The Last Sunday (25 page)

“I don't care about that. I care about you.”

“Don't worry about me, darling. I'll be fine.”

Percy gave her another kiss and said, “I'll understand if you change your mind. I have to go to the church and give the lieutenant governor a private tour of the facility. He wasn't important enough for Samantha, so they assigned him to me. I won't be gone long.”

“Take your time. I'll be fine,” she replied casually.

After Percy left the penthouse, Cynthia went to the bedroom and took her plastic-covered gown from the closet. It was an off-the-shoulder, formfitting red velvet dress by Elie Saab that cost Percy a large portion of his most recent paycheck. Dazzling red Venetian crystals outlined the plunging neckline. Cynthia draped her body with the dress and surveyed herself from head to toe in the mirror on the closet door.

“Gorgeous,” she said out loud and hung the dress on a hook in front of the mirror. She removed a beaded red clutch from a Louis Vuitton box on a closet shelf and placed it on the bed. She then reached for another box in the closet, on the top shelf, tucked behind a row of her colorful Sunday hats. The box was metal, and the handle clanked as she placed it next to the purse on the bed. She opened the box and removed an object that was wrapped in one of her silk scarves.

Cynthia slowly unraveled the scarf, and the Smith & Wesson 422 fell onto the bed, next to the clutch. Cynthia stood and stared at the gun, as if waiting for it to levitate and come to her hand. The flat, satiny steel finish deflected the light in the room, causing the gun to almost fade into the gray duvet.

“Cynthia!” Percy called suddenly as he approached the bedroom.

She quickly grabbed the revolver and placed it in the beaded clutch.

“I though you left. Why are you back?” she said when he entered the bedroom.

“I forgot my Bible,” he said, rushing to the nightstand. “I was reading last night and left it in here. Is that what you're wearing tonight?” he said, pointing at the gown. “Do you think the neckline is a little . . . revealing?”

Cynthia ignored his question and took him by the arm. “You don't want to keep the lieutenant governor waiting, darling,” she said, guiding him back to the door.

“Are you okay? You seem . . . preoccupied.”

“I'm fine, darling. Just thinking about how lovely the party will be this evening.”

 

 

Every time Scarlett thought of David lying on the silver slab, she doubled over from the pain in her stomach. The only thing that kept her from floating away in despair was the little pills, which reduced the grief to a low and persistent throbbing through her entire body.

Natalie was now on a flight to Detroit to spend a month with her godmother. Scarlett couldn't find the words or the strength to tell her about the state of the man she called Daddy. She couldn't find the strength to accept it herself.

Next week you can fall apart,
she thought over and over again.
After this is all over.

For now, she had unfinished business that had to be attended to if her world was ever to be tolerable again. She had accepted that she would never be fully alive again. The thought of happiness lay slowly rotting with David in the sterile room downtown. But there was one thing she could do to ease the torment. There was only one act that would, at the very least, give her the strength to take her next breath. And tonight was as good a time as any to do it.

Her dress was already laid out on the bed. It was an aqua Dolce & Gabbana floral lace gown that traced her figure to perfection. Each elegant twist and turn of her torso would be highlighted by the formfitting fabric, which flared at the knee, leaving a trail around the heels of her T-strap Fendi sandals. The dress cost more than she had ever paid for a garment, but David had insisted months earlier that she look her most radiant at the party at the Cleaveland estate.

Scarlett sat on the bed, next to the dress, and rested her hand on the delicate lace.
I have to do this for . . . ,
she thought.
For Hezekiah and for David.

She picked up the telephone and dialed.

“Do you have it?” she asked Cynthia.

“I do,” came Cynthia's response. “What time are you arriving?”

“Seven thirty.”

“Are you sure you'll be able to go through with it?”

“I . . . I'm . . .”

“You don't sound sure. Honey, it's the only way,” Cynthia said. “Someone has to do it. We don't have a choice.”

“I'm just afraid I won't be able to do it when the time comes,” Scarlett said. “I want to do it. I know it has to be done. I just don't know if I'll have the nerve once it's time.”

Cynthia took a deep breath to contain the panic that was rising in her chest.

“Scarlett, just remember what she's done to you. Think about how she killed Hezekiah. I know you loved him, and she took him away from you. Think about poor David, lying dead, cold, and lifeless in that morgue. You'll never be able to hear his voice again, thanks to her. You and Natalie are alone in the world with no one to love you, and it's all because of her.”

Cynthia took another breath.
Don't overdo it,
she thought.
I don't want to push her too far over the edge.

“If we don't do this,” Cynthia continued, “who is she going to kill next? Scarlett, just think of the lives you'll be saving. We're doing God's work.”

“I know you're right. I want her dead more than anything in the world right now. Nothing gives me more pleasure than the idea that she will get exactly what she deserves, but I don't know if I'm the person to do it.”

“What about your poor little beautiful daughter, Natalie?” Cynthia said, desperately playing her last card. “Samantha took both her fathers away. That woman has not only destroyed your life, but she has also destroyed Natalie's. Did you ever think she might try to kill Natalie next? I personally think she would do anything to make sure that story never got out.”

An image of Natalie lying on that cold slab flashed into Scarlett's mind. The picture served to buoy her resolve.

“I'll be there with you the whole—” Cynthia continued, not realizing there was no further need for convincing.

“You are right,” Scarlett interrupted. “It has to be done.”

“Good girl,” Cynthia said. “I believe in you. Everything will go just fine. There's nothing to worry about. By this time tomorrow the world will be a better place, because Samantha Cleaveland won't be in it.”

Cynthia breathed a sigh of relief and continued. “When it's done, come straight to me, and I'll cover for you. Just act distraught, and I'll run interference to give you time to compose yourself without raising any suspicions. I'll show you the perfect spot to do it from. No one will see you, and you'll be able to blend easily back in with the rest of the guests after it's done. I'll be waiting for you when you arrive. There's a bathroom on the second floor, at the end of the hall. Meet me there at exactly eight o'clock, and I'll give it to you.”

“Are you sure it can't be traced back to you?”

“I'm positive. I used fake identification.”

“Where did you buy it?”

“Scarlett, the less you know about it, the better. Just give it back to me when it's over. Someone in the house is going to hide the gun in the house. No one will ever find it, and, if they do, it will lead them to a dead end.”

“Who's in the house?” Scarlett asked, jolting upright on the bed. “Who else knows about this?”

“Don't worry. It's someone we can trust. They told me the best place for you to shoot from to have a clear shot and give you enough time to blend back into the crowd.”

“I don't like this, Cynthia. You never said anyone else would be involved.”

“It was the only way. We've both been in the house, but neither of us would know where to hide a gun, and you can be sure everyone will be searched before they're allowed to leave.”

“How do you know they can be trusted?” Scarlett asked.

“I know because they hate her as much, if not more, than we do.”

“Are you sure we're doing the right thing?”

“I know we are. It's God's will,” Cynthia said firmly. “I've prayed about this for weeks. I've never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“I'm too afraid to pray about it. I don't want God to tell me not to do it,” Scarlett said, lying back on the bed, next to the dress.

“There's absolutely no reason to be afraid,” Cynthia said confidently. “I truly believe God wants us to do it.”

 

 

Hattie had spent most of Saturday in her garden. The gentle summer breeze and the smell of freshly tilled soil had helped to calm her nerves and clear her head. She prayed that no more visions would make their way down from heaven to her doorstep. Since Hezekiah's death, the visions had come through clearly and frequently, but they had left her with more questions than answers.

The tips of her gardening gloves were covered in soil mixed with her favorite fertilizer and Miracle-Gro. The earthly brew had served her well over the years. Not only did it make her garden grow, but it also fed her family and the families of so many others.

Hattie looked at her watch. It was 3:35 p.m. The driver would be there at exactly 6:30 p.m. to take her to the estate. This offered her just enough time to bathe, prepare her hair, dress, and pray. The evening called for her to be in a spiritual state that would block the feelings and emotions of everyone in the room. She could not be distracted by the concerns of the rich and famous. The channels had to be kept clear, and her heart pure.

As a trustee and founding member of New Testament Cathedral, Hattie would be paraded around the room like Rosa Parks during Black History Month. She represented all that was left of the early struggles and the difficult days of New Testament Cathedral. A time that Samantha would prefer to forget. But Hattie would soon be dead, or removed from the board, so putting her on display like a relic of bygone days seemed innocuous enough to Samantha.

Hattie stood over the foxglove plant near the pink brick wall. Her knees trembled slightly as she sensed the beginning of another vision. She planted her feet firmly in the soil and braced her spirit for the revelation to come.

In an instant she saw Samantha standing in her garden. She wasn't alone. The troubled spirit of Scarlett Shackelford appeared next to her. There was desperation in her face. The pain that Hattie had grown accustomed to seeing around her was even more intense than ever.

Poor child,
Hattie thought as she scanned her tormented face.
Lord, don't let her do something she's gonna regret. That little girl needs her now more than ever.

Hattie quickly returned to the role of passive observer. Samantha began to wander through her garden, between the rows of collards and the bushes of zucchini. She aimlessly made her way around the trellises of tomatoes and into the rows of okra and peppers. She was oblivious to Scarlett, who followed only a few steps behind her.

Suddenly Cynthia Pryce appeared in the garden, at the end of the path that Samantha was walking down. Scarlett was at one end of the row, Samantha was in the middle, and Cynthia was at the opposite end. The three women paused. Samantha studied Cynthia closely, still unaware that Scarlett was only a few feet behind her.

Hattie was abruptly aware of the heat of the afternoon sun on her brow. Her knees began to ache from standing in the moist soil. She had lost track of time since the vision began, but the pangs in her knees indicated it had been much longer than she had imagined.
No time for that,
she thought.
Lord, give me the strength to stand here as long as need be.

The three women remained suspended in time amid Hattie's squash, tomatoes, and snap peas. Hattie noted it was the first time she had ever seen a vision integrated with the tangible. Two white butterflies executed a well-choreographed dance between the plants. Bumblebees performed their duties, and electric-red ladybugs continued with their afternoon meal while the three women stood above and beyond the reach of time.

Then Samantha took a step toward Cynthia. Cynthia matched her with a step forward. Scarlett followed from behind. The three women were now one step closer. The movement caused Hattie to shudder slightly. She quickly covered her mouth with one gloved hand, as if to prevent a gasp from disturbing the three visitors in her garden.

Samantha turned around quickly and was now aware of Scarlett standing behind her. She looked back and forth between the two women who blocked her path and to the right and left. She reacted as if she were trapped between the two women and the bounty of Hattie's vegetable garden.

Hattie stopped short of taking a step forward and removing Cynthia from the path. She raised her hand and then quickly tucked it into her apron pocket.

The three women were on a collision course, and Hattie was helpless to stop the crash. Cynthia and Scarlett began to glide toward Samantha without moving their feet. At first they glided slowly, but then their pace steadily accelerated to an alarming speed. Samantha stood firm between the two women as they rushed toward her. Then, suddenly, the three spirits collided. There was an explosion that sounded like two trains crashing head-on at top speed. Hattie closed her eyes tight on impact.

When she opened her eyes, the only thing remaining of the three women or the vision was a plume of smoke that wafted above the garden and faded into the heavens. Hattie surveyed the garden for damage, but there was none. The butterflies fluttered, the ladybugs munched, and the bumblebees darted from flower to flower as if all were well in the world.