Tangled Roots (14 page)

“Amen, sister,” declared Reverend Pierce so loudly that Melvina jumped and almost fell off the couch.

“Tell us about your new book,
I Will Follow Him
,” said Rollins, quickly squelching the dirty look Melvina was shooting Reverend Pierce.

“It’s the story of a young woman who must decide whether to stay at home and marry her college sweetheart or go to Africa to work as a missionary.”

I wondered what in the world that had to do with the scantily clad woman on the cover crawling across an open field. Maybe the answer was in the book.

“Ah, yes, I remember my own missionary work quite well,” said Reverend Pierce. It appeared the reverend was reluctant to give up the spotlight. Her comment was met by a smattering of applause, which Reverend Pierce took as her cue to continue. But Rollins pressed forward before she could say anything more.

“So, does the ‘Him’ in the title refer to God?”

“Now Reverend, I don’t want to give away too much of the plot,” said Melvina, giggling. “Let’s just say that my heroine has a hard time deciding which ‘Him’ to follow, her sweetheart or her Lord.”

“Yes. Yes. The eternal struggle between matters of faith and matters of the heart, I understand it all too well,” said Reverend Pierce, shaking her head. “I’ve counseled many women who are going through the same situation. Ah, the stories I could tell.” She turned to face the audience like she was going to tell one of her stories. I could almost hear the anticipation in the room.

Rollins attempted to steer the conversation back to the topic at hand. But Melvina, realizing her interview was rapidly going down the tubes, decided to take matters into her own hands. She jumped up from the couch and teetered perilously close to the edge of the stage.

“Are there any writers in the audience?”

The audience, disappointed at being denied the chance to hear Reverend Pierce’s story, was silent. And the silence was brutal.

Why I raised my hand I do not know. Maybe it was because I was having a flashback to my senior year of college, when I gave a grammar workshop while doing my student teaching. A roomful of bored and semi-comatose high school students, who would rather have had their eyelashes pulled out one by one than answer any of my questions, did not make for a good time. I knew how the shy author was probably feeling. Or maybe I was just trying to impress Rollins, who was staring at me with a mixture of surprise and relief. Either way, I was the only one who raised a hand and Melvina smiled at me so gratefully that it was too late to turn back.

“What’s your name, miss?” asked Melvina, flashing a triumphant glance at Reverend Pierce, who was looking sulky.

“Yes, please stand up and tell us about your writing,” said Rollins, who was smiling mischievously. “I’m sure Ms. Carmichael has some helpful tips and advice for you.”

Wonderful. I wasn’t expecting this. I stood slowly, my mind desperately trying to figure out what I was going to say. I’d never written creatively in my life unless you counted a few horrific poems written in college that my poetry professor deemed twaddle. I didn’t even know what twaddle meant but I knew it wasn’t anything good. Everyone was staring at me as I stood with my mouth hanging open and my hands twisting nervously. My composure wasn’t helped at all by the knowledge that this was being taped for television.

“Don’t be shy,” said Melvina encouragingly. I noticed how much more relaxed she seemed now that the spotlight had shifted to me. Why in the world did I raise my hand? A thumbtack enema couldn’t be worse than this.

“Uh, my name is Kendra Clayton,” I began. My mouth was dry and my voice came out sounding strangled. “And I…um…am writing a science fiction novel,” I declared. Melvina looked a little taken aback. Apparently she wasn’t expecting my answer. Neither was I.

“How fascinating,” she gushed.

I wished Reverend Pierce would interrupt again as I was now dying to hear her story, but she just rolled her eyes and sat back in defeat.

“We’d love to hear all about it, wouldn’t we folks?” asked Rollins, who had come out from behind his desk and was now leaning against it. The audience clapped enthusiastically. He was getting a big kick out of this and I wanted to punch him.

They were all waiting to hear about my masterpiece in progress. I quickly thought about all the episodes of
Star Trek
that I’d seen. I thought about the
Star Wars
movies and even
E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial
.

“It, um, takes place on the planet Zircon. And involves a forbidden romance between Zirconian Princess Zippy and Prince Qumquat of the planet Ooom.” I looked around, daring anyone to laugh. Rollins looked like it was taking everything in him not to bust a gut, Melvina looked like she was wondering what kind of an idiot I was, and Reverend Pierce was laughing and trying to disguise it as a cough, or maybe she was choking. I couldn’t tell, but figured she was laughing when no one rushed over to administer the Heimlich maneuver. The audience looked confused.

“What’s the title of your book?” asked Melvina.

“The Princess and the Planet Oom,” I replied like it should be obvious.

“How original. And is this a stand-alone novel or will there be other books about the planet of Doom?” Melvina asked, standing so close to the edge of the stage I was afraid she’d fall off.

“Oom, not doom. It’s the planet Oom,” said Reverend Pierce, who was now laughing and not bothering to hide it. I was starting to get a little mad. How dare she laugh at my imaginary book!

“Did you have something to ask me about writing, dear?” That was a good question. What advice could I ask her about a book I wasn’t really writing?

“Yes,” I said. “How do I get published?” I figured it was a safe enough question. But Melvina’s face turned hard and she crossed her arms and shook her head in disgust. You’d have thought I’d just asked her the color of her bloomers.

“All you aspiring writers are the same,” she spat out, still shaking her head. “You all seem to think that there’s some big secret to getting published that we published authors are keeping from you. Well, I’m here to tell you that there isn’t. Getting published takes a lot of hard work and persistence. I studied the publishing business and I mastered my craft. It took me almost twenty years of rejection before I signed my first book contract. And I know what you’re going to ask next,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “The answer is no. I won’t show my publisher your book about the planet of Doom or Zoom or whatever it’s called.”

“It’s Oom,” I said weakly, but she didn’t hear me.

“You have to put forth some blood, sweat, and tears. You have to pay your dues like I did. There are no free lunches in this life.”

You could have heard a pin drop as I sank back down in my seat. I was mortified. I couldn’t believe I’d felt sorry for this woman. Even Reverend Pierce had stopped laughing in the face of Melvina’s tirade. Rollins’s look was unreadable.

“Thank you, Ms. Carmichael. That was
very
helpful,” he said with just enough sarcasm to make the audience giggle and Melvina slink back to the couch and take her seat.

Rollins quickly thanked his guests for being on the show and reintroduced the Trinity Faith Dancers, who performed to a song by the Holy Cross choir. Rollins ended the show with a passionate plea for donations to Holy Cross Ministries. His pitch was so slick and his demeanor so humble it almost had me digging deep into my own purse. But I was ready to leave, having accomplished nothing more than getting myself embarrassed on television. Nicole never did turn up. I got up from my seat and headed towards the basement steps when I felt a firm hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Rollins smiling down at me. He smelled like Lagerfeld, one of my all-time favorite colognes.

“I hope you’ll accept my apologies, Ms. Clayton. I’ve known Melvina Carmichael for many years and she’s always been wound a little tight. She’s really quite a lovely lady when you get to know her.” He had taken my hand and was squeezing it lightly. I felt a warm, tingly sensation running up my arm and I had an overwhelming urge to climb the man like a tree.

“No harm done, Reverend,” I said, looking away from him. His intense gaze was making me nervous. “I guess that’s what I get for lying,” I said, laughing to show I wasn’t mad, at least not at him. I tried to pull my hand away but he held on.

“There’s no fault in trying to be helpful. You were very amusing. I haven’t had much to be amused about recently. Everyone’s been telling me I should postpone the tapings for a while. But being here at Holy Cross gives me so much comfort. Keeping busy keeps me from thinking about my loss. I’m so happy you decided to come tonight.”

“Well, I found myself with some free time this evening and decided to take you up on your offer.”

“I’m glad you did.”

He finally let go of my hand, but I could still feel the warm imprint of his fingers. “I was hoping to meet your wife this evening. I didn’t get a chance to meet her at the funeral. Is she okay?”

Rollins looked uncomfortable. “Actually, she’s not doing very well. She’s grieved herself sick. She’s got a bad case of the flu and is at home under a nurse’s care. She can’t have any visitors.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, but somehow knew he’d told me a lie. Why didn’t he want me to talk to her?

“If you’ll excuse me, Ms. Clayton, I have some details I need to attend to.” He started to walk away and I realized my chance to get more info on Nicole was walking away with him.

“Reverend Rollins,” I called out. He turned and gave me a quizzical look. “I have a confession to make. I’m having a personal problem and I really need to talk to somebody about it. I was hoping you’d have some time for me this evening. I mean, if you’re not too busy, that is?”

That predatory look, the one that had said “fresh meat” when I’d first met him at Inez’s funeral, appeared again briefly before he gave me a kind smile. “Of course, I have time for you. You’re more than welcome to wait for me in my office. I promise I won’t be long.” He gave me directions and I headed up the basement steps wondering what I’d just gotten myself into.

R
ollins’s
office was located just off the large atrium at the church entrance. The door was unlocked and I let myself in. I was expecting a large, lavishly decorated office and that’s just what I found. Lush, pale gold carpeting covered the floor and a large circular oak desk sat in the center of the room like an island. The wall behind the desk was made of multicolored glass blocks and gave a distorted view of the street below. Instead of chairs in front of the desk there was a dark gold love seat with red silk accent pillows. The shelves built into the cream-colored wall to the right of the desk were filled with books, glass vases, and several small woodcarvings. A sliding panel in the wall to the left of Rollins’s desk was open and revealed a large-screen television, CD/DVD player, and an aquarium of tropical fish. I looked up and saw that a mural depicting Rollins in the pulpit delivering a sermon had been painted fresco-style on the ceiling. Good grief. Somebody needed to get over himself.

I sat on the love seat for a few minutes but, being the supremely nosy person that I am, was soon up looking around. Rollins’s huge desk held dozens of pictures and I took the time to look at each one. Many were of him in his ministerial robes with members of his congregation. Several were family pictures of him and his brother Rondell when they were young men. I was surprised to notice that Rollins’s looks had gotten better as he’d aged. The pictures showed him to have been a lanky young man who looked uncomfortable with his height. I almost didn’t recognize Rondell. He was much slimmer and his clothes fit. There were many pictures of Inez as a little girl and even one of Inez as a teenager with a protective arm around her younger cousin Shanda. Shanda was looking up at Inez with an expression that can only be described as worshipful. Whatever their relationship had become at the time of her death, there’d been a time when Shanda had adored her cousin.

I noticed a more recent picture of Inez, her father, and another pretty young woman that I didn’t recognize. Rollins was in between the two young women with his arms around both of them. They were all smiling widely. Both Inez and the other woman wore braids but Inez’s hair was done in a much more intricate design, pulled away from her face, while the other woman wore her braids hanging loosely to her shoulders from a center part. This must be Nicole Rollins. While Rollins barely looked like he was in his fifties, he still looked old enough to be Nicole’s father. I didn’t blame Inez at all for being angry with her father. I tried to imagine my father marrying Lynette if something happened to my mother. I couldn’t do it. But I did get a sudden idea of what I would say to him about my so-called problem when he arrived for our talk. I sat the picture back in its place and noticed a stack of papers in the middle of the desk.

I picked up the stack and flipped through it. It was mostly bills, invoices, and estimates for work that had either been done or was going to be done at the church. I glanced at a letter towards the bottom of the stack, and realizing what it was, pulled it out. It was a letter from Rollins’s insurance company denying his life insurance claim on Inez pending the outcome of the police investigation into her death. The letter went on to point out that this was standard procedure when the cause of death was listed as homicide. I looked at the date and saw that it was sent less than a week after Inez’s death. Rollins apparently hadn’t wasted any time trying to cash the policy. As lavishly as the man lived, it wouldn’t surprise me if he were having money problems.

I heard voices in the hallway and quickly stuck the letter back in the stack and returned it to its place on the desk. The door to the office opened while I was still standing at Rollins’s desk. Rollins stood outside the door with Melvina Carmichael. It was clear she wanted an invitation into the office and equally clear he didn’t want to extend one. She stood staring up at him with a wistful expression. Boy, what was it about ministers that made women swoon? Was it the power, the glory, the closeness to God? Maybe they were trying to get closer to heaven.

“Thank you so much, sister Carmichael. I’ll let Nicole know she’s in your prayers.” Melvina Carmichael looked past Rollins into the office and spotted me before I could move out of her line of sight. I knew what she was thinking by the contemptuous look she flashed me before walking away, slowly shaking her head. I had apparently gone from being a lazy writer looking for a free ride to a home-wrecking ho as far as Melvina was concerned.

I sat back down on the love seat just as Rollins turned and walked through the door. I gave him a big smile.

“Well, now, Miss Clayton,” he said, giving me a devilish smile and taking his place behind his desk. I caught another whiff of Lagerfeld. “What can I do for you?”

The question was innocent enough but I got the distinct impression from the look in his eyes and the way he leaned forward in anticipation that he was hoping I had a problem he could solve with something other than his ministerial skills.

And, given my attraction to the Reverend, I was just hoping he’d keep his distance and stay seated behind his desk.

“I’m actually a little embarrassed,” I said, laughing and looking down at my lap. “I think maybe I’m just overreacting.”

“Please don’t be embarrassed, Kendra. Can I call you Kendra?” His voice had such a soothing hypnotic quality to it that I found myself instantly relaxing. I was also impressed that he remembered my first name. This man was dangerous.

“Of course,” I said, stopping short of asking him if I could call him Morris.

“You just take your time, Kendra,” he said with a look of genuine concern.

“It’s my boyfriend,” I said.

Rollins leaned back in his chair looking a tad disappointed. “He’s not abusive, is he?”

“Oh, no. It’s nothing like that. He’s, well, a lot older than me and we’re having problems.” This was the only thing I could think to tell him that might loosen his tongue about Nicole. Surely, being married to a woman young enough to be his daughter would make him empathetic to someone in a similar situation. At least I hoped it would.

“How much older is he?” Rollins asked, the gleam returning to his eyes.

“In his fifties, probably around your age. Not that you look like you’re in your fifties,” I added quickly.

He threw back his head and laughed. “Well, that’s good to know.”

“He’s a good man. We get along very well. But, lately we don’t seem to have much to talk about.”

“And you think this has to do with your age difference?” he said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers together behind his head.

“Yes, don’t you? I mean, he used to call me all the time. Now I’m lucky if I hear from him once a day.”

“Kendra, all relationships go through phases. How long have you been seeing each other?”

“Almost a year.”

“Well, now, there you have it. Having been in a relationship for a year, things are naturally going to cool off. That’s not necessarily a sign of trouble or an indication that your age difference is the problem. You said you still get along well, right?” He was looking at me like I was a silly, paranoid woman panicking because my man didn’t call me every five minutes. Clearly I needed to come up with something more serious.

I leaned in closer to the desk and Rollins unlaced his fingers and leaned forward to hear my revelation. “That’s not the only problem we’re having.” I whispered. “There are some, um, sexual issues as well.” I tried my best to add some anguish to my voice but probably only succeeded in sounding like I had a feather up my butt. Nevertheless, Rollins looked sufficiently curious.

“Is it something you feel comfortable discussing?” he asked. I realized I was treading on dangerous ground bringing up the subject of sex with a married man I had no business being attracted to, but I’d already brought it up and he looked very interested in hearing what I had to say.

“Well,” I began, looking more than a little embarrassed. “I won’t bore you with the details. Let’s just say that our age difference has been a big factor in our intimate relationship. The desire is there, but he’s not always able to do anything about it, if you know what I mean. You do, don’t you?”

“Don’t worry, Kendra. You don’t have to spell it out. I know what you’re talking about. Not from personal experience, mind you.” We both laughed. Although, I wondered why men always felt obligated to assure women of their potency. Whether he could get it up or not was no concern of mine…really.

“You know, Kendra. As a minister I should probably be counseling you on abstinence.” He paused when he noticed my mortified expression then quickly added, “Don’t worry, it’s not my place or intention to judge you. Only God can judge.”

I wasn’t looking mortified on my own behalf. I was looking mortified because I couldn’t believe a man who was known to be one of the biggest players in town had just brought up abstinence. Wasn’t he afraid the heavens would open up and zap him with a lightning bolt? I glanced up at the ceiling, half expecting a crack to appear. I heard Rollins laugh again.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, leaning forward again.

“You do?” I rubbed my suddenly sweaty palms on my pants.

“Yeah, it is kind of hideous, isn’t it?”

“I beg your pardon?” I asked, suddenly confused. Rollins gestured towards the painting on the ceiling.

“It was a wedding present from the congregation. They had it commissioned when Nicole and I were on our honeymoon. I can’t stand it, but I didn’t have the heart to tell them.”

“Oh, the painting,” I said, relieved. “No, I don’t think it’s hideous at all. It’s just a bit overwhelming.” That was a serious understatement.

“It was my sister-in-law Bonita’s idea. She hired a local student artist to paint it. Do you know Joy Owens?”

“Joy painted this?” I was incredulous. Joy’s work was usually quite bizarre. I was amazed that she hadn’t painted Rollins with horns and a tail.

“Yeah, I guess Bonita really had to stay on top of her. Some of my parishioners told me that one day she came in to check on the progress of the painting and Ms. Owens had painted me with bloody fangs standing in a field surrounded by a flock of dead, dried-up sheep,” he said, grimacing.

So, Joy had depicted Rollins as a bloodsucker who’d drained his flock dry. This was too much, even for Joy, and I laughed until tears rolled down my face and my sides ached. I was afraid I’d offended him but when I looked up he was not only smiling but had come out from behind his desk and was standing in front of the love seat, offering me a box of tissues. There were only a few inches separating us and my face was eye-level to his crotch. I couldn’t help but notice that he was quite well-endowed and I was supremely embarrassed about having such unholy thoughts in a church. I took a tissue but he still stood in front of me like he was waiting for something. Feeling flustered and not quite knowing what else to do, I quickly scooted over. He sat down next to me. It was a tight fit and our thighs were touching. This man was slicker than snot on a wet floor. I was torn between leaving before I ended up like Mattie Lyons’s niece and staying just to see what kind of moves the reverend had up his sleeve. I still hadn’t found out anything about Nicole, so my decision was made.

“Joy’s work is very unconventional. This is probably the tamest thing she’s ever painted. I haven’t offended you, have I?” I asked, wiping my eyes and pressing my legs together to put some space between us.

“Of course not. I’m very well aware that there are folks who think that I shake my congregation down for everything but their gold fillings so I can live high on the hog. But most would be surprised to know that my first wife, Jeanne, came from a wealthy family in New York. Her parents made sure their daughter lived in the manner to which she was accustomed even after we were married. They were very generous to me, as well. As for my congregation, I do ask a lot of them but I don’t ask them for more than they can give, and every dime collected from donations and the collection plate goes straight back into this church,” he said, looking sad and misunderstood.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Reverend Rollins,” I said, giving him a smile. I wondered what shape his finances were in now that his first wife was dead. Why was he so hot to cash in the insurance claim on Inez?

“You have a beautiful smile, Kendra. You should smile more often.”

Oh, boy. Here we go
. “Thank you, Reverend.” He took my hand and squeezed it gently and that familiar warm tingly sensation started tap dancing on my common sense, which was telling me that it was time to go. But I couldn’t move. My limbs felt like jelly.

“You know, I’ve lived in this town all my life and I’ve never run into you before. Where have you been hiding?”

“Nowhere. I’ve been right here all the time.” He was still holding my hand and looking into my eyes. He leaned towards me and I closed my eyes and almost puckered up. But instead of laying a big juicy wet one on my lips, he gave me a soft quick peck on the forehead before getting up from the love seat and sitting behind his desk. I felt like a kid whose ice cream fell off the cone before I could get a lick. I was obviously no more immune to Rollins’s charms than any of his other conquests. What would I have done if he’d given me a real kiss? I already knew the answer and it didn’t make me feel too good about my morals.

“So, you don’t think I should be having sex, huh?” I asked with just a touch of sarcasm.

He looked at me with a startled expression before laughing heartily. “I’m sorry, Kendra. We kind of got sidetracked from your problem, didn’t we?”

“Just a little.”

“You’ll have to decide what’s best for you with regard to your intimate relationship. A doctor would be better suited to answer your questions. Maybe it would be a good idea to focus on the things that first brought the two of you together. I know it’s hard. I can understand how age differences can affect a relationship. My wife Nicole and I had the same kinds of problems when we first got together.”