by Pat Simmons
“So, you do think Adrian is the one?”
“As soon as he surrenders to the Lord, it moves him up a couple notches on my list,” Stacy said. “Without a commitment to God, you don’t know about his commitment to you.”
“True.” Brecee exhaled. She could always count on her sisters to tell her what she needed to hear instead of what she wanted to hear. Between them and Regina, she stayed grounded in God’s Word versus what she commonly heard from her coworkers—that God didn’t matter in relationships.
After a while, she signed off to make another family call.
Uncle Bradford answered right away. “How’s my favorite niece in St. Louis?”
“You’d better not let Shae hear you say that,” Brecee teased, knowing that he’d looked at his caller ID.
“I’ll tell her the same thing.”
They chuckled together. He played that game with all four sisters.
“I’m going to Adrian’s parents’ house today to look through his grandmother’s things,” Brecee told him. “Do you really think there might be a connection, or were you just teasing him?”
“I wasn’t teasing. I gave it some more thought when we returned home. Honestly, despite what I told him, I don’t know if it’s possible to ever know for certain,” Uncle Bradford confessed. “It would make a nice story, though. Mom and Dad have been gone for so long.” He was quiet for a moment, then added, “Your uncle in New York may have some of his papers, but Adrian needs to find out more about his grandmother. Even so, it may turn out to be a mystery we will never solve.”
Brecee agreed as doorbell rang. She hadn’t been watching the time. “I’ve got to go, Uncle Bradford. Love you.”
“Love you, too, my niecie Brecee. And remember, just because your young man is searching for one thing, that doesn’t mean God is beckoning him to do something else.”
“Amen.” They disconnected, and Brecee hurried to answer the door, stopping in front of the hall mirror to check her reflection. She adjusted her sweater and slid her feet back in her heels. Just as Adrian buzzed a second time, she opened the door and smiled at the sight of the flowers he carried.
His eyes twinkled. “A peace offering, if you’re upset with me. For a second there, I didn’t know if you were going to answer the door.”
Taking the flowers, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pecked his cheek. “I like you just the way you are.” She grinned and stepped back. “Although there are a few things I would definitely tweak—”
“Stop teasing me.” His nostrils flared. “I wouldn’t change one thing about you, not even that dark toenail polish.”
“What’s wrong with it?” She peeked down at her deep blue toenails, then looked at the flowers again. “I’ll go put these in water. Be right back.”
Brecee didn’t invite him in, and for good reason. She was grateful he didn’t question why. They weren’t married, and he wasn’t saved. Until those issues were resolved, the quick pecks and long hugs were her limit.
When she returned, Adrian was leaning against a concrete porch pillar. He glanced over his shoulder, then stood at attention. “You’re the sweetest woman I know.” He reached for her hand and drew her into his stare. She swallowed, watching him watch her. What was wrong? He didn’t give her time to ask.
“I love you, Sabrece Carmen.”
Brecee blinked as her heart fluttered. When she was about to respond, Adrian shook his head.
“Not yet,” he said quietly. “You told me not to say it unless I meant it, and I don’t want to take it back. The only thing I want is to keep you in my life. Knowing that you’re there makes me happy.”
Her vision blurred, and when the first tear fell, Adrian’s thumb was there to catch it. There on her porch, with the world going on around her, Brecee froze, noting the very moment, the day, and the time when Adrian spoke the words her heart had yearned for.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his strong chest, sniffing to keep her tears at bay.
“You make it easy for me to love you,” he whispered, rubbing her shoulders. “I always will.”
Lifting her face to his, Brecee smiled. “I love you, too. So much.” The kiss was slow in coming, but, once delivered, completely satisfying.
Suddenly conscious of her surroundings, including the possibility of onlookers from the park across the street, she tried to pull back. But Adrian had her trapped. “One more.” He kissed her again before releasing her.
God, save him soon, she silently pleaded. The love between them was strong, and she needed every ounce of her Holy Ghost willpower to stay saved.
I can keep you from Jailing if you stay focused on Me, God whispered.
With their hands linked, Adrian escorted her down the steps to his car. Once they were buckled in, he went to start the ignition but stopped, turned, and looked at her with such tenderness that she now had a name for it: Adrian’s look of love.
“Thank you for the delivery,” he said with a grin. “I was the envy of all the other associates, and I’m not just talking about the food, but the woman who delivered it.”
Closing her eyes, Brecee leaned back. “You’re welcome.”
When they arrived at the Coles’ house, Marsha was preparing a spread of food. She turned to Brecee. “Why don’t you let my son go through those dusty boxes by himself while you and I chat?” She looked hopeful, but so did Adrian. The look of love draped his face. He wanted her with him.
Brecee thought fast. Taking a deep breath, she faced Mrs. Cole. “Why don’t we all visit for a few minutes, and then I can help Adrian? Two can work faster.”
‘“Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falls; for he hath not another to help him up,’” Adrian mumbled over her shoulder. “I need her with me.”
Whirling around, she stared into his eyes. “Ecclesiastes four, nine and ten.” Her parents had drilled that Scripture into her and her sisters while they were growing up, always reminding them that they were to act as a team and always be there for one another.
“How did you know that?” she asked Adrian, staring into his eyes.
“I started to read my Bible a little,” he whispered and her heart soared.
“Marsha, let the two lovebirds go on,” his father said, his voice slicing through the moment. “I’m sure that with all those boxes they have to go through, they’ll soon work up an appetite.” He exchanged a wink with his son.
“Thanks, Pops.” Taking Brecee’s hand, Adrian led the way through the house and up to the attic.
Boxes of all sizes were stacked everywhere. Some of them were falling apart. Brecee was almost wishing she’d stayed downstairs to chat with Marsha while Adrian went on his merry way.
“Uh, where do we start?”
“Let me get some throw pillows tor us to sit on, and then we’ll get started.” Adrian sounded eager and not easily deterred by the monumental task before them.
“Okay.” Brecee rested her purse against one of the boxes, then slipped off her shoes and wiggled her toes. Adrian loved her. She wanted to shout her happiness. Instead, she closed her eyes and held it in.
“You have beautiful feet,” he said from the doorway before he disappeared.
“Thank you.” A woman could never get too many compliments.
While he was gone, Brecee pulled back the flap of one worn-looking box and peeked inside. It was filled with women’s clothes—beautiful dresses, some of them laded. One was velvet with detailed stitching. As she lifted it out, a wave of dust arose. She sneezed as Adrian returned.
“God bless my beautiful lady and I mean that whether you sneeze or not.” He grinned.
“Thank you.” She pointed to the box. “Look at these dresses. Your grandmother must have been petite. And, judging from the styles and quality of what’s in here, she definitely had a life outside of work.” But did it include church? she won
dered.
Several boxes nearby contained hats and shoes. “Shae would love these headpieces,” Brecee remarked. “Grandma had good taste.”
Adrian stopped digging through the box he'd opened and glanced over his shoulder. He met her eyes, then let his gaze travel down to her feet. “I do too.” Then he went back to tearing through one box after another.
Dropping a pair of size six shoes, Brecee went to him and rubbed his shoulders. “Sorry. I should be helping. I got sidetracked with the clothes. Your grandmother had plenty of them. Have you found any ‘treasures’?”
“Books, Bibles, and baby clothes. What a combination.” He shook his head.
“What kind of books? And whose Bibles?” She sat down next to him and began opening a series of smaller boxes containing yellowed envelopes. “These letters are addressed to your grandmother Cora Nichols from Solomon Lambert.”
Adrian dropped the box lid in his hand and started reading over her shoulder. “Wow. They weren’t married yet.” He grunted. “I forgot Nichols was her maiden name.”
Brecee slid out the letter dated September 4, 1947, and started to read aloud.
Praise the Lord, Sister Nichols,
I’m glad you accompanied Brother and Sister Daniels to Chicago to attend Mother Mattie B. Poole’s street and healing service. You really rejoiced when the church sang “Sweeping Through the City.”
I hope you made it safely hack to Philadelphia on the train. I sure did pray for you.
Write me back soon with your favorite Scripture.
Mine is 1 John 3:2: “Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall he: hut we know that, when he shall appear, we shall he like him for we shall see him as he is.”
Brother Solomon Lambert
Closing her eyes, Brecee took a deep breath. “These must be all their love letters. How romantic.” She opened her eyes to see Adrian looking at her. “What?” She stroked his jaw with the back of her hand.
“I love you.” He kissed her, then wrapped his arms around her waist. “It sounds like my grandfather loved my grandmother.”
“And they definitely met in a church setting.”
“Yep. And it’s a history I know next to nothing about.” His frustration was evident.
“But you’re learning about it now, and that's all that matters.” Brecee rubbed his hands. “And this is good stuff—something to be proud of. At least you didn't uncover any unsavory ties to serial killers and such. Those are people the family would definitely want to cover up.” When she smiled, so did he.
After going through half a dozen letters, Brecee mused, “Evidently, Bethlehem Tabernacle in Chicago was the meetup place a couple of weekends a month.” She sighed. “If I had lived in the nineteen forties and fifties, I would have gone to Chicago every week to see Evangelist Mattie B. Poole in action. Can you believe some of the miracles your grandfather described? Cripples walking, the blind seeing, the deaf hearing, and barren women conceiving?”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t have mind seeing that myself,” Adrian said.
Brecee shook her head in amazement. “She was definitely one of God’s servants. Evangelist Poole must have healed your grandmother’s friend Sister Daniels, because Solomon mentions her testimony about being pregnant.”
“I thought all those miracles ended in Jesus’ day,” Adrian said.
“If you attend a testimony service, you’ll hear all about the wonders God is still doing today. God is the same today, yesterday, and tomorrow. He healed my mother of migraines, He’s healed my friends of cancer...but He works those miraculous healings by the hands of those who serve Him alone.”
Adrian nodded. “I’ll definitely Google Mattie B. Poole.”
They continued going through boxes until they came to one filled with sympathy cards. “Look,” Brecee said. “These must be from when she passed.”
“She died in nineteen sixty-one. So young.” Adrian was quiet.
She squeezed his hand. “You okay?”
After a moment, he asked, “How could their relationship have been grounded in church, and the whole thing be such a mystery to my mother?”
Brecee shrugged. “I have no idea, but the promise has been passed down to her and to you. In the Old Testament, when the reign of each king was passed to his son, some worshipped God, while others discarded Him, even though the seed had been planted.”
“There’s that promise again.” He huffed. “This is a whole new world to me. Do you see anything in that box from this Brother or Sister Daniels? Maybe they’re still living.”
“That’s a long shot. I saw a card from a Sister Sarah Daniels with a Philly address, but we’re talking from decades ago.”
“Are you up for a road trip?”
“Are you serious?” Brecee laughed. She never needed a reason to go home.
“Drive or fly—you choose.”
“Adrian, wait. The woman very well may be deceased. Let’s at least check whitepages.com.”
“You’re right.” He seemed to deflate for a moment, but then he grinned. “Still, get ready for a road trip.”
“I’m on it.”
Chapter Twenty
W
hether it was to reclaim a forgotten family tradition or to see a promise fulfilled, Adrian was going back to church this morning for answers, and he prayed that God was listening.
Despite the letters he and Brecee had uncovered the day before, their discovery hadn’t seemed to spark an ounce of curiosity from his mother. He wondered if something had happened to Solomon and Cora’s love for each other and for church that he had yet to uncover.
After showering and getting dressed, he scarfed down a microwave breakfast that he didn’t taste, his mind was so preoccupied with pondering whether God had made a promise to his grandmother concerning her family that hadn’t been kept.
An hour later, he arrived at Brecee’s condo. She opened the door and stepped outside, purse and Bible in hand, as he was hiking up the steps to her porch.
She was pretty, even with the simplicity of her attire: a soft pink suit and some type of headpiece that wasn’t quite a hat. His heart pounded at the sight. Was this the way his grandfather felt every time he saw his Cora?
Instead of greeting her with the usual peck on the cheek, Adrian lifted her off her feet.
She screamed as she gripped his shoulders. “Adrian Cole, you’re going to drop me!”
“I gotcha, babe. Trust me,’’ he said as he slowly set her back down.
She smiled. “What was that all about?”
“I’m excited about God’s promise.” He grabbed her hand and started for the car.
“Well, alrighty now.”
Adrian couldn’t explain the explosive energy he felt simmering within as he walked through the doors of Bethesda Temple less than twenty minutes later.
When they reached the pew where Rahn and Shae were sitting, with Sabrina on her mother’s lap, Brecee knelt and closed her eyes in prayer.
Adrian followed suit, even as he whispered, “Why are we doing this?”
Opening her eyes, she faced him and smiled. “Because were in God’s holy temple. It’s a sign of reverence we were taught by our parents, who learned it from their parents.”
“Oh.” Adrian closed his eyes and whispered, “Thank You, Lord, for Your promise. Amen.”
He and Brecee got up at the same time and then sat in unison. When she stood and started clapping along with the praise band, he did, too. It was crazy, but Adrian couldn’t sit still. But as much as he appreciated the energetic music, he couldn’t wait for the sermon.
By the time Pastor Archie stepped up to the pulpit, Adrian had already opened his Bible. It had belonged to his grandparents, and he’d brought it home yesterday after the attic search. He felt like a puppy dog waiting for a dog biscuit.
“Good morning and praise the Lord, saints. The Bible says in Ecclesiastes four, verse nine—”
Brecee exchanged a knowing glance with him. I
t was the same Scripture he had quoted the previous day. He winked, then redirected his attention to the pastor.
“To everything there is a season,” Pastor Archie was saying. “Nothing happens by accident. God has a purpose for all things. But my text for today is Jeremiah one, verse five.”
Adrian flipped through the pages, passing through 1 Timothy and then 2 Timothy, when Brecee whispered, “Old Testament,” then waited patiently as he found the book. Somehow, he didn’t feel belittled by her gesture.
“Thanks,” he said softly.
“Any time.”
Pastor Archie had paused, as if he had been waiting on him, and now he resumed his message. “The verse says, ‘Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou earnest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.’ Like Jeremiah, God formed you with a purpose, too, and you don’t have to be a prophet to carry out His will. Maybe it’s been dormant for years, or even for your entire life. Don’t get your purpose and your talent mixed up. It’s possible to use your talent to its fullest extent yet never reach your purpose in life.” He began to pace back and forth behind the pulpit. “But,” he raised his voice, “if you seek God’s purpose, then your talent will manifest itself....”
So, what’s my purpose? Adrian wanted to shout across the sanctuary. He needed a one-on-one with the minister.
“You don’t have to turn there in your Bibles, but Ephesians one, verse four, says, ‘He hath chosen us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before him in love.’ That’s your purpose—to be holy and without blame.”
Holy? Adrian grunted. And how was he supposed to accomplish that, with all the temptation around him—namely, the beautiful woman beside him? Brecee had set clear boundaries for their relationship, and although he was committed to respecting them, it wasn’t easy.
The preacher cited more Scriptures to back up his teaching on holiness. When he closed his Bible, Adrian’s heart sank. He wasn’t ready for the sermon to end. He wanted more. Tell me how to live holy! was his silent demand.
“As everybody stands, I want you to ask yourself if you are fulfilling God’s purpose for your life. If you’re honest with yourself, and you know you aren’t, then ask God to forgive you for every sin you’ve allowed your body to commit. Peter said in Acts two, verse thirty-eight, ‘Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.’ The good news is, this promise is passed down from generation to generation. It's a promise to every person who repents and is baptized in water and in spirit, in Jesus' name.” He lifted his hands. “Won’t you come today? You can’t live holy without the Holy Ghost. The evidence is the heavenly language of God speaking through your mouth.”