Redeeming Heart (3 page)

Landon was a minor distraction. She didn’t
have to stare at his long nose, hazel eyes, and unkempt facial hair
to mask the man’s handsomeness. His skin seemed so flawless; razor
bumps probably had second thoughts about making an appearance. Even
his wrinkled clothes made a fashion statement—he looked like a male
model on a runway.

Now his scent was another matter. He didn’t
have a pungent odor, which was saying a lot in this humid weather,
but there was definitely a residue of perspiration.

She knew every family, man and woman had a
story that had shattered their world and plummeted them into the
underground world of homelessness. If it weren’t for the grace of
God, it could have been her seeking refuge. Despite Landon’s
current fate, she respected his privacy, but that didn’t stop her
from wondering about the circumstances that caused his misfortune.
“Hungry?”

He frowned. “Never ask a displaced person or
a man if he’s hungry.”

The more he talked, the more Octavia liked
his slight dialect and his sense of humor. She nodded. “Good
point.” When was the last time Landon had a hot meal besides in a
soup kitchen? She checked the time and made a detour.

When she pulled into Applebee’s parking lot,
Landon faced her, merriment dancing in his eyes. “Nice church.”

“Don’t get too happy. We have exactly an hour
and twenty minutes—and don’t even think about jumping ship. God
always has a tracking device on our whereabouts—physically and
spiritually.”

“With a beautiful dining companion and a
mouth-watering steak—never.” Landon hurried out the car as if he
was about to stampede the restaurant, but slowed his stride to
assist her out the car.

“Thank you.” Octavia could never get enough
of chivalry. He fell in step with her, but as they got closer to
the entrance, his steps quickened, so he could open the door for
her.

She might as well take advantage of the
treatment as long as she could. She was single with no prospects
insight. Like any other woman, Octavia wanted to be loved, wooed
and married sooner rather than much later. The holdup was God
sending her a Christian man to fulfill the desires of her
heart.

The lust of the flesh, the lust of the
eyes
….Landon had heard that phrase beat over his head since he
was a teenager. He hadn’t listened then, but he was trying now to
use restraint. Landon exhaled as he tore his eyes away from the
view that Octavia was probably oblivious to giving him. She was
shapely and had nice legs. Where was the man, husband or
significant other that set his woman free like this?

It’s the pride of life that keeps you from
coming to Me,
Jesus said, whispering 1 John 2:16.

Landon grunted as a dispute of God’s verdict.
He was an outcast. He had nothing—no family, friends, job, food,
shelter. His self-worth seemed like all he had left.

Consider the birds in the air. I feed
them, I shelter them, I protect them.
God whispered Matthew
6:26 to him.

“Hey, are you all right?” Octavia placed a
hand on his wrist. Her voice was soft.

He had operated on autopilot, opening the
door to the restaurant, but not seeing his surroundings. “Sure,” he
recovered.

“Don’t be nervous about your clothes. I’ll
ask for a booth up front, okay?” she whispered.

She thought his distraction was about his
attire? Her own beauty was the distraction. “Thanks.” At the
moment, he was hungry and didn’t care how he looked.

That wasn’t the case a year earlier. Landon
had an expensive lifestyle and the money and women to stroke his
ego. He always dressed appropriately for any occasion. Landon had
been groomed for better than this. It seemed as if every day he was
losing a little bit of himself along the way with every sock or
shirt that was somehow misplaced.

Yet, Landon was optimistic. He was a
survivor, and this too shall pass. He knew his family was praying
for him. To them, he was the prodigal son, brother, grandson,
cousin and other titles he didn’t want to think about. If anyone
could get a prayer through, his maternal Miller clan could.

“It’s a ten-minute wait,” Octavia informed
him after speaking with the hostess. “I’m running to the ladies’
room. Be right back.” She began to strut away before spinning on
her heels. “Oh, and don’t be a fool and leave without a good hot
meal.” She lifted her brow, then gave him a point blank expression.
“And you don’t come across as a fool.” She sashayed away.

How quickly she was summing him up, but
Octavia had no idea that he called the shots—except when he was
hungry.

He took a seat in the lobby across from a
couple giving him a curious stare. He ignored them in the same way
he had been dismissed many times on the streets when he asked for
spare change. It was humiliating and humbling. That had been a
sight to see: Landon Thomas begging—a scenario that his estranged
family would probably enjoy, recalling the last family gathering
where he had been called a fool to his face.

Landon had been summoned to his maternal
grandparents’ home in Roxbury, a neighborhood of Boston, not far
from Dudley Station.

“You’re a disgrace to this family. If any
child could’ve been switched at birth, you’re the leading
candidate,” said Moses Miller, the patriarch of the clan. Landon
had stared at the older and darker version of himself. His
grandfather’s hair was no longer gray, but white.

With a calm demeanor and from the comfort of
a worn oversized recliner, Moses had rebuked him with such venom
that Landon had been caught off guard. He had never seen the
seventy-eight-year-old elder so angry as he shook his head. He
twisted his mouth as if he was trying to discharge a nasty
taste.

No one came to his defense. His parents,
aunts, uncles, cousins all seemed to watch with interest. Not one
to let anyone see him sweat, Landon was about to take advantage of
the pause when his grandfather’s tirade continued.

“Landon Thomas, this family—your family—can
no longer excuse or support your bad decisions. You were born with
a good name, and you’re not even thirty-two and you’ve managed to
ruin it!” He pounded his fist on the arm rest. “How many demons are
you going to allow to feast off of you?”

“Grandpa, even God said to forgive seven
times seventy. I’ve tried to live right, but the temptation is too
great… He knows I’m weaker.” Others could pretend they were living
holy, if they wanted to, but Landon planned to be true to himself.
He stuffed his hands in his designer pants. He was tired of playing
church. He knew the scriptures as well as any other family
member.

Moses waved his arthritic hand at him.
“Enough. ‘
What shall we say then? Shall we continue in sin that
grace may abound? May it never be! We who died in sin, how could we
live in it any longer?’
If you don’t believe me, pick up your
Bible that has your name engraved on the cover. Flip to Romans
six…”

There was no need for him to do that. Landon
was just exercising his free will. Longevity ran in his family. He
had time to serve God, but as Shakespeare said, “To thine own self
be true.” Landon had done everything in his power not to groan. He
made six digits, had a luxury car, condo and money in the bank. All
his physical and financial needs were met.

“Grandson, a few days ago God spoke to me.
You can’t imagine how surprised I was when He revealed to me that
you hadn’t backslid yet—despite the trail of mess you stirred—but
you were in process. That’s a warning, Landon. I advise you to take
heed.”

That meeting had been more than a year ago
and since then, God had taken away his livelihood and possessions
as a way of punishing him.

“Our table is ready.” Octavia reappeared with
a smile, so he tucked away the past and allowed her to lead the
way.

This time he kept his eyes off Octavia’s
backside. Sleeping around wasn’t on his priority list. As true to
her word, the hostess seated them close to the door and handed them
a menu.

Landon’s stomach growled as he eyed the steak
selections longer than he intended. What he wouldn’t give for a
medium rare sirloin steak, but he wasn’t about to take advantage of
Octavia’s kindness. He forced his eyes about from the images as he
closed the menu. Landon sighed, “A burger and fries.” Beggars
couldn’t be choosy, could they? And he definitely was that. He
considered himself a social drinker, but he certainly could use a
strong drink at the moment. “And a Sprite,” he told their server
when he arrived at their table.

Octavia was watching him as she closed her
menu, too. The way she was staring at him, it was as if she was
glimpsing into his soul. “Come on, let’s celebrate. Let’s do a
nine-ounce sirloin with a baked potato and vegetable medley, and
two salads,” she paused. “Unless you really want a burger and
fries…then I guess…”

“I would like that,” he said softly as the
server revised his order and left them alone again. Over the past
months, people’s kindness humbled Landon, and so had the begging,
but with Octavia, Landon left different. There was more to this
chance meeting than he thought. Somehow, Octavia was in tune with
him and he didn’t know what to do about it.

With loving kindness have I drawn thee. I
have loved thee with an everlasting love.
God whispered
Jeremiah 31:3.

“So, what are we celebrating?”

Octavia dazzled him with a smile as she
studied him. “I’ll think of something in a minute.” She folded her
hands. “So Landon, tell me about yourself.”

“I’m thirty-three; lost my job when my
company downsized. When I couldn’t meet my obligations, I decided I
needed a change to start over.” Landon gave the standard answers
and, amazingly, they weren’t lies.

“I detect a dialect. New York?”

“Boston.”

“Ah.” She grinned. “I can see you wanting to
relocate to a warmer climate, especially after that season of
record snow fall.”

“Yep, I was on my way to Texas when I had a
series of mishaps…” Landon wasn’t about to tell her that he had
planned on relocating to Texas or California. With the balance of
his savings and cashing out the last chunk of his 401(k) that he
hadn’t used to pay judgments against him, Landon left Beantown with
only three thousand dollars.

A plane ride was out of reach, so he boarded
Amtrak, since Greyhound was out of the question—at first. Months
earlier, he was on a Greyhound bus and with a lengthy layover in
St. Louis, Landon had wandered downtown and stumbled on the
building that housed Fleishman Hillard. At one time, the company
was the second-ranking public relations company in the United
States. It had a stellar record of accomplishments, including
producing award-winning commercials for Anheuser-Bush. Plus, the
company gave birth to many of the unique advertising blitzes that
everyone in the industry wanted to copy.

When Landon returned to the station, he had
missed his bus. That mishap hadn’t fazed him as he thought about
the opportunity to work in his field again. Then reality set in
that he was stranded without the bulk of his clothes. The people at
Greyhound said they would have it shipped back as soon as they
could.

But Landon couldn’t wait. He needed a job
now. He walked the street until almost dust until he found a
shelter. The conditions were awful and smelly, and questionable
characters made him sleep with his eyes open. The next morning, he
found a cheap motel to shower and iron the few clothes he had, but
he needed a shave desperately, so again, he hit the streets until
he saw a Walgreens, which commercials boasted were on every corner.
They lied. With credit cards maxed and collectors hounding him when
he left Boston, he had little cash, which gave him two options.

Hiding his shame, Landon stood outside the
store, politely asking for donations for toothpaste, deodorant, and
shampoo. Some people had pity and gave him a total of twelve
dollars and some change. With the sun becoming unbearable, he went
inside to search for clearances. Anything would be a bargain with
the little pocket change he had for a watch and electric shaver.
Looking around, he eyed the selection. Landon had never been a
thief, but he’d never been in desperation mode either. If he was
going for an executive job, he needed the toiletries to look and
smell the part. He realized there was an art to stealing, and he
was an amateur.

Cameras and possibly employees had him under
surveillance. “How do they pull this off?” he questioned himself,
referring to shoplifters.

“Can I help you, sir?” a young store clerk
said, who had suddenly appeared at his side. Landon didn’t even
notice the short male with Popsicle-red spiked hair. His name tag
read
David
.

Landon cleared his voice. “No…well, yes. I’ve
been unemployed for a while. I need a job real soon. Can you
recommend some places?”

The young man looked perplexed. “Ah, I’m
still in high school. Let me call the manager. He’ll know if
Walgreens is hiring,” he said as if it were a bright idea.

“Wow, I never thought of that. Can I fill out
an application?” Landon gave the pretense of feeding into the
youth’s eagerness.

Grinning, the teenager disappeared. Landon
had to make a decision and quick. The Remington Flex 360 Diamond
series rotary shaver looked tempting at eighty bucks, but he
decided to play it safe with the Phillips Norelco razor that was
half the cost. As he tried to quickly stuff it under his shirt, his
heart pounded with remorse. Stealing did not give him an adrenaline
rush. When he turned around the clerk had returned with a sheet of
paper in his hand. The gleam in his eyes was replaced with
disappointment. He had been busted after one attempt.

“If I call my store manager, you’ll go to
jail,” David stated as if he were the one scolding a child. Even as
Landon towered over him, he felt small.