Latter Rain by Vanessa Miller Page B

go with Bishop, but regrettably, he had other obligations. He needed to pick up Donavan this weekend. He needed to talk to his son before he got caught up. “I can’t go. Not this time. I’ve got to pick my son up this weekend.”
    Bishop raised his hands. “Now, son, I know you’ve got family obligations, but this is important.”
    And Donavan wasn’t?
    â€œI need you on this trip, Isaac. Pastor Marks is not always a reasonable man.”
    Understatement though that was, Isaac still had responsibilities, and he wasn’t about to leave them to good ol’ Charlie. “Bishop, you know I’d love to help you, but my house is a mess. I’ve been working double-time all week long. And I have got to see Donavan this weekend.”
    Bishop Sumler called Cassandra back over. When she stood in front of them he said, “Isaac needs his house straightened up. You wouldn’t mind helping him out, now would you, Sister Davis?”
    Cassandra opened her mouth, but Bishop rushed on. “It’s for the good of the ministry. Isaac, run home and pack your bags. Give, Sister Davis your keys. She’ll make sure you come home to a clean house.”
    Isaac looked toward Cassandra.
    She smiled. “I don’t mind. Go take care of your business.”
    â€œBishop, there’s still my son to consider.”
    Bishop waved a dismissive hand in the air. “We’ll pick him up on our way back. Help me handle this mess, Isaac. You’ll still be able to get Donavan on Saturday.”
    He wasn’t going to win this one. Might as well go home and pack.

14
    The nine-hour drive to West Virginia wore out Isaac. Needless to say, by Thursday morning, he was cranky. By the time Pastor Ronald Marks strutted his well-paid self into his elegant mahogany laden office, Isaac was in a state of anger.
    In his late thirties, Ron was graying prematurely. Probably from all that late night partying he did when his wife and children went to bed. He leaned against his sturdy desk, crossed his legs and smiled at Isaac and Bishop. “So, what brings you boys all the way down here?”
    Bishop smiled back at him, crossed his legs, then told him, “You know why we’re here, Ronald. Looks like you’ve exposed yourself to the wrong woman.”
    Ronald dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. “I’ve got it under control. One more week, and everything will be back to normal at Faith Temple.”
    Under the leadership of Pastor Marks, Faith Temple had grown from a shabby two hundred member church to more than two thousand. His members didn’t earn a lot, but they trusted that God would make a way, so they paid their tithes and offerings faithfully. The church grossed about fifteen million dollars annually, one of the largest in Bishop Sumler’s fellowship; thus, the arrogance they were receiving from Pastor Marks right now. Who would touch the golden child?
    Isaac shook his head. Ain’t no hustle like a Holy Ghost hustle.
    â€œWhat makes you so sure that you can fix this situation?” Bishop asked hopefully.
    â€œI told the little tramp to get rid of it.”
    It was the baby Pastor Marks had planted in sixteen-year-old Tiffany Miliner’s stomach. AKA, the little tramp.
    Rage. Isaac knew it well. He just didn’t know how to calm it once it was upon him. Red. He wanted to kill this animal. He rubbed his head with his palm while silently telling himself to calm down.
    â€œWhat’s wrong, Brother Walker?” Marks taunted.
    Isaac ignored him and prayed for patience. Isaac wasn’t fully delivered and this man was trying to get him in the flesh.
    â€œWhy you judging me, brother ? I know you haven’t forgotten about your little slip up with Denise Wilkerson so soon. She could have gotten pregnant, you know,” Marks continued his taunt against Isaac.
    â€œOne mistake is not fifty. And if she’d have gotten pregnant, I