The Veil

by K.T. Richey

Genres: Urban Fantasy

Synopsis

Misha Holloway was born with a special gift. She has the ability to see the past, the present, and the future. When she enters the ministry, her gift becomes more apparent, and fearful church members don't understand. She is cast out of the church and begins a journey of self-discovery to find out who she is as a minister and a woman.

Bernard Taylor is a man with a personal struggle. On the outside, he is one of the biggest gospel artists in the country. Inwardly, he is in a desperate struggle, trying to hold on to his faith while still ministering to others. But something keeps luring him back to Atlanta.

Being led by the voice in her spirit, Misha's journey takes her to unimaginable places, where she brings hope to others—until an unexpected pregnancy stops her in her tracks. When Bernard and Misha cross paths, can these single ministers help each other survive the obstacles they face, or will they give up and turn their backs on all they believe in?

Release date: June 1, 2013

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

Misha could see. Not like the ordinary person. Yes, her vision was 20/20 but it went beyond that. Misha could see through the falsehood of everyday life displayed in the people she came into contact with. She could see through the lies people told. She could see the unspoken, the hurt and pain. She could see the secrets pushed back in time and memories. She could see the joy and tragedy of the future. She could see it all as she sat in her classroom, waiting for the bell to ring.

“Class, remember, there’s a test next Friday on the Spanish-American War,” Misha yelled, as her class of ninth graders ran to the door at the loud clang of the bell. It had been a long day. There was a fight between two girls in her second period class and Mr. Davis, the school principal, used her lunch break to discuss his upcoming vacation. She wished he would spend the time talking with the school superintendent or the school board about the outdated books she had to teach from, or the fact she only had twenty-six books for the thirty-two students in each one of her classes.

She had always wanted to be a teacher. When she was a child, she would play the teacher to all of her dolls and stuffed animals. History was her thing. She loved history. She loved the History and Biography channels and watched them religiously. The thrill of learning about ancient civilizations and people inspired her in many areas of her life. She felt it was important to learn from the successes and mistakes of other people. She engrossed herself in books dealing with history from all over the world. So it was no surprise she chose history with emphasis in education as her major in college.

Now, in her second year of the first teaching position she received out of college, she was beginning to doubt her career choice. Dreams of excited students and supportive coworkers were fading to the realities of uninterested students, mediocre test scores, demanding administrators, and gossiping coworkers. Her students did not see the excitement of history. The thrill of learning about the Spanish-American War, the Civil Rights movement, and other vital parts of American history were only backdrops to iPads, hormones, and whatever it took to be popular. No matter what she did to make history exciting for them, each class became more and more a torment for her.

She felt that possibly it could have been better if the other teachers did not keep her name as the topic of their conversations every day. As a fashionable twenty-three-year-old, she could not show up in colorful sweaters with characters on them like other teachers. Although her clothes were not expensive designer items, everyone thought they were. She was an excellent shopper and could smell a bargain before she entered a store. Fashion was more of a passion than history. Besides, she tried to look nice every day for herself and her man, Roger.

The thought of Roger put a smile on her face as she packed her cloth tote bag with the pop quizzes she had given her classes that day. They had been together since her junior year at Howard. They were inseparable and had so much in common. He was a Christian and he treated her with the utmost respect and honor. Her family loved him and kept hinting to them that they should get married. He was a minister in his church and busy social worker for a local nonprofit organization for low-income youth. He was passionate about his work but he always tried to find time for her. Tonight was one of those nights and Misha was looking forward to being with him. This was a big weekend for both of them, as Misha would step into the pulpit as a minister for the first time. She needed a distraction to keep the nervousness at bay.

She sat down in her classroom, waiting for the halls to clear and the buses to leave the parking lot, before she decided to leave. She did not like going to her car while the hallways were packed with kids. There was always some confusion going on and she did not like to discipline girls and boys who were much taller than her small five feet four inch frame. She felt threatened by them, although she did not want to show it. In the classroom she tried to act tough, as if nothing bothered her. But there were times when she was afraid she would get hurt, like today.

She sat at her desk, reviewing the lesson plan for the next day and listening to the sounds of all the people in the hallway, when she was interrupted by a knock on her door.

“Hey, Misha, you busy?” another teacher asked.

“No, I’m only glancing over some stuff. What’s up?”

“Some of us are going to happy hour at the Curb sports bar. You wanna go?”

“I’m sorry. I thought you knew I was a Christian. I don’t go to happy hour. But you guys have fun. Thanks for thinking about me.”

“I’m a Christian too. But I need a break. You don’t have to drink. That fight in your class today didn’t stress you out?”

“I prayed during my break. It got better,” Misha answered, knowing she was still stressed out about the fight. One of the girls threatened to hit her. Not wanting the girl to get kicked out of school, she left that bit of information out when she wrote their referral to the principal. Even though teaching was not what she thought it would be, she still cared about her students.

“Well, if you change your mind, we’ll be there until about six.”

“Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The teacher left her sitting alone again in the classroom and Misha could hear the loud sounds quieting. She picked up her tote bag and sweater that lay on the back of her chair, walked down the partially empty hallway, dodging students idling around, and went toward the parking lot to her car.

“Misha, you’re not going with us?” Judy, another teacher, asked, as she stopped her in the hallway.

“Thanks for the invitation. I have a date tonight and I have to grade some papers before he gets there.”

“New love. Must be nice.”

“What are you talking about? You should be happy. From what I hear you have a good husband and marriage.”

“I can’t complain. We’ve been married twelve years. He’s good to me and the kids.”

“Yeah, and it’s going to get even better when he gets back and finds out he has that new promotion.”

“What?” Judy stopped in the hallway and reached out for Misha’s arm. “How did you know my husband was in France?”

“Your husband’s in France? I didn’t know that.” Misha’s eyes widened. She had no way of knowing Judy’s husband was out of the country. Judy never mentioned it to her.

“But you just said ‘when he gets back.’ How did you know about the promotion?” Judy said, placing her hands on her hips.

“What promotion? What are you talking about?”

“Misha, my husband is in France working at the international headquarters of his company. He’s in line for a promotion on his job. If he gets it, I may be able to quit teaching. How did you know about that?”

“I didn’t until you told me. Are you sure that’s what I said?”

“Well, I don’t know how you knew, but I receive what you said. I want to quit this job. These kids and Mr. Davis are getting on my nerves. You spoke the word today and I receive it. Hey look, if you change your mind, call me on my cell,” Judy said, dipping into her classroom.

Misha made her way to her gray Honda Civic and began her journey to her apartment on the other side of town. She was thankful that as a teacher she was able to get home before the evening rush hour. Traffic in Atlanta was horrendous during rush hour. With the Westdale High football team having an away game, she didn’t have to collect tickets at the gate before tonight’s game, one of the many other duties she had due to staff cuts. Not only was she ticket master, she had bus duty and was a hall monitor. But, tonight she belonged to Roger. He could massage away the stress she was feeling in her shoulders. Shrugging her shoulders, she wondered what food Roger was bringing to her apartment this evening. She did not want pizza. Chinese would be good.

As she stopped for a red traffic light, she quickly pressed the number one on her cell phone: the speed dial number for Roger.

“Hey, honey. Don’t forget the food. Get Chinese,” she said once Roger answered the phone. “You know what I like.”

“Mimi, I forgot. Can you pick it up? We’re having an emergency staff meeting for the community health fair we’re having next month. Somebody messed up real bad and we have got to figure out how we’re going to handle it. I’m going to be a little late. You can get you something and I can grab something on the way to your place. ”

“How long do you think you’re going to be?”

“I don’t know. Look-a-here, I’ve got to go. I love you, baby. I’ll see you later.”

Misha sighed in disappointment. It looked like it was just going to be her and the exciting world of grading papers. She had so looked forward to snuggling with him while he watched the movie he picked out. She in turn would be dreaming about this or that and eventually fall asleep until he woke her when he was about to leave. It would take her mind off preaching her first sermon this weekend. But tonight, the plan had changed due to his work. Helping the community was a passion that he loved. His commitment to the community was one of the things she loved about him. He knew what he wanted out of life. His plan was to get in on the ground floor, then work his way up to executive director. He wanted to know everything about running an effective organization. His main goal was to start his own nonprofit focusing on helping children. Focused, goal oriented, and task driven—it was everything she envisioned would make him a good husband. But, why didn’t it make her happy? She shook her head. She was only tired.

Hearing the blaring sounds of the car horns behind her, Misha breezed through the traffic light just as it was changing from green to yellow. Something inside her kept telling her Roger was not going to show up. As she continued the twists and turns to her home, her thoughts drifted to her conversation with Judy.

Judy’s husband is in France? He’s up for a promotion? How could she have known this? Outside of school, there was not much she knew about Judy and her family. To some it would have been strange for her to know this information, but not to Misha. All her life, she knew things she should not have known about people, events, and places. When people questioned her about it, she would try to deny she said anything. Never understanding how or why it happened, she just seemed to know things. There were times when she felt as if there were someone standing at her side, whispering in her ear about situations or important decisions she had to make. She could look at some people and know everything about their lives, even intimate details. Then there were times like today; she would say something in conversation and didn’t realize what she was saying. Because of this, she didn’t have many friends. People always thought she was spying on them. She wasn’t. Somehow, she just knew.

“God, I pray if this is you, confirm it with Judy’s husband getting the promotion,” she prayed as she pulled into the parking space in front of her apartment.

Westdale was a small community near College Park, Georgia, in the suburbs of Atlanta. Although the area was filled with urban sprawl, it continued to have a country feel with farmland still embracing the community near her home. Sometimes, she would get up early in the morning to drive past the farms and look at the cattle and horses that dotted the two-lane road that led to her apartment. She knew it would only be a matter of time before the developers would convince the owners to sell the property. But, until then, she was going to enjoy everything it had to offer.

Roger is not going to make it tonight, she heard in her spirit. But it will be okay. He will call. She knew when she got that feeling, it was always right. So she settled into her routine, ordered Chinese for dinner, and began grading her papers for her class.

It was after eight when Roger called to say he had just gotten out of his meeting and was tired. Hearing his soft, faint voice she discouraged him from coming over. He did not put up a fight as he agreed to meet with her tomorrow.

“Honey, it happened again.” She sank back into her sofa, leaning her head on the soft pillows and stretching her legs along the adjacent pillows. She placed the papers she had been grading on the floor and wiped her eyes as she listened to Roger.

“What happened?”

“You know. I knew something I shouldn’t have.”

“What was it?”

She told him about Judy’s husband, and how relieved she was that Judy didn’t get suspicious of her but accepted what she said as a sign her husband would be promoted.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but it seems like it’s happening more and more now and I can’t seem to make it stop. I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s all right. It’s a gift that’s being manifested because you’re about to go into the ministry. Have you talked to Bishop as I suggested?”

“Not yet. I might mention it to him after my initial sermon Sunday.”

“Good, I know he can help you. I wished my meeting didn’t last so long. I really wanted to see you tonight. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

They settled into a deep conversation about their love for each other. Misha could hear the sound of Roger closing the door in his apartment. Afterward he began to pray for her, asking God to give her direction with her gift and help her understand its purpose for her life and the Kingdom. Misha listened to his prayer, needing to feel the deep, wanting love she thought she ought to have, but something was missing.

“Baby, I’m wasted.” Roger yawned. “I would like to get to bed early, but I have to finish this grant I’m writing by next Friday. So it looks like I’ll be up until the late-night hours.”

“Well, if you have to go.”

“Mimi, I love you. One day I’m going to make you Mrs. Roger Dale Williams. I promise. I can’t afford it now. My ministry is just beginning to get started and—”

“Don’t think about all that. What’s important is the two of us are together now. God has a set time for everything.”

“I know, but there are days I really want to be with you. We’ve been together almost four years and I’m tired of coming home to an empty apartment.”

“Then let’s just do it. Let’s get married. My income is decent.” Misha sat up on the sofa. She was tired of coming home to an empty apartment too. With their combined salaries and the elimination of one apartment and its bills, they could make it just fine. She felt they had known each other long enough to get married, although she would get a nervous feeling every time she or he mentioned it. Even now her stomach trembled as she talked about it.

“Mimi, we have two car payments, two student loans, and don’t forget my credit cards. We can’t afford it right now. I promise you, soon. We’re going to touch and agree our finances will get better and we’ll be able to come together.”

“Then pray, Roger.”

Listening to Roger pray, Misha secretly prayed he would find another, better-paying job soon. Since he’d gotten this job, she was seeing less and less of him. It took so much of his time. She prayed it would be soon as she longed to be held and touched as a man would touch his wife on a daily basis.

It had been a long time since she had sex. But she wanted more than sex. She wanted to make love to Roger, as husband and wife. She wanted it to be special. Something that was fruitful in mind, body, and spirit—an act that would bear witness to their love and could be seen on their faces, spirit, and in their children. One day soon, she hoped.

Sunday had finally arrived. Six months of counseling with Bishop along with six months of classes with Elder Pringle on the doctrine of the church, the day had finally arrived. Misha was nervous as she stepped into the pulpit to deliver her initial sermon. She sat down in the center chair, which gave her a clear view of the entire church. Familiar faces filled the pews, waiting patiently for her to speak. The children in her junior missionaries group were sitting together on one side of the church near the front. Her family was sitting in the center pews. The deacons, dressed in gray and black suits, were lined up across the front row of all three sections. The youth choir sat behind her in the pulpit. She could hear the children moving restlessly as they prepared to sing.

She finally stopped stressing about how she looked when Roger picked her up to take her to the church. He had always loved her natural hair. Today her kinky twists were pulled back in a conservative wrap. Her chocolate-brown suit made her feel as though she could be a preacher. It was uncomfortable and not what she was used to wearing. But Roger made her feel like she was the only woman alive who could rock the straight-laced suit.

Glancing to her left, she saw Roger smile as he stepped into the pulpit and sat in the chair next to her, his right eye giving her a quick wink. Watching the other ministers file into the sanctuary and sit behind the deacons in the second row of the center seats, her legs shook nervously. Finally Bishop Moore walked proudly into the sanctuary and everyone stood as he entered. He stepped up to the podium and began addressing the congregation.

Everything looked different from Misha’s view in the pulpit. The church had three aisles of seats. Her family was sitting in the center aisle. She leaned to the side to get a better view of something other than Bishop’s rear end in front of her. Inhaling long, slow, deep breaths, she hoped no one noticed her heart beating so fast her chest moved up and down to the rhythm of the beat. Leafing through the notes she held in her hand in a poor attempt to keep her hands from shaking, she briefly looked over them.

There was no reason for her to be nervous. She spoke in front of people all the time as a teacher and at the church. But this time was different. She could feel the enormity of the occasion. It was a big step in her life. God had placed her in a position to bring people into His presence or drive them away by what she said. The thought made her hands tremble even more.

Again, she tried to focus on the crowd. She could see her family smiling. She looked at her mother: the perfect missionary dressed in her royal blue suit and large matching hat that only rivaled First Lady Moore’s large white hat with feathers. She couldn’t believe this was the same woman who whipped her with an extension cord many times for nothing, and locked her in the closet to keep her from playing with the other kids. Their relationship had been strained for many years. Her mother didn’t believe she would go to college or make something of herself. College was her only escape from the hell she called home. So she went to Howard to get as far away from her as she could. However, she missed being with her father, brother, and grandmother.

Misha focused her attention on her grandmother’s small body sitting between her mother and her brother on the pews. Their enormous size made her grandmother look frail and weak. Her stare caught Misha’s attention and she waved at her. Misha smiled and slightly waved back. She was glad her grandmother was able to make it to the program. At eighty-two years old, she didn’t get out much, especially at night. It was beginning to get dark outside and the darkness made her nervous. She liked to be at home when it got dark. But today, she made an exception.

Misha looked at her grandmother’s face that had the perfect makeup on it. Always the elegant woman when she went out of the house. At home, she only wore housedresses, winter, spring, summer, and fall, without fail. Her hair was silver and rolled into tight curls that looked like she just took out the pink hair rollers Misha was so used to seeing her wear around the house.

Looking farther into the crowd she eyed the deacons sitting in the front row. She used to think they were nodding in agreement with Bishop. Now she could see some of them were only asleep. How could they be asleep at the beginning of the program? Other people in the crowd were already nodding off too. She shook her head as she began to focus on other people in the church. It was like she could see the joy, peace, hurt, and fear of the people who had gathered to hear her speak. She felt the weight of their pain in her heart. She placed her hand on her chest and continued to breathe deeply. Closing her eyes, she prayed silently to herself for strength to get through this day.

The lyrical voices of the choir singing brought Misha out of her prayer. Her hands were clammy, damp, as they connected with every clap to the music. Bishop stood again to introduce Roger. He seemed so formal to her. She knew this was serious, no time for joking.

“I don’t know about y’all, but tonight, I’m nervous. This is one of my own. I’m not going to introduce her. Minister Williams knows her best. But I do want to say she is one of us. She got saved right here in this church and I have watched her grow as a person, a Christian. I love her like my own child. I love all my sons and daughters in the ministry,” he said, turning to look at Misha. “Your family here?” he asked.

Misha stretched her finger toward her family. Bishop asked them to stand as the congregation applauded.

“I know y’all love her. We have adopted her here. We love the work she does here with the junior missionaries and the youth choir. I’m not going to get into all that. I’m sure Minister Williams will tell you all about it. I want y’all to know we love her and are looking forward to hearing her preach.” He turned to look at Misha again. “Are you nervous?” he asked, smiling at her.

Trying not to look nervous, she lifted her hands and over-exaggerated them shaking; and the laughter that followed removed the tension in the pulpit.

“Minister Williams, come on up here.” Bishop walked to Misha and embraced her. “You’ll be all right. Take your time and let the Lord use you,” he whispered in her ear. Misha nodded, hugging him tightly.

As Roger stood at the podium introducing her and telling the congregation how much he loved her, Misha sat back in disbelief of where her life had taken her. She was the same girl who used to come into this church with a hangover and only a couple of hours of sleep when Roger would come to pick her up and take her to church. She only came because of him. She did like the preaching, but she loved the party.

As Roger stood at the podium going through her list of accomplishments, including her nomination for rookie teacher of the year last year, flashbacks of how she met him quickly breezed through her mind. It was a cold October day and she was leaving a sorority rush meeting when she met him: standing outside, protesting fraternities and sororities. He walked up to her and called her a beautiful woman of God and began talking to her. She didn’t care what he said. The smell of his Obsession cologne was taking her away deep into his beautiful gray eyes. She looked at his ebony skin and perfect smile and thought she would go anywhere with him. That night she had plans to go to the club, but she wanted to get to know him.

He walked her down Georgia Avenue to her dorm and prayed for her before he left. He later called her and invited her to church the following Sunday. When he arrived to pick her up, she didn’t tell him she had just gotten in from the club. She had a little too much to drink and her head was pounding. The loud noise in the church was making her feel worse. She wanted to stay with him all day, but not with her hangover. After church, she made an excuse not to go to eat with him. Without complaint, he took her back to her dorm.

She was delighted when she found out he was from Atlanta too. He was so positive and involved with different organizations at the school, unlike some of the guys she grew up with. He was a volunteer at Loaves and Fishes, a local soup kitchen in Washington, and seemed to keep busy and stayed focused. She liked him so much she let him believe he convinced her she would go to hell if she pledged a sorority or a “secret society” as he called it. She never told him she didn’t pledge because she didn’t have the money.

Her lips curved slightly upward thinking about how they would go out and he always made it a point to get her back to the dorm by eleven. He didn’t know that when he left, she would change her clothes and meet her friends to go to the club. She liked him but he was a square. He talked about God and his career all the time. She stayed with him because he was so fine and dependable.

He talked a lot, and although she found some of the things he was saying hard to believe, she stayed anyway. No one else was knocking on her door for a date. Besides, he was a free ride home to Atlanta. Somehow she became attached to him, although something inside of her was telling her to stay away from him. Against her better judgment, she stayed with him even when she began to realize they had little in common.

The day he took her to his home church in Atlanta was life changing. Bishop Moore stood to preach. She had never heard preaching like that before. It was so different from the preaching she heard in the church she grew up in. His message was more life application than repetitive statements. She held on to every word. There was something about him that drew her to the altar that day. Not only did she get saved, she joined the church. She was later baptized there and now she sat, waiting to preach her first sermon.

She heard the choir finishing their second song. She stood and walked to the podium. It was time.

“Daughter, where did you learn to preach like that?” Bishop yelled over the noise at the restaurant.

“I guess it was all those years of sitting in the Pentecostal church growing up. . .