Beholden - Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

She became more and more displeased as she listened to the wedding planner drone on about the expense of the wedding. Granted, at the onset Analise Mitchell set a twenty-five thousand dollar budget for the big day, and now she was grossly over-budget – but, it was not Mitrice Reynolds’ problem. She was hired to do a job and managing her money was not it. This was her wedding and she would have everything she wanted no matter what it cost. She was only getting married once in her life and it was going to be perfect. She would have the one hundred Ecuadorian roses, even if it cost over fifteen hundred dollars to have them. Mitrice was overstepping her boundaries by advising that she went with some American roses, to bring the cost down. She stepped even further over the line asking her to reconsider the traveling top shelf bartender, as that three-thousand five-hundred dollar expense could be drastically reduced by eliminating the alcohol altogether.

“Mitrice, this is my wedding – not yours.”

“I know this, Analise. However, you hired me to plan this wedding with a budget in mind.”

“Forget the budget! Just do what I tell you to do and shut up about everything, else.” Analise walked across the sitting room and positioned herself in front of the desk.

Mitrice took a deep breath and uttered a quick prayer. “Fine, Analise.”

“Good. Now, let’s get back to the plans. We don’t have long; the wedding is in two weeks.” Analise smiled and made her way back to the sofa to sit next to Mitrice.

“The venue is established. We will have the decorators in Turner Hall on Thursday, the nineteenth, to set up for the wedding and the reception. The caterer is prepared for the rehearsal dinner on Friday, the twentieth,” Mitrice turned the pages of her planner as she spoke.

Analise smiled as she listened to Mitrice go on about the wedding. As her mind raced with the idea that she could have more, Ghrelin walked through the patio door and sat beside her on the sofa. She sighed at his closeness and the smile grew on her lips. Yes, she thought, I can have more. Ghrelin agreed with her. He gave her ideas and ways she could make it happen. Any inclination towards a new budget was melting away, as she entertained musings of just how grand her big day could be.

“I want theatrical lighting,” Analise burst out.

“Excuse me?” Mitrice asked.

“I want theatrical lighting as I come down the aisle. I want this moment to be surreal and dramatic. My entrance should be memorable and magical.”

Mitrice shook her head, imperceptibly. “Turner Hall can accommodate that, I am sure.”
Analise clapped her hands, together, and her eyes shone in delight. Ghrelin smiled. He was happy, as long as she was happy. He wanted her to want more. It gave him great pleasure to be a witness to her seemingly insatiable appetites. In fact, he was the one who coaxed her on. The two of them have been buddies since she was a little girl. Her parents catered to her every whim. The more she wanted, the more they gave her. The Mitchells withheld nothing from their little girl. She was their only child and she deserved the best things, in life.

Ghrelin introduced himself to Analise on her first day of school. Her mother dressed her in the finest clothes. She had the latest new thing in snacks, in her lunchbox. She had the prettiest pencils in her flowery pencil case. Ghrelin said hello to her as she looked at Patricia’s pink Barbie doll case. He saw the countenance on her face changed, as she became dissatisfied with what her parents had brought her. He agreed that she should be able to have two pencil cases; and looked around as she reached over to grab Patricia’s case, while the other children were lining up to go out for recess.

“I’m just going to look at it,” she told Ghrelin.

“I know, Analise. It is okay,” he assured her.

She slipped the pencil case into her backpack before skipping off to the playground. Ghrelin followed behind her as she headed toward the swings. She swung her legs, to get herself moving and he stood behind her to push her. They talked and giggled with each other, as the other children raced around the yard.

Once they returned inside and Patricia could not find her Barbie pencil case, Ghrelin looked at Analise and smiled. She was scared that Ghrelin would tell everyone that she had the pencil box. Instead, he put his finger to his mouth. Ms. Harris, the teacher, asked everyone if they had seen it. No one confessed, not even when Patricia cried. Harold volunteered to help her look for it when the teacher thought she might have taken it out on the playground. However, when the teacher’s assistant, Ms. Cora, walked them out the bigger kids were out there playing tag. They were racing back and forth so fast that Patricia was afraid they would hurt her. She told Ms. Cora that it did not matter, anymore. She would ask her mother and father for another one.

“Are you sure, sweetie?” Ms. Cora asked as she kneeled down beside her.

“Yes, it’s ok,” Patricia whimpered.

Ms. Cora took Patricia’s hand, then Harold’s, and headed back to the classroom. As they walked back in, Analise did not know what she was feeling. She knew she was afraid because she thought she could get into trouble for taking the pencil case. She knew she was not sorry about it, because she wanted it and there was no reason she shouldn’t have it. However, there was something else going on in her tummy. Something she had not felt before today.

Ghrelin was smiling at her. He would keep her secret, he whispered. When he said that, the feeling in her tummy went away. She was happy that he was able to make her feel better. From that moment on, they were inseparable. They played together, at school. He came over and played at her house. Her parents let him come with them on vacation. They shared many secrets and he never asked her for anything. He always encouraged her to strive for more. He stood by her throughout school, then on to college. He was her confidante and very best friend.

“Analise, have you heard anything I have been saying?” Mitrice asked.

“Whaa… What?”

“I am going to need a check for the additional funds needed to take care of the new additions you have requested.”

“Of course, you are. Hold on, let me go get my checkbook,” Analise scurried off to retrieve her purse out of her bedroom.

While Analise was out of the room, Ghrelin looked at Mitrice. He wondered why they had never had a personal conversation. She sat quietly on the sofa, looking through her planner and making notes. He could not read her. He did not talk to her because she seemed aloof and standoffish. On the many occasions they have had to converse, they never hit it off. She was a beautiful woman, with a good head on her shoulders. She was intelligent and confident in her abilities. He wondered why she was planning everyone’s wedding, except her own. She was a successful young woman, with her own business. Yet, there were no suitors - at least, none that he ever heard her speak about. Mitrice kept her thoughts to herself. He knew she grew pensive, from time to time, but she never voiced her musings around him or with Analise.

Ghrelin watched Mitrice out of the corner of his eye. He was searching for a conversation starting point, but there seemed to be none. He decided to take a wild guess and see if she had any secret aspirations that she wanted fed. He asked about her childhood. He asked about her college life. He asked about her relationships. They had nothing in common. At every turn, he grew quiet. He decided he would go into the bedroom to see what was keeping Analise. He got up from the sofa and walked toward the back of the house. He could hear her talking to someone on the phone.

“…yes, sweetie. We are getting the final touches completed on the wedding. I am just writing the check for the last minute expenses,” she was walking back and forth by the bedroom window.
Ghrelin stood outside the door. He never interrupted her when Miles was around. He knew people would think that once she became engaged that their relationship would change. In fact, it was quite the opposite. They were closer than ever. He knew his position and he did not overstep his place. He and Analise had been around one another long enough for him to know his role in her life. It was important for the two of them to maintain other relationships. She had Miles and he had … well, he had whomever he chose. The field was ripe with willing companions looking for intimacy on many levels. Some invited him home for a brief, but in-depth chat. While others, met him only in public and did not want to be alone with him. They needed someone to boost their confidence - someone to give permission to proceed when they grew cautious.

“The pastor wants to meet with us, tomorrow evening, for our final counseling session. He is certain we are as prepared as we can be for our marriage,” she advised. She twirled her hair as she talked with her fiancé.

Ghrelin smiled. She became such a “girl” when she talked with Miles. Her voice grew light just as it had done when she talked to her father. He knew it was her way of convincing them of her dependence on them. To some degree, she did need them. She had needs and why should she be the one to foot the bill for them? When she used her soft voice with her father, he would give her anything she asked for, no matter the cost. She has been working on Miles for quite some time. He was not exactly her father, but she was not beyond calling him ‘daddy’ if that was going to accomplish her goal; a long time ago, she realized the best way to broach the subject of getting what she wanted with Miles. She was laying this foundation, right now. She wanted Miles to foot the bill for her overindulgence in the wedding plans. Sure, she would write the check, now. Nevertheless, later tonight she would ensure that she would get it all back.

“I am looking forward to seeing you, later, handsome,” she purred into the phone. “I miss your hands on my skin.”

The bait was being set. Ghrelin knew her tricks. He had taught her most of them. Over the years, she had asked for his opinion on such matters. He was eager to divulge any secrets he knew to help her obtain the objects of her desire. During college, they were a force to be reckoned with. There was no one who could resist it when they worked together and she had her heart or mind set on getting something.

Analise returned the phone to the receiver, grabbed her checkbook and walked out into the hall. She was not startled to see Ghrelin when she stepped outside of her bedroom door. They smiled at one another and walked back down the hall to the living room. They approached the sofa, together, smiling as if they had just shared a secret.

“I apologize for taking so long. I was on the phone with Miles, alerting him of the latest update on the wedding plans,” she sat down next to Mitrice.

“It is quite alright. I had a couple of things to jot down and a phone call to make, as well,” Mitrice answered, as she closed her planner.

Analise retrieved a pen off the coffee table and made out the check to Mitrice Reynolds. She ripped it out and handed it to the event planner.

“Thank you, Mitrice,” Analise stated as she rose and headed toward the front door.

Ghrelin just smiled at the snub. Analise never wasted time with those she thought was beneath her. Anyone in a service job, such as Mitrice, was there to do her bidding and nothing more. He often shook his head at the irony of her prejudice. To some, a biology teacher was a service job, no matter it was for honors students. However, Analise found a way to over-inflate her career choice. She was molding the minds of the future and preparing them to take their place in society. Yes, it was an honorable profession, yet she was just a part of the working class as those she chose to rebuff.
Mitrice took no offense at the apparent and rude dismissal. She could not take Analise seriously. She did not entertain her ignorant gestures of grandeur. She simply placed the check into her briefcase, along with her planner, grabbed her purse and took her leave. She had too much to do to allow this to deter her. She walked down the front porch and up the driveway to her car. She reached into her suit jacket pocket, pulled out her keys and pressed the remote entry button to unlock the doors. She placed her briefcase on the backseat, closed the door and stepped inside. The stillness of the car’s cabin was a relief. There was so much going on, in the atmosphere of Analise’s home. She could feel her spirit’s uneasiness each time she stepped foot across the threshold; and she always welcomed the fresh air when she left. She leaned her head back against the leather headrest and quietly prayed. This had become her custom after her departure from her clients. She would not allow the atmosphere from one person to hitchhike with her to another appointment.

She prayed until her spirit was at rest and she felt the tension leave her body. She put the key into the ignition, looked into the rearview mirror and slowly backed out of the driveway, turning left to head up Heatherdowns Lane toward North Brodrecht Road. She needed a change of scenery. She wanted to ride through the countryside and knew just the place that could allow that to happen - the Shenandoah Riding Center. She had a favorite horse, which the owners always made available for her, if she alerted them of her intentions. She pushed the button on her dash and called out “Shenandoah Riding Center” to dial the number by voice command. She listened to the ring, hoping no one had taken the horse out this afternoon.

“Shenandoah Riding Center, Connie speaking,” the woman answered professionally.

“Hello Connie, this is Mitrice Reynolds. I am heading your way and hoping that Buttercup is available for a ride, this afternoon.”

“Yes, she is available, Ms. Reynolds. When can I expect you?” Connie inquired.

“I am in the neighborhood, just leaving a client’s home. I can be there in less than five minutes. I hope this isn’t too short of notice,” Mitrice crossed her fingers.

“No, not at all, Ms. Reynolds. I will have the stable-hand prepare her for your arrival.”

Mitrice thanked Connie and they ended the call. When she arrived at the corner of Heatherdowns Lane and North Brodrecht Road, she made a right and headed toward the center.

Beholden - Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

The atmosphere, in the car, belied the message they just heard preached by Pastor Zeke. The tension and anxiety was thick and palpable. Katriel removed her iPod from her purse and put the ear buds into her ears. She turned the volume up just enough to drown out her father’s words. She hated when he was like this, especially after church service. She had been feeling a bit hopeful listening to the sermon on love and its unconditional nature. She wanted to believe that there was such a thing out there in the world, because she sure as hell did not recognize it in her own home. She could not understand what her father had to be angry about, this morning. Breakfast was prepared and still hot when he made it to the table, prior to them leaving for church. Her mother had seemed to be in a good mood despite the fact that she had an emergency surgery to perform in the wee hours of the morning. She could not have had more than two hours of sleep before taking up her place in the kitchen to prepare the morning meal. Katriel felt good about the day…but her father quickly snatched the joy right out of the air.

“I don’t understand why they could not have called another surgeon in to do the procedure. You mean to tell me that you are the only pediatric cardiologist at Mercy Medical Center, Nora?” The venom in Gavin’s voice was evident.

“Like I told you, Gavin, the little girl is my patient. Of course, they would not call another surgeon in to take care of her. It is my responsibility,” Nora’s words were soft.

“You seem to have quite a list of patients, Nora. What kind of doctor can you be, if all of the children you care for need so much attention? Can’t you do anything right?”

Nora remained silent. She hated when Gavin was like this. His words were intentionally hurtful and mean. She spoke a silent prayer asking God to eradicate the effects of his words. She knew she was a good doctor and surgeon. She knew that he was just acting this way because the call came in after they had gone to bed and it disturbed his rest. She knew he could not mean what he was saying …he was just angry. She turned her head to look out of the passenger side window. They had been sitting at a light and she realized the people in the car next to them could hear Gavin. The woman looked pitiably in her direction, and then sped off once the light turned green.

“I know you hear me talking to you, Nora. You better give me an answer. What the hell did you do to that little girl that required her to need emergency surgery in the middle of the night? You’re a quack! I don’t understand how you keep your job,” he spat the words, like a bitter gall, in her direction.

“Gavin, she has a grave condition called aortic valve insufficiency…” Nora began.

“Don’t come at me with those grand diagnoses, Nora. It does not concern me what she has, just that you are the one caring for her and she is not getting any better.”

Nora sighed and gave up the illusion that she could convince her husband. It had been a long while, if
ever, since she could say anything that would sway him one way or the other. She returned her attention to the passing landscape. She resisted the urge to cry. It would only make things worse. She felt most sad that Katriel, their sixteen-year-old daughter, had to be a witness to her father’s tirades. She did not want her child to grow up in an environment as she did. Her mother and father were constantly at war with each other, when she was younger. Both gave to fits of rage and she could not wait until she could get out from under their roof. There was not a day that went by that did not end with her parents being at each other’s throat. One or the other had a bad day at work, which spawned a torrential and heated debate between the two of them. Her mother slammed pots and pans while her father slammed doors and she would sit quietly in her room waiting for one of them to yell out her name for some reason or other.

An ominous silence filled the rest of the ride home. Gavin was seething, as he made his way down the street to their home. He just wanted some peace, in his life. His job, as chief of police, was stressful enough. He had a bunch of idiots working under him and he had an incompetent wife with a grandiose profession. It embarrassed him that she could not do her job well enough. He was sure their friends and neighbors knew she was called to the hospital at all hours of the night. He was also certain that they knew it was because she did not do her job right the first time, which was the cause of so many trips to Mercy. For all he knew, she did this on purpose just so she did not have to be at home taking care of her responsibilities. He should not have to be disturbed by the incessant buzzing of her beeper or her hushed tones on the phone when speaking to the after-hours receptionist. He needed his sleep if he was to perform his duties at work and her job was keeping him from getting it. His lack of sleep made him irritable and she knew it.

He turned into the Eagle Ridge subdivision and made his way to their home on Long Creek Lane. He pressed the remote to have the garage door open before turning into the driveway. He eased his car into the empty space, next to Nora’s, put the car in ‘park’ and turned it off. After pulling the key out of the ignition, he turned to his wife and sighed. She knew not to get out of the car until he was ready. He just looked at her, in disgust. He remembered when things were much simpler. They dated throughout college. He was a criminal justice major and she was working toward her doctorate. She was the older woman that caught his attention on campus. She walked with an air of confidence that intrigued him. He told his frat brothers that he was going to have her and they laughed him to shame. He proved them wrong and he was the one laughing when it was all said and done. He had persuaded her to allow him to take her to dinner, one autumn evening. He knew he was charming and had a way to make any woman feel good about herself. Even if he did not believe what he was saying, he could convince them to believe it. He really did a number on Nora.

She quickly turned the tables on him and got herself pregnant. He should have known she was the type that wanted to trap a good man, like himself. He did the honorable thing and married her to keep her quiet. She nagged him about being an unwed mother, and how that would hurt her parents. She should have thought about that before she engaged in unprotected sex, with him. He never understood why she wasn’t on birth control, in the first place. She had the unmitigated gall to expect him to wear a condom. He insisted that he would not get any pleasure out of the deal, wearing one of those, and he refused every time. She was so selfish. None of the other girls complained about it, he did not know why she was making such a big deal. The only thing he could think of was that she was only concerned about her own orgasm. She knew he came faster without one, he told her so. It was no surprise to him when she blamed him for her unplanned pregnancy, but he quickly let her know who was to blame. It was her fault, not his.

When Katriel was born, Nora had finished her finals and was preparing for residency. There was no way she could keep those hours and care for a newborn, so her parents suggested that they move in with them and they would take on the responsibility of caring for the baby. Gavin was furious at the notion and even angrier when Nora agreed. He thought she should have given up her idea of becoming a doctor once they had gotten married and Katriel appeared. He was finishing graduate school and accepted into the police academy, which was used as part of her argument why moving in with her parents was a good idea. It would allow them to pursue their dreams with assurance that Katriel well taken care of by people who loved her. When he suggested that Nora stay home with the baby, she flat out refused. She asserted that her having a baby did not warrant such a drastic decision. She had been working toward becoming a doctor since she began high school and she was too close to give that up. He told her that she should have thought about that before getting herself knocked up. She gave him an incredulous look and walked out of the room. She learned that day not to walk away from him.

Despite his objections, Nora did not quit her job and they moved in with her parents so her parents could care for the baby. He had to admit, if only to himself, that this arrangement worked out for the best. He did not have to concern himself with a crying baby and Nora’s residency hours left him plenty of time to do what he wanted. He spent many nights out drinking with his fellow academy mates and they spent most of those nights carousing with young, impressionable girls. Just because Nora wanted to be bound by the sanctity of marriage and monogamy, it did not mean that was the life for him. He was still young and in his prime; one woman was not enough for him, he needed more. And, more is what he had gotten. He did not know how many women he let ride him in the back of his car, and he didn’t care. Also, not one time did they request he wear a condom, as his wife had done back in college. Besides, Nora was too busy with rounds that she did not have the time to satisfy him, so what was a man to do?

He smiled, to himself, at the memory. He looked back on his academy days, often. He was top of his class and his instructors advised he would go far. He aspired to be commissioner, someday, but he first had to endure the process. He hated having to walk the beat early in his career. He had hoped that rite of passage would have been extinct before he would have to do it. He hated the elderly women looking down at him and advising that he should be doing more to keep their streets safe. He took his anger out on the street thugs who thought they were tough. He would usher them into the nearest alley and give them a beat down with his nightstick. It was rare that he made an arrest, because he didn’t want them complaining to higher ups, so he warned them and sent them on their way. He shook down the local drug dealer, confiscating his goods and distributing them amongst his comrades. He became very familiar with the local prostitutes, as well. There was never a shortage of eager women willing to do anything to not be taken down and booked at the precinct.
Katriel ended his reverie. “Can we get out of the car, now?”

“Get out!” He barked.

Once inside, Katriel proceeded up the stairs to her bedroom and closed the door. She did not want to be bothered with the foolishness that had become her parents. She could not wait until she finished high school and could leave the confines of this house. She worked hard not to hate her father and even harder to not think her mother weak. She did not understand why she tolerated her father’s constant railing. Her mother was a successful surgeon. She made plenty of money and could easily survive without her father’s income. Sure, he made a decent living, but he was not the breadwinner of the family. She knew that had to grate on him. The fact that a woman made more money than him had to be degrading. He walked around their house as if he was the king of the castle and her mother allowed it. Her mother never threw it up in her father’s face that her salary trumped his. She could have, but never did. Katriel did not think she would have let an opportunity go by without reminding him that he was not needed to sustain this household. For this reason, she was going to make sure that she and her husband were on equal terms, financially. No one would be able to lord anything over the other one. Moreover, even though her father did not earn respect, her mother always gave it to him anyway.

Katriel threw herself onto her bed and looked out of the window. She heard her mother’s footsteps coming up their stairway and hoped she was not heading to her room. She hated it when she wanted to excuse and apologize for her father’s behavior. It was not for her to do. He should be the one making amends and smoothing things over. She remembered the pastor talking about how the husband was supposed to love the wife as Christ loved the church. She did not believe her father loved her mother. He tolerated her and that infuriated Katriel. How dare he think he deserved the love and respect her mother wasted on him. He did nothing to earn it. He was constantly degrading her and belittling her contribution to the staff at Mercy. He was not the doting husband of an acclaimed pediatric cardiologist. Instead, he was the tyrant of 7 Long Creek Lane. He patrolled the rooms of this house, as if he patrolled the streets back in the day. He ranted and raved. He flailed and flung. He stormed and raged. He was pathetic. Her mother had to know it, yet she never showed it. She tolerated his tantrums and appeased the spoiled beast.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the door of her parents’ bedroom close. Her mother was probably crying or praying. Katriel was sure that was the only thing that kept her feet planted in this marriage – prayer. She wondered how much relief she could really be getting from it, when it seemed like there was no change. Did God even hear her? Her father appeared to be getting worse by the day. There were times when she hoped he would be killed on the job. She felt bad for thinking such a terrible thing about her father, but she could not help it. He didn’t deserve to be breathing the same air as those who sought to make life better for those around them. He swore to uphold justice in the world, yet he was the source of all the injustice that happened within these four walls. Why couldn’t someone just put a bullet in his head? She knew he had to have a multitude (or gaggle, as her mom would say) of enemies out there who wished for his demise. She and her mom would be much better off if he was not in the picture.

Gavin closed the door to his study and walked over to the bar. He poured himself a glass of Angel’s Envy bourbon and sat down in his leather recliner. He turned to look out onto expansive lawn in the back of his house. The patio was just off to the left and he caught sight of the fire pit and chairs surrounding it. He walked out into the yard, through the glass doors, and headed toward the seats. He thought of starting a fire and decided against it – it was too hot. He eased himself onto one of the lounge chairs and put his feet up. He sensed a presence behind him and turned to see Mavet standing close by.

“She doesn’t get it, does she Gavin?” Mavet asked, as he sat in nearby chair.

“No,” Gavin sipped his drink.

“I understand.”

“I know you do. You seem to be the only one who does,” he downed the rest of the bourbon, closed his eyes and sighed.

Mavet drew closer. “Talk to me, Gavin.”

He allowed his anger to spill out of him, in a rush. He opened up, exposing all of his inner turmoil and rage. He enjoyed the license Mavet gave him and he took the opportunity to bare his soul.

Beholden - Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Mavet’s dark eyes scanned the congregation of the Wisdom Outreach Center as they raised their hands in obedience to the worship leader. He chuckled, to himself, at the empty gesture. So many of the churchgoers were like robots during the service. They stood to their feet, clapped and raised their hands, and shouted by direction. Each action was simply a reaction to what was going on up front. Suddenly, a hush came over the sanctuary causing Mavet to avert his attention to the front of the church. A chill swept through the room; however, he could not determine the source of the wind. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck began to rise causing him to lose focus. He felt uneasy and agitated. His eyes narrowed as he moved about the room to pinpoint the origin of the disturbance. He wondered why no one else seemed to be as bothered by this sudden change in the atmosphere as he was. His search took him from row to row until he had maneuvered his way, unhindered, to the front of the church.

Mavet’s heart began to race and he quickly turned to see who was standing at the podium; it was Ziva Montgomery, the First Lady of the church. Her beauty was undeniable. It emanated from within her like the flame shining forth from a lantern. Her chestnut brown hair fell gracefully over her shoulders; her crowning glory. Her ivory skin was flawless, requiring very little make-up. This morning she wore an amber colored sundress, with a belt cinched at the waist. Her five-inch heels, matched perfectly, and enhanced her already statuesque aura. She was greeting the members, as was her custom every Sunday that she attended. Her voice was light and very feminine.

“Good morning, saints” she started. “It is such a pleasure to see your smiling faces, on today. It blesses my soul to know that God’s love has seen fit to allow us to assemble ourselves together, one more time.”

The congregation seemed to love her, but Mavet hated her. She refused to give him his proper respect. She treated him like he didn’t matter – like his authority meant nothing to her – like she had greater power – like he couldn’t get to her like he had done all the others. Albeit, he had not even gotten the opportunity to speak to her, face to face, he was certain that she would come around – all he had to do was get her to reveal her weakness, then he would whittle away at it until she begged him to give her the strength to overcome it. In the meantime, Mavet could not argue the fact that she was getting under his skin. That chill was too much to deal with, now. He needed to get away from it because he was beginning to feel ill. His bones seemed to rattle as he shivered uncontrollably. He needed to nuzzle up to a warm and accepting body. He quickly scanned the room and his eyes looked passed Ziva to the doorway just off to her left. He walked to the front, being sure to stay along the wall, so he would not draw attention to himself. He took up his place, directly in front of the tall, dark man standing in the door.

Pastor Zeke Montgomery did not seem to notice Mavet, as he looked out into the congregation. However, he did take note of the empty seats and immediately wondered what he could do to get warm bodies into them. He needed to implement a plan that would help him realize his vision for the Wisdom Outreach Center. He knew God would be pleased as he sought to fulfill his calling. It took some of the wind out of his sails, every time he walked out onto the podium to see there was room for more people. He knew he had a word from the Lord that would benefit so many more than turned out to listen to his sermons. There were hungry and thirsty souls seeking relief from their condition and he was confident that he had the solution to their need. He needed to settle himself down – quiet the cyclical thoughts that plagued him by highlighting those empty chairs. He took a deep breath and Mavet moved closer, and whispered in his ear. The pastor sighed, as he felt his help coming.

Pastor Zeke, as he was accustomed to people addressing him, brushed at his tailor-made navy blue pinstriped suit to insure it was spotless. Ziva always took the lint roller to his suits, every Sunday morning before she greeted Wisdom Outreach parishioners, but he nervously brushed at them just before stepping out onto the podium. He was an opposing figure, standing a full foot taller than the average person. His dark skin, neatly barbered mustache and beard, along with his closely shaved head gave him a distinguished look that caused certain women to pay closer attention to his sermons than they would any other preacher. He thought this would give his gorgeous wife reason to be jealous, yet she remained confident in her place. There was no jealous bone in her, at least none that she let anyone to see. In all of their twenty-five years of marriage, neither of them had strayed or even caused the other any worry. Their love was strong and solid, built on the foundation of Christ. He smiled as he listened to Ziva encourage and exhort the congregation. The people loved her, too – and for that, he was most grateful. Their eyes met, she smiled and gave him an imperceptible nod giving him the okay to join her at the podium.

“…and here he is, our beloved Pastor Zeke. Please stand to your feet and show him some love.” Ziva Montgomery held out her hand waiting for Pastor Zeke to take it into his own. He approached her and kissed her lovingly on the forehead.

Mavet took up the position, vacated by Pastor Zeke, as he went to stand next to his wife, Ziva. He couldn’t stand to be around her – she was so discourteous. He moved further away from the couple and away from the chill. He watched the two of them banter back and forth while engaging the congregation. He looked out amongst the people and his eyes locked with one parishioner, in particular. He felt a welcoming beckon from her, so he eased down the stairs and headed in her direction. She looked so forlorn and in need of his attention. He sensed an emptiness on the inside of her that created a hunger that seemed insatiable. He knew what she needed the moment he positioned himself next to her, on the pew. He asked her a question, and she was quick to share her deepest secrets. He consoled her with promises – promises that she quickly accepted. He encouraged her to rest her head on his shoulder, as they watched the pastor and his wife appear so syncopated and in-step. He recognized her longing and assured her that there was no reason to feel that way.

Maren Dane, the church administrator, sat watching Pastor Zeke and First Lady Ziva wondering why she could not have that in her marriage. She fidgeted in her seat. She smoothed her skirt down. She fussed with her hair. She admired the First Lady and felt she paled in comparison. Although Lady Ziva was ten years her senior, she didn’t look a day over thirty-five. Maren, on the other hand, with her slightly out of shape body and crow’s feet around her eyes, appeared to be far older than her forty years. She wore girdles and other body shapers, in an attempt to hide her love of food – but, she was unsuccessful. Her secrets were always visible. She hated standing beside Lady Ziva because she felt so uncomfortable. It was nothing that the First Lady said or did to make her so insecure. In fact, she was nothing short of accepting and loving. Yet, Maren could not shake the discomfort. She began to nit-pick her own appearance. She second-guessed her clothing choice and her make-up, whenever Lady Ziva stopped by the pastor’s office.

Maren reached out her hand to touch her husband’s hand. Adley was engrossed in the exchange happening at the front of the church. He barely felt her hand resting on top of his. She imagined he was wishing that she could be more like the First Lady. She quickly removed her hand and placed them on her lap. Mavet watched as Maren chided herself. This is too easy, he thought to himself. He patted her hand, gently – and more secrets unfolded. His words kept her distracted, so she could not focus on the sermon. The louder Pastor Zeke spoke, the closer Mavet drew to Maren. Her eyes welled up with tears as her shortcomings became more evident. Her eyes darted from woman to woman and couple to couple. They were the lucky ones. They had shapely bodies. They had smooth skin. They had attentive husbands. They had children. They had stylish clothing. The thoughts were on repeat; and no matter how much she tried to fill her mind with other things, they refused to stop. She found herself becoming more and more agitated – then her agitation turned to anger.

Mavet sat back and watched her walls crumble before his very eyes. Maren Dane would not be a problem, at all. She flung the door wide open at the slightest bit of consideration. He wanted to move about the church, but she demanded his full attention. He gave her what she wanted, although his focus was divided. Ziva Montgomery was troubling him. Her calm and peaceful demeanor annoyed him and caused him great angst. He became dark and brooding while he watched her sitting in her assigned seat on the pulpit. She glowed as her husband spoke passionately to the dulled crowd. There were only a scant few fully engaged, and following along with bibles and notes. More parishioners were checking their cell phones, posting updates to Facebook, sending text messages and reading their timelines on twitter. He noticed there were some people holding their own conversations while the pastor was delivering his message. He shook his head. He didn’t understand what compelled them to come to church. Sunday after Sunday they filed into the pews, got comfortable and bided their time until the benediction. What a waste of time! He scoffed.

Pastor Zeke was finishing his sermon. He was bringing his point home. He wanted the congregation to be fully cognizant of the love of God and that it is unconditional. There is no sin that will cause His love to falter – it is unfailing. His love should not be compared with the love that is experienced between humans.

“We keep records of the wrong done to us. We are grudge holders. Even though, God tells us that this is not how love is expressed, we choose our way over all else. We refuse to put another’s feelings above our own. We refuse to not be offended. We refuse to set aside petty differences for the sake of unity. This is not God’s love. John 3:16 is a perfect example of His love …’For God so loved the world that He gave…’” Pastor Zeke asserted.

Lady Ziva stood to her feet. Her face shone radiantly as she raised her hands and closed her eyes. She allowed herself to experience God’s love on a daily basis. His love kept her sane and at peace with her life. She knew there was nothing that she could do that would demand that she forfeit the love of God. She could come to Him, during prayer, without fear because He would never turn her away. His love believes all things – His loves believes that she wants to do the right thing and please Him, above all else. His love does not force her to comply; it simply compels her to want what He wants. His love refuses to twist her arm, demanding that she do His will. His Holy Spirit whispers to her spirit and she responds with an open heart and a willing mind. If it were not for the love of God, she would not be able to handle her calling as a wife of a pastor or the mother of a pastor’s kids. The days could be draining with the demands of her time, her patience, her long-suffering, her compassion and her love. God opened up her heart – and continues to do so – allowing her to be up for the challenges that face her, on a daily basis. As difficult as it could be, God gave her the strength and the wherewithal to embrace her life with joy.

Maren’s attention was drawn to the pulpit where Lady Ziva was worshiping God. She noticed how serene her face appeared with her hands outstretched. She glanced over at Adley, her husband, and noticed that he was looking in the same direction. He raised his hands and offered his praise, quietly, to God for His love. She wanted him to look at her the same way he was ogling the First Lady. She leaned closer to him and called his name, sharply, under her breath. That snapped him out of his reverie and he turned toward his wife. His face showed his displeasure at her rude interruption, but she was undeterred. She did not want him fantasizing about the First Lady while she stood right next to him. She asked him for their tithes, so she could place it in the envelope and fill out their information. He reached into his suit pants to pull out his wallet and counted out the money. He handed the bills to her, about to turn his attention back to the pulpit, but Maren asked for a pen. He pulled a pen out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and handed it to his wife. He paused waiting to see if there would be any other requests…there were none.

Pastor Zeke finished his sermon and moved into the offering portion of the service. He encouraged the congregation to give joyfully. God loves a cheerful giver; he reminded them. Offering time allows God’s children to sow into His kingdom – it gives the church seed to sow into the community and the other mission projects they have going on. Every person has an opportunity to experience the joy of giving, no matter the size of the offering. There should be no hindrances to their giving, as this was between the congregant and God. He invited his wife up to the podium to stand with him in their giving. She stood beside him and rubbed his back. She whispered something to him and they smiled, in unison. He took her hand into his and kissed it before turning back to the congregation. He gave the ushers the word and they began to pass the offering baskets to the first person on each row. They scouted out the occasional person who needed an envelope or requested a pen. Once completed, they brought the baskets to the front of the church and poured the contents into a larger basket.

Pastor Zeke raised his one free hand, as did First Lady Ziva, and he began to pray. “Father, we bring to You the first fruits of our labor and an offering. We understand that You do not need our money; it is just an opportunity for us to participate in expanding Your kingdom, here on earth. We appreciate this chance to be a part of what You are doing. We are filled with joy knowing that we can be Your hands and bless those who are seeking relief. You said, give and it shall be given unto you – good measure, pressed down and running over shall men give unto your bosom. We gladly take up the charge to be the man and woman used to give back to those who are trusting You to supply their needs. We give You the glory and the honor for giving us the seed to sow into Your kingdom. We trust You to take care of us, as we seek to take care of Your people. We bless You and give You the praise. In Jesus name, we pray – Amen and thank God.”

The ushers took the basket out of the sanctuary and into the finance office, as was the custom and Pastor Zeke called for those who wanted to accept God’s love gift, embodied in Jesus Christ.
“There is no greater love than for one to lay down his life for his brother. Christ embraced the cross and all that it entailed, so we could be reconciled to the Father. God sent His Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but to save us from the path of destruction that we were headed down. His love wants us filled with joy – a state of acceptance of His love no matter our circumstances. His love wants us filled with peace – a heart condition that remains calm in the midst of tests and trials. Will you come?” Pastor Zeke opened his arms to accept those who walked down the aisle, all the while longing for the time when more people would come to join the church. He wanted the seats filled.

Mavet smiled, as he stood next to Pastor Zeke speaking into his ear.

Covenant Excerpt

PRESTON WAS LEFT BREATHLESS, as he watched Damaris walk down the aisle. He had thought of this moment, for months, and still could not have imagined a more beautiful sight.

Damaris smiled, as she witnessed the reaction on his face. Tears welled up, as she anticipated being held in his arms. She missed him. The last time she had laid eyes on Preston, was a week ago. It was a mutual agreement to allow themselves the time to commune with God, prior to their union. Now, as she caressed his face with her eyes, she was more in love than ever. She felt as if she was walking on clouds, as she moved closer and closer to the man God had chosen for her.

Preston was corralled by an intense restraint, as he stood in place waiting for his bride. A grin seemed to stretch his face, beyond its limit. He felt like he was beaming with pride. He, silently, thanked God (as he had done, countless times) for leading him to his destiny. Damaris Rhenay was his wife. He knew it, just as he knew his name was Preston Lambert.

Get your copy to read more ... http://tinyurl.com/8y6n79a

 

Not On My Watch

In our society, it has become commonplace for us to remain silent when we should be speaking out. We are so bombarded with the cares of this world that we turn a blind eye to that which is going on in our own backyards. People are left in unsafe situations because we refuse to take hold of the mantle, “I am my brothers/sisters keeper.” We stand idly by and bear witness to a person’s dream dying before it takes its first breath. We turn a deaf ear to the cries of those whose voice rings loudly because they need to be heard. The death of fire and passion and drive looms ominously overhead. Instead of staring it in the face and commanding life back into our society, we open the umbrella of feigned ignorance and hide our faces. Well, I say, “Not on my watch.”

In my newest book, Beholden, I tackle the hard topics; stare it directly in the face and call it what it is – the doctor who is abused, the judge who takes liberties, the chief of police who blurs the lines of the law and the pastor who loses sight of the real call. The people, in their circle, are slow to stand up to what is going on; someone else takes matters into his/her own hands. Who will stand up to the menace in Galena? Check it out: http://tinyurl.com/chq6v43

Beholden Review

"I have finished the book (Beholden). My opinion is , it was a good read, interesting storyline . The message you were sending came across loud and clear. Not overly deep , in religion , or the characters. Which I find some authors tend to over exaggerate the characters. As I had no idea what the book , it took me by surprise...lol I do not normally read about religion or religious views. Thumbs up !!!! " by Connie Bell from Hedley, British Columbia 
Available on kindle for $2.99 - http://tinyurl.com/chq6v43

I've Got The Words in Me

When you are on your chosen path there is little that can be done to get you off track. And you know when you are doing what you are ‘called’ to do; it courses through your veins like life’s blood. You eat, sleep and play your passion. You can bring everything back to what you love, no matter the topic. It can get so annoying to your family and friends, but it becomes a game to you – ‘Let me see how long it takes for me to divert this topic to my passion.’

Well, my passion is writing. I love it. I express myself best with words. I can woo a lover with words, just as easily as I can order off the breakfast menu, at McDonald’s. Not that I treat relationships so callously, it was merely an analogy. I have been writing since I can remember. I began to pen my life story before I reached age ten. I still have it and it has been over thirty years ago (I know, a woman should never tell her age). Writing is therapeutic. Writing is entertaining. Writing is meditative. Writing becomes my prayers. Writing is me. 

I’ve got the words in me. It doesn’t matter the situation or the topic, I can write about it. Not many people get that, but other writers do. They understand word play and how they run through the mind and how quickly a story can emerge. Writers write and we use words to express what lies deep within us. Our stories are our children. We conceive them in our hearts and minds; and they are birthed onto the screen or piece of paper. Words fuel the flame of our passion for writing.

Say it loud, “I’ve got the words in me!” Now get writing!

Check out my work: http://www.amazon.com/Inez-R-Reilly/e/B00A82Q5JU