Path Of The Wicked Part 25

Proverbs 3:5-8 (NIV) Cooper was excited about starting a new Bible study with her friends from Hope Street Church. Except for Nathan, she hadn't seen any of them since the Christmas Eve candlelight service. Every member had left town in order to visit family. Savannah Knapp, the legally blind folk artist who led their small group, had stayed away even longer in order to conduct a painting workshop for an artist's colony, so they'd been unable to commence with a fresh study until she returned.

Feelings of pleasant expectation coursed through Cooper when she finally received a phone call from Quinton Enderly, the successful investment banker and talented amateur pastry chef, announcing that it was his turn to choose the next study. He'd picked Directing Our Pa.s.sion: Corinthians I and II.

"Whoa!" she'd teased him. "Sounds steamy."

"I've been praying for a wife for over ten years now," Quinton had replied solemnly. "But suddenly I realized that I've got to have a clear relations.h.i.+p with G.o.d before I can even attempt to form one with a woman. This study just spoke to me."

"Trust me, Quinton. We could all use help in the relations.h.i.+p department. Besides, you're a real catch. Some girl is going to celebrate the day she found her way to your doorstep," Cooper said to her portly and kind-hearted friend before speeding off to LifeWay to buy the study guide.

She loved opening an unblemished, stiff workbook, uncapping her favorite purple pen, and rustling the pages of her Bible as she prepared to complete the first homework lesson.

"Sounds like the wings of dove, doesn't it?" Her mother had once said while flipping through her own Bible. "How the angels must rejoice over the music made by the turnin' of those pages."

Cooper had felt a bit lost during the break the Bible study group had taken. She'd gone to church, but her focus had wandered during each service, her eyes roaming the congregation in search of the faces of her friends. Now, on the third Sunday in January, it was time to reunite. Humming to herself, she was the first one to arrive in the Hope Street Christian Academy's Biology cla.s.sroom. She set out a basket of her mother's meringue pecan bars, brewed a pot of coffee in the teacher's lounge, and placed a stack of snowman napkins alongside a plate of plump red seedless grapes.

"Now this is an interesting room," meteorologist Bryant Shelton declared as he entered, flicking a solar system model suspended from the ceiling into orbit. "I'm glad we got booted from the English cla.s.sroom. I was getting kind of tired of being stared at by those Shakespeare and Virginia Woolf posters." He sidled up to the life-sized skeleton and slung an arm around its bony shoulders. "Sorry to keep you waiting for our dinner date, sweet cheeks. You've practically wasted away!" He laughed, displaying his famous television smile. Twin dimples appeared in his tanned cheeks as he released the skeleton and walked over to embrace Cooper. "I've missed our meetings."

Cooper smiled at him, knowing that dozens of women longed to be the recipient of Bryant's attention and would have gladly locked her in the cla.s.sroom's supply closet if it meant the gorgeous weatherman would hug them instead. Cooper cared deeply for Bryant, but only as a friend. The two of them had quickly bonded a year ago over their experiences with failed relations.h.i.+ps. Bryant was a divorce three times over and Cooper's only serious boyfriend had left her for another woman. Together, they'd vowed to forgive those who'd hurt them and focus on the future instead.

"I smell cookies!" Jake Lombardi bellowed as he stepped into the cla.s.sroom. "Yours or your mama's?" He stripped off a pair of worn leather gloves, dumped his aged barn jacket onto one of the student desks, and began to remove tissue-wrapped coffee mugs from a grocery bag.

"Magnolia's Marvels," Cooper admitted. "She made an extra two dozen for us this morning."

"Lucky us." Bryant pointed at the coffee mugs. "What are those, Jake?"

"I saw 'em online," Jake answered. "I wanted to get somethin' for our first meetin' of the year. I may be a plumber, but I got good taste. Check these out." He handed Cooper a mug. It showed a rising sun and the words COFFEE HOUR: THE THIRD SACRAMENT.

"We're the Sunrise Bible Study group and we sure like our coffee," Jake explained. "Figured these were made for us."

"Did you come bearing gifts, Jake?" a mellifluous voice asked from the doorway. Savannah held a white cane in one hand and several books in the other. Quinton was guiding her by the elbow with Trish Tyler, an ambitious realtor and mother of two, following closely behind. Nathan took up the rear.

"These are cute, Jake." Trish said as she picked up one of the mugs. "Even if they're a tad cynical."

"Get your caffeine on and be grateful, lady." Jake grinned at her. "After all, I could've picked the ones that said G.o.d Only Loves You 'Cause He Has To!"

Nathan chuckled. "Oh man, that is so mean!"

The members exchanged small talk about their various trips and then settled down to begin Day One of their study.

"The first book of Corinthians addresses the people of Corinth. Imagine that!" Savannah took a bite of one of the meringue pecan cookies and sighed in delight. "This Greek city was a bustling and wealthy port," she stated. "All kinds of exotic goods came in and out of this place and its people were as mixed as its goods. There was plenty of entertainment to be found there, including athletic compet.i.tions like the Olympics. And according to my audio guide, there was a tavern on every street corner."

"Sounds like Americans and our Starbucks," Bryant remarked.

"In this city filled with immorality, the Apostle Paul appeared more than once to preach to the people," Savannah continued with a smile. "Does this setting remind you of another Biblical place?"

"Babylon," Nathan answered quickly. "Both cities have the lure of glamour, wealth, and greed."

Savannah nodded. "We live in a modern Babylon, so we face similar temptations every day. I don't know about you all, but I give in to these kind of trappings on a regular basis." She held up her cane. "I can't even see and I've got a house loaded with stuff!" She laughed. "I admit to enjoying too many material things. You probably didn't know that I listen to QVC even though I can't see the products clearly-only fuzzy colors! But I like how the hosts describe everything. It's a seductive show, I tell you!"

"My Corinth/Babylon problem is the same one as always," Quinton spoke next. "I want more food than I need. Portion control. Overindulgence. I can't seem to get a grip on it."

Jake patted the large man on the back. "I hear ya, man. Over the holidays I slipped and had a smoke. And then a second one. Now those cigarettes are callin' to me night and day."

"Boy, I know that feeling." Cooper sympathized with Jake. "Even though I quit months ago, any time I get stressed the thought of just taking a few drags seems like a great idea. Hang in there." Glancing at her own workbook page, Cooper recalled that she'd written that her weekly pedicures were an unnecessary luxury, but that she had no intention of giving them up.

Savannah raised the next discussion point. "In verse nineteen of chapter one, Paul quotes from Isaiah. How do you respond to the phrases 'destroy the wisdom of the wise' and 'the intelligence of the intelligent I will frustrate'?" Savannah looked around the circle of faces, as though she could see everyone's features through her nearly sightless, navy-blue eyes. Cooper noticed that she'd loosed her braid, allowing her dark brown hair to spill over her shoulders. The light from the windows caught a few strands of silver framing Savannah's unlined face. Once again, Cooper was struck by Savannah's loveliness. Though only forty, their group leader possessed a level of grace, poise, and self-awareness that made her seem wiser than her years.

"I don't think Paul is trying to compliment smart people," Trish said, and then paused to rub her glossy ruby-tinted lips with her pinkie. "Sometimes, the biggest brainiacs are the biggest atheists too. Like they've figured out all of life's riddles and therefore have no reason to believe in G.o.d."

Bryant rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Like Benjamin Franklin? I think he was the one who said, 'Lighthouses are more helpful than churches.' " He waved his hand around the room. "Here we are, in a place filled with the evidence of man's scientific discoveries and they really are great, but even this level of wisdom doesn't give us what we need."

Quinton nodded. "Take Adam. He had everything he needed, but he wasn't satisfied. Look where that got us."

"Good point!" Jake exclaimed with a smirk. "That ole serpent knew what he was doin' when he told Adam he could know as much as G.o.d if he'd only take a little nibble of fruit." He nudged Trish playfully with his elbow. "Thanks a lot, Eve."

Trish scowled, her pencil-drawn eye brows furrowing. "No one twisted Adam's arm. He made his own choice. Besides, women have paid for Eve's bad decision." Her voice rose. "You men don't have any idea what labor pains are like! That d.a.m.ned fruit cost us plenty." Her eyes dropped to her book and fixed upon the page as the rest of the group exchanged startled glances.

Savannah recovered first and steered the conversation back to the subject at hand. Cooper shared her thoughts that human wisdom was different from divine wisdom, for one had limits and the other had none, but felt that she needed to say something else to lighten the mood.

"I've definitely acted dumb when I thought I was being clever," she told her friends while trying to block out images of a party she'd attended recently. "When I started fixing office machines, I thought I was some kind of female Da Vinci. One of my first jobs was to repair a printer in the nurse's office of a nearby grade school. I tried everything, but I couldn't get it to work. Then this seven-year-old boy comes in and tells me that it's not plugged in. Sure, there was a nest of cords and wires under the nurse's desk, but I never even checked the most basic step because I wanted to solve a complicated problem." She shrugged. "Guess I needed a dose of humility."

"Arrogant is not a word that I'd a.s.sociate with you." Nathan winked at her. "And you're awesome at problem-solving. Do I have to point out that you've helped solve two murder cases?"

"Well, arrogant is a word people might use to describe me," Bryant commented with a self-effacing grin. "Once, when I was working at a station at the beach, I showed up too late to review the latest weather data before I went on the air at six A.M. Because of that, I failed to warn commuters that they'd be dealing with a serious fog. There were dozens of accidents that day and lots of people called the station to complain about my c.r.a.ppy forecast. My boss reamed me out with a hurricane-force lecture."

"At least you didn't punch a hole in somebody's septic tank." Jake screwed up his face in disgust. "On Fourth of July. Durin' a family reunion. Do you know what sewage smells like in the middle of a ninety-nine-degree day?"

Quinton squirmed in his chair. "Eew! No more details, Jake, please. You'll put me off my cookies. Did I ever tell you guys about the time-?"

"ENOUGH!" Trish shouted and the Bible study members jumped in their seats. "I win the blue ribbon for being stupid! Hands down, no contest, game over! I win!" She hit the desktop with a closed fist, her crimson fingernails digging into the flesh of her palm. "I always thought I was the type of person who couldn't get sick. People who smoked or drank or never exercised got sick. Not me! I eat balanced meals, work out four times a week, and only drink a gla.s.s of Chablis when the mood strikes me. But I'm sick, all right. Look at this." She raked her fingers through her copper-colored hair and then showed her friends the red clump resting on her palm.

"What's happening?" Savannah pleaded, unable to witness the unsettling act.

"She's losing her hair," Cooper whispered, her eyes never leaving Trish's tormented face.

"I'll be lucky if that's all I lose," Trish muttered hoa.r.s.ely and then her mouth began to quiver. "Do you remember that biopsy I had back in the fall? The one that came out benign?"

Her friends nodded fearfully.

"Well, I've had another one since then and it's not benign." She spat out the word as though it were an enemy. "I, Trish Tyler, have cancer. Right here." She folded her hands across her heart and then fanned them out across her chest. "I have breast cancer. The serious kind."

Jubilant music calling people to wors.h.i.+p tripped down the corridors of the church wing housing the school, but none of the Sunrise Bible Study members responded to the enticing melody. The unhindered shrieks of children racing down the hall toward their Sunday School cla.s.ses, the cheerful shouts of adults greeting one another, and the increasing volume of the drumbeat emanating from within the chapel produced a cacophony of cheerfulness that seemed to mock the atmosphere in the Biology cla.s.sroom.

"I'm sorry." Trish hid her face in her hands. "I didn't mean to let it out this way. I'm so mixed up right now. I go from brave to being scared out of my mind, to angry, to yelling curses in the privacy of my shower, to crying so hard I've got to pull the car off the road and park. Right now, I'm just really, really tired."

Savannah eased herself from behind her desk and walked carefully over to where Trish sat. Putting both arms around her distraught friend, she whispered, "Tell us everything."

"I've got Grade Two cancer, which means that they couldn't just cut the bad cells out and send me on my way. I had surgery right after Christmas-I didn't want to spoil things for the girls so I insisted on waiting a few days-and they removed the ma.s.ses, but it's not enough."

Jake gave her a stern look. "You should've told us, you stubborn woman. 'Least we could've prayed for you while you were goin' through all that."

Surprisingly, Trish smiled. "I was in serious denial three weeks ago. I figured if I didn't tell anyone it would just go away."

"Do you need chemo?" Quinton asked, his kind eyes filled with concern.

Trish picked up the loose strands of hair and began winding them around and around her index finger. "I've already started. Had my first dose on Thursday."

"Oh, Trish." Cooper felt like crying, but forced back the tears.

"I get another dose next week. Through an IV. It takes about an hour. That should finish off what's left of my hair. And here I thought my auburn color, the blow dryer, and flat iron would be the ones to fry my gorgeous locks." Trish offered up a crooked grin. "Guess it's a good thing I had the photo taken for my Tyler Fine Properties billboard last summer."

"Woman, you're gonna look smokin' hot with no hair," Jake teased. "Like that singer, Sinead somethin' or other. Or Demi Moore when she shaved her head for that G.I. Jane movie."

"I think you'd like nice in a wig, too," Nathan added kindly. "You could look like Princess Di one day and Cleopatra the next."

"Thanks, you two, but either way, the hair is going." She gripped Savannah's hand with sudden desperation. "I don't want to do it myself, though. I know I'm going to get upset when I see the results. Would you . . . ?" she faltered.

"We'll come over whenever you're ready," Savannah declared and gave Trish's hands a compa.s.sionate squeeze. "Though you might want to pick someone other than me to do the shaving!" She smiled. "We'll all be there to help you through this. Not just the losing your hair part, but every single moment of terror, anger, doubt, and grief."

Bryant also got up and walked over to Trish. "That's right. We'll cook for you-well, the rest of them will cook and I'll buy takeout-and drive you places, go to the doctor with you, and listen to you vent."

"Thank you." Trish sniffed and sat in silence for a moment. "Listen, I'd rather not talk about this anymore if that's okay. Let's go wors.h.i.+p now."

"After we pray for you," Cooper insisted and everyone immediately reached out for a friend's hand.

Savannah closed her eyes. "I am too unsettled to come up with any words of my own, so I will rely on scripture. Please turn to Isaiah forty-one, verse ten and read aloud with me." She pulled Trish's hands towards her own and bent over them, so that her breath fell directly onto the sick woman's skin.

" So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your G.o.d.

I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.' "

One by one, the members of the Sunrise Bible Study stood up and placed their hands on Trish's body. They touched her shoulders, her back, her arms, her hands, the top of her head, and her face.

"You will not face this alone," someone whispered. "We are with you."

"Amen," Trish murmured through her tears.

Hope Street Church Mystery t.i.tles by.

JENNIFER STANLEY.

Stirring Up Strife.

Path of the Wicked.

The Way of the Guilty.

(coming in September).