Latter Rain

Book 0: Rain Series

by Vanessa Miller

Genres: African American; African American Christian; African American Urban; Christian Fiction

Synopsis

Hustling wasn't easy, but Isaac did his best. He ruled the underworld like a predator – a self made CEO of the streets. But one woman dared to show him a better way. Her way changed all the rules. Now, all Isaac wants is to live for God and win back his baby's mama, Nina Lewis. But when the past catches up with Isaac, and tragedy creeps in his back door – all bets are off. Can a hustler change his ways or will tragedy cause Isaac to turn back to his former condition?

Release date: February 1, 2012

Publisher: Urban Christian

Print pages: 304

Sample

Five years later

Nine long hours on the road had beaten him down. All Isaac wanted to do was grab hold of his pillow and power nap himself into the land of the unconscious. Opening the door to his two-bedroom roach motel never felt better. Actually, he didn’t have roaches, but Isaac expected them any day now. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. If anyone had told him that accepting Jesus meant giving up everything and starting from scratch, he would have rebuked that devil. But here he was, suffering for Jesus.

Three steps into his apartment the floorboard creaked. Another five steps, creak. Two more steps, creak, creak. His slumlord promised to fix that months ago. Isaac pulled at his tie as he shook his head. “You can’t trust nobody but Jesus.”

Isaac set his mind to endure the lean years. He knew that once he was pastor of his own church, things would get better. Bishop Sumler had promised him that. So he’d moved to Chicago to work in the ministry at Bishop Sumler’s church after getting out of prison. He’d been going from town to town with Bishop, learning the ropes of evangelism ever since.

On the road, he was king. Traveling with Bishop Sumler gave him privileges a young struggling preacher wouldn’t have normally had. Bishop Sumler wasn’t a Motel 6 kind of man. When a congregation put him up for the night, they had to dig deep in their pockets. And if meals were included, even Isaac, the armor bearer, had steak that night.

Unbuttoning his good as new, but-still-used-tobe-somebody-else’s, Italian knit shirt, he stepped into his bedroom and flicked on the lights. He’d asked Cassandra to check on his apartment while he was away, to make sure the TV and DVD player stayed where he’d left them, and to water the one lonely plant that had bothered to stay alive in this dump. But he did not ask her to warm his bed.

“Cassandra!”

She jumped. The cover fell off her body as she stretched and yawned. “What took you so long?”

Had he given a nutcase the keys to his apartment? Something had to be wrong with her. She was in his bed, acting as if this was where she belonged. Talking ’bout, “What took you so long?” like they had been married for ten years and had five kids already.

“Um, Cassandra, can you tell me why you slept over?”

She wiped the sleep buggers from her big brown eyes, then looked at him as if to say, you know-what’s-up. “I’ve been waiting for you, baby. Now, I know you’re tired.” She pulled the cover back as she scooted over.

His eyes feasted on her black silk, low cut negligee.

“Climb on in, baby. I warmed that spot just for you.”

His mouth opened. No words escaped, but a little drool did swim down his chin. Wiping his unsanctified mouth and turning toward his bathroom, he told her, “I’ll be right back.”

He buttoned his shirt as he stepped into the bathroom. Looking to heaven he asked, “Lord, why have you allowed this? How much temptation does one man have to endure?” He fell to his knees, elbows touching the toilet seat lid, hands entwined, head bowed. “Oh God, my Lord and my King, You know that I am just a man. I can’t handle this kind of temptation, yet it keeps coming my way.

“You know me, Lord. I want to go out there, toss Cassandra up and repent later.” He waited a minute to hear what God would say to that. No answer came, but Isaac knew. He was born to do God’s will, even when it conflicted with his own.

He stood, shook off the old man and slowly opened the door. He hated feeling like a peeping Tom in his own house. But there he was, door cocked open, peering out at the woman sprawled across his bed. Lying on her stomach, the roundness of her backside was in full view. He closed the bathroom door like a punk and fell back on his knees. “I can’t do this, Lord. How can you allow me to suffer like this?”

Isaac closed his eyes as his mind turned to Jesus, bruised and beaten, hanging on a cross for the sins of the world. “I am not worthy to suffer with you.” He hung his head low. “But if you could endure death by crucifixion, surely I can crucify my body.”

This time when he stood, his old nature was truly under subjection. He opened the bathroom door with boldness. “Cassandra, you’ve got to go.”

Cassandra jumped as Isaac’s words vibrated off the bedroom walls. “Wha ... what’s wrong?” She giggled nervously. “It’s still dark out, Isaac. I can’t go now.”

Isaac grabbed her ankle length skirt and turtleneck off the dresser and threw them at her. “Get your clothes on, you have got to go.” She opened her mouth to protest. “I’m not throwing out jokes, Cassandra. But I will throw you out, if you’re not dressed and gone in two minutes.”

She rolled her eyes and got out of his bed. “Whatever, man. You’re the one missing out.”

Isaac shook his head as he watched the praise leader at his church squeeze into her long conservative skirt. He thought Cassandra was different, but she was just like all the rest; trying to get in his pants. That thought almost made him burst out laughing. All his life he had been a sexual predator. But he was doing this thing for Jesus now. No room for compromise. Straight and narrow was the only walk his Lord would accept. He had slipped once. He vowed never to let it happen again.

“Denise said that you used to love for her to surprise you like this when you returned home.” Cassandra put on her shoes and continued pouting. “What’s wrong? You don’t think I’d be as good as Denise?”

“Just give me my key and get out.” She took his key off her key ring and threw it at him. Isaac sat on his bed, shoulders slumped, and allowed his heart to fill with shame as Cassandra slammed his door. How he’d gotten caught up again, Isaac didn’t know. It had been two years since that thing with Denise. After confusing Denise so bad that she still didn’t know it was wrong to fornicate, Isaac had sworn that he would never lie in bed with another woman that wasn’t his wife. Every time he thought about how he’d messed up Denise’s life, Isaac remembered Cynda Stevens.

For a time, Cynda’s beauty outweighed the defects of her personality. Isaac had used her to make Nina jealous. But that had been years ago. He’d also passed Cynda on to his old friend, Spoony, when he was done with her. The guilt of that still ate at him. Spoony had turned Cynda out.

Isaac looked to heaven. “I thought you cast sins into this great sea and stop thinking about them.” He sat in miserable silence as he waited on the Lord to soothe his soul. He was truly trying to change his life. He just didn’t know why he kept finding himself in the same place. After five years of being out of prison and working in the ministry, Isaac still had so much anger in his heart. Sometimes he thought that his short lived affair with Denise was the cause of his stunted spiritual growth.

Eyes still lifted heavenward, Isaac asked the Lord, “When will I stop paying for the mistakes I’ve made?”

The room was silent again, then Isaac heard the voice of God say to him, To whom much is given, much is required.

He fell back on his bed and sighed. “I’m sorry, Lord. I never meant to hurt you. I’ll get this thing right, if it’s the last thing I do.” He wanted to talk to his Lord a little while longer, plead his case. But his eyelids won the battle and sleep consumed his soul.

Dreams were much better than reality anyway, when Nina was the star of the show playing in his head, Isaac could sleep for days. She was wearing that hand-me-down blue jean dress that looked so good on her that she used to wear when she worked for him at his laundromat. She walked toward him smiling. No, she didn’t just walk. Baby-girl strutted with purpose. Confident of who she was and what she wanted. He always did like a woman who had her mind made up.

“It’s time, Isaac,” she told him with fire in her eyes.

He gave her an ‘I got you now smile’ as his dimples dipped into his chocolate coated face. “You ready for this?”

Her head bobbed.

He reached out for her, but it wasn’t Nina anymore. His mother was now in front of him. She was falling. Oh, God! He couldn’t catch her. Her head hit the table. The glass shattered and his sweet mother lay in a pool of blood.

“Nooooo!” Isaac bolted upright, panting, as sweat drizzled down his face. He ran his hands from his forehead to the back of his head.

Bam ... bam ... bam.

Before he could calm his nerves, Isaac realized that some lunatic was trying to knock his door down. The half moon that still clung to the sky told him that it was way too early for visitors. The sound would have normally irritated him and curled his fists. But right now, he was grateful for anything that would pull him out of bed.

He walked through his bedroom and the creak, creak, creak of his living room. The bamming stopped once he stepped in the living room. He’d never be able to sneak up on a burglar in this mug. Rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands, he looked through the peephole then flung open the door. “Man, it’s five in the morning. What’s the emergency?”

Keith stepped in, clothes wrinkled—hair hadn’t seen a brush. “I’ve been trying to call you.”

Isaac plucked a fur ball out of Keith’s low-cut fade. “You must have been dialing the wrong number. I’ve been home since about two.”

Keith picked up Isaac’s phone and put the receiver to his ear. “No dial tone.”

“What do you mean there’s no dial tone?” He grabbed the phone to investigate. “Man, I know I paid this bill.

Keith raised his hands. “Calm down. Maybe something’s wrong with your line.” He walked away from Isaac. “Let me check the phone in your bedroom.”

Isaac looked to heaven. “This suffering for Christ stuff is getting old.”

“Here’s the problem,” Keith hollered from the bedroom. “You had the phone off the hook.”

Isaac clenched his fist. “Cassandra must have done that. I’m so tired of these Holy Ghost filled jigga boos. I’m gon have to get me a woman off the street. Maybe she’ll respect the fact that I’m trying to live saved.”

“Another one trying to give you the midnight special?”

Isaac shook his head. “I ain’t gon’lie, Keith. I almost took it.” Keith smiled, then his expression changed, like something was wrong. Real wrong. “What’s up, man? Why you stalking me at this hour?”

Putting the phone back on the receiver, Keith sucked in his breath. “Sit down, Isaac.”

“Just tell me what’s up.” Isaac got in his mac-daddy stance. “I can take it.”

“I’m not joking, Isaac. I really think you should sit down for this.”

Isaac folded his arms across his chest. “Look, I’m a man. I can take your news standing up.”

Keith opened his mouth, then closed it. He stood there contemplating his options. He shook his head. Sometimes there was just no reasoning with Isaac. “There’s been a shooting.”

Isaac unfolded his arms. “Someone at the church?”

Keith shook his head.

Isaac hunched his shoulders. “Don’t just stand there. Who got shot?”

Moisture creased the edges of Keith’s eyes. “I—Isaac, can y-you please sit down?”

“Just spit it out.”

“Someone drove by their house about one o’clock this morning. Nina must have been waiting up for Donavan. As soon as he stepped on the porch, she opened the door. The neighbors said she was yelling at him when the shooting started.”

Isaac’s knees buckled. “Are you trying to tell me that my family is dead?” Now his dream made sense. He’d seen Nina’s face before he saw his mother lying in a pool of blood.

The moisture escaped Keith’s eyes and ran down his cheeks. Isaac’s legs gave out and he fell to his knees. “The last I heard they were in surgery.”

“Oh God, not my family.” Isaac pulled at his shirt. Ripping it, just as his heart was being ripped.

Keith wiped his face with his shirtsleeve, then tried to pull Isaac up. Isaac yanked away from him. “Come on, man. Dayton is hours from here. We’ve got to get going.”

Isaac didn’t hear him. Couldn’t hear anything from the turmoil going on in his head. For as long as he’d known Nina, his life had been about loving her and their son. A decade plus, hadn’t changed that. Nina’s unwillingness to come back to him hadn’t changed that. And now some bullet was supposed to end the dreams he had for his family.

He looked toward heaven. “God, do what you want to me. I can take it. But not my family. Please don’t destroy my family like this.”

Six weeks earlier

The night air was cold and wet. Or was it hot and sticky? Nina Lewis rolled those thoughts around as her fingers tapped the keyboard. If anyone asked, she’d most likely admit that scene setting was the least favorite part of her job. She loved the telling of a good story. Loved to send her readers on a rollercoaster ride from page one to three hundred. But setting the stage to tell the story always gave her pause.

She rested her palms on her forehead, trying to sort out the scene. Her stories dealt with real people, real issues. Like Ramona, the heroine of her third book, trying to decide whether to have an abortion or trust that God was able to see her through single parenting. Or, Johnson Smalls, the exhustler/hero in her first and second books, struggling to live for the Lord in an ungodly world.

Her characterslives, situations and circumstances were not always neatly packaged in a saved, sanctified, Holy Ghost filled, got-a-mind-to-run-on-and-see-what-the-end’s-gon’-be body. But this is what she knew: the struggle of life, and God’s great big ability to turn it all around for His glory. She was awed by the fact that He had chosen her to tell redemption’s story. She didn’t take this call on her life lightly. She prayed constantly, asking God for guidance. “What will this character do next? What’s this scene about, Lord?”

God’s guidance also gave her pause at times. Like now. Ramona had decided to keep the baby she was carrying. But she was struggling with the knowledge of the abortion she’d had a couple of years prior. Ramona wondered if God had forgiven her, or if she would still have to pay for the mistakes of her past.

God was speaking into Nina’s spirit. Telling her that He casts sins into the sea and decides not to remember them. Nina stood and paced the length of the room. “Oh, God, help me to believe it.”

This was Nina’s greatest sin against God. Murder. After eleven years of living for the Lord, she still hadn’t forgiven herself for the abortion she had as a teenager. So, how could she encourage her readers when she didn’t fully believe?

Her hands plowed through her short, layered hair. “Why do you have me on this subject, Lord?”

Even as she asked the question she knew. The Lord had given her the same . . .