Mr. Mercer drove down the road at a steady pace while conversing back and forth with Deacon Hawthorne who was seated in the front while Lynnette, Isaac and Isaiah were all packed in the back seat of the car. The deacon's bald, light skinned head bobbed up and down, agreeing with just about everything that Mr. Mercer was mentioning about the book of Galatians, while Isaac kept his attention solely at the passing scenery outside his window.

He had hardly said a single word ever since leaving church earlier; he didn't even acknowledge his own son when he reached out for him to be picked up into his arms. Isaac's head was elsewhere that cloudy afternoon.

Light flurries rained down from the sky, making it look like a complete whiteout, even though not one flake seemed to be sticking to the ground. With every building that passed, Isaac's stomach growled even more loud and irate.

"Uh oh," Deacon Hawthorne said, "sounds like someone didn't eat breakfast this morning."

"That boy always eats breakfast." Mr. Mercer giggled. "I can't imagine why he would be so hungry now."

Isaac could tell that his menacing silence was causing a bitter chill in the backseat. Even though he didn't want to look at her, Isaac could feel Lynnette's eyes pierce his flesh.

"Pastor Mercer," Lynnette all of the suddenly called out.

"Yes, ma'am," Mr. Mercer replied.

"Your son here told me a very interesting story about you the other night."

As if someone had clocked him over the head, Isaac awoke from his deep spell and stared peculiarly at Lynnette.

"He told me that you once were a pimp and a drug dealer before you became a pastor."

"Oh, did he now?" Mr. Mercer amazingly

I'm having a very hard time

me. I was into a lot of mess back then. Then I met Mrs. Mercer, and well...let's just say that the Lord brings us special people to save our

"Amen, she surely was." Deacon

"I see,"

then after all that, Isaac

"Yes...the end." Mr. Mercer laughed

Everyone inside the car, including Isaac, joined in

people." Isaac smirked. "You even got my own son laughing at me." He looked down and over at Isaiah who was grinning from ear to ear in his winter coat

alright with me. But we'd better get some gas or

chimed along with the ringing that the black, rubber hose made when

the baby doing that, too?"

"Yes, sir," Lynnette replied. "He always does that every time we stop at the filling station. I think it's

"I'll pump for you, dad." Isaac said while zipping up his

Mr. Mercer complied as he reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet and handed Isaac a

man, smoking a cigarette caught his attention. For some odd reason Isaac couldn't seem to take his eyes off of the man;

Isaac continued to walk before a face inexplicably flashed before his eyes. It was the face of a man, a light-skinned, young man that

black man warned as

more to the line where five other people were already standing, who instead of wanting to buy gasoline, only

shorter than Isaac. The lady was wearing an autumn orange and

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