Chasing Faith

by Stephanie Perry Moore

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “My walk with God isn’t really strong, because I have done something that is so horrid I don’t believe that I’m worthy of His forgiveness. But I guess that’s pretty obvious now, isn’t it?”

  He took my hand. “My life hasn’t always been perfect, either. But God’s grace covers all.”

  “How can you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that He is so forgiving?”

  He looked me in the eye, his face filled with confidence. “By faith I believe that Jesus Christ was sent to this earth by God to die for my sins and the sins of the world. He’s there for me all the time.”

  “Most of the people I know who say they’re Christians are the biggest sinners I know. Every time I turn around, I see some fallen mega-pastor in the news.”

  “It’s true—there are some leaders who profess to be Christians and don’t act like it. But I leave that up to God, because they’ll have to answer to Him on Judgment Day. Only God can judge what kind of person someone is on the inside.”

  I nodded once to let him know I understood. Sebastian just stared at me. I didn’t feel uncomfortable. I felt like a lady.

  “I’m very attracted to you, Christian Ware. You’re a beautiful woman inside and out. You’re a genuinely good person. My intuition tells me so. However, right now I’m more concerned for your soul,” he said.

  I looked away, unable to look into his piercing eyes. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been pregnant.” I confessed to having an abortion four years ago.

  “Christian, Jesus Christ died on the cross for all the sins of the world. Even yours. There’s not a single person who hasn’t sinned in some way. But God promises that if we repent and ask Him for forgiveness, He will grant it. He’ll even help you learn to forgive yourself.”

  Sebastian stayed and talked the whole night. He read a small passage from the Book of John and I sat there, soaking up God’s word. It was as if someone greater was talking through Sebastian.

  Sometime in the early-morning hours, I fell asleep in his arms. When I awoke, Sebastian was snoring softly, still holding me. I didn’t want to disturb him, so I lay very still, enjoying the warmth of his chest through his silk shirt.

  It had been five weeks since that night at Troy’s place. Maybe I needed to go to the doctor to get a blood test since my cycle still hadn’t come.

  I was awakened by the patter of little feet and children’s voices shouting in the hallway outside of my room. I wondered what time it was. I glanced at my watch to see that it was nine A.M.

  When I couldn’t lie still any longer and adjusted my position, I woke Sebastian. He opened his eyes, smiled, and said, “Good morning.”

  “You’re still here,” I said, smiling. “You didn’t run away in the middle of the night.”

  He smiled. “I’ve got a peace that surpasses understanding. I know God can take care of anything.”

  “I wish I had your faith.”

  He held me closer. “Christian, just because you had an abortion before doesn’t mean you have to make the same mistake again. If you are pregnant, you can give your child a home, either with an adoptive family or keep it yourself.”

  I knew I couldn’t go through another abortion.

  “Even if the child’s earthly father won’t be there for you, the heavenly Father will be.”

  I hugged Sebastian tightly. At that moment, he was closer to me than a confidant.

  “Why don’t we get dressed and go down for some breakfast,” he suggested. “I’m famished.” He stood. “I’ll be back as soon as I get changed and cleaned up.”

  After he left the room, I got my cell phone out of my purse and checked my messages. Eden had called to tell me things were going great. My mom had called to see how my new job was going. My fifteen-year-old sister wanted money for a new leather jacket. Max said he enjoyed seeing me at the wedding. Surprisingly, Troy had called to tell me that he missed me. He sure did wait a while—he hasn’t called in over a month.

  I hadn’t called, either. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t spoken to Troy since that night I left him. At first, I wouldn’t have minded never talking to him again; however, I knew he would play a big role in the decision I was going to have to make, if I was in fact pregnant.

  I called his house.

  “Hey,” he said. “How’s the big celebrity?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw you on TV saving Stokes’s life.”

  “Oh.”

  “So you really applied for that temp job, and my girl got it, too. Gon’ with your bad self,” he teased, before changing his voice to a more seductive tone. “When are you coming back? I miss you.”

  I started pacing. “I don’t know. Troy, I’m late.”

  “Late for what?”

  “You know. Late. I think I might be pregnant.”

  “Oh,” he said nonchalantly. “So, do you need some money to take care of it?”

  “Troy, I’m not going to have an abortion,” I said, making my way to the bathroom.

  “You have to, Chris, because I’m not going to have any kids right now.”

  “Don’t worry,” I assured him. “If I am pregnant, I’ll either keep and raise the baby myself or place it up for adoption.”

  “Well, don’t count on me for any of that daddy stuff.”

  “I didn’t plan to.” I began to run my shower water.

  “So you think you can raise a kid alone? You don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for.”

  His comment stung. As much as I hated to admit it, I knew he was right. I couldn’t raise a kid all by myself, without a daddy figure. I couldn’t support my baby. Heck, I could barely even support myself, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “Guess I’ll find out, won’t I?” I replied with an attitude.

  “Hey, you said you weren’t sure, right? Maybe you’re stressing for nothing.”

  “I’m hoping I can confirm one way or the other sometime today.”

  “Well, call me back when you know.”

  I hung up without saying good-bye. Maybe I’d get back to him when I knew, maybe I wouldn’t. In a way, I was hoping Troy would be more supportive. I didn’t understand it: Troy could lie down with me in a bedroom, but couldn’t stand up, be a man, and take care of his responsibility. One thing was for sure: I wasn’t about to abort my baby.

  Later that morning, Sebastian and I found ourselves at a Planned Parenthood office in Gwinnett County, Georgia. It meant a lot, having his support. We clutched hands in the waiting area. He kept smiling as if everything was going to be all right.

  “You didn’t have to come,” I told him as we sat in the lobby awaiting the results of my pregnancy test.

  “True friends don’t abandon each other,” he said. He took my sweaty hand. “Can I pray for you?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

  He closed his eyes. “Heavenly Father, I come to You right now, asking forgiveness for past sins. Comfort Christian and let her know You love her.”

  I was comforted by Sebastian’s prayer and presence. I got up and thumbed through magazines I had no interest in. The wait for my results seemed endless.

  Chapter 6

  Explosion

  I walked heavily back into the waiting room with a look of despair written on my face. Sebastian got up from the chair and placed his arms snugly around me.

  “It’ll be okay,” he told me. “You’ll get through this.”

  I punched him in the chest lightly and smiled. “I’m just kidding. I’m not pregnant!”

  He swung me around. “I’m gonna get you for that,” he joked.

  I clasped my hands together and looked up toward the glaring light in the ceiling. “Thank You, Lord!”

  I had to set up an appointment with the gynecologist to find out what was going on with my body. The doctor thought I’d probably had light spotting that month or the stress made me miss it completely. Either way, I needed to have a full exam
to assess the problem. His advice went in one ear and out the other. I wasn’t pregnant. Seeing another doctor could wait.

  Sebastian smiled. “So, are you really acknowledging that God has forgiven you?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “Maybe.”

  During the forty-minute drive back to the hotel, we listened to Sebastian’s gospel CDs. The lyrics spoke to my heart. Something was happening to me. It was like I was hearing a faint call, and it was growing louder and louder. I couldn’t ignore it much longer.

  When we arrived in front of the hotel, Sebastian placed a gentle hand on my cheek. “I’m glad things worked out—I hope you’ll be smarter next time. Don’t put yourself in a situation that could lead you back to that.”

  Being such a sensitive subject, I wanted to tell him not to tell me what to do. But I just smiled, nodded, and thanked him for his great friendship. I didn’t want that moment to end, but I had to get back to work and he had campaigning to do.

  Sebastian opened the car door and I stood between his arms.

  “I really enjoy spending time with you,” he said.

  “Me, too,” I replied nervously. At that moment, I tried to be mature and confident, but my stomach was doing somersaults! He was standing so close to me, I couldn’t help but be nervous.

  He leaned in to kiss me. It was gentle and romantic.

  “I’ll check on you soon,” he said as he handed me my bag.

  I received a message from the front desk of the hotel where I was staying as soon as I entered. The clerk stopped me and mentioned that there was an emergency message for me—my mother wanted me to call her and let her know if I was going to come home for my birthday, Christmas Day. I’d be sure to call her that night. Right now, I had to head upstairs and pack. Sebastian and I were heading back in about an hour.

  The drive home was incredibly relaxing. Sebastian and I talked the entire way about everything imaginable: goals, dreams, fears, life’s purpose. I had enjoyed my weekend off with Sebastian Stokes, but now it was Monday and time to get back to work.

  The next week was passing quickly. My assignment was to protect Sebastian’s parents, but I didn’t see him all week. I asked my Detail leader, Agent Moss, if I could get time off, but he denied my request. The Stokes family was planning a big Christmas Eve dinner, and all agents were required to be on duty. With it being only a week until my birthday, I made a mental note to call my mom soon.

  The following day, when I entered the Stokeses’ living room to perform security check, I saw a beautiful, seven-foot Christmas tree decorated with strands of tiny purple and gold plastic grapes, gold tinsel, purple and gold bulbs, and a heavenly black angel perched on top.

  The room had a large fireplace, red plush leather furniture, Tiffany lamps, an original Picasso displayed over the mantel, and African masks and African artwork displayed on the shelves and walls. This wasn’t the first time I had seen this room, but it was the first time I’d actually enjoyed and appreciated it. How did I miss this the first time around? I needed to take more time to smell the roses. The last thing I wanted was to become too caught up in my job.

  On Christmas Eve, the smell of fresh cinnamon permeated the house. Christmas music played softly, and assistants scurried about, adding finishing touches before the guests arrived.

  I had never seen so many garlands in my life. Every pole in the house was wrapped with thick boughs of holly and tiny, twinkling lights. A beautiful cranberry-colored poinsettia sat on every step of every staircase throughout the house. I couldn’t help but wonder how much they’d spent to make the house so festive.

  That Saturday night, I noticed an eighteen-foot Christmas tree in the foyer, covered in white lights and gold and silver balls. After leaving the tree, I noticed Mrs. Stokes sashaying down the grand winding staircase, wearing a silk, form-fitting, designer sterling-silver gown. Her sandy hair bounced up and down as she proceeded down the stairs, spiral curls caressing her shoulders with every move. She stopped halfway down and looked around. Finding no one but me in the room, she asked, “How do I look?”

  Before I could tell her that she looked fabulous, she said, “Why am I asking you? You don’t know anything about fashion.” And she trotted off toward the dining room.

  I looked down at the tuxedo-style pants suit I had to wear. Among all the holiday finery, my black slacks and jazzy jacket, white shirt, and pointy-toed black shoes seemed to fit in nicely. My new uniform was plain but I could work it out.

  Swallowing my enjoyment of my new gig, I made sure I kept with Secret Service protocol and erased any trace of a smile from my face. Then I briskly headed to Agent Moss, who was standing in the hallway. “What are my instructions for the evening, sir?”

  “You’ll be posted on the inside door of the dining room,” he responded.

  Not wanting to subject myself to more of Mrs. Stokes’s snooty attitude, I said, “Sir, are there any posts available outside?”

  He curled his lip. “Pitts is already stationed in the van. You’ll blend in here more than the others, so I’m keeping them on the perimeter.”

  I had no authority to ask him to change my position. Even if I had, it probably wouldn’t have done any good.

  I stationed myself in a quiet corner just inside the door of the dining room. Sparkling crystal water and wine glasses and sterling silverware sat alongside elegant china plates and red-and-white linen napkins. The main table was set for twenty people; seven smaller tables surrounded it, all decorated with equal elegance. The huge dining room could accommodate about seventy-five people, so the eight tables didn’t make the room seem at all crowded. I stared straight ahead, surveying the entire room, including the entrance to the kitchen.

  This event was almost as big as the first Stokes affair I had attended. This party served as a double hit: familial and political. While many of the Stokes family members were present, there were also many prominent guests: the Honorable Judge Wesley Johnson, Bishop Fred Thompson, the Adams family, and the Deschazer family, just to name a few. The guests started to arrive, the men in tuxedos and Gators and the women in long gowns and diamonds. It wasn’t long before they exchanged small talk that primarily consisted of gossip about various political figures. They spoke in front of me as if I were invisible. For the most part, I ignored their prattle. After about twenty minutes or so, I decided to listen in.

  My ears perked up, however, when I overheard one woman tell another that she’d heard Reverend Stokes was sleeping with his secretary. She’d heard he took the woman to out-of-town conferences. “His wife doesn’t have a clue,” she added with a sigh.

  I wondered if the gossip had any basis in fact, since I had been with Reverend Stokes for over a month and had not seen any indication of that. However, the ladies moved on before I heard any evidence one way or the other.

  As the guests continued to pour in, I noticed Sebastian’s twenty-two-year-old sister, Savannah, standing in the foyer. She was making sure she was presentable. She was dressed in a plain yet elegant black velvet dress. It was strapless, and fit her perfectly. A diamond choker, bracelet, and earrings made the outfit even more appealing. Her hair was pinned in a low bun, which showed off her big brown eyes and flawless skin.

  Savannah sauntered over to Mrs. Stokes and asked, “Mother, what kind of man would be acceptable for me to date?”

  Without hesitation, Mrs. Stokes replied, “Double degrees, wealthy family, world traveled, an entrepreneur, childless, never married, and a member of several prestigious organizations.”

  I found it interesting that Mrs. Stokes said nothing about the guy being a Christian.

  Savannah’s shoulders sagged like a deflated balloon as if she was highly disappointed in her mother’s response.

  “If you’d like male companionship, darling,” Mrs. Stokes added, “I can introduce you to several appropriate gentlemen.”

  “I’ll let you know,” Savannah said.

  “I wonder what’s keeping the meal,” Mrs. Stokes said. “
I must check with the chef.” Without a backward glance, she ambled toward the kitchen. Savannah disappeared upstairs.

  Steven Stokes Jr. and his wife, Mary Anne, entered the room. It was my first time seeing the duo in person. Steven was very handsome: fair skinned, brown-eyed, and charismatic. He cordially greeted every guest he encountered. He was wearing a custom-made tuxedo that fit his lean body well. Mary Anne, in her long, pale-blue gown with a split up the left leg, just tagged along, seemingly happy. They made a handsome couple.

  “I just don’t understand why you’re lying to me,” she said under her breath, and practically under my nose. “You didn’t have a business dinner and you were not working late in the office.”

  “You know I’m trying to help Sebastian with the campaign,” Steven Jr. said, looking around to see if anyone had heard them arguing.

  “Don’t you blame this on him,” Mary Anne said. “You know I’ll ask him. He’ll tell me the truth.”

  Steven Jr. shook his head and sighed. “Fine. You really want to know? I went out last night. There. Are you happy now?”

  She didn’t look a bit happy. “I can’t believe you’re still out there being wild.”

  “Well, you don’t give me none no more,” he seethed.

  “I’ll have nothing to do with someone who’s got HIV, you creep.”

  She stomped into the dining room and he stormed toward the back hallway.

  Moments later, the Reverend Steven Stokes strolled into the room, wearing a sleek black tuxedo. His handsome younger son sported a tux that looked like it was made just for him. Neither of the men looked my way. I felt like a piece of the wallpaper.

  “Campaign going well, son?” I heard Reverend Stokes ask.

  “Yes, sir,” Sebastian said. “I’m generating lots of interest.”

  “Well, stay active,” his father told him as they stopped near the doorway, just a few inches away from me. “Visit hospitals, nursing homes, and schools. Let people know you care.”