When Perfection Fails

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Table of Contents

 

 

This book is dedicated to the woman who wants to achieve it all. Be reminded as you or someone you know read the pages of this book, there is no such thing as a superwoman.

I can't believe this is the final book in this series. I know someone is reading this, thinking, how do you know there won't be more books? I don't, but I sensed as I was writing the first book in the Victory Gospel Series that they were minor characters that had stories to tell. I believe I have told three very different stories of three women bonded by friendship, all with the common goal to move forward from past events and issues.

Now there are a few people I want to acknowledge. Thank you to Celeste Ribbins for explaining to me how city government works. Your briefing was invaluable, and I have gained a new respect for local city officials. Thank you to Robin Caldwell for reading through the manuscript. As always, I value your friendship and advice. Joylynn Ross, thank you for always being available for questions and being a teacher as I continue to grow as an author.

I can't name everyone, but to all my family and friends, book reviewers, bloggers, online radio hosts, social media buddies, and book clubs, thank you for your support of the Victory Gospel Series. It's truly appreciated.

Thank you, readers, for taking the time to read the third book in the Victory Gospel Series. While you don't have to read the series in order, if you haven't already, please check out Candace's story in
When Rain Falls
and Angel's story in
When Memories Fade.
I'm looking forward to bringing you more soul-searching suspense. As a hint, you may see one of the characters from this series again, in the near future. I will let you read to guess who.

 

Hebrews 12:1–3 (NIV)

 

Lenora clutched the car dashboard and shouted as her friend almost rammed the Honda Civic into the car in front of them. The brakes squealed in protest as the car came to a stop inches away from the back of the Buick LaSabre.

Charmayne smacked the steering wheel. “Whoa, that was a close one.” Then, she started to laugh.

Lenora stretched her eyes wide as she watched her friend appear as if she was having a mental breakdown. “That wasn't funny. You need to get yourself together.”

The light changed from red to green. The unscathed Buick took off, and the driver behind them was blowing his horn. Charmayne stopped giggling. She grabbed the rearview mirror and made an obscene gesture with her hand. “I know you ain't blowing your horn at me.”

Lenora pointed toward the light. “Charmayne, the light is green. Go!”

“Whatever!” Charmayne placed her hands on the steering wheel. The car lurched forward as she pressed the accelerator.

After they had driven halfway down the block, Lenora asked, “
How much
did you drink? Maybe I should drive.”

Charmayne shook her head. “Girl, you can't drive. Besides, I'm fine.” Her friend held up her fingers and counted. “I had like only two, three beers. I think.”

Lenora held her hand to her forehead. “If I had known . . .”

Charmayne held her hand toward Lenora's face. “Girl, would you stop tripping? I can tell your momma don't let you go nowhere. This might have been your first time to a party, not mine. Just sit tight. I will have you home in a second, okay?” She reached over and turned the radio's volume dial up high.

As Charmayne proceeded to sing loudly to Bobby Brown's “My Prerogative,” Lenora sucked her teeth and crossed her arms.
Why did I let Charmayne convince me to go to this party?
She felt bad lying to her mother, knowing how hard she worked and expected Lenora to keep up her grades. Tonight was definitely not a study group session at Charmayne's house.

As Lenora glanced out the window, something whizzed by the passenger side. Before Lenora could register what she was seeing, the car slid to the right, crashing into the flying object. The sounds of screeching metal over the loud thumping music terrified her.

“What was that?” Lenora yelled. She turned her body to see what had just scraped the side of the car. “Charmayne, you have to stop the car.”

Charmayne slowed the car down and turned the blaring music off. She grabbed the rearview mirror and whined, “Oh no!”

“What?” Lenora spun around to peer out the back window. They had turned down the road leading to her home, and there weren't any other cars behind them. Lenora squinted into the darkness. A streetlight illuminated cars parked along the streets. Her eyes locked in on what appeared to be a body on the road. Panic rose in her gut. She looked at Charmayne. “What did you do? Is that a person?” Lenora spun around and reached for the door handle.

“No!” Charmayne screamed and slapped Lenora's arm. “You can't.” Charmayne hit the gas pedal.

The car jerked forward, sending Lenora crashing against the passenger door. Her heart lurched as the door opened slightly. She yelled, “Are you crazy? Char—”

Charmayne made a sharp right turn, sending Lenora scrambling backward to grab the dashboard. Lenora pressed her feet into the car floor as if she could physically stop the car and slammed the passenger door closed. She shouted, “Stop! You can't keep going. We have to call for help.”

Charmayne shouted back, “There was nothing there.”

Lenora stared at the girl she called a friend. “That could've been a person back there. We should have stopped to check. How could you just leave?”

Charmayne wouldn't look at her. With eyes straight-ahead, she gripped the steering wheel. All that could be heard was the car's engine and both girls breathing heavily.

Charmayne finally spoke so soft, Lenora could barely hear her. “He's going to kill me. I'm probably going to have to explain the car.”

Lenora looked at her friend, watching the tears streaming down Charmayne's face.

Explain the car?
This girl was suddenly concerned about what her father was going to say about the car? This was the same girl who just dragged her to a party neither one of them had any business being at on a school night, and now she was afraid of her father?

Lenora's mind raced. Her body shook as fear crept up her spine. What if Charmayne just killed a person?
Does this make me responsible too?

 

Lenora Freeman peeked out from under her wide brim black hat and studied her husband's face. Pastor Jonathan Freeman's handsome face was not as strained as it was earlier. Many members of the congregation had come up to her commenting on how eloquently the pastor delivered the eulogy. Jonathan's voice had flowed out over the congregation in a graver tone compared to his usual Sunday banter, but his baritone voice was strong and filled with constrained emotion.

When she heard the skip in his voice, she held her body stiff until Jonathan composed himself. Then she pulled a tissue from her purse to blot the tears that had leaked from her eyes. Lenora had focused on her husband's grief so much these past few days, it hadn't occurred to her how devastating this loss was for her too.

She shifted her eyes to the portrait of the longtime pastor of Victory Gospel Church, Jeremiah Freeman. Usually the portrait hung on the wall outside the pastor's office, but today, it sat on an easel. Members of the church and the nearby community came out in large numbers to the funeral and the cemetery. Now crowds of people gathered in the Victory Gospel Center to fellowship and support the Freeman family.

While Jonathan had served as interim pastor of Victory Gospel for almost two years now, there was still pain in knowing Pastor Jeremiah would no longer preach another sermon or grace their presence. She knew how much Jonathan loved his father, and stepping into the spotlight to take over this massive church had not come without sacrifice.

She would certainly miss “Papa” Jeremiah. He was so much more to her than a father-in-law; more like the father she never had. He loved and accepted her. She almost wished it wasn't him in that casket today.

Lenora quickly asked the Lord for forgiveness. She glanced across the center's fellowship hall to where Eliza Freeman sat surrounded by other mothers of the church. After twenty years of marriage to Jonathan, Lenora had since given up on a relationship with her mother-in-law. No woman would have been good enough for Eliza's only child. When Pastor Jeremiah was alive, his quiet charm would soothe Eliza's sharp tongue. Lenora smiled, remembering that look he would give his wife when he was ready for her to stop talking.

She sighed. Maybe grief would soften the old woman. Lenora peeked over at Eliza again, observing how her black hat fit with a black veil covering her eyes. She knew her mother-in-law was truly grieving, but she couldn't help but think how much Eliza enjoyed the attention. Lenora may have been officially the first lady of Victory Gospel, but she knew Eliza flourished as the center of attention and was not too eager to retire from the role she held almost twenty-five years.

Lenora turned away and found her husband's eyes on her. She smiled at him, but he didn't return the smile. His eyes were slightly glazed over from grief and exhaustion. She had left his side to look for their sons, Keith and Michael, who both seemed to have gone missing in action after they returned from the cemetery. Of course, in the midst of her looking, she was stopped by many church members and funeral attendees.

She never did find either of her sons. The boys, now almost grown men, would be dealt with later. Lenora moved through the crowd to return to Jonathan. As she glided through the crowd, smiling and greeting people, two young children bumped into her. The children's mother touched Lenora's arm. “Mrs. Freeman, I'm so sorry.”

Lenora waved her away. “It's okay. Let the children be children.”

As Lenora continued walking toward her husband, she stopped and turned as if someone was calling her. No one had called her name, but she felt as if someone was trying to get her attention. She looked around and as if time had stopped, her eyes focused on a man. He was looking in her direction.

Lenora sensed people passing her. She smiled absently at the passersby as a memory clung to the edges of her mind.
Where had she seen this man before?

Pastor Jeremiah's funeral brought a diverse crowd from all walks of life, but she couldn't figure out if the man was biracial or a tanned white man. He was average height, with a very low buzz cut, and he had no facial hair. Lenora had to be about twenty feet from him, but she was struck by his pale, intense eyes.

Lenora's breathing turned shallow. One thing she hated more than anything in the world was to sweat. She felt beads of sweat above her lip and around the edge of her hat. Lenora pressed her French-manicured fingernails into her hands as a wave of nausea swept over her. She broke her stare and looked away. A memory from long ago flashed in her mind, but she couldn't grasp the image.

Lenora's mind went to focus on the man, but he was no longer there. She looked to the right, and then to the left to see where he had gone. Her eyes found the strange man as he slipped out of the Victory Gospel Center's side entrance leading into the parking lot.

Forgetting that she was supposed to be returning to Jonathan's side, Lenora stepped around a group of ladies and headed toward the exit where the man had left. She didn't know why she was compelled to follow the stranger, but her gut was churning with nervousness. She just had to know his identity.

Lenora pushed the side entrance door open and stepped out onto the sidewalk. She looked to the left, and then to the right.
Where did he go?
The sun was making its descent for the day. She held her hands above her eyes to squint into the massive parking lot. There were people standing around, but she couldn't tell if any of them were him.

Lenora jumped out of the way as the side door was opened by some teenagers. She noticed one of the teens was her youngest son, Michael. Before she could call out her son's name, something buzzed against her side. Lenora opened the black clutch pocketbook she had strapped around her shoulder and pulled out her phone. Someone was texting her, but she didn't recognize the phone number.

The message that displayed on the phone's screen made her already upset stomach churn again. She clutched the top of her shirt in her fist as she reread the message.

A wave of fear swept over Lenora. Who sent this message to her? Is this some kind of joke?

She searched the parking lot again for the man. Why did she think he was responsible for sending the text? He had been staring at her like he could see right through her. While she was trying to figure out the man's identity, she wondered why he chose to make such a hasty exit.

Grief and exhaustion from the past few days were probably influencing her thoughts. She looked down at the phone again. The message was real. She definitely was not losing her mind.

“Mom, are you okay?”

Michael had walked over to her and touched her shoulder. Lenora looked at her son, and then his friends, who were peering at her with curiosity. She looked down and unclenched her fist. Goodness, she didn't realize she had been clutching her shirt over her heart, bringing attention to herself. She felt ashamed of how she must have appeared to her son's friends.

She grabbed Michael's hand and in a quiet voice she responded, “I'm fine, honey. Why don't you check on your father? Tell your friends you will see them tomorrow.”

The concern in her usually quiet-mannered son's eyes shook her, but she straightened her shoulders and smiled. “I'm okay. Really.”

She watched Michael walk over to his friends. They all shuffled one after the other through the Victory Gospel Center's side door.

Lenora looked out over the parking lot before looking down at the message again. She prayed this was someone's crazy idea of a prank. Why today as she grieved her father-in-law's home going would someone send her a message that more grief was to come?