ROMAN ENTERED Common Grounds and spotted Brian Henley seated at a table in the corner. Laptop open, he raised a tall cup of coffee in greeting. Roman nodded in acknowledgment and got into line. He’d expected Brian to suggest a Starbucks downtown, not a place in an industrial park filled with blue-collar workers.
Roman relaxed. He was back in the old hood. A tattooed, male barista took orders while a girl with flaming-red hair and piercings in her nose, her lip, and the tops of her ears worked the machines.
Sluggish from lack of sleep, Roman ordered three shots of espresso in a tall, regular coffee. The two baristas moved like dancers, working around each other with tango precision. They had to, considering the number of clients. Most customers collected their orders and left. A few stayed, occupying the half-dozen tables.
Brian closed his laptop when Roman slid into the seat facing him. Tucking the computer into a worn backpack, he looped the straps over the back of his chair. He picked up his cup of coffee and gave Roman his full attention. “Glad you didn’t back out.”
“I had my moments.” The coffee was hot and rich. Still not as good as Grace’s. “You hang out here a lot?”
“It’s close to work and a good place to meet new people.”
This clean-cut guy wanted to meet ghetto rats? A teenage girl with dreadlocks came in and called a greeting. Brian knew her name. “Does Shanice know you’re meeting chicks at a local coffeehouse?” He meant it to be rude.
Brian just smiled. “She’s got nothing to worry about.” He grew serious. “You look tired.”
“Too much on my mind.”
“Hell or Grace?”
“They kind of go together, don’t they?” Roman gave a bleak laugh. He wanted to ask if Brian had learned where she was staying, but knew he wouldn’t get an answer. “She’s probably told you the whole story by now.”
“She didn’t volunteer, and I didn’t ask. You talked about your near-death experience in hell at the barbecue. That’s something I won’t forget.”
“I hadn’t planned to talk about it at all.” Roman spoke dryly.
“Hard thing to keep locked up inside yourself.”
“I know Jesus saved me, but from where I’m sitting, things are worse, not better.”
“Okay.” Brian nodded. “Maybe you’re trying to hold on to old ways. The question is: are you willing to give Jesus your life?”
Frustrated, Roman leaned in, teeth clenched. “What does that mean?”
“Stop living by your own rules.”
Roman had read enough of the Bible Grace gave him to know about rules. “Yeah, well, the Bible is full of commands. Most of them don’t make a lot of sense to me.”
Brian leaned forward, too, holding Roman’s look. “Here’s the good news, Roman. We’re under the new covenant, the one Jesus paid for with His own blood. When you say yes to Jesus, He gives you the Holy Spirit. The next time you read His Word with that in mind and some prayer, you’ll begin to understand. The Spirit is going to teach you and show you how it applies to your life. You’ll start recognizing God’s voice. You’ll know where you’ve gone wrong and how to get right with God. You follow His lead. Your life begins to change from the inside out.”
Roman shook his head. “You make it sound easy.”
“Simple.” Brian leaned back, never breaking eye contact. “Not easy.”
“You seem to have it all together, Pastor.”
Brian’s mouth curved in a wry smile. “Hardly.” His phone buzzed. “I need accountability as much as any man, maybe more.” He checked the message and tucked the phone back in his pocket. “Pastors tend to be targets for the enemy. You met a few of Satan’s helpers. Destroy a shepherd, and a whole flock can be lost.”
Curious, Roman shifted the conversation away from an experience he didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about. “How did you end up as a—what did you call it? A shepherd?”
Brian talked about his childhood in the Midwest, his farming family, growing up in the church, the pretty girl he met at a Christian event and married while at Bible college and lost all too soon.
The easy rapport surprised Roman. He found himself talking about growing up in the Tenderloin, shoplifting from corner markets so he had something to eat, his mother’s disappearance, moving from one foster home to another. “Jasper says I have abandonment issues.”
“No big surprise there.”
Roman finished the last of his coffee. “I never had a father.”
“You always had a Father. Now you can get to know Him.” Brian’s phone signaled another message. He checked it.
Roman glanced at the time and said a foul word out of habit. “We’ve been talking for two hours.”
Brian laughed. “Good to know we can. I’ve got to get back to church.” He stood and shrugged on his backpack. He stopped on the sidewalk. “How about next week?”
Roman was surprised the pastor was willing to go another round with him. “Sure. You name the time. I make my own schedule, but you have a job.”
Brian walked backward, facing Roman. “I’ll check my calendar and call you.”
“You need a ride?”
“I’m two minutes away. The church is a block down on the right.”
Roman didn’t see any steeple. “That’s an industrial building.”
“Yeah!” Brian grinned. “Low rent, plenty of space. Hey, do you play basketball? The youth group is playing tonight.”
“No basketball.” Roman sighed. “I used to do parkour.” Stretches and strengthening exercises had brought a lot of pain, but no improvement to his leg. It was a constant reminder he hadn’t imagined his trip to hell.
“Why don’t you come and look around on Sunday? No shirts and ties here. Service at ten.” Shifting his pack, Brian jogged across the street and disappeared down a driveway.
The meeting hadn’t gone as Roman expected. He’d felt at ease, as though nothing he might say would surprise Brian Henley. Maybe pastors had heard it all.
With the encouragement of her friends, Grace decided to launch an online business. She wasn’t convinced it would be enough to support her and Samuel, but it was a start.
“Good grief, girl.” Shanice was her biggest cheerleader. “High school honor roll, scholarship to UCLA, promoted from receptionist and secretary to office manager at a public relations firm in under four years! You have a lot going for you. You’ve got all kinds of marketable skills, honey. All you need is a little confidence. I tried to tell you that when you first lost your job.”
Grace’s friends had taken on the project at their most recent Sunday lunch.
Ashley suggested a website. “We need a good name for it. You can link it to a blog about a single mom with a baby making it in the world. That would help drive traffic to your site.”
Grace gave a soft laugh. “I haven’t made it anywhere yet.”
“You will. God isn’t going to let you down.” Ashley stirred her coffee. “It’s the journey people want to read about.”
“You can offer several different services.” Shanice jotted notes. “You know how to write a good résumé. That’s a marketable skill right there. You helped your husband write his term papers, didn’t you? You could offer online editing. And tutoring.”
“Did you ever write slogans for that PR firm?” Ashley made herself comfortable on the sofa.
“Sometimes.” Harvey Bernstein had often asked her to help with brainstorming. She’d come up with a few one-liners still seen on billboards.
“Sometimes start-up companies need people to write slogans. They pay good money for them.”
Her friends’ confidence in God’s provision and in her skills bolstered Grace. She designed VirtualGrace.biz with free graphics. She listed her qualifications and services offered and wrote her first blog post.
She called Harvey Bernstein with her plan. He kept his eyes on the game and knew several people who might need her assistance. He even told her what prices she should charge. “These are up-and-comers who will expect to pay more, and you’re worth it. I just pulled up your website. Great job, Grace. That’ll get you work as well.” Harvey had always been an encourager.
The first inquiry came from the son of a friend of Harvey’s who had a start-up tech business and needed a brochure. He told her she’d been highly recommended, and sent his business plan and pictures.
Her first blog, “Sifting through the Rubble,” drew attention as well, especially after Shanice shared it with everyone she knew—old friends and new, church members, business associates at two studios. Ashley passed along the post to fellow teachers and administrators. Grace hadn’t expected her confessional to be of interest to anyone, but comments and e-mails poured into the website, most from women, half of them mothers. A few offered practical advice.
Selah kept calling. They had talked twice since Grace took Samuel, and both had been distressing conversations. Grace stopped answering. She hoped Selah would come to accept that her time with Samuel, while greatly appreciated, was now over. This was the tenth voice mail in two days. I know you’ve received my messages, Grace. Considering all I did for you, you could at least give me the courtesy of returning my calls. I want to know that Sammy is all right.
“Enough!” Shanice tossed the magazine she’d been reading on the coffee table. “Do you want me to call her back and tell her to stop harassing you?”
“She loves him, Shanice. I should’ve left their house when I first had Samuel instead of allowing her to feel false hope.”
“You told her. She just didn’t want to listen.” Shanice sat on the sofa next to Grace and put her arm around her. “Oh, honey, don’t feel so guilty. Samuel is your son, not hers.”
“I don’t know how to make it easier for her.”
“You told Selah when you moved to Topanga Canyon you intended to have Samuel full-time as soon as you could arrange for proper childcare. It’s been two weeks, and she’s still calling. Maybe you should change your phone number.”
“I know, but it feels so final.”
Shanice gripped her hand. “Don’t start lying to yourself. You’ve been hoping Roman would contact you again. And if he did, what would you do? Move in with him the way Nicole has with Charles? You saw how unhappy she was the last time we saw her. Is that what you want?”
“No.” Right now, she didn’t care about anything. She was miserable and aching to see him again. Be honest, Grace. In her current emotional state, Roman could easily make her forget her moral decision. A few more kisses like that one and she’d give in to what he wanted rather than what God wanted for her.
“Little boys want their toys, honey.”
Grace looked at Samuel playing contentedly on the floor and remembered the day Roman had come over to the cottage exhausted after nights without sleep. They’d talked, and he’d held Samuel on his knee. He’d stretched out on her sofa, Samuel on his chest, and both had fallen asleep. She sat, looking at them for the longest time. Samuel needed a daddy. Had she been hoping Roman would want to fill that role?
She had to stop thinking about him! She needed to concentrate on moving forward, starting over again.
Shanice had given her strength over the last two weeks, but Grace didn’t want to outstay her welcome. Shanice had a life of her own, and Brian wanted to be part of it. Whenever he called, Shanice looked guilty, as though she’d done something terrible to Grace rather than merely invite her to have a girls’ night out. Grace was responsible for what happened, not her friend. And then, in the aftermath, she’d delayed moving ahead because she lacked faith. Now she realized the cost to Selah and her family. She didn’t want to make the same mistake again.
“I’m going back to Fresno, Shanice.”
“To your aunt’s?” Shanice’s eyes widened. “But she wouldn’t even speak to you—”
“I’m not planning to stay. I’m only going for a visit. If she’ll let me. It’s time, and she and I need to talk.”
“What if she slams the door in your face?”
Grace gave a soft laugh. “Aunt Elizabeth would never be so rude.”
“Why are you going to her when she wouldn’t help you before?”
“I just want to talk with her about a few things.” When her aunt had left Memphis, she’d abandoned everything and everyone she knew. Maybe Aunt Elizabeth could tell her how she’d done that. Grace also wanted to know why.
“You’ll come back after that?” Shanice looked hopeful.
If she stayed in Southern California, temptation would pound on the door of her mind and heart. How many times in the last two weeks had she thought about driving to Topanga Canyon? She’d been looking for an excuse to see Roman again. But she knew what would happen if she did.
Twice in the last week, she’d picked up her son and pulled out her car keys intending to go. And then she’d heard that still, small voice warning her. Don’t go back, Grace. Trust Me.
“As long as I’m here, I’ll be tempted to contact Roman. And I’d be a fool if I did. My mind tells me he wants all the physical benefits without any responsibilities, but my heart is deceitful.” She lifted one shoulder in bleak admission. “At least Patrick put a ring on my finger while using me. Roman wasn’t even willing to do that. Though I guess I should give him credit for his honesty.”
“Brian met with him at a coffee shop.” Again, that faint stain of guilt on Shanice’s face.
“How did it go?” Grace regretted asking and held up her hands. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” She stood, grimacing. “I’m going to call my aunt. Pray for me.”
When Aunt Elizabeth answered, Grace asked if she would mind having company for a few days. Aunt Elizabeth sighed. “I take it you’ve made a difficult decision.”
“Several.” Grace ran her hand over Samuel’s head.
“When shall I expect you?”
“Tomorrow afternoon, if that’s convenient.”
Roman managed to cross the racquetball court fast enough to send the ball zinging toward the back wall. Brian missed it and let out a groan of defeat. “Mercy! I surrender.” He bent at the waist, hands on his knees, and gave a wheezing laugh. “Even with a bum leg, you’re more of an athlete than I am.” Breathing hard, he straightened. “And here I thought artists spent all their time standing around painting.”
Grinning, Roman bounced the ball up and down. “Depends on what kind of painting we’re talking about. A tagger has to be fast on his feet or he’ll end up cuffed and in the back of a police car.”
“Are you still doing graffiti?”
“Not anymore.”
A couple of young women stood at the window, watching. One had dark hair like Grace. Turning away, Roman retrieved his bottle of water and drank deeply. He couldn’t get through an hour without thinking about her. It’d been a couple of weeks, and he still felt crushed and broken inside. If she loved him, why the silent treatment? He’d put out the olive branch the first few days, hoping she’d pick up or text back or call or write or something so they could talk things out. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.
Brian picked up his towel and wiped his face. “She’s hurting, too.”
Roman didn’t have to ask who he meant, but wondered how Brian knew he was thinking about Grace. Was the pain etched on his face? He’d been trying to push it down, keep it out of sight. How long before it eased? How long before he could get through a single day without feeling like his heart had been ripped out of his chest?
“I want you to think about something.” Brian looped the towel around his neck and grabbed the ends. “The way you’re feeling now could give you an inkling of what God feels whenever we brush Him aside. Our Father sent His Son to pay the price for our sins, Roman. And Jesus suffered and died willingly out of love for us. Everything you and I have ever done wrong in this life was paid for on the cross.” He let out his breath. “We ought to love Him more than we love anyone else.” His eyes were filled with compassion. “You want to get things right, my friend? Stop obsessing about Grace. Make Jesus your first priority.”
The words sank deep and brought up the memory of power surrounding him, a power that sent demons screaming into the darkness. Roman remembered the warmth and light encompassing him, lifting him, all because he’d cried out the name of Jesus. Would he have known to do that if Grace hadn’t been talking about Jesus moments before his heart stopped? Had that been an accident of timing, or God’s planning?
His throat felt tight. His eyes burned.
Jesus, I’m sorry. I know You want more from me than what I’m giving.
Brian kept repeating the message. Roman felt it squeezing through the cracks in the wall he had built around his heart. Maybe it was time to stop putting all his hope in Grace instead of the One who reached down and pulled him up into the light.
Grace might not love him, but God did. Always had. Always would. And it would be a whole lot safer giving his heart, soul, and mind to Jesus than to a flesh-and-blood woman.
Selah called Grace again the next morning. She left another message, this time apologizing for her previous outburst, but asked tearfully if she could see Sammy, just for an hour or two. Grace called Ruben at his work number. “Selah and I both need your help.” She told him what had been going on for the past two weeks.
“I didn’t know, Grace. I’m sorry. Things have been difficult at home. Alicia is acting out. I called our priest. Father Pedro wasn’t surprised to hear from me. We set a day and time for family counseling. I haven’t told Selah yet, but she’s going. We’re all going.”
“I’m so sorry.” Grace pressed cold, shaking fingers against her forehead.
“This isn’t your fault, chiquita. Selah was struggling before we met you. I thought helping you have your baby would help her.”
Grace informed him she intended to change her cell phone number and would be moving out of the area in the next few days.
“Selah will be heartbroken when she realizes she’s driven you away.”
“There are other reasons, Ruben.”
“Eres como mi propia hija.” Ruben spoke in a choked voice. “Dios te bendiga.”
No one had ever considered her a daughter before or offered such a blessing.
Grace had everything she needed in her suitcase, backpack, and a couple of boxes when Shanice came home at noon. She packed the car while Shanice sat on the sofa with Samuel in her lap. She looked teary-eyed when Grace was ready to say good-bye. “I’m going to miss you, girlfriend. You have no idea how much.” She lifted Samuel over her head and jiggled him. “And you, too, punkin.” She handed him back to Grace.
“I’ll stay in touch.”
“Any idea where you’ll end up?”
“Not yet.” Grace had some ideas, but she needed to do more research. And Aunt Elizabeth would undoubtedly have ideas as well. Her aunt had never withheld personal opinions, and looking back, Grace wished she’d listened. She could have saved herself so much grief. “Thank you for everything, Shanice. VirtualGrace.biz wouldn’t exist without you.”
“You just needed to remember who you are and who’s on your side. God’s going to take care of you, honey. Just stick with Him.”
Roman sat at his drafting table, the Bible from Grace open in front of him. He finished reading the story of Elisha, a successful farmer who demolished his plow and killed his team of oxen as a sacrifice so he could follow Elijah and serve God. Roman felt something shift inside him. Okay, Lord. I get it. Give up one life and start another. Get rid of whatever held him back.
Leaving the desk, he went to the windows and thought about the discussions he and Brian had been having about priorities. Roman had been surprised how comfortable it was to talk with Brian. He didn’t ask questions the way Jasper did, wearing him down, wearing him thin. Silence didn’t bother Brian. He made it easy to tell the truth. They had become friends because of it.
He might be standing at this window right now, looking out, but inside, he was still running scared. Lord, I’ve read enough to know You’re calling me. Okay. I’m listening. I’m done trying to figure everything out by myself. Go ahead and do what You will. I’m tired, Jesus. I just want to rest.
Afterglow, his best work, was still on the easel. He looked at it every day, seeing the woman who had inspired it. Had it become an idol? Maybe it was time to give it to Talia, let her sell it. Or give it to Brian to give to Shanice so she could give it to Grace. It only seemed right to give her the painting. She’d inspired it.
I’m still trying to find a way to get to her, aren’t I? I love her, Lord, but I was too much of a coward to tell her how much.
Brian assured him the pain would lessen with time. He needed to get his priorities straight. His life depended on God, not a woman.
Roman slid open the glass doors. Sunset in the canyon. Grace would have loved the western sky streaked with purple. Lighting the wood in the fire pit, he sat and watched the sun go down. He’d taken this view for granted, but Grace was right about it. The colors were never the same. God’s good night, she’d called it.
Stars appeared, one by one, until thousands scattered across the dark canvas. And I call myself an artist?
His cell phone rang—Brian. Roman answered. “Hey.”
“How are you doing?”
“I’m better than I’ve been.” He could tell something was up by Brian’s tone. “Any other reason for the call?”
“I just got off the phone with Shanice. Grace left this afternoon.”
Roman felt the hard punch in his stomach. “Left for where?”
“Shanice said she headed north, and even Grace wasn’t sure where she’d end up. She wants Samuel to grow up somewhere other than Los Angeles.”
How far north did she intend to go? She could end up in Oregon or Washington. Alaska? Roman closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Roman.”
“Yeah.” He looked out over the canyon. “That’s life.”
“Why don’t you come on over to my place tomorrow. We can talk.” He gave Roman the Vermont Square address. “Call Uber. You can’t leave that fancy car of yours on my street. How about eleven?” He chuckled. “Or is that too early for an artist to be up?”
Roman stayed outside, his emotions spiraling down until he hit rock bottom. He couldn’t see any way up except one. Jesus, grab hold of me again. Closing his eyes, he imagined himself reaching up. He felt the weight beneath him, sucking him down in a vortex of grief.
And then the whisper came, a thought not his own filling his mind.
Let go of her and walk with Me. One step at a time. One day at a time.
Simple. Not easy.
Let her go and put your hope in Me.
Shivering with the encounter, Roman took his cell phone from his pocket. Hand shaking, he tapped Photos. He thumbed through the pictures of Grace he’d taken on the road trip. How many times had he done this over the last two weeks? If he couldn’t have Grace, he could at least look at these pictures and imagine what might have been.
Let go, God said.
One by one, Roman deleted the pictures. When he got to the last one, his thumb hovered. He remembered the moment he’d taken this shot. Grace had been standing on a high place above the Dardanelles. She’d looked back over her shoulder, beckoning him to follow. And he had. She’d been a girl in love with life, and maybe, for a few minutes at least, a woman in love with him. Better to remember her like this than the last time he saw her; tears running down her pale cheeks, eyes full of hurt and disillusionment. He could almost hear her voice. I love you, Roman.
A soft breeze whispered through the chaparral. I love you more.
He felt the warmth of that declaration, the deep yearning to get closer to the eternal One. He could, if he stopped hanging on to someone who didn’t belong to him and never had.
Roman filled his lungs with the cool night air and touched the screen softly.
Grace disappeared.