Hurricanes in Paradise (29 page)

Yes, you have. You have loved them beautifully. And I’m so glad. But I have more for you.

“I don’t want another man! I just want Sam!”

She felt the flutter again, stronger. As if He were laughing. Not mockingly. Knowingly.

I’m not sending you down the aisle. I’m asking you to open your heart. I’ll give you what you need, but I can’t do that if the opening to your heart is so tight you need a tub of lard to grease anything through it.

She chuckled. “I knew You were Southern. . . .”

I’m shamelessly in love with you, Winnie. And I want you to come into this season with Me. I want to show you things. New things. Things that you can only find when you’re single.

“What if Sam thinks I’ve forgotten him?”

I’ll assure him you’ll never forget him.

“Promise?”

I Am the Promise, Winnie.

Winnie let her head drop. Tears flooded through her and over her and fell around her until she was certain there would be no tears for the next decade. And when she was spent both in body and soul, she walked back inside and closed the door. Roy was right. You had to face your fears before you could truly heal. She had stared hers down tonight.

When her head finally came to rest on the pillow, she began her evening conversation. But this time she wasn’t talking to Sam. This time she was talking to the Ultimate Companion. When she fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning, she was positive she had effectively worn God out too. She was almost certain the moon flickered.

* * *

As soon as Christian opened the door to his Jeep, Riley could hear the music. The little white church stood with its doors flung open wide, windows propped up with sticks of wood, and light streaming out from every open cavity into the darkness of the evening. He didn’t have to tell her where they were. She just didn’t know why they were there.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the front door. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

They walked into a tiny foyer no bigger than a closet. Two wrinkled ushers—eyes closed, heads rocking back and forth to the rhythm of the old Negro spiritual coming from inside—greeted them from folding chairs flanking each side of the door. Well, kind of.

Christian smiled and patted one on the shoulder. “Wake up, Tiny, or you’re going to miss the robbers when they bust in the door.”

Tiny’s eyes popped open, revealing coal black. A grin spread across his face, his wrinkles running like speed racers, as his eyes registered Christian. His remaining teeth were seen through his openmouthed smile. He chuckled, closed his eyes, and went right back to swaying.

Christian led Riley to the back row. About the time her legs hit the edge of the pew, the final chords of the song ended. Her heart sank slightly. She loved music—especially this kind of music because it reminded her of Josalyn. It took her back to a place she loved and to the woman who had helped heal her soul. An elderly pastor climbed the two steps covered in worn red carpet. She was certain its muted shade was a reflection of the knees it had held and the tears it had received.

He asked the congregation to sit. She and Christian followed. “You okay?” he whispered.

She couldn’t think of any place she’d rather be. “I love it.”

He wiped his brow in mock relief.

The pastor gave a fiery message, seemingly more fit for a Sunday morning than a Wednesday evening, but it was received with just as much enthusiasm as if he were speaking to a stadium of twenty thousand. He mopped sweat from his brow, and after forty-five minutes of organ-accompanied preaching, he collapsed in an exhausted heap in the front row. The organ music didn’t stop, though. And when it hit a familiar chord, as if directed but completely uninstructed, every member of the congregation rose to their feet and began the first stanza of “Amazing Grace.”

The words and melody soared through the breeze of a perfect Bahamian evening and didn’t stop their journey until they settled right across Riley’s soul. She had heard this song a thousand times. She knew every word by heart. But until now she had never heard those first four lines the way she heard them in this moment. “‘Amazing grace! how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me! I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see.’”

And that was what seemed to happen. As those words washed over her, so did Laine’s words from that afternoon.
“You have not ever forgiven yourself.”

She knew that she hadn’t. And now she could see—really see—that it had been unforgiveness that had caused her to lose her husband. The man she had loved since she knew how to love. It was that same unforgiveness that could possibly cause her to miss this wonderful man next to her. And something in that moment let her know she didn’t want to live under her own load of shame anymore. That everyone at their core was wretched. Sure, society had its own measuring scales, but in the light of this kind of grace, all were wretched beyond deserving. But now she realized that’s why it’s called grace. Because you can’t earn it. You can’t ever be good enough for it. And in that moment, everything the past four years had blinded her from she could clearly see.

Her body felt glued to the pew. Christian had stood earlier, but she couldn’t move. Nor was there a power great enough to stop the overwhelming emotion that rose like a welling tide to the surface. She leaned her head against the back of the wooden pew in front of her and didn’t try to stop the heaving sobs. Four years of shame wasn’t washed away with a tiny stream; it was accompanied by a torrent. And though it felt as if it would consume her, and though there was a desire for dignity, she refused to dam it up. Not in this moment. Because when you’ve been blind for four years and you finally see . . . well, you don’t care who’s watching. She had thought she no longer hid, but she still hid from so much. But not now. All things had come out of hiding.

And as they came out of hiding, it was as if pieces of her soul opened up. As if the thick anchor of shame that had wound itself around her soul, taken up residence inside the core of her, was pulled away; the weight she had carried was removed. She hadn’t even realized a heaviness had been buried in her chest for the last four years until it was gone. She felt lighter. More free. Alive. If she hadn’t been holding on to the pew in front of her, she might have lifted off.

She thought she had been living since she had put the pieces of her life back together, but she knew that what was happening here, on this tiny pew, surrounded by the beautiful water of the Atlantic Ocean, was life changing. She had been anchored to shore for way too long. And this final release was about to let her heart see what the open waters actually offered.

She felt a soft hand slowly rub her back. She couldn’t imagine what Christian must be thinking, but there was no stopping this. Though there was no sound, she was sure the shaking of her shoulders could have caused an earthquake. When the rush of all the emotion finally subsided so she could catch her breath, she swiped and dabbed at her face in a desperate and vain attempt to not look like Norma Desmond in
Sunset Blvd.
A black hand came from underneath her and held out two neatly folded tissues. She reached for them with gratitude and blew hard.

She raised her head to find three black faces hovering over her. Their smiles were as rich and warm as the healing balm that still flowed through her.

“You look beautiful,” the thin-faced one said, her smile wide as her gold looped earrings swung.

Riley felt the hand slip from her back and knew now it must have been hers. The rounder one with short hair and bright red lips spoke next. “Felt the Spirit, sugar? You know, He always shows up here. And He was flowing all over you.”

“Mmmm. Love that Holy Spirit,” the one on the other side with a flowered head scarf and pink lips responded, rolling her head as she closed her eyes.

Riley smiled at her new group of friends. Laine would be jealous. She chuckled to herself. “I hope I didn’t make a fool out of myself.” She dabbed at her nose again and looked around casually but couldn’t find Christian.

“Christian’s here. He’s outside with the men. And if you’re going to make a fool of yourself, honey, this is the place to do it. Jesus loves fools.”

“Mmmm . . . Loves them fools,” Flower Scarf said, eyes still closed, head still bobbing.

Riley placed her hands on top of the ones that rested on the pew in front of her. “Thank you. Thank you for praying with me.”

“We love that, sugar,” Red Lips replied. “You come join us anytime, you hear?”

Riley stood and dabbed her face again. “I will. I promise.” And she meant it. She so meant it.

The ladies walked her out under the night sky. She was grateful it was dark; that way Christian couldn’t see the flush in her cheeks. They felt like they were on fire. The elderly gentlemen scattered from the side of the car where they had been talking. One tipped his hat at Riley as Christian opened the door. The ladies patted her and kissed Christian before they finally pulled out of the parking lot.

She sat quiet for the first mile. What should you say after something like that?
Is this where you take all of your dates? Sorry I was a blubbering idiot back there.

He rescued her. Again. “You are a wonderful woman, Riley Sinclair. I’m not sure what you’ve gone through all your life, but it has made you into a terrific woman.” He reached over, placed his hand gently on top of hers, and squeezed it softly, then moved his hand back to the steering wheel.

His touch sent another fire roaring through her. His words had done more than that. “Even after I cried like a baby in there?”

“It takes a strong woman to let go of her emotions like that.”

She laughed. “Is that what you’d call it?”

He laughed too. “Not your typical first date, huh?”

She turned to look at him, his face lit by the passing streetlamps. “No, but thank you. I just can’t thank you enough. Honestly, I haven’t cried like that in a very long time, but that song . . .” She turned her gaze back to the front windshield. “I’ve heard that song more times than you can shake a stick at, but tonight I really heard it. And something just went through me and I don’t know—” She stopped herself. “It just touched me in a really deep place. So thank you.”

“‘Shake a stick at’?”

A chuckle came out softly.

“Your sayings. It’s like learning a whole new language.”

She leaned her head against the headrest. She felt spent. “We’re odd little creatures that way.” Those were her last words. She had no idea when she fell asleep.

Christian nudged her gently. “We’re home, Riley.”

She jerked awake. He was crouching beside the open car door.

“I did not fall asleep.”

He nodded. “You so fell asleep.”

“I’m the perfect date, aren’t I? I eat like a man. Cry like a baby. And fall asleep like a child.”

“Do you cuss like a sailor too?” He laughed. “That saying I know.”

She laughed. “I have my days.”

He took her hand, helped her from the car, and walked with her toward her house. “Thank you for finally agreeing to have dinner with me.”

“I’m sorry for taking so long. I really had a lovely time.” She fumbled through her purse for her keys and finally felt them beneath her fingers. She turned at the doorway. This was the awkward moment she did not want. Once again, Christian took all awkwardness away.

He leaned over and kissed her softly on the cheek. “I hope that means you’ll go again.”

“I’d love to. Thank you.”

“Good night, Riley.”

“Good night.” She opened the door and walked inside her cozy and inviting home. When she laid her head on her pillow, she realized the tightness she had carried in her chest for the last four years was gone. She had thought she was free before. She’d had no idea.

* * *

Tamyra’s pillow was soaked. She had cried from the moment Laine had pushed her inside her room and demanded she leave Winnie alone. She had been stupid. Presumptuous and stupid. Winnie wasn’t ready. She was finally away, having a great vacation, and Tamyra had completely screwed it up for her. Not to mention what she had done to poor Albert. Set him up wonderfully to be dumped at dinner.

It made all her self-doubt return. She had created this mess for both Albert and Winnie. Maybe she had created her mess with Jason too. Maybe she deserved the hits. Maybe she deserved AIDS. She had spent years being foolish and stupid, and her insensitivity tonight just proved that she moved too quickly. Made decisions too hastily.

Jason had told her that so often. In fact he had called her stupid more times than she could count. Maybe he was right. Stupidity deserved punishment. And if she were being honest, she’d rather have the pain of Jason’s fists right now in this moment than the pain of her own shame at hurting her precious new friend. The one woman who had opened her up and helped her begin to heal.

* * *

“I need a drink,” Laine said as she slipped onto the sofa. She knew it was right in that refrigerator. She looked up at the ceiling. “These women are crazy. They would drive a sober man to become an alcoholic. I’m telling You, I’ve had characters in books less crazy.”