Redeeming Heart

by Pat Simmons

  This stranger with close-cropped hair and a clean-shaven face was dressed in a high-end polo shirt and slacks. He wore an intangible air of confidence. Landon tried not to stare at the man’s shoes which would only remind him of the dozens he had lost because he couldn’t pay rent on the storage unit.

  Landon got to his feet to match the man’s height, only to be a couple of inches shorter at six-two. As his nostrils flared, Landon unsuspectedly inhaled the man’s cologne. That was another thing he had to forfeit—his designer colognes. Whoever this interloper was, somehow he didn’t fit the MO of the other residents there—his eyes were full of life.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He gave him a ready smile and stuck out his hand. “Rossi Tolliver.”

  He gripped it. “Landon Thomas.”

  Grinning, Rossi peered at the computer screen, invading what little privacy Landon had.

  That gesture put Landon on the defensive. Although he hadn’t slept with a woman in more than a year—sixteen months, if he was counting—he wasn’t desperate to visit porn sites, if that’s what Rossi was trying to verify and Landon was about to tell him that, too.

  “I recognized that company’s logo,” Rossi explained. “So you’re looking for a sales position?”

  “Senior advertising rep,” he emphasized senior, not entry level. He needed to make a lot of money—some financial obligations he couldn’t let go of.

  Rossi nodded, grabbed a chair nearby and made himself comfortable. “Do you need any help updating your résumé?”

  Who was Rossi Tolliver? Landon took his seat again. “Résumés don’t land jobs; people skills and networking open doors.”

  “Sounds like you’ve had a lot of doors shut on you lately.”

  The man had no idea, but Landon was a private person. What little he had shared with Octavia the day before was more than he had divulged with anyone since he had been on the road. Landon squinted. “Are you my caseworker?”

  “Oh no, Mac and I are friends, and I drop by from time to time. He thought I should introduce myself to you.” Before Landon could ask why, Rossi continued, “Do you have any plans for Sunday?”

  Folding his arms, Landon grunted and gave him a pointed look. “Not for church.”

  “I see.” Rossi scratched his jaw. “Since you’re searching for employment, there’s a networking event tomorrow afternoon at the Sheraton Hotel. I think you should attend.”

  An opportunity. Landon’s heart leaped with hope, then reality set in. “Thanks, but I can’t go looking like this,” he said as Rossi scanned his attire and asked his shirt, pants and shoe size. “I may not have much left, but I’ve been able to hold on to one shirt and slacks, and my dress shoes…” They definitely needed a good hand polish. He fingered his curls. His appearance also needed enhancing.

  “I tell you what, why don’t you tag along with me to my barber? I’m sure he could fit you in. Bring your clothes. There’s a one-hour cleaners nearby.”

  Swallowing, Landon’s heart soared again. Suddenly, he had a good feeling about things turning around. Landon grinned and shook Rossi’s hand. “Deal.”

  Rossi stood. “Let’s do it, bro.”

  Chapter 8

  Octavia sold the house on Corbitt to a young couple as a starter house. When she walked in this morning, she couldn’t help but be reminded of Landon’s presence. He also reminded her of a valuable lesson: never go into a property without her cell phone and a can of Mace, even if it was supposed to be secure. Well, the Mace was her idea. She was tempted to call Brother McCoy to check up on him—no—she actually wanted to see him, but she would wait a couple of days. Even though she enjoyed his company and was rooting for him to get back on his feet, Octavia didn’t want to come across as if she was chasing behind him.

  She had to get her mind off the man, which invaded her thoughts off and on for most of the day. She text Terri the good news and within minutes, her friend called with congrats. They chatted a few minutes before Terri said her goodbye, so she and her husband could enjoy their movie night.

  Having her fill of movies and books, Octavia tried Olivia again. Voice mail. Knowing her sister on a Saturday night, she was probably hanging out with one or more of her sorority sisters who attended the same church.

  When Octavia attended Xavier University in Cincinnati, Ohio, she hadn’t thought about pledging a sorority. Besides studying, Octavia had been active with the church’s youth ministries. Fast forward ten years, what happened to those friendships? She really craved the bond of a girlfriend sisterhood. Maybe it was her loneliness talking again.

  How did Landon handle the loneliness? She couldn’t imagine being homeless, yet she admired his upbeat attitude. Didn’t he have family and friends who cared about what happened to him?

  To fill her boredom before bedtime, she was about to watch a home decorating show when her father called. She smiled. Thank God for family. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “How’s my favorite daughter?” Octavia laughed at his standard greeting. Melvin Winston said the same thing to Olivia. “Have you sold any million dollar mansions this week?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, it’s coming. God is faithful.” Her father brought her up to date with what was going on in his retirement community, with her step-mother—who was sweet, but a quiet woman; the opposite of her mother whose gregarious personality was contagious—and his concern about his daughters’ finding happiness. “I think I should be a grandpa.”

  “I think you should keep praying that God will send you a godly son-in-law—” she teased.

  “Who will love and treat my favorite daughter as a princess,” he stated.

  That was the extent of their conversation about her lack of viable candidates. She spoke briefly to her step-mother, then they signed off until next time.

  The next morning, Octavia woke hyped. She always was when her praise team would perform before morning service. She prayed, showered and ate. When it came to dressing, Octavia stared at her hair in the mirror.

  The bouncing curls she had days ago were limp and wouldn’t hold up on another hot summer day. She quickly brushed her hair up into what she called a ballerina’s ball on top of her head. She applied light makeup only because of the mixer with other agents, loan officers, banks and mortgage companies she was attending after service. Otherwise, she wore very little makeup in the summer.

  Her A-line dress was simple in style; its white color gave it elegance. Next, Octavia slipped into her heels with the double straps at her ankles that complemented the twin ones across her toes. All this fuss for attire she would have to change once she got to church. She chuckled.

  Grabbing her purse, lightweight shawl and Bible, Octavia headed out the door. As she hummed to her favorite gospel songs while she drove, she thought about her recent praise dance rehearsal, which made her think about Landon again.

  She arrived at church and welcomed the hugs and greetings of “Praise the Lord” as she quickly hurried to the women’s lounge to change into her praise uniform.

  “Hey, Tavie. Have you seen Landon?” Kai dragged out his name, then capped it with a smile.

  “I haven’t, but when I see him, I’ll tell him you asked about him.”

  That seemed to make Kai’s day as she beamed. “Do that.”

  Deb shoved her. “Girl, please. Find a man who will at least iron his shirt.”

  “Sisters, please,” Octavia jumped in. “As Pastor Willis would say, ‘Let’s focus on Christ.’”

  To be a part of any auxiliary at Jesus the Shepherd Church, the pastor required members to represent Christ completely in soul and spirit, and come to Him with a clean heart when performing a service or sit out. He didn’t tolerate foolishness when it came to God.

  “You’re right,” the two agreed with Octavia, then Deb led them in prayer before they joined the praise singers in the sanctuary. “Lord, in the mighty name of Jesus, forgive us of thoughts and deeds that don’t reflect You and sanctify our minds to draw
lost sheep to the Shepherd in Your holy name, Jesus.”

  They mumbled their amens. They entered the auditorium, swaying to the music. “His Majesty Is Here” was her favorite song as she imagined King David dancing before the Lord and the twenty-four elders bowing down and worshiping the Lamb as described in the Book of Revelation.

  Octavia inhaled the words when the song alerted the congregation that the Majesty was in their presence. By the time it ended, she was always blurry eyed and in awe. Back in the changing room, she composed herself and slipped back into her dress.

  Deb joined her husband while Octavia and Kai sat together whenever they praise danced. Pastor Willis made his way to the podium to welcome guests and make a few announcements before opening his Bible. “Let’s turn to Matthew 25.” He paused while the congregation complied. “We’ve all heard the parable about the ten virgins who knew the groom was coming but still weren’t ready. Don’t let that happen on your watch. Whether you know or don’t believe, Jesus is coming back. Consider this your public service announcement. Be prepared with the Holy Ghost, which is the oil mentioned in Matthew….” As he preached, there was a hush throughout the sanctuary.

  “The Lord is sending out warning signs. Is your soul ready? We talk about being prepared for disasters, but what about the great disaster that will destroy both body and soul mentioned in Luke 12:5. God is soon to come in the blink of an eye, or before our next breath.”

  As Pastor Willis pleaded for souls to repent, Octavia didn’t know when the sermon ended and the altar call began, but she closed her Bible as dozens walked down the aisle for prayer, baptism or to seek the Holy Ghost. This portion of the service was always festive with celebration and high energy, and Octavia never wanted it to end, but she had another engagement, so after the offering and benediction, she and Kai hugged and said their goodbyes.

  She waved at Deb and her husband, Cedric, as she crossed the parking lot. Her stomach growled as she slid behind the wheel of her car and blasted the air. There would be light refreshments at the upscale mixer that was by invitation only for Million Dollar Club real estate agents and their guests. There weren’t many African-American agents in attendance—sometimes by choice, other times by exclusion.

  Every year, Octavia always came up short in home sales to make the achievement, but Terri, who had made the Million Dollar Club countless times, tried to keep her in the loop about these functions, which were pivotal in reaching that goal.

  Twenty minutes later, she checked her appearance in the mirror and refreshed her lip gloss. Her ball was still intact after her dance routine and the wrinkles to her simple white dress were minimal. Taking a deep breath, she said a quick prayer that God would open doors to get more business. Before the year was out, she wanted to make the Million Dollar Club. So far her house sales barely reached four hundred thousand dollars. “But God, You are faithful!”

  She stepped out with her purse filled with a stack of business cards, then reached back for her shawl. Carter Mortgage, housed in a historic building, was owned by generations of the elite Carter family. Once she graced the entrance, Octavia admired the architecture, which could serve as a backdrop for a wedding photographer with its sculptured high ceilings and marble floors.

  The furniture in the lobby had been rearranged since the last time she had been there. Counter tables were sprinkled throughout for people to stand, sip and chat, as well as sectional seating for cozy conversations.

  A server greeted her and offered her a glass of champagne. She declined, eying a buffet spread in view. Surely, there would be bottles of water to quench her thirst.

  As she inched her way toward the food, she slipped out a few business cards to have handy in case she was stopped before she reached the table. She had yet to see Terri or a familiar face. A gentleman stepped in her path and grinned.

  “Well, hello there.” He scanned her attire and lingered at body parts that made Octavia uncomfortable. She schooled her disgust with a sweet smile. “Hi. I’m Octavia Winston.”

  “I’m Frank Lindell…”

  Who didn’t know the Lindell name in St. Louis? He was responsible for most of the new developments near Lambert Airport and beyond. “You construct the most beautiful homes,” she complimented.

  When he held his hand out for a shake, she placed her card between his fingers. She was interested in business and nothing else. Something told her she would have to pry her hands from his grip.

  Octavia guessed he was in his mid-forties. She was sure his blue eyes were his best asset when it came to attracting a woman, but she wasn’t one of them.

  Clearly, the man didn’t want to talk business, so she discreetly inched her way to table. “I apologize. I just came from church and I’m a bit hungry.”

  He nodded and waited patiently as she placed hors d’oeuvres on her crystal luncheon plate.

  “Let’s chat a bit,” he suggested as he led her to a counter table a group had just vacated.

  Again, he waited as she blessed her food, then began to nibble. Surprisingly, Frank talked about another phase of his existing development. Maybe she had misjudged him.

  “I would like to discuss more of my vision over dinner and escort you to some other events—introduce you to colleagues and associates.”

  Dinner? Octavia knew how to separate business from pleasure. “I would appreciate that. Since my broker invited me here today, I would love to return the favor and bring her along.” She didn’t realize she had eaten everything on her plate until a server reached for it and she consented. After dabbed her mouth, Octavia extended her hand for a shake—briefly, then she excused herself.

  Octavia exhaled. While looking for Terri, she introduced herself to other professional women until she saw a familiar face and made a beeline in his direction.

  “Minister Tolliver, it’s good to see you!” Octavia smiled and gave him a loose Christian sisterly hug. She didn’t have any brothers, but Rossi was a good stand-in. “What are you doing here?”

  “Same as you.” He laughed. “Rubbing shoulders with moneymakers to let them know that downtown East St. Louis had a face-lift and is open for business.”

  Rossi had given the depressed business district in the Metro East more than a face-lift. Her friend and his cousin had designed and constructed a business/loft/shopping area that they named Tolliver Town. Octavia had worked with him in getting small businesses, such as classy boutique shops and restaurants, to lease spaces. With incentives like low rent for one year and other perks, spaces were filled within months. It had been a win-win for all. Now the Tolliver cousins were on to phase two.

  Realizing her rudeness, Octavia turned to apologize to the other man, then blinked. Her mouth opened, but the words were delayed. “Lan–Land…my Landon? Wow.” She scanned him from head to toe. “You cleaned up.” She blushed.

  “Your Landon.” Landon snickered. “I like that. Does that mean I get a hug, too?”

  “No,” she teased and smacked his hand. She hadn’t meant to call him her Landon, as if he belonged to her. He wasn’t a stray dog she found—he belonged to God. To keep from staring, she faced Rossi again. “I see you met Minister Tolliver.”

  Landon seemed surprised and not too pleased by the revelation. “I didn’t know he was a minister.”

  Rossi slipped his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels, then shrugged. “It’s a title. We all have them.”

  The man was as humble as pie, handsome and successful—a good combination for husband material, and every woman seemed to be after her “big brother,” but Octavia knew his heart belonged to one woman and Rossi had yet to tell her. “So how do you two know each other?”

  “I had no idea when I stopped by Mac’s Place that Landon had met my favorite sister.” Rossi chuckled. “Karyn and her staff treated him to the works at Crowning Glory, so that he could network today. Now, I see God was watering a seed you had planted.” He winked.

  Well, Jesus, You sent the right man to rescue Landon. He was d
efinitely in good hands with Rossi. She guessed her assignment with Landon was finished, except to stay prayerful. If Octavia could read Rossi’s mind, he was probably thinking like her that God had Landon on some type of course, and she and Rossi were being used as relay runners to get Landon to the next destination.

  “I know that Scripture,” Landon said as if in a warning tone.

  That was a good sign. She was attracted to men who liked to read and one who read his Bible got her attention. Before Octavia could engage him more, Terri was in her peripheral vision, waving frantically at her. “I better go mingle if I want to roll with the big dogs this year. Minister Rossi, I’ll see you at the tent meeting next weekend?”

  “I look forward to being there,” Rossi nodded.

  Octavia chanced another glance at Landon. Wow. Clothes may not make the man, but clean and pressed garments uncovered the hunk before her. Plus, he read his Bible! Her heart danced. Enough ogling, she chided herself as she met Terri halfway.

  “Girl, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you,” Terri scolded in a hushed tone. “There are some contacts I want you to meet.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Who were you talking to?”

  Peeping over her shoulder, Octavia was surprised to see Landon and Rossi watching her. When Rossi waved, Terri, recognizing him, waved back.

  “Who’s that other good-looking guy?” Terri asked, elbowing her.

  “Landon.”

  “Who?”

  “The guy that was in the house,” Octavia reminded her.

  Terri seemed to gasp for air. “You’re kidding me.” She squinted, then grabbed Octavia’s hand and tugged her in another direction. “We’ll talk about your charity case later. Right now, I want to introduce you to some new circles of CEOs, attorneys…”

  Chapter 9