Come Sunday Morning

by Terry E. Hill

  Hezekiah looked at Danny, who nodded approval, and then said, “That would be fine.”

  The two men followed the maître d’ to the sunny deck at the rear of the restaurant. It was the sixth month of their relationship. Danny’s khaki pants and blue button-down shirt provided ample cover for the truth, that he was the younger man who held the heart of his elegant companion in his neatly pressed rear pocket. Together the couple struck the most innocent of poses. Maybe they were brothers, or mentor and protégé. Only one with the most sensitive radar could possibly have detected the truth about the two men.

  Hezekiah hung his jacket on the back of his chair as they sat down.

  “Enjoy your meal, gentlemen,” said the maître d’ as he bowed slightly and exited the deck.

  Dark blue umbrellas shielded glass tables from the bright noonday sun. Polished silver utensils, lush linen napkins, and sparkling water goblets stood at the ready in their appointed places. Although the deck was filled with similar faces to those in the dining room, the tables were positioned farther apart, offering their occupants additional privacy. Large potted plants danced gently to music felt but not heard. The deck overlooked a glassy ocean, where sailboats drifted by lazily.

  Hezekiah and Danny laughed together as they ate, obviously pleased to be in each other’s company. They were not only lovers, but also the closest of friends. When they looked into each other’s eyes, they saw themselves. Little lost boys searching for their reflection in the face of someone who cared.

  They talked of politics, not religion. They talked about the Dodgers’ chances at making it to the World Series. They talked about life, and they talked about love.

  After lunch they walked along a boardwalk lined with shops selling souvenirs to the tourists that filled the cobbled path. Four pelicans lounged in the sun on a landing near the water.

  After moments of silence Hezekiah said, “I want us to be together someday, Danny.”

  Not comprehending the gravity of the statement, Danny smiled and replied, “We are together.”

  “You know what I mean…permanently. I want us to live together. Meeting for a few hours here and there is so frustrating for me. I want us to build a life together.”

  “What about Samantha?”

  “My relationship with Samantha is over. We’re not in love, and if I stay around much longer, I’ll end up hating her. I don’t want that.”

  “So you want me to be the new Samantha? I’m sorry, Hezekiah, I can’t fill those…”

  Hezekiah moved in closer. “What are you talking about? My wanting to be with you has nothing to do with how I feel about her. Even if I did love her, I would still want us to be together.”

  “I don’t want to be the person you run to because you suddenly realize who your wife really is. This may sound silly, but I want to be the person you come to because this is where you want to be, because it’s right, not just convenient.”

  “I’ve called you a lot of things, sexy, smart, stubborn, even naive, but never convenient. Do you think these last six months have been ‘convenient’ for me—sneaking around, lying to cover up lies, juggling two relationships with two very demanding people? It’s been hell for me, and you, of all people, should—”

  “Should what? Be grateful that the great Hezekiah Cleaveland picked me. Well, I’m not grateful. You’re not doing me a favor by being with me. If you’re not with me because this is where you want to be, then we’ve both wasted our time.”

  “I was going to say, you of all people should understand. Why are you twisting my words around? I don’t know how many other ways to say ‘I love you.’ If I did love Samantha, I would still love you. I’ve never felt about her, or anyone else, the way I feel about you. I wouldn’t jeopardize my entire ministry if I didn’t feel this way. You can twist my words, but I know exactly what I’m saying.”

  Danny stared out into the ocean. The wind gently propelled little boats past.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve waited my whole life for someone like you, and now that you’re here, I’m afraid I’ll wake up one morning and you’ll be gone. Sometimes I find myself pushing you away to keep from getting hurt.”

  Hezekiah smiled. “I thought I was the only one who felt that way.”

  “What about your church? Samantha will try to ruin you if she ever finds out. She’ll never let you go. Her ego won’t allow it.”

  “You let me worry about Samantha.”

  “This won’t work, Hezekiah. You’ve got too much to lose.”

  “You don’t want to be with me?”

  “You know I do. It’s all I ever think about. I just don’t see how it could work.”

  At that moment walking in the sun with Danny made the risks seem worthwhile.

  Their marriage had begun like so many others. Hezekiah met Samantha at the Bible Institute of Los Angeles. He was a senior and she a sophomore. He was the intense, smart boy on campus, president of the Black Student Union, number one on the dean’s list, and editor of the school newspaper. She was the attractive and popular girl whom all the boys pursued, member of the debate team, the girls’ track team, and volunteer tutor for the neighborhood children.

  From the beginning they were a power couple, protesting at city hall when funds were cut for social services in poor neighborhoods. If there was a cause that affected disenfranchised people, of any race, Samantha and Hezekiah could be seen on the front lines of the struggle.

  Ironically, the things that attracted Samantha to Hezekiah were the same that prevented her from ever feeling she truly knew him. There was always another mistress—not a woman, but his ferocious and insatiable ambition. Since their first year of marriage Hezekiah’s obsessive and all-consuming desire to succeed in life was his first and only love. Yes, he showered her with outward affection, but still something was missing.

  He skillfully concealed parts of himself from Samantha. She could see it simmering behind his smoldering brown eyes. She could hear it lurking just beneath the words he spoke, taunting her from behind his beguiling smile. Samantha didn’t know what “it” was and couldn’t be sure if he knew either. Hezekiah’s secret gradually formed a chasm between them, which stretched wider as his ministry reached higher.

  Samantha soon grew bitter and weary from years of foraging for the secret that Hezekiah hid so well. She began to sublimate her energy, instead, into regaining the goals she had abandoned on the day they married. Samantha completed her doctorate in theology, but only after much personal sacrifice and constant accusations of neglect from Hezekiah.

  Still, their combined outward personas were dazzling and commanding. He, the handsome pastor who could do no wrong in the eyes of the public, and she, the strikingly beautiful wife who could sway and mesmerize even Hezekiah’s most fanatic critics. Their smiling faces on the front page of any magazine would double its circulation. Their presence at a charity fund-raiser would guarantee its success. The Cleavelands were Los Angeles’s cherished and much loved ecumenical dynasty.

  However, in the sheltered darkness of their limousine, or in the cocoon of the gated mansion, their golden smiles turned to stone. Hezekiah’s secret had eclipsed even the places in his heart that he had once shared with Samantha. The only part of him that remained for her to touch was the veneer that could be seen on the home page of their Web site, or in the pulpit of New Testament Cathedral every Sunday morning.

  Rumors of Hezekiah’s affairs with other women had haunted their marriage for years. The distance between them served as a sufficient buffer to protect Samantha’s ego and heart. The influence and prestige she had accumulated over the years soon replaced the love Samantha once had for Hezekiah. It comforted her when she was lonely and held her at night, until she drifted into sleep. As Hezekiah withdrew deeper into his dark, veiled world, she relied more and more on public accolades and praise to fill the void created by their hollow union.

  Dino had only seen Danny St. John once. Danny and Hezekiah had already been seeing each other for five mon
ths. It was well after 1:00 A.M. on a Thursday. Hezekiah had just completed an exceptionally long negotiation session with the building contractor. When Hezekiah settled into the rear of the car it was apparent he was emotionally spent. Dino instinctively headed toward the pastor’s estate.

  “I’m not going home yet, Dino,” Hezekiah said as his blurry eyes adjusted to the street signs. “Take me to the Adams District. I’m going to have a cup of coffee with a friend.”

  Dino had heard the command on many occasions before that evening. Usually, the directive came late at night when no other engagements were scheduled. Dino came to assume that “having coffee with a friend” actually meant, “I’m going to get laid.”

  Dino drove to the familiar apartment on the corner of Adams Boulevard and Hillcrest Avenue. Until that night Dino had never seen its occupant, although he had been to the house on many occasions before. He parked in the red zone, knowing that no police officer would dare harass him, once they learned of his distinguished passenger.

  It was a large faded beige Victorian-style house that had been divided into five smaller units. Perennials lined the brick walkway leading to a steep flight of stairs. Magnolia and pine trees illuminated by antique streetlamps bristled from a gentle breeze.

  The front door of the first-floor unit swung open before Hezekiah could reach the top step. An attractive young black man in his twenties, wearing baggy green pants and no shirt, stepped from a pool of darkness in the threshold. The partially clad figure immediately embraced Hezekiah and kissed him directly on the lips.

  Even through the heavy cashmere overcoat Hezekiah wore that evening, Dino could see Hezekiah’s body stiffen. Hezekiah sternly, yet with gentle familiarity, pushed the young man away. As he did, he turned and looked Dino directly in the eyes. The message Hezekiah sent was very clear despite the distance between the car and the man’s front door. This was an assignation that must be added to the already-lengthy list of those not to be discussed with anyone, including the pastor himself.

  Four months after they met, Hezekiah flew Danny, in his private jet, to San Francisco for the opening night of Porgy and Bess at the War Memorial Opera House. The two arrived in San Francisco and rode in a waiting limousine to the Fairmont Hotel.

  As the bellman placed their bags neatly in the parlor, he asked Hezekiah, “Will there be anything else, Mr. Radcliff?”

  “No, thank you. We can take it from here,” Hezekiah responded.

  Their suite had breathtaking views of the city, framed by large picture windows that wrapped around the twenty-second floor. To the right they could see the pointed tip of the Transamerica Pyramid peeking through the fog and the sparkling towers of the Golden Gate Bridge. To the left were Grace Cathedral, the Flood Mansion, and Coit Tower, with the San Francisco Bay and Alcatraz Island as the backdrop. The suite had a parquet-floor entrance that led to a paneled parlor, cream-hued French Provincial furniture, a fireplace, and wet bar.

  After unpacking their bags Hezekiah and Danny made love under cascading water in the marble shower.

  “I love you, Danny,” Hezekiah said as he caressed Danny’s glistening body in the pulsating waterfall.

  Through breathless panting Danny responded, “I love you too, Hezekiah.”

  They took a cab to the opera house. Ticket holders wearing their finest evening dresses and black suits were beginning to arrive. As the two men exited the cab, Hezekiah gave the driver an extra twenty dollars in appreciation for getting them there on time for their dinner reservations.

  The hostess in the restaurant on the bottom floor of the opera house tried her best not to look impressed as the two handsome men walked toward her. “Good evening, Reverend Cleaveland. Welcome to Patina’s Cafe,” said the attractive woman standing behind a well-lit podium.

  “Good evening,” Hezekiah responded. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else. We have reservations for two.”

  “I’m sorry, but you look just like…Yes, sir. Under what name?” she asked apologetically.

  “Radcliff. Michael Radcliff,” Hezekiah said, smiling at Danny.

  After scanning her list she replied, “Very good, sir. Please follow me.”

  At their table a flurry of waiters attended their needs in rapid succession. Waters, wines, breads, and appetizers were followed by their meals. A well-dressed couple approached the table as the two laughed and recalled previous performances of Porgy and Bess they each had seen before they met.

  “Excuse me,” said the man shyly, “we hate to interrupt your dinner, but aren’t you Hezekiah Cleaveland? My wife and I watch you every Sunday. Would it be possible for us to take a picture with you? We’re here visiting from Chicago.”

  Hezekiah looked up with a smile and said, “I’m sorry, I’m not Hezekiah Cleaveland, but whoever he is, he must be a very handsome guy.”

  The couple looked disappointed. “Are you sure?” the wife asked. “I would know that face anywhere. Is Samantha with you tonight? I love her. I’ve read her autobiography twice. She is such an inspiration.”

  Hezekiah kindly responded, “I really do hate to disappoint you, but—”

  Danny looked up at the couple and interrupted, “This is Hezekiah Cleaveland. He’s just feeling a little shy this evening. Give me your camera and I’ll be happy to take the picture for you.”

  Hezekiah tensed. “Danny?” he said questioningly.

  “It’s all right, Hezekiah,” Danny reassured him.

  Hezekiah stood up and the couple flanked his sides. Danny took the picture, and the couple left smiling and apologizing profusely for disturbing their dinner, but only after asking Hezekiah to sign a menu they had taken from their table.

  “Danny, I don’t think that was a good idea. Pictures like that end up on the Internet.”

  “I realized that. That’s why I took the picture so I wouldn’t be in the photo. If you hadn’t allowed them, they probably would have taken one of you from a distance and I would have been in it too.”

  “Sounds like you’ve done this before. Are you sure I’m the only famous person you’ve dated?”

  They both laughed and Danny replied, “I’m sure. And, believe me, you’ll also be the last.”

  In the grand gold-gilded theater a bronze diva on the stage passionately sang the aria to her man:

  “I loves you, Porgy, don’t let him take me. Don’t let him handle me and drive me mad. If you can keep me, I wanna stay here with you forever, and I’ll be glad.”

  She pleaded and wept to the rapt delight of the audience.

  “Yes, I loves you, Porgy, don’t let him take me. Don’t let him handle me with his hot hands. If you can keep me, I wants to stay here with you forever. I’ve got my man.”

  Hezekiah affectionately brushed Danny’s shoulder with his. Their knees touched as the songbird so graciously provided the prophetic soundtrack to their lives.

  14

  Wednesday

  Catherine functioned as if it were a typical day at New Testament Cathedral. Telephone calls were returned, decisions made, and problems were solved.

  Who could have leaked the story to the press? she thought while laboriously attending to the daily chores ascribed to a chief operations officer. Everyone was suspect. Maybe it’s the secretary who screens Hezekiah’s calls, or maybe Dino Goodman, the pastor’s driver. I’ve never trusted him. He must have known something was going on. Maybe he’s being paid to sabotage Hezekiah.

  The list of suspects grew and rationales for betrayal abounded as five o’clock drew near.

  “Ms. Birdsong,” came a voice from the intercom in her office. “Reverend Pryce is here for your five-fifteen appointment.”

  “Give me two minutes and then tell him to come in,” was the instruction that followed.

  Catherine quickly looked into a mirror behind her desk to check the remains of makeup under her puffy eyes. Once again she swallowed mouthwash and returned the little bottle to her purse under the desk.

  “Hello, Catherine. Sor
ry I’m late.”

  From across the room Percy honed in on Catherine’s troubled face.

  “You look terrible. Is there something wrong? Have you been crying?” he asked, approaching her with an outstretched hand. “What has Hezekiah done to you now?”

  The comment was initially said in jest, but as he walked closer, he detected the faint remnant of a tear in the corner of her eye.

  Catherine extended her hand and allowed it to be enveloped by Percy’s hearty grip.

  “I’m fine, Reverend Pryce,” she said, pointing to the chair in front of her desk and inviting him to sit. “What did you want to see me about?”

  “Catherine, you can’t fool me. I know something is wrong. We’ve known each other a long time. I think of you as a friend, and I hope you feel the same about me. Has Hezekiah done something to upset you?”

  Catherine looked away, avoiding his sympathetic gaze. There was silence for a moment and then she spoke, “Percy, something terrible has happened and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “Then tell me about it, maybe we can figure it out together.”

  “It’s about Hezekiah, but he told me not to discuss it with anyone.”

  Percy threw his head back and laughed aloud.

  “How many times have we both heard that over the years? We each know sometimes it’s necessary to discuss our concerns with others we trust to make sure our perspectives are clear and unclouded by fear. Now tell me. What’s going on? Maybe it’s not as bad as you think.”

  Catherine proceeded to recount the antagonistic meeting with the reporter. It was a relief for her to tell the story to a man as wise as Percy. If anyone would know what to do, it would be Percy.

  He listened attentively, shifting several times in the seat and occasionally interrupting to ask questions.

  “What did Hezekiah say?” and “When is the story supposed to run?”

  Catherine concluded her tale by saying, “I’ve never been this worried about anything in my life. I think I’m going to have a breakdown.”