Intersection

By Gary Cephas

Intersection is a novel of Christian fiction. I would call it hard fiction because the subject matter is adult oriented. There are no apple-cheeked little children holding kittens in a field of daisies, only real people in realistic life situations where God influences some. There is family drama, tough dialogue, some violence, redemption, tears, and cheers. There is excitement and action, capped off by an ending that has the power to change a readers life. Such are the components of Intersection.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 13, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984519467

Gary Cephas

My name is Gary Cephas. I am seventy three, unmarried and live in Hyattsville, Maryland. I write for the enjoyment of creative thinking being put to print. I have a book out now first published in 2013 called MILHAJAH-THE WAR AGAINST GOD. I have written projects on screenplays for films I would like to see made. No bite yet. I did receive a return notification from Steven Spielberg some years ago. All I can say is, he was very nice about it.

Book preview

Copyright © 2018 by Gary Cephas.

Library of Congress Control Number:      2018904039

ISBN:                  Hardcover                      978-1-9845-1948-1

                            Softcover                         978-1-9845-1947-4

                            eBook                              978-1-9845-1946-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 04/11/2018

Xlibris

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CONTENTS

Prologue

PART I

PASSENGERS

Chapter 1:       Opportunity Calls

Chapter 2:       Exodus

Chapter 3:       Voice Message

Chapter 4:       Adding Up

Chapter 5:       Just Imagine That

Chapter 6:       The Weak Link

Chapter 7:       Beastie Boy

Chapter 8:       Winter Thoughts

PART II

WAITING FOR OTHERS

Chapter 9:       Fencing Lessons

Chapter 10:     El Dorado

Chapter 11:     A Heap Of Trouble

Chapter 12:     Uncalled For

Chapter 13:     Long Drive Long Night

Chapter 14:     Brute Farce

Chapter 15:     Boss Rhino And King Kong

Chapter 16:     Snake Charmer

Chapter 17:     Snake Bite

Chapter 18:     Two In The Ark

Chapter 19:     Yes Mammon, Yes Sir

PART III

ROOM FOR MORE

Chapter 20:     Taken For A Ride

Chapter 21:     Anguish Management

Chapter 22:     Oh, What A Night

Chapter 23:     Dear John

Chapter 24:     Playing Cop Scotch

Chapter 25:     Abe And The Pearl

Chapter 26:     In Like Flynn

Chapter 27:     The Messenger

Chapter 28:     She Was So Down-To-Earth

PART IV

WINDOWS TO THE PAST

Chapter 29:     Confessional

Chapter 30:     A Shy Guy

Chapter 31:     Not Lion Down

Chapter 32:     Emperor Penguin

Chapter 33:     We Interrupt This Program

Chapter 34:     Prodigal

Chapter 35:     The Angel Of God’s Wrath

Chapter 36:     Sign Of The Times

PART V

THEY WAIT FOR MORE

Chapter 37:     Forward To Reverse

Chapter 38:     Pillow Talk

Chapter 39:     The Promised Land

Chapter 40:     A Pond Of Flesh

Chapter 41:     Smokey

Chapter 42:     Two-Step

Chapter 43:     Sir Rod And Surreal

Chapter 44:     Miracle Donuts

Chapter 45:     A Scene Seen

Chapter 46:     Garlic Chicken

PART VI

STORM WARNING

Chapter 47:     Sitting Pretty

Chapter 48:     Sky King

Chapter 49:     A Brush With Combs

Chapter 50:     Surprises All Around

Chapter 51:     His Fair Lady

Chapter 52:     For The Love Of Mike

Chapter 53:     Steak And Salad

Chapter 54:     To The Rescue

Chapter 55:     I Live Forever

Chapter 56:     The Sword Of God

PART VII

MAKING OTHERS UNCOMFORTABLE

Chapter 57:     Chambliss

Chapter 58:     A Greek Tragedy

Chapter 59:     Haunted By The Hunter

Chapter 60:     Four Letters Make A Word

Chapter 61:     Awe In The Family

Chapter 62:     Laughing To Keep From Dying

Chapter 63:     His Brother’s Keeper

Chapter 64:     Key Witness

Chapter 65:     From Joke To Choke

Chapter 66:     A Gifted Man

Chapter 67:     God Don’t Like Ugly

PART VIII

ANOTHER WINDY CITY

Chapter 68:     Wedding Belle

Chapter 69:     Time To Reconsider

Chapter 70:     Upping The Draft

Chapter 71:     Contemplation Before Confrontation

Chapter 72:     Showtime

Chapter 73:     Showman Extraordinaire

Chapter 74:     You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yet

Chapter 75:     About-Face

Chapter 76:     Driving For Miss Cookie

Chapter 77:     The Cookie Crumbles

PART IX

WARNING SIGNS

Chapter 78:     A Bad Run

Chapter 79:     A Close Call

Chapter 80:     Much Ado About Something

Chapter 81:     The Fox Hunt

Chapter 82:     Goliath Wins This One

Chapter 83:     Connection Fail

Chapter 84:     New And Improved

PART X

SLIPPERY WHEN WET

Chapter 85:     Cometh The Gingerbread Man

Chapter 86:     Up In The Air Down In The Water

Chapter 87:     Shock Value

Chapter 88:     Armed With Charm

Chapter 89:     The Book Of Danielle

Chapter 90:     Lay That Burden Down

Chapter 91:     Ordained In Rain

Chapter 92:     Invitation Then Confirmation

PART XI

DANGEROUS CROSSING

Chapter 93:     Spinach And Oil

Chapter 94:     The Joker’s Wild

Chapter 95:     Shadow Of Doubt

Chapter 96:     Piling On

Chapter 97:     Wages Of The Prophet

Chapter 98:     Dead Ringer

Chapter 99:     Not Too Dead, Please

Chapter 100:   All Taped Up

Chapter 101:   Don’t Call Me Names

Chapter 102:   We’re Jammin’

Chapter 103:   Make Mine Media Rare

Chapter 104:   Dreams And Schemes

Chapter 105:   Confidentially Speaking

Chapter 106:   The Plot Sickens

Chapter 107:   The Drop-Off

Chapter 108:   Testimony And Acrimony

PART XII

DEAD RECKONING

Chapter 109:   Do Or Die

Chapter 110:   Night Fight

Chapter 111:   Let’s Make A Deal

Chapter 112:   Trial By Fire

Chapter 113:   Unfinished Business

Chapter 114:   Law And Good Order

Chapter 115:   Accounts To Be Paid

Chapter 116:   Renewal

Epilogue

At the crossroads of Life and Destiny anything can happen. In the lives of these people, everything did.

The high school sweethearts declared their mutual love, time and time again. After they grew up and a few short years later they got married. Their only problem was-to each other. It started off promising enough with hugs and kisses. But that was only the sweet lull before the storms erupted. Storms that led to alienation and eventual separation. Three children would come out of the dysfunction seemingly unaffected. But a maelstrom was awaiting one of them and would change the family dynamics with cataclysmic results.

Then we have the young boy from New England who carried a secret. A painful secret that burdened him even into full manhood. The weight of that burden had crippled him for years until something happened one terrifying night. The man was engaged in a life or death struggle when an unseen presence came out of a fog shrouded night. To help or to harm? Benefactor or malefactor? His life would be changed forever as a result of that encounter.

The Preacher. His story began years ago in Louisiana. As a youth, he was inspired to preach the word of God. A mentor had taken him under his wing and taught him all he needed to know about that clerical vocation. The young student was also movie star handsome. That proved to be a help-and a hindrance. There were other things. Questionable things. When a man lives between light and shadow, it is difficult to see him as he is. The shadows may engulf him completely.

Now we see the big man. A giant, over seven feet in height and topping four hundred pounds. Solid muscle and thick firm flesh. All his life he had to fight. Not that he wanted to but being the size he was he was challenged as much as he should have been feared. Was that the reason he became bitter and changed from peaceful into an organized head-buster? He could not imagine the biggest fight of his life would be a dirty one and carried out by the most unlikely opponent.

She had been a responsible civil servant in her earlier times. But she entertained persistent demons that overpowered her better nature. So much so, that it drove her only son away. Far away. Yet, in the years of their estrangement a change took place in her life. A change prompted by recurring dreams of man with a strange appearance. A man who frightened her at first but ultimately became someone who carried a message of hope when she needed it most.

The girlfriend. She was the best friend of the wife but hated the wife’s husband. Or did she? If there was any such thing as the typical wise cracking, world weary side-kick, this was the one. But there was another woman inside. A woman who would rise to the occasion when the chips were down. That was needed most when a life or death human drama would draw her and her best friend into its midst.

The quiet man who almost never smiled. His outlook on life had long ago been painted black. His demeanor grim, evidenced by vacant and haunted eyes. There was a reason for the lifeless look in his eyes. That reason made him a ticking time bomb. A human bomb that eventually would go off. The explosion would be costly. Yet, in the debris there would be found something totally unexpected. Something that would change the course of several lives. For better or for worse.

He had been a police officer in a city in southern Florida. A tough cop, a good cop. He and his partner worked well together. His partner left several years later while he remained and later became a private detective. A tough detective, a good detective. One particular case was going to be his greatest challenge would result in consequences that would overturn lives.

These are but a few of the people whose different lives will be entwined by circumstances almost unimaginable. There are more-all with storied lives that may cause you to hate them or love them. You will laugh with them, cry with them, even fear for them. One thing for certain, you will never forget them. Their appointments are set and cannot be canceled. Destiny brings them all to their appointed crossroads. For better or for worse, each will eventually arrive at the INTERSECTION.

Prologue

The young man stood on the porch and looked out at the street below. A silvery sheen highlighted the nighttime city, the result of a recent spring shower. The rain had tapered off to now only intermittent drops. Retreating clouds allowed stars to make their presence seen. The wet patina that glossed the nightscape with the look of an old film noir detective story also added an appreciable luster of romance. And romance was in the air.

The intriguing atmosphere of the spring night was not missed by the two young people who stood on the porch in a mutual embrace. Roderick Calvin and Nyla Benton were lovingly ensconced in each other’s arms. Both were attending colleges in Washington DC. He was twenty-two and had completed his senior term at Georgetown University. She was twenty-one and would be starting hers at Howard in four months. Rod, as he preferred to be called, knew he had to go but found it nearly impossible to pry himself away from the hot closeness of Nyla’s body. And she did little to discourage him.

Man, he said, in joyful disbelief as to how good this girl was making him feel.

Enjoying this? she whispered with her head against his neck.

He acted out his reply by initiating more deep, hot kissing to which she responded with more than equal passion. They were in love or whatever passes for love in a time where Tina Turner’s What’s Love Got to Do with It had become a near cultural anthem.

"Whew … Look, baby …"

No. No. She gently put a forefinger to his lips. Rod, don’t call me that. It sounds … too casual, cheap. As if we’re just jiving around. Whatever we’re building here, I want it to be for real. All right? No baby. Okay?

I heard that. Your wish is most definitely my command. My sweet one. Does that work for you?

Triggered by the same powerful impulse and without another word spoken, they latched onto each other and resumed another bout of kissing. After a half hour or more, Rod was finally able to detach himself from the object of his passions and start his walk to the metro station. The neighborhood was solidly middle income with a large number of military families because of its proximity to the Pentagon. Rod felt reasonably safe but still walked the three blocks exercising caution. His father Gene had cautioned him to certain ways of walking when alone at night. He first said that a young black man alone could be a tempting target to certain types.

Although the family lived in what could be called the cosmopolitan south of Northern Virginia, it was still the South, and that was enough to warrant caution. But it was not just whites, but just as much or even more of a threat could be with other blacks. Black-on-black crimes, for the most part senseless in motive, was a major preventative against the maturing of far too many young black males into full manhood.

Gene even cautioned against the police, even though he was a pro police law and order advocate himself. He said that ordinarily, police are pretty decent but added you never know when you could be hassled by some street cowboy who might want to prove something and make some kind of name for himself. So walk with purpose. Like you’re about something worthwhile.

As he walked, Rod had a little laugh to himself when he recalled how his father was demonstrating the kind of walks for which the young guys of his day were known.

Gene had hosted a birthday cookout several years ago at Great Falls Park in Potomac, Virginia. A few close family members and friends were there, including some of his old army buddies. Gene and Dog Anderson had taken center stage of the festivities talking about how things were done when they were coming up. They happily boasted of being old school and how much better it was then. The younger ones were falling out laughing at how the guys on the block used to walk, according to Gene and Dog’s illustrations—how a guy could be walking down the street eating a fish sandwich, where all you could see of his face was that it was buried somewhere in food wrap paper while he maintained that particular diddy-bop walk.

Those thoughts immediately shifted to a movie Rod saw and where he nearly split his sides laughing at a particular segment. In the scene, a man had gotten out of prison after being there for quite some time. He did not think about the fact that clothing styles had drastically changed during his incarceration. The guy was either a pimp or a player because he put on an outlandish suit and sombrero-type hat out of the blaxploitation period of the early seventies. He even wore glass-bottom platform shoes with goldfish swimming in the heels.

With a fancy ornamental walking cane, he pimp walked down the street like urban royalty, just knowing the public was in awe of his every step. He soon realized that he was being seen as some kind of a new clown, years behind the time.

Everybody on the street were all pointing and laughing at the sight of him. His panicked reaction was comedy gold. The side-splitting laughter Rod was trying to hold made a comeback. That mental vision caused him to start laughing against his will. He put his hand up to his face to cover his nose and mouth, still snorting laughter. Looking around, he saw only an occasional auto pass in the lightly traveled street. With two and a half long blocks to go, he had plenty of time to give anyone who saw him the impression he may be insane. Perhaps that could be a good thing. It could be a safety factor that people considered crazy would be the last kind to mess with. But in his effort to control the vision that was currently wreaking havoc with his funny bone, he missed that as a consideration. He got himself more in control as he entered the middle of the second block. That was when a car pulled up along his left side.

Hey, Rod! What are you doing way over here, killer?

It was a friend of his mother, a man he did not particularly like: Charlie Combs. He leaned out toward the passenger side window with his deceptive predator’s grin and motioned for Rod to get in. Rod’s initial reaction was to say no, and he fumbled around trying to find a nice way to say it. The two had had somewhat of a disagreement before, and he knew this man did not like him as well.

Uh … that’s all right, Mr. Combs. I’m almost at the subway, but thanks anyway, I appreciate it, Rod said.

Come on, man. There’s something I need to tell your mom, but I’ll be leaving this area soon and I just need you to tell her something tonight if she might still be up.

That part about leaving the area sounded promising and was enough to cause Rod to give the man more focused attention. After another smile and friendly invitation, he got in. He noticed luggage on the backseat and began to feel more at ease with this man who had been dating his mother. Although separated, she was still legally married to his father. With the prospect of his leaving town, Rod would be amenable to putting away any hard feelings against Charlie Combs. Combs, in fact, admitted that he was wrong about so many things, that after real soul-searching, he came to the conclusion that he should not be seeing a woman still married to another man. Separation taken into consideration. Anyway, his business called for him to go to New York, probably to relocate there for good. He apologized to the young man for his sometimes brusque manner, admitting that he never meant to rub people the wrong way. And that when he was coming up, he always had to be a little scrappy because of the times and social conditions.

Rod listened with a respectful ear, appreciating Mr. Combs confiding in him a bit of his personal background. He was warming to the man and beginning to question his own attitude toward him without having tried to get to know him. But then he thought of his father, Gene. He could have been wrong, but he had sensed a warmer air between his father and mother as of late. So he may be better off by not getting to know this man if there was any sign of possible reconciliation between his parents. Still, the man actually now seemed decent enough.

They were at the intersection of Chancellorville Road and Mission Avenue, about fifteen minutes away from Rod’s home.

You know, Rod, I do care for your mom. I think she’s a wonderful woman. But … I don’t know, maybe it’s the way I was raised that came back to haunt me. Until the divorce … and really, it would not be the worst thing if she and your dad got back together. What I’m trying to say is … we’re both too respectable to do anything that just doesn’t seem right. You know what I mean?

Yes, sir. I think I do.

Good. Oh yeah, reach back behind you and hand me that little bag. It’s a little something I want to give her before I go. Combs pulled over onto the shoulder of the road to get nearer the road lamp. Rod turned to his right and felt behind his seat.

It was the last act he did on his own that day. He had a nanosecond of cognition before he slumped and froze in his seat. An effective blow behind the left ear by a steel pipe delivered a flash burst of pain, and then the black descent into nothingness. It was the night of Saturday, May 14, 2011.

PART I

PASSENGERS

CHAPTER 1

OPPORTUNITY CALLS

At the ripe old age of sixty, Eugene Calvin was experiencing what it is to be the object of a crush. For the past two months, a secretary assigned to him by his division chief seemed to be rather enamored of him. She actually got a little … gloopy when in his direct presence. On more than one occasion, he had tried to discourage her from being too anxious to do things for him. For the life of him, he could not figure out why a woman less than half his age found him so irresistible. Or so it seemed to him.

Erikka Shaw was twenty-six and not the least bit unattractive. Quite the opposite—she was very attractive. As lovely as she was, she did not carry herself like she was knowingly conscious of her looks but instead held herself in an innocent and humble way. She had a way of looking up at those to whom she came into contact. It was important to her that she be liked, so she tried to be as likable as possible. Gene thought she may be a little insecure about herself in some way. Certainly not physical appearance.

The name Gene was preferred over Eugene, so that’s what everyone called him except at work where everyone was referred to as mister, missus, or miss.

At the Defense Logistics Agency in which Gene worked, his department was run by a retired career navy man, Rear Admiral Ret. Gerald Breck. Being a stickler for formal military propriety, it mattered little to him that he was now in a civilian capacity. So personal formal address was the rule of that division. The only time Gene ever saw a little slack in his military starch was when Breck first introduced his new secretary to him.

"Mr. Calvin, I would like you to meet Ms. Shaw. She’s come aboard to join the crew. Ms. Shaw, I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Mr. Calvin.

You should do just fine under his watch. Now I will advise you—he runs a tight ship.

Gene and Ms. Shaw shook hands while the admiral stepped back and looked on, smiling. After that, he received Ms. Shaw back to resume his showing her around. As he opened the door to let her through, he gave Gene an uncharacteristic look as though he was taking something good for himself and was not giving it back. Gene had to put a hand up to his mouth to cover the smile on his face. Breck kept that look on Gene until he was about to close the door. Just before he closed it, he did a quick Groucho Marx wiggle of the eyebrows in that man-to-man way of saying, This is one hot number, ain’t she? After the door finally closed, Gene sat back and laughed at seeing his boss the way he had never seen him before. A little looser with even a hint of playful mischief. This was in February of 2011.

Gene sat at his desk thinking about that first time. Thinking about Erikka Shaw, in fact.

He felt something stirring within him in her presence. Something warm and sensual, but also just a little uncomfortable.

A month had passed. On that Thursday, it was almost noon. Earlier, he had come down from an early meeting on the third floor and only caught the slightest glimpse of her as he passed to go into his office. He would take a late lunch, if he took one at all. A feasibility chart plan was on his desk when he sat down. While looking it over, Erikka came up and stood in the door frame.

Excuse, Mr. Calvin. I’m going to the cafeteria. Can I bring you back anything?

Gene had never seen her like this. Her hair was fuller and cascaded her shoulders, enhancing the true beauty of her face. Though she was not dressed provocatively, her sensuality was in the way she stood, her hip thrust outward innocently and yet daringly at the same time. She seemed taller, fuller, and ready. Any trace of vulnerability was lost somewhere in the presentation. He didn’t realize he was gawking at her until she resumed her offers.

Some fruit, pie, coffee? A soda, bag of cashews … they’re your favorite, aren’t they? She began to slowly walk toward his desk.

Ms. Shaw, or may I call you Erikka? Wow, … you are really quite a woman, aren’t you? he thought as she stopped just inches from his desk.

Um … Ms. Shaw, can I ask you something?

Of course, Mr. Calvin. Anything you want.

There was a suggestiveness in the last statement abetted by the certain way she lowered her eyes. But suddenly the question he intended to ask was pushed aside by another thought that rushed in and took its place.

Do you know Jesus Christ? he asked.

Gene saw the transformation of one Erikka to another before his very eyes.

The slightest beginning of a sneer twitched at her lips. She almost seemed to recoil at the very thought. After a moment, she responded.

I don’t talk about those things in the office. This is the government, and I don’t think they like their employees talking religion. Can I go to lunch now?

Of course. See you when you get back.

As she turned, he was able to detect what may have been a distasteful drop in her countenance. An instant quick grimace. As though the question was one of absurdity or that she was somehow offended by it. She did have a point about the fed not being too keen on religious group conversations. If she was truly offended by the question and made a complaint, he may just have to account for himself on it. In no way was Gene a troublemaker, but he almost hoped an issue would be made out of it. The two things he had going for him was the First Amendment protecting free speech, especially since it was a private conversation, and the other was even more important to him. The possibility of leading a soul to Christ if that person was not already of the faith.

When Gene got home to his apartment that evening, he first checked his phone for messages. He was surprised to hear from Lauren, his estranged wife. Mixed emotions complicated his true feelings for her, especially now in the light of his knowledge of her seeing another man. It would not be foolish to assume that at some point they were sleeping together. But then again, Lauren was a Christian, and never before had she given any evidence of adultery. He hated having to suspect her of it, but he looked at himself and remembered how close he had come, more than once. Divorce had to be inevitable now. He had prayed on this situation many times, going into his closet and lying down on the floor. Knowing how God looks at divorce and knowing of how seriously He takes those vows made before Him and in His name, he wondered if Lauren struggled with the issue as much. If she meant to finally discuss the terms of divorce, he was not in the mood to do that now. He would call her later.

He took a shower and then lathered up his face for a shave. To expedite the clearing of steam off his mirror, he opened the bathroom door to allow for cooler air. Living alone and not enthused over the crap that passed for TV programs, he customarily talked out loud to himself and to God.

Well, I guess I won’t be bothered by Erikka Shaw anymore. Mention Jesus and you find yourself talking to the wall, he said while twisting his mouth to make his skin taut for a closer shave.

I still don’t understand all that schoolgirl infatuation with me. Shoot, I’m old enough to be her … older brother. He laughed at himself.

Then again. As I see myself looking back at me, … truth be told, I ain’t half bad for a guy sixty. No wonder she was checking me out. Heck, I’m a fox. A stud fox. He laughed out loud behind that one. He was still chuckling as he finished his shave and applied a balm to his face.

Standing just over six foot one and weighing in at around two ten, Gene could have been considered a catch. A fairly consistent regimen of walking and swimming at the Fort Meyer pool kept him fit. The mixed gray hair on top, although thinning, he decided to keep, not wanting the almost typical bald head of so many African American men.

His phone rang as he stepped out of the bathroom while tightening the belt on his robe. The caller ID indicated Lauren.

Hello.

Hello, Gene. How are you?

I’m fine and yourself?

I’ll do, I guess. There was a slight titter at the end.

What’s wrong? Are you all right … is Rod all right?

We’re both fine. She hesitated before going on.

I’m sure you’ll be busy Friday night, won’t you? Now he hesitated. They both sensed apprehension in each other.

Uh … why do you ask?

There’s going to be a dinner and dance for something called 100 influential women of America. I have two tickets. It’s up at Martin’s Crosswinds.

Greenbelt, Maryland?

Uh-huh. You want to go?

With you?

No, Nancy Pelosi … of course, with me. Did someone else tell you about it?

I’ll call you back on it. I just need to check on some stuff.

Oh, you must have company. Sorry I interrupted. The mixture of interest if he actually did and slight resentment was unmistakable in her tone.

No, no. No one here but me. I really have to look at some stuff I had to bring home from work. I’ll call you back in thirty minutes.

Okay. Talk to you later.

Sure thing. Bye.

He went over to a leather chair and flopped down on it, not knowing what to think. It had been ages since he and Lauren had last gone out together socially. So what about this Combs guy, he thought. Did he dump her, or did she dump him? Maybe this could be the start of a reconciliation or just another eventual decline into the emotional squalor that drove them apart. Bad history redux.

He looked at his watch. Twenty-eight more minutes and he would call her.

CHAPTER 2

EXODUS

Eugene Rennard Calvin was a born-again Christian and as decent a man as men go. He came to know Christ in his early forties while he worked as a logistics transfer specialist with the US Department of Defense. Not that he was a very wicked man before, but the fact was, he was unsaved. He had always held most Christian values and even called himself one. But he did not really know of the Gospel and its doctrines and true theology until after he was invited to church on that particular day in the spring of 1992.

He was separated at that time and living in a comfortable two-bedroom apartment not far from his job at Fort Belvoir, Virginia.

Lauren stayed in the townhome they had previously shared as husband and wife. Gene and Lauren’s history together was not one of classic romance, to say the least. Married on July 21, 1973, and relatively content for almost eight years before the troubles began, the beginning of the end eventually became a reality. Into the eighth year of their living together, they began to find faults in each other that grew from pet peeves to intolerable obstacles. In the fall of 1988, Gene moved out.

And yet before his self-imposed ouster, there were occasional times of intimacy and actual fondness that kindled at least the remnant sparks of love that apparently had never truly died. But the cold war would always return, and it would be back to ugly and chilly indifferent business as usual.

It is said opposites attract, but what is not said is that attraction does not mean cohesion. Yet through all the strife and discord of a marriage hopelessly entangled in turmoil, a blessing still yielded itself in the occasion of three beautiful births.

They named their firstborn Frank Tyler Calvin, born in September of 1974. Two years later came a girl, Ryanna Rae, in August. The third would come much later. Frank grew up and married. He had a good position with Amtrak, married a girl from Denver at twenty-six, and relocated there in 2000, where he presently resides.

Ryanna, or Rae as she preferred to be called, had her own success as the chief administrative aide of Food Services at Del Vecchio’s Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. It was one of the greatest and grandest in the south boulevard district. She was the youngest person ever to hold such a position. What made it more surprising was that she was African American. Although Las Vegas had indeed progressed a lot since the days of its inception, total equality was not yet the accomplished result. And a position as that was to be to the credit of positive advance in the American culture. The appraising eye of the man who favored her beauty and took her under his wing was certainly no deterrent either.

Rae was quite an attractive woman by all counts. She was tall like her mother and had her father’s hazel eye color. Not quite as buxom as Lauren, she still cut quite a figure as a woman of respectable beauty. This was not missed by the chanceful eyes of most men—and a number of other women. The former would be the lifestyle of her choice, putting no interest at all in the latter. Although she found eligible black men out there in no abundant supply, same-sex pursuits held no appeal to her. She did have a short-lived relationship with a young white man from Utah. His parents were not so fond of the idea of their son going over to the dark side. That situation ended when he went back to Salt Lake City and stayed.

She had wanted to take so many of her concerns to her father but opted to try to work things out her own way or to commiserate with the less than handful of female friends she had out there. In one passionate long-distance call with him, she tried to explain how much she needed him on her side. He made halfhearted efforts to assuage her pains, but she could see that he was just not there. He as much as implied she got what she deserved from going outside her own. The conversation ended with awkward and unsatisfied goodbyes.

Gene blamed himself but had made little efforts to engage her in the kind of father-daughter sit-downs so expertly done in TV specials. She needed lessons in life from someone already traveled in the years. Unfortunately, he was not that kind of man. There were no Father Knows Best episodes reasoned out in the Calvin household. He left those kinds of details to Lauren who, for the most part, hardly spoke to him most of the times. It was the dysfunction of the two that was the catalyst in separating the children from them, prompting the westward relocation when they became old enough. During that period, the two were already emotionally separated but existing under the same roof. If there was a bitter nest to speak of, then it was surely littered with the frozen shards of shattered hopes for happiness.

It was not supposed to have been that way. Two beautiful and successful children from a union of two people who could have had it all.

Except that all that they had just would not complement the other side. Lauren was ambitious, extroverted, always climbing. Gene was detached, introverted, self-enclosed. He sought havens of solitude away from people, be it on vacations or socially. On the other hand, Lauren thrived on attention, notability. She had to be acknowledged in some manner, shape, or form. And it was foremost because of the accomplishments although her looks many times helped make the course a little smoother.

Five ten, large busted, trim waist, wide hips. She was Junoesque, adorned with a face that registered freely somewhere between lovely and beautiful.

Gene, an attractive man himself by most standards, thought himself to be one lucky son of a gun when she accepted his proposal back in June of 1973.

Their disillusionments came too early in the marriage. Ironically, there were warning signs they dismissed back when they were dating. The fact was these two initially had very little in common except for a mutual physical attraction. Background, entertainment preferences, music, food, all different. They thought these to be insignificant matters that could be absorbed into a happiness of being together as one. But as time went on, both became less and less tolerant of the other’s perceived shortcomings.

Arguments increased. Name-callings escalated. Personal degrading, though the less frequent, did the worst damaging. Gene became more and more detached, having coital relations with Lauren on such an infrequent basis that it was like dating again.

This actually kept their marriage from completely blowing up altogether. The times that were peaceful enough to allow for harmony resulted in passionate lovemaking on both sides. The fact was, they still had a thing for each other even if it was only sexual. That was enough to keep them under the same roof. If not forever, at least for a while.

Lauren had a childhood friend named Sarita Swann. She and Gene were not at all friendly toward each other. In fact, Gene detested her. Her occasional presence in his home would turn him to ice. A firestorm would come later and with it a not-so-veiled amount of evidence as to who may have ignited the blaze.

CHAPTER 3

VOICE MESSAGE

On a particular fall day in 1986, something unusual happened to Gene Calvin.

Separation was inevitable—just as divorce would be later. The son and daughter deserved better, they both knew that. Gene often seemed distracted by thoughts of being somewhere else, placing more strain in the already hostile atmosphere. She wanted to suspect he had another woman but never could come up with any mitigating evidence. If anyone could have detected something of that nature, it would be her.

Sometimes she even wished it would be another woman. That would be rational. An explanation for his faraway looks. His deep, dark infolding as though he were protecting an unspeakable secret forbidden to share.

Gene by nature was cynical and aloof. He nurtured no heart-filled enthusiasm for people as a whole. He rather expected bad things from them. There would be no convincing him in the false belief that people at their base core are good. Some called his attitude one born of pessimism. He called himself just realistic and those opposing him idiots. No, to Gene Calvin, people could be expected to do wrong, say wrong, be wrong. Trust them with all caution because sooner or later, they will do what fallen man cannot help but do—fail.

Murder, mayhem, arson, carjacking, drive-by shootings. For crying out loud, just look at the newspapers, TV news, or talk to your neighbor. Society was being taken over by criminals and crooked politicians. And these days, it was hard to distinguish one from the other. Marvin Gaye said it for him already: Make me wanna holler—throw up both my hands. Nothing bad surprised Gene, nothing good lasted long. He associated little, had few friends, and other than taking in an occasional movie and tinkering around with an old ’68 Buick deuce and a quarter, he lived his life low under the radar. For excitement, he always had his warfare with Lauren.

Being introspective, he thought a lot about many things in his life. He did have two beautiful even well-adjusted kids, considering their environment. Certainly not enhanced by the disturbing activities of the two supposed adults over their care. How does God figure into this equation? he sometimes thought. Lauren and the children at least went to church every Sunday. Early in their marriage, he would attend once in a while but thought the members were phony. What made him think that?

He replayed the mental picture of the deacon he saw who inadvertently pulled out lottery play sheets while pulling out his checkbook. He played the mental disc of the girls talking on the cell phone while service was going on. On that same disc, he saw the young man sipping from his Evian water bottle during another service. He recalled while leaving one Sunday, walking up the aisle toward the rear, a woman was actually pushing her breasts into his back. Each time he stepped forward to make more room, she stayed right into him. When he finally managed to see her face, it was the face of a woman at least twenty years his senior.

And then he thought, the face of someone ravaged by loneliness and unmet needs. Needs. Human needs. Companionship, social interaction, voices to hear, other than those electronically delivered sounds from an impassionate TV tube. He could not help but to think of himself.

Yeah, I understand all that, Eugene. But this is church, man. The house of God. A place of worship. These people were doing the same things in there that they would be doing out on the street. Come on, Gene, think about it. Talking on the cell, drinking water, playing lotteries, getting sexual stimulation. Are you going to tell me that kind of stuff should be going on in the house of God?

Gene had convinced himself that church was filled with phonies. People whose lives were no more changed than those like himself who