No Sin in Paradise Read Free Page B

mean for my vacation?

Chapter Two
    I wade in the warm water and let the tame waves pass around my body. With my arms outstretched and my eyes closed, I pray to God for peace, for direction, and on this day, I pray for a fallen comrade, Pastor Jeremiah Cole. In truth, I never liked Pastor Cole. I never got a phone call from his peoples, and he taught a capitalistic view of the scriptures that I vehemently disagreed with. In this day and age, I feel like the people of God need to be made whole more than they need a new Mercedes. Pastor Cole thought different; at least, that is what his sermons suggest. However, I wouldn’t wish hell nor suffering on my worst enemy. I pray that Pastor Cole was square with the Lord by the time he checked out of this life and into eternity.
    I open my eyes and take one look into the sky and see a clear path to God; nothing in the way except for smoke clouds. I start my day the same way I have started it since I arrived here for vacation. I go for a swim and relax. I cut through the walk, tilting my head from side to side. I feel a slight burn in my legs and arms as I continue to push for another mile until the inside of my body feels like it’s consumed by a fire. I then dip underneath the water and observe the multicolor corral reefs before maneuvering my body in the opposite direction.
    I come up for air and after a moment of wiping the water from my face, I see that the shore is a short distance away. It won’t take long for me to get back, but it’s a little more challenging to get back when your energy is spent. I start off well toward the shore, but the burning inside of me comes on quick, and I start to slow down. Here is where my will has to push me past the pain, so I keep pushing, digging, and twisting my head from side to side. My will to reach the shore subdues any pain that I may be feeling at the present moment.
    Eventually I arrive at shore with my body exhausted, and that concludes my morning exercise. I lie out on the sand and catch my breath.
    â€œNic!”
    I look up and see Adele waving for me to come in. If there is one thing I love more than swimming, it’s Adele’s cooking. I regain my breath and do a light sprint up the beach toward the house. Adele has a white two-story house that looks like it was plucked out of the suburbs of North Carolina and landed on the beach.
    She has a breakfast nook on her deck that faces the massive Caribbean Sea. Every morning I sit out on the deck with Adele, and we eat our breakfast while enjoying the picturesque view. One would think we were a part of a painting, which sits in one of those upscale Beverly Hills doctors’ offices. I walk into Adele’s nook and pull out a chair for her.
    â€œThank you, sugar,” Adele says.
    â€œWith pleasure,” I say after I sit on the opposite side of her and begin to serve us up some breakfast. Adele has made her famous Salmon Croquet along with grits and eggs. She also made freshly squeezed orange juice. After we pray, we break bread. The meal is great, even though today the Salmon Croquet is a little too salty. Adele must’ve been distracted, and I know why.
    â€œI still can’t get my mind off of Pastor Jeremiah Cole,” she says.
    â€œYeah, that’s tragic.”
    â€œWhy would anyone want to kill a man of God?”
    â€œAdele, you’d be surprised. The possibilities are endless.” I am not sure if Pastor Cole is a true man of God or if he was just posing as one. Nevertheless, murder is murder, and the grim details of Pastor Cole taking two shots in the back of the head gives me the chills.
    â€œIt’s a scary time when folks start killing ministers.” Adele got the shakes from her statement.
    â€œIt sure is,” I say.
    â€œWe have to pray for his family. That’s a shock, and the deaths you don’t expect to happen are a lot tougher to get over,” Adele says.
    Now I know that I am not Mr.