Ten Plagues

“Pastor P, what’s going on?” Paul whirled around to see Rosita standing right behind him. Manny, who’d become her bodyguard the last few days, was at her side.

Paul couldn’t gather his thoughts for a minute. He saw something in Manny’s eyes, a look of understanding. So he’d caught exactly what Paul had been thinking of when he’d leaned toward Keren.

Manny arched a brow at Paul and gave him a smile of brotherhood. “Different rules for you and the lady cop than for me and Rosita, hey, Pastor P?”

“LaToya still hasn’t come out of her coma.” Keren ignored Manny’s comment, all business. “We need to go. Thanks, both of you, for helping.”

Paul thought Keren was walking out, but when she got to Manny, she stopped and stuck her face into his. “Pastor P is having a bad day, so, for a second, he forgot the rules. Forgetting the rules isn’t the same as them being different. I’m going to spend the next hour or so reminding him of the rules, because I never forget them and Rosita’s not going to, either. Then, when I’m done!” She stepped closer.

“Reminding him!” She lifted her chin.

“If he’s still alive!” Her nose almost touched Manny’s and Manny took a step back—smart man.

“He’ll come back here and apologize for acting like a pig, when he’s supposed to be a pastor.”

Manny held her gaze … he was a little braver from three steps away.

Keren said through clenched teeth, “Anything about that you don’t understand, Manny?”

Manny shrugged and said sheepishly, “Sorry, I was out of line.”

Keren turned to Paul. “In the car! Now!” She stormed out of the hospital.

Keren’s temper tantrum shocked Paul out of the strange mood he’d been in pretty much nonstop for the last two days. He couldn’t believe he’d grabbed her like that. He ran his hand over his face, through his hair, and brushed the lines of recently removed stitches. Then he started after her. He was so embarrassed at what Rosita had witnessed, that he knew he had to stop and take whatever humiliation was due him.

He looked, and she only seemed concerned, which was almost worse than if she’d been disgusted. He could lead someone into sin with his behavior.

“I’m sorry, Rosita. This whole mess …” He waved his hand at LaToya’s room and looked at Rosita. Suddenly he realized that she had lived harder and seen more in her life than the most seasoned cop. “Rosie, do you ever relapse? Does it ever get hard to remember you’re a person of faith?”

“It happens, Pastor P,” Rosita said kindly.

“I’ve got to get out of this.” He looked in the direction Keren had gone. “I can’t deal with police work. It brings something out in me that I can’t seem to control. It’s a feeling of … of power, and I love it. It’s like a drug, and I’m high on it right now. I feel smarter than anyone else. I get smug and arrogant. Cocky. I think I’m a better cop than the real cops. I am better. I’m really good at this. But—” He shook his head, trying to clear it. “I need to get back to the Lighthouse.”

“You can’t seal yourself in the mission and hide from the rest of the world,” Rosita said with a gentle smile.

“Can living in a mission be hiding? I would have thought that was life at its toughest.”

“It doesn’t count as tough unless it’s tough for you,” Rosie said simply. “It was like giving up letting guys slap me around. For me that was harder than kicking the crack. Weird, isn’t it?”

All of Paul’s pastoral concern for Rosie flared to life. He watched her closely when he said, “But you did it. No man has slapped you since you found the Lord, has he?” He glanced at Manny.

Manny raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me, man. I’m afraid of her.”

Rosie flashed her thousand-watt smile at Manny. She turned back to Paul. “Manny’s good to me. It’s what I grew up with, watching men knock my mother around. They came after me, too, and so did Mama. It feels like love to me, how sick is that?”

Manny rested a hand on the back of her neck. “It’s not love. You know that, right?”

Nodding, Rosita leaned closer to Manny, and his hand dropped until his arm circled her waist.

Paul wondered if there might be a wedding and they might let him perform it. The idea helped him get a better grip on the humble, faithful side of himself.

“Maybe giving up the power of being a cop wasn’t so easy for you,” Rosita said. “Maybe you’re some kind of adrenaline junky. You just didn’t know it because you cut yourself off from it. And now this case—it’s like falling off the wagon.”

“So what do I do?” Paul really hoped Rosita could tell him.

She took on a glow. “I think it’s the same as drugs and booze, Pastor P. One day at a time. There’s no way out of this mess until it’s over.” Her glow faded and she looked at LaToya’s door. “So you don’t have any choice but to deal with it the best you can. You know, God is letting this unfold, with you in the middle, for a reason. Maybe it’s time you faced your old life.”