by Pat Simmons
“I wouldn’t move too fast, for both of your sakes. You need to make sure your head is clear, and Shari…well, let’s just say she puts her heart into everything she touches. Don’t break it, man. So, what’s your game plan?”
Garrett glanced over his shoulder, then lowered his voice to respond. “It’s God’s game plan. While I was praying, He basically told me Shari is the one.”
“All right.” John lifted his hand for a high five, and Garrett reluctantly tapped palms with him. “We’re beating out Mother Stillwell.”
“Who?”
“The church matchmaker. She’s in competition with Rita and me, but we’re on a roll.” When Garrett didn’t join in the celebration, John sobered. “Why aren’t you happy about this?”
Garrett huffed. “I’m trying to figure out the intense feelings that sprang up in me without warning. It’s a lot to process in such a short period of time, especially after being made a fool of by Brittani. The relocation has helped, although I miss being around my family. And then, to top it off, God is making me work for Shari’s affections. I think she’s clueless of what the Lord told me.”
John nodded. “I see your point. Any other woman might be making wedding plans if a brother told her that God said she was the woman for him. Somehow, I don’t think that would faze Shari.”
“Yeah, I know.” Garrett shook hands with his friend and walked out the sanctuary, wondering if Attorney Sharmaine Carmen was worth it.
The next day, the morning sermon seemed to resonate with him. The title was “God Has Your Best Interests at Heart,” and it was based on Psalm 84:11: “For the Lord God is a sun and shield: the Lord will give grace and glory: no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly.”
For the next couple of days, as Garrett spent more time praying and meditating on God’s Word, one Scripture kept coming to his mind. It was James 1:4: “Let patience have her perfect work….”
God was surely asking a lot of him. “Lord,” he prayed, “since You’re orchestrating my life, please cue me when I’m supposed to make a move.”
Since he’d missed Shari at band practice, he looked forward to seeing her at the midweek Bible class. She would be a breath of renewal after a day spent tracking down fugitives.
While two deputies stood guard outside the home of a convicted gang member of the 60th Street Posse, aka Six-O, in West Philly, Garrett and another deputy made an early-morning raid.
The suspect, William Truman, didn’t seem surprised to see them when he answered the door. “Am I supposed to be in court?” he asked, as if he had missed a doctor’s appointment.
Garrett hadn’t dignified him with an answer as he’d snapped the cuffs on him. Although some felons were dangerous, evidently having a warrant out for his arrest was just a joke to Mr. Truman.
The two other fugitives they had tracked down during his shift hadn’t been that easy.
When he got home from work, Garrett showered, dressed, and ate dinner in record time. As he was on his way out the door for church, his grandfather called.
“Hey, Grandson. My heart has been heavy about you lately. I’ve been calling out your name more frequently in prayer.”
“I appreciate that, Grandpa. It’s frustrating trying to figure out what God is constructing in my life. I didn’t want to leave my family, but I was obedient. Twice, Shari and I crossed paths outside church. No doubt she’s a beautiful jewel, but I’m battling conflicting feelings. If there had never been a Brittani in my life, I would pursue Shari the way I track down fugitives. But when I think about how clouded my judgment was in regard to Brittani, I kick myself for being so blind. While one voice is telling me that I’m not ready to pursue her, God is whispering, She’s the one.”
“Don’t you mess up this one by pushing too hard and too fast with Shari,” his grandfather cautioned him. “Go at God’s pace. Be patient with her and with yourself.”
Garrett smiled. The Lord knew how to send the right person along to reinforce His message. “Thanks, Grandpa. I needed to hear that.”
Moses chuckled. “If you open your spiritual eyes, you’ll see what God sees in her that is best for you.”
“I already do.” Garrett glanced at his watch. “Grandpa, I need to head out so I can make it to Bible class on time. Love you, sir.”
Traffic on the Schuylkill Expressway was not working in his favor. “Patience,” he whispered as he inched forward along with other irritated motorists.
By the time he got to the church, the pew behind Shari and her mother was already filled. As Garrett moved to another section that still provided a view of Shari, he felt unexpectedly deep disappointment. He jotted notes during the lesson, but by the end of the class, none of the pastor’s teachings had stuck.
Once the offering was taken and the benediction pronounced, he walked with purpose toward Shari and her mother. They were chatting with Stacy, the organist—Shari’s older sister, John had told him—and a man who appeared to be her husband, judging from his protective stance by her side. Garrett waited impatiently to be acknowledged, but his feigned calm was impossible to keep up for more than a minute. He stepped closer to make his presence known. “Good evening, Shari, Mrs. Carmen.”
“Praise the Lord, young man,” said Annette. “Do we get an escort again tonight?” She looked hopeful.
He smiled. “Absolutely.”
“Mother!” Shari balked, seemingly embarrassed.
“Mom, we can walk you to your car,” the man next to Stacy was quick to offer.
“Ted, take your wife home. Brother Nash will take care of us.” Annette beamed with the same bright smile as Shari, minus the dimples, as she plucked the Bible out of Shari’s arms and handed it over to Garrett, along with her own, to carry.
Garrett was amused, as well as grateful, to have an ally in Shari’s mother. With Ted and Stacy looking on quietly, Annette took the lead and walked ahead, leaving a distance for him and Shari as they followed. Her mother stopped numerous times to greet other people, and in several hushed conversations with other women, she glanced back at him, giggling like a schoolgirl.
Shari didn’t even attempt small talk as she strolled beside him. Garrett was desperate to recover whatever camaraderie he’d built and then lost with her at lunch. After she deactivated the alarm on her vehicle, Garrett opened her door. “You’re participating in the prison team ministry this Saturday, right?”
Twirling around, Shari faced him for the first time, her brown eyes wide. “How did you know that?” The element of surprise looked good on her as her seductive brown eyes widened. Her long lashes were another teasing asset.
He whispered for her ears only, “I make it my business to know things about you. Sorry I was late tonight and that my seat behind you was already snagged. It won’t happen again. Until next time.”And he meant it. He was going to woo her as if Brittani never existed.
Garrett watched as Annette buckled in and then Shari drove off without a word. Grinning, he strolled over to his SUV. “Oh, yeah. This time, everything’s going to be different.”
Chapter 8
Shari had thought that music was her only addiction. But ever since Garrett had been making his presence known, things had been shifting. Tonight, she had expected to see him sitting in the pew directly behind her.
“That’s two for two consecutive personal escorts, if you’re counting,” her mother said in a chipper voice, interrupting her reverie.
Why was her mother always so in tune with her thoughts? “I’m trying counting, Mom.”
“Why? Don’t you think he’s cute?”
After checking her rearview mirror, Shari turned onto the freeway. “No. Brother Nash is fine, but there’s something about him that makes me uncomfortable.”
Her mother released a laugh. “That’s called attraction, dear.”
“Hmmm. I won’t deny that, but it’s just something.” She paused to formulate her thoughts. “There are so many layers to a person. On the surface, people co
me off as solid, until you start to ask questions. Then their walls begin to crumble.”
“And when did my daughter become so cynical?”
Shari shrugged. “It probably happened when I decided to pursue a career in law. I see things in black-or-white. True or false. Innocent or guilty. The crimes that come across my desk sometimes take a toll on me.”
“Leave those troubled spirits at work, honey. God gave you the Holy Ghost, and with that comes unspeakable joy, faith, and hope. As Pastor taught tonight, those are some of the fruits of His Spirit. Don’t let the world’s troubled spirits overtake you.”
Shari nodded. “I’ve learned to rely on prayer and spiritual discernment rather than a gut feeling in order to sense whether a prospective client is lying or telling the truth. But when it comes to men who are supposedly interested in me, I’m always suspicious, and Brother Garrett is no exception. I’m still asking the Lord what his deal is.”
“Umm-hmm. Sweetie, the fun part about falling in love is peeling back the layers to uncover everything about a person. Believe me, the rules change, and exceptions are made, as part of the package.”
Who said anything about falling in love? Shari wanted to refute that statement, but she decided to hold her tongue for now. As if taking her cue, her mother turned up the radio and belted out the gospel tune as if she were live on stage. She continued her impromptu concert, song after song, until Shari pulled up to the curb in front of their house. When her mother playfully bowed, Shari applauded.
On Saturday morning, Shari claimed a seat on one of two church vans filled with prison ministry volunteers. Today would be their third annual pre-Resurrection Sunday service in a jail, and this year, they were headed for Bayside State Prison in Leesburg, New Jersey. In total, twenty-five saints were on board, all of them either ministers or musicians. That was a record.
The prison ministry was one auxiliary within the church to which many members couldn’t commit because of their hesitancy to evangelize “hardcore” prisoners. They usually couldn’t stomach the restrictive conditions behind the prison walls. The legal system considered most of the inmates beyond redemption and rehabilitation. No wonder many of them felt hopeless—a disheartening reality for believers with loved ones behind bars.
Stretching her legs, Shari adjusted her body in a double seat for total comfort, then closed her eyes. She couldn’t help but reminisce about the last time she’d ridden in the church van—the time when the Lord had delivered her from a self-imposed spiritual bondage.
She took a deep breath and began meditating on the Word when she recognized his voice—not God’s, but Garrett’s. His deep, velvety tone and strong, crisp enunciation drew her in whenever she heard it. What was he doing on board?
Shari slowly opened her eyes as his presence commandeered the van. She followed his steps until he stopped at her seat. “Shari.”
“Garrett.” She arched an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”
“Remember when I said ‘Until next time’? Well, this is my next time.” The sparkle in his eyes caused Shari to wrack her brain until she recalled him making the same statement after Bible class that week, right after he’d asked if she was going on the prison trip. “Mind if I share your seat?”
Everything within Shari told her to say yes, but two things stopped her. First, she was a private person, and she could feel the curious stares of others around her. The second was that Garrett would be a distraction, and the ministry team had to be spiritually savvy to prepare themselves for entrance into the devil’s playground at the prison.
“Um…I realize it’s only about an hour’s drive, you’ll probably be more comfortable if you can stretch out,” she told him.
“You aren’t going to make it easy for me to get to know you, are you?” he asked quietly.
How did he read her so precisely? Garrett had no idea that he had her emotions all discombobulated. The man was a complete package: handsome, saved, and sanctified, and with a great career, to boot. And she was scared to tangle with the gift wrap.
Now she had another nagging question besides why Garrett had chosen to leave Boston: Why hadn’t a woman snagged him yet? A few times, the Lord had used Shari to operate the gift of discernment through the Holy Ghost. Now would be a good time for that gift to manifest again. But since neither she nor anyone one else could control how and when God released His gifts, Shari could only hope that if there was something ungodly about Garrett, the Lord would let her know about it.
Another church member boarded the bus with much fanfare, saving Shari from confirming Garrett’s question. Sister Xena Davis noticed Garrett and strutted their way. “Brother Nash, what a surprise. Looking for a seat? That’s all right, you can sit with me.” She tried, unsuccessfully, to steer him away from Shari.
Physically, Xena could stop traffic with her good looks. Any man would love to be seen with her, saved or unsaved. They clamored for her attention. But then, once they had it, for some unknown reason, their interest seemed to wane. Or maybe it was Xena who became bored with them.
“Uh….” Garrett glanced at Shari with a silent plea for rescue. But Shari merely shrugged in amusement.
He might as well get it over with. Xena usually got first dibs on new brothers in the church, and it appeared Garrett was her latest prey.
“I’ll probably be more comfortable by myself…you know, with room to move and stretch. But thanks anyway, sister.” Garrett backtracked to a vacancy near the front, apparently to escape Xena, who was moving toward the rear of the van.
Minister Terrence Wells, auxiliary chaplain and president of the prison ministry, was the last one to climb aboard. “Praise the Lord, everybody. As customary, let me go over the rules.”
“We can repeat them in our sleep,” Xena interrupted him, then gave a loud sigh. She was echoed by a couple of “Amens.”
“Great.” He nodded, glancing around. “Then I guess you all fasted, anointed your heads with oil, and prayed this morning. This is a serious ministry. For those of you who might forget that, let me remind you of the witchcraft we witnessed last month at Curran-Fromhold Correctional Facility. Of the gang members who tried to intimidate other prisoners from coming to Christ. And of the time a man planned to escape by leaving with us.
“Remember, we aren’t taking the gospel to these men but sharing a service with them. No touching. No accepting notes for families on the outside. Stay with the group, and be on alert for any mischief. As you know, we don’t have any security chaperones, but we are blessed today to have Brother Garrett Nash, a Deputy U.S. Marshal, on the trip.”
Shari smiled as a round of applause and a chorus of “Hallelujah” and “Amen” circulated around her. She, too, welcomed his presence—from a security standpoint only. It was the shivers he provoked that made her feel insecure.
She was going to have to get Stacy’s take on Garrett. She was the only Carmen sister who was married, and Shari loved watching Ted treat her big sister with interest and admiration. Although Stacy wanted all her sisters to be happy, she didn’t go out of her way to set them up on blind dates—to Shari’s great relief. That had been her mother’s department until Shari had threatened to move out for some solitude.
Once the team arrived at Bayside State Prison and had been cleared to meet with the inmates, they sang songs, shared testimonies, prayed, and distributed new socks, T-shirts, and underwear. Shari provided free legal advice for those who needed it. As a precaution, she always had a male team member and a prison guard present during her consultations. Without being asked, Garrett volunteered.
Prisoner #23987 nodded. “What’s up, Sharmaine?” He was a short man with a large Afro and numerous tattoos from the back of his ear all the way down his thick right arm.
“How are you doing today, Leo?” She settled in an old metal chair across from him.
Immediately, Garrett expressed his displeasure with the inmate for not giving Shari her due respect as an attorney.
Shrugging him of
f, Shari closed her eyes, bowed her head, and began to pray. “Father God, in the name of Jesus, I thank You for this day and ask You to provide comfort and peace to my brother, here. Lord, we ask that You would forgive each one of us. In Jesus’ precious name, amen.”
“Right,” Leo said, grinning as gold flashed in his mouth.
***
Wrong. With so much demonic activity in federal penitentiaries, there wasn’t a doubt in Garrett’s mind that he was about to become a permanent member on the church’s prison ministry team. He needed to monitor this Leo character, who seemed content to play church in order to have his legal needs met. While Shari closed her eyes in prayer, Garrett kept his wide open. Whether tracking bandits or fraternizing with prisoners, a Deputy U.S. Marshal letting a target out of his sight could prove deadly.
A few weeks later, the prison ministry was on the road again. This time, the trip was a short drive, to the local House of Correction. The team stood in single file awaiting their turn to be searched and to have their IDs checked against the list they had submitted to the director of chaplaincy services.
Within minutes, they waited in the hall outside a small chapel as dozens of inmates filed in. A few of them gawked at the female team members as if they were sheep ready for slaughter. One prisoner, a stout man who looked as if he used his daily half hour of free time to lift weights, watched Shari with more interest than Garrett cared for.
“If it ain’t the great Attorney Carmen,” he said as he passed. “You might not remember me, considerin’ you didn’t do nothin’ to keep me from bein’ locked up. I’m Calvin Brownlee. Now do you remember? I should kill you so that I’ll have a reason to be in here.”
Did he just threaten my woman—I mean, the woman God has for me? Yet Garrett felt the Holy Ghost holding him back.
Calvin sneered at Shari with calculated calmness before Xena managed to catch his attention or indirectly asked for it. He grinned, clearly enjoying the flirtation.
