

  He meditated, wanting the tension with Deacon Burton and the scowl on his face to fade away into the darkness. Awhile later he could still see Deacon Burton’s face and the concern on his countenance. Bishop grabbed the pad of paper in front of him and picked up the calculator. He did a quick tally of what he intended to pay Simmons. The church salary coupled with, what he guessed to be, Simmons’s regular wages would hopefully generate the tithing amount Burton had mentioned. After pushing a few buttons, the numbers didn’t add up. Bishop wanted very much to help Simmons get on the right track, but the numbers didn’t lie. Unless the church could come up with another couple of thousand a month, they weren’t close to matching what had been Simmons’s illegal part-time income.

  Bishop hunkered down on his sermon. He jotted a few lines before the deacon’s words played heavily in his head. He wasn’t able to escape the admonishment. His integrity was on the line. What good was leaving a legacy for the community if his own reputation was destroyed? Bishop was confused. Sound of the raindrops beckoned him to the window. Standing there, he equated the hundreds of raindrops hitting the glass with each church member. Bishop watched one raindrop slide down the window and splatter on the windowsill. Shepherds protected their flock from harm. He had put a stop to the selling of drugs and any other accompanying improprieties. Bishop would talk with the minister again to be sure. He couldn’t let Simmons slide into a comfortable place of spiritual compromise. Watching him fail didn’t benefit the church. Bishop had to forgive and then help the young minister become a strong man of God worthy of honor. If that meant not telling Deacon Burton the whole tr
uth, then so be it. He was the spiritual head of Greater Metropolitan and that meant he was accountable for his flock even to the point of his reputation being smudged if his sheep were saved.

  Chapter 34

  Bishop Jones drove home from the church in a blinding downpour of rain. Bishop considered the modest beginning of his ministerial service which began so many years ago. Times had changed. His car glided onto a private winding road lit by small silver lanterns ushering him to a circular drive. The light coming from the stone water fountain situated in front of the house guided the bishop’s steps until he passed a set of mahogany double doors. He pulled into the garage around back and entered the house through the rear.

  Seconds after he entered the house, he’d punched his security code into the alarm panel, and was meandering toward the front of his house with his heels clicking along the marble walkway. He was quickly greeted by his wife who was at the top of the staircase. “Ellis, I was worried about you in this rain. When I left church, you said you would be home in an hour. That was almost two hours ago.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” he offered hanging up his trench coat and hat in the hall closet. “I had an unexpected meeting, and time got away from me.” Bishop Jones trekked up the stairs, disrobed, and took a quick shower. He hoped the hot water would warm his bones and relax him enough to let go of his run in with Deacon Burton hoping he’d done enough to rectify the situation. He’d agreed to a pay raise. He’d spoken to Jill and Simmons, admonishing them both. Bishop had reaffirmed the vows of matrimony with Simmons, although there was no guarantee he was going to adhere. Bishop was exhausted.