Drama in the Church Saga (37 page)

Colin couldn't believe what he was hearing. He started to say something, but when he looked up, he saw Dean waving him over. “Listen, Rev, I appreciate you calling, but I have to go. Church is about to begin. I'll talk with you when I return to work tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, okay! Just think about what I said. Maybe we can get the cafeteria to start serving some soul food. It would be nice to have some cornbread and catfish.”

Annoyed, Colin disconnected the call and joined his friends.

“Are you surprised to see me?”

“I am.” Embarrassed to look a man he highly respected in the eye, Judge West turned away. “I didn't think they were allowing me any visits.

“They weren't, but you know me. After I threw my weight around they saw the light and allowed me to enter like the parting of the Red Sea,” Reverend Simms jokingly boasted.

Judge West chuckled at the reverend's sarcasm.

“So, how have they treating you in here?” the reverend asked.

“You're the second visit I've had in four months.”

“I'm surprised Dean hasn't been up here to visit with you.”

“Rev, he's upset with me right now, and he has every reason to be. If I told you the truth about my past, you would probably stop speaking to me too.”

Reverend Simms got the feeling that Judge West wanted to get something off his chest. “Judge, you know that whatever you tell me is confidential. Being your pastor, I'm bound by an oath.”

“I want to tell you, but I'm so ashamed,” Judge West confessed.

“West, do you know what I do for a living?” Reverend Simms asked.

“Sure, everyone knows you're a doctor.”

“Have you ever wondered why I refuse to treat or give medical advice to anyone at First Nazareth?”

“I always assumed it was because of ethical reasons. You didn't want the burden of being a patient's doctor and pastor.”

“No, the reason why I won't treat anyone at the church is because I'm an abortion doctor.”

Judge West gave him a startled look.

“That look you're giving me is the exact reason why I haven't told the church my medical specialty.”

“Boy, Reverend, I thought I was going to be the one to surprise you today.”

“That's my secret. Don't think I don't feel ashamed and that I should confess, but I'm scared that they'll look at me differently or, worse, force me out the church.”

“Rev, I don't think the church would do that. They love you.”

“People change when they realize you're doing something that they feel isn't aligned with God's will. Once I tell them, they won't want to hear any reasons I have for picking the profession.”

“Why did you choose to be an abortion doctor?”

“When I went to medical school I could have been any kind of doctor I wanted to be, but when it was time for me to pick my specialty, I chose to be an OB/GYN and I asked for special training in abortions.”

“I don't mean to sound disrespectful, but what would make you pick this expertise?”

“It may be difficult for you to understand, but the number of lost souls I've introduced to Jesus through the clinic far exceeds the number of people who stumble through our church doors. I've counseled teenaged girls who have been raped and molested, married women who are pregnant by their lovers and countless number of other women who are just plain scared. Trust me, at first I thought I was making a mistake by doing this. The number of killings and bomb scares being called into different abortion clinics around the country is frightening, but I couldn't allow death to stop me from what I feel I've been called to do.”

It felt good to the Reverend to relieve himself of that burden he'd been carrying around on his back.

“West, I feel so guilty after every procedure. Immediately after, I have to repent, because I know I'm directly responsible for killing one of God's children. I always have to ask myself if what I'm doing is murder.”

“Do you counsel any of the girls?”

“Yes, and a lot of them I've convinced to either have their babies or give them up for adoption. The others, I can't get through to be so scared and lost that they go ahead with the procedure. A few of the young ladies from the clinic are now members of our church.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

“Now it's your turn. Tell me what burden is on your heart.”

Judge West nodded his head and told the reverend every detail about his horrid past.

“Since you're a lawyer and I'm a pastor, we can leave here assured that what we said between us stays between us.”

The judge agreed and shook the reverend's hand before their visit was over.

Val parallel parked her black Mercedes 500 SL across the street from the Sixth Street Mission in North Philly. She thought her days of coming to the north side of the city ended when she graduated from Temple University last June, but because of her anger issues, here she was again. She skittishly glanced around at her surroundings.

Being in North Philly always made her nervous. It didn't matter that the sun was shining brightly, dozens of people were standing around, and it was the middle of the day. Being mugged, robbed or shot was an everyday occurrence in North Philly. She got out of the car and pressed the button to activate her car alarm before darting across the street to the long line of people waiting for a good hot meal.

Unsure of what to expect on her first day as a volunteer, Val nervously chipped the paint off her manicured nails. She remembered the day she received that letter from court. She thought she was hallucinating when it said that the judge had ordered her to serve out her community service by feeding the homeless. It wasn't that she had a problem with helping out those less fortunate than her, but she could barely peel a potato without cutting herself. How in the world was she going to pull off cooking for a multitude of people?

Val stepped inside the mission and noticed that the place looked as dreary on the inside as it did on the outside. The shabby walls, painted a depressing gray, made her want to brighten the place up with different shades of yellow and orange. Her gaze drifted to the ceiling lights. Half of the bulbs were blown out, and the ones that weren't barely provided any light to the facility.

“Can I help you?”

Frightened, Val swung around to face the solider-like voice that spoke directly in her ear.

A tall, slim man with big bulky cornrows, broad shoulders and crossed muscular arms intimidated Val.

“Hi, I'm here to—” she stuttered.

“I know why you're here.”

Val did a double take. He was a woman.

“Follow me,” she ordered.

Val followed the woman to a door labeled STAFF ONLY. She unlocked the door and allowed Val to look inside. “You can leave your coat and purse in here.”

Val carefully hung up her things.

“While you're in there, you might as well grab a new pair of rubber gloves, the ammonia, scrub brush and bucket.”

Val did as told then trailed the woman until they stopped in front of the restrooms.

“Your first assignment is to clean the restrooms. The good news is that there's only one to clean because it's a unisex bathroom. The bad news is that it hasn't been cleaned in months, not since the last community service person was relieved of her duties. Kyle is the director of the center and the person you would usually report to, but he's running a little late this afternoon. He left me in charge until he returns. If you need anything, I'm Ms. Ward, and when you're finished here, find me and I'll show you what else needs to be done.”

Ms. Ward strutted away like a pimp from the year 1970. Val rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. She was so angry with herself for kicking Caitlyn's butt that she had to flex her fingers into a clenched fist several times before regaining her self-control and entering the bathroom.

The first scent that greeted her was urine. The smell burned her nostrils and filled her lungs. She quickly grabbed her shirt to cover her nose from the harsh odor. First she inspected the place to see where she should begin. She walked through a sea of used paper towels that covered the sticky floor. The one mirror was filthy, and the soap dispenser was empty. She pushed open the one bathroom stall. Inside she could barely bring herself to look inside at the stained commode. She knew that would be the hardest job for her to do.

She stepped into the bathroom stall with her bucket, gloves and brush. She bent down to begin her duties, but before she could start, she spotted a used tampon lying on the floor. Val's stomach turned. She dropped the brush in the bucket and turned to leave, but the judge's final words drifted through her mind. If she didn't complete the full two hundred hours she would have to serve jail time. She looked around at her surroundings.

“Maybe jail time wouldn't be so bad.”

Two hours later Val emerged and stood outside the bathroom gasping for air.

“Valencia.” A young man wearing baggy jeans, Timberland boots and dreadlocks in his hair approached Val with an outstretched hand. “I'm Kyle. I'm so glad you could join us.” Kyle was a very handsome guy with straight, brilliant white teeth. He even had two dimples that appeared each time he smiled, which was often.

Kyle showed her around and later explained that his responsibility was to make sure that breakfast, lunch and dinner was served to the community on time.

After they had gotten acquainted, Kyle told her that she would probably be working closely with Ms. Ward for the remainder of the day.

Reluctantly, she reported back to Ms. Ward, who had a list of chores that had to be completed before the dinner crowd arrived.

Two hours later Val felt like a slave. She had never worked so hard in her life. The joints in her fingers hurt from scrubbing just about every pot in the place. She had been on her feet most of the day, and Ms. Ward wouldn't allow her a minute of rest.

Kyle snuck up behind Val and tapped her on the shoulder. “How's it going?” he asked.

Val was in the middle of rinsing out one of the pots used to make soup. “It's going good,” she lied. Val prayed that the next five weeks would fly by.

“Val, can you take out the trash?” Ms. Ward, the kitchen sergeant, interrupted their conversation and pointed to the trashcan that was overflowing with debris.

Val looked to Kyle to save her from Ms. Ward's gruesome labor demands, but he simply shrugged his shoulders and walked away. That's when Val realized he was also scared of her.

She peeled off her rubber gloves and gathered the trash bag to take out to the dumpster.

“And when you're done with that, I have something else for you to do,” she shouted.

Val grumbled underneath her breath. Ms. Ward treated her like Cinderella. Every time she needed something demeaning done, she called on Val.

Once she replaced the garbage can with a new bag she pushed open the back door and dragged the trash out behind her. Ms. Ward sternly warned Val to never leave the trash bag on the ground, because it would attract rats. But when she tried to lift the trash it was too heavy for her to pick up. “I'm not going to throw my back out for a job I'm not even getting paid for.” Val slid the bag behind the dumpster. She was sure Ms. Ward wouldn't find it. It was hidden too well.

When she turned to go back inside, her attention was drawn to the sound of metal smashing against the ground. Val couldn't help looking to see what was going on. She stuck her head out in the back alley. There she saw three kids around thirteen years old beating up an old man. Two kids held the man by his arms, while the other took the lid from the metal trashcan and slammed it against his head. Even from where she stood at she could see blood spill from the gash in the man's head.

Without thinking Val screamed out, “Hey, stop it.”

The kids got scared when they saw her and took off running. She watched the man fall, curl his body into a fetal position and moan loudly.

Val ran as fast as she could to help him. “Are you all right?”

He looked up at her.

That's when she realized this man wasn't as old as she thought he was. Underneath the smudges of dirt that filled his face and tattered hat that covered his head she found young eyes. She noticed the filthy trench coat on his back, worn sneakers on his feet and gaping holes in his pants. Val had never seen a person her age look so shabby.

“I'm going to go get you some help,” she said.

“Daddy?”

From behind an abandoned car that sat nearby a little girl appeared. Her eyes were full of fear. Hesitant to come any closer to her father, she kept a careful eye on Val.

“Hope.” He waved for her to come nearer.

She quickly ran to his side. The little girl was so small and beautiful. Val thought she couldn't be any older than three years old. She reminded Val of a chocolate brown morsel with dark brown hair. Hope wrapped her arms around her father and cried. Val watched them for a moment before noticing the light purple spring jacket Hope wore was not enough to keep her warm.

“Listen, you were beat up pretty badly. I can get somebody to help you,” Val said.

“No,” he screamed. “Just help me get back into that car and I'll be fine,” he demanded.

“What will you do if those kids come back? You're too hurt to defend yourself.” Val was sure this man wasn't thinking clearly. He was in no condition to take care of himself and a young child.

“Those kids won't be back. They were searching for money. When they didn't find any on me they”—He cut his eyes at Val. “Forget it! Either help me or leave.”

Offended by how rude he was, she wanted to leave him lying helpless on the ground. Then she saw his daughter struggling to help her father to his feet. Val's conscience wouldn't allow her to leave without giving a helping hand.

She struggled to lift him to his feet. After a few attempts, they were finally able to stumble over to the passenger side of the car.

“Hope, you lie in the back seat while Daddy sits in the front.”

She did as her father asked. Then the man leaned back in the passenger seat and breathed a sigh of relief.

Val was stunned to learn that they were living out of a car. Their home sat on four cinder blocks. The front windshield was cracked, and the hood of the car was missing.

“I appreciate your help,” he mumbled, “but you can go now, and please don't mention to anyone that you saw us.” He winced in pain.

It was obvious he wasn't from Philadelphia. His thick Southern accent was a dead giveaway.

She stood wishing there was more she could do for them, when she heard Ms. Ward screeching her name.

“Val!”

By the sound of her call, Val knew she needed something else done. Val and the stranger looked at one another one last time before she dashed back toward the mission.

“Girl, where were you? We have dishes piling up in here.”

“Sorry,” was all Val could muster. She looked behind her one last time and back at the abandoned car before reporting back to the kitchen.

The remainder of the day seemed to drag on for Val. The hands on the clock appeared to have stopped, and Val kept checking her watch to make sure it read the right time.

At last, when Val thought Ms. Ward would never let her go, Kyle told her she could go home.

Anxious to get out of there before Ms. Ward noticed she was gone, Val quickly gathered her things and exited the building through the front door.

During her tour of the facility with Kyle, he'd mentioned that the biggest incentive of working at a mission was the leftover food the workers were rewarded with. Her lips formed a small grin when she looked down at the packages of food she was given from the mission.

Val managed to pack a couple bowls of hot soup, two loaves of bread and a six-pack of bottled water. She was sure Hope and her father would appreciate the food. Once she was outside she snuck around to the back of the building and went straight to where she had left the man and his daughter. She prayed they were still there.

When she walked up to the car she found them both soundly sleeping. She figured they were probably hungry, but she didn't want to disturb them, so she gently placed the food down on the ground and tiptoed away.

“Thanks for not saying anything earlier,” the man said, causing Val to jump.

She turned to face him with her hand still on her heart.

“I'm sorry. Did I frighten you?”

“No. It's okay.” Her heart was nearly beating out of her chest. She pointed to the food she left on the ground. “I left you and Hope some food. It's not a lot, but I thought you might be hungry.”

He looked back at his sleeping daughter. “Yeah, she usually gets hungry around this time.” He picked up the soup container and took a spoonful. “It's still hot. Thank you.”

“You know you are more than welcome to come into the mission to eat. It's all free and it's not half bad,” Val joked.

“No, thank you. Hope and I are fine. Besides, Hope and I usually dig through the garbage and get the leftovers anyway.”

The man missed the look of disgust that crossed Val's face.

“What's wrong with coming inside? At least you would have someplace dry and warm to eat your meal.”

“Listen, I'm not taking my daughter into one of those places.” He was hostile and talked to Val like she was the enemy.

“I didn't mean to upset you. I was trying to help,” she whispered.

“Don't apologize. Past experiences have taught me that when you go into places like that they try to get all in your business, especially if you have children with you. I'm very private. I don't like people knowing much about me.”

“Listen, they probably just want to help you. I'm sure they can probably get you off the street and possibly into your own home.”

“We don't need their help.” He tried to sit up in his seat, but when he did he cringed in pain.

“I can see that you're still in pain. Those kids put a hurting on you. You may need to see a doctor and have them check for any broken ribs.”

“I'll be fine,” he shouted.

When he said that, Hope woke up. She rubbed her eyes and glared strangely at Val.

“Hello,” Val kindly spoke to the little girl, but Hope never answered back. She simply stared back at her with wide eyes. “She's so pretty. How old is she?” Val asked.