Bayou Judgment by Robin Caroll Page B

crime, too!
    She leaned against the rough exterior of the center. The Mardi Gras decorations fluttered in the late February breeze. The moon danced across the sky, as if it hadn’t a care in the world.
    Lucky moon.
    After snapping out her request to the driver and closing the phone, Felicia glowered at the announcement of the ball mocking her from the adjacent storefront. With a renewed resentment, she marched across the walkway and snatched the notice from the window, crumbling the paper into a tight wad.
    How did a preacher go to prison? Especially for assault. The mere concept boggled her mind.
    The wind, swirling like black ink in murky water, lifted the hair from her nape. She shivered.
    Forgive and act; deal with each man according to all he does, since you know his heart (for you alone know the hearts of all men).
    Where’d that Scripture come from? Felicia rested her head against the wall. What did it mean? Was the Holy Spirit leading her somewhere?
    The driver pulled to the curb, jumped out and held open the back door. “Everything okay, Ms. Felicia?”
    No, nothing was okay, and she didn’t know if it’d ever be okay again. This was all too much to take. She needed inner peace, spiritual peace. Slipping into the leather seat, she stared at her driver. “Can you take me to church?”
    â€œLagniappe Community?”
    Her church, the one she and Luc had attended with Grandfather for as long as she could remember. But today, her spirit yearned for something different, a change. She shook her head. “No, I’d like to go to Vermilion Parish Fellowship.”
    Spence’s church. How fitting.
    The driver flashed her a confused look before shutting the door, but didn’t argue. Felicia leaned back against the cool leather. This could be a trip in vain. If Spence was at the center, chances were there was no one at the church. Being so small, it might even be locked up. Still, something inside led her to Spence’s church.
    Her cell phone chirped. She glanced at the caller ID. Luc. Great. Just what she didn’t need right now. She pressed the button to send the call directly to voice mail and glanced out the window.
    Even though the grounds were outside the city limits of Lagniappe, the drive to the small community church took less than twenty minutes. But as her anger started to dim, twenty minutes was time enough for Felicia to struggle with the concept of having judged Spence. Without facts, without explanation.
    Nestled in the bayou with cypress trees coated in Spanish moss providing a natural archway, the building had seen its share of elements. Paint cracked and peeled. The concrete steps were weathered and split. The planks creaked as Felicia made her way to the entrance, and a lone glass pane adorned the unlocked white door.
    Wind shoved against her as Felicia yanked on the door, and dry leaves followed her inside to dance over the trodden wood floor of the foyer.
    She hesitated, her heart pounding, and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. A long red carpet led the way to the front, splitting the rows of pews in half. The altar held four lit candles. Flames flickered in the breeze. Felicia eased to the front row and took a seat.
    Wind howled outside, causing the stained-glass windows to tremble. Felicia wrapped her arms around her middle and rocked. Had she become so cynical, so judgmental that she was as harsh as a cold winter wind? Without attention to her legs, she knelt at the altar.
    Time stood still as she conversed with God. Leaning on Him, listening to Him minister to her heart.
    The back door to the church opened with a crash.
    Felicia started and tried to jump to her feet. Her leg muscles locked and she swayed.
    Spence was there in an instant, steadying her. “Whoa. Let’s get you sitting down.” He led her to the pew and sat beside her.
    â€œHow’d you know where I was?”
    He gave her a sheepish grin. “I called