Talk to Me (A Love Story in Any Language)

by Pat Simmons

  “You’re interrupting before I have started, baby.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I was angry when I walked out your house that day. I was mad that the devil got into the mix right after we left such an exhilarating church service. I was also devastated that you, my baby, and the woman I asked to marry, questioned my walk with God.”

  Noel dropped his head, lost in his thoughts. During his intermission, voices competed for my attention. Briefly, I squinted behind Noel’s back, bringing into focus men who were playing football. When Noel lifted his head and hands, I snapped back and gave him my attention.

  “After our fight, I drove aimlessly around and almost got myself killed a couple of times driving like you.”

  I rolled my eyes and refused to take his bait.

  “Mackenzie, the first thing I did when I got home was fall on my knees and talk to God. By the time I opened my eyes, it was dark, my clothes were wrinkled, and my stomach muscles ached. Mackenzie, I pleaded with God for you not to lose faith in me, in us.”

  This man really loves me. I knew it months ago, but the intensity of his expressions confirmed or re-affirmed what my heart refused to doubt all summer.

  “Baby, don’t ever doubt my relationship with God. To a person who has always heard, it seems like the most logical thing for a Deaf person to want to hear, but that’s not always God’s will. I had been deaf for about a year when God’s voice echoed in my mind. He said that things that happen in my life—good or bad—are for His works to be manifest. John 9 confirmed what God told me.”

  Reaching for my hands, Noel squeezed them. Without breaking eye contact, he guided my hands to his mouth. The hair from his mustache tickled them, sending shivers down my spine, then he placed soft pecks on my fingers.

  “I don’t need a revival, or healing service for God to manifest His Works. God is God and will do as He pleases, sometimes with witnesses, sometimes without, but when He speaks to me, I’ll hear His voice again. I’ll admit you had me doubting myself for a minute. I petitioned God, seeking confirmation that I hadn’t missed my opportunity for His blessing. You were disappointed in me, I was disappointed with you, and God was disappointed.”

  I thought I knew Noel, but I really didn’t. Before me was a man who had unshakeable faith in God until I played his hand, having him to question God.

  “To regain God’s favor, I went on a forty day consecration and periodically fasted. I studied my Word like never before, and stepped up my prayer life. I ate one meal a day. During that time, I needed to hear what God was telling me, but…”He grinned as his eyes flashed his admiration “as soon as day forty was over, I was hungry to see you.”

  What woman wouldn’t have blushed, including me? God, we need to get to the altar—quick. This man was stirring up all the gifts You gave me.

  “When I asked Valerie your whereabouts, she was tight-lipped. Of course, they were loose when it came to making assumptions, and spreading tales as if she had all the facts. I wanted to strangle her, but God led me to go talk to the pastor. By the time I met with him, he informed me I wasn’t the only one. Are you upset about that?”

  I shook my head no.

  He smiled. “Then I panicked because I had no idea what she told you. My text messages—all twenty-three of them—went unanswered. Desperate, I contacted your father through video conferencing. That was a disaster. Again, I sought the Lord. He instructed me to go forward with our wedding plans, according to your specifications and become more aggressive in witnessing to my friend, Lana.

  “At the same time, she met a Christian guy, David, through the Internet, and after three months, he proposed. Because David was a God-fearing Christian, she was determined to get saved, so she repented, then received the water and Holy Ghost fire baptism.

  Praise God, I thought, but didn’t interrupt as I had promised Noel.

  “Sometimes, Lana has beaten me to church and was sitting in the pew waiting for me. Of course, Pastor Coleman wouldn’t marry her without those two marital sessions with him. While she was in utopia, I was afraid I’d lost you. I had to trust what God had told me. My summer was pure agony while you were vacationing in Chicago. Now you can speak, sign, or forever hold your peace concerning my hearing.”

  “I love you.”

  “Good response.”

  Noel Richardson ALWAYS gets his woman

  EPILOGUE

  Two days after Thanksgiving at six-thirty in the evening, I, Noel Richardson, fell in love again. It was swift and irrevocable.

  As I stared into the brown eyes God carefully placed into her alluring face, I had to admit she was the reason I seemed to lose all common sense whenever I was in her presence.

  Yes, I had succumbed to Mackenzie’s charm, and as her new husband-to-be, I planned to savor all our sweet moments.

  Less than an hour earlier, my evening was a blur. Not because of the day’s activities, but because candle lights danced throughout the sanctuary.

  Our flower girls, the Campbell sisters, were in sync without the sound of music as they began the processional, sprinkling rose petals onto the runner. They wore identical smiles, purple velvet dresses, and baby’s breath in their spiral curls.

  Daphne and Keisha had rebelled when they learned I had proposed. The pair refused to sit with me for three Sundays. They got over it when Mackenzie returned from Chicago. I think they were happier to see Valerie go than for Mackenzie’s return.

  Eventually, offering their services to become flower girls in our wedding on one condition—if they could take pictures with me on the wedding day without the bride.

  I smirked at the memories that disappeared once Daphne and Keisha made it to the altar. I frowned as I turned to my left. Women—Mackenzie had a scheme up her own sleeve, a deadly weapon—Moses. He was our ring bearer, and Moses wasn’t too happy about me taking away his heartthrob.

  I swallowed hard as the center doors opened. The African-American version of my Cinderella entered the sanctuary, floating to me with a smile gleaming, a contrast to her father’s blank expression.

  I stopped counting the number of times he slammed the door in my face when I showed up at his house. Every time he opened it, I hadn’t moved. His last words were, “I’m not welcoming you into the family, so I won’t have to say goodbye when my daughter kicks you out.”

  After that statement, he grinned so wide, I’m sure I saw his wisdom teeth. Today, I had a smile of my own. God had the final word.

  The gift God gave me stopped less than a foot in front of me. Mackenzie searched my eyes, looking for the love I had promised her. When Pierce nudged me, I remembered I was in the presence of guests. The soon-to-be Mrs. Rhoda Wilkerson freed Mackenzie’s arms of her bouquet.

  Then eloquently, Mackenzie lifted her hands and began to sign as Pastor Coleman asked me to recite my vows. When her hands stopped in mid-air, I knew it was my turn.

  Speaking, I also signed. “Mackenzie, I love you. I’ll never take my eyes off you. As I sleep, your face will fill my dreams. I will honor you, protect, and give you my body and soul. I promise to be faithful even though you’re a handful.” I chuckled as a tear escaped, blemishing her made-up eyes. “I will always hear your words before I see them,” I said proudly.

  Holding my face between her hands, Mackenzie stepped closer. “Noel, you’re a praying man, and you’ve taught me so much. I’m so blessed to know that God created you just for me. You’re perfect in every way.”

  “I’ll never question that again,” she signed to me only.

  “I promise to honor you as my husband, love you as my boyfriend, cherish your presence in my life, and obey you as the head God meant for you to be. I love you, Noel.”

  My own eyes misted, but I refused to be a wimp and let one drop fall. Following the pastor’s instructions, she signed for the ring. Turning around, Pierce discreetly wrestled with Moses, finally plucking Mackenzie’s wedding ring from the pillow.

  Once I slipped Mackenzie’s ring on her third finger
, I couldn’t release it. When she leaned forward to kiss me, I knew Pastor Coleman had pronounced us husband and wife. A tear revolted and escaped anyway, once I digested the realization that Mackenzie was now mine, and I was hers.

  With our fingers intertwined, we turned and faced the audience. Instead of clapping, our guests lifted their hands and wiggled their fingers in applause.

  Now hours after our reception, sequestered in our plush honeymoon suite, I gazed at my wife. She was a titillating vision adorned in a shear white robe. Underneath, satin and lace beckoned to me.

  Standing less than a foot away with her arms stretched, the temptress was issuing her invitation. She wasn’t fazed about the grotesque scar across my chest. She said she would kiss and make it better. Hmm, I think it does hurt a little.

  “This is our moment, Noel.”

  “God, help me to live through it.” I reminded myself to breathe. This is what Mackenzie had promised me—our dance. I had recalled all the songs I heard prior to my deafness, but at sixteen what would I consider a romantic slow song?

  Becoming impatient, Mackenzie folded her arms and lifted that brow of hers. “I’m waiting.”

  Accepting my wife’s invitation, I moved closer. She eyed me expectantly. “I love you, but right now, looking at you, I can’t think straight, and I’m trying. There’s only one song that keeps coming to mind.”

  “Let’s hear it.” Reaching up, her sweet smelling hands dragged my face closer to hers. I forced myself to look at her lips. “I’ll dance to whatever tune you hear. Go for it, babe.”

  With her permission granted, I did as she instructed. Stepping back, I flexed my biceps before lifting my fist in the air. She wasn’t the only tease. As my muscles shook my black-satin boxers covered hips, I rubbed my thumb against my finger in a snapping motion.

  Mackenzie stepped back, bewildered.

  I opened my mouth, and let the lyrics from “Stayin’ Alive” spill out. Mackenzie’s eyes sparkled with amusement. Mimicking my pose, we danced around our bridal suite. It might have been John Travolta’s song, but God gave me the dance and the testimony that I was indeed alive.

  Plus, I rejoiced because I knew I was going to get my woman. After all, this was my story, and I believe in happy endings. Oh, one other thing, we did dance the night away. That’s all you need to know!

  BOOK CLUB DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  1. How would you feel if your church started a Deaf Ministry?

  2. What do you think about Noel’s opinion that he wouldn’t be healed unless God spoke the word and it had nothing to do with his faith? Why or why not?

  3. Noel didn’t seem to be jealous of healing. Can you say the same when God does something for one person, but not others?

  4. Do you know any Valeries in your church? What was her main problem?

  5. Would you befriend someone like that?

  6. Should Valerie have been reported to the pastor for stirring up confusion?

  7. How would you have handled the situation if God told you to pack your friend’s bags and ask her to leave?

  8. God gave Noel instruction concerning Valerie. Why did he wait?

  9. Why did it seem that Noel and Mackenzie argued before or right after church?

  10. Can you relate to the discord in your household on Sundays?

  Dedicated to Ben Jeffery Simmons—Deaf since birth. Love Ya!

  And my grandmother Jessie Wade Atkins—your memory lives on.

  Special thanks to

  The village people—Chandra, Nicole, and AJ; Lisa—you know I wasn’t really crying stress tears, Tina hold off packing up the kids and the car.

  Thanks to Bishop Johnson’s January 9, 2008 Bible class for giving me a better understanding of consequences.

  Thanks to The Rep Theatre and the Goodman Theatre in Chicago, and actress L’Oreal Jackson.

  The National Deaf Black Advocates.

  Thanks to my husband for putting up with my writing schedule. I can see him smiling now and saying, whew, I’m glad that’s over!

  Jared for the touch down.

  Alicia thanks for the stories I couldn’t make up.

  Thanks to my friends at news-mart. Your support is humbling.

  Rhoda Brownlee and William Wilkerson actually lived in the mid-1800s. They were my great-grandparents. Read more about them and take a look at their pictures on my website www.patsimmons.net.

  Your comments are encouraging and a blessing. Please drop me a note:

  authorpatsimmons@gmail.com or

  P.O. Box 1077

  Florissant, MO 63031

  ASL AMERICAN SIGN LANGUAGE

  Copyright © 1998 Center for Disability Information & Referral (CeDIR)

  About the Author

  Pat Simmons is a self-proclaimed genealogy sleuth. She is passionate about researching her ancestors, then casting them in starring roles in her novels, in hopes of tracking down distant relatives who happen to pick up her books. She has been a genealogy enthusiast since her great-grandmother died at the young age of ninety-seven in 1988.

  Pat describes the evidence of the gift of the Holy Ghost as an amazing, unforgettable, life-altering experience. She believes God is the Author who advances the stories she writes.

  Pat has a B.S. in mass communications from Emerson College in Boston, Massachusetts. She has worked in various positions in radio, television, and print media for more than twenty years. Currently, she oversees the media publicity for the annual RT Booklovers Conventions.

  She is the multi-published author of several single titles and eBook novellas, including the #1 best seller in God’s Word, A Christian Christmas. Her awards include Talk to Me, ranked #14 of Top Books in 2008 that Changed Lives by Black Pearls Magazine. She is a two-time recipient of the Romance Slam Jam Emma Rodgers Award for Best Inspirational Romance for Still Guilty (2010) and Crowning Glory (2011). Her bestselling novels include Guilty of Love and the Jamieson Legacy series: Guilty by Association, The Guilt Trip, and Free from Guilt. The Acquittal kicked off her new Guilty Parties series. Given the success of the Jamieson men, Pat is elated to introduce the Carmen Sisters series: No Easy Catch, book one, followed by In Defense of Love, book two, published by Whitaker House.

  In addition to researching her roots and sewing, she has been a featured speaker and workshop presenter at various venues across the country.

  Pat has converted her sofa-strapped, sports fanatic husband into an amateur travel agent, untrained bodyguard, GPS-guided chauffeur, and constantly on probation as an administrative assistant. They have a son and a daughter.

  Readers may learn more about Pat and her books by visiting www.patsimmons.net, Twitter, Facebook and LinkedIn or by contacting her at authorpatsimmons@gmail.com.