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Authors: E. N. Joy

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BOOK: The Sunday Only Christian
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Chapter Eight
“Thanks for agreeing to come have coffee with me,” Lynox said to Deborah, who sat across from him at the coffee shop they'd gone to immediately after leaving the library.
Deborah smiled. “No problem.” And it was no problem indeed. Heck, little did Lynox know, she would have gone to the moon with him if he'd invited her.
“I just felt we really needed to talk and explain some things without an audience.”
Deborah chuckled. “I agree.” She took a sip of her coffee. “And about that; I really am sorry for the way I just showed up at your book signing with my ammunition on my back like that. It's just that the more I thought about the police showing up at my door, the angrier I got.” She thought for a minute. “Then again, I'm not sure if it was just anger, or a little mixture of disappointment. I mean, you'd agreed that we wouldn't call the police, and take care of it ourselves through our insurance company. So I guess I kind of felt like you lied to me; led me on to believe we were going to do one thing, then changed your mind and did something else.”
Lynox sat there nodding, taking in Deborah's every word. “Umm, hmmm. I could see how that could disappoint you—even hurt you.” He exhaled. “I know what it's like to feel like you are being led in one direction and then swoosh . . .” Lynox used his hand to drive a straight path toward Deborah, but then when his hand got close to her, he turned it quickly as if making it do a U-turn.
Deborah was about to take a sip of her coffee but then she paused. “Wait a minute, are we talking about something else here?”
Taking a sip of his own coffee and looking at Deborah over the rim of his cup, Lynox shrugged his shoulders.
Without ever taking that sip of her coffee, Deborah placed the cup back down on the table. “Okay, look, if we're going to do this—really move beyond the past—we're going to have to talk about it.”
“I agree,” Lynox said. “So talk.” He spread his hands as if giving her the floor to speak.
Deborah decided that she wanted to hear what Lynox had to say and then base what she needed to say as a response to him. “Me? Why can't you go first? I went first at the library.” They both thought about her comment and then laughed.
“I guess you're right. I'll go first.”
“No, no, no.” Deborah rested her hand on Lynox's. “Let me, because this is long overdue.” In that instant, she wanted to say what needed to be said to him a long time ago; what she would have said to him that day at the bookstore if everything had turned out all right. She didn't want to wait and end up being a coward and backing out. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry the way I ended things with us when I ran off to Chile. I made a mistake. It was a huge mistake.” Deborah figured right here she'd allow Lynox to get a word in edgewise if he wanted.
He cleared his throat, then decided to take Deborah up on her unspoken offer. “And at what point did you realize you'd made a mistake?”
“From the moment that plane took off,” she said without hesitation. “But it was too late. I felt like I was at the point of no return. I couldn't turn back and listen to all the ‘I told you so's.'”
“Now that really hurts.” Lynox looked down and kind of slumped in his seat.
“What?”
“The fact that you felt you couldn't come back to me, and if you did, I was gonna hit you with an ‘I told you so.'” He shook his head. “I just thought we were better than that. I thought I'd made it clear how much I wanted you in my life, no matter what.”
“And you did, Lynox. Really you did. I felt it. When it came to you, once I just let everything go and let you in, for the first time since I could remember both my head and my heart had agreed on something. That something was that you were a great man.”
Lynox sat upright again. “Well, I guess LeBron was just greater.” He pretended to be swooshing a basketball.
“Stop it now, Lynox.” Deborah raised an eyebrow at his jealous schoolboy antics.
He put his hands up in defeat. “Okay, I'm sorry. My bad. I know your boy is probably over in Chile winning up all types of championship rings with his skills. So consider my calling him LeBron as a compliment.”
From the first moment Lynox had laid eyes on Elton, which was when he'd interrupted Lynox and Deborah's date at a restaurant, Lynox had always thought the cat was too flashy for his own good. The expensive clothes, the jewelry, just seemed a bit much for Lynox's taste, and he thought Deborah would have had better taste as well. But she seemed to be drawn to that life. He couldn't imagine what in the world would have made her leave all that behind. But he was about to find out.
“Actually, Elton is not over in Chile winning all kinds of championship rings.” Deborah's tone became somber. “He's dead.”
Lynox's eyes grew as large as the saucers he and Deborah's coffee cups sat on. “Oh, no. Are you for real?”
Deborah nodded. “Yes. Remember that big earthquake they had over in Chile a couple of years ago? Well, unfortunately, Elton was one of its casualties.”
“Awww man.” Lynox washed his hands down his face, feeling bad that he'd just spoken ill of the dead. “
I . . . I . . . I
didn't know. You must have been devastated—left over there in a foreign country all alone.”
Deborah twisted her lips and almost angrily said, “Harrumph, I was alone from the moment we got there. I hate to say it, but it made no difference with Elton dead or alive—I was alone.”
“But you knew going into that, that the life of a ball player is crazy busy.”
“Yes, I knew that, and I didn't mind that the majority of his time was dedicated to the game. What I did mind was the minority that was leftover still wasn't dedicated to me.” Deborah took a sip of her coffee but not before quickly slipping in the words, “But that was dedicated to his wife instead.”
Lynox nearly spit out his last sip of coffee when he heard Deborah's last words. “Did you say . . . did you say ‘wife'? Elton had a wife over in Chile.” Lynox tried to hide his smile, but a small portion crept out. “That dude was more than just a ball player; he was a player to the highest. Dang, I take back all the bad stuff I said about that dude. He had skills. I mean, you have to in order to be able to come back to the States, steal the woman I love from right up under me, convince her to pick up and move to another country, while you have a wife over there making you
pastel de choclo.
” Lynox began laughing.
As Lynox laughed, Deborah's eyes began to fill with tears, but Lynox hadn't noticed until her first tear actually dropped.
“Oh, Deborah, sweetheart, I'm so sorry.” Lynox got up from his side of the table and went and scooted in next to Deborah in their booth. “I didn't mean to make you sad. I was just joking around. I know—I know. It was in poor taste.” Lynox picked up a napkin and began dabbing Deborah's tears away. “I'm sorry.”
Deborah turned and looked at Lynox. “Please don't apologize. No man has ever said something that sincere and genuine to me and meant it.”
Now Lynox was confused and it showed on his face.
Deborah could see the puzzled expression on his face, so she clarified things for him. “You said ‘the woman I love.'”
Still, Lynox had a look of confusion on his face.
“You said that Elton came and stole the woman you love,” she said, still looking deep into Lynox's hypnotizing eyes, and placing her lips so close to his that when she spoke he could feel her breath on his own lips. “Lynox, do you still love me?”
Chapter Nine
Pulling into the garage after spending two hours talking to Lynox at the coffee shop, Deborah felt that not even all the coffee in the world could give her back her energy. Nothing could provide the boost she'd need to pick her up out of the dragging funk she now found herself in. Her body felt lifeless and her mind drained. She didn't even know how she'd managed to get home without having to pull over to the side of the road and just sit there and let her body figure out what it was going to do with itself.
Her body hadn't been tired or feeling worn out. She'd been getting plenty of rest, but all it had taken was just a few words out of Lynox's mouth to zap every last ounce of energy from within her.
She'd asked him if he still loved her. Why did she have to go and do that? Why did she have to go and try to move things along so fast? Why couldn't she have just let nature take its course and then one day, out of nowhere, Lynox could have told her how much he loved her . . . or “liked her a lot”? But no, Deborah had to, like she'd been doing up to this point, take things into her own hands. It would have been too much like right for her to sit back, wait, and let God do His thing.
Deborah never was good at waiting. The patience of Job she did not possess. She could wait for some things. Like in church on Sunday morning; she could wait for Deacon Lowe, whenever he was called on to lead the body of Christ in prayer, to finish up his twenty-minute prayer. He'd pray the same stuff over and over, and then go off on a tangent somewhere and pray for his cousin in Tucson who just found out that her old college friend had a child with a best friend whose mother had a bad case of eczema that had her scratching her arms all day. She had no problem on Sunday morning at church waiting for the same twenty people who came down to the altar every single Sunday to get prayed for and to touch and agree with the pastor, ministers, or elders. On Sunday she didn't seem to have a problem waiting at all. It was those other days of the week she had an issue with.
Today, a Thursday, had been no different. Deborah just couldn't wait to find out if all this time Lynox had been thinking about her, feeling the same way about her as she him. So she just came right out and asked. Maybe she wouldn't be feeling as bad as she felt now if his reply had been something other than what it was.
His reply had sent a surge of power through her body like never before.
“Deborah Lewis, I never stopped loving you,” had been the words Lynox replied.
Just to hear him say that, Deborah would have practically broken her ankle, got her big toe crushed, slammed into Lynox's truck, had the police show up at her door, and made a complete idiot of herself in a room full of strangers all over again. All the drama she had been through all week in the name of Lynox had not all been in vain. God was her friend. In the end, He'd seen to it that Deborah had gotten exactly what she wanted; with several obstacles and tests to pass, that is. But she had gotten her guy.
Oh, but did God have jokes, Deborah surmised by the end of the evening. Because it was the end of the evening when everything changed. It was toward the end of two hours of talking when Deborah realized in all her talking she'd forgotten to mention to Lynox one very important factor in her life. And she probably never would have even thought about it had Lynox not brought the subject matter up.
“And just so you know . . . because I know eventually you are going to ask,” Lynox said to Deborah. “That's just how women are,” he said with a knowing look on his face. “The date I had the other night, the night you hit my car—the date I mentioned back at the library who I didn't want to find your shoes in my car . . .”
“What date?” Deborah feigned dumb; all the while she really had been waiting for the opportunity to ask Lynox about that date, if things were serious between him and the woman.
“Oh, please. Don't play with me.” Lynox laughed. “You know you couldn't wait to ask me about that. But I'll save you the trouble. It was nothing. It was our first date and it was our last.”
“Oh, couldn't concentrate on the date thinking about me, huh?” Deborah joked.
“Modest aren't we?” Lynox played along but then continued. “Actually she was a really nice lady. Had her own house, car, career, two degrees in finance, a nice savings, and good credit. You know—qualities most men would love for one woman to have. But there was something she didn't have . . .”
“Looks?” Deborah began to pat her hair as if complimenting her own.
“Why, Ms. Lewis, I never knew conceit was one of your characteristics.”
“Oh, now you know I'm just messing around with you. I know I'm not all that.” Deborah dropped her hand. Lynox caught it.
“Oh, but you are all that—and then some.” And Lynox meant every word of it when he said it. Deborah could feel it. “Anyway”—he pulled his hand away—“she looked aiiiiiggghhht,” he exaggerated the word. “Not that she could hold a candle to your beauty.” Lynox smiled. “But that wasn't it. As a matter of fact, it wasn't what she didn't have. It was what she did have.” Lynox stared off.
“And what was that?” Deborah asked and then took a bite of her slice of cheesecake she'd ordered.
“A kid. She had a kid.”
Deborah's eyes bucked and she began choking on her food.
“Are you okay?” Lynox asked. “Here—drink some water.” He reached for Deborah's glass of water, which had remained untouched until now. He handed it to Deborah, who then gulped half the glass down in just a couple of swallows.
Coughing, Deborah was beating her hand on her chest, as if she could knock the cheesecake that was stuck in her throat down her pipes. Between the beating and the water, it finally made its way down.
“You all right?” Lynox asked with uncertainty.
“Yeah, I'm good.” Deborah took another sip of water. “Just went down the wrong pipe is all.”
“Oh, good. You scared me there for a minute.” Now Lynox sounded relieved. But with all the drama, he'd forgotten he'd been in the middle of telling her why he broke it off with his date. But Deborah hadn't forgotten.
“So you were saying about the date . . .” Deborah pressed.
“Oh, yeah, that. Well, like I said, she had wonderful qualities, but she had a kid. I'm not and never have been the kind of guy who wants a readymade family. I've always had the dream of the white house, picket fence, dog, cat, lovely wife, and kids . . . of my own. Not my kids and his kids; ‘him' being the man she was with before she was with me. I mean, come on, any man who is honest with himself will admit that there is just something about a little reminder, walking around the house, of the person who had his woman before he got to her. As shallow as it sounds, for me, that's the deal breaker—a woman with kids from another relationship. I can't do it. I won't do it. Not to mention the baby daddy drama that could possibly come along with the relationship. I mean, men aren't nearly as catty and petty as women . . .” He looked to Deborah and put his hands up. “No offense, but you know there is far more baby momma drama between women than there is baby daddy drama between men. But whatever the case, it's not my cup of tea.” He lifted his cup. “Or my cup of coffee.” He winked at Deborah then took a sip.
That's when all the life in Deborah's body made a quick exit. How had she talked to this man for two hours and never mentioned the fact that she had a child? Her little man, besides God, was the most important part of her life. That should have been one of the first things she had delighted in telling Lynox, but she hadn't, and after hearing him be so adamant about never dealing with a readymade family, how in the world could she possibly tell him now? She couldn't . . . and so she didn't.
Yes, her son was the most important person in her life, but even before him, Lynox had captured a piece of her heart. That piece of her heart along with the rest of it wanted Lynox—even after his comment about not wanting a woman with kids.
“But I'm different,” Deborah had said to herself out loud on her drive home. She and Lynox had history. Surely he could make an exception for her. She knew that if the tables were turned, she would for him. And if she was reading into things correctly, he felt the same strong connection with her that she felt with him. “For God's sake the man said he loves me.” Well, how Deborah saw it, if he loved her, he'd love her son, who was just a mini extension of her. So even though she couldn't and didn't bring herself to mention at the coffee shop the fact that she had a child, she knew eventually she would have to. When? Now that was a whole other dilemma.
Deborah's cell phone vibrated. She had turned the ringer off at the coffee shop to avoid any loud interruptions. She picked up her phone and looked at the caller ID. She tapped herself upside the head to punish herself for forgetting to do something. “Hi, Mom,” she answered the phone. She'd forgotten to call and check in with her mother, and that was after telling her she'd only be gone about an hour.
“I guess you decided to let my baby stay the night with his Ganny Ban Banny after all, huh?”
That wasn't a conscious decision Deborah had made. She'd simply forgotten to go pick him up after her evening with Lynox. But there was no way she was going to tell her mother that. “Uh, yeah, Mom. I figured I'd just let him stay. Sorry I didn't call.”
“It's okay. No worries. And don't rush to come get him in the morning. Get as much work done as you need to. See you tomorrow, honey. Good night.” And her mother was off the phone just that quick; and the way things looked now, her and Lynox's relationship had been over even quicker.
Deborah threw herself back on the bed and exhaled deeply. She then looked over at the picture on her nightstand of her holding her son on his first birthday. Tears began to pour out of her eyes as she thought about how she'd forgotten all about her son twice in one evening.
What kind of horrible mother am I?
She turned and buried her face in her pillow, using the fluffy object as a silencer for her crying.
“Oh, God! What am I going to do?” she cried into the pillow. She never thought in a million years she'd be torn over an issue between her son and a suitor. She'd just wanted to reconnect with Lynox so badly that she never even thought about how he'd feel about her having a child. That was obvious, considering she didn't even think about telling him about her son. Her only focus had been getting her guy. Well, she had gotten her guy all right. But now, would she be able to keep him?
BOOK: The Sunday Only Christian
12.61Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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