Who Said It Would Be Easy?

by Cheryl Faye

  Stefàn listened intently as the speaker outlined the diverse ways God speaks to His people. Pastor Young also made plain the multitudinous manners of avoidance we use to bypass God’s explicit commands.

  When his sermon was over, Charisse noticed that there were tears streaming down Stefàn’s face. She reached over and took his hand, then bowed her head and silently prayed that he might be comforted in the knowledge that whatever load was laying heavy on his heart, God could lighten it.

  When Pastor Young offered the congregants an opportunity to answer God’s call and become a part of the fellowship of First Baptist, Charisse felt Stefàn pull his hand from her grasp. Opening her eyes, she found his gaze fixed on her.

  “He’s calling me, Risi.” With that, he rose from his seat and made his way down the aisle to the waiting deacons.

  When he rose during that Sunday’s invitational, her resounding joy was second only to what she felt by knowing Christ for herself. His baptism took place two weeks before Christmas.

  Having developed a relationship with Charisse’s family from the start through his honesty, sense of humor, and devotion to Charisse, Stefàn was always very relaxed in their presence. As was his way, Stefàn had easily charmed Barbara Ellison, but when he learned that she frequently baked his favorite dessert, German chocolate cake, he was smitten.

  When Charisse met Stefàn’s parents and siblings, she was welcomed into his family with open arms. It had been so long since Stefàn had brought a woman home for his parents to meet that they knew, despite his having already told them, that Charisse was “the one.” Damaris Cooper noted the way Stefàn gazed at Charisse when she wasn’t looking or when she was in conversation with someone else. Mike noticed the way his son spoke her name. Devin teased Stefàn mercilessly. “Whatever happened to, ‘I ain’t never gettin’ married! I got too many females wanna sample this.’ I remember you saying that to me; wasn’t that long ago either.”

  Stefàn’s response was a shrug. “Yeah, but I hadn’t met Charisse yet.”

  Nikki and Charisse hit it off right away. After realizing they had very similar taste in clothing, they made plans to go shopping together.

  Upon becoming a member of the church, Stefàn became active in the church’s ministries. Two that he immediately joined were the Junior Basketball League and Upward and Onward, a ministry dedicated to preparing young people for corporate America. Being the avid sports enthusiast he was, as well as an excellent basketball player, Stefàn was eager to participate in the League. Although, ideally, he would have preferred coaching the boys, he was assigned as assistant coach to the girls’ team. They took to him right away, too. Aside from all of the girls feeling he was the finest coach they’d ever had, he was extremely patient with them, and brought out talents in them they were not even aware they had.

  As a part of Upward and Onward, Stefàn brought his knowledge of business and real estate to the fold. Owning real estate, both as a resident and as a landlord, he was able to offer precious insight on the same. He also encouraged Charisse to participate in the ministry as her accounting skills would be invaluable in giving these young people a leg up on the business world.

  Following a conversation with one of the deacons where Stefàn had divulged his expertise in the martial arts, he was asked to lead a self-defense seminar that the church had been considering for some time.

  Outside of the church, Stefàn and Charisse spent countless hours together. Charisse began working out with Stefàn on a regular basis, whether it was at the health club they learned they were both members of, or in the alternative, Stefàn’s makeshift workout room. He taught her how to use free weights in her training and soon, visible signs of her efforts were evident. Already possessing a shapely physique, Charisse’s body now exhibited muscular definition not previously obvious.

  They both enjoyed the theater and eating out, so at every opportunity, they indulged their passion. Another activity they shared was shopping. Each of them loved fine clothing and spared no expense when purchasing their attire. Once they had learned each other’s clothing sizes, they never hesitated to buy a garment or accessory they admired for the other. They were essentially inseparable.

  True to his word, too, Stefàn never pressured Charisse to become intimate with him, regardless of how much he wanted to make love to her. On one occasion, however, Charisse had succumbed to her own physical yearnings.

  It was right after their first argument. When they had cleared the air and each had expressed what their respective issues had been during their somewhat heated exchange—looking to the Bible for guidance—they both acknowledged that in a different time in their lives, they would have handled it all very differently.

  After making up, they’d snuggled on Charisse’s sofa to watch a movie. Before long, they were kissing. Sensuous, singsong moans harmonized with spellbinding shivers of anticipation, as their kisses became deeper and hands began to roam and explore each other’s bodies. Soon, they were horizontal, with Charisse on top. Stefàn’s arousal was evident and Charisse could not pull herself away from the feeling of his hard body beneath hers. Quickly realizing that things were getting out of control as they neared a pleasurable brink they both wanted to cross, Stefàn pushed her away.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Sweetie, you have to get up.”

  Charisse groaned. “No, please, Stefàn.”

  “Honey, if you don’t get up, we might end up doing something you’ll regret later and I don’t want you to do that.”

  “But I want you,” she heatedly sighed and attempted to kiss him again.

  Turning away, he said, “I know, Risi, and I want you, too. You have no idea how much so. But not like this. We agreed we would wait, right?”

  She looked away from him and didn’t respond.

  “Right?” he repeated.

  “Right,” she grumbled.

  Assisting her, then sitting himself up in an uncompromising position, Stefàn placed his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “I love you, Charisse, and I so want to love you like that but think of how much better it will be if we wait. I know with everything that’s just happened….” Pausing briefly, he kissed her temple then continued. “I want our first time together to be as husband and wife. You mean that much to me.” Chuckling, he stated, “A few months ago, I would have been all for us getting busy, but I realize how very special making love with you will be and I can’t do it like I have in the past. Not with you, baby.”

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled sadly, feeling as if she had broken her vow.

  “Oh, sweetie, don’t apologize. I know how you feel; I feel the same way. The physical attraction between us has always been there, right from the start. But this is me, you don’t ever have to apologize for feeling the way you do. Believe me, I understand and God does, too.”

  “I love you so much, Stefàn.”

  Again, he softly kissed her temple and whispered, “And I love you, too, Risi, more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

  “Thank you for being so strong when I’m not.”

  “That’s what we have to be for each other. When I’m weak, you’re strong and you pull me through. It’s only fair that I should do the same for you.”

  That night, Charisse got on her knees and prayed for forgiveness, but she also thanked God for all that Stefàn had become in his life and hers.

  IN THE MONTHS PRECEDING THE HOLIDAY SEASON, several changes took place in the lives of Julian and Myra, as well.

  Julian ended his association with Robin for good when she betrayed his trust in an inexcusable manner.

  She had spent a particular Friday night in late September with Julian and they had tickets to see a play the following Saturday evening. Julian had earlier made plans to meet Stefàn and a couple of their friends at a nearby basketball court Saturday morning to play ball for a couple of hours. He had known Robin for so long that he trusted her to stay alone in his home until he returned.

  Wh
enever Julian went to the courts, he always carried a towel and a dry shirt to change into because he didn’t like sitting on the leather seats of his car in wet, sweaty clothing. He left his house that morning and had driven a third of the way to the park when he realized that he’d forgotten his towel and shirt. As such, he’d turned the car around and headed back. Opening the door to his house, he hadn’t bothered to close it since he would be turning around and leaving immediately. He could hear that the Bose radio in the living room was still tuned to the same station he’d been listening to in his car. Hurrying up the stairs to his bedroom, he’d been appalled to find Robin going through his dresser drawers, specifically one where he kept his financial records. She’d been so engrossed in reading his private papers that she hadn’t even heard him come in.

  “Find what you were looking for?” Julian quietly asked, despite the fact that he was seething at being violated in this manner.

  Startled beyond compare, Robin’s hands flew up and the papers she had been reading left her hands and fluttered to the floor. “Julian—” she began to explain.

  “Get out of my house,” Julian demanded in the same calm manner.

  “But, I was just—” she tried to tell him.

  “I don’t want to hear it. Just leave. Get your things and get out of my house. Don’t bother calling me either, ’cause there’s nothing you could ever tell me to explain this.”

  “But how am I supposed to get home?” Robin had asked.

  “You should have thought about that before you started rifling through my drawers.”

  With Robin completely out of the picture, Julian began devoting all of his time to Michele and L’il Jay. Instead of the occasional occurrence of attending Sunday services with Michele and their son, Julian began accompanying them each week. Often while L’il Jay was in the children’s Sunday school class, Julian and Michele would sit with Charisse and Stefàn during the service in the sanctuary.

  Always possessing an endless affection for Michele, Julian found himself really falling in love with her for the first time. He began to court her much like in the days before they were married. Julian, although having always been the more serious of the two when it came to love and relationships, admired Stefàn’s commitment to Charisse. While proud of the growth Stefàn had experienced in the past months and grateful to Charisse for inspiring it, Julian realized something more important. His own God-chosen woman had been in his life for years and he had not recognized it, nor was he doing what he should to insure she stayed there. That being the case, he set out to rectify that situation.

  Also during this time, Julian took a chance he had been dreaming about for several years and purchased a McDonald’s franchise in Piscataway, New Jersey. He had always wanted to go into business for himself and with encouragement from his best friend and hopefully future wife, Michele, he stepped out on faith and did it.

  FOR MYRA, ROMANCE CAME IN THE FORM of a “knight-in-shining-armor.”

  One Tuesday evening in October, as she walked from her salon on One Hundred and Eighty-third Street to the subway that would take her to Brooklyn and home, Myra was the victim of a purse snatcher.

  She seldom took the four-block walk to the subway by herself, especially after dark. She would usually take a cab or one of her workers would drop her off. Although the neighborhood was not one of the best in The Bronx, it would never be considered one of the worst either. On this particular night, Myra was the last to leave the salon because she had stayed behind to reconcile her books. She was meeting with Charisse, her accountant, the very next day; it was time to pay her quarterly taxes on her business.

  At a few minutes before ten, she started her walk and never considered that she might be in any danger. She’d grown up in this neighborhood, after all. Many of the residents were familiar to her from her childhood.

  Myra was a block and a half from the train station when she realized that she was being followed. She didn’t know where the person trailing her had come from and initially paid them little attention until she realized the distance between them had shortened. As her heart began to race with anxiety, Myra picked up her pace. When she passed in front of a large apartment building she briefly considered detouring into it, but was afraid she’d get caught without a way inside. Cursing her decision to wear a dress and heels to the salon that day, she longed for her sneakers and jeans.

  Deciding to cross the street despite the entrance to the subway being only a few yards ahead of her, as she moved to the curb, the thief ran up behind her, knocked her off balance, snatched her pocketbook and took off running. Falling hard, Myra skinned her knee and the heel of her left hand as she reached out to prevent any major damage. She cried out in anger and pain and struggled to control the tears she felt coming to her eyes.

  It seemed as if only seconds had passed before the man reached for her and asked, “Miss, are you all right?”

  Frightened by his sudden appearance, Myra recoiled in fear and cried, “Leave me alone!”

  “No, it’s okay. I got him. Here’s your purse.” Sure enough, in his hand was her pocketbook. She saw that the strap had been cut.

  It was then that she looked up into the man’s face. He was gorgeous. Suddenly, she was embarrassed. Instead of reaching for her pocketbook that he still held out to her, she tried to smooth her dress and get to her feet. He immediately offered his assistance.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded quickly and tried to stand before she realized that the heel of one of her shoes had broken off. Completely mortified, she began to cry.

  The man put his arms around her and tried to calm her. His touch was gentle and although he was a total stranger, Myra felt safe in his arms.

  “Where is he?” she moaned against his strong chest.

  “He’s not going anywhere. I saw him when he hit you, but he didn’t see me. He’s laid out. The cops are on their way.”

  Reluctantly pulling away from him, Myra noticed his jacket. “I got blood on you. I’m sorry.”

  Remembering her slight injuries, she looked first at her hand, then down at her knee; the pain began with her realization.

  “Don’t worry about it. Let me see.” He reached for her hand. Moving under the street light for a better view, he examined her wound. “It’s not too bad. Looks like it stings a bit though, huh?”

  She nodded.

  “You live around here?”

  “No, I live in Brooklyn. I was on my way to the train station.”

  “You’re a long way from home. What are you doing around here? I mean, if I’m not being too personal.”

  He again handed her pocketbook to her and this time she took it as she answered, “I own a hair salon a few blocks from here. I was on my way home.”

  Suddenly lights were flashing and the burp of a siren sounded as two police cars pulled up near where they were standing.

  The man she was standing with immediately presented a badge and called out, “He’s laid out between the van and the Lexus over there.”

  One officer came over to them and the three others headed in the direction he’d pointed. “What happened?” the officer asked.

  “He knocked her down and grabbed her purse,” he explained.

  “Who are you?”

  “Barretto Martinez, New York State Court Officer. I live up the street.”

  “Your name, Miss?”

  “Myra Lopez,” she shakily answered. “I have a salon a few blocks from here and was walking to the subway when he ran up behind me.”

  “Are you okay?” the officer asked.

  “Yeah, I guess,” she answered as she once again examined her hand.

  “We’ll need you to come to the station to give a statement.”

  “Okay.”

  “She needs some first aid,” Barretto firmly stated. “Do you have a kit in your car?”

  The cop looked as if he was offended by Barretto’s tone, but shrugged. “Yeah. Come have a seat in the squad car.”

&
nbsp; When she started limping toward the car, Barretto asked, “Do you have another pair of shoes in your shop?”

  “Yeah, but it’s three blocks away,” she moaned.

  “We’ll have them take you by there before we go to the station.”

  “You’re coming, too?”

  “Of course. They’re going to need a statement from me, too, since I knocked him out.”

  “What did you hit him with?”

  “I gave him a chop at his throat. Took the wind right out of him.”

  They were at the squad car and Barretto helped her into the back seat, although she sat with her legs out of the car. The policeman had a first aid kit in his hand, which Barretto promptly relieved him of. Without hesitation, he removed the needed equipment, squatted before her and skillfully began to clean the wound on Myra’s knee.

  “I never thanked you for what you did,” she suddenly said to him.

  He looked up at her with a smile. When he tenderly said, “De nada, preciosa,” Myra noticed for the first time, the deep, melodious timbre of his voice.

  She fell under his spell in that moment. He was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. His golden-honey beige face was without blemish and his kissable lips were surrounded by a soft peach-fuzz mustache and goatee. She guessed he stood about six feet tall and probably weighed about two hundred pounds. As he squatted before her, she could see the outline of his muscular thighs. His hands were large and strong, but gentle as he tended to her sore knee. His jet black hair was cut close but was naturally wavy. Deep set, chocolate brown eyes were hooded by thick, dark eyebrows and projected his strength and his tenderness.

  Barretto rode with her in the back of the police squad car, but sensing her nervousness refrained from conversation. However, he asked the officer driving to stop by her salon so she could change her shoes. When the officer started to balk, Barretto stated, “Come on, guy. Would you have your sister hobbling around with a broken shoe for the next couple of hours when she doesn’t have to? Her store is only a block or so out of the way.”

  Myra could tell the cop was tired of Barretto. His commanding personality, while irritating the officer, endeared her to him even more. The policeman made the requested detour. “Gracias,” Myra sweetly whispered to Barretto. His response was a wink.