Who Said It Would Be Easy?

by Cheryl Faye

  The sun had broken through the clouds, but played hide and seek for the remainder of the afternoon. After a while, they retrieved their helmets and continued their stroll through the park. Further on, they stopped near the lake. Taking a seat on a bench overlooking the body of water centered in the park, they watched as people of all ages passed by in rowboats and paddle-boats. Their conversation continued with the same easy flow. They shared stories of their childhoods and the neighborhoods where they’d each grown up. Stefàn admitted he used to intentionally intimidate his younger sister’s male suitors, and Charisse revealed her own agitation regarding her older brothers’ overprotective tactics. They exchanged information about their likes and dislikes, hobbies and such and discovered they both

  had a fondness for fine clothes, fancy restaurants, music and traveling.

  There was a mutual comfort they felt conversing with one another and unlike Charisse, who was always outspoken, Stefàn found himself opening up to her in a manner he never did with a woman he didn’t know extremely well. He had to check himself because the desire to stop and stare at her in amazement overcame him several times that afternoon. The combination of her spirituality and candidness was intoxicating to him. Additionally, he found her to be incredibly sexy. The jeans she wore were molded to her curvaceous frame although she had plenty of room in them. Her tank top was loose fitting, but did nothing to cover her natural shape. With her denim jacket tied casually around her waist, she seemed almost juvenile, even tomboyish, but cute as she wanted to be. Her white Nikes added a slight spring to her step. When she had removed her helmet after they arrived at the park, she had run her fingers through her hair to fluff it, but hadn’t made a big deal about it the way some women might have. Yesterday, at the wedding, her face had been fully made up, but today, aside from a neutral shade of lip color, she was makeup free. Stefàn was trying to decide if he liked her better with or without the makeup. Either way, he reasoned, she was beautiful—inside and out.

  It was close to four-thirty and they had just about circled the park and were coming back toward the playground where they had been seated to eat their ice cream when the first drop fell on them.

  “Was that rain I felt?” Charisse asked as she held her free hand out.

  “I think it was,” Stefàn replied as several big drops began to fall on them.

  The sun was peeking through the clouds overhead, but the flow persisted.

  “I didn’t hear anything about rain in the forecast today,” Charisse said.

  “Neither did I.”

  As they picked up their pace, Charisse asked Stefàn, “Do you ever ride in the rain?”

  “If I get caught in it like this.”

  “Race you back to the parking lot,” Charisse then challenged. “Last one there’s a rotten egg.”

  “What?” He thought he was hearing things.

  “Race you back.”

  Stefàn laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  “Oh, what? You scared?” she taunted.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. Are you scared?” she asked again.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “So let’s do it. Last one back is a rotten egg,” and with that she took off running, untying the jacket from her waist with one hand and carrying the helmet in her other hand.

  Stefàn was taken aback and was slow to follow her, but he soon recovered and started after her. Because of his longer legs and stride, he easily caught up to her, but she gave him a run for his money. Charisse was only inches behind him when he passed through the entrance of the parking lot.

  “I guess that would be you I’m smelling,” Stefàn haughtily stated as he stopped to catch his breath.

  “That’s all right. You won this one. I had too much stuff in my hands, anyway.”

  Holding up his helmet and jacket, he said, “Don’t make excuses, lady.”

  “Your legs are longer than mine. That’s the only reason you won,” Charisse said.

  “Where’d you learn to run like that, anyway?” he asked.

  Charisse laughed through her rapid breathing. “I was a sprinter in high school and college.”

  “Oh, so you’re a cheater. See, you didn’t tell me that.”

  “I can’t give away all of my secrets,” she said with a big smile.

  “If I had known I was going to be racing you, I would have worn the proper foot gear.” Stefàn had on the black boots he always wore when he rode his motorcycle.

  “Boy, it’s really coming down,” Charisse said as she put her arms in her jacket.

  Stefàn followed suit. “Put your helmet on,” he told her as they hurried toward his bike. “I have a poncho in the storage compartment on the bike.” Retrieving it, he unfolded the large plastic covering and proceeded to put it on her.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “I’ll be all right.”

  “You don’t think we could both fit in here?” The poncho hung on her almost to the ground.

  He smiled and said, “That’s a nice idea, but I don’t think so.”

  Blushing, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “I know. I’m teasing you.”

  “Is it safe to ride in the rain?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah. I have good tread on my tires. Besides, I’m going to stay on the streets. I’m not going to get back on the highway.”

  “I can’t believe the sun is still shining.”

  “Yeah, right. It probably won’t rain too much longer,” Stefàn replied.

  He wiped down the seat of his motorcycle, then helped Charisse mount it. He climbed on immediately and started the engine.

  Turning back to her, he asked, “You okay?”

  “Oh yeah. I’m good to go now,” she answered easily.

  “Glad to hear it.”

  They took off without further comment. After riding about fifteen blocks from the park, they realized they’d driven right out of the shower. Stefàn drove a few yards further, then pulled the bike over.

  “It looks like it didn’t even rain here,” Charisse noticed.

  “Yeah, how about that. You want to take that off?”

  “Okay.” They both climbed off the bike and Stefàn helped her pull the poncho over her head.

  After shaking it out, he folded it down to a six inch bundle and replaced it in his saddle bag.

  “Are you soaked through?” she asked with concern.

  “It’s all right. I won’t melt right away,” he answered with a smile.

  “Since it’s stopped raining, do you want to take the highway now?” Charisse asked.

  “No, I’m in no hurry,” he answered. “Unless you are.”

  “Oh no, I’m not.”

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “You want to stop and get something to eat?”

  “No, thanks. I have some work at home that I have to do before it gets too late. There’s a movie coming on tonight that I want to see.”

  “Okay,” he said, making every effort to hide his disappointment. He didn’t want this time with her to end.

  Climbing back on the bike, they resumed their ride.

  Reflecting on the day’s events during the return trip, Charisse surmised that despite her earlier trepidation, it had been a perfect day. In addition to loving the experience of riding a motorcycle and being close to him, she had utterly enjoyed their conversation and appreciated his openness. Her attraction to him yesterday, as much as she’d tried to fight it and ignore it, had grown due to their time together today. She sensed he seldom let his guard down, but felt he had revealed more about himself to her that afternoon than he normally would have to anyone he barely knew. She was glad he felt so comfortable with her because she was quite at ease with their rapport. Those few hours had given her a new perspective of Stefàn Cooper. He was a genuinely sweet man and she got the impression he was probably a lot more sensitive than he cared to admit.

  When all was said and done, she admitted her intrigue: she w
anted to know more about him. In order to do that, however, she would have to change her mind once more because now she wanted them to be friends.

  AS THEY RODE THE STREETS OF THE TOWNS they passed through, Stefàn’s thoughts were very similar to Charisse’s. What a perfect day it turned out to be.

  He was tripping, though, on the conversation they’d had during their stay at the park. He was surprised at how open he had been with her, but found he could be no other way in the face of her unabashed honesty. How I’d love to make love to her. With her confession earlier about her decision to abstain from physical intimacy until she was married, he realized his desire was in vain. His body hardened, nevertheless, at the mere thought of laying with her. At this particular time, there was nothing more uncomfortable, but Charisse had awakened something in him by giving him a peek into her heart. There was no doubt he enjoyed the time he normally spent with his lady friends, but Charisse was so much more enchanting. Her spirituality—her faith—actually enhanced his affection. Truth be told, although her physical persona was sexually appealing, it was her inner beauty that really bowled him over.

  She would never be counted among his harem, though. Charisse was far too extraordinary for that. He realized suddenly that he had enormous respect for her; more than he had for any woman, next to his mother and sister.

  That train of thought brought to mind, for the first time in years, his one and only love, Janine, and he was briefly saddened when recalling that painful time. It was his selfishness that had pushed that beautiful lady out of his life. He had been an immature man-child then, but he couldn’t use that excuse anymore. His eyes wide open and his senses awakened, he now knew the value of a good woman’s love and he had vowed to never squander or take such a precious gift for granted ever again.

  Love. That was an emotion he hadn’t felt, used or connected to any of the women who’d been in his life in well over ten years. Why now? I don’t even know her. But he wanted to. He wanted to know everything about her—what made her laugh so he could tell her jokes; what made her cry so he could comfort her with a loving embrace; what were the things that frightened her so he could protect and shield her with his strength. He wanted to know what she looked like when she was asleep, and what she looked like first thing in the morning.

  As quickly as the vulnerability of his soul involuntarily emerged, the cold waters of reality washed over him. Whoa! Slow your roll, dude! You’re sounding soft. You already know she’s not going to put up with your player ways. But I can feel how she’s grooving on me. Why would she be holding me this way, if not? Stefàn knew she was no longer nervous about being on the bike with him and he had expected her hold to relax or loosen as a result of that. But the opposite was true. Not that she was holding him tightly; no, that wasn’t it at all. Her hold was possessive. Charisse’s arms were wrapped around him in such a way as to make him feel like she had already claimed him as hers. Funny thing was, he was perfectly okay with that. Stefàn could feel the impression of her very feminine physique against his back and the sensation did nothing to calm his already heightened libido. But what he was experiencing was not entirely inspired by lust.

  Stefàn wrestled with himself for the remainder of the ride back to his house. Charisse would never agree to see him on a regular basis as long as he was seeing other women. But he wanted to see her—on a regular basis. At the same time, he was reluctant to relinquish his player card. He enjoyed living the single life; seeing different women whenever he wanted. But he felt an inexplicable urgency to be with Charisse.

  Stefàn had lived so much of his life driven by physical and material needs and desires that the deeper, more ethereal bond he felt with Charisse was strange to him. But it was exciting, exhilarating and enthralling, too. I could ride off into the sunset with her. That thought caused him to chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?” he heard her ask.

  Turning back briefly, he replied, “Nothing.”

  Yeah, I could see myself with her. Being with her now feels right.

  Fifteen minutes after those thoughts floated through his head, Stefàn turned the bike onto his block. Activating the automatic garage door opener when they were a couple of doors away, he drove right into the space beside his sedan. When he turned off the engine, he removed his helmet and stepped off the bike. Charisse removed her helmet as well, but momentarily stayed in her seat. They stared at one another for a few moments without saying a word.

  Finally, Charisse smiled. “This was a perfect day,” she said.

  Stefàn smiled as his heart fluttered off-beat. “I’m glad you enjoyed it so much.”

  “Oh, I really did. Thank you.”

  “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

  “Believe me,” she said, “it was my pleasure.”

  She moved to get off the bike.

  “So, are you thinking about taking bike lessons, now?” he asked.

  Laughing, she replied, “No, I like riding shotgun better.”

  It was his turn to laugh.

  “Will you take me out again sometime?” she asked shyly.

  “No doubt,” he easily responded.

  When Charisse stepped away from the bike, Stefàn moved over and leaned against it. He folded his arms across his chest.

  “Well, I’d better start home.” She reached into her fanny pack and removed her car keys. “Oh, here’s your helmet,” she said as she handed it to him.

  “You keep it. I bought it for you.”

  Charisse blushed as her heart fluttered. “Thank you.”

  After an awkward few seconds of silence, Charisse said, “Well, I’ll talk to you soon.”

  Stefàn nodded his head.

  As she started out of his garage, he wondered, Will she call me? I hope so. She’s so beautiful. Do I want to take the chance that she won’t call? I have her cell number on the caller ID box. What if she doesn’t want me to call her, though? Only one way to find out. Deciding not to leave his fate to the mercy of the four winds, he spoke her name. “Charisse.”

  She was at the door when she turned back to him. “Yes?”

  Gazing at her hopefully for a few seconds, he took a deep breath and asked, “Can I call you?”

  She’d figured he would ask this of her before the day was over. God, I need a sign.

  Stefàn saw her contemplating his request and hoped she would not turn him down.

  “I need to ask you a favor,” she suddenly said.

  “Sure.”

  “You have to promise me something.”

  His arms fell to his side and a frown creased his brow briefly before he asked, “What?”

  Taking a few steps toward him, she asked, “Will you promise to never lie to me?”

  Paralyzed for a moment by the honesty and sheer simplicity of her request, he realized that was the last thing he had expected her to ask of him. When he thought about it though, he had to acknowledge that he had been honest with her from the start and it had been effortless, as if she were already his best friend. Something about her made him want to tell her nothing but the truth. “Yes,” he finally said.

  “Say it.”

  “I promise to never lie to you, Charisse,” he said softly.

  Stepping closer still, she looked up into his eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Will you promise me the same?” he then asked her.

  Holding his gaze, she responded, “Yes.” Reaching into her fanny pack, she removed her wallet. Taking one of her business cards from it, she proceeded to write her home number on the back. Stefàn, studying her cocoa brown countenance as she did this, felt warmth permeate his being as he took in her beauty.

  When she handed him the card, he breathed, “Thank you.”

  Directing a tender smile his way, Charisse took his hand and squeezed it ever-so-gently. Then she turned and walked away.

  Stefàn’s eyes followed her fluidity as she slowly strutted to her car, got in, started the engine and pulled off. Unable to move from his spot, he stood the
re, delightfully dazed. When she was no longer in sight, he looked down at the card in his hand.

  “Charisse Marie Ellison,” he reverently muttered, then smiled, shook his head and walked into his house.

  CHAPTER 6

  A REASON, A SEASON OR A LIFETIME?

  As part of Charisse’s efforts to grow in her faith, she had begun journaling. She didn’t write in it every day; usually only when something significant happened. That evening when she arrived back at her townhouse, she headed straight to her bedroom and started writing.

  July 17th

  All praise and glory to God through our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Thank You, God, for another day of Your awesome grace and tender mercies.

  I spent the most enjoyable afternoon with an amazing man. Stefàn Cooper.

  Recounting her feelings upon their meeting, then their conversation that morning when she got out of church, she also wrote about their day together and how her earlier feelings had changed dramatically by the time Stefàn rode them back to his house.

  She ended the entry with a query.

  God, why did You bring us together? What are Your plans for us? I pray that You will reveal Your plans for us. If I continue to look to You for guidance, Your plans will be made clear. I don’t mean to be impatient, but he makes my heart flutter. I wanted to kiss him today when we parted.

  I need to calm down, but he excites me.

  GET A GRIP, CHARISSE.

  Lord, help me, please.

  LATER THAT EVENING, Charisse was stepping out of the shower when her telephone rang. Wrapping a towel around her still-wet body, she hurried into her bedroom to get the call before her answering machine clicked into action.

  “Hello!”

  “Oh, I was about to hang up,” Myra said on the other end.

  “I just got out the shower.”

  “Did you go riding with him?”

  “Yeah, but not where we originally planned to go.”

  “What do you mean?” Myra asked.

  “After I dropped you off last night, I was thinking about what you and Mommy were saying about him, and I decided not to go.”