Daughters of Destiny Collection
Daddy's
Girl
Kari St. John
Kari St. John
Available Now
ISBN: 0595267475
(click on the ISBN to order from Amazon)
Here is a complete excerpt
from Daddy's Girl...
Prologue
The group of attorneys sat around the long cherry wood conference table waiting for their illustrious boss to make his entrance. Usually, he was the first one at the table, at the office hours ahead of his crew, preparing assignments to be handed out during their morning meeting.
"Do you think they blew up the freeway?" One young associate joked, good-naturedly.
"Had to. Sanderson must have died in the explosion. He'd have called his chopper to land on the freeway and get him to work on time if he didn't." There was scattered laughter from around the table.
"You're just jealous, Martin. If you had half the sex appeal of our much sought after boss, no one would ever see you at one of these meetings. Goodness, we probably wouldn't see you at all. You'd just resign and hang out a sign, "Come get me."
"Sex appeal? That guy?" Martin retaliated. "All those babes on his arms are seeing dollar signs. If I had his money, they'd be lining up for me too."
"You don't get it do you, Martin." Most of the women in this city would pay him to do his dirty laundry." The newest associate, still waiting to pass the bar, looked star struck.
"Better get those stars out of your eyes, short stuff." Jeff, senior partner, who had opened the firm with Mike when he started, warned her. "If Mike sees you looking at him like that, with those big brown puppy dog eyes, he'll fire you on the spot. He doesn't like trouble at work."
"I wasn't-" she sputtered.
"Sure you were, but save it." One of the other ladies' warned. "We've all been there, star struck by our bigger than life boss, just keep it low key. After a while, the ice in his veins will diminish the puppy love in your heart. Long as you remember that heart of his is stone, you will do well."
"Now take a look at this one." Martin, still trying to save face, shoved a magazine around the table. "She wouldn't give Sanderson the time of day. He got the book back and held it up. "Yep, she is strictly high class." He grinned maliciously. "Couldn't reach first base with her."
"Martin, quit dreaming." Jeff interjected.
"Hey. I know her type. She would go for someone like…me."
"As her pool man." Jeff laughed. Taking the book from the other man, flipping through the magazine, to see the inside photos. She definitely was a looker.
"She is something." He admitted. "And that child." He pointed at her daughter. "The most beautiful child I've ever seen. You wonder who coulda broke through to the ice princess." He referred to the name the media had designated for her, since she was rumored not to show a hint of emotion, even when she made love, or so the story went. "I never even knew she had a kid."
"No one did. Strange. Her being a supermodel and all. Their lives are usually all over the tabloids."
"Put that away. Here comes Mike." The magazine was hastily pushed aside, and faces donned masks of professional studiousness, as they watched their boss walk past the glass-partitioned wall toward the conference room.
"Oh no. He's not in a good mood today."
"Just keep smiling," Someone warned.
Mike walked into the conference room and dropped his attaché, poured himself a cup of coffee, no cream, no sugar, and sat at his chair.
"Sorry, I'm late." No explanation.
"Jeff, I'm pulling you off everything, reassigning you to another project." He opened his attaché.
"Lisa, Jenkins, you will be splitting Jeff's cases between you." He glanced briefly at the attorneys as he called their names, passing a reorganized assignment list to them.
Not only late, but impulsive as well. The others looked at each other, then back at their boss, but said nothing.
"Meet me in my office in 15 minutes." He directed his words to Jeff. "You will be leaving town tomorrow." With that he stood up and left the room.
Fifteen minutes later, Jeff was headed to Mike's office when he heard a loud crash. He broke into a trot, rushing past the secretary, who sat there bewildered, and into his office.
"Say man, what's up?" Jeff looked at the Ming vase that was scattered in pieces over the gray aubusson carpet. Mike looked as cold as stone, no evidence of the anger that he had just vented on the priceless antique.
"Have a seat."
"Is it safe?" Mike slowly relaxed his shoulders, rotating them to ease the tension.
"For you, yes. For one person in particular, I'm just glad we have hundreds of miles between us now." He pushed his intercom. "Maggie, can you get me a broom in here, please."
"Yes, sir." Jeff heard the curiously agitated voice on the other side of the button.
"Man, you need a vacation, bad." Jeff eased around the glass, and took a seat in a leather wingback.
"I'm about to take one, but I can assure you, it won't be relaxing." His words were ominous; the scowl on his face did not invite questions.
"I'm sorry to bring you into this, but I have a major case I'm in the middle of," Jeff knew. A case about a woman who had been beaten and raped by her ex-husband, in front of their two small children, and Mike was suing the police for failure to render aid. He knew it was a case that was close to his own heart, and an open wound to his past.
"Since you are the best, next to me, and I trust you implicitly, I'm putting you on it." He didn't say it smugly, just stated the truth. Mike was the top in his firm, and in his profession and everyone in their business knew it. He had walked away from megabuck offers from some of the most elite firms in the country, and had decided to start his own. Mainly because of the autonomy, he could fight civil cases without pressure from management.
To understand him was futile, He was a mixture of contrasts. He had walked away from millions of dollars to play basketball, and instead defended civil rights for helpless victims, but he was not a goody two shoes.
He balanced his financial statements by defending the people others wouldn't.
His life had been filled with women up until a year ago, a hopeless womanizer, and Jeff knew he had not cared for any of them, probably hated most of them, but had such a love for children, he would give hundreds of thousands of dollars to orphanages.
He could be so compassionate with his clients. Compassionate to the point of foolishness, but at the same time, he had broken off a relationship without a reason, or excuse, and walked away, never looking behind.
He didn't share his past, but Jeff figured some woman had hurt him pretty bad.
"Okay, man, I'm on it. Whatever it is." Mike slid the picture of the magazine cover he had just been looking at in the conference room over to him.
"If she so much as sneezes in the direction of a man, I want to know about it. I want to know as much about her life as she knows. I have an investigator out there now, but I need you to make sure she doesn't do anything until I get there."
Jeff was stunned.
"Mike, I respect you, and I would do almost anything for you, but do you mind telling me…why I am stalking Kyra, the supermodel, one of the most beautiful women on the planet. This is not my opinion, this is according to People magazine, mind you."
"I'm not. I could not care at this moment whether she lived or died." His eyes spoke truthfully, though Jeff felt he would like to see her dead.
"So what's up man?"
"Let's just say, she took something from me, and I now want it back." With that he picked up the phone, punched in some numbers, and began his day, leaving Jeff to speculate on the enigmatic statement.
Mike looked out of the window that covered an entire wall of his office, out into the distance. He had much to do before he met his victim. Soon, Kyra. Very soon.
The trill of the phone filtered through Kyra's sleep drugged senses. Who could be calling at this time of night?
She turned over and fumbled for the nightstand receiver, not bothering to open her eyes.
"Kyra, code red." The voice invaded Kyra's attempt to stay in a realm somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, so it would be easy for her to drift off after finishing the conversation. Her eyes shot instantly open. The special words they had invented in jest for one specific problem got Kyra's immediate attention. "Kevin…When…Where?"
She sat up in the bed on her pillow, pulling off the satin eye covers.
"You know those pictures we shot for Michelle's birthday. Well my guy had a temp, and he shipped them with the rest. You and Michelle are front page all over the world."
"Oh, no." Kyra hung up the phone a few minutes later, and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Had Kevin been in town, he could have caught the mistake, but he had left for a shoot in Africa. And she had not bothered to pick up her advance copy.
She could feel her world crashing down around her. She did not know which way the attack would come, or even what form it would take, but come it would, and if she knew him, it would come soon.
If it had been anyone else, she would have had nothing to worry about. But this was Michael. Rich, powerful, and once he set his mind on something. Would not hesitate to go to the bowels of hell to see his desire accomplished. And right now…his desire would be for her.
She could be wrong. After 7 years he might not even care. He might just laugh at it, blow it off. She discarded the idea as soon as it came to her mind. She had stolen from him…or at least that was how he would see it. And he never could abide thieves. To steal his most precious possession…She knew he would want her to suffer.
She put her head in her hands, willing the sudden pounding to stop. Not now, her mind screamed at the migraine that was invading her thoughts. I need to think.
Maybe he wouldn't see the magazine. Maybe he'd be out of the country…or blind…crippled…and crazy. An angry sob tore at her throat.
She had to get away. He would come. But with a little time, she could come up with something…a way out of this.
Twenty minutes later, she and Michelle were pulling out of the driveway in a gray Mercedes convertible, heading back to the one place she had run from for so long…home. The place that had labeled her an outcast…had torn from her visions of support and love, and had left her wounded and bleeding. But at this time, it seemed the only safe haven. Her mother could not help her, but she could harbor her, from the storm that was brewing.
She did not notice the gray Cadillac that started its engine and followed discreetly behind. The man inside flipped on a cell phone and punched in the number, waiting for an answer. It was 5:00 am, but the man on the other end answered on the first ring as if he'd been up working several hours already.
"Chicken has flown the coop." The cryptic phrase was understood.
"Follow. Keep me posted." The voice was curt, and cold, just like the man.
"Will do, boss." But he was talking to dead air. He flipped the phone off and continued his game of cat and mouse. He didn't know who she was, other than the fact that she was a supermodel. Nothing about what she meant to his client. But he felt sorry for her already, because he knew Sanderson. And once he entered the scene…there'd be hell to pay.
Mike leaned back in the folding chair, legs spaced, his back to the sun, his lithe body darkly outlined in silhouette. His hooded eyes intently registered everything around him, even though he looked as if he were totally relaxed, not a care in the world.
The student union was crowded today, partly because there was a massive voter registration drive going on with some big name politicians on campus encouraging the next generation to take a stand today.
Beside him, on either side were frat brothers, eating meals, watching the girls go by. He sat at the head of the table, like a king holding court, with everyone waiting conscientiously for his next words, hoping some awe inspiring revelation would give them the magnet like sex appeal of their older frat. As a post grad Mike stood more in the role now of mentor, advisor, and disciplinarian when necessary.
The student union was not one of his regular hangouts, but today, after studying for hours, his condo suddenly became suffocating, and he decided to come over to check out the rally. Girls passed the table continually trying to entice him into conversation, but he ignored them. He was a draw, partly because he was an enigma, partly because of his social status. The big question on everyone's mind was why had a person who was a shoo in for 1st in the draft, given up that opportunity to come to law school? He was also drop dead gorgeous, and his family ran into big money. These 3 factors were enough to ensure that a steady stream of the campuses most beautiful, most eligible females sashayed by, which was fine with his frats. Those he didn't want would fall to them, the ladies would go with the off chance that if they hooked up with one of his brothers, they had a better chance of getting to know him.
All of a sudden the table got quiet, a feeling of definite anticipation falling over the entire group. Mike had been attempting to catch some of the speech of the black presidential candidate at the podium, but the change in the atmosphere around him caught his internal sensors. Mike knew before his eyes sliced in the opposite direction that "Ice" was approaching.
Mike only knew her because all of his frats had tried her and failed. Let them tell it, she was the stuff boyhood fantasies were made of, to his knowledge they were just upset because she was the one that got away. She wasn't Mike's taste, she had that cool, butter wouldn't melt in her mouth look, that turned him off fast. He liked his women fiery, passionate, even a touch on the wild side.
She was beautiful, in a confectionary kind of way, but Mike doubted if she had any substance beneath it. Her father was a senator, and he was sure she had the same bubbly, but inane comprehension of many of the idle rich that he so frequently dated. Her nails, her hair, and her future husband. Ice was a well-deserved name, because that's how she left him, cold.
He knew the guys had a pool out on who would get her first, and many a time they had come back with a stinging blow to their ego, because she never seemed to notice that they existed. She walked around like a fairy tale princess, holding court with that bunch of do-gooders from the student Christian association, and anyone outside of that forum she didn't hang out with on a regular basis. Mike guessed that at the end of her senior year, the guys could throw a pizza party with all the money they had in the "Ice" pool.
He watched her as she approached with a young man next to her, talking animatedly to him as she pointed out different areas of the student union. She smiled down at the man, and suddenly Mike realized what the others already knew. She was enchantingly beautiful. He lowered his eyes further, suddenly curious, where before he had summarily dismissed her.
"See, Jonathon, this is where you will come and mingle next year." She exclaimed. Pointing to tables and couches spread strategically around the union. "You can hang out, watch TV, meet girls, all right here." She made the most mundane tasks seem exciting to the boy, Mike thought. The young man, physically and mentally challenged, obviously adored her, and she talked to him with an easy camaraderie and shared affection. Mike was reevaluating his estimation of her. The women he knew wouldn't give a second glance to someone of the young man's stature. He watched as the boy smiled, answering her with strained effort.
"Will…Will.. you …be…be…here, too.too..oo…Kyra?" He smiled shyly. They had stopped directly in front of them, by now.
"Only for your first year. Then I'll be moving on…Law school…but we will keep in touch. You have my home number, and I have yours."
A snicker fell from somewhere within the group.
"So that's why the rest of us couldn't get any play. Kyra obviously likes a much more basic man. One that doesn't talk much." Mike sliced a look at the younger man, intending to give him a lashing. He had been trouble from the start and was already set to go before the student government for domestic problems with his girlfriend, but Mike had decided to try to help him out. As he lifted his chair to a sitting position to deal with the situation, Ice's eyes made him pause. Obviously the comment, and its accompanying insult had not been lost on her. The look that she squared at the guy who made the comment assured Mike she could take care of herself, and he leaned back, curious as to what would happen next. She turned the young man beside her.
"Jonathon, here is some money. Could you walk over to the grill and get us something to eat?" She coaxed him as he looked uncertainly toward the crowd of people. "Get me a hamburger and a lemonade, and I will join you in just a minute. You can do it." She assured him as he turned once again to stare at her. She watched him out of earshot, before she turned on the group with the fury of an avenging angel.
"Dejuan." She leaned over the table, putting her face within inches of the other's face. "You must be the scum of the earth." She looked at him derisively.
"Jonathon has overcome several handicaps to make it to this school. Many thought he couldn't do it. Not only did he do so, but his education is fully financed through scholarships won on his other achievements. I'm sure that has no relevance to you since your mother and father send you here every term, praying that you will move on to sophomore in less than 4 years, You are at 3 and counting aren't you?" She glanced angrily at the others. "Does the term cerebral palsy mean anything to you. Have you ever even heard of it? Of course not. But I am sure "imbecile", and "moron" pass through your atmosphere with alarming frequency." There was a look of absolute surprise from the others in the group. They had definitely never seen "Ice" like this. A few snickers passed over as others from the union started observing the situation. Dejuan leaned back, looking petulant, and she lifted up from her position, but continued to stare down at him.
"Other people's feelings just don't matter to you at all, do they?" She looked incredulous. "Just can't seem to get it right, can you?" She smirked. "You know what? I saw your girlfriend's eye, big boy, and she seems to think you can't get it right either. But you just keep trying. Impotence is usually a temporary situation." The others guys at the table looked stunned, then broke out in raucous laughter. "Oh, no, she didn't," and "She got you boy" were heard from some of the other frats. Obviously embarrassed, Dejuan stood up, his face contorted with anger. Kyra faced him off, not flinching a muscle. Mike sat up.
"Dejuan. Sit." The one word spoke volumes. The other man looked at him, angrily, glared at Kyra, and took his seat, his obvious hostility, not abated.
"Nice trick. Now teach him to bark, and perhaps one day he'll earn a useful existence." Mike stood up. Dejuan deserved a lashing, but he was going to have to stop her, before she got out of control.
"Say. Look," He started, but before he could continue, she slapped him full in the face, daring him to hit her back. He made no move to retaliate, only stroked his cheek, so she turned around and left, strolling angrily off in the direction of her young friend. Mike looked at the others, who watched him to see what his next move would be, but he sat back down, his eyes, lashes lowered following "Ice" as she made her way to her destination. Seeing that nothing further would ensue, they started ribbing Dejuan again.
"Whew!" Mark, another frat joked. "Ice let him have it. Girl just ain't no joke." The others laughed, all still watching Mike intently, as he paid no attention to them, his eyes intently on the trim figure who was laughing once again at a table across the union hall, the others recognizing finally, the attraction that they had already felt for her, burgeoning in him.
Finally, he leaned back again, rubbing his jaw, his lips lifted in a slight smile. So there was passion under that ice, and lots of it. He tucked that away for future reference. No, he thought, as the young man had mentioned a minute before. Ice, by any standards, definitely just wasn't no joke. The next day, from what he understood, the pool tripled, in his favor.
Chapter 7
Mike whirled his four-year-old niece around like a spinning top as she
sat on his shoulders, excited to be on her weekly outing with "Uncle
Mike".
She squealed loudly, the dizzying action making her topple a little, so he flipped her over, landing her softly on her feet, then picked her up and carried her gently, like a precious bundle of gold.
"She loves you." Kyra smiled softly, as she watched their display of affection.
"I love her." They made their way through the mall, the tall beautiful couple attracting more than their share of attention, but oblivious to everyone but each other. Savannah pointed to a giant gumball machine, and stared at her uncle, who took one look at her, and fished a quarter out of his pocket. "Better to give in graciously. She knows she has me wrapped around her finger." He sat on a bench, watching her as she went to the machine, stretched his already long arms skyward, then in one fluid movement, pulled Kyra from her standing position closely to his side.
"Children are so innocent. They just love you. No games, no walls, no secrets. As much love as you can give them, the will give back in return."
Kyra knew about his past. When Mike sat her down about two weeks after they started dating, and explained it to her, she was pleased. He was beginning to trust her, and the knowledge made her glow. She didn't know that she was the first woman who'd ever gotten him to speak so candidly about himself, his pains, his fears about being a husband, a father. The demons that chased him in his sleep.
She thought he was preparing her to be his friend. He knew he was preparing her to be his wife. It wouldn't be easy. He knew that. She needed to know up front. But the open love and unwavering friendship she showered on him, never requiring anything more than he had to give, were beginning to heal wounds he never even knew existed.
Savannah ambled back over to them, her cheek pushed out beyond belief, by the size of the bubble gum ball lodged inside of it. Mike opened his hand, she dropped it in, then he held it up for her to bite a small section, depositing the rest of it into her small outstretched palm.
Promptly she popped it back into her mouth, chewing heavily. The roundness inside her cheek was gone, but there was still an awful lot of gum there. Kyra laughed. Mike grabbed Savannah and dragged her into his lap, holding Kyra securely when she would have moved, and he told his niece funny stories about old men with long beards and fairy tale princesses.
Kyra sat quietly in his arm. He would be a great father. His wife would never have to question his undying love or devotion to his children. Instinct, maternal, told her that. His fears were unfounded. When he found the right woman, he would blossom, and the tightness that she sometimes saw around the edges of his mouth, when she thought he was reliving his past would disappear.
She'd be fiery. Obviously passionate. One of those women that could excite you with one glance. Whose words inspired you to new levels of greatness. And they would fall at his feet willingly, because he had that type of personality. She was suddenly despondent. Not by any stretch of the imagination, could she be considered anything like that. She, who had spent her entire life training herself to be soft-spoken, cordial, and never show negative emotion. The only hint of fire she possessed was the occasional temper that popped up, and she was struggling to get that under control.
She watched the two of them, the longing in her heart that they could be a real family would go unrealized, and she knew that. When this wonderful dream was over, and that was what it was, just a dream, he would go his way, begin his career, and marry the most beautiful, vivacious woman in the country. And she would return home, no longer so naïve, no longer content to live life as she felt life had to be, a stranger in a life she had lived for 22 years.
"Do you think six children are too many?" Mike noticed her look of melancholy and touched her arm.
"That would depend on who you married." She gratefully let herself be drawn in and away from her thoughts.
"What if it were you?" He looked into her eyes. She knew he was joking. He enjoyed playing these games of fantasy, and she allowed him, pushing aside the murmurs in her heart that whispered what if it could only be true. She returned his gaze. You are definitely out of your league, girl.
"I think two will do it for me. But I wish you luck in finding someone who will agree to that." Mike laughed out loud, pulling her up, and heading to Saks Fifth Avenue.
"Let's compromise. Four."
"Three."
"Sorry. Four is low as I go. Two boys and two girls."
"And don't forget the maid and the nanny."
"Of course."
"I'll think about it. But feel free to look elsewhere while I'm thinking." His laugh was long and hard, and several people stopped to look at them, the beautiful couple, with the beautiful child.
"Kyra, do you know what you're doing?" Lauren looked at her friend, worried.
"Of course I do, don't worry." Kyra came out of the shower, tying her robe.
"I don't think you do. He's a user. He will trap you, and leave you hanging. That's what his kind does." She was so naïve. Lauren was afraid for her. Until now she had been so full of her life long plans, she had been easy enough to handle, but with a hound like Mike on her tail, Lauren saw nothing but trouble, with a capital T.
"He's nothing like that. You just have to get to know him."
"No you don't know him. I've known him all my life, or men just like him, and his intentions are not honorable. You've broken up with your fiancée…for him." Lauren looked incredulous.
"He wasn't my fiancée." Kyra defended
"Well, he would have been. And for what? A man who doesn't know the meaning of the word fidelity."
"You should see him at bible study. He has a gift like I've never seen. He can explain the bible so clearly. It's taken on a whole new depth."
"So can the devil. But he's usually using it for his own benefit." Lauren was frustrated. Kyra was naïve, and if she didn't stop her, make her see sense, the girl was going to destroy her life.
"I think he's going to pop the question, Lauren." Kyra's eyes lit up. "I could never even have hoped before, but now…"
"Trust me girl, the only question he'll be poppin' is your place or mine? Men like him don't marry. When they do, they cheat on their wives, and change them like they do their socks. Or worse, they keep them, and make them suffer through their affairs. Do you actually want to be involved in a situation like that? Wake up!" Kyra laughed off her insecurities. She had thought the same thing. Had never hoped Mike could actually love her, but her heart knew. She knew inside that he loved her just as much as she loved him.
She had taken the time to look really nice. She wore a white linen pantsuit, with gold buttons and gold sandals. Her hair was upswept with tendrils swirling around her face to show the gracefulness of her neck. She wore the barest hint of makeup. She really didn't need it, and a whisper of pale rose lipstick. Gold bangles finished off her outfit.
"You are stunning, Kyra." Lauren sighed. "He doesn't deserve you."
"I love him." The simple statement, spoken with such depth, made Lauren want to cry. She could not help her to see, she could only help her through the pain she knew was coming. Hopefully, pain was all it would be.
"I know, Kyra. And that's what makes it so sad." Lauren folded Kyra into her arms, like a mother would, because for all their misunderstandings, Kyra seemed years younger than she had ever been.
"I'll pray for you." She spoke the soft words.
"Pray for us both. That we'll be happy." Kyra took a lightweight jacket and left the room, waving to Lauren as she went out.
"That I'll do Kyra. That I will do."
Section 4
"Speak to me!!" Mike screamed into the silent night air, his voice reverberating into the eerie stillness as he stood at the balcony of his bedroom in the secluded Atlanta outskirts, overlooking the lighted swimming pool. He stared into the darkened sky, sprinkled majestically with stars, as if his answers might be found there.
"What is it? What do you want?" Desperation pushed him. That and the confusion that told him that death had to be better than this.
He was rich, successful, sought after, but he'd never been more miserable in his life. And he knew the reason. If it were just a man, he could fight him. He was ready for a good fight. Something tangible, physical that he could put his hands on.
But this was more. This invisible, mocking presence that wreaked havoc with him, had sized up his life and all that he had achieved, and still found him lacking. He knew it, because deep inside he found himself lacking. Something was missing that would make his life acceptable, like he had made some type of contribution to it. But there was nothing. Nothing that made him feel that if he died today he would be remembered. Failure. The word played around his mind settling softly into his subconscious.
It wasn't that he didn't give. He did. He was one of the most generous people he knew. He just knew too that if that invisible presence presented himself today and said "times up" He would not have lived up to the expectations that had been set for his lifetime. Something was missing… Something wasn't adding up. He needed answers, of that he was certain, and something told him he needed them fast.
Mike had begun reading his bible in the last year, something he had not done since college. Not that he felt he understood on anything but a superficial level. He knew his searching was more of an attempt to settle in his mind that this was all just the fallible ramblings of some old men who had nothing better to do with their lives than to screw up the minds of millions of people by giving them false hopes in something that didn't exist. After the deaths of his uncle and his mother, and Kyra's betrayal, he could no longer believe in anything other than a person's ability to create his own existence. There wasn't anything spooky or spiritual about it. You work harder, you push harder. You make the life that you want.
No God, no mystique, no one cared about you, but you. But somehow he knew he was wrong. There was something or someone out there. He refused to call him God, but something, or someone, brought him right back to this place, this questioning, each time he had some victory that should have made him feel elated, but only left him feeling empty and alone.
He should get married, punch out a couple of kids. If he didn't get along with the woman, that would be okay, too. At least he'd have the children. He'd played with the idea before, but that was all he did. His mind rejected the idea of bringing children into a world where love didn't exist between the two people whom they would have to spend their formative years with. He could adopt. And he'd had someone looking into that, but a child needed two parents.
So here he stood, yet again, thinking of purpose, of destiny, screaming into the silence.
His mind rushed back to happier times. Like his time with his uncle, a time filled with joy and youth and vigor. He could remember it clearly, almost like yesterday.
"I can hear those perch calling, yes sir!" Mike's uncles booming voice filled the enclosed cab space of the small old model truck. Mike sat on the edge of his seat watching the trees go by as they headed toward their favorite fishing spot. The moon was still high in the sky and every so often they could see animals scurry past the truck trying possibly to find safety before the morning sun rose.
"Pint size, you look like you are about to jump out of that window from plain excitement, and trust me I don't relish that idea at all. Mess up my whole day of fishin.'" Mike swiftly leaned back, but it did not diminish the glow in his eyes. This was his favorite time of the whole week. This was the motivation behind him getting straight A's, behind him keeping his room cleaned meticulously, behind him taking the trash out without being asked. Because he knew every Friday morning, he had to stand before his parents and ask them if they would mind him staying at his uncle's house for the weekend. And without fail, his mother would convince his father that the time had improved every character trait the boy had, and grudgingly his father would give in after putting up a big fuss.
So just like every other weekend for the past two years, He was sitting next to his uncle, telling him funny stories about what happened at school this week, how he was the head of his class, and how he had the highest average in school. How all the girls chased behind him, but he wasn't interested, because he was going to law school to fight the injustice in the world.
And his uncle would tell him about his own childhood. His big dreams, his plans for becoming the head of his dad's company, his desires to expand it so that it was a globally recognized name in the furniture industry, but how God had called him out of all of that, and now he was a minister.
"Well, we are here." The secluded lake spot, nearly 13 miles from the house had to be the best place for fishing there was.
Mike jumped out of the cab, headed for the back to get the tackle and gear, and went barreling past his uncle, who held an arm out that he landed across, and swung him back around. "Hold on there, half pint." He admonished. "Didn't I tell you not to be running in these parts? You do not want to scare up on some wild animal, now do you?" He released him to his newfound wisdom and watched him walk more cautiously toward the wooded lake.
"I know Lord, that this isn't heaven, but it is pretty darn close, I sure tell you." He laughed as he took his baited hook from Mike a few minutes later.
Nine-year-old Mike baited the hook of his own brand new fishing pole. For several years now, he had been using an extra pole of his uncle's, but today, his ninth birthday, his uncle had presented him with his own. No big show, just "I think it's time" and "Now get in the truck." But to Mike it was better than the most expensive toys his father gave him, because it was given with love.
It wasn't the top of the line, like his father would have gotten him, had his father ever fished or even done anything remotely similar, like paying attention to the fact that Mike had made another year. But his father spent time on the phone, making business deals, increasing their already considerable fortune. Nope, his father had never considered the act of fishing.
Uncle Jerome, however was a preacher in a small church. He had two grown daughters, neither of which could stand the idea of a worm, so for years he had fished alone. Now, he had Mike, who found himself at six years old out in the lake in knee boots, and that was exactly where he wanted to be.
Mike dreamed about these weekends all week, when they would pack a sack lunch, and make a day of it, heading out about 5:00 in the morning for the remote Georgia town with the best fish in the world.
Uncle didn't have a lot of money. Mike knew his family struggled many times to make ends meet, but his uncle being too proud to ask his family for anything, would rather do without.
He had walked away from them, left the family business and became a pastor of a small church in the outskirts of Atlanta.
No, he didn't have a lot, but Mike would have given up half his prestigious baseball card collection just to have his uncle ask him to come live with him and Aunt Lena. But he never did.
"Well, bout time. I thought I'd have to call out the National Guard to get you out of that trance you were in, son."
" Just thinking." Mike didn't want to talk now. Whenever he thought about living with them, it was like a cloud passed over his young features. He was too proud to ask him, so he just made himself as indispensable as possible and waited for the day that his uncle would realize how much he wanted him. They stood for a few long minutes in silence, only the soft chirping of crickets and the gentle lapping of the water breaking the first stirrings of the morning.
"You know son." His uncle began. The stiffness in Mike's shoulders did not go unnoticed on his uncle.
"So much time during my life I prayed for a son, someone to spend my days with, to pass on some of the things that I've learned in my years on the earth. My daughter's are grown now, and to tell you the truth, I'd just about given up on it. But sometimes God moves in mysterious ways. These last few years I've not been as happy as the days I spend out here with you, on this lake. So in a way, God has answered my prayers. Not in the way I was expecting. I could not in my own imaginings, however, not even in my wildest dreams, have hoped for a better son than you've been to me."
The words were tough for him to say, but he couldn't hold them back. "Then why don't you want me?" Mike muttered bitterly. " Why can't I come out here and live with you and Aunt Lena? I could get a job and pay for food. I wouldn't be any trouble." A single tear rolled down Mike's cheek, but he was too proud to acknowledge it, allowing it to fall off his chin.
Heavily, his uncle sat down, making no pretense of concentrating on the fish, and staring into the distance as if the words he spoke were being formed somewhere in the spirit world and he was just waiting for them to break out of his mouth. Mike had seen him do that on Sunday. Get up behind his pulpit, and just stand there, and look out into the face of the audience. Then he'd open up his bible and give the most beautiful sermon. Mike had asked him once why he looked so far off before he started preaching and that had been his response. That he had his sermon, but the spirit would have to give it to him. It was out there in the spirit world, and he just had to wait for it to hit his brain.
"You know Mike," He began slowly. "I had this rock once. It had found it on the beach. It looked like it had every color of the rainbow in it, embedded on brown stone and lacquered to a shine. I thought it had to be the most beautiful rock in the world. Well I took it home and put it in my box that I kept all my treasures in. And every morning I would take it out and look at it, and every night I would do the same. Then I would put it away. One day my best friend got really sick. He had cancer. I didn't know what that was at the time, but I knew it was bad, because the grownups was always whispering. I wanted to make him happy. So I went home, got that rock and brought it over to his house and gave it to him. And the smile I saw on his face made my day. He had been hurting every time I saw him before, but this time he had the widest grin, just like before, when he was well. Then I realized. The magic of living is sharing, giving. As long as I had that old rock in my box, it was beautiful to me, but no one else. But when I shared it, then it truly became special." Mike didn't understand but he didn't say anything.
"The joy you bring to my life, I could not measure if I tried to. But if I kept all of you to myself, then there would be others who would no longer share of all your goodness. Take your mother for instance. As much joy as you bring to my life, you bring more to hers. And with the pain she faces every day, she needs just a little bit more joy in her life every day than me. She needs you so much. And I snatch my little corner of your life on weekends, but to do more would be selfish." Mike hadn't thought of it like that. In his innocence, he had thought to only get away from his own pain, to a place where he was happy. He had never considered that the only joy his mother showed now was when she had her children near. Then the once-beautiful face, marred by years of abuse and silent suffering, would light up and once again show the evidence of the youthful beauty she'd been famous for.
"I guess I never thought of that. I'm sorry for being so selfish." He sighed.
"You don't have a selfish bone in your body, son. I never saw a child who has been through so much, show the love and compassion that you have. Now I know you got some rough edges. I notice your strong suit is definitely not turning the other cheek, but neither was mine. So I guess we can look over that for now." Mike set down his pole, walked over to his uncle, who had already set down his, and the older man folded the young child into his arms.
"God always has a plan Mike, always remember that. When things look their worst, and sometimes they do, God still has a plan." His uncle held him close, as his own father had never done.
"I'll be strong for Mom, I promise." Just for today, fishing was forgotten, and the two watched the son come up in silent camaraderie, no longer as man and child, but as two who shared the same purpose, making someone's life just a little bit easier.
Mike shook himself from his memories. His uncle had died 3 years later, hit by a drunk driver as he headed home from work one morning at the printing press job he had that kept the bills paid. Young Mike was never the same again. What kind of plan was that? If that was a plan, he'd take his chances on his own.
He'd spent the last two years trying to discount the bible, becoming more and more confused. Many Sundays he had slipped in the back of a church, wanting needing something, he didn't know what. Seeking, searching for a peace that eluded him… and running. Running from his past, from his pain.
She would be almost 6 by now, starting school. He pulled his mind deliberately from the direction it was heading. She was dead. Still, sometimes in his dreams, he could see her. She would be smiling. Telling him to hurry home. Daddy? Daddy? Where are you?
He must be losing his mind. He thought he'd heard a voice. He sat down heavily in his chair staring into nothingness. When would the dreams end? When would he have his peace?
"Most assuredly, I say to you, when you were younger, you girded yourself and walked where you wished. But when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird you, and carry you where you do not wish. Follow me."
"What??" Mike roused from his almost sleep state. He had definitely heard a voice. First a girl's voice, now a man's voice. Clearly, as if someone was in the room talking to him. He looked around, just to make sure he was alone, and seeing no one, sat back in the chaise, musing. He knew now that he definitely needed some help. He would set an appointment with a friend of his that was a psychiatrist tomorrow.
Bible Study
Kyra looked around the room at her friends. People she had been with since she had been in New York, and Her heart expanded with love. These were people who were not perfect, as her other friends had been, but they were the people who would give their time, their effort, their very lives, for a God who had been merciful to their sin. She had listened to the testimonies of these people for so long. How God had delivered them from lives filled with drugs, abuse, and pain, but until now, she had never spoken on her own. But now, knowing it would be a long time before she saw them again, seemed like the right time.
"I thought I had all the God I needed," she began, and Mike knew that every word took effort. Obviously, sharing her personal pain was something she still found uncomfortable, even though the evidence that that past had made her a better person illuminated every word she spoke. " I was upright, righteous, and holy. But I'd left out love. Love for others, and love for myself. I could not forgive others, and when the time came, I could not forgive myself." She looked around the room, seeing the love and support there, then staring over their heads to cover her embarrassment, looking into the cold eyes of her husband as he sat with Michelle, not participating, just observing. Sorrow filled her heart, as she willed him to forgive her, but his indifference seared her.
"After years of searching and wondering, what I could have done differently, I realize nothing…absolutely nothing. Because in the pain, in the fire of accusation and indignation, in the times of bitter isolation, I released myself and I embraced my God. You don't begin to know God in the good times. You learn the love, the mercy, the strength, the compassion, and his overwhelming grace…in the places where you thought he has forgotten you. In the places where you have to soar above the clouds and find rest for your spirit and your soul in the tender arms of God's everlasting mercy. Is there anything I would have changed? Looking back…no. I have a wonderful daughter, my Michelle, a good job, good friends, and a God who loves me more than I could ever have known otherwise. And that knowledge alone was worth the trip.
"Just to realize that the fire breathing dragon chasing me down was not my Father. The bitter taskmaster that I had made Him out to be was nothing like the God that showed Himself to me when I had nowhere else to turn. And that His mercy hovers over me. My Father, My God, My Daddy, loves me…meee! And I would not give that up for anything in the world."
Mike looked at his wife and realized in that instant how much she had changed. From the young girl who believed anyone who did wrong should suffer the punishment of a just and holy God and deserved no pity, to a woman, a woman of infinite wisdom, who knew that there was a God who loved more than they as humans could ever comprehend.
His heart was softening toward her, and he did not like it. But like it or not, it had happened. How, when? He sat there deep in thought. Not something he had planned.
Talk Show
Kyra looked at the talk show host that had asked the question. It had
not been on the list of potential questions, but in her heart she knew
it was coming. She had run from her past for so long…so very long.
And shame had been her constant companion. But So much had changed within
her. She could see Mike, her husband, her love, standing in the sidelines,
trying to infuse her with his love, to support her silently for the next
few minutes with the strength that she had depended on to take her through
the last few months. Then she just opened up.
"You ask how I can be a person who talks of God's love, when my personal history has such failure in it, and I will tell you." She lifted her head, staring into the eyes of the audience. She faced them no longer with the pain, no longer with the pride, but with a humility born of a relationship with a God who had given her back her right to stand anywhere, and be whole.
"Before I failed, I knew him as God,
Now I know Him as Father
Before I failed, I knew Him as Lord
Now I know him as savior.
For all have sinned and fallen short
I don't use it as an excuse, but as atonement.
I thought I was perfect before, that I was better than others,
But now I have perfected compassion
Now I know that only through love can any of us be made perfect
I don't excuse my sin, I accept God's mercy and grace in my life
And the sacrifice His Son gave as absolution for my humanity
I strive daily for the mark of the high call,
But I wear His robe of righteousness as I make my journey.
There are those who will never forgive me
But there is one who already has
I do not in any way ask for your acceptance
But I accept His justification and redemption for all that I am.
A loving God…A fallen man
And His plan for our redemption…Faith in His son.
Michael could not move. The thunderous applause of the audience was answer enough. The shine of tears was in his eyes. She had faced the enemy…and she had won. And learned the true love of God in the process. She reached out her hand to him, and he came. He walked past the cameras, past his surprised host, and gathered his wife into his arms. Pride swelled within him. Thank you God…for answering my prayer of so many years ago. I did not deserve her then, and I know that. It took me a long time to realize that you were just preparing us to be together. Kyra held him tight. His joy was complete.
Mike held Kyra snugly to him under one arm, as he read to Michelle with his free hand. He gently stroked Kyra's severely distended belly.
"Have you ever seen an angel daddy?" Michelle questioned, as he finished the story, Angels In Our Midst.
"Princess, I see two angels every day." He grunted as she jumped into his arms, raining kisses on his face, laughing as he tickled her toes. Kyra smiled at the two of them from her position that she'd moved into to protect herself. She loved seeing their boundless energy, she thought. Lately she had been so tired.
"Thank you for finding us daddy. You make Mommy and I very happy. So I guess you are an angel, too." She assured him, taking a seat between him and Kyra.
"Well, you know Dad's are like guardian angels. God sends Daddy's to take care of his daughters. To love them and protect them and teach them just how much He loves them.
"I thank God every night for my family. I love you Daddy."
"And I love you princess."
"I love you mommy." She turned to Kyra.
"And I love you too." She hugged Kyra, then reached down touch her stomach, feeling the baby move.
"And I love baby, too." She assured the unborn fetus.
Michelle was soon fast asleep, snuggled protectively between the two of them. Kyra yawned. She was getting sleepy herself.
"Tired?" Mike watched his wife.
"Just a little." She assured him. He was very protective of her, especially now. He had heard from Kevin about the complications she had during Michelle's pregnancy and had insisted she take the last month off from work. He was spending more time at home than at work, himself. Kyra stretched, got up, and followed him as he deposited Michelle into her bed for an afternoon nap. He then draped his arm around Kyra's shoulder and led her to their bedroom.
She sat on the bed, and he knelt at her feet, taking off her sandals. His tenderness amazed Kyra more and more each day, and she lovingly stroked his head. Looking up, Mike caught his breath at the depth of love he saw there. He kissed the palm of her hand, and held it as he took a seat beside her.
"You were right, Kyra." She didn't know what he was talking about, and waited for him to explain.
"All those years ago, when my mom died, and I lost faith, God already had a plan. A plan to bring you into my life and restore my faith in life. It took many years, and a lot of pain on both our sides, but He did it. Who would have known all those years ago that I'd be pastoring a church. Me? I had to be the biggest-" Kyra touched his lips with her fingers.
"You went through more hurt in your life, Mike, than I can even imagine. But God saw more in you. Don't blame yourself for your scars. Thank God that he took your wounded places and healed them. So many don't ever recover. Even though God wants to show all of His creation His undying mercy and love, some just end up bitter and ugly. God took the love that was buried deep in your heart, and he used it to bring you back, to give you hope. I love you for having the courage to change. The courage to turn from the hate and to live again. For giving me the courage to do the same. And for giving Michelle and me a love I never dreamed possible. I would not change one thing I've gone through, because it made me able to accept your love when the time came, to cherish it and to recognize it for the wonderful, beautiful thing that it was." Kyra held her husband, holding him as he wept, for the God who had set him free.
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