by Pat Simmons
Brecee gnawed on her lip. She needed one more. It was her game, after all. She’d made the rules.
Number ten: He must want children. I love children—and hope to have my own someday.
Exhaling, Brecee scanned her list. Adrian would either walk toward her or run away as fast as he could.
After proofing it again, she printed it and put it in the mail.
Chapter Nine
L
ess than a week after holding Brecee in his arms at the charity ball, Adrian received an envelope from her at the dealership. He grunted. “So, you were serious.” Out of curiosity, he was tempted to open it right away, even though he had yet to start on his own list. How could she possibly find out?
Closing his eyes and rubbing his face, Adrian reminded himself that he didn’t operate like that. He earned people’s respect and business. Honesty was always at the top of his list. He blamed his temptation on business being slow at the dealership.
Home again after a long day, all Adrian wanted to do was eat some food, take a shower, and hear Brecee’s voice. But to call her and admit that he hadn’t put ink to paper would not be in his best interest.
He took the envelope from Brecee out of his pocket and stared at it. His fingers itched to open it. Setting it down on the kitchen table, he exhaled, kicked off his Stacy Adamses, and padded across the room to the refrigerator.
“My list,” he mumbled, even as he questioned why he'd agreed to this. “Number one: This seems too much like a game to me with no benefits.” He took out a covered dish of leftover pasta, scooped a serving onto a plate, and popped it in the microwave. Then he eyed the envelope again. “Why couldn’t we do this via e-mail or text?”
Recalling how beautiful Brecee had been the other night—her perfect smile, the singsong sound of her laughter—he smiled. There was his answer. She was worth this silly game, and more. Still, he certainly wasn’t going to start on it tonight.
“Tomorrow.”
The next morning, Adrian awoke with the list on his mind. It stayed there as he dressed and drove to work. It dominated his thoughts until he reached the dealership, where he switched into work mode.
Wednesday got off to a slow start, especially after one of his potential clients rescheduled. But that never worried him. He didn’t look at his position as just a job. He had invested many years—twelve, to be exact—in his work, focusing on building relationships and maintaining them, which was the key to staying in business.
The lifestyle he’d created for himself kept him comfortable. He never had to worry about where his next meal would come from.
Adrian grew restless in his office, so he went out to the showroom and began strolling around. It didn’t take long for Brecee’s list to resurface in his mind. Unable to ignore it any longer, he took out his smartphone and started a dictation.
“Here are the things that are important to me,” he began. “Number one: A woman has to look good, smell good, and be of good character. I don't play games.”
Kyle Preston, another top-performing salesperson and longtime friend, gave Adrian a strange look as he walked by. Adrian nodded, then decided to head to the parking lot for some privacy.
Outside, Adrian enjoyed the warmth of the bright sun on his shoulders as he walked up and down the rows of luxury cars. “Number two: She’s got to be okay with some silence. I’m not much of a talker, unless I’m in a business mode. I prefer to get to know people by watching and listening. Some say I have a poker face, which is good. I don’t—”
A beep sounded, indicating the end of the dictation. He must have reached the maximum number of words. Tapping the microphone again, he continued. “I don’t like it when people know what I’m thinking. I’m selective as to who I share my thoughts with.”
A silver GLA 250 SUV drove into the parking lot, and the driver honked. Adrian squinted and waved at the driver, a longtime client. Another man Adrian didn’t recognize was seated in the front passenger seat.
As the driver parked, Adrian walked toward the car, adding number three to his list before he forgot: “She needs to be there for me. I consider myself a patient man, but if I make time in my schedule for a woman, she needs to do the same for me.” He tapped the microphone to end the dictation, then slipped his smartphone back in its holder. It was time for business.
Adrian worked on his list over the next several days. By the time it was complete, he’d engaged in plenty of soul searching. He was ready to print it when he made a spur-of-the-moment decision to forgo plain white paper. After work the next day, he stopped at an office supply store and purchased a set of stationery with matching envelopes.
When he returned home, he sat down at his kitchen table with a grin. “You like games? I’m about to one-up you, Dr. Carmen.” In the neatest penmanship he’d used since grade school, Adrian rewrote his list for a personal touch. The only thing detracting from it was the line that read “c/o Cardinal Glennon Hospital.”
He drove to the Maryland Heights post office on Weldon Parkway to mail the letter. As his hand released the envelope, Adrian hoped he had written the right words to get him to the next level.
To increase his chances to have the winning entry, he had one more stop to make.
It had been days since Brecee had mailed her list to Adrian. She checked in the hospital mailroom twice daily, but still nothing. She was beginning to wonder whether she wanted too much from a relationship and whether her expectations in a man were too lofty.
She hadn't always been overly discriminating in her taste for men. But now that all her sisters were happily married with children, while she had all the time in the world to be single, she was becoming more selective on the men with whom she agreed to go out on an official date. Only a handful had met most of her criteria, yet the chemistry had always fizzled.
Brecee was about to give up hope on Adrian when another stunning floral bouquet arrived from him. An hour later, a decorative envelope showed up in her mail slot. His return address read Maryland Heights.
She couldn’t wait for her dinner break to read his list.
Brecee entered the doctors’ charting room, having just removed a small piece of candy from the nostril of a six-year-old girl. The things children did. No one else was in the room except for Regina, who wore a look of expectation. She’d seen the flowers.
Just then, Brecee’s smartphone rang. She didn’t recognize the number. “Dr. Carmen,” she answered.
“Dr. Carmen—Brecee,” a deep, rich male voice greeted her. “This is Dolan Cole, Laura’s dad.”
The look on Brecee’s face must have alerted Regina that the call was personal, because she stood and whispered, “I want to know everything,” before leaving the room.
Brecee nodded as she took a seat, confused. Why was Dolan calling her now, weeks after she’d hoped he would? It figured he would wait until she held an envelope containing a list from his cousin that spelled out his desires in a woman. Had Adrian passed on her and told his cousin to go ahead and give her a shot?
She chided herself for envisioning a scenario that happened only in cheesy romance novels. Blinking, Brecee refocused on the present. “Dolan! How are you? It’s nice to hear from you.”
“I was hoping you would say that.” He sounded upbeat. “Are you at the hospital now? Laura and I are in the area, and I was hoping we could bring you something to eat, if you haven’t eaten already, or take you out for a bite, if you have time.”
Wow. On one hand, how thoughtful. But, on the other hand, Brecee wanted to read Adrian’s list. Lord, is this You intervening? she asked, wondering if it was Dolan who possessed more of the qualities she wanted in a man. He certainly seemed like one who’d probably never missed Sunday school.
Smiling, she decided just to go with it. “Perfect timing. I was about to have dinner.” She verified that he knew where the hospital was located. “Come into the main drive on Park Avenue, and I’ll stand outside the emergency department doors and wait.”
D
olan chuckled. “I can’t have a woman waiting, now, can I? We’re minutes away.” As they ended the call, Brecee heard Laura’s high-pitched squeal of delight in the background.
She eyed Adrian’s envelope again, then stuffed it into the pocket of her lab coat before hurrying to her office for her purse.
When she breezed outside, Dolan was standing beside the front passen¬ger door of his Audi. As she stepped off the curb, it dawned on her that she knew little about a man she was about to get inside with car. I don't think so. Her mother hadn’t raised any fools. “Hi, Dolan. We have Cafe @ Glennon here. Would you and Laura like to join me there?”
He didn’t blink at her request. “We accept.” He opened the back door and unbuckled Laura from her car seat. The girl hopped out with a worshipful grin and ran into Brecee’s waiting arms, giving her a tight squeeze. “Hi, Brecee.” She glanced over her shoulder at Dolan, and when he nodded, she said, “Miss Brecee.”
Beaming at the girl’s good manners, Brecee took her hand, and they headed inside while Dolan parked the car.
After he joined them, their first stop was the reception desk. She squatted to be eye level with Laura. “All visitors have to wear identification security badges to keep our children safe.” She looked up at Dolan. “This lady will need your driver’s license to make them.”
Once that task was done, Brecee led the way to the cafe.
Laura scanned the selection of food, her eyes widening when she spied the snacks. “I like this place, Daddy.”
At one of the buffet stations, Brecee admired Dolan’s patience with Laura as she weighed her options, trying to decide what she wanted. Maybe that was the reason he hadn’t called. His daughter definitely came first in his life—a good sign.
She went to the soup bar and ladled herself a generous helping of beef stew. Dolan filled his plate with vegetables and fried chicken. When they were at the register, Brecee was about to swipe her card to pay, but Dolan nudged her aside and used his, instead.
He grinned—no dimples. Not even a hint of one, like Adrian had. “You may have picked the place, but I’m picking up the tab.”
“Thank you.” Her father had taught her never to argue with a man if he wanted to pay for a meal.
Laura selected a table, then sat down next to Brecee. “Can I say grace, Daddy?”
“Yes, baby.”
Brecee bowed her head and closed her eyes. The prayers of a child were heartwarming—so innocent, so close to God’s heart.
“So, what brings you in my neck of the woods?” Brecee asked after they said “Amen.”
“Do you live close by?”
“We live about half an hour, forty minutes, from here. Laura’s class had a field trip at the City Museum. Instead of waiting for her to return to school an hour later, I opted to pick her up,” Dolan explained.
Laura stabbed her salad with her fork and bobbed her head. “I liked the museum. They have a tunnel under the ground for kids to go in.”
As they ate and chatted, Brecee took note of Dolan’s features. Handsomeness definitely ran in the Cole family, because he and Adrian were undeniably fine. But Adrian did have something extra.
Maybe it was the mustache, just the right length and thickness. Dolan had a thin beard that looked nice on him, but she wasn’t a fan of beards in general. If they grew too thick, they reminded her of cavemen.
Wait a minute. What was she doing, comparing the two of them?
Since Laura appeared distracted, watching other patrons entering the cafe, Brecee lowered her voice and said to Dolan, “Since I didn't hear from you, I wondered if Laura was okay.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Her doctor ordered an electrocardiogram, and it came back normal.”
Brecee exhaled a sigh of relief.
“Turns out that some medicine I gave Laura for a fever did something to her heart. They believe it was a onetime occurrence, but I still need to monitor her.”
“Arrhythmia,” Brecee stated off the top of her head. She didn’t need to be certified as a pediatric cardiologist to recognize the signs.
“Yes, that’s what she called it.”
“What were her symptoms?” Brecee asked.
“She fainted after recess a day earlier. I took her to the pediatrician, and she appeared fine, but the doctor wanted the test done just to be on the safe side. It was scary getting that call from the school.”
“I can imagine.” It appeared that the situation had resolved itself. “I checked with Adrian to see how she was doing,” she said, trying to dig.
“He told me. Sorry. I meant to call you earlier, but being a single father is demanding.”
“And I’m sure challenging.” Brecee smiled.
“Daddy, can I have dessert?” Laura asked, licking her lips.
“Yes. Jell-O or one cookie,” he instructed her, then handed her some money.
“Thank you.” Laura skipped away toward the dessert bar.
“You have such a beautiful daughter,” Brecee told him.
“Thanks.” He grinned.
“You’ve also clearly done a great job making sure that Jesus is real to her, not like a Santa Claus figure. I like that.”
“Now that, I can’t take credit for. Lynn, my late wife, planted those seeds in Laura, and they seem to blossom more and more every day.”
A humble man. Brecee reached over and patted his hand. “But you’re nourishing them.”
He shrugged. “I do the best I can.” After finishing off his fried chicken breast, he wiped his mouth and leaned back in his seat. “I don’t discourage her. My wife’s salvation was strong. After we married, she said each day she hoped and prayed that I would come to Christ, as she had. She had so much faith in God and in me. My regret is that she never lived to see it bear fruit.” He paused and stared off for a moment before looking at Brecee again.
Brecee blinked back the tears blurring her vision. “I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath and gave Dolan an encouraging smile. “At least you came to Christ. How long after her death did you repent and get baptized in water and Spirit, in Jesus’ name?”
“Oh, I haven’t.”
What? Brecee did everything in her power to mask her shock at such a confession. She was so disappointed. This was the one advantage she’d thought Dolan had over Adrian. “How are you nurturing your daughter spiritually?” Her mind was shouting, Operation child rescue!
“She has a children’s Bible, she attends Sunday school, and I send her to vacation Bible school.”
That was probably a couple weeks, at the most, out of her summer. This little girl needed a Christian woman in her life—a committed role model in the faith. Brecee was about to volunteer to be that, and nothing more, but her hospital pager beeped.
Taking it out of her pocket, she read the message: Six-year-old gunshot victim.
Brecee stood. “Listen, Dolan. I’ve got to go. Thank you for the company and the meal.”
Dolan got to his feet as Laura scampered back to the table holding a giant chocolate chip cookie.
“Bye, Miss Brecee,” she said. “When are we going to see you again?”
Dolan seemed to be waiting for her answer.
“Soon.” Brecee hugged Laura, then hurried to her post, praying that God would continue to nurture the spiritual seeds in Laura’s life.
Chapter Ten
T
he child will survive. Brecee praised the Lord with a great sense of relief as she drove the short distance from the hospital to her condo hours later.
When would parents learn that the natural curiosity of children didn’t mix well with the toy-like depiction of guns on television and in video games? Gun owners didn’t know the facts like first responders. At last year’s American Academy of Pediatrics National Conference, the numbers presented had been staggering: more than seven thousand children hospitalized each year with gunshot injuries, hundreds of which proved fatal.
There had already been 500 deaths this year alone, and if the Lord hadn’t i
ntervened, Jason Kerr would have been gunshot victim number 501.
Turning onto Lafayette, Brecee navigated the narrow alley and pulled into her private garage. Within minutes, she was safe inside her second-floor condo.
She drew herself a bubble bath in an effort to soothe herself after the day’s events, including the conversation she’d had with Dolan about Laura’s natural hunger for God. Then she thought about Adrian and the letter she hadn’t opened. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to read it, especially if the contents squashed her hopes for his character.
It was moments like this when she yearned for a hug—from her mother and sisters, from a roommate like the one she'd had while completing her residency in Houston, or from a loving husband who would hold her.
Feeling somewhat refreshed after her bath, Brecee padded barefoot across her bedroom to her makeshift library in search of something funny to read. But her mind kept nudging her to open Adrian’s letter.
Resolved that she was a big girl who could handle rejection as well as any three-year-old, she took the envelope out of her purse and studied his handwriting. It was unusually neat, especially for a man, as if he’d spent a minute meticulously fashioning each letter. “You must have gotten an A in cursive writing,” she muttered.
She opened the seal with her fingernail and pulled out a piece of watermarked parchment paper that had been neatly folded into three. Smoothing it in front of her, she began to read.
1. I don’t like games, and I feel like I’m playing one. In that case, I’m playing to win.
Brecee giggled. Maybe she had misjudged him.
2. I’m not ashamed to say I’m attracted to women who look good without flaunting it, smell good, and have a good heart, rather than being mean-spirited.
3. With that said, I’m a people person when I have to be. Otherwise, I’m a private person, preferring to get to know others by observation. Some say I have a poker face. My challenge to you is to read me if you can.