Marcus returned his smile. “For medicinal purposes.”
Preacher nodded. “Absolutely, it’s the only way to fly.”
They laughed. Marcus glanced over his shoulder at the two girls seated forward. “The old man isn’t going to like you bringing them back.”
Preacher nodded. “Probably not.”
“Do you have any idea where they will work?”
Preacher waited until the steward had put the drinks on the table in front of them and walked away. He picked up his glass and studied the pale golden color of the liquor. “Probably in V.I.P. reception. They’re expert in making people feel important.”
“I thought that department was turned over to public relations and done away with.”
“Then we’ll open it up again. We can afford it.”
Marcus sipped at his drink. “I was surprised how quickly he agreed with your suggestion to add Joe to the board, weren’t you?”
Preacher shook his head. “Not at all. Jake’s a shrewd trader. He gave up one to get four. That’s not bad.”
“How do you think he’ll take to the Hickox show?”
“I don’t know that it matters,” Preacher said. “The contract’s already signed. He has no choice but to accept it.”
“Doesn’t the board have to approve the contracts though?”
“Ordinarily, yes. But as pastor and chairman of the board, any contract I sign is valid and binding on the church.”
Marcus took another sip of his drink. “Even if he does like the idea of the show, he won’t like the idea that I worked with you on it without telling him. After all, technically, I’m still president of Randle Communications.”
“How much time did you buy on the Randle stations for the show?”
“A lot,” Marcus answered.
“Then he won’t object,” Preacher said. “You can always tell him that I pushed the show on you and that you protected him by buying all that time. Just show how much money we all can make with it. That’s the bottom line for him. He won’t fight that.”
“But we both know if we do the show as we plan, without any direct solicitations in it, we’re not going to make any money.”
“I’m not going to tell him,” Preacher said. “Let him discover that for himself when he watches the show. If he ever does.”
Marcus laughed suddenly. “Sanford Carrol’s going to shit. He’s been trying to get them for C.B.N. for a year now but they wouldn’t come up with enough money for the Hickoxes.”
“What kind of a man is he?” Preacher asked. “Is he good?”
“Very good,” Marcus said. “Extremely capable and professional. He was with N.B.C. for ten years before moving to C.B.N.”
“Then I suggest you have a little talk with him before the meeting. There’s no reason why we couldn’t share some of the credit for the idea with him. If it’s a show he really wanted, he won’t object to that.”
Marcus stared at him. “Are you sure you’re not a businessman disguised as a minister?”
“I’m sure,” Preacher smiled. “I’m a preacher trying to play the game of being a businessman.”
Melanie got out of her seat and walked back to them. She held a lighted joint in her hand. “Do you mind if we smoke?”
Preacher looked up at her with a faint smile. “Why bother to ask? You already are.”
“I was just being polite,” Melanie said, holding out the joint to him. “Care for a toke?”
“That’s the right question to ask,” Preacher said, taking the joint from her. “Of course.” He sucked the smoke deep into his lungs and let it out idly. He nodded in approval. “Yes.”
She waited until he took another toke, then took it back and offered it to Marcus. “Marcus?” she asked.
He stared at the joint for a moment, then took it from her. “Why not? We’re doing everything else on this plane.”
She watched him take two expert hits, then took the joint back from him. “Hey,” she said in admiration. “All these years I thought you were a snob and you turn out to be a real head.”
He laughed. “What’s in that joint? Two hits and I’m stoned.” He fished in his vest pocket and came out with something concealed in the palm of his hand. “I can’t be selfish. Preacher came up with the Scotch, you girls with the grass. I have a contribution to make.” He opened his hand, showing the small brown vial. “Anybody care for a toot?” He smiled.
Melanie stared for a moment, then turned and called up the aisle. “Hey, Charlie! Come on back here. It’s party time!”
None of them were feeling any pain by the time the plane touched down in Churchland.
Chapter Twelve
The alarm woke him at seven in the morning. With a groan, he sat up in bed. His eyes hurt and his head throbbed with the granddaddy of all hangovers. His mouth felt rug-lined.
He staggered out of bed and went into the bathroom, searching through the medicine cabinet for an Alka Seltzer. Finding it, he threw four of the tablets into a glass of water. The fizzing noise of the effervescence sounded like the roaring of a lion in his ears. Quickly he drank it and, resting his arms on the sink to support himself, stared into the mirror. His bloodshot eyes stared back at him. Sadly he shook his head. This wasn’t exactly the sort of condition for him to be in when he opened the board meeting.
He went back into the bedroom and called downstairs for a large pot of black coffee. He sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the throbbing in his temples to cease. Idly he wondered how he got home. The last thing he remembered was leaving the plane.
There was a knock at the door and the maid came in with the morning tray of orange juice and coffee. She placed it on the bedside table and turned to him with the glass of juice in her hand. “Feeling better this morning, Dr. Talbot?”
He looked at her as he took the juice from her hand, trying to gauge the sound of her voice. He couldn’t tell whether she was just being polite, cool or disapproving. “I don’t know yet,” he said as she turned to pour the coffee into his big breakfast mug.
She took the glass from his hand and replaced it with the coffee. “I put the two ladies in the guest room,” she said in an expressionless voice. She saw the blank look on his face. “You know, those two ladies who used to work here in reception,” she added quickly. “They said you were feeling a bit under the weather.”
He sipped silently at the hot black coffee. They weren’t wrong about that even though it was a polite way of putting it.
“Between us we managed to get you upstairs and into bed,” she said.
“Thanks,” he said. The hot coffee was helping. “Are the ladies awake yet?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t heard a word from them.”
He nodded. “Were there any messages for me?”
“Mr. Randle called several times yesterday but didn’t ask for you to call him back,” she said. “And, oh yes, Mrs. Talbot called.”
“What did she say?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t talk with her,” she answered. “It was while we were trying to get you into bed. One of the girls answered the phone. When she told Mrs. Talbot who she was, Mrs. Talbot hung up.”
He groaned inwardly as he drained his cup and held it out to be refilled. He sipped it again.
“Would you care for some hot breakfast, Dr. Talbot?” the maid asked. “Some food in your stomach will make you feel better.”
He shook his head. There was no way he could face it. “No, thank you. This will be fine.” He rose from the bed. “Maybe when I come downstairs. A shave and a shower should wake me up.”
He waited until she had left the room before he put down the coffee, holding it carefully with both hands. He didn’t want her to see them shaking. He went back into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Very cold. Then holding his breath, he stepped quickly under it.
The cold water hit him like a needle spray of icicles. He let the water flood over him a long time until the cold went through him, clearing his hea
d, then gradually he turned the water to warm while he lathered his body. He let the soap run off him with hot water, then turned it back to ice cold before he stepped from the shower.
He rubbed himself vigorously with the large turkish bath towel and, feeling more human once again, picked up the telephone near the john. He called the kitchen. Suddenly he was starving. “I’ll have a stack of wheats, two fried eggs with bacon and sausages and lots of coffee,” he told the cook. “I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
It wasn’t until he had finished breakfast and was sitting with his coffee and a cigarette that he reached for the telephone that was always placed on the dining room table next to him and called Jane.
Her aunt’s maid answered the telephone. “Mrs. Talbot is still asleep.”
“Then wake her up,” he said sharply.
“Yes, sir,” the maid said quickly.
Almost as quickly as the maid had put down the phone, Jane picked it up. From the sound of her voice, he knew that the maid had been lying. Jane didn’t sound the least sleepy. “I thought you said you would be up here yesterday.”
“Did you get the message I left?”
“I got it.” Her voice was as cold as his shower had been. “What was so important about going to Los Angeles? Or are those whores so important to you that you had to go and bring them back yourself?”
“It was business,” he said. “We signed Jimmy and Kim Hickox to do a daily show from Churchland.”
“You don’t expect me to believe that,” she said sarcastically. “Melanie answered the phone in our bedroom at one o’clock this morning. You didn’t even give the bed a chance to cool after I was gone.”
He felt himself growing angry but he controlled his temper and spoke slowly and deliberately. “Jane, I’m going to say this once, then never again. So listen carefully whether you believe it or not.
“Nothing happened between me and the girls last night. They were helping Susie get me to bed. I was bombed out of my skull. Right now, they’re asleep in the guest room and were never in our bed.
“The reason I went to L.A. was exactly what I told you. They would not sign a contract unless I was there personally and I wanted that agreement for the board meeting today. I did not arrange, nor did I expect to see the girls there. They had come to ask me if they could return to Churchland. That’s the whole story, nothing more, nothing less.”
“Why did they want to come back?” she asked snidely. “Did they suddenly discover that they couldn’t live without you?”
“I told you I wouldn’t have anything more to say on that subject,” he said quietly. “I have a heavy day coming up, so I can’t come up there myself but I can send a plane for you.”
“Don’t bother. I’m not coming back,” she said. “I’m not one of those whores. I can live without you.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Truly sorry.” But he heard the click of the phone as he was speaking. The telephone went dead in his hands and he never knew whether she heard him or not.
***
The old man was already waiting in his office when Preacher arrived at eight o’clock. He was sitting in a chair, his chin resting on his hands as they clasped the heavy gold-topped walking cane, staring dourly at Preacher while he walked around his desk and sat down.
“Good morning, Jake,” Preacher said. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Randle didn’t answer him.
Preacher pressed the intercom on his desk. “Might I have some coffee, please?” A moment later, the coffee was on his desk and his secretary had gone. He took a sip of his coffee and looked across the desk. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.
“You know damn well what’s on my mind,” the old man rasped.
“It could be any one of a number of things but since I’m not a mind reader,” Preacher said, “supposing you tell me.”
“What the hell is Jane doing with the children in Dallas?” Randle asked.
“You didn’t talk to her?” Preacher was curious.
“I spoke to her,” the old man said heavily.
“Then you already know,” Preacher said. He took another sip of coffee. “She’s left me.”
“Goddammit!” the old man exploded. “How could you let such a thing happen? Why didn’t you stop her?”
“I was as surprised as you were,” Preacher said. “She never told me what she was going to do.”
“You’ve got to bring her back,” Randle said.
Preacher looked at him. “Why?”
“Why?” the old man echoed. “I’ll tell you why. Because you’re the pastor of this ministry, that’s why! And you can’t have any talk about you without losing your credibility both for the ministry and yourself. How do you expect people to look to you for guidance when you can’t even manage your own affairs? And if she decides to file for divorce, then we’ve really had it. Remember the problems Oral Roberts had when his son was divorced? It caused an upheaval in his ministry that we can in no way afford because we’re nowhere near as established as he is.”
Preacher stared at him. “Is your concern for the ministry or for your daughter?”
Randle got to his feet. “Both. I’ve worked too hard to make this ministry viable. And I don’t like to see her acting as stupidly as her mother.”
“She hasn’t said anything about a divorce,” Preacher said.
“Not yet. This is only the beginning. That’s the next step. Take it from me, I’ve been through it,” Randle said. He paused heavily. “Now, are you going up there to get her or do I have to have her brought back here?”
Preacher looked up at him. “Exactly how do you propose to do that?”
Jake glared at him. “There are ways. She took the children with her. She won’t stay away if the children are brought back here.”
“No,” Preacher said coldly. He rose to his feet and leaned on the desk so that his face was on the same level as the old man’s. “This is one time you’re going to stay out of it, Jake. You’ve been pushing people around for so long you’ve forgotten they have a right to live their own lives as they please. She may be your daughter but she’s my wife and they’re my children and whatever happens is my concern, not yours. And if you make one move to interfere with our personal lives, I’ll show you how fast I can take this ministry apart.”
The old man looked at him, breathing heavily. “You’re a fool!”
“Maybe.” Preacher sank back into his chair and smiled at him. “Why don’t you relax, Jake, and have a little more faith? The Lord will see to it that justice is done. Meanwhile, you and I have a great deal of work to do, so why don’t we get on with it and not get into arguments that will only keep us from accomplishing what the good Lord intends for us?”
“You can’t allow her to file for a divorce,” the old man said.
“I’ll try,” Preacher said. “I don’t want a divorce any more than you do, but she has something to say about it too.”
“You can go up there and knock her up again,” the old man said. “That would stop her.”
Preacher laughed and walked around his desk to the old man. “If that’s such a good idea, how come you didn’t do it when Jane’s mother sued you for divorce?”
The old man’s eyes crinkled as he looked up at Preacher. “I tried,” he said heavily.
“And what happened?”
“She wouldn’t uncross her legs.”
Preacher laughed again. “Then what makes you think I’ll have any better luck than you?”
Chapter Thirteen
Preacher rapped the table with the small wooden gavel. “The special meeting of the board of directors of the Community of God Church of Christian America Triumphant is hereby called to order. The chair will entertain a motion to dispense with the reading of the minutes of the preceding meeting so that we may get on with the business before us.”
The motion was made, seconded and unanimously approved in less than a minute. Preacher tapped the table again. “The motion is carried,�
� he said. He rose to his feet and paused for a moment, his gaze covering the board as they sat looking toward him.
“The chair would like to express officially as well as personally its welcome to the new members of this board of directors. I know that all of you bring to this ministry the experience, the zeal, and the faith in our Lord Jesus Christ that will enable us to reach and bring more souls to His love. And I, for one, believe that you have come not a moment too soon.
“For the burden has become too heavy for one man to carry alone. In the six years since this ministry was founded, I have done my best to cope with its many problems but now I must admit that it has become more difficult and more complex than even I had thought. And like Jesus, who sought disciples to spread His Gospel, so I turn to you. Not as disciples but as fellow laborers in the vineyards of the Lord. Together we will forge a mighty power in His name.
“Gentlemen, let us pray.”
He bowed his head and clasped his hands above the table before him. There was a faint rustle around the table as they followed his example. His voice rose clear and strong over them.
“O Lord, look down upon this gathering of men who are less than the least of all the saints and grant to us, like the Apostle Paul, the grace given to preach the unsearchable riches of Christ. And to make all men see that which from the beginning of the world hath been hid in God, who created all things by Jesus Christ. And to know the love of Christ, which passeth all knowledge, that we may be filled with the fullness of God. And grant to us the glory in the church by Christ Jesus, throughout all ages, world without end. Amen.”
The chorus of Amens went around the table as he raised his head. They returned his gaze with serious expressions. After a moment, he smiled. “I only hope that Paul will forgive the liberties I took with his Epistle to the Ephesians.”
The ice was broken and they all smiled and sat back more comfortably in their chairs. “And now for the first order of business,” he said. “As you know, we have for a long time been desirous of increasing our presence on television in the form of a daily program such as other ministries have been doing. But until now, we had neither the necessary manpower nor the talent capable of maintaining a program of that sort. I am pleased to report to the board that yesterday we entered into an agreement which makes this step possible. Now, let me turn the floor over to Brother Marcus Lincoln, who far better than I will be able to tell you all about it. Brother Marcus.”
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