One Day Gone Page 8

  Whenever Curtis talked about his conversion experience, he often referred to it as something very personal, and when he talked about the Bible, he made it sound like it was written for him personally.

  One day, when the two of us were driving over to my grandparents’ house, he said, “God loves me, Mylas. He actually wants to spend eternity with me in heaven. That’s pretty amazing, isn’t it? I mean he’d rather die than see me in hell. That’s how crazy he is about me.”

  It wasn’t exclusively for him, though. He tried to get other people to read the Bible, attend church, and have the kind of relationship with God that he had.

  Even though I looked up to Curtis and tried to emulate him most of the time, when he began telling me and my parents about his conversion experience, I mostly ignored his fixation with Christianity.

  At the time, I was too preoccupied with what was going on in my own life—that was the summer I had my wisdom teeth out and was glued to the television set watching Robert Bork—and I didn’t particularly care about what was happening in my brother’s life.

  My parents, on the other hand, were extremely interested in what was going on with Curtis, although it wasn’t his newfound faith that interested them—that came a little later—it was the decision he made after his conversion; the decision to become a minister instead of a partner in my father’s PI agency.

  And, of course, there was the announcement he made several months later to marry Heather.

  When he told my parents he’d asked Heather to marry him, he also informed them he and Heather would be moving to Dallas where he planned to attend seminary while Heather taught second grade at an elementary school near the seminary.

  To their credit, they didn’t try to discourage Curtis from following through with his plans, even though it took them awhile to accept the fact he was going to be a minister and not a private detective.

  Curtis and I didn’t have that much contact with each other while he was living in Dallas. Then, by the time he was finished with seminary, it was even more difficult for us to stay connected because I was attending law school at Georgetown while he was living in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and working as an associate pastor at a church.

  However, Curtis and I were able to reconnect after my mother suffered a heart attack, and both of us traveled to Columbia to be with my father during her surgery. By that time, I’d been with the Theodore McKinney Law Firm for a couple of years.

  Even though the doctors told us my mother would make a quick recovery following her triple bypass surgery, she developed an infection requiring an extended hospital stay, which meant Curtis and I were at the hospital together every day for two weeks before she was finally able to return home.

  We spent most of that time talking about our high school days and family trips we’d taken, but since we both had our laptops with us, we also spent some of that time working.

  Occasionally, Curtis would share something with me from a sermon he was preparing, or he’d read me a funny story Heather had sent him about one of his kids—he had two boys and a girl—and before long, I was filling him in on what I’d been doing for the past several years, and he was updating me on his activities as well.

  The last couple of days we were together, we grilled each other about our chosen professions, and at one point we laughed when we realized we were both using the same interrogation techniques on each other that we’d learned from our dad.

  However, I was a much better interrogator than Curtis was.

  * * * *

  I was clueless about how a minister spent his days, and when I asked him about it, I was surprised to find out most of his time was spent doing administrative things.

  For some reason, I’d always pictured him praying and reading his Bible from sunup to sundown.

  Curtis found that amusing. “I’d be a much better man and probably a better preacher if that’s how I spent my time, but when my secretary is asking me about what she should put in the church bulletin, and a parishioner is wanting to speak with me about why there’s no soap in the ladies’ restroom, and the janitor’s complaining about having to vacuum up glitter after a church wedding, I can’t spend all my time praying and reading the Bible.”

  I told Curtis I admired him for the way he continued to be enthusiastic about his faith after all these years, and he commended me on the way I’d worked hard to achieve my dream of becoming a lawyer and living in Washington.

  Whether it was because Curtis appeared to be genuinely interested in me—despite my unwillingness to embrace his beliefs—or whether it was because I didn’t have that many close friends, I ended up telling him I was having second thoughts about my decision to become a lawyer.

  Curtis said, “I’m sorry to hear you’re not enjoying it that much. I know I would find it hard to go to work every day and not enjoy what I’m doing.”

  “The money makes up for it, though,” I said, “and eventually, I may decide to have another career.”

  “I’ll make you a promise, Mylas. When I pray for you from now on, I’ll be praying you’ll find a career you enjoy, and one that will bring you satisfaction.”

  I’d forgotten all about his promise to pray for me until his name appeared on my caller ID one Saturday morning after I’d gone to work for Senator Allen. When I picked up the phone, the first thing I said was, “Your prayers have been answered.”

  He seemed confused for a moment. “Who told you?”

  “Who told me what?”

  “You said my prayers have been answered.”

  “That’s right. You told me you’d be praying for me to find a career I enjoyed. Now that I’ve gone to work on Capitol Hill, your prayers have been answered because I’m really enjoying my new career.”

  He laughed. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, but I thought you were saying you knew about a prayer I’d been praying for myself. That’s why I was calling. I wanted to let you know I’ve accepted the senior pastor position at the North Point Community Church in Columbia.”

  “I had no idea you wanted to go back to Columbia.”

  “I didn’t necessarily want to move back to Columbia.”

  “So why is moving there an answer to prayer?”

  “For several years now, I’ve been praying about my desire to become the senior pastor of a large congregation. Then, a few months ago, I got a phone call from Eddie Foster, one of the elders at North Point. I don’t know whether you remember Eddie or not, but he was one of my buddies in high school, and when his pastor announced he was retiring, Eddie called and asked me if I’d be interested in becoming the pastor at his church.”

  “I don’t remember him, but if you’re happy about the prospect of moving back to Columbia, then I’m happy for you. Personally, I’ve never wanted to move back to Columbia.”

  “I wouldn’t say it’s been on my wish list either, but when you’ve been praying about something for several years, and you get a phone call about the very thing you’ve been praying for, then you can’t ignore that.”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “I definitely believe the Lord has opened this door for me.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond to something religious like that, so I changed the subject and asked him how our parents had reacted to the news he was moving back home.

  “Oh, you know Mom. She can’t wait to have the grandkids living in the same town with her.”

  “What about Dad?”

  “He seemed pretty hyped about it, but I admit I was surprised to hear him say they might decide to leave their church and come over to North Point once I become the pastor there.”

  During my first year at Georgetown, my parents had started attending a church near our house—something Curtis had encouraged them to do—and after a few months, they told me they’d had a conversion experience like the one Curtis had experienced.

  Now, whenever I visited them, I felt a little bit like the black sheep of the family, especially if the conversation happened to turn to something re
ligious.

  Not long after Curtis had become the pastor at North Point, I’d invited Paige to spend Christmas with me in Columbia so she could meet my parents. While we were there, we went with my parents over to North Point for the church’s Christmas Eve service.

  The church was located north of downtown Columbia on about twenty-five acres. The building itself was a sprawling concrete and steel structure surrounded by several large parking lots.

  Since the church hadn’t been in existence when I was growing up, I was amazed by the size of the building, and Paige was equally impressed by the size of the congregation.

  Of course, any successful endeavor always tended to get Paige’s attention.

  * * * *

  Now, as I drove over to the west side of the church property where the church offices were located, I was surprised to see about fifteen cars in the parking lot, even though it was only eight o’clock in the morning.

  I spotted Curtis’s Buick Enclave, so I figured he was inside. However, I didn’t want to disturb him if he were conducting some kind of service, so I began second-guessing myself about whether I should have shown up at the church without calling him first.

  Curtis’s car was parked between a van with WEE Photography on the side and a pickup truck from Stockton Electric Company, and when I noticed a man in overalls getting out of the pickup carrying a tool kit, I decided the cars in the parking lot must belong to staff members or people having business at the church, so I got out of my SUV and followed the electrician inside.

  After entering the main doors on the west side of the church where the offices were located, I followed the electrician into a glass-enclosed reception area.

  It reminded me of a waiting room in a lawyer’s office.

  While the electrician was speaking to an attractive woman behind the front desk, I walked over and looked at a directory listing the church staff and the location of their offices.

  Besides Curtis Grey, Senior Pastor, there were eight other staff members, plus several assistants listed.

  When I noticed Curtis’s office was located on the second floor and not on the ground floor, I decided I wouldn’t bother the receptionist, and I’d find his office myself.

  Before I had a chance to implement this plan, the electrician finished up with the receptionist and headed out the door.

  “Can I help you, sir?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’m here to see the Senior Pastor,” I said, pointing up at the directory, “but I’m pretty sure I can find his office myself.”

  She nodded. “It’s the first office at the top of the stairs.” She glanced over at her computer where an online calendar was displayed. “Do you have an appointment?”

  I walked over to her desk. “No, I just wanted to stop in and say hello. I’m his—”

  “The pastor meets with the ministerial staff for prayer at eight o’clock,” she said, still looking at the calendar, “but if you wanted to wait around here a few minutes, I’m sure he could see you then.”

  She picked up an index card and glanced at it for a second. “According to Dee’s notes, the prayer meetings don’t last for more than fifteen minutes.” She put the card down and smiled. “Pastor Curtis doesn’t believe in long prayers.”

  She had a nice smile.

  “Who’s Dee?” I asked.

  “She’s the regular receptionist, but she’s on vacation this week, and I’m filling in for her. If you’re a member here, I’m sure Dee would know your name. She knows everyone’s name.”

  “She wouldn’t know my name. I’m not a member here.” I pulled out one of my business cards and handed it to her.

  “I’m Mylas Grey. Curtis is my brother.”

  She laughed a little. “Well then, you probably don’t need an appointment to see him.”

  She barely looked at my card.

  Instead, she laid it aside and offered me her hand. “I’m Whitney Engel. As you can probably tell, taking care of an office isn’t my usual gig.”

  I shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Whitney. What’s your usual gig?”

  “I’m a photographer. When they announced on Sunday they needed someone to sit at the front desk, I knew my schedule was free today so I signed up.”

  She shook her head. “It’s probably a good thing my schedule’s packed the rest of the week or they might have already fired me. I’ve had two phone calls this morning, and both times I’ve had to tell the person I didn’t have the information they wanted.”

  I gestured out at the parking lot. “I believe I saw your van in the parking lot. Are you WEE Photography?”

  “That’s me. My specialty is babies and kids, and it just so happens my initials are W. E. E. How beautiful is that?”

  “Very beautiful.”

  Beautiful was also a word I would use to describe Whitney.

  I couldn’t pinpoint any particular attribute that made her so attractive, although her expressive hazel eyes were certainly a factor.

  Her eyes complemented her light brown hair, which was of medium length and had a tousled look to it. Her other features included a short upturned nose, high cheekbones, and a beautiful smile.

  When she smiled, her whole face seemed to light up.

  At that moment, the phone rang, and when she answered it, I saw her pick up my business card and take a look at it.

  After she hung up, she said, “You live in Washington, D.C.?”

  “That’s right. I had no idea I’d be here in Columbia until yesterday, so unless my father told him, Curtis doesn’t even know I’m in town.”

  “Are you here on a family emergency?”

  “In a manner of speaking, but it doesn’t involve my family.”

  “That sounds intriguing.”

  I realized I’d walked right into that one. I was usually careful about what I said to people when I was investigating someone, and I wasn’t in the habit of giving out hints about what I was doing.

  I blamed my carelessness on the way Whitney seemed to focus in on my face as she was speaking to me, studying my features as if she were memorizing the details.

  I found her scrutiny a little unnerving, but then I realized it could be a technique she used to engage a subject before photographing them.

  I smiled and said, “If I wasn’t sworn to secrecy, I’d be happy to share all the particulars with you.”

  “I do love a good mystery.”

  “So do I, and I’ve been standing here trying to figure out what your middle name might be. Would you mind telling me?”

  She hesitated a second, but then she grinned and said, “It’s Eloise. My parents named me after my two grandmothers. My full name is Whitney Eloise Engel.”

  She glanced up at a clock on the wall. “Pastor Curtis should be available now. Do you want me to announce you, or would you rather surprise him?”

  “Why don’t I surprise him?”

  She nodded. “There’s nothing like a surprise to brighten someone’s day, especially if it’s a good one.”

  I started to tell Whitney she’d certainly brightened my day, but I thought that sounded a little corny.

  Besides, I didn’t want her to think I was flirting with her.

  Chapter 9

  I had no difficulty finding Curtis’s office. I just took the elevator up to the second floor and entered the first office suite on my left as I got off the elevator.

  The door opened into a reception area where an older woman was seated behind a desk typing on a computer.

  When I told her I was Curtis’s brother, she smiled and pointed over to a door with Senior Pastor on the nameplate. There was a long narrow piece of clear glass in the door just above the doorknob, and before I knocked on the door, I glanced inside.

  Curtis was reclining in his office chair with both legs propped up on his desk reading some kind of document.

  Although both Curtis and I had inherited my father’s olive complexion and dark brown hair, Curtis’s facial features resembled our mother’s side
of the family—broad forehead, small nose, and rounded chin.

  On the other hand, I’d taken after my father, and my features were more angular with a sharper nose and more pronounced jawline. If anyone ever said Curtis and I looked alike, it was usually because they were commenting on the fact we both had dark brown eyes.

  Curtis raised his head when I rapped on his door a couple of times.

  For a few seconds, he looked puzzled, but then I opened the door and walked in. “Hey, big brother.”

  “Mylas,” he said, tossing his reading material on the desk, “what are you doing here?”

  After he came around the side of his desk and gave me a hug, I said, “I just came by to see what kind of trouble you were getting yourself into.”

  He pointed at the papers on his desk. “I could be getting myself into a bunch of trouble if I implement the changes I’d like to make around here.”

  “What kind of changes?”

  “For one thing, our congregation needs to be more involved in our community, especially with feeding the hungry and providing shelter for the homeless.”

  “Yeah, that’s always a good PR move.”

  He smiled. “Not to mention it’s an important Biblical teaching.”

  “There’s that, of course.”

  He pointed over to the opposite side of the room where there was a small seating area with a couple of chairs and a couch. “Have a seat, and then you can tell me why you’re really here.”

  When I sat down on the leather couch, he said, “I’m sorry, Mylas. I should have offered you a cup of coffee. Would you like one? There’s a coffee machine just outside my office.”

  “No, I’m good. I drank several cups at the hotel this morning.”

  After grabbing his coffee mug from his desk, Curtis sat down in an upholstered chair next to the couch.

  “You’re staying at a hotel? Why aren’t you staying with Mom and Dad?”

  “I’m here on business. Senator Allen has me booked into the Broadway Hilton downtown.”