Come Sunday Morning Read Free Page A

“Reverend Duncan is in town,” he said, closing his eyes.
    â€œWho’s Reverend Duncan?” Samantha asked with a hint of suspicion.
    â€œHe’s from Shiloh Church of God in Detroit. I’m having dinner with him today.”
    â€œI wish you would have told me this morning. Etta has been home all day preparing dinner for us.” She knew there was no Reverend Duncan.
    â€œI didn’t know about it then,” Hezekiah snapped defensively. “He called before this morning’s service. Where was Jasmine? I didn’t see her at church.”
    â€œShe wasn’t feeling well.” Samantha had no intention of allowing him to use their daughter as a diversion for his lies. “I can go to dinner with you.”
    â€œHe wants to talk to me alone. I think he’s having marriage problems.”
    Samantha was almost embarrassed by the perverse pleasure she took in his obvious discomfort. “Then he might benefit from a woman’s perspective,” she said looking directly at him.
    â€œDamn it, Samantha, he said he wanted to talk to me alone.” Hezekiah knew he had overreacted as his words reverberated through the car.
    â€œHezekiah, I know you’re seeing someone. You haven’t been yourself for months now. The least you can do is come up with more original lies.”
    â€œCan I have dinner with a fellow pastor without you thinking I’m sleeping with another woman?” he snapped. “Your paranoia is getting out of control.”
    â€œIt’s not just dinner, Hezekiah. You’ve been sulking around the house for weeks now. You could never hide your feelings from me.”
    â€œMaybe if you had a life of your own I wouldn’t have to hide my feelings.”
    Samantha sat erect in the plush leather seat. “A life of my own? You wouldn’t have a life if it weren’t for me. You’d still be in that storefront preaching to neighborhood kids and old ladies. Everyone knows I made you and without me you’d be nothing.”
    â€œI don’t want to argue with you, Samantha.”
    â€œI’m not arguing. I simply want you to tell me the truth for once. I can’t keep pretending not to know something is wrong. I deserve better than this.”
    â€œI’m not seeing anyone, Samantha. I’ve just had a lot on my mind. You can believe it or not. I don’t care anymore.”
    The intersections rushed by in a blur. Samantha’s mind raced as she thought. When this is done, I should send his body to whoever the bitch is and let her bury him.
    The car turned onto Sunset Boulevard, toward the whitewashed towers at the West Gate of Bel Air, and began the familiar ascent up the hill. Rolling estates quickly replaced the grime and congestion of the city streets below. Lush trees on each side of the winding road tilted inward and formed a green lace canopy over the street. The center median was filled with vibrant flowers and cement fountains poured water from the mouths of lions at each intersection. Pristine terra-cotta-tiled roofs peeked over the tops of densely clustered shrubs and waving palm trees. Couples wearing matching jogging suits strolled leisurely along the paved sidewalks with their sprightly Lhasa Apsos and prancing Irish setters in tow.
    Samantha’s thoughts shifted to her daughter, Jasmine. She remembered the therapist’s recommendation to admit their only child into a drug rehabilitation program. Her stomach tensed at the thought of the public scandal it would cause. The daughter of a prominent pastor spending the tithes given by grandmothers on pensions to support her addiction to Ecstasy and alcohol.
    No further words were exchanged until the car turned into the driveway of the Cleaveland estate. Hezekiah never liked the enormous house that overlooked Los Angeles but Samantha felt it appropriate for a family of their prominence. An eight-foot white stucco fence surrounded the grounds. Lower