CHAPTER 6

BROCK

I just confessed to being a murderer to Destiny! She was stunned, I could see it in her eyes. I was stunned, I could feel it in my body going rigid. Although I was never a spy, my years in high level security had given me some experience with subterfuge. In other words, I had been a professional liar by times. I suppose I borrowed from it now. I aimed a little smile at Destiny. “I should say, I’ve killed in the line duty.”

“I see,” Destiny replied with a smile as her face relaxed.

The duty I spoke of was loyalty to my dead brother. The duty was a personal code I had acted on. I eliminated a guy who was supposed to be a man of God. He had taken advantage of my brother when he was preadolescent. I found out about the man when my sibling was incapacitated with a lingering death.

My act of vengeance on my brother’s behalf had led me down a path of vigilantism. I had researched sex offenders who I had judged got off easy. My employment in high level security gave me access to records beyond internet searches. I became a self-imposed branch of the justice system.

But when I began seeking the Lord, I became convicted that vengeance is God’s, not mine. Regardless of how I viewed the justice system, or lack thereof, I needed to put away my desire to hunt bad guys. I needed to repent of the thrill to kill, and executing judgement. And for the last year I had.

But reuniting with Nora Medora had come back to bite me. She had found out about my illegal activities. As a matter of fact, she had made me aware of her knowledge the previous day. I suppose that’s how I had let down my guard with Destiny, and let that confession of being a killer slip from my lips.

Nora had showed up on my doorstep the day before. She was wearing her usual exercise attire, black spandex shorts a size too small and matching sports bra. Her luscious, light caramel colored skin was slick with sweat. Her dark eyes were intense and angry, but she still wore a sultry smirk. She barged into my house without being invited, but I didn’t try to stop her. To be honest, I felt familiar carnal urges stirring, but I had no intention of acting upon them. I resisted temptation, sort of.

“I know you got my text that I was going for a run this afternoon,” she said coolly.

“And I know I responded by telling you that I wasn’t playing.”

“I thought it was a diversion.”

“It wasn’t.”

“I see,” she said, as if confused. She folded her arms across her chest. “Well, I didn’t drive over one hundred miles just to go for a run.”

We engaged in a stare down for a minute, and then she began to remove her sports bra. My arm shot out to stop her.

“Nora, I told you the other day that we need to stop, um, fornicating.”

“Oh, Brock,” she drawled with a sarcastic voice. “I beg to differ.”

“You beg to differ?” I asked, confused, frustrated, and a little angry.

“You know all those years in Miami when we were just friends with benefits?” she asked using air quotes for ‘friends with benefits.’ “Not once did we actually sleep together. But here in Iowa, because we live a hundred miles apart, and because we are now supposed to be more of a couple, we tend to spend the night with each other. You know, we actually sleep together.”

She used air quotes for sleep. Then she folded her arms and gazed at me like the cat that swallowed the canary. I almost told her I enjoyed it too, but I didn’t want to keep encouraging our habit of fornicating. So I simply shrugged and said, “Okay.”

“Did you know that sometimes you talk in your sleep? You dream about violence sometimes, don’t you, dear?”

A chill ran up my spine and I hoped my expression was neutral. Nora smiled maliciously at me.

“You see, Brock, there’s this possible serial killer on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list. There have been twenty-four men shot to death across the country. They suspect that all twenty-four were executed by the same guy. All of them were rapists and or pedophiles. A few of them were priests, and interestingly enough, the very first of the twenty-four served in your family’s parish for several years. How about that?”

“How about that?” I repeated defiantly, even though my blood pressure spiked. I went into combat mode and refused to be intimidated.

“Yeah,” Nora continued, wearing a sly smile. “So I’ve always kept a little journal. I record daily stuff, everything from my cases to when I get my period. Do you know what else I recorded in my journal?”

I gazed at Nora with what I hoped was a cold, hard stare. She took a step toward me and patted me gently on my cheek.

“I jotted down my buddy’s travels,” she said, but used a crude verb to describe what kind of buddies we were. “Did you know that my buddy was in the same area at the same time for almost all of these murders?”

We had a silent stare down for a long minute.

“My seemingly meaningless habit of jotting down where my boyfriend was traveling sure paid off in the end,” she stated gleefully. “I guess you have two choices. You can either start undressing right now, or we can break up and I’ll go to the FBI with my evidence. What’s it gonna be?”

“It looks like you’ll be going to the FBI with your circumstantial evidence,” I told her as fear gripped my spine.

She took a step back with an astonished look on her countenance and crossed her arms.

“You seriously would rather go to prison than have sex with this?” Nora asked as she waved her hands down and up her stunning body. Then she placed her hands on her hips and stared daggers into me.

“I’m surrendering my life to Christ, Nora,” I said softly. “I can’t fornicate anymore.”

“But you can lie?”

“Of course not.”

“So what are you gonna do when the FBI questions you?” she asked with an exasperated laugh.

“I’ll answer their questions truthfully.”

“And end up in prison.”

“So if you have evidence that I’m a serial killer, you’re willing to cover it up if I continue to have a sexual relationship with you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I know that all twenty-four men murdered were absolute scum who got off much easier than they deserved.”

“You don’t feel unethical blackmailing me?”

“Are you the killer, then?” she asked with a stern look.

I returned the look but remained silent.

“Answer me.”

“No comment.”

“No comment,” she replied, throwing her hands in the air. “Are you kidding me? You may as well have said yes.”

Nora was right. So I might as well set the record straight. Any fear I had was gone and completely replaced with peace. I needed to trust God and let the chips fall where they may.

“Okay,” I told Nora. “Yes, it’s me. But it has been well over a year since I last killed, and I’ve vowed to God to never to kill again. ‘Vengeance is mine,’ says the Lord.”

Nora looked at me with a stunned expression. Her face softened and she smiled sweetly, yet sinisterly.

“You trust me enough to admit this, even though you’re dumping me?” she asked quietly.

“I love you, and I am not dumping you, Nora. But you’ve been making it pretty clear that you don’t want to get married. And I’ve been procrastinating ending our habit of having sex. I’m done telling myself, just one more time. Then you show up several days later. And I think, just one more time.

“I’m becoming a Christian,  Nora, and I want to live a life of obedience to God’s moral law. I simply can’t fornicate anymore. And given our history, I couldn’t just be your friend and not constantly be tempted.”

“But you’d be willing to marry me?” Nora asked, with a stern gaze.

“Yes, you know that. I’ll marry you right now if you’d be willing.”

“Well, we shouldn’t rush into anything.”

“Rush into anything? We’ve been together almost seven years.”

“Uh, uh, uh,” she uttered, waving a corrective finger at me. “We’ve only been trying the relationship thing a matter of months.”

“Nora, we’ve consummated hundreds of times since we first started seeing each other. And we’ve sort been friends that whole time too.”

“That’s the point! Between our history in Florida and now our current situation in Iowa, I’d say we are already common law married.”

“Okay,” I nodded. “That is a start.”

“Fine, then lets get it on,” she said, taking my hand and pulling me. “How about the shower?”

I tugged back, and she lost her balance. Nora was tough and fiery, but I was still almost twice her weight. “We need to make it legal, and for Pastor to say some words over us.”

Nora swore and put her hands on her hips. “I’ve always liked your macho, manliness in our relationship… I mean situation. But your new religion is making you a wimp.”

I laughed. “Yeah, you’ve always clearly been a lady, haven’t you? Just like most women, you put your guy in choke holds, arm bars, and slug him on occasion.”

“That’s why I need a tough man,” she said as she took a step toward me. Her face was close enough I could feel her warm breath. “You and I are so right for each other. I moved to fly over country for you. Isn’t that a gesture of permanence?”

“You did it for your career.”

“I could have went anywhere in the country.”

Nora looked contrite and vulnerable. I really did love her. I went to one knee and took her hands in mine. “Dayanara Medora, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Nora stared at me with a blank expression.

“You really are serious, aren’t you?” she asked with a mildly stunned expression.

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation.

            She went to one knee herself and looked earnestly into my eyes.

“If I say yes,” she asked so quietly it was almost a whisper, “can we still remain like we are? I mean that I live in Des Moines while you live here.”

“That would be fine.”

“I don’t want kids.”

“That’s fine.”

“And I don’t want to change my name.”

“You don’t need to, even though Storm is a pretty awesome name.”

She chuckled and gazed at me with genuine affection.  

“It is a pretty awesome name,” she agreed. “But Medora goes with Nora pretty slick.”

“It does at that.”

We stared at each other for a minute, strangely shy and goofily. It made her uncomfortable, so she kissed me hard and long. When she deepened the kiss, I tried to push away. She grabbed a couple of my fingers and began bending them in an unnatural position. “Owe!” I bellowed.

“Okay, now it’s time for a compromise,” she said in her cop voice. “Stand up.”

I arose as she still firmly gripped my fingers. The potential for increased pain lingered. If it was an actual threat, I could have kneed her in the mid-section or punched her with my free hand. She let go and demanded. “Now, I said yes to your proposal. That means we intend to marry. So let’s go consummate our engagement.”

“Nora, I said not until we are actually married.”

She sighed heavily, put her hands on her hips. “Brock, Solomon had seven hundred wives. Do you really think he had seven hundred ceremonies or seven hundred signed legal documents?”

She had me there. Plus, she looked hot, in more ways than one, as sweat still continued to bead from her pores. I grinned, shook my head, and kissed her.

Twenty-four hours later, I was sitting at Cotton Creek with Destiny, having just blurted that I’ve killed people. Although she handled it cooly, I could see disturbance in her eyes. She calmly and daintily tucked a strand of honey blonde hair behind an ear. Her beautiful large eyes were as blue as the sky. She was so different than Nora, but every bit as alluring.

Over the last twenty hours, I wasn’t very happy with the person who famously declared that an unexamined life wasn’t worth living. But my anguish over sex and violence proved to be healthy in the end. It was just painful and confusing in the present. A small example was my ‘yes’ to Destiny’s question. Was it a lie?

No, I told myself. It was a step. I had been working for the security firm during every execution I had committed. It was just on my personal time. If Destiny and I were to get closer, I would reveal everything that happened.

What was I thinking? If Destiny and I got closer? I had just proposed marriage to Nora Medora! Not only that, Nora said yes. She also had promised we would tie the knot before the end of the year. I had demanded by the end of summer. She said maybe.

I changed the subject with the lovely Miss Destiny Knight. “Yesterday I asked Nora to marry me.”

To my surprise, her eyes looked more startled than when I confessed to having killed men. Then her lower lip tucked in a little, and her chin crinkled for a second as if she felt like crying. Then she stoically replied, “Oh, you did?”

“Yeah,” I responded, my mind racing.

Was Destiny interested in me? Was I interested in her, despite intending to marry another woman? Did I make a mistake by asking Nora Medora to be my lawfully wedded wife? In the long run, Destiny would be the better choice, due to our similar faith. But Nora not only knew my secret, she was in a position to put me in prison for the rest of my life. But didn’t I deserve it after taking the law into my on hands?

Oh the human condition! I had been sorting out my past as a vigilante killer. In particular, reconciling my previous actions of self-justice with my developing spirituality. At the same time, I was sorting out feelings of love, lust, and infatuation. I longed to live under righteous principles. Nora left me feeling rattled yesterday. Then Destiny gave me mixed messages today.

With a seemingly genuine smile, Destiny extended a hand, “Congratulations.”

I took her hand, and with a mischievous grin, I said, “I didn’t tell you her answer.”

“Oh,” she replied with wide eyes. “I assumed she said yes.”

“She did,” I said with a chuckle. “I was just teasing.”

“I guess my assumption was based off what my own response would have been,” Destiny said cheerfully.

“Your own response?” I asked with a frown. “What does that mean?”

“Just that I would have said yes if you had asked me.”

CHAPTER 5

DESTINY

The week after my twenty-eighth birthday was probably the best week of my life. The beautiful thing was the simplicity of it. I hung out with my aunt, studied the Bible, prayed, went for long walks, and learned all about Belle’s ministry. I was feeling more direction in my life than I ever had.

The odd thing was feeling this awesome sense of direction when I had no direct plans. I just knew that I wanted to be a part of my Aunt Belle’s ministry. Financially, I had no money worries. I had a few years salary saved if you calculated it by the average working person’s income.

I also knew for certain that I wanted no part of my old life, except a tiny desire for Sophie to return to me. I also tried to put to rest my fantasy of something developing with Brock. Belle had informed me that he had a long-term girlfriend that was a police detective. For the first time in my life I was feeling somewhat asexual. I say somewhat because although I blocked my fantasies of Brock, I couldn’t stop the reality of seeing him.

When I lost my virginity at the age of sixteen, I felt a sense of emptiness afterward. At the time, I figured a lot of it had to do with youth and inexperience. The encounter was physically painful, and my boyfriend seemed to be enraptured in his own pleasure. It wasn’t a fond memory at all. Someone’s first time should be in a committed relationship with love anchoring the promise of a future together.

 Regardless of being disappointed with fornication, I continued to accommodate my boyfriend.  My second and third boyfriends weren’t any better. As a matter of fact they were worse. My second boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend. She quickly became my former friend, and I got revenge by doing a video with his friend. It was my first step toward adult entertainment.

I was still a senior in high school and terrified that my father would find out. It ended up on the internet, and he did. But not because he came across it. One of my step siblings told him. The contention between my dad and me was so bad, I moved in with a friend’s older sister. To this day, I’m not sure if he kicked me out or if I ran away.

It wasn’t long before my twenty two year old roommate began seducing me. She seemed so mature and worldly wise. I was in awe of her and wanted to please her. So not long after I moved in with her, when we were sharing a couple cocktails, she tried to kiss me. I enthusiastically kissed her back, and she became my first female lover.

She was pretty and petite. But her breast implants were so disproportionate with her small frame that I promised myself I would never get cosmetic surgery, and I never did. She was a former gymnast who had transferred her talents to a stripper’s pole. Men certainly didn’t seem to mind her unnatural chest, not by a long shot.

It was her influence that led me to exotic dancing. However, she actually tried to dissuade me from taking to the stage myself. I thought she was looking out for my best interests at the time, especially after I did my first private lap dance. But I found out later that she viewed me as competition. Regardless of her intentions, if I had heeded her advice, maybe I could have avoided a decade in the pit of sin.

But what ifs are usually an endless train. What if I hadn’t looked up my aunt? What if I had followed through with my suicidal desires? What if Brock and I had gotten together after he saved me that awful night nine years previous? Instead we lived over a thousand miles apart. What if he had been my first boyfriend? What if he didn’t have that girlfriend who reminded me of my ex, Sophie? Now I’m getting ahead of myself.

It was strange seeing the subject of my most persistent fantasy every week at church. Yet there were a couple of things that created an odd oxymoron. For one thing, I knew that he had a serious girlfriend. And for another thing, I was rapidly becoming spiritually minded rather than carnally minded. Over the next few weeks, I literally had traded Bible text over sex.

For the first time in my adult life, I didn’t desire sexual contact with another human being. I became conscious of spiritual realities. My aunt had given me many things to study in the Bible, but I kept returning to certain verses that seemed to be speaking directly to me. Romans 1:24-26 was a prime example. Having been in the sex industry, worshipping the creature more than the creator was crystal clear to me.

About a month after I had first looked Aunt Belle up, I decided that I wanted to be baptized and officially join Cotton Creek Cove Fellowship. I talked to Pastor Samson before the church service and told him my desire.

He was delighted, and suggested that my aunt do the honors of burying me in baptism. I got choked up thinking of the significance of my Aunt Belle performing the ceremony. The woman who very well may have saved my life. She would be the one helping me rise from the watery grave that represented being reborn to newness of life in Christ. Pastor invited the congregation to join us the following Sabbath at Cotton Creek as I publicly proclaimed my acceptance of Jesus as my Lord and Savior.

As the pastor was making this announcement regarding my impending baptism, Brock showed up with his significant other. I stared at first because I thought he was with my ex, Sophie. But then I immediately noticed that unlike my ex, she had no visible tattoos. However, my ex and Brock’s lady friend could easily pass for sisters.

 Brock’s companion wore a tan skirt with a white blouse. The skirt was several inches above the knee and seemed a bit racy for this conservative church. It hiked up even further when she sat. She crossed one shapely leg over the other. I looked away before multiple wrong thoughts tormented my brain.

“Belle,” I whispered to my aunt. “Is that Brock’s girlfriend?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Does she come often?”

“It seems she comes to church with him once or twice a month.”

“She’s beautiful,” I acknowledged.

Belle gazed at her coolly. “On the outside, she is.”

I wondered what she meant by that, but now wasn’t the time or place to have that discussion.

About halfway through the service, Brock’s girlfriend got up and abruptly walked to the foyer. A couple of minutes later, she returned and whispered something to Brock. He nodded and she left the church. I recalled Belle telling me that she was a police detective, and I guessed that was why she suddenly left.

After the service, we were preparing for the fellowship potluck meal when I felt a gentle hand at the small of my back and a voice with a hint of warm, cinnamon breath inches from my ear. I felt a tingling sensation race up my spine and down my legs.

“Are you free this afternoon?” Brock’s deep, fluid voice asked me. The  warm, pleasant tingle coursed through me again. Was feeling desire for him wrong?

“Yeah, sure,” I replied, a little unsettled. My pulse quickened. “What’s up?”

“I just want to talk, okay?” Brock asked, removing his hand from my back.

“Sure,” I tried not to stammer. “Anything in particular?”

“Mainly your upcoming baptism.”

“Okay,” I said, frowning a little. Did he think I was unworthy? Belle assured me that all have sinned and come short of the glory of God. “Is your lady friend going to join us?”

“No,” Brock said a little too abruptly. “She’s a cop in Des Moines. She got called away. There was a break in a case she and her partner have been working on.”

“She’s very pretty,” I told him.

Brock nodded as he seemed to search my eyes. Did he think that I found her desirable? Since he had kept tabs on me, surely he realized my ex bore a remarkable resemblance to his girlfriend. The thought flickered through my mind that it wasn’t me that his lady friend resembled.

“Look, I’ll let you get back to your task,” he told me.

“Okay.”

“So we’re on then?” Brock asked. “Maybe we could take a walk to Cotton Creek after the fellowship meal?”

“Sounds good,” I said, trying to give a cheerful, carefree smile.

Brock and I returned to the same spot as our last chat. Once again, I marveled at how lovely it was with the trees and babbling brook. What a perfect place to get baptized!

“So,” I said with a coy smile. “Do you want to tell me I’m not fit to be baptized?”

“No, not at all,” Brock replied as his eyes widened. “But I don’t really know how to put into words what I do want to discuss. I mean, I’ve thought about getting baptized myself, but I never feel ready. Do you know what I mean?”

“Not really,” I admitted.

“You see, you take Nora…,” he said.

“Nora is your lady friend, right?” I interrupted.

“Yes,” he replied. “She’s probably my biggest stumbling block. For one thing, she doesn’t believe like I do. Shoot, I don’t even know what I believe most of the time.”

“Do you believe Jesus died for your sins?” I asked.

“Most definitely,” he replied without hesitation. “I looked into the historical facts about Jesus. It’s undeniable. It’s the other stuff, like the details of obedience and what’s required of us. Plus the fact that I’ve never met Him or talked to Him.”

“What exactly do you mean?”

“Well, once again, my situation with Nora,” he said. “She and I are, um, intimate. By the letter of the law we’re fornicating, but on the other hand we’re two consenting adults.”

I felt a pang of jealousy over Nora getting to be intimate with Brock. I even had a little pang over Brock getting to be intimate with Nora… I immediately shook off the thought.

“Why are you shaking your head?” Brock asked me.

“Oh nothing,” I said, hoping that I wasn’t blushing. “I’m just trying to process what you’re saying. So do you feel comfortable, then? I mean, like, a clear conscious with your relationship with Nora?”

“I don’t,” he admitted. “But I guess I’m not convicted enough to stop being with her either. Or I’m simply just a weak, sin-loving reprobate.”

I couldn’t help chuckling a little. “How long have you two been together?”

“Six years, for the most part.”

“What do mean, ‘for the most part’?”

“We broke up for a couple of months when I moved here from Miami,” Brock said.

“So then you patched things up and she moved here?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “She got a job in Des Moines and then we got back together.”

I frowned. “So she moved to Iowa without knowing that you two would be getting back together?”

“She was going to, anyway,” he replied. “She said that she wanted a change in her own life and the job in Des Moines, regardless of whether she and I worked out as a couple.”

“After six years, have you two considered marriage?” I asked.

“I asked her, but she keeps putting it off. I guess you could say that she’s married to her career. Plus, her given name is Dayanara. It’s Puerto Rican. Do you know what Dayanara means?”

“Not a clue.”

“Husband slayer,” he said with wide, serious eyes.

I couldn’t help it – I started laughing. What made it so funny was this big, absolutely muscle-ripped martial artist seeming to be somewhat fearful of a girl. Albeit a tough one.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding emphatically, his eyes getting even wider. “And she’s not beyond it, believe me.”

I started laughing so hard my eyes began to tear up. Brock looked at me patiently, and then he smirked.

“I’m sorry,” I told Brock as I wiped the corners of my eyes.

“No need,” he replied, chuckling. “It is kind of funny… So, did I hear Captain Kirk say your Aunt Belle is the one baptizing you next week?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” I replied. “I’m so glad he suggested it. She’s helped me so much.”

“That’s cool,” Brock said. “I’ve only seen two baptisms since I’ve been coming here, and Captain Kirk did them both.”

“Apparently when Belle brings somebody into the fold, so to speak,” I said. “Captain Kirk encourages her to perform the rite.”

Brock nodded. “So how have you resolved your sexual preference? My oldest brother was gay. From talking to him, it seems to me like you can’t just turn it off.”

“You said he was gay so he must have found a way to turn it off.”

“He did,” Brock said sounding contrite. “He died.”

“Oh, Brock, I’m so sorry,” I said putting my hand on his forearm, feeling like an absolute idiot. “How long ago?”

 “Ten years,” he said.

“How?”

“Complications from AIDS.”

“How sad.”

“It was tragic.”

We were silent for a minute as we stared at the rippling water of the creek. I realized that my hand still rested on his hard, muscular forearm. I eased it away.

“So tell me now, how have you resolved your sexual preference?” Brock persisted. “To be honest, sexual matters are the biggest reason I’m not baptized yet.”

“So, are you bisexual then?”

“What? No, I’m talking about my nontraditional relationship with Nora, as well as my gay brother. I know enough about what the Bible teaches, and how Cotton Creek Cove adheres to Bible truth. I know that you were in a long term relationship with a woman. If it’s not too personal, I’d like to know where you stand on sexual matters.”

“Brock, I don’t know if I’m qualified to answer that,” I replied. “I’m just a babe in Christ.”

“Yes, you are,” Brock responded huskily as he looked at me lustily.

I felt my eyes widen as we looked at each other. I bit my lower lip as my brain froze for a few seconds. “I mean, I’m brand new to the Bible and Christianity.”

“Oh, right, yeah, I know what you meant,” Brock stammered. “Sorry if that came across wrong.”

“It’s okay,” I said quickly. I turned away from him as I tugged my skirt down, even though it was already below my knees. Then I clasped my hands together and pushed them between my thighs as my brain raced out of control.

Brock had a girlfriend! But they weren’t married. Was all still fair in love and war? What a dumb saying. Brock was off limits, period.

“I just think you’re beautiful, Dee,” Brock told me, using my nickname for the first time. Then he chuckled. “I’m actually glad your preference is women.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “It’s always kept my desires for you at bay. I mean, not that you’d want a guy like me if you weren’t, you know…”

“You have to realize that I’m actually bisexual,” I replied a little too quickly. “True, my intimate history has been mostly with women. However, my deepest desire ever since I was a little girl was to be with a man. To get married and have kids, the white picket fence and all. I guess that I am just picky when it comes to guys. In my former profession I was around too many undesirable guys. I do know this much. If I’m ever in an intimate relationship again, it will be with a man and we will be married first before being, um, intimate.”

“So what type of guy are you attracted to, the androgynous type?”

“No, silly,” I said, giving his upper arm a push. Man, he was rock hard! Why did I keep touching him? Was I coming off as flirtatious? “My dream guy is rather manly.”

“Oh, yeah?” Brock said with a big, mischievous grin. “Is this a real guy or a creation of your imagination?”

“I guess you could say both,” I told him. “My point is, I don’t think I’m qualified to answer a spiritual question about being gay.”

“You were in a gay relationship, right?”

“You know I was.”

“That qualifies you in my eyes. So I want to know your opinion. Is the Bible intolerant of gay people?”

“I believe the Bible is intolerant of sin in general, and it’s sinners that are intolerant of the Bible. Like I said, I’m new to this. But I’ve already have gotten a taste of people who say the Bible teaches hate, just because it proclaims a different opinion than theirs. It seems pretty narcissistic to be offended because someone has a different opinion than your own. Like my Aunt Belle says God hates the sin but He loves the sinner.

“Those people who believe the Bible teaches hate obviously haven’t studied the gospel very thoroughly. Look at what Jesus did for us in dying a cruel death for our sins. How can you possibly call that hate? Yet I’m not offended, or think you don’t have the right to feel that way.”

“What about the God of the Old Testament?” Brock inquired. “It seems He was pretty violent and vengeful.”

“I’d say we can’t relate from one generation to another now. How can we possibly relate to a culture thousands of years ago? I mean in Sodom and Gomorrah, men were demanding that Lot send angels disguised as men out so they could have sex with them (Genesis 19:1-5) That’s pretty wicked. Before the flood, God was sorry that He made man (Genesis 6:6).

“I know this much though. Jesus said, if you’ve seen Me, you’ve seen the Father (John 14:9). And there’s been no life more impressive in human history, in my mind, than the life of Jesus. God became a man! Tempted as we are, yet without sin!

“I agree,” he replied, nodding. “But you can’t deny that religionists have persecuted gay people.”

“Religionists murdered Jesus! Religion doesn’t make you right with God. I mean, millions of people have been murdered in the name of God. These people were controlled by Satan, not the Savior. People have not only forgotten, but are unaware of the history of the dark ages. It should be a no brainer that if you are killing someone, especially in the name of God, you couldn’t be more deluded if you think your actions are virtuous.”

Brock was staring at me. Unlike moments ago, it wasn’t adoring. Now it was cold and  hard, and my skin crawled a little under his gaze. He said in low voice. “I’ve killed people.”

CHAPTER 4

BROCK

As I sat in the woods waiting for my prey, I couldn’t stop thinking about seeing Destiny the previous day. I was glad to see that all those years in the sex trade hadn’t aged her prematurely. Who knows how she ended up psychologically, though? Maybe we would become friends and I would find out. Maybe more than friends.

I shook of that thought. What a hypocrite! Here I waited in hiding to satisfy an element of my lustful desires. I was about to behave badly with one woman, while dreaming of a wholesome relationship with another. Did I have a split personality?

In a few minutes I would be indulging in a game of lust that sometimes seemed to control me. Outwardly, as far as the world knew, I was disciplined. Inwardly, I cried along with the Apostle Paul, declaring, “Oh wretched man that I am!” But unlike Paul, at this time in my life I had yet to fully inquire, “Who will deliver me from this body of death?”

I spotted my prey making her way up the trail, and my adrenaline began to spike. She came closer and closer to my lair. Man, did she ever fill out those black spandex shorts that she ran in with a matching sports bra. Her entire lithe body was perfectly toned. The green camouflaged baseball cap that covered her short black hair sat low over her eyes, but I could tell that she was looking around nervously. As she should. This place was remote. The man about to attack her, me, was the only other person for miles.

From my secluded spot, I watched her pass as I admired her well-muscled female form. I moved quickly and quietly to another spot, a place I had prepared for an attack. She would continue to run up hill for another two hundred yards, and then the trail would loop around, winding back down the hill. When she passed my spot, I hoped that she would be tired, unfocussed, and then I would strike.

I had a dark green canvas covered with leaves and twigs positioned by a good sized rock. I hid underneath the canvas and put my feet against the rock, readying myself to spring out as she passed. We would be so deep in the woods that nobody would hear a thing. Go ahead and scream all you want, Honey. I felt like a sinister Rambo.

I could hear the padding of her feet on the trail before she came into sight. They were heavy footfalls so she was indeed tired! Suddenly she was in front of me, and my legs catapulted me off the rock. I grabbed her around the legs as she went down with a scream and then a grunt. In seconds, I had her in an arm bar and her face winced with pain.

“Tap out,” I told her.

“No,” she grunted. Then she shouted, “Get off me!”

I applied a little more pressure and waited. Her body was slick with sweat and hard to hold on to. Despite her fatigue, she was strong.

“Tap out,” I demanded.

“No,” she said with gritted teeth as she struggled against me.

I applied a little more pressure. She growled, but then slapped the ground three times and I released her. I was climbing off of her when she grabbed me and flipped me to the side of her. Like I said, she was strong. Then she grabbed my arm and put me in a wrist bar.

“What are you doing?” I asked as now I winced and froze paralyzed by pain.

“Retaliation,” she said with a cocky grin. Then she lowered her face to mine and kissed me on the mouth. A drop of her sweat fell into my eye, and I blinked the burn away.

“That’s not fair,” I said. “You’re the one that wants me to attack you. You keep begging me to play this twisted game of yours, and then you cheat?”

“I know, but I usually get away,” she said. “I guess I’m a sore loser. Nice job.”

“Thanks,” I said. “But you do know that if I really wanted to take you out, I could.”

“But you do give it your all within safer parameters, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“All right then,” she said. “So now I need you to tap out to even things up today.”

“Even things up?” I complained. “This was the first time in six or eight tries that I got you in a position to tap out.”

“Nine,” she said, “but who’s counting? And just for the record, you know you like playing this game.”

I first met Nora Medora when I lived in Miami. She was a vice detective with the Miami police department. When our occupations happened to overlap six years earlier, the sexual chemistry between us crackled, even though we were on opposing sides of a case. When the case was over, I called her. To my pleasant surprise, she agreed to meet me for a drink. She didn’t beat around the bush with what she wanted, which was a partner to be physically intimate with, period. At the time, that worked for me as well.

Nora was focused on her career, and I was enraptured in wanderlust. I was based out of Miami, but I traveled the world for my job, and loved it. Neither she nor I were good at relationships, but we weren’t into sleeping around either. We were two peas in a pod, and so began six years of being ‘friends with benefits.’ Other than sex, it actually seemed like a friendship with a guy in a lot of ways. We worked out together, watched ballgames, and talked shop about her experiences as a cop and mine as a bodyguard for the rich and famous.

In the spring of 2015, I was extremely frustrated with my life. I was tired of being a soldier for the wealthy and pampered. I also had been around the world several times, and had had my fill of travel. I also was frustrated with the shallowness of my arrangement with Nora.

Yet, I had developed feelings for her, and I went against our deal. I suggested she move in with me, and on bended knee, I proposed marriage. But she shot me down quickly and cruelly. It left me hurt and angry, but desperate for a change I might not have otherwise taken. I wanted something like a quest for truth and meaning to life. Reading Captain Kirk Samson’s book ignited a spark within me that I needed. God put it in my hands and at just the right time.

So it started with a simple vacation back home to Minnesota. I took my blue 2014 Shelby Mustang on a road trip with a plan to stop in Iowa. I wanted to meet the man whose book about faith, doubt, love and war, was beginning to change my life. I was hoping for the better. I also wanted to see the church and community vividly described in his autobiography. The heavenly quaintness of Cotton Creek Cove didn’t disappoint.

On the same trip I met Bentley Bonnano, a friend and co-worker’s brother. He was kind of goofy, but easy going. He was also a skilled mechanic, and I admired his old fashioned shop in the country, where he renovated classic vehicles. When he petitioned me to come to work with him, and also room with him, my first thought was no.

But between my rut in life, my stagnate relationship with Nora, Bentley’s offer, and Cotton Creek Cove Fellowship, I decided to move to eastern Iowa. I needed a major life reboot, and I was convinced this was it. So, I returned to Miami just long enough to close up shop, so to speak, and then I moved to Iowa. Right or wrong, I didn’t even say goodbye to Nora.

Somewhere between two and three months after I moved to Iowa, I came home to find a Dodge Charger with Illinois plates in my driveway. I walked around cautiously to my backyard. Was it a former enemy? Some type of salesperson? More than likely, it was some type of cop wanting to question me about something from my old job. I was right about the cop part.

“Hey, you,” a sultry, familiar voice said from behind me.

Have you ever been thrilled and devastated at the same time? Even in khaki shorts, a Miami Heat T-shirt, and aviator sunglasses, Nora Medora looked smoking hot.

“What are you doing here?” I asked matter-of-factly. But I felt a little creeped out, like she was stalking me or something. But at the same time, I was a bit excited. Seeing her felt, for lack of a better word, nostalgic. Yet my better judgement made me very skeptical.

The rare smile on her face faded, and she defiantly put her hands on her hips. “That’s how you’re going to greet me?”

“Apparently,” I said.

She tried to smile again, but it flickered and went out. She actually seemed to be fighting off tears. Tears would be another rare thing for Nora Medora.

“This your car?” I asked, groping for something to say as I pointed to the Charger.

“It’s a rental.”

“I see,” I said. “So how’d you find me?”

“I’m a detective,” she said.

We stood and stared at each other for a long minute.

“I’ve missed you,” Nora finally said quietly.

A third strange set of words from her. I just gazed at her blank faced. A lone tear leaked from under the aviators.

“You haven’t missed me at all?” Nora asked in a croaky whisper. Maybe she was more thoughtful and caring than I gave her credit for.

“Sure I have,” I said. “But the last time I saw you, you threw the roses I bought for you after I asked you to marry me. Then you punched me in the stomach after I said that I loved you.”

“It wasn’t that hard of a punch,” she said calmly as she removed her sunglasses, revealing bloodshot eyes. “You broke our agreement, and it took me by surprise. But now that I’ve had 72 days to think about it, do you know how I would have responded in hindsight?”

“How?” I asked, intrigued.

“I love you, too,” she said stepping toward me, drawing the words out slowly and passionately. Our mouths came together like they had over a thousand times before. But never with this much desperation. After a couple minutes lost in a lip lock, she pushed away from me.

“I need to tell you something,” Nora said as we came up for air. “I’m taking a job with the Iowa Division of Criminal Investigation. I’ll be based out of Des Moines.”

“What?” I said, incredulously, my whole body going stiff. “That was rather presumptuous.”

“You don’t understand,” she said. “I needed a change, too. Plus I was lost without my best friend.”

“Your only friend,” I added.

She just shrugged, and continued. “Anyway, right after you left, I started applying around the Midwest. Regardless of whether or not you want to resume our, um, relationship, the IDCI seems like a perfect fit for me. I’ll have a chance to be a bigger fish in a smaller pond, rather than remaining stuck as a small fish in a bigger.”

“I see,” I replied, still getting my mind around Nora possibly being back in the picture. Again, I was both apprehensive and thrilled at the same time.

“So, would you be interested in resuming what we had?” Nora asked with a coy, seductive smile.

“Just so you know, I’m at a point in my life where I want a normal relationship. That’s why I asked you to marry me.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” she asked.

“No.”

“Great, let’s resume then,” Nora said with a strange, bright smile.

“I said I want a normal relationship,” I insisted.

“What exactly do you mean by normal?” Nora asked. I could tell she was holding in frustration. I think she was hoping I’d be so ecstatic to see her, I would cave. I’m ashamed to admit that Nora always controlled me by sex appeal. So why the drab shorts and a t-shirt that was a size too big? It might have been a psychological ploy. If it was, once again I’m ashamed to admit, it ended up working.

“I want to settle down,” I told her with a shrug. “It’s as simple as that. I want a wife and kids one day.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, closed her eyes, bowed her head, and then shook it. Then she looked at me. “I’ll consider marriage, but no babies are gonna take up residence in my womb.”

“Fair enough, we could adopt. I’m sure there are plenty of orphans in the world.”

She nodded, then snorted, and then shook her head.

“What was that?” I chuckled. “First a yes, then a maybe, and then a no?”

“If we were to have kids, adoption is the way to go. However, can you really see me as a mother? I’m not exactly a warm and fuzzy female. Like you insinuated, I don’t have many friends. I’m self-aware. I know I’m cold and prickly. That’s why I was stunned that you want to marry. So tell me, why do you?”

I shrugged. “We have a history, I’m loyal, and we get along pretty good.”

“We’ve always got along pretty good because never lived together.”

“We could adjust,” I tried.

“Okay,” she said with a sarcastic chuckle. Then she put on a seductive grin. “Now, how about you give me a tour of your house, and conclude it with your bedroom. We could try this adjustment you speak of by me spending the night.”

Now I had my first real struggle with sexual urges since I started attending Cotton Creek Cove Fellowship. The last time I had been intimate was actually with Nora a few months previously. Was I the last for her? As attractive as she was, I suspected so. That’s probably why she seemed as desirous as me. Even more so.

But I had a new dilemma in my psyche. I had been trying to walk with God the last couple of months. I had come to believe fornication to be a sin. But there was a problem with my flesh. My walk with God wasn’t with all my heart. Yet I still tried to do the right thing, but my flesh was weak, despite my strong body. I tried to explain my situation to Nora. In a nutshell, I told her that we needed to be married before we became one physically again.

“Well, I’m not marrying you today,” she told me. “I need to get my head around our situation, and you getting all religious now. So how about we compromise? We’ll get together on my days off, and I’ll even go to church with you when I can. But we need to resume our, um, thing post haste.”

“By thing, you mean sex?”

She smiled seductively, stepped toward me, and took my hands in hers. Her lovely dark, intense eyes gazed into mine. “How about we call it making love?”

“Nora, like I explained, we need to be married before we resume intimacy.”

Nora tended to be a hot head. Up to this point she had been patient and reasonable. But I knew her well and braced for a verbal explosion. So I was surprised when she simply nodded, shrugged, and took a step back from me.

Before I comprehended what she was doing, her t-shirt seemed to shoot off the top of her head. Rather than a bra, she was wearing a tiny red bikini top. Placing hands on her hips, she grinned mischievously and inquired, “Well?”

“I see you’ve still been working out in my absence,” I replied as I tried to stuff down temptation.

She stepped toward me again. “I’ve had to work off frustrations. Lots of frustration! It seems you have too.”

She ran her left hand over my right bicep, and her right hand over my left pectoral muscle. She complimented me on my build. I have often received comments and compliments on my muscles. This was ironic as my flesh had never been weaker under her touch. She kissed me deeply, and I kissed her back enthusiastically.

“Come on, show me your bedroom,” she said coyly, as she took my hand and began to lead me toward my house.

I began to follow as if in a trance. But then I stopped after a few steps and pulled my hand from hers. Lamely, I said, “Nora… I can’t.”

“Wow, you really have changed,” she replied as if appalled. But she seemed to be enjoying herself. Then she sighed. “Well, I certainly don’t want to force you against your will. But I do want to show you one more thing before I leave. I want you to know what you’ll be missing out on.”

Off came her khaki shorts, revealing the other half of her bikini. Her tiny bikini. All of the reason seemed to drain from my brain. She did a quick little parade, then opened her arms and asked, “Well, do I stay or do I go?”

“Stay,” I heard myself say.

Thus Nora Medora reentered my life and drastically impeded my spiritual progress. After I caved in that first time, it only became easier to give in. Especially when some new twists were added to our relationship. Some good, some bad. Nora began attending church with me every few weeks, and I played a bizarre little hide and seek game with her. Actually it was more like hunt and escape.

With all of the remote areas close to where I lived, she had me stalk her and try to attack her when she went for a run. This was supposed to hone her skills as an officer of the law. I suppose it did, but our exercise also always ended with sexual overtones.

After more than half a decade together and her skill at manipulation, she knew how to play me. Nine months into her move to Iowa, and we were still no closer to marriage. She was my biggest stumbling block. Not only sexually, but she knew a secret of mine that she held over me.

Before I began seeking God, I had been a vigilante killer. Nora Medora had found out. However, it was some pretty evil guys I had eliminated, so my girlfriend cop had been an ally. But then my destiny changed by reacquainting with Destiny Knight. This made my girlfriend ally a potential enemy.  

CHAPTER 3

DESTINY

To say that I was shocked to see Brock Strom at my aunt’s church was an understatement. I never in a million years would have thought that I would run into anyone from my former life in a church in Iowa. As ridiculous as it might seem, since I hardly knew him, but Brock was the only man that I had ever loved. It all went back to when he had saved me from the most terrifying moment of my life.

“I’ve got you,” his deep, calming voice had said softly into my ear as he held my trembling body. Those words would echo wonderfully in my head for the rest of my life. It wasn’t long before my fantasies urged a change in his words from “I’ve got you” to “I love you.”

His rescue had truly seemed miraculous. My attacker had torn my clothes off and pinned me to the floor. He had put his knife right at my jugular. I still have a little, half inch scar from where the blade had poked through my skin. He said if I moved he’d slit my throat from ear to ear. He then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. Right when he was pushing them down, I saw a flash of movement from my kitchen. Like a superhero, Brock suddenly appeared in my living room. His leg lifted and his foot snapped hard into my attacker’s head, knocking him out cold instantly.

“So you took the advice of the cops then.” Brock had stated as we sat by Cotton Creek and conversed.

In the aftermath, both Brock and the police suggested that I not be visible in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area after the attempted rape and potential murder. My attacker had gang ties. It seemed to me that they would be more angry with Brock than me. Nonetheless, I left with another girlfriend for the west coast. I had been California dreaming anyway.

I tried exotic dancing out west, but the attack, still fresh on my mind, made me skittish. So I got into porn instead. I started my own web site, as well as joining a popular web site that featured twelve girls. It was strictly girls with girls. I had been developing a growing fear of the type of men that patronized so called gentlemen’s clubs. After the attempted rape, it left me on the verge of panic attacks.

“Yes, I went to the west coast,” I told Brock. “I heard you went to Florida.”

“Yeah, Miami.”

“Why Miami?”

“Our shared incident had an unexpected benefit,” he informed me. “I got hired by a high profile security company. It got me out of the strip club, and at ten times the money.”

I nodded. “I um, got into, ah…”

“The Dirty Dozen,” Brock said with a little smile and an arched eyebrow. “I know you did porn. Is Sophie still in your life?”

“So you kept tabs on me, then?” I asked, part offended, part embarrassed, and actually disappointed. In my fantasies about Brock, he wasn’t the type of guy that went to strip bars or watched porn. It was a silly notion, even hypocritical. Dreaming he wasn’t a guy that went to strip clubs wasn’t at all realistic since he did security at one. This put him in a nude establishment way more than the average patron. But to me, Brock always seemed more interested in looking out for us girls rather than looking at us.

“I did,” he admitted.

“Why?”

“I got into the wrong line of work when I bounced at strip clubs,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that I didn’t realize how much I felt like protecting you girls from all of those slime balls that just saw you all as a piece of meat,” Brock explained testily. “I couldn’t ignore the reality of what you girls were doing and how you all ended up there. Believe me, I had more than one girl tell me her life story, and they were never heartwarming tales. I just couldn’t compartmentalize it like other bouncers, bartenders, and you performers.”

Maybe my fantasy wasn’t far off after all! And I definitely wasn’t the only one that dreamed about Mr. Storm. Most girls talked about wanting to do unmentionables with him. He was big, very muscular with no fat, and movie star handsome despite the scars on his face. His nickname at the club was even Scarface.

He chuckled lightly. “Every time I checked up on you, I feared finding out that you were doing hardcore stuff with guys.”

“The lesbian stuff didn’t bother you?” I wanted to know.

“Not near as much as the thought of watching you being abused by guys, all the while acting like you loved it.” he replied. “By the way, how much of it was an act, or are you…”

“I’m bisexual,” I replied a little too quickly. “But to be honest, I haven’t been intimate with a guy since I was a teenager.”

Why did I tell him that last part?

“You didn’t answer me about Sophie,” he said.

“We broke up a few months ago,” I told him. “Due to religious convictions.”

“Did she take it hard?”

“She’s the one that broke up with me.”

His utterly baffled expression made me giggle. Obviously I had just been at a church service. Besides, if he knew about Sophie and me, and a lot of people did because of social media, she clearly was the wild one in our coupling. She had short dark hair, dark eyes, and a tough, don’t mess with me, countenance. She also was heavily tattooed, pierced, and had a penchant for heavy metal music.

“So would you still be together if she hadn’t?”

I shrugged. “To be honest, these last few days with my Aunt Belle I’ve hardly thought about Sophie. I’ve just been relishing the hope of a fresh start at a new life. I’m really getting into the Bible. Aunt Belle gave me some very interesting study guides, and they’ve been absorbing most of my days right now.”

“Maybe we could go out to dinner or something,” Brock blurted, then suddenly looked sheepish. “And then study the Bible together afterward, I mean.”

Was he trying to ask me out? Or did he just want to study? I wondered just how close he was to the guy I dreamed of? There’s no way he could possibly live up to my fantasy, but who could truly live up to a fantasy? I wanted to find out if he was a sex creep or not. But even if he had been, it seems he’s a regular church attendee now. “So did you just check on me, or do you like watching porn?”

“Both,” he said with a little smirk.

I felt myself blush, but at the same time I felt a surge of disappointment. “Okay, then.”

“But I didn’t know that you retired. I haven’t checked on you in well over a year.”

“How come you quit checking on me?” I asked, feeling strangely hurt.

“It didn’t feel right looking at that, you know, stuff when I began seeking God,” he replied.

Now I felt relief flood over me before I inquired. “I thought you weren’t a convert yet, and that you were still agnostic.”

Our eyes locked, and Brock looked a little confused. Oh my, I could look into those calm, acorn-colored eyes for hours. That is, if they also didn’t make me feel so uneasy.

“I don’t think agnostic was the right word, because I do believe in God.”

He paused, gazing up into the gently swaying tree branches and stirred the air with his right hand.

“Surrender,” he finally uttered. “I don’t know about surrendering fully to Jesus. I want to, but I still have issues. Free will is a strange thing, but without it you can’t have love. I never realized how much I loved myself until I tried to love Jesus.”

“So you don’t love Jesus?”

“I’d like to think I do. I mean, I’m seeking Him. I study the Bible, and I come to worship here on a regular basis. But I still have issues.”

“What kind of issues?”

“Deep-seated sin.”

“Belle tells me repeatedly that Jesus accepts me just as I am,” I told him.

“So have you fully surrendered to Jesus?”

“For where I’m at,” I said shrugging. “But I’m brand new at this stuff. The way I see it, I’ll always be growing and learning. I’m already infinitely better than I was a week ago at this time.”

Brock smiled warmly at me. My heart thumped a little faster.

“It’s funny,” he said. “You’ve been seeking not even a week while I have for almost a year, and yet you seem ahead of me already.”

“It’s not a competition, Brock. If we keep talking, you might not be thinking that for very long.”

He nodded. “I want to clarify something. When it came to looking at porn, I only viewed the stuff you were in. To be honest, I became a little obsessed with you. I suppose our shared incident had a lot to do with it.”

Now I went from feeling relief to feeling a little paranoid. Was Brock the stalker type? Was he maybe stalking me the night I was almost raped? Is that how he had been there to help me? The thought had crossed my mind before from time to time, but I always returned to my image of Saint Brock, my dream guy.

“There was just something about you,” he said a little dreamily. Then he paused, his eyes leaving mine, and roaming down my body. My dress had hiked up over my knees, and I quickly pulled it down and pressed my legs together. Brock laughed. “Like that.”

“Like what?” I asked with a puzzled frown.

“Your act wasn’t entirely an act. You’re the ultimate good girl next door, who gave into temptation.”

My dream guy seemed to be infatuated with me. Yet this frightened me more than it intrigued me. Groping for something to say, I said “I’m hardly a girl, I’m going on thirty.”

He seemed to perceive that I was starting to get creeped out as he gazed solemnly at me with those calm light brown eyes. Oh how I loved those eyes! They erased the creepy road he had started down. He emitted a humorless chuckle, and said “I’m sorry.”

An awkward silence ensued so I asked “How did you end up here? I know you had mentioned a book that Pastor Samson wrote. But surely you didn’t move to eastern Iowa because of a book.”

“No, I didn’t,” he affirmed. “It was a few things that all came together. I was on vacation, and driving from Florida to Minnesota. I thought I would stop and check out Captain Kirk’s church. As you can see, it’s rather quaint and appealing, and he’s an excellent preacher.

“Plus, a guy I worked with was from Iowa, and his brother lives only about ten minutes from here. He fixes up old cars and motorcycles out in the country on an acreage. He had quite a demand. So when he found out I liked turning wrenches, he invited me to not only come to work with him, but room with him in the big old farmhouse he lived alone in.

“I thought about it all through my vacation. When my R and R was over, I went back to Miami, gave notice, and put my condo up for sale. I went from a condo in walking distance to the Atlantic ocean, to an old farmhouse surrounded by a sea of corn. But I grew up on a small farm outside the Twin Cities, so I don’t regret a thing. I love the peace and solitude where I live.”

His eyes settled on mine, and for a long moment, we just looked at each other. It was then I realized that I was probably staring dreamily at him. I could feel a little smile my face. He wore his own far out expression as his lips parted, and his face inched a little closer to mine. Was he going to kiss me? Was I going to let him? My own face seemed to move ever so slowly toward his when we were both jolted back to reality.

“Hey, kids,” my Aunt Belle greeted as she walked up to us. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have a little surprise in the dining room. Can you two come up?”

Brock and I looked at each other, then back to Aunt Belle, and we both said “sure” at the same time.

As we walked into the church’s dining area, a dozen people shouted, “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” Brock and I said at the same time. Then we both looked at each other with a puzzled frown.

“April 23 is your birthday?” Brock asked me.

“Yes, yours too?”

“Yeah.”

“What year?” I asked.

“1983,” he replied. “You?”

“1988.”

“This makes sense, then,” Brock said, waving a hand at the festivities.

“What does?” I asked.

“I was wondering who could have known it was my birthday today,” Brock replied with a big grin. “This was actually all for you.”

Brock and I had the same birthday. We ended up at the same church in Iowa nine years after we had last seen each other in Minneapolis. We also both appeared to have a thing for each other. It seemed like, what do they call it, synchronicity?

Forgive me for being a pessimist, but I thought that something was bound to go out of synch.  My feelings proved to be right.

CHAPTER 2

BROCK STORM

I wondered when or if I would ever see Destiny Knight at Cotton Creek Cove Fellowship. When I began attending almost a year earlier, it didn’t take long to discover that she was related to Belle Knight. After all they had the same last name, they bore an uncanny resemblance to each other, and they both were adult entertainers from Minnesota. Then Belle confirmed my deductions by asking for prayers for her niece, Destiny.

I had never told Belle that I had known Destiny. Belle had become a well-known minister to women in the sex industry. However, she was widely criticized for having a niece that was actively doing porn and feature dancing around the country. Not once did I ever hear Belle criticize Destiny, though. Just the opposite as a matter of fact. Belle exhibited love and concern for her long lost niece, and now it looked like her prayers might have been finally answered.

I spied on Destiny all through the service. I had a hard time concentrating on the sermon. Her honey blonde hair was twisted in a French braid. Her bright blue eyes looked wide and innocent, contradicting her past. She was shrouded in a long, light blue dress that illuminated her stunning arctic blue eyes. She wore saddle shoes with white ankle socks. Her look was retro of the 1950’s.

Looking at Destiny in church, you never would have guessed that the wholesome appearing beauty was a former porn star. She had no tattoos, no piercings beyond each ear lobe, and no cosmetic surgery. Then again, playing the sweet girl next door was always part of her shtick. Maybe it wasn’t entirely an act.

I was in a dilemma. Did I approach her to see if she remembered me? Or would she be embarrassed with how we were associated? After all, I didn’t even really know her. We were simply acquaintances from nine years ago. I did save her from being raped, however, and possibly saved her life in the process.

Then again, if she was going to start attending Cotton Creek Cove, we were going to cross paths sooner rather than later. I might as well get it over with. But it made me nervous, apprehensive, even feeling shy. But why?

In my relatively short time doing security at night clubs, she was the only girl that really got to me. Was it her cute, good girl persona? Maybe she was a better actress than I gave her credit for. Yet if it was entirely an act, what was she doing here at church? And not only in attendance, but appearing genuinely interested in the preaching?

In the lobby after the service, Belle and Destiny were chatting with Mary Gold Weston, one of the main pillars at Cotton Creek Cove. As I approached, Destiny’s back was mostly toward me. Belle faced Destiny, as well as myself, as I walked toward the trio of ladies.

“Hi, Brock,” Belle greeted cheerfully. “I’d like you to meet my niece.”

“Hello, Destiny,” I said as Belle’s niece turned to look at me.

Her eyes widened as a startled look appeared on her face. She took a step back, and as a gasp, said my name. “Brock!”

What an idiot! Just pop over and say hi. Just a couple of old chums from the strip club days. Then to my relief, a big grin appeared on her face, and she added. “Is it really you?”

“It’s me,” I replied lamely with a weak smile. I was apprehensive as to where this might be going.

“Brock, how are you?” Destiny asked sweetly and with growing excitement.

“I’m good,” I said a shrug. My smile grew bigger, and I relaxed a little bit.

“I can’t believe it,” she said as if in wonder. “Talk about a small world!”

Then she stepped toward me and we awkwardly embraced. Amazingly, it felt familiar. But how could it? Especially since this time she wasn’t naked, frightened, and trembling uncontrollably, like she was on that awful night almost a decade ago. To my surprise, tears began to fill her eyes when our hug broke. Belle stared at us with a stunned expression, her mouth hanging open.

“Belle, this is the man I told you about the other night,” Destiny said wiping at her eyes. “Brock saved my life nine years ago.”

Belle gazed at me in wonder, almost as if I had two heads. Then she put her hands on her hips, and her countenance turned stern.

“You know,” Belle began to playfully scold. “I’ve been around the block a few times in my life. But you, Mr. Brock Storm, have got to be the most mysterious man that I have ever met. So all of the times that I petitioned the congregation to pray for my niece, you knew exactly who I was talking about?”

I didn’t reply. I just shrugged.

“Answer me, young man,” she said sternly, but I could see merriment dancing in her eyes.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied. “I knew who you were talking about.”

Destiny’s head was bowed. From what I could see, she had a strange look on her face. I couldn’t tell if she was feeling humbled or amused. Maybe it was an odd mixture of the two.

“Forget about that guy from the Dos Equis commercial,” Belle said. “I think you have to be the most interesting man in the world.”

Destiny glanced at me with a little smirk.

“Aw, shucks, ma’am,” I said with a little grin, and the three ladies chuckled.

“Belle and Mary, would you mind if I had a word with Brock alone?” Destiny asked.

“Of course not, dear,” Belle said, but then seemed to eye me with suspicion.

“Would you mind?” Destiny asked me.

“Not at all,” I replied, but with a questioning arch of my eyebrow.

“Is there some place private?”

“Come with me,” I said as my curiosity continued to grow. “I’ll show you a really nice place.”

We went outside and she followed me like a trusting little girl. She was probably comfortable with me because of our shared ordeal. There were also all the times we crossed paths working the club. Her job was to entertain lustful men, while my job was to make sure lustful men behaved.

But Destiny didn’t know how I had changed over the years. She didn’t know that I had become a killer, and had developed a blood lust. Would she be following me so readily if she knew the evil that lurked in my heart? If she knew I was the chief hypocrite in this church’s congregation?

“I love it here,” Destiny cooed as I took her into a canopy of pine trees.

The area was about a football field’s length from the back of the church. There was a circle of twelve big, old, white pine trees. A half circle of them formed on the east side of Cotton Creek and a half circle formed on the west side. Interspersed to the north of the circle of pines were about twenty cottonwood trees and to the south were at least twenty more.

We sat on a couple benches that faced the back side of the church. The house of worship was actually an old, renovated barn. Behind us, and to the west, were forty acres of open meadow with wildflowers before at least one hundred acres of forest in a preserve. There were hiking trails through both the meadow and the woods. We sat on a bench under the canopy of evergreens with the rippling creek five feet below. The flowing water gurgled a relaxing melody through dozens of rocks.

“It’s so peaceful here,” Destiny said in wonder as she took in the majestic beauty of the area. “I mean it certainly looked picturesque from a distance, but it is absolutely amazing up close.”

“I love it here,” I told her. “I’ve come here often to get my head together.”

She looked at me. “How long have you been going to Cotton Creek Cove?”

“Almost a year.”

“So you’re a member?”

I shook my head. “Not officially.”

“So do you live in Cedar Rapids?”

“Outside of the city, in the country.”

“Do you work here then?”

“I refurbish old cars and motorcycles with a friend of mine.”

“I see.”

“How did you end up here?” I asked, changing the subject off of me.

“Oh,” she replied as if slightly startled by the question. Then she told me about her girlfriend leaving her. Her depression, her suicide contemplation, and then looking up her aunt.

We were silent for about half a minute after she finished. Then she inquired. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve always wanted to know how you saved me. I mean, how did you end up at my apartment the night that I was almost raped when you should have been doing security at the club?”

“Well,” I began. “My first concern came when I noticed that you were getting rather chummy with Jezebel Black. Second was when I saw how obsessed that psycho gangster Malcolm Reed was with your act. Last but not least, I knew that you left with Jezebel that night.

“So fifteen minutes after you both leave, I saw Jezebel come back into the club by herself, and Malcolm Reed was nowhere to be seen. I guess I had a gut instinct that they were setting you up.

“I had recently given Paige Moyer a ride home, and she mentioned you lived in the same building as her. She pointed out which one was your apartment on the fourth floor. So the night you left with Jezebel, I went to your place, and I climbed up the fire escape and peeked in your window. By the way, sorry about invading your privacy.”

“Are you kidding me?” Destiny exclaimed, and then laughed. “If you hadn’t looked into my window, I might be dead. I for sure would have been raped.”

“Yeah, okay, so I look into your window and I saw Reed with a knife at your neck as he was tearing your clothes off. You foolishly had your window unlocked.”

“Hey, like you said, I was on the fourth floor.”

“With a fire escape going right up to your kitchen window.”

“I know for a fact that the fire escape didn’t start till the second floor,” she defended. “You must have climbed up the drainpipe from the first floor.”

“I did,” I admitted. “But it wasn’t the hardest thing that I’ve ever done. So I snuck through your kitchen window. When he set down the knife to undo his pants, I struck. I believe you know the rest.”

“I do,” she said quietly as she gazed at me as if in contemplation of something.

I recalled how Destiny was frozen with fright as I called 911. She was staring at Reed, who was unconscious from my round house kick to his head as he tried to undo his pants.

“Are you okay?” I had asked her when I got off the phone.

Her face darted to mine, and her eyes were vibrating with shock and fright.

“Are you okay?” I repeated a little more urgently.

She jumped to her feet and threw herself at me. I held her as she trembled uncontrollably and whimpered. We stayed like that until the police arrived several minutes later. I still wondered if she would have taken such comfort by me holding her, if she had known that a cold-blooded killer lurked in the depths of my soul?

KNIGHT STORM

CHAPTER 1

DESTINY KNIGHT

I winced as I downed a third shot of rum. Then I stared at the lethal pills in my hand. I had enough of them to kill a horse, so it ought to be sufficient for my one hundred fifteen pounds. One or two more shots and maybe I would have the courage to ingest all of them.  

My booze buzzed brain puzzled over something after a fourth shot of rum. Did it take courage to die by my own hand or courage to find the will to live? I couldn’t figure it out, so I let the pills trickle between my fingers and fall to the table. The hangover would bring back my anxiety and depression with greater intensity. So maybe tomorrow.

I had spent almost a decade as an adult actress and exotic dancer. More realistically, I was a porn star and a stripper. I use the word “star” loosely, though. Out in public, I was rarely recognized. When I was noticed, it was usually by some creepy guy. But put me in a strip club or at an adult entertainment event, and I was a little bit like a rock star.

I grew up in in Minnesota, a suburb of St. Paul. I’d like to tell you that I got into adult entertainment because of daddy issues, but that wasn’t the case. Yes, my dad left my mother for another woman and started another family. Yes, it messed me up to a large degree and added to the rebellion that already had been lurking in my soul. Other than expecting me to accept his new family, my father did not harm me comparatively speaking.

After nine years in the sex industry, I have met countless women, girls really, that had not only daddy issues but mommy issues as well. So many lives severely damaged by sexual, physical, verbal, and psychological abuse. In far too many cases, all of the above. I was actually way more stable than most of my former colleagues. So what was I doing with all of these deadly narcotics? I wasn’t even thirty years old yet. By the law of averages, I hadn’t even lived half my life. But my one bright spot in an otherwise dismal existence was gone.

It had been more than two months since Sophie, the love of my life, had left me. We had been together for more than four years. I sometimes thought she and I were soul mates and wondered if our love would last forever. But she claimed to have found God, or vice versa, and she declared lesbianism to be wrong or sinful or some such. Yet she tearfully kissed me goodbye before she walked out of my life, leaving me with her half of the bills.

Sophie was a former porn star and stripper like me. Most of the time that we were together we lived in southern California and Las Vegas. Three months earlier, she and I both had decided that it was time to get out of the sex industry, even though we were both making substantial money. We chose Iowa City, Iowa, as our place to settle. It was about halfway between both of our hometowns, St. Louis for her and St. Paul for me. We resided just a couple miles of the highways known as the Avenue of the Saints.

I shook off the memories of Sophie and went to bed. I had a dream that had been recurring since Sophie had left me. In the nightmare, I’m way up high on a mountain hiking trail. As I make my way along the trail, the path keeps getting narrower and more sloped. As I’m slipping and falling, a woman who seems like an older version of myself tries to take hold of me but always misses. Then I start to fall, jolting awake.

The night I dabbled with suicide, I had the same dream again, only with a different outcome. This time the woman grabbed hold of me, and we fell back a short distance onto a big, flat rock that had a lush, dark green carpet of grass that was more pristine than a putting green. We were safe!

I awoke with a start as I realized that the woman in my dream was not an older version of myself, but was my aunt Annabelle, my father’s sister. I had only met her a handful of times when I was just a kid. I remembered that my self-righteous, adulterous father had disowned her before I was born, because she had been a stripper.

But now she ran some type of ministry where she helped former strippers, adult entertainers, and prostitutes, so I guess he admired her now. My dad was a walking contradiction if ever there was one. I absolutely despised the man, yet I still had a sliver of love for the guy that had been my daddy when I was little.

I immediately went to my computer and looked my aunt up. She had a website about her ministry, and I was stunned to discover that she was based out of Cedar Rapids, a city only twenty miles north of where I lived! I would have guessed that she lived on one of the coasts or at least the St. Paul or Minneapolis area. Dare I contact her?

Three years previous, during a rare conversation with my father, he told me that I should contact his sister and talk to her about getting out of porn. When I refused, he taunted me by saying that it was just as well because Annabelle was embarrassed that her niece was in porn when she was involved in an anti-porn movement. My dad’s words struck me hard, even though I viewed him as a major hypocrite.

 My fingers froze on the keyboard. How would Annabelle Knight react to me? Would she judge me and scorn me? What if she knew that I was suicidal? I was afraid to call her, but I found out where she lived and decided to drive by her home, just to kind of snoop.

My hands shook a little as I slid on my favorite pair of old jeans and a light pink top. I guess it was fear of the unknown. Would she accept me or reject me? Would she be warm or cold? After all, my own father said I was an embarrassment to her. What did I really want from her anyway? I didn’t have a clue, and yet something in my brain pushed me to go. I dropped my car keys twice before I actually made it to my car. I wasn’t inebriated, just a bit hung over. Still, I wondered if I should drive, given my emotional state.

Aunt Annabelle lived in a brown ranch house in a pleasant, middle-class neighborhood. The house was surrounded with colorful flower beds. A light green Ford Focus sat in her driveway. With my pulse quickening, I pulled my cherry red Dodge Viper in behind the Focus.

I got my courage up. I took several deep breaths, telling myself to remain relaxed and friendly. I went to her door. I rang the doorbell and waited anxiously. Nobody came, so my shaking finger went to the doorbell again as my heart pounded harder. I pushed it again, but then I turned and quickly walked back to my vehicle, feeling something like a panic attack coming on. I started my car and fled. I almost felt like I was playing ding dong ditch in my haste to leave.

About two blocks from Annabelle’s house, I saw an older woman jogging. Her gray-blonde hair was in a ponytail, which was pulled threw a Minnesota Twins baseball cap. As I slowly made my way past, I realized the woman was my aunt. She smiled brightly in my direction and waved. Her pleasant, neighborly gesture gave me the confidence to approach her.

I turned the Viper around and gave her time to get ahead of me. She stopped in her front yard and bent over, breathing hard from the exercise. I pulled behind her Ford Focus for a second time as Annabelle began to pace around her yard in a cool down walk. She eyed me curiously as I exited my car.

Her face was rather wrinkly, making her look every bit her age, which had to be around seventy. Despite the signs of age, she was very pretty. Her body was slender and toned. She filled out her dark purple stretch pants and matching top as well as most thirty-somethings. She eyed me warily as she approached my car. I got out of my car and stood. When she got a good look at me, shock and surprise filled her face as her jaw dropped. I thought about sliding back into my car and making a getaway.

“Are you Destiny Knight?” she asked with wide eyes before I could escape. I bit my lower lip and nodded meekly.

She half gasped and half laughed a couple of times as she put a hand to her chest. She made her way quickly around my car and stood in front of me, grabbing both of my hands in hers. Her smile was even brighter than before.

“Why, I haven’t seen you since you were sixteen or seventeen years old,” she told me. “I tried to get a hold of you a few years ago. Your dad gave me your number, but I never heard back.”

“I’m truly sorry, Aunt Annabelle,” I replied. “I had a lot going on. It was rude of me not to respond to your messages.”

“I understand,” she said, still beaming. “It’s so good to see you, honey, and please, just call me Belle. I’d give you a hug, but I’m all sweaty.”

“I don’t mind,” I said as I was overcome with emotion and feeling very lonely.

I practically threw myself into my aunt. She hugged me tightly. When we broke away, she kissed my cheek. The love that she showed me was overwhelming. When was the last time my own mother kissed my cheek? Maybe when I was five or six years old. Much to my embarrassment, I began to weep. Then I noticed my aunt’s cheeks were tear-streaked, too.

“I feel kind of like a prodigal daughter,” I told her.

“Is that why I have the pleasure of your visit, honey?” my aunt asked with such love in her voice and eyes that I felt myself opening up.

“I’ve been having a reoccurring dream about you,” I told Belle. Then I explained the dream about the mountain trail, and then how I had Googled her and discovered that she lived only twenty miles away.

“It was a dream nearly thirty years ago that saved me,” Belle said quietly.

“How?” I asked, intrigued.

“After I retired from the sex trade,” she began, “I felt completely void and empty. In a nutshell, I was regretting my past and dreading my future. Just like you. I was finding it unbearable to adjust to the real working world. So the day before my fortieth birthday, I had a syringe with enough heroin in it to overdose two sumo wrestlers.

“I was about to shoot the drugs into my veins when I began to wonder what would be next. I had always considered myself an atheist up to that point. But a young guy that I worked with at the time and really respected used to talk to me about God. I never thought that he was getting to me until I was about to end my life. So I pulled the needle out of my arm and went to bed. When I got out of bed late the following afternoon, I went for a walk in Green Square Park here in town. Who do you suppose I ran into?”

“The young guy that you worked with?” I surmised.

“Yes, him and his wife,” Belle replied. “Their names are Jake and Mary Gold Weston. It turned out that Mary Gold had dreamt about me, even though we had never met. They had been on their way to dinner at the Dragon, a popular Chinese restaurant in the 1980s. Mary Gold had had a strong urge to go for a walk in Green Square Park. It was she who recognized me from her dream and pointed me out to Jake. Jake was stunned when he told his wife that he knew who I was.

“In a nutshell, they could tell that I was in a very dark place, and they told me all about Mary Gold’s dream and her urge to come to the park. I ended up breaking down and telling them how close I was to ending my life. They insisted on taking me to dinner. Then we went back to their place, and Mary Gold and I stayed up all night talking, praying, and studying the Bible.”

I realized that my mouth hung open as my aunt finished her miraculous tale, and she swiped a couple of tears from her cheeks. I marveled as it occurred to me that I was experiencing something unbelievably similar to her right then and there. I too had been contemplating suicide. I also had a strange dream. I too had felt an urge to go to a certain destination.

“Do you know what’s really weird?” I said quietly. “I was considering ending my life last night. I decided to procrastinate another day, and then I dreamed about you again. More profoundly than before.”

“Oh, sweetie,” my aunt said as she took me in her arms again. “Let’s go inside. I shouldn’t be hugging you, though, when I’m a sweaty, smelly pig.”

“You’re fine,” I laughed, wiping tears from my cheeks.

Belle insisted on making us a spaghetti supper with a delicious tomato, garlic, and lentil sauce. She and I talked long into the night. I went to church with her that weekend. Everyone she introduced me to was super friendly, and I immediately felt at home.

I did have a blast from the past, however. There was a guy that I knew from almost a decade ago, and it couldn’t have been more unexpected, especially given how we knew each other. Talk about a major coincidence! He and I running into each other in a church of all places, and in the middle of Iowa!

Brock Storm had been a bouncer at a club I frequented in Minneapolis when I first began exotic dancing ten years earlier. I didn’t know him well, even though I shared a moment with him that I considered the most special encounter I had ever had with a man. It occurred moments after he had saved me from being raped and most likely murdered. What on earth was he doing at this church outside of Cedar Rapids, Iowa? Was I glad to see him or mortified? I couldn’t tell at first.

Brock had acquired an additional scar on his face since I had seen him last, giving him a rather unique look. When I knew him nine or ten years ago, he’d had two significant scars on his face. The old scars were a two-inch line from the left side of his mouth that curved up, giving him the constant appearance of wearing a sideways, sinister smirk, and a jagged lightning bolt that ran from the left side of his eye and slanted just above his temple into his hair line. The new scar, at least new to me, started at his left cheek bone and ran over to his ear. From where I sat, it also looked like about half an inch of the top of his left ear was gone.

Brock’s appearance was interesting. If you looked at the left side of his face, he looked somewhat hideous due to the scars. If you looked at his right side, he looked like a male model. I absolutely freaked when I first saw him. Then when his warm, gentle, light brown eyes looked into mine, I knew that I definitely was glad to see him.

CHAPTER 13

ANNABELLE KNIGHT

In the early morning hours of Wednesday October 22, 1986, I was planning on committing suicide.  It was one day before I was to turn forty years of age.  I was going to shoot up enough heroin to overdose twice.  

I had poked the needle into my arm, and my thumb was poised to compress the syringe. Then I had my first real thought of what came next.  I had arrived at a point in my life where I considered myself an atheist. But lately I was becoming an agnostic because of that pesky Jacob Weston.

But he wasn’t really a pest. He was an amazing young man, who inadvertently played a role in saving my life. With the needle still in my arm, his face from a couple days ago loomed in my mind’s eye. Our brief, simple conversation began to echo in my head.

“How are you Belle?” He had simply asked. But it wasn’t just a greeting, an attempt to exchange pleasantries. Jacob genuinely wanted to know because I could see it in his eyes. And believe me, I’ve been looked at by a lot of male eyes.

“Well, I’m contemplating suicide, Jacob. How are you?” I thought. Then I mustered up my best acting ability, faking a smile. “Fine, how are you?”

His eyes lingered on mine for a couple seconds as if searching. I wanted to somehow hide within myself. Yet at the same time I felt something like love for this young man. I would realize later that Jesus was reaching me through His devoted follower.

“I’m good,” Jacob said with a smile as he then went about his day.

As I watched him walk away, I had a strong desire to meet his wife. What was the woman like? The young lady who was fortunate enough to call Jacob Weston her husband. How would my life had been different if I had met a Jacob before I ever took my first drink, my first drug, or undressed for a room full of men?

So now that I would no longer be living, was there an afterlife?  If so, would I be entering something better or worse?  I was in the biggest catch twenty two of my life.  I couldn’t stand living on this earth anymore, but I feared what might come next.

I had spent twenty years in adult entertainment.  I was raised by a single mother who had brought numerous men into our home throughout my upbringing.  Unfortunately, a couple of those men deemed it their right to sexually molest and violate me.  It was a devastating situation in my life, but eventually it showed me that there is an illusory power in sex.  So I decided to use it to my advantage.

I didn’t care what my mother thought of my life decision. But my little brother was a different story. He was embarrassed when it got around our neighborhood that Belle Knight was a stripper. When he became distastefully religious, his embarrassment turned to judgement.

By the time I met Jacob, I had been retired from stripping for just over a year. I had been unable to find a decent job over those twelve months. But my resume was simply exotic dancer, nude model, and occasional prostitute. The only real job I ever had was a brief stint as waitress at truck stop when I was a teenager.

I had a good bit of money put away, but it wasn’t enough to live multiple years on.  I saw no real future for me, and I hated looking at the past with all of the sleaze.  The thousands of male hands that had pawed my body like demonic phantoms.  With all of the sex, drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes ingested, my life had been one continuum of sordidness.

I looked at the needle in my arm, and my thumb poised to inject a lethal amount of drug into my vein. Jacob loomed into my mind’s eye. I wondered what he would think or say when he heard the news? I hated the thought of disappointing him. I hated the fact that he would know that I had lied about being fine.  

I decided to hang on for at least one more day. Maybe on my birthday I would bring about my death day. I pulled the syringe out of my arm.  I’m eternally grateful that I did.  Later on that day, I had a miraculous encounter with a beautiful angel, and her name was Mary Gold Weston.

I spent most of the day in bed.  Somewhere around three or four in the afternoon I felt compelled to go for a walk in Green Square Park, which was only a couple of blocks from my apartment.  Something about the busy world bustling around me when I was so lonely and hurting inside brought on a wave of depression so strong it was almost disabling.  

The beautiful Indian summer afternoon seemed to mock my pain.  I found a quiet bench in the park and wept bitterly.  When the torment subsided, I strolled the park, dragging my feet through some autumn leaves when I heard a familiar voice call out to me.

“Hey Belle!” It was Jacob Weston’s voice that beckoned me. How could that be?

He was walking toward me with a woman who must have been his wife.  I had a feeling of dread because I was sure that it was obvious that I had been crying.  Without being able to look in a mirror, I could feel that my eyes were puffy, red, and bloodshot from alcohol and poor sleep.  

“Hey, missed you at work today,” Jacob said with his typical big, infectious grin.

“Yeah,” I croaked. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

His smile faltered and I knew that he noticed that my puffy, red eyes probably looked like boiled tomatoes.

“Are you okay?”he asked with a concerned expression.

“Yeah, I’m feeling better,” I lied. “I think I had some type of bug.”

“Oh, Belle, this is my wife, Mary,” he said. “Mary, this is Annabelle Knight.  She works at Lake.”

“Nice to meet you, Annabelle,” Mary said, extending her hand. Her smile was as warm and friendly as her husband’s.

I took her soft, yet strong hand in mine and marveled at how cute she was.  With her large eyes and small nose, framed with silky auburn hair, she looked like a Precious Moments figurine come to life.  Her alabaster skin and complexion couldn’t have been more lush and feminine.  Next to her my skin probably looked like leather. Given my emotional state, I truly felt like an old hag.

“Nice to meet you,” I told her. “Please call me Belle.”

“I’m so glad to meet you, Belle” she said. Despite my state of being, I was intrigued to meet Jacob’s wife. But he eyed me with concern, and I felt my unease continue to grow.  Knowing Jacob, I figured he wasn’t going to just pretend nothing was wrong.  

“Is something wrong, Belle?” Jacob asked, as he put a gentle hand on my arm. Something about that simple gesture of affection caused a surge of emotion that I fought unsuccessfully to control.

“No,” I croaked the obvious lie as I shook my head.

Having someone care even a little bit about me when I had never felt more alone in my life caused tears to come like a tiny storm cloud.  Embarrassed, I turned and began to briskly walk away, saying over my shoulder, “I’ve got to go.”

But Jacob grabbed my wrist, stopping me. “Hey, Belle, what’s wrong?” he asked in a soft, soothing voice. “You can talk to us. We won’t judge, we’ll understand, I promise.”

I shook my head and felt my whole body quiver.

“Annabelle,” Jake said calmly, yet sternly. Even though I was old enough to be his mother, he felt like a father figure, and it drew me in.

“Please,” he continued. “I’m not trying push anything on you.  I know you don’t like religion.  But I believe that God miraculously sent us here so we would run into you.”

I was skeptical, but I gazed at him with my look telling him to proceed.

“Mary had a dream about you last night,” Jacob told me. “She had never seen you before, not even a picture.  Yet she pointed you out to me a minute ago, and said you looked like the woman from a dream she had last night that troubled her.  That’s when I told her that I knew you! This is stunning!”

Yes it was! I didn’t know what to make of it. I glanced at Mary.  She watched me, her eyes brimming with tears. I spent two decades in the sex industry, coming across hundreds of attractive women.  Mary Gold was in that moment, and to me still is today, the most beautiful woman I have ever met.  The thing is her physical beauty is second to her loving personality. She and Jacob were a perfect match!

Mary Gold took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Please talk to us, Belle. I believe God sent us here for a reason.”

My mind reeled until it settled on a thought that I had never embraced before.  I considered that there really is a God, and just maybe he loved Annabelle Knight!

MARY GOLD

When Jake and I went to Green Square Park and he saw a woman that he worked with, I was absolutely stunned.  I don’t recall ever meeting Annabelle Knight previous to this encounter in the park.  I knew of her because Jake had previously talked about her and described her quite thoroughly. He told me that he thought she was troubled, and he felt an extra burden for her soul.  

But she was in my dream, I just knew it! In my nightmare, I was a nurse in an old mental hospital while Annabelle was a hysterical patient.  She tried to stab me with a knife, but Jake knocked it out of her hands.  Then she grabbed it again and tried to stab herself, but I stopped her.  She fell to her knees sobbing, asking for my forgiveness.  

I forgave her and she grabbed me in an embrace.  I thought her actions were violent at first, but she clung to me in some sort of desperation.  We began to rise in the air and the next thing I knew we were outside rising higher and higher.  It became frightening as we soared high above the earth. Then when we began to plummet back to earth, it startled me awake.

It was one of those dreams that kind of affects your day whereas you feel off kilter somehow.  Jake and I had planned to go to dinner at a Chinese restaurant downtown. Then afterward we would go to prayer meeting at our church at 6:30.  

We parked about a block away from the restaurant at 5:05 and began to walking toward the Chinese diner.  As we walked, I had a strong urge to go the opposite direction and take a relaxing stroll through Green Square Park.  It was almost a need, so I petitioned Jake.

“Boy, that will push it for us to be on time for prayer meeting,” Jake said, as he glanced at his watch.

Jake was really uptight when it came to being on time. He hated to be late for anything.  So I brought out my strongest weapon when I wanted to get my way with him.

“Please,” I said with wide eyes and a little pout. “I really feel like I need a little exercise.  My head needs clearing or something. Besides, it’s a beautiful day. Before you know it, winter will be here.”

“Oh, alright,” Jake said with an easy smile.

We weren’t but two steps into the park when I spotted a woman who looked like the person from my dream the previous night.  It felt like my jaw dropped to my shoes.

“That’s her!” I said, pointing with stunned disbelief.

“Her who?” Jake asked. “What are you talking about?

“That looks like the woman from my nightmare last night!”

“Huh?” he frowned.

“That’s her!” I declared again. “Over there, walking through the leaves.”

“Hey, I know her! That’s Belle Knight!” Jake almost shouted. “I work with her at Lake. She was the woman in the mental hospital?”

“Yes.”

“Have you met her before?”

“No, I don’t think so.  I mean maybe, but honestly I don’t think so.”

“Whoa, seriously?”

“Seriously. But you did describe her in great detail.”

Jake called out to her. When she saw him, she looked stricken as if she wanted to flee.  She looked distraught and horrible. Whatever was going on with her, my heart went out to her.  Jake introduced us.  Her eyes were puffy and red as they were in my nightmare. 

Jake noticed it too, and he asked her if something was wrong.  She shook him off, but Jake persisted.  Then she began to weep.  Jake told her about my dream and then how I felt compelled to go for a walk in the park. Then low and behold there she was.  Belle gazed at me in utter disbelief.  

There was so much emotional pain and hopelessness in her face that I felt my throat tighten, my eyes filled with tears, and leaked down my cheeks. Then she broke open like a burst dam and a flood of words tangled in deep emotional pain spewed forth in a rush. She confessed to us her suicidal tendencies and just how close she was to taking the plunge. And I mean a literal plunge with a syringe filled with an overdose of heroin.

What miracle in how God led us to this troubled soul!

BELLE

            I felt like life was extending me an olive branch, and I took a firm grip. I ended my brief bio by telling them about the previous night.

“Late last night,” I said with a small, hoarse voice. “I almost ended my life. But I decided to hang on another day.”

I tried to laugh, but a sob came out instead. Mary Gold’s arms opened and she stepped toward me. I went into her embrace like a small child needing her mother and more sobs came in a torrent. She was so delicate, yet strong. The way she smelled was like a flowery meadow lit with bright sunshine. Looking back, I marvel at how much comfort I took from a woman that I had just met.

“I’m sorry,” I said when my crying jag ended. I pulled away from Mary Gold.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Mary Gold said with a sweet voice, her own face tear stained. I felt loved.

“This is so embarrassing,” I said, finally able to smile.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” she said.

“Come have dinner with us,” Jacob said. “My treat.”

I was actually hungry since I hadn’t eaten anything since the day before. But I politely declined, not wanting to impose.

“Please join us,” Mary Gold pleaded, touching my arm. “I really want to get to know you in the worst way.”

Then she frowned, glanced at Jacob, then smiled. “Maybe I should say best way. Please?” Again, her face exuded such exquisite love I couldn’t say no. But I couldn’t say yes either.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Absolutely!” Mary Gold exclaimed.

“I don’t want to get in the middle of your romantic dinner,” I told them.

“Ah,” Jacob responded, waving a hand. “There’s nothing romantic about it.”

Mary Gold looked at Jacob, and Jacob looked at Mary Gold. Mary Gold tilted her cute little face at him inquisitively, and he began to back pedal.

“What I mean is,” Jacob said. “When we’re together, there is constant, abiding love, and romance, whether we are alone or not.”

He aimed a charming smile at Mary Gold, and she giggled. She patted his cheek, and I genuinely laughed for the first time in I don’t know how long. I couldn’t say no to this lifeline.

“I would love to join you, then.” I said. “If you’re sure that I’m not imposing.”

“Great!” Jacob declared, then surprised me by pulling me into a hug.

When Jacob hugged me, I felt something that I had never experienced in my life. And that was a father’s love. I was a day away from turning forty and Jake was young enough to be my son, but that is what I felt. I clung to him and began to cry again.

The right side of my face burrowed into his chest. He didn’t say a word, but simply held me with one arm as he stroked my hair with his other hand. We must have stayed that way for a minute or two as I relished the comfort. Then realizing what kind of woman I had been, and paranoid of what his wife might think, I pushed abruptly away from him.

“I’m sorry,” I told Mary Gold, choking on my words. “I never had a father. I couldn’t let go of him for some reason. I know that sounds stupid since he’s young enough to be my son, I just never…”

“Oh honey,” she said, rubbing circles on my back. “You have absolutely no reason to apologize.”

So, I went to dinner with Mary Gold and Jacob. Afterward we went back to their apartment, and Mary Gold and I stayed up the entire night talking. I poured my whole soul out to her that night.

With gentle persuasion she tried to talk me into giving my life to Jesus. I told her that I was too great of a sinner to do that right then. She insisted that Christ would accept me right where I was in my life. Then with her sweet, melodious voice, she began to softly sing to me the hymn “Just as I am.”

I couldn’t say no to her or the feelings of peace I was experiencing. I reluctantly knelt with her and surrendered my life to Christ. From that moment on I never looked back.  It was the strangest day of my life. As the sun began to rise, I ended up crashing on their couch.

Looking back now, three decades later, I marvel at the day when my own mind almost ended my life. Then that same day, having more than a chance encounter with two Godly people that turned me onto the path to life eternal. They say that God works in mysterious ways. I say that is an understatement.

I’ve been told that my testimony has saved other people. Not only from outright suicide, but suicide on the installment plan through a self-destructive lifestyle. I have been involved in a women’s ministry for thirty years. The primary focus of my ministry is young ladies in adult entertainment.

A few years ago, my niece, Destiny joined me in this endeavor. She too had been in adult entertainment, briefly as a stripper and then several years doing porn. She was almost raped and murdered when she was a teenage stripper. Several years later, her rapist was released from prison and put a hit on her. He hired a deranged cult to fulfill his murderous intentions.

Ironically, the man who saved her from being raped, and likely murdered, had reunited with her after many years. The timing of their reacquaintance couldn’t have been more perfect. He once again protected her from potential violence.

Destiny’s tale of woe and redemption will begin next week with the Johnathan Embers story ‘Knight Storm.’

People have asked me if thinking about Jacob Weston really saved my life. I believe it did. I was just putting pressure on the syringe of my lethal overdose, and the thought of him asking how I was a couple days before stopped me. If it wasn’t for that, what would have stopped me? I suppose God could have given me another thought, but He didn’t. It was Jacob and his thoughtful concern for me.

 The lesson is this. Never underestimate the potential of a simple kindness, no matter how small. And no matter how bleak life gets, don’t give up hope!    

THE END

CHAPTER 12

MARY GOLD

When Jake and I climbed onto his motorcycle to ride to the pastor’s house,  I couldn’t be more thankful to God! The most all around, attractive man that I had ever met wanted to marry me! Me, nerdy, clumsy Mary Gold Horner. As I snuggled into Jake’s back side, the air never felt more refreshing, the sunlight shimmering through trees never more vibrant, and the birds never sang more blissfully.

How would the Pastor and his wife react? Would he marry us next week? Next month? Would he insist we do premarital counseling for an extended period of time? I was ready to get married right that day if it was actually possible.

Pastor Kirk Samson and his wife are wonderful people.  With his long white beard and white hair, he looked sort of like a Santa Claus.  I say sort of because for a man in his mid-fifties, he was incredibly lean and fit. This was due to a healthy diet, a running habit, and years of practicing karate.

You would never guess that Mrs. Samson was a black belt in karate herself.  She was barely over five feet tall and petite. She couldn’t have been much over one hundred pounds. At five foot eleven,  I am a bit tall for a woman, so around Mrs. Samson, I felt like a giant.

As well as being known as “Pastor Samson,” our church’s leader was also known by the moniker “Captain Kirk.” He received this nickname after achieving the rank of Captain during his time in the army, where he served as a Chaplin. He was also a veteran of the Vietnam war.

Even though we dropped in unannounced, the Samson’s greeted us with warmth and delight. We didn’t waste any time letting them know the reason for our visit.

“Wonderful!” Pastor Samson declared with a big smile.  He went to the piano and began playing the wedding march.

“Have you set a date?” Mrs. Samson asked when the pastor finished playing.

“As soon as possible,” Jake declared.

Pastor Samson’s face fell and my heart sank a tiny bit.

“You don’t mean today?” Pastor asked as his eyebrows arched. “Are you to trying to elope?”

“We don’t have a marriage license yet,” I said.

Pastor looked relieved. “I see.”

I wasn’t a girl that always dreamed of a big wedding. In fact I wanted just the opposite.  The thought of a huge wedding with hundreds of eyeballs watching terrified me.  I simply dreamed of being a mother and having a loving husband with a home in the country that had a white picket fence. This fantasy actually became reality less than a decade after Jake and I tied the knot. And we tied that knot tight!

On Saturday July 12, 1986, right after church, with both of our families present, I became Mrs. Mary Gold Weston. The time that we got married couldn’t have worked out better.  Jake already had that week scheduled off for vacation, and we both decided that we urgently wanted to get married.  Our desire to be intimate had become intense, yet we waited almost a year before we even kissed for the first time.

There are those who have insinuated, ‘yeah, well you got married in less than a year. It’s recommended that you court for at least two. That’s not exactly overly disciplined.’ My reply is that Jake and I crammed at least two, maybe three years, of getting to know each other as friends in that first year. That is compared to the average couple. We talked daily, and often long and deeply.

Having lived by the Bible since childhood, I’ve never understood the current mindset on sex, dating, and marriage.  Physically speaking, I found Jake attractive enough to have sex with the day that we first met. Yet I wouldn’t have even considered having sex with him outside of the marriage commitment.

The modern norm seems to indicate that couples should wait multiple years before marrying.  Yet more often than not, couples cohabitate long before the recommended two years. As a friend of Jake’s once put it, ‘I wouldn’t by a car without a test drive.’

I understand that sentiment from a worldly standpoint. But the Bible instructs us to come out of the world. And as I have always endeavored to have the Kingdom of God within me, I don’t view sex casually. Uniting your privates, with another person’s privates, is the most intimate activity you can do. As a matter of fact, it can even procreate life.

Let me just conclude the matter with this thought. It was worth the wait! The night of our wedding was the most exciting time of my life. I also couldn’t imagine deeper feelings of love for another. That is until I held my child for the first time. Yet that child came from those feelings of love. And it was consummated at the end of that beautiful, sunny, summer day in 1986.

The first night of our honeymoon was incredible.  We found a quaint little hotel in northeast Iowa, which overlooked the Mississippi River.  I had heard so many women talk about losing their virginity outside of marriage, and it seemed it was often a negative experience.  They felt a sense of something lost, of being used, or even violated.  I was so grateful to God that I felt the opposite.  It was so nice to lie in bed after having sex with a clear conscience, and to offer a silent prayer of thanksgiving for what had just happened.  To know that Jake and I were now truly one in the physical as well as the spiritual sense.  That day and night we became a family, even though it was just the two of us for the time being. But it was only temporary.

On May 8, 1988, I was given the best Mother’s Day gift ever when I gave birth to a beautiful little girl, Jamie Annabelle. The significance of our daughter’s middle name will be explained later. On July 8, 1990, we were blessed with a son who we named Matthew Mark.

On Labor Day weekend 1991, Jake and I were sitting on a bench at a playground, watching our daughter play in a giant sand box as her little brother napped on my lap.  It was a beautiful afternoon, sunny with a high of seventy five.  I couldn’t believe that we were the only family at the playground on such a gorgeous day.  There was dryness in the air and you could feel autumn looming in the distance.

Jamie was playing on a backhoe apparatus with two levers connected to a scoop that moved the sand around.  When she was done playing on it and was climbing off, she caught her little foot on the seat and went down hard.  She got up crying and Jake was immediately at her side.  In less than half of a minute with him, she went from sobbing to giggling.  

My heart swelled with gratitude for what a wonderful father and husband this little family had.  It was something I had thought countless times already.  My own father had abandoned his family to satisfy carnal longings. I knew in my heart that Jake would never leave or forsake us like my own dad did.

As I watched my husband and daughter, I did something I had never done before.  I put myself in my daughter’s shoes and imagined for a minute what it would be like to be a little girl with Jake as my father.  I fully realized then that a husband is a type of father even to his wife, and vice versa the wife to the husband.  I had a share with my children with similar love, attention, and protection that he gave to them.  And I nurtured and cared for many of his needs as I did our children.

When I thought that I couldn’t possibly love my husband more than I already did, a fresh wave of love and emotion surged through me, causing me to catch my breath.  My hand went to my chest and my eyes clouded with tears as Jake returned to my side while Jamie ran to a toddler slide.

“Hey,” Jake said soothingly as he noticed my tears. He put a reassuring hand on my leg, chuckling. “She’s alright.”

“Oh, I know she is.  She’s more than alright,” I told him as I cupped a hand behind his head pulling his face to mine, kissing him with passion.

“Wow, what’s gotten into you?”

“You get into me,” I said with a seductive smile.  I began singing softly to him Rod Stewart’s song that goes ‘you’re in my heart, you’re in my soul.’  He joined me, but after several lines we didn’t know how it continued and we laughed.  Then he cupped a hand behind my head intending to continue the lip lock. But I pulled away and put my lips to his ear.

“Tonight, big boy,” I said teasingly.

That night our third and final child might have been conceived.  Luke John was born May 25, 1992, on Memorial Day, exactly one week before his due date.

JAKE and ANNABELLE KNIGHT

A month after Mary Gold and I were married, a woman named Belle began working at Lake Produce through a temp service. She was around forty, and really quite beautiful in a rough sort of way.

She had long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a chest that seemed a bit large for her slender frame. Yet overhearing conversation, she never had any cosmetic surgery. Her demeanor was gentle, yet somehow tough. I began to notice that her eyes often seemed sad and weary.

I would eventually find out that she was a former stripper and nude model. In the world of adult entertainment, she had been a minor celebrity. But now that she was getting too old for that profession, she was in a transitory position in life. Given her melancholy moods, the transition didn’t seem to be going well.

She and I actually had our first spiritual conversation after I witnessed her, Lon, and Mervin smoking marijuana. Although I didn’t partake with them, I had gained Lon’s trust that I wouldn’t tell on them.

After work one day, I came upon the three of them in the parking lot. Lon had just fired up a huge joint, took a big pull on it, and passed it to Belle. Belle took a hit and passed it to Mervin. Mervin took a drag, and a small cloud emerged from his mouth.

Lon scowled at him. “Don’t puff it like a cigar, inhale it and hold it.”

“I did,” Mervin replied sheepishly. But when his turn came again, he held it, but didn’t inhale.

“You did it again,” Lon scolded. “Listen, weed don’t grow…” He stopped talking and with a puzzled frown, scratched his head. I think he was going to say weed don’t grow on trees. But when he said weed don’t grow, it threw off his buzzed mind. Then he simply declared. “Weed’s not cheap. If you’re gonna smoke it like a cigar, just get a cigar.”

When Mervin’s turn came around again, he no sooner pulled the wacky tobacky away from his lips when Lon’s strong right hand clamped over Mervin’s mouth, and his left hand anchored on the back of Mervin’s head.

Mervin’s eyes bulged from their sockets as he squirmed frantically. But Lon had at least fifty pounds on him, plus he was just simply a lot stronger. Mervin flopped around like a rag doll for several seconds, then Lon’s hand lowered just enough for Mervin to snort two streams of smoke from his nostrils.

I began laughing hysterically, doubling over, and slapping my knee. It was then that I noticed Belle barely smiled. When the mirth subsided, I said to her. “Is everything alright with you, Belle?”

She looked a little taken aback by my question. Then she shrugged. “Yeah, why?”

My toes curled, afraid to offend her. I was concerned she would tell me to mind my own business. But I felt like God was pressing me to communicate with her. “I’ve just noticed you often seem sad. I wanted to let you know I’m not just a co-worker, I want to be your friend, and I care about you if you ever want to talk.”

“Wow,” she said, smiling just a little bit bigger than the antics with Lon and Mervin. “I didn’t think any guy ever noticed me with my clothes on.”

My mind froze. I didn’t know what to say to that. I thought it was likely she would simply brush me off, but I wasn’t expecting her to comment on her former profession. I hemmed and hawed, and then she did actually laugh. “I’m sorry, Jacob, I know I’m old enough to be your mother. The thought of me in my birthday suit probably creeps you out. That’s why I don’t do it anymore. We all get old and withered.”

“Did you like being a, um, you know?”

“Stripper,” she said matter of factly as she pulled a pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of her jeans. She lit one and blew a stream of smoke skyward. “Did I like taking off my clothes in front of drunk men? No, but the money was good. But it wasn’t good enough that I can retire at forty.”

“There’s more to life than money,” I replied, not knowing what to else say in the moment.

“Is there?” Belle asked with mild sarcasm.  

I wished Mary Gold were here. But I knew she would be beyond uncomfortable with the pot smoking. Maybe I should have to, but Jesus reached people where they were. As long as I didn’t participate, and they weren’t uncomfortable by my presence, I wanted to see if there was an opportunity to witness the hope that was in me.

Laughing at Mervin certainly wasn’t a good witness, but I apologized to him after talking to Belle. He was surprisingly good natured about the situation, and even laughed about it himself. My conversation with Belle didn’t seem like a good witness either. But, unbeknownst to me, I planted a tiny seed that Mary Gold would end up watering and then harvesting in the not too distant future.

“There is,” I told her. “You ought to come to church with my wife and me.”

“No thanks, I’ve been down the religion road before. It seems to be a dead end.”

“Ours is different.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

“It’s not about religion, it’s about Jesus,” I tried, lamenting that I was so inadequate at sharing my faith.

“Oh, Jacob,” she said with a smile, yet her eyes still looked drawn. “You are sweet kid, and I believe the real deal. I hope time doesn’t steal your zeal. The world’s a little brighter with people like you in it. Your wife is one lucky girl.”

“Thanks,” I replied. I didn’t want to become a pest, but did want one more question answered. “Why do you call me Jacob?”

“Isn’t it your name?”

“Well, yeah, but almost everyone calls me Jake.”

“I like Jacob better,” she shrugged. “Because I’ve met a lot guys, and you’re a rare one. I believe that you could see God face to face and your life would be preserved.”

“Genesis chapter 32,” I said with a smile.

She smiled back with a wink. Oh how I wished I could arrange for Mary Gold to talk to Belle. As opposite as the two women were, I just had a feeling they would connect. Maybe I could find some reason for my wife to come out to Lake Produce Inc and meet her. But I needn’t arrange a thing. For God was soon to do the arranging Himself!

CHAPTER 11

JAKE

“Mary,” I said solemnly. “Before we go talk to Pastor Samson and then look for a ring, I need to tell you the circumstances around Heather and I breaking up.  I’m afraid that after I explain the situation, you may reconsider wanting to marry me.”

We took a seat on the sofa.  Mary Gold gazed into my eyes, concern written all over her face. I felt my toes curl as I anticipated the words that would be coming out of my mouth.

“Is it really that bad?” She wanted to know.

“I don’t know,” I said. “You’re so wholesome and innocent, and my story is kind of twisted. It might not seem all that bad from the world’s standards, but…”

Her features softened and she took my hand in hers.

“I’m more aware of the ways of the world than you may realize,” she assured me.

“Okay, so do you know that the majority of young guys, um… pleasure themselves?” I asked.

Mary Gold frowned and then her face brightened. “Do you mean masturbate?”

I could feel my face turn five shades of red as I cringed.

“Yes,” I replied. “Well, I’m ashamed to admit that I occasionally have been part of the  majority in this area.  So, there were times when Heather and I found ourselves alone at her house.  She wasn’t ever allowed to come to mine.  So these times that we were alone, we quite often do a lot of kissing, and so on.  Then when I was alone, I would, ah…”

“Masturbate?” she asked, and it seemed to echo throughout the house.

“Yes,” I said, looking around nervously as if somebody could have just appeared from out of nowhere. “And that’s why I wanted for us to just behave as friends until we were married. Because from previous experience, I knew if we did even moderate kissing, I would likely feel the overwhelming desire to… You know…”

“Masturbate?”

“Mary, will you please stop saying that?” I instructed more sternly than I wished.

She looked a little surprised. “It’s just the technical term for someone who has sex with themselves.”

I winced. “That sounds even worse.”

“Alright,” she shrugged. “I won’t say it again.”

“Fine,” I replied. “Anyway, we, mostly Heather, wanted to refrain from actual sex until we were married. But over time I had subtly convinced her that waiting until we were out of college was a long, long time. Plus, I think she was getting hot and bothered by our long kissing sessions as well, and I picked up a couple indications that the time might have been ripe. So I wanted to be ready.

“On an afternoon when we were going to have quite a bit of time alone together, I had brought a condom with me. After, I don’t know, a half hour of kissing, and our clothes becoming, um, less restrictive, I excused myself to use the restroom. I thought I would be ready if the moment came. And if it didn’t, maybe I could try to, you know… while were kissing.

Mary Gold’s lips had been pursed, but she forced a smile and nodded.

“But, as stupid as it may sound,” I continued. “I didn’t know what I was doing, and I unraveled the prophylactic before trying to put it on. For several long minutes I tried unsuccessfully to adorn the latex covering, but to no avail.

 “So I got frustrated and just flushed the condom and it’s wrapper down the toilet. I knew I couldn’t throw it in the trash, and apparently I was too dense, or over dulled by raging hormones, to realize I should have just shoved it into my pocket and disposed of it later.

“Well, unbeknownst to me, the toilet regurgitated the condom and its wrapper.  When Mr. Baumgartner came home, he discovered the condom and its wrapper floating in his toilet.  He blew a gasket big time. I had gone home by then, but somehow Heather found a way to call me.  She was crying hysterically as she told me about her father finding the condom and accusing her of having sex with me.  I was mortified, but I felt like I needed to come clean. As hard as it was, I went over to the Baumgartner’s and explained everything to Mr. Baumgartner.”

I stopped talking and looked at the floor, shaking my head.  Mary Gold squeezed my hand. “That must have been difficult.”

“And how!” I replied. “I have yet to experience a worse moment in my life. Plus it was like salt in a wound. I was already disappointed enough about my failed plans.”

Mary Gold developed a forlorn expression and looked away from me. I realized what a stupid thing that was to say and took her hand. “But now that I have you in my life. And more importantly God. I’ve never been more pleased that Heather and I never, um, went all the way, so to speak.”

Mary Gold smiled happily, squeezing my hand. Then she kissed me on the lips. “I too am glad that your unholy intentions failed.”

“So you still want to marry me?” I asked her.

“Of course I do!” Mary Gold said emphatically. “If I was looking for a perfect person with no mistakes in their life, I’d end up a pretty lonely lady.”

“You don’t find this story creepy, though?” I asked.

“Oh, a bit, I guess,” she said. “I know this was an awful experience for you, but I mostly find it kind of funny.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said.

“So how did Heather’s father react when you confessed?” Mary Gold asked.

“He angrily called me a pervert in several different ways,” I told her. “Then he declared that I was never to see his daughter again.”

“Did you ever speak with her again?” Mary Gold asked.

“Briefly,” I answered. “The church we both belonged to found out. You know how gossip works. It soon got around school. But, much like gossip, what got around wasn’t what actually happened.”

“Well, what got around?” She asked with a frown.

“That we got caught fornicating, rather than I tried to flush an unused condom down the toilet. The weird thing is, which I’ll never figure out, Heather, as far as I know, never set the record straight with our peers.”

“Did you set the record straight?”

I hung my head. “No. My buddies all treated me like a hero, so I let them think what they wanted. If Heather would have set the record straight, though, I would have backed her up. But I just remained silent, never confirming or denying.”

“So, the truth never did come out?”

“Not that I know of. Like most things, when the newness wears off, people forget. But  because the sorted tale involved me, it’s way more personal to me. So, are you sure my story doesn’t bother you?

“I’m positive,” she said “I’m sure it’s a bigger deal in your own mind. Like you said, because it happened to you, it’s more relevant to you.  Plus, remember we have all sinned and come short of the glory of God.”

“So do you have a story even a little bit like mine?” I asked.

“Well, no” she said.

“I didn’t think so.”

“I have to admit, I’m glad your ploy didn’t work out,” Mary Gold said. “I’m already tempted to be jealous of you kissing passionately with a girl prettier than me. Let alone if you succeeded with the thing you flushed down the toilet.”

“Mary Gold, Heather is quite attractive to be sure. But in my eyes, nobody is prettier, more beautiful, and after seeing you in that dress, sexier than you.”

“You’re sweet,” she said before she kissed me softly on the lips and then put a gentle hand on my cheek.  

Then Mary’s countenance instantly changed to one of concern as she put a hand to her mouth. “Me wearing that little dress and sort of seducing you,” she said. “Is that going to cause you to, um…?”

“Um what?”

Then I realized what she was saying just as she said, “You told me to stop using that word.”

I just groaned, and said with a moan, “No, I’ll just take a cold shower.”

“Hey, is that why the Apostle Paul said in 1 Corinthians that if you can’t contain it is better to marry?” She asked happily.

I put my face into my hands and sighed deeply. But then lifted my head suddenly, and replied. “I suppose it is! Let’s go see the pastor!”

TOO SCARE OR NOT TOO SCARE

When at work at Lake Produce Incorporated, I had developed an evil propensity to startle people whenever the occasion presented itself. For one of my three years at Lake,  I worked with a guy named Dave Hudson. He and I shared the same maniacal desire to frighten people, and then it turned into a bit of a competition.  

Is it wicked to find amusement in the instantaneous fright of a fellow human being?  I don’t know what it was about working at Lake, because I never behaved this immaturely at any other place I had ever worked. Periodically throughout my three years there I found delight in hiding behind a door or a pallet of product and startling people. I never understood why, and nobody ever seriously retaliated against me until David Hudson began temporarily working there.

Dave was almost thirty, had a college degree and was in between jobs.  I knew that he wouldn’t be at Lake long and I was right; he was gone in just under a year.  He and I made the most of that year though. We became instant friends and developed a friendly competition in fright.

I guess that I got the ball rolling on Dave’s third day when I went to use the restroom and found that it was occupied.  I knew that Lenny was gone, so I wasn’t concerned with whom my prey was.  I lurked in hiding and waited.  When Dave burst forth from the restroom, I leapt from my concealment and screamed.  Dave, wide eyed, plastered himself against the wall, and called me a name before chuckling himself, declaring he owed me.

Lon played music somewhat loudly.  When I needed to retrieve something from his area, if he didn’t see me come in, I went on the attack.  I would go and stand a foot or two from him and wait for him to turn around.  It always startled him. Not because of screams or waving arms, but just my unexpected presence. After all, I didn’t want to give the old hippie a heart attack.

One day Jeb came out of the sprout room, laughing and shaking his head.  

“What’s so funny?” I asked him.

“I went in to get a ten pound bag of bean sprouts and Lon lifted about a foot off of the ground when I spoke to him,” Jeb said, chuckling. “So I say to him, man you’re jumpy.  He says that if you worked here most of the day with Jake around you’d be jumpy too.”

My car wouldn’t start one day when my workday was done. So Mary Gold came and picked me up.  The next day, Kurt Wilson, a driver that had a couple of late routes approached me.

“Man, you got me good yesterday and I don’t think that you were even here,” he said.

“How’s that?”  I asked.

“I got back from my route and saw your car was still here.  I went into the building and it was eerily dark and quiet.  The whole time that I was taking care of my returns and paperwork, I expected you to jump out at any time.  I must have flinched a dozen times at shadows before I left.”

The first time Dave got me back occurred when we were loading trucks together.  We were both instructed by Jeb to go after our assigned products.  Apparently Dave also focused on where I was going, because instead of retrieving what he was supposed to pursue, he loomed above me with a shout as I obtained my product.  I reeled back startled as he and Jeb doubled over with laughter.

One time when Dave and I were loading trucks by ourselves, I happened to see him duck under the table where we kept the loading invoices as I was coming out of a cooler.  I knew that he was going to jump out at me when I went to look for some other product to retrieve.  I put what I had on the pallet that we were loading.

“Hey, Lenny,” I pretended. “Did you order more green onions?”

Dave quickly scrambled from beneath the table with panic on his face.  He looked relieved when he saw me with no Lenny present and standing alone.

“What were you doing under there, Dave?” I asked.

He laughed with me as he shook his head.

I was showing Dave a new route one day.  We were in the back of an alley behind a restaurant.  We threw our two wheel carts into the back of the truck and rolled down the door.  Dave and I walked back to the truck, Dave on the left side and me on the right.  What I did not anticipate was Dave running around to the front of the truck and waiting until I opened my door.  When I did, his hand grabbed onto my ankle and he let forth a blood curdling scream that sent a jolt of fear to run up my spine.  In response my leg jerked instinctively upward as I also screamed. Unfortunately and unintentionally, he slammed his wrist into the bottom of the truck door.

“Ouch,” Dave bellowed as he hopped around clutching his arm laughing and moaning at the same time.

The route that I trained Dave on was very heavy the next day so I went with him again.  On this day he drove instead of me.  I noticed that when we returned to the truck, Dave subtly peered to the front of the truck to see if I was going to retaliate.  I took a different approach.  You have to realize that we drove straight trucks, so there was plenty of room underneath.  At one of our last stops I crawled quickly underneath and barked like a dog, loudly and ferociously.  Dave’s eyes got huge as he put a hand to his chest and he must have jumped two feet.

Once when Lenny was on vacation, I conspired with Lon to get Dave.  Now I had a habit of subtly sneaking up on Lon and giving him a spook.  Dave on the other hand took a more malicious delight in outright stalking Lon, so Lon was more than willing to assist me in getting Dave good.

When we finished loading a route, I went to the sprout room to tell Lon what we needed for sprouts.  I also told him to give me one minute to walk to the office with the load papers.   Then I would go outside, run around the building, and slip in the back door.  I would then secure a hiding place in the dark bean sprout room. 

Lon lured Dave into the bean sprout room, pretending to need a hand with something.  When they were present, I jumped out with a blood curdling scream.  Even as dark as it was, I could see the whites of Dave’s eyes.  Another way that I knew that I got Dave good was Lon himself.  He said that it even startled him and he knew that it was coming.

In Iowa in the mid 1980’s, I never locked the doors of my car.  Dave changed that forever.  It was a few weeks before Christmas and I finished late one day.  It was around 6:00 pm, so it was completely dark.  I had driven about a block or two when Dave sprang from my backseat like a jack in the box.  An ear piercing shriek spewing forth from his mouth.  This time he got me so good it caused me to emit a squirt of urine.

The next Friday, Dave was to go in early to do a Des Moines route.  He was to start a half hour before I did my part time gig at UPS.  I decided to go over to his place to say good morning.

“Do you have some old pantyhose I could borrow?” I asked Mary Gold.

Her mouth fell open and she stared at me with a stunned expression. “Did I hear that right?”

“Preferably dark ones,” I said matter of factly.

Now she looked concerned, so I told her my plan.

“Sweetie, don’t you think that you and Dave are getting out of hand?”

“This will be the last one,” I said.

“Yes, until Dave gets you again,” Mary Gold said.

“I can’t let the back seat episode go unretaliated,” I said. “Do you realize he scared me so bad that I…”

“Yes, I know,” she interrupted. Then granted my wish, providing me with a hideous facial disguise.

Ten hours later, my head entirely covered with my wife’s old nylons, I waited in Dave’s bushes. It occurred to me later that I would have had a hard time explaining what I was doing to a passing police officer.

When Dave was a couple of feet away, going to his car, I leapt from the shrubs with a low roar, my hands like claws.  Dave returned to his house to change. Retaliation a success! Not long after we agreed to a truce. It turned out easy for us to comply because Dave left for better employment shortly thereafter.

CHAPTER 10

MARY GOLD

For the next few days after my birthday, I was blissfully happy.  Then there was a very brief road bump that actually ended up increasing my joy.  I was sitting outside of the mall waiting for Jake to pick me up from work.  I was puzzled because he wasn’t there, and Jake is one of the most punctual people that I have ever met.  Did I tell him the wrong entrance?

“Hey, check it out. It’s Mary Horner,” I heard a familiar, but not pleasant voice say.

I turned to look in the direction of the noise, and anxiety sprang into my middle.  It was Chad Cummings, a guy from high school who used to tease and harass me almost every time we crossed paths.  He was with Justin Shoop and Drew Michaels, two more guys from my high school that were less than friendly to me.  

“Well, well little Miss Mary Horner,” Chad said, only instead of using my last name correctly, he used a slang word for sexual arousal.

I ignored them and pretended to read my little pocket Bible.  Chad made some derogatory comments about God and me praying.  I felt the beginning of tears sting my eyes, praying that they wouldn’t leak onto my cheeks, and that these creeps would just go away.  It’s a lonely feeling being bullied, but God was my refuge, and I was about to realize he had now given me a human shield as well.

Chad continued his verbal abuse, saying with a laugh that it looked like I finally grew some breasts. Only he used a slang word for breasts.  It was at this moment that I heard a familiar, but very pleasant voice.

“What did you say to my girlfriend?” Jake demanded as he walked briskly up to Chad. Jake’s biceps bulged, and his chest muscles looked like they might rip his shirt like the ‘Incredible Hulk.’

Chad’s smirk filled expression disappeared and was replaced with something like dread.

The fire in Jake’s eyes made him look even more imposing.

“Nothing, man!” Chad shrieked with a high pitched panicked squeak.

Jake shoved Chad so hard in the chest that he flew backward several feet and landed on his rear end.  Chad was now visibly trembling. To this day I wonder if it was a sin to take satisfaction in Chad’s torment by my boyfriend’s protection.

“Look man, I’m sorry.  I was just joking,” Chad said with a shaking voice.

Jake looked at Justin and Drew.

“We didn’t say a word,” Drew told Jake with hands lifted in a gesture of surrender. “Did we Mary?”

I ignored him as I marveled that three guys were backing down from one.  However none of the trio was close to being as powerful as Jake.  Plus Jake was seething mad with a capital M.  Jake grabbed Chad by the shirt and yanked him to his feet.  I could hear fabric and stitching rip as he did so.   Jake reared back his fist as if he was going to punch him, causing Chad to cringe.  Jake didn’t hit him though.  He grabbed hold of his arm and shoved him in front of me.

“Apologize to her or I’ll tear you apart,” Jake said.

“Sorry, Mary,” Chad said with a quivering lower lip.

“If I ever see any of you guys even come close to my girlfriend again, I’m not letting you off so easy,” Jake said. “Now get away from us.”

Chad and Justin didn’t waste any time leaving, but Drew lingered.  Jake got in his face.

“You looking to get hurt?” Jake demanded.

“Be cool man. I want to apologize, too,” Drew said, putting a hand up in a gesture of peace.

Jake nodded, crossed his muscular arms, and eyed Drew cautiously.

“Listen, Mary,” Drew said. “I happened to run into Chad and Justin in the mall so I wasn’t actually hanging out with them. Believe it or not, I was going to tell Chad to knock it off, but your boyfriend beat me to it.”  

He glanced at Jake respectfully, then continued. “I’m done with high school crap and I regret going along with those guys back then.  I wanted to be part of the cool kids, you know? Now that I’m a little older, and hopefully a little wiser, I now see they were actually pathetic losers. To be honest I hated the bullying, especially when they harassed you.”

“You harassed me, too,” I told him calmly.

Drew hung his head and sighed.

“I did,” he admitted. “And I regret it. I actually hated high school.”

“I actually hated it, too,” I replied.

He nodded and continued to hang his head.  To my surprise, he pinched the bridge of his nose and began to get emotional.

“I’m truly sorry, Mary,” Drew said. “I went along with everyone else because I was scared to be different, to be an individual.  I felt the need, like most people, to be part of a herd.  You were always so meek and quiet, yet you always seemed to have strength and dignity.  Your example is one of the reasons that I’m now a Christian myself.  I hate how I treated, not only you, but others.  Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“Absolutely,” I said, offering my hand with a sympathetic smile.

He gave me a reluctant but relieved smile as he took my hand in both of his and we shook.

“Thank you, Mary,” Drew said.  Then he looked at Jake. “You’re girlfriend is beautiful in more ways than one.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Jake replied with an easy smile as he extended a hand. “I appreciate what you told Mary.”

“I appreciate you not knocking my head in.”

“That was your decision. I tried to be reasonable. I actually wanted to do a lot more damage to your buddy who harassing to Mary.”

“He’s no buddy of mine. Not anymore, anyhow.”

Jake nodded, then invited Drew to our church. Drew said he might just do that, and to his credit, he did join us for worship once. The two men shook hands before Drew departed.

“You okay?” Jake asked me with a soothing voice after Drew walked away.

I gave him a relieved smile, but despite myself I couldn’t stop a couple tears from leaking. He pulled me into his arms and it felt incredibly good. Something like home. It had been almost two weeks since our make out session at the abandoned railroad tracks.  

After that incredible day, Jake said that we needed to return to our friend’s only behavior until we tied the knot. He declared that the desire to do more than kiss deeply was overwhelming. However, we did begin to hold hands regularly, and give each other a quick kiss before parting ways of an evening.

“I’m sorry, Mary,” Jake said as we walked to his truck. “I forgot where you said to pick you up.  If I hadn’t forgotten, you wouldn’t have had that ugly encounter with that jerk.”

“Maybe this is wrong,” I said. “But given the outcome, I’m glad that it happened.  Those guys were so crude and mean to me in school that I enjoyed watching them run away with their tails between their legs.  Maybe that’s evil of me to feel that way, but I do.  Plus given what transpired with Drew, it was totally worth it.  I am glad that you didn’t punch Chad though. I could see you wanted to.”

Jake shrugged. “I could tell that he wasn’t going to fight back. So I went with vengeance is mine says the Lord. But I was severely tempted to punch him just once, right in the proboscis.”

I giggled. “You mean the nose?”

“Yes, or the snout since he was behaving like a pig.”

As Jake and I drove home, I eyed my boyfriend with admiration. His handsome profile and his muscular arms tensing slightly as he gripped the steering wheel of his pickup truck. In the last two weeks I had begun sitting right next to him on the bench seat of his truck.

This incredible man had suggested a desire to marry me one day. The two shall become one in matrimony. So I would become one with this hunk next to me one day. I wished we were on honeymoon right now. Driving to our hotel where we would know each other in the Biblical sense for the first time.

I hooked my hand around his bicep. This was my protective arm. I kicked my shoes off, and put my feet on the dash. I watched Jake’s eyes glance at, if I do say so myself, my shapely legs. Our shapely legs.

Jake and I went to my place so I could change out of my work dress.  He was always taking me hiking, biking, motorcycling, or something along those lines.  So I usually changed into jeans and a t-shirt.  I was about to slide my jeans on when I had a naughty idea.

Jake had told me his desire was overwhelming after we made out a couple weeks ago. Now my own desire led me to what I did next. Just maybe, a little tease would push us to marriage sooner rather than later. Did it? Maybe, but I don’t recommend what I did at all!

The fact that we made love for the first time on our wedding night was very special for me, for us. And I jeopardized that with my risky behavior. I let my guard down, and gave in to the temptation to tease Jake in a sexual manner. Sin has a ripple effect, but did we really sin or was it merely temptation? Regardless, I put us in a vulnerable situation.

A friend from work had given me a sexy little black cocktail dress. I don’t know why I had taken it since it wasn’t my style at all. But now I smiled mischievously as I squirmed into it. The bottom rode way up on my legs, and the top rode uncomfortably low on my chest.  I never intended to wear it in public that was for sure, but I was eager to do a quick parade in front of Jake in it.

I noticed that my mouth was hanging open in the mirror when I saw how little that the dress covered.  I thought about taking it off and putting my jeans on after all. But I did look pretty hot, though, even if I do say so myself. Especially when I put the highest heels I owned on. I decided to go ahead, and have a little fun. Just a quick tease for the man of my dreams, and I would change into my usual attire.

Still, the conflict waged in my head for a couple of minutes. This is way beyond immodest, I thought. It’s not only skimpy, but tight. But it’s only Jake, my future husband. I just wanted to give him a little show, no more than a minute. Like a model strutting on a runway, then I would turn around, and go right back to my room to change into my usual attire.  

I put on some lip gloss and added a squirt of perfume.  I took a deep breath, boldly left my room, and sauntered toward Jake as he sat in the living room.  When he saw me, he shot off of the sofa as if it were spring loaded.

“Mary Gold, what the…?” Jake almost shouted. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Don’t you like it?” I asked with a seductive smile.

“Well, I mean, you look… Like… Wow! But are you going out like that?” he asked.

“No,” I said shaking my head.

“So why are you dressed like that then?” he asked again.

“To tantalize you,” I said, pushing him firmly enough that he sat down hard on the sofa.  The cushion made a whoosh sound as I straddled him. Oops! I only intended to walk up to him, and then walk away. To make matters worse, my breasts were only inches from his face. His bugged out eyes were aimed directly at my cleavage. What a huge mistake!

So I scrambled off of him and tumbled onto the carpeted floor. My skirt was already too short, and it drifted higher up my thighs. I frantically yanked it down, looking at Jake. His eyes still bulged from his sockets, and his mouth hung open. “Jake, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what got into me.”

I’m used to walking in one or two inch heels, but these were at least three inches and skinny. I couldn’t manage to get my feet under me. Plus, I was also on carpet, and I tend to be a bit clumsy anyway. After a couple failed attempts to get up, I kicked the shoes off. I finally succeeded in rising to my feet. I began to run to my bedroom, but Jake caught me around the waist. He pulled me to the love seat. How appropriate! And began to kiss me like they do in France.

JAKE

When Mary Gold came into the living room wearing a tiny little dress, it almost got my adrenaline going as much as dealing with those bullies.  It exposed more of her legs and cleavage than I had ever seen.  It had me rather perplexed, and I couldn’t figure out what she was doing or why.   I totally expected her to come out in jeans and a t-shirt like she usually did.  It left me confused and discombobulated at first, then eager with anticipation. For I saw it as some type of invitation.

We began kissing as passionately as we did at the railroad bridge a couple weeks previously. But this time, my hands began to roam. They had barely started their exploration when Mary Gold pushed away from me and tumbled to the floor for a second time.

“Jake,” she said, panting. “We’re getting carried away. We had better stop.”

“Mary Gold, you’re killing me,” I said, as I came off the sofa after her. She giggled and began crawling away from me on her hands and knees. I caught her around the ankle, stopping her. I spun her on her back and pinned her arms behind her head. Her emerald eyes were wide,  dancing with merriment. “You brute!”

“You tease,” I chuckled, before kissing her. But after a minute or two, I groaned in frustration and rolled onto my back. Now she rolled on top me and started kissing me again. “Mary Gold!”

“What?” she asked with a sweet smile. “First you pin me, now you want to get away from me?”

“I don’t want to get away, I need to. I feel like it might be doing internal damage refraining from, um, intimacy.”

She giggled. “Just one more minute.”

She started lowering her mouth to mine when I said, “Let’s get married.”

Her head stopped lowering, and went the other way. “Are you officially proposing?”

“I suppose I am.”

“Most guys get on one knee,” she said with a grin. “Are you gonna do it from you’re back?”

I hopped up and went to the kitchen. I grabbed a twist tie from a loaf of bread, and shaped it into a circle as I walked back into the living room. Mary Gold was sitting on the love seat. Her hands were pressed between her knees, and she looked rather chaste despite the sexy dress. She started to suck on her lower lip when I went to one knee. Did she know how adorable she looked when she did that?

I asked her. But she was expecting the other question, and a puzzled frown appeared on her face, and she responded. “Huh?”

That sort of answered my question. So I asked the one she was expecting. But first I slid the twist tie onto her finger, explaining we would exchange it for a real ring very soon. “Mary Gold, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? In other words, will you marry me?”

I remember my heart skipping a beat as her expression suddenly appeared frightened.

THE BLACK HOLE

The Des Moines driver was on vacation and Jeb filled in for him.  Jeb was a volunteer fireman and he sometimes wore a hat with an official looking shield patch on it.

“So I go into the kitchen of this restaurant,” he told me. “And half a dozen Mexican workers dash out the back door.  The head chef starts cussing and tells me that because of my hat, they thought that I was an immigration officer.”

“You’re kidding,” I said. “Did they come back?”

He shrugged and laughed. “Not while I was there.”

Lon approached us.

“Lenny wants you in his office,” he said to me.

“Alright,” I replied.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened to me in Des Moines yesterday,” I heard Jeb say to Lon as I walked away to the office.

“None of the product was damaged when you fell?” I heard Lenny say grumpily into his phone.

“Alright, alright, sure,” Lenny said. “I’m taking Jake to pick up your truck and do your last couple of stops.  Then he’ll pick you up at the hospital when you’re ready.”

“Right, right, I know.” Lenny said. “Okay.”

Lenny slammed the phone into the cradle.

“Dean fell down some steps or something at that new customer’s restaurant,” Lenny told me. “The owner of the restaurant is taking him to the hospital.  I’m going to take you to the restaurant so you can get his truck and finish his route.  He only has two or three stops left.  Then I’ll have you help Lon until Dean needs picked up.”

“Alright,” I said. “Is he okay?”

“Sounds like he has a broken arm,” Lenny said with more disgust than compassion.

Hours later I picked Dean up.  I almost didn’t recognize Dean, because instead of his signature baseball cap, he wore a goofy red and white checked fedora on his head.

“Dean, are you okay?” I asked when I saw him.

Dean walked with a slight limp, even though his main problem was a broken arm.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Dean replied. “Just a bit banged up.”

“So what happened?” I asked.

“Well I asked Dong, the owner of the restaurant, where he wanted his food,” Dean said. “There was this fairly long hall in the back, and there were four doors on one side.  So Dong says he told me the second door from the back while I just heard second door.  I admit I wasn’t all that focused, and it was dark in the hall and even darker when I opened the door to the cellar.  I hollered at Dong about a light switch, but he didn’t hear me.  I got impatient and tried to lower my two wheel cart onto the first stair.  I had four cases of cabbage on it.  By the time I realized that there were no stairs, I was too far in to pull it back.  Like an idiot, I hung on to the cart instead of just letting it go so I plummeted to the cellar floor with the cart of cabbage.  Apparently there used to be a set of stairs there, but for some reason they were torn out.”

“So you just fell into the basement?” I asked.

Dean nodded.  The fedora was a bit big for his head and it rotated back and forth as he nodded.

“You’re actually lucky that you weren’t hurt worse than you were,” I told him.

He agreed.

“By the way, what’s with the hat?” I asked.

Dean’s eyes went upward as if to look at the hat.

“Oh, this,” he replied. “In the confusion my hat got left behind.  Dong had this hat in his car and he lent it to me.”

Dean was bald and very self-conscious about it.  He was almost never seen without a baseball cap on.  He even told me about being on a route one time when there was such a severe storm that he had to pull his truck over.  The truck began rocking so much that Dean thought it might go over.  During this ordeal, his cap flew off and he was scrambling in the cab trying to retrieve it.  He acknowledged how vain it was to be more concerned about losing his hat than a possible tornado passing through.

“What a way to come back from vacation,” Dean said.

“Oh, yeah.  How was Colorado?” I asked.

“Real good,” Dean said.

“You drove out, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, my family and I drove out, but I took the Amtrak back because my wife and kids were staying another week with my wife’s sister.  That was the only fiasco of the trip.”

“What was a fiasco?” I said.

“Riding the Amtrak back,” he said.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, first a guy that I was sitting next to had a seizure.  All of a sudden he started gyrating.  I tried to calm him, but he got worse.  He ended up pushing me out of my seat and landed on top of me on the floor of the car.”

“Oh my!”

“Yeah, and he probably outweighed me by a hundred pounds.”

“Then I was going from one car to another and the door between them was closing.  I stuck my arm in between them, thinking it was like an elevator.  It wasn’t.  My arm was stuck and I had to stand there like an idiot.  Everybody in the car was staring at me, while someone found some personnel to release me.”

“Wow.  Did at least the rest of the trip go well then?”

“No, the worst was still to come,” he said, shaking his head sadly.

“Oh, boy.”

“So at the terminal,” he said. “I was at a urinal taking care of business.  When I finished, I shook off and a drop of urine flew into the guy’s eye that was relieving himself next to me.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” I said, trying my hardest not to start laughing.  My efforts were back firing as a few snorts escaped from me.

“I wish I was,” Dean said, bowing his head and closing his eyes. “Boy, do I ever wish I was.  Thankfully the police got there quickly.”

“The police?”

“Yeah,” he said with a painful drawl. “The guy my drop of pee hit in the eye was a great big biker type and he was pretty mad.  He chased me around the terminal, but thankfully he was big and slow.  When people saw that I was being attacked, they called the cops.  They must have been close because they were there pretty quick.  You can’t imagine how embarrassing it was explaining why he was chasing after me though.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said.

“No guessing about it,” he said.

“Yes, no guessing,” I said. “This too shall pass, right?”

“Right.  Say could you swing by Dong’s restaurant so I can get my hat back?” Dean asked.