Black Magic Woman by Justin Gustainis Page B

every service."
    "Looks like she's headed our way."
    Winona Timberlake made her slow way up the aisle toward them, and paused two rows in front of where they sat.
    "Hello, dear, and welcome to our church," she said to the middle-aged woman sitting in the aisle seat. "I'm Winona Timberlake."
    "Oh, I know who you are!" the woman exclaimed joyfully. "I've seen you on the TV, I don't know how many times! I'm Madge Collier, and this is my sister, Rosie."
    "Is this your first time attending our service here?"
    "Yes, yes it is. I'm from Patterson, New Jersey. I watch your program every week, you know, but I thought coming in person might help me find the grace I need to, well, to get through some things."
    "Is there something particular that is afflicting you, dear?" Winona Timberlake's voice radiated sympathy and concern.
    "Well it's just that the doctor says I have a cancer of the—you know, the womanly parts. And he wants me to have an operation. But it's so expensive, and I don't have hardly any insurance, and I just…"
    The woman identified as Rosie reached over and grasped her sister's hand where it lay on the armrest.
    "Anyway," Madge Collier continued, "I was so hoping that being here with the Reverend, maybe the Holy Spirit might inspire me, you know, to help me figure out what I should do."
    "I'm sure he will, dear," Winona Timberlake said with a brilliant smile. "There's absolutely no doubt in my mind that everything will work out for the best. The important thing is that you trust in the Lord Jesus."
    "Oh, I do, I always have—" Madge said, but the other woman had already moved on to greet some new arrivals.
    After another few minutes of mingling with the assembled worshipers, Winona Timberlake mounted the steps that led to the stage. She was handed a microphone by a minion, and by the time she reached center stage, a spotlight was waiting there to welcome her. The recorded music had stopped playing, and the crowd murmur quickly died down to nothing.
    In the sudden silence, Winona Timberlake looked out at the audience. She held them with her eyes for a long moment before saying, "Friends, I'd like to welcome you to our service tonight. It feels so good, doesn't it, to come together with other Bible-believing Christians in the fellowship of the Holy Spirit? And fellowship is so important now, isn't it? Because we live in tough times, you and I do."
    She paused for a beat. "Tough times where our spirits are assailed, our families are threatened, our schools are corrupted, and the streets of our cities are not safe for decent people." There were murmurs of assent from the crowd.
    "But for those of us who believe in the Lord Jesus, there is always hope in our hearts. And here tonight with a message of hope, with a message and a vision and the blessed powers of healing and prophecy, is the man I am proud to call my husband and inspiration—the Reverend Tommy Timberlake!"
    The applause that broke out would not have shamed a rock star.
    Winona Timberlake's spotlight winked out and was instantly replaced by another that shone on a man standing stage left. He was medium-sized, although the subtly padded shoulders of his handmade suit made him seem bigger. His curly black hair seemed to shine in the light from overhead and he was a case study in barely controlled energy as he strode to the center of the stage, which his wife had quietly vacated. Even as he moved, the Reverend Tommy Timberlake was already talking. "I can feel the spirit of the Lord in this building tonight, friends." The applause faded at his first words. His voice seemed hushed, intimate, but the microphone he held carried each word clearly to every corner of the large theater.
    "And why shouldn't He be among us, who have come here to praise Him?" There were a few shouts of "Amen" and "Praise his name" from the audience. "Didn't he tell us, 'Come unto me, ye who are afflicted and sore afraid?' Isn't that what the Lord, the God of Hosts, told us?"
    "He did,"