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heat,” Sister Betty replied through her chattering false teeth. “The vision God gave to you to purchase and build on those ten acres will bring a lot of good to a lot of folk. I’m proud of you for following God’s lead. It’s a big responsibility for a young pastor.”
    The Reverend Leotis Tom ignored his shivering and smiled, nodding his head in agreement. “Never had I imagined, at the age of thirty-three when I started pastoring, that God would show so much favor.”
    â€œYes, indeed. That’s what I was trying to remind you about last night when you were talking all crazy like somebody with no faith.” Sister Betty chuckled. “But I guess if God used David when he was a kid to slay a giant”—she shifted her Bible in her lap—“I guess even with the smell of Similac baby Christian milk still on your pastoring breath, He can use you, too.
    â€œOkay, I know you’re excited . . .” Her lips fluttered from the cold and that made it hard to keep her false teeth from falling out. She couldn’t even finish the sentence before he butted in.
    The reverend shivered just slightly, but it wasn’t from the cold. He blurted, “Sister Betty, isn’t it wonderful to just feel the presence of the Lord all over this land?”
    Sister Betty nodded her head in agreement, then murmured, “I’d like to feel Him, but I’m frozen.” She would have said something more but her teeth and lips seemed frozen.
    The reverend finally rolled up the window with the image of Crossing Over Sanctuary fading behind them. He turned toward Sister Betty and confessed, “I haven’t told you everything.”
    â€œOh really . . .” she whispered.
    â€œYes, I’m afraid I wasn’t as forthcoming as I should’ve been. When it appeared yesterday that anarchy would topple the church and me, well, I didn’t bother to finish spreading the bad news to the congregation.”
    â€œLet me guess,” Sister Betty replied through clenched teeth that’d finally warmed a little. “No one in the congregation knows we have until Christmas for a miracle to happen.”
    â€œNo ma’am, they don’t.”
    â€œAnd of course, you know that I know there’s something else you haven’t told me either. I always know when you’re trying to spare my nerves.”
    He didn’t question how she’d known. As usual, she’d trumped him. At that moment, how she knew and what she knew didn’t matter. She knew.
    Warmed up enough to allow her frozen lips to part, Sister Betty turned toward the reverend. “Now listen, son . . .”
    She called him son. That meant despite everything that had gone down in the past ten minutes, she was about to nail his butt to the wall. Of course, she’d do it respectfully. After all, he was still her pastor.
    â€œStop acting like I don’t know that the payments on the Promised Land are almost three months late,” she said sternly.
    She watched his face cringe and tried to soften her rebuke. “At least Crossing Over ain’t got a mortgage to worry about and its taxes are up to date.” She reached over and tapped him on his shoulder. The move caused him to jerk around and face her. “I’m proud that you’ve stepped up to the plate and that you’ve been secretly returning half your salary back into the church’s bank account.”
    Reverend Tom’s jaw gaped. He was about to explain why he’d not shared that part with her, but she quickly shifted her Bible again, and pointed it toward him.
    â€œI ain’t blind either. I can see even with all the fundraisers and soul revivals we’ve held that more folks are leaving the Crossing Over Sanctuary, and even quicker during the past year and a half.”
    The reverend should’ve felt relieved that he wouldn’t have to continue to carry the burden and keep it from her.