by E. N. Joy
Deborah nodded. “Yes. Remember that big earthquake they had over in Chile a couple of years ago? Well, unfortunately, Elton was one of its casualties.”
“Awww man.” Lynox washed his hands down his face, feeling bad that he’d just spoken ill of the dead. “I . . . I . . . I didn’t know. You must have been devastated—left over there in a foreign country all alone.”
Deborah twisted her lips and almost angrily said, “Harrumph, I was alone from the moment we got there. I hate to say it, but it made no difference with Elton dead or alive—I was alone.”
“But you knew going into that, that the life of a ball player is crazy busy.”
“Yes, I knew that, and I didn’t mind that the majority of his time was dedicated to the game. What I did mind was the minority that was leftover still wasn’t dedicated to me.” Deborah took a sip of her coffee but not before quickly slipping in the words, “But that was dedicated to his wife instead.”
Lynox nearly spit out his last sip of coffee when he heard Deborah’s last words. “Did you say . . . did you say ‘wife’? Elton had a wife over in Chile.” Lynox tried to hide his smile, but a small portion crept out. “That dude was more than just a ball player; he was a player to the highest. Dang, I take back all the bad stuff I said about that dude. He had skills. I mean, you have to in order to be able to come back to the States, steal the woman I love from right up under me, convince her to pick up and move to another country, while you have a wife over there making you pastel de choclo.” Lynox began laughing.
As Lynox laughed, Deborah’s eyes began to fill with tears, but Lynox hadn’t noticed until her first tear actually dropped.
“Oh, Deborah, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” Lynox got up from his side of the table and went and scooted in next to Deborah in their booth. “I didn’t mean to make you sad. I was just joking around. I know—I know. It was in poor taste.” Lynox picked up a napkin and began dabbing Deborah’s tears away. “I’m sorry.”
Deborah turned and looked at Lynox. “Please don’t apologize. No man has ever said something that sincere and genuine to me and meant it.”
Now Lynox was confused and it showed on his face.
Deborah could see the puzzled expression on his face, so she clarified things for him. “You said ‘the woman I love.’”
Still, Lynox had a look of confusion on his face.
“You said that Elton came and stole the woman you love,” she said, still looking deep into Lynox’s hypnotizing eyes, and placing her lips so close to his that when she spoke he could feel her breath on his own lips. “Lynox, do you still love me?”
Chapter Nine
Pulling into the garage after spending two hours talking to Lynox at the coffee shop, Deborah felt that not even all the coffee in the world could give her back her energy. Nothing could provide the boost she’d need to pick her up out of the dragging funk she now found herself in. Her body felt lifeless and her mind drained. She didn’t even know how she’d managed to get home without having to pull over to the side of the road and just sit there and let her body figure out what it was going to do with itself.
Her body hadn’t been tired or feeling worn out. She’d been getting plenty of rest, but all it had taken was just a few words out of Lynox’s mouth to zap every last ounce of energy from within her.
She’d asked him if he still loved her. Why did she have to go and do that? Why did she have to go and try to move things along so fast? Why couldn’t she have just let nature take its course and then one day, out of nowhere, Lynox could have told her how much he loved her . . . or “liked her a lot”? But no, Deborah had to, like she’d been doing up to this point, take things into her own hands. It would have been too much like right for her to sit back, wait, and let God do His thing.
Deborah never was good at waiting. The patience of Job she did not possess. She could wait for some things. Like in church on Sunday morning; she could wait for Deacon Lowe, whenever he was called on to lead the body of Christ in prayer, to finish up his twenty-minute prayer. He’d pray the same stuff over and over, and then go off on a tangent somewhere and pray for his cousin in Tucson who just found out that her old college friend had a child with a best friend whose mother had a bad case of eczema that had her scratching her arms all day. She had no problem on Sunday morning at church waiting for the same twenty people who came down to the altar every single Sunday to get prayed for and to touch and agree with the pastor, ministers, or elders. On Sunday she didn’t seem to have a problem waiting at all. It was those other days of the week she had an issue with.
Today, a Thursday, had been no different. Deborah just couldn’t wait to find out if all this time Lynox had been thinking about her, feeling the same way about her as she him. So she just came right out and asked. Maybe she wouldn’t be feeling as bad as she felt now if his reply had been something other than what it was.
His reply had sent a surge of power through her body like never before.
“Deborah Lewis, I never stopped loving you,” had been the words Lynox replied.
Just to hear him say that, Deborah would have practically broken her ankle, got her big toe crushed, slammed into Lynox’s truck, had the police show up at her door, and made a complete idiot of herself in a room full of strangers all over again. All the drama she had been through all week in the name of Lynox had not all been in vain. God was her friend. In the end, He’d seen to it that Deborah had gotten exactly what she wanted; with several obstacles and tests to pass, that is. But she had gotten her guy.
Oh, but did God have jokes, Deborah surmised by the end of the evening. Because it was the end of the evening when everything changed. It was toward the end of two hours of talking when Deborah realized in all her talking she’d forgotten to mention to Lynox one very important factor in her life. And she probably never would have even thought about it had Lynox not brought the subject matter up.
“And just so you know . . . because I know eventually you are going to ask,” Lynox said to Deborah. “That’s just how women are,” he said with a knowing look on his face. “The date I had the other night, the night you hit my car—the date I mentioned back at the library who I didn’t want to find your shoes in my car . . .”
“What date?” Deborah feigned dumb; all the while she really had been waiting for the opportunity to ask Lynox about that date, if things were serious between him and the woman.
“Oh, please. Don’t play with me.” Lynox laughed. “You know you couldn’t wait to ask me about that. But I’ll save you the trouble. It was nothing. It was our first date and it was our last.”
“Oh, couldn’t concentrate on the date thinking about me, huh?” Deborah joked.
“Modest aren’t we?” Lynox played along but then continued. “Actually she was a really nice lady. Had her own house, car, career, two degrees in finance, a nice savings, and good credit. You know—qualities most men would love for one woman to have. But there was something she didn’t have . . .”
“Looks?” Deborah began to pat her hair as if complimenting her own.
“Why, Ms. Lewis, I never knew conceit was one of your characteristics.”
“Oh, now you know I’m just messing around with you. I know I’m not all that.” Deborah dropped her hand. Lynox caught it.
“Oh, but you are all that—and then some.” And Lynox meant every word of it when he said it. Deborah could feel it. “Anyway”—he pulled his hand away—“she looked aiiiiiggghhht,” he exaggerated the word. “Not that she could hold a candle to your beauty.” Lynox smiled. “But that wasn’t it. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t what she didn’t have. It was what she did have.” Lynox stared off.
“And what was that?” Deborah asked and then took a bite of her slice of cheesecake she’d ordered.
“A kid. She had a kid.”
Deborah’s eyes bucked and she began choking on her food.
“Are you okay?” Lynox asked. “Here—drink some water.” He reached for Deborah’s glass of water, w
hich had remained untouched until now. He handed it to Deborah, who then gulped half the glass down in just a couple of swallows.
Coughing, Deborah was beating her hand on her chest, as if she could knock the cheesecake that was stuck in her throat down her pipes. Between the beating and the water, it finally made its way down.
“You all right?” Lynox asked with uncertainty.
“Yeah, I’m good.” Deborah took another sip of water. “Just went down the wrong pipe is all.”
“Oh, good. You scared me there for a minute.” Now Lynox sounded relieved. But with all the drama, he’d forgotten he’d been in the middle of telling her why he broke it off with his date. But Deborah hadn’t forgotten.
“So you were saying about the date . . .” Deborah pressed.
“Oh, yeah, that. Well, like I said, she had wonderful qualities, but she had a kid. I’m not and never have been the kind of guy who wants a readymade family. I’ve always had the dream of the white house, picket fence, dog, cat, lovely wife, and kids . . . of my own. Not my kids and his kids; ‘him’ being the man she was with before she was with me. I mean, come on, any man who is honest with himself will admit that there is just something about a little reminder, walking around the house, of the person who had his woman before he got to her. As shallow as it sounds, for me, that’s the deal breaker—a woman with kids from another relationship. I can’t do it. I won’t do it. Not to mention the baby daddy drama that could possibly come along with the relationship. I mean, men aren’t nearly as catty and petty as women . . .” He looked to Deborah and put his hands up. “No offense, but you know there is far more baby momma drama between women than there is baby daddy drama between men. But whatever the case, it’s not my cup of tea.” He lifted his cup. “Or my cup of coffee.” He winked at Deborah then took a sip.
That’s when all the life in Deborah’s body made a quick exit. How had she talked to this man for two hours and never mentioned the fact that she had a child? Her little man, besides God, was the most important part of her life. That should have been one of the first things she had delighted in telling Lynox, but she hadn’t, and after hearing him be so adamant about never dealing with a readymade family, how in the world could she possibly tell him now? She couldn’t . . . and so she didn’t.
Yes, her son was the most important person in her life, but even before him, Lynox had captured a piece of her heart. That piece of her heart along with the rest of it wanted Lynox—even after his comment about not wanting a woman with kids.
“But I’m different,” Deborah had said to herself out loud on her drive home. She and Lynox had history. Surely he could make an exception for her. She knew that if the tables were turned, she would for him. And if she was reading into things correctly, he felt the same strong connection with her that she felt with him. “For God’s sake the man said he loves me.” Well, how Deborah saw it, if he loved her, he’d love her son, who was just a mini extension of her. So even though she couldn’t and didn’t bring herself to mention at the coffee shop the fact that she had a child, she knew eventually she would have to. When? Now that was a whole other dilemma.
Deborah’s cell phone vibrated. She had turned the ringer off at the coffee shop to avoid any loud interruptions. She picked up her phone and looked at the caller ID. She tapped herself upside the head to punish herself for forgetting to do something. “Hi, Mom,” she answered the phone. She’d forgotten to call and check in with her mother, and that was after telling her she’d only be gone about an hour.
“I guess you decided to let my baby stay the night with his Ganny Ban Banny after all, huh?”
That wasn’t a conscious decision Deborah had made. She’d simply forgotten to go pick him up after her evening with Lynox. But there was no way she was going to tell her mother that. “Uh, yeah, Mom. I figured I’d just let him stay. Sorry I didn’t call.”
“It’s okay. No worries. And don’t rush to come get him in the morning. Get as much work done as you need to. See you tomorrow, honey. Good night.” And her mother was off the phone just that quick; and the way things looked now, her and Lynox’s relationship had been over even quicker.
Deborah threw herself back on the bed and exhaled deeply. She then looked over at the picture on her nightstand of her holding her son on his first birthday. Tears began to pour out of her eyes as she thought about how she’d forgotten all about her son twice in one evening. What kind of horrible mother am I?
She turned and buried her face in her pillow, using the fluffy object as a silencer for her crying.
“Oh, God! What am I going to do?” she cried into the pillow. She never thought in a million years she’d be torn over an issue between her son and a suitor. She’d just wanted to reconnect with Lynox so badly that she never even thought about how he’d feel about her having a child. That was obvious, considering she didn’t even think about telling him about her son. Her only focus had been getting her guy. Well, she had gotten her guy all right. But now, would she be able to keep him?
Chapter Ten
“Lynox. Hi. How are you?” Deborah answered the phone. She’d been in the middle of editing a manuscript.
“I am more wonderful than I have been in about . . . hmmm . . . two years,” he said through the phone receiver.
“Is that so?”
“My dear, that is very much so.”
Deborah could hear a smile in his voice. It was contagious. So much so that it not only put a smile in her tone, but one on her face as well. “Thank you for taking time out of your schedule to sit and talk with me yesterday. I really needed to hear a lot of the things you said. And more importantly, there were a lot of things that I needed to say.”
“Well, I hope you were able to say them all, because from this day forward, I want to forget all about anything in the past. From this point on, I don’t want to talk about anything or anyone from the past; or anything or anyone that will even slightly remind us of the past. That includes both Helen and Elton. I don’t want even a remnant of those two in our future. Agreed?” Lynox paused for a response from Deborah.
This conversation was not going as she had planned. Maybe that’s because Deborah’s intention was to call Lynox instead of him calling her. When she called him, she would have been ready to tell him that she had a child and that if that was the deal breaker for him, then there wasn’t even a need for them to move forward. They could both walk away now before things went any further than coffee and a kiss. But that’s not what had happened. Lynox had called her first and took lead of the conversation. Now Deborah felt all she could do was follow.
“Agreed. But there is—” Deborah started before Lynox cut her off.
“No buts. When you add the word ‘but,’ it crosses out something or everything that you’ve just said. I don’t want anything crossed out. I mean it. Fresh soil this time. Nothing or no one is just going to walk into our lives and try to throw a monkey wrench into our relationship. Sooooo, with that being said, what are you doing for dinner tomorrow night?”
Deborah knew this was the moment. This was the moment when, in spite of Lynox being in the lead of the conversation and in spite of the direction in which it was going, she should have spoken up. She should have used her God-given authority and taken control of the conversation. She should have boldly told him, “Yeah, I have a son, so what? He’s a part of me. So if you want me, then you have to want him too. We’re a package deal, baby. Take us both or leave us both.” But instead what Deborah said was, “What time are you picking me up for dinner tomorrow night?”
“So now that we’ve covered all of the old business on the agenda,” Deborah said as she stood behind the podium conducting the New Day Temple of Faith singles ministry meeting, “is there any new business anyone would like to discuss?”
The twenty-seven female members and eight male members looked to each other, mumbled in the negative, and shook their heads.
“Okay, very well then,” Deborah said as she closed her notebook, prepar
ing to close out the meeting in prayer. She looked out among the members who began putting their things away in preparation to leave. She felt proud that the ministry had grown so and that she had been able to maintain a steady membership since returning from Chile and taking back over as leader.
What Deborah was even more proud of was that the ministry had consistently had between eight and ten male members. From the inception of the ministry, it had been difficult to get men to join. They had assumed that a singles ministry wasn’t anything but a bunch of women who sat around bad-mouthing all the men of their past while trying to figure out how to get one in their future. Ironically, that wasn’t too far from the truth. But things had changed drastically since the ministry’s earlier days. Maybe that’s because God had done some drastic things in some of the women’s lives. Whatever the case, God had now blessed the ministry with men. And the men seemed to be just what the doctor ordered so that the ministry could function decently and in order.
With the male of the species now among them, the women thought twice before going on a man-bashing tangent. They were also more mindful of the way they discussed past relationships. It was one thing to put their business out there in a room full of women, but having men around seasoned the women’s tongues a little bit more.
The men were also able to provide some valuable input. They were able to allow the women to see how they sometimes saw things. Having the male perspective enabled the women to see a lot of things differently. It often allowed them to see themselves for who they really were, prompting them to begin to make some serious changes in their lives.
Just the thought of the men and all the past valuable information they’d provided to the ministry made a light go off in Deborah’s head. “Uh, excuse me.” Deborah cleared her throat. “Before we go, I’d like to throw something out there for both the single men and women out there who have children.” She thought for a minute. “I guess this could go for the single men and women out there who don’t have kids as well.”
