Path of the Wicked

by Jennifer Stanley

  “What happened to you?” His tone was filled with concern as he noticed Cooper’s splotchy skin.

  “A cat gave her poison ivy,” Trish answered before Cooper could reply. “What’s in the box?”

  “Well, since our fearless leader is here and looks ready to get started, I’ll let her tell you.” Nathan opened the lid beneath Savannah’s highly sensitive nose.

  “Are those strawberry cupcakes from The Mixing Bowl?” she asked as the Sunrise members clapped in delight.

  Jake stared at her in awe. “Lady, I knew your nose was good, but I had no idea it was such a fine-tuned instrument.”

  “If someone will pour me a cup of coffee,” Savannah said, “then the Lord can call me right up to heaven. Coffee, cupcakes with real pieces of strawberry in the icing, and my dearest friends gathered around me . . . Who could ask for more?” She smiled. “I can. My motto for this study is to pray big, my friends. Let’s ask for a session this morning that will really wake up and stir our faith. Will you join hands with me?” Savannah gently commanded. “We’ll begin with a prayer.”

  As Savannah prayed aloud, Cooper couldn’t keep herself from stealing little glances at Nathan. Does he think I look totally hideous? she wondered fearfully and then chastised herself for not focusing on Savannah’s words.

  “Any announcements before we begin discussing the amazing, and sometimes not-quite-so-amazing, Joseph?” Savannah asked the group.

  Trish raised her hand and a trio of thick gold bracelets clanked on her wrist. “Tyler Fine Properties will be sponsoring a Door-2-Door Dinners route for two months. It’s a great program that serves a lot of needy people here in Richmond.” She twirled her bracelets around, looking pleased. “Because of the sponsorship, I get a magnetic sign with my business logo placed on the delivery vehicles and a few dozen housebound people get home-cooked meals.” She examined her stop-sign red nails. “The thing is, Door-2-Door could use more food packers and drivers. I was wondering if you all would be interested in helping out with some of the weekend preparation and deliveries.”

  Everyone nodded or murmured their willingness to help, though Cooper felt a bit anxious over the idea of carrying on conversations with a group of housebound strangers.

  Trish glanced at her friends. “I know that visiting the elderly isn’t everyone’s forte. I’m good at it because I know how to talk to all kinds of people, but if anyone prefers not to do the deliveries, you can still make a difference by packing food at the distribution center instead.”

  “We might all be more comfortable volunteering in pairs,” Nathan suggested as though he could sense Cooper’s unease. “I know I would.”

  “It’d be a cinch to make fast friends of the elderly,” Quinton mumbled through a mouthful of strawberry cupcake. He contentedly brushed crumbs from his expensive Italian suit and shifted in his chair. “Could you guys imagine what a treat it would be if we brought them some of these cupcakes? We’d be more popular than the Domino’s guy showing up at a fraternity house with a truckload of pizzas.”

  “Door-2-Door delivers healthy foods to those in need,” Trish stated acerbically.

  Nathan had finished serving cupcakes to the group and settled into the chair next to Cooper. As he opened his workbook, she reached up to cup her bumpy red cheek with her hand and turned her face away from his.

  Unobtrusively, Nathan leaned over her desk and whispered, “My sister is really allergic to poison ivy, too. Believe me, I’ve seen worse.” He brushed the hand covering her rash with his fingertips and then took a sip from his coffee cup. “One time, she had such a bad case that I had to take her to the ER. Her face was all puffy and her eyes had swollen shut. She couldn’t even open her mouth all the way. I had to cut up pieces of hot dog for her lunch and push them into her mouth with a toothpick.” He grinned. “At least you can see and eat, right?”

  Cooper smiled in return. “Besides,” Nathan continued, his tone playful. “Your new ruddy complexion really compliments your blue eye.”

  Swatting at his elbow, Cooper realized that their flirtatious behavior was being watched with great interest by the rest of the Bible study members.

  Savannah, who hadn’t seen their display but could sense that the embarrassed silence meant that she should proceed, cleared her throat and placed her hand on her worn Bible. “Let’s start our discussion, friends. It is my goal this session not to be late for worship service. Please help me stop by ten twenty-five so we can calmly make our way into the auditorium before the first song begins instead of racing down the hall and sneaking into seats in the back like a bunch of kids who’ve spent too long coming in from the playground.” She opened her workbook. “Now, I don’t know about you all, but I find Joseph fascinating! Who wants to talk about the first feature question—about parents playing favorites?”

  “Well, Joseph was the son of Jacob and Rachel. Jacob loved Rachel more than any other woman on earth, so it’s no surprise that Joseph was his favorite son,” Trish stated. “I’m an only child and my parents were older, just like Jacob was when Joseph was born. I guess my parents felt like he did about my birth. They made me feel special every day, and I imagine that’s how Joseph must have felt.” Tears appeared in her eyes. “This lesson made me realize how good they were to me and just how much I miss them.” She blotted at her eyes with a leopard-print handkerchief as Bryant squeezed her shoulder in compassion.

  “I’m sure Joseph had very high self-esteem,” Quinton murmured as though he was jealous of Joseph’s self-confidence. “Though his brothers certainly resented him.”

  “In my family, we wouldn’t call it self-esteem,” Jake barked. “That Joseph kid was a brat—straight and simple—and Jacob was pretty much settin’ the scene for the brothers to do somethin’ about it! Shoot, if my pop had given me a fancy robe like Joseph got and I went around flauntin’ it in front of my older brothers while they were workin’ hard out in the hot sun all day—probably wearin’ scratchy brown robes full of holes—they’d have given me a healthy beatin’!” Jake’s face looked stormy. “Sorry, but that’s just how I see it.”

  “And we welcome your opinion,” Savannah said softly. “I have a sister. We’re very close, but she often got frustrated with the amount of extra attention I received because of my blindness. One night, she told me that she had prayed to lose her sight so that our parents would notice her more.”

  “Whoa.” Nathan looked at their leader with sympathy. “What happened?”

  “Well, she didn’t go blind!” Savannah laughed. “But, a few weeks after she told me about her prayer, she fell off a horse and broke her leg in three places. She got plenty of attention, all right, but said it wasn’t worth lying up in bed for almost two months. Turned out, she preferred less attention to an infirmity any day, which is a good thing because she’s a horse vet with a busy practice and she needs both her vision and her legs.”

  “Sounds like God answered her prayer, but in His own way,” Quinton said. “He can certainly be creative at times.”

  “Yes, indeed, Quinton. Any other comments on favoritism?” Savannah asked as she stroked the worn cover of her Bible. When no one spoke, she said, “Then let’s move on to Joseph’s dreams. There was an assignment in this week’s lesson that asked you to record your dreams and see if you could find any message in them.” She looked up. “I can hardly ever remember mine. They just disappear like mist by the time I even sit up in bed, so I didn’t have much to say. Anyone else?”

  “I had a cool dream the other night,” Bryant began eagerly. “I was a kid of about six or seven, and it was a really hot day, like that string of hundred-degree days we had this past July. I could hear the music that the ice cream truck plays, but I couldn’t see the truck. I ran all around the neighborhood and couldn’t find it. Then, this lady who works at the station with me—she’s about my age, divorced, has two kids and isn’t my type at all—pointed out where the truck was and I ordered my favorite kind of ice cream. An orange creamsicle.” He sat b
ack in his chair. “Didn’t get to eat it, though. My alarm went off and that was that.”

  “Perhaps someone is trying to tell you that your coworker might be worth having as a friend,” Trish suggested. “Even though she’s probably ancient—what is she, thirty?”

  Bryant was nonplussed by Trish’s mocking tone. “Paige is almost maybe thirty-five. But she’s funny and she comes up with great story ideas for the news desk. Maybe I’ll take her and the kids out for ice cream. Missy, that grad student I’ve been seeing, and I haven’t been getting along too well lately. It might be nice to go out with a woman and do something quiet.”

  “There’s nothing quiet about two kids,” Quinton remarked. “You should spend some time with my nephews. They can make more noise than a jungle teeming with animals,” he added proudly.

  “I know, but that kind of noise won’t hurt my ears like that techno music Missy likes,” Bryant answered, wiggling his left earlobe. “My head is still ringing from taking her dancing last night. If I asked the woman from work out, I could be in bed by ten!”

  “Maybe then you wouldn’t need to wear all that foundation,” Cooper teased and Bryant balled up his napkin and tossed it at her.

  Nathan got up to refill his empty cup and as he was stirring cream into the dark, rich coffee he said, “I’ve had a recurring dream that’s kind of creepy. No slashers or monsters or anything, just that someone is knocking on the back door of my house and I can’t decide whether to let them in.”

  “Can you see their face?” Savannah asked.

  “No. Just a dark shape out in the night repeatedly knocking on my door.” He stared at his coffee cup, tracing the gilt Hope Street letters with his index finger. “I sense the person’s a man, though. And I don’t fear him exactly, I just don’t know if I want to invite him into my home.”

  “If you’re hesitating, you probably don’t want him around,” Quinton said. “Is there anything going on with your work? A project or new client that’s worrying you?”

  Nathan snapped his fingers. “There is! You’re so intuitive, Quinton! There’s this guy who wants me to design a website for him—a commercial one where people can buy muscle-building vitamins. I guess he’s made a nice pile of money as a chemist, because he drives a yellow H2, has one of those fancy gold watches, and a serious golf tan.” He flicked his eyes at Bryant. “He even out-bronzes you, my friend.”

  Bryant pretended to be crestfallen. “First George Hamilton and now a chemist. Shocking.”

  “So this is a big project for you?” Savannah inquired and Nathan nodded.

  “Sounds lucrative, too,” Trish added.

  “It sure would be,” Nathan agreed. “He wants top-notch graphics, a flash video on the home page, shopping-cart features, you name it. And since my older-than-dirt A/C and heater units are on the fritz, I could sure use the cash.”

  Jake perked up at the mention of the units. “You’re gonna call Mr. Faucet to replace ’em, right? You know we’re doin’ that stuff now besides the regular plumbin’ jobs.”

  Nathan smiled. “I wouldn’t think of calling anyone else, Jake, but unless I accept this project, I won’t be able to shell out seven grand for new units just like that.” He shrugged. “It sounds like a treasure chest has just fallen in my lap, but I just have a funny feeling about this guy.”

  “Why don’t you try to get to know him?” Quinton recommended. “Take him out for coffee and see what your gut tells you. I don’t think it’s right for us to judge others on their appearance. Listen to the man talk. He might surprise you.”

  Nathan nodded. “That’s good counsel.”

  “I agree with Quinton.” Savannah placed both hands over her Bible. “Deuteronomy chapter one, verse seventeen says, ‘Do not show partiality in judging; hear both small and great alike. Do not be afraid of any man, for judgment belongs to God.’ ” She smiled at Nathan. “Let Him be your guide.”

  The Sunrise group members murmured in agreement and then closed their workbooks as the chimes announcing the commencement of the worship service echoed into the classroom.

  “Oh, good! We’re going to be on time!” Trish exclaimed.

  “I’ll take everyone’s cups to the kitchen,” Cooper volunteered, wanting to be alone with her thoughts for a moment. “Would someone save me a seat in a dark corner?”

  “Nah. We’re going to put you front and center,” Nathan teased with a smile.

  “I think we should volunteer her to sing with the band,” Jake called over his shoulder as he sauntered out the door.

  “You’d better not!” Cooper yelled back, but the room was already empty.

  Gathering napkins for the garbage, Cooper piled the empty cups and coffee carafe on a tray and carried them into a small kitchen area used by the academy teachers. She washed the cups with careful deliberation, her hands enjoying the feel of the warm water and the lemon scent of the dish soap. As she rinsed the last cup, her dream from the night before came back to her with vivid clarity.

  In the dream, Cooper had been heading for the banks of Gum Creek, the stream that wound lazily through the woods far behind her house before meandering westward into Louisa County. She’d been barefoot and had continuously stepped on the prickly gumballs that fell like small bombs from the leafy canopy above. Finally, after picking her way over twigs, sharp pebbles, and scratchy plants, Cooper reached the narrow creek.

  A rowboat sat expectantly in the placid water, as though awaiting her, but when she reached down to grab its side, it shifted sideways and was caught up by the slow current of the stream. Within seconds, it was out of reach, floating away from her. Longing to reclaim the little vessel, Cooper moved alongside it on the bank, but the current kept racing faster and faster, bearing the boat further and further away, and she couldn’t keep up.

  Suddenly, the space of sky above the stream where the boat was heading turned dark and a fork of lightning fractured the clouds just above the horizon. Cooper’s dream self halted, afraid. And then, in a blink, she was in the boat, barreling straight for the storm. There was no rain—just black clouds, jagged lightning, and an eerie silence. Again and again, Cooper reached out and tried to grab onto the plants growing on the creek banks, but they slipped from her grasp as though made of fog.

  Cooper had woken abruptly, her body trembling with dread. Even in the comfort of the morning light, she could still smell the scent of rain. And when she stood in the shower and closed her eyes, she could see the black horizon and the tongues of lightning, waiting for her imminent arrival.

  Placing the last cup on a drying rack, Cooper exhaled, trying to calm the drumming of her heart as she recalled the feelings of fear instigated by her dream.

  “Lord, are you trying to tell me to prepare for a difficult time?” she asked into the silence of the kitchen. “Tell me please, so I won’t be taken by surprise.”

  She stared at the last drips of water as they slipped into the drain and then shut her eyes. Alone, in the stillness of the small room, Cooper strained to listen. An answer came then, as though whispered into her inner ear. Prepare yourself. Hardship is coming.

  3

  He humbled you, causing you to hunger and then feeding you with manna, which neither you nor your fathers had known, to teach you that man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD.

  Deuteronomy 8:3 (NIV)

  Cooper opened the cupboard in her tiny kitchen and inspected its contents. She had twenty minutes to cook and eat something for breakfast, but she had forgotten to restock bananas as well as maple and brown sugar oatmeal from Food Lion after work yesterday. She was also fresh out of eggs and Honey Bunches of Oats. Luckily, her mother lived mere yards away and was likely to have some leftover breakfast available for her oldest child.

  Closing the door to her apartment, which was located above her parents’ detached garage, Cooper walked over the flagstone patio toward the back door of the Lees’ cozy, one-story house. She noted that the herbs in her
mother’s container garden just outside the kitchen were starting to look tired. The rosemary was leggy, the basil was stringy with brown-pocked leaves, and the oregano still seemed parched, even though it was clear that it had been recently watered.

  “The end of summer,” Cooper remarked to Columbus, their caged hawk. Columbus blinked his eyes lazily at her. “You must be full because you’re not giving me your special ‘let’s go hunting’ look. Daddy must have taken you for an early walk, huh?”

  The red-tailed raptor turned his head away as though bored by Cooper’s presence. “You must have found a nice, fat field mouse to be giving me such a cold shoulder.” Cooper smoothed down the silky feathers on the back of the hawk’s neck and then moved away from the aloof bird, who had become a member of the family two years ago. Columbus’s wing had been fractured by a bullet while he was roosting at one of the county airports. The hawk’s assailant was never found, but the heartless attack on the majestic bird had been written up in Richmond Times-Dispatch. Within minutes of reading the story, Grammy was on the phone to the authorities at the airport, demanding that they allow her to adopt the injured bird.

  “Earl,” Grammy had said upon replacing the receiver, “you gotta build me an aviary. And I mean right quick.”

  Cooper’s father, Earl, was Grammy’s only child. He was a gentle, taciturn man who rarely denied his mother anything. When she wanted to live in his den instead of a retirement community, he agreed. When she wanted to go to bingo on Wednesday nights, he drove her and waited in the car until she was done. When she attracted every stray dog, cat, or turtle as well as all the injured birds, rabbits, and baby squirrels into their rural home, Earl simply sighed and drove to Wal-Mart with a list of the supplies his mother needed in order to nurture and heal each animal.

  Grammy’s current menagerie of wounded creatures included a cat blind in one eye, a Canadian goose that had nearly been strangled by one of the plastic rings from a six-pack holder, and a motherless fox cub that had quickly become addicted to scraps from the Lee dinner table. The only animals ever to become permanent members of the family were Columbus and an enormous, tetchy, and tailless orange tomcat called Little Boy.