Worth a Thousand Words

by Stacy Adams

  “Would you tell your wife?”

  “Why would I? What I’ve done in the past wouldn’t affect her. She’ll have a history too. We won’t have to ‘tell all’ to build a future,” Craig said. “When did you become so Goody Two-Shoes?”

  Brian looked him in the eye. “I don’t know, Craig, but I guess that’s what has happened. I gave my life to Christ after my encounter with you, and I’ve been trying ever since to figure out what led me down that path with you. I don’t know if I naturally have those tendencies, or if I was drunk and just yielded to what my body felt.

  “I truly don’t know, and I want to figure it out as soon as I can,” he said.

  Craig’s eyes widened with recognition. “You’re getting ready to marry Indigo, aren’t you? And you want to know the real deal before you lock her down. Well, isn’t that noble. Let me remind you—you weren’t drunk the second time we hooked up.”

  Brian stared at Craig and fought the urge to beat him down. What came to mind was the Scripture his mother sometimes quoted when she found the need to distance herself from someone who wasn’t being fair or good.

  Don’t cast your pearls before swine.

  That’s exactly what he was doing. He had flown all the way to New York to seek guidance from someone who didn’t have a moral center or a desire to get at the truth.

  Craig had always bragged about using any means and anyone to get what he wanted, like his father had taught him. Despite his dad going to prison for embezzlement Craig’s senior year, Craig clearly still followed that advice. He had been ashamed of his father’s conviction, but he was still determined to make his dad proud, and he hadn’t changed his tactics for achieving that goal.

  Another realization struck Brian: just because he was ready to explore these questions didn’t mean he could force Craig to do the same. He was treading into areas where Craig wasn’t yet ready to go. For Craig, this was still about the thrill of the moment, the rush of the conquest.

  Brian could kick himself. How much more foolish could he have been?

  And yet, as Craig moved in close to him on this bustling New York street and brushed his lips against Brian’s, Brian was horrified to feel himself getting aroused.

  Father God, relieve me of this . . . this curse!

  That desperate prayer caused him to push Craig away and break into a sprint.

  He heard Craig laughing as he got farther away.

  “There’s your answer, Harper!” Craig called after him. “Stop running from what you want!”

  Brian turned into the narrow alley between two buildings and fell to his knees. Tears overtook him and he didn’t try to stop them.

  The problem was that he didn’t want this; he didn’t need this. But he was in a fix—he couldn’t run away from his own life and he couldn’t keep living a lie.

  Finally, in this dark and dirty New York City alley, he had come face-to-face with his truth.

  Now he needed to know what God wanted him to do with it, and what this would mean for his soul.

  44

  If Yasmin grew any more excited, Indigo decided she’d take her to the Toys“R” Us store in Manhattan and let her entertain the throng of customers.

  The two of them and their parents had landed at LaGuardia Airport an hour ago and were in a taxi headed for Ford Models.

  Yasmin was all dolled up, with her long hair flowing down her back in spiral curls, deep pink gloss covering her lips, and the matching black jacket and jeans that Rachelle had bought her from a Houston boutique hugging her lanky frame.

  Indigo felt dowdy in comparison, but she kept reminding herself that this afternoon wasn’t about her. They would go apartment hunting for her tomorrow; today was about the family supporting Yasmin’s dream.

  Indigo offered to wait in the lobby of the modeling agency so they wouldn’t look like a bunch of hillbillies from Texas, coming in four deep. But Mama insisted that she sit in on the meeting.

  “You’re almost a New Yorker—you can help your daddy and me figure out if they’re trying to get over on us.”

  From what Indigo could tell, however, everything was on the up-and-up. Sasha Davies, the modeling scout who requested the meeting, reviewed the portfolio that Indigo had helped Yasmin develop and seemed impressed.

  “I like the range of poses and settings,” she said. “You have good form and great bone structure. Have you had any modeling training?”

  “No, ma’am,” Yasmin responded.

  Sasha looked up at the girl, over her horn-rimmed glasses.

  “Just ‘no,’ will do, sweetheart,” she said. She looked at Indigo.

  “I know you took the photo that drew our attention to your sister. Did you shoot these images as well?”

  Indigo smiled. “Yes, I did.”

  Sasha seemed impressed again. “These are really good. You have a great eye and solid technique.”

  “Thank you,” Indigo said. “I start grad school in another month at the School of Visual Arts, and I’m looking forward to learning as much as I can.”

  Sasha made a note in her file, then turned her attention to Mama and Daddy. “We’d like to sign Yasmin to a limited contract, which, for a fourteen-year-old who lives outside of the New York area, means we’ll call her on a regular basis for jobs in the Dallas/ Houston area and occasionally for anything that requires travel. Unless you’re planning to relocate to New York.”

  Mama’s eyes grew wide. “Oh no,” she responded “But as Indigo said, she’ll be moving here in late August for grad school, so technically Yasmin would have somewhere to stay if she needed to be here for a stretch of time. Of course, my husband or I would want to be designated as her permanent companion.”

  Sasha nodded. “I understand. Parents often sign those rights over to a modeling agent or manager, but you’re saying you’d like to retain those?”

  Daddy spoke up. “If it’s in her best interest to have an agent or a manager overseeing her career, that’s fine. What we’re talking about is the chaperone piece. We’ve decided that since she’s still a minor, one of us will travel with her at all times. We’re both retired, so that’s doable for us.”

  “Okaaay.” Sasha made another note in her book. Indigo wanted to laugh. This woman thought they were prudes, but so what—they were and it worked.

  Sasha switched gears and turned her focus back to Yasmin.

  “Stand up, Yasmin, and walk the length of the room for me,” she said.

  Indigo sensed her sister’s nervousness, but Yasmin confidently followed direction.

  “We need to work on your gait and your form a little bit, but you’ll get there.”

  Sasha looked at the Burnses. “Would you be willing to let her attend a model training camp for preprofessionals in Upstate New York? It’s held the third week in August and lasts for a week. Parent chaperones aren’t allowed.”

  Mama and Daddy traded questioning glances.

  “What’s the curriculum, and who are the chaperones?” Daddy asked.

  Sasha outlined the sessions that would be offered by some of the world’s top-rate models and industry professionals, including a class on etiquette, money management, the price of fame, and the threat of eating disorders.

  “We’re serious about avoiding that with these girls, because an eating disorder can quickly derail their careers,” Sasha said. “We have counselors there to work with girls already struggling with this issue to ensure that while they’re working for us they receive regular support, and assistance, if necessary. We want them to be thin, but we also want them healthy.”

  Indigo and Yasmin eyed their parents. Indigo was relieved when they simply nodded, without revealing what Yasmin had already been through.

  They turned to Indigo, though, to get her thoughts about the camp.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think she should do it,” Indigo said. “If you’re going to allow her to launch a modeling career, this sounds like a great opportunity to learn about the pros and cons
and what to realistically expect. It also would help her meet and befriend other girls her age who are doing the same thing.”

  Daddy pursed his lips for a few minutes before responding. He looked at Yasmin. “Can you handle it?”

  Indigo knew Yasmin understood the question he was really asking.

  “I’m ready, Daddy,” Yasmin said. “I won’t let you down.”

  Forty minutes later, a contract had been signed and it was official: Yasmin Burns would soon be gracing magazine spreads and advertisements across the southern region of the United States and occasionally other parts of the country.

  When the family left Sasha’s office and stood alone on the moving elevator, Indigo gripped Yasmin in a fierce embrace.

  “I’m so proud of you! This is exciting!”

  Indigo turned toward her parents and saw that they were holding hands and speaking a silent language with their eyes.

  “What?” she asked.

  Mama looked at her and at Yasmin and smiled. “Nothing. We just can’t believe that both of you are growing up and finding your way in New York City, of all places. We’ve been preparing you for this day, but it’s still bittersweet.”

  Yasmin leaned over and hugged Mama’s neck. “Like you told Sasha, where I go, you go, so we’re in this big city together. I’m still your baby, Mama. I don’t mind if you want to tuck me in at night every now and then.”

  They laughed and departed from the elevator, all smiles.

  Indigo had booked the family a hotel room in Lower Manhattan so they wouldn’t be far from the subway line they would ride to apartment hunt tomorrow, or from the heart of the city if they wanted to catch a show.

  The price hadn’t been pretty, but Daddy had been willing to splurge.

  “You’re getting married soon, Indigo, and Yasmin’s about to become Miss Cosmopolitan.” He laughed. “Let me treat you girls with what I can afford while it still means something to you. I’m guessing both of you will be rolling in more dough than I’ve made my whole career.”

  The Burnses checked into their suite and relaxed for about an hour before Indigo got antsy.

  “We should head over to the Theatre District and catch a show tonight,” she suggested. “I’ll go downstairs and see if they have any playbills.”

  When Indigo reached the lobby, she strode to the brochure rack that contained theater information and perused the offerings. After a few minutes, she decided to take one of each pamphlet so the family could review them together and make a decision.

  On her way to the bank of elevators, she looked toward the hotel entrance and did a double take. A man with a build, complexion, and haircut similar to Brian’s was leaving. He was casually dressed and rolled a suitcase behind him.

  Indigo stopped and stared until he was out of sight. He never turned around, so she didn’t see his face, but for as long as she had dated Brian, wouldn’t she know him anywhere? And shouldn’t she also know if he had come to New York?

  45

  Things hadn’t been the same since New York.

  More than once, Brian’s parents, friends, and Indigo had told him he seemed lost in his own world. He consistently deflected their concern by questioning if they had secret fears about his joining the military in wartime. While he wouldn’t be required to participate in ground combat in Iraq or Afghanistan, there was a good chance that as a pilot he could be assigned to serve somewhere near there. Instead, he insisted, preparing for flight school and the looming wedding had him distracted.

  But every morning and then again at dusk when he left home for a seven-mile run to keep in shape for flight school, his thoughts would wander. Sometimes he wished he could shut them off.

  The next best thing to do was to drown them out with prayer. And he did, fervently asking God to change him, to heal him, to give him a solution.

  He loved Indigo, but he hated himself. He wanted a wife and children—a normal life. But he didn’t want to live a lie.

  For as long as he could remember, he had dreamed of becoming a Navy pilot and someday applying for astronaut status. That was still his goal, but if word leaked out about his college transgressions, or his recent temptations, those aspirations were as good as dead.

  His mom and dad hadn’t said much, but he could tell they were worried. He knew that his mom was praying on his behalf, asking God to take care of whatever was troubling her son.

  His dad was watching him closely, trying to make sure he kept a handle on his future.

  “Pace yourself, Son,” he’d said more than once. “No need to burn out when you’re just getting started. You’ve got dozens of years to get it all done. Slow and steady still wins the race.”

  Brian really didn’t know what his father meant by all of that, but he was grateful for any sort of pep talk.

  This afternoon, he took the first exit into Jubilant and looked at the phone number and address scrawled on the piece of paper in the passenger seat. Aunt Melba had given him Ms. Harrow’s contact information, and he had called to ask her permission to cut some fresh flowers from her garden.

  Five minutes later, her white brick rancher with green shutters came into view. He pulled into the driveway and followed the rose trail up the sidewalk. Before he could ring the doorbell, she opened the beveled glass outer door and welcomed him inside. She served him a glass of tea and told him the story behind the garden and how she had come to know Melba and eventually Indigo.

  Indigo had shared the same details months ago, which was why he knew she’d appreciate these flowers versus a dozen storebought roses, but he listened anyway.

  “I’m honored that you want flowers from my garden for Indigo,” Ms. Harrow said when she led him outside to the vast backyard. She gave him a pair of garden shears and fanned her arm out.

  “Take your pick.” She also handed him a glass vase, with a white ribbon tied around the body.

  Seeing Brian’s surprise, she laughed. “Yes, I keep a supply of vases and ribbons—you never know when you want to give someone a gift from the garden. I do that often, so I finally decided to stock up and stop running to the store every week.”

  “You’re amazing,” he said.

  Ms. Harrow blushed. “Thank you, dear. It’s not often that I hear such kind words from such a handsome man.”

  She stood next to him as he surveyed the reams of flowers of all hues and heights, and struggled to decide what he wanted. She patted his arm and smiled at him.

  “Take your time, dear,” she said. “I’m going inside to get supper started, but don’t feel rushed. I want you to pick what’s right for you and for Indigo—she’s a special girl.

  “And while you’re here, take some quiet time for yourself. I know Melba and Indigo have told you this is a prayer garden too. I know for a fact that God dwells here—this has become my sanctuary.”

  Brian watched her stroll into the house and waited to see if she would peek at him in a few minutes from the kitchen window. She didn’t, and when he turned his attention back to the view and space before him, he felt as if he were indeed in a sanctuary, a private garden in which he could meet God.

  A sweet silence enveloped him, and he felt his heart rate slow. Brian realized in that moment that he had been doing all the talking in his prayers. Now it was time to listen.

  He sat on the C-shaped stone bench near a bed of tulips and lowered his head to his knees. He closed his eyes and waited. No need to say a word. No need to cry. He just listened with his heart and with his soul and allowed God to pour the answers into him.

  Half an hour later, Brian raised his head, inhaled deeply, and stood up to cut his beautiful Indigo some flowers. Four years ago today, they had officially become a couple, and he wanted to give her something special.

  He picked four pink roses and a handful of purple daisies to complement them, knowing she’d be happy to receive something in her favorite colors. He also took a single red rose, to symbolize his never-ending love.

  Brian pulled a $50 bill from his p
ocket and placed it on the stone bench under a small rock from the garden. He found one of his business cards from his engineering days in his wallet and scribbled a brief note on the back for Ms. Harrow, telling her to consider the money an offering for the upkeep of this special space, and thanking her for her kind heart and generosity.

  He walked to his car with the vase of flowers and uttered another prayer.

  Thank you.

  Regardless of what loomed, God had shown him during that quiet time that he wasn’t alone, and he never would be, as long as he listened and obeyed.

  46

  Oasis was a new, fine dining restaurant in Jubilant, owned by two Everson College professors, and it was the perfect place to celebrate an anniversary.

  The soft lighting created a romantic ambiance, and the live piano music was engaging. Formally dressed waiters discreetly hovered and appeared trained not to eavesdrop on their diners’ conversations.

  If Indigo weren’t already engaged, she would have considered it the perfect spot for Brian to propose.

  She looked at him now, sitting across from her, smiling at her. She cried earlier, when he gave her the flowers from Ms. Harrow’s garden. The fact that he had been thoughtful enough to find out where Ms. Harrow lived and to pick the flowers himself touched her.

  She had so much to be thankful for. Her glaucoma wasn’t bothering her, she had a regular photo column in the local newspaper, her work would soon be featured in O Magazine, and she was heading off to the grad school of her dreams.

  Life was so good, and so full, and she was blessed to have this wonderful man to share it with.

  In the weeks since her late-night chat with Shelby, however,

  Indigo had realized a pivotal truth: Brian was good, kind, and faithful, and he was everything a woman could want in a partner; yet he didn’t rate a mention on her list of the primary things that she couldn’t live without. She loved him, without question. But she had been asking herself lately if she loved him like Rachelle loved Gabe, or like Shelby loved Hunt, or like Mama and Daddy loved each other—hard and long, through thick and thin.