Both Ways

  “Everything looks wonderful,” Dave said as he eyed the table.

  “Thanks to Dawn,” Terry said.

  “Where’d you learn to cook like this Dawn?” Shani asked, still in awe at how Dawn had timed each dish to be ready at precisely the right time.

  “I don’t know. I guess all those cooking shows on cable have rubbed off on me or something. I hope it’s okay,” she said.

  “If it tastes half as good as it looks, then it’s gonna be great,” Greg said.

  “You say that every night, hon,” Terry added.

  “It’s true - well, actually, it usually tastes better than it looks, now that I think about it,” he said as he and Terry leaned into each other across the corner of the table and shared a small kiss. “We’re so glad to have our friends here tonight,” Greg announced. “If it’s okay with everyone, I’ll lead us in prayer before we eat.” He glanced around and said, “Let’s join hands.” Greg prayed the prayer of the righteous. Dave knew instantly that this guy, and this couple, was the real deal. He was so happy Shani had friends like this, and he looked forward to getting to know them better himself. The sensation of holding Shani’s hand in his right hand and Dawn’s hand in his left during the prayer gave Dave an unusual feeling. Dawn’s hand was warm, her grip firm. Holding a hand like hers would make most men, Dave himself a few months ago, prickle with excitement. Shani’s hand was much smaller, her fingers short, disappearing into his palm. Shani’s hand felt warm and good and familiar, and he didn’t want to let go. So, for an eternal three or four seconds after Greg said ‘Amen,’ he didn’t.

  Chapter 21

  After dinner, the men helped clear the table and loaded the dishwasher, while the ladies took their turn in the living room. It was a cool evening so Terry put on some coffee to go with the cheese cake and everyone retired to the patio where they had a little sitting area arranged overlooking the terraced yard.

  “This is really nice,” Shani said to Terry. She couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have her own house and her own yard.

  “Thanks. God really blessed us with this house. We just love it.”

  Dawn added, “I especially like the evening breeze off the delta. Down in Bakersfield, it’s still about 105 degrees at this time of day and still as stone. I could never get used to that.”

  “Is that home, Bakersfield?” Shani asked.

  “Yep. For better or for worse.”

  “What brought you up this way?”

  “A bus, actually.” She laughed. “I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I only made it this far before my money ran out, but I’m so glad I landed where I did, met Terry and Greg, and all... The great weather is just an added bonus, I guess.”

  “Home is where the heart is,” Terry said, to no one in particular, causing all three of her guests to think about their lives.

  Dave and Shani said their goodbyes around 9:30 p.m. as everyone had early days ahead. Dave opened the car door for Shani and, as he walked around to his side, he heard the automatic door lock click. “Thank you,” he said as he opened his door and got in.

  “Took me a second to find the lock,” she said, “I was trying to unlock the window at first, I think.”

  “That was really nice tonight. They are neat people. And dinner was amazing,” Dave said.

  “I know it. Terry said Dawn could cook, but... wow. Did you really have a good time? It wasn’t too uncomfortable was it?”

  “Really. It was great. It’s nice to meet some of your friends.”

  “I’m glad you like them. Really. Terry and Greg are like my big brother and sister. They’re both just great people. They’re definitely my best friends at the church.”

  “And Dawn’s just staying with them for awhile?”

  “Mhmm, just another friend that they’re helping out. Isn’t that cool? I mean, they just moved into their first house, and all of a sudden they have an adult house guest. Who does that?” she said.

  “They must be really secure with their relationship.” Dave observed.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well.” He didn’t know if this was safe territory or not, but if you couldn’t talk straight with a woman when you were dating, how could you ever be honest with her. He had just about formulated his response when she spoke first.

  “You mean, Dawn? How can they have her there? Particularly her?” she said.

  “Well, had the thought crossed your mind?” he said, honestly.

  “I guess it had, but I just know them so well, I just figured that it was like, if I were there, or anyone, they are just solid, you know,” she said.

  “Yeah, I know. I could see that. That’s what amazes me. I want a relationship that is as bullet-proof as theirs.” Dave said.

  He had taken the talk in a little different direction than Shani anticipated. She thought he might bring up how hard it must be for Terry to have a single woman around, especially one that looks like she just stepped out of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition, and how hard it must be for Greg to keep his eye balls in his head. But he didn’t go that way. Dave was just proud of them for having a relationship that can withstand that kind of situation. It wasn’t so much about her - it was about them. She sat back. “This is not a typical man, I’ve found here, Lord,” she silently prayed.

  It was quiet for several minutes. Then Dave said, “Shani, did I say something to offend you? If I did, I didn’t mean to.”

  “What? No. Sorry. I, I was just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “Well... I was just thinking that you aren’t like most guys I’ve known, David Bean.”

  “Is that a good thing?” He asked.

  She laughed, “Yes... It’s a very good thing... I mean, I’ve never met Dawn before tonight, and she seems like a really sweet girl. Terry loves her... but most guys I know wouldn’t even remember what we had for dinner. They would be all gah-gah, you know.” Dave laughed uncomfortably. “You laugh, but I’ve been there. It’s very intimidating for a girl to be around someone who’s that pretty. Especially when a girl thinks she may have found a special man.” She didn’t mean to add that last part, but it came out anyway as she looked out the window. The soft purr of the road was the only sound in the Caddy interior.

  “Can I tell you something?” he finally said, gently reaching over and touching her shoulder.

  “Sure,” she said, turning, braced for the confession that she didn’t want to hear.

  “When we held hands during prayer...” He was choosing his words carefully. “It was... an interesting feeling.” He shook his head, reliving the experience. “Think about it. Here I am, this single guy, holding the hands of two single women - two very different, unique, wonderful women, and...” He could feel her looking at him intently, trying to anticipate his words. “One of the hands that I held felt... as if it were a part of me that had been missing. It was familiar, as if it were part of my own flesh and blood. I recognized it at once, like I had discovered a part of me that I didn’t even know was missing.” He paused, unsure if he was making any sense at all. “It was this hand,” he said, reaching across the console and covering her hand with his. “It was this little hand right here.”

  He turned briefly to look at her and she was still looking squarely at him. And in the light of the approaching traffic, he saw that her eyes were moist. She was smiling. Shani wriggled free of the shoulder harness and pulled herself up even with his face and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

  “That was the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  Chapter 22

  Rogers Lewis University was located just west of downtown in an area between Irving and Texas Stadium. The college facility, or The Ranch, as alumni called it, was on land originally homesteaded by Texas pioneer, Patrick Lewis, in 1843. Lewis was a wealthy cattle baron who had left 150 acres of his 10,000-acre ranch to a young preacher friend of his, Donald Rogers, who had a vision to open a Bible college in North Texas. Ro
gers Lewis College of the Scriptures, as it was then known, was formally incorporated in 1878. The first building was a converted barn on the property, and Dr. Rogers was the only employee - at once president, registrar, professor and financial aid officer. He had three students his first semester, two of whom were cattlemen and the third was Dr. Rogers’ wife, Susan.

  Very humble beginnings for a school that had grown to become one of the leading private liberal arts universities in the country. RLU maintained a solid reputation as a theological institution and trainer of preachers, which had led Madison to discover the school, while perusing a college guide magazine. His four years here under the likes of Dr. Cross and Raymond Culbert were among the best years of his life. Being back at The Ranch after a fifteen year hiatus was a strange feeling. He felt old and in some ways wasteful, as if some of the great truths that had been poured into him here had not been put to proper use.

  It was after 2:00 p.m. when he finished up at The Ranch. Dr. Cross had been more animated than ever as he explained his vision for the conference. It would be the first of many thematic national conferences, bringing together the finest minds and most effective leaders on the national and international scene. His projections of the sheer numbers of people that would attend, from homemakers to university scholars, from church ministers to political leaders, boggled the mind. The Rogers Lewis State of the Family Conference would be the biggest thing in the evangelical world next year. And he was the keynote speaker. The magnitude of it was almost too much to comprehend. He pulled out of the university compound and headed east towards Dallas. His mind was spinning with thoughts that were all over the map and, before he knew it, he was downtown again driving around in circles. He stayed in the car exploring areas he hadn’t seen in fifteen years. He drove through the West End, the area he’d been warned to avoid, but was safe, he reasoned, while it was still light outside. He drove through the financial district and had dinner at a Chinese buffet he remembered from college. It was still there, still cheap, just as filling but not as tasty as he remembered as a starving student. Maybe his taste buds had changed as he moved up in the world.

  He made it back to the Hyatt around 8:30 p.m. It was still early, and he was looking forward to three solid days of secluded study before heading back to the West Coast. He decided to stop in one of the hotels many watering holes before heading up to his room. The place he chose was off the 2nd floor lobby. The sign said Spurs, and the colorful expanse of neon suggested that finding something to drink inside would not be a problem. It was loud but not rowdy; they had karaoke, a small dance floor, long bar and a perimeter of tables. The evening crowd was mostly from the convention, he assumed, so most of the people looked to be professionals, about his age, some younger, some a little older. The karaoke machine was playing 80’s hits, so he figured he was among the right generation. He found a table along the back wall and sat with a good view of the whole place. A good place to wind down and people watch, relax a bit before bed, he reasoned. He ordered a Diet Coke from a young server that he guessed was probably a local college student, although to Madison she looked about twelve. Being back on campus and seeing how young the students were, much like this waitress, gave Madison a strange, old-man feeling that he didn’t remember ever having before. The drink came with a little umbrella and two skinny straws, which he discarded immediately. “No need to dress up a Diet Coke, people,” he murmured to no one in particular, and sat back to listen to some karaoke. The music was dated and the performances were embarrassing, but it was entertaining.

  Madison was completely unaware of his personal magnetism. He figured that there must be some reason that the former Jill Boyles, Oklahoma beauty queen, had lowered herself to his level, but he could never exactly put his finger on what it might be. To those who knew him well, Madison Enright was a personable, friendly, unassuming, nice guy - the man in white. To others, including many in his own church, he was just that tall, handsome blond with the bluest eyes since Paul Newman, though he didn’t really see himself as good looking. In his mind, he had always appeared too young and secretly couldn’t wait till his hair all fell out or till he needed glasses, anything to look more distinguished and mature.

  About 9:30 p.m., after his second soda and first trip to the restroom, he noticed that the group of ladies that he had been observing at the bar was now observing him back. They had been partying, taking turns at the karaoke microphone and laughing. He imagined that they were old friends that met each year at this convention to reminisce and have a good blowout before going home to their real lives, punch the clock, take the kids to soccer and feed the old man. This was their annual vacation from life, he figured. He looked mindlessly around the room again. People were so interesting to observe in this environment. The only people that appeared to be within their personal comfort zones were the bartender and servers. The guests were in left field. Married business men from other states with their ties pulled loose trying to impress the waitresses, couples apparently oblivious to the world as they danced on the little parquet floor so slowly and so closely that one couldn’t tell where one body stopped and the other began. “You’re in a hotel, get a room,” Madison thought.

  The foursome of ladies at the bar were the ones whom he’d watched the most. They intrigued him. They made quite a group - two brunettes, a blond and a... hard to tell from this distance, probably a redhead. Early, maybe mid-thirties, all somewhat inebriated and, all but the blond, seemed very flirty with the men hovering around the bar. “Hubby would not approve,” Madison thought as he sipped Coke #3. He glanced back over to check the progress on a fellow in a business suit who had been flirting with a waitress for the better part of an hour. It didn’t appear to be going his way. “Probably,” Madison thought, “that guy will wind up sporting a black eye out on the convention floor tomorrow.” He laughed at the mental picture. His peripheral vision caught a figure approaching, which he assumed was the server bringing another drink, so he turned with a smile, ready to thank her for the drink, but what he found instead was the blond from the bar.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hello,” Madison replied awkwardly. Caught staring, he assumed, silently reprimanding himself for being obvious. “My friends and I saw you over here, by yourself, and we... they dared me to come over,” she said. Madison looked past her to the bar where her pals were watching every move, whispering things to one another, raising glasses and giving high-fives - the redhead even let out a catcall. Cute.

  “Anyway,” she said, “we wondered if you’d like to join us for a drink.”

  The offer caught Madison by surprise. He’d never been approached like this before. It was strange and unfamiliar territory that felt very wrong. “Oh,” Madison said, “That’s really nice of you. Thank you. But no, I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to have to pass.”

  “You sure?” she said, frowning, genuinely disappointed. Her bright red lips made an exaggerated frown as she folded her arms across her chest.

  “Yeah. Thanks, really.” Madison looked back around her and raised his glass to the trio. “Thanks anyway,” he said, not loud enough for them to hear. She looked Madison in the eyes, her face serious, yet playful. She leaned in, putting both hands on the table, offering him a view he didn’t dare take, her slender fingers unadorned, her nails painted to match her lips, and said, “I’m not really used to being turned down.” Her smile widened exposing bright white teeth, “It kind of turns me on,” she said. With that she turned and walked back to the bar. Madison’s eyes couldn’t help but follow her.

  He felt, on one hand, triumphant, like he had passed a test, resisted temptation. Yet his mind had already begun spinning into fantasyland, and for that he was ashamed - but very excited. Madison left a twenty on the table and walked to the elevator, not looking back, praying that he wasn’t being followed, and secretly hoping that he was.

  Madison arrived, alone, at his room, turned on a few lights and called Jill from his bedside. He
talked to her and Billy for awhile, trying to get his mind back in the game. But even as Jill spoke about the baby, the nursery, Dave and his new girlfriend, and all of the things going on, it all seemed so distant. Sitting in this big, empty, quiet room, was a million miles from real life. He didn’t like the feeling, but there was a sense in which the anonymity provided license, which, he discovered, was an interesting sensation. They finally said goodnight and hung up, each promising to be safe and get home soon. Madison sat there, thinking about his family, his church, the conference, about Dawn Neilson, and Blond From The Bar, and the 65 Valiant with the magazines in the back seat. All these images and hundreds, thousands more were fighting for space at the front of his mind. Finally, about midnight, after tossing and turning for thirty minutes, he realized that it was only nine o’clock on the West Coast, much earlier than his body was used to going to bed, so he reluctantly dressed and left the room in search of coffee. He thought about getting the car and driving out to the West End, but decided against it, mostly because of the hour. Instead he found a cafe just off the lobby that was open till 3:00 a.m., probably, to provide go-juice to night owls who needed to sober up before their convention floor opened. There were three or four bleary-eyed business types sitting around the room nursing Joe as Madison took a stool at the counter and ordered a decaf. He rubbed his eyes with the thumb and middle fingers of his left hand while the right one gently clutched the warm mug. What a day. The blast of adrenaline from the proposition at the karaoke bar was finally passing, and he was returning to the reality of the task at hand. “Get a grip, big guy,” he whispered, doing his best Okie drawl. Thinking of Jill gave him strength.

  He was mid way through his first cup when beside him, as if out of nowhere, appeared Blond At The Bar. She was saying something that didn’t immediately register as his mind scrambled to catch up with his eyes. “Hi. Uh, excuse me, what was that?” he finally said.

  “I said you missed a pretty good time back there.”

  “Oh. Yeah. I needed to go.”

  Her blue eyes were a little glassy, not overly so, she seemed pretty sober, actually. She was standing to his right at the counter, near the cash register. The barista came over and took her order. “Two small lattes, and, a vanilla chai, uh, that one small too, and a medium cafe mocha,” recited Blond at the Bar.