The Last Sunday by Terry E. Hill Page B

have. God bless you all, and we’ll see you on Sunday morning.”
    â€œPastor Cleaveland!” everyone in the crowd yelled almost in unison. This was followed by a flurry of shouted questions.
    â€œYou lost your husband only three months ago. How have you been holding up since that day?”
    â€œDo you think the church will be able to raise as much money as it did when your husband was at the helm?” shouted a man in the rear.
    â€œHas there been any progress in the investigation of your husband’s murder?” yelled a reporter who was waving a small recorder in her direction.
    â€œAre you afraid for your own life?”
    â€œWhat do you say to those who feel you took on too much too soon after your husband’s death?”
    The questions came in rapid fire, but Samantha only smiled broadly and waved to the reporters and flashing cameras. She took a step back from the microphones and continued to wave briefly before turning her back to the ravenous mob and gliding through the same entrance from which she had come. The two suited men slowly closed the glass doors behind her, leaving the crowd panting for more in the afternoon sun.
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    â€œCynthia, are you home?” Percy called out as he entered the penthouse. “Baby, are you here?”
    Percy went from room to room, looking for Cynthia. The kitchen was empty and looked like a showroom display that had never been used for cooking. The dining room, though perfect in every way, showed no signs of warm family meals or festive holiday dining. The bathrooms were cold and sterile, and the bedroom was dark, with no sign of life.
    Finally, he opened the door to the den. Cynthia was sitting with her knees pressed to her chest, staring at the silent television screen. Don Lemon was reporting the latest breaking news. His lips were moving, but there was no sound.
    â€œCynthia, didn’t you hear me calling you?”
    She remained silent.
    â€œHoney . . .” Percy said, slowly approaching the sofa where she sat.
    â€œI’m sorry. I didn’t hear you,” she finally responded. “I was deep in thought.”
    Percy sat next to her on the sofa and asked cautiously, “What are you thinking about?”
    â€œAbout us. About New Testament Cathedral. About . . .”
    â€œHoney, I wish you would stop obsessing over this whole thing.”
    â€œI’m not obsessing. I just think the church would be in a much better position if you were pastor.” Cynthia looked him directly in the eye and continued. “You should have seen her at the press conference today. She never even mentioned Hezekiah’s name.”
    â€œI know,” Percy said with a sigh. “I was there.”
    â€œDoesn’t that tell you everything you need to know about her? Hezekiah poured his entire soul into that building. In a way, he even gave his life for it, and she didn’t even have the decency to mention his name. She’s a horrible woman, Percy.”
    â€œI think that’s a bit harsh, Cynthia. There was so much activity out there. Questions were coming at her from every direction. Cameras were flashing. She may have just gotten flustered and forgot.”
    Cynthia looked at him sharply and laughed. “Samantha flustered? You’ve known her for years. When have you ever seen her flustered? Why do you continually make excuses for her horrible behavior? She’s a monster, and you just won’t admit it.”
    â€œCynthia—”
    â€œYou know what I think, Percy?”
    â€œNo. What do you think?” he asked sarcastically.
    â€œI think you make excuses for her and cover for her deplorable behavior because you are afraid to be pastor.”
    â€œThat’s ridiculous,” he scoffed.
    â€œIs it? This is really about the fact that you are a coward. You’re hiding behind Samantha. If she weren’t there, you know you would most likely be pastor, and that scares you to