One Prayer Away (13 page)

“You look to be a bit . . . shall I say, distracted,” he observed with caution. “Is everything well with you?”

Fynn was one of the few people at the church who would feel comfortable enough to address Virtue about any matter that might seem delicate. Even though her presence in Temple of Jerusalem was prominent, Virtue knew very few of the members on a personal level. Fynn was one of several men, since her divorce, who had asked her out and one of a very select few whose invitation Virtue had accepted.

He seemed to be a well-informed, dedicated Christian and had wasted very little time making his intentions known, but it didn't take long for Virtue to realize that there was no future for her and Fynn. At least, not in the kind of relationship that he desired. Some of the traditional family expectations that had been passed on to Fynn by his father, grandfather, and other staunch African men before him were too much for Virtue. Or perhaps they'd just given her an excuse to avoid the pressure of becoming more involved with Fynn than she desired. In the end, maybe she just wasn't ready to once again place her trust in the lifetime of bonding that courtship and marriage were supposed to bring.

When Virtue remained trapped in silent thoughts, Fynn spoke again. “Virtue, what's going on?” He leaned in closer, searching her face with concern in his dark eyes.

“Nothing,” she replied, reasoning that it was at least partly true. “I'm working on choreographing a dance routine. Elder Bradley wants me to perform solo at the Christmas banquet this year.”

“Well, it must be intense,” Fynn said with a chuckle. “You appeared to be lost in it when I first approached your doorway.”

His words prompted Virtue to wonder just how long Fynn had been standing at her door before he made his presence known, but she didn't ask. Instead, she chose words that she hoped would abbreviate his visit. “I'm working against time. Elder Bradley just told me about
this a couple of days ago, and I only have a couple of weeks to get it all together.”

“Well, I'm sure he's not worried,” Fynn said, displaying a wide grin, showing teeth that almost seemed to glow next to his smooth midnight skin. He made no attempts to give her the privacy that she hoped for. “You're brilliant, Virtue. You can dance in your sleep. I'm sure you won't have a problem putting this together.”

Virtue laughed. “Thanks. I'm glad one of us is confident.”

“My love, I have enough confidence for both of us.”

My love.
The words sobered Virtue. She stared at her computer screen for a moment and then began pecking at the keys, pretending to be adding on to the composition in front of her. Without even looking at him, Virtue could feel Fynn's eyes boring into her, and she knew that her outward show had accomplished little other than to amuse him. His soft laughter proved her right.

“Did I ever tell you the meaning of my name?” he asked.

Virtue squirmed in her chair, but finally looked at him from across the desk. She didn't know where he was headed with his question, but she was sure that it was a place that would just add to her discomfort. “Yes. You're named after your father.”

“Not
after
my father,” Fynn enlightened. “At least not in the same manner in which American men name their sons. Efunsgun means son of Obatala. Obatala is the name that my grandfather gave to my father. I say that to say this: Just like my father, I am a very smart man, Virtue. Therefore, it is not easy to fool me with words or actions. I know I made you uneasy when I addressed you as ‘my love.' But I call you such because I see you as such. You have been running for a long time with no man to guide you. I too have spent enough years alone with no woman to walk behind me. I believe that God wants us to be one—to complete
each other. But you must believe that too in order for us to walk in a perfect line.”

Your sweet words could melt the dew right off of the morning glory,
Virtue said to herself in mock allure.

“So what brings you here today?” she said, sending an indirect message that this was a subject that she had no interest in discussing. “You don't usually come in on Wednesdays.”

Fynn chuckled again, making it quite clear that he wasn't blind to her tactic. He played along, though. “I just needed to come in and pick up a few papers,” he said while tapping the envelope that lay on his lap. “The youth ministry is playing a part in the Christmas gala as well, so I guess both of us will be busy over the next few days, huh?”

“Looks like.” Virtue forced a quick smile and then began typing again.

As if to underscore his earlier statement, Fynn remained seated, and although Virtue wasn't looking at him, she could sense his wide-mouthed grin. He was expecting her to stop working, submit to his silent insistence, and bring the conversation back to his earlier point, but she had no desire to. The extended stillness that remained in her office was painful, but she was determined to beat him at his own test of wits.

“God said that it is not good for man to be alone,” Fynn finally spoke. Virtue had succeeded in not bowing to the pressure, but unfortunately for her, that hadn't discouraged him. “As far back as the days of Adam, God made it known that He designed the woman for the man. I am a man nearing his fortieth year, with no former wives or dependants, an education that exceeds many, and most importantly, a love for the same God that you serve. I have no baggage. Is that not enough for you? How long will you fight this and force me to be alone, Virtue?”

Withdrawing her fingers from the keyboard in front of her, Virtue settled back in her seat and forced her eyes to meet the intimidating eyes of Efunsgun Fynn. On one
hand, his words infuriated her, but knowing that he meant well in spite of them was the ingredient that kept her response calm.

“Fynn, please don't let me
force
you to be alone. You are a nice man, and if you are indeed all the things that you just outlined, I'm sure that there are women in and outside of this church's congregation who would be more than willing to walk beside, or should I say,
behind
you.”

His eyes told her that he'd not failed to grasp the sarcasm of her chosen words, but before he could interrupt with a reply, Virtue held up her hand to stop him. Leaning forward with her elbows resting on the desk in front of her, Virtue continued.

“All I'm saying is the same thing that I've been telling you for the past year. I like you, Fynn; I really do. And I respect you in your capacity as a leader here at Temple of Jerusalem. However, I would be misleading you if I told you that I was interested in a possible lifetime commitment to you, because I'm not. Unlike you, I have a past that includes a former spouse, and although I have no children, I do have baggage. The baggage that I carry doesn't allow me to open my heart just yet.”

“God does not wish for you to hold on to that kind of hindrance, Virtue. You are cheating yourself out of a full life by insisting on holding to your past.”

“You think I'm doing this by choice?” Virtue asked, pushing the keyboard of her computer to the side as she spoke. “You think I
want
to have these apprehensions my whole life?” Her eyes burned, and a lone tear made a single moist path down the front of her cheek.

Reaching across the papers on her desk, Fynn placed his hand on top of hers. The laughter that had been in his eyes earlier was all gone and had been replaced by a genuine look of concern.

“I'm not accusing you, Virtue,” he said in a low tone, as if there could possibly be someone listening just outside
the open door. “But perhaps you should ask that question of yourself and not of me. Search your soul. Could it be possible that you are intentionally holding on to your past? Is there something or
someone
there that you don't want to fully release?”

Virtue was all set to lash out at him for his insinuation, but Fynn began speaking again before she could form her words.

“He
hurt
you, Virtue,” he said in a tone that almost seemed belittling. Somehow his delivery made Virtue feel like a child in a classroom wherein the teacher had to talk slowly in order for his students to have any hope of grasping an understanding. “Any man who dares to do that isn't a man at all, and he does not deserve any part of you, especially not your heart. I'm offering you the life that every woman of God deserves to have. One that every other woman would envy and long for. One with a husband to make her complete and to fertilize her with the babies that God designed her to birth. One whose home is . . .”

Pulling her hand from beneath his, Virtue held it up, stopping Fynn in midsentence and then taking a moment to regroup so that her words didn't sound as angry as she felt. “First of all, Mitchell doesn't have my heart. He beat that out of me seven years ago. Do you see this?” She parted her hairs to display the scar that they covered. “How can I love somebody who did
this
to me? So you're wrong, Fynn. You don't have to remind me of what he did to me, because I have this to do that for me every single day. You're wrong on so many different levels. I don't need you or any other man to
complete
me.”

“Virtue . . .”

“No, Fynn, you've had your say. Let me have mine.” When he settled back in his chair, Virtue continued. “I'm quite capable of living my life to the fullest as a single woman, fulfilling my purpose by teaching creative dance as a means of worship. God equipped me for a lot more
than having babies, and I have far more options than one that requires your
fertilizer
. A marriage is comprised of more than a man, a woman, and babies, Fynn. It requires
love
.”

“I do love you, Virtue.”

Virtue was taken aback. She'd never heard him say the words before. She knew that Fynn was attracted to her, and she'd even heard him voice his desires for her to be his bride. But Virtue had never heard him declare his love for her. She hadn't planned on fighting that line of defense, but since he'd put her in such an uncomfortable place, she prepared herself to do just that. Now, more than ever, Fynn needed her to be honest. She wanted to be completely up front with him, but she didn't want to hurt him in the process. Virtue hesitated and took care to be sure that her next words didn't sound harsh.

“But . . . but I don't love
you
, Fynn. You have to know that. I never meant to lead you to believe . . .”

“I am very well aware of that, Virtue,” he said in a manner that reflected his lack of astonishment.

At first, Virtue felt an overwhelming sense of relief. She would have been both regretful and embarrassed had he told her that she'd done something to make him feel that she'd viewed him as anything other than a friend. But her reprieve was soon overshadowed by confusion. If Fynn knew that she didn't love him, why would he be so adamant about them being together? His next words answered her question, but did little to lessen her frustration with the matter.

“When our people were captured and taken from Africa, we were not only stripped of our home, but also our traditions, and forced to take on the customs of European America. In our heritage, marriage was never about love; it wasn't a necessary factor. Still today, in my homeland of Niger, many girls are told who to marry before they ever reach their teen years. The parents know who is best for them. They choose a boy whose family has common
beliefs or a man who they are sure will give her the life she deserves. Love often comes later. She
learns
to love him. You will
learn
to love me.”

Virtue looked at him in disbelief, stunned that he would even suggest such a thing. Whether they'd been forced out of Africa or not, they were no longer there, and Americans didn't practice African customs. To Virtue's ears, his words not only sounded primitive, but downright insane. Fynn read her thoughts through her silent reaction and tried again.

“Look at us as Christians, Virtue,” he said. “We weren't born saved. We weren't born loving God. We were born in sin and shaped in iniquity. Someone had to
teach
us the way of the Lord, and in turn, we
learned
to love Him. I'm not saying that those who wait for love before they marry are wrong. I'm only asking you to broaden the narrowness of what this foreign society has brainwashed us to believe is the
only
way. Look how many marriages fall apart after the wife and husband were supposed to be so eternally in love. Look how
yours
fell apart. Loving a man beforehand is no guarantee that the love will last forever. Half of all marriages end in divorce. These are marriages where love is most often declared beforehand. So marrying me and
learning
to love me is no bigger risk. Think about that, my love.”

Virtue didn't know whether to laugh from hysteria or scream in annoyance. She did neither. Instead, she sat in silence and watched Fynn rise from his seat and stand at a full height of just over six feet. She didn't move or speak, even when he reached forth and gently touched her chin with his hand before turning to leave. All she could do was watch while her voice sat dormant somewhere in the pit of her stomach.

Just before he left, Fynn turned to face her and flashed the bright, tooth-filled smile that had become his identifying characteristic at Temple of Jerusalem.

“
Think
about it,” he repeated.

Twelve