And the Widow Wore Red: A Novel

Copyright © 2013 Lynette Chambers and Janice Lee.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

Unless otherwise indicated, Bible quotations are taken from the King James Bible.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-1991-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-1992-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013922799

WestBow Press rev. date: 1/2/2014

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Scripture

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

About The Authors

Dedication

Lynette and Janice dedicate And the Widow Wore Red to their husbands, Dr. Jim Chambers and Arlis Lee. It is through the love and encouragement of these two men that they have exceeded their own expectations.

"Thank you, Jim and Arlis, for believing in us."

Acknowledgements

To our heavenly Father, we thank you for the great favor you have given us in the writing of this book. We wish always to give you the glory!

Special thanks go to each person who has taken the time to proofread our manuscript. And the Widow Wore Red would not be what it is today without your careful attention to detail and your thoughtful feedback. We appreciate each of you more than mere words can say!

Scripture

¹ Jesus went unto the mount of Olives.

² And early in the morning he came again into the temple, and all the people came unto him; and he sat down, and taught them. ³ And the scribes and Pharisees brought unto him a woman taken in adultery; and when they had set her in the midst, ⁴ They say unto him, Master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act. ⁵ Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou?

⁶ This they said, tempting him, that they might have to accuse him. But Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground, as though he heard them not. ⁷ So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her. ⁸ And again he stooped down, and wrote on the ground. ⁹ And they which heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, went out one by one, beginning at the eldest, even unto the last: and Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst.

¹⁰ When Jesus had lifted up himself, and saw none but the woman, he said unto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee? ¹¹ She said, No man, Lord. And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more. John 8:1-11 KJV

Prologue

E asing back in the worn out old rocker on the vine covered front porch, he settled in to tell me the tale that weighed heavy on his mind. I had come to him with my questions, hoping to find the truth of a story I’d ran across while doing research for my thesis on churches in the region. I waited patiently for the aging Southern gentleman to begin his rendition of what had occurred in his own backyard. The sweet smell of magnolia blossoms wafted in the sultry air of the warm Mississippi night as he began his story.

"I’m an old man now, but it don’t seem like all that many years back when I wrestled with a situation what made my blood run plumb cold. It came about when my wife was still alive and we’d sit out here on the porch of an evening. Musta been nigh onto ten years ago now, or somewhere thereabouts. Our next-door neighbor was a preacher man. He sure did think he was something else, I can tell ya that.

My ole daddy always said that success can be a mighty wonderful thing if you keep it in line, and handle it right careful. But if ya don’t, disaster will be right there on yer doorstep awaitin’ on ya. And that’s just what was waitin on that young preacher man, I reckon.

Most folk around here felt like he got his just desserts. Nevertheless, in an odd sort of way, me and my wife couldn’t help but feel sad for what come about…."

Chapter One

T he courtroom was packed. There was standing room only with reporters everywhere. The judge was announced and had taken his seat; when the doors in the back of the room swung silently open. A tall, strikingly beautiful, woman in her early forties walked confidently through.

The woman’s head was held high, with a tumble of dark hair cascading down her back; rippling with her movements like a waterfall. Her shoulders were straight and she walked with surety and grace as she moved into view. The close fitting red dress, which she wore with extreme elegance, swirled gently around her knees as she stepped forward. The Prada shoes on her slim feet seemed as if they had been made especially for her. She wore a simple gold wedding ring on her left hand and small gold hoops in her ears. There was nothing else in the line of jewelry. Her pale, flawless, skin glowed like creamy silk as it contrasted with the claret color of the dress.

Moving slowly down the aisle toward the front of the room, she looked neither to her left, nor to her right. She simply ignored the hundreds of eyes glued to her from every side. Not a sound was made as she stepped into the front row and took her seat. The silence was so profound one could have literally heard a pin drop. There wasn’t a person in the room who didn’t recognize Mrs. Gillian McKinley.

Clearing his throat, Judge Blackstone shuffled the papers in front of him. Raising his eyes toward the crowded room, he surveyed the entire assembly for several long moments before proceeding with his usual brusque opening remarks. As an extra step of precaution, he reminded the reporters clustered around the room that his courtroom was a place of decorum. He stressed that he would absolutely not, under any circumstances, allow these proceedings to be turned into a three-ring circus.

Looking over his spectacles at the numerous attorneys arrayed across the front of the courtroom, like so many hungry black crows on a highline wire, he scowled. Finally, he spoke directly to them. Gentlemen, are you ready?

Looking back and forth at one another, the counsel all nodded in agreement. In one accord, they began sounding off various forms of grunts and words of verbal confirmation.

Fine, then, the judge stated. Turning to the jury he asked, Mr. Foreman, has the jury reached their verdict?

The foreman stood, clearing his throat nervously, We have, your honor.

To anyone watching, the beautiful woman sitting there appeared to be the picture of poise and self-confidence. However, nothing could have been further from the truth. As the room seemed to swirl around her in an eerie fog of unreality, Gillian dug her fingernails sharply into the palms of her hands to keep herself from passing out.

Voices echoed in Gillian’s head that were not those of the people in the courtroom with her. They were voices from times past; voices that played relentlessly in her head over and over again, as if by their persistence they could change the course of history. Trying vainly to pay attention to the court proceedings, Gillian felt her mind floating back in time. Back to the beginning of the end.

As the courtroom and people around her faded to nothingness, Gillian found herself reliving the past. Feeling as if she was having an out of body experience, she hung on by a thread. Memories of all the hurt, pain, and humiliation that had gone on over the years seemed to accumulate in this final moment of waiting.

Sometimes, intuition is the only thing a woman has to go on. And, sometimes, intuition is right. "Time and time alone will prove the truth to be what it is." Gillian thought.

She remembered knowing of her husband’s infidelities; which she could never quite prove, but that had been flaunted in her face over and over again. She recalled the disillusioned, heartbroken woman she had become. Words echoed in her heart, which had been thrown at her from the lips of the man she’d once adored; him accusing her that her suspicions were all in her mind. He had insisted that she was just jealous, that she must be the one having the affair otherwise why would she be blaming him. The sad thing was this had been going on for years. God, in His infinite grace and mercy alone, had been her salvation, eventually. Nevertheless, it broke her heart that it had all come to pass as it had.

Gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and massaging her temple with the tips of her fingers, Gillian’s mind reeled as the memories continued to come crashing in.

Even before that tragic evening, she had known in her heart that her husband was again having an affair. There were so many signs one