Saints and Heathens

Tears gathered in her eyes, "I didn't wear panties because I didn't want a panty line you jerk, not for any other reason. But now that I know how you think of me, I'll go." she finished.

Mysha glared at him. She knew what the church people thought of her, but she thought Clay was different. He seemed to be just like the rest. This revelation hurt worse than ever, because for some reason, she really liked him.

She'd heard enough. When you learned that the one person you thought you could trust saw you as a little more than a hooker, it was time to cut your losses. Turning she headed for the door, she would not even look at him. "I'm sorry Pastor Richards. I promise not to darken your door again." She stated as she fought back the tears that were threatening to fall rolled down her face.

"Mysha wait, we need to talk." Clay called as she rushed out of his backdoor. He realized that he'd hurt her and needed to fix the situation.

However, Mysha had heard all she needed to hear and didn't want to talk to him at the moment.

Rushing across the street, castigating herself the entire time. Why did I even think he would see me differently? He was just being nice, and I ruined it. I am an idiot. She fumed.

Locking herself in her home, Mysha refused to go outside. After crying for a few hours, she made a decision; she would make changes in her life for herself. The town of Gospel was too small filled with people who were narrow minded hypocrites. She'd find a place where she fit.

A few weeks passed and he saw very little of her. He'd tried to catch her in the mornings as she left for work, but she would leave earlier. On weekends, she'd leave home just to avoid him. Finally, fed up; he went to the coffee shop and was told that she'd quit a week earlier.

Clay finally decided to just go to her house and talk to her.

"Mysha, I know you're home. Please let me in. Come on, talk to me." Clay pleaded at her door one Tuesday afternoon.

Mysha did not respond. She was too embarrassed to face him. She'd thrown herself at him and he thought she was promiscuous.

Closing her eyes, Mysha fought back the tears. True, she was not a virgin, but she'd only been with one man, her boyfriend in high school. To know what he thought of her cut her deeply. And she could not face him now. Not without falling apart, which she refused to do in his presence.

Blam, Blam, Blam! Clay continued knocking. "Mysha please, talk to me." He pleaded.

Mysha did not move from her seat on her kitchen floor. She could not face him, hear another apology from him. He was not and could never be hers. That's what hurt the most. With a broken heart and crushed spirit, Mysha made the only choice she believed she had left, she'd move away.

Sobbing quietly, with that decision made, she wrote her letter for lease termination and pulled the realty section of the paper to see what was available in the city.

She found three promising prospects and called. She then made arrangements to travel to the city to view the properties. Mysha called her two jobs, and requested the time off for the next day.

Wednesday morning, she rose early to catch the bus to the city. Clay noticed that she didn't catch her usual bus, and was alarmed. He sensed something was wrong, but he had to get to his job. He'd try and talk to her again tonight. Honestly, he missed talking with her. All he could think about was her: her smile, her laugh, her sweet nature, her taste. Yes, he could still taste her essence.

He regretted his loose woman comment, but the was nothing he could do to retract it. She took it the wrong way and thought he was talking about her, but he wasn't. Well, not really.

It didn't matter anyway. He wanted her back, her friendship, her closeness. He'd do anything to win back her favor, but first she had to talk to him. He had to get her to talk to him.

The weekend for the first annual youth summit arrived. Clay was obligated to be there, so his missed a chance to talk to Mysha this time. Everyone from the community was there. Everyone, except her, the one he wanted more than anything.

The activities lasted all day and when Clay made it home he was exhausted. However, he still walked over to Mysha's house to talk to her. Again, she was not home. Dropping his head and feeling dejected, Clay walked back to his house.

Another week passed and Clay and Mysha kept missing each other. Looking out of his window on Saturday morning, he saw a rental car in her yard. Clay's heart pounded because he felt something just wasn't right. Mysha always took the bus, why was there a car, a rental no less, in her yard. Before he realized it, he was standing on her porch.

He knocked on her door and Mysha called for him to come in. When he entered the house, he was taken aback by the commotion going on in her house. Mysha was leaving. Her entire home was packed.

She looked up into the eyes of her neighbor as her heart broke because she knew she could never be with him. Taking a deep breath, Mysha forced herself to be cheerful and smile at her neighbor. The one man she was ever attracted to as he stood in her foyer confused and questioning her about what she was doing.

Putting on a brave face, Mysha smiled thinking.Damn, him. Will I ever get over him?

"Mysha, what's going on here?" Clay asked clearly confused. She's leaving. She's going to leave me. I can't let her go. Clay shivered as these thought raced through his mind.

He knew she'd taken what he said harshly, but it didn't warrant her moving away.

"What does it look like Pastor? I'm moving. The new tenants will be moving here in two weeks. I'm sure they will probably be respectful God fearing neighbors for you. You don't need a slut living across the street from you." Mysha concluded as she turned away and finished taping her boxes.

"Mysha, listen to me. I apologize. I'm sorry. I don't think you're a slut. Please let me explain." He pleaded.

"There is nothing to explain, you made your thoughts clear when you said I have no morals." She looked at him and for a second he saw the pain she fought to keep hidden. "It's alright Clay. It's like I've always been told, I don't belong near... I finally get it." She then turned to finish packing.

Clay was clearly confused and angry. He didn't want her to go away. "Mysha, what are you talking about? Please listen to me for a moment." Cupping her cheek, he looked deeply into her eyes and willed her to listen.

"I wanted you that night. I could have stopped, but I didn't. Honestly, I was more upset with myself than I was with you. Do you understand how you affect a man? You spread your thighs and I saw you. It's been ten years Mysha, ten years since I felt, smelt, or even tasted a woman. Ten years since I've been with anyone." Clay explained.

She looked at him thinking, You said I had no morals, simply because I went commando.

"That's alright, Clay. You're not the only one that thinks I'm a slut." She said softly. "I see the way your members look at me. I know they don't like it when you talk to me. I wanted you that night. I needed you to touch me, in more ways than one."

"Mysha, please" Clay whispered full of despair. "I never called you that. It's not fair that you keep saying I did. Just, don't leave. I am a pastor, but I am also a man. I care about you Mysha, please don't go. Give me a chance to know the real you."

"No, I can't stay because..." sighing longing to give in to his plea, "I just can't Clay. I'm moving into my new place today and moving on with my life. I'm just waiting on the truck." Mysha whispered.

Incensed, Clay lashed out at her causing her to flinch. "You pretend that you are so tough and what people think doesn't matter. But that's a lie, isn't it Mysha. You're a coward. You won't even give me a chance, give us a chance. You're running away."

Mysha stopped packing and looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "You know everything, right Clay. So I guess you're right. Maybe I am a coward. I've lived here for years, and put up with the holy-rollers in your church. I've spent years listening to their snide remarks about me. Years ago, I actually tried to attend your church."

"First Lady Black and your Precious Mother Thomas ended that foolishness, when they ..., never mind." Mysha stopped to wipe away her tears that escaped and slowly cascaded down her puffy brown cheeks as she refocused on him.

"I saw you when you moved in and I thought you were different, but you're not. You're just as judgmental and prejudiced as the rest of them." She said sadly.

Clay's heart shattered into a million pieces. He really liked this girl. He knew she didn't go to church. He never knew why. To find out how she'd been ill-treated by some of the people from his church, was devastating for him.

"Mysha, I'm sorry you were mistreated and that I hurt your feelings that night, but I don't want you to go." Clay whispered. Many people would frown on him becoming involved with her, but a part of him didn't like the thought of her moving away.

Mysha stopped moving for a moment. "Do you think this is easy for me? Do you really believe I want to walk away from you?"

Inhaling deeply, she continued, heart pounding, nervous, "You are the only man I've ever truly wanted and I can't have you. I'm not good for you. You deserve a woman who can stand beside you and have you be honored that she's there."

"Mysha, if I wasn't a preacher, would you give me a chance? If I was just a regular guy, would you really get to know me?" Clay asked as his heart pounded in his chest. "If I resigned as pastor from the church, would you stay with me? Move in with me?" Clay whispered.

"Clay, don't ask that of me. You are a minister, a pastor nonetheless. How can you even ask me that?" The tears fell as she spoke. "I won't compete with the church. Mainly because I'll never fit in there, so I wish you the best, but I'm out."

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her close and buried his face in her stomach and sobbed. "I can't let you leave me, Mysha. You see, I believe .... There has to be a way to fix this." Clay sobbed softly, heartbroken at the thought of her leaving.

"Clay, get up. Don't do this. You know are the pastor of the church. You also know that and I am not the type of woman that your parishioners will accept." Mysha sighed.

"So please, stop. Get up, I mean it. Clay. Get up!"she commanded.

Mysha heard the movers pull up. "Mysha" Clay whispered pain so intense he that it laced his voice, "Do you feel anything at all for me? I thought ..."

Mysha looked at him as he kneeled before her. Her heart shattered. She felt as if nothing mattered anymore because she had to walk away from this man.

"Clay," she stroked his cheek and ran her fingers through his beautiful blond hair, "you have no idea what you mean to me but I'm not good for you, so I have to go." Mysha explained as she gently moved away from him.

The moving truck arrived and the moving men came in and started loading her things. Clay helped them pack the truck, even though he was devastated.

He looked at her one last time and issued his final plea, "Mysha, I don't want you to go. I need you Mysha. I need you here, Mysha. Please, don't go."

Stroking his cheek once more, Mysha gently kissed his forehead. Finally, it was time for her to drive away.

"Mysha, can you tell me where you are going? Please, give me your phone number, or something. I want to call and check on you." Clay said his face red and flushed covered with tears he refused to hide.

Mysha looked at him with tears streaming down her dark chocolate cheeks. "Clay, I think we need a clean break. You've been a good friend and great neighbor. But I can't stay friends with you. It's too confusing. Goodbye, Clay. Be happy, you deserve it." Then she drove off.

Clay went back to his house and collapsed. He questioned God in his infinite wisdom, yelled at the fates, and in essence cursed his fated existence. But in the end, he ended up curled into a tight ball sobbing his heart out for a love that would never be. Finally, he prayed that God would keep Mysha safe and protected.

Months passed and Clay seemed to simply exist. He went to work, preached, helped people when asked, but his heart was not really into the things he did.

Deacon Jones and Mother Williams talked daily as they both saw how lonely the young minister was and felt bad for him. The Friends and Family day service was coming up, and the elder members were excited.

This service promised to be more successful than the last one because with the increase in membership, more people were expected to come. This year they made sure to invite all of the people in the community.

It was scheduled to take place in two weeks. Clay congratulated the seniors on their determination and drive in organizing the event. Although he smiles when he congratulated him, the smile never reached his eyes.

Both elder members notice that the pastor had become withdrawn. He was short with people and seemed simply unhappy. Mother Williams realized she hadn't seen him at the coffee shop in months. She also realized that girl didn't work their anymore.

She decided to get to the root of the problem and invite her to the service in an effort to see if she was the cause of Pastor Richard's ill moods. Mother Williams knew the girl lived across the street from him, so finding her house was no problem. Her plan was to extend her a personal invitation, and this time she wouldn't let her refuse.

Later that morning accompanied by two other church members, she went to Mysha's house to invite her personally to the summit.

They approached the door and heard children which confused Mother Williams for a moment. When Mother Williams rang the doorbell, there newest church member opened the door and greeted them warmly.

She was taken aback. When did Mysha leave? Where did she go? That explains a lot. She had watched Pastor Clay, when Mysha was around. He smiled more, was more relaxed, but now, he didn't smile at all, not really. He always seemed so sad and lonely. She wished she could fix this.

She called Deacon Jones and relayed what she'd discovered that afternoon.

Deacon Jones talked with her and listened, but when asked to approach the pastor, he refused. Although he could emphasize with the young minister, he tried to stay out of people's personal business.

A couple of more months had passed and it was clear that Pastor Richards was not happy. Several of the young women in his congregation, vied for his attention. They would prepare meals and bring the food to his house.

Clay was never cruel, but he politely refused their advances and pointed them in the direction of other young men in the congregation that would be enamored by their attentions.

Because of his actions, he would be officiating four different wedding in the spring.

Clay kept himself busy, with his work, and several pet projects he'd started. During the day, he didn't think about her as much.

But in the evenings, when he was home alone, Mysha dominated his thoughts. Her absence caused him pain.Where is she? What is she doing? Is she dating anyone?He'd wonder.

Several more months had passed, and she still missed him. She wondered Does he think about me? Does he miss me? At night, Clay monopolized her dreams. She had gotten to the point where she could think about him without her heart exploding in pain. She knew a relationship between them would never be.

Mysha decided to get over Clay by focusing on something else. She started classes, worked a new job that she liked, and volunteered at a local community youth group in her new neighborhood.

A gorgeous six feet tall, blond haired gray eyed minister was the last thing she allowed herself to think about.

She figured, by now, he'd found a nice girl in his church that everyone approved of. He probably forgot she ever existed.

One night, while working an extra shift at the restaurant, a good looking guy waited to get Mysha's attention. Once her shift ended, the young man approached her and asked her out.

At first she started to refuse, but then decided to accept. Greg was a really nice guy: a junior in college, majoring in computer sciences, and a star player on the basketball team.

Mysha and Greg dated for a few months, but she still thought about Clay. Being with Greg helped, it gave her something else to focus on. Mysha attended all of Greg's games, cheering the loudest when he scored. Greg waited for her at her jobs late at night so she never had to travel home alone. He never pressured her, and their relationship developed slowly.

One night, Greg was at her apartment. They were watching a movie and spending time together. Mysha felt they needed to go to another step in their relationship, so she kissed him.

Greg held her close and returned her kiss. He slid his hands under her t-shirt so that he could touch her skin. Mysha reveled in the feel of a man' s hands on her body.

She groaned. She closed her eyes and in her mind it was Clay about to make love to her. Clay was kissing her, holding her, making her feel so good. Before she realized it she whispered three words in his ear. "Clay I love you."

Greg froze, "Who is Clay and why did you call me his name?"

Mysha was mortified. "Greg, I am so sorry. Clay was, is... It's hard to explain, but I really cared about him. I thought I was over him. I am sorry."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Greg asked.

Mysha unloaded. She told him everything and how he asked her not to leave.

Greg listened. Then he asked her a question, one she didn't think about. "How do you know you were not supposed to be with him? He chose you and his boss is God, maybe, just maybe God chose you for him?"

"Seriously, Greg, I told you what he thought of me. Come on!" Mysha grumbled.

"Hmmm, let's see. You went out clubbing, commando, I might add. Then you basically tried to rape the guy and then got pissed when he told you what he thought after you asked him." Greg paused.

"Am I right? Girl, it's been months and you're still thinking about him. Call him." He chuckled. In all honesty, Greg was a little disappointed, but he felt that they would make better friends.

"What am I supposed to do, just call him and say, Hey, Clay. It's me Mysha. We need to talk. Come on, Greg. It's been months since I moved. He might not even remember me." she complained.

"Mysha, as your friend, I think you should call him. You didn't give him you number or address so he can't call you. I'll even sit with you while you dial, promise." Greg advised pushing her playfully.

"Greg, thanks for letting me vent tonight. I'm sorry I led you on." She apologized.

"Mysha, you are my friend. Now, call and try to talk to him. Even if he has moved on, at least you can find closure. Don't be scared. I'm sitting right here." Greg asked.

Mysha picked up her phone and dialed a familiar number. The phone rang, then a voice she'd never forget answered.

"Hello, Pastor Clay Richards, may I ask whose calling?" Clay answered. A number appeared on caller ID, but no name appeared with it. Mysha's heart pounded into her chest. She had to remind herself to breathe.

"Hi, Clay it's me, Mys-" he cut her off.

"Mysha, Mysha," Clay whispered, elated to hear her voice as his heart slammed in his chest. "Where are you? How are you? Mysha?"

"Hey, I'm going home now. Call me later?" Greg told her as he gave her a quick hug as he was leaving. Mysha nodded and waved bye to her friend.

"Who was that? Is there a man there with you?" Clay asked, jealously rearing its ugly head.

"No, he's the reason I got the courage to call. He just left." Mysha answered.

"Oh, listen, where are you? What city? I want to come see you, Mysha." Clay stated not quite comfortable with the thought of another man being near her.