One Prayer Away (9 page)

“I'm so sorry, Beverly,” Virtue said as she hugged her friend. “You so didn't deserve that.”

Beverly returned her embrace but chuckled. “Honey, I'm too smart and too old to be taken down by adolescent tactics. Lester ain't been mine since the first time he thought in his heart to lay with that child. I can't be concerned with what they do.”

“I know, but still . . .”

“Virtue, Lester is fifty-seven years old, and that girl he's running around with is young enough to be his daughter. I've forgotten more than she's ever learnt, but one thing she's definitely gonna learn is that a man who will cheat on his first wife will cheat on his second one too. I know Lester wanted babies. We both did, but I was already pretty much past my childbearing years when he took up with Dondra. If it was about babies, he would have left a long time ago. Without God, Lester's not going to be able to be any more faithful to her than he was to me.”

“But you all were married for what—
thirty
years? It's not like he didn't know how to be faithful. Dondra probably seduced him and turned him into something that he wasn't.”

“Maybe so,” Beverly said, nodding, “but
he
made the choice to leave me permanently to be with her. She didn't make him do that. If Lester had told me it was all a terrible one-time mistake and had been willing to get counseling and work through it with me, I would have given him another chance. But he didn't. He carried on that affair for months, all while standing behind the pulpit preaching—like he didn't even believe there really was a God. Even the Bible calls people like that a fool, Virtue. Lester is an old fool, but he's not my fool to worry about anymore. God will be Lester's judge. He did me wrong, yes. But if I want to get my crown, I have to forgive him even though he never asked for it. Truth be told, them getting married is
what they need to do. If they're going to be carrying on like they're married, the least they can do is make it legal.”

Once again, Beverly had exemplified what it meant to rise above it all, leaving her young admirer in awe. “Maybe I'll be like you one day when I grow up,” Virtue remarked.

Beverly laughed as the two of them embraced again before heading for the exit doors. “You just stick with me, honey,” she said. “Before it's over, both of us are gonna learn a new lesson or two. Wait and see.”

Eight

O
n Monday morning, the amount of work that needed to be done was evident from the stack of folders on Mitchell's desk. As the last few weeks of the year ticked away, the corporations that contracted the services of Jackson, Jackson & Andrews were rushed to get end-of-the-year accounting issues complete. But as important as it was that Mitchell not fall behind, he was failing miserably in his quest to focus on the business files in front of him. Instead, his eyes continued to stray to the information that he'd printed from his computer last night.

It was almost frightening how easy it had been to find information on his ex-wife, but in this case he was thankful. Typing both Virtue's maiden and married names in the search criteria had brought up a number of references, beginning with the roster of her graduation class from Hope College in Michigan. A number of ideas had traveled through Mitchell's mind of the route Virtue might have taken with her degree, but none came close to the one that he found.

“Here's your hot water, Mr. Andrews.”

Mitchell looked up from his papers and managed to flash an appreciative smile in Barbara's direction as she set the steaming cup on a coaster. He dumped the powdered mixture from the pack into his cup and stirred slowly, still deep in thought. Mitchell's search had left him baffled. He'd gotten the information he needed, but now he had no idea what to do with it.

“You want to talk about it?”

Chris's voice startled him. Shaking his head, Mitchell said, “No, not really.”

“It's about your ex-wife, isn't it?” Before he could respond, Chris continued. “Man, this whole Virtue thing is eating at you from the inside out. That's the same folder you were working on when I came by an hour and a half ago.”

Mitchell closed the folder with more force than was necessary, and slid it away from his work space. As he rubbed his hands over his freshly cut hair, he heard the door close. Without immediately looking up, he knew that Chris hadn't left him alone. When Mitchell raised his head, his partner was sitting in the chair across from his desk.

“I'm listening,” Chris said.

Mitchell hesitated, but the silence that followed was brief. “I thought finding Virtue would bring me peace of mind, but instead, it's working me over even more than seven years of not knowing where she was at all did. I'm just frustrating myself with this battle of should I approach her or shouldn't I. Sometimes I feel like no matter what I do, I'm going to regret it. I can't help but feel that this is a lose-lose situation.”

“Why?” Chris asked with interest. “What did you find out about her? Has she remarried?”

That was one of the aspects of finding her that had brought Mitchell a sense of relief. “I don't think so. Surprisingly
enough, she still has my name, so I doubt very seriously that she's remarried. But her marital status has nothing to do with my dilemma.”

“What, then?”

It was hard for Mitchell to put his racing thoughts into words. He'd seen Virtue dance on a stage several times, and he knew where her heart's desire lay. Virtue wasn't just a good dancer; she was an
incredible
dancer who had major potential. Mitchell had trouble believing that by choice, she didn't do something great with her talent. Over the years when he thought of her, he pictured Virtue having ties with the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater in New York. She'd always loved their productions, and she idolized Judith Jamison. Tormenting guilt had mounted on Mitchell ever since he'd traced her steps to the Temple of Jerusalem, a church in Houston that didn't even have a television ministry to show her performances to the world. For Mitchell, it was agonizing to have to wonder if he'd played some role in her lowered ambitions, and he voiced his concerns to Chris.

“Dancing on a stage was what Virtue loved to do,” Mitchell concluded. “I'd hate to think that she didn't pursue that because of me. I said some mean things to her when I was under the influence. I remember telling her that she didn't have what it took to make it as a dancer. Making her feel like a failure was my way of building my own diminished self-esteem. What if what I did and said made her lose all of her drive to succeed at what she loved to do most? What if she settled?”

Chris's next words gave Mitchell a wake-up call that he couldn't believe he'd even needed. “Settled? What do you mean, settled? Mitch, are you saying that being called upon by some agent or employer to dance for entertainment on a New York stage is a greater achievement than being called by God to worship through the ministry of dance?”

Mitchell felt more ashamed than he dared to reveal. Chris's analogy wasn't what he'd meant, but it was exactly what his words had suggested. Mitchell wanted to try to explain himself in greater detail, but he didn't think it would do any good. No one could truly understand his line of thinking. Not even Chris, who Mitchell saw as the man who could understand him more than anyone.

Since he'd seen Virtue, Mitchell had come to believe that unless a man had walked in his shoes, lived his life, lost his battles, and committed his sins, he couldn't truly understand his pain. The pain that Mitchell carried was the type that never truly went away. It left in seasons, but it always returned to remind him of the man that he'd once been, the man that forces of evil still wrestled to make him return to. Each time the pain of Mitchell's past revisited him, the hurt was deeper; and every time it faded, it left more questions for him to battle through.

Rubbing his palms over his eyes as though they had suddenly been splashed with acid, Mitchell tried to wipe away the memories of yesteryear. He hated that he couldn't totally rid himself of the flashes in his head that reappeared every time he allowed himself to dwell on the past. The clips of the nights he'd drink until he literally passed out; the days he didn't have enough drive to get out of his pajamas; the weeks and months that his existence defined
wretched
; the morning he struck Virtue for the first time; the day the love in her eyes turned to fear; the evening he struck her for the second time and lost her forever . . . all of these haunting memories were the ones that God, for some reason, hadn't erased when He freed Mitchell of the habit that had been the cause of them all.

“Mitch!” Chris reached out and used force to pry his friend's hand from his face. He'd been calling Mitchell's name for the past several moments, but Mitchell had been too deep in his tormenting thoughts to hear him. “Mitch, that's enough,” Chris said while forcing Mitchell to look at
him. “You've done about all you can do with this for now. You're gonna make yourself ill if you keep this pattern of yours going much longer. You're not getting enough rest, and eventually that's going to start affecting every aspect of your life, including your job. We'll talk about this some more later, but right now you need to get your mind off of your indecision where Virtue is concerned and on to matters that are easier to work through. We're approaching the end of the year, man, and you know we have a lot to get done before the clock strikes midnight on the thirty-first. I know finding your ex and apologizing to her is important to you, Mitch, but you need to step back from it for a few days, maybe even a few weeks. If you get sick over this, you're going to be no good to anyone, including Virtue.”

“I know,” Mitchell replied, wiping his forehead and shaking his head to clear it. “I've been trying to concentrate on the stupid portfolios. I'll get them done.”

“Dang skippy, partner,” Chris said. “You can call these folders any kind of name you please, but remember that completing them is what keeps our doors open and what pays our bills. This company was founded by the blood, sweat, and tears of Willie James Jackson Jr., and he prided himself in professionalism and prompt service. I continued his legacy for nearly two years all by myself, and when I brought you in I did so with the assurance that you'd keep this business's reputation a priority. And the only way you can do that is by completing these
stupid
portfolios.

“Now, I want you to find Virtue and clear your conscience just as much as you do, Mitch, but not at the expense of it affecting your performance here. I made my daddy a promise.” Chris stopped long enough to count the incomplete folders on Mitchell's desk. “You've got twelve assignments to complete and less than three weeks to get them done. Can I still rely on you?”

Mitchell clenched his jaw and swallowed. He knew Chris was right. This was nobody's problem but his, and
he couldn't force those around him to be affected by it. That was what he'd done all those years ago with Virtue. He'd made her suffer because he was in so much pain, and that was the reason he was in this predicament. In slow motion, Mitchell nodded his answer and then watched his friend stand to leave. Just before he walked through the open door, Chris turned to face him.

“I'm on your side, Mitch. I don't want you to think that just because I have a great relationship with Lisa that I don't feel you on this. But I wouldn't truly be your friend if I didn't tell you the truth about what I felt. And what I feel right now is that you are agonizing too much over this. You need to stop trying to figure this out on your own and maybe start praying about your next step. On your own, you might make the wrong choice. I might even slip up and advise you in the wrong direction. But the one person who we both know won't ever steer you wrong is God.”

Mitchell stared at his closed door long after Chris made his exit. He had heard every word that his partner had said, but some stood out more than others.