Latter Rain

by Vanessa Miller

  Isaac smiled heavenward. God, you have given him to me, haven’t you? Just when I think I’m doing something, you set me up from the beginning.“I know the church well. My son goes there.” He didn’t mention Nina to Johnny. Their thing was too new; he was still trying to let it settle.

  “The preacher at The Rock sounds just like you. All hell and brimstones—I had to leave. It messed me up.”

  “It’s true, Johnny. You either serve God while you’re living on earth, or die and live in hell’s everlasting torment.”

  Johnny got off the car. “Man, I don’t believe in all that stuff. But, I’ll think about what you said.” They clasped hands again. “I gotta go handle my business.”

  “All right, man. I’ll catch up with you later, Isaac told him as he watched him walk away. Isaac got back in his car and then lowered his head and prayed for Johnny. He desperately hoped that he hadn’t been too forceful with him; hadn’t run him off before he could really minister to him.

  After Johnny was seated in his SUV for a moment, he rolled down the passenger side window.

  Isaac looked up, wondering if he was about to get a bullet for his efforts.

  “How ’bout I meet you over at The Rock this Sunday?”

  Isaac’s phone rang. “I’ll see you Sunday. I hear there’s going to be a revival over at the new center on James H. McGee.”

  As Johnny backed out of the parking lot, Isaac answered his cell. It was Bishop Sumler.

  “Hey, Isaac, my boy. Have you had time to think about our discussion?” Bishop asked with a hint of optimism in his voice.

  Isaac waved at Johnny and mouthed, “I’ll see you Sunday,” then turned his attention back to his call. “I prayed about it.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. When will you be back home?”

  Isaac hesitated. “I’m not coming back, Bishop. God has sent me in a different direction.”

  Sumler stuttered. “W-what k-kind of different direction?”

  “I’m not totally sure of God’s plan for my life right now, but I do know it involves ministering to people like me.”

  “Well, that’s what I’ve offered you, Isaac. You’ll be ministering to thousands.”

  “I’m talking about street people, Bishop.”

  He heard the gasp through the phone line. “Why on earth would you want to waste your time with people like that?”

  “Because I’m just like them, or at least, I was. They need to see me, so they can believe that God can change their lives too.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea. There’s no one to protect you down there, son. You get yourself into some mess and everyone will know about it. ”

  “That’s just it, Bishop. I don’t want my sins covered. I want to remember the wrong I’ve done. I want to have my sins stretched out before God—after all, He is the forgiver of my sins.”

  “The people won’t receive from a pastor who is so openly transparent about his own faults.”

  “That’s the people’s problem. I’ve decided to live this thing for God.” Isaac hung up as fat drops of rain began to fall. Wiping a few drops from his face, he jumped in the car. Before taking off, he sat motionless, watching the rain descend. He had learned to hate the rain. It had brought him nothing but sorrow. But that was the former rain that fell into his life. Maybe this rain would bring about a new thing. He rolled down his window as he said aloud, “The rain comes whether we want it or not.” Might as well embrace it, he thought while sticking his hand out of the window and letting the drops fall in his palm. Kind of like God holding His people in the palm of His hand. No harm could come when God had His children’s backs. This rain would not harm him. Not ever again.

  Joy invaded Isaac’s space as he drove down the street. He was going home to be with his family. They would have dinner, talk about this new assignment and then pray for direction. Life was simple when in the midst of God’s will. Simple, but sweet.

  Epilogue

  Here we go again, Nina thought as the double doors were opened and the congregation came into view. Her man was standing next to Pastor McKlinley. Keith stood with him also. They were smiling, beckoning her to come forward. Donavan’s face was aglow with pride and joy as he held the ring that would soon belong to Nina.

  “You ready?”

  Nina looked at the flowers in her hand, then at Marvin, as he put his hand around her arm. She turned and looked at Isaac again. He had gone and done it. She couldn’t explain it, but the man had dazzled her all over again. “More than you’ll ever know,” she replied to Marvin’s inquiry as they began their jaunt down the aisle. Isaac hadn’t forgiven his father yet, but he had managed to have a few civil conversations with him. Isaac hadn’t even given Nina a hard time when she told him she wanted Marvin to walk her down the aisle.

  Elizabeth softly sang, “You Are the One” by Tonya Baker. Oooos and aaahhhs spread throughout the sanctuary as the guests viewed Nina’s ivory, pearl embellished wedding gown.

  Lipstick smudged her veil as she told Marvin, “It feels like my legs are about to give out on me.”

  He smiled at her. “I’ll carry you the rest of the way if I have to.”

  “Thanks, Daddy.” The word she’d longed to say. She had been denied that privilege until now. Marrying Isaac would gain her a father-in-law. She remembered how Isaac cringed when she told him that. Oh, well, she thought. Forgiveness was a process. It had taken her years to forgive herself, and already she could tell that Isaac was coming around. Marvin had been walking her down the aisle for a full minute and Isaac hadn’t threatened to kill him, not even once. She chuckled inwardly at her own humor, then smiled as she stood next to her future husband.

  She wiped his face. No need for tears, baby. This is all we’ve ever wanted.

  “I love you,” he told her as he lifted the veil. “Always have. Don’t plan to stop no time soon.”

  Now she needed some tissue. Knew she should have taken the wedding photos before she marched down the aisle.

  When they were pronounced man and wife, Isaac needed no further instructions. He pulled Nina close and devoured her warm and inviting mouth before God and the entire church. Reluctantly pulling away, he kissed the hand that held his ring. “Thank you, Mrs. Walker.”

  “What are you thanking me for?” She brushed away a lone tear as it traveled down her husband’s handsome face.

  “For forgiving me.”

  He was hers and she was his. Isaac stepped back and breathed a sigh of relief as he watched Nina pose for the photographer. Keith walked over to him with a Louis Vutton briefcase. “Mickey’s mom just dropped this off for you.”

  “What is it?”

  Keith smiled. “Open it, man. You’re not going to believe this.”

  Isaac opened the briefcase and ogled at the dollars stacked high inside. A piece of paper on top of the money read, “Congrats on your wedding, Dawg. Hopefully, this money can help you save a few souls—I sure can’t use it where I’m going.”

  Isaac laughed. “That boy is a nut. It’s about two hundred and fifty grand in here.” He turned back to Keith. “His mom gave her life to the Lord at JC’s funeral. I guess she was serious.”

  Slapping his friend on the back, Keith said, “If she wasn’t, you wouldn’t have gotten this money. Crackheads don’t give money away.”

  “You know that’s right.” They high-fived. “I’ve got plans for this community,” he told Keith. “This will sure help get them started.” Isaac had no problem using Mickey’s money. It might have started out dirty, but Isaac knew first hand that in God’s hands, dirty money could be cleansed and used for the kingdom.

  Keith’s smile was bright as he asked his friend, “So how does it feel to get the woman of your dreams and a quarter of a million all in one day?”

  Isaac hunched his shoulders. “Feels kinda weird, like this can’t be real. I’m still waiting on the other shoe to drop.”

  Keith stopped smiling. “Don’t look now, but I think the other shoe just
dropped.”

  Isaac closed the briefcase, then turned. Cynda was strutting toward him in those same three-inch heels he’d always hated. She was just as beautiful as always. Those skintight red leather pants weren’t called for. But Isaac knew what Cynda’s line of work was—he understood the attire.

  “Hey, baby,” she said as she rubbed Isaac’s back, then tried to sneak in a kiss.

  Isaac stepped back and looked over to where Nina was standing. She was happily in conversation with Elizabeth.

  “What?” Cynda asked sarcastically. “I can’t kiss the groom?”

  Cynda was a part of his past. A past that he had tried to bury, but now realized he couldn’t. He wanted to help her get out of the mess she had fallen into, but there was no way he was going to do that on his wedding day.

  “Cynda, you need to leave,” Isaac told her.

  “Oh, it’s like that.” Cynda’s voice escalated, causing the few people who were left in the sanctuary to turn and stare. “You got who you want, so you don’t need Cynda no more. Just throw me out with the trash like you always did.”

  “I’m not trying to have a confrontation with you today.” The last time he’d seen her, she’d spit in his face. He wasn’t about to go through another episode like that. He turned to Keith. “Help me out, man. Get her out of here.”

  Nina came and stood next to Isaac. Cynda turned her venom away from the groom and onto the bride. “You’re not perfect. You’ve done wrong.”

  “You’re right, Cynda. I’ve done plenty of things wrong in my life. But God has forgiven me. He will forgive you too, if you let Him,” Nina said with eyes that implored Cynda to choose the Lord.

  Cynda lunged at Nina. Isaac wasn’t having that. He grabbed her and shoved her into Keith’s arms.

  “Forget you and your God, Nina. You ain’t nothing special,” Cynda screamed at Nina as Keith held her back.

  “Get her out of here,” Isaac yelled at Keith.

  “I hate you, Isaac,” Cynda said as Keith pulled her out. “I’m the reason you spent those years in prison. That’s right. I turned you in.”

  Her laughter was a loud and evil echo as Keith carried her out the back door.

  “Did she say she was the one who turned me in?” Isaac’s fist balled.

  Nina put her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Let it go, baby.”

  Slowly the rage that attempted to run through him subsided. He looked to his new wife. “I need to forgive her, don’t I?

  Nina smiled. “Yes, Isaac. Forgive her, and let it go.”

  With a wicked grin he told her, “I’ll think about it.”

  Davison stood in the outer court of heaven with a host of angels looking down on Isaac and his good thang. Arnoth stepped forward with a heavy heart as he watched Cynda being dragged out of the church.

  Captain Aaron put his hand an Arnoth’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, my friend. She will come around.”

  “But when, Captain?” Shaking his head, Arnoth said, “I still remember that beautiful little girl I protected. She was so scared when she couldn’t find her granny. I sat next to her and told her the story about the lost sheep.” He looked at Aaron. “You know, the one that Jesus told while He was on earth. I told her not to worry about being lost because the good Shepherd would leave all ninety-nine of His sheep to go out and find the one that was lost.”

  “Cynda hasn’t forgotten what you told her, Arnoth. Go, help her to believe it.”

  THE END

  A Note to Readers

  Latter Rain is about forgiveness. So, during the course of writing and re-writing this book I encountered situations where I felt unjustly treated, and flat out wronged. I wanted to hold onto feelings of strong dislike and resentment, but God would not allow that. Like the mighty force He is, He not only taught me to love my family, friends and enemies, but to forgive them. Thank you, Lord.

  As you read this book, do yourself a favor; let the Lord teach you how to forgive, let go and to not even sweat the BIG stuff. My prayer is that you will put all your problems in God’s capable hands and let him fight your battles.

  Happy Reading,

  Vanessa

  Please turn this page for a bonus excerpt from

  RAIN STORM

  THE FOURTH BOOK IN THE

  RAIN SERIES

  by

  Vanessa Miller

  Prologue

  And the Lord said to Hosea, Go take unto thee a wife of whoredoms and children of whoredoms: for the land hath committed great whoredom, departing from the Lord.

  Hosea 1:2

  Cynda was nine when she decided to hate her mother. Standing above her coffin, watching her grandmother sob and fall apart, she whispered, “I hate you for leaving—for loving that man more than me.”

  “Hush, child. It’s not right to speak so of the dead.”

  “It’s true, Grammy. She was a whore. The kids at school said so. Her pimp killed her because she gave it to somebody for free.”

  The smack brought tears to her eyes and sent her scampering to sit down and stay in a child’s place as Grammy instructed. Sitting in the back of the funeral home, Cynda listened as men and women openly discussed her mother.

  “That Flora was some woman.”

  “Prettiest thing this side of Georgia,” said a man with teeth so big he looked like he should be chomping down on a carrot.

  “That was before Romie turned her out,” a portly woman dressed in a long black dress added.

  “I don’t care what Romie did to her. I still wanted to be with that beautiful woman. Something special about Flora—that’s for sure.”

  “Well, all the special done been beat out of her now.”

  He shook his baldhead. “I hope they give that good-for-nothing the chair.”

  A mean-spirited laugh escaped the portly woman’s mouth. “For killing a whore? Get real.”

  As Cynda got up, she wished that her grandmother could hear all her mother’s so-called friends; maybe she’d back hand each one them too.

  “Hey.” The portly woman nudged the carrot chomper. “That’s her kid.”

  “Look at the flawless amber skin tone and that long flowing hair. She’s going to be more beautiful than Flora ever would have been.”

  “I hope she likes older men.”

  The group laughed as though they were at a comedy club. Cynda ran out of the funeral home. Ran down the street, around the corner, and kept on running until she couldn’t remember where that awful place had been.

  She smiled, until common sense halted her glee and caused her heart to pound. If she couldn’t remember where the funeral home was, then she wouldn’t be able to get back to her grandmother.

  She sat down on the stoop of an abandoned house and began to cry. With tears cascading down her face, Cynda admitted the one thing she had refused to accept since they told her that her mother was dead. She was afraid. Afraid to grow up without her mommy. Afraid to be lost.

  A chill went through her when a shadow appeared in front of her. She tried to stop the tears. It wouldn’t do to look like a big scared kid in front of a stranger. So she tried to wipe her eyes and look grown up.

  But the tears wouldn’t stop rolling down her face, so without looking up she asked, “Why are you bothering me? What do you want?”

  “I came for you.”

  Cynda looked up. At first all she saw was a glow—no, more like a big burst of light. She blinked and as the light dimmed, this huge man stood before her. Cynda liked the blinding light better. She blinked again. This man was too big, too scary. As she scooted back a little on the stoop, all she could say was, “Huh?”

  “You are lost. Are you not, little one?”

  “Why do you want to know? Why are you bothering me?”

  “The Good Shepherd sent me.”

  Scrunching her nose, Cynda asked, “The Good who?”

  The strange man sat down next to her. “The Good Shepherd. He sent me here to bring you safely home. You are lost, right?”
r />   Cynda nodded. She saw no harm in admitted what a blind man could see. After all, she had been sitting on this stoop crying like she’d just gotten beaten with three of Grammy’s thickest switches.

  He reached out his hand to her. “Well, come on, Cynda, your grandmother is frantic with worry.”

  For some reason Cynda didn’t fear this man as she did those bad men who leered at her during the funeral. “How do you know my name? she asked while putting her small hand in his humongous one.

  “The Good Shepherd knows all.”

  They walked around the corner and up a few blocks. Around another corner and then the strange man lifted his long arm and pointed. Cynda looked down the road and saw her grandmother. She was pacing, looking more mad than worried. Cynda asked, “Why’d this Good Shepherd guy care so much about me?”

  “The Good Shepherd loves all that belong to Him. And if one should get lost, He would leave all the others to go find that one, and restore her to her rightful place.”

  Okay, she didn’t understand all that but, whatever. This nice man had brought her back to her grandmother, and she was no longer lost. She opened her mouth to ask his name, but before she could get the words out, her grandmother screamed for her.

  Flailing her arms in the air, Cynda yelled, “I’m right here, Grammy.”

  Grammy ran toward her. “Oh, thank you, Lord. Thank you.” She picked Cynda off the ground and swung her around. “I was so worried about you, chile. Are you all right? How did you find your way back?”

  “I’m okay, Grammy. This nice man helped me.”

  Her grandmother put her down and looked around. “What man, baby?”

  Cynda looked around also. “I don’t know, Grammy. He was right here. I promise.”

  She rubbed her granddaughter’s shoulder. “That’s okay, baby. Let’s go home.”

  1

  Cynda sat on the edge of the bed, swinging her leg, impatiently waiting for her last customer to get his pants on and leave her alone. “Woo-hoo, I tell you what, girl, the half has not been told, about the wonders of your pot of gold.” Great, a poet. Half smiling, Cynda threw his pants at him and glanced at her watch. “Oh, no you don’t. I paid for an hour and I’m getting my whole hour this time. I want to talk.”