by Pat Simmons
He braced for Octavia to rescind her offer as he glanced out the window. It was probably for the best. She didn’t. Instead of playing the radio, she opted to hum the song she’d danced to numerous times. No doubt, he would hear music in his sleep, but who cared. He would be in a soft bed.
About thirty minutes later, Octavia drove into a neighborhood with overbearing trees. The bright street lights cast shadows against them. The block was a mixture of strategically placed apartment buildings between every couple houses. It worked in the overall landscape.
Parking in a driveway, she turned off the ignition and faced him. “Okay, we’re here. Get your things.”
This woman was too easy, too trusting and too beautiful. The temptation was too ripe. “I appreciate this, Octavia, but I hope you don’t pick up strays—” he didn’t like the sound of that—“I mean, don’t do this all the time,” Landon felt obligated to mildly scold her as if she was one of his two sisters, although he might be talking himself out of a soft mattress.
“I’ll never tell. Besides, what you consider as strays, in Luke 15, God calls lost sheep.”
Right, being led away for the slaughter. Can we forget the Scriptures? Landon clenched his teeth to keep from asking. After getting his suitcase, he turned around and scrutinized the building. As a real estate agent, he would have expected her to live in a classy house or pricey condo. Landon cleared his throat. Beggars couldn’t be choosy. “Hey, nice place.”
“Glad you like it.” Together, they walked the short path. Stopping at the door, she pressed the bell.
He frowned. Where were her door keys? Landon didn’t consider she might have a roommate. An older gentleman opened the door. She had said her father and step-mother relocated to Florida, so who was this guy? Landon squinted. The man didn’t look that old, even with his receding hairline and round stomach.
“Octavia, you’re later than you said—had me a little worried.” He scratched his head.
“Sorry, Brother McCoy. You know how I get carried away with rehearsal.”
Landon snickered.
Octavia cut her eyes at him before making the introductions. “This is Landon. He’s the one who needs a place to stay and the works.”
Why was he relieved and disappointed at the same time with her sleeping arrangements? “The works?” Landon repeated.
Brother McCoy smiled and extended his hand to Landon. “Yes. An assessment of your job skills and toiletries, underwear…” he continued talking as he led them inside.
Landon was well aware of the routine shelter evaluation upon entry. Landon had gone through the motions before at other places to update his résumé, but what was the sense of printing them out? He needed clean professional clothes, preferably dry cleaned, a rental car with a GPS and a list of companies hiring upper management. If he couldn’t earn the six-figure salary he once enjoyed, he could manage with seventy thousand minimum. Who was he kidding? At the present, he would be happy with a map and a bicycle.
With the last one hundred dollars in his pocket, he was running out of options. Half of it had come from a stranger who reminded him of his grandfather. Along with the money, the man gave him a business-size card with no name, no number, just a prayer printed on it. Landon had actually prayed that day with tears in his eyes, thanking God for the handout.
Although Landon needed steady income, he would probably be working for free. Of all the things he learned from his family, financial responsibility stuck. If he created a debt, he believed in paying it. Shamefully, he had filed bankruptcy, but some judgements the court wouldn’t dismiss and honestly, Landon wanted to be held accountable. What a mess he had made of his life. No doubt, garnishments would attack his first paycheck like locusts in a wheat field. With the way his luck was going, he might remain in poverty for decades to come.
“Thank you, Brother McCoy, for finding space with short notice,” Octavia said and turned to Landon.
She took his hand and squeezed it. Hers was soft. Octavia’s lips parted as if she was about to say something, then changed her mind. Instead, she nodded, then headed for the door.
Landon frowned at Brother McCoy. “Give me a sec.” Still holding onto his suitcase, he hurried out the door and caught up with Octavia before she got in. “You know, I thought you were taking me to your house.”
Her smirk turned into a harmonious laugh. She winked. “I bet you did. You’re welcome.” She got in and drove away.
Staring at her fading taillights, Landon shook his head. “She played me.”
Chapter 5
Back inside the shelter, Brother McCoy was standing in the same spot Landon had left him.
“Ready for your tour now?” His eyes danced with mischief as if he had been in on the joke with Octavia.
Landon nodded and proceeded to follow him throughout the two-story facility. He guessed the director’s age to be somewhere near fifty years old. His mannerisms reminded him of his eighty-year-old grandfather. Not many men possessed the combination of an air of authority while being seemingly approachable.
He and his grandfather, his father, mother…and so many others had separated on bad terms long before he had made the decision to leave town and start over. It was draining rehashing his past as he contemplated his future. This is just a temporary bridge to cross, he reminded himself.
I died on a cross for you, God whispered.
Why did God have to constantly tap into his thoughts? I know, he silently admitted as he kept in step with Brother McCoy. The facility looked more like a residence than the compound that had been a shelter he had he lodged in overnight. The floors and walls were clean and the place smelled of disinfectant.
Turning down a short hall, Brother McCoy invited him into a small but well-organized office. Once they were seated, the formalities got underway with the customary intake of information, which outlined the do’s and dont’s for residents at the shelter. Despite his estranged relationship with his parents and two sisters, he always gave his mother’s name and number for contact in the event of an emergency, basically his demise.
“Breakfast will be served from seven to eight-thirty. You’re expected to be out searching for work by nine, except on the weekends. That’s your free time. Dinner will be served at six-thirty….residents can stay here for up to ninety days. If you need additional time, you can discuss it with your case worker who will be assigned to you.”
Landon nodded. “Thank you for your generosity. I hope not to be here that long. I’ve got to keep moving—”
“I don’t know where you came from or what circumstances caused the state you’re in,” Brother McCoy seemed to study him, “but you first have to reconcile the past so that God can restore anything you’ve lost. Restoration comes after repentance. Ask God for it.”
Maybe, it was exhaustion or irritation, but Landon had heard enough about God for one day. He became indignant. “What makes you think I haven’t?”
He shrugged. “I say this to all the men who come through those doors. Second, third, and fourth chances aren’t a given. Only when you fix whatever was broken in the past can you move on, or else you might slip back in the same circumstances. Take it personal if it applies.”
“Sorry.” Landon rubbed his head. He had jumped to conclusions. “Long day. My past is the past. Sometimes, instead of patching a favorite shirt, you have to replace it with a new, better one.”
“Ahh.” Brother McCoy grinned and nodded. “A man with wisdom, and if he lacks any, let him ask of God who gives it liberally without making the asker ashamed. That’s James 1:5.”
He was starting to sound like his grandfather. Landon feigned a yawn, hoping Brother McCoy would take the hint. The only thing he wanted was a shower and a bed free of lice and bed bugs. Maybe, they could bump heads in the morning. “I really do appreciate you allowing me to stay here, and I will abide by your rules.”
Closing his file, Brother McCoy stood. “Then we’ll get along fine. Come on, I’m sure you are tired.” Land
on grabbed his suitcase and followed him up a narrow passageway. They were almost at the end of the hall when Brother McCoy tapped lightly on the door before inserting a key to open it. “You’re on the second floor and share a room with Grady Bacon.”
With a name like Grady, Landon wasn’t expecting to see a man under sixty, but his roommate appeared to be barely a teenager outfitted in a dingy muscle man T-shirt. He hadn’t made a move to answer the knock. Glancing up from his cell phone, Grady acknowledged him with a nod. Brother McCoy made quick introductions, then left.
Landon rested his suitcase on the twin bed that resembled a cot, but higher, then sat himself.
“So, what you in for?”
“Excuse me?” Landon was not interested in a meet and greet.
“Did you get put out…?” Grady rambled off possible scenarios.
With his elbows on his knees and his shoulders slumped, Landon half-heartedly answered, “All of the above.”
Grady reached over and offered him a fist. Landon obliged to bump it with his. He didn’t want to be in close quarters in a hostile environment. Without asking, Grady told more about himself than Landon cared to know: Twenty-one, just got his GED, three children and recently unemployed. “Mac’s been good to me. He got me on at Wal-Mart. I don’t want to be locked up for two years because I didn’t pay child support. It’s only a misdemeanor.”
“No, a Class C Felony,” Landon corrected.
“Whatever. I’m cool. It’s minimum wage, but I’ve got to start somewhere.” He flexed his muscles.
Somewhere, Landon mused. Where was his somewhere with a BA from Boston University, an MBA from Emerson College and seven years as a PR account executive. Despite his résumé, he was in the same boat as Grady—displaced. Landon shared a little—very little—about himself. The young man seemed to be intrigued by Landon’s short version of his riches-to-rags story. “Well, I’d better head to the showers.”
“All right.” Grady nodded as he reached for a green pocket Bible.
Oh no. As long as you don’t talk about Jesus, we’ll get along, Landon thought as he walked out the room with the goody bag from Brother McCoy with a bar of Zest soap.
Chapter 6
“What a day.” Octavia exhaled as she waited for a red light to change. Why do I feel like I dropped off a stray pet at an animal shelter?
He needed rescuing, the Lord answered her.
She wished Jesus would have let her in on His plan before Landon scared her half to death. After God told her not to be afraid and she finally relaxed, Octavia enjoyed Landon’s company.
She smiled. If he was shaved and cleaned up, Landon would be handsome she supposed. It wasn’t the striking color of his eyes that caught her attention—it was the depth of turmoil that filled them, but with one blink, she erased the haunting from her sight.
Octavia admired Landon for not having a blame-other-people attitude about himself. Despite his plight, he possessed confidence when he spoke and walked, yet the moment he stepped inside church, his demeanor changed drastically. Clearly, he didn’t want to be there.
Landon continued to invade her thoughts until Terri’s ring tone played on her phone. Taking a deep breath, she tapped her ear piece and prepared for a tongue lashing. “Hey, girl.”
“This is not a ‘hey girl’ moment,” Terri warned. “It’s an ‘are you out of your mind?’ followed by ‘are you okay?’ moment after that stunt you pulled today. Please tell me that homeless guy didn’t hold you at gunpoint—or rather fork point since you fed him.” Terri didn’t give Octavia space to explain, ranting on and on. “And let me go on record and say, you’ve lost your mind!”
Yeah, well, Octavia thought so too—at first. She could have been raped as some female real estate agents had been in the past because the listing agent didn’t make sure the house was secured. It had truly been a “but God” moment. She lifted one hand in silent praise before turning into the driveway of her beige brick ranch house. The stone-covered double pillars and the arch entryway created a stately welcome home after a long day. The foreclosure home had been a good investment.
As Octavia parked in her garage, Terri gasped for air. She smirked, hoping her friend used her inhaler before she upset herself. “Listen, granted I was afraid…” She paused.
Despite how many testimonies she had shared with Terri, her friend couldn’t believe God would waste His time talking to ordinary people like them. Terri labeled herself a Christian as if it were a multiple-choice answer on a quiz. Her faith walk was questionable. That was reason enough for Octavia to hold her tongue about what God had told her about Landon. Lowering her garage door, Octavia got her things and crossed the threshold into the kitchen. She deactivated her home security alarm, then rested her keys and purse on the counter. “He was harmless. Plus, the police were going to arrest him.”
“And you stopped them? He probably would have appreciated a bed and three meals a day!” Terri raised her voice. “Besides, that’s police protocol for someone who breaks and enters into a property without their name on the deed.”
Octavia rubbed her feet as she kicked off her shoes before making her way to her bedroom. The only thing she wanted was a cool shower to wash away the perspiration from the day’s humidity. “I’m fine, really,’ she tried to reassure her so they could end the call.
“Hmm, well, the next time you send me an S.O.S. text that someone is in one of our unoccupied properties, you’d better let the police do their job! Then when I call back, you’re calm and casually give me some man’s name whom I’ve never heard you mention before—I can count your male friends on one hand—riding shotgun in your car. Of course, if you let Andre and me introduce you to some of his friends…”
Not this same argument again? Octavia groaned. Whether they were in a Wendy’s drive-thru line or shopping for pantyhose in Target, Terri would bring up her matchmaking services. “What does another man have to do with any of this?” Her friend’s reasoning never made sense, so why did Octavia even bait her? “Thanks, Terri. I appreciate you and your hubby looking out for me. God knows who I need in my life and He knows what type of man I want. The Lord is my matchmaker.”
Terri huffed. “Right. Now, back to the Mr. Wrong you let in your car today; it’s a good thing you didn’t offer him room and board. Tavie, sometimes, I think you’re too generous.”
“I did.”
“You what?” Terri shrieked in her ear. “Your mind is gone. Are you sure he didn’t hit you over the head with an empty beer bottle or something?”
Fits of laughter exploded from Octavia’s lips until tears streaked her cheeks. “Girl, Landon is at Mac’s Place, not mine—you know Brother McCoy’s mission shelter to help men get back on their feet.”
Terri didn’t muffle her sigh of relief. “You had me going. Now I can enjoy my dinner, but this conversation isn’t over. At least he doesn’t know where you live.”
“Girl, I forgot to tell you—”
“Don’t even say it, Octavia. You may have acted crazy today but I know you ain’t stupid. Bye,” Terri ended their call.
Once Octavia had showered and slipped into something comfortable, she grabbed the phone to call her younger sister, Olivia, who was attending law school in DC. She wanted to get her take on the day’s events. Octavia wasn’t surprised, but definitely disappointed when she got Olivia’s voice mail. “Call me when you get a chance—it’s not an emergency,” she said, then disconnected.
Five years younger, Olivia shared the same mannerisms as Octavia. They were the same height with the same light brown skin. Only Octavia inherited the blondish-brown hair that easily identified her. Olivia’s hair was jet black like their father’s and longer.
Octavia smirked when she thought about Landon again. She might not have a crisis to tell her sister about, but today was definitely not the norm in her life as a realtor. The first thing Olivia would want to know is if Landon was cute. “Definitely!” She blushed for noticing.
Chapter 7
Saturday morning at Mac’s Place, Grady took the honor of introducing Landon to the thirty-plus other men during breakfast. Their ages and ethnicities varied, so did their demeanor. Some appeared content in their plights; others seemed to resent it. Landon guessed he was somewhere in the middle.
As a combined effort after each meal, the men were expected to sweep the floors, wipe off the tables and perform other household chores to earn their keep. When the kitchen was restored, his options were watching a program on the community television voted by a majority, stepping outside for a smoke or taking part in a card game.
Spying the pair of community computers in the corner, Landon headed in that direction. Until yesterday, he had been in a hurry to get to Texas—Houston, Dallas, Austin, it didn’t matter, as long as it was far away from home. That was before Octavia knocked him to his knees—literally.
He logged onto the computer and began job searches in St. Louis, thinking about Octavia. She was sincere, sassy and witty. Landon chuckled. She purposely planted a seed in his mind that she was inviting him to her house. The joke had been on him. He grunted, then refocused on getting gainfully employed.
“You look deep in thought,” a deep voice said over his shoulder.
Landon stiffened. How could someone sneak up on him like that without him sensing their presence? Since he had been in “transition,” Landon tried to stay in tune with his surroundings and possessions. He may have been called a “pretty boy” growing up, but looks were deceiving. He knew how to defend himself whether with a fist, kick or weapon. Certain neighborhoods in Boston dictated that.
Turning around to face the intruder, Landon blinked. An unrecognizable man towered over him. At first glance, his dark skin reminded Landon of his cousin from back home, which made him do a double take. Unlike Garrett’s, there weren’t any darts shooting from his eyes. All Landon saw was kindness.
