One Prayer Away (29 page)

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Elder Bradley said, bringing a smile to Fynn's lips. His grin, however, was abbreviated. “I can see and understand that you are determined to hold on to the ways of ancestors who knew not God. Your father and grandfather, proud men though they may have been, were not men of the almighty God, Fynn. They worshiped other gods and followed other traditions, religious and otherwise, that were never directed or orchestrated by our Lord and Savior. You are trying to live for their gods and for Christ, and the two don't mix. Matthew 6:24 tells us that we can't serve two masters, Minister Fynn; you have to hate one and love the other. I placed you as the youth pastor of this church because I believed you were steadfast and unmovable in your work for God. Now I feel inadequate as a pastor for entrusting you with such an office.”

When Fynn replied, his voice was stern. “I serve only one God, Elder Bradley. Just because I hold to the teachings of our forefathers does not make me any less of a man of God than you. I chose not to allow myself to be violated by a European society. I don't think God frowns upon me for that. In fact, I think it is men such as you who He frowns on for becoming weak under the pressure of a world that has long forgotten Him.”

Fynn watched as Elder Bradley's eyes saddened. The pastor shook his head and exhaled and then said, “Minister Fynn, as of this moment, you are relieved of your duties as
youth pastor of this body of Christ. I am not asking that you leave the church. I'm only removing you from your current office. I pray that it is only temporary. But until you go through some much-needed counseling and educational training . . .”

“I will
not
be treated with such disrespect! You have allowed yourself to be brainwashed and Americanized to the white man's way of thinking, but I won't let you strip me of the dignity and honor that my grandfather and father instilled inside of me. There are too many other churches that would love to have a man of my caliber working with them for me to surrender my self-respect just to be called youth pastor of your organization.

“I am sorry that it has come to this, Elder Bradley. Not only do you lose, but so does Virtue and many others who would have benefited from having me be a part of this ministry.” Fynn pulled his key ring from his pocket and removed two keys, placing them in Elder Bradley's hand. They were the keys to the church and to his office.

Without another word, he walked away, leaving Elder Bradley still shaking his head. This time, it was out of pity for the man who would forever walk with a distorted vision of what God's plan was for his life and the lives of those around him.

Twenty-Four

F
or a whole year, Chris had waited for this day to arrive. It had seemed perfect to receive the love of his life for Valentine's Day, but accepting her as a Christmas gift was even more inviting. He'd had to find a new best man, hire a preacher he really didn't know, and use the facility where Lisa's family attended worship services, but he didn't mind. Chris didn't even think twice about moving the date and putting their plans on fast-forward. Lisa said that they should get married early, just to show all the naysayers that they wouldn't be swayed by their doubts and lies. Chris agreed. The bridesmaids' dresses had already been handmade, and it took no time for him and his groomsmen to find their wedding gear. There was no better way that Chris would have chosen to celebrate Christmas.

The preacher, a short, stocky, older man with a receding hairline, smiled at the groom as he and Lisa's brother took their places at the altar. Chris couldn't believe how nervous he was. This was the day that he'd prayed for—the day when he would finally make Lisa his bride. But as
many times as he had stood in front of his home mirror and rehearsed the debonair pose that he would strike while standing at the altar on this day, Chris felt as though someone had moved one of the church's heating vents and placed it directly over his head. Using his handkerchief, he wiped beads of perspiration from his forehead and face. The palms of his hands were sweating too, and it felt as if he had a dripping fountain under each of his armpits. Every once in a while, his heart would pound with such intensity that he thought the people sitting on the back row of the church could hear it.

Glancing around, Chris was amazed at how quickly Lisa's family had been able to pull it all together. No one would ever know that the church decoration was a rush job that had been taken care of in a single afternoon. There had been no time for the standard rehearsals, but Lisa said they didn't need one. All but one of the soloists that had been set to perform in their original plans were members of Living Word Cathedral. Since the pastor of that church had been removed from their program, it only seemed proper to do the same for anyone else who was linked to what was now their former church. If Lionel Inman or anyone else thought that their actions would stop Chris from marrying the woman he loved, they couldn't be more mistaken.

As a matter of fact, their doubts gave him additional determination to not only marry Lisa, but to be the absolute best husband she could ever dream of. He would shower her with love and affection. Even if he never saw his former pastor or the members of Living Word Cathedral again, they would hear talk of the blissful life he shared with the woman whose integrity they'd doubted. Like his father, Chris would be a strong family man who loved God and provided for the family they would create together.

The processional music finally began, and one pair at a
time, the well-dressed groomsmen and bridesmaids walked arm in arm up the church's center aisle. Flashes from cameras belonging to the well-wishers who had come to celebrate the day with them served as additional lighting for the sanctuary. With the wedding officially underway, Chris's anxieties eased.

As he watched the honored witnesses make their entrance, Chris scanned the crowd, and most of the faces he saw belonged to people he'd never met. Because of their sudden rescheduling of plans, even his mother and sister had been left out of the most important day of his life. His sister had been angry and his mother had been hurt by the news, but Chris promised to send them a copy of the video and to get multiple sets of his photos developed so that each of them could have her own treasured memorabilia of his day. Chris's promises had done little to pacify them, but he couldn't worry about that now; it was his and Lisa's moment, and the love of his life was about to make her grand entrance.

At the cue of the music, the audience stood, and all eyes turned to the back of the church. Within seconds, the wooden double doors that had been hiding his bride swung open, and audible gasps ran up and down each row of pews. The gown was certainly breathtaking, but Chris couldn't determine if they were awed by the dress's majesty or by the fact that Lisa wore white and had layers of netting that formed a thick covering for her face. Chris's smile broadened because he remembered the day Lisa had told him about her chosen gown.

“The saleslady at the bridal shop told me that because I'd been married before, it was improper for me to wear white and even more inappropriate for me to wear a veil,” she'd told Chris. “But I told her that I wasn't even thinking about traditions and superstitions. You are the first man to really love me like a woman should be loved; and in my heart of hearts, you'll be the first man to know me in every
way. That's what my white attire is going to represent.”

Chris loved the idea, and he watched with renewed love while Lisa's father escorted her across the petals that the little girls had already thrown down. Chris anxiously tried to see through the veil, but he couldn't. And he couldn't help but be touched when he saw Lisa's father take a tissue and reach under the covering to dab at each of her eyes. Chris was glad to see that he wasn't the only one who was overjoyed about this day.

The ceremony proceeded, but Chris hardly heard a word of it. He just wanted to skip forward to the moment when they would be declared husband and wife. As far as he was concerned, all the rest of the ceremony was just age-old tradition. If Lisa had agreed, he would have settled for a courthouse wedding. But she'd done that when she married Felander. This time Lisa wanted a day filled with pomp and circumstance, and Chris was happy to oblige.

For a fleeting moment, he was thrown when he turned to his chief usher to get the ring for Lisa's finger. Just that quickly, he'd forgotten the sickening deed that Mitchell had done to disqualify him for his position as best man. Chris wasn't naive or unreasonable. He could understand any man being attracted to his bride; there was good reason for him to be. But Mitchell had gone way past an innocent attraction, and Chris would never forgive him for what he'd done.

Repeating his vows and placing the ring on Lisa's finger, Chris almost kicked himself for wasting any part of his special day thinking of Mitchell. He certainly wasn't worth it. There had to be a special place in hell for people like Mitchell Andrews. For men who hurt women, hell's fire had to be hotter.

As they held hands and knelt down to pray while the organist played
The Lord's Prayer
, Chris realized that it was almost over. He could barely contain himself, prompting him to squeeze Lisa's hands from across the prayer bench.
She squeezed back, and that sent his heart soaring. She was just as ready to get started on their new life as he.

The moment had finally arrived. “By the power that is vested in me by God and the state of Texas, I pronounce you husband and wife. Christopher, you may salute your bride.”

Pulling back her veil, Chris was finally able to see Lisa in all of her beauty. She'd always been a sight to behold, but as Mrs. Lisa Jackson her beauty was beyond words. Stepping closer to her, Chris lifted her chin and pressed his lips against hers. He could hear the audience cheering them on and hear the snapping sounds of the cameras that captured the moment, but his total focus was on his wife. Lisa wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her lips to deepen the kiss. For a moment, Chris felt as though he was in heaven, but just as soon as the pleasure of the kiss reached its peak, something went awry.

Chris didn't know what was happening, but suddenly he found himself struggling to pull away. Lisa wouldn't let go. She wrapped her arms tighter and continued to do whatever it was she was doing that was inflicting so much pain. Chris tried to scream, but he couldn't free his lips to do so. It felt as if Lisa were gnawing away, eating his flesh. The people continued to cheer as if nothing was wrong, but Chris could feel warm fluid streaming from his face and mouth as his new bride sucked the life out of him. Using all of his might, he tried one last time to release himself from what had become a kiss of death. Chris managed to break from the torment, but when he did, he screamed in the resulting pain and fell backward onto the floor. The front of his white tuxedo was being decorated with blood that streamed from the open lacerations on his face. He tried to wipe the blood away, but it was no use. Every drop that he wiped away was quickly replenished by more.

“What are you doing?” he screamed as he looked up at his wife, standing over him.

Lisa's face had transformed. Her face was bloody too. And the red fluid that dripped from her mouth fell onto the fibers of her once-beautiful white gown. It wasn't her blood, though. It was Chris's blood. She knelt beside him and cradled her arms around his body. Chris tried to pull away, but the heavy loss of blood had sapped his strength.

“Come on, sweetie,” she cooed in the voice that he used to love. “Kiss me.”

Awakened by his own screams, Chris sat up in his bed and tried to gain control over his trembling body and quick, shallow breaths. With widened eyes he looked around in the darkness, trying to identify his whereabouts as moisture dripped from his face onto his covers. Frantically, he jumped from his bed and turned on his overhead light. Terrified of what he might find, Chris took frightfully slow steps to his mirror and was overtaken by relief when he found that the wetness that fell from his face was perspiration. It was the same dream he'd had during the time he'd been ill—the same dream he'd blamed on his body's heightened temperature. But there was no fever now, and this time Chris recalled every horrible detail of the nightmare. He wished he didn't, but he did.