One Prayer Away (17 page)

Rev. Inman's eyes stared at the pages of his notebook, but his thoughts were far from the words he had jotted on the paper. For quite some time he had been struggling with his lingering doubt about the upcoming vows that would be exchanged between two of his most loyal members. Rev. Inman had avoided bringing it up during sessions because he wouldn't have a clear answer if either of them asked why he felt that way. As a pastor and counselor, Rev. Inman knew that he had to be careful not to let his personal feelings mingle with the spiritual enlightenment that God gave him. Usually he was good at distinguishing one from the other. This time, however, he wasn't at all certain.

Christopher Jackson had been a member of Living Word Cathedral longer than Rev. Inman had been pastor. In the thirteen years that he'd served as leader of the congregation, the preacher had seen nothing to cause him to question Chris's character. Rev. Inman remembered the despair that Chris had endured after the death of his father. He had become distant, and depression had set in. But even in all of that, Chris's spiritual foundation remained strong. He was a hard worker and a leader in his community. Everyone respected the son that the elder Mr. Jackson left to carry on his legacy. Chris's strength and loyalty had been tested and tried. Even when his mother and sister uprooted from Dallas and relocated to California to start new lives, Chris stayed behind. His dedication to carrying on his father's business was nothing less than commendable.

It had been less than three years ago that Lisa walked through the doors of his church for the first time. Rev. Inman remembered her well because her presence demanded attention. When she walked in the door, heads turned. Many men in the church were impressed by her natural beauty, but it was Chris who had won her heart. The two of them made a handsome couple and seemed to get along well. Even during counseling, when they disagreed, there was never any disrespect. Rev. Inman liked that. One of the points he always made during the course of marriage counseling was the importance of regard between a husband and wife. So much about Chris and Lisa seemed to make them the perfect pair, but the pastor still wasn't convinced. A recent observation had caused his confidence in their bond to weaken.

For the first year of their courtship, Chris and Lisa only had eyes for each other, or so it seemed. But something had changed, and it hadn't escaped the watchful eyes of Rev. Inman. While there hadn't been a noticeable change in the way Lisa interacted with her fiancé, there
had
been a marked difference in the way she interacted
with her fiancé's best friend. Rev. Inman noticed it for the first time four Sundays ago. While he'd been standing in his office, looking out of the window that faced the side parking lot of the church, he'd seen Lisa approach Mitchell Andrews from behind as he bent to load some belongings in the back of his Tundra. For a while, she'd said and did nothing except stand and watch in what looked a lot like lustful admiration.

Rev. Inman's telephone had rung that day and drawn him away from his watch. By the time he'd returned to the window, the three of them—Mitch, Lisa, and Chris—were standing together talking. Lisa's arm had a firm grip around Chris's waist, and all seemed well. Rev. Inman had convinced himself that he'd made more of the sighting than necessary, but since that time, he'd made several more observations of questionable behavior between Lisa and Mitch. He hated the probing question that had him hesitant to officiate at the pending wedding. Today he planned to get the answers he needed in order to clear his spirit.

Rev. Inman looked at his watch and noticed the lateness of the hour just as his telephone rang.

“Rev. Lionel Inman,” he answered.

“Hey, Rev. Inman.”

It was no surprise to him to hear Chris's voice on the other end of the line. As a matter of fact, Rev. Inman had almost said Chris's name when he answered. It was extremely rare for him to ever run late for any type of meeting, let alone his premarital counseling sessions. And from the sound of Chris's hoarse voice, Rev. Inman made the early speculation that he'd have to wait to get the answers to the questions that weighed on his mind.

Fifteen

D
o I make you nervous?”

It was five minutes till closing, and as uncustomary as it was, Mitchell was already packing his briefcase in preparation to leave. This day had been even longer than yesterday, and top priority for him right now was to get his belongings packed and to head to the gym for another stress-relieving run. Last night, Mitchell had been en route to Chris's house to check on him when he'd listened to the message that had been left on his cell phone. He had achieved a personal best, thirty-minute, four-mile run and had left the fitness center feeling rejuvenated. But his high had quickly fizzled when he played the message left by his friend. Mitchell had been so agitated that he made an illegal U-turn in the road and headed home instead. Chris had to settle for a late-night phone call instead.

“Do you make me
what
?” Mitchell asked, knowing full well what Lisa had said the first time.

“You heard me.” She took several steps that brought her closer to his desk and then repeated her question. “Do I make you nervous?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“One that requires an answer,” she said with sarcasm. Mitchell was temporarily rescued by the sound of the telephone ringing from the front desk. Lisa gave him a look that distinctly said, “I'll be back for an answer,” and then rushed from his office to catch the call before it rolled into their voice mail. With her gone, Mitchell released a deep sigh. Maybe he should be glad that she had brought up the subject. It would give him a chance to address all of the concerns he'd kept to himself. But he hadn't been prepared for her to drop the issue on the table today. He still had a lot of work to do and needed to get home to his laptop—and to uninterrupted peace and quiet.

When he looked up from his briefcase again, Lisa was standing quietly in his doorway, leaning against the frame of it and almost seeming to strike a pose. Mitchell looked at her for a moment and then went back to work, putting another file inside the case before closing it. Avoiding her inquisitive eyes, he walked to the coatrack and pulled his leather jacket from it. He should have known better than to think she'd just take a hint and go away. Mitchell's back was turned to her, but the sound of her heels against the hardwood floors gave warning that she was once again approaching.

“Talk to me, Mitchell.”

That was another thing that irked him. In his lifetime, no one had ever consistently referred to him as Mitchell except Virtue. He loved the way the relatively common name rolled off of his wife's tongue. He didn't know if it was intentional or not, but when Virtue had said his name, it almost sounded lyrical. Mitchell supposed that he'd subconsciously reserved being identified by his full first name for Virtue since hearing it from another was bothersome. Lisa didn't refer to him as such all of the time, but Mitchell took note that when she did, it was only in Chris's absence. For some reason, that made him leery too.

Slipping on his jacket and facing her, Mitchell said, “Talk to you about what?”

By now, she was standing directly in front of him. Mitchell tried to appear absorbed in his work, but in what looked like a calculated move, Lisa slid Mitchell's in-box over on his desk to make room for her rear. Sliding herself onto the oak desk, she sat and crossed her legs at the knees. By every definition, it was inappropriate, but Mitchell made a conscious attempt to bridle his tongue.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Waiting for you to answer my question.” Lisa's matter-of-fact tone was unwavering. Placing her arms on her lap, she relayed her question for the third time. “Do I make you nervous?”

“Why would you make me nervous?” For Mitchell, avoiding a direct answer to the question seemed like the best route to take. He wanted to know where she was going with her suggestion before jumping to a conclusion that he might regret.

Lisa shrugged. “I don't know, but lately I get the feeling that I do, especially when we're alone. Don't get me wrong. I'm used to it. I seem to have that effect on most men.”

Mitchell knew his car keys were in the pocket of his coat, but he patted the leather anyway and then walked past Lisa toward his briefcase, which was still on the desk behind where she sat. “I'm not most men, Lisa.”

“I know,” she said, switching positions so that she faced him once again. “With most men, I know why they're so intimidated. They're that way because they're interested and just aren't sure how to approach me, or even if they
should
approach me. But that couldn't be the case with you . . . could it?”

It was a hard judgment call to make. To Mitchell, her words felt a lot like a come-on, but on the other hand, she could be testing him to see just how loyal he was to his
best friend. Maybe it wasn't even about Lisa wanting to establish something deeper with him. It could easily be that she was only trying to see if he'd make a move on her so that she could determine if the man her fiancé had chosen to serve as his best man was worthy. Mitchell wasn't sure what to think of Lisa's new line of reasoning, but whatever was her motive, he had heard just about enough.

“Lisa, we've both had a long and busy day. I'm sure you're as ready to get home as I am. Why don't we stop with the mind games and just go home? Barbara will be back in the morning, so you can take tomorrow and enjoy what's left of your vacation time. Chris will be sure that you get a check for your services.”

“Get home for what, Mitchell?” she challenged, not budging from her spot on the corner of his desk. “At least I have a cat to greet me when I get to mine. You don't even have that. So why are you in such a hurry?”

Her insinuation that he didn't have much of a life would have angered him if it weren't so true.

“Why don't we go get a bite to eat?” Lisa offered.

Mitchell retrieved an overlooked folder from his desk and opened his briefcase to insert it in the inside pocket. “I can't; I have work to do,” he replied, glad for a legitimate reason to turn down the offer. “That's why I'm taking these folders with me. Your duties here ended fifteen minutes ago. You could have been well on your way home by now. When I have this much work to do, my job doesn't end at the close of business.”

“You're taking work home with you?”

There were too many questions being tossed out, but Mitchell was glad that at least they'd turned into questions that didn't unnerve him. “Most days I do, Lisa,” he told her. “It's not uncommon.”

“You're a dull somethin' 'nuther, ain't you?”

Mitchell broke into a hearty laugh. He couldn't recall hearing the term “somethin' 'nuther” since his grandmother
had said it when he was a child. Grandma Kate was originally from a small town in South Georgia, and Grandpa Isaac had often referred to her chosen dialect as “country gibberish.”

“Well, I've been called worse,” he said as he closed his briefcase and scrambled the combination lock.

“You should smile more.”

Her unexpected advice froze Mitchell in place for a moment. He finally became mobile again, but his movements were gradual. He didn't immediately voice his feelings, but he quickly learned that he didn't have to.

“See, there you go again,” Lisa said. “Why do you clam up every time I pay you a compliment? Hasn't anyone ever told you that you have a nice smile?”

They had. During his childhood years in Dallas, Mitchell's grandmother had often referred to it as his mother's smile. Kate had had many good memories of her deceased daughter, and she referenced them as often as opportunities arose. Looking back, Mitchell felt that she did it so that those same memories—memories of a woman he'd never even met—would be etched in his mind too.

Lisa broke the lingering silence. “Come on, Mitchell. How many chances like this are you going to get? Once Chris and I are married, I won't be as free to spend this kind of time with you. I know there are things in that handsome head of yours that you want to talk about.”