SELFLESS OR SELL OUT?

CHAPTER 8

Thursday, April 17, 1980

GREAT PEACE HAVE THOSE WHO LOVE YOUR LAW (Psalm 119:165)

                        When John McQueen answered the door, he couldn’t speak for a few seconds as he was captivated by Mary Jean’s beauty. Her long red-gold hair was pulled back in a braided ponytail. Her large green-hazel eyes were framed with just a hint of mascara. Her pouty lips had a slight sheen of pale pink lipstick.

            John had never seen her wear any makeup whatsoever. And to most, the subtlety of her beauty enhancers would have gone unnoticed. But John had given careful study to the young woman with whom he was smitten. More and more, right or wrong, he thought of her as angelic.

            This thought troubled his carnal attraction to the young lady that was a fraction of his age. Yet if he could convince her to willingly say ‘I do,’ it would thereby place them in a committed relationship. He could exercise all of the physical desire he felt for her as they attempted the making of offspring using God given biology.

            “Hello, Mary Jean,” he greeted with a pleasant smile, as he covered the nervous unease he felt. “Please come in.”

            “Thank you,” she returned with a shy smile. She ran her tongue lightly over her upper lip, as if she was not used to the beauty enhancing goo that adorned her small mouth. 

            This view gave John a little thrill. For he saw the subtle makeup as an attempt to appear enticing to him. If true, it already seemed to be a better start than their previous date. As he closed the door behind him, he noticed the gaudy red cowboy boots that he knew were not even hers. He hoped and prayed that his next move wasn’t too forward.

            He gently took Mary Jean’s right hand in his left. He noticed her eyes widen a little. The unexpected contact did give her pause as well as a little thrill.  “Mary Jean, I bought you a little gift today. Well, actually my housekeeper, Rosarita, bought it. If you don’t like it, please don’t feel obligated to wear it.”

            “Okay,” Mary Jean replied cautiously, wondering what ‘wear it’ meant.

            John felt himself stiffen. He hoped he wasn’t making a presumptuous mistake. However, he went ahead and called out to his housekeeper, “Hey Rosie?”

            A heavy-set Hispanic woman, around fifty years of age, emerged from the kitchen. With a Spanish accent, she inquired, “Yes John, what can I do for you?”

            Mary Jean immediately picked up that his hired servant called him John, rather than Mr. McQueen or sir. Being on a first name basis with his servants impressed Mary Jean even more that her suitor was a decent man of noble character.

            “I’d like you to meet the young lady I’m entertaining. Rosie, this is Mary Jean. Mary Jean, meet Rosie.”

            Although Rosie offered her hand with a pleasant smile, Mary Jean clearly saw suspicion in the woman’s eyes.

            “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Mary Jean greeted meekly.

            “Likewise, Miss, is it Patrick?”

            “Yes, yes, it is, but please call me Mary Jean, or just Mary.”

            “Please come with me and I will show you your gift from John.”

            “Yes, Ma’am.”

            “I’ll go get our horses ready, Mary Jean,” John said as Mary Jean trailed after Rosie.

            The two women entered a large bedroom with Victorian décor. It wasn’t overly extravagant but very comfortable looking. She very badly wanted to ask Rosie if this was John’s bedroom. The place were in a little more than a month she very well could enter the path to motherhood.

            “Mr. McQueen had me shop for these today,” Rosie said coolly. “He described your size, so I got three options. You decide which fits best, and it’s yours. What size foot you have?”

            “Nine.”

            Rosie’s eyes roamed down Mary Jean’s body. She noticed the older woman’s eyes fill with scorn as she took in the tight jeans and gaudy boots. Without a word, Rosie left the room. Mary Jean thought this a cue to try on these new clothes. When she was in nothing but her undergarments, Rosie reentered the room carrying a beautiful pair of light brown, leather riding boots.

            Rosie dropped the boots on the floor and dropped her rearend in a chair, watching Mr. McQueen’s date skeptically. Mary Jean felt uncomfortable disrobed in front of her best friend, Sylvia, let alone this strange woman. Mary Jean began to dress quickly.

            “You’re in the full flush of womanhood,” Rosie commented. “I see why John has chosen you out of his many options of women to possibly carry on his name.”

            Not knowing what to say, or even understanding Rosie’s attitude, she ignored Rosie’s comment and remained silent. Once dressed, she looked at herself in a full-length mirror. The tan pants fit like an incredibly soft glove, and the green satin blouse felt silky against her skin.

            “You like?” Rosie asked.

            “Yes, thank you.”

            “Don’t thank me, thank Mr. McQueen.”

            “I will.”

            “I’m sure you will, Miss Patrick,” Rosie responded blandly. “Is there anything else you need, Miss Patrick?”

            “No, thank you… Is it Mrs. or Miss?”

            “Mrs. Rodriguez.”

            “Thank you again, Mrs. Rodriguez.”

            “You’re welcome, Miss Patrick.”

            As Rosie turned to go, Mary Jean called. “Mrs. Rodriguez? I just wanted to say from the last time I ate here. You are a very good cook. I look forward to supper tonight!”

            Rosie turned with a scornful look, and Mary Jean kicked herself for not just remaining silent. But then Rosie smiled, although her eyes remained skeptical. “Thank you, Miss Patrick. I just hope the man I not only work for, but love like a second father, is in a better mood the next day, compared to your last encounter.”

            “That is my hope too. Not only that, my expectation.”

            Rosie eyed her blankly, but as she turned to leave said, “Enjoy your evening.”

            Mary Jean and John had a nice horseback ride. Before going to the bluff that overlooked the river and beyond, John showed Mary Jean some of the side trails. One of them went down to the river, where the water babbled pleasantly over a couple dozen large rocks. There was a bench under a large oak tree where they sat and enjoyed nature’s music.

            “Did you make this bench?” Mary Jean asked.

            “No, my pastor did. He does woodworking as a hobby.”

            “Your pastor and my pastor are old friends.”

            “Yeah, they were both Army Chaplains.”

            This fell right into Mary Jean’s lap. “I understand you were in the Army.”

            “I was, the Army Air Corps, what’s now the Air Force.”

            “When did you join?”

            “Right out of high school in 1937,” John told her. Then glanced at her uneasily as the date of his high school graduation displayed just how much older he was than she.

            “How long were you in?”

            “I was discharged in 1945. I had thought about a career, but after the war, I just wanted out.”

            “You were a fighter pilot?”

            “I was.”

            “Did you see a lot of action?”

            “I did.”

            “What was it like?”

            He crossed his arms. “I’m just very blessed to be here. My guardian angel worked overtime. Well, let’s hit our saddles. I told Rosie we’d be back to the house by six for supper.”

            Rosie cooked Italian as well as she did her own ethnic cuisine. It was the best lasagna Mary Jean had ever tasted. There was also salad, and the softest, tastiest garlic bread ever. Rosie was generous with the garlic. She wondered for the first time if he would kiss her good night. Probably not, but if he did, she would offer her cheek.

            As they began eating, Mary Jean said hesitantly, “Abby told me that it is one of your brother’s birthday today.”

            Mary Jean was relieved to see a sentimental smile spread onto John’s face. John opened up about his two deceased brothers, then asked Mary Jean about her own siblings.

            “Are they as devout as you?” John asked gazing at her fondly, as he rested his chin on his fist.

            “Oh, I don’t know, only God knows that,” she replied humbly. “Speaking of God. There’s one thing I need to know regarding our, um, potential children.”

            “Okay?”

            “I know you said you would go to my church as much as I go to your church.”

            “I plan to honor that.”

            “Good, me too. But I want to make sure you are okay with me teaching our children the whole Bible?”

            John frowned. “Why would I object to that?”

            “Because most religions follow traditions rather than plain Bible teachings. No offence, but yours included.”

            “Is this about the Sabbath?”

            “Yes, among other things… You know, during this period of getting to know each other, would you want to study the Bible with me?”

            “Sure,” he said with a shrug. Then he smiled, thinking that he would straighten out his prospective bride on her miss guided doctrine.

            “How about now?” Mary Jean asked cheerily.

            “Why not?” John said happily. When dinner was consumed, he was concerned that she would want to call it a night. Now he would get to spend more time with this little beauty.

            “Great! Get your Bible and I will go to the car to get mine,” she said perkily.

            Although an elder in his church, a faithful tithe payer, and a regular attendee at Sunday worship, John wasn’t a regular Bible student, or a faithful searcher of the scriptures like the noble Bereans (Acts 17:11). So it took him a minute to locate the inspired Word of God on his bookshelf.

            John burped garlic, and then kicked himself when he agreed to Rosie’s suggestion of an Italian meal. It wasn’t beyond his notice that Rosie put extra garlic on the bread. It also wasn’t beyond his notice that she didn’t approve of him dating a teenager. But she would have to discover for herself that Mary Jean was not your typical teenager.

            John quickly stuck a piece of Wrigley’s double mint gum in his mouth. Unbeknownst to him, Mary Jean was sucking on a few Tictacs when she came back in.

            “Do you want to study at the table or the couch?” John asked.

            “It’s up to you,” Mary Jean said with a shrug.

            John suggested the couch for the study, and she suggested the Sabbath for the topic. He nonchalantly put his arm around his prospective fiancée. But it was short lived as he soon found himself turning from scripture to scripture. Starting with the Ten Commandments in Exodus chapter 20, the one part of the Bible that God wrote with His own finger. In particular, they looked at the fourth commandment found in verses 8-11.

            Deep in John’s subconscious, his sister Abby had planted the seeds of Biblical truth. But they had laid dormant due to John’s pride, stubbornness, and quite frankly his judgmental attitude toward his once wayward sibling.

            Abby was a beatnik in the fifties, a free love hippie in the sixties, and a jazz singer who hung out in clubs for thirty years, smoking, drinking, and sampling drugs. She had one fling after another with both men and women. She never had a romantic relationship last more than a year. She became disloyal to their family church while still a teenager. A denomination passed down from their ancestors. Then seemingly overnight, she suddenly changes her ways and then has the audacity to tell her brother that his religion was misguided.

            However, John was an intelligent man who had a heart that wanted to walk on an upright path. Now as he sat hearing some of the same arguments his sister had put a few years ago, his heart was softening. It helped that he was smitten with the young beauty that was boldly proclaiming the particular doctrine that they were studying.

            But although softening of the heart was occurring, it had become stone in many ways over the years. So in the breaking of the heard deposits, arguments sprang forth. But Mary Jean had a reason for the hope and love that was within her. So every time John had a reproach, she had a ‘thus saith the Lord.’

            “We keep Sunday in honor of the resurrection,” John declared first.

            She asked where that was found in scripture. He couldn’t tell her, so she showed him Malachi 3:6, which says, ‘I am the Lord, I do not change.’

            “But I can tell you in history where a change was attempted,” she told him. “To be honest it was a pretty successful attempt because the vast majority of professed Christians do honor Sunday rather than the real Sabbath which honors our Creator. The counterfeit to the true Sabbath instituted in Genesis 2:2, and 3 really took off in the fourth century when Emperor Constantine made Christianity a legal religion. In the process, much of the pagan beliefs were brought into the church. The most diabolical was aspects of sun worship. In particular, the so-called venerable day of the sun.”

            “Yeah, but keeping Sunday has been a tradition for hundreds, even over a thousand years,” John countered.

            “Jesus said, in vain they do worship Me,” Mary Jean told him. “Teaching for doctrines the commandments of men. (Matthew 15:9) Also, in the last chapter of Isaiah, verse 23, it is declared that in the earth made new after Christ’s second coming, we will still be keeping the Sabbath the Lord instituted. So why would God change it to Sunday only to change it back after the second coming of Christ?”

            Although John’s intellect was being challenged, and his conscience pricked, John declared. “That’s all fine and dandy, Mary Jean, but the bottom line, and I’m used to bottom lines, is that we are not under the law, but under grace.”

            “You’re absolutely right! And our obedience to God needs to stem from love. Love because God is our Creator and our Redeemer. As a matter of fact, the Sabbath is a sign and seal of God’s Creatorship. As opposed to the mark of the beast, which we will get into at a later date, if you want to. Another reason we obey is because of what Jesus did for us on the cross. We love Him because He first loved us (1 John 4:19) and Jesus even said, if you love Me, keep my commandments.” (John 14:15)

             “And to your point about not being under the law but under grace, look at Romans 6:1, and 2. It says what shall we say then? Shall we continue in sin that grace may abound? Certainly not!”

            “Okay, fair point,” John conceded. “But when it comes to the Sabbath, a good historian knows the calendar was changed by something like ten days.”

            “True, but the weekly cycle still remained the same. Sunday was still the first day of the week, followed by Monday.”

            “Okay, so have you perfectly obeyed God’s law then?”

            “No,” Mary Jean replied meekly. “But it’s my standard. Jesus kept it perfectly, and He’s my example, our example. He’s also my Advocate when I fail (1 John 2:1). Look at Psalm 19, starting with verse 7. The law of the Lord is perfect converting the soul…”

            Mary Jean began to practically sing the next half dozen verses. When she looked at John, she gave a little start. He bore a resemblance to Clint Eastwood, and just then, it looked like Dirty Harry staring intently at her. But then she noticed him wiping a tear from his eye.

            “I’m unworthy of you,” he said quietly.

            She took hold of his hand, smiled warmly. “Something has occurred to me today. My mother has said that I’m like a middle-aged woman trapped in a teenager’s body. You are definitely not like a typical sixty-year-old. So maybe we are well suited for each other.”

            John almost corrected her by saying that he’s sixty-one but thought better of it. He liked what she said, making him feel better about their huge age difference.

            “If we do end up married, you know it’s gonna raise a lot of eyebrows. People will think you are a gold digger, and I’m a dirty old man.”

            “Let em,” she said with a defiant grin. “They don’t know us if they think that.”

            “You really are serious about marrying me, aren’t you?”

            “I guess I am,” she said with a little smile, and shrug of a shoulder.

            “He leaned in smooth and swift, kissing her for the first time. He noticed that she didn’t kiss him back, and when he pulled away, her eyes looked a little startled. Then she said, “It’s getting late, I better go.”

SELFLESS OR SELL OUT?

CHAPTER 7

Wednesday April 16, 1980

FOR WE WALK BY FAITH, NOT BY SIGHT (2 Corinthians 5:7)

            “Hello, Jennifer?” John McQueen tried for a second time across the telephone line.

            Mary Jean was frozen. How embarrassing! Why did she take his phone number from Abby? Even worse, how did she let Sylvia talk her into dialing it? She had suspected that he would move on to someone else as soon as he put an end to their arrangement. Her first instinct was to hang up, but that somehow didn’t seem right, especially after what he did for her family. “Um… Mr. McQueen… This is Mary Jean.”

            Another long, awkward pause ensued before John replied, hesitantly, “Oh, Mary Jean, I didn’t realize I gave you my private number.”

            Mary Jean felt her toes curl. “I, um, got your number from Abby.”

            “I see. Well, what can I do for you?”

            “Nothing,” Mary Jean blurted, then closed her eyes and slapped a hand to her forehead. This was so humiliating! She quickly said, “I mean I shouldn’t have called. Goodbye.”

            “Mary Jean, wait! Are you there?”

            “Yes,” she replied meekly.

            “Good, now surely there was a reason you called me. Please talk to me.”

            She sighed. “I was just, you know, was hoping you hadn’t moved on yet.”

            “Moved on from what?”

            “You know, your proposal, last Friday.”

            More awkward silence before John inquired, “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Why were you hoping I haven’t moved on?”

            “I was just thinking, you know, if you hadn’t, maybe we could continue getting to know each other.”

            “Really, why?” John wasn’t trying to be rude with his next enquiry, he was genuinely interested. “Wasn’t what I already did for you and your family sufficient?”

            “Oh, yes, more than sufficient, thanks again! But more than how your money helped, it showed me a great deal about your character. It proved you weren’t just some rich guy trying to buy a young bride.”

            “Well, thank you, Mary Jean. But to be perfectly honest, it did feel like I was trying to buy a young bride. That’s one of the reasons I put a stop to it.”

            “So, how much older is your new woman?” she asked, feeling something like jealousy.

            “What new woman?”

            “You know, the name you spoke when you answered the phone, Jennifer.”

            John laughed. “Jennifer is past childbearing years. She’s also married with three grown kids and six grandchildren. Jennifer is in charge of a charity I recently started.”

            “I see.”

            More awkward silence before John said, “Let me get this straight. You were hoping that we could continue our, shall I say, courtship?”

            Mary Jean cleared her throat, now wondering if she was making the right decision, but went ahead and said, “I am.”

            “May I ask why?”

            “Like I said, what you did for my family, without expecting anything from me, spoke volumes of what kind of man you are. Also, when you put an end to the possibility of marriage, it made realize just how much I too would really like to be a mother.”

            “I see. What about college?”

            “To be honest, I don’t really want to keep going to school right now.”

            “I see.”

            Yet another awkward moment of silence before Mary Jean said, “So… Are you interested in continuing?”

            “I’m sorry. This was so unexpected. I’m just trying to get my mind around it.”

            “Okay… Do you want me to let you go so you can think about it?”

            “No, no, Mary Jean. But let me ask you, how serious are you about my original proposition? Another one of the reasons I put a stop to things was you were leaning toward not going through with it. And I got the vibe on our da… encounter, that you very well would keep leaning toward not going through. Forgive me, but I’m not a man that likes to waste time. So once again, just how serious are you? I know that ‘no’ needs to be an option clear up to a wedding. However I need to know that you are serious.”

            “I’m definitely serious, otherwise I wouldn’t have called you.”

            “So right now, as long as the path of getting to know each other goes well, and you progressively feel more comfortable, you would still marry me over Memorial Day weekend?”

            “Yes, I would. Even though I would prefer waiting a couple months longer.”

            “How about we compromise? You said a couple months past your birthday. How about one month?”

            Mary Jean did not believe in compromising truth. But compromise in a relationship was different. A couple from church who recently celebrated forty years of happily married, said that the key to a good relationship was compromise. They counseled to be patient with faults, allow differing opinions, and putting the other first. So she liked that John was willing to meet in the middle on the speed of their potential nuptials. He was wealthy and powerful, yet clearly not completely a ‘my way or the highway’ type of man.

            “That sounds good, thank you.”

            “You’re welcome. Thank you for wanting to give us another go.”

            “You’re welcome.”

            Yet another awkward pause before John suggested, “How about dinner tomorrow night?”

            “I have to work for Abby.”

            “I’ll pay Millie triple time if she covers for you.”

            Mary Jean giggled. “I’m sure she’ll jump at it… But John?”

            McQueen smiled at hearing her call him by his first name. “Yes, my dear?”

            Mary Jean frowned and bit her lip at hearing this much older man refer to her with a term having romantic implications. But this was progress. She had called him by his first name, and he returned it with a term of affection. She asked, “Can we go horseback riding again, too?”

            “Of course,” he grinned. “It’s one of my favorite things to do.”

            “I guess that’s one thing we have in common.”

            “Yes, I’m sure we’ll discover more. Another one off the top of my head is our faith.”

            “Yes and no.”

            Yet another awkward pause before Mary Jean said, “So, after school, should I change for riding, and come over?”

            Now John frowned and chewed his cheek. Seeing her in those tight jeans last Sunday, although extremely tantalizing, spoke to his conscience. It was yet another one of the factors in him ending things before they got started. His lust for her made him aware of the side of his attraction inspired by his friend Max and the Playboy magazines he had shared with him. He should have never gone down that road. Lord have mercy on his double mindedness.

            John wanted to only focus on his attraction to Mary Jean that stemmed from the wholesome, devout, church-going young lady in long skirts and dresses. The person who was a diligent worker for his sister. The caring woman who gave every indication that she would make an incredible mother and a devoted wife.

            “That sounds fine,” John replied. “So what time should I expect you?”

            Mary Jean wanted to talk to Abby before her, okay, she would acknowledge what it was, her date with John McQueen. She needed to put the age difference behind her once and for all if she was going to do this. She needed to dwell on the positive aspects.

            John was in fact very handsome and in great shape, Lord help her, for his age. He would provide abundant security for her and however many children they had. He was a man of character, and he seemed to have a pleasant disposition.

            “Would four be okay?”

            “Four works for me. I’ll see you then.”

            “Great,” Mary Jean replied. Then she analyzed if what she thought to say next would be a lie. But she recalled the freedom she felt in the saddle. The peace and quiet of where they had ridden. John’s gentle way with his horses, and yes, also how capable and manly he looked riding. “I will look forward to tomorrow then.”

            “Yes, me too, my dear. Very much so.”

            ‘My dear’ again, she thought as they said their goodbyes. What was she getting herself into? Oh the contradictions in life! Was this was going to be several weeks of ‘she loves him, she loves him not?’

Thursday, April 17, 1980

            “Oh my,” Abby said with a coy smile as she eyed Mary Jean in her too tight pants and red cowboy boots. “Wouldn’t a lot of the ladies at church have a heyday chastising you over your attire?”

            Mary Jean felt herself blush. “I’m going riding with Jo… Mr. McQueen. A skirt isn’t very conducive to sitting on a saddle, and I don’t have any jeans that fit right now, so I had to borrow these from my friend Sylvia. I take it you don’t approve?”

            “Of what, riding with my brother, or your painted on pants?”

            “Both,” Mary Jean replied as her blush deepened.

            “You know I want you to get to know my brother. And I don’t disapprove of a woman wearing pants, just maybe what they might reveal. You can certainly tell that you have a nice figure though.”

            Mary Jean felt like she must have been three shades of red by this point. She sought to change the subject and saw it sitting in Abby’s lap in the form of a photo album.

            “Looking at old pictures?” Mary Jean asked, hoping to see some of John.

            “Today would have been my brother Jason’s sixty-fourth birthday. So I was reminiscing.”

            “Was he the one killed in World War 2?”

            “We had two brothers killed in World War 2.”

            “Really!”

            “Jason was a Navy Corpsman, killed at Pearl Harbor. My other brother Jim was studying to be a doctor when the war started. He was an Army Medic who was killed during the invasion of Normandy.”

            “I’m so sorry, Abby. God bless their bravery.”

            “Thank you, dear,” Abby replied, and then pulled a picture out of a protective cover to show her young friend. “Look here, this is the last photo taken of my three brothers before Jason died. It was only two months before Pearl Harbor.”

            Jason was in the middle, wearing a sailor uniform. Jim was on his left wearing a college sweater and a big smile. John was on Jim’s right. His eyes were intense, but a cocky smile played at his lips. He was wearing an army uniform. All three brother were handsome, but she thought John was the most attractive, like a movie star from that era.

            “John was in the military?” Mary Jean asked.

            “Yes, the Army Air Corps, which became the Air Force. He was a fighter pilot.”

            “Wow! Really?”

            “He sure was. But you’ll never get him to talk about it.”

            “Why not?”

            “A lot of men who saw combat are like that. But I think another element for John is guilt.”

            “Guilt, why guilt?”

            “That he survived the war, and his two brothers didn’t. That he survived the war, and many of his comrades didn’t. He flew over one hundred missions.”

            “Wow! So he’s like a war hero then.”

            “He’s highly decorated to be sure. His time in the military also paved the way for him to become rich.”

            “How’s that?”

            “Do to their experience with airplanes, he and two army buddies started an aviation technology company right after the war. They sold it for millions fifteen or so years later. Then John became a land developer, first in California, and then back here in Iowa.”

            “Do you think it would be alright to ask him about your brothers, and about his service to our country on our horseback ride?”

            “He’ll gladly talk about Jason and Jim. But you’ll get nothing about his own military service. I’ve tried different ways over different years to ask him what it was like being a fighter pilot. His only reply was always the same. ‘I’m only here but by the grace of God.’”

            Mary Jean had wondered as she approached John McQueen’s home if she could get him to open up about his war experiences. If she could, it would go a long way in answering her prayers about whether or not marrying him was approved by God. Was it wrong to want a sure sign before she said ‘I do’ in front of God and witnesses?  

SELFLESS OR SELL OUT?

CHAPTER 6

Wednesday April 16, 1980

A GOOD NAME IS TO BE CHOSEN RATHER THAN GREAT RICHES (Proverbs 22:1)

            Mary Jean did not feel like being in Abby’s company this evening. Quite frankly, she was disturbed that the sixty-five-year-old woman wanted seventeen-year-old Mary Jean to call her sixty-one-year-old brother. Especially after Mary Jean confirmed that John McQueen not only had romantic interest in the teenager, but marital interest practically the minute after she turned eighteen.

            True, John reneged on the offer of marriage two days after he literally proposed the arrangement. And true, Abby’s intention was spiritual rather than carnal. She wanted the young lady to befriend her brother in hopes of a spiritual transformation, rather than wed him for his hopes of procreation and the extension of the McQueen name.

            But she knew Abby would ask if she called her brother, and she just wasn’t in the mood to discuss her waffling emotions. Besides Mary Jean figured that John McQueen had little to no interest in friendship with a teenage girl. Although he seemed a decent enough man, who wanted to do things proper, his interest in Mary Jean seemed to be in her ability to provide him heirs.

            So she called Millie and asked if she would switch days with her, of which her older counterpart gladly accepted. So a couple hours after school, Mary Jean found herself entering her best friend’s bedroom instead of her employer’s house.

            She and Sylvia were about the same size. Both were around five foot nine, and one hundred and thirty-five pounds. But that was where the similarities ended. Whereas Sylvia had black hair and dark eyes, Mary Jean was strawberry blonde hair with light colored eyes. Sylvia had angular facial features with a lean, athletic build. Mary Jean was cute, soft, and feminine, but deceptively strong. Sylvia was bold and brash, while Mary Jean was shy and timid. But the two girls had been best friends since grade school.

            “So you’re playing hooky from the rich lady’s maid?” Sylvia asked, as she and Mary Jean plopped onto her bed.

            “I guess,” Mary Jean shrugged, not liking the description of Abby, but saying nothing.

            “So what’s got you in a funk?”

            Mary Jean knew she was out of sorts and probably couldn’t hide it, and actually wanted to talk about it. But ironically, now that the opportunity came, she was reluctant to share her dilemma with a third person. The first two being her mother and Abby. So as she reined in her chaotic mind, she just shrugged.

            “Come on, talk to me,” Sylvia pleaded, nudging Mary Jeans foot with her own.

            “What’s been going on the last few days is pretty weird,” Mary Jean offered.

            “I like weird,” Sylvia laughed. “When have I not kept a secret?”

            True, Sylvia kept secrets. However, she sometimes had a way around them, which was a concern. But Mary Jean wanted to get her tale of both intrigue and woe off her chest with someone her own age. So she spilled the beans. Sylvia’s mouth gaped open so far, she spilled saliva down her chin.

            After wiping her lower face with the palm of her hand, Sylvia asked, “What are you gonna do?”

            “What do you mean what am I gonna do? Did you miss the last part where Mr. McQueen put the kibosh on his proposal?”

            “I heard the last part as Abby giving you his private number.”

            “I’m not gonna call him!”

            “Why not?”

            The two young ladies stared at each other for a long moment. Mary Jean thought Sylvia would be creeped out by the thought of yoking with a man three times her age. But she seemed to be giving a different vibe. Hesitantly, Mary Jean asked, “Why should I?”

            “Oh, I don’t know?” Sylvia responded sarcastically, as she rolled her eyes. “Maybe because you could become an instant multi-millionaire by simply saying, I do.”

            “You really think it’s that simple? Marriage is a serious thing! It’s about love, and I can’t just force myself to love someone because they’re rich and want me to have babies with them.”

            “Do you realize what you just told me?”

            “Huh?” Mary Jean responded with an anguished frown.

            “You said after what he just did for your family, even though he cancelled his proposal, your feelings for him shifted.”

            “Yes, but more like fondness, not, you know, falling in love… I don’t think.”

            “See!”

            “See what?”

            “You’re heading in that direction.”

            “So, are you telling me that if you were in my place, you’d marry him?”

            “You’re darn tootin’ I would! He’s not your average old guy with a beer belly and bald head. As a matter fact, I’m a little offended he chose you over me. After all, we go to the same church, and I’ve known him ever since I can remember.”

            “What about your boyfriend?”

            “Do you see a ring?” Sylvia replied, showing Mary Jean her left hand. Then Sylvia shrugged. “I guess it’s probably that I feel like a relative to him. You know, like a niece or something. My family has been to his place numerous times. As a matter of fact, you went horseback riding with us at least once.”

            Mary Jean nodded, her emotions churning more than ever.

            “Girl, you need to go for it before it’s too late. Call him!”

            “It’s already too late. John McQueen doesn’t waste time. I’m sure he moved on to someone else already.”

            “Maybe that’s true, but I bet he hasn’t married them yet. Therefore it is not too late.”

            “Look, Sylvia, he decided against me for a reason. Besides, even though his ending things gives me pause, the reality of committing my life, do you hear me? My life to a man I hardly know in less than two months is quite a leap of faith.”

            “And you are the most faithful person I know. As a matter of fact, I bet you have been praying earnestly over this matter.”

            “Of course I have!”

            “Yeah, and look, you are not only still anguishing over the matter, you clearly haven’t felt a clear no. As a matter of fact, it seems you are more willing than ever to tie the knot with John McQueen.”

            “Listen, Sylvia, I’m gonna talk slowly. He ended things, he likely has moved on to someone else.”

            “Then why aren’t you moving on?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “That’s why you need to call him and at least tell him you want another chance.”

            “But you don’t seem to get that I don’t know that I do. I mean this all happened so fast. A man suddenly pursues me to the point of offering marriage. Two days later he basically says, ‘nope, you’re not the one.’ It’s probably more of the why of the rejection, than the lost opportunity itself.”

            “Is it? Mary J, how long have we known each other?”

            “Pretty much our whole lives.”

            “So we know each other pretty well, right?”

            “I guess,” Mary Jean replied with a shrug.

            “You guess? How about you know we know each other really well. Now, we can’t always see ourselves, and best friends can give us an extra set of eyes outside of ourselves.”

            “What’s your point, Dr. Sylvia?”

            “I know you really don’t want to go to college. There was actually a side of you that seemed quite pleased that you were forced to get a full-time job after high school. Now that John McQueen has paved the way for you to pursue higher education, you don’t want to go down that road.”

            “You do make a fair point, but that’s no reason to marry him.”

            “No, it’s not the reason, but it’s a reason. Here’s another reason. You will instantly become a multi-millionaire.”

            “That’s an unfair point. One should never marry for money.”

            “True but being secure is certainly a factor. Look what your own dad did to your mother.”

            Mary Jean pursed her lips and nodded.

            “Here’s the big one. You have always wanted to be a mother. Remember when you and the moronic nerd broke up? Your biggest lament to me was the fear that you would never find a decent guy to father your children. I know firsthand that John McQueen is an upstanding and decent man.”

            “Yeah, and also, once again, three times my age!”

            “Nothing is ever perfect. You can’t look at one negative when there are so many positives.”

            “Well, it’s a pretty big negative. I’d say it counteracts five to ten positives.”

            “Seriously? It’s a variable. John is what? Sixty.”

            “Sixty-one. And at least sixty-two when our first child would be born.”

            “See, you’re coming around,” Sylvia grinned.

            “Huh?” Mary Jean frowned.

            “You said ‘when,’ not ‘if’ your child is born. This is meant to be, girl.”

            “I said ‘would be,’ not ‘will be.’ Besides, what if the reason he couldn’t have kids was his fault, and not his wife’s? The I’m stuck till death does us part with an old man.

            “Well, find that out. If he wants to resume things with you, you’re not getting hitched instantly.”

            “It feels like it.”

            “And back to him being old, being variable. He’s got a full head of hair, he’s trim and in great shape, he’s handsome, so he’s really more like, say, thirty-five. And you have always been the most mature girl in our class. So you’re more like, say, thirty. So you two are really more like five years apart.”

            Mary Jean frowned. Didn’t Abby say something similar?

            “Yeah, I bet that’s what everyone’s gonna say if they hear I married a man in his sixties two minutes after I graduate high school?”

            “So that’s it, you’re afraid of what people will think?”

            “Well, yeah, especially my mom.”

            “Since when have you worried about what people think?”

            “Since I’ve never heard of anyone as young as me marry a man over sixty who wasn’t wealthy.”

            “Tell me this. Would you be marrying him just for his money? Is that why you’re feeling regret.”

            “No! He already put my family and me in a position to not worry about money. What I didn’t realize when he put a stop to the potential arrangement was how much I liked the idea of being a mother.”

            “Let me throw a hypothetical at you.”

            “Sylvia, I hate hypotheticals. I’m all about reality. That’s why I follow the Bible rather than the theories and traditions of men like so many churches do.”

            “Mary J, don’t go down a theological path on me.”

            “I’m not, but that is another factor, our differing religious beliefs.”

            “Why? You’re a Christian and he’s a Christian. You and I’ve been best friends forever and I go to his church, not yours, right?”

            Mary Jean recalled what Abby said. How resuming a courtship, or at least a friendship, would be an opportunity to open up the light of Bible truth to John McQueen. Mary Jean had that same impression as she prayed earnestly over this whole situation. So her reply to Sylvia was simply, “Right.”

            “Okay, so indulge me with a hypothetical.”

            “Go ahead,” Mary Jean said with a sigh.

            “So, pretend it’s the same situation, only McQueen has a fraction of the money. He’s not millionaire, but quite comfortable. An acreage with horses, a modest ranch house with no mortgage, and a hundred thousand in the bank. Would you be willing to marrying him and have a couple babies?”

            Mary Jean shook her head. “This is why hypotheticals are ridiculous. The truth is, I never would have gotten to know John McQueen if it wasn’t for his money. I initially considered his offer primarily to give my mother a good life. Free her from debt and make it so she didn’t have to work two jobs. That’s the reason I ended up getting to know him, and finding out he wasn’t a dumpy old rich curmudgeon, but rather a distinguished, handsome gentleman with values.”

            “Girl, you just have to shift your imagination a little bit. Pretend he was a member of your church, and you’ve known him for years. But like I said, comfortable, not mega rich. Would you consider his proposal?”

            “Money is still a factor with your hypothetical, just not as much.”

            “You just said you are all about reality. Are you gonna tell me the security a man brings isn’t a factor in choosing a life mate? Even if its simply a younger man with drive?”

            “Fair point.”

            “So answer my hypothetical. Would you marry an older man under the circumstances I just laid out?”

            “I would,” Mary Jean said with a lift of her chin.

            “Then just call McQueen, and say you’d like to continue your, shall we say, friendship. Not instantly marry him, just get to know him better. Do you have his number with you?”

            Mary Jean dug in her skirt pocket and revealed the number. Sylvia snatched it, took her best friend by the hand, and led her to the kitchen phone. As Sylvia began to dial, Mary Jean pushed the receiver hook and said, “No.”

            Sylvia removed her hand and said, “Yes, you’ll thank me later.”

            It happened so fast that Mary Jean didn’t have time to be nervous. But when she heard John McQueen’s soft, deep voice say hello, her pulse quickened as she said. “John?”

            “Jennifer, hi. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly. What do you think of my proposition?”

            Jennifer? Proposition? Mary Jean’s first instinct was to hang up. But instead she froze and listened to awkward silence for several seconds until Mr. McQueen spoke again, “Jennifer?”

SELFLESS OR SELL OUT?

CHAPTER 5

Monday, April 14, 1980

WE LOVE HIM BECAUSE HE FIRST LOVED US (1 John 4:19)

            “Guess who I had lunch with?” Ellen Patrick asked with a coy smile.        

            “Did you have the afternoon off?” questioned her daughter Mary Jean, instead of answering her mother’s question. She had already deduced with whom her mother had lunch. But her mother wasn’t supposed to get off work at the courthouse until 5pm, yet she greeted Mary Jean at the door of their home at 3:45pm.

            “Yes,” she cooed. “An urgent matter came up, and they let me have the afternoon off.”

            “An urgent matter?”

            “Yes, a blissfully urgent matter! So, your former suitor called me this morning, and reiterated what you told me last night. That John McQueen put a stop to his marriage proposal, but shall we say, wanted to compensate the breach of promise.”

            “So you had lunch with John McQueen?” Mary Jean asked with a frown and feeling a twinge of jealousy. But why? Shouldn’t she be as giddy, if not more so, as her mother?

            “I did,” her mother replied, beaming.

            Her mother’s happiness did make her feel good. It had been a long time since she saw her mother genuinely happy.

            “He introduced me to one of his money managers or accountants or someone like that. Anyway after a tasty lunch of tacos and quesadillas, I spent the next few hours with this gentleman. Long story short, you are standing in a fully paid for trailer! He also signed that Ford LTD over to me. He set up a college trust for you, Erica, and Jimmy. And best of all…”

            Ellen leaned in as if to whisper a lurid secret. “He is buying us that cute little one and a half story house with the white picket fence over on Bayberry Street. Completely paid for and in my name!”

            Mary Jean was stunned, even though Mr. McQueen told her he was take care of her family yesterday. She thought he would be paying off just the debt, not giving away an almost new car and buying a house. But what surprised her the most was her mother’s willingness to accept. “So you’re okay with all this?”

            “You bet I am!”

            “But you had told me you didn’t want a dime from him. Or from me if I married him.”

            “That’s because I didn’t want his help through you prostituting yourself. But by him doing this out of the goodness of his heart, that’s a completely different story. Besides, I told him he shouldn’t three times. But he insisted and assured me he wouldn’t even miss it. Boy, I tell you, I knew John McQueen was rich, but that guy is mega rich if he isn’t even gonna miss all he did for us!”

            That night Mary Jean laid in bed and marveled at the contradictions in life. Until she got to know John McQueen, the biggest contradiction in her life had been her own father. She didn’t understand the love she felt for dad, and the heartache she felt by his untimely death. On the other hand she despised him for what he did to her mother. Not only the huge debt he left her, but the drinking binges and verbal abuse.

            When John had ended his very brief courtship of Mary Jean, she had been stunned at first. Then she was relieved, as if a terrible weight was lifted off of her shoulders. Then, ironically, she developed something like seller’s remorse. That would have been her home! Mandy would be not only her horse, but just one of her horses. Most of her suppers would have been prepared by Rosarita.

            Then the biggest contradiction was she hadn’t realized how much she had desired the possibility of having a baby. The longing to be a mother had been lurking in her psyche ever since she was a girl carefully attending to her dolls. Then she continued her dreams watching her favorite TV show, The Waltons.

            The contradiction came with how a baby would be made. By going to bed with a man forty-three years older than her. At seventeen, three years older seemed like a lot. When she and Sylvia were fifteen, she remembers watching Sylvia’s seventeen-year-old sister get into the Chevy convertible of a twenty-year-old fully mustached man and giving him a passionate kiss.

            Sylvia had been envious, but Mary Jean had been concerned. Then she was horrified when Sylvia whispered in her ear. “That’s who Monica lost her virginity with last weekend.”

            It wasn’t just that John was four decades older than her. Actually, after seeing John with his shirt off, she decided that he was more desirable than her ex-boyfriend. Although Timmy Wiggins was cute, he was scrawny. He was so scrawny, his chest seemed a little sunken in, and you could almost see bone where his bicep should be. Not to mention his mustache that was half peach fuzz. He was smart though, just not wise or, in the end, tactful.

            For the ten plus months they dated, Mary Jean and Timmy had held hands and exchanged chaste kisses. Then the last month or so, he became more aggressive. Not content with just holding hands, he began to grope. Not content with chaste goodnight kisses, he tried to deepen them. The biggest problem was his less than fresh breath. How could such a book smart young man be unaware of mints or gum? But the kicker and the end came when he went beyond hinting, or even asking her for a sexual favor, but insisted ‘or else.’ Mary Jean chose ‘or else.’

            Now John McQueen was not only smart, but experienced and capable, as well as wise. He was so wise, Mary Jean actually wondered if what happened yesterday was a ploy. Did he know ending things would actually cause her to desire him? Was John breaking up with her shrewd? Was it even a breakup? It was just one interview. But granted, an interview where marriage was proposed. Then one sort of date, with a feeble attempt to be non-alcohol wined and dined.

            Although brief, her two encounters with John McQueen were intense, they left her feeling rushed, excited, frightened, hopeful, secure, and insecure. All these emotions swirling around in a jumbled mess in her mind.

            Then it was suddenly over. At first, she was relieved. Then she thought, what an intriguing man. Then after witnessing her mother’s joy, she thought, what a wonderful man. How selfless of him, especially in light of their last encounter. For she had noticed the hunger in his eyes as she moved around in those tight jeans. Her own self-consciousness in the sexy attire made her hyperaware.

            When she borrowed the jeans from Sylvia and sucked in her already slender stomach to button them, she feared her attire would tantalize her suitor. The gaudy red cowboy boots only enhanced the sexiness of the jeans. Sure enough, more than once she had caught John’s eyes inspecting her figure. Yet, in the end, instead of increasing his romantic pursuit, Mr. McQueen had dumped her. Yet he still financially took care of her family. This spoke volumes about his character.

Tuesday, April 15, 1980

            Mary Jean rotated her part time job with John McQueen’s sister Abby with another lady from their church, Millie Johnson. Mary Jean typically worked every other Sunday morning, and after school, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday from 4:30 until 8:30. More than the chores she accomplished, Abby enjoyed their conversations. But on this particular Tuesday, John McQueen’s sister had never seen her young helper so quiet and subdued.

            Just before sunset, Mary Jean went to the side window in the living room and looked up at John’s house, nestled behind more than a dozen large oak trees. Abby said, “You’ve been awfully quiet today, Honey.”

            Mary Jean turned away from the window, sighed, smiled, and shrugged. “I’m just tired, I guess. I had trouble sleeping last night.”

            “For being tired, you sure went about your chores with vigor. You’re all done, and you still have an hour left.”

            “I think I’ll mop the floor.”

            “You sit!” Abby ordered with a grin. “You’ve more than earned your keep.”

            Mary Jean sat on the couch, across from Abby in her Lazy Boy recliner, and chuckled. “Yes, Ma’am.”

            “Penny for your thoughts, Dear. What’s been on your mind?”

            Mary Jean’s mind froze. What could she say? ‘Oh I just can’t seem to stop thinking about your brother. Yes, I know I am seventeen and he’s sixty-one. Well you see, he proposed marriage. He feels he’s still young enough to start a family. How many kids does he want? Oh, I don’t know, I am pretty young, maybe ten. Yeah, I know he’s old enough to be my grandfather, maybe just five. Actually I was leaning toward telling him no thanks, but now that he rejected me, I feel a sense of loss that I don’t understand.’

            “I don’t know,” Mary Jean shrugged. “I guess with graduation so close, I’m trying to figure out what to do with my life.”

            It occurred to Mary Jean that she should tell Abby what her brother did for her family, but she didn’t know how to broach the subject.

             “How was your horseback ride Sunday at my brother’s place?”

            “Good,” she said with a shrug.

            “Who all went?”

            Mary Jean cleared her throat. “Just him and me.”

            Abby looked at her young friend under arched eyebrows, and a knowing smile. “Honey, is my brother trying to woo you?”

            Mary Jean felt her pulse quicken as her eyes widened. “Um, well, no.”

            “Come on, young lady,” Abby persisted with a disturbingly neutral tone. “I might have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night. All of the clues lead me to believe he is. Since you started working for me, he has shown up here most of the time you are here, but almost never when your counterpart Millie is on duty. Then he very subtly asks questions about you. Then you go horseback riding together, just the two of you. Then you don’t sleep well, and now you were just gazing up at his house with a troubled countenance. I also happened to know John has always wanted children. That would require a female, realistically, under the age of thirty-five. So once again, is my brother trying to woo you?”

            “Well… Not anymore… Don’t be mad at him, He was very gentlemanly, very tactful, and decent.”

            “But he did proposition you to make babies with him?”

            “Well, yes, but after marriage.”

            “I take it you declined?”

            “Well, no, not exactly. During our horseback ride, he called it off.”

            “Were you going to accept?”

            “That’s the weird thing. Before he ended it, I was leaning toward no. Yet now I feel regretful for some reason. Not that I’m now leaning toward yes, mind you, but…”

            Abby gazed at her calmly, yet she wore a concerned look on her countenance.

            “This is so weird, Abby,” Mary Jean declared with frustration. “You probably think I’m a money grubber, but I’m not. At least I don’t think I am.”

            Mary Jean explained all that transpired. The interview with John and his proposal. The sort of date that ended the possible “arrangement.” Then the previous day, with John not only paying off her family’s debt, but buying them a house, and setting up college trusts for her and her siblings.

            “After what you told me, Honey, why would I think you’re a money grubber?” Abby asked.

            “Well, like after all he just did for my family, I still want more by becoming his wife. But that’s not what I’m feeling at all. I mean yes, he has a beautiful home, and lots of nice things, and servants. But the truth is, I guess in the back of my mind, I really want to be a mother more than anything. To be a mother was my first adult desire as a girl. I even wanted to be like Olivia Walton. Just not during the depression.”

            “Even more than you wanted to be a writer and a nurse?” Abby wanted to know.

            “Yes,” Mary Jean replied emphatically. Then she sighed. “You never said, are you mad at your brother for, you know, the offer he made me?”

            Abby sighed herself. “No, I’m not. But the reason I’m not is complicated, and strange.”

            Mary Jean frowned. “Why strange, because of the age difference?”

            “Well, that is a factor, but more because I’ve had several dreams about you, as well as my brother. But dreams are vague, so I probably shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

            “Well, now you did bring it up, so tell me.”

            Abby pursued her lips and eyed her young friend. Mary Jean took hold of Abby’s hand, gave her puppy dog eyes, and said, “Please.”

            “Like I said, dreams are often vague, and because of my past, I don’t trust them.”

            “What about your past?”

            “You know, I didn’t convert to Biblical Christianity until I was fifty-five.”

            “Yes, I knew that.”

            “I grew up in the church John has been a lifelong member of, and he is now an Elder and a pillar. But I fell away, mostly because of their fire and brimstone mentality. I couldn’t reconcile a loving God burning people in hell for eternity. Long story short, I ended up a new age occultist. Then in 1969, a friend taught me the truth about what the Bible actually teaches regarding the hellfire subject, as well as other Biblical truths. I went from being addicted to drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes, to a Bible addiction.”

            Mary Jean laughed. “That’s a pretty positive addiction.”

            “It changed my life. I’m certain the stroke I had was a result of years of self-indulgence, even though I changed my lifestyle. I got healthier, but it couldn’t completely erase all the harmful chemicals that I had ingested over more than three decades. Although I had a stroke late last summer, I know that I would be dead if I hadn’t changed my ways.”

            “Praise God!” Mary Jean smiled, as she gave Abby’s hand another affectionate squeeze. “Now tell me about your dreams.”

            “Given what I said so far, you know to take this with a grain of salt?”

            “Okay.”

            “Like I said, they are pretty vague, so all I’ll say is this. I’ve dreamt about you with little kids, and my brother was always, shall we say, there in the background. But in the last couple, he not only was in the forefront with you, he had seen the light of Biblical truth and followed it, and it was because of you, Dear.”

            “Me?”

            “Yes, you will help him see the light.”

            “I thought you said to take your dreams with a grain of salt.”

            “Let me clarify. You, my brother, and babies, take with a grain of salt. Teaching my brother Bible truth, pursue. I want you to at least continue your friendship with him.”

            “But I told you, his interest in me ended before it really even started.”

            Abby grabbed a notepad and scribbled a number on it. She handed it to Mary Jean. “John has an unlisted number that only a few people have. Now you have it, too. Call him.”

            “Abby, no,” Mary Jean responded, as she handed the note back.

            “Just do it,” Abby replied, as she pushed Mary Jean’s hand away.

            This is weird, Mary Jean thought. This reminded her of hanging out with her friends, and similar stuff going on over their male classmates, which she never liked. She wasn’t boy crazy like Sylvia, and her other two friends Janet and Jenny. But this was even worse! She had an old lady wanting her to call an old man. An older man who had been pining for her enough to suggest marriage.

            As much as she loved Abby and hated to disappoint her, she was not going to call Mr. McQueen. As a matter of fact, this pressure to do just that caused her to become content with the way things ended up. No matter how much she would love to be a mother, it would come in its own time. If not, it wasn’t meant to be.

            Ironically, the price just seemed too high for a life of luxury with John McQueen.

SELFLESS OR SELL OUT?

CHAPTER 4

PURIFY YOUR HEARTS, YOU DOUBLE MINDED (JAMES 4:8)

            As Ellen began to drive down the long driveway, she noticed a female form walking. The young woman was wearing tight jeans and red cowboy boots. She would know those boots anywhere. It must be Sylvia, her daughter’s best friend.

            She felt relief that Sylvia would be joining her Mary Jean on the horseback riding excursion with John McQueen. But when she got close, the girl with a ponytail running through the back of a baseball cap wasn’t Sylvia. It was Mary Jean.

            “Hi Honey, what are you doing wearing Sylvia’s boots? And are those her pants?”

            “What were you doing at John McQueen’s house, and apparently driving his car?”

            “The Falcon wouldn’t start, and, um, Mr. McQueen very kindly insisted that I borrow his car.”

            “Where did you break down at?”

            “His driveway.”

            “And why were you in his driveway?”

            “I wanted to have a word with him.”

            “About what?”

            “About his intentions with my teenage daughter.”

            “Mom! How embarrassing!”

            “Now… You tell me why you are not only wearing Sylvia’s boots, but her extra tight jeans.”

            “Because I don’t have any jeans that fit, and we can’t afford any when we can barely keep the lights on. I don’t want to have to ride side saddle in a skirt.”

            They had a brief stare down before Mary Jean said mildly, “So explain to me, Mom, how is it you came to tell Mr. McQueen to stay away from your daughter, yet you come driving away in his car?”

            Ellen felt a twinge of relief that Mary Jean called him Mr. McQueen rather than John. “Oh, well, it’s one of those things… Be careful, honey. He’s very persuasive.”

            Mary Jean couldn’t help laughing. Her mom couldn’t help smiling, but she still felt concerned. “Honey, how seriously are you considering Mr. McQueen’s offer?”

            “I don’t know, Mom,” Mary Jean whined. A teenage whine from her mature beyond her years daughter was extremely rare, and Ellen’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Right now, I guess twenty-eighty.”

            “Twenty being?”

            “Twenty to accept his offer, eighty to decline. But look at this place, it would be my home. The odds of accepting may go up after today.”

            “You don’t marry money, honey. You marry for love!”

            “Who’s to say I won’t love him? I already like him better than I did. I thought he was a stern, rich old stogy. But after our interview, I discovered he’s actually really kind and pleasant.”

            “Interesting you call him ‘old,’ and your conversation about marriage an ‘interview.’”

            “Mom…”

            “Maybe he’ll take you to prom.”

            “You know I had no intention of going to prom, anyway.”

            Another brief stare down ensued with Mary Jean saying, “I better get going.”

            “Be careful, sweetie. And I don’t just mean while you’re riding a horse.”

            Mary Jean began to walk, and Ellen began to drive. After a few steps, Mary Jean turned and watched her mother drive away in John McQueen’s car. A smile played at her lips. Forty-five minutes ago she saw her mother drive past Abby’s house. Ten minutes later, John drove past in his pickup truck on his way home from church.

            So in only half an hour John had persuaded her mother to borrow his car. She was sure that if she married John, her mother would end up accepting his willingness to take care of her. As she watched the green LTD disappear, she said to herself, “Thirty-seventy.”

            Mary Jean heard a fancy chime as her finger retreated from the doorbell button. The main door was open, and she could smell something delicious through the screen door. She heard John’s voice from a distance say, “Just a minute, Mary Jean.”

            A moment later John walked briskly up to the door and opened it with a pleasant smile, inviting her in. Her own forced smile left with her surprise that he was shirtless and wearing only faded blue jeans with old cowboy boots.

            “Sorry Miss Patrick, your mother stopped by unexpectedly. My housekeeper has Sundays off, so I’m running a bit behind.”

            Mary Jean had diverted her eyes from the man naked from the waist up. “That’s okay. Sorry about my mom.”

            “No, no. I like that she’s protective.”

            John had started to put a blue flannel shirt on, but before he could, the phone rang. Mary Jean, realizing she was actually contemplating marriage with him, decided it was a prime opportunity to look him over. After all, once vows were exchanged before God and witnesses, she would have to begin the process of making a baby with this much older man.

            He surprisingly had well-toned muscles, and a soft looking blanket of salt and pepper hair covered his pectorals. He actually had six pack abs! She didn’t think that possible for someone over fifty, let alone sixty. But John wasn’t just religious about church. He religiously did a daily routine of at least fifty pushups and fifty sit-ups.

            She had recently seen Sylvia’s boyfriend in a mesh, see through t-shirt. The eighteen-year-old, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound football player’s waist was at least six inches bigger than this sixty-one-year old. And it was a keg of blubber, compared to a six pack of firm muscle.

            Since their initial interview, Mary Jean had been constantly pondering the pros and cons list on marrying John McQueen. The biggest marks against him had been their age difference and her mother’s disapproval. But after watching her mother drive away in his car, and now seeing him with his shirt off, these were huge shifts in his favor.

            Why did she think his favor? Why not their favor? The two shall become one, right? Was it still the age difference? The quick courtship? Her mother? What her friends would think of her marrying a sixty-one-year-old man when the ink wasn’t even dry on their high school diplomas? She also could have a baby a year from right now!

            John hung up the phone, and as he buttoned his shirt, he asked with an eager grin, “Are you hungry?”

            “I am, it smells good.”

            “Follow me,” John suggested, and Mary Jean was led into a dining room. There was a simple, small table, that seated four people. But the chandelier above it looked expensive. Also, the burgundy tablecloth, two candles John lit, and two wine glasses appeared to be hosting romance, not a quick lunch before a friendly horseback ride.

            “Do you like Mexican food?”

            Mary Jean almost blurted, ‘I love it.’ But with the romantic atmosphere giving her pause, she said pleasantly enough, “Sure.”

            John served up two plates of enchiladas with salad, and then asked, “Grape juice or apple juice?”

            Feeling somehow that the latter was less romantic, she replied, “Apple.”

            The food was mouth wateringly delicious. John asked, “Do you like it?”

            “Yes, it’s fantastic! Did you make it?”

            “No, my housekeeper, Rosarita, made it yesterday. She just told me how long to warm it up.”

            “She’s talented.”

            “Don’t I know it,” he grinned. “She’s been making me supper for almost ten years.”

            “Did your wife not cook?” Mary Jean asked hesitantly.

            “No, she hated cooking. Do you like to cook?”

            “I wouldn’t say I like cooking, but I don’t mind it. I’ve had to cook for my family quite a bit, what with my mom working two jobs and all.”

            “Just so you know, if you take me up on my offer, you’ll never have to cook if you don’t want to.”

            Mary Jean forced a smile and nod, and looked away, feeling uncomfortable.

            “Rosarita’s mother is Mexican, so she makes a lot of Mexican dishes,” John informed her, knowing that this ethnic cuisine was her favorite. John began to feel uneasy when she simply nodded. Then he tried, “But she does make other things.”

            “I see,” she replied mildly.

            Then they ate in awkward silence for most of their lunch. John kicked himself for trying to dazzle her with food and atmosphere. But it had been four decades since he had pursued a woman romantically. But what eighteen-year-old woman wants to be romanced by a sixty-one-year-old man? Albeit a wealthy one that’s in better shape than most.

            And what was he doing answering the door with his shirt off? Trying to show her how good of shape he was in for his age, yes, but it had creeped her out instead! He could tell by the way she looked away, embarrassed. He should have never pursued a teenager for a wife. He would get through this afternoon, and then tell her it wasn’t going to work out.

            As the two of them walked down to the corral after lunch, both were wishing the horseback ride was over already. John was already making plans to call the thirty-two-year-old woman from his church tomorrow, and Mary Jean had dropped her odds of marriage from thirty yes, and seventy no, back down to twenty-eighty. It might have gone as low as ten-ninety, but she could easily get used to Rosarita’s cooking.

            However, the animals shifted the mood. A pinto gelding came trotting up whinnying to John. He laughed and greeted his favorite horse. Seconds later, a palomino mare came wanting attention from John as well. Mary Jean admired John’s way with the horses.

            “This is Mandy,” John told Mary Jean, introducing her to the palomino. “She’s a gentle old girl. I’ll let you ride her, and I’ll take this pinto here. His name is Junior.”

            John saddled the two horses. Then he led them out to a trail that went through a timber. It was a gorgeous day, and they kept following the trail until it ended at a bluff overlooking a river, and beyond that, miles of farmland.

            “It’s so peaceful out here,” Mary Jean said with awe. “You can really feel God’s creative majesty.”

            “Yeah,” John agreed. “I come out here a lot.”

            John got down, and Mary Jean did likewise. John got a couple of apples out of a saddle bag and handed one to Mary Jean. She watched John give his to Junior, and she followed suit, giving hers to Mandy. Mary Jean’s laugh at Mandy eagerly snatching the apple and crunching away made him laugh.

            They stood admiring the view for a couple minutes when John said, “Listen Mary Jean, I’m sorry about the lunch situation. I could tell it made you uncomfortable.”

            She shrugged. “I was just expecting soup and sandwiches. I guess the candlelight and fancy wine glasses threw me a little bit is all. I really do thank you. Rosarita is a really good cook.”

            He nodded. “I know my offer of marriage is strange, especially because of our age difference. Believe it or not, it’s strange for me too. That’s why, I think, it would be best if…”

            He paused and stared off into the distance.

            “Best if what?” Mary Jean asked with a puzzled frown.

            “How about we call it off?”

            “Call what off?” Mary Jean asked, her heart beginning to beat faster. “You mean the possibility of marrying each other?”

            “Yes.”

            “Why? I thought you wanted children.”

            “I do, but there are other options for me. Options that are at least a little bit closer to my age. But here’s what I’m gonna do. Even though we are not going through with it, I’m going to pay off your mother’s debt, give her that car she borrowed, and then some. I’m also going to pay for your college so you can be a nurse, or even a doctor. As well as college for your siblings. How’s that sound?”

            Mary Jean looked confused as she processed this out of the blue declaration. “So, you’re ending things with me? But you’re still gonna take care of my family?”

            “That’s right. How’s that sound? Now your soul isn’t conflicted about marrying a man for his money just to take care of your family. Granted, you won’t be in my will, but you will be taken care of. I want your mom to be able to work one job, and I want your mom to own her own house, free of a mortgage.”

            Mary Jean just stared at him with a baffled expression.

            “Mary Jean, am I not making myself clear?” John asked with his own baffled expression.

            “You were perfectly clear,” she replied with a small voice. “That’s very generous, thank you.”

            “You’re welcome.”

            “But… Mr. McQueen, I’ve done nothing to earn what you’re doing for me, and for my family.”

            “We’ve done nothing to earn salvation, it’s a free gift from God!” He told her with a smile.

            She smiled back and wiped a tear from her eye. “Amen!”

            “Trust me, it’s no sacrifice for me, so don’t you go feeling guilty. Deal?”

            He extended his hand to shake. With a nervous laugh, she took hold of his hand and confirmed, “Deal.”

SELFLESS OR SELL OUT?

CHAPTER 3

APRIL 13, 1980

            John McQueen returned home from church at a quarter after eleven. He was surprised to see the old Ford Falcon that Mary Jean had driven to their interview sitting in front of one of his six garage stalls. But it was an older version of Mary Jean that exited the vehicle and glared at him.

            “Mrs. Patrick, I presume?” John asked with a smile as he approached her with his hand extended.

            Ellen Patrick ignored his hand and folded her arms defiantly across her chest. “Robber of cradles, I presume?”

            “I suppose given our age difference, that is a fair accusation,” John replied casually. “Would you like to come inside and talk?”

            “Right here is fine. I just came by to speak my peace. If you are a man God, a man of principles, you won’t pursue a young lady without the mother’s blessing. So I just wanted to stop by in person and say for the record that I do not approve of you wooing my daughter.”

            Three things flashed through John’s mind in quick succession. First was that he shouldn’t have let his old friend Max Morrison persuade him to continue his pursuit of Mary Jean. Second was that Mary Jean disobeyed his plea to keep his offer between the two of them. Third was that if she had told her mother, she would be seriously contemplating accepting his proposal.

            “Mrs. Patrick, please, come inside and let’s talk.”

            “Nope! I spoke my peace that no blessing from me will be forth coming. Now I’ll be on my way, thank you.”

            Ellen quickly climbed into her car, slammed the door, and turned the ignition. Only the car didn’t start. She continued turning the engine over until the battery became noticeably weak. She still didn’t stop cranking and pumping the accelerator. Finally the battery gave out and Ellen slammed her palm on the dash.

            “Mrs. Patrick, please take one of my vehicles,” John offered as he opened a garage door to reveal a shiny green Ford LTD.

            “You’re not gonna buy me, like you’re trying to buy my daughter. I know the only reason she is considering it is because of me and her brother and sister.”

            “I’m not trying to buy your daughter; I want to share everything with her.”

            “Oh yeah? If you’re not trying to buy her, do you think she’d be going horseback riding with you this afternoon if you were, say, an electrician?”

            “The reality is that I’m not. I’ve been very blessed in my business career and have acquired great wealth. Mary Jean will live like a queen if she agrees to marry me. The only reasonable reason you have to object is our age difference.”

            “I’d say that’s a pretty big reason.”

            “Once again, I’ve been blessed, and by that, I mean with good genes. My mother was ninety-one and my father was ninety-two when they passed away two years ago.

            Ellen had to admit, John McQueen was anything but a dumpy old bald man. He was tall, trim with a full head of salt and pepper hair, and he was movie star handsome. He also looked quite distinguished in his tailored suit.

            “Like I said Mr. McQueen, I’ve spoken my peace. Now I need to go before you’re date with my daughter.”

            As Ellen turned to walk down the long driveway, she wondered what she was going to do about her car. She had been wondering how she was going to pay her utility bills, let alone a tow truck. Thankfully a good friend from church was a mechanic. Maybe he could fix it right here.

            “You’re just going to walk home?”

            “Mary Jean has frequently walked home from your sister’s place.”

            “At least let me give you a ride if you won’t take my car.”

            “I want nothing from you, Mr. McQueen, not even a ride.”

            “Pride comes before the fall.”

            Ellen turned and marched angrily back to John. “What did you say to me! You yourself are so proud and arrogant you think you can sweep a teenage girl off her feet with your money.”

            She wanted to slap him, but she put her hands on her hips instead, glaring at him. To her surprise, his countenance was meek and sad. This not only surprised her, it disarmed her.

            “I realize the truth in your words. And since we’re speaking truth, know this. I want children, and I am still young enough to sire them. However, I am sixty-one, and the window is closing fast if I want to see my children graduate college.

            “That’s right, you are sixty-one, and that’s the whole point!”

            “Age is a variable condition, Mrs. Patrick.”

            “Meaning?”

            “Forgive me if this sounds vain, but I am a very young sixty-one, and you’re daughter is a very mature eighteen.”

            “She’s seventeen.”

            “She will be eighteen if we marry.”

            “That’s a big if. My goodness Mr. McQueen, you’re even more than two decades older than me, the mother of the woman… Girl you hope to marry.”

            John was beginning to feel irritated with this bullheaded woman, yet he admired her. She clearly loved her daughter, and he admired the mother’s protective instinct confronting him. He could tell she was a woman of character, dignity, and resilience. It was obviously where Mary Jean got her own traits of character. It certainly wasn’t her dad.

            “Mrs. Patrick, I’m glad you stopped and spoke your peace. Your blessing is very important to me. So I am going to make you promise. This afternoon when I take your daughter horseback riding, I’m going to tell her that your intersession has voided my offer. I will then pursue the woman who is my second choice if things didn’t work out with Mary Jean. Deal?”

            John extended his hand to shake, and he could see that Ellen looked stunned. Instead of shaking, she said, “Mr. McQueen, I may not approve, but it ultimately has to be her decision.”

            “So we would have your blessing then?” Ellen looked away with a puzzled frown and squeezed her folded arms tight against herself. “Well, although I don’t approve and will not attend a wedding between you two if one would occur, it needs to be Mary Jeans choice. I believe in free will. So I guess that is sort of a blessing.”

            “Mrs. Patrick, I’ve always tried to be a man of honor, honesty, and integrity. I guess by having money, I have taken things for granted. Although I am much older than your daughter, I assumed you would be pleased that she would not only be secure, but you and your other children would be also. Not only would Mary Jean be secure, she would live like a queen.”

            “That still wouldn’t change the fact that she would have to sleep with a man old enough to be her grandfather,” Ellen said stubbornly. Yet John could tell her anger had lost quite a bit of steam.

            “Mrs. Patrick,” John began with a coy smile. “I’ve got a little challenge for you. How about you get down and do as many pushups as you can. When you finish, I’ll do twice as many. If you win, I will tell your daughter my offer is void, and say nothing of your visit here today. If I win, I get to proceed in courting your daughter, and marry her with your blessing if she is willing.”

            After she processed his challenge, she couldn’t help herself and grinned. “You’re on!”

            Ellen dropped to the ground and began doing pushups. But she quickly saw her dilemma. Her nine to five job at the courthouse issuing licenses had her on her feet a good portion of the day. Her evening job waitressing at a truck stop had her on her feet even more. So she was strong with great stamina and endurance. But she couldn’t remember the last time she did a pushup. It used different muscles than the ones she used, walking, standing, and carrying trays of food.

            Before she even got to five, her arms trembled, and her back arched.

            “You can go to your knees instead of your toes,” John offered.

            “No,” Ellen groaned, determined to get to at least ten. As soon as she reached double digits, she gave up. Rising to her feet, she rubbed her burning arms.

            John dropped and gave her twenty in less than a minute, the last five he clapped in between. After he arose, he detected that she was concealing a smile. Despite herself, she was beginning to like John McQueen. However she scolded, “You set me up.”

            He shrugged. “I was just trying to make the point about age being variable.”

            “Fair point, I guess.”

            “Now let’s discuss vehicles. How about we trade? Your Falcon, for my LTD?”

            “No! I’m not gonna be tricked again, and I’m not gonna be bought.”

            “Mrs. Patrick, please hear me. Whether this afternoon is the last time I spend time with your daughter or not, I would like to not only give you this car but pay off your debts. You would not be the first person I have helped, but your pride and stubbornness have put me in a position to tell you of my intentions. I prefer anonymity.”

            “How dare you call me proud! What do you call an old man that can marry a young woman due to his wealth?”

            “In my case, blessed.”

            “Blessed! How arrogant! That’s another reason I don’t approve of you wooing my daughter. We obviously have different views of God.”

            “I believe Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior. How about you?”

            “Of course I do,” Ellen replied meekly. Then she said bitterly, “Look, I need to go before Mary Jean shows up for her date.”

            “We’re just going horseback riding, it’s not a date.”

            “Whatever,” Ellen said as she began a brisk walk down McQueen’s long driveway.

            “Mrs. Patrick?”

            Ellen stopped and turned. John said, “Just say the word, and I will put the kibosh on possibly romancing you’re daughter.”

            Ellen felt like she could throw up in her mouth a little at hearing him actually say romancing her daughter. But she said, “Mr. McQueen, I believe in free will. So you and my daughter have my blessing, I guess, just not my approval, if that makes sense. Because it doesn’t even make sense to me.”

            “One more thing, Mrs. Patrick,” John began as gently as he knew how to speak. “Please, at least borrow my car. It is just going to be sitting here. I usually drive my old pickup truck. Plus I have three other vehicles. If it makes you feel better, just return it with a full tank of gas.”

            Ellen relented, and John pulled the car out of the garage. When he got out, he thought about giving her a slight bow, but the fiery redhead would probably feel it was condescending, rather than fun loving.

            “Thank you, Mr. McQueen,” Ellen said stoically as she climbed behind the wheel. Surprisingly, she came away from this encounter liking him. She had been concerned that her dislike of him would turn to feelings of hate after their conversation. She also found him quite attractive. She had never seen him up close before. She was surprised at how trim and fit he was. Plus distinguished and handsome.

            Ellen decided she would date him herself if he had asked. Even consider the marriage proposition. But after a hysterectomy, she could bare him no children. But it definitely wouldn’t be bad coming home to this spread after… Oh, that’s right, if she was married to him, she probably wouldn’t have to work for anybody.

            It was actually modest for a multi-millionaire’s home. But still it was like four or five ranch houses rolled into one with lots of trees and flowers, plus several barns and machine sheds. Not to mention acre after acre of pasture, corrals, and timber.  The long driveway she drove down must be lined with a hundred trees, all beginning to bud with flowers. Yes, this was quite a place!

            She hated to admit it, but John McQueen was quite a man. But a sixty-one-year-old man that wanted to marry her seventeen-year-old daughter! What was she doing borrowing his car? A scripture came to her mind.

            THE RICH RULES OVER THE POOR, AND THE BORROWER IS SERVANT TO THE LENDER (PROVERBS 22:7)

SELFLESS OR SELL OUT?

CHAPTER 2

APRIL 12, 1980

            “No, I do not approve of you marrying a man in his sixties!” Marry Jean’s mother practically shouted.

            “Mom, keep it down,” Mary Jean said as she glanced toward her siblings’ bedrooms. “I just told you what John McQueen offered me. I didn’t say I was going to accept.”

            “Well, you must be considering it, or you wouldn’t have brought it up.”

            “I want you to have a good life, and John assured me you would never have to work again.”

            It occurred to Mary Jean that she just used her potential husband’s first name for the first time without his last name attached to it.

            Through gritted teeth, Ellen Patrick told her daughter, “Mary Jean, you marry for love, period! Not for somebody’s money.”

            “Who’s to say I won’t love him?”

            “Who’s to say you will? Rich people are different. They covet power and control. Do you want to spend the prime of your life living under someone’s thumb? I lived under your father’s thumb, and he wasn’t even rich, just the opposite. As a matter of fact, I’m still under his thumb as I try to keep my head above water with the debt he left me.”

            “And that’s exactly why I’m considering John’s offer!”

            Mary Jean was startled by her own words. Was she really considering his offer? She also called him John again. After all, he invited her to. Everyone else called him Mr. McQueen.

            “You are not gonna trade sex for his wealth. Period!”

            “John’s not like that,” Mary Jean said with a blush due to her mom saying sex with herself in the context. It occurred to her yet again that she wouldn’t even consider being courted by a man in his sixties if he was, say, the mail man. But she still attempted to sell herself on the idea. “He’s actually very kind, and thoughtful. He’s also nice looking, kind of like Clint Eastwood. He wants to make me his wife, not a mistress.”

            “Is he now? And how long have you known this kind and thoughtful man in his sixties, who wants to get into the skirt of a teenager?”

            “Mom!” Mary Jean felt herself blush even deeper than before, as she glanced at her siblings’ bedrooms again. “The plain truth is men of wealth, men of power, are in fact different. Solomon, one of the authors of the Bible, and a king, had seven hundred wives. I would be John’s only wife. I believe him to be a Godly man.”

            “Is he? Is he going to join our church then?” her mom asked with hands on hips. They both seemed to sense that they were beginning to speak as if Mary Jean was in fact going to become the bride of John McQueen. “I mean if you were to marry him, which you’re not.”

            “He said he would go to my church as much as I went to his church.”

            “Mary Jean, I know we haven’t talked about this much. But I grew up in the church, fell away, met your dad, became pregnant with you, and returned to church. The only time your dad set foot in our church was to get married. After that all did was mock my beliefs.”

            “John’s the opposite of Daddy,” Mary Jean said defiantly. But then she recalled that he did give his sister Abby grief when she first joined their church. Yet he appeared to have recanted of his initial disapproval.

            Mother and daughter stared at each other for a long moment. Mother had her hands on her hips, while her daughter stood with crossed arms. Then Mary Jean asked, “So, Mother, are you gonna forbid me to see him as I weigh the pros and cons of his proposal?”

            “You’re an adult.”

            “Not quite.”

            “Close enough to make your own decisions in the matter. But know this. I don’t approve and will not accept a dime of his money.”

            “If I’m his wife, it would be a dime of mine.”

            “No, it would still be his dime. He’s the one that earned it and controls it. You would acquire it by undressing for him, and…”

            “Mom! Don’t go there!”

            “Why? That’s the reality of our whole discussion, isn’t it? Yes, you may say vows before God and witnesses. But you want the security of his money, and he wants you to make babies. Not only that I’m sure he very much wants to engage in the process by which babies are made.”

            “Mom!”

            “I don’t know how well I taught you the birds and bees, but would you like to talk about what this sixty-one-year-old man is gonna want to do with his eighteen-year-old bride after the wedding?”

            The bedroom door Mary Jean shared with her sister rattled open, ending her conversation with her mother.

            “You better get ready for church,” her mother said softly, as she stroked the side of Mary Jean’s head. She took her mother’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as she forced a smile.

            Mary Jean looked at herself in the mirror after she removed her nightgown. She did look good, she guessed. Her body was sleek, slender, and with nice curves. But what did Jo… Mr. McQueen really see in her? There were plenty of girls, women, prettier than her in town.

            Well, he hasn’t seen this yet, she thought, and then began to quickly dress. And most likely never would!

            ASSUREDLY I SAY TO YOU THAT IT IS HARD FOR A RICH MAN TO ENTER THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN.

            Matthew 19:23 was one of the many verses John McQueen had memorized. He knew the following verses as well. Verse 23 had always troubled him after he became a millionaire. But then Jesus’s disciples asked, “Who then can be saved?”

            Jesus’s reply in verse 26 gave him comfort. “With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”

            John closed his Bible and closed his eyes. Was his desire for Mary Jean wrong? He believed in his heart that his attraction to her went beyond her physical appearance. He was drawn to her character. He liked what a wholesome, nice young lady she was. She was so good with his sister. Thoughtful, diligent, caring. He knew in his heart she would make a great mother.

             If he had only wanted a pretty young thing, there were plenty of fish easier to reel in. And he wasn’t after any thrill of the chase either. He had simply become intrigued with Mary Jean after she started working for Abby, and that intrigue had grown, and grown, and grown. It was now to the point that he wondered if it was an unhealthy obsession.

            He opened his Bible again and read the scripture Mary Jean had brought up during their interview. It was Jeremiah 17:9. ‘The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked, who can know it?’ He read verse ten also. ‘I, the Lord, search the heart, I test the mind, even to give every man according to his ways, according to the fruit of his doings.’

            He closed the Good Book again, as well as his eyes. A minute later, he opened his eyes and glanced at the package on the corner of his desk. Right there was a test of his mind. It was the tenth time he had looked at the parcel since he received it yesterday from UPS. It was from his old army buddy Max Morrison, and his only close friend that wasn’t particularly religious.

            He knew what was in the box. Ever since he confided in his old friend a decade ago that his sex life was lacking, Max began sending him his recent Playboy magazines, mixed in with magazines of western stories. He did this four times a year, every quarter. He never knew how the periodicals were supposed to help with the intimacy factor of his marriage, but they did provide a carnal thrill.

            But the erotic magazines only seemed to exacerbate his lack of sex with his wife. This led to another bate that his church referred to as self-abuse. But he was determined not to actually cheat on his wife with a live person. It also caused a seemingly endless sin and repent cycle. Only three times in ten years had he burned the magazines in his fireplace before giving them a thorough examination.

            Why did they come the very day he made his proposal to Mary Jean? Was it a sign that God disapproved of him pursuing the young lady? Or was God testing him to see if he would throw them in the fire without looking at them? Would this prove he deserved the young girl? Correction, young woman.

            He grabbed the package and marched to the fireplace. He didn’t even want to fish out the westerns he enjoyed reading before bed. He tossed the box into the flames, then returned to his desk and placed his head in his hands. The jangling of the phone made him jump.

            “McQueen,” he unintentionally barked into the phone.

            “Johnny,” Max Morrison’s voice chuckled into his ear. “Rough day at the office?”

            “You might say that.”

            “Did you get my package?”

            “I did.”

            “What did you think of Miss February? Is she like the cutie pie you described?”

            John’s sinful nature caused him to feel a twinge of regret. Did Miss February resemble Mary Jean? He sighed. “I didn’t look at them, Max. I threw them in the fireplace.”

            “You what!”

            “I told you not to send them anymore.”

            There was a pause. “I didn’t think you were serious… Anyway, did you make cutie pie your offer yet?”

            It was Max who had convinced him to pursue Mary Jean instead of the thirty-two-year-old member of his own church. It was a sales pitch he was currently regretting buying into. “I did.”

            “Did she accept?”

            “She didn’t say no. As a matter of fact, I’m taking her horseback riding tomorrow.”

            “Hey, hey, hey! It sounds like you’re in! Just be a gentleman, let her take in the palatial estate where she will be living, and you can reel in the best catch of your life. You’ll get to share a bed with your own personal playmate.”

            He felt nauseous at Max referring to sweet Mary Jean in company with Playboy models. The scripture (James 1:8), a double minded man is unstable in all his ways, began echoing in his head. He couldn’t tell if his intentions with Mary Jean were noble or carnal.

            He truly wanted to give her a good life, and he intended to pay off her family’s debts no matter what. He also felt he was still young enough to father a family, and this required a woman of childbearing years. However, there was a side of his motives motivated by years of secretly looking at Playboy. Mary Jean, in his mind, was the ultimate girl next door. Correction, woman next door.

            No, she wasn’t next door. She lived in a trailer park, and as Max said, he had a palatial estate. Although John had aged well, he knew she wouldn’t even consider marrying him if he was, say, a mechanic. But Jennifer, the thirty-two-year-old from church, slightly overweight, but pretty enough, just might.

            “Actually Max, I’m having second thoughts about Mary Jean. I think I’m gonna pursue the first woman I told you about.”

SELFLESS OR SELL OUT?

CHAPTER 1

The rich man’s wealth is his strong city, and like a high wall in his own esteem. (Proverbs 18:11)

APRIL 11, 1980

            “I don’t understand Mr. McQueen,” seventeen-year-old Mary Jean Patrick said with a puzzled frown. She had thought this interview was for a receptionist position. “Did you just propose marriage, or was it, like, some sort of business proposition?”

            “I suppose it could be perceived as both,” the sixty-one-year-old business tycoon John McQueen replied, wincing inside at how callous that sounded. He tried to counter act his tone by saying, “And please, call me John.”

            He fidgeted nervously with the pen in his fingers but kept his demeanor calm and cool. He kept silent so the breathtaking beauty across his desk from him could process the startling request. He had never felt more uneasy in a business meeting. And that’s exactly what this was, he couldn’t fool himself. The odds of a teenage girl feeling romantic for a senior citizen were slim at best.

            Her left hand swept her long red-gold hair off her shoulders, and she grabbed it into a makeshift ponytail that she gripped tightly over her left breast. John noticed her knuckles whiten as she squeezed her hair like a lifeline. Her large, lovely green eyes had looked startled at first. Then she squinted with something like hostility, but she calmly inquired, “Why me Mr. McQueen?”

            “Miss Patrick,” he addressed her since she apparently wanted to keep things formal, distant. “My wife passed away a year ago.”

            “Yes, I know. I’m so sorry,” she interjected warmly.

            Her genuine sympathy was one of the many reasons that John had become smitten with this young woman. His attention was first drawn to her when she began working part time for his sister last summer. It was around a month after Abby had a stroke. Although his sister regained an ability to walk and take care of personal hygiene, she had a hard time doing household chores. She especially needed help caring for her three cats and two dogs, as well as her garden and many house plants.

            “Thank you. We were married thirty-nine years,” he said. He paused and wondered if it was too soon for what he divulged next. “She was unable to have children.”

            “Why didn’t you adopt?”

            “We discussed it. Many times, actually. But she always found a reason to put it off,” he answered, then paused. “So, now that I find myself single… I would like to, well, yoke with a woman young enough to have children.”

            Mary Jean spoke slowly, her brain spinning, baffled at the situation she found herself in. “And you want me to have children with me?”

            “Yes, after we marry, of course. I, like you, am a devout Christian, and believe in doing things, shall we say, proper.”

            “How soon?” she asked without thinking, and instantly cringed inside. She didn’t want to give the impression that she was actually considering his proposal.

            If he were closer to her age, she most definitely would consider it. He was a nice-looking man. She thought he kind of looked like Clint Eastwood. Ironically, his menacing demeanor was similar to Dirty Harry’s. Yet, his sister had proclaimed what upstanding character he had. But would she approve of him asking a seventeen-year-old to marry him?

            “Ideally we would be wed as soon as you turn eighteen.”

            “That’s two months away!”

            She did again! She made it sound as if she was considering his offer. She needed to put her foot down right now!

            “Mr. McQueen, I’m flattered, I truly am. But to be quite frank, and meaning no offense, I am not going to marry a man that is old enough to be my grandfather, let alone father.”

            John’s desire for Mary Jean went beyond lust. There were plenty of pretty women, plenty of fish in the sea, as the saying went. Over the last nine months, John had been extracting information from his sister about this young woman who intrigued him like no other.

            Getting information wasn’t hard. After Mary Jean would leave, he would simply make a comment, and his talkative sister was off to the races, divulging everything she had learned about the teenager that day.

            Mary Jean went to the same church as his Bible thumping sister, but he wouldn’t hold that against her. He had long forgiven his sister for leaving their family church they grew up in. But she was now a legalist that kept Saturday as their Sabbath, claiming it was Biblical, rather than the tradition of Sunday. But their congregation seemed like good, well-adjusted people otherwise. Plus their pastor was an old Army buddy of his pastor.

            Mary Jean’s conservative attire, wholesome beauty, and old-fashioned values is what had captivated him. Also her caring, yes, motherly demeanor. She even seemed more mature than the thirty-two-year-old woman from his own church, who was his second choice, if his pursuit of Mary Jean Patrick ultimately failed. If only Mary Jean were thirty-two. But despite his vast wealth, he couldn’t help her age, just as he couldn’t help his own.

            From his sister, he learned that Mary Jean’s mother worked two jobs, and twelve to sixteen hours a day to provide for her three children. The one exception was their Sabbath. She loved animals, including horses, of which he had seventeen. Her favorite color was pink, and her favorite food was Mexican. She had a boyfriend for almost a year, but he broke up with her because she refused to have sex before marriage. She also had at one time longed to be a writer, then a nurse. Now with her family’s finances in dire straits, she hoped to find a full-time job upon high school graduation.

            It was this last aspect he saw as his ace in the hole. A year ago after John’s wife died, Mary Jean’s father had died three days later under suspicious circumstances. John found out that Mary Jean’s dad had major debts from gambling and was probably killed by some loan sharks. But the poor fool didn’t even have enough life insurance to pay a fraction of the debt he left his wife.

            “If you marry me, your mother will never have to work another day of her life,” John told Mary Jean.

            Mary Jean’s lips parted, and her eyes stared as if hypnotized. It was like when fishing, and he just felt a tug on the line. But then her lips pursed, and her jaw clenched. Oh, she was gonna put up a fight, that rod was bending. But taking care of her mother hooked her, he could see it. He just needed to be smart, and patient as he reeled her in.

            She aimed a glare at him. This sweet, meek pleasant girl had a fiery side. He like it! “So what, do you think I am some type of prostitute?”

            “God forbid, no, Mary Jean! Like you, I am a born-again Christian.”

            “Some Christian! Offering to buy a teenage girl to sleep with!”

            “I’m not offering to buy you; I am offering to marry you. Husband and wife.”

            “Yeah, so I can be your personal baby factory.”

            “No, so we can be parents together. Raise a family together.”

            “And what if we are unable to produce children?”

            “To have offspring has always been a desire of mine, but not a need. I have had a very full, satisfying life without children. If it’s not the Lord’s will, so be it. Besides, I am open to adoption, and if that’s the case, my children will still need a mother.”

            “So what if you die in ten years. Then I’m a twenty something widow with a bunch of kids.”

            “Two things, both my parents lived into their nineties.”

            “And your sixty-five-year-old sister recently had a stroke that could have killed her.”

            He liked that she was sticking around to argue. It told him she was considering his offer, even though she probably told herself she wasn’t.

            “Mary Jean, if we marry, I am going to change my will so that you will get the vast majority of my estate when I die. Whether that’s a year from now, or forty years from now. I do want my extended family to be taken care of. But you will be a multi-millionaire.”

            “Mr. McQueen, I better go,” Mary Jean said with a shaky voice. She rose hastily, and he noticed her eyes were welling with tears.

            “So are you telling me no then?”

            “Yes! No! I mean, I don’t know,” she put her face in her hands and began sobbing.

            He tried to gently hug her, but she recoiled and barked. “Don’t touch me!”

            “Sorry,” he said, stepping back.

            She dashed out of his office, and he felt adrenaline surge through him. Just a minute ago, he thought everything was going well, now it couldn’t have gone worse.

            His sister! What if she told his sister? Abby just lived down the road, on the edge of his property where he had a ranch style house built for her a decade ago.

            He followed Mary Jean out of his house and watched her trot toward a rusty Ford Falcon. After she opened the door and plopped behind the steering wheel, he grabbed the door before she could shut it.

            “Mary Jean, wait,” he said, breathing hard. “I’m truly sorry. I only meant to offer you a good life, I didn’t mean to upset you. All you had to do is say no. I wasn’t putting out any demands. It was strictly an offer. No pressure, and one hundred percent your choice. And once again, my apologies, I didn’t mean to upset you. Also, please keep our dealings between you and me for now.”

            She wiped her eyes, and to his relief, emitted a little laugh. “It’s not you, it’s me. So I too am sorry… To be honest, my head is telling me to say no to your offer, but my heart is telling me to consider it.”

            “Then I say follow your heart,” he said with an easy smile.

            She turned a cool gaze on him. “But the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked, who can know it?”

            “That’s from the book of Jeremiah? Chapter seventeen?

            “Yes, chapter seventeen and verse nine,” she replied, and he could tell she was pleased that he at least knew the book of the Bible it was from. He felt like a schoolboy getting a commendation from his pretty teacher. Yet she was a youngster, and he a seasoned citizen.

            “Please understand, I am in a strange situation. I am not a dirty old man; I am a very wealthy man. Forgive me if this sounds arrogant, because maybe it is arrogant, but I am a king in search of a queen. I know you are very young, but you are also a grown woman. And the plain truth is, you’re my first choice. And not just because you’re very beautiful. There are countless pretty women that would jump at my offer. But I’ve watched you working for my sister and believe you would make an exceptional mother. I also like how devout you are with spiritual matters. I too am devout.”

            “You are?” she asked with an arched eyebrow. “I happen to know you gave your sister grief when she first became a Seventh Day Adventist.”

            “Guilty as charged,” he admitted. “But that was when she first left the family church. I have since held nothing but admiration for her beliefs and character. I also wouldn’t be pursing the institution of marriage with an Adventist if I didn’t have the utmost respect for your religion.”

            “If I were to accept your offer, would you join my church?”

            “Having been married for a long time, I believe compromise is a key component to a good marriage. I’ll attend your church as much as you attend mine.”

            “Was your marriage good?”

            “It was. But to be quite honest, we drifted apart over the last decade or so. But we were always faithful to our vows.”

            There was a minute of silence before Mary Jean declared. “Mr. McQueen, once again I am flattered by your offer. But if you need an answer now, it has to be no.”

            “I know I’ve surprised you and given you a lot to think about. I’d actually be concerned if you said yes today. How much time do you need?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “I willing to give you as much time as you need, within reason. Do you like horseback riding?”

            She looked at him quizzically, maybe even eagerly, but shrugged noncommittedly. “Sure, but I’ve only done it a couple times. Once was right here at your place, in the corral with Sylvia Masters. You know Sylvia, right Mr. McQueen? She goes to your church.”

            “Yes, I know Sylvia,” he replied, and then felt his body tense. Please don’t ask why I’m not pursing Sylvia for marriage and babies, he thought. Thankfully she didn’t, and he was pretty sure it was because Sylvia had a boyfriend. “Are you free Sunday?”

            “I work for Abby in the morning.”

            It didn’t go beyond his notice that she called his sister by her first name. On the positive side, she specified morning, rather than just leaving it as I work Sunday. Whether she did it on purpose or not, her reply insinuated she was free in the afternoon.

            “Perfect, when you are done you can swing by my place, we’ll have lunch, and then go riding. What do you say?”

            She didn’t answer right away. She bit her lower lip, and the expression in her eyes looked pained. “That’s not much time to think about your offer.”

            He laughed, and then it turned into a nice smile. This made her smile. Up until today, she had always thought of him as uptight, stern, and unhappy despite all his money. “

            “Mary Jean, I simply want to take you horseback riding. I’m not expecting an answer to my offer the day after tomorrow.”

            “Okay, yeah, I’d like to go horseback riding.”

            “Great! It’s a date then,” he blurted, and instantly regretted the word date as he watched her bite her lower lip and frown.

CHAPTER 25

WILLA

Willie and I settled quite nicely into domestic life. Zella bought my half of our place from me, and I moved in with Willie. For most of my life, I never thought that I would be cut out for a relationship. But living and being with Willie brought me the most happiness that I had ever experienced in my life. I didn’t think it was possible to have more joy.

Then Kirk William Booker joined us on April 1, 2018, and pleasantly proved me wrong. Babies are miraculous beings. Willie couldn’t stop looking at him. I felt so much love for my son and husband. Part of the miracle was simply that this little person was half me and half Willie. It made me feel so incredibly close to Willie.

On a beautiful day two years after our first child was born, I was swinging little Kirk who was safely ensconced in a toddler swing at a favorite playground. Willie had gone to the restroom. When I noticed he had returned, there was a familiar woman sitting next to him on a bench. It was Carly Brooks, his ex!

Her daughter ambled over to little Kirk and me. I assisted the tiny people in play, and Willie looked as though he had bitten into a lemon. There was no temptation for jealousy. I even had to turn my face away so he couldn’t see me giggling. I rubbed a hand over my abdomen, caressing the space where our second child was growing. I couldn’t help being thankful that the woman had betrayed my Willie Wonka and paved the way for him to be mine. Being in a loving and committed relationship is beyond satisfying and completely fulfilling.

I’ll leave it at that, and let Willie conclude our little love story.

WILLIE (AKA BILLIE BOB BOOKER)

Carly and I sat in silence for a minute as we watched Willa play with our children. Willa’s back was to us, and I thought I could see her shoulders quivering. Then she flashed a quick peek at Carly and me, and I could tell she was laughing at my discomfort. I would have to call her on it when we were alone and then visit her ticklish spot. I felt my lips twitch with a grin, despite my situation.

“I heard your good buddy Lyle is in an interesting relationship,” Carly said shaking her head. “I always suspected that squirrely guy was queer.”

This comment snuffed out my grin and I tensed with irritation.

“Lyle’s a good guy,” I defended. “I don’t appreciate you calling him a derogatory name.”

“Well, excuse me,” she replied testily.

She opened her mouth to say more, but I didn’t want to argue so I changed the subject. That is if I couldn’t be rid of her. “How are things between you and Niles?”

“Well, we get along well enough, but we gave up on trying to be a couple,” she replied with a sigh. “It’s funny. He and I get along just fine as friends. But when we try romance, we seem to clash. He is truly a dear friend, and I don’t know what I would have done without him a couple weeks ago.”

“What happened a couple weeks ago?” I reluctantly asked.

“I had a pregnancy scare,” she whispered.

“By Niles?” I whispered back.

“No, like I was saying, he and I gave up on romance months ago.”

“Who then?”

She eyed me coyly, and then she smiled mischievously. “I wasn’t sure who the father was to be honest,” she whispered.

“What?” I exclaimed.

“Shh,” she frowned, looking around with paranoia. “I ended up in a situation where I was briefly seeing two guys at the same time.”

“Really?” I replied, astounded.

She pursed her lips and nodded. “I’m still seeing Kevin, but Victor was, well, a fling. I knew Kevin at least a month, more like two, before we were intimate for the first time. Also, Victor and I have been friends for a couple of years. He and I just sort of hooked up a few times after work. Victor is an X-ray technician where I work, and Kevin and I met through online dating.”

“I see.”

“Victor’s black,” Carly whispered again. “Can you imagine what my dad would have said if I would have had his baby? I’m not gonna lie, I considered abortion. Thankfully, I got my period.”

“I didn’t know Warren is racist,” I said, referring to her dad.

“Well he’s not, per se,” Carly said. “Daddy would have been more disappointed over him being married.”

“You slept with a married man?” I asked incredulously. Then I couldn’t stop myself. “And you have the audacity to refer to Lyle as a queer?”

“Hey, I made a mistake,” she said defensively. “I repented from my sin and asked God for forgiveness. Victor has made several requests to repeat what we did, but I turned him down every time.”

I looked at Willa, smiling at the playing children. As was her habit, she slowly ran her left hand over the baby bump on her abdomen. Her wedding band twinkled in the sunlight. Her simple movements were casually sensual, yet wholesome and motherly. I glanced at Carly as she continued to ramble on with justifications for her hypocrisy. I needed to turn our conversation back to superficial things, like the weather, and then come up with an exit strategy. I gazed back at Willa in time to see her giggle at something little Kirk had done. Willa looked at me and smiled. I smiled back.

Approximately three years before, Carly had broken my heart when she had declined my marriage proposal and told me there was someone else. In that devastating moment, I never would have thought that a few dozen months later, she and I would be sitting at a playground watching our children play. Even more, I never would have dreamed that as we did so, I would be extremely grateful that she had betrayed me.

Carly’s phone chirped and she looked at it. She sighed and began typing vigorously. Willa winked, then kissed her fingers and blew the kiss at me. It caused a wonderful stir inside me as her ways constantly did. I couldn’t thank Carly enough for dumping me. I winked back at the love of my life as she continued to caress our unborn child. Yes, indeed, my love life couldn’t have turned out better!

EPILOGUE

PASTOR KIRK SAMSON

 I was at the hospital for the best thing that happens there, the birth of a little human being. It was shortly after Willa and Willie welcomed their second child, a beautiful baby girl. I had prayed with the young couple and their new little gift from God. Then after I said my goodbyes, my phone rang. When I saw the caller I.D. I grinned. It was an old Army buddy and fellow former Army Chaplain.

  “Hey there, Major Pain.”

  “I retired a Lieutenant Colonel, and you know it, Cappy.”

  “Fair enough, Colonel Sanders.”

  “Come on, gimme a break.”

Theodore Sanders Paynton spent twenty-two years as an Army Chaplain. For several years he held the rank of Major. Therefore his buddies gave him the nickname Major Pain. It was only fair; he was the first one to coin me with the moniker Captain Kirk. So when he achieved the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, I stuck him with the name of the KFC chicken tycoon. I had already left the Army, but I let our fellow pals know what his middle name was.

“Alright, one break coming up,” I laughed. “It’s been a while old buddy, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

There was a pause, and when he spoke, his voice switched from good old buddies to military directness. “John McQueen died last night.”

“You don’t say,” I responded, a bit stunned for several reasons. “He had to be over a hundred then, cause we’re…”

“I know hold we are,” he barked, but then chuckled.

One thing bonded Teddy and me above our comrades. He and I were both farm boys from Iowa. We even ended up pastoring churches in the same Iowa town. This was actually by design rather than by chance. And we enjoyed over four years of living in the same community.

But one thing divided us. It could have, but for the grace of God, ruined our friendship. It was back in 1980. And it involved a wealthy sixty-one-year-old parishioner of his named John McQueen. He wanted to marry a dirt poor, but very beautiful, eighteen-year-old parishioner of mine.

Teddy encouraged the union; I discouraged the union. But he had the upper hand. The wholesome sweetheart that I had baptized three years earlier was torn. She desperately wanted to help her single mother and two younger siblings. So she was as torn as I had ever seen a human being. She was not only scared to marry a man not only old enough to be her father, but her grandfather. She was scared not to. It broke my heart when she asked me a question, and I told her only she knew answer.

“Pastor,” she had asked. “If I marry him, would I be selfless, or a sell out?”

So, in the weeks to follow, why don’t we call this story of tainted attraction ‘TO BE SELFLESS OR A SELL OUT.’

CHAPTER 24

BILLY BOB

Willa and I celebrated our engagement with the most intense, wonderful kiss of my life. The thing that made this kiss so special was its significance, for it signified a beginning. That beginning was our lives together, along with the child we shared in her womb.

“I love you with all my heart, soul, and mind, Willa,” I said, grinning from ear to ear.

“I love you, too, Billy Bob,” Willa crooned with a dreamy look in her eyes that made me go weak in the knees, “with every fiber of my being.”

Our lips came together again as if there was a magnetic pull. In less than a minute I reluctantly separated from Willa.

“I wish it was forty-eight hours from now,” I said.

“Why is that?” Willa asked with a coy smile.

“So we can consummate our relationship for a second real and official time,” I said with a smile as I brushed hair off of her cheek.

“You mean so you’re not sleepwalking while having an erotic dream about me.”

“Exactly! This next time I intend to be fully awake and enjoying every second. Before and after with no question about reality, or a guilty conscience.”

“Let the countdown begin!” Willa said with a grin as she spread her arms wide like a circus entertainer.

“Can I make a request?”

“Of course,” Willa said.

“Since we are now going to be together forever, when you say my name going forward, can you please drop the Bob? Just call me Billy.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize the depth of your dislike of that nickname.”

“I never liked it, to be honest.”

“You’re kidding! How come you didn’t say anything until now?”

“Oh, I’ve become used to it,” I said with a shrug. “Everyone I know is used to it.”

“So. why are you just now telling me?”

“Like I said, since we’re gonna be together until death parts us,” I told her as I gently put my arms around her, “I thought I would fill you in on my true feelings.”

“Are there any other true feelings you need to fill me in on?” she asked as she laced her arms around my neck.

“Not off the top of my head.” Our lips were slowly coming together once again when Willa stopped, and her eyes got wide.

“So that’s why Carly always called you William? She knew you didn’t like, you know?”

I nodded as I laughed. “You can still call me that, I’m not offended. It’s just I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with my wife calling me Billy Bob?”

“Hey!” she beamed. “What about B.B.?”

“Ah, no I don’t think so. How about simply Billy or Bill?”

“How about Willie?” she giggled. “Then we’d be Willie and Willa.”

“I like it, actually,” I confessed. “But because I got stuck with Billy Bob so young, nobody ever called me Willie. I have been called just Bill or Billy from time to time.”

“Just so you know, now that we are actually a couple, I’m sure we will come up with pet names for each other,” she said, and then frowned. “Did you and Carly have pet names for each other? The little bit I was around her she just seemed to call you William.”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

“Well Shnookums,” Willa said with a grin, her lovely golden amber eyes dancing with merriment. “What do you say we go talk to the pastor?”

“Sounds like a plan Pudding Pop.”

“Pudding Pop?” she replied with a frown as we began to make our way to my truck.

“You don’t like it? It’s better than Shnookums.”

“It sounds cold and fatty.”

“I was thinking sweet and delicious.”

“How about we both think on our names for a while?”

“Okay,” I replied as I started my truck. When we were a mile from the Pastor’s house, I began to whistle a song that had been circulating in my head.

“My angel is a centerfold …” Willa added words to my tune with a slightly amused, yet puzzled frown. The song had been still going through my head from the oldies station when I drove to Dollar General to get Willa’s car started.

“Well, she WAS a centerfold anyway,” I grinned.

“That’s right. She was,” Willa said solemnly. “Regretfully so.”

“Behold, all things become new,” I said cheerily. Willa gazed at me with intense sentiment as she rubbed her belly. Her lips curled into a smoldering smile as we pulled into Pastor Samson’s driveway.

“I can’t wait until we’re married,” Willa suddenly said with a sultry voice. “I so want to demonstrate how much I love you.”

After I put my pickup into park, our faces came together so fast that I’m surprised we didn’t break any facial bones. After several seconds of passionate kissing, we separated abruptly.

“We’ll be married in a few dozen hours,” I gasped. “Lets control ourselves in the Pastor’s driveway.

“Right,” Willa purred as we moved away from each other with reluctance.

Our plan, if Pastor Samson, AKA Captain Kirk agreed, was to be baptized before Friday night’s prayer service, and then be married the next day after the fellowship meal.

We had heard that when Captain Kirk approves of a marriage request in his office, he typically goes to the piano and plays the wedding march. If not, he instructs the requesting couple to get counseling first. I honestly thought there was a good chance that he would do the latter. Willa and I had known each other for only seven months. I hadn’t even been going to Cotton Creek Cove for a full year, and Willa considerably less than that. He also knew about my situation with Carly. And he was yet to learn about the baby on the way. But I figured that would only help with our intentions to marry.

Captain Kirk had a reputation as an unconventional pastor. He thought outside of the box. After we explained everything that had transpired, and then we explained how we ended up pregnant, we concluded with a request for him to marry us. To our relief, a big smile grew onto his face. Then he went to the piano and played the wedding march. Willa and I smiled happily at each other. But then the smile evaporated from her lovely face.

“Pastor, do you truly think I’m ready?” Willa asked Captain Kirk as her voice squeaked a bit with emotion. This surprised me! Was she getting cold feet?

“For which, daughter, baptism or marriage?” he asked as he stroked his long white beard a couple of times.

Captain Kirk was an amazing man. He tended to call younger people son or daughter so that no matter their situation, they knew they at least had a substitute father with him. And since he was around eighty years old, most people were younger.

“Baptism,” Willa croaked as her eyes filled with tears. “After all, I was more culpable in the story you just heard. You know, on how I ended up pregnant.”

“Daughter, have you ever dropped soap while taking a shower?”

Willa frowned. “Of course, who hasn’t?”

“Did you stop taking a shower?”

“No, of course not,” Willa replied, then smiled when she began to understand his object lesson.

“Then as you get spiritually clean, and happen to drop the soap, pick it up, turn your eyes on Jesus, and keep on getting clean.”

“Thank you, Pastor,” Willa said. Then she moved toward him, hugged him, and then kissed his cheek, causing him to both blush and chuckle.

“Sweet girl, I’ve been around a long time,” Captain Kirk said as he smiled softly and gently put a hand on Willa’s upper arm. “I spent ten years as an army chaplain, two of those in Vietnam. I spent forty years ministering to prisoners. Although I’m still a fallible human being, I’ve developed a pretty good feel for the human spiritual condition. I usually can tell the disingenuous from the genuine. Daughter, when it comes to baptism, I think you are ready.”

“Thank you, sir,” Willa squeaked. “Now what about marriage?”

“Well,” Captain Kirk sighed. “That’s where I trust you two. I’ve known Billy a little longer than I’ve known you, Willa. But he strikes me as a man who truly loves The Lord. He explained the situation about how you two have come to be with child together. I think it’s a good idea for you two to become a family. Without this incident, Billy very well would have made the biggest mistake of his life.”

“Tell me what you really think, pastor,” I grinned.

“Okay,” he replied utterly serious. “I think Carly has commitment issues. I don’t just mean with her romantic partners, but I mean with following God as well. Although I found your ability to forgive her commendable, I regret not being more blunt with you when you were involved with her a second time. Even with counseling, I would have declined a request to officiate a wedding involving you and Carly.” All I could do is nod sheepishly. “Buck up, my boy,” Captain Kirk grinned as he slapped my upper arm. “It all turned out right.”

Captain Kirk talked us into getting baptized after the Saturday morning service. Cotton Creek Cove fellowship was a renovated barn nestled into a hill. The sanctuary was on the first floor. Captain Kirk had turned the old hay loft into a fellowship hall with a kitchen and a little recreation center. It had a very large hot tub that was used as a baptistery if it was too cold to use Cotton Creek. Although it was a lovely looking autumn day, it was too cold and windy to be dunked in water outdoors. Unless you were polar bear.

After the service on Sabbath morning, Willa and I shared our testimonies as well as our love story. Captain Kirk voiced his observations, and then he petitioned Willa and me to climb into the baptistry. Willa, the pastor, and I wore gym shorts and t-shirts with long, thick, white robes over them. I hiked the robe to my knees as I prepared to enter the tub. I intended to climb in first so I could take Willa’s hand and assist her in. Before I could do this, Willa interrupted.

“Can I say a few more words?” she asked timidly.

“Of course, dear,” Captain Kirk replied. Most of the congregation had stayed after the service to witness our baptism. Willa turned to them.

“Sorry,” she began with a little laugh. “Thanksgiving is still a month away. But I just wanted to acknowledge that today is the most special day of my life, and I’m very thankful. Today is not just the start of a new chapter in our lives, but two new chapters. By this ceremony right now, we are publicly committing ourselves to Jesus Christ and acknowledging that we accept him as our Lord and Savior. By getting married in another couple hours, this incredible man and I are committing our lives to each other. So, we are, in a sense, starting new with our earthly lives as well as our spiritual lives. How many of you know this wonderful man known as Billy Bob?”

The vast majority of hands went up, as did my eyebrows as I wondered where she was going with her little speech. “Just two days ago,” Willa continued, “right after we confirmed that we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together, Billy asked me if I would refrain from calling him Billy Bob. I discovered that he never really liked the moniker, but he was more concerned about possibly hurting feelings if he asked people not to call him that. So now, with our lives going in a new direction, I will be calling my man Willie, and I invite you to join me. If you forget, or just plain don’t want to, we understand. Thank you.”

“I love it!” Captain Kirk beamed. “Let’s hear it for Willa and Willie! I’m gonna think of them as the double Ws.”

Everyone began to applaud loudly. Interspersed in the clapping, I heard a few people say, ‘Praise God’ and ‘Amen.’ Willa hugged me, and I kissed the top of her head. “You’re one of a kind, Willa,” I told her. “How about the little horse ranch that’s in our future be called the ‘Double W.’

“That’s wonderful, Willie!”

We invited the congregation to return that afternoon if they wanted to witness our impromptu wedding. Since it felt a little like we were eloping because of the sudden decision to marry, Willa and I were surprised to find a large number of people at our wedding. It seemed that most of Cotton Creek Cove’s congregation had turned out.

My family was there as well as Willa’s aunt and cousin, Whitney. Zella was there of course, and she was sitting next to Lyle. Next to Lyle, and to my surprise, sat Devin. This surprised me because after Willa and I literally caught them with their pants down, both were adamant that we keep our discovery secret. Not that anyone would suspect they were or had been more than friends. Especially with the spooky, yet familiar looking woman nuzzling into Devin on his other side.  

After the pastor had Willa and I say our vows, he had us face the congregation. He spoke for a minute or two before he led everyone in prayer. I couldn’t help noticing that all eyes were on Willa and me, except for the spooky dark-haired woman. She was staring expressionlessly at Amy Easton. Then I realized the similarities in facial structure between them. Were they related?

Amy had been attacked a few months previously by some rogue members of the cult that had tried to kill her in a satanic sacrifice. She was about six months pregnant when the second attack occurred. Although she suffered a concussion, the baby was fine, and the pregnancy proceeded without a hitch. Fortunately, Dirk and Destiny had been with her, and they staved off the assailants. I feared the strange woman was another rogue cult member. Come to find out, that wasn’t exactly right, though she would become quite a nightmare for Devin in his near future.

No one knew it at the time, not even Devin, but the woman was Amy’s half-sister. Since they were sitting in the back, and came in last, nobody seemed to notice her. This was the same sister who wanted to turn Amy into a stripper first, and then a porn star. Amy had not only refused, but she had fled the house that the two had shared and moved in with Destiny and Brock.

In a fit of revenge, the witch set up Amy to be gang raped. So, what was one of Amy’s two vicious half-sisters doing with Devin at Willa’s and my wedding? Devin and his diabolical companion left not even a minute after I spotted her staring at Amy. Although they were gone, I told Brock Storm what I witnessed as soon as I had a chance. He calmly thanked me, but I could tell that my observation had left him more than unsettled.