Spellbinder

by Harold Robbins

  She smiled. “Maybe it won’t be like that at all. Maybe he’ll be real happy about it.”

  He stared at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Why do you think he wanted you to stop seeing me?”

  “He said I was screwing up your head and that it was interfering with your work. That he had a very personal interest in you.”

  “And all you could think was that I was his whore?” She was angry now. “You stupid idiot, what man in his right mind would want his daughter to get involved with a jerk who’s willing to give up everything in the world just to preach the Gospel?”

  “You mean—?” Her words were sinking into him just as the telephone began to ring. He turned to look at it.

  She made no move to pick it up. “It’s probably him right now.”

  He stared at her without speaking.

  “Answer it,” she said. “He probably wants to talk to you. I told you I thought my phone was bugged.”

  He picked up the phone. “Hello,” he said in a tentative voice.

  The old man’s voice boomed through the receiver. “Andrew?”

  “Yes.”

  “Congratulations, son.” Randle’s voice echoed in his ear. “I don’t want you to worry about a thing. I’ve got the wedding arrangements already made!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jake Randle had kept his word. Churchland was ready by May 1976, as he had said it would be. But the official opening was planned for July Fourth in order to coincide with the nationwide bicentennial celebration.

  By eleven o’clock in the morning the computers at the reception center had registered two thousand four hundred and twenty-one visitors. Thirty-one buses were in the parking lot. Seven private jet planes, three DC-9s and one Boeing 727-200 were already on the airfield. Over seven hundred automobiles were jammed into the auxiliary parking lots and fifteen buses and three more big chartered planes were expected before two o’clock.

  Preacher was standing at the window of his office high in the seventh-floor tower of the church. Below him he saw the crowds of people walking around Churchland, families, men, women, children, all in their Sunday finest. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves, a bright festive air about them. The buzzer at his desk sounded and he went back to it. He pressed a button and spoke into the speakerphone. “Yes?”

  “Your wife is on the phone, Dr. Talbot,” his secretary said.

  He picked up his private line. “Good morning, Jane.”

  “Hello, darling,” she said. “I missed you this morning.”

  “I got out early. You were sleeping so peacefully I couldn’t wake you up.”

  She laughed. “Isn’t it exciting? I couldn’t believe all the people I saw when I looked out the window.”

  “Almost twenty-five hundred people here already,” he said.

  “How many more do you expect?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “Nobody has told me yet.”

  She laughed. “Silly. You don’t need anyone to tell you. That’s why the minicomputer is on your desk. It will pick up all the information you want from the central bank.”

  “I don’t know how to work it.”

  “It’s simple. Just punch the code into the machine. The information will flash on the screen automatically.”

  He shook his head. “I’m hopeless, I’m afraid. I forgot the code.”

  “You have your code book?”

  “I can’t make head or tail out of it. It’s too complicated for me.”

  “It must be a mental block. You can remember every word in the Bible but you can’t even read a simple code book. I’ll give you the code—21-30-219-17.”

  He pressed the numbers on the computer keyboard. The answer flashed on the screen immediately. “Three thousand four hundred sixteen.”

  “You can’t get all of them into the church,” she said. “Good thing the chapels are equipped with projection TV screens. They’ll be able to handle at least a thousand people.”

  “I’d better let reception know about it,” he said.

  She laughed. “You don’t have to do anything. The computer prints out all the seat assignments. It’s programmed to divert visitors to the chapels as soon as the church is filled up.”

  “I don’t know what I would have done without you,” he said.

  She laughed. “That’s a backhanded compliment. You’d still be a swinging bachelor, not the father of two children.”

  He smiled. Little Jake was almost fifteen months old, and Linda Rae would be three months old next week. “How are they this morning?”

  “They’re fine,” she said. “Their grandfather is up in the nursery with them. I’ve never seen him having such a good time. But that’s not why I called. I was wondering if you would have time to join us here for lunch.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “I’ve still got a lot to do. Right now I have to go down and say hello to Ruth Carter Stapleton.”

  “Who is she?”

  “She’s the sister of Jimmy Carter.”

  “I don’t know who he is either.”

  “He’s the governor of Georgia who’s running for the Democratic nomination for President. He’s a born-again Christian and she’s a preacher. Right after that I have to be at the airfield. The governor of Texas is due in on his private plane.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “When will we see you?”

  “It’s an old saying but it’s true,” he laughed. “See you in church.”

  “If I didn’t love you, it would be easy to hate you.”

  “I love you too,” he said, putting down the phone.

  The buzzer sounded again; his secretary’s voice came from the speakerphone. “Mr. Lincoln is here.”

  “Tell him to come in.”

  The producer came into the room, a loose-leaf bound script in his hand. He was smiling. “I think we’ve got it.”

  Preacher smiled. “I hope so.”

  Marcus placed the script on the desk. “You’ll find everything you need in there. We’ve left you fifteen minutes for your sermon.”

  “That’s all?” Preacher asked. “What happened to the rest of the time? I thought we had an hour and a half.”

  Marcus laughed. “Forty-five minutes get used up so that you can introduce the guests and give them a chance to say a few words.”

  “That still leaves a half-hour open.”

  “Film clips of Churchland, inserts of you appearing on other programs, establishing shots, things like that.” He sank into a chair opposite the desk. “But you don’t have to worry about that. The most important thing is to remember that we have to start exactly at three o’clock and finish exactly at four. That leaves us four hours to edit the program and get it on the wires. We go on the air at ten o’clock in the East, seven in the West.”

  “Okay,” Preacher said.

  “Jim Woden will keep you clued on the timing. Just follow his directions and we won’t have a thing to worry about.” He rose from the chair. “If you have any questions, I’ll be in my office downstairs. I’ve made arrangements to have everybody on stage fifteen minutes before we start.”

  “Good enough.”

  Marcus smiled. “Good luck.”

  “Thank you,” Preacher said. “We’ll need it.”

  The faint roar of a jet plane filtered into the office. He went back to the window and looked out. A jet liner was just banking into its approach to the airfield, the bright sun shining silver from its wings. He took a deep breath.

  ***

  It was almost two years since that morning he had come from Dallas with Jane. They had landed at the old man’s private field in one of his Lear jets. He didn’t go up to the ranch with her; instead he had the limousine take him directly to his van just outside the big tent which was still standing in the field next to town.

  News traveled fast. Joe and Beverly were waiting for him in the van. “How did it go?” Joe asked.

  He tried to be noncommittal. “Ok
ay.”

  Joe looked at him. “When’s the wedding?”

  He couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. “How do you know about that?”

  “There ain’t no secrets,” Joe said. “She called here first to find out where you were.”

  “That didn’t mean anything.”

  “She was crying when I spoke to her,” Beverly said. “I asked her what was wrong and she told me she was pregnant.” She reached for a cigarette. “Then first thing this morning Charlie came in here very upset. She’d been dating Larry, Randle’s bodyguard. He came by to see her about three o’clock this morning and told her that you were going to marry the old man’s daughter.”

  Preacher was silent.

  “Did you know that she was his daughter?” Beverly asked.

  He shook his head. “I just found out last night.”

  “Are you going through with it?”

  He looked at her. “Do I have any choice? If I don’t we blow it all.”

  Charlie’s voice came from behind him. “The bitch!”

  He turned in surprise. He hadn’t heard her come into the van.

  “The bitch!” she repeated. “She set you up for it.”

  “No she didn’t,” he protested. “It wasn’t her fault.”

  “Nobody’s so stupid they wait three months to find out if they’re pregnant,” Charlie said. “Would you say that if any of us pulled that on you? You’d hustle us off to the nearest doctor.”

  He was silent.

  “You’re not even in love with her,” said Charlie accusingly. “The old man’s money has you buffaloed.”

  “Abortion’s a sin,” he said. “It’s against the Scriptures.”

  “Bullshit!” Charlie said vehemently. “I’m getting tired of you pulling out the Scriptures and quoting them at me whenever it suits your purpose. Why don’t you admit the truth just once—that it’s the money you want?”

  “It’s not the money,” he protested, “it’s the chance it gives me to do God’s work.”

  “You can believe that if you want to,” she said balefully, “but the girls and I don’t. We believed in you once but not no more. You’re no different from nobody else. You just blew us off. We’re getting out of here this morning.”

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “Give me a chance. Nothing’s going to change. We’re all still going to be together working for Jesus Christ.”

  “You are dumb,” she said contemptuously. “You can’t even see that it’s Jake Randle, not Jesus Christ, you’re working for.”

  Before he had a chance to say anything, she had turned and run from the van. He turned back to Joe and Beverly. “Go after her,” he said. “Maybe you can make them understand.”

  “Joe and I have been talking to them all morning,” Beverly said. “We can’t change their minds. They feel you betrayed them. Only Tarz is staying.”

  He was silent for a moment. “And you?” he asked.

  “We’re staying,” Joe said. “We don’t object to gettin’ in on the gravy.”

  “Do you think it’s the money that’s making me do this?”

  “I don’t really care,” Joe said. “You’re a preacher-man and you gotta preach. Any way you take to do it is okay with me.”

  “And how do you feel?” he asked Beverly.

  She smiled slowly. “I made my choice to go with you a long time ago. What you do is not important. Besides, a Buddhist has no right to pass judgment on a Christian.”

  “The real important thing is, do you want us to stay?” Joe asked.

  Preacher looked at him. “You know I do.”

  Joe looked at Beverly. “Then we stay.”

  Preacher glanced at her. She nodded her head. “Good,” he said. “I’m glad.”

  “We’ll stick out like a couple of sore thumbs,” Joe said. “They’ll be pushing you to get rid of us.”

  “Nobody can make me do that,” Preacher said.

  “While all this marryin’ talk is in the air,” Joe said, “do you object to me and Beverly gettin’ married?”

  “What about your wife and kids in Carolina?” Preacher asked.

  “We were never really married, and besides she married up with another guy,” Joe said.

  Preacher looked at him. “Then I have no objections.”

  Joe grinned. “Then we all got nothin’ to do but congratulate each other.”

  Preacher took a deep breath. “Not yet. First, I want to go over and talk to the girls myself. I just can’t let them leave. Not like that.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  He had crossed the field to their trailer, climbed up the three steps and knocked at the door. The voice came muffled through the door. “Who is it?”

  “Preacher.”

  “Go away. We don’t have nothin’ to say to you.”

  “I have something to say to you,” he said.

  “We don’t want to hear it. Go away.”

  He tried the door. It was locked. “Unlock the door,” he called.

  “No.”

  He took the doorknob in his hand and twisted it. At the same time he kicked the door with the bottom of his heavy boot. The lightweight door sprang open and he walked through it into the trailer. “Sorry.”

  The girls were standing near their bunks. There were cardboard boxes and valises on the floor next to them. A faint scent of grass hung in the air. Slowly he looked at each of them in turn. They stared back at him in silence. “Okay,” he said. “Who’s got the joint?”

  No one answered.

  “Don’t be selfish,” he said. “I could use a toke myself.”

  They exchanged glances, then Melanie held a half-used joint out to him. He took it from her hand and lit it. He sat on a chair near the door and sucked two tokes deep into his lungs. He nodded thoughtfully without speaking, then took another toke and silently gave it back to her.

  She took a hit and passed it to Charlie, standing next to her. Charlie dragged on the joint and passed it on. By the time it reached the last girl it was gone.

  None of them had said a word until then. Finally he spoke. “Got another?”

  “Is that the reason you kicked the door open to get in here?” Charlie snapped.

  He met her eyes. “After what you just said to me, can you think of a better reason?”

  Her eyes fell; she didn’t speak.

  He looked from one to the other before he spoke again. “It just happens that I do have a better reason to bust in here than that. We’ve known each other too long, we’ve been through too much together and I love you all too much to let you walk out just like that.”

  Once again it was Charlie who spoke for them. “You don’t need us anymore. You’re goin’ someplace else.”

  He met her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere that I thought you would not come with me. I need you more now than ever before.”

  “If that’s so true how come you been goin’ all over the country while we been sittin’ here twiddlin’ our thumbs? And then when you did show up for a day or two, you never even talked to us, always at some meetin’ or other. Next thing we know, you’re marryin’ up with that

  rich cunt.”

  He stared at her. “I didn’t know that not marrying was the reason we stayed together. I thought that the love we have for each other and for Jesus was what counted.”

  “You keep talkin’ about the love you got for us but it’s her you been ballin’ all the time.”

  “You know better than that, Charlie,” he said.

  “I don’t know what to think anymore,” she said, turning away swiftly but not before he saw the tears welling into her eyes.

  He rose from his chair and took her hand, turning her to him. “Charlie.”

  She hid her face against his shoulder. “Why don’t you just let us go, Preacher? What do you want from us anyway?”

  He stroked her hair slowly. “What I always wanted, Charlie,” he said softly. He looked at the others over her head. “Remember what I said when we left the
Community at Los Altos? I wanted for us to build a ministry together. A place where we can help people find the Lord. And that I wanted you to help me.”

  He paused for a moment. None of them spoke.

  “That hasn’t changed. And I haven’t changed. I still want you to help me. I still need you. I need your faith, your trust, your love. Without that, I can’t do it myself.”

  It was Melanie who spoke now. “We’ve been hearing stories, even before this happened, that you were going to send us away.”

  “Where did you hear that?” he asked.

  “From the locals,” she said. “They said that old man Randle was after you to get rid of your harem.”

  “Why did you listen to them?” he asked. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

  “We wanted to,” she answered. “But you were always too busy. You’d be in and out all the time.”

  He was silent for a moment. “I’ll make you a promise. Any time you want to talk to me about anything, you come to me. I promise I’ll make time for you.” They were all looking at him. “Now, will you stay?”

  ***

  Preacher looked down at the computer printout on his desk, then at Beverly, seated opposite him. “Over six million dollars?”

  “That’s right,” she said. “That’s what the Randle Foundation put into Churchland. They own the land and the buildings and they’ve leased it to us for a ten-year period at six hundred thousand a year and we pay all maintenance and service charges.”

  “That comes to fifty thousand a year plus,” Preacher said.

  “We also owe them over five hundred thousand dollars they advanced for P.R. and TV time purchases.”

  He shook his head. “That’s a big nut to start out with.”

  “That’s the deal,” she said without expression. “You signed the agreement. If we make it, Randle will do pretty good for himself.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  “They can throw us out and take it all back.”

  “Then what will he do with it?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Suddenly he began to laugh. “There’s nothing he can do with it. If we don’t make the payments he won’t throw us out. He’ll wind up sticking the whole place up his ass if he does. This is one time I think he got too smart.”