I hated this time of month because I also tended to be more needy, and less confident of myself and others. My self-image also took a hit. So, I wasn’t happy when the phone call came.
“Sister Wallace? Hi, this is Maggie from the church. Pastor Williams requests that you meet him this evening at six. Will you be available?”
“Did he say what it was about?” Maggie was the church secretary.
“No, ma’am. He didn’t say.”
It would take some doing, but… “I’ll be there.”
“Great,” she exclaimed.
At least one of us was happy. What did he want? While I have a great deal of respect for Pastor, he and I don’t always see eye-to-eye. He’s one of those “when I say jump you say how high” type of people. As for me, well, let’s just say I sometimes had problems with authority. Nothing major, I just tended to do my own thing, especially if I felt your reasoning was stupid. I didn’t obey anyone just for the sake of obeying, except God, and I even questioned Him.
I was so not feeling this.
I pulled into the parking lot of the church, running late and in a foul mood. The wind had kicked up and it was overcast. All I wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed. At least I didn’t have the kids to worry about. They were home, where I wanted to be.
I dashed to the office entrance, neglecting to do my usual scan of the parking lot. The sky looked like it would open up any moment and I didn’t want to be caught in it if I did. Besides, Pastor had a thing about punctuality. As I opened the door, the wind snatched it from my hand and banged it against the wall, causing it to ricochet and come back at me. I jumped clear of the doorway just in time.
“It’s really kicking up out there.”
I spun around to see Roberto rising from his seat on the couch in the waiting area.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he stated as he walked over and gave me my kiss.
I leaned into him for a moment, inhaling his fresh clean scent before backing away. “You too?” I motioned towards Pastor’s office.
“Yep. Where are the twins?” He laid his hand on the small of my back and escorted me over to the couch.
“I swung by the house and dropped them off,” I said as I sank into the puffy furniture. I was jostled a bit as Roberto settled next to me, his thigh a mere breath from mine.
“Do you know what this is about?” He stroked a lock of hair that had fallen forward out of my face.
I shook my head. “Not a clue. You?”
“No.”
I studied him. “You don’t seem too concerned.”
Both eyebrows shot up. “Why should I be?”
“No reason. I just hate not knowing what this is about,” I groused.
He chuckled. “Guilty conscience?”
“Knee-jerk reflex is more like it. I hated being called in like this. My first thought is always, “What did I do now?” Is that the sign of a guilt complex, or a persecuted one? Hmmm…”
He laughed, as I intended. I found myself leaning toward him, that invisible magnet at work again. Miraculously, my bad mood drifted away, only to come roaring back when a voice said, “The pastor will see you now.”
Roberto rose and courteously held out a hand to help me up, not that I needed it. As we came chest to chest, I muttered, “Are you sure you don’t know what this is about?”
He simply smiled and tugged me by the hand behind him, like a wayward child. I pulled my hand free when we reached Pastor’s doorway.
Roberto knocked briefly before opening the door.
“Come in, come in. I’m glad you two could make it on such short notice.” Pastor Williams leaned back in his seat, grinning broadly, his tone jovial.
I was instantly suspicious. I crossed over to one of the two chairs in front of his desk and sat as Roberto took the other.
“Sister Nina, how are the children?”
“Fine.”
“That Brendon’s growing like a weed. Looks like he’s going to be a tall one, and Breanna, that girl’s as smart as a whip.” Pastor was still smiling, his manner friendly, but his gaze was sharp.
“Thank you.” Yeah, I was short answering him but I didn’t want to be there and I wished he would just get to the point of this little get together.
“Roberto, how are you? Your boys doing fine? We haven’t seen them lately.”
Roberto’s sons were all grown. The oldest was in the military; the youngest in college. The middle son, the one he’d discovered wasn’t his, just recently went to live with his mother. Though he wasn’t his biological son, Roberto still spent time with him and referred to him as his own.
“They’re doing fine. Justin is back with his mother. Roberto Jr. is stationed overseas in Iraq and Enrico is doing well in college.”
After a little more chitchat, Pastor finally got to the point of this meeting. “I’ve noticed that you and Roberto have been spending a lot of time together.” He looked at me expectantly.
I arched my left eyebrow. “And?”
If Pastor was fishing, he was in the wrong creek. On a good day, I didn’t give up information about my personal life and this wasn’t a good day.
His gaze continued to drill into mine. “There’s been some…speculation about the nature of your relationship, how it’s changing.”
“Really…imagine that.”
Roberto laid a cautionary hand on my arm. I flicked a brief glance at him before returning to my staring contest with the pastor. If he wanted to start something, he’d picked the right one.
“People are talking and your children said…”
“Not a thing,” I interrupted firmly, and with confidence. My kids knew better than to discuss anything that happened in my household with others. It was a lesson I’d drilled into them at an early age when my mother-in-law used to pump them for information. “What happens in this house stays in this house” was a rule that brought with it swift consequences if broken.
With my eyes I dared Pastor to continue.
“Nina,” Roberto murmured.
Yeah, I was being belligerent. I detested people sticking their noses in my business. I understood that he was my pastor and as such, he was the “watchman” over my soul. He had a responsibility to cover me—and the rest of the members—with prayer. That didn’t mean the man had to be all up in my stuff.
Pastor Williams nodded to acknowledge my statement. “Some of the sisters have expressed concern.”
I’ll just bet they have, jealous heifers.
“Is there a point to all of this?” I was tired of him dancing around the issue. Pastor watched me hard, as though if he applied enough pressure I’d crack and tell him what he wanted to know. Like I was the weakest link, or maybe the most dangerous person in the room and he needed to keep an eye on me for his own safety. Which wasn’t a bad idea, the way I was feeling.
“The point is, you two are leaders in this church,” he stated, finally coming to the point.
I snorted. I don’t know why he kept insisting that I was a leader. It was a title I neither asked for nor wanted.
“A-n-d as such,” he continued, narrowing his eyes at me, “your behavior must be above reproach at all times.”
“What makes you think it’s not?” I demanded to know.
“That’s the purpose of this meeting.”
I opened my mouth, ready to lay into him when Roberto squeezed firmly on my arm. My lips closed and I turned to see what he wanted.
“I’ll handle this,” Roberto said.
I waved my hand in a ‘be my guest’ gesture and leaned back in my chair, ready to get out of there. This whole thing was a waste of my time, and definitely not the right time of month to have a rational, non-emotional conversation with me.
“Pastor, let me set your mind at rest. My intentions toward Nina are honorable. God showed me a couple of years ago that she’s my wife. I love her, and when the time is right, we’ll marry.”
There was a roaring in my ears. Their mouths continue
d to move but I couldn’t hear anything. God said I was his wife? He loved me, and he was telling Pastor, before discussing it with me? A red haze filled my vision.
I stood so abruptly the chair flipped over. Both men glanced up in surprise. “I’m leaving.” That’s all I trusted myself to say.
“Sister Wallace, we’re not finished here. Sit back down,” Pastor Williams gently ordered.
I swooped down and snatched my purse off of the floor and stalked toward the door. The angry words I wanted to say were like lava inside, burning to get out. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, holding them in. Any satisfaction I gained from going off would be spoiled when God made me apologize later.
“Nina, come back. Let’s discuss this,” Roberto cajoled.
“Sister Wallace, Nina, don’t leave,” Pastor commanded.
I gave both of them a glare that should have singed their eyebrows then stormed out of the room, and out of the church. I could hear Roberto calling for me to come back, and Pastor advising him to give me a chance to calm down.
That was good advice. I rarely got angry. Irritated, annoyed? Yes. But not angry and right now I was p-i-s-s-e-d! The rain beat down on my head, drenching me. I didn’t care. I was focused on getting out of there before I said or did something I’d regret.
When I arrived home, my kids took one look at my face and scattered. “If anyone calls, take a message,” I hollered and went into my room and slammed the door.
Chapter Six
It took me a week to calm down. During that time, I refused to speak to Roberto. When he called, I didn’t answer. I let it go straight to voicemail and didn’t listen to the message. He called so much it quickly filled to capacity.
I was angry with Pastor as well. I spoke when spoken to, but that was it. I came late and left early for meetings and services, not speaking to anyone. The whole while, I inwardly fumed. All the words I wanted to say but couldn’t bounced around in my head, demanding to be let out.
My mood was so foul, they steered clear of me at work. Usually I joked around, laughing and playing with everyone. Now, I went in, did my work and left, saying no more than necessary.
My cycle came and went, easing some of the emotional pressure I was under. After about four days, God begin dealing with me.
Why are you so angry?
You heard what he said.
Why are you angry?
I just told you.
Why would his words upset you? If he speaks truth, they’ll come to pass. If not, why concern yourself?
I didn’t have an answer. God was being too logical for me and I hadn’t yet reached the point where I could think clearly. Next he asked, why are you afraid?
I’m not. I’m angry.
He was silent, and his very silence forced me to consider his words. Was my anger fueled by fear, and if so, of what was I afraid?
Again, not something I was ready to deal with. It required too much thought and introspection. I wasn’t done being upset. I was justified in my anger, and it provided another strong benefit—I didn’t have to deal with what was said. As long as I stayed mad I could push every other consideration to the side.
Inevitably, anger gave way to depression. I missed Roberto, and hated it that I did. The man had only been a part of my life for little over a month. I shouldn’t be missing him, but I did, even though it had only been little over a week since we last spoke.
I broke down and listened to my messages. What I heard shamed me. They were all prayers for me, just as though I’d answered his call. I was humbled, but still determined not to call him. The man thought he was in love with me. Said God told him I was his wife.
No, my way was better. I didn’t love him and God surely hadn’t told me Roberto was my husband. To allow the relationship to continue, knowing how he felt was pure foolishness, not to mention cruel. Better to end it now before one of us—me—got hurt.
Friday came. The twins were going with their father for the weekend and I’d be home alone. This time Tyronne was picking them up from the house. After they left, it would be just my thoughts and me.
While they waited, I went into my room and changed into one of my ballet dresses. It was a one-piece black leotard with spaghetti straps that had a black gauzy skirt that attached under the bustline. The material was airy and light, and floated around my body with the slightest movement. For modesty, I usually wore a long-sleeved leotard and palazzo dance pants under it since the dress was backless and the skirt only fell to mid-thigh in the front, a little lower in the back. Since it was just me in the privacy of my own home, I didn’t care.
The dress had a shelf-bra, so I was braless. It was cut low in the front; its deep v-neck revealing a lot of cleavage. I loved it because it made me feel dancy and graceful, like a ballerina, despite my size.
I told the kids to call out when their dad arrived and went into “my” room, a combination exercise/dance room. I found the CD I wanted and lost myself in the music. First I went to the bar and warmed up, then moved to the center of the room to practice turns and jumps. Lastly, I went through some combinations my teacher taught us.
Over the music, I heard a knock on the door. Then a deep, masculine voice sounded out front but the words were indistinct, right before the kids called out, “Mom, we’re leaving!”
“Okay,” I hollered back. Now that they were gone, I could really let myself go.
Eyes at half-mast, I dipped and spun, leaped, arched and bowed as my dress floated around me. In my head I could hear my instructor Kim saying, “Watch the hip movements, Nina. This is worship dance, not a striptease,” and me jokingly replying, “I am watching the hips. I can’t help it if their size makes every move look seductive.”
Hearing the music change, I knew the instrumental was building to a climax. I prepped—leg extended, toe out, hand up in the air—and went into a series of turns, spotting in the far corner away from the door so that I didn’t become dizzy.
Once. Twice. On the third spin, I impacted something hard.
First I thought I’d misjudged and run into a wall, until hard hands rose and gripped me by the waist. “Roberto!” I gasped, shocked, wondering how he’d gotten into the house without my knowledge.
“Nina.” His voice was low, rough.
One glance at his face and I was shocked to my core. His gaze was plastered to my chest and he looked hungry. Starved. For me. I shivered and the movement caused my barely covered breasts to rub against his chest, and the nipples puckered.
Roberto let out a sound like he was being tortured. His right hand came up and caught me by the nape. At the same time, his left hand dropped to my hips and pulled me into his body so that we were melded together from chest to thigh. When his mouth lowered to mine, I was ready and waiting and met him halfway.
This was no sweet and gentle kiss like the one before. This was a man’s kiss, full of a man’s passion—unleashed and out of control. I felt like Dorothy, caught up in the whirlwind and Roberto was my only stabilizing factor. My brain shut down as my flesh took over. My tongue met his stroke for stroke, and I angled my head for deeper penetration.
I arched into him like a cat when he dragged the pads of his fingers down the length of my exposed spine. My hands wanted to do a little touching, a little exploring of their own, but I knew if I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop. Roberto pulled away, giving me a moment—barely a second—to catch my breath before he was back.
There was a tug on my scalp as Roberto wrapped my hair around his hand and used it to pull my head back. His mouth left my own to trail kisses across my cheek and down my neck. His sideburns added extra tactile sensation as they scraped against my skin and I couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel against lower, more intimate parts of my body.
Warning bells went off as I felt the strap of my ballet dress being lowered.
“Roberto,” I panted. “We have to stop.”
So what if my voice lacked conviction. I was trying to do the right thing.
The fabric hit my elbow and his mouth latched onto my breast, engulfing it. I cried out at the warmth and heat of it. My knees crumpled and we sank to the floor.
Roberto switched to the other breast, now also bare. The heavy, solid weight of his body pressing me into the floor felt wonderful, as well as the feel of his calloused hands as they shaped and molded the curve of my hips while his mouth teased and tormented my breast. Heat exploded through me, pooling low in my womb, which felt heavy, empty, crying out to be filled.
At that point, I had a decision to make. We were almost at the point of no return. I felt like I was standing outside of myself as I analyzed the situation.
I wanted Roberto. I wanted to feel his naked body against mine and be as close to him as a woman could be to a man. I also didn’t want to make the same mistakes with him that I’d made with Jonathan. If we did this, if we crossed this line, eventually it would destroy us. And yes, I was finally ready to admit that there was an ‘us.’
“Roberto, baby!” I caught him by the sides of his head and tugged relentlessly until he gave up his prize. “We have to stop.” My voice was firm, conviction clear.
I don’t think he was hearing me. His eyes, what I could see of them, were glazed. He gaze dropped once more to my chest. My nipples were shiny and puckered, the left one a bit misshapened from the suction of his mouth. His head began to lower and I grabbed him by the chin. “Baby, no! We have to stop—now.”
Roberto groaned and dropped his forehead on my chest, breathing like he’d run a marathon. I stroked his shoulders soothingly, trying to help him gain control. His erection felt like a steel rod against my thigh and it took all the restraint I had not to rub my leg against it. I was saying and doing all the right things but I knew, one wrong move and all would be lost. I was only holding on by a thread myself.
After what seemed like an hour, Roberto took a deep shuddering breath and rose to his feet. I lay on the floor beneath him, bare to the waist, unashamed, letting him look his fill. He gave me a sweeping glance from head to toe before holding out his hand to help me to rise.
Love's Challenges Page 5
