by Pat Simmons
But that was a request between her and God. “Just pray that God’s will be done in my life. That should sum it up.”
Pointing the key remote toward her car, Valerie deactivated her alarm and continued walking. David’s small gesture of opening her door made Valerie smile.
“Consider it done, in Jesus’ name.” David paused as she shut the door, then lowered her window. “Give me Sister Smith’s address, and I’ll program it into my GPS.”
“Honestly, I don’t have it. I just know the way. You can follow me.”
David winked. Valerie sucked in her breath. What was it about a man winking that did her in?
Maybe because it was sexy and personal. She shivered.
“Then wait here and I’ll pull behind you. I’m in a silver Infiniti SUV.”
An Infiniti? Wow. Valerie chuckled. She thought she was moving up in the world when she traded in her used car of seven years for a new Ford Focus.
Maybe that was the difference between women and men. She preferred the luxuries of a cozy home compared to extravagant vehicles. Valerie couldn’t eat, sleep, or relax in a car.
Blasting the heat, she scanned the parking lot and spotted David’s brother.
Christian was bouncing a little boy in his arms. Joy walked beside him with her hands latched onto the small girls’ hands on each side.
Joy’s niece, Bethani, wasn’t too far behind. She skipped beside an older couple and Nathan, David’s other brother.
A horn honked. The group waved as David pulled his SUV alongside her.
When he nodded for her to proceed, Valerie drove off and exited onto the interstate toward the city.
Sister Smith was a widow, and despite her lack of attendance at the church, she was still esteemed as a church mother, missionary, evangelist, Sunday school teacher…her involvement was endless.
Soon, Valerie drove into a neighborhood that once held the distinguished honor of catering to Black doctors, lawyers, and other affluent African-American families.
The grandeur of the large brick houses remained, but most needed a facelift.
Sister Smith lived in a four-family flat that resembled an East Coast row house.
The yards in front of the building were small and reasonably neat. Valerie parked.
She reached inside her glove compartment for a miniature bottle of holy oil that was no larger than the travel sized products found in hotel suites.
It was a must-have when visiting the sick and shut-in. The power behind a dab on the forehead was a force to be reckoned with against any physical, mental or spiritual ailments.
Turning around to get out, David startled her, standing outside her car window.
As drivers sped pass, David’s strong arm kept her out of harm’s way when she got out.
“Thanks.” Valerie relished the moment of feeling protected.
Although it wasn’t necessary for him to carry her Bible, she didn’t protest.
Neither did she refuse his assistance while she stepped up on a small curb to the sidewalk.
When a gusty wind forced Valerie to grip the rail to the porch, David’s hand on her arm steadied her.
“Do you come here by yourself all the time?” he asked as she rang the doorbell, looking around.
She nodded and tried not to let his handsome features mesmerize her. Maybe it was the suit that was getting her attention. Then again, David looked just as good in those jeans on Friday night.
Valerie cleared her throat. “There are more sick and shut-ins than there are committee members. We used to do weekly visits, but we can’t keep up now.” She could faintly hear Sister Smith dragging her walker to the door.
“It doesn’t seem safe around here, especially when it gets dark,” he stated but didn’t offer to join the auxiliary. Pivoting on his heel, David squinted as he further surveyed the houses and street.
“That’s why, for our well-being, we can only stay in certain areas for an hour. Plus, we go in Jesus’ name.” Valerie paused as she heard Sister Smith fumbling with the locks until they clicked.
The door slowly opened and their host appeared. The petite woman had dressed for the occasion of greeting visitors, except she was off by a season with her long white skirt that hung inches above her ankles—and yellow cardigan sweater set. Her hair was tucked under a large straw hat with yellow flowers.
Peering through her thick glasses, Sister Smith’s eyes widened. “Well, if it isn’t my friend, Sister Valerie. Come on in, chile, and—” She paused and peered at David.
Concerned about the chill on the elderly saint, Valerie made quick introductions in order to get inside.
Sister Smith’s neck stretched up at David. “So you’re Brother Kenneth and Sister Dorcas’ boy, huh?”
David looked sheepish. “Actually, I’m a man—thirty-one now.”
“Hmm. You don’t say?” Swinging her walker around, Sister Smith scooted her way to the front room. “That old, huh? I reckon you’re married by now.”
Valerie had been wondering his age, too. She could kiss the old woman for asking.
“Not yet,” David mumbled, bowing his head.
“I don’t know what you’re waiting on. Just setting yourself up for sexual immorality,” Sister Smith stated as she made it across the room toward a worn recliner.
The church mother scuffled around her walker, stood erect, then flopped into her lounger. Although she seemed winded from the exercise, Sister Smith looked pleased with herself. “Have a seat and help yourself to tea and cookies on the table. Whew!”
David was attentive as he helped Valerie remove her coat, then removed his.
Thanking him, she claimed a spot on the spacious sofa; she was a bit disappointed when David didn’t join her. That’s what you get for fantasizing about the unknown, she chided herself.
Okay. Back to reality, Valerie didn’t waste time as she opened her Bible, pulled out her notes and was ready to recap the sermon.
Evidently, Sister Smith wasn’t. The woman chatted with David about his family and business.
“We are doing well. Last year, we were able to help twenty-one entrepreneurs start their companies. A record.”
Although Valerie listened with interest, once there was a lull in the Q&A, she took control.
“Why don’t we pray and get started?” Valerie unscrewed the cap to the bottle of holy oil.
“Young man, why don’t you lead us in prayer,” Sister Smith assigned David.
“Yes.” Valerie readily agreed, so she stood and anointed the woman’s head with holy oil as she remained in her recliner.
“Don’t forget you two.” Sister Smith pointed as Valerie dabbed David’s forehead with holy oil.
Valerie shivered under David’s watchful eye as he focused on her every movement. Without blinking, he removed the bottle from her hand and returned the gesture.
His touch was gentle. Closing her eyes, they began to pray, “Lord, in the mighty name of Jesus, we stand before Your throne…”
David’s authoritative voice sliced through hers. “You are God and God alone; You are a protector of your sheep, healer, overseer, and our hiding place. We ask for favor for Sister Smith’s life.
“Please continue to provide all things for her and give her health, in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
“Amen,” Valerie and Sister Smith whispered. That was another thing that Valerie liked—a man who prayed sincerely instead of with boastful words.
But God, I know You already know this.
“So tell me about the John 15:13 love.” Sister Smith patted her hands on the arms of the recliner.
Valerie frowned. “How did you know the scripture?” she queried their host while turning to that passage.
“My neighbor got me set up on the Internet and showed me how to click on the stream live box on the church’s website.” Sister Smith sat forward with a grin. “It worked. It was like I was there sitting next to Deacon Harry…”
Flipping through her notes, Valerie intervene
d before the woman drifted.
“That was nice. Well, as you know, Pastor Peyton mentioned Valentine’s Day and the love that is exchanged, but according to John 15:13: Greater love hath no man than this that a man lay down his life for his friends.”
Personally, the sermon gave Valerie comfort, reminding her that missing out on a romantic dinner for two didn’t stop the love affair God had for her.
Sharing pizza Friday night with David at the center was a great distraction for succumbing to a pity party.
“While Sister Valerie is checking her notes, let me share what I got from the message. The love expressed on Valentine’s Day between two people is miniscule compared to the love it took for Jesus to hang on a rugged cross.
“Why do we need Valentine’s Day to show someone we love them? I think it’s overrated.”
“Exactly.” Valerie bobbed her head. “Great minds think alike.” She laughed and David winked. Why did he have to do that? To hide her blush, she glanced at her notes again.
For the next hour, the three exchanged thoughts and other scriptures until Valerie closed her Bible. She was hungry, tired and had to prepare for the coming work week. Taking her cue, David stood and assisted Sister Smith to her feet.
“Thanks for coming,” Sister Smith said as she scooted her walker to the door to see her guests off. “It’s good to see one of Brother Andersen’s boys—I mean sons. Sorry, sugar. Tell your parents I said, ‘Praise the Lord’.”
“I will.” David brushed a kiss on the woman’s cheek. Sister Smith puckered up as if hoping one would land on her lips. When another didn’t come her way, she seemed disappointed and waved goodbye.
“That was refreshing.” David assisted Valerie with her coat, then down the few stairs. “Her mind is sharp as a tack.”
“Yes. What a blessing.” She deactivated her car alarm.
David checked his smartphone. “It’s 3:30. You have to be starving because I am. How about joining me for dinner?”
“I’ve already prepared meatloaf for dinner,” Valerie said. It was definitely enough for two, but despite being church members, she wasn’t comfortable inviting him into her home. Although they weren’t dating, date rape was real, so she declined.
David nodded, but his eyes didn’t hide his regret as he held open her car door. Once she was strapped in, Valerie smiled and drove off. And that’s when it hit her.
“Have I lost my mind? I turned down a dinner invitation?” She groaned. Valerie could have run home and put her food up for another time and met him somewhere. She slapped her forehead. “Lord, please let there be a next time.” And she would say yes so fast it may cause David’s head to spin.
Chapter 8
Monday morning, Valerie strolled through the doors of The Stallings Group. Not only had she survived Valentine’s Day weekend, but David Andersen had made it fascinating and fun.
She could honestly say she loved her job. The marketing firm was small with fifteen salaried employees, but it thrived with a constant flow of business.
Plus, it offered great opportunities for part-time and freelance talent to earn a paycheck from voice-overs and infomercials.
“Mornin’, Val,” George Stallings, the president, greeted her with a salute of his coffee cup. “We have three contracts awaiting your expertise.
One is a new client. The others are repeats. Let’s make it happen.” He gave her his signature thumbs-up.
Valerie hung her coat on a nearby wall hook. As manager of creative talent, she had a corner office of sorts.
All four of the managers sectioned off one large room, claiming a corner, separated by glass walls.
As part of her routine before she got started, Valerie strolled into the break room where the staff could indulge on fresh breads and fruits every morning. She sliced a bagel in half and dropped one into the toaster.
Humming, Valerie walked out of the break room with her bagel smeared with cream cheese and sprinkled with blueberries. As she sipped on a can of pineapple juice, she almost choked at the illusion on her desk and her coworkers admiring it.
A tall unusually shaped vase held a potpourri of beautiful flowers. Both were stunning and weren’t there minutes ago.
Setting her cup and paper plate on her work station, Valerie turned to her desk and reached for the card. She frowned as her heart pounded from the excitement and curiosity.
Who sent them? In the three years she had worked for The Stallings Group, no one had ever sent her flowers, so this was indeed a big deal, which would explain the growing audience around her.
“Wow, somebody must have had an interesting weekend,” Natalie Baker, a clerk, said in a tone that hinted that it had to be something scandalous.
“’Bout time, Val,” George commented and pushed through the spectators to exit her office. But her other coworkers hadn’t budged.
Linda Matson, who received flowers after each of her legendary breakups, peeped over Valerie’s shoulder. “Shut up.” She gawked. “Walter Knoll Florists? Evidently, money is no object.”
“Excuse me…” Valerie hugged the card close to her chest, hinting for privacy.
One by one, they grumbled before heading back to their desks. Taking a seat, Valerie slowly opened the envelope and slipped out the card. I hope your smile shines brightly throughout the day. By the way, I like meatloaf. Brother David Andersen.
Why wasn’t she surprised? But then again she was. Valerie did her best to contain a whoop of jubilation. Did their chance meeting on Valentine’s Day leave that much of an impression on David for him to send flowers? She tried not to get too excited or put the cart before the horse, another saying, courtesy of Helen Hart. He included his numbers: cell, home, and work.
Although her fingers were itching to call him, she had to tend to business first, so she pushed thoughts of his handsome face aside and got started.
Valerie lost track of time as she matched the scripts for product demonstrations to the best person suited to pull off the message the clients wanted to convey.
Once the selections were made, Valerie had Natalie contact the talents to schedule appointments for them to come in and tape the infomercials ASAP.
It wasn’t until early afternoon that Valerie finally had some privacy and time to text David.
I didn’t want to call in case you were busy. Thank you for the flowers. They did make me smile.
I’m not busy. Call me, David replied almost immediately.
I can’t. Going into a meeting. How about in an hour?
Five minutes later Valerie, along with an account executive and the president, were in on a conference call with a potential client that went over the scheduled end time.
Physically, she was in her element, answering questions and making suggestions. Mentally, her mind was on the time. Finally, the general manager of the prospective company seemed impressed and advised he would be in touch.
Yes. Valerie was tapping in David’s number before she left the conference room.
***
David and his brothers were in a heated discussion about an upcoming project when his cell chimed. Glancing at the I.D. and the unknown number, he guessed it was Valerie. He had been waiting to hear her voice all day. Any other time, he would have had his phone on mute.
Pushing away from the table, David stood and excused himself without an explanation. “Hi.”
“Is this an okay time to talk?” She sounded hesitant.
“Perfect.” David grinned and headed back to his office.
“Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
Although David trusted the florist’s description of what she would do to upgrade his selection, it was the happiness in Valerie’s voice that told him the florist had come through for him.
“Are you smiling?” David closed the door once he reached his destination.
Valerie released a throaty laugh before answering. “Absolutely.”
“Thanks for calling me. So do I have your permission to call y
ou any time I may want to check up on you?”
“I would like that.” She didn’t have to think about it.
Stretching his legs, David settled on the sofa in the sitting area of his office. Knowing his brothers, he had about a good five minutes before either one or both of them would barge into his office being nosey. “I really do like meatloaf, so—”
Valerie groaned, then huffed. “I’m sorry; I’m going to have to cut you off, but I have a fire that needs to be put out.”
David wouldn’t be deterred. “Can we talk later?”
“I’ll call you after I return from my walk at the mall,” she said, rushing off the phone.
There was so much more to Valerie Hart than he could have imagined. While some men liked beauty and brains, David was enchanted with Valerie’s beauty, compassion for others and then her smarts.
So she was a walker? Nice. What man wouldn’t appreciate a woman who stayed in shape, and Valerie’s figure was perfect. While stroking his goatee, David devised another plan to see her.
Then sent her a text: Whenever you can, text me which mall and time. I’ll see you there.
As soon as David tapped END, the door to his office opened and Christian folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe.
“Since you don’t appear to be preoccupied, I would like to invite you to rejoin us,” he said sarcastically, “so we can make a decision on the proposal.”
“Sure. Why not?” David played along and got to his feet. The brothers were almost shoulder to shoulder as they walked down the hall. “I’m going to skip the gym with you and Nathan tonight.”
Christian’s jaw dropped. “What? Aren’t you the one who said we need to stay in shape, blah, blah, blah?”
“Yep, but I’m changing things up a bit, so I’m going walking.”
“You mean jogging?” Christian corrected.
“Nope. It’s a bit chilly outside. I’ve decided to walk inside a mall,” David said as they entered the boardroom.
“Huh?” Christian eyed him suspiciously.
