My Steps Are Ordered (14 page)

The present day . . .

 

“Showtime, Pastor Ward.” His assistant, Natalie Henderson, knocked before opening the bathroom door to poke her head in. “You're up in five.”

“Thanks, Natalie,” Keith replied with a quick, unguarded smile. “Just finished getting my face camera ready.” He'd chosen to wear a black Armani suit, a crisp white shirt, and his yellow tie with miniscule red polka dots. It was a good thing the building was air-conditioned, or he wouldn't be able to stay dressed this way in the June heat.

“Pastor, you look more like a soap opera star than a preacher,” Natalie commented. Anticipating his response, she shut the door, thus dodging the washcloth he tossed her way.

Keith shook his head. He'd been told that his good looks made it hard for people to believe that he was saved. Those trite comments never failed to baffle him, because nowhere in his Bible did it say salvation was solely for ugly folks. Were they saying saved people were ugly? The devil had been one of the most beautiful angels in heaven, so that mind-set was preposterous.

Keith had needed salvation. It sounded like a cliché, but he didn't want to know where he would be if he hadn't accepted the Lord in his life. Yes, he'd had money—the house, the car—but he'd been lacking. Until he had found the only One who could give him peace.

Now that he'd been set on a new path, Keith lived each day with contentment and fulfillment. His smile expanded from his heart to his face as he thought about the transformation he'd undergone. His conversation, his priorities, his entire life had changed for the better.

Over the past three years Keith had shot up the spiritual ladder at Zion's Hill, just as he had excelled at everything in his “previous” life. And what was remarkable was that there had never been even a whisper of any scandal. No woman could call his name.

He lived his life to please God, and though he was charming to the ladies in his congregation, he took every precaution to make sure he didn't lead any of them into thinking he was interested.

Because he wasn't.

The members of the board hinted all the time that he needed to be married. “It's not good for you to be alone,” Minister Phillips had advised him over and over.

“You need a wife,” Deacon Broderson said at least once every week. He also never failed to introduce Keith to every single and successful church sister who he thought would make a good potential helpmate.

Keith tolerated the other men's feeble attempts at matchmaking. Little did they know that there was no need to worry about him falling prey to any woman around him, even though there were many. He avoided the miniskirts and the coy glances. His heart had been captured eight years ago, and by the look of things, it was in no danger of being released.

It was not as though he hadn't looked or hadn't tried. It was that he hadn't met the woman who could replace what he had. His mantra from Song of Solomon leapt up to him. “Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it.” A truer statement had never existed. Distance and time had done nothing to heal the puncture made to his heart when he had loved and lost.

Gina.

Keith closed his eyes at the mere thought of her name. He breathed in, tilted his chin upward, and visualized her as he'd last seen her. Unbidden, images he had tried to suppress taunted him . . . tantalized him as if it were mere hours ago, instead of years. He knew this was the enemy at work and rebuked him.

Jesus, help me.
Keith called on his Savior. “I can't continue like this, Lord,” he said aloud. He massaged his temples. Grace was not enough. He needed strong deliverance. Taking deep breaths, Keith kept uttering that blessed name until his heart rate slowed. He felt the storm blow over. The torment racking his mind, body, and heart subsided. Grateful, Keith expelled a sigh of relief.

He leaned into the mirror and turned his head from side to side. His haircut looked tight. Opening his mouth, he ran his tongue over his perfectly aligned teeth and licked his full lips. His cheeky dimple, which couldn't resist popping out during the most inopportune times, also made a brief appearance.

Viewers were perched by their television sets, waiting for the inevitable peek at his indentation—the reason why Keith had shaved. The execs had nixed his idea of growing a groomed beard, ignoring his argument that his dimple detracted from the Word of God.

A sharp rattle came from behind the door. “Coming,” Keith called. He finished his ministrations and strode into the adjacent office to grab his worn Bible—an item the producers had begged him to get rid of. He tapped the worn leather. The Bible might be dilapidated and torn apart at the seams, but he wouldn't let it go. He could find all the passages with ease, and it had sentimental value.

Keith opened to the first page, and his finger outlined Gina's beautiful cursive. He planned on keeping this Bible for life. But, he conceded, he might have to retire it to his office at home.

Opening the door, Keith walked out and saw Natalie, or “the Hawk,” as he called her, sigh with relief. Her heels clicked as she scurried toward the podium.

On the way to the pulpit, he swallowed as his past threatened to creep its way back into his mind.
Why today?
He was a changed man, ransomed by the blood of Christ. Jesus had washed away his terrible sin. He was now new. God had forgiven him for what he had done. And one day he would be able to do the same for himself.

Keith banished the guilt back to the sea of forgetfulness and silently recited his pick-me-up from Psalm 103.
As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.
Keith repeated it until he no longer felt like the hypocrite he was. As he sauntered up to the podium, he waved at the cheers and praises going forth. The choir burst into song.

Keith greeted the other ministers before sitting down. He couldn't fathom how God had brought him out of the quagmire called sin to this place, Yankee Stadium, and to this seat among the most influential ministers in the country during this evangelical crusade.

Keith sat in his designated seat and swayed to the sounds of the choir. Closing his eyes, Keith felt himself getting caught up in the praise and began clapping his hands. Keith smiled his first genuine smile of the day and looked around the stadium. His eyes roamed over the thousands who had gathered. And as impossible as it seemed, he locked eyes with someone in the crowd.

 

 

He saw me.
From her seat in the huge stadium, Gina felt a moment of panic when Keith spotted her. She bit her thumb and exhaled.

How could Keith have spotted her in this crowd? His seeing her was like finding a needle in a haystack. She had worn a basic black suit and had bought a broad-rimmed hat to obscure her face, but Gina should have known better. It had always been like that with them. Time and distance hadn't changed that. The sheer magnetic energy that they gave off when in each other's presence was enough to light up a few cities.

Losing her composure, Gina reached into her purse to get her handkerchief. Beads of sweat formed across her upper lip and brow. She blotted her face. She chanced another sly peek at Keith. His gaze was still pinned on her.

She squirmed under his intense scrutiny. Lifting one eyebrow, she tilted her head, which was pointless, since Keith could not see her furious gesture, which was telling him to stop staring. Fidgeting, Gina felt like all the television cameras and lights were aimed at her. She bent her head and closed her eyes to compose herself and gather her wits. She remained in this position while the choir sang.

Before the choir concluded, she took a chance and looked his way. Keith was still staring. Feeling the heat from his intense perusal radiating in her direction, she fanned herself. He was going to arouse suspicion if he kept looking her way, she thought in exasperation. But Gina knew from experience that Keith was his own man. He didn't care.

Not knowing what else to do, she stood and began inching her way down the row, using the pretext of going to the restroom. As she passed, people harrumphed and rolled their eyes, as they had to turn their legs, but Gina was not deterred.

She had to get out of there. Pronto.

Gina picked her way through the maze of hands and feet until she reached the end of the row.
Almost there. Don't look his way. Don't spare Keith Ward another glance.
She walked ramrod straight before she caved, daring to steal another fleeting look his way.

Keith was still looking—entranced.

With one foot forward, Gina willed herself to continue moving toward the exit sign.
Skip the bathroom.
She was going to keep walking. She had to get out of there.

Then he spoke.

Gina stood transfixed as his voice resonated throughout the stadium. She held on to her heart, willing it to remain unmoved by the smooth timbre of Keith's voice. Near the exit doors and out of sight, she leaned against the wall and listened, taking in everything Keith said. His sincerity and genuine fervor for God were evident in every word he spoke.

Tears flowed from her eyes. How she loved him so. Gina admitted that to God.
Did you hear me, God?
she thought.

Enthralled by Keith's passionate, meaningful words, Gina stayed rooted until his sermon ended. A devout usher offered her a tissue and then asked, “Do you want to go up for prayer? I'll be glad to escort you.”

Choked up, Gina shook her head in dismay. How could she ask God for something she knew she couldn't have? She wanted Keith. Still, after all these years. She always would. She still couldn't have him.

She looked at the huge diamond on her left hand. It had the finest clarity and cut, but to her it felt like a weight that held her down, body, mind, and spirit. Michael's ring was a constant reminder of what she could not have. Overcome, she stumbled out of the stadium. She had allowed herself this excursion, being too weak to resist the temptation of seeing Keith preach the Word. But that wasn't why she was here. She had been given a task, and she couldn't leave until she had completed it.

 

 

Snuggled underneath a huge blanket on the king-size bed, Gina heard the doorbell and swung her right arm over her face. “Go away.”

Her eyes were puffy from crying. She hadn't been able to sleep, because every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. Keith Ward. Seeing him earlier that day should have been a reprieve, but it had only added to her anguish.

The unremitting peal of the doorbell continued.

Cross and disgruntled, she bolted out of bed and stomped barefoot to the door. She had tossed her suit on a lounge chair in the bedroom and was clad only in her bra, chemise, and underwear.

Gina stood on tiptoes to look through the small peephole. She swung open the door with emphasis. Her mouth gaped open at the sight of the person standing there.

“You knew I would come,” he said before entering.

Gina stood transfixed as Keith entered Michael's Park Avenue penthouse suite. He was still wearing the sharp black suit he'd delivered his sermon in. The only thing that was different was his tie—he'd loosened it. Was he coming undone, or did he need to be comfortable? Either way, she wanted to make it all better. Keith headed straight toward the living area. With its soothing beige and mint-green walls and its plush leather couches, Gina had found the room peaceful until his entrance. He paced like a tiger in a cage. His presence enveloped the entire room, making it feel like a tiny closet.

Thrown off guard, Gina held on to the locket, which she had never taken off. It was a gift from Keith.

Gina stared.

Keith stared back.

Their eyes feasted on each other like they were ravenous wolves beholding the first meal after days on the hunt.

Keith looked amazing. There was something even more attractive about him now. Was it God? Was it the spiritual change?

Stop staring,
he told himself.

He stared.

He couldn't help it.

Gina had not aged. She looked younger than her thirty-seven years and was as appealing as ever. The only thing different about her was her hair. Gina's replica of Halle Berry's hairstyle emphasized her beautiful cheekbones. She had colored her hair with varied shades of brown, which suited her bronzed skin. Her skin, Keith remembered, was ever so soft as a newborn baby's and just as unmarred.

Smiling, Keith realized he had forgotten how short she was. But her height did nothing to hinder the strong, confident woman. As always, her chocolate eyes beguiled him.

An unknown force inevitably swept them into each other's arms. Keith grabbed Gina, kissing her as if he were dying of thirst. Their lips became synchronized, remembering what it felt like.

His hands rediscovered her body.

Gina moaned, and her hands circled his waist.

Keith devoured her lips, while his fingertips developed a life of their own. It had been three years since his lips had touched hers. It had been three years since he had had any woman in his arms, and it felt good.

With expert fingers, he reached under the confines of her chemise to undo her bra strap. She arched her body. Keith bent his knees to place a light kiss on her navel.

Gina whispered, “Yes,” urging him to keep going.

Keith's passion-filled eyes glossed over the room and skimmed the Bible on one of the end tables. Something about seeing the Bible gave him a momentary pause. The thought took root, permeating the clouds and bringing him to his senses.

Rationality returned. His conscience was restored.

Keith froze.

Gina turned her head to see what had captured his attention.

He stood upright. “We can't. I can't do this. I'm a servant of God.” He turned away. “Get dressed.” He felt her small hand touch his back.

“I love you,” she told him before walking towards the bedroom.

When she returned dressed in jeans and a shirt, Keith said, “I'm a pastor. People look to me for guidance, to be a light. I won't let you be my Delilah.” He referenced the biblical character that had brought down Samson, a great judge and man of God.

“You're still a man,” Gina retorted.

Pain filled his voice as he admitted, “I can't shake it. God help me, at times I feel like a hypocrite, preaching the word while knowing that given the chance, I would be in your bed.”

“Doesn't God understand? Won't He forgive you?” Gina asked. “Isn't that what you preachers' messages are all about?”

Keith didn't want to answer those questions, but he had to. It wasn't okay to play with God's grace. He tapped his chin as he gathered his thoughts. “Yes, God forgives, but He doesn't approve of willful sinning. If we sin, He's provided His Son as our advocate. However, as scripture says, we cannot continue in sin so that grace may abound.”

He saw her confusion and elaborated in simpler words. “In other words, we can't sin on purpose, with the plan to ask for forgiveness. The more we sin, the more we need God's grace, so we can't take advantage of that, nor take Him for granted.”

Seeing that she understood, he turned the tables with a burning question of his own. “How's Trey doing?”

 

 

Gina stepped back, with her hands at her throat. Her body shook upon hearing Keith mention Trey's name. “Trey's the same precocious, active boy you remember, although he now has a slight British accent from attending school in England. He's been in remission, which is good.”

Keith's eyebrows arched. “Yes, I've been getting updates from Dr. Milliner. Each time I hear he's okay, I lift up a prayer of thanksgiving.”

She fiddled with her collar. “Oh, I didn't realize you were keeping track. You could've called me or something . . .”

He nodded. “I wanted to, believe me.” He took a tentative step toward her, and she swallowed. He continued. “But you changed your number. Then you left the country. I had no idea where you were, or I would've come for you and Trey. I wasn't going to take no for an answer. I pressed my mother until she filled me in about Michael's building projects and expansions in England, so I figure I'd wait it out. I thought I'd be waiting months, not three whole years.”

She stammered, “I d-didn't change my number . . . Michael . . . Michael . . . well, he insisted. He fell in love with London. We have a large flat there. I've been back since March . . . about three months.” She paused for a moment. “I already stopped by to hang with Colleen a couple of days ago, to celebrate our birthdays.” She wiped her hands on her pants, a dead giveaway that she was circling the truth.

She decided to divert his attention back to Trey. “Trey's seven now, and far beyond his years. He's been reading since he was three years old, if you recall, and he's acquired an extensive vocabulary since then.” Her chest puffed with pride. She pointed to her shoulders. “He's about this tall now. He reminds me so much of you.”

Keith tilted his head at her words. “Does he?” His face brightened like a thousand-watt bulb. “Is he with Michael?”

“No, he's staying with my father.” Gina prayed that Keith didn't detect her nervousness because she was lying through her teeth. Trey was not with her father as she'd said. She strove for normalcy, but her heart was in her throat. Lucky for her, Keith focused in on her father—a much safer topic.

Keith lifted a brow and queried, “Oh? I'm glad you two managed to develop a relationship. How's Jeff doing?”

“He's fine.” Gina meandered her way to the window. “Both he and Regina have been a godsend for me. Trey loves them.”

Keith ambled over to stand next to her. In a congenial tone, he asked, “So what brings you to New York?”

“I came to talk to you about Michael. He needs you.”

Keith bent to peer into her face. “Michael hasn't spoken to me in three years. He didn't even reach out to me when he left the country. I had to hear about that secondhand. Prior to that, we had never gone without speaking for even three days.”

Gina could hear the distress in Keith's voice. She knew she was the reason for their split, and it rankled. Every day she had to live with the knowledge that she was the one who had come between them.

Keith invaded her personal space. He was so close that his breath teased her ear. “I haven't seen you in three years,” he said, touching her face. “Do you have any idea what that was like for me?”

“Hell?” Gina said. She knew because that was how she had felt when she had awakened to find an empty bed that day three years ago. She had cried for days, not caring who saw. Then, during Trey's lengthy recovery, Gina devoted more of herself to her son. She remembered wiping Trey's mouth, which had been filled with sores, and recalled how his feet and hands had turned black. He became her lifeline for facing another day, although his being in isolation for thirty days had been a gruesome trial. Her efforts had paid off. Trey was thriving. Her relationship with Michael was what suffered.

“Yes!” Keith said. “I came back to New York desolate and out of my mind with grief. I had given up everything that meant something to me.” Keith's phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, he said, “I'm sorry. I have to get this.”

Gina watched Keith as he spoke on the phone. She knew from the urgency in his voice that their visit had concluded. She stared as Keith swiped his iPhone to disconnect the call.

“I have an interview with BET, and I'm behind schedule.”

“Go ahead,” Gina said. “I'll be here for a couple of days.”
Or as long as it takes to convince you to come back with me.

“I'll be back tonight,” Keith told her. He pointed his index finger at her. “Don't go anywhere.”

Gina remained silent until he left the apartment. Keith needn't have worried. She was not going anywhere without him. Michael had given her strict orders not to return home without his brother. If she returned without Keith, Michael would not allow her to see her offspring again. He had made that crystal clear.