by Toni Shiloh
And that was so attractive.
Jo wanted to do something special for him, so tonight she planned to make him dinner. Michelle promised to hang out with Chloe for the evening, so she didn’t have to “watch you two make googley eyes at each other.” Jo had laughed, but mentally agreed that was probably what she’d do.
Nana had given her the Baker family recipe for fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and collard greens. For dessert she would make red velvet cake. She prayed it all turned out well. She’d never been good at making fried chicken.
Lord, please don’t let me mess tonight up.
THE SOUNDS OF A SAXOPHONE filled the living room with its haunting melody. Evan sat back in the leather recliner, letting the notes flow over him. He knew Jo liked jazz, but not like this. This was truly a throwback to the beginning of the movement. When he was a kid, Senior would play jazz whenever he worked on their vehicles or did repairs around the house. The music soothed him, reminding him of a simpler time.
He looked up as Jo entered the living room.
“Dinner’s almost ready. A few more minutes on the chicken, then we can eat.” Her lips curved upward.
He swallowed, trying to resist the urge to rub his hand over his heart. Jo had no idea what she did to him. Evan smiled back while etching her face into his memory. He never wanted to forget this moment. It made him think they could have a future of nights listening to jazz and talking about their day.
Jo looked at him expectantly.
Right, dinner. “Sounds fantastic. The chicken smells delicious, too.”
“Wait until you taste it. Nana finally gave me her recipe. She wouldn’t give it to me before—”
He looked at her, puzzled. Why did she stop mid-sentence? “Why wouldn’t she give it to you before?”
She looked away, but not before he caught a blush blooming against her skin. “Because I wasn’t seeing anyone.” She sighed and turned to face him. “Nana has a policy regarding recipes. She doesn’t give them out to single people.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it, especially since she looked so put out. “You mean to tell me she never gave you a single recipe until now? I can’t believe you’ve been single that long.”
“Well, no, I haven’t. But, she didn’t like any of my past boyfriends and refused to give me the recipes, because she told me the relationships wouldn’t last.” She said it in a hurry and then whirled away, disappearing into the kitchen.
Huh. Does that mean she thinks we’ll last?
Evan grinned so wide his cheeks ached. He’d been worried about how Jo would feel now that he was back in his wheelchair, but maybe he didn’t need to. He maneuvered himself from the recliner to his chair. When he wheeled into the kitchen, Jo finished plating the food. “Do you need any help, JoJo?”
“No,” she said with a quick smile. “You can go to the dining room. I thought we’d eat in there.”
“What’s wrong with the kitchen?”
“Oh, Evan, just go to the dining room.” She shooed him away and he chuckled softly.
He wheeled into the room and stopped. So that’s why she wanted to eat in here.
The lights were dimmed, but a soft glow from several lit candles illuminated the room. The muffled sound of jazz carried into the dining room. The table had been set for two, although there was only one chair.
See, it doesn’t bother her.
He wanted to believe being relegated to a wheelchair didn’t matter to Jo, but how could he when it bothered him?
Jo arrived shortly, placing the plates on the table. “How about you lead us in prayer?”
He held on to her hand and prayed for them. He didn’t know how long she would continue to date him, but he was going to thank God for every day with her. As he thanked God for the food and the hands that prepared it, he silently added on thanks that she was still with him. He squeezed her hand then reached for a drumstick.
He took a bite, chewing slowly. Nana Baker’s recipe was awesome. It might even be better than his mother’s.
“Well?”
He winked at Jo. “Fantastic. Be sure to thank Nana Baker for sharing the recipe.”
“Definitely.” She took a bite then looked at him when she was done chewing. “I was afraid the chicken was going to be awful. I never make it right.”
“You just needed your grandmother’s recipe.”
“Or the right man.”
They laughed in harmony.
“We should schedule another Bible study now that you’re out of the hospital.”
“That would be great.” He really missed the group. “I just wish I could convince Guy to join us.”
“He seems to be hurting pretty badly. What happened?”
“His wife died giving birth to the twins.”
Horror filled Jo’s eyes. “Oh, no! I can’t even imagine.”
Evan thought about his friend’s words about ‘platitudes.’ How did you console a friend when you truly didn’t know their pain? That would be a question he’d have to seek God for.
“I can’t either.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll call Darryl and see if he’s up for it Friday.”
Jo put her spoon down and wiped her mouth. “I’m sure the girls would be interested. I’m not sure why Michelle has continued to go, but I’m praying the change sticks.”
“And add Guy to your prayers, too, would you?”
“Of course.” She squeezed his hand.
Thank You, God, for this woman.
Chapter Thirty-One
Jo rang the doorbell again, shivering from the subzero temperatures. What was taking Darryl so long? She turned to Evan. “Do you think he’s okay in there?” She still couldn’t believe they had ridden together. Like a couple.
“JoJo you already rang it twice, give the man some time to answer.”
“But I’m freezing.” She frowned, hating the whine in her voice but unable to stop it. Mother Nature had doused the entire state in frigid temperatures.
At the sound of a lock unlatching, she swung around. Darryl stood with the door wide open. She turned to Evan, “Can you maneuver inside?”
He nodded and she rushed inside.
She proceeded straight to the kitchen, hoping it was the warmest room in the house. She came up short when she noticed Chloe. “Hey Chlo, what are you doing here already?”
Chloe’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of red. The poor girl’s light complexion did nothing to hide the tell-tale flush. Jo bit the inside of her lip, trying to keep from laughing.
“Hey, Jo.” Chloe picked up a mug and sipped from it, as if nothing unusual was going on.
Why did she get the distinct feeling her arrival had interrupted something? She looked at Darryl as he walked into the kitchen, talking nonstop to Evan. He doesn’t look guilty.
She turned back to Chloe, who quickly averted her gaze. Yep. Something was up with these two. If it wasn’t so cold, she’d make an excuse to take Chloe to the porch and investigate. She shivered. No, she didn’t want to help her friend that badly. She’d just have to find out what happened later.
The doorbell rang again. “I’ll get it,” she offered. If it was Michelle, she wanted a chance to talk to her about Chloe and Darryl.
Jo made her way to the front door, rubbing her gloved hands together. Why couldn’t she warm up? She opened the door and smiled as Michelle hurried inside.
“Brrr. It’s freezing out there. What took you so long to answer?”
Jo laughed. “Stop being a baby. It took me two rings to get inside.”
“Well you know my body can’t handle the cold.” The girl was so melodramatic.
“Then why haven’t you moved down south yet?”
“Because you haven’t. You know I love me some JoJo.”
She chuckled, giving Michelle a hug. The girl was certifiably crazy, but made the best friend. She laid a hand on Michelle’s arm as her friend started to move away. “Hey, when Evan and I got here I didn’t realize that Chloe had been the first on
e here.” She took off her gloves since her hands were finally warm. “Girl, she wouldn’t look at me and her face is all red. I think something’s going on.”
Michelle’s eyes widened. “I’ve been wondering about that.” she whispered. “Do you think Chloe likes him?”
Jo wanted to laugh at the fact that she didn’t even ask about Darryl’s intentions. Everyone knew he liked her, except maybe Chloe. “Why else would she blush?”
“She is pretty proper. Maybe she was embarrassed at being in the house alone with a guy.”
She snorted. Sure Chloe was straight laced, but Jo doubted that had anything to do with the current situation. “Nah, I think she likes him.”
“Well, I’ll keep an eye out.”
They walked to the kitchen and the gang greeted Michelle warmly. Jo couldn’t wait to hear what today’s topic was. Every Sunday, she had listened to the sermons with an open ear and was beginning to believe that God truly had great plans for her. She was close to committing herself to Him, but something held her back.
EVAN GLANCED AROUND the table at his friends. His heart was a little heavy at the thought of Guy’s absence. He prayed his friend would resolve his issues with God, sooner rather than later. He clapped his hands together. “Are we ready for the study?”
Everyone nodded and pulled out their various forms of the Bible.
“I hope no one minds, but I actually prepared a study today.” He shrugged. “It hit me in the middle of the night.” He passed out a sheet of paper to everyone.
“You wrote it out?” Jo asked, her eyebrows arched in surprise.
“I just wrote a few notes and a list of Scriptures I want to look at.” Evan stared at his handout, trying to keep the heat from rising to his face. He wanted to run a finger under his collar but didn’t dare. He already felt everyone’s eyes on him.
“You picked anger?”
He glanced up at Michelle. He couldn’t tell from her tone if she was upset or surprised. She met his gaze with a blank expression on her face. Great, that doesn’t help me any. Yet, he instinctively knew he needed to tread softly. “Yes, I thought it would be good to look at righteous and unrighteous anger.”
“There’s such a thing as righteous anger?” Darryl asked.
His boys had been the main source of inspiration when he studied the Scriptures related to this topic. He knew how much anger Darryl had toward his father and how much anger Guy felt toward God. He even had his own past to pull from.
“Yes, let’s dive right in. Turn to John chapter two, verse thirteen. I’ll read until verse sixteen.”
He cleared his throat and began reading. After reading the last verse, Evan looked up. Surprisingly, Michelle and Darryl were equally fixated on him.
“So that’s righteous anger?” Darryl asked.
“Yes, exactly. They turned the temple into something it shouldn’t have been. How can people worship the Lord or draw closer to Him when people are busy selling goods? Can you imagine the noise that would create?”
He had prayed long and hard over this study. He wanted God to give him the words, because he knew this would be a sensitive subject for most of them to examine.
“Why is it okay for Jesus to act like that?” Michelle asked. Her words came out measured.
“Think about it. He didn’t hurt anyone. Instead, He appropriately admonished those who turned His Father’s house into a ‘den of thieves.’ Sure, He made a whip and turned some tables over, but Jesus didn’t use them to hurt the people. Think of it like a punctuation mark. They were in the wrong and needed to know it.”
“Okay, sort of like punishing criminals here,” Michelle stated. “We have a judicial system that makes sure people who break the rules are punished.”
“Right.”
He glanced at Darryl out of the corner of his eye. His friend’s brow had furrowed and confusion marred his features. Evan knew a question would be coming, so he braced himself.
“Let me get this straight.” Darryl replied. “Suppose I see a guy hit a girl. If I get angry at him for his lack of respect and horrible treatment of women, then that’s righteous anger.” Darryl stared straight into his eyes. “Right?”
Lord, please give me the words. Evan knew what his friend hinted at. However, he doubted anyone else at the table did. “Yes, that’s righteous anger. God doesn’t want any of His children to be harmed.”
“Then how does that jive with forgiveness?” Jo asked.
Evan was surprised she’d kept quiet for so long. Then again, Jo liked to observe and come to her own understanding before jumping in with questions. “Great question, JoJo. It’s okay to be angry at something that angers God. It’s an honest emotion. What’s not okay is to let that anger fester and rot inside. It’s not okay to let anger lead your action, when that happens you entertain the possibility of righteous anger turning into unrighteousness.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. Please don’t let me make a mistake with my thoughts. Please, steer me in the right direction. “I just want to state this is how I’ve understood it. I’m not an expert, I just felt this was where God was leading me.” He looked around to make sure everyone understood.
The group nodded, so he continued. “Think about it. How do you treat someone you’re angry with?”
“Rudely,” came Chloe’s quiet reply.
“I agree, but God wants us to be loving to someone. If we’re harboring anger in our hearts, then it becomes impossible to love our neighbor.”
“But you just said there was righteous anger.” Darryl pointed at his phone in disbelief. “Which is it?”
“The two do exist, Darryl. Sometimes, our righteous anger fuels us to make a change for the better. Like Michelle,” he gestured toward her. “She prosecutes drunk drivers under the umbrella of Indiana state law.”
Evan paused for a moment. “If she were to allow her emotions to turn into hate and prosecute someone unjustly, or more harshly than necessary, then that is not righteous anger.”
Darryl ran a hand through his mop of curls, a look of frustration on his face. “How are we supposed to know when we cross over into unrighteous anger?”
“When the sun goes down and you’re still angry.” Evan shrugged. “But that’s just one example. We have to be in constant communication with God so that the Spirit leads us and not our flesh.”
“What do you mean, ‘when the sun goes down’?” Michelle asked. Her eyebrow arched like a question mark.
“Ephesians four twenty-six says, ‘Be angry, and do not sin’: do not let the sun go down on your wrath.” He cleared his throat. “When we let anger take root into our hearts, we give the devil a foothold to lean us toward the direction of letting our flesh rule instead of the Spirit.”
“Why are there so many rules?” Darryl looked at him, frustration emanating from him like steam in a sauna.
“But are there really?” Chloe’s soft question caused Darryl to blink rapidly. “Jesus told us there are only two rules and that any other rule falls under them. Love God and love your neighbor as yourself. It’s the principle of the golden rule.”
“How are we supposed to do that? It seems humanly impossible.”
“By trusting God.” Jo said. She appeared nervous, but kept talking. “We can’t do any of it ourselves, I think that’s the whole point. In order to do any of what He requires, we have to rely solely on Him. On His Spirit to guide us.”
“Exactly,” Evan stated. “It’s a daily process. We have to take each moment as it comes and ask God to direct us. We’re going to mess up, but the point is to seek Him regardless.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Evan wheeled to the door. It never failed, whenever his mother or father were out running errands, someone knocked. His hands glided over the wheels, propelling him closer. He knew his mother wasn’t expecting any guests, so maybe it was Jo. He grinned at the thought. Maneuvering in the wheelchair, he managed to open the door and slowly roll backward. One glance told him it was not Jo.
“H
ello, Evan. May I come in?
What was she doing here?
“I know it must be a shock. I just wanted to talk.”
“Brenda?” His voice reached an octave higher than normal, but it didn’t register. Just like the sight of his ex-girlfriend-almost-fiancée didn’t penetrate his brain.
“May I come in?” This time her voice held more timidity, enough to bring him to reality.
“Um, sure.” He moved aside and shut the door behind her.
Brenda was here. Really here. In the flesh. But why?
“Evan, who’s at the door?”
Evan froze at the sight of his mom coming down the hallway. He thought she was gone. He glanced at her then to Brenda. His mother stopped, midstride when she saw their guest. This is not going to go well.
“Hello, Brenda.” The tone of his mother’s voice added a distinct chill to the air.
“Hello, Mrs. Carter.” Brenda straightened up but kept the contrite face.
Was she really sorry or was it all an act?
“To what do we owe this pleasure?” His mother stepped forward, wringing the kitchen towel.
Evan couldn’t help but think his mother was imagining Brenda as the towel. This needed to end before it even started. “Mom, would you please bring me and Brenda some hot coffee? We’ll have a seat in the parlor while we catch up.”
“You want me to do what?” Each note increased with incredulity, until his mother ended up staring at him like he had two heads. Her hands fisted at her waist.
He stared at his mother, willing her to be cordial. Please, don’t make this worse. Evan prayed his pleading look conveyed his thoughts.
“Fine,” she snapped. She stomped down the hall toward the kitchen.
Moments later, he heard the pantry doors slamming shut. He gestured for Brenda to follow him. He took his time, letting the wheels move slowly under his hands.
Lord, I have no idea why she’s here. Or what she could possibly want to talk about. Please, don’t let my anger rule me, because I’m ready to let it loose.