One Prayer Away (35 page)

W
hen Virtue walked in the door, Beverly was sitting on the living room couch waiting up for her just as she'd promised. Several large candles were lit and had been placed in different areas of the house. Fortunately for them, their heating was gas-powered and the house, although dark, was warm and comfortable.

“Did God tell me to call when I did, or did God tell me to call when I did?” Beverly asked knowingly when Virtue sank onto the love seat across from her.

“Mitchell wants us to get back together,” she said, leaving the question unanswered.

“And this surprises you?”

“No,” Virtue said. “What surprises me is that I want it too.” Even in the low lighting, Virtue could see Beverly's toothy grin. “I didn't give him an answer,” she quickly added. “I want to believe all of his promises, but I did that before and ended up hurt.”

“There you go, dredging up the past again,” Beverly said, throwing her arms up in the air and then allowing them to drop by her side.

“I can't help it,” Virtue defended. “It's my past, and I have permanent scars that won't allow me to just pretend that nothing happened.”

“Well, fine,” Beverly said in frustration as she rose from the couch. “The boy is not going to wait around for you forever, and he doesn't deserve for you to keep throwing all that old mess up in his face; so if you're not going to be able to move on
with
him, then tell him that so at least he can move on
without
you.”

Virtue sat in silence while Beverly rounded the sofa and headed down the hall. A few seconds later, she heard Beverly's bedroom door slam. Too tired to try to sit up and sort things out tonight, Virtue walked through the living room and began blowing out the candles. She picked up the two that stood on the dining room table and carefully carried them to the bathroom so that she could shower and prepare for bed. Virtue picked up her brush from the bathroom counter and began her one-hundred-strokes-per-night routine. It was a habit that she'd picked up from her mother. Peggy Monroe taught her that if she brushed her hair every night, using one hundred strokes, her hair would continue to grow. Virtue didn't know if it was true or not, but she'd always had a head full of hair that would at least challenge anyone who disputed it.

With the strokes complete, she put the brush down and began running her fingers through her hair in preparation of tying it back for the night. As she'd often done in the past, Virtue parted the hairs and looked at the scar that barely showed under the dim candlelight.

“That's just how it's going to be on the day of judgment.”

Beverly's voice startled Virtue, and she winced before turning to face her. She hadn't heard Beverly emerge from her room, nor had she taken notice when she first approached the open bathroom door. Virtue said nothing. She only looked at Beverly and waited for the clarification that she knew was soon to follow.

“All kinds of folks who have been letting the devil wreak havoc on their lives and cause them to do foolish things are going to have to squint just like you're having to do in order to see that scar,” Beverly said. “I can just imagine all the sinners looking at the devil and saying, ‘This little thing? Is this the little thing that I allowed to make me miss out on eternal life?' Virtue, the devil knows how to make himself look a whole lot bigger than he is, and he knows how to make our problems look a whole lot bigger than they are too. You think about that and then ask yourself if that little scar on your head is worth you missing out on a good life with the man you love.”

 

 

By daylight on Sunday, electrical power had been restored around the city of Houston, and once again, Christmas was in full bloom. Mitchell woke up at the sound of his alarm clock, but for several minutes he remained in bed. His first thoughts were of Virtue and the passionate exchange that he could still feel on his lips. Mitchell wanted to believe that it was the start of something new for them, but when he recalled the manner in which she'd rushed out after Beverly's call, he wasn't sure.

With less than four hours of sleep, Mitchell's body was tired, and it begged to remain under the covers of the comfortable bed. Even after Virtue left, Mitchell had continued to struggle with getting to sleep. He finally drifted just after the clock read 4:00. More than the kiss had him thinking about last night, though. He still couldn't believe that his former mother-in-law was dead. Knowing that Walter had been the cause of her death was even more astonishing. Mitchell had never had a clue of the abuse that was going on in his in-laws' house. But he was sure that there were many who would have said the same for his household during the time that he'd hurt Virtue.

The situation involving her family made Mitchell realize just how blessed he had been. All of the worst forms of what-ifs ran through his mind. He was sure that Walter, during his episode on that fateful day, didn't intentionally run his wife into the path of oncoming traffic any more than Mitchell had intended to hit Virtue so hard that it caused her to bleed from the impact her head made against the table. Mitchell realized that as bad as his situation was, it could have been much worse.

What if Virtue had fallen in a different direction? What if the table had struck her head in a more crucial place? What if she'd never gotten up? What if she'd died at the hands of his drunken rage? Mitchell would never have forgiven himself, and he knew that his whole life would have turned out differently. He definitely would have gone to prison and probably would have lived out the rest of his days on suicide watch. He never would have met Chris and, most likely, never would have found God. Chris may be gone from his life now, but he had been there at the time that Mitchell needed him.

Mitchell recalled a sermon that Rev. Inman had preached once. He'd said that God placed people in the lives of others for different reasons. Some weren't meant to stay forever. They were there for a specific purpose and to help fulfill a particular season. Mitchell had thought that he and Chris would be best friends forever, but now he was left to believe that their bond was a seasonal one. Chris's purpose was to give Mitchell a new start in life and to lead him to Christ. Even with the bitter way that their friendship had ended, Mitchell could find no reasons to be regretful.

Just as she had promised, Beverly was pulling up to the front door of the hotel at nine o'clock sharp; and once again, Mitchell was on time, for a change. It wasn't until he was inside of Beverly's car that Mitchell realized he would be arriving at a Christmas gathering with no gifts to give.

“Nobody cares about that,” Beverly told him when he voiced his concerns. “In my house, Christmas isn't about gift giving. Christmas in Dr. Beverly Oliver's house is about thanksgiving. We thank God for family, friends, and food; and if you get a gift or two out of it, then that's just gravy. Besides,” she added with a grin as she pointed to the digital photo card that she had placed in her ashtray, “I got mine.”

Mitchell laughed and then thought about all that Beverly had just said. His mind went back twenty years. Isaac and Kate hadn't been religious people, but they hadn't been wasteful people either. There always had been more money spent on food than gifts. With his grandparents, Christmas had definitely been more about having a house full of guests than watching their grandson peel the wrappings from toys that he'd soon break or lose interest in.

As they reached the home that Beverly and Virtue shared, Mitchell saw no additional cars in the driveway or parked across the grass. The celebration here would be far less eventful than the ones that his grandparents had hosted. While he didn't want to appear anxious, once he was inside Mitchell's eyes immediately darted to every corner of the decorated living room. He'd not wanted to ask during the ride, but he hoped that Virtue would be joining them.

“Good morning.”

Those two words formed the answer to his prayer. Mitchell turned around to see Virtue walking from the kitchen. Wearing a pair of jeans, a red top, boots, and her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, she looked like the college girl that he had met in the canned foods aisle more than ten years ago.

“Good morning,” he said as he watched her pass him and place a tray of assorted pastries and milk on the coffee table.

“This is for if you get hungry before the dinner gets ready,” she said before turning away and heading back to the kitchen.

It concerned Mitchell that she never really looked at him, but he thanked her and then made himself comfortable on the sofa. While he enjoyed the Danish, Mitchell listened to the Christmas music that streamed from the speakers and watched the women work. Twice he offered to help, but Beverly refused.

“Is anyone else coming?” Mitchell asked when he saw the amount of food that was being placed on the table that seated six.

“Not unless you invited someone,” Beverly said. “I should have invited Rev. Inman. I noticed he wasn't wearing a ring. Is he married?” She winked and flashed a smile at Mitchell, but disappeared back into the kitchen before he could answer.

Her words sparked an image in Mitchell's head. Beverly was a few years older than his pastor, but it just might work. He laughed to himself as he finished drinking a glass of milk. Standing from the sofa, Mitchell walked to a shelf that was cluttered with photo frames that housed pictures of people he didn't know. He assumed that they were relatives of Beverly's. One frame caught his eye, and he reached to carefully retrieved it so that he didn't disturb the others that stood nearby. With his thumb, he wiped away particles of dust that had accumulated on the glass.

“They look happy, don't they?” Virtue said, startling him.

Mitchell looked at her and then back at the photo of her parents. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I'm really sorry about what happened.”

“Me too,” she replied.

Hearing the sadness in her voice, Mitchell wondered if he should change the subject, but there was more that he wanted to know. “What happened to Walter? Where is he now?”

“In the Mid-Michigan Correctional Facility,” Virtue told him as she took the picture from his hand and admired it for a moment before placing it back on the shelf.

Walter Monroe had to be in his sixties now. Although he knew it happened all the time, Mitchell found it hard to picture a man his age locked behind prison bars.

“It will be seven more years before he's even eligible for parole,” she said as she shook her head in sadness.

“Do you go by to see him?”

“He killed my mother, Mitchell,” she said, avoiding a direct answer. “Every year I send him a Father's Day gift, but that's as much as I can do right now. I know he didn't mean to do it, but my mom is still dead. He's the reason I believe that any man who is capable of hitting me is capable of killing me.”

Mitchell felt that the last statement was meant especially for him. “A man who doesn't know God is capable of doing anything evil, Virtue,” he said. “But a man who knows Him is capable of doing anything good.”

Virtue's eyes dropped to the floor, and then she sighed before turning her back to him. Stepping forward, Mitchell embraced her from behind and felt her body relax and melt in his arms.

“Just tell me how much time you need,” he whispered in her ear. “I've waited seven years; I can wait longer.”

Virtue freed herself from his hold and turned to face him. Cupping his face in her hands, she brought his face to hers and placed a light kiss on his lips. The unexpected touch from her lips gave his heart a jolt with a force that seemed to move it from its usual place.

“I don't need time to know what's in my heart, Mitchell,” she said. “But I do want to take things slowly.”

With the pounding that he could feel in the bottom of his stomach, Mitchell was certain that that was where his heart had relocated. In his mind, he pictured himself with a second chance to woo her again. A second chance for a first date. A second chance to propose—and a second chance to spend the rest of his life with her.