Redeeming Heart (4 page)

Removing the razor, Landon handed it over.
“Here man.”

After accepting the merchandise, David
stepper closer. “My church donates food and clothing and other
necessities. We’ll even come and pick you up for a meal.”

“Nah, that’s okay.” He walked out the store
with nothing but the cost of his pride.

Do not worry about your life, what you
will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear… Is not
life more important than food, and the body more important than
clothes? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of
the field grow. They do not labor or spin…
do not worry,
saying, “What shall we eat?” or “What shall we drink?” or “What
shall we wear?” I know that you need them,
God said, speaking
portions of Matthew 6.

Landon ignored Him.
Right,
he thought
mockingly. Landon couldn’t pray more; he was all prayed out after
he lost so much at once—his family’s forgiveness, lucrative
employment, a spacious condo and a luxury ride.

That had been his first hand at shoplifting.
Since that time, he’d swiped small items, all in the name of
survival, which he had planned to do later that night for soap and
toothpaste before returning to his hiding place that Octavia had
discovered.

“Hey,” Octavia shook his hand, “you zoned out
on me.” She searched his face as if trying to tap into his
thoughts.

He cleared his throat and summarized his
story with, “In my travels from city to city, I left a trail of
clothes as I tried to rid myself of excessive baggage. The
end.”

What about your spiritual baggage?
God
asked.
Why are you holding on to that?

Landon’s answer was simple. He didn’t know
how to let go. People always said they couldn’t forgive themselves,
so in all honesty, and God knew it, Landon didn’t even try. He
thought about his worldly possessions. “Suffice it to say, all I
have now is that one suitcase.” That contained three pairs of
pants, six pairs of designer boxers, four T-shirts, and six polo
shirts. He knew because he counted them daily.

Resting her dainty chin on her fist, Octavia
said, “Uh-oh. This doesn’t sound like the old comedy starring Steve
Martin and John Candy.”

Landon shook his head. “I’m hoping for a
happier ending than
Planes, Trains, and Automobiles
.” He
shrugged and glanced around the restaurant.

“So you need life’s basic necessities.”

“For now, but I’m a go–getter. I plan to land
with both of my feet on the ground.” Despite the odds, Landon never
lacked confidence. “What about you? I know you’re a real estate
agent.”

“Yes, and I’m part of the Elite Realtist
agents. It’s priceless to watch the smiles when someone buys their
first home. It’s literally a gift from heaven, and I’m so glad to
be a part of it.

She captivated Landon when she talked about
her passion about what she did. She was enchanting and very
beautiful. Despite his hunger, Landon was irked when the server
interrupted them with their salads. Seconds later, he was sucked in
by Octavia’s eloquent grace over their food.

“Lord, we thank You for all things—good and
bad—and this meal You have provided. Please bless and sanctify our
food and help us to remember those who are hungry, and bless them
as You have blessed us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

How many times had he said grace and never
thought about others? Even now when there were others in the same
boat as him? “Amen.”

Octavia didn’t say another word as she
attacked her food, which was fine with him as he woofed down the
juicy steak with as much finesse as possible for a hungry man.

When the conversation did resume, their
banter was light hearted—nothing personal, but engaging.

“I should’ve said it earlier, but I’m sorry
for scaring you.”

Octavia laughed and patted her chest. “Yes,
that was definitely a calling-on-Jesus moment.”

The waiter returned and Octavia ordered
dessert for them both after he declined, not wanting to drain her
of her generosity. Although he wasn’t a fan of ice cream, the scoop
of vanilla with a chunk of brownie never tasted better. Her eyes
sparkled as she watched his gusto.

As he dabbed the corners of his mouth,
Octavia asked for the bill. He didn’t know which disappointed him
more: a woman picking up his tab, going to church or ending the
temporary escape she gave him from his present state. But she
didn’t make him feel like a charity case. Smiling brightened her
already gorgeous face as she casually asked, “Do you need a place
to stay?”

Landon blinked. He definitely wasn’t
expecting that. How naïve was she? “Are you offering?”

“I am.” She seemed to be smug in her answer.
“Who knows? I can be entertaining an angel and may not know
it.”

Baby, I’m far from an ange
l, Landon
refused to say. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem.” She stood and gathered her
purse. “We still have to stop by my church first.”

“Not a problem,” he dittoed. So what if he
had to brave a few hours in church while she did her thing? It
would beat the scolding heat. At least he wasn’t about to sit
through a Sunday morning sermon. There was no message that God
could deliver to him. Landon felt like he had been kicked out of
the Garden of Eden. Didn’t matter, it was the treat coming after
church that he looked forward to.

Nothing was going to happen. Octavia knew it; Landon
didn’t. Smiling, she left him to his musings as she drove off the
parking lot. A chime on her phone alerted her to Terri’s text.

Rolling her eyes, Octavia ignored it. She had
already given her friend/mentor/play big sister/mother hen/crook in
the neck an edited version of what happened while she was in the
ladies’ room.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Landon’s
head bob and then she heard a light snore. Poor thing. No doubt, he
would appreciate a warm bed. In no time, Octavia turned into Jesus
the Great Shepherd Church’s parking lot. It was bare, except for
the janitor and members of the praise team’s cars.

She cut the engine and stared at Landon
before nudging his shoulder. “We’re here. Ready?”

He snapped awake and grumbled, “No. Thanks
for asking.” He got out first, and with a proud stride came around
to her door and assisted her.

His persona was that of an heir to a fortune.
Despite the present condition of his clothes, they appeared to be
good quality fabrics. The question nagged her again. If God’s grace
was tangible like clothes and shoes, when and where did Landon fall
from it?

“So when was the last time you were in
church?”

“A while.” Landon shrugged. “I haven’t kept
track.”

That sense of humor again—Octavia was
starting to expect it. Landon was easy to be around. She was
comfortable. On a first date, she was usually guarded around a man,
but this wasn’t a date. Still, she liked Landon—as a person, not
boyfriend.

In the foyer, the pictures and plaques on the
wall seemed to draw in Landon. “Those are from community outreach
events,” she said, pointing at photographs of children at summer
camp, vacation Bible school and an elderly health fair. She steered
him inside the sanctuary where the other two praise dancers were
talking in front of the pulpit. Landon went no farther than the
back row, and he immediately took a seat.

Octavia waved as she approached Kai Kelly and
Deb Beavers. The trio rehearsed once a month and danced every other
Sunday.

“Who is that?” Kai whispered when she was
within hearing distance, peeping over Octavia’s shoulder. Men
didn’t go unnoticed at any church, including hers.

Although their church had an evangelistic and
community outreach team that ministered to shelters and families,
Octavia wasn’t sure how receptive they would be to Landon’s plight.
She did a speed dial through her mind for an acceptable excuse.
“That’s Landon. I saw him at one of my properties—”
versus found
him,
she thought. “—and we chatted. He’s tagging along because
we grabbed a bite to eat.” She exhaled. “Now, come on, Sister
Nosey, let’s change so we can practice.” She looped her arm through
Kai’s.

Kai wouldn’t budge. “Is he married? Children?
Job? What kind of car? And yeah…saved? He looks like a hunk from
here.”

Octavia shook her head. The two had had
conversations in the past about men in the dating pool.
Unfortunately, Kai was of the mindset that if the man didn’t make
more, possess more goods and had a better paying career with a
higher education level than her, then he was disqualified from the
pool. Octavia always argued, “What about love?” but she never won
with her.

Deb squinted at the back of the sanctuary.
“He looks kind of suspect to me. Maybe he’ll look better in the
light.”

I wouldn’t count on it
.
“Come on, let’s dance.” Octavia playfully nudged
her. Landon Thomas definitely wouldn’t make the cut. In the back
dressing room, Kai was like a mouse with a piece of cheese—she
wouldn’t stop asking about Landon. “Listen, I’ll introduce you
after practice.”

They changed, re-entered the sanctuary and
poised at the altar as they waited for the engineer in the sound
room to play the first of two of gospel songs by artist LaRue
Howard for them to interpret in dance.

Shutting out everything around her, Octavia
worked through the routine. If Landon didn’t feel the presence of
the Lord through this song, then his bones were truly dry. “Lord,
let him live again,” she whispered, referring to Ezekiel 37.

***

The sound of congas filtering through the overhead
speakers reminded Landon of home. Reared in a musical family,
everyone could either sing or play an instrument, many of them
both. Only two people in his family played the congas, one being
Jamal—Garrett’s nephew. The boy could put any adult to shame with
his artistic ability. As the music crescendoed, Landon zoomed in on
the expression of Octavia’s smiling face. It glowed as if God had
dusted His anointing on it.

The ladies’ movements were as soft and
effortless as ballerinas, and hypnotic. It didn’t matter that the
preacher wasn’t on the premises. Landon’s spirit was fighting
against the praise dancers’ overpowering message. He shivered when
the artist repeated, “The Majesty is here…”

Without trying, his mind painted the picture
of a faceless person sounding a warning alarm to announce the
presence of royalty. As the music faded, Landon stopped squirming
in his seat. Wiping his self-trimmed mustache, he didn’t realize he
had broken into a cold sweat. He should get up and wait in the hall
for her, but his body wouldn’t cooperate.

What am I doing here?
He knew better
than most that everyone that cried, “Lord, Lord, didn’t we do such
and such in Your name,” wasn’t going to heaven. His family made
sure every offspring of Moses Miller knew the consequences of
Matthew 7:21-23. Although Landon didn’t want to go to the first
death in hell, he couldn’t bring himself to live in a straitjacket,
denying himself of the pleasures of the world. Why couldn’t he
forget all those scriptures?

My yoke is easy!
God’s voice seemed to
walk through the pews toward him.

Landon shivered. “It wasn’t for me, Jesus.”
He bowed his head. Who was more disappointed—him or God? Landon had
exercised his free will, and God was wreaking havoc into Landon’s
life for it.

I’ve given you relief from the heat while
you are living. In hell, there is no relief.
God’s words were
forceful.

Looking up, Landon scanned around the
sanctuary. Besides Octavia and her two friends, who weren’t paying
him any attention, there was no one else in the sanctuary. The skin
on Landon’s back seemed to sting as if he were shirtless outside in
the heat of the day instead of inside the cool air of the church.
Then the agonizing sensation lessened.

O taste and see that I am good and My
mercy endures forever. Yet, hell exists for sinners who won’t
repent.
God’s whisper faded as if He were a breeze passing
through.

And there lay his problem. He didn’t have it
within him to repent—no desire, no conviction and no guilt. Landon
was a third-generation Apostolic believer, yet he enjoyed playing
the rebellious one against his cousin Garrett whom he had betrayed.
Their parents often muttered that their relationship was like Esau
and Jacob in Genesis 25. He often wondered if a backslider could
truly be redeemed.

Landon needed a distraction from the whole
praise dancing that was messing with his head. Sitting back, he
stretched his arms across the back of cushioned seats that formed
pews. He scrutinized the sanctuary that could easily accommodate a
congregation of a couple thousand. A series of track lights were
positioned overhead. The podium was of a clear material, simple and
functional. A row of chairs for minsters was behind it. Greenery
adorned the elevated baptismal pool waiting for converts. Clearly
it was the centerpiece of the sanctuary.

When the music stopped and the lights dimmed,
Landon thought the show was over. He exhaled.

“Landon,” Octavia’s voice breathlessly echoed
from the stage, “how did we look?”

“Ah.” He struggled to his feet and leaned on
the back of the chair in front of him. “Perfect.” He was ready to
get out of there.

Folding her arms, her stance said she didn’t
believe him.

“I think I was off,” the dancer with long
braids said matter-of-factly. “Let’s go through it one more
time.”

Of course, Octavia agreed, so Landon gritted
his teeth and slid back into his seat. He endured two more
practices without them asking his opinion. How long had they been
at it? Wasn’t the sun setting soon? If his things hadn’t been
locked in her car, Landon would get out of there and keep walking
until he found a hidden cubicle to lay his head for the night.