Family Thang

Начало книги

Reverend Stanley Lucious Walker stood inside his church, Greater Paradise, admiring the magnificent interior, his magnificent interior. Filigreed cornices, hand-painted moldings, polychrome stained glass windows, ornate wainscotings, mahogany pews with handcrafted ends and blue velvet seat cushions.

He enjoyed telling people he built this church with his bare hands. Actually, he’d glimpsed the floor plan and once, only once, picked up a hammer and banged a few nails. God had inspired him that day.

Yet today he felt he had defiled his church and himself. He considered genuflecting before the gold cross inlaid in the black marble pulpit and asking for forgiveness. Instead he closed his eyes and prayed silently.

“Who knew?”

A poor excuse, he thought, if today’s event took a bad turn. A very poor excuse!

Two days ago, Ida Harris, a friend of an infrequent parishioner, visited his office and requested the use of his church for her husband’s funeral. Of course he’d declined. She and her husband were not church members.

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