“Something smells good in here.” Grandpa wandered into the kitchen, his steel hair falling in waves over the tops of his large shoulders. “I was going to cook for you, but looks like you beat me to it.”
I flipped a pancake and then glanced at him over my shoulder. “As long as I’m here, I’d like to earn my keep.”
“You don’t have to earn nothing,” he said with a grin. “But I do have a proposition for you.”
I smiled at his incorrect grammar but kept my mouth shut. I should have kept quiet yesterday when Dex used “ain’t,” but I didn’t, and it had made me appear snobbish. I didn’t want to come off that way or be the type of person who looked down on others because they were different.
“What proposition?” I asked, placing two pancakes on a plate. I added a few pieces of cooked bacon and some scrambled eggs. Handing them to him, I smiled. “These are for you, Gramps.”
He took the plate and chuckled. “Gramps? I like the sound of that.” He sat down and dug into his food.
“Is it good?” I asked.
“Wonderful.” He bit into a piece of bacon. “So good.”
“What’s this proposition you were mentioning?”
“Well,” he said, looking thoughtful. “After that conversation yesterday with your parents, I made a few decisions.”
“Oh?”
“For one, I can’t leave you here during the day while I go to work, so I was thinking…” He lifted a forkful of pancake to his mouth and swallowed.
“What?”
“That you could help Delia, our office manager. I’m sure she could find you something to do, and you can save a little money on the side while you’re here.”
The idea of having my own income brought a smile to my face. “I would love to.”
“What kind of job experience do you have?”
I felt my skin go hot and turned my back to him as I flipped another pancake. “Not much.”
“That’s okay. Tell me what you got.”
I hesitated. “Nothing. I’ve never had a job.” The admission made me want to cry.
“Is there a reason for that?”
“It’s a common thing for women at my church. In fact, most are married with a child or two at my age.” I glanced at Grandpa to see his reaction, but there was no judgment on his face—only surprise. “Mom and Dad didn’t want me to work. My only objective, given to me by my parents, was to learn to keep house and cook the meals while courting Peter. Peter and I were supposed to be married already but…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Your parents supported this marriage to Peter?” Grandpa asked, not sounding too convinced.
“They set it up.”
He made a sound of disapproval in his throat as he cut a pancake into bite-sized pieces. “Peter could stand to learn some manners, but I’ll refrain from telling you what I think on that subject.”
“Oh, please do,” I said. “I want to hear it.”
He hesitated as he chewed his food. “I hope I’m not stepping on any toes by saying this, but if you were my daughter, there’s no way I’d let Peter anywhere near you, treating you like that.” He grimaced. “I’m not trying to speak poorly about your parents. I’m sure they have perfectly good reasons for—”
“I agree with you. And I think I can safely close the door to that chapter in my life—the one with Peter, that is.”
“Good.”
I placed food on a plate and sat down at the table. “I may not have job experience, but I’m a quick learner, and I’m not afraid of hard work.”
He smiled. “I can see that about you. You’re a good girl. Your parents definitely did a lot of things right.”
There was a knock on the door, and I startled. “Are you expecting anyone? It’s early.”
“No worries, it’s only Rev. I told him to be here at eight.”
And just like that, my stomach did a little flip hearing his name. “Why?” I nearly choked on the word. I probably looked a sight with no makeup and my hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.
He glanced through the peephole and then opened the door. “Right on time. Have a seat. Tirzah made some grub.”
“Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.” Dex walked in, glancing around at everything but me, the scent of his light cologne wafting in and mixing with the other breakfast scents. There was an energy to his presence—a vibe that spoke of confidence and self-assurance. Of all people, why was he here having breakfast with us?
I resisted the urge to smooth down my hair and straighten my clothes. He was just some guy, a friend of Grandpa’s, and I did not need to impress him in any way. But out of habit, I found myself standing, ready to get his meal for him.
He waved me off. “Have a seat, Tizzy. You’re eating. I have two hands and can get it myself.”
He walked to the stove and served himself pancakes and bacon, and then he joined us at the table. His knee brushed against mine as he sat down, and my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. I moved over quickly to make room.
Grandpa chuckled. “Oh, so she has a nickname, does she?”
“Yeah, just kind of stuck yesterday,” Dex said, lifting food to his mouth. He still hadn’t made eye contact with me.
“And what do you think of this nickname?” Grandpa asked, looking at me with curiosity.
“It’s…okay. I don’t mind it.”
Dex had a knowing smile on his face, but, still, he didn’t look at me.
Grandpa stood and went to the kitchen counter to get a few more pieces of bacon. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll call you that as well. It fits you.”
Dex flashed a crooked smile. “Why? She’s always in a tizzy?” He laughed at his attempt at humor and glanced down at his plate. “Sorry. Bad joke. Couldn’t help myself.”
“Are you trying to imply that I’m always in a state?” I asked, indignation in my voice.
He looked at me for the first time since he’d arrived, and those gray orbs seemed to pierce right through me. “Naw…I was just kidding with you, Tizzy.” His gaze slid to my lips and then he jerked them back up to my eyes as if realizing what he was doing.
Tingles broke out over my arms. I stared down at my plate, having a difficult time catching my breath. If he planned on doing that on a regular basis, I was in so much trouble. Like big, huge, monumental trouble.
“She’s a sweetheart,” Grandpa said. “Can’t imagine her in any ‘state’ as you say.”
Dex laughed quietly, and I rolled my eyes. He was probably thinking about yesterday and how I’d made an issue out of who was the bigger person. It wasn’t my brightest moment. “What are you doing here this early?” I asked, not able to contain my curiosity any longer.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” Grandpa asked. “He’s going to stay in the guest house for a while. Some of the guys helped move his stuff there last night after you went to bed. I want someone nearby to help keep an eye on things.”
“You have a guest house? I didn’t know that.” A tickle in my throat made me cough hard. I covered my mouth and tried to get a hold of myself.
“So much has happened that there hasn’t been time to give you a proper tour,” Grandpa said.
I took a sip of water and glanced up to find Dex watching me closely. “Uh…thanks. But Dex doesn’t have to do that on account of me. I would hate to inconvenience him.”
“Rev doesn’t mind.” Grandpa looked at him. “Do you?”
“Not at all.” He crossed his arms over his chest and tightened his jaw.
Uh-oh. He did mind. He didn’t want to do this. I stiffened, feeling terrible that he had to uproot himself from his home in order to keep an eye out for me.
“Hopefully, it won’t be for long. My dad just put the house up for sale. Let’s pray someone buys soon and this nightmare will be over with.” I stood and moved to the sink to start the dishes.
“Come on, Rev. I have some things I want to show you out back,” Grandpa said, moving to the door.
He wal
ked outside, and Dex followed but then stopped and glanced at me at the doorway. “Great breakfast. Thank you.”
I nodded in acknowledgment and went back to doing the dishes.
“Oh, and Tizzy?”
“Yeah?” I turned to look at him.
“While I’m here, I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel safe. And…it’s not an inconvenience…not at all.” He didn’t wait for me to reply but hurried out the door.
I wasn’t sure what to think of this new information: Dex living in the guesthouse not that far away. Did I want him that close? The immediate response from my gut was a resounding yes.
But just as quickly, my head jumped in and flashed warning signals at me. I could not allow myself to develop feelings for this man. My parents would never accept him, and I knew deep down that he and I didn’t fit together. Our ways of life were so different from one another…it was pointless to even think about it.
Chapter 8
Tizzy
The next day I rose bright and early to go to Town Center Community Church with Grandpa and Dex. They attended a small church in Los Angeles that had been around for at least twenty years, and from what Grandpa said, was thriving and growing from local outreach.
I walked out to the living room in a long, simple black dress, my hair tied up in a knot.
“That’s awfully fancy,” Grandpa said. “People tend to dress casually at Town Center Community. You might want to change into one of your everyday skirts or put on a pair of slacks.”
I glanced at my attire and tightened my smile. “I don’t have pants, and Mom asked me to wear my Sunday best, so I think I’d better stick with this one. Wouldn’t want to loosen up my values.”
“Wear whatever you want,” Grandpa said. “Just thought I’d mention it.” He wore black slacks and a blue polo shirt. I was surprised and pleased to see him looking so dapper.
As we walked outside to his white truck, Dex was hopping on his motorcycle, and he looked exactly the same as he did the other day: black jacket, jeans, biker boots. Except for the fact that the jeans were a little nicer than the worn ones he’d had on yesterday, he hadn’t dressed up the slightest bit.
My parents had always taught me that you wore your Sunday best to church in order to please the Lord, so seeing him like that left a feeling of distaste in my stomach, and I frowned disapprovingly. I sighed and turned my head, deciding right then and there that it would be better to ignore him. I wouldn’t be impolite, but that didn’t mean I had to be extra friendly either. We had no place in each other’s lives…at all.
Grandpa and I drove out of the driveway to the street with Dex following close behind on his bike. We got on the freeway and headed towards L.A. I tried not to look at Dex through the rear-view mirror, but I failed one or two times. Or maybe three. Something about him pulled at me—drew me in like a magnet—but I had to fight against that urge or I would be a disappointment not only to myself, but to God, my parents, and my church community back home. I pressed my back into the seat of Carl’s truck and lifted my chin. I could be strong.
By the time Grandpa drove into the parking lot of the small church with a steeple on top, my curiosity had grown to full measure. I seriously doubted this church would be similar to Faithful Servants, my place of worship back home. My community was very conservative, and we held to strict teaching. The women were all expected to wear dresses, and the singles did not interact in mixed company. In fact, we had our own separate Sunday school groups. There were a lot of rules, and we were taught from a young age to abide by them with a dutiful countenance.
The first thing I noticed when we walked inside Town Center Community Church were the loud voices. Everyone was talking and mingling and laughing like they hadn’t seen each other in months. My forehead creased as I glanced all around. Back home, we were taught that Sunday mornings were for quiet contemplation and meditation. Excited chattering was not allowed because it disrupted worship.
We found seats near the middle of the sanctuary, and I didn’t have to worry about sitting next to Dex because he sat on the other side of Grandpa. My anxiety rose when I noticed all of Grandpa’s biker friends filter in and sit in the back row—all dressed exactly how I’d seen them the other day. I looked around to see how others were responding to their attire, but no one seemed to have a reaction either way. The guys stood out, but maybe that was one thing I had in common with them. I stood out as well in my full-length black dress, but I didn’t care. This was how it had to be.
Everything from the announcements to the music to the relaxed nature of the congregants was different from what I was used to. A part of me liked that because I wanted to experience new things, but the other part feared I would change and go back to Pennsylvania sullied in some way. Or at least that was how my parents would see it.
When Pastor Drew Chamberlain stood at the pulpit, he announced that the message was on Matthew 22:39, loving your neighbor as yourself. “Last week we spoke about loving God with all of our hearts. Today, we tackle the subject of loving our neighbor.”
As he spoke, he had an easy manner about him that grabbed me by the collar and pulled me right in. He glanced around the audience, making eye contact and sharing as if he wanted each one of us to understand his message.
“Turn to James 2:15-16,” he said. He waited until we’d all found the passage and then he read out loud. “If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, be warmed and filled,’ without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that?”
He broke down what the passage meant, and as he spoke, his words pricked my conscience. An image came to mind of Mom and me walking inside the grocery store, passing up that woman who needed help. I’d suggested we buy her food—my intentions had been good at the time—but I’d quickly forgotten all about her and, we’d done nothing.
“Sometimes our hearts grow cold,” Pastor Chamberlain said, “and we become apathetic to the needs of others. We think we’re too good to get our hands dirty—to touch someone who society thinks is a lost cause.” He glanced around, eyes pained. “But that’s not the kind of heart the Lord wants us to have. He wants us to love sacrificially, to pour our lives into people. Do our hearts break when we see suffering? Do we respond? Or do we walk by indifferently?”
I felt a sharp stab in my chest, the truth of his words rolling over me again and again, as if I floundered underneath a wave, fighting to reach the surface. Fighting to justify myself in some way, but knowing I couldn’t. It was hard for me to listen after that. I was so convicted by my lack of love that I was afraid I would start weeping if I listened to more, so I did my best to quiet my thoughts and dwell on Psalm twenty-three. I’d memorized it as a child and knew each and every word like the back of my hand.
When the sermon came to a close, Pastor Chamberlain read 1 John 3:17. “But if anyone has the world's goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God's love abide in him?”
And then he asked everyone to bow their heads and examine their hearts. I didn’t pray, and maybe I should have, but my heart was hurting and I didn’t completely understand it. I knew that I didn’t have the kind of love for others that he spoke of, but I was afraid that if I confessed that before the Lord, He would make me do things that were outside of my comfort zone, and I wasn’t ready for that.
When the service was over, Vera approached me. I remembered her from the other day at Grandpa’s luncheon. She gave me a big hug and this time I was more prepared, so I wasn’t quite as stiff.
“How are you doing?” she asked. “Are you settling in okay?”
“I’m doing fine. Grandpa has been wonderful.”
“That’s great.” She glanced at me and smiled. Leaning in, she raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t Carl tell you the dress code here is relaxed?”
“He did. But this is how I normally dress on a Sunday morning. I was always taught that God wants us to look
our best.”
She appeared to consider. “I think what’s even more important is that we come with a teachable spirit. Man sees the outer appearance but God sees the heart.”
This wasn’t the first time I’d heard that. Grandpa had quoted that verse before. “I’m sure you’re right, but just the same, I feel more comfortable dressing up.”
She put a hand on my arm and squeezed lightly. “You look lovely. I just brought that up so you’d know you don’t have to dress up if you don’t want to. But if you do that’s okay too. We’re so happy you’re here.”
There was so much warmth emanating from her that I felt tears pricking the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back before they had the chance of making an appearance. Here was another thing I wasn’t used to—this level of kindness.
“Thank you.”
“I heard Rev moved into the guest house to help keep an eye on things.”
I just nodded.
“It’s not always easy being surrounded by a bunch of smelly men.” She laughed and pushed a curl off her shoulder. “So, if you ever need a woman to talk to, give me a call.” She wrote down her number on a slip of paper and handed it to me.
“Thank you. I will.” I put the piece of paper in my purse for safe keeping.
When I glanced up, I observed Dex standing at the back of the church, talking with two women around my age. They both had brown hair and were dressed in tight pants. My mom would have had a heart attack if I’d worn pants that tight, but I decided it was time to stop judging everything according to what Mom thought. I still believed modesty was important, but, regardless, I needed to stop comparing everyone to Faithful Servants. Not everyone had to be the same.
One of the women laid a hand on Dex’s arm, and she leaned in close. The other laughed and Dex did too. A spark of…something flamed in me. I wasn’t sure what to call it, but it burned in my stomach like a fire running through my intestines. Instantly, I felt sick and looked away. I needed to stop doing that. I kept looking for him like I held a compass in my hands. Ridiculous.
Blind Date with a Billionaire Biker (Blind Date Disasters Book 3) Page 8