One Prayer Away (28 page)

As BeBe Winans's rendition of
My Christmas Prayer
streamed through the stereo speakers, Virtue moved with flowing grace. It was only rehearsal, but she danced as if the guests who would take part in the Christmas Eve fellowship were already in their seats and being blessed by her interpretation. It was her first time practicing the entire routine, but Virtue was almost flawless. She'd been trained to keep dancing even if she forgot a step. That was what she and her fellow dance majors were taught at Hope College, and remembering that instruction often came in handy. Today, she'd missed her cue for a turn, but she danced through it, remaining absorbed by the artist's uniquely gifted voice and the perfect melody of the piano
and the stringed instruments that played along with her. As the music faded and she made her final move, Virtue's concentration was broken by the sound of slow hand claps.

Bringing herself to a full standing position, she looked out into the chairs and saw Fynn leaning against one of the walls beside one of the standing candleholders. Walking to the CD player, she turned the music off and then turned back to face his direction. He walked toward her.

“Very good, my love. The pastor will be very pleased with what you've created.”

“Thank you,” Virtue said as she caught her breath.

Fynn stopped a few feet from the bottom of the stage. “I hadn't heard from you since your lunch with the ex. I was hoping that he hadn't killed you and stuffed your dismembered body in the trunk of a car.”

He laughed, but Virtue didn't share his amusement. She ejected the CD and blew away imaginary dust particles before inserting it again.

“It was nothing like that,” she said, maintaining her composure and wondering why she even responded at all.

“Did you go alone?”

“Beverly went with me.”

“Then that's probably what foiled his plans.”

“Speaking of plans,” Virtue said, thinking it best that they change the subject, “how are the youth coming along with the skit that you mentioned they would perform in the program?”

“They are doing well. They will also be singing, but you would know that had you met with me last Saturday as I wished.”

“Good,” Virtue said as she wiped beads of perspiration from her forehead and continued to ignore his insinuations. “I'm glad they're doing well. Since they are singing, do you want the program to end with the youth performance or with me?”

“Does it really matter what I want, Virtue?”

In frustration, Virtue propped her hand on one hip and quietly looked down at him from the elevated flooring. There was a lot that she wanted to say, but none of it seemed worth getting into an argument. She took a calming breath and then spoke again as she unnecessarily fiddled with the knobs on the sound system, creating the illusion that she was adjusting them.

“I believe Elder Bradley said that he wanted half of the performances to be before dinner was served and the second half after his message. He never mentioned which performances should go where, so maybe we should just let him make the decision on that.”

By the time she turned back to him, Fynn had chosen to sit in one of the chairs on the floor. His presence was not only beginning to make Virtue uncomfortable, but it was becoming annoying. More than anything, she wanted him to go back to doing whatever he'd been doing before he walked in so that she could go through her dance routine once more before heading home. But Fynn seemed to be in no hurry. As she walked about the stage doing nothing in particular, he sat in the chair and watched her every move.

“Is there something more that you wanted to discuss?” Virtue asked, keeping her voice steady. “I do need to get back to my rehearsal.”

“Am I stopping you?”

“I like to be alone when I rehearse, Fynn.”

Standing from his chair, Fynn shoved his hands in the pockets of his tweed coat and took a few steps toward the stage. “That's your problem right now, Virtue. You've been alone too long.”

“Excuse me?”

“You're thirty years old, my love. No fertile woman as beautiful as you are should be alone at thirty.”

“But a thirty-year-old barren woman should?” Virtue challenged.

“A barren woman is good for very little,” Fynn said. “That's why, even in the Scripture, women like Hannah cried out to God to give them the ability to have children. They knew that without that ability, their value lessened. Medical findings have proven that the older you get before starting your family, the harder it is to conceive. There is a reason why God made the woman's body in that manner, Virtue. He intended for them to be fruitful and multiply. At your age, you should have many fruit by now.”

Virtue felt nauseous. “Fynn . . .”

“No,” he said, holding up a hand to silence her. “You asked if I had more to discuss, so listen as I discuss it.”

His commanding tone was almost too much. The muscles in the side of Virtue's face twitched as she forcefully held her tongue. She was in no mood to hear anything more of Fynn's archaic beliefs concerning marriage and children, but she withheld the outburst that would have told him so.

“You've been alone too long,” he repeated. “Not just because of the children you must bear, but I find that those of you who are alone far past your teenage years begin to take on the mind-set of a man. Because you've had to do so much on your own, you begin to think that you don't need a man to lead you. You become what you call independent, but what I call loose and beyond control. No woman should be running free with no restraints. God never meant for it to be that way. That is why He created Adam first, and that is why He used Adam's rib to then create the woman. Without Adam's rib, there would have been no Eve. Without a man, a woman is nothing, but with him she has all that she needs.”

“Is there a point to what you're saying, Fynn?”

“See, that is what I mean,” he pointed out in an accusing tone. “It is because you are alone and because you have allowed yourself to be raped by the cultures of this foreign society that you are so untamed. You should never interrupt
me while I'm speaking, Virtue. How can I get you to understand how much you not only disrespect me, but you disrespect yourself? When the head is bruised, the body suffers.”

“Who are you calling untamed?” Virtue said, finally giving up on her fight to remain calm. “Wild animals need taming, Fynn, not women. Furthermore, you are not my head. You are always talking about what a man deserves and what a woman should do. If you—or any man, for that matter—want respect, you have to
earn
it. Not only that, but you have to
give
it as well. No self-respecting woman wants to be referred to in such antiquated terms as the ones you often speak. It's you who are disrespecting me right now by trying to force me into a place that I have no desire to be.”

“It's only because you are unaware of what is best for you, my love. How can I convince you of this?”

“And how can I convince you that I'm not interested in a relationship with you? I don't
want
to be your wife. Despite your put-downs of our country, I'm proud to be an American. I thank God for every one of my African ancestors, Fynn, but I don't have to prove my heritage to anybody, and I certainly don't have to do it by agreeing to marry a man that I don't love.”

Fynn's body stiffened. “This has something to do with the meeting with your batterer, doesn't it?”

“I have forgiven Mitchell for what he did to me, Fynn, but what I'm saying now has nothing to do with my meeting with him.”

“Of course it does,” he accused.

“He doesn't even know that I've released my anger, Fynn, so my words to you have nothing to do with him. In that meeting I never said a word to Mitchell. I couldn't even look at him. But since the meeting, I've come to realize that I've been wrong for trying to hold on to my grudges and refusing to believe that he could have possibly changed. Mitchell has changed a great deal. He stopped
tormenting me years ago. I was tormenting myself, and I had to forgive him not just for him, but for me as well. But that has nothing to do with what I'm saying to you.”

“But I had gotten through to you before you met with him, and now you are so defiant. Someone has poisoned your heart against me.”

“
You
have poisoned my heart against you, Fynn,” Virtue said. “I may have never had a romantic connection to you, but I honestly used to enjoy your company, and talking to you would be something that I looked forward to. But because you took that and tried to forcefully turn it into something else, I can hardly stand to see you coming. You can't just lay a claim on another human being and expect that person to automatically become submissive to whatever you say. At least, not when that person is me. Now, I would appreciate it if we never visited this topic of conversation again. You say you love me, Fynn. Well, if you truly do—if I mean anything at all to you—if I can request that your love grants me one wish, it is to stop pursuing me. I don't love you, and I will never agree to marry you.

“You're standing there in judgment of Mitchell for what he did to me in the past, but you are the abuser now, Fynn. Every time you approach me on this subject, you become the batterer. You may not use your hands to touch me, but there is such a thing as mental abuse too, and it can be just as tormenting. Mitchell was man enough to see his mistakes and to apologize. Maybe one day, with all the man that you proclaim to be, you'll be able to do the same.”

Fynn stood quietly, gazing at Virtue for what seemed like hours. Finally, still having said nothing, he took several steps backward and then turned and walked through the same doors that he'd entered.

Virtue's mind raced. She didn't realize the level of tension that Fynn's presence had brought on until he was
gone. She walked to the CD player and pressed the button that would skip forward to track thirteen. As the music played, she began moving again; and with every sway, she felt the stress drain from her body.

 

 

Fynn stopped suddenly as he walked through the doorway that separated the fellowship hall from the corridor that led to the sanctuary.

“Minister Fynn. We have to talk.”

Fynn swallowed. He'd had no idea that Elder Bradley was in the building, and he certainly didn't know that he was within listening range of him and Virtue. “Can it wait? I have some paperwork to complete for the youth ministry's part in the Christmas program.”

“No, Fynn. It can't wait,” Elder Bradley said.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Fynn leaned his back against the wall behind him. Music could be heard on the other side, and he imagined Virtue dancing masterfully to it. Why a woman so graceful and so beautiful had to be so rebellious, he didn't know. Fynn knew that she would be the perfect mate for him and the perfect mother of his children—if only he could amend her way of thinking.

“I heard your conversation with Virtue,” Elder Bradley said.

“I guessed as much.”

“Why do you continue to harass her, Fynn? I thought we'd cleared the air on this matter.”

“What matter, Elder Bradley? I am not harassing Virtue. I'm schooling her and molding her back into the lady she was intended to become from birth, before society cursed our women with this devilish feminist way of thinking. This is not of God, and I am disappointed in you as a man and as a pastor that you would condone such atrocities among the sisters here at the church. You should be backing
me, Elder Bradley, not chastising me. If we, as men, don't stand up and be the leaders that God and our forefathers ordained us to be, then we are nothing but weaklings. And if we are weak, who will lead? There are times in our lives when we have to plant our feet firmly on the ground and remind those who are out of line where their places are. Like Virtue, they may not immediately like it or appreciate it, but in the long run they will see the error of their ways and realize their place as the helpmates God designed them to be. Can you not see and understand that?”