Come Sunday Morning Read Free

Sunday mornings, and let me handle him.”
    â€œI know you like him, Samantha, but sometimes I’m not sure if the money is worth the trouble.”
    â€œThat’s where you’re wrong. I don’t like him either but we need him.”
    â€œOne day he’s going to push me too far and…”
    â€œAnd what, Hezekiah? You’ll kill him?”
    Hezekiah laughed. “No, something worse. I’ll sic you on him.”
    Samantha quickly changed the subject. “You should use the cordless microphone more often. You look stiff standing behind the podium for the entire sermon. I wish you’d move around more. The audience and the cameras would love it.”
    â€œI’ll try to remember next Sunday,” he said as he laid his head on the headrest. Without looking in her direction, Hezekiah continued to speak. “Do you want to preach next Sunday? I think I could use a break.”
    Samantha’s heart fluttered when she heard the words. She was rarely offered the opportunity to preach at the coveted Sunday-morning service. She had earned her doctorate in theology six years earlier and was a gifted and inspiring ordained minister, but her more frequent role was that of the expensively dressed mannequin smiling at Hezekiah’s side on their weekly television program.
    The 15,000-seat sanctuary had always been filled to capacity on the rare occasions she had been given the opportunity to preach. Television ratings would skyrocket, primarily due to channel surfers forced to pause by the striking and charismatic woman who flashed on their screens.
    Men loved Samantha for one reason. She was beautiful. At thirty-five she commanded the adoring attention of deacons, cameramen, lighting technicians, and every heterosexual male within range of her seductive voice. She never flaunted her looks. Everyone in her presence took notice of them without any effort on her part. Instead, she focused her energy on perfecting the image of a sacrificing wife and mother who stood by her man, come what may.
    Women had the predictable love-hate reaction to Samantha Cleaveland. They loved her devotion to the man they admired but envied the command she had over every inch of her body. No part of her was unattended, unnoticed, or unappreciated.
    She only wore clothes designed especially for her voluptuous figure or those from her favorite boutiques in Beverly Hills, New York, and Paris. Even if other women could afford the clothes and accessories she took for granted, they could never assemble them as masterfully as she. It took years to perfect the look and most people didn’t have her patience, skills, or her means.
    â€œWhy didn’t you ask me earlier?” she hissed. “I won’t have time to prepare a sermon by next Sunday. I’ve got a busy week.” Anger took over after the initial shock from the unfortunate timing of his request. Titles of the dozens of sermons she’d written but never had the opportunity to deliver flashed through her mind.
    â€œYou don’t have to do anything new. How about preaching the one on wives supporting their husbands?”
    Samantha marveled at the arrogance of her husband. His one-dimensional view of her caused her blood to run cold. She had spent their entire marriage in the shadow of Hezekiah’s greatness. Her beauty and talents only served to propel him higher.
    She responded sharply, “I’ve got more important things to say than to remind women of how great their husbands are.”
    â€œI know you do, honey. I just thought it was a good sermon.”
    â€œDrop it, Hezekiah. I won’t be able to preach next Sunday.”
    â€œAll right, baby, maybe the following Sunday,” he said while rubbing her knee. “I think I’ve got at least one more good sermon in me.”
    Hezekiah stared out the tinted limousine window. He braced himself and hoped that the next exchange would be quick and painless.