He told her the story of growing up a preacher’s kid in a rural southern Alabama town. “I’ll take Granny’s over Justin’s any day.”
Francine chuckled. She knew Justin’s was P. Diddy’s upscale restaurant in the expensive Buckhead section of Atlanta. She could definitely picture Stuart better in that atmosphere than in this one with its battered oak tables and chairs and rickety ceiling fans. “I like Justin’s,” she said. “Not that I don’t like it here.”
He smiled. “I like Justin’s too. We’ll have to go there sometime.”
Francine didn’t answer. Since he still wore his wedding ring, she didn’t quite know how to take his comment. She told herself to take everything he said as from one friend to another, a brother in Christ to a sister in Christ. Any other ideas would only lead her to a broken heart. She was saved from responding when the waiter brought their food. That was another point in Granny’s favor—they served solid home cooking in fast-food time. After Stuart blessed the food, Francine dug into her dumplings.
“Hmm,” she said, closing her eyes to savor the taste.
“That good, huh?”
She opened her eyes and found him smiling at her. “That and I’m hungry. An unbeatable combination. Thanks for thinking of this place. It’s perfect.” She pointed her fork at his plate. “How’s that yucky stuff?”
“Don’t disparage my food. It’s delicious.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Stuart chuckled. “Eat your dumplings and leave my food alone.”
Francine took his advice.
“You know, I had ulterior motives for wanting to have dinner with you.”
She peered up at him. “What?”
“I wanted to ask you to come to the teen fathers’ group that I lead every week.” He sprinkled hot sauce on his entree. “The group started a couple of years ago. Faith Central has always had a strong youth ministry. This group grew out of that. Some of the boys from the church began to bring their friends and a great many of them were fathers. This group is a safe place for them to talk and learn what it really means to follow the Lord.”
“That’s a great idea for a ministry.” She thought about Toni, wishing her friend had had some place like a women’s group where she could have gone. “So many times when people fall into sexual sin and its results, they feel there’s no place for them. I’m glad Faith Central has made a place.”
“Me too,” Stuart said. “It’s a really effective group. The boys are learning what it means to walk with God, and I’m learning a lot from them. You’ll love them and they’ll love you.”
“It sounds like a good group,” Francine said, “but why do you want me to come?”
“Because of what you said during service yesterday. Your testimony is powerful. Kids, especially these kids, need to see people make mistakes and recover. They need that hope. You know, kids are resilient but they’re also really hard on themselves. It’s sometimes difficult for them to believe God forgives them, because they can’t forgive themselves. They need to see what victory looks like, and that’s you.”
Francine sat back in her chair. “Your words sound wonderful, Stuart, but they don’t sound like they should be applied to me. I don’t see myself as anybody’s example.”
He reached across the table for her hand. “That’s the beauty of your testimony. You didn’t set out to be an example, but God made you one. You said so yourself. It was His choice and He chose to use you to meet the needs of other believers.”
She tried to absorb his words. “Somehow the words sound different when you say them. When I think about it, I think about how good God was to take a life that I’d about ruined and use it to help somebody else the way He did yesterday. That’s all my testimony is.”
“That’s what the boys need to know. A couple of them were in church yesterday and you can be sure we’re going to talk about what you said when we meet tomorrow. I’d love for you to be there. If you can’t come this Tuesday, pick any Tuesday and you’re welcome to join us.”
“You know,” Francine said, “God never ceases to amaze me. I came back home scared to death at the reception I would get, and, for the most part, all He’s given me is love. When I left here five years ago, I thought I had to leave to find purpose in my life, to do something for God. Now I know that I don’t have to do things for Him. I have to let Him do things through me. Such a simple lesson but so difficult for me to learn.” She met his smiling eyes. “Thanks, Stuart, for inviting me to come to your group. I’d love to come one of these Tuesdays.”
Chapter 18
Dawn went straight to the refrigerator when she entered the house. She pulled out a cold diet soda, some tuna salad, and some bread. She’d eat a quick sandwich and then seek the quiet refuge of her room. Sylvester entered the kitchen as she was putting the remaining tuna salad back in the refrigerator.
“Leave that out, please,” he said. “I guess I’ll make it my dinner too. You don’t mind if I eat with you, do you?”
“Of course not.” She placed the plastic container of tuna on the table. Then she went to the pantry and brought back a bag of potato chips. She seated herself at the table and took a bite of her sandwich. When Sylvester sat next to her, she said, “You wanted to talk to me about something?”
He put two slices of bread on his plate. “Huh?”
“At the funeral home you told Francine you wanted to talk to me about something.”
He grinned. “Oh, that. It was an excuse to keep from going out with them.”
“So you’re matchmaking?”
He shrugged. “I like to see the people I care about happy. I think Francine and Stuart could make each other happy. No harm in that, is there?”
She popped a chip in her mouth. “I didn’t say there was.”
He propped his elbows on the table and brought the sandwich to his mouth. “We’re not going to argue about this, are we?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to argue.”
Sly wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “Good. Neither do I.” He sipped his drink. “I want to apologize for Sunday. I shouldn’t have raised my fists to Walter.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. You were totally out of line.”
Sly placed his sandwich down and met her gaze. “Not totally. I’m sorry for almost physically assaulting Walter, but I’m not sorry for what I said, because it’s true.”
“It’s—”
“Okay, Dawn,” he challenged, “look me in the eyes right now and tell me that Walter hasn’t propositioned you.” When she didn’t speak, he said, “I know what I’m talking about and I want to save you the pain that I suffer.”
“You’re not the only one who suffers, Sly,” she said quietly.
“I know,” he said. “Francine was right on the money yesterday. Sin has far-reaching consequences.”
“Too bad you didn’t think of that then.”
Sly nodded. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking, but you won’t have that excuse, Dawn.” He rubbed his hand across his head. “Who am I kidding? I didn’t really have it as an excuse myself.”
“I’m glad you realize that.”
Sensing that this line of conversation was leading them to the same familiar dead end, Sly said, “I think we made good progress this evening.”
Dawn nodded. “You know, I think this could work and take Amen-Ray to a whole new level.”
“Me too. I’ll get started on that business plan tonight.”
Dawn looked at him for a long moment, considered what she was about to say. “Since I’m here,” she said, “I could help.” When he looked at her, she added, “If you want a second head to work on it.”
“I thought you were tired.”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t as tired as I thought. Besides, if we work here, I can put on something a bit more comfortable, kick off my shoes, and put my feet up while we work.”
“Well, two heads are always better than one,” Sly said. “I’d appreciate your help. We ma
y be able to work through this a lot quicker than Stuart thinks. I’ve already been thinking about the funeral homes we’d visit on our initial road show.”
“Which ones?”
“Vines in Fort Lauderdale is at the top of the list.” He rattled off a few others. “Of course, Peterson here in town.”
“Good choices,” Dawn said.
“Well,” Sly offered, “we can make the first road trip together, if you like. We can start pulling the presentation together as we work through the business plan, since that’s what we’ll be presenting anyway.”
“That’s a good idea,” Dawn said, though she was unsure about the part with them traveling together. Then she asked, “Have you talked to your grandparents about these plans for the funeral home?”
Sly shook his head and sat back in his chair. “I don’t want them to worry. I haven’t even told them about Easy Rest. They have enough on their minds when they should just be enjoying their retirement.”
Dawn smiled. “You’ve always been protective of them.”
“I wouldn’t call it protective.”
“What would you call it?”
“Responsible. When I was growing up, going to college, I never had to concern myself with the business. The business became partly my job when I joined Grandpa, and all of my job after he retired. He’s carried the load long enough. It’s my turn now.”
“It’s not just you, Sly,” Dawn said. “Francine and I are with you in this as well.”
“I know,” he said.
She shook her head. “I don’t think you do. I think you hold yourself solely responsible for what happens at the funeral home. That’s too much, even for you.” Sly studied her for so long without speaking that Dawn felt uncomfortable. She picked up her glass of soda to have something to do with her hands. “What?” she asked.
“You. I never know what to expect from you.”
“And?”
“To be honest, it makes me nervous. Yesterday, you were distant and disconnected. Today, you’re concerned about my taking on too much and wanting to work with me on this project. I wonder what tomorrow will bring.”
She met his gaze. “Let’s not worry about tomorrow. Why not take what we have today and work with it?”
“Is that the best you can offer?”
She nodded. “Is it enough?”
He studied her long seconds before answering. “I guess it’ll have to be.”
“Good. Now enough analysis. Let’s eat so we can get to work.”
Nodding, Sly dug into his meal.
~ ~ ~
Two weeks later, Stuart sat in the Genesis House Community Center in southwest Atlanta in his meeting with his teen fathers’ group. He covered his anxiety over Francine’s impending arrival by preparing his boys for her visit. “Okay, guys,” Stuart told the gathering of nine teenaged boys. “Ms. Amen is going to join us today. I told you about her, remember?”
“We remember, all right,” Jimbo said. He was a tall, lanky boy, a basketball star at a local high school, and the father of a two-year-old girl. “Judge has a woman.”
“Bet,” chorused a few of the other boys. They usually followed Jimbo’s lead.
“She’s not my woman,” Stuart tried to explain.
“Yeah, right,” somebody said. “Tell us anything, Judge.”
Stuart tried again. “I’m serious, you guys. Are you going to feel free talking in front of her? Is there anything you’d like to talk about before she gets here?”
“Nah, man,” said Hank, the seventeen-year-old son of one of the local ministers. Hank had a seven-month-old son. “We can’t wait for her to get here. We want to see what kind of woman you can get.”
“Man, she’s fine,” another boy said, nudging his neighbor with his elbow. “We saw her at church.”
The other boys howled at that comment. Stuart bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling. Some days he forgot how young they were. They were fathers, but they were also kids. It struck his heart deeply, as it always did, to realize how irrevocably their lives had changed with the birth of their children. As he looked at them, Stuart saw where he could have been had it not been for the grace of God. His life had been lived in much the same fashion as theirs—careless and carefree. The only difference was, his actions hadn’t caught up with him in the form of an unplanned and unwanted pregnancy.
Stuart glanced out the window just in time to see Francine get out of her car. He stood up and pointed a finger at his crew. “I want you to be on your best behavior. I know you know how to treat women, and I don’t want you to get so comfortable with teasing me that you forget. Got that?”
“Got it, Judge,” they chorused.
“I’ll be right back,” Stuart told them. He left the room to meet Francine. When she came around the corner and faced him, he asked, “Are you ready?”
“I guess,” she said, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Are they ready for me?”
“More than ready. As Hank said, they want to see what kind of woman I can get.”
“Woman?”
Stuart grinned. “What can I say? They’re young.”
She cocked her head to the side. “What if I don’t measure up?”
Stuart’s gaze traveled from the top of the French braid on her head to her simple white blouse to her standard denim jeans. He had no complaints. “Not a chance,” he said in all seriousness. All nine heads turned as the two of them entered the room and Stuart read the acceptance and, for a few, recognition, in the teenaged eyes now focused on Francine.
“You done good, Judge,” somebody said.
“Okay, gang,” Stuart said, “I’d like you to meet my friend, Miss Francine Amen. A couple of you have seen her around Faith Central. Francine, this is my crew, also known as TFMA, Teen Fathers Making Amends. Why don’t you introduce yourselves to Miss Amen?”
Stuart kept Francine’s hand in his during the introductions. When they had gone around the circle, Jimbo asked, “Are you the judge’s girlfriend?”
Francine cast a sidelong glance at Stuart. “Well,” she said, “I’m a girl and since I’m his friend, I guess that makes me his girlfriend. What do you think, Judge?”
Stuart smiled down at her. “Good answer.” Then he turned to the young men gathered in the room. “Who wants to start?”
There was murmuring among the group before Timothy, the newest member, spoke. Timothy had two children by two different girls. “I’ll go,” he said. Twirling a pencil in his fingers, he began, “I went to see Tisha last week like I said I would. I tried to tell her how sorry I was about everything, but she didn’t want to hear it. She kicked me out, said I was a no-good user.”
“Did she let you see your baby?” another boy asked.
Timothy shook his head. “She said if I didn’t want to see him when he was born, I couldn’t see him now, said I could go see my other baby.”
“That’s rough, man,” Jimbo said. “But you hurt her real bad when you said the baby wasn’t yours.”
“Jimbo’s right, man,” Hank chimed in. “It’s like the judge said. When you hurt somebody, the hurt doesn’t go away for them because you say you’re sorry.”
“I’m trying to do the right thing,” Timothy said, now sounding much younger than his seventeen years. “But she won’t let me. She’s the one wrong now.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Stuart told the boy. “It doesn’t matter what she does. What matters is what you do.” This was his mantra to the boys—take responsibility for your actions and accept their consequences.
“Why does she have to act so crazy?” Timothy asked.
Stuart turned to Francine. He felt her spirit reach out to the young men as they spoke, so he wasn’t surprised to see the tears building in her eyes. “You’re a woman,” he said to her. “Can you offer Timothy any insight on why Tisha acts the way she does?”
Her widened eyes told him that he had put her on the spot. He guessed she wasn’t sure if she had any words to offer Timo
thy. Since he was sure she did, he waited and prayed.
“Well,” Francine began. Stuart squeezed her fingers. “Let’s think about the situation from Tisha’s perspective. Did you ever tell her you loved her?”
Timothy gave a barely perceptible nod.
“Did you mean it?”
“I thought I did at the time.”
She waited.
“Well, maybe I liked her,” Timothy added.
“Okay,” Francine said. “Did she tell you that she loved you?”
Timothy nodded.
“Do you think she meant it?”
Timothy nodded again, this time more slowly.
“How do you think she felt when she found out she was pregnant?”
Timothy lifted his slim shoulders. “I don’t know. Scared, maybe?”
“Yes, she probably was scared. Now, who do you think was the first person she told?”
“Me,” Timothy said, his eyes watering.
“What did she say?”
Timothy wiped at his eyes. “She said she thought she was pregnant. She asked me what we were going to do.”
Francine tightened her grip on Stuart’s hand as if needing his strength. “And what did you say?” she asked Timothy.
Timothy squeezed his eyes shut and tears leaked down his cheek. “I asked her why she was telling me. It wasn’t mine.”
Stuart knew his eyes were wet now too. As he scanned the room, he saw that the eyes of most of the boys in the room were wet. Wet because they too had similar stories to tell; wet because they’d learned that being a man meant having feelings, not hiding them.
“And then she started crying,” Timothy continued. “She started crying and I left her there crying.”
Francine wiped her own tears. “It hurts you now to think about what you did, doesn’t it, Timothy?” she asked, her words comforting, not accusing.
Timothy nodded.
“Well, you hurt, and you said those words. Imagine how much worse it feels to be the receiver of those words. Imagine how much worse they hurt Tisha. It may be a while before she comes around, and it’s possible she may never come around.”
Stuart squeezed Francine’s hand, proud of the way she’d handled the situation, but in no way surprised.
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