Whatever He Wants

by Bridgett Henson

  He was right. Cindy shouldn’t stay here. In desperation to survive, she’d destroyed the lives of many.

  “Her court date is already scheduled. I know you want to help her, but Cindy has to answer for her crimes.”

  Fully dressed, she eased out of the covers. Joni had lent her a flimsy nightgown, but Cindy hadn’t worn the thing.

  As she slipped into her ragged tennis shoes, her friend’s singsong voice declared, “Yesterday, the doctor heard one heartbeat, James, yet you insist God promised you twin boys. Why can’t you trust Him to save her? It’s up to us to show her the love of Jesus, and to teach her that God wants to give her a better life. Let her stay. For me?”

  James growled his consent. “Ah, beautiful, I’d do anything for you. She can stay, but lock your jewelry in the gun safe.”

  Who could blame James for being leery?

  As she tiptoed into the hall, Joni’s giggle floated under the master bedroom door. Unlike Joni, no man had ever cared for Cindy without a selfish motive, but God did love her. Of that she was certain. He had proved it in the darkest night.

  She crept down the carpeted stairs. The Lord promised her a good life—one without fear. Determined to find it, she paused, her hand on the brass knob. Which way should she go?

  “Jesus, I don’t want to be who I was. Change me. Make me worthy of Your love. Lead me. Make me who You want me to be.” She sucked in a breath. “And help me sell my stash at the pawnshop. Amen.”

  The deadbolt disengaged with a flick of her wrist. She unlatched the security chain, but glanced toward the stairs. Joni had said that James would cook omelets. Cindy ignored her rumbling stomach, opened the door, and stepped into unfamiliar territory.

  Unseen birds chirped in the hazy morning, as a gentle breeze flowed through the rip in her jeans, chilling her knee. Come noon, she’d crave the cool. She descended the steps.

  She needed to hurry and get her stuff before the users and dealers arose and tempted her to stay. She didn’t want to live in that world, but she wouldn’t leave the merchandise she’d hidden away either.

  The sidewalk ended, and she stepped in the fresh-cut grass. Luxury homes hid behind iron gates and tall shrubs. Would she ever have a life like Joni’s? Would she ever know a love like James’s? Would she ever be good enough? Maybe when she got out of prison…

  Cindy shook the daydreams out of her mind. Downtown Mobile was a long walk from the Eastern Shore. Without her new friend’s sponsorship, Cindy would be locked in her cell. She stumbled on a rock and wondered how Joni had talked her cynical husband into posting bail.

  ~~~

  Cole Maxwell made good time in the early morning traffic, but the meteorologist had warned of dense fog on I-10. He crossed the bypass and took the scenic route spanning the Mobile Bay as a new voice from the radio admonished husbands to love their wives.

  Cole punched the knob and silenced the voice, but the longing in his heart couldn’t be ignored. Despite his earlier prayers, he consulted his savior. “Lord, is it too late? Did I miss her somehow? Is that what happened yesterday? If You show me who she is, I’ll love her forever, but I’m so tired of waiting. Where’s the one You promised? Where is my wife?”

  Along the edges of the bay, the rising sun painted the oyster grass a brilliant gold. Cole passed a deserted building destroyed by a storm years ago. The causeway was a dangerous place during hurricane season, yet the beauty of the waves lured both tourists and locals to its marshy banks.

  “Forgive my impatience, Lord.”

  A girl walked alongside the road. Sunbeams inflamed the back of her long red hair as it danced with the wind.

  The Spirit within him fluttered, and Cole suppressed an urge to help her. He needed to reach his office early and prepare for his father’s staff meeting.

  Take her home.

  His heart quickened at the sound of God’s still, small voice. But he must be mistaken.

  “Lord, she’s a hitchhiker and I’m late.”

  Turn around. Take her home.

  Never in his life had Cole offered a stranger a ride. Good Samaritans ended up on the five o’clock news, and he had no desire to become a statistic. He drove on.

  From the cup holder, his phone sounded a drum roll. Grateful for a distraction, Cole answered James’s call. “Hello?”

  “Hey man, sorry to call so early, but did you see Joni’s friend Cindy, on your drive across the bay?”

  “Who?”

  “Hold on.” James’s voice grew louder. “Cole didn’t see her.” And then it lowered. “By the way, Sara said you could have my old apartment. I’ll text you her number.”

  Cole sighed toward heaven. “That’s an answer to prayer. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. See you Sunday.” The call ended.

  Moving above Sara’s garage would cut his commute in half. Even as Cole doubted, God was good.

  Turn around. Offer her a ride and take her home.

  He could no longer ignore the voice of the Spirit. God had blessed Cole in abundance. He couldn’t disobey a direct command. So at Battleship Parkway, Cole signaled left and waited for the traffic to clear. “Forgive my lack of faith, Lord. But please don’t let her be a serial killer.”

  ~~~

  The constant wind tangled her hair, but at least it cooled the hot summer morning. She was free! After being cooped up in jail, her legs weren’t used to walking. Her muscles ached, but she kept moving. Another quarter mile and she could rest on the seawall.

  A horn blared, and a small hybrid zoomed past. She glanced back as a white BMW pulled alongside her. She quickened her pace.

  Music drifted through the window as it lowered. “Good morning. You need a ride?”

  Something in the cheery masculine voice beckoned her, but she shook her head and kept walking. She’d known girls who’d accepted a lift and were never heard from again.

  “Are you sure?” A tan hand reached across the leather seat as another horn blared behind them.

  He was blocking traffic. She didn’t like the attention from angry drivers. One call and she’d land back in jail.

  Beautiful laughter sounded as an arm clothed in grey, suit material beckoned. “Come on. Save me from angry commuters and get in the car.”

  An import and a blue minivan zoomed around them.

  Accepting his offer was practical and time-saving. She slung her hair out of her eyes and snatched the door open. Besides, she only had three months of freedom before her trial.

  Dressed in a suit and tie, Mr. Persistent smiled across the tan leather seats. Dark waves haloed his head. “Isn’t it a beautiful morning?” The light in his silver eyes sparkled.

  Her heart lurched as the window crept up, sealing them in together, but the cold air from the vents felt like heaven. She ignored his question, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and then wiped her hand on her worn jeans.

  The Clark Kent/Superman look-a-like drummed his fingers on the wheel in perfect time with the beat playing through the speakers. With his good looks, he probably had his choice of girls. He didn’t need to pick up women off the streets. Why had he stopped for her?

  “I’ve never offered anyone a ride before. I suppose you have a destination in mind?”

  The scent of his aftershave mingled with the air freshener clipped onto one of the vents. He was too clean to enter her neighborhood. She shouldn’t have accepted his offer.

  “If you lean any closer to the door, you might splatter on the roadway. I assure you, I’m perfectly harmless.” After a minute of silence, he released a slow whistle. “Let’s start with introductions. My name is Cole Maxwell and you are…?”

  “Lulu.” She spoke the nickname her brother had given her years ago. Long before he’d abandoned her.

  The driver tilted his head, and deep laughter filled the car. He glanced her way several times while keeping one eye on the road. “Interesting name, Lulu. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to meet you.” He slowed in a line of traffic and turned i
n his seat. His elbow propped on the windowsill, and a fist cushioned his head. Gentle eyes cherished her from her unbrushed hair to the rip in her shoe. Unlike the men in her past, the desire flickering in his eyes treasured her. Full lips curled, and his eyes closed briefly. “Thank you, Jesus.”

  His words intrigued her. Comforted her. Why?

  Thankfully, he turned his soul-searching gaze back on the traffic. “My sweet, precious Lulu, where would you like to go? Anywhere in the world. California? New York? Italy? Name it, and I’ll take you there.”

  Who was this guy? People didn’t really help others. They used and took what they could, then abandoned you when you were left with nothing. “Why are you helping me?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  She glared until he relented.

  “God told me to.”

  At least he was original. His was a line she hadn’t heard before. She studied the hand holding the wheel. His words sounded similar to Joni’s logic, but Cindy wasn’t convinced. She turned toward him. In her cell, she’d felt a comforting presence, and she’d known Jesus was with her. Whispers of reassurance breezed through her mind, but the words couldn’t be understood. “Tell me His exact words.”

  “He said to take you home. That’s what I’m doing.”

  Really? Maybe God did talk to him. But how far was he willing to go? “Texas.”

  A curious smile peeked from the corner of his full lips. “Dallas or Fort Worth? Or perhaps Austin? I haven’t seen my college buds in a while.”

  The sun broke through the haze, and two white, puffy clouds floated in the sky. If this guy were a real superman, he’d fly her to the clouds, away from the hell that waited where she had to go. “Not Texas. Downtown Mobile. Houston Street.”

  His brows arched. “You live in a dangerous area.”

  “I didn’t say I live there. At least, I don’t anymore. I need a few things I left behind.”

  He glanced her way. “Okay, but after that? Where do you live?”

  She cleared her throat, battling against the longing she’d heard in his voice. Reality set in. She was homeless. Where could she go? It depended on how much of her life savings survived her six-month stay in the Metro jail. Her sister and her friends probably helped themselves to her possessions. No hard feelings. In her world, people did what they had to in order to survive. “Drop me off at Houston and Government Streets. My life isn’t your problem.”

  “We’ll get your things, and then I’ll take you home.”

  The snazzy beat of his music danced around them. Pretending an interest in the beautiful scenery of the Mobile Bay, she let the lyrics about God’s mercy and grace wash over her. “Is this a CD?” She fumbled with the controls, determined to hear the entire song.

  A masculine hand chased away her fingers. His soft laughter sent waves of warmth through her soul. “The driver controls the radio.”

  Laughter bubbled somewhere inside her. She bit her lip, refusing to let the small bit of happiness escape.

  They waited at a red light for the on-ramp to the interstate. There were two ways across the bay: Battleship Parkway and I-10. The light turned green and her head lolled against the seat as he merged with the interstate traffic. She stared at his profile. Her fingers itched to touch his square jaw.

  Impossible. She hated men. Feeding them the poison she cooked was her chance at revenge. She hated their touch. She hated their crude words, their foul bodies, their wicked thoughts. Was Cole any different from the others?

  One hand left the steering wheel and rested on the console between them. His forearms held power. Would he hurt or protect her? Long, masculine fingers spread, clenched into a fist, and then relaxed.

  Without looking at his face, she placed her pale hand beside his. The contrast was startling. His hand was strong. Hers was weak. Her nails were jagged and her cuticles overgrown.

  His pinkie finger extended toward hers, sending her heartbeat into spasms as he traced the outline of her knuckle, seducing her hand to relax. Hooking around hers, his finger held her safe. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth of his simple touch.

  His palm rolled under hers. Her breath quickened as the hollow cavity in her chest ached. Tingles spread up her arm as her hand became weightless. With a whisper of his lips, the shell around her heart shattered as his breath danced across the back of her hand.

  A whimper escaped her. She exhaled slowly as he lowered their entwined hands to the soft leather.

  Reality returned with the eerie echoes of the deep, as the car entered the tunnel, submerged underneath the Mobile River. Concrete walls and rows of florescent light surrounded the West bound traffic. Tons of water and countless ships lay between her and the surface. She held her breath until the car emerged into the morning sunshine. Cole exited onto Water Street. She stared out the window as he maneuvered through the many twists and turns of downtown. She sucked in a breath as he turned onto Houston Street.

  The brief dream vanished. “Which house?”

  She freed her hand from his. “The green one.”

  Whatever It Takes~Now available

  Whatever He Wants

  Discussion Questions

  1.Do you think James could have done more to protect Isaac? Do you know of any children that are neglected or abuse because of parental drug use?

  2.Have you ever felt the presence of God as described by Joni in Chapter 2?

  3.Why doesn’t James want Joni to go to church?

  4.Why do you think she wants to fit in?

  5.How does James seduce Joni into his bed?

  6.When James lost custody of Isaac, do you think he should have reacted in a different way?

  7.Do you agree with Joni’s decision to secure Isaac’s adoption?

  8.Could you empathize with James? Do you understand why he turned to alcohol?

  9.Why does Joni question James’s salvation?

  10.Why does James feel guilty for Joni’s spiritual bondage?

  11.Why do you think Joni finally received the baptism of the Holy Ghost and how did He help her?

  12.Did James make the right decision by letting go of Isaac in the end?

  About the Author

  Bridgett Henson was raised in the Deep South by a Baptist mother and a Mormon father. During her teen years, she abandoned the Christian faith altogether. Now, she and her husband minister to a small Methodist church, while holding membership in a local Pentecostal assembly. There, they raise their three children.

  When she’s not writing fiction for all denominations, she attends short mission trips, youth conferences, rallies, and summer camps.

  Bridgett has a special burden for the youth of today, especially those bound by sex, drugs, and alcohol. She often speaks to those recovering from these addictions.

  She hopes that her readers will come to know the God who created and loves them, understand the merciful grace found in the blood of Jesus Christ, and be introduced to the sustaining power of the Holy Ghost.

  Visit her website for more information. www.bridgetthenson.com