CHAPTER 3

DESTINY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, Miami.”

“Why Miami?”

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

I nodded. “I um, got into, ah…”

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

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

“I did,” he admitted.

“Why?”

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

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did I tell him that last part?

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

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

“Did she take it hard?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Both,” he said with a little smirk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you don’t love Jesus?”

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

“What kind of issues?”

“Deep-seated sin.”

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

“So have you fully surrendered to Jesus?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, yours too?”

“Yeah.”

“What year?” I asked.

“1983,” he replied. “You?”

“1988.”

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

“What does?” I asked.

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

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

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

CHAPTER 2

BROCK STORM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I didn’t reply. I just shrugged.

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

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

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

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

Destiny glanced at me with a little smirk.

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

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

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

“Would you mind?” Destiny asked me.

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

“Is there some place private?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Almost a year.”

“So you’re a member?”

I shook my head. “Not officially.”

“So do you live in Cedar Rapids?”

“Outside of the city, in the country.”

“Do you work here then?”

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

“I see.”

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

KNIGHT STORM

CHAPTER 1

DESTINY KNIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How?” I asked, intrigued.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER 13

ANNABELLE KNIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shook my head and felt my whole body quiver.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MARY GOLD

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” he frowned.

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

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

“Yes.”

“Have you met her before?”

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

“Whoa, seriously?”

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

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

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

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

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

BELLE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Absolutely!” Mary Gold exclaimed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE END

CHAPTER 12

MARY GOLD

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As soon as possible,” Jake declared.

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

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

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

Pastor looked relieved. “I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow, what’s gotten into you?”

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

“Tonight, big boy,” I said teasingly.

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

JAKE and ANNABELLE KNIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you like being a, um, you know?”

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

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

“Is there?” Belle asked with mild sarcasm.  

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

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

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

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

“Ours is different.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

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

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

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

“Isn’t it your name?”

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER 11

JAKE

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

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

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

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

Her features softened and she took my hand in hers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Masturbate?”

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

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

I winced. “That sounds even worse.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gee, thanks,” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you set the record straight?”

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

“So, the truth never did come out?”

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

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

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

“Well, no” she said.

“I didn’t think so.”

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

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

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

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

“Um what?”

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

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

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

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

TOO SCARE OR NOT TOO SCARE

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s so funny?” I asked him.

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

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

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

“How’s that?”  I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughed with me as he shook his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This will be the last one,” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER 10

MARY GOLD

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake looked at Justin and Drew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You looking to get hurt?” Jake demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

Drew hung his head and sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I appreciate you not knocking my head in.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I giggled. “You mean the nose?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” I said shaking my head.

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

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

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

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

JAKE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She giggled. “Just one more minute.”

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

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

“I suppose I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

THE BLACK HOLE

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

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

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

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

Lon approached us.

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

“Alright,” I replied.

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

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

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

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

Lenny slammed the phone into the cradle.

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

“Alright,” I said. “Is he okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

“So what happened?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

He agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Real good,” Dean said.

“You drove out, didn’t you?”

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

“What was a fiasco?” I said.

“Riding the Amtrak back,” he said.

“Why’s that?”

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

“Oh my!”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, boy.”

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

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

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

“The police?”

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

“Yeah, I guess,” I said.

“No guessing about it,” he said.

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

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

CHAPTER 9

THE BEST OF TIMES AND THE WORST OF TIMES

MARY GOLD

TUESDAY JUNE 17, 1986

It was my twenty-first birthday.  It truly was to be the best and the worst day of my life. I’m thankful that the worst came first and was remedied later in the day.  I saw something the evening before that absolutely crushed me, and I cried myself to sleep.  

I had taken my birthday off from work, but I was too depressed to get out of bed until early afternoon.  Jake tried to contact me several times, but he was the reason that I was in this state of mind, and I didn’t want to see or talk to him.  He knocked on the door and tried calling, but I just ignored him.

I think that I started to fall in love with Jake that first day we met when he was so kind and helpful.  It was now almost ten months later.  I felt like there was chemistry between us, but he continually pulled back from it, which I understood given our original agreement to just be friends.  We saw each almost every day, and on the days we couldn’t see each other, we talked on the phone.  

I was truly grateful that Jake and I got along so well, but I was increasingly troubled that he never so much as tried to hold my hand. I guess I wanted to have my cake and eat it too. Delaying gratification and being disciplined wasn’t easy. That’s why most people don’t do it. But in hindsight, we could have communicated better. Were we just friends? Or were we courting as well? This lack of communication was also what culminated in a most miserable, trying day.

In the spring of 1986, a lovely young lady named Suzy Phillips began attending our church.  She was the niece of the pastor’s wife and had moved here from California. She was  blond, perky, and gorgeous.  I thought she seemed nice and sweet, but I had a serious problem with her.  She was obviously hot for Jake.

Unbeknownst to me, Suzy had been pestering Jake for a motorcycle ride. He had been politely declining her petition, but when she showed up at his grandparent’s house, he gave in and gave her a ride.  This happened the day before my birthday.  

When I saw them return, I put aside feelings of jealousy and stepped out of my door to go say hi. I couldn’t believe what I saw as I froze halfway out the door.  Jake and Suzy were kissing! I slinked back into the house, and commenced almost twenty four hours of severe grief and depression. The way I felt was reminiscent of my feelings when my parents split up.

It was early afternoon the next day by the time I was up and dressed.  It was also early afternoon when I rebuked myself for being so jealous and ignoring Jake. After all, we were just friends. It wasn’t his fault that I not only wanted, but expected more.

After ignoring a half dozen of Jake’s attempts to contact me, I decided to stop hiding from him on his seventh attempt. After hearing the knock, I peeked out the window, then prayed for strength and wisdom after checking the redness of my eyes. I opened the door, forcing a smile.

“Hi, Mary,” Jake said with a look of concern on his face.  “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” I said as cheerfully as I could muster.

“I’ve tried to get a hold of you several times,” he said.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” I said with no intention of telling him why I wasn’t feeling well.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

“I’m much better now,” I said. “I had a really bad night of sleep.  I didn’t end up getting out of bed until just a little while ago.”

I suspected that he was going to ask me about a motorcycle ride which I planned to decline, but instead he handed me a small gift wrapped box and smiled.

“Happy birthday,” Jake said.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the gift that he handed me.  After witnessing his lip lock with Suzy Philips, I wasn’t expecting a gift from him. I wasn’t even excited as I opened it. But it was a pretty silver banded watch, and I felt my mouth open in surprise.

“Jake, you shouldn’t have,” I said with a genuine smile as I put it on.

“Let’s go for a cycle ride,” Jake said. “I want to show you a place that I discovered.”

‘No, thanks’ was what my brain said with stubborn resistance. But his gift lowered my defenses. So I quietly responded. “Okay.”

Jake took me to some abandoned railroad tracks. My first thought was, he typically took me somewhere like a flower garden. Now he’s taking me to an overgrown jungle. We parked the bike and began walking down the old tracks.  I had such mixed feelings.  I absolutely loved being with Jake, but apparently I was just a friend, a pal, a buddy, a Christian sister. Suzy seemed to becoming his girlfriend, a romantic partner, a lover, maybe eventually his wife.

He had kissed her! Not me, who he had been hanging out with for months! But pretty, blonde Suzy, in her form fitting Jordache jeans as the engine on his motorcycle tick, ticked from the heat. They probably even had a make out session on one of the benches Jake and I had frequented. I felt sick again, and wished I hadn’t gone with him.

I was fighting off this discouragement when we came to a bridge.  Now I don’t like heights at all, and it was at least thirty feet to the creek below and fifty feet across the bridge.  At that height the railroad bridge itself seemed incredibly narrow.  I came to an abrupt halt as Jake started across.

Jake turned and looked at me. “Come on, Mary.”

“No way,” I said.

“What’s the matter?” Jake asked with a mischievous grin.

“I’m not walking on that,” I insisted.

He stepped back toward me and took my hand, pulling me.  Normally I would have loved it if he took my hand, but right then I jerked it away and he laughed.  Then he did something that I wasn’t expecting.  He picked me up and began carrying me across!  I kicked and squirmed, but he was too strong. I didn’t want him to drop me, so I closed my eyes and tucked my face into his neck, not wanting to see the creek below.

JAKE

I was taking Mary Gold to show her an old railroad bridge that had a rippling stream beneath it.   I was feeling frustrated and feisty.  Yesterday I had given a gal from church a ride on my motorcycle.  She had been pestering me for some time and I finally gave in, but it was a mistake. Her name was Suzy Phillips, and she had recently moved here from California.

She was, in fact, very pretty.  In appearance, she looked a lot like my ex-girlfriend, Heather Louise Baumgartner.  However Suzy was considerably more flirtatious and more forward than Heather. I’m not gonna lie by saying there wasn’t an element of intrigue. But I was  in love with Mary Gold, and no fleshly vixen could deter this devotion. So although intrigued, I wasn’t actually tempted.

Suzy had come over to my grandparent’s place, and I told her that I had no more than a half hour. So I took her on a motorcycle ride.  When we got back, we climbed off my cycle, and she thanked me.  Then she promptly flung her arms around my neck and kissed me on the lips.  

It caught me off guard and took me completely by surprise.  Like I said, she was very pretty, and if you’re a heterosexual male, it feels pretty good to be kissed by a pretty woman. So it took me a few seconds longer than it should have to come to my senses. Thus the kiss lingered a few seconds longer than it should have before I pushed her away.  

I explained to her that I was in love with Mary Gold and couldn’t do that.  She said she understood and even apologized.  That in itself was a weird situation, to have a beautiful woman apologize for kissing you when you are a nineteen year old man.  She also said that she never would have done that if she had known my feelings for Mary Gold. She thought we were just friends.

“Mary doesn’t seem your type,” she told me.

I didn’t know Suzy knew me well enough to know my tastes.

“Oh yeah?” I responded. “Why isn’t Mary my type?”

“Well… She’s adorably cute, don’t get me wrong. But she’s like, ya know, a bookworm type, hair in bun, always in long skirts, kind of nerdy.  You’re like, all outdoorsy, muscles, and motorcycles.  You look like you should be with a model or something.  As a matter of fact, when I lived in California, I was approached by someone from Playboy to try out for their magazine.”

“You were a Playboy model?” I asked with an arched eyebrow, starting to like her even less.

“Of course not!” she declared with a stern scowl. “I believe in modesty.”

Yet she seemed to be criticizing Mary Gold for appearing too modest.  She also seemed to cross the line with short skirts and low cut tops at church.

“Just so you know, Mary does wear jeans when we go motorcycle riding,” I said.

“Look,” she replied softly. “All I’m saying is you could do much better than Mary.”

“Not in billion years could I ever do better than Mary Gold! There’s more to a person than appearance.”  Then I frowned, because I found Mary Gold more psychically appealing than Suzy in the first place. True, most guys would probably prefer Suzy over Mary Gold. But I’m not most guys. Just like most guys would probably be impressed that Playboy was interested in her, but not me.

Suzy smiled sadly, nodded, and touched my arm. “I’m sorry, I came across all wrong. It was quite conceited of me to assume I’m more, I don’t know, appealing than Mary. She is very attractive in a pre-modern sort of way. I just figured I… Well, never mind. Forget what I was just saying.”

“Okay, I will,” I replied a little more testily than I intended. But I was feeling defensive of Mary Gold, a true beauty physically, personally, and spiritually.

So as Mary Gold and I walked to the railroad bridge, it was going through my mind that I was in love with her and I didn’t know if I even liked Suzy.  Yet my lips had never connected with Mary Gold’s, but they had with Suzy’s.  I also told Suzy that I loved Mary Gold, but I never told Mary Gold that I loved her.  I became determined to change both of these dilemmas before the day was over.  

The problem was that I had never seen Mary Gold so discouraged before, even though she was trying to hide the fact.  For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.  It was her birthday and she should be happy.  Did she not like getting older?  She was only twenty one.

When we arrived at the bridge, Mary Gold stopped and refused to cross because she thought that it was too far below.  Like I said, I was in a feisty mood so I just scooped Mary Gold up into my arms and carried her across against her will.  

She squirmed, and protested at first. Then she simply tucked her face into my neck and shut her eyes.  Her silky auburn hair smelled of lavender as I touched my nose to it.  I felt something stir deep inside my being.  It was deeper than just sexual attraction. But that was there as well.  Until now our most intimate contact was motorcycle rides, with her arms around my waist. It only took half a minute and we were across. “We’re on the other side,” I told her.

She lifted her head and opened her eyes.  She was sucking on her lower lip, but then released it.  It glistened in the sunlight, reminding me of that first motorcycle ride that I took her on.  She looked at me and our faces were only inches apart. Her eyes seemed extra-large and adorable so close to mine. I grinned, and then I went for it, placing my lips on hers.

“You kissed me!” she said with surprise after the two second kiss. The gold flecks in her emerald eyes seemed to be dancing. With what emotion I couldn’t tell. Was she appalled or thrilled?

“Sorry,” I said a little breathless.

“Don’t be,” she whispered with a little smile.

I put my lips back on hers, and the next twenty seconds was pure bliss until she pushed me violently away. Well, violent for delicate, feminine Mary Gold, anyway.

“I saw you kissing Suzy!” Mary Gold declared angrily as I set her down.

It took my brain a few seconds to process her words. Saw me kiss Suzy? Oh… So was that why she was in a funk? “But I didn’t kiss her.”

She shook her head, and put her hands on her hips in defiance. “I saw you, with my own two eyes.”

She pointed at her eyes with the index and middle finger of her right hand. The gold flecks now seemed to dance with anger.

“I believe that you saw Miss Phillips and me in a lip lock, but she kissed me.  I didn’t kiss her!  I admit it took me by surprise and I didn’t break away as quickly as I should have, but I did break away.  I also told her that I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes got as wide as I’d ever seen them, and her mouth dropped open.

“You’re in love with me?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes, I am,” I declared boldly, putting my own hands on my hips. “And I regret that I told Suzy before you. But maybe one good thing will come out of her just showing up where I live and insisting on a motorcycle ride. Circumstances have now forced me into action.”

“Do you mean in love, or love like a friend?” she asked meekly.

“In love,” I said, gently taking both her hands in mine. “As in I want you to be my wife one day soon.”

“Oh my!” she said, pulling her left hand out of mine and covering her mouth.

“I hope you feel the same way,” I now said meekly.

“Oh I do, I do!” she said, throwing her arms around my neck and hugging me fiercely.

When she pulled back, our lips were joined again, and almost instantly we began kissing like they do in France. After a couple of minutes Mary began to convulse and jerk.  I pulled away and noticed tears rolling down her cheeks.  I was completely dumbfounded because this was probably the best moment of my life and I felt like doing a happy dance.  So why was Mary Gold crying?

“Mary, what’s the matter?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said, wiping at her tears. “I’m just a dork.”

“No, there’s something.  Otherwise you wouldn’t be crying,” I said.

Then she laughed, hiccupped, and I felt relief surge through me.

“These are actually tears of relief and joy,” she said. “I’ve been in love with you for so long.  But until right now, I wasn’t sure if you felt the same.  Especially over the last couple of months, I began to doubt more and more that you did. Especially after the last twenty-four hours.”

I put a gentle hand on her cheek. “I think that I began to fall in love with you the moment that we met at my grandparent’s house.  Since then it seems like you’re always on my mind.”

She bit her lower lip and I watched her eyes fill with liquid.  Then she giggled and threw herself into me again.  We embraced for a long minute, and she fit perfectly wrapped in my arms!

WORKING AT LAKE

My first couple of weeks working at Lake Produce were spent packing either sprouts or tomatoes. Then one of the warehouse workers suddenly quit, and Lenny decided that he needed me out there rather than one of the packing rooms.  I was glad that I was able to witness one more interesting sprout room moment before I began my new task at Lake Produce.

On this particular day Lenny walked into the sprout room with a white haired sheriff’s deputy following him. Now Lon was a good guy. He was a hard worker, and the type of guy that would give you the shirt of his back. But he was also a daily pot smoker that ventured onto the wrong side of the law.

“You have a visitor,” Lenny said, looking across the room.

Lon turned and faced them. “Yeah?”

Lenny frowned scornfully at Lon.  Lenny was an ultra-conservative right winger, and Lon was an ultra-liberal left winger.  They weren’t exactly best friends with similar life views.

“The Deputy’s not here for you, Lon,” Lenny spit with disgust. “This is Mervin’s dad.”

I felt a grin grow on my face. Lon just naturally assumed the reason a cop was on the premises would be to question or even arrest him.

“Jake, you want to come with me?” Lenny said. “I’m short handed out in the warehouse.”

“Sure,” I replied, glad to try something different than stuffing sprouts into plastic containers. Plus, I was about to become acquainted with a stranger pairing than Lon and Mervin.

Stan was a friendly, mild mannered, yet bold, religious zealot.  Stan was fifty, give or take.  He had a salt and pepper comb over and thick pop bottle glasses.  Jeb was thirty something, five foot six and weighed more than three hundred pounds.  He was like a large human ball.  Jeb was in charge of loading trucks and he was also a devoted redneck.  I never met anyone that used the ‘F word’ more than Jeff.  I even noticed his heavy usage of this particular slang right off the bat when we first met.

“Jake, this is Jeb,” Lenny said. “Jeb, Jake.”

“How the F are ya?” Jeb asked, giving me a firm handshake.

“Good, nice to meet you,” I said.

“Stan, Jake. Jake, Stan,” Lenny said.

“Nice to meet you, Jake,” Stan said, offering me firm handshake with big toothy smile.

“Nice to meet you, Stan,” I said.

“Praise God,” Stan said.

I suppose Stan and Jeb got along well enough, but I quickly learned that there was an odd dynamic between them.  Jeb used at least one, often two, F bombs per sentence.  It appeared that Stan counteracted Jeb’s cursing with religious phrases.  Every time that Jeb swore, Stan would usually say praise God.  If Jeb took The Lord’s name in vain, Stan would not only counter it with a double praise God, but he would actually rebuke Jeb.  Believe or not Jeb took it well and fortunately rarely said The Lord’s name in vain. Stan was also known to burst forth in song at any given moment.  He would often sing a hymn at the top of his lungs.

There were countless memorable days at Lake Produce Incorporated, and Stan provided me with one of the most memorable days.  It was several months after we had first met and one of Lenny’s drivers quit on the spot without giving any notice. So Lenny had Stan fill in on the vacated route, and he had me go along with Stan to learn the route.

There were two things in particular that happened that day that I will never forget.  The first thing that happened was in Washington, Iowa.  We drove down a back alley to make a delivery to a restaurant.  All of Lake’s trucks had refrigeration units.  These units were mounted at the front of the cargo box.  They were powered by little diesel pony motors.  These little engines had two speeds.  They would run fast when they were cooling, but when they got down to the desired temperature, they would kick down to an idle.  The particular truck that Stan and I had that day smoked a lot when it ran fast.

So we were parked in the back ally and opened the rear door to make the delivery.  After the door was open for a minute or two and most of the cold air had escaped, the refer engine kicked on high to cool it back down.  When the engine kicked back on high, a lot of thick, black smoke belched forth, especially the first minute or two when it went from low to high.

Stan and I took several two wheel cart loads of produce into the restaurant.  Then Stan went up front to get a check and I took our two wheel carts to the truck.  When I went outside, a fire truck was coming up the alley behind our truck.  I signaled to the firemen that I would move the truck out of the alley.  When I went to move it, another fire truck came at me from the other direction.  I got out of the truck and ran up to a fire fighter to see where they wanted me to go.

“You mean your truck isn’t on fire?” he asked.

“No,” I replied, puzzled.

“We got a call telling us that there was a truck on fire in this alley,” he said.

“No,” I said, pointing at the refer unit. “When that thing kicks on, it smokes a lot.”

The fireman and his colleagues started laughing.

“So I guess you don’t want us to stick our hose down it then?” he asked.

“I don’t know, maybe you should,” I replied, laughing.

It was a couple hours later in Mount Pleasant Iowa.  Stan was lost and also trying to look at invoices as he drove.  He was coming up fast on a stop sign. Before I could warn him, he zipped right through it.

“Stan!” I shouted as we rolled through the intersection.

“Oh, no!” Stan declared.

Fortunately there were no other vehicles around.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” Stan said with deep remorse.

“No big deal,” I said. “Nothing happened.”

“No, it is a big deal,” Stan said. “If other people were around, it could have been bad.”

Five minutes later we pulled up in front of the police station.

“What are we doing here?” I asked, frowning.

“I’m turning myself in,” Stan replied.

“For running that stop sign?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“But no one was even around, and you weren’t going very fast.”

“That’s beside the point. I broke the law, and I need to pay my debt to society.”

I sat in the truck dumbfounded as Stan walked toward the police station. Then I realized that I had to see this. I hopped out and jogged up behind Stan.

“Can I help you?” a middle aged dispatch lady asked us as we entered the building.

“Yes,” Stan replied. “I’d like to turn myself in for running a stop sign.”

“You ran a stop sign?” she asked casually.

“Yes, about ten minutes ago,” Stan answered. “I wasn’t paying attention and I ran the stop sign at second avenue and forth street.”

“Let me get an officer,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

Two officers returned with her.  One of them had sergeant strips, and he was the one who spoke to Stan.  Stan repeated what he told the dispatch lady.  The two officers looked at each other, both of their mouths twitched with suppressed grins.  I wondered if they were contemplating a drug search.

“Well,” the sergeant began. “Thank you for your honesty.  It seems that you learned a lesson, though.  I think that we can let you go with a warning.”

“Thank you,” Stan said.

“You’re welcome,” the sergeant replied.

“Praise God,” Stan said.

“Yes,” the sergeant said.

“God bless you,” Stan said.

“Have a nice day,” the sergeant said. “Be safe.”

Once we were back in the truck and on our way, Stan began belting out a hymn with as much gusto as an opera singer.

CHAPTER 8

JAKE MEETS LENNY LAKE

At the time I met Mary Gold, I had become a religious skeptic, but not a spiritual skeptic. I have always believed in God, but I haven’t always known what to believe.  As a boy, I started out Catholic, but when I was around nine or ten my parents joined a Fundamentalist Protestant church.  I attended this church until my embarrassing incident with the Baumgartner family.  

Once my poor judgement became known, I was too humiliated to attend our church any longer. In the community though, specifically among my peers, the rumor was that Mr. Baumgartner caught his daughter and me in the act of intimacy.

Although this was not true, I did nothing at the time to correct the misconception. I figured I would let Heather do that. But for some reason she didn’t! So rather than keep a stoic silence with my friends, I did a little embellishing. Which means, the truth is I lied.

I now admit this to my shame, but I was eighteen and my buddies viewed me as some type of hero. This gossip also made me desirable to the undesirable class of female for some reason. The kind of girl you wouldn’t take home to meet your mother. So I tried to keep my distance. But I also kept a condom in my wallet in case the mood and opportunity coincided. Thankfully it didn’t.

The biggest surprise was Heather herself. She had been cold and hostile toward me after the incident, which was understandable. What I didn’t understand was her not setting the record straight herself. Did she still like me? We had even expressed loving each other several times. Would she still see me in secret despite risking the wrath of her father?

I had to find out. So I approached her when I saw her alone at her locker. “Hi Heather, can we talk for a minute?” I meekly asked.

“I can’t talk to you,” she replied cooly, but didn’t walk away. She just stood there hugging her notebooks. Her face was a blank mask as she gazed steadily into my eyes. Given what had happened, my toes curled. But she wasn’t mad, she didn’t appear sad, nor did she seem glad that I wanted to talk to her. She just waited on my next words, even though she declared she couldn’t talk to me.

“How come…” I began before pausing briefly. “You haven’t set the record straight? I mean… You know what people are saying.”

She shrugged. We had been a couple for two years. Maybe she wanted people to think she wasn’t… a what? A prude? A religious zealot? Or maybe she wanted people to think she was just one of the girls having fun with her boyfriend? “Why haven’t you?” she asked.

Now I shrugged. “I guess, since I’m an outcast at our church, I want them to think we, um, well, you know.”

I noticed her jaw tighten. “Maybe I should set the record straight then.”

I nodded. “If you do, I’ll acknowledge the truth.”

Now I noticed a little smile play at the corners of her mouth. Then to my surprise, she winked and began to walk away. I caught her by the hand, stopping her. I noticed we had gained a subtle audience, a mix of her friends and mine who didn’t hide their interest, but respectfully kept their distance. I spoke with my voice low. “Heather, if your parents hadn’t come home, would you have…?”

“You’ll never know, will you?” she replied with a coy smile.

“When I told you I loved you, I meant it,” I said.

“Me too,” she replied matter of fact. However, her face was a blank mask once again. But she did give me a quick kiss on the lips before walking out of my life forever. That kiss only added to the gossip.

In the months before Mary Gold and I started seeing each other, Heather was on my mind quite a bit. Two things played over and over in my mind. When she said “can’t” talk to you rather than ‘didn’t want to.’ Also, “you’ll never know.”

Ultimately, I’m glad how things turned out. Mary Gold is much better suited for me than Heather would have been. Yet when I found out how Heather’s life turned out, I once again felt guilt about the incident and the role I might have played.

Yet strangely, that would mean I would have ended up with Heather rather than Mary Gold. I would also have been a part of the rigid church we grew up in, rather than the Spirit filled church Mary Gold introduced me to. I’ll never forget that first day going to worship service with my future wife.

Mary Gold’s church was a quaint brick structure near downtown Cedar Rapids.  She was right about the members. Although she warned me there were some bad apples in her congregation,  I was truly amazed with the many relaxed, friendly people.  Even when I met Leonard Lake, he was pleasant and charming.  Mary and I were chatting casually with a pleasant, elderly couple when Lenny and his wife approached us.

“Well, hello Mary,” Lenny said, grabbing her hand and giving it several quick pumps.

I instantly noticed that Mary Gold’s smile went from bright and genuine to forced.

“Hello, Lenny,” she said.  Then she turned to Lenny’s wife and shook her hand. “Hello, Delores.”

Delores reminded me of someone that might have attended my previous church. She was a handsome woman with short blonde hair and close set blue eyes. But her sharp facial features tapered to a mouth that looked like it had bit into a lemon, and her eyes scanned about critically.

Lenny had slicked back salt and pepper hair, intense brown eyes, and a bulbous nose, above a smarmy grin. “So who’s your strong looking male companion?” Lenny asked Mary Gold.

What an odd choice of words, I thought.  He looked at me like he had an ulterior motive, and I believe he did. He gazed into my eyes, like a used car salesman longing to make the sale.

“This is Jake Weston,” Mary Gold told the Lake’s.

“Nice to meet you, Jake,” Delores said, eyeing me skeptically, then glancing at Mary Gold. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

Mary Gold looked startled. “Oh, he’s not my boyfriend. I mean he’s a friend and he’s a boy.  Well actually he’s a man, but he’s not, you know, my boyfriend so to speak. But we are friends! You know, platonically speaking.”

Delores looked relieved and I felt a little irritated.

“Glad to meet you, Jake,” Lenny said, shaking my hand.  He held it about ten seconds too long and almost seemed to pull me toward himself.

“Nice to meet you both,” I said.

“How are you doing?”

“Good, how about you?”

“I’m doing fantastic, other than a bit of hemorrhoidal itch,” Lenny said with a wink and a chuckle.

Delores pursed her lips even more if possible and frowned. Mary Gold’s eyes widened in mild shock and her mouth gaped. I was a little taken aback but laughed none the less.

“So what do you do, Jake?” Lenny wanted to know.

I told him my plans, and he told me about his produce business.

“I could use a good part time driver and laborer,” Lenny said.

I nodded. “Yeah, I might be interested.”

I glanced at Mary Gold and then had to do a double take.  She was staring at me with wide, straining eyes with a frozen smile on her face.  She almost appeared to be shaking her head, even though it was perfectly still.  Later she advised me not to work for Lenny. She said that she knew of a couple people from church that had worked for him, and he was completely different from how he was at church.  At church he appeared a cheerful, loving Christian.  At his business he was a greedy tyrant.

But the set up that Lenny was offering seemed like it would work well for me until I was full time at UPS.  I assured Mary Gold that my previous church experience would have prepared me to deal with Lenny.  At least I was partially right.

At the start of the church service, the Pastor read some announcements.  Lenny Lake read a few Bible passages, and then Lenny, the Pastor, and another man knelt in front of the congregation to lead in an opening prayer.  I noticed Delores trying to signal Lenny about something. It looked like she was making a zipping gesture. Then I noticed Lenny fly was wide open. He seemed to not understand what his wife was communicating. But I was wrong.

We all knelt, bowed our heads, and prayed.  When the prayer was over, we sat back in the pews.  I was barely seated when I noticed Lenny waddling and stumbling around the podium. Apparently when heads were bowed during the prayer, Lenny had zipped his necktie into his pants. Snickering and then laughter erupted all around us.  I contributed to this amusement to the point that tears leaked from my eyes and my stomach hurt.

That was my first encounter with Lenny Lake. Fortunately the rest of the day was uneventful.  The Pastor’s sermon dealt with the subject of hellfire, and he gave a lot of scriptural evidence that there is no eternally burning hell. He coupled this with the state of the dead, turning us to numerous Bible verses as well.

He pointed out that when a person dies, it is basically like being asleep until the resurrection at Jesus’s second coming.  I was fascinated by his sermon, because the thought of a loving God burning people someplace forever had always troubled and confused me.  To learn that hellfire was an event rather than a place made better sense.  I now saw it as similar to the flood during Noah’s time, only the earth would be destroyed by fire rather than water.

I found out later that he was inspired to speak on that subject that day for my benefit. Apparently, Mary Gold had told him that I was coming that day and she knew from our conversations that the topic of hellfire troubled me.  I had heard so many fire and brimstone sermons that she was having a hard time convincing me that I was misguided. But between her teachings and this powerful sermon, I was beginning to see the light.

Mary Gold and I went out to dinner that night.  There was nothing of significance to report.  We even just shook hands at the end of the evening.  From this point on, she and I would become best of friends. We seemed to put romance on hold, even as it simmered in the back of our minds.  But things would change in nine months on her twenty-first birthday as a matter of fact.  It wasn’t without a huge, uncomfortable wrinkle that was unknown to me in the moment.

I had only worked at Lake Produce a couple days when I noticed that Lon had the biggest coffee mug I had ever seen. Lon had sent Mervin on an errand to buy some jugs of bleach, and he and I were alone. In order to make conversation with the rather quiet leader of the sprout room, I commented on his coffee mug.

“It actually holds a pot of coffee,” he told me.

“I believe it.”

“I drink at least two, sometimes three a day.”

“You’re kidding!”

“No, I’m not. I used to drink four a day. But I cut back, I was too jittery.”

“Imagine that. No wonder you make so many trips to the restroom.”

“Well, I need it,” he explained. “I was in a really bad accident 15 years ago. I was in a coma for almost a week. I made a good recovery, but ever since I’ve been prone to seizures. I have to take this medication that makes me kind of sleepy. So this coffee keeps me going.”

“What happened with the accident?”

“I was hit head on by a drunk driver on a highway south of town,” he told me. “The funny thing was I lived outside of Cedar Rapids, and was driving into town to meet some friends. When I was getting ready at home and brushing my hair, I heard a woman’s voice say ‘don’t go.’ I was alone and thought I was hearing things, so I ignored it. Then I heard it again even louder. This time it creeped me out. But instead of listening to it, I just left in a hurry.”

“Did you hear it after you left?”

“Nope. But if I ever hear that voice warning me again, I’ll obey. You see, that was the last thing I remember about that night, leaving my bedroom in a hurry. The next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital.”

“Wow!”

Lon reached for his bucket of coffee and took a swig. No sooner had he set it down, when the door burst open. Mervin seemed to fly into the room. He heaved one of the jugs of bleach onto the table with such gusto, he lost his grip. The wayward jug bounced and rolled right into Lon’s tank of coffee. It shot to the floor, the entire contents spilling.

“Oops,” Mervin replied as he looked at the mess with hands on his hips. Lon gazed at him both patiently and menacingly. “Do you want me to go to the convenience store and refill it?”

“I’ll do it,” Lon said. Then imitating Laurel and Hardy, he continued. “If you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.”

CHAPTER 7

JAKE

My plan to distance myself from Mary Gold didn’t go as I intended, just the opposite as a matter of fact.  The next day I woke up from an afternoon nap just in time to see Mary Gold get home from work.  I needed to get on my motorcycle and leave before Mary Gold could change clothes and come outside.  I drank a glass of water, brushed my teeth quick, combed my hair, threw on my shoes, and dashed out of the back door.  I snuck around front where my cycle was parked.

Mary Gold was sitting on her front steps wearing jeans and a T-shirt.  She was putting on shoes and socks, stopping to wiggle all of her right hand’s fingers at me.  I waved back and started my bike.  As I maneuvered my motorcycle down the driveway, I noticed Mary Gold watching me with something like longing in her countenance.  

I was just going to leave without asking her if she wanted to come since she didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going.  But she looked a little lonely. That was her problem, so I tried to ignore her. I made a left turn onto the road and went about fifty feet when my cycle suddenly turned into Mary’s driveway.  What was it doing? Did I turn it that way?

“Wanna go for a ride?” I heard myself ask.

“Sure,” she said, smiling brightly as she bounced toward me and climbed on behind me.  She placed her hands in the bad spot again, just above my hips and it tickled.

“Mary, remember? Don’t put your hands there,” I said.

“Sorry,” she said, then purposely wiggled her fingers into my sides causing extreme ticklishness to occur.  I squirmed and shot off of my seat as she giggled.

“Mary, don’t do that!” I said, laughing despite myself.  “Look Mary, now you’re gonna make me not trust you to hold on to me.  You don’t want to make the guy driving a motorcycle jumpy, do you?”

“No, I’m sorry,” she said, looking at me all wide eyed and innocent.

She could have gotten away with murder as a kid. Yet I would bet anything that she was the sweetest, most well behaved child ever. Maybe.

“You better not,” I said, staring her down.

She bit her lower lip, trying to suppress a grin.  I wondered if she knew how adorable she looked, like a living, breathing precious moment’s figurine. I felt the corners of my mouth twitch, and bit down on my tongue before I exposed my own grin.

“Cross my heart,” she said, making an x across her chest with a finger.

I took Mary Gold to see more flowers. This time it was Noelridge Park. She walked around in admiration of the colorful plants, and I strolled along admiring her. So why was there a part of me that wanted to distance myself from this captivating beauty? It must have been good reasoning. The side me that was infatuated with her could bring trouble. When she had checked out every garden bed, we found a bench and sat.

“There’s something I’d like to discuss quick, if you don’t mind,” I said.

“Sure, what’s up?” she replied.

“I love what a straight shooter you are with things.  It makes for good communication,” I told her.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I’ll be honest,” I said.  “After our conversation last night, before we parted ways, I was a little freaked out.”

“How come?” she asked, frowning.

“It just troubled me a bit that the subject of marriage came up with a gal I had only known for half of a day.”

Much to my relief, she laughed.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I guess I’m just neurotic. It just seems like in the dating world these days that in general guys seem to think they should be able to take a girl to bed after a few dates.  I just feel the need to be upfront about how that is not going to be the case with me.  Do you know what I mean?  I don’t want a guy to invest or waste even one day of time or money dating me without him knowing full well that he will not be getting sex until we are married. I will only marry a Godly man, or I’ll choose to be a spinster if necessary.”

Mary Gold seemed so incredibly wholesome to me, that even hearing her say the word sex made me a little uncomfortable. Could I be a Godly enough man for Mary Gold?  I thought of all the flaws in my character and felt unworthy.

“I admire that,” I told her.

Mary Gold shrugged. “Thanks.”

“I really like spending time with you,” I said.

“And I, you,” she said.

“So, would you be okay if we were just friends, then?” I asked.

Her smile seemed almost forced as she said, “That’s the way it should be.”

“Well, good,” I said, dumbly.

“So does this mean you’re not taking me out to dinner?” she asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ll still take you to dinner,” I said.  “Friends have dinner together, don’t they? Then maybe you can buy me dinner.”

“I’d be glad to,” she with a coy smile, causing my forehead to form a puzzled frown.

“Can I ask you something?” I said.

“No,” she replied matter of fact.

I looked at her a little surprised, my puzzled frown deepening. She giggled and gave me a poke in the ribs with a sharp fingernail.  Being highly ticklish, I jolted. Although laughing, I barked, “Stop it!”

She ignored my demand, and went for second stab. I grabbed her hand and held it. Now we both became still, and our grins morphed into a serious gaze as our eyes locked. Were we really gonna be just friends? What was this strange attraction we found ourselves in? What were the obstacles? She swallowed, licked her lower lip. “What did you want to ask me?”

I let go of her hand as if it were hot. I looked at her moist lips for a second too long. I recalled my experience with Heather Louise Baumgartner, and our church’s strong admonition that we court, and ultimately marry from within. Perceiving that Mary Gold’s church was also very conservative, I paused. “Mary, doesn’t your church require that you only marry a fellow believer, a fellow member?”

“Yes,” she replied, and then tilted her head as if to ask, what’s your point?

“Well, we can never be more than friends then,” I told her.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t belong to your church,” I said with a little bit of a sarcastic chuckle.

“Not yet.”

“Not ever,” I blurted, irritation rising with at her presumption.

“I beg to differ.”

This reply should have caused my irritation to increase. But she had such a pleased look on her face, even kind of silly. My irritation actually left, and I felt myself smile as I simply said, “Is that right?”

“Yes,” she answered with a single nod and then a quick lick of her upper lip. Was she trying to look adorable, or did she just come naturally? The sun made her auburn hair shine, and her green, gold flecked eyes sparkle. But I was strong willed, holding onto my good judgement rather than my desire.

“I beg to differ. Would you care to explain?”

“Well, I feel like we’ve established the beginning of a friendship, don’t you?”

“I do.”

She smiled coyly, biting her lower lip. When I said I do, it instantly reminded me of a marriage vow. I perceived that she was thinking the same thing. I arched an eyebrow and said, “What?”

“What, what?”

“Never mind,” I said. “So we’re friends, that doesn’t mean I’ll become a member of your church.”

“I beg to differ.”

“What, are we in a comedy routine, or something? Tell me why being friends with you will cause me to become a member of your church.”

“It’s simple. We will have plenty of conversations as friends and neighbors. I can tell you are a seeker of truth. I’m passionate about God and His inspired Word, the Bible. So wahla!”

“Well, I’m here to tell you that it isn’t that simple. Yes, I suppose I am a seeker to understand my existence and the meaning of life. But I’ve already ruled out one phase, and that’s dogmatic, legalistic, religion with their fire and brimstone God that punishes with eternal torment just for not believing in him, or bowing down to him. Been there, done that!

“I don’t believe in that God either,” she replied.

“I thought you said you are a Bible believer.”

“I am, absolutely.”

“Well, I’m no Bible scholar, but I’ve been through it, and heard countless sermons about hell with all the time I spent in church as a youth. I know for a fact that it says the wicked will be destroyed with eternal punishment.”

“Punishment, not punishing,” she replied. Then she quoted a dozen scriptures. She recited which book of the Bible, along with chapters and verses, just from memory. In a nutshell, she proved that the wicked die eternally, and the hellfire at the end of time ends when all the wickedness is burned up.

In other words, hell is an event, not place. The world was destroyed by flood the first time. It will be by fire the last time. Then the Lord will make all things new, and it will be perfect. See the last two chapters of the book of Revelation.

We were so engrossed in our discussion, we both had been leaning forward, elbows on our knees, slightly turned toward each other. When Mary Gold concluded our Bible study with no Bibles, she leaned back on the bench, and crossed one leg over the other. There were holes in the knees of her jeans. As I gazed at the lovely kneecap protruding from the denim, I figured the tear in the material was acquired by much prayer.

Despite this thought, I spontaneously clutched her knee with the tips of my fingers and thumb. She shrieked, and then began a little jig on the bench, squirming, wiggling, and grabbing at my hand to free it from her ticklish knee. I cackled maliciously, increasing my grip.

“Please, stop,” she both laughed and whined.

“Do you promise not to tickle my ribs me anymore?”

“Sort… of,” she gasped. I increased the grip a little more. “Yes, yes, please, yes!”

I let go, and her cute face scrunched hideously as she jammed fingers into my arm pits.

“Yeeeeeeee!!!!!” I bellowed. My ribs weren’t the only ticklish spot on me. I grabbed both of her wrists as she giggled. I scolded her as I let go, “You promised!”

“I promised not to tickle you here,” she said as a finger darted toward my ribs. Even though she stopped short, I jolted.

I grabbed the wrist attached to the offending hand and pulled her toward me. Both of us were grinning, our faces inches apart, I muttered, “I oughta…”

I paused, almost kissing her. But she spoke, and my boldness dissipated. “You oughta come to church with me.”

“Okay,” I heard myself say. Even as I inwardly kicked myself, I asked. “When?”

“Saturday at nine,” she said. “You can ride with me.”

“Saturday? Are you Jewish?”

“I’m a Christian. A Seventh Day Adventist to be specific.”

“So why Saturday?”

“It’s the Biblical Sabbath of creation, and the fourth commandment of the ten instituted at Mount Sinai.”

“But all Christians keep Sunday.”

“I beg to differ. There are Seventh Day Baptists, The Church of God Seventh Day, and The Worldwide Church of God, just to name a few of the most prominent.”

Another Bible study ensued from Mary Gold’s uncanny memory and intellect. She almost had me convinced. The next day, I consulted a pastor at a Cedar Rapids church similar to the one I grew up in. When I ran the Sabbath question by him, he assured me that the Sabbath was changed to Sunday in honor of the resurrection.

I’d like to tell you that I went boldly back to Mary Gold with my findings. But I also inquired about an eternally burning hell. His argument was flimsy compared to Mary’s belief with only a fraction of scripture to support it. The passages he did use had already been refuted by Mary the previous day. I didn’t want to argue with him, but ironically, I wanted to set Mary Gold straight about the Sabbath, even though she seemed more astute than the pastor I talked to.

“We keep Sunday in honor of the resurrection,” I told her as we took seats on my grandparent’s back deck. Then I frowned at myself. Who’s we? I hadn’t been to church in months.

“Is that right?” Mary Gold asked. “What led you to this conclusion?”

I told her about my visit with the pastor just an hour earlier.

“Can you excuse me for a minute?” she said, and then ran clumsily through the yard and over to her house, lifting her yellow sundress up past her knees as she did so. She was wearing flat sandals and one flew off causing her to stumble. She placed it back on her foot, deciding to just walk briskly. She returned with a well-worn Bible and handed it to me. “Can you show me just one text he shared with you where the Sabbath was changed?”

“Um, he, ah…” I began, and just stared at her.

“Can I show you something?” Mary Gold asked as she opened her Bible to the book of Acts. She showed me several verses where the apostles went to synagogue on the Sabbath. “Why did the apostles still keep the Sabbath instituted at creation if it was changed because of the resurrection? Jesus had already ascended to heaven.”

“I… Um… don’t know.”

“Do you know when the tradition of Sunday keeping began?”

“Obviously I don’t.”

“It became prominent in the 4^th century when the Roman Emperor Constantine made Christianity a legal religion. It was during this time that many pagan rites were brought into the church of Rome. The biggest was paganism’s venerable day of the Sun. Human reasoning over Biblical truth prevailed. With the change, instead of worshiping the sun god, they supposedly were honoring the Son of God.”

“Does it really matter what day we keep though? God made all the days of the week.”

“Well, the way I see it. The fourth commandment is the one out the ten that recognizes God as the Creator. It’s the one He made Holy. He did not make any of the other six Holy. God does not change, so no human being has the right to change it for Him. The book of Daniel 7:25 even predicted this would happen around six hundred years before Christ walked the earth.”

“So why did God let it happen?”

“Man has free will,” Mary Gold said with a shrug. “And unfortunately sinful natures. Throughout the Bible, notice that it’s usually only a minority that truly follow God. Jesus warns of this very thing in Matthew 7:13 and 14.”

This was all too much information for my feeble brain. But I was intrigued. Thankfully, I put my pride aside, and with the guidance of the Holy Spirit, I began to absorb the truths Mary Gold shared with me. I also let her take me to church.

I was about to take my first step starting at Lake Produce, because Leonard “Lenny” Lake attended Mary Gold’s church. I was about to meet him for the first unforgettable time.

(For an in-depth study of the Biblical doctrines brought up, please check out Amazing Facts ministry. They have excellent Bible study guides. Or you can simply watch insightful videos they have posted on YouTube.)