Preacher and The Prostitute

by Barrett, Brenda

  She tuned in to Sister Bertram and saw that the lady was looking at her with a faintly impatient air. “As you know, I am the head of the Women’s Ministries Department at our church.”

  “I didn’t know,” Maribel replied.

  “Didn’t know that I was the head?” Sister Bertram looked hurt.

  “No, didn’t know that the church had a department called the Women’s Ministries.”

  Sister Bertram looked a bit mollified by that admission. “Well, the previous leader only allowed her friends to join,” she looked peeved at this declaration, “and she kept the department like a friendship club, so I am not surprised that you don’t know about it. Let me tell you, it’s a department that caters to the special needs of women in our church. We pray for each other and share our advice as women and friends. We are like a women’s support group.”

  Maribel nodded, fascinated.

  “We meet every Sunday morning at seven. You can bring a friend—female, of course. We have breakfast afterward and share our hopes, dreams and aspirations. All secrets are safe with us.”

  Maribel smiled and thought silently, Not my secrets.

  “I will come this week,” Maribel said, smiling as Sister Bertram clapped her hands and grinned.

  It would be good to know the women in church and to make more friends. There was nothing better than a female support group, or so she had heard. Some of the men had already tried to chat her up and she had not been exactly blown away by their approach.

  Besides, whenever she thought of relationships her past reared its ugly head. Would she have to confess her past to a future husband? Perish the thought; no docile church brother would be comfortable to know that she used to be a prostitute.

  Sister Bertram turned to somebody else who demanded her attention, patted Maribel's hand and walked away.

  “What was that about?” Cathy sidled up to her and asked.

  Maribel glanced at Cathy and laughed, “Sister B wants me to join the Women’s Ministries.”

  “Didn’t I tell you that when it rains it pours?” Cathy hugged her. “I am so glad you are participating in church. Church participation strengthens your faith and gives you that extra impetus to come to church and share with the brethren, even if you don’t want to.”

  Maribel rolled her eyes, “I hope she doesn’t expect me to share my deep, dark secrets and cry into my tea at these meetings.”

  Cathy smiled, her big brown eyes lit up in glee. “Don’t even think about telling them that when we met I had to bribe you to come to church.”

  Maribel smiled. “And that I was in a skimpy skirt and sheer top, thinking that I was going to go to a huge party, or that my sugar daddy had rented a hotel for us to spend the weekend and I had just come back from said weekend slightly drunk.”

  Cathy laughed, “You were indeed the worldly roommate from hell.”

  Maribel sighed. “But God can change a worldly roommate into an exemplary church sister, can’t He?”

  Cathy nodded. “Exactly. A word of warning, though: some people only go to the meetings to hear the business of others, so keep the confessions to a minimum. Even though most church people mean well, there are some who will hold your past against you and make attending church that much harder.”

  Maribel nodded vigorously. There was no way on earth anyone—not even Cathy—would know about her real past. As far as she was concerned, Peaches and her colorful history were dead and buried, and from that Maribel had arisen.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Women’s Ministries meeting was in the dining hall on the second floor of the church building. Some women still had on their tie-heads and what looked like their nightgowns. Cathy waved to her and patted the empty chair beside her when Maribel peeked through the door.

  “I didn’t know dressing was so casual,” Maribel whispered to Cathy when she sat down. She felt overdressed in her pink skirt suit and heels.

  Cathy slapped her hand on her forehead. “I forgot to tell you to dress as if there are no men around.”

  Maribel eyed Cathy’s jeans and oversized t-shirt. “Right.”

  They sat in a semi-circle as Sister Bertram cleared her throat to begin.

  “Ladies, we have a special guest this morning.” The ladies smiled at each other. “As you well know, this church is a big church with over six hundred members, 60% of whom are ladies. We ladies need to stick together like the women who used to follow Jesus. Their names are not as widely known as the men's, but they were there and their work was relevant.”

  There were nods all around.

  “Sister Maribel," she paused, "please introduce yourself to your sisters in Christ, so that we may no longer be strangers to each other.”

  Maribel got up smiling. “My name is Maribel Contrell.”

  The sister to the other side of her started laughing. “I am sorry.” She held up her hands when everyone, including a frowning Maribel, looked at her.

  “Sister Thelma, please,” Sister Bertram said, pained, as Sister Thelma tried to bring her mirth under control.

  “I am only laughing because of the rhyme. Maribel Contrell! The next word should be hell. Maribel Contrell, who came from hell, is looking well.” She hooted some more and then wiped her eyes. “Just a little Christian humor.”

  Maribel looked at the malice in her eyes and had to stop herself from shuddering. She had never met this woman; why did she dislike her so much?

  “Well … erm … my name is Maribel and I am an accountant.”

  “Where are you originally from, Maribel?” a kindly middle-aged lady asked. “You look very much like the wife of a nephew I have in St. Elizabeth. With your golden-toned skin and big brown eyes, you two could pass for at least cousins.”

  Maribel smiled, “I am from Westmoreland.” She didn’t want to give them her exact address; that would be delving a little too close to her past for comfort.

  The sister nodded and smiled.

  Maribel sat down and glanced at Cathy. She badly wanted to ask her about the laughing Sister Thelma with the malicious eyes.

  “She may be nice looking but she doesn’t hold a candle to my Rose,” Thelma hissed so that only Maribel could hear.

  Maribel swung around and looked at her, but she had pasted on a phony smile.

  Amidst the welcomes and the handshakes from the women in the circle and the warmth with which each woman introduced herself, Maribel could feel Sister Thelma’s poisonous regard. She was filled with an unshaken certainty that this woman was a loose cannon and would prove dangerous to her peace of mind.

  “Well, we have several new items to discuss this week,” Sister Bertram said brusquely. “The new pastor was introduced last week. As we all know, he is coming from a Canadian church; he is bright, well-spoken …”

  “Handsome,” one sister piped up quickly as she twirled her hair dreamily.

  “Hot,” her neighbor said quickly.

  “Single,” one old lady pointed out gleefully.

  The other sisters started whispering to each other and Sister Bertram tried to talk over the din. She held up her hands. “Okay, all right. He is handsome, hot and single, but he is the Lord’s man.”

  “And will soon be mine,” Sister Carlene’s voice bellowed over the drone of voices, as she got up and flicked imaginary lint off her long-sleeved floral dress. “Let it be known, youngsters and grannies, that man was sent by God for me specially. God has heard my thirty-five years of prayers. I have kept my body pure as the driven snow, kept lustful thoughts to a bare minimum and you could insert my name in Proverbs, where Solomon talks about a virtuous woman. I have been doing my best for the Lord’s cause and he has sent me a juicy reward: the perfect man in the form of Pastor Brian as an answer to my prayers.”

  “He is thirty,” Sister Thelma said snidely. “He wouldn’t want you; you are too old. On the other hand,” she held up her hand as Sister Carlene was about to protest, “my Rose is perfect for him. She just completed her MBA, magna cum laude; she is m
erely twenty-five, has the looks, and will match him perfectly. And she will be coming to the next Women’s Ministries meeting,” she finished smugly.

  Carlene sat down, defeated. The specter of Rose was obviously a huge one and Maribel longed to see who this paragon of virtue was.

  “Well, if you are going to volunteer Rose as future wife,” Sister Greenland said, her quivery voice piping up through the many whisperings, “I am going to throw into the ring all my twenty granddaughters who are coming to this church. Men are at a scarcity in this place, so if Rose wants him she has to fight for him, and can I say that all of my grandchildren are educated and attractive.”

  Sister Bertram placed her head in her hands and shook it. “Ladies,” she looked at them, pained, “I wanted us to make plans for the pastor's welcome dinner on Thursday night, not fight over who the Lord sent him for or who is perfect for him.” She glared at them. “Anyone hearing you bicker would think you are man-hungry beasts on the rampage.”

  “A dinner is a great idea,” Sister Greenland said, sounding pleased.

  “I will bake my famous corn pone,” one church sister said happily.

  “I am going to do my special jerk chicken,” Sister Carlene said, pleased that she was once more in the running for the pastor’s affection.

  “He doesn’t eat meat,” Sister Bertram said, placing a damper on that suggestion. “I asked him, and he said no meat and no sweets.”

  No meat? No sweets? What is this? How does he keep so buffed looking? The whispers grew to a crescendo.

  Sister Bertram held up her hands once more. “I have the menu planned; I just need volunteers for the following dishes …”

  As she announced each dish she was bombarded by volunteers.

  Cathy whispered to Maribel, “I forgot how entertaining Women’s Ministries meetings could be.”

  “They all seem so human,” Maribel said in awe. “Behind the church dresses and polite smiles, this is what happens?”

  “Not all the time.” Cathy shifted in her seat and glanced around, checking to see where Sister Thelma was. “The pastor being young, single and hot has resulted in all the gloves being ripped off.”

  “I wish I had been here last Sabbath,” Maribel said morosely, “then I could see what all the hullabaloo is about. Is he that good looking?”

  “Succulent,” Cathy said, licking her lips.

  Maribel gasped, “So how come you didn’t tell me?”

  “Each sistah is on her own,” Cathy said, laughing and looking at Maribel’s expression. “I didn’t tell you ‘cause I forgot. But obviously now, I must. He is a tall chocolate bar of pastorly goodness.”

  Maribel snorted. “Seriously.”

  “Well seriously,” Cathy said, jumping when Sister Thelma pushed her head between the two of them.

  “I am disappointed in you, Sister Cathy. I thought you were going to marital counseling with that nice Brother Norwood.”

  “That doesn’t mean I cannot look,” Cathy said defiantly. “Where in the Bible does it say, ‘Thou shalt not look at another attractive man ever again once you are engaged to another’?”

  Sister Thelma ignored Cathy and looked at Maribel and asked, “How old are you, dear?”

  Maribel looked at her distrustfully; her voice was dripping with honey, a sickeningly sweet tone that sounded so insincere that Maribel found herself involuntarily wincing. “Twenty-five in another three months.”

  “Ah,” Sister Thelma said thoughtfully, “and yet I can see that unlike my Rose, you have probably lived a very colorful life.”

  “Why would you say that?” Maribel demanded, her heart picking up speed. Did this lady know her from somewhere?

  “It’s just that you haven’t been in the church long,” Sis Thelma snorted. “You are fairly attractive; who knows what you were up to?”

  “What’s her problem?” Maribel asked Cathy, feeling really mad as the church sister looked at her smugly.

  “Jealousy,” Cathy whispered. “She had the pastor earmarked for her precious Rose and then here you are—a threat.”

  “But why me?” Maribel squeaked, partially relieved that Sister Thelma didn’t seem to know a thing about her, and mad that she couldn’t confront her in the way that she wanted to.

  “Look in the mirror,” Cathy giggled. “If you weren’t a sanctified church sister I would hazard a guess and think you would be in modeling, or something along those sultry lines.”

  Maribel subsided in her chair. She couldn’t argue with that. At one time she had been into nude modeling, and much worse.

  The meeting concluded with a prayer session. The women gathered in a circle but Maribel was quite reluctant to hold Sister Thelma’s hand, whose face had now morphed into sanctimonious lines. She held Maribel’s hand in trembling fervor and Maribel watched as she closed her eyes and silently whispered in fervent prayer.

  They were asked to share their prayer requests with each other and share in what aspect of their lives they most needed God’s intervention. Sister Bertram had stressed in a little pre-prayer speech that there was power in numbers, and that the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous woman availeth much.

  The prayer request started with Sister Bertram, who was doing her CPA exams. “Please pray for me as I take my exams tomorrow.”

  Everyone nodded in commiseration.

  “Please pray for me that I find myself a husband,” Sister Carlene said coyly.

  Everyone snickered at this. Maribel especially found it impossible to hold back her mirth and she was shuddering with silent laughter when it was Cathy’s turn.

  “Please pray for me; I get married in five months,” Cathy said and squeezed Maribel’s hand.

  “Please pray for me. I have a very demanding boss who is testing my faith,” Maribel recovered enough to say.

  “Please pray for my son Gunther,” Sister Thelma said as she gripped Maribel’s fingers tightly. “He is playing in the devil’s den with pornographic videos, his filthy dancehall music, and his refusal to come to church and read the Bible.”

  Maribel felt a twinge of sympathy for Sister Thelma, as there seemed to be tears in her eyes, and then she continued, “And pray for my Rose, who has done well with her degree and is about to start her job as Managing Director in a very large company. And pray for my husband; he has to choose between a white SUV and a one-year-old black BMW. The choice is important to us, as we are changing the paint in our garage. Amen.”

  Cathy’s shoulders were shaking beside her and Maribel could see that others were not wearing a serious expression as they listened to Sister Thelma's prayer request.

  She was too astounded by the blatant bragging to even react. What was even more baffling was that Thelma still had her eyes closed and the pious expression that she had earlier adopted firmly fixed to her face.

  Sister Bertram paused a long moment after that request and as they bowed their heads and hummed a prayer chorus, she finally opened her prayer by saying, “Lord, remind us now of the true meaning of Christianity and help us to leave self behind as we approach your throne of grace …”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Maribel whimpered when the clock alarm pealed. She was not looking forward to going to work today. She dragged herself out of bed and looked in the mirror, but the pink suit from her Women's Ministry meeting was draped across the glass, obscuring her view.

  It was a little quirk of hers to look in the mirror first thing in the morning. Felicia used to joke that she was making sure that she was still in one piece.

  Even to herself she looked apprehensive this morning. She moved closer and looked in her brown eyes. Was that fear?

  Was she fearful of going to work this morning because of Mark Ellington? Last week he was promoted to being her boss, and that promotion would come into effect today. To say that they had a very tough working relationship would be an understatement.

  Mark had mastered the art of subtle sexual harassment to perfection. He never broke any rule but there was
a very definite something in the air when she came near him and now that he was no longer an ordinary colleague, but her supervisor, she could just feel her sweat glands getting ready to work overtime.

  She actually felt a cramping of fear in her stomach. She stumbled and sat back down on her bed. It was only six o’clock; she had two hours to get ready.

  “Okay Maribel,” she whispered, “when you gave your life to Christ you believed that He would be true to his word. He said in Matthew 6, ‘be anxious over nothing.’ Let’s make this day a practicing Christian day. Today you are going to practice what you read in the Bible. Fair enough?” She glanced at herself in the mirror again. Her reflection still looked worried.

  Only prayer will do this one for you, my girl─on your knees. She fell on her knees and started praying. When she got up she felt so much lighter and more positive, to the extent that she hummed through her breakfast of yogurt and fruit.

  She hummed when she took out her red power suit. She hummed when the neighbor in the apartment above hers blocked her in and she had to knock him out of bed to move his car. She hummed though she was stuck in traffic and reached work one minute after eight.

  “Maribel, you have started the week in a very bad way.” Mark was standing in the lobby when she entered the building. A cup of coffee was in his hand and he had a grin on his face. “I would report you to your boss if he wasn’t already here to witness it.”

  The receptionist, who had just come in behind Maribel, rolled her eyes and walked past Mark quickly. Maribel felt the feeling of euphoria she had after the prayer die a sudden death.

  “Morning Mark.” She forced out a strangled greeting.

  “Morning,” Mark said, clipped. “I asked Vivian to work with you on the Fowler account. I promised Graham Fowler the finished product in three days.”

  “But you can’t do that, Mark,” Maribel sputtered. “I work directly with that account, I know exactly what is involved, the case load is a very complex one, plus I have other cases. Three days is too short for me to finish that account, even with help.”