This was what she’d hoped for, wasn’t it? Why didn’t she feel the least bit excited? “I like you, too, Brian.” She tensed when he raised his hand and tucked her hair over her shoulder.
“May I kiss you?”
She’d only kissed two men in her life, and neither had asked permission. Covering her surprise, she said yes. Curious what she would feel, she leaned forward and met him halfway.
Brian’s kiss was tender and unhurried, pleasant. She didn’t feel the faint stirrings she had with Patrick, the promise of something that never happened. She hadn’t felt much more with Samuel’s father.
Someday her son would grow up and ask who his father was. What could she say? I met him at a club. When he asked if I wanted to go to his place, I said yes. You were the result. If she surrendered Samuel to Selah and Ruben, she wouldn’t have to confess. Selah could tell him honestly that she’d planned for and chosen him to be her son.
And why was her mind wandering hither and yon when Brian Henley was kissing her?
Brian drew back, his expression enigmatic.
“What’s wrong, Grace?”
“I’m not good enough for you.”
“We’re all sinners, and friendship is a good place to start a lasting relationship. It’s how Charlene and I started.” He took her hands and stood, drawing her up with him.
Grace was again relieved not to feel any particular physical attraction. She had been enamored by Patrick, and that relationship had been a disaster. The second, worse. She’d allowed anger and hurt to excuse a night of following the crowd of irresponsible young adults who thought casual sex was perfectly all right between consenting adults. She’d been lonely and miserable, desperate to feel something, anything. She barely remembered the evening, but she remembered waking up in the middle of the night in a stranger’s bed. Throwing on her clothes, she’d fled. She ran down the beach, crying, and up onto the road, where she’d had enough sense to arrange for an Uber.
She liked Brian. He was kind and caring. He was handsome. They could talk about anything and everything. They had faith in common. She wanted to live a life pleasing to God, and Brian’s clear calling was to serve the Lord. She felt safe with Brian, no hint of temptation. Surely, that was a good sign.
“Are you up for a hike on Solstice Canyon Trail next Saturday? I’ll get a pack so I can carry Samuel.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” He leaned in and kissed her softly on the mouth. Grace wished she felt a spark.
She tossed her purse on the table. If hiking was Brian’s favorite form of entertainment, she’d better invest in something more than tennis shoes. She’d need hiking boots. Maybe Roman would allow her to use the exercise room so she could build enough muscle to shoulder a pack. She let out a mirthless laugh.
She changed into pajamas, washed her face, and brushed her teeth. She heard Elvis Presley singing “Big Boss Man.” Heart racing, she went into the kitchen and pulled her phone from her purse. Glancing at the microwave clock, she answered. “It’s after midnight, Roman.”
“You’re still up.”
“Not for long.”
“I’m in my studio. If you’d invited Prince Charming in for the night, I wouldn’t be calling.”
Grace gasped, cheeks on fire. “Were you watching us?”
“I was curious what two Christians do at the end of a date.” He laughed low. “That kiss earned a G rating.”
Grace ended the call. She’d turn the phone off completely if it wasn’t her only lifeline to Samuel in case of emergency. She put it on her nightstand and slipped into bed. Elvis sang again. She put a pillow over her head.
BOBBY RAY, AGE 7
Bobby Ray Dean awakened to the whoop of a police car siren and red lights flashing across the ceiling. He pulled the smelly blanket higher over his shoulders. Drowsy, he stared at the orange, red, and gold neon Jesus Saves across the street. Still cold, he cocooned into the worn cushions of the old sofa.
Voices drifted from behind the bedroom door: a man, irritated; Mama cajoling. Bobby Ray knew that whenever a man came home from work with her, he had to leave the bed and sleep on the couch.
Bobby Ray’s stomach growled. He’d found cereal in the cabinet to eat for supper, but no milk in the refrigerator. Other than the bottles Mama kept around for her guests, the cupboards were empty. He hoped Mama’s new friend would leave enough money to buy a few cans of Dinty Moore stew and Spam, maybe even some eggs and bread and milk. Most of what she earned went for the white powder that helped her forget everything and feel good until she had to get up and remember again.