by H.H. Fowler
When Leroy walked through the doors of his eight thousand-square-feet mansion, it was several minutes after nine in the evening. The late hours that he’d spent at his office that night were not intentional, but he had suffered a delay from a series of academic meetings with deans and campus presidents.
Mount Moriah was in the middle of launching their School of Theology and their satellite college, which would give his members and his local community the opportunities of spiritual advancement. His goal was not to make money; the church didn’t need it. But with the same token, the courses would be severely discounted, taking in enough to defray minimal expenses. If all went as planned, which he imagined it would, he would fly out to the headquarters in Pittsburg for the official ratification.
Their Staffordshire bull terrier greeted him at the door again, indicating Michelle was around. The way he had stormed away from her this morning, he seriously doubted she was happy to see him. Nonetheless, he felt a sudden urge to be near her. There was much to settle between them, but he didn’t know where to begin, or what words to use to soothe things over. The strenuous fighting had left both of them wounded. He took the elevator upstairs, feeling much older than his forty-nine years.
The first room, left of the elevator belonged to Sean, the one across from it belonged to Eric. He paused between the doors, which he assumed, was intentionally bolted shut to keep him and Michelle out of their world. He couldn’t remember the last time he reached out to his sons. Playing basketball with them was one thing but getting into their heads was another. They were such different people now. Their privacy and their independence was important to them than chitchatting with a father who barely saw them during the week. He was certain he would be wasting his time.
By the time he reached his bedroom, his shoes were in one hand and his blazer was in the other. Darkness cloaked the room, save for the light that came peeking through the bathroom door that had been left ajar. His eyes immediately scanned the bed and he noticed his wife hadn’t succumbed to another disappearing act. Taking that as a good sign, he stripped off his clothing, and then eased his sturdy frame into bed and against her back. He waited to see how she would react, as he tentatively wrapped his arms around her. As soon as she stirred, he leaned over her and kissed the passion back into her lips.
“What are you doing?” She stopped him, her voice breathless with desire.
“I miss you.”
She didn’t respond.
“Are you still upset with me?” he asked her.
“You can’t kiss away our problems.”
“No, but we can take a break from fighting.”
“What’s the point?”
“The point is I still love you.” He gripped her tighter. “And I still desire every part of your body.”
Her face turned to meet his eyes. Immediately, she was taken back almost twenty-six years, when she’d told him for better or for worse. He was still as dashing as the day she’d met him.
“Leroy, you know it’s hard for me to stay angry with you.” Her eyes moistened. “Don’t play on my vulnerability tonight.”
“I love you, Michelle. There is no hidden agenda in those words.” He pressed his lips lightly against her forehead. “Don’t try to rationalize this one; just go with the flow.”
As frightened as she felt inside, she gave into the desires of her husband. Whatever the repercussions, she blocked it out of her mind and trusted that God knew she’d done everything to keep her marriage together.