Chapter Two: Peggy and Mark

            "So then, let us not be like others, who are asleep, but let us be alert and self-controlled." 1 Thessalonians 5:6

            Peggy Baden was sitting at her desk, feet propped up on her wastebasket and thumbing through the latest in fashion magazines. Many found Peggy quite eccentric, and just by looking at her one could see why. Her fingers were laden with rings of different sizes and stones, her glasses were bright red with rhinestones outlining the frames, and her makeup was just as bright and overbearing as her clothing. However, the most peculiar thing about Peggy was the number of crystals hanging from around her neck. These were the center of her being, or so she thought. They provided the balance and strength that she needed in life, especially since after her husband left her.

            The phone rang, and without even glancing up form her magazine, she lifted the receiver to her ear.

"Jessica Hansen's office. How may I help you?"

As the person talked, Peggy barely listened. "No, sir, she will be out of town for the remainder of the week. Yes, I'll be sure to leave a message for her and she'll call you as soon as she returns. You have a good day, sir."

She had been Jessica's secretary since the first promotion and they had become quite close friends despite their obvious differences. It wasn't soon after the last call that the phone started ringing again.

"Jessica Hansen's office."

"Hey, Peg, it's me."

"Jessica! Are you at the airport yet?"

"In the cab. Listen, I need a few documents faxed to the hotel. They're on the disk marked Stonagal and Cothran. I wanted to look over some figures a few more times."

"Sure, no problem. Oh and a Mister Ian Jacobs from Zonder and Ivan. He said he heard some great things about you from that stockbroker you got out of the jam a few months ago."

"Ah, yes, Jason Isaacs. Creepy little bugger."

"Yes, well this one's in a similar jam and figured you'd be able to help him out. He said he'd be willing to pay twice as much as Isaacs."

Jessica's voice perked up. "Wonderful! I'll get back to him as soon as I return from this investment gig."

"So what do these bankers want?"

"As far as I know they're recalling some old loans and need a lawyer. How they got a hold of me, I have yet to figure out."
"International fame and at such a young age, what's a woman to do?" Peggy teased.

"Very funny. Well, just fax those documents over and I'll see you in a few days."

…………………….

Mark Pinnock watched as the last of the youth group ran out to their cars.

'Another day completed, you did it old man!' he thought bitterly. It had been his goal lately to try and make it through the day without anyone knowing the pain tearing at him from inside. He turned as saw Pastor Hansen watching him. Cursing silently, Mark knew he was in for some sort of lecture or another.

Pastor Hansen walked over and slung his arm around the younger man's shoulders.

"You know, Mark, many see talking about their problems as whining or being weak. You should know that if you cannot talk to anyone, or myself you can always talk to God. He already knows your heart and is waiting patiently for you to come to Him. Lay your troubles on Him and He will give you rest."

Mark nodded and plastered a smile on his face. "Thanks, Pastor. I'm fine really, it's just been a rough day."

Pastor Hansen smiled, nodded, and bid the youth pastor a good night. As soon as Mark was left alone, his mask dropped and his face was set in rage.

'Talk to God? To a God who stole away the love of my life? Not very likely! He's the one that created this burden, why would he take it away? He's no God of love, but a God of pain and mistrust.' His inward fuming led him to his car where he sat, his head placed in his hands. He knew his whole life was a lie. Here he was, a youth pastor; guiding young children to walk a path God lay down for them. Mark didn't even know where he stood with God. He was positive that God was someone he thought he knew but had turned out to be very, very wrong.

            Mark peeled into his driveway of his apartment building, ignoring the curious looks of his neighbors. He grabbed his mail and practically ran up the stairs into his apartment. Closing the door behind him, he tossed the mail on a nearby table, not even glancing at them knowing they were all bills he could barely afford anyways. He had never been good with money, but loved owning the best that money could buy. Here he was in Palos Hills, an upper middle class neighborhood, and he topped them all. From his plasma TV to his 2004 Lexus, Mark lived the highlife, or so that was the role he felt he played. Those who knew him well, understood that Mark wanted the best to cover his pain though it never succeeded.

            Taking out a bottle of Scotch, he poured a drink and settled on the couch, turning the TV on. Buck Williams was giving some report on some farming deal or whatever it was; Mark didn't care and quickly changed to some meaningless game show, drinking his problems away.