XXX

“My goal was to make Amy one of the biggest porn stars in the country,” Lexi said as she glanced apologetically at her sister. Amy smiled forgivingly, but her face flushed. Whether due to anger or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell. I had just mentioned reading their story in the e-book ‘Knight Storm,’ by Johnathan Embers.

The two half siblings sat next to each other on a sofa in Lexi’s home. I sat across from them in an easy chair. Lexi was dressed in faded jeans and a red flannel shirt. Her long dark brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Amy, like me, wore a denim skirt and a sweater. We both wore converse sneakers. Hers were pink, while mine were blue. Amy’s long red-gold hair cascaded in silky waves over her shoulders. My short auburn hair was a nest of unruly tufts.

“I didn’t even know this until well after I escaped her influence in my life,” Amy added. “When I lived with her, she was putting major pressure on me to become a stripper like she was. It was a really strange time in my life. I didn’t know what else to do, but go along with her manipulations. Yet I held on to a belief that I was going to escape somehow.”

“And that’s when a pesky Bible thumping couple interfered,” Lexi said with a chuckle as she referred to Destiny and Brock. “I was so angry at the time. I never, ever would have thought I would become one of them.”

Amy took a hold of her sister’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Lexi pulled it to her lips and gave it a soft kiss, her eyes welling with tears. “I’m so sorry, little sis.”

“I know,” Amy giggled, and then became earnest as she put her other hand on Lexi’s, sandwiching them between hers. “You’ve apologized more than enough times.”

It had only been a little more than a month since Lexi had been demon possessed. Although I had caught glimpses of her at church, this was the first time we had met and talked. Amy had shown me a picture of Lexi before her deliverance and conversion. She was wearing an extremely short leopard print mini skirt, a red spandex top that barely covered her breasts, four inch stiletto heels, thick makeup, and her big hair looked like it exploded from a dozen curling irons. Her dark eyes looked wild, but unless you knew her story, you wouldn’t necessarily think demonic.

That was sexy Lexi. Sitting across from me was a plain Jane. Yet I found the woman sitting across from me much more attractive than the woman that was a visual aphrodisiac to carnal desire. Unlike the feral woman in the photo, the new creature, the new Lexi, was now like the man that had been possessed by a legion of devils in (Mark 5: 15). She was clothed and sitting in her right mind.

I smiled as I watched the two sisters holding hands. Two women that had been at enmity with each other, now reunited with the love of Jesus binding them together. I had no idea then that the two sisters would become such close spiritual sisters to me as time kept slipping into the future. Yet even with Lexi’s conversion, the two women and our two separate friendships couldn’t have been more different.

Amy and I would develop a friendship on a level I had with dear Anna. But I would soon discover with Lexi that a deliverance from demon possession did not deliver from temptation, or eliminate a strong, even abrasive personality. She gave me quite an education on the ways of the world, and nobody shed more light on spiritual darkness for me like Miss Gomez. In turn, I became one of the key people she turned to, to talk and pray with in times of trial and temptation.

“Lexi,” I said speaking softly. “Would you mind telling me about your ordeal a month ago? You know, what led to your conversion. What led you to surrender to the group’s petitions that were praying for you when you seemed to be in such bondage.”

She turned an intense look toward me that caused me to stiffen. Her penetrating gaze was not wild, but so energized it startled me. Then she smiled pleasantly. “I’d be glad to.”

“Thank you.”

“There were a few things,” she began and then sighed. “There was the love I saw in Amy, especially after I had treated her so horribly in the past. And your dad being there was another. I don’t know whether you knew it or not, but I intended to kill your dad, Sevenia.”

I felt a chill race up my spine. “What!”

“So he didn’t tell you?” Lexi asked with a cautious frown.

“No, nobody did,” I replied as I glanced at Amy.

Her cute face scrunched into an ugly wince. “I assumed Seven told you all about it.”

I just shook my head and looked back to Lexi.

“Zella had found out my intentions and told him,” Lexi explained. “That’s why I’m so impressed that he was one of the people praying for me in that nightmare room. But at one point he did try to flee. He plowed right into the door, thinking he would burst through as if he was Scooby Doo and Shaggy.”

Amy giggled and I looked at her. Then her face became serious. “I don’t mean to laugh. But at one point Lexi, and or the demons, focused on him and he freaked. I would have, too.”

“But I choked you and you didn’t go anywhere,” Lexi said.

“I couldn’t go anywhere,” Amy replied. “Your hands were around my neck holding me in place, not to mention blocking off my air.”

We all laughed, even though at the time there was nothing funny about it.

“When I first heard about your ordeal,” I said. “I wished I could have witnessed it, and most importantly, taken part in the prayers. Now I’m not so sure.”

“To be clear about your dad,” Lexi said. “I have the utmost respect for him.”

“Me too,” Amy added.

“I do too,” I said with both a scowl and a smile. “But he’s gonna have some explaining to do.”

“So, anyway,” Lexi continued. “It was actually choking Amy that broke the hold of the darkness controlling me. Even though there was this part of me that despised her, even hatred for her, there was also this side of me that loved her. I clung to that, and it threw me into a bizarre vision of a series of dreams I had that led me to go mad.

When I went to that wedding at Cotton Creek Cove, I saw this picture in the foyer. It was Jesus holding up a distraught man that held a hammer and spikes in his hands. The hammer and spikes symbolizing the nails that crucified Jesus for the man’s sins. Yet Jesus held him tightly and with overwhelming love.

The picture moved me immensely. Yet I began having a reoccurring dream that was sort of the opposite. I was defiantly going toward a cross on a hill, carrying a hammer and spikes. Christians were trying to preach at me and I was snarling, growling and waving the hammer at them. Then during the ordeal, the dream became more real.

I found myself in front of the cross yelling ‘crucify Him, crucify Him’ with the demonic frenzied mob. The crowd then began to egg me on, demanding I pound the spikes into Jesus. They insisted He was to blame for all the oppression, struggles and guilt I felt in my life. I found myself running angrily toward the cross. But it was like I wasn’t making progress. Then all of a sudden I was there.”

Lexi, who had been telling this story calmly and composed, suddenly broke down with heavy, anguished sobs.

“It’s okay, Lex,” Amy soothed. “We get the point.”

“No, you don’t!” Lexi barked as she shook her head violently. “I was at the cross. But it wasn’t like a crucifix or some painting where there is only a little trickle of blood coming out at the nail wounds. Jesus was all bloody, from head to toe. His flesh was ripped to shreds. His head hung all crimson, His hair matted. Then he looked at me with such love, compassion and forgiveness. While He suffered this!”

Lexi covered her face and began a second round of sobs. This time Amy just stared at her sister with her mouth hanging open. That’s when I realized my mouth was hanging open as well. Then I heard myself speaking. “His visage was so marred more than any man, and His form than the sons of men.” (Isaiah 52:14)

The two sisters slowly turned their gaze on me, wide eyed and then Amy spoke. “I gave my back to the smitters and my cheeks to them that plucked off the hair.” (Isaiah 50:6)

“I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands,” I added. (Isaiah 49:16)

“What are you guys talking about?” Lexi asked, quietly, and reverently as she perceived we were talking about Jesus.

“They’re some Bible verses from the book of Isaiah that prophesied of Jesus’s sacrifice on the cross,” Amy said as she wiped tears off of her cheeks.

“I’m so new to all this,” Lexi said with a quiver in her voice. “This is amazing!”

“Lex, how come you haven’t told me about this dream or vision before?” Amy asked, mildly.

“I was ashamed at the depth of my wickedness,” Lexi said with a shrug. “But now that I’ve adjusted to my new outlook, or lifestyle, or whatever. It’s time I share my full experience to bring glory to God for what he’s done for me.”

“Has it been a hard adjustment, Lexi?” I asked.

“It’s been strange,” she replied. “But wonderfully strange. When my ordeal was over, I felt such an incredible burden lifted. I was afraid it wouldn’t last. I was concerned I was gonna wake up wicked and crazy again. But each day, I feel a little closer to Jesus. That’s why I’m now ready to share my full testimony. The only bad thing is the strain on my relationship with Devin. It looks like it’s over.”

“It is!” Amy said. “Lex, why haven’t you told me that either?”

“Well, you’re married to his brother. Didn’t he tell you?”

“He apparently didn’t tell Dirk,” Amy answered.

“How do you know?”

“He would have told me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, yeah,” Amy said with an uncertain frown. “Is it because of your new faith?”

“I would have to say yes. I told him we couldn’t sleep together anymore, and he pretty much hasn’t talked to me since.”

“Did he move out?”

“He moved out of our room, but downstairs. Keep it down cuz he’s probably listening to us.”

Amy got up and marched to the basement stairs.

“Amy, what are doing?” Lexi asked, yet she didn’t seem all that bothered.

“Devin,” Amy shouted.

“What?”

“It’s your sister in law.”

“I know, what do you want?” he shouted back, then I heard grumbling I couldn’t make out.

“Get up here,” she said with a frown as she sternly crossed her arms.  She began to vigorously tap her toe. I felt my own toes curl. Then I looked at Lexi, but she was smiling and shaking her head. My mouth dropped open when my eyes laid on Devin for the first time. Not because he was wearing a pair of gym shorts and nothing else, but because it was like looking at Amy’s wholesome Dirk, only with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other and his arms completely covered in ink. Amy began to lecture him complete with finger wagging in his face. She finished with something about marriage.

“As volatile as Lexi has been,” he laughed. “Give me one good reason why I should marry her?”

“I’m pregnant,” Lexi replied, causing us all to look at her with, once again, gaped mouths.

XXIX

I knew Sevenia Sallie was different the first time we met in her father’s hospital room. She simply wasn’t like most teenage girls. Not only in appearance, but in her character, personality, and maturity. I knew she was special the second time we met several weeks later.

In between our first and second encounters, we both lost someone dear to our hearts to death. She lost her mother while I lost my beloved wife of six decades. The second time I saw her I was delivering my first sermon since my wife’s passing. I was hurting and filled with what I thought was righteous indignation. My congregation was probably expecting a tearful, sentimental address so close on the heals  of my wife dying. But they were wrong. I was prepared to deliver a scathing rebuke over the spiritual lethargy that was creeping into the flock.

I was beyond tired of people thinking I didn’t notice them sneaking peeks at their phones and concealing fatigue through the guise of prayer. Then I spotted Sevenia looking earnestly at me from the second row. Her father Seven was on her left, Destiny Knight-Storm was on her right, and an open Bible was on her lap. She wore a light blue dress that brought out the lovely color of her large, emerald eyes. Her young fresh face exuded peace, light and love. She glowed despite having recently lost her mother and her fifteen year old best friend two months prior.

Because of her presence, my attitude instantly changed directions. Before I opened with vocal prayer, I prayed silently and fervently that God would forgive me for feeling hostile. I told Him I was tired and to please speak through me. I disregarded my notes, and ‘let go and let God’ if you will.

 I couldn’t stop my gaze from continually turning to Sevenia. Her interested eyes and frequently saying amen inspired me beyond the words I was speaking. By that I mean that the presence of God was being experienced and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit energized us all. I was humbled and privileged that God was using me as His instrument.

Sevenia was probably unaware that she was the positive outlet I had plugged into that energized the words spewing forth from this old and tired mouth.  There was a potluck lunch after the service. When we were finished eating, Sevenia asked if she might have a word with me for a few minutes. So began an activity she and I would partake of a couple times a week going forward, walking and talking. I’ll never forget the way it began. It makes me chuckle now. But to be honest, in the moment, her honesty kind of hurt my feelings.

“Until today, I suspected you might be a kook,” she told me light heartedly.

“Is that right?”

“Yeah,” she said, shrugging her slight shoulders. “With my dad saying you’ve communicated with an angel, and your church’s, um, different beliefs. I thought you might be some type of a cult.”

“I see.”

“But I’ve been doing some Bible studies with Dad, Dee and Brock,” she told me. “I can’t believe  in all the years I’ve been studying the Bible, I’ve never seen the truths they shared. Like about the sabbath, hellfire, and the state of the dead.”

“Good for you,” I said, hiding a chuckle over her sentiment about all of the years she’s studied. I was a senior citizen when she was born. But I understood her perspective. “I’m going to venture a guess and say it was far from your first Bible study then. I mean with Dee, Brock and your dad.”

“Correct,” she replied happily. “I’ve been a seeker and believer for a long time.”

I once again held back a chuckle at what was a long time to her. I was in my mid-sixties and she must have been about fifteen. However, she did seem to be wise beyond her years, and I was careful to show her respect. I nodded. What she said next blew me away.

“So, I wanted to tell you something, Pastor,” she said with a serious expression. “When my dad and I sat down with Destiny and Brock this morning, I had a major déjà vu. Do you know what I mean by that?”

“Do you mean it seemed familiar, even though you’ve never experienced it before?”

“Precisely!” She exclaimed with enthusiasm, her big green-grey eyes twinkling in that young fresh face. The sun glistened off of her dark red hair, giving her a holy appearance. It was the first time, but not the last, that I thought this was an angelic young lady. Metaphorically speaking, of course. “Then about a half dozen times during your sermon, I knew what you were gonna say a split second before you did, and that you were gonna look at me.”

“Sorry I kept looking at you,” I said with a chuckle as I stroked my beard uneasily. “It’s just, you were the most focused person in the whole congregation.”

“No, no, Pastor. It didn’t make me uncomfortable at all. I relished how it felt like you were talking directly to me. You see, your sermon was an answer to prayer. The last two years I’ve been so torn between my two previous churches.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, it’s subtle, I guess,” she said as a pained expression dimmed the light that  had just been on her countenance. “But, simply speaking, the church I grew up in abused grace. Do you know what I mean by that?”

“Do you mean they emphasized that we are saved by grace, therefore obedience is conveniently disregarded?”

“Yes,” she said as a smile lit up her face once again. “So then the church I’ve gone to the last couple of years with my friend Anna, was, well, legalistic. A side effect of legalistic seemed to be judgmental. Plus, they were, um, well, they preached fire and brimstone. You know, eternal torment.”

“Yet the Bible teaches that only the righteous inherit eternal life. So how could the lost be living in eternal torment?”

“Right,” she said happily. “That doctrine never set right with me. When I read my Bible, I see the love of God throughout. Especially the gospels and the life of Jesus and the plan of redemption. Yet to be honest, I liked how my last church seemed to emphasize discipline. Whereas my original church had this subtle, we are saved by grace, so now we’re free to do as we please mentality. Do you know what I mean?”

“I believe I do.”

“I’ve learned so much this week! Like more than all the previous years of seeking put together. And the grand finale was the best sermon I have ever heard.”

“Thank you,” I said as I meekly bowed my head. Was the satisfaction I felt an insidious form of pride? “Praise be to God.”

“It’s like you knew what I needed to hear. Like you knew what I have been spiritually struggling with. You explained righteousness by faith so simply and beautifully. How our obedience needs to come from love. How as we train our minds on Jesus, and contemplate the plan of redemption, and ask for the Holy Spirit, it becomes natural to do what Jesus instructed. If you love me, keep my commandments. (John 14:15) and this is the love of God that we keep his commandments and his commandments are not grievous.” See (1 John 5:1-3).

“Shall we continue in sin that grace may abound?” I asked. (Romans 6:1)

“God forbid,” Sevenia replied. (Romans 6:2)

“What then? Shall we sin because we are not under the law, but under grace?”

“God forbid,” she finished. (Romans 6:15)

We both laughed. I knew I had found a kindred spirit in the young lass. Even though I was only old enough to be her grandfather, as well as great grandfather, this was the start of one the best friendships of my life. Our few minute conversation ended up being almost an hour. We only stopped because her father was concerned where she had disappeared to and came looking for her. Not only did we form an odd friendship that day, she became the youngest person I had ever called upon to minister. I initially petitioned her about a  girl a week after that first conversation.

Lydia, a young gal, only a couple of years older than Sevenia had come to my office distraught. She was overweight and had bad acne. She stoically told me she was considering suicide because she was bullied, harassed, and had no friends. She felt that there was no hope. She said that when I was out doing yard work, I always smiled and waved at her when she drove by. It was one of the few kindnesses she seemed to experience lately.

I typically would have had my wife handle a situation like this. Given the girl’s age, she probably would have somebody like Destiny come in to assist her. They would offer prayer, fellowship, and friendship. They would also offer the guidance of a couple of professional counselors we worked with.

As I listened and sympathized with Lydia, I began to look up Destiny in my phone’s contacts. That’s when I spotted the newest number in the digital file. Sevenia Sallie. She said she would be right over. Fifteen minutes later, she sat down with the troubled girl. I left them alone, but stayed close enough that I could watch.

I marveled as I witnessed pure love exuding from Sevenia’s eyes as she held the young lady’s hand. The girl broke down and sobbed. Sevenia cried with her. They hugged. Sevenia shared scriptures with her. They prayed. They stood and hugged again.

Over the course of a few weeks, Sevenia led Lydia to Christ and she was baptized. It would be the first of many. Like her Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, Sevenia Sallie lives to bless others. Those that know her are blessed. I thank God I am one of them.

XXVIII

Human nature is not only diabolical and twisted, it’s strange and odd. I am referring to when my dad discovered me at my aunt and uncle’s place. Actually, Brock is my dad’s cousin, so Destiny would be his what, his cousin in law? Anyway, the awesome couple just feel like a beloved aunt and uncle.

Anyway, I was at Brock and Destiny’s home, talking to Dee about guy dilemmas. My dad had been off with Brock and I had hoped to flee before they returned. I failed. So then I found myself driving home with my dad following me in his car. He had asked me why I was at the Storm residence within seconds of seeing me. I shrugged and simply told him I was there talking to Dee. He then studied my face a couple seconds longer than my comfort zone allowed.

He didn’t pursue it any further in front of them for which I  was thankful. But my toes curled as I drove thinking he would interrogate me when we arrived home. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about boys with my father. But he didn’t say one word about it while I prepared a spaghetti supper for us. Nor did he bring it up while we ate. Then as we enjoyed a cherry pie Larabar for dessert, I surprised myself, and then wanted to kick myself.

“Dad, why haven’t you become more than friends with Salena or Zella LaStella?”

He stopped the Larabar before it entered his open mouth as his eyebrows shot upward. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you do stuff with Zella at least two or three times a week. You two seem to have great repour and, dare I say, chemistry. Yet I’ve never seen you so much as hold hands with her.”

“That’s because we’re just friends.”

“But why not more?”

“Well,” he said as he set his bar on his plate, cleared his throat and sighed. “I tried to make it more when we first became acquainted and she was adamant that she wanted nothing to do with a romantic relationship.”

“What if I told you she is interested in being more?”

He frowned, folded his arms, and leaned back in his chair. “What have you been saying to her?”

“Nothing,” I replied as I kicked off my shoes and tucked a leg up under me. “Just observation.”

“Is that right?” He asked with a low conspiratorial voice.

“Yeah,” I said with a shrug and then paused for a few seconds. “So, what are you gonna do with this information?”

“Tell me something,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. I knew he was gonna turn the tables on me, so I beat him to the punch. “And what about Salena?”

“What about her? She and I are also just friends.”

“You…”

“Hold it, my little princess,” my dad instructed as he held up a hand in the stop gesture. “I think you are the one that has some explaining to do.”

“Whatever do you mean?” I asked with a sing song voice. As much as I dreaded talking to my dad about guys, I wanted to know what he thought about the boys that were my friends.

“Well, first I find you having girl talk with Dee.”

“There’s nothing unusual about that.”

“Maybe not,” he smirked. “But coupled with you breaking our truce.”

“What truce?” I asked, realizing that playing dumb was probably some form of bearing false witness.

“The unspoken truce between us not to ask each other about our close friends of the opposite sex?”

I mentally asked God forgiveness before I came clean. “Branch told me today that he was in love with me. He said if I didn’t feel the same way he couldn’t be friends anymore. I guess because it would be too frustrating, or something. So I told him maybe. Now I’m debating whether or not I did the right thing.”

“You’re not considering premarital sex, are you?”

“Dad!” I barked as I shot off my seat into a standing position and then placed my hands firmly on my hips. “I’ll have you know. If I do chose to court with Branch, he will not so much as even touch me through clothes until we are married.”

A relieved look washed over his face. “Sorry, I had to ask.”

“Did you!” I replied, my hands still on my hips. Then I sat down abruptly and crossed one leg aggressively  over the other. I followed my dad’s eyes to a whole in the big toe of my tights. Ever since I can remember, he teased me that I must have razor blades for toenails.

“Yes, you’ll always be my little girl,” he said with a quiver in his voice and such a forlorn expression that I couldn’t help myself. I got up, stepped to him, kissed his cheek, and hugged him.

“And you’ll always be my daddy.”

“So how did this come about?” My dad asked after I sat back down. “Until six months ago, I didn’t even know who Branch Calloway was. I always figured if you decided against a lifetime of celibacy, it would have been you and Jeremy.” Then he winked. “Or Captain Kirk.”

We both laughed. By mentioning Captain Kirk, he was referring to how quickly the pastor and I became close after I had moved to Iowa after my fifteen year old best friend succumbed to cancer, and then two months later my mother died. The pastor had lost his wife to a sudden heart attack only days before my mother’s death. I had only met him once at this point.

He and I initially bonded over grieving the loss of  loved ones. I felt like he was the only person that truly understood the way I felt. That was the beginning of daily going for walks with him and he  becoming a wonderful mentor to my spiritual quest. Now, in not even a week, it would be two years since my move from the twin cities to the city of five smells. After the heartbreaking loss of my mother and bestie, I never would have guessed how wonderful the next 24 months would be.

I was so depressed and unsettled those first days in Iowa. Especially having to start a new school when I was in the midst of grieving and adjusting to new surroundings. To top it off, the last semester of my freshman year had already started a couple days before I arrived. I had been somewhat bullied at my former school. I tried to be optimistic about a fresh start, but what if I was bullied even worse?

But I need not worry. Not only because of trust in God and this too shall pass, but my Uncle Brock was a professional protector. He took me to school my first day. He purposely made me a couple minutes late for homeroom. I hated being late in general, so this didn’t sit well with me. Then I noticed he escorted me into school wearing a t-shirt and no jacket when the temperature was only fifty degrees, I relished what he was up to.

If I haven’t mentioned before, Uncle Brock is built like a pro wrestler or an NFL defensive end. Plus, he has some menacing looking facial scars. He also bares a strong resemblance to my dad, who I too share a strong resemblance. So it was obvious that we were related, maybe even father and daughter as we entered my homeroom classroom. Twenty some students stared at Brock with wide eyes. He looked back at them with a stern expression.

We stopped next to the teacher and Brock scratched his jaw causing his massive, low fat bicep to flex into a ball. Then he apologized to her for my tardiness. He said he wanted to come in and explain that it was his fault and I wouldn’t be late again. Then he told her loud enough for my classmates to hear that he would be very upset if my first day got started off on the wrong foot. She seemed to be in awe. Whether due to his imposing stature or attraction, I couldn’t tell. Maybe a combination of both. She stammered that it was fine. He smiled, thanked her and left.

In the next two years, I  was never bullied or even experienced a snide comment about my different than usual appearance. I credit Brock for getting me off on the right foot just like he hoped. But it might have been my friendship with Branch, which began only hours after I arrived, that helped maintain the respect Brock first established. Ultimately, I thank and praise God.

I can’t explain why Branch and I hit it off. He was sullen, brooding and even rude. Yet I detected a deep sadness in his lovely grey green eyes. He was initially annoyed and standoffish when the science teacher put me at his lab table. And I was apprehensive when the science teacher mumbled an apology to me for my placement with him.

There were ten such workstations in the class. The teacher assigned two students per table. There had been nineteen students before I showed up to make it a capacity class at twenty. Branch, a loner, had thought after the first two days by himself that he would fly solo for the rest of the school year. I kept quiet that first day. When we began some type of project with test tubes, I said as little as possible. I noticed as we worked together that Branch studied me more than he did our assignment.

The next day  we continued our experiments. About halfway through the class, I had returned from the restroom and smoothed the back of my denim skirt before I sat down. It was then Branch spoke to me personally for the first time. “Are you Amish?”

“No,” I giggled nervously. Then I got defensive, not for me but for the Amish. “But so what if I was?”

A corner of his mouth twitched. It was the first sign he wasn’t one hundred percent angry and depressed. “How come you’re so different?”

I showed him a puzzled frown, even though I understood his curiosity. I had fit right in at church. To me, my classmates were different. Then I turned the frown upside down and gave him a warm smile. “What do you mean? I’m just regular girl with the exception of fancy, sexy clothes, jewelry, makeup and a hundred dollar hair style.”

He gave me a full smile then. No teeth were exposed, but his lips stretched across his face. Then I really noticed his eyes, the windows to the soul. The cold curtains were open and I saw warmth, intelligence, and a longing in his soul. Branch was an outcast to most. People tend to destroy what they don’t understand. That’s why they killed the Son of God when he walked among them.

Right after school the previous day, a well meaning girl from the science class had approached me. “Just a friendly warning about Branch Calloway,” she said quietly. “There’s a reason Mr. Ridder had him at a table by himself. He’s trouble. He’s been in a lot of fights. As a matter of fact, if he even looks at somebody wrong, he could get expelled. I’m surprised he wasn’t after his last incident. He just can’t control his anger, so watch out.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” I replied, not knowing what else to say.

“No prob,” she said with a shrug, and then scooted quickly away.

I would come to find out about the last incident she spoke of. It was true that Branch had a bad track record of altercations. His biggest fault was not starting fights, but his seeming inability to not finish them. In other words, walking away.

His latest incident happened about a month before we met and ensued when he defended an overweight girl being verbally bullied by an upperclassman. The bully ended up with a broken nose, and given Branch’s track record, the principal was going to expel him. But between two teachers having his back and a protest started by a small band of fellow freshmen, Branch was given one more chance. As a matter of fact, that was a chant used at the protest. “One more chance for Branch.”

“You’re as pure as the wind driven snow,” he said quietly, as if to himself.

I rejoiced, thinking he was seeing Christ in me, and I’m sure he was or I hope he did. Yet now two years later, I see that there might have been another aspect to his comment. That very weekend I went to Cotton Creek Cove fellowship for the first time. It was also the beginning of a whole new world of friends opening up to me. More than friends, true sisters and brothers in Christ.

The loss of my mother and BFF Anna left a break in my heart that would never completely heal. But God blessed me with several new best friends that distracted me from my grief. I relished hearing their interesting testimonies, and learning their various insights and perspectives on spirituality and biblical truths. It was eye opening to say the least!

There was, of course, my temporary house hosts Destiny and Brock, and the young couple they were exceptionally close to, Amy and Dirk Easton. Amy and I are kindred spirits. We both have a type of red hair. Amy is strawberry blond and I have auburn hair. We both like to wear denim skirts with Converse sneakers, and I guess we are both strong willed.

I wonder if it isn’t Amy’s influence that has me second guessing a lifetime of celibacy. With her dreamboat husband being similar to Branch, her adorable toddler Ella who is like a mini me of her mother, and their son Bentley, the cutest baby boy I have ever laid eyes on. And most of all, the young family’s devoted faith. Her lifestyle seems rather appealing, and most important of all, in harmony with God.

Then there is Zella LaStella, a former psychic and close friend of my dad. Lexi Gomez who had been demon possessed only a week before I reunited with my dad. Destiny’s Aunt Annabelle Knight, a woman who along with Destiny have brought countless women caught up in adult entertainment to the Lord. And Pastor Kirk Samson, AKA Captain Kirk. A man who became like a grandfather to me. As a matter of fact, he and I bonded more than I ever did with both of my biological grandfathers put together. Yet I do love and have a good relationship with them. It’s just something really clicked with Captain Crunch. (My personal nickname for him which he loves. PS, I’m pretty health conscious, so I have rarely eaten the sweetened cereal.)

Pastor Samson said something to me I will never ever forget. Even now when I think about it, I start to tear up. We had had an exceptionally good and long spiritual discussion. One of the last pieces of our conversation was his encounters with an angel he called Melanchthon. He told me how the angel knew of things he experienced in the war, and also how he had helped him with my father. Yet, he still had a nagging doubt, you know, try the spirits whether they be of God. That’s when he told me something that moved me beyond words.

“But I have no doubt, dear one,” he said as he put a delicate hand on my upper back and started to gently weep. “That God put you in my life when I need the sweet presence of an angel the most.”

Same to you, dear man. Same to you, I had thought. But I was too choked up to speak. So I gave him a grand daughterly hug.

XXVII

I gazed up at the blue spring sky as I sat cross legged in front of my mother’s tombstone. Today was the 2^nd anniversary of her death. If she would have lived eight more days, she would have died on her 34^th birthday. The world seems in chaos right now as the Covid 19 pandemic is affecting the whole earth. The strange thing for myself was that some people are looking to me for answers. A sixteen year old girl.

I’ve been told things like I’m special, gifted, and have deep insights. These compliments actually humble me. But you know the funny thing about humility. The second you think you have it, you lost it. Nonetheless, I feel unworthy of any type of praise. They put a strain on my shy, timid nature. I tend to feel uncomfortable in large groups. My favorite interactions are one on one with another soul that yearns for God. Yet lately I’ve been getting asked to speak at church and at prayer meetings. My dad even suggested the other day that I join him on his podcast.

I like the way some elderly people speak their mind. I was told by an old man in at our church that I was peculiar. It warmed my heart because he was a sweet person that was just trying to tell me he thought I was devoted. An aged woman told me that I’m such a pretty little thing and asked why I tried to look like a boy. True, my auburn hair is cut short and I seldom wear makeup or jewelry. But I almost always wear skirts and dresses, so I didn’t realize some people thought I was trying to look like a boy.

I even have two boys vying for my attention. But unlike most teenage girls, I have little interest in romance. Maybe that’s another reason Mrs. Cromwell thought I was trying to be like a boy. My dad, similar to me, has two women vying for his attention. But he seems only interested in being friends. I have been wanting to interrogate him on his true feelings, but that would only open the door for him to do likewise to me and my suitors. Here comes one of them now. I looked away from him and at my mother’s grave marker.

Brittney C Sallie

Born March 28, 1984            Died March 20, 2018

Mother of Sevenia

I looked at Branch Calloway again and smiled. I think the corner of his mouth might have twitched. As he walked behind me, he tousled my hair as if I were a child. He plopped down next to me, crossing his legs pretzel style like me. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I replied.

“Two years, huh?”

“Yup.”

My two friends that were boys couldn’t be more different. The only thing they had in common was abuse. Branch was physically abused by his father. Jeremy Monroe was sexually abused by an uncle. Other than that they were polar opposites. Jeremy was talkative and sensitive. He is a skinny, uncoordinated computer geek with black hair, dark brown eyes, and carmel colored skin. He is two years older than me and I know him from church.

I know Branch from school. He is currently a senior, while I am a junior. He’s tall with sandy blonde hair, ruggedly handsome, muscular, athletic, and has grey green soul searching eyes. He has this calm, quiet easy way about him. But there sometimes seems to be an underlying danger in his persona. Like he’s patient and under control, but if set off, look out! I’m talking righteous indignation, not bad temper. This aspect of him reminds me of my Uncle Brock.

I guess I should be clear. My Uncle Brock is not technically my uncle. He’s my dad’s cousin and he’s built like some actor known as The Rock. The weird thing is Brock and my dad look more alike than my dad and his own fraternal twin brother.

“What is your life?” I asked, not in the mood for the long silences Branch is capable of.

“It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and vanishes away,” Branch said, finishing the verse from James 4:14, and showing me a rare tooth exposing smile. Yet I noticed his eyes ironically looked exceptionally sad.

“Very good,” I encouraged. “You’ve been studying your Bible.”

He just nodded. It was then that I noticed he had a package sitting next to him wrapped in green and blue paper. I pointed at it. “What’s that?”

“An early birthday present,” he said, picking it up and placing it in my hands.

“You shouldn’t have,” I replied, feeling uncomfortable and not knowing what else to say. Then I thought of a tease. “Why early, did you forget the actual date?”

“No,” he said with a sad smile. “April 12, 2003. Your mom was barely nineteen. Go ahead and open it.”

“It’s the whole Bible on C.D.” I said delightedly.

“I thought it would come in handy with the car your dad just got you.”

“Thank you, it will,” I replied happily. “Why early though?”

He glanced away from me when he answered. “I can’t see you anymore, Sevenia.”

I felt stunned. I valued our friendship. He was currently one of my best friends. I couldn’t  fathom why he would say such a thing. When I replied, I was so taken aback I didn’t even care that my voice squeaked. “But why?”

“Look, Sevenia,” he said quietly as he bowed his head as if ashamed. “I have the utmost respect that you aren’t interested in a, um, romantic relationship. But I am. Not only am I, I can’t stand to be around you anymore without any hope of it. Even if you said maybe, I might hang in there, but…”

“Branch, am I the reason you haven’t gone out with any other girls?”

He looked at me with those sad eyes and nodded.

“But why, I’m so ordinary?”

“You’re anything but ordinary. You’re extraordinary. You’re beyond special and I’m in love with you, Sevenia.”

He’s in love with me! I didn’t understand my feelings. I just knew I couldn’t lose him. I cherished the long walks we went on. I loved his quiet strength as we sat and watched sunsets. I loved it when he texted me goodnight. Before I got up and ran, I kissed him quickly on the cheek and blurted. “Maybe.”

Maybe a kiss on the cheek doesn’t seem like a big deal to you. But Branch and I had never even held hands or embraced each other. Jeremy and I had hugged numerous times, but I had never kissed him at all. Was one more intimate than the other? I wondered this as I raced away from the cemetery. I also couldn’t fathom what I was feeling. Was it wrong? As I always did in trying times, I prayed.

My brain reeled as I climbed out of the little red Ford focus my dad had given me the previous week. I walked onto the back porch of the place I had lived for the first two months when I first came to Iowa. I saw Destiny Knight Storm through the back door. It looked like she was making a pie. I knew my dad was off with Brock getting groceries for some elderly folks. I couldn’t be more thankful that we would be alone. I had kept my swirling emotions in check until her pretty, loving face looked at me. I began to sniff and snuffle. The more I tried to stop, the stronger it came on until I was just plain crying.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Dee asked as she pulled me inside. We sat at the kitchen table of the old, but refurbished farmhouse. I told her everything.

“Sweetie, I understand that up to this point you had no interest in romance. But people change, especially when they are young.”

“But he’s not fully a believer yet,” I said.

“A couple keys,” Destiny said with a sly smile. “Yet and maybe. You didn’t tell him you would be his girlfriend, you said maybe. But keep this in mind. I know you believe in fellowship, truth?”

“True.”

“The spiritual fellowship my husband and I have together can’t even compare to any of my sisters in Christ.  And you know how much I love and value them.”

“I do,” I replied, nodding emphatically. The couples I saw at Cotton Creek Cove were amazing! Maybe that was why I was toying with my thinking and feelings of be asexual. “But what about Jeremy? He’s let it be known that he’s been interested in me too. I don’t want to hurt him by choosing Branch.”

“Is Branch your preference?”

“It’s complicated. When I first moved here with Dad two years ago, I met both guys at the same time. But Branch and me met at school, and our friendship grew slowly and has gained momentum. Jeremy and me met at church, and our friendship was just spiritual and strong right away, but then slowly dwindled. Now he’s at college, and every time I talk to him I can tell he’s being affected by the world and the culture on campus.”

I put my face in my hands and groaned. “How has this happened? I’m not one of those girls vying for a guy’s attention. Why couldn’t Branch and Jeremy just have focused on those girls and left me to myself and my spiritual pursuits.”

“Life can be funny that way,” Destiny giggled. “Speaking of complicated romance situations. What’s going on with your father?”

“Whatever do you mean?” I asked, tongue in cheek and we both laughed.

“I mean whenever I ask him about Zella LaStella and Salena from Minnesota, he just shrugs and says they are both just friends. Is that all there is to it?”

“I really don’t know,” I replied. It really was strange. My dad’s situation seemed to be similar to mine. He appeared indifferent to romance. Yet both women mentioned, of whom I both adore, have asked me in subtle ways where my father’s affections laid. As I am open with Branch and Jeremy about our friendships, my dad is open about his friendships with the two, seemingly, opposing women. As with Dee just now, I had to tell both women I really didn’t know.

But the bringing up of my father made me realize I needed to flee before he returned with Brock. He would ask me why I was there and I obviously could not tell a lie. I told Dee why I needed to leave post haste. She laughed, hugged me, and quickly ushered me to the door. She opened it as her overly muscular husband was reaching for the door handle.

“Hi, ya all,” Brock said with a grin and an exaggerated southern accent. He then grabbed me and gave me a quick tight hug.

My dad followed in right behind Brock and grinned happily at me. “Hey sweet pea, what are you doing here?”

XXVI

It was so strange and surreal when I watched my daughter walk into my dying ex-wife’s hospice room with my first love, Salena. Stranger still was my ex-wife and former girlfriend being good friends. Although the two women were cousins, they historically did not associate well. Mostly due to my ex-wife.

We exchanged pleasantries, and then the four of us traded small talk for the next three days. Actually it was only around fifteen or twenty minutes. Then I politely excused myself, telling the three ladies that my cousin Brock was driving me back to Iowa that afternoon. I assured my daughter I would return in a few days. When I left, my former girlfriend and sort of former fiancée Salena chased me down.

“Seven,” she barked pleasantly as I was reaching for the door handle of my car that Brock was piloting. “Can I talk to you in private for a minute?”

“Sure,” I replied, and then showed Brock one of my fingers indicating just a minute.

She beamed a smile at me, and then she crossed her arms and rocked on her feet. She wore a long denim skirt like my daughter had been wearing. I remembered that it was almost a uniform for female members of her church. Instead of converse sneakers, Salena wore navy pumps, navy nylons, a white blouse with blue trim. I was reminded just how much she looked like the girl on a bag of Sun Maid raisins. She wasn’t wearing a coat and in the chilly March air, hugged herself tightly and shivered.

“Do you want to step back inside?” I asked.

“That would be great,” she replied enthusiastically.

I gave Brock the finger one more time and followed Salena back into the building. Her hair was still black, and she was only slightly heavier than the teenage girl I had once adored. Even though she had the beginnings of crows feet by her eyes, she looked like she was in her mid-twenties rather than mid-thirties. How bizarre that she was the widow of a seventy two year old husband.

“What’s up, buttercup?” I asked lightheartedly, even though I was anxious over what she had to say. She giggled at the phrase I often used when we were dating. No one was in the waiting room and we sat. She crossed one leg over the other and with the split in her skirt, her shapely leg halfway up her thigh was on display.

“It was really good to see you again,” she said delightedly.

“You as well,” I replied.

Her face sobered and she searched my face as if to see if I was being genuine.

“I mean it, Salena,” I said reaching out and giving her hand a squeeze. When our hands parted, I  ‘accidently on purpose’ brushed my hand against her knee. She winced as if in pain and I instantly felt like a pervert.

“I have something awkward to tell you,” she said.

“Okay,” I replied hesitantly, no longer feeling the perv, but now concerned about my daughter. What she said next blew me away. I mean to the other side of the planet.

“I’ve never, ever, stopped loving you,” she said quietly. “I know you hated me after I broke up with you, but you were the love of my life. I hated hurting you. But I had to. That said, I don’t regret my decision to marry Albert. He was good to me and good to my family. My union with him gave me three beautiful children.”

Although I already had told her that I was sorry for the loss of her child and husband, I told her again.

“I know,” she said taking my hand and giving it a friendly squeeze as tears leaked from her eyes. “I know, but please don’t tell me again. The death of my daughter will always be fresh on my mind. Till the day I die myself.”

I noticed that she didn’t say husband. She also said ‘had to’ when referring to their marriage. Yet  she still wore a wedding band. “Can I ask you something that might be rude or inappropriate?”

“Go for it,” she said with a curious smirk.

“Did you love your husband?”

“I did,” she said and then sighed. “I truly did, but it was different than what you and me had.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, even though it was pretty obvious.

“Well, my marriage was basically arranged and I had to learn to love Al. Whereas you and me were completely natural. Years after the fact, I wondered if I didn’t sin by marrying him so quickly.”

“How’s that?”

“Well,” she shrugged. “I said vows declaring to love, honor and cherish when I didn’t feel it or believe it.”

“It was your intention though, right?”

“Yeah, that’s a good point. But it was weird on what should have been the happiest day of my life feeling like I was preforming an unpleasant duty.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t be talking like this cuz it’s disrespectful to Albert. He was a good man. And by the time our baby girl was born, I most definitely loved him.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked such a personal question,” I told her. “Especially when we haven’t seen each other in a decade and a half.”

“That’s okay,” she chuckled, and then became serious. “I hope what I told you wasn’t inappropriate.”

“What part?” I asked with a smirk. “This whole conversation has been, no offense, odd.”

“True enough,” she grinned. “I meant telling you that I still loved you as your ex-wife is laying in there dying. I just thought this could be my only opportunity to tell you. After what I did, I didn’t expect you to feel the same way. However I’m single and Sevenia told me you are, so I thought maybe we could maybe get together sometime even just as friends.”

Zella LaStella flashed through my mind. Then I wondered how my daughter knew I wasn’t seeing anyone. Did I tell her?

“Our breakup was extremely painful,” I admitted. “But you’ve always held a place in my heart as well. I would like to get together sometime and get reacquainted.”

“Great!” she said happily. “I better let you get on your way then. It was really good to see you.”

“It was good to see you too, Salena. Before we part ways, let me get you in my phone.”

“Let me guess,” Brock said with a raised eyebrow as I lowered myself into the seat of my car. “That lovely lady you were talking to was your old flame Salena.”

“It was.”

“What did she want to talk to you about? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“In a nutshell, she wanted to tell me she never stopped loving me after our breakup, and I think she’s interested in possibly rekindling our romance.”

“What! I thought she was married!”

“Her husband died not quite a year ago.”

“Man, that’s rough.”

“What’s rougher still, is her fifteen year old daughter died six weeks ago. And it turns out, her daughter Anna and Sevenia were best friends.”

“That’s beyond rough,” Brock said as he shook his head. “What do you mean by Sevenia?”

“I guess there was a lot that transpired during the half hour I was in there. Let’s hit the road Jack and I’ll fill you in on everything that’s making my head spin.”

XXV

It had been five days since I was released from the hospital. Although I was still healing from three knife wounds, one of them near fatal, I needed to see my daughter again. My dilemma was not only seeing my ex-wife in the process, but my dying ex-wife.

“Do you want me to go in with you, Seven?” Brock asked with an arched eyebrow.

My cousin had been kind enough to drive me three hours north to the Twin City metropolitan area where my ex-wife’s hospice was. I was kind enough to let him drive my Camaro. Although he complemented the way it drove, he pointed out emphatically that Mustangs were superior.

“No, I got this,” I said as I opened the door and put my foot onto the parking lot as my heart raced. Then I mumbled to myself, “I think.”

As I approached my ex-wife’s room, I marveled at how nervous I felt. It was even scarier than battling the insane knife wielding man who attacked me almost two weeks ago. Probably because I had way more time to think about my current situation. As I cautiously poked my head into her room, my nerves were instantly calmed by the vision of an angel. My daughter.

She sat cross legged in a chair. Her finger pointing at what appeared to be a scripture in the open Bible on her lap. Her eyes were closed as her pretty face was aimed at the ceiling. Light shining down on her from the window behind her enhanced her holy appearance. She seemed to radiate peace in this place of looming death.

She had cut her hair since I had seen her several days previous. Gone were the shoulder length locks and in their place was a short boyish mop top. Since she wore no makeup or jewelry, the new doo made her look somewhat androgynous. However, as she appeared the other day, her attire was a denim skirt, black tights and this time a green sweater instead of blue. Tan cowgirl boots sat neatly next to her chair.

As I did the other day, I marveled at the signs of womanhood. Not only had she grown in stature, I noticed small bumps pushing against her sweater. Then I noticed a dime size hole in the foot of her tights where I could see the white pink of her big toe trying to push through. She was still, and always would be, the little girl I pushed on her swing set.

I took another step into the room and the sight of my sleeping ex wife entered my peripheral vision. I turned to look at her and a chill ran up my spine. Her thick auburn hair was gone and mousy wisps were in their place. Her face looked bloated and much older than her thirty three years. I looked back at my daughter who was staring at me with a solemn expression.

I was in awe of her remarkable her big eyes. They were a captivating emerald, encircled with a slight rim of metallic grey. The way they looked at me made me feel like they could penetrate my soul. It was a fully grown woman that gazed at me, but then a girlish smile appeared on her face. She sat the Bible on an end table, and then ran on tip toe over to me and gave me a warm hug.

“You made it. Daddy,” she whispered. She squeezed me tighter and I felt a stinging pain in my chest, originating from my most serious wound. I squeaked, which was like an audible wince. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, honey,” I replied with a quiet chuckle. “You cut your hair.”

“So did you,” she giggled. “Even more than mine.”

“Seven, is that you?” A familiar but weak voice inquired. I turned and saw my ex-wife, Brittney’s intense dark eyes trained on me.

“It’s me,” I replied mildly. “Hi, Brit.”

“It’s good to see you.”

My mind instantly thought, is it? And was it good to see her? She seemed genuine.

“It’s… I mean I’m sorry, uh…”

“That I’m dying,” she said with a tired smirk.

I shrugged. “Yeah.”

She laughed weakly and then coughed a couple times.

“Sevenia, could I have a moment alone with your father?” Brittney asked.

I frowned and looked at our daughter. Did Brit call her by her middle name out of some type of morphine induced delirium?

“My friends started calling me Sevenia a year or two ago,” my daughter told me with a shrug.

“I see,” I replied meekly. “Why didn’t you tell me when you visited me?”

“I don’t know,” she said with another shrug. “I thought about it, but it felt weird.”

“No, I’m flattered,” I said squeezing her hand.

“I didn’t like it at first, but my friend Anna thought it was pretty. Once she started calling me Sevenia, everyone did. Now I like it, especially, well, nevermind. I’ll leave, and let you and mother talk.”

I felt my skin crawl when I watched my daughter exit the room, leaving me alone with my ex-wife. It felt beyond awkward.

“I’m guessing she didn’t tell you about Anna on her visit with you in Iowa,” Brit said.

“Uh, no she didn’t,” I replied with a frown. “Who is Anna?”

“Anna was her BFF.”

“Was? Did they have a falling out?”

Brit’s eyes filled with tears. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. She closed her eyes and tears eased their way down her cheeks. “Anna died six weeks ago. Right here as a matter of fact. I don’t mean this room. It was across the hall and two rooms up. Leukemia. That’s probably the main reason Sevenia prefers to go by her middle name now instead of Mia. Her own name is too close to the disease that took the life of her closest friend far, far too soon.”

“I see,” was all I could manage to say as my entire being felt numb. I felt a sudden surge of guilt for calling my daughter by her name when she came to visit me. Out of glee at being reunited with her I almost called her by a ditty I used when she was little. Mia, Mia, on a mona pia. Thank God I didn’t! “I don’t recall a friend of hers by the name of Anna.”

“You probably wouldn’t,” Brit said. “They met two and a half years ago at a family reunion.”

“I see,” I replied again, even though I didn’t see. But I was about to. Boy howdy was I about to.

“You remember my cousin Salena?” Brit asked with a smirk. Salena was my first love. My girlfriend and sort of fiancée before Brit and I became an item.

“No, who’s she?” I replied sarcastically, yet light heartedly. Then I felt a lump in the pit of my stomach when I realized where she was going with this.

“Anna was Salena’s oldest daughter.”

I just nodded dumbly, not wanting to say I see again.

“Does that bother you?” She asked.

“No,” I replied shaking my head. “I mean, sure, it’s weird. But I was over Salena after you and I got together.”

Was I? Do you ever fully get over heartache? Even the heartache of young first love? I did mostly forget about it. And I do know the pain over Brit’s deceit and betrayal was far more painful than my first girlfriend dumping me for someone else.

I truly had hoped Salena would be happy after we split. Didn’t I? I most definitely felt bad for her now, losing a child. But to be honest, I was previously neither yay nor nay on her overall happiness. I actually would have been secretly delighted if I had heard she divorced. But my heart was in the process of radical change. My near death experience was only speeding up the transformation. Even with what Brit was about to tell me next, it made me feel terrible for a woman I knew almost half my life ago.

“Salena’s husband died nine months ago,” she told me. “It’s been a rough year for her.”

“Sounds like it,” I said humbly. “How did he die?”

“Heart attack.”

“How old was he, seventy?”

“Two, I think.”

“How many kids did they have?”

“Three. Like I said, Anna was the oldest. Then they had two boys after her.”

“As I remember, you and Salena despised each other. So how did that work with your daughters becoming best friends?”

“Salena doesn’t despise anyone,” Brit replied with a tired sigh. “I was always enough witch for both of us. After Sevenia and Anna hit it off, Salena and I actually became rather close ourselves.”

“I see.”

“As a matter of fact, Salena recently helped me make peace with my sinful past. She’s the one that suggested I invite you here to talk to you in person.”

I meant to simply nod, but my mind whirled. “I see.”

“That said, there’s a couple things I need to talk to you about before I lose the energy,” she told me. “First of all, I sincerely apologize for lying to Sevenia about the reason we divorced. It might be the coldest thing I’ve ever done, and as you already know, I’ve done some pretty cold things.”

My jaw tensed and I held back snide comments. I simply nodded and refrained from saying I see as she gazed at me earnestly.

“Do you forgive me?” She pleaded.

I thought of Jesus, and after all he had been through declaring, “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

“Yes, I forgive you Brit.”

Her eyes teared up and she squeaked, “Thank you.”

She feebly tried reaching for a tissue and I grabbed it for her. She dabbed at her eyes and then looked at me. “Have you returned to the Lord?”

“I have.”

“I thought so,” she smiled. “I didn’t think the man from the Seven Sallie Showdown would even show up here, let alone forgive me.”

I smiled sadly. “Mi, I mean Sevenia, flat out told me she didn’t like my podcast. Or at least my persona on it.”

“There’s some things I need to tell you about our daughter,” she said and then winced. She squirmed and groaned.

“Brit are you all right? I can come back later or even tomorrow.”

“No, I’m okay. I just get uncomfortable sometimes. Well, actually quite a bit.”

“I see.”

“I have one more confession to properly restitute or repent or whatever,” she said and then sighed deeply. “During our marriage, I was intimate with several different men. With one of them…”

“Brit, we’re divorced,” I interrupted. “It’s all water under the bridge. I forgive you for everything. No matter what it is. If you truly want to make things right, please accept that and don’t make me listen to the details. Okay? I truly forgive you across the board.”

“Okay,” she said with a sad smile. “Thank you.”

“Do you forgive me?”

She looked slightly startled. “For what?”

“I made my share of mistakes during our marriage.”

“Of course I do, and thanks for that. I didn’t deserve it.” She said, closing her eyes and breathing heavily. I feared she was wearing herself out. I wished a nurse would come and tell me I needed to leave. On the other hand, I did want to know what she had to say about our daughter.

“Do you feel like telling me what you were going to say about Mi… Sevenia?”

“Yes,” Brit said with a sudden burst of energy. “She’s a special girl.”

“I already know that, Brit.”

“I know. But you’ve probably noticed she’s not like other teenage girls.”

“I have. No make up or jewelry. Does she always where long skirts?”

“Usually. For the last six months to a year anyway. But it’s more than that. Did she tell you about her and Anna being bullied?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so. It’s been nothing physical, but verbal and social media. You know, so called jest.”

I felt the last comment was a direct rebuke of my podcast. “Listen, the only time I ever have attacked someone personally is when an individual has betrayed public trust or violated another’s rights.”

“I know, honey,” she said and then closed her eyes and shook her head. “I mean Seven. Anyway, Sevenia and Anna have been labeled as, well, lesbians. Our daughter never even told me she was being harassed. I found out through Salena. When I asked Sevenia about it, she replied that the love between her and Anna surpassed the love of boys. At first I thought this was an admission that it was true. With further probing, I realized she was quoting what was said about David and Jonathan in the Bible. She also told me that as of right now, she is asexual and is only interested in being the bride of Christ.”

Brit stopped talking and gazed at me. As my brain spun trying to process what she was telling me, my mouth once again spoke without my full consent. “I see.”

“Seven, our daughter is not only smart, sweet, strong and loving, but wise beyond her years. But I’m concerned about her losing me so close to Anna.”

Brit suddenly burst into sobs. At first I looked around in panic. For what I don’t know. Then I simply went to one knee and took hold of her hand and waited.

“Thank you,” she squeaked. “She’s such a special child of God. I pray her spirit won’t be broken.”

“I believe she’ll pull through,” I assured her. “I mean it’ll be tough, but like you said, she’s wise beyond her years. I need to tell you something that hopefully brings you reassurance.”

I looked at my ex wife and puzzled over how to say what I had to say. And I was someone who had been paid a lot of money to talk. It was also odd seeing Brit’s lively, eager eyes in such a tired, haggard face. “What Seven? Tell me.”

“This is gonna sound strange,” I began cautiously. “Ever since I went to Iowa over a month ago, my cousin Brock and his pastor have been indicting that I’ve needed to repent and get my act together. They insinuate that I have a special work to do. Brock has told me things about when I felt called before, that he could not have known unless God somehow informed him in some way. To make a long story short, his pastor came to see me when I was in the hospital. So, he tells me he had this dream of an angelic encounter and that I’m to be reunited with my daughter. I didn’t believe him because, as you know, Mi… Sevenia has wanted nothing to do with me the last couple of years. Then minutes after he tells me this, in walks Sevenia. I’m mean talk about strange.”

“I’m back,” Sevenia said with a sweet smile as her face peered into the room. Her lovely energetic eyes looked at me with utter caution. It was then I noticed she held hands with someone and practically pulled them into the room. “Mother, you have a visitor.”

Attached to my daughter’s arm was my former, sort of fiancée, Salena.   

XXIV

Seven stared dumbfounded at his daughter as she walked slowly, cautiously into his hospital room. She had grown several inches and gained at least thirty pounds of healthy weight since he had last seen her over two years ago. Her shoulder length auburn hair looked like her mother’s hair. But looking into her fourteen year old face was a little like looking into a mirror when he himself was a teenager.

She was wearing a navy blue sweater, a knee length denim skirt, black tights and blue converse sneakers. Her appearance reminded him of Amy Easton, Destiny and Brock’s wholesome, spiritual daughter. He just hoped and prayed that Mia’s character was also on par with Amy.

“Hi,” Seven squeaked as emotion caused him to choke up. He extended a hand toward her.

“Hi, Daddy,” she replied as she clasped both of her hands on to his. “How are you doing?”

“Well, besides being stabbed a few days ago, I’m doing good. How about you? Are you good?”

She shrugged as she eyed him with a concerned expression. Then she quickly bent down and kissed her father’s cheek.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Seven Sallie said, not liking how quivery his voice sounded.

“Uncle Six drove me,” she said glancing at him. Seven looked at his brother who was standing next to Captain Kirk.

“Oh, Mia,” Seven Sallie said. “This gentleman standing next to your uncle who looks like Moses is Pastor Kirk Samson.”

“Nice to meet you, young lady,” Captain Kirk said with a friendly grin. He was also pleased that someone called him a Moses look a like for once instead of Santa Claus.

“Nice to meet you too, sir,” Mia told him as she stepped toward him and shook hands.

“Very polite and respectful,” Captain Kirk said, impressed. “Are you sure she’s yours, Seven?”

Seven just smiled, and bit his tongue, refraining from a joke that maybe Brock was her father. His ex-wife, a serial adulterous, had left him wondering if Mia was truly his daughter. He had even considered a DNA test at one time. Then he decided he loved his little girl regardless of biology. But now that she was older, looking into her face, he had no doubt about her parentage.

The pastor and Six whispered amongst themselves before Six spoke. “We’re gonna go grab something to drink and let you two have a little privacy.”

Seven didn’t protest. He wanted to know where his daughter stood with her grudge against him. “So, Mia.”

“Mother’s dying,” she interrupted so calmly and matter of fact that Seven wasn’t sure what he had just heard. “She went into hospice yesterday, but she insisted I come see you right away.”

Seven’s brain whirled. “Wait, what? Your mother’s dying? She’s only thirty three.”

“She has stage four ovarian cancer, and it’s spread. They told her last week that she only has a month or two to live. Not long after she found out it was terminal, she confessed that she lied to me.”

“Lied to you?” Seven repeated slowly, dumbfounded.

“Yes,  right before I turned twelve, she told me that you had cheated on her several times, and that’s why your marriage ended. That’s the reason I told you I didn’t want to see you anymore. Then a couple days before she went into hospice, she confessed it was she and not you that was the adulterer.  Daddy, I’m so very sorry!”

Suddenly her calm demeanor disappeared and she burst into tears. He took hold of her hand and pulled her toward him. “It’s okay, honey.”

Seven marveled at how quickly he just nonchalantly brushed it off. His daughter’s rejection was the most painful experience of his life, dwarfing the heartache of his marriage dissolution a few years earlier. Was it because his ex-wife was dying? Was it because he was so exited that his little girl had just reentered his life? Was it because he had nearly died just days earlier?

“No, it’s not!” she sobbed. “Going to parks and hiking and biking with you are the happiest memories of my life, and mother just sabotaged it all over petty jealousies. We can never get that time back.”

“Maybe not, but we have the rest of our lives.”

“Are you angry?”

Seven looked away from her and seemed to concentrate on the ceiling. “We all make mistakes. We’re all prone to selfishness and insecurity. The book of Jerimiah in the Bible says, the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who…”

“Who can know it?” His daughter finished.

Seven looked at his daughter with surprise. She smiled wistfully and swiped at a stray tear. “You’re reminding me of the daddy I remember as a little girl.”

He gazed at his daughter, his little girl. But she wasn’t so little anymore. She was now closer to womanhood than the small child who was so gleeful at riding a bike without training wheels for the first time. He hated to ask, but had to. “What do you mean by how I was when you were a little girl?”

“You know, before you and mother divorced. When you weren’t so, so angry and sarcastic. Before you began evolving into the Seven Sallie Showdown person.”

“You don’t like my podcast?”

She shook her head. “I mean, I see why people do. You make great observations and you’re funny, I guess. But I just don’t like the dark atmosphere you portray.”

“I’ve recently been thinking about changing it,” Seven told her.

“For real?”

“Yeah.”

“Like, how?”

“That’s the tricky part,” He said with a shrug and then winced at the pain the movement caused.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he croaked and then squirmed around to get comfortable. “I’ve been, I don’t know, changing, reforming since I came down to Iowa.”

“Uncle Six said you’ve been down here over a month. So did you come down here as, like, some type of drinking or drug rehab?”

“Not intentionally.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I was getting several death threats.”

“I know, isn’t that why you were stabbed?”

“Actually, no. The knife wounds were intended for a friend of mine.”

“So you were at the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“It might appear that way. But if I hadn’t been there to help, she likely would have been killed.”

“Wow.”

“Anyhow, about the death threats. So some experts, my cousin Brock being one of them, assured me that I should take the threats seriously. So, Brock invited me to stay with him and his wife here in Iowa and lay low for a while.”

“How long of a while?”

“I don’t know. After the first week I was here, I was ready to bolt back to the Twin Cities. But now I’m liking it here for various reasons.”

“Is the lady you helped one of them?”

“I suppose she’s a small part of it. But let me be clear. We are just friends, nothing more.”

His daughter smirked, but then nodded. “Can I ask you something, Daddy?”

“Of course, honey.”

“Would you be able to come see M other?”

“Ah, I, um, don’t think she would want that.”

“I think she would.”

“She said so?”

“Well, no.”

“Then how would you know?”

“Women’s intuition,” she said with a shrug.

Seven’s mouth hung open and his eyes were wide. Did his little girl really have such a thing as women’s intuition? Could he stand to see his ex-wife? His adulterous, lying former spouse who had damaged years of his relationship with his daughter. What happened to the forgiving attitude he was exhibiting just moments ago?

“Please,” she drawled. This girl on the verge of womanhood pleaded with her father using her five year old eyes.

“Okay,” Seven heard himself say.

XXIII

“Hey, read of the devil,” Seven Sallie said as Pastor Kirk Samson, AKA Captain Kirk, walked into his hospital room. He had just been reading the book he wrote, ‘A Star Fell From Heaven.’ It had been five days since Seven had been stabbed twice in the chest and once in the neck by an unstable man obsessed with Zella LaStella.

“Say that again, son,” Captain Kirk petitioned. “What do ya mean read of the devil?”

“You know, like when you’re talking about someone and they suddenly show up,” Seven explained. “And you say speak of the devil. Well, I was just sitting here in bed reading your book, and low and behold, you walk in. So, read of the devil.”

The pastor frowned and stroked his long white beard. “I don’t know if I like that.”

“How’s that?”

“You know, being referred to as the devil when you walk into a room,” Captain Kirk replied with an uneasy chuckle. “Especially after that episode with Lexi.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry, pastor. It’s just, a, ah, figure of speech, don’t ya know?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I know.”

“You’re not superstitious are ya?”

“Oh, no, no, of course not,” Captain Kirk laughed and then frowned. “At least I never thought I was.”

Seven initially didn’t like Pastor Samson. His first impression of him was a hick who reminded him of Uncle Jesse from the old Dukes of Hazzard TV show. He was even wearing overalls the first time they met. Plus his church was so unconventional, he suspected it to be some type of cult. Especially when he discovered their main day of worship was on Saturdays.

But then Seven found out about his stellar military service as a chaplain, which is where he acquired the nickname Captain Kirk. Plus his extensive knowledge of, not only the Bible, but religious history. Then after the way Pastor Samson confidently handled the demon possession ordeal with Lexi Gomez, he had almost won Seven over.

Now that he was most of the way through the pastor’s book, Seven desired the old man to be his mentor. After his near brush with death, Seven realized like never before the shortness and uncertainty of life. Although he had lost his first love when it came to God, he also believed like never before that Jesus is The Way, The Truth, and The Life. The only hope for this dark, chaotic world. Now he needed repentance and reform, and he had never seen anyone live and teach primitive Godliness like Pastor Samson and his parishioners at Cotton Creek Cove.

Captain Kirk waved both of his hands and shook his head. “You may be right, son. I guess I was feeling superstitious and was too proud to admit it. The human condition is insidious. That’s why Jesus instructs us to watch and pray. Now, how are you feeling, my boy? This old devil has been praying for you.”

“I feel really good, considering,” Seven answered. “They told me this morning that I should be released tomorrow. They’ve only kept me this long because of how close the knife came to the old ticker.”

“Did you ever find out why that guy flipped out and came raging with a knife?”

“Well, he was a client of Zella’s,” Seven Sallie said with a sigh. “And he proved to have mental issues that were beyond Zella’s, um, professional abilities. She had informed him that he needed to seek psychological help and that she would no longer see him. When she ultimately closed up shop, he showed up and demanded she give him a reading. When she refused, he snapped and pulled a knife on her. When her dog tried to defend her, he stabbed her dog and then attacked Zella. Then I ran interference, and by the grace of God, here I am instead of six feet under.”

“Praise God.”

“Yes sir, amen.”

“I tried to call Zella a couple days ago,” Captain Kirk said. “I left her a message, but she hasn’t gotten back to me.”

“She’s a hard one to figure out,” Seven said with a frown. “She’s stopped by to see me every day I’ve been here. But the amount of time she’s spent here probably wouldn’t even total a half hour. I think she, like me, has been drawn to God. But she, like me, has been resisting to whatever degree. I think the ordeal with Lexi had a profound affect on her. Then right on the heels of that, her beloved dog is brutally killed. I think that has thrown her in a state of spiritual confusion.”

“Completely understandable,” Captain Kirk replied as he nodded. “You left out something else that has her in a major state of confusion.”

“What’s that?”

“The undeniable chemistry between you two.”

“Trust me,” Seven chuckled. “She wants nothing to do with romance.”

“Never say never,” the pastor shrugged. “You didn’t see Destiny and Brock come together. He was even in the process of exchanging vows with another woman just before their love blossomed.”

“What if we’re not on the same page spiritually? You know, the unequally yoked thing.”

“You’re absolutely right. I was simply acknowledging the mutual attraction between you two. If you’re not both believers, I don’t recommend marriage.”

Seven felt his toes curl at the mention of marriage. He and Zella needed to remain friends, nothing more. He had failed twice at relationships. He didn’t want to experience a third strike. Seven wanted to change the subject and lifted up the book Captain Kirk wrote. “I really like your book.”

“Oh, thank you, son.”

“I have to admit,” Seven chuckled. “When I was first getting to know you, I thought you were a kooky, wacko, nut job. When I first started reading your book, I thought you were twisted and deranged.”

“No, please, son,” Captain Kirk laughed. “Don’t hold back. Tell me what you really think.”

“Oh, okay,” Seven replied with a serious face. The two men stared at each other blankly for a moment before they both burst into laughter.

“You really make profound, interesting points I haven’t really thought about before concerning our existence,” Seven continued. “Especially your account of the rebellion in heaven and how it resulted in this sinful world. When I finish it and get out of here, I hope we can have an in-depth discussion.”

“I’d love to,” Captain Kirk replied. Then he frowned with apprehension. He seemed to have just won Seven over, and now he had to tell him about a dream he had the night before concerning his future. Now he needed to just tell him and let the chips fall where they may. “Say, Seven. I believe I might have had a prophetic dream about you last light.”

“You don’t say,” Seven Sallie said with an arched eyebrow. Captain Kirk had just begun to win him over. Now he was talking prophetic dreams? “Well, let’s hear about it.”

“As a matter of fact, the angel Melanchthon came to me in it.”

“Is that right?”

“It concerns your daughter, who you’ve been estranged from.”

Seven sat up a little higher in his bed, and winced from the sudden movement. How did he know about the discord with his fourteen year old daughter? His baby girl that he hadn’t seen since her twelfth birthday when she informed him she no longer wanted to see him. “What about my daughter?”

“It seems she is going to reenter your life in a profound way.”

Captain Kirk was now rapidly losing Seven’s confidence. He had no idea of the depths of his daughter’s hostility’s toward him. She hadn’t returned any of his calls in the last year with the last attempt being the day before Lexi’s demon possession ordeal.

“Mr. Sallie?” A nurse said as she poked her head into his room. “You have a couple visitors.”

In walked his daughter Mia accompanied by his brother, Six. “Hi, daddy.”

XXII

Seven’s adrenaline spiked when he simultaneously saw Zella’s chocolate lab laying in a puddle of blood and Zella running down an isle being chased by a knife wielding madman. Seven grabbed a jar of some type of herb and dashed to Zella’s rescue. After she ran by him, he heaved the jar at the assailant’s head as hard as he could. It only grazed his ear, but the man swore and swiped the knife at Seven, slicing into his forearm.

Seven shrieked and clutched his wounded limb. The man stabbed at him again, but Seven blocked it and tackled him. Although the man was roughly Seven’s size, they landed with the culprit on top of Seven, giving the creep the advantage. Seven felt white hot heat as the knife penetrated his chest as he punched the man on the side of the face. It didn’t seem to faze him and the knife came down again grazing Seven’s neck. Seven landed a jab in the guy’s nose just before the knife plunged into his chest again. Seven feebly tried to punch the man when a jar crashed over the villain’s head and the guy slumped on top of him.

Zella pulled the unconscious man off of Seven. He felt surprisingly tranquil as he saw Zella frantically talking on her phone. Then she was straddling Seven’s midsection as she pressed towels to his wounds with fluttering hands and trembling lips. Seven tried to speak, but nothing came out. His eyes became heavy and he closed them.

“Stay with me, Seven,” he heard Zella say as she slapped his face. He opened his eyes and saw tears dripping off her cheeks. “Please, baby, don’t die on me.”

Baby? Did Zella just call him baby. In Seven’s mind, he laughed yet nothing came out. He thought it strange the way death affected people. Seven sobered. Was he going to die? He wasn’t ready. He hadn’t got his life in order. Yet that dark black veil was coming down. He could hear sirens as his vision blurred and light seemed to dissipate.

“Seven,” Zella shouted as she slapped his face and then she spoke in sobs. “Please stay with me, honey. Help is almost here.”

Seven’s eyes popped open and Zella’s big lovely eyes were only a foot away from his. His eyes rotated down to her plump, silky, soft lips. He puckered, and Zella laughed as she cried. Then she gently pressed her lips against Seven’s lips. He deepened the kiss and she let him. Then he went slack with his eyes vacant. She took a breath to shout his name when two police officers entered her shop with their guns drawn. To her relief, they were followed by two paramedics.

A day and a half later, Seven opened bleary eyes. What happened? Oh yeah, the guy attacking Zella. Where was she? Was she okay? Was her dog, Free, okay? Was he okay? Where was he? His eyes closed against his will, and he forced them back open. Brock was hovering over him, a concerned look on his face. The scar curling from Brock’s mouth made him look sinister and the lighting made his face look pale. No wonder Dirk thought he was The Joker when he too laid in a hospital bed.

“He’s awake,” he heard Brock say as he fought to gain his bearings.

“Water,” he croaked.

“Hang on, little buddy,” Brock said. He heard Brock pouring water into a cup as footsteps approached. He expected them to have been from Destiny, but when he looked he saw Zella standing next to Brock, looking at him wide eyed. “Open up.”

Seven tried to lift his head and aim his mouth at the straw Brock offered. A nurse appeared and put a hand behind Seven’s head. She propped it up and Brock poked the straw between his lips. Seven Sallie sucked, and water never felt so good as it filled his mouth and slid down his parched throat. Seven’s head was eased back to the pillow and he moaned with both pleasure and pain.

“You put quite the scare into us, my man,” Brock told him with a sad smile. “The doc told us one of the knife wounds barely missed your heart.”

The two cousins stared at each other for a long moment. Then Seven’s eyes rotated to Zella. She gazed at him as if frightened.

“Hey,” Brock said softly. “I’m gonna go get Dee. She’s out in the waiting room. They only allow two at a time in here.”

Seven watched Brock leave. Then he looked at Zella and offered a weak smile. “Thanks for saving me.”

Zella snorted. “I think you got that backwards. You almost died saving me.”

Seven shook his head. “Saved with a kiss.”

“I don’t know about that,” Zella giggled nervously as she glanced at the nurse. The middle aged nurse eyed her coolly and pursed her lips.

“I do,” Seven Sallie said. “I thought I was gonna die. I was surrendering to the darkness. But your kiss excited me. Especially when we kissed like they do in France.”

Zella noticed the nurse shake her head slightly as she loaded a syringe. She also thought she heard a snort of disgust. Did she disapprove of her kissing a severely wounded man, or was it because she was black and Seven was white? Why did she care?

“I didn’t know what else to do. I thought I was losing you,” Zella told him. Then added for the nurses benefit. “I also figured it might give you a goal in recovering. You know, so we could continue the passion under better circumstances.”

Seven gazed at her wide eyed. Then she felt herself cringe inwardly. Why did she say that? What did she really feel anyway? Did Seven’s heroism change her personal guidelines of strict celibacy?

The nurse gave Seven a shot and told him very business like that a doctor would be in to see him shortly.

“How’s your dog?” Seven asked. “How’s Free?”

This unexpected mention of her beloved dog caused a surge of emotion. Zella’s eyes filled with tears as she shook her head and spoke quietly. “She didn’t make it.”

Seven turned his face away from hers and shut his eyes. Zella noticed tears leaking from beneath his lids. She assumed it was due to his injuries, but he lifted a trembling hand to hers and she took hold of it. “I’m so sorry, Zella. Pets can be like family, and I could tell that’s the way it was with you and Free. When my wife and I first separated, I took the family cat because we had discovered our daughter was allergic. Looking back, Buttons was my best friend as I went through the pain and loneliness of our divorce. I can’t count how many times his purrs soothed me as he sat on my lap.”

Zella squeezed his hand and held back a sob as he smiled sweetly at her. She didn’t understand her conflicting emotions. Now that she knew Seven would pull through, she needed to leave. After all, Destiny and Brock were here. “Listen, Seven, I need to go. I promise I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He nodded. “Thanks for giving me hope when I thought I was dying.”

She frowned at him, not understanding how or to what degree their kiss really helped him. But he had saved her life. If the kiss meant that much to him, it was the least she could do to continue to give him hope. Once he completely recovered, she could explain they were just caught up in the moments. So she bent down and pecked his lips. When she arose, Destiny looked at her with a surprised expression that she immediately hid.

“I need to go,” Zella told Destiny. She was tempted to tell her that the kiss she saw wasn’t what she thought. But she didn’t know what she herself thought. “I’ll send Brock back in.”

Destiny hugged her and told her she would let her know of any updates on Seven’s condition. Zella thanked her and quickly left. Halfway between the ICU and the waiting room, Zella stopped, leaned against a wall, and pressed her eyes tightly shut. Her brain reeled with grief over Free and gratitude Seven was expected to make a full recovery. Not to mention her chaotic feelings for Seven.

Her mind teetered back and forth with I love him, I love him not. But how could she love him? They barely knew each other. Did the shared drama of what they went through speed up the feelings process? Did his risking his life to save hers negate her personal oath to be a confirmed bachelorette? What was Seven’s interest in her anyway? A fling, a romp in the hay? Or was he looking for love?

Zella heard footsteps and quickly composed herself. She made her way to the waiting room on shaky legs to tell Brock she was leaving and he could go back in. When she entered, she found Brock leaning on his elbows, head bowed and pinching the bridge of his nose. She moved toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder. She felt him give a little start under her touch.

“Oh, hey Zella,” he said as he stood. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” she replied. “I just need to go. I wanted to let you know you could go back in.”

“Thanks.”

“You know Brock, it’s not your fault. You shouldn’t beat yourself up over Seven’s injuries.”

“Well, I beg to differ, Zella. I was supposed to be watching his back twenty four seven. I let his smooth talking convince me he would be safe going to your store without me.”

“What happened had nothing to do with the death threats against him. It was just bad timing for Seven being there when an unstable client of mine showed up. Good timing for me. I’d probably be dead if it wasn’t for Seven being there. He went after the guy with no regard for himself.”

Brock pursed his lips and nodded. “I’m proud of him.”

“You should be.”

“Take care, Zella,” Brock said as he gave her shoulder a friendly pat. He turned to go to Seven’s room. “We’ll be seeing ya.”

“Brock,” she said, grabbing his elbow.

“Yeah?” He replied as he turned back to her with an inquisitive expression.

“I understand you and Seven, um, haven’t always seen eye to eye.”

“That’s an understatement,” Brock chuckled. “We spent nearly a decade without speaking.”

“What was your feud over?”

“I wouldn’t call it a feud. When we were younger, I just got tired of his obnoxious personality putting me in situations to bail him out of altercations. He didn’t seem to provoke people to the point of fighting when I wasn’t with him to handle his battles. So I guess you could say I gave him an ultimatum that I was done. Then we just sort of went our separate ways, so to speak. Plus around that same time, he got married and had a kid.”

“Do you guys get along now?”

“For the most part, yeah,” Brock said with a shrug.

“So is he not as obnoxious now? He certainly seems obnoxious on his podcast.”

“He’s definitely matured,” Brock said and then chuckled. “Maybe his podcast gives him an outlet to relieve his pent up angst.”

“Was he ever abusive in his marriage?”

“Not to my knowledge. If anything, he was too tolerant of her adulterous behavior.”

“Is that why they divorced, because she cheated on him?”

“Three strikes and she was out.”

“I see. That is very tolerant for a man.”

Brock raised an eyebrow.

“No offense. It’s just in the circles I’ve traveled, I haven’t been very impressed with the male half of the population. I was once slapped by a boyfriend for smiling at the UPS guy and telling him to have a nice day. But you Cotton Creek Cove guys are starting to make me think there might be a few good men after all.”

“Well, thank you,” Brock replied meekly.

“Listen, I better let you go,” Zella said. “Destiny’s gonna wonder what happened to you.”

“Hey Zella,” Brock said with a sly grin. “I detected Seven has a thing for you, but are you sweet on him as well?”

“I don’t know,” she replied shyly. “I’m just really confused right now. I don’t understand what I’m feeling. I’m not interested in a relationship, but Seven is, I don’t know, special.”

“Yes, he is,” Brock said smiling. Zella couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.

“Be honest, do you think I should keep my distance?”

“I think you should at least open yourself up to friendship. From where I sit, you two both seem to have hit it off, albeit in a strange way.”

“Whatever could you mean?” Zella said with a sing song voice. “Aren’t most people attacked by a knife wielding wacko when they’re getting to know each other?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy,” Brock grinned. “Just read Knight Storm by Johnathan Embers and you’ll see that Dee and I had an, um, odd courtship.”

“I have read it,” Zella laughed. “And good point.”

They said goodbyes, and Brock made his way to Seven’s room. He found Destiny sitting quietly and looking at her phone. Seven laid with eyes shut and mouth agape.

“Hey, check this out,” Brock said conspiratorially. “You know how we noticed Seven has the hots for Zella? Well, it appears that the feelings are mutual.”

Seven’s eyes popped open and his head rotated toward the couple as he asked, “Really?”

XXI

A healthy, earthy smell penetrated Seven’s nostrils as he walked into Zella’s herb and vitamin store. Bells jangled as the door closed behind him. Zella emerged from the backroom, smiled warmly at Seven and asked if she could help him. When it dawned on her who she was talking to, the smile disappeared from her face and her eyes widened in surprise.

“I was hoping to schedule an appointment for a psychic reading session,” Seven Sallie said cheerily.

Zella put her hands on her hips and gave him a stern look, but he thought he noticed a smile trying to curl at the corner of her mouth. Then she put two fingers to her temple and closed her eyes for a couple of seconds. “I’m sensing that you are not a believer in psychic powers.”

Zella’s corn rows were gone. Her long black, coarse hair was combed back tight against her scalp and bound into a ponytail. Bangs hung right down to her brows and with her big dark intelligent eyes, she looked incredibly cute. With a form fitting green sweater and faded blue jeans, she also looked sexy.

Seven put two fingers to his temple and closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. “I’m sensing that you are no longer giving psychic readings.”

Zella put two fingers to her temple again and closed her eyes. “I’m sensing that you called my number and heard the message that I am no longer doing psychic readings.”

Seven kept his fingers on his temple and closed his eyes again. “I’m sensing you’re right.”

“That’s some intuitive ability, seeing how I just told you,” Zella said as she laughed.

Seven laughed too. But more due to relief from feeling like ice was broken than humor. He took off the Minnesota Twins baseball cap he was wearing and ran his hand through his hair. Zella marveled, not for the first time, at how much he looked like a prettier version of Brock. She even preferred Seven’s wiry toned physique to Brock’s bulging muscles. Although he could stand to be a little more toned. She didn’t like what she was feeling. She had sworn off men a few years ago. She covered her desire to flirt with a stern expression.

“So, if you know I gave up psychic reading, why are you here?” She asked with a cool tone.

“It must be a very recent development.”

“What?”

“Giving up your psychic gig.”

“I took down the sign and changed my phone message as soon as I got home last night.”

“Why?”

Zella sighed. “It’s really none of your business.”

“Wait, I’m getting something,” Seven Sallie said as he put two fingers to his temple again and shut his eyes tight. “I’m sensing common ground. I’m sensing last night was some type of last straw for both of us. I’m sensing pesky people from Cotton Creek Cove fellowship have been getting under our skin. I’m sensing you and I are falling for each other.”

This fourth element took Zella by surprise and her mouth gaped open. She quickly regained her facial composure, but she noticed her hands quivering slightly as she placed them on her hips.

“Three out of four ain’t bad,” she said and then wondered if she was lying.

“So I was wrong about the pesky Cotton Creek Cove people?”

“Nope.”

“I was wrong about last night being the last straw?”

“Nope.”

“I was wrong about common attraction?”

“Nope,” Zella replied before he finished saying attraction. Her eyes widened at her mistake. She assumed he was going to say common ground.

“Great!” Seven Sallie said and then moved his face toward hers with puckered lips.

“Back off, you fool!” Zella blurted as she shoved two hands into his chest.

Seven began to laugh as a dog emerged and began to bark fiercely.

“It’s okay, Free,” Zella told the chocolate lab with a sweet voice. “Go lay down, honey.”

The dog laid down right where she was and eyed Seven suspiciously.

“Well, I guess I’m definitely not a psychic,” Seven Sallie said as he threw up his hands and grinned at Zella. “I apologize, I thought I detected a mutual chemistry between us that was about to combust into incredible passion.”

Zella opened her mouth and closed it. Although she told herself that she did not like Seven Sallie, she ironically found him very attractive indeed. But after last night, she was determined to live honestly. The first step, and it was a big one, was shutting down her profession as a psychic and a life coach. So, maybe the way to not lie to Mr. Sallie, was to simply stay quiet on the subject.

“So I am wrong then?” Seven asked.

Zella crossed her arms and glared at him, but remained silent. He grinned merrily. Anger and irritation welled within her.

“Cat got your tongue?” Seven provoked as it occurred to him that she might not want to lie to him. Zella amped up the fierceness in her gaze and he chuckled. “Would you say yes or no please?”

“Can I punch you in the face?”

“Ooooh, I’m afraid not I’m into that, Zella.”

“How about I tie you up and whip you?”

“Noooo, not that either.”

“So what are you into?” Zella blurted with out thinking and instantly regretted it.

Seven’s face suddenly became serious and he spoke quietly. “I want what Brock and Destiny seem to have.”

Seven stared at her with a warm sentimental smile. Yet in his eyes she saw he was lost, lonely and confused. This made her even more drawn to him than she already was. She both hated and liked the vulnerability that she felt. It was like he was gazing into her soul and seeing how lost and lonely she  was too. After all, it’s been said the eyes are the windows to the soul. Were the thick, tough shades she had installed on her eyes stuck open? She wondered this as he seemed to wallow in the silence that spoke volumes between them. Finally she couldn’t stand the deafening silence that seemed to have lasted an hour, even though in reality it was less than a minute.

“What do they have?” Zella asked and then felt her toes curl at the squeaky quiver in her voice.

Seven sighed and looked away from her. As he began to speak, he almost seemed shy. “The way they are two, but seem like one. The way they complement each other in their individual spiritual journeys.  When they converse, whoever is listening seems utterly fascinated with what the other is saying. When they walk together, they hold hands. They can sit quietly at breakfast and seem to speak volumes to each other without hardly saying a word. At night they share a mug of sleepy time tea by the fireplace and read Bible verses to each other. I don’t know, things like that. It’s hard to describe.”

“Well, you did a fine job describing them,” Zella replied matter of fact as she tried hard to hide just how intrigued she actually was. “But you and I aren’t Brock and Destiny.”

“We could be,” Seven said quietly. “It seems we are both being drawn to something bigger than ourselves.”

“I don’t think so, Mr. Sallie,” Zella replied, trying to undo the bond that was beginning to solidify between them by addressing him formally. “I’m not interested in a romantic relationship.”

“Are you coming off a breakup?”

“It’s been a few years, but I rather like being alone,” Zella answered and then realized she uttered a falsehood. Since her roommate moved out a few months previous, she sometimes felt like loneliness would consume her.

“Look, how about we forget all about this mutual attraction you’re denying and I’m trying to embrace, and we just focus on being friends?”

Zella snorted, refolded her arms and raised a skeptical eyebrow at Seven.

“Listen,” Seven Sallie said. “I know I tend to be, a, um…”

“Obnoxious?”

“I was thinking witty.”

“Smarmy?”

“I was thinking charming.”

“Annoying?”

“Okay, now you’re just hurting my feelings.”

Zella laughed and extended a hand to shake. “Okay, friends. Nothing more.”

“Fair enough,” Seven Sallie said as he took hold of her hand. “However, may I kiss your hand?”

“Now, Seven,” Zella whined in exasperation. “What part of nothing more do you not understand?”

“Look, I just want to kiss your hand as a gentleman. That will help me with the keen disappointment I feel over being denied your succulent lips now or ever in the future.”

“Seven, how are we ever going to be just friends?”

“Is that an indirect way of admitting attraction to me?”

“Yes, I find you slightly attractive, okay, Seven. Are you happy now? I mean, you’ve looked in a mirror. Nature has been quite good to you physically. But you are going to have to prove your worthiness as a friend. And if you do, nothing more. Ever! Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Seven Sallie said meekly.

“Then kiss my hand and be done with it,” Zella said quickly and then sighed.

Seven smirked as he grasped her lightly by the fingers and brought the back of her hand to his mouth. His lips were warm, soft, and he let them linger. Zella’s brain told her the kiss was plenty long and to pull her hand away. But her lonely heart caused her own lips to part as she felt a thrill ease up her spine.

“Mm, is that lavender I smell?” Seven asked as his head lifted and their eyes met.

“French lavender,” she replied with a squeak as her toes curled again.

Seven lowered his head to her hand again and she feebly tried to pull it away. “Just one, Seven.”

“I just want to sniff the French lavender again, if I may.”

His nose ever so slightly touched her hand and his lips barely brushed her knuckles. It tickled and she giggled as she jerked her hand away. “No more kisses now period. Got it?”

“I got it,” he smiled as he showed the palms of his hands in a show of submission.

“Alright then, let’s go back to the beginning. What did you want to talk to me about?”

Seven’s face became stern as he frowned. “I’d simply like to get your thoughts and perspectives on what we saw and participated in last night.”

“Well,” Zella sighed. “Other than when I thought a former boyfriend might kill me during a beating, it was the scariest thing I have ever been a part of.”

Zella stared heatedly at Seven, testing his response, and expecting him to look away. Maybe her response would cool his jets about any romantic notions. Instead he gazed at her with warmth and sympathy exuding from his eyes. She could almost hear the drippings of her heart melting.

“Zella, I’m so sorry,” he said quietly.

“It’s not your fault I had a habit of choosing bad men. Do you hear me? Had!”

“Not just for that. I mean for coming on to you. Especially since we don’t know each other very well. I guess over the last few years, I got used to talking to attractive women at bars, you know, trying to hook up and what not. So once again I’m sorry. I was trying to be lighthearted and funny. But I ended up being forward and rude. I truly want us to be friends. I promise I will put my attraction to you in the same place I have with finding Destiny attractive. By that I mean that I’m aware of it, but it’s strictly off limits.”

Zella was surprised that part of her wanted to shout: No! I want you to find me attractive, I want you to flirt with me, and eventually I want to give in so we can live happily ever after. However, real life isn’t a fairy tale. It’s hard and dangerous. So, she simply smiled sadly and nodded.

“Okay,” Seven Sallie said as he clapped his hands together. The chocolate lab lifted her head, growled and glared at Seven for a few seconds before lowering it to her paws again. “Talk to me about being terrified.”

“Well,” she shrugged and waved a hand at him. “You should know. You probably would have fled if you had managed to get the door open.”

Seven felt his face flush with embarrassment.

“I didn’t mean that as any type of slight, Seven,” she said as she put a hand on his, and then jerked it quickly away. “If anyone knows that it was especially dangerous for you to be there, it was me. I was the one that warned you about Lexi a week before it all imploded.”

Seven nodded, and then asked. “Did last night have anything to do with you suddenly stopping your psychic reading profession?”

“It had a huge part to do with it.”

 “I don’t get it. So last night changed how you think and what you do, just like that,” Seven Sallie said as he snapped his fingers. The chocolate lab opened her eyes growled once, snorted, and then shut her eyes.

“No, my, what would you call it, change of heart?” Zella pondered. “I would have to say it began with my best friend and former roommate Willa. Actually this guy that came to see Willa is where it began for me. You might have met him. His name is Billy Bob Booker. He goes to Cotton Creek Cove.”

“I’ve heard the name and good things about him, but we haven’t met.”

Zella looked over Seven’s shoulder and sighed. Seven turned to look and saw a figure approaching the store. “Not him again,” Seven heard Zella say under her breath.

“Hey, Zella, may I use your restroom?” Seven Sallie said.

“Sure, through those curtains and then the second door on the right.”

Seven was washing his hands when he heard Free barking ferociously. Then he heard Zella emit a bloodcurdling scream just as the chocolate lab cried. Why did he insist to Brock that he wanted to go to Zella’s alone? Nonetheless, Seven flung open the restroom door and ran out of the back room. Free laid in a pool of blood as Zella ran down an isle with a knife wielding man chasing her!