In Enid, the sequence of events that had led to the affair had started simply enough. What had led to the climax was anything but simple.
Peter had driven nearly eight hours west from Saint Louis to Enid. In the cargo area - created after the second to fourth rows of seats were folded down - was quite possibly the one key to Felicity Foster Hunter's future. A voice to the outside world.
Although Peter and Ruthie tended to be frugal in their personal living, Rod and Shelby had told them that while amateur radio was and is a fine hobby, it would be pointless unless they were quite serious about it. A fairly simple station setup could be had for nearly two thousand dollars, but taking on the road as Peter and Ruthie were planning to for their road trips required something more robust – and just any equipment would not do, not even what could be had at a radio specialty store. So the couple went through several radio club catalogs and finally ordered, directly from Europe, top grade military style gear at ten times the normal entry price. The instruments were still in their boxes, unopened.
Fifty miles from his destination, Peter made a deliberate turn down a side road. Felicity and Peter's common friend had given special directions, saying it was necessary to make sure no one was following Peter. Peter actually didn't mind even if the directions confused the on board GPS system so much that when it said 'Turn back!' one too many times, he just said 'Fuck off!' and switched the on screen display and audio to that of a satellite radio channel.
Peter finally pulled up to Felicity's place. Since everyone in the neighborhood had seemed to go to a stock car race over the state line in Kansas for the weekend, no one was in sight. Still, just to be sure that no one would know he was there, he sent a text message to Felicity to open up her garage door. This she did by remote control, and after he pulled into the garage the door closed again.
For a full minute, Peter was in the darkness. Uh-oh, he thought. Had this been a trap?
Then there was a knock on the side door. Peter rolled down the window.
"Peter, thank God you're here!" Felicity opened the door, took Peter's hand to help him step out, and gave him a huge hug. She was crying as she embraced him. Peter had been having cybersex with Felicity for nearly three months. But to finally put real faces to each other was overwhelming.
"Felicity," Peter said softly, "Shhhh. It's okay. I had to be here. I couldn't stand that awful excuse for a broadcaster bullying you!" After Felicity calmed down slightly, he added, "I have a lot of stuff here, and I know it's heavy but I need a second set of hands here."
Peter opened the sliding door. Inside were several large storage boxes, the kind used to carry musical instruments and audio gear on concert tours.
"Nothing that I'm not familiar with," smiled Felicity.
After everything had been brought into the safe room, Peter asked Felicity how she was holding up.
"I am not sure how much longer I can hold up," said Felicity. "Years ago I had to live on nothing but meal replacement drinks for a weekend, and now I have had to do so the same but for two and a half weeks. Take a look at me – I'm a mess. And all of my good wardrobes need a wash, but I've run out of detergent too."
"Well, are any of the rest okay?" asked Peter.
"Not anything I'd rather be seen in on video – but what choice am I going to have?"
"We'll do this as a team. Now, what have you said that ticked off the man so much?"
Felicity explained that after graduating in physics from a state university, she then took an unexpected detour. Hired by an online astronomy think-tank, she became intrigued by some books a co-worker brought to work with her. The books were written by a counter-cult group which railed against everything from New Age prophets to self-help gurus. But the greatest heap of scorn fell upon a number of televangelists. Not the vast majority, most of whom were actually accountable to their followers - but about fifty or so who showboated and had the greatest prominence and refused to be audited by any accountant but God, whatever that meant.
Felicity looked up the publisher of the book which in turn was connected to a self-described "parachurch" group, and after a series of inquiries was she hired as a part-time intern. It became a full-time job. She had only been "born again" a year earlier, although she always considered herself a Christian, but with this job she finally began to see some purpose in her life.
A few months later, Felicity had lightning strike for her when the host of the nationally broadcast show run by the group fell so ill that they needed a substitute. The usual substitute hosts were on business, and no one at the office wanted to volunteer. So the staffers drew straws and Felicity lost. She was a nervous wreck and barely managed to walk into the studio, just two minutes before going live.
Finally when she went on air, Felicity read a short statement from the regular host regretting his absence, then she read the daily review of what were the latest stupid statements from the Health and Wealth crowd. Then it was on to listener's questions. Although she answered the questions coherently and with thoughtfulness - and even adding a bit of wit that her boss lacked - she was so soft-spoken in her responses that the executive producer had to turn the microphone all the way up and it was still only just audible.
Finally, one listener who was asking a question about some contradictions within Proverbs said, "Look, Ms Hunter -"
"It's Felicity, please," said Felicity.
"Felicity – either speak up, shut up, or sing!"
Felicity had never been spoken to her like that, ever. Not even by her late parents. She wanted to grab the microphone to fire back, but the sing struck a raw nerve. Out of nowhere, she began singing "Great Is Thy Faithfulness." She was singing it loud, she was singing it pure. And she was singing in a voice so uncommon that the listening audience just stopped. Within two minutes, so many people were calling in that the phone system melted down.
The next six weeks saw Felicity's credentials skyrocket. She felt an incredible swagger in doing the daily rundown and when she next answered questions she did so with authority – even more so than her absent boss. She even made several blue collar style jokes every day about her targets, which endeared her more to the public. But it was her music they wanted to hear. And when she began introducing her own original music which she had written at various times of her life but kept hidden until now, the admiration got even greater. By the end of the six weeks, the somewhat moderately popular program was now the number one religious talk show, and the fourth most popular radio show of any format - period - in America. The live video stream was also picked up by a handful of Christian television networks less belligerent than the one presently tormenting her - and their collective ratings actually managed to make the "Cult Question Hour" displace the other's broadcast, "Grace Is Yours Tonight," in the same time slot, to become the number one show in religious television broadcasting. For the first time in twenty years, the other show was second banana to someone, anyone, in Christian broadcasting.
So, the seed of enmity was sown right there and then.
Felicity's boss, on his return, was so grateful he promoted her to full-time co-host. She accepted and their on-air partnership was masterful, but after a year she felt she had so overshadowed the program that she felt it had to be more about Bible facts again and not her persona. So she decided to go out on her own and start her own show, online. She took out personal articles of incorporation (as Felicity Foster Hunter, Inc.) so that she would keep full rights to her published and unpublished songs as well as her online articles and e-books. Using her former employer's database, which she retained access to, she began doing original research of her own and began to get more and more disturbed at what she was seeing on after hours and Sunday morning television.
It was the one network, however, the one she inadvertently crossed years before, that still made her particularly angry. Started in the nineteen seventies, the cable outlet was on the verge of bankruptcy just a few years later because few if any cable companies would carry it even if they were paid to do so. But it then discovered a legal loophole – that cable companies must carry all locally available over the air channels, even low powered stations, regardless of content. So they would park a satellite dish in a major city, set up a low power transmitter with a range of only a few miles to the cable company's offices, and have the transmitter show only the satellite feed. The must carry rule forced the cable companies to make the signal available to their much larger local footprints, which often extended to a hundred mile circle or even more rather than the ten miles or less of a repeater. By doing this, the network had clearance in ninety-seven percent of markets in the States within ten years. And the money flowed - big time, mostly from people who "supported Israel" but didn't even know where it was. From saps who didn't know who was right in the Middle East. And of course, from those who didn't have Bibles or never bothered to read them, and could therefore be manipulated.
Through her contacts both at her former employer as well as throughout the blogsphere, Felicity found many examples of financial improprieties not just from the network but also from nearly all the ministries it broadcast. Their lavish lifestyles were bad enough, and Felicity was angered so many of their followers saw nothing wrong with it, that they believed that God had 'blessed' the preachers for spreading the word and by 'sowing a seed' they could get that a cut of that blessing as well. Of course, the contributors got poorer, the broadcasters got richer and the vicious circle kept going.
This was old hat.
But the broadcast owner himself took the cake. Renovating his six thousand foot mansion every two years (and the house, which was declared a "parsonage" since the network claimed it was a church, was exempt from property taxes - and therefore, any renovations fully tax deductible). Flying his entourage on four corporate jets, in tandem. Owning a satellite – that is, owning it outright and not just leasing transponders from someone else. Tons of plastic surgery for himself, his wife, and their adult children and in-laws. There were also whispers, never proven, about the couple's extracurricular activities. Jointly and severally. And the other odious parts of the Health and Wealth gospel needed no more criticism than she had already heaped as had others before her.
It was three aspects of the broadcaster's beliefs, though, that drove Felicity over the edge. It had most of her fellow televangelists who, like her, actually practiced what they preached (or tried to at least), mad too and gave all of them a bad name. But one week before the death threat, Felicity finally had enough and she let it rip.
First, earlier on the same day, the man had on his show actually brought on an astrologer who co-related the zodiac and the Twelve Houses to the Bible and many references to the twelve stars. After this audacious statement, the preacher then said this was proof that the zodiac was condoned by God. However, the European Union and the Catholic Church were damned because they used a different constellation of twelve stars – the crown of the Virgin Mary – which actually belonged to Satan.
Felicity was furious at that. She told her listeners that it was a stupid statement at first glance - because why would the mother of the Savior suddenly decide one day to defect and team up with His enemy? Second, any Christian with a brain would know that astrology had nothing to do with the Bible, that the Scriptures condemned oracles. Third, she was an astronomer by training, not an astrologer. She studied stars and she praised God for them, but she did not glean meaning from them. It was up to humans to discern the signs of the times and to take responsibility for the future, but both of those could not and never could be found in the stars. Besides which, the reason the EU had chosen a twelve star flag had nothing to do with Catholicism being the plurality if not majority religion in the trading bloc, nor because the Vatican was the invisible hand behind Brussels.
"Really, guys," scoffed Felicity. "Does every conspiracy theory have to start with the Holy See? No! The number twelve has had important meaning in Europe and the Middle East since the Creation. Twelve means completeness, perfection."
She reeled just some of them off:
Twelve labors of Hercules.
Twelve acts of mercy.
Twelve Houses of Israel.
Twelve Apostles.
Twelve current European monarchies (well, ten real blue bloods in democracies, plus the Vatican which was an elective monarchy, and democratic Andorra which had the President of France and the Bishop of Urgell, Spain, as honorary 'co-princes').
Twelve months of the year.
Twelve gods on Mount Olympus.
Twelve hours each half of the day.
Twelve semitones in a music scale.
Twelve days of Christmas.
Twelve Caesars.
Twelve tables of Roman law.
Twelve hues in the color wheel.
And yes, the twelve signs of the zodiac and the twelve celestial houses.
As far as the Catholic Church?
"I don't like the Church, or what it's become especially because of the sex scandals, which is why I left it," Felicity said. "Plus, I also didn't like the fact so many of my fellow penitents actually worshiped the Virgin rather than venerate her as that Church teaches they ought to. But still, all the Popes have proclaimed the Christ. One who allies himself with Christ can never be the Antichrist. Never. The Church is in terrible need of reform, but when I say my brothers and sisters in Christ, that includes those who are Catholic."
Second, she railed against "faith healings" but at a new level than ever before. In her research in the last year, she said, she had gone through over ten thousand so called cures that the various ministries buying airtime on the network had proclaimed had happened during those twelve months. Including someone in South America, allegedly raised from the dead. Only fourteen in the huge sample were plausible - and she made a point of calling them spontaneous remissions, and not miracles. Why?
"Miracles, by definition, are rare. If miracles were commonplace, they'd stop being miracles!" laughed Felicity.
Many of the rest of the so-called "cures" dealt with the ever omnipresent "fibromyalgia." Felicity told her listeners, for the very first time, she herself had the disease, more specifically a mutation of NF1 that she inherited from her late mother. The mutation was one that was not very debilitating to her, although it did affect her learning abilities early in life and did cause her a fair amount of back pain her whole life. But she dealt with it with happy magnanimity, and with pain killers and other approved treatments, not wishful thinking. In fact, she thanked God everyday for her faults, those of her own hand and those which she had no choice in, and that they helped her focus the rest of her skills on serving her fellow humans. She didn't need to be cured, she didn't want to be cured right away although she hoped she would go into remission someday, and her doctors told her it couldn't be cured by medical means anyway - not yet. She was stuck with it, and there was a fifty-fifty chance each of her children, when they came along, would be stuck with it as well. But that was life. Her duty as a mother, when she did become one, would be to make sure her children's minds were Christ centered as hers was, whatever they had physically.
But ... Cancer? Lupus? Parkinson's? Alzheimer's? Even AIDS, if the preacher had the temerity to try?
"They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick," said Felicity. "Matthew nine, verse twelve. I put my faith in Jesus, but my medical trust in my doctors. Jesus is indeed the Great Physician, but He needs the hands of others to do the healing. Every time I go into surgery, even when I'm getting a root canal from a dentist, I ask God that the one in whom I've put my trust will use his or her skill to heal me, or at least get me to a state where I can get up again.
"Oh, and another thing, brother – at healing services, why don't you or your buddies ever try to make a paralyzed person walk instead of corralling him and the rest of the wheelchair posse into the orchestra pit and ignoring them? To try to cure a leper of his or her Hansen's disease - which, by the way, can actually be cured by antibiotics if it's found early enough? To make someone in the crowd, picked at random, actually levitate? And what's this crap about slaying your followers in the Spirit? You're just an unlicensed hypnotist using the power of suggestion. And holy laughter - the alleged 'Toronto Blessing'? The laugh's going to be on you real soon, pal! I have stuff on you, tons of it ... and I can back it up.
"Sidebar: You claim to have best-selling books. But you buy out your own press run, then sell them to the management company, who in turn sells them at crusades. Triple counting. Which violates publishing standards, and accounting standards. And you deduct the outbound sales, three times. Then claim the sales inbound. And according to my sources - the profits are funnelled through a tax haven. That in itself automatically means an IRS audit and don't think I or one of my friends hasn't filed an anonymous tip at their snitch line! And why are you breaking the law by not filing a hard copy of your books at the Library of Congress so may then be properly cataloged at research libraries around the world - including divinity schools? If you did, at least you'd get a unique catalog number for each book – you can't do that with the Dewey Decimal System!"
With that knowledge and wit, Felicity was on a roll. But that was the set up for the third point – and this was got her and other apologetics really furious – Jesus Died Spiritually.
It was bad enough that some now dead preachers had plagiarized this nineteen thirties' notion from E.W. Kenyon and claimed it as their own. But the concept itself was revolting to Felicity, even way back from her days as a devout Catholic. JDS declared that when Jesus died, His spirit died as well. He rose from the dead three days later with a new spirit after defeating Satan. Some of the current exponents, when told how illogical that was, would always shoot back with the statement that faith should not be guided by reason or common sense.
"Really, brother?" screamed Felicity. "I guess you skipped Isaiah one-eighteen in Sunday School, or seminary, or the diploma mill you went to – 'Come now, let us reason with the LORD.' So let's actually use reason here to explain the true principles of the Christian faith. A soul is designed to be immortal. That's what I was taught. If a soul dies, it cannot be resurrected, ever! Any of your viewers out there who have read the Harry Potter books would know that – and for what it's worth it's pretty clear there that, contrary to what you say about the books, Harry and Hermione were Christians, and possibly Ron too. Just three Christians who happened to have incredibly special, God given powers. Which they used, not abused.
"But on this main point, consider: If Jesus died spiritually, the body that was resurrected may have been Jesus' but the soul sure wasn't Jesus' – it was a disciple of Satan's. And if that's the case, then the entire Church, which started with just 120 men and women who then spread the message of the Resurrection and kept multiplying over the centuries until it became the largest force on the planet ever, would have been built on a lie.
"The facts are these. Jesus didn't die spiritually when He was executed. He didn't descend to Hell. Rather than dying spritually, His soul instead descended to the dead. It may be a fine line but there's a big difference. Satan thought he won because Jesus died. But when Jesus rose from the dead His Spirit was still His own and the next phase of the war between Heaven and Hell had begun. Any idiot could figure that one out. And if Satan had been defeated, he'd be dead and evil would have ended too. He just got a time out, but he's still here. He will be defeated at the latter day, once and for all, but at a time of the Father's choosing; not even Jesus Himself knows the day - Matthew twenty-four, thirty-six.
"God doesn't play dice," Felicity concluded. "God doesn't lie. God is truth. Just for once, sir, look at yourself in the mirror. For five minutes. If you glance away even once, then you know what you need to do. I am not perfect. Not by any means, which is why I asked Jesus to save me in His Precious Blood so many years ago and He did. I still sin, but I will admit it. You are unable to do so. As your sister in Christ, and I do see you as a brother in Christ no matter how wrong you are, I ask you to see the error in your ways, and to amend your life – and your family also. And I ask you to make the ultimate sacrifice, career wise and financially - sell everything you have and give it to the poor, and expect your 'hundred fold blessing', just as you ask for your contributors to expect theirs when you demand their tithes from the so-called 'Seed Faith'!"
Peter remembered the broadcast well. But when she played it back for him on her YouTube channel, he became even angrier.
"Felicity, every word you spoke there was the truth. I said I'll help you, and I will. I'll not only help you with this broadcast, I'll help you bury him, his family and their ministry!" he said matter of fact. "Anyway, I kind of figured you need food so I brought a couple of hampers from the church's food bank – non-perishables - as well as frozen butter, ground beef and the like. The fresh food is in the plug-in cooler still in the van so it hasn't spoiled. Oh, I also brought you some wardrobes if you need a few extra for if you need to go on the run for a bit. If I remember the Christian gossip websites correctly – you're thirty-eight C bust, twenty-five and a half waist, thirty-five and a half hips. And shoe size, ten and three-quarters E."
"Yes, that's right!" said Felicity, her expression having changed from weariness and fear, to something close to absolute joy and relief. She opened the case marked "Stuff for Fluff" - FluffyHunter78 was her instant messaging handle. She not only found the clothes (which were rush ordered by Peter and tailor-made, and fit her perfectly, and just the styles and colors of wardrobes she liked), she also founded the promised food, and even several premium brand bras with her cup size with matching panties and in colors which in turn matched the wardrobes. As did the shoes and stockings he bought, and the makeup and nail polishes. Clearly, he was worried the broadcaster would use his personal Mafia to make her, or both of them, run for it, and Peter had all the bases covered. This was a man clearly in control, and Felicity was glad she had trusted him, for he was already following through, many times over.
Over the next two days, the two new friends went over how to prepare the broadcast, what it would contain, and when it would go on the air. Peter insisted on sleeping on the couch, but she offered him one of her spare bedrooms which he accepted.
On day three, while Ruthie was in London, Felicity was guided through her dress rehearsal, and this time she was holding nothing back. She was going to give the preacher and his wife a final warning – to either say they were sorry, or she would sue for everything they had. Which was in the hundreds of millions, according to a forensic accountant who had some ledgers leaked to her. She promised God she would donate all of any money she might win, plus legal costs, to the Salvation Army - a church the broadcaster hated because they actually believed in helping people directly rather than through promoting false hopes.
After the end of the rehearsal, Felicity said, "Peter, I could really use some fresh air and I haven't had a picnic lunch in ages. Would you like to come with?"
"Sure," said Peter.
They packed a basket and blanket found their way to a forest glen about a mile away. Under a canopy of leaves slowly shading from green to autumnal colors, they had a full course meal and talked for nearly two hours about each of their ministries and how much God meant to each of them.
As Peter talked about his and Ruthie's children, Felicity started to cry again, the tenth time since Peter showed up. Everything she worked for, her entire career, maybe her life, depended on this one vodcast. Peter took Felicity's hand and helped her stand up as he did so himself. He then offered his shoulder and she leaned against him sideways. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She in turn put her free hand on his waist. Whether she meant to or not, her hand slipped and fell on his crotch.
She immediately pulled it back as soon as she realized the soft package had tightened, and begun to spring hard through his jeans. Straight and forward. The bulge was apparent even to him.
"No Felicity, it's okay," said Peter. "I know you need a guy now."
"What did you say?" asked Felicity.
"I know you need a guy now. You can grab my crotch for a minute, then you can watch me pleasure myself. While I watch you pleasure yourself. We're well inside the trees and no one can see us. Besides, I could use the relief anyway. As I am sure you could."
"Well, if that's all you're offering, that may be too bad," said Felicity. "Because I want to give you all I have to offer – and I mean, all, except my soul, which belongs to Jesus."
"Felicity..." Peter gulped. "Are you trying to seduce me?"
"I am. And not just down low but all the way, the home run. I know you just came out to help a friend in need. But you have more than earned the right to make love to me! And I want you, now! And that load, and I hope there's a lot of it, inside of me!"
"But, what about Ruthie ..."
"Peter, we've been having cybersex for weeks, so you really don't care about Ruthie anymore. Besides, when did you two last have intercourse?" Felicity asked this question deliberately. She knew Peter would not have gone to all this trouble if he was not having problems with Ruthie. He would have found someone else to help the woman. And after a pause of about ten seconds, Peter realized this too - although it had been subconscious until now.
"Four months ago."
"How often do you usually have it?" asked Felicity.
"Two, three times a week – we were doing that for seven years, except for the six months after Ruthie gave birth to the twins." Peter couldn't believe he had offered that much.
"Why did you stop?"
Peter paused. "An argument – about the household's finances. We were both partly right and wrong – but we never apologized. And, well ... um ... I think I'm entitled to at least one affair during my life. I'm pretty sure Ruthie is going to have sex with her contact as well – a woman. If she hasn't already. A bit of payback, a bit of fun – but I'm game."
Felicity smiled. "How about here, now, in the forest?"
It took one second for Peter to lunge at the woman and kiss her with his tongue stuck all the way back in her mouth, while he grabbed her thighs, then her waist, and then her derriere. Felicity then jumped up into Peter's arms and wrapped her legs around his waist.
They wanted to unbutton each other's clothes off one article a a time. But they ripped each other's duds off so fast that not only were they torn into shreds, but as they were doing so, they literally fell onto the picnic blanket sideways and sent the basket flying thirty feet in the opposite direction. Peter was on his right side while Felicity was on her left, and each took off from the other the rest of the clothes. Peter then fiercely grabbed Felicity's breasts and sucked on them far harder than he ever did with Ruthie. For her part Felicity was grabbing his rear end, pulling his hair, and fondling his middle leg.
Then followed fifteen minutes of each giving the other oral pleasure simultaneously.
Finally, with blood rushing through both their bodies like neither ever had experienced before, Peter thrust himself into Felicity. She screamed with absolute joy – he had changed angle inside of her exactly where her G-spot was. No man had ever been able to do that with her, and Peter had done so the first time. Peter, in turn, was delighted at how slippery Felicity was, especially for an older woman. There was no need to stop. In fact, their coupling would last two hours and thirteen minutes and they climaxed so many times they lost count.
They finally fell into each other's arms, kissing each other over and over.
For Peter's part, this was an absolute awakening. All his life he had been with only one woman, Ruthie, for a total of twelve or thirteen years, ten of them as lovers. But it was like he and his wife had run out of ways to be creative, no matter how many sex advice books they read, radio shows they listened to, or websites they visited. Felicity on the other hand had given herself over one hundred percent. This was pure lovemaking.
Felicity had not been a virgin since her junior year at parochial school. She had known several men. And her couplings with each of them were indeed about making love and not just having sex. But all the other men held back. Peter had not. He treated her like his unconditional, absolute and sole equal. If he had considered her like this, then God had finally answered an unanswered prayer of hers.
But this compromising situation had been totally unexpected for both. And they quickly discovered, totally unplanned. Felicity suddenly realized that she never took The Pill - or at least hadn't since her last break-up five years prior - because she never had a reason to. Peter didn't carry his pack of condoms that he and Ruthie were using until they were ready for another child, because he had honestly thought he would only be in Enid on official business and nothing more. And, to their shared horror, it was Felicity's fertile period.
The illicit lovers quickly put their clothes back on, or what was left of them, grabbed the picnic set and ran as fast as they could back into her house before anyone saw them. They then ran towards the laundry room, stripped and threw their shredded clothes and undergarments into the trash. They then ran upstairs and took a shower together although they only bathed themselves and each other (carefully), not attempting to be further intimate in the slightest but only to make themselves physically clean again if not morally. Finally they grabbed their housecoats and walked back down to the living room – Felicity saw no reason any longer to hide in the safe room.
"Peter, what have we DONE?!" she moaned. "This coming broadcast is supposed to be my comeback – my chance to give the rebuttal of rebuttals. But all that hinged on practicing what I preach. Now I'm screwed – pardon the pun – and my career is over! Preaching, singing, writing, the whole enchilada."
"Felicity," said Peter, "I have followed you on YouTube from your first broadcast. You've never said anything about premarital sex."
"In the evangelical movement, that is a sine qua non, something that is non-negotiable. At least those of us who are on the air. You don't have to say it, it is understood. And if we just got knocked up, then I am even worse off."
"Most evangelicals do have premarital sex, though. Even A-listers like you. People will get past that."
"But a pregnancy? If I am pregnant, I can't get an abortion. I won't. It goes against everything I believe, you know that! I can't count the number of times I've said, written or sung about that. And even if I wanted one then got one, I would be driven out of the movement!" Felicity burst into tears yet again.
"What about the morning-after pill?" asked Peter, after Felicity finished sobbing for about a minute. "It forces an early period, so there's no chance at implantation. Therefore, no conception, no pregnancy."
"Even if I could get a prescription, Peter, no pharmacist in this town will fill it, for 'moral' reasons. They all claim it promotes adultery. This isn't like condoms or the Pill, which prevents pregnancy, even for married couples. We may have just created a life together. I don't want to destroy the baby – even if I don't want to get pregnant until I'm ready. And yes I am 36, yes I want to be a mother, but my ministry and career just can't handle a baby. Not now!"
"If I could get you a morning-after pill, Felicity, would you take it?"
"Well, Peter, we already committed the lesser of two evils – the greater one being our actually planning The Man's whacking which we talked about, since we both have our rifles with us, and as a last resort. So yes, I'd take it, so get me the morning-after, damn it!" Felicity sighed. "But where can you get it?"
"There's a free clinic at one of the universities in and around OKC," replied Peter. "One of my Facebook friends is a graduate student there. She's a fan of yours too and she's relieved you're okay but has agreed to keep it on the down low until you make your surprise blog entry tomorrow night. I'll give her the heads up but leave myself out of it - I'll even make up a fib, that you're going to the Middle East to perform with the USO and you want to be careful in case you are attacked by one of the locals. She'll just go to a vending machine at the athletics club on campus, which is stocked by the free clinic, and get a couple of packages with no prescription required. They also have The Pill OTC, too."
"Just that easy?" Felicity was shocked at that one.
"It's just that easy. I'll do a quick drive down there and be back by sunset so we can figure out how to sync my repeater with your YouTube channel. I'll grab some real good food and we can have a slow cooked dinner. And maybe we can do some more 'home cooking' afterwards too?"
"Well, I'm definitely on birth control from here on in, no matter what. Oh what the heck! You're here for a few days anyway. You're a once in a lifetime chance, and no matter how much Ruthie may be hurt by all of this, we all have the same enemy. And I'm making it up to her, directly. I'll personally tell her I'm sorry. And I will give her my promise, as I am to you now - and as God as our witness - I'll make sure that her and her friends get all the help they can get from within my circles, if they help me and my friends because I know they will anyway. We all need each other. We're only as strong as we are united in Christ. And united, we will win together.
"Oh, um ... Peter, make sure your friend gets me a six month supply of The Pill – because after the show I may have to make a real run for it for a while, and I'll be a target for rape by the holier than thous if and when they do find me; just like some female reports covering the Middle East have, recently and sadly. Just so you know, also, I'm actually tapped out on money right now and I don't get my monthly royalty check deposited in my account until a couple of days from now, so also tell your friend I promise I'll wire her the money to pay for the meds, and a fair bit more as a thank you tip, the day of my comeback broadcast."
"Will let her know."
"And Peter? When you get condoms for yourself, make sure they're the large size. I wasn't expecting that part today either!" Felicity smirked.
Peter blushed. But he realized she was right. He had never been that big inside of his wife, ever.
"Sure thing," he said quietly. "Okay, Felicity, see you later. Thank you for all this time so far, especially today ... and ... I love you!" He had gasped before he said the last three words. But he meant it.
"Thank you, Pete - and I love you too! Really love you!" She meant it too.
The lovers shared a French kiss for twenty seconds. As Peter drove off, his hybrid van in electric mode for the first two miles so no one in the neighborhood would hear him, Felicity stepped outside again, into her large tree-lined backyard, and looked up to the skies.
"I'm sorry, Jesus. I really am. For sinning against You, and for about to sin again," she prayed. "But if You get me through the next few days, I promise I'll make it up to You – in every way I can."
She stepped back inside. While making herself supper, she recited the Gospel of Mark, solely from memory. And came to the realization she had finally found Mister Right.