Redeeming Heart

by Pat Simmons

  Rossi had been right. Octavia definitely ruled, because she was taking over his thoughts as he stared out of the empty room at the Tolliver office building. Rossi had a computer setup for Landon to use as his work space for employment searches and to make follow-up calls. Rossi went a step farther and gave Landon tasks: monitor and update Tolliver Design & Construction Company’s website. As if that wasn’t enough, Rossi’s assistant paid him out of the petty cash fund.

  Rossi’s business partner, Levi Tolliver, had welcomed him with a handshake. “If my cousin says you’re a good person, then you’re good. We’ll have lunch delivered before noon, so don’t be shy.”

  After creating business cards, Landon had busied himself with updating his résumé, using Rossi’s office address and an email for contacts.

  “Hey, I’m heading out early,” Rossi said, sticking his head into the small room. “I’ll give you a ride to Mac’s.”

  Standing, Landon stretched. He couldn’t believe it was after four. “Thanks.”

  During the short ride from the Metro East in Illinois across the bridge to downtown St. Louis, Rossi chatted about sports and his family. Landon kept his secrets close. Ten minutes later, he pulled up to Mac’s Place and Landon climbed out.

  “Call me if you need anything, including a ride to the church street service.”

  “Keiner Plaza isn’t far. I’ll walk,” Landon said less than enthused. “Thanks.”

  He strolled inside and scribbled his signature on the sign-in sheet, so the staff knew that he had returned. Landon was relieved to have the room to himself. Grady wasn’t there, but his Bible was lying open on his unmade twin bed. He eyed it a couple of times. “Who am I kidding?” He didn’t have it in him to repent and mean it. Dropping his head into his hands, Landon sighed. It seemed like his seed of salvation had fell on rocky soil and never took root after all those years of living and breathing in the church.

  He shut out the voices in the hall. Things were starting to turn around, right? He was off the street for the next ninety days for sure. He had a place to sleep, hot meals and a friend, so why wasn’t he happy with progress?

  You knew Me once, Landon, but you didn’t glorify Me as God. Neither were you thankful with all I gave you, but you became vain, God whispered Romans 1:21.

  It was the same chastisement that had been haunting him since leaving home. Suddenly, he didn’t crave the solitude. Leaving his room, the aroma from the kitchen met him halfway in the stairwell.

  In the dining room, Landon went through the motions of eating. The meatloaf and mashed potatoes smelled good, but he couldn’t taste their flavor as his mind drifted back to Octavia who had endless beauty and a fresh personality, and he had no chance with her. The devil taunted him with flashbacks of the women he had taken chances with, but those outcomes weren’t pretty.

  Grady appeared with a tray as Landon pushed back from the table. “What’s up?” He nodded.

  “Nothing new. See you later.” Landon disposed of the remains and rinsed his plate, then wandered to the lounge where a couple of men were gathered.

  They were enthralled by a tied baseball game that happened to be with rivals Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees. He sighed. That reminded him too much of what he had left behind. Stretching his legs, Landon closed his eyes and immediately Octavia’s face and her flirtatious smile greeted him.

  The vision seemed to come alive with her dainty voice flittering around him. Opening his eyes, he blinked and looked over his shoulder where he had a bird’s-eye view of Octavia in the lobby, chatting with Brother McCoy. This evening, she was dressed in a silk bone two-piece suit and wearing her name badge.

  His heart pounded as he cataloged her every movement. What is she doing here? he wondered, sitting up straight. Octavia was an animated talker, moving her hands, swaying her body and laughing in intervals. She brought that energy in her praise dance as if she was one with the instruments.

  When Brother McCoy pointed in his direction, Octavia twirled around and strutted his way. The killer smile from his memory came alive. “Hi.” She sat without giving him a chance to stand. “Busy?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am,” he answered sarcastically. “No, actually, I’m bored, but seeing you brightened my day”

  “I’m glad to see you, too. Want to tag along with me tonight?”

  Landon was about to say yes, but then squinted. “I can’t do church tonight and again this weekend,” he stated. He didn’t care if it was going to cost spending time with her.

  They stared at each other, a duel, then Octavia spoke first. “It’s a first-time home buyer’s seminar,” she said softly with disappointment in her eyes.

  Great. Now he felt bad. He reached for her hand. “Sorry,” he apologized, and her smile let him know he was forgiven.

  Rubbing his jaw, Landon realized he desperately needed a shave. If he used one of the shelter’s disposal razors; he would nick his jaw for sure and was guaranteed to get razor bumps.

  Her eyes seemed to follow his hand, then roam over his face. “You looked very nice on Sunday. I meant to tell you.”

  “Your eyes told me,” he lowered his voice as more men came into the community TV room, either to watch whatever was playing on the screen or live before their eyes. Octavia had every man’s attention. What about now?” He challenged her for more compliments.

  “You look like a man who is coming back to life.” She squeezed his hand. “Stop fighting what God has for you.”

  Landon gave her a pointed look before standing. “You have no idea what I want at this very moment. Give me a sec to freshen up. I’ll be right back.” He glanced around at the men waiting to pounce on Octavia. “Do you mind waiting in the lobby near Brother McCoy? I don’t want to get put out for hurting someone over you.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise, but she complied. Landon walked to his room with a smirk.

  Chapter 12

  “Good. You’re alive, so that means you didn’t get mugged last night,” Terri said, resting a coffee cup on her desk and folding her arms as Octavia strolled through the office the next morning.

  “Nope. God protects His own. Plus, Landon provided extra security.” She childishly stuck out her tongue.

  Shaking her head, Terri tsked before picking up her cup. “I’m sure that was a sight to see—a homeless man scaring off a mugger.”

  “Homeless today, CEO tomorrow. With his personality, Landon will rebound. He mingled with the seminar attendees as if he was at another networking event. I believe God will restore whatever Landon lost, and who knows, I might be the agent to sell him a $500,000 home.”

  Her friend’s chuckle turned into an annoying laugh. “I want to see his credit score and be at that closing.” She tee-heed some more. “I doubt Kmart would give him a credit card.”

  “Stop hatin’.” Octavia frowned, offended by her friend’s remarks. “It’s the grace of God that we have a home, job, car and everything else. You don’t know Landon’s story.” She settled at her desk—the small space she rented every month—and pulled out her laptop.

  “So what’s his story?” Terri lifted an eyebrow.

  “Don’t know, but I have a good feeling about him. Landon is a fighter, and he’ll get back into the ring.” Octavia got up and strolled into the small kitchen and placed a sack lunch in the office refrigerator, then scanned the daily message board.

  Terri was on her heels. “You have a lot of confidence in a man you know little about. What you see with that man is what you get: nothing. That also goes for James. What you see is what you get.”

  “Is James paying you a commission to sell him to me or something?” Terri had never been so resolved about any other man she had tried to set her up with.

  “Nope. I know a good man when I see one.” Terri leaned closer. “If you wanted to, I bet you could have that man eating out of your hands.”

  A puppy. She smiled. Hadn’t she felt as if she was treating Landon like a stray dog the night she left him at
Mac’s Place? “I’m sure James is everything you say, but Landon is a soul who needs help.”

  “And I need bridge work, but my dentist isn’t volunteering free services. Weeks ago when I teased you about male companionship, I didn’t think you would go to the salvage yard and pick one out. I just get a sense he’s using you. Didn’t you say he doesn’t want to go to church? So when are you going to cut him loose? Surely, Mr. McCoy or Rossi could pick up the slack from here.”

  “Neither does James, but he won’t come out and say it. We’re done here.” Octavia doctored her coffee and returned to her desk. Terri sulked back to hers. If Octavia was a train engine, she would be spewing steam out the stack. She calmed down and said a prayer, then got up and strolled to Terri and waited while another agent asked a question. When they were alone again, Octavia took a seat. “We’ve been friends for a long time. Let’s keep it that way. You’ve crossed the line with that hurtful statement about another human being. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that because no friend of mine would ever say something that demeaning. Now, I’m drawn to Landon for God’s purpose, which is unknown to me. I like him as an individual. We may even become friends at some point. As for now, I’m reaching back and praying him forward.”

  “I just feel you can do better than spending time with him.” Terri looked away, contrite. “My apologies.” Her eyes teared. “It was a bad choice of words. Sometimes you give so much of yourself away and get nothing in return. I mean, the Bible says the poor will be with us all the time.”

  “Just so you know, I did invite James, but he had other commitments,” she paused. “Don’t twist scriptures out of context, T. If you really understood the entire passage, you would know that a poor woman gave Jesus the best she had. Read it for yourself in Matthew 26.”

  Both of them were saved by the bell when the phone rang and the call was for Terri. Octavia took a deep breath and allowed her emotions to settle. How was Terri to know and even understand that God had a GPS tracker on Landon’s soul?

  Enough. It was one thing for Landon to occupy her thoughts, but not her day. She had work to do. Back at her desk, Octavia made follow-up calls, including to Frank Lindell from the mixer.

  “Octavia, I was hoping you would call sooner than later. I’m meeting some colleagues for lunch, and I would like for you to be my guest,” Frank didn’t waste time saying.

  As long as he didn’t try to ogle any of her body parts, which were well covered, despite the heat, they would do fine. “Of course. When?” She pulled out her day planner.

  “Now.”

  “Now?”

  “Actually, in about an hour. I’m leaving my office now.”

  “Okay…” She scribbled the name and address to use the GPS ap on her phone, then ended the call.

  As she grabbed her purse and locked her desk, Terri asked, “Where are you going?”

  “To lunch.”

  “But you brought yours.” Terri frowned.

  “True, but I can’t turn down a lunch invitation from Frank Lindell at the Algonquin Club Country.”

  “Ooh.” Terri nodded. “No, you can’t! That’s how you make that Million Dollar Club,” she paused. “You know I love you and I’m in your corner?”

  “I know,” she replied softly, “but every now and then someone needs a friend. Remember that.” She waved. “I’m gone for the day. I have two showings later.”

  As she drove, her mind revisited her argument with Terri. Landon didn’t come across as a man who used people. Should she be concerned? A passage from Galatians 6 came swiftly. Be not weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if you don’t faint. The opportunity is there. Do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith.

  The GPS guided her onto a two-lane road. A white wooded fence that sectioned off the golf course led her to the entrance of Algonquin Golf Club: private members only. She had heard from other agents that it was considered an elite golf and country club in St. Louis. She saw why and wondered how many African-Americans had been members since it opened more than one hundred years ago.

  While checking her makeup, Octavia gave herself a pep talk. She was always on display when she networked, but when it came to judges, CEOs, attorney, and doctors who didn’t share her skin hue, she prayed that wouldn’t be a barrier, but a blessing. She always prayed Jesus would give her favor with her BA in Business and her MBA.

  She stepped out and smoothed any wrinkles on her dress. Her pearl drop earrings and bracelet jazzed up her simple tan dress. She walked with confidence to the entrance and was about to ask for her host when she saw Frank coming to meet her. “Perfect timing. We haven’t ordered.”

  His smile relaxed her nerves as he shook her hand and then led her by the elbow down a short hall to a dining area where the men out-numbered the ladies as guests.

  Frank pulled out the chair and took his seat beside her. Once the introductions were made, the server attended to them, serving salads.

  “So, dear, when was the last time you attended the National Association of Realtor’s conference?” Mrs. Ashen, a retired surgeon Octavia recalled from the introductions, asked.

  “Although I’m a member—” She stayed current with its news—“I’ve never been.”

  “Oh,” another woman at the table said with an expression of disbelief.

  “So what’s your area of expertise?” Frank asked.

  “I’m a realtor, which sums it up,” Octavia stated. Not all real estate agents could boast that distinction without being a member of NAR, which was why she paid her dues, but her allegiance was to the National Association of Real Estate Brokers. NAREB was established as the black counterpart when non-whites couldn’t join Realtor organizations, which made her proud to be called a Realtist. “I like to build and nurture relationships, so when a friend is in need of my services, I can provide them with the highest level of professionalism.”

  That seemed to buy her smiles. After a few hours and a couple drinks from her guests, the mood was festive, but Octavia had to go back into the city to show houses where the sales would barely pay her booth rental at the office.

  “I’m having an afternoon tea tomorrow. I would love for you to come,” Mrs. Ashen said.

  Octavia tried to tame her excitement, so she wouldn’t come off as unpolished. This was the open door. Yes! Octavia was about to accept, but she remembered tent revival. Her answer was a no-brainer: being in the hot sun to win souls vs. an air-conditioned party. “I would be honored. However, I have a scheduled engagement tomorrow afternoon that I can’t miss.” She smiled. “Another time I hope.”

  “Let’s hope,” Mrs. Ashen said in a tone that was hard for Octavia to decipher.

  Chapter 13

  On Saturday afternoon, Landon stepped outside and closed the door to Mac’s Place. The humidity was waiting for him in the dead heat of the day. “Might as well get this over with,” he mumbled as he prepared to walk the mile and a half to Keiner Plaza for the revival under the tent. What had he been thinking not accepting the ride? Because you thought you might back out, his mind told him.

  His roommate thought it would be cool to go, but in the heat, a tent meeting was anything but cool. “It’s my day to spend with my son, and I ain’t missing that for nothing. He looks just like me,” he said proudly.

  Grady’s excitement wasn’t contagious. Landon tried not to think about being a prodigal father. It was bad enough he was a prodigal son, brother, cousin, grandson, friend…He adjusted the straw fedora he had purchased for two dollars at a secondhand store to keep from suffering a heat stroke.

  The hat is not big enough to give you shade. Do you not remember Jonah? God whispered, reminding him of Jonah 4:6. I give you relief from the sun and shelter from the rain.

  People gathered around the tent came into his view when he turned on Market Street. It was almost show time as Landon made his way through the crowd; he was surprised to see many of the seats taken. Maybe it was for relief. Suddenly, Landon
remembered his hat and removed it. There had to be fifty-plus rows. Landon took the back seat. He would watch Octavia from afar, listen a little to Rossi, then sneak out unnoticed.

  The microphone shrieked as an older woman welcomed the crowd. “Praise the Lord, everybody. Come on in where we have shade and water. Despite the heat, we’re going to magnify the Lord.” She went through a melody of church songs, slamming on the tambourine to keep rhythm. Where were the musicians? He saw a drum set and a portable keyboard. By the third song, a teenager adjusted the seat behind the drums, twirled his sticks and picked up the beat.

  Rossi strolled onto the makeshift stage. There was nothing pompous about his mannerism as he knelt before one of a pair of folding chairs and prayed. Landon sensed Octavia’s presence before she captured his attention as she appeared with another one of the other two praise dancers.

  When it was their turn to perform, the keyboardist still had not shown up and the drummer did his best with “I Give Myself Away,” but it wasn’t enough for Octavia to soar. Without thinking, Landon stood and strolled down the side aisle to the front. He situated himself behind the keyboard.

  This was for Octavia, he told himself as he nodded to the drummer and they harmonized the song. Octavia’s body seemed to come to life. Her dancing was like a drug—he wanted more, but when she and her partner slowed their steps, Landon ended the song.

  The crowd roared with applause at their performance as Rossi came to the microphone. Landon was about to tip his way back to his seat, but Rossi held up a hand to stop him. “Thank you, Evangelist Gale, for the songs and Sisters Octavia and Deb for the dance…and our musicians, Brothers Dion and Landon.”

  Brother? Landon hadn’t been anyone’s church brother in a long time. As it dawned on him what he’d done, Landon squirmed on the bench, uncomfortable being in a pulpit after all the sins he’d had committed and for which he couldn’t repent.