Roman felt a rush of protective anger. “Grace didn’t live with me. She had her own place.” He wasn’t about to tell this nosy reporter she lived next door in a cottage he owned. “She’s as straitlaced as they come. And if you insinuate anything else in your article, I’ll rip your head off.”
Martin drew back.
“Sorry, Mr. Martin.” Brian chuckled. “Roman is a new Christian.”
Martin held up his hands. “I wasn’t meaning to insinuate anything. Ms. Reisner spoke very highly of Ms. Moore. She said you needed a keeper, and Grace was organized, efficient, and a delight to know.”
Roman glared at him. He knew what the next question would be.
“I’d like to talk with her.”
“I’ll bet you would,” Roman growled, wishing again he’d never agreed to this interview.
Brian glanced at Roman and then back at Tuck Martin. “Grace moved out of the area.”
Roman watched Tuck Martin closely and saw reporter instinct rising up like sludge in a clogged drain. When he looked at him, Roman stared back, letting the anger show. Ask about Grace again, and you are going to regret it.
Martin’s brows flicked up. Face relaxed, expression enigmatic, he leaned back and settled in. “There are plenty of bestselling books out there about near-death experiences in heaven. A couple of movies, too. I don’t remember any about hell.”
Roman returned Martin’s cynical smile with one of his own. “It’s not an experience I want to remember. Why would I want to write about it?”
“You could hire someone.”
“Like you?” Roman snorted. “You don’t believe me.”
“I might if you talked about it a little more.”
Brian sat quiet, clearly observing them.
Martin kept pushing. “You should warn people, don’t you think? Isn’t it your Christian duty?”
Roman gritted his teeth to keep from telling Martin where he could go and what he could do with himself once he got there.
Brian rescued him. “They’ve been warned. It’s all written in black-and-white. Most people like believing they can be good enough to get in the gate. Truth is, none of us are. Jesus holds the key.”
“That’s the party line.”
Brian leaned forward, hands loose around his fresh cup of coffee. “Before you go, can I ask you a question?”
“I grew up in a ‘Christian’ home.” Martin’s face hardened. “I’ve seen religion firsthand.”
Roman watched, amazed at how easily Brian could get people to talk. Maybe it was the way he listened, full of compassion without judgment or condemnation. Turned out Martin was from a hardworking, middle-class Christian family, but not the loving kind Brian had. Tuck’s father had been controlling and intolerant of anyone who didn’t share his views.
“He made sure I was sitting in the pew every Sunday. In suit and tie.” He shrugged. “Haven’t worn a tie since I left home.”
“How’s your relationship with your father now?”
Tuck shook his head. “He’s the same, just older and tired. He mellowed once Mom died. Still goes to church. My sisters and their families go, too. I love my father, but we disagree on just about everything. I see him once a year, and we stick to safe topics.” He gave a bleak laugh. “Fishing. That’s about it.”
Brian, a fisher of men, told him there was a big difference between religion and faith.
Tuck Martin’s phone rang. Apologizing, he checked the display. “Forgot the time. Gotta run.” Roman and Brian stood. Tuck shook hands with both and thanked them for their time. He looked at Roman. “Working on anything else?”
“Nothing I plan to show or sell.” Roman felt Brian’s glance. They were best friends, but that didn’t mean he had to tell Brian everything.
Tuck shouldered his pack. “I’ve done more talking this morning than both of you put together.”
Brian smiled. “Maybe you needed to.” He took out a card and handed it to him. “Anytime.”
Brian tapped on Roman’s door that evening. “Thought you might be up.”
Roman went back to the sofa, stretched out his legs, and put his feet on the coffee table. He turned off the basketball game. “How’d the board meeting go?”
“Long. Like the day. I’m exhausted.” He stood in the living room.
Roman knew something was on his mind. “So, what’re you doing here? Sit down or go home and get some sleep.”
“I won’t be able to sleep until my curiosity is satisfied.” He tipped his head. “I’d like to see what you’re working on.”
“It’s not finished.”
“I’m not a critic.”
Roman shrugged, and they went into the second bedroom. Sketches littered the drawing board. A large canvas sat on an easel. Brian had to move to the other side of the room to see it. “Oh, my.” He spoke softly, in reverence. “She’s beautiful.”
“I could use more light.” Roman felt edgy, exposed. “This would’ve been better done at the place in Topanga Canyon.” And with the right model. He joined Brian and studied the painting with a critical eye.
A young woman, advanced in pregnancy, wearing Judean clothing, stood with one hand spread over the top of her swollen belly, the other cupping beneath as though holding the unborn child in tender embrace. Her expression revealed wonder and fear.
“What do you call it?”
“The Indwelling.”
“She looks like Grace.”
Roman’s heart leaped, but he didn’t say anything. He’d been praying just before Brian knocked on the door. If God wanted him to search for Grace, three people had to bring her up without any encouragement from him. And now, here was Brian, a few minutes later, doing exactly that.
Number one.
Roman was afraid to hope. Hope hurt.
Brian frowned. “You haven’t mentioned her in months.”
“Nothing to talk about.”
“You still love her.”
“Leave it alone, Brian.” Roman went into the living room and turned the basketball game back on. Brian sat in the easy chair as though he intended to stay awhile. Roman gave him a mocking smile. “I thought you were tired.”
“I can get her address from Shanice, if you want it.”
Temptation rose quickly. He caught himself before he gave in. “It’s better if I don’t know.” If he knew where she was, he might not be able to wait for God’s timing.
“Why not, Roman? You’re not the man you were.”
“I’m not the man she needs.”
Brian laughed and shook his head. “Listen to you, playing the martyr. If all you want is a roll in the hay, then, yes, I agree. Leave her alone. But you want more, don’t you?”
“I’ve laid out my fleece.” Brian would understand. The Old Testament prophet Gideon had laid out a fleece twice to be certain God was speaking, that what he heard wasn’t just his imagination. Roman knew asking for three confirmations was pushing it, but he wanted to discern whether it was God nudging him or his own sinful heart leading him on. I need to be sure, Lord. I know what I want, but there are plenty of days when I still don’t know what’s right.
“Okay.” Brian stood. “I’d better get to bed or I’ll be too tired to face tomorrow. I’ve got counseling appointments all morning, so I won’t make lunch.” They’d been meeting every Wednesday for months. Brian opened the door and then looked back at Roman. “You mentioned going to San Francisco after you finished the wall. Still planning on taking that trip?”
Something else God had been pressing him to do. “I’ve been thinking about it.”
“Whatever it is that’s holding you back, remember, you already survived it.”
“That doesn’t mean I want to relive it.”
After Brian left, Roman watched the basketball game—or tried to. He kept thinking about going to San Francisco. Would he ever be completely at peace unless he went back to the Tenderloin and took a slow walk through his past? What good is it to remember the bad stuff, the shame,
the anger that got me into so much trouble? Why do You keep pushing me to do this? What do you want from me, Jesus?
Go with open eyes, Bobby Ray. Look for Me.
The hair stood on the back of Roman’s neck. He knew that still, small voice. When the suggestion came from Brian, Roman ignored it. Now, it was a command.
I know what happened there, Lord. I’ve confessed it. Why do You keep hounding me about it?
Roman wanted to go on making excuses, but he knew he wasn’t going to find any peace in disobedience. Rubbing his face, Roman leaned back. Okay, okay. I get the message. Just don’t expect me to be happy about it.
Grace left the UC Merced campus in high spirits. Her meeting with the dean of admissions went far better than expected. Her UCLA transcripts had been transferred. The dean was impressed. She could qualify for financial assistance, and the education and sociology departments had test programs for children. Samuel would make a good guinea pig, but he’d miss his playtime with Matías. The two little boys got along better than brothers.
On the drive home, she thought about how much time VirtualGrace.biz demanded. A scholarship was one thing; financial aid in the form of a loan was another. She’d be reducing her income by cutting back on work hours, and she’d also be taking on school debt. It was all well and good to dream about returning to college, but she needed to think about whether now was the right time. Samuel was changing so quickly, she didn’t want to miss a minute with him. Dorothy had volunteered to babysit, but three mornings a week and two nights away was too much time. Her education could wait until Samuel was old enough for preschool.
But then, she might decide to homeschool him.
Grace gave a soft laugh as she parked in front of the bungalow. “I guess I’m supposed to wait, Lord.” With so many questions and conflicting emotions, she didn’t want to plow ahead. All things in God’s perfect timing. Now didn’t seem to be it.
Aunt Elizabeth came up to spend the weekend. Chuckling, she put her overnight case on the dresser. “I can’t believe I’m going to be sleeping in a race car bed!” It was a full-size twin bed and comfortable.
“Samuel won’t mind.” Grace kissed his neck as he rode her hip. “He’s going to sleep with Mommy.”
Dorothy and George invited them for Saturday brunch. “We’re leaving for San Francisco on Monday.”
“Another cruise.” George sighed dramatically. “She goes online, finds deals, and drags me along.”
“Quit pretending you don’t love it.” Dorothy laughed, admitting she loved cruises on Princess ships and jumped on last-minute, low-cost bookings. “It’s just ten days this time, down to Mexico and back.”
George winked. “She won’t have to cook.”
Aunt Elizabeth smiled. “Well, before you book another trip, Dorothy, I’d like you to come to Fresno. We can have lunch. I want you to meet my friend Miranda Spenser. You two have a lot in common.”
Grace was surprised her aunt was willing to share.
“I’d love that!” Dorothy went to get her day planner. As they decided on a date, Dorothy came up with another idea. “Why don’t I bring Samuel with me?”
“Miranda would love to see him.”
Grace wasn’t ready to relinquish him for a daylong excursion to another town, nor did she want to hurt feelings. “I’m sorry, ladies, but my son is too young to be hanging out with older women.”
Dorothy and Aunt Elizabeth laughed, and didn’t press.
As they all chatted and enjoyed the afternoon, Grace thought over the past few months and counted blessings. God had provided all her needs. She had a livelihood, friends both new and old, and a church family. Aunt Elizabeth was now involved in her life in a loving, nondictatorial way. Only one thing kept Grace from feeling at peace: Roman Velasco. He’d changed a great deal, if the most recent feature article was any indication. He had told the reporter about his new life, his work, and even his near-death experience in hell. Pastor Brian Henley had been at the interview and was quoted several times. Shanice had told Grace the two men had become close friends.
Perhaps her love for Roman was the cross she’d have to bear. Or so she’d thought since moving to Merced. Move on, Grace. Stop asking what-if. But now, she felt the nudge to rethink her decision. Maybe it was time to call and talk to him, wish him well. His phone number came to her immediately, warm tingling temptation at a touch of her cell phone screen. And then what? Closing her eyes, she prayed. Should I call him, Lord? Should I open the door?
Silence. She didn’t expect to hear God’s voice, but she wanted to feel right about it. When she didn’t, she knew the answer.
Wait.
Roman awakened when his cell phone vibrated on his bedside table. Groggy, he reached for it, knocking it onto the carpeted floor. Caller ID, Shanice. She wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency. Coming fully awake, Roman grabbed it. “Brian okay?” His voice sounded hoarse from sleep.
“Brian’s fine. He’s with a grieving family at the hospital, and can’t go with me to a nightclub to help a friend. He said to call you.”
“What’s the problem?”
“My ex-roommate, Deena. She checked herself into a six-month recovery program a while back, and then found out yesterday that her fiancé is cheating on her. She’s gone AWOL. She called me from a club. I’ve got to get her out of there before she does something she’ll regret. I’ve already gone down that road and don’t want a repeat scenario. Can you go with me?”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m pulling up in front of your apartment.”
“Okay, but only if I drive.” She sounded so uptight, he didn’t think she should be behind the wheel.
“Fine, but hurry up! Please.”
It took him five minutes to dress. He used the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator and jogged to the car, where he found Shanice already buckled into the passenger seat. The engine was running and waiting to be put in gear when he opened the driver’s side door.
“Thanks, Roman. Brian said you’d come through for me.”
“Where are we going?”
“After Dark. I can give you the address.”
He muttered a foul word under his breath. “I know where it is.”
“Oh.” Shanice looked at him. She winced. “Unhappy memories?”
“Just a reminder of who I was not so long ago.”
“Well, don’t feel like you’re the Lone Ranger. Three years ago, you would’ve seen me there every Friday and Saturday night. Brian knows, in case you’re wondering. I like to have fun. The band is awesome, and I love to dance.” She gave him a wry look. “Is that why you were there?”
“I can dance, but no, that’s not why I went to that club.”
Roman felt her studying him.
“You went to hook up.” She looked straight ahead. “I imagine you had your pick of willing women.” She didn’t say anything for a minute, then glanced at him. “Was Grace the reason you stopped going?”
I asked for three, Lord, and here’s Shanice bringing up Grace. One more, Lord. Oh, Jesus, please, one more. “No. I stopped going before I met Grace.” He merged onto the freeway and accelerated, slipping easily between cars until he reached the fast lane.
“What made you quit going?”
“I wanted more than what I found there.” They drove for ten minutes in silence. Pulling off the freeway, he spotted a familiar parking structure, turned in, and pulled a ticket from the machine.
“I brought Grace here once,” Shanice confessed.
Roman laughed in disbelief. “What’d you do? Gag her and drag her?”
Shanice didn’t laugh. “Almost. I never knew her husband, Patrick. I met Grace after her divorce. She came to an evening Bible study. Nicole, Ashley, and I already had the Sunday-after-church brunch going and invited her to join us. Ashley went to the club with me occasionally. She likes to dance, too, but wasn’t always asked. Anyway, Grace never went. All she did was work—six days a week—and church on Sundays. Sh
e didn’t have a life. I thought she needed to loosen up and have some fun.” She looked away. “I’m an idiot.”
Roman spotted a parking space and whipped in. He wanted to hear more, but Shanice was already getting out of the car.
The club hadn’t changed. Though the faces were different, it was the same scene—men on the prowl, women on the make. Couples danced to the steamy beat, looking like they were having sex standing up and fully clothed. He couldn’t imagine Grace in a place like this.
“There’s Deena.” Shanice nodded toward the bar and wove her way toward a girl with two guys hovering. Roman followed, ready to step in if there was a problem. Shanice said something to the two men that had Deena protesting, and the men backed off. Shanice leaned in and talked to Deena, who was clearly arguing. Seeing it would take Shanice time to convince her friend to leave, Roman sat at the bar and ordered a Coke.
An attractive blonde slid onto the stool next to him. Her black dress was short, tight, and riding up on her shapely thighs. The low top made her chest look like a baby’s bottom. She smiled at him. “Finally, a man who looks interesting.”
Roman got up and stood beside Shanice.
Deena looked at him. “Oh, wow! Who are you?”
“Deena, this is my friend Roman Velasco. He’s here to help me get you home safely.”
“Okay.” She gave him a bleary-eyed, sloppy smile. “I’ll go anywhere with him.” When she started to stand, she sagged slightly and Roman slipped an arm around her to keep her upright.
As soon as the three of them made it out the front door and into the cool night air, Deena groaned. “I’m going to be sick.” She bent at the waist and threw up on the sidewalk. A car honked as it went by, teenage boys hanging out the windows, laughing and making cruel comments.
Deena moaned. “Oh, I wanna die . . .”
“Yeah, I know the feeling, honey.” Shanice took over and guided her to the parking lot, where she vomited again, this time in a garbage can. The two women talked in low voices. Deena started to cry, and Shanice put an arm around her. He felt a sense of déjà vu.
His mother often drowned herself in booze after a night of streetwalking. She’d cry and mumble to herself. Sometimes she smoked pot until she was too mellow to care about anything, including him.