When Perfection Fails (13 page)

Jonathan shook himself away from the strange dream. Despite having a night's sleep, he felt fatigued, almost as if he had been physically fighting in his sleep. He lifted his head from the pillow to find his wife scrambling around in the darkly lit bedroom. The only light source was from the bathroom. He sat up and called out.

“Lenora, what are you doing?”

Lenora stood from where she had been bent over fixing her stockings around her feet. She stuck her feet into her heels. “I need to get to the boutique.”

He frowned. “Why don't you just reschedule your appointments or ask Sarah to take over for you? I'm sure your clients would understand.”

“I can't.”

“Can't or you won't?” Lenora could be so stubborn. The crazy thing is she would call him out for doing the same thing.

She placed her hands on her hips and moved her head back and forth. “Okay, fine. I want to go in to the boutique. I need to be there. I need to work with my brides on their weddings. I need to soak myself into pretty fabrics, catered menus, table centerpieces, anything that I can do to not think about yesterday.”

Jonathan observed Lenora as if he were seeing her for the first time. Her hair was swept up away from her face. Her dress fit perfectly, and despite the lack of lighting, he was sure her makeup was flawless. She was beautiful and in control of what she knew best. What could he say?

“Okay.”

Before she turned the doorknob, he called out to his wife. “Lenora, please be careful. If there is anything strange, don't hesitate to call me.”

“Of course.” Lenora closed the door.

Jonathan fell backward against the pillows.

After he left Lenora alone last night, he went into his office and sat praying. Being helpless was something he'd fought the entire time he watched his father slip slowly away from him. He knew his marriage was slipping too, but someone sending threats to his wife Jonathan just couldn't tolerate.

He knew there was some fighting he could and should be doing.

Jonathan slipped out of bed to his knees. “God, I may never admit this to anyone, but, Father, I'm admitting my fear to you. Everything in me wants to fight to protect my wife and family. Lord, I can't wrestle with an invisible enemy, and right now, I don't know who or what we are up against. Father God, in your Word, it says no weapon formed against us shall prosper. Please send your mighty angels from heaven to protect us. We ask this in Jesus' name. Amen.”

Saturday was the day he prepared his sermons. Like Lenora, he too needed to set aside yesterday for just a little while.

After taking a quick shower, Jonathan went downstairs to the kitchen. He went to open the refrigerator, but heard a slow rhythmic sound coming from outside the kitchen window. He walked to the window over the sink and peeked out. A figure was outside near the basketball net Jonathan had added many years before.

Jonathan slid the patio door open. To his surprise, Michael was bouncing the basketball back and forth. Keith had shot up in height as a freshman in high school. It seemed like it took Michael a little longer to hit a growth spurt. Jonathan watched as his youngest son threw the basketball, making the net effortlessly.

An ex-basketball player himself, Jonathan beamed. “How did I not know we have another basketball player in the family?”

Michael grabbed the bouncing ball and looked at his father. “I'm just playing around, Dad.”

“Just playing around?” Jonathan threw his hands out. “That was pretty good. I didn't think you were interested in playing.”

Michael shook his head. “I'm not. Like I said, I just was looking for something to do.” He threw the ball down. “This is Keith's thing.”

Jonathan caught the ball. “Okay. So, Mikey, what is your thing? You're a junior now. Where is your head at about the future?” He tossed the ball back to his son.

“Not getting a basketball scholarship, that's for sure!” Michael rolled the ball up against the wall.

He frowned. Mikey could be sensitive like his mother. “I'm concerned. You are thinking about what you want to do, right?”

“Does it matter?” Michael entered back through the sliding doors.

Jonathan followed his son, then closed and locked the patio door behind him. “Of course, it matters. What kind of foolishness are you talking, boy? Your mother and I certainly will support you with whatever you decide, but having a plan or some goals would certainly help.”

Michael sat down in the kitchen chair and looked up at his father. “Can I ask you something?”

Jonathan sat in the other seat. “Shoot!”

“Are you and Mom getting a divorce? Please be straight with me.”

“What?” Jonathan was stunned. “Why would that thought even cross your mind?”

“You two are acting different, and you have been for a while. I asked Mom about it.”

Jonathan cocked his head to the side. Mikey talked about this with Lenora? “What did she say?”

He shrugged. “She said something about you were both adjusting to you taking over for Granddad at the church and not to worry.”

“Does it bother you that I'm so busy?”

“No biggie. You and Mom are always busy. It's just . . . I don't know . . . like last night you were both just tense, not even looking at each other. It's crazy to see you acting like you don't like each other or something.”

Jonathan rubbed his hand over his head trying to process what his son was saying. “Son, I love your mother, and I know she loves me. All couples and families have difficult times, but the love is there. Don't worry about us. We are here for you and Keith.”

“Yeah, Mom said something like that too.” Michael got up from the table.

Jonathan stared at the door long after his youngest son's exit.
What could I say?
Last night he barely spoke to Lenora at the table, but that was because he didn't want to reveal too much information. His mom and the boys didn't need to know what Lenora revealed at the police station.

He was still processing the strange threats himself. It wasn't so much about the car accident from long ago involving Charmayne and Lenora, but the fact that his wife never shared the story or thought it important to share the threats with him. If anything, he received some more insight into why Lenora seemed to be so loyal to Charmayne.

A deep vibrating buzz interrupted his thoughts. He needed to turn his phone off. Jonathan shook his head as he recognized the name on his phone's caller ID. “Unbelievable. Carrington, couldn't you have waited until the woman was buried first to start hounding me?” The city council seat will definitely have to be filled now. Jonathan was unclear about moving in the political arena, especially after the way Charmayne died.

He turned the cell phone off and got up from the kitchen table to start work on his sermon in his office. There was nothing he could do about his circumstances right now, but he had a sermon to preach twice tomorrow, one for the eight o'clock service, and then again at eleven o'clock. The weekend would be busy outside of service too. He had already been called by Reverend Owen Wright, the recently appointed pastor at Greater Heights Church, to assist with the funeral ceremony for Charmayne.

He sat behind his desk and pulled open his leather Bible. The Bible was a gift from his dad when Jonathan decided to attend seminary. The Bible was the New International Version. Jonathan had been complaining about stumbling over reading the New King James Version Bible, which his father loved. He remembered jokingly sharing his surprise with his dad about purchasing a Bible without the “thee” and “thou.”

That was his father. A man of a different generation, but quite open to change. It was no wonder the members of Victory Gospel loved Pastor Jeremiah.

Jonathan prayed for guidance before opening the Bible. The pages were wrinkled and creased from many sermon preparations. Oftentimes, he stuffed notes of paper inside the Bible as placeholders, so he didn't often use the burgundy ribbon. He grabbed the end of the ribbon at the bottom and let the Bible fall open to the marked passage.

The book of Hebrews, one of his favorites books of the Bible. Oddly enough, he hadn't studied or preached a sermon from Hebrews in some time. He had read these chapters many times, and even highlighted verses. For some reason, he had bookmarked Chapter Twelve. He read the yellow highlighted verses one and two.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.
(Hebrews 12:1–3, New International Version).

After he read and reread the passage, Jonathan jotted down at the top of the notepad
“Running Your Race.”
They were all running a race. What did they need to throw off that may be hindering their steps?

He leaned back in his seat and meditated on the question. Sermons didn't become teachable until he felt the passages had ministered to him. He never wanted to come purely from a scholarly level in the pulpit, but wanted to reach people right where they need spiritual healing and encouragement.

Jonathan sighed deeply as his thoughts turned to his earlier conversation with Michael. Had he failed his sons? He was sure his father and mother had their share of problems, but Jonathan couldn't think of ever feeling as if his world would fall apart. His parents were ingrained in his foundation. Jonathan wanted the same for his boys.

Then his mind turned to his wife and their marriage. They'd been in this race together as a couple for twenty years. Jonathan was sure of one thing. He loved God, and he loved his wife, no matter what her past brought to light. They would endure together.

A sharp knock at the door broke his thoughts. He called out, “Yes.”

The door swung open, and Lenora walked in.

Jonathan rose up from his chair. “What happened? Are you all right?”

She choked out a “No! They know, they all know.”

“Who knows? What are you talking about?” Jonathan asked.

Before he could get any answers from Lenora, outside the office, his youngest son yelled, “Dad!”

Jonathan peered at Lenora. She sank down on the couch in his office. He left her to go find out what was going on near the front of the house. He saw both of his sons standing in the hallway. “What are you guys looking at out there?”

Keith pointed and said, “Look for yourself.”

Jonathan went to the door and saw television station vans had parked outside their home. He rubbed the top of his head. What was the media doing at their home? The race had suddenly turned into an obstacle course.

Serena waited patiently at Starbucks. It was Monday, and she was still stuck about what to do with the story she once thought was a sure thing. Her source seemed to have disappeared into thin air and the woman she thought would be exposed had apparently committed suicide.

It was Charmayne's death that really bothered Serena. Charmayne Hudson was a woman of faith. She grew up the daughter of one the most well-known bishops in the area. Serena had her own gripes about church and chose not to go. It wasn't like she didn't believe in God. She knew He existed. It was the religion thing she despised. Her family lived and breathed church. None of that good ole time religion ever helped her. If anything, Serena deeply regretted her scars thanks to an over-the-top religious upbringing.

She grabbed her cup of coffee and drained it; then she went back to her iPad and typed another question in her growing list. What drove Charmayne Hudson to such despair? Was it the legacy of the Hudson Housing Development project left on her shoulders by her father?

Serena thought about Christians in general. The religion was based on forgiveness. She thought most Christians felt they were forgiven for anything they had done. What would make a person with this belief take their own life? Certainly not dipping your hands in a pot of money to use for one's own personal desires. How many people have done that, served their time, and kept on living?

No, there was something else going on here. That unknown factor was driving Serena crazy. With all the speculation around Charmayne's death, Serena had answers dropped in her lap. Or so it seemed. She looked at the time on her phone. Alan would be expecting her to stop by his office this afternoon to tell him how she was going to move forward with the story.

How could she tell her news producer for the first time in her career that she had an uneasiness about proceeding with a story? All weekend she scanned social media to catch a pulse of what people were saying about the events that unfolded at the Hudson home on Friday. The 911 call had been released, and everyone now knew Lenora Freeman had found Charmayne. That explained why Pastor Jonathan Freeman and the first lady were at the police station on Friday.

The Freemans were closed up shut, despite the media showing up on their front lawn Saturday. Serena intended to take a chance on contacting Lenora Freeman. She wanted desperately to get answers. With the beloved bishop and now his daughter deceased, what purpose would it be to expose the financial discrepancies at this time? Clearly, Mayor Carrington and the city council intended to place the development on the backburner. Who would take up the cause of the project that so many people donated their money and time to over the years?

Serena switched off her iPad. She only came in here today to catch a glimpse of Lance Ryan. The man dropped his bomb on her and disappeared. She stuffed her iPad, and then her phone, in the bag. Until Lance surfaced again, she decided she would tell Alan that the story would be on hold for a while. She needed time to investigate, and it wasn't like she didn't have other stories to pursue.

As Serena walked out, she was stopped by a group of women who recognized her. She smiled and listened to them compliment her about being on television. Serena thanked them for their kindness. She did enjoy these types of fans. There was the other type who seemed to have visions of knowing her personally or determined that she should tell a certain story. The crazy type she could do without.

She clicked the button to unlock her SUV and leaned in to place her bag on the passenger floor. As she moved backward, she heard a voice behind her.

“I understand you've been looking for me, Ms. Manchester.”

Serena spun around in the seat and fell backward against the seat as Lance Ryan pushed his arm out and gripped her shoulder. Serena's eyes darted around the parking lot, not seeing a single soul. She didn't know if she should scream for help or not. She focused on the man whose pale green eyes were hidden behind dark shades.

She tried to remember to breathe and keep her cool. “Mr. Ryan, you're a hard man to track down. I needed a bit more information. You kind of left me hanging.” Serena pointed to his hand on her shoulder. “Can we talk like two people having a civil conversation?”

Lance Ryan moved his hand, but he stared at her from behind the shades.

Serena swallowed. “Like I said, I only wanted to verify information with you. I'm not sure why we couldn't have met in the Starbucks like before and enjoyed another cup of coffee over conversation.”

Lance smiled, and then removed his shades. His pale green eyes appeared to glint at her. She felt like he was peering into her soul. Her instinct was to look away, but she held his stare.

Serena asked again, “So, can I ask you some questions?”

“What is it you want to know? I gave you everything you needed to know.”

Not everything.
“You didn't tell me how you acquired your information. You were right about what Charmayne sent me. The numbers were very different.”

Lance leaned forward. Serena shrunk in her seat away from his closeness. He asked, “So, you're having trouble with who to believe? I think it's quite obvious since Ms. Hudson disposed of herself.”

It was midmorning, but the sun was sweltering hot. Serena felt her body perspire. “You're saying Ms. Hudson knew that money had been mishandled and that drove her to kill herself?”

Lance folded his arms. “You're disappointing me, Ms. Manchester. You are simply not getting the magnitude of this offense. Isn't it your job to tell the truth?”

“I . . .”

He placed his finger near her face. “I gave you what you needed.”

Serena realized what she knew all along. This man was on the side of crazy. It angered her that he would have the nerve to seek her out. “What do you really want from me, Mr. Ryan? What do you get out of me running this story? Don't tell me it's just about justice.”

He backed away. She observed how his hands were clenched against his sides. Serena flinched as if she fully expected him to hit her. She had a run-in years ago with a violent man, and this man showed similar signs of having deep-rooted anger. Whatever ate at him, Serena felt in her heart he was close to a breaking point.

Just as quickly as though he had a moment of clarity, Lance unclenched his hands and smiled as if he was having the best time ever. He answered. “I've known the Hudsons for many years, and I know what they are truly like.” He leaned forward. “Believe me, I know all the lies they've told. You need to deliver this story.”

She frowned. “Need?”

His teeth were so perfect. Too bad the hate in his eyes didn't match the smile.

“Of course, you need this story and the people need to know the truth about the leaders they have placed on a pedestal. I will be in touch. I look forward to seeing your final report in the near future. Give my regards to Alan.”

Serena's mouth dropped open. How did he know her news producer? She hopped out of the SUV and ran to the back, but Lance had slipped away as quickly as he appeared. She jumped back inside her car and locked the doors. Serena looked around the parking lot, still flabbergasted as to how the man could appear and disappear so fast.

She turned the engine on to get the air conditioning flowing in the car. The day had started off on the cool side, but the sun wasn't playing. As she placed her hands on the steering wheel, Serena noticed a tremor. She spread her hands out in front of her to be sure she wasn't seeing things, but she clearly had the shakes. She clasped her hands together.

So, what if she went through with developing this story of financial corruption and the possible connection to Charmayne's death? She knew the story would spark controversy, putting a prominent religious figure in the spotlight. Serena wasn't afraid to push a controversial story out to the public. Wasn't that her thing?

In the pit of her stomach, however, she knew there was something else going on. Lance Ryan had a clear agenda. Serena was more concerned with what Lance would do if she chose
not
to follow his wishes.