Promise of Forever Love

by Vanessa Miller

  There were so many empty storefronts and closed businesses in Detroit that it was impossible to go a mile without seeing a “Closed” or “For Sale” sign. It struck Thomas as odd that the city would choose to tear down an entire community where the people had lived most of their lives in order to develop a new business district when there were so many other areas in the city that could be used. As a matter of fact, the city wouldn’t have to spend so much money purchasing buildings only to tear them down if they used some of the wasteland that Thomas had found and photographed—acres and acres of land with nothing on it. So, why, again, would a city that was in desperate need of funds choose to spend so much money to buy property that had already been developed with a church and private residences, only to tear them down and start over, when there was land aplenty that wasn’t being used for anything?

  Thomas didn’t have answers to those questions, but he intended to get some. He planned to give the mayor an earful—and an eyeful.

  Thomas was so pumped about the meeting that he didn’t even care about the sleep he was missing. He had preached the sermon at church the day before. Normally, whenever he spoke somewhere, he would spend the following morning at home or in his hotel room, resting. Preaching wore him out, and he always wanted to deliver his best to the people of God. That is why he also studied God’s Word on a regular basis and planned his sermons or motivational speeches well in advance. He reviewed his recordings of prior messages and watched films of himself, listening to the way he spoke to the crowd, always with an eye and an ear for improving. He had become one of the most highly sought-after speakers because of his natural yet poetic prose when he spoke to an audience. He tried to embody a blend of the styles of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Les Brown.

  So, even though he wanted to rest today, Thomas couldn’t have afforded to stay in bed one extra minute. He was on a mission, and nothing was going to get in his way. Not even his publisher, who was calling him on his cell phone this very moment. Thomas put down his camera to answer the phone. “Hey, Fred. If you’re calling, I know I must be in big trouble,” he joked.

  Although he had gone out to dinner a few times with Fred Tompkins, the head of the company that published his books, he normally spoke only with his editor, Maryann. If she had called on the big guns for help, there must be a serious problem related to his latest manuscript.

  “No trouble at all, Thomas. I was just talking with Maryann, and she doesn’t think that your book will go to press on time if your manuscript isn’t in by the end of this week.”

  No trouble, huh? “Fred, I’m not trying to be difficult, but I’m going to need more time. I have delivered ten other books ahead of schedule, but right now, I have other priorities that I can’t ignore.”

  “How much of the book have you completed?”

  “About half.”

  “And how much more time do you think you’ll need to get the rest of it done?”

  Thomas made a mental checklist of all of the things he had to deal with: Deacon Brown’s theft, the property seizure issue, and Tia’s destination wedding. He didn’t know how long it would take him to get those items wrapped up, so he really couldn’t commit to a specific date. Hesitantly, he replied, “I really couldn’t say.”

  “If memory serves me right, you normally dictate your books into a recording device before you write them down.”

  “Yeah, and I’ve already done that; I just don’t have time to type it out and polish it up.” Thomas’s recordings were the unrefined “raw materials” of his books, and sometimes putting his thoughts and teachings into a style appropriate for the printed page took longer than it did to come up with them in the first place.

  “Well, why don’t you send those tapes to us?” Fred suggested. “Maryann can have someone type everything up, and then she’ll polish it, as you normally would. Then, we’ll e-mail the manuscript back to you so that you can look it over and make changes as needed.”

  Thomas took a deep breath as he considered Fred’s idea. “That would help me out, Fred,” he finally said. “I really appreciate that you’re willing to do this for me.”

  “Hey, we’re partners in this, remember? We understand that you’ve taken on new responsibilities at Christ-Life Sanctuary, and we want you to know that we’re here to help in whatever way we can.”

  “Well, again, I just hope you realize how much I appreciate your support.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Fred said. “And tell Pastor Yvonne that we are anxiously awaiting her next book, so she can just let us know when she has another one in the works.”

  “I’ll do that,” Thomas said. “Thanks again, Fred.”

  He was grateful that his book project could move forward without his full participation, because nothing could get him off course right now. He was determined to make things right for Yvonne, even if he had to spend every waking moment trying to get to the bottom of what exactly was going on with the city of Detroit and its property seizure plans.

  He was also glad to hear that Fred wanted another book from Yvonne. That news would surely perk up her spirits. He had been partly responsible for Yvonne’s first book deal with that publishing house. At the Independent Christian Retail Show almost two decades ago, she and David had insisted he introduce Yvonne to his publisher. “Yvonne has a book that every woman in this country needs to read,” David had told him. “You’ve got to help her out, Thomas.”

  At those words, Thomas had almost laughed in his friend’s face. For years, David had been a hard sell on women preachers, and it wasn’t until Thomas had preached a message at Christ-Life Sanctuary about the call of God on women in ministry that David’s mind and heart had begun to change. Thomas had been a little apprehensive about preaching that message. At the time, he was pastoring a floundering church and really needed the extra income the speaking engagement would bring. So, he hadn’t wanted to offend his friend. But Thomas never played around when the Lord gave him a message to deliver, so he had gone ahead and preached it with conviction.

  “You can get that smirk off your face, Thomas Reed,” David had said. “You started all of this. If you hadn’t opened my eyes to the reality that women can and should be preachers, I wouldn’t be working to further my wife’s ambitions. But I’m telling you, Yvonne’s name is going to be bigger than mine one day.”

  “Okay, okay,” Thomas had said with a chuckle. “Follow me. I’ll introduce you and Yvonne to my publisher, Fred Tompkins.”

  And that’s where it had all started. Yvonne’s first book was titled Girl, Free Yourself. It encouraged women to reclaim the power that God had given them through the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and it had become a number one best seller. The book was still popular and continued to sell well in bookstores and online. That’s what Yvonne needs, Thomas thought to himself as he continued to drive down the street, scouting out potential locations for the city’s new business district. A new book to write.

  In his office, Marvel Williams sat with his feet propped up on his desk and paged through a copy of Girl, Free Yourself. He despised the author of that book for more reasons than he could count. And he had finally devised a plan to pay her back for everything she had taken from him.

  Yes, Mrs. Say-It-like-It-Is Yvonne Milner had taken a lot from him, including both his parents. After reading the pages of hogwash in Girl, Free Yourself, his weak-minded mother had somehow gained a sense of empowerment and left his father. And then his father had politely put a bullet in his mother’s head for having the audacity to think that she could do better than him.

  Marvel had been placed in foster care, where he had remained until he turned eighteen and left for college on a scholarship. So, the way Marvel saw it, since Yvonne had taken his mother and his father from him, he was going to take her daughter from her. He had had no home after his father was arrested, so he was going to make sure that Yvonne lost her church home.

  For a while, everything was falling into place, but then tha
t weasel Thomas Reed came riding in to save the day, Clarence Brown got cold feet and skipped town on him, and then Pastor Yvonne and Thomas started telling their sob story on every radio station and television show they could find. Marvel hadn’t been worried until CNN had covered the story. After that, his contact in the mayor’s office also started to get cold feet.

  Things might not be going according to plan, but with his high IQ and his ability to convince others to believe anything he wanted them to, Marvel was sure he would get the job done. He just had to keep Toya in the dark about what he was doing with her mother’s church long enough to get what he wanted from her—the piece of this entire plan that would rip Yvonne Milner’s heart out. Marvel planned to marry Toya and then make her life a living hell, just as his father had done to his mother. Then maybe he’d give her a copy of Girl, Free Yourself, so he could go and spend some quality time with his father in prison.

  To make his plan work, he also had to keep Toya from learning about his business dealings. Toya had it in her mind to go to the meeting with the mayor tonight to support her mother, but that was the last place Marvel wanted her to be. Some fool would probably let it slip that he was the businessman who had requested the right to build his factory right where Christ-Life Sanctuary currently sat. He didn’t think Toya would take that information too well, so he picked up the phone and dialed her number. When Toya answered, Marvel said, “Hey, baby! How’s your day going?”

  “It was pretty hectic until I received those flowers from you. I couldn’t believe you remembered that we met two months ago today!”

  “How could I forget? You’ve made my time in Detroit very pleasant.”

  “Why, thank you, sir,” she said with a giggle.

  “Hey, I was calling to see if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight to celebrate our anniversary.”

  “Oh, I’d love to, but I have to go to that meeting with my mom—remember, the one I told you about with the mayor?”

  He snapped his fingers. “That’s right. I forgot about that.” He paused for a moment. “How about you let me take you out for an early dinner, and then I’ll drop you off at the meeting? That way, you can celebrate with me and still be there for your mom.”

  “Ah, you’re so sweet! Okay, pick me up at work around five thirty, and we’ll go celebrate.”

  Marvel really liked Toya. If her mother were not the evil preacher who’d caused his mother’s death, he thought that he and Toya could have made things work. Too bad he had to destroy her. But, hey, an eye for an eye; a daughter for a mother. “I can’t wait to see you.”

  “Hey, Marvel? Are you still on for coming to the Bahamas for my sister’s wedding?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I want to go to the Bahamas with you?”

  “Well, because we’ll be in separate rooms.”

  “That’s the thing I don’t get. If you’re into me enough to ask me to go to the Bahamas with you, why can’t we stay in the same room?” Marvel asked. He thrilled to think of Pastor Yvonne having a stroke after discovering that he had slept with her perfect daughter.

  “I’ve explained this to you before, Marvel. I know that I am twenty-six years old, but the only man I intend to sleep with is my husband. It’s the way I was raised, and I plan to honor my vows to God,” Toya told him with conviction in her voice.

  “I can understand that, Toya. I’ve made a few vows to God, as well. And believe me, I plan to honor every one of them.”

  “Have you found a church home yet?” Toya wanted to know.

  Marvel sighed. “Not yet. I’ve been visiting different churches, but none of them has felt like home.”

  “Why don’t you come to church with me on Sunday? I guarantee that you will love my mother’s church.”

  “I’ve told you before, Toya, I don’t want to attend church with you until we determine where our relationship is heading. It would be different if your mother wasn’t the pastor. But since she is, the whole idea is kind of uncomfortable for me.” In more ways than one.

  “All right, Marvel. But you don’t want to bounce around from one church to the next for too long. It’s always good to have a church family, even if it isn’t ‘perfect’—because you know that no perfect church exists.”

  “Don’t you worry about me, little Miss Toya. I don’t intend to bounce around for much longer. Soon, I’ll find what I’ve been looking for, and then everything else will fall into place.”

  Chapter

  Eleven

  Yvonne was losing patience. She and Thomas were waiting for the mayor to grace them with his presence. They had accommodated his busy schedule by agreeing to meet with him at his office at seven in the evening, but it was already twenty-five after seven, and still the mayor hadn’t shown up. She was beginning to think that he had forgotten about them.

  “Can you believe this man is making us wait like this?” Thomas asked, voicing the same feeling of being slighted that Yvonne was experiencing.

  She looked down at her watch. “Toya was supposed to meet us here, too. I don’t know what’s keeping her.” She pulled out her phone and was preparing to call her daughter when the door to the mayor’s office opened. She put the cell phone back in her purse.

  The man introduced himself as Michael Barclay, an official in the mayor’s office. “Sorry I’m late,” he said as he took a seat behind the mayor’s desk. “It’s been a madhouse around here today.”

  “I’m glad you showed up. I was beginning to wonder,” Thomas said as he glanced at his watch. “How much longer will we have to wait for the mayor to get here?”

  “I’m sorry if the mayor’s executive assistant didn’t explain this meeting correctly,” Michael explained. “The mayor is out of town, and your meeting was scheduled with me.”

  “And who exactly are you?” Thomas asked testily.

  Yvonne put a gentle hand on Thomas’s shoulder. She recognized that he was about to go tickety-boom, and she wanted to quiet things down before the bomb exploded. “Mr. Barclay, we thought our meeting was with the mayor,” she said calmly. “Is there some reason that he sent you, instead?”

  “Yes, of course there is,” Michael said loftily. “I am the person handling the eminent domain seizure of property in the neighborhood where your church building is located, and so the mayor knew I would have the information you are looking for.”

  “Okay! Now we’re getting somewhere,” Yvonne said, releasing Thomas’s shoulder. “I do have a few questions for you, Mr. Barclay. First, I’d like to know why our area was picked for this business district you want to develop.”

  “There were several considerations that went into selecting the location for the new factory that will be constructed,” Michael explained, “but the most important factor had to do with the priorities and preferences of the factory owner.”

  “And just who might that be?” Thomas asked, his tone slightly less irritated but far from placid.

  “I’m not at liberty to divulge that information at this time. But I can tell you that this factory is slated to bring about five hundred jobs to the city—jobs we desperately need.”

  “I understand the need for jobs, but the people in our church community have lived in their homes for years,” Yvonne explained. “They’ve raised their children in those homes, and now their grandchildren visit them there. They don’t want to uproot and move somewhere else just to make room for a factory.”

  “It’s not as if we’re just taking the houses without paying for them,” Michael responded. “Believe me, everyone in that neighborhood will have more than enough money to purchase another house.”

  “Money isn’t everything, Mr. Barclay. You’re trying to take homes away from people based simply on the whim of someone who might decide to move his factory somewhere else.”

  “We don’t believe that will happen. And remember, Pastor Yvonne, we are willing to pay two million dollars for your church. I’m sure you can relocate easily with that kind of money.”

  “
We owe three million on that building. How in the world could the government offer me less than what I owe and consider that fair?” Yvonne’s voice rose in pitch, and she found herself unable to quiet it.

  “You have a structure on your land that is not finished. That is why the property has been devalued.” Michael shrugged. “I’m sorry, but unless you can get that structure finished quickly, we can’t pay you any more than the standing offer.”

  Yvonne was speechless. The government wanted to throw her out of her church and leave her with a million-dollar debt?

  “Why don’t you just provide this person with another location for his factory?” Thomas asked.

  Michael turned to him and said, “This was the best location available for our buyer’s needs.”

  “Oh, really?” With that, Thomas leaned over, opened his briefcase, and pulled out a file folder. He set the folder on the desk and produced one picture after the next of abandoned buildings or empty lots. “Were any of these locations considered?”

  Now it was Michael’s turn to be speechless.

  “You don’t have to answer us right now,” Thomas continued, “but you think real hard about your answer. Because from now until the city council meeting when the final vote on this issue is taken, we are going to contact every news outlet we can and provide them with these pictures and their locations. We will let them know that we are confused as to why the city would choose to uproot hardworking citizens and a long-established church when doing so is obviously unnecessary.”

  Michael stared at the photos for a few moments, then lifted his gaze to Thomas. “Where did you get these?”

  “This is the digital age, Mr. Barclay. Any novice with a camera and time on his hands could have taken these photos. So, what I am asking is, how many people will soon become aware that this city has dozens of other viable options for this business district, but instead of using those, you’ve chosen to uproot an entire community?”