Читать книгу Chasing Faith - Stephanie Perry Moore - Страница 12

My unit was now in place at the grand ballroom of the Georgia World Congress Center for a pre-presidential candidate party that was being held in the Reverend’s honor. It was an all-night affair and one of many stops we’d be making throughout his campaign run to pull in votes. The event started at ten, but we didn’t arrive until eleven-thirty because Mrs. Stokes wanted to make an entrance.

And she did. Lights, cameras, and all eyes in the room were on her family. Reverend and Mrs. Stokes put on fake smiles, showing off their flawless teeth as they waved to the cameras with their many years of practice.

About five hundred of Atlanta’s most influential people milled about, dancing, mingling, gossiping, and helping themselves to the sumptuous buffet. With the Stokeses were Attorney Larry Thomas, Mayor Macy Jackson, WSB-TV reporter Marsha Kauffman, Congressman John Sally, and many others. Escorting Reverend Stokes to the front of the room was strategic. Hold and I could see around the room from that angle, and Sawyer and Regunfuss could clearly see every exit and entranceway from the back of the room.

Of the four Detail teams that guarded Reverend Stokes, one was off duty this week. Agent Johnson’s crew had taken the day shift. We were on deck for the night detail and the other team was this event’s site crew. They had come earlier to set up cameras and make sure guests were checked.

“Agent Ware, you’re standing too close,” Agent Moss said into my earpiece. “Step down to the ballroom’s main-entrance doorway.”

“Moving, sir,” I said as I discreetly moved over three feet.

Sebastian tried to sneak in without attracting attention to himself. However, with his new look, everyone in the room paid more attention to him than they did to his parents. Reverend Stokes beamed with pride at the response his son was getting from the crowd.

When the first slow song of the night began to play, Sebastian came my way.

For a second I thought he was going to ask me to dance. I’d never learned how to dance, had never even wanted to learn. Besides, even though I wasn’t a real Secret Service agent, I knew I was there to work, not socialize.

When Sebastian walked up to me, I moved away. My boss could see me, and Sebastian had stepped in front of my view of his dad. Guests surrounded his father—this was not the time for me to get sloppy.

“You take this seriously, huh?” Sebastian teased.

I pulled up my sleeve to show him my microphone. Then I turned and covered my mouth with my finger. He moved the mic hand out of the way.

“Just wanted to say I like it better when you smile, beautiful,” he said, making me flush.

How’d he see beauty? My body was draped in black from head to toe, thanks to my short leather trench and black linen pants. My eyes were covered with none other than Dolce and Gabbana shades. Regardless of how I looked to the rest of the world, Sebastian saw something that drew him to me.

“You’re the one running for lieutenant governor, not me. I have to be serious if I plan to do my job and keep your dad safe. Now, go—my boss believed your excuse once,” I said lightheartedly.

He winked and said, “That was a good save…admit it.”

“Go,” I insisted, sort of wanting him to stay.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “If I must.”

He disappeared and I went back to making sure things were in order, which wasn’t an easy task. Tons of folks were very attentive to Reverend Stokes. Caterers couldn’t stop offering him food. Constant flashes were emitted from a camera that took shots of everyone that spoke to him. His campaign manager stepped in every few minutes to give various updates.

I rolled my eyes, glad that they were hidden behind the sunglasses we routinely wore. We even wore them indoors so we could survey our surroundings without being detected. It was one part of the job I’d have trouble getting used to. Who wore shades inside?

An hour later, Ryan came up to relieve me for my scheduled break. His timing was perfect. Not only was I overwhelmed by my current responsibilities, making sure everyone who came in contact with Cool Falcon didn’t pose any danger, but I also needed to visit the rest room.

I headed down the hall, but a mass of females blocked my way. In the midst of the group stood Sebastian, enjoying the attention. His stock went down immediately in my eyes—I didn’t intend to stand there watching him gloat. My nostrils flared at the sight; a part of me was jealous. Not wanting him to see me mixed in with the fawning women surrounding him, I pushed through the first bathroom door I came to. The minute I walked in, I could tell I was in the wrong place. A man stood with his back to me, facing a row of urinals.

Then a male voice from behind me said, “I think the ladies’ room is that way.”

I turned around to find Sebastian grinning at me. I couldn’t dare ponder why he thought this was funny—I knew I would not let newfound emotions affect me so much in the future.

I held my head high and attempted to walk around him before he spoke. When he moved the same way I did, I stepped in the other direction. Still eye to eye, I heard his shoes move again.

I squared him. “Excuse you.”

“You seem upset,” he asked as if he cared.

“I’m in the wrong bathroom with only a few minutes to spare, and it took me forever to get through the hall with you and all your women in the way. Of course I’m agitated. I have to pee.” I walked past him, not caring what he thought of me.

“You misunderstood what you saw,” he said from behind.

“Yeah, right.” I made sure he heard me.

As I scuttled down the hall to the correct rest room, I wondered what it was about this guy that had me all messed up. I’d been around gorgeous men all my life. Love at first sight hadn’t hit me since college, and that didn’t pan out. But something about Sebastian Stokes attracted me to him with a powerful magnetic force. In my briefing, the other agents and I were told that Secret Service agents don’t socialize with the protectee or his family. However, since I technically wasn’t Secret Service, the line didn’t seem so black for me. In fact, it was sort of gray in my mind. But after I’d caught myself feeling something, maybe I didn’t need to cross that faint line.

I pushed open the ladies’ room door and stepped inside. Mrs. Stokes was right on the other side, washing her well-manicured hands. When she glanced up and saw it was me, she started shaking.

“Who’s guarding my husband?” she asked, panic-stricken.

“Agent Hold, ma’am,” I said as I lightly rubbed her back to calm her down.

“Oh.” She fingered the rhinestones on her royal blue suit. “I’m sorry, but these threats on his life are getting to be more than I can take.”

“You don’t have to worry,” I assured her as I removed my hand. “The Agency has all of the e-mails, notes, and letters being checked as we speak. We’re taking nothing for granted. We’ll make sure he’s safe.”

She gave me a small smile. “I know I can seem a bit rude to the help sometime, but I’m overly cautious. My husband and children can be too trusting. I’m sure in your line of work you know what I mean.”

“Yes, ma’am, I do—I wear that same hat when it comes to my mom and sister. You owe me no explanations.”

“Good,” she said, becoming stiff again. “As long as you do your job we’ll have no problems.”

I took a deep breath. “Ma’am, I’m here with only one goal in mind and that’s to keep your husband safe.”

“Well, thank you, I guess,” she said with a sneer before flouncing out of the bathroom.

I wanted to be angry, but in this job I had to learn to deal with people from all walks of life. I could tell that this was definitely going to be an interesting assignment, because from what I’d personally experienced with the Stokes family, they were a trip.

Troy had told me my positive impression of these people wasn’t correct. Though I didn’t want to admit it, he was right. We hadn’t spoken since I’d taken the job, and that was a good thing because I wasn’t up for hearing I told you so. One thing was for sure: the Stokeses were a colorful family.

I was glad when Tuesday night came to a halt. At two A.M. we all retired to our respective hotel rooms in the Marriott Marquis. I would sleep well, knowing that there were no threats or attacks my first night on the job. Sebastian and I never crossed paths again. Maybe it was best that way.

The second week in December, our unit accompanied the Stokes family on a tour of the Midwest. We had stops in Illinois, Michigan, and Indiana. None of their three children accompanied us—I was glad I didn’t have to see Sebastian. Like my college love, Max, Sebastian seemed to be in my head early.

In Illinois there was a presidential town hall meeting. Reverend Stokes, Illinois governor Graham Hill, and U.S. congressman Jack Daly were the three candidates on deck. Even though there were no seats, the crowd was settled. Everyone seemed attentive as the candidates were giving their opening remarks. I was glad our job hadn’t been dangerous. Though the Agency had tracked and arrested several people for the idle threats they’d sent in threatening the Reverend’s life, and one of his detail teams did have to call in the bomb squad after receiving a suspicious package at his residence, my team only had to deal with routine stuff.

Feeling at ease, I remembered my training roommate Agent Winters was protecting the governor. Once in place near the podium, I searched the room, hoping to see her. I was unsuccessful.

“Agent Ware,” Agent Sawyer called out, into my earpiece. “I’m posted at the back of the room and there is a guy on your side wearing a red tee-shirt with a rebel flag on it. He looks very antsy. You see him?”

Quickly scanning that perimeter, I found the man in question. He was rocking back and forth while the rest of the crowd standing around was still. Agent Sawyer made it plain he had issues with a black man becoming president, so I purposely limited interaction. I didn’t know him to use such an anxious tone. It appeared that one redneck could spot another.

With my adrenaline rising, I responded, “Yes, I see him—he’s at my nine o’clock.”

“All right, everyone remain where you are. Let’s see if he settles down,” Agent Moss called out from the van.

Agent Hold said, “I’m watching Cool Falcon. He’s about to address the audience.”

Reverend Stokes began speaking. My eyes didn’t move from the suspect. Within seconds, the mysterious guy untied a trench jacket from around his waist and put it on. He then placed his hands in his pockets and pulled out a small, circular steel object.

“We can’t have a black man mixing in with real candidates. It’s my duty to take you out,” the crazed man said as he came charging from the back of the room, waving what I could now make out was a grenade.

I wanted to take him out or at least cap him in the leg. My FBI training to go toward the fire was my first instinct, but then I quickly shook my head. I wasn’t there to disarm the threat—I was there to protect the candidate. Rushing onto the stage, I ushered Reverend Stokes to safety.

“Hold, move Cool Falcon now,” I said to my partner as we placed our bodies in front of the suspect.

Screams were coming from every direction as people caught on to what was happening. They cleared the area and the guy stood there alone. All of a sudden he fell to his feet.

“Suspect down,” Agent Moss said, “suspect down.”

About eighteen agents from on-site details for all three candidates that I knew were there, but not visible, surrounded the intruder. The person who shot him still had the gun cocked in position to fire again if necessary. When the weapon was lowered I could make out the face. I was so proud to see it was Suzie Winters.

“I know her,” I said aloud as Agent Hold and Reverend Stokes stood nearby. “We were roommates at FLETC.”

“Wow—thank her for me,” Reverend Stokes said. “And thanks to you two as well. You put your lives on the line for real. I’m so grateful.”

Ryan and I both smiled, as if letting our protectee know that he owed us no thanks. Agents Sawyer and Regunfuss took him out of the room. I was about to follow.

Agent Moss said, “Ware, I’m proud of you. You learned something in our scenario training. You protected first and trusted that others could handle the rest. Our man is safe. Good job. Take a second and speak to your friend.”

People were being cleared from the event and the man was being handcuffed. I rushed over to Suzie. She dropped her gun when she saw me. An agent she knew picked it up quickly for her. We hugged so hard.

“I was looking for you,” I said when we pulled apart.

“I saw you searching for someone,” she said, gripping her hand to calm it.

I placed my hands on hers. “You were amazing, remembering just the right spot to get him off balance so the pin wouldn’t come out of the detonator.”

“I was coached by the best.” She smiled, alluding to my help. “Plus, you were awesome as well, getting your protectee out of the way. Once I saw that, I had to respond.”

“Oh yeah, he told me to tell you thanks for saving his life.” I looked down. “And thanks for doing your job. It’s still hard for me to trust others to take out the danger. You gave me faith in the system.”

Placing her arms on my shoulders, she said, “See? We’re both just answering our call. We must keep running after God’s own heart. He’ll see us through.”

“Winters, we need to debrief with you,” a man appearing to be her detail leader demanded, cutting off our special moment.

“Got to go. We’ll be better at staying in touch,” she said, before heading off to answer questions.

I knew the reality was that we might not meet anymore. However, Suzie Winters was all right in my book. She was put into my life to remind me to keep seeking my purpose. Because if I did that, eventually God would show up.

After the Midwest trip, Reverend and Mrs. Stokes took a tour of the South. The Reverend was a great candidate. He worked the crowds, hugged all the babies, and tried to shake every hand in every room. Behind the scenes, however, I heard him snap at people, talk about folks behind their backs, and promise things he’d do if elected, then later recant those promises to his campaign team.

When we were in Natchez, Mississippi, I stood at the back of a small Baptist church and watched Reverend Stokes preach to a rapt congregation.

The crowd, mainly African-Americans, was cheering him on. His preaching style was so inviting. Whether it was that or his orating skills, Reverend Stokes was always persuasive, and he always played up God.

“God’s Word says,” he proclaimed, “that where there is no vision, the people perish.”

“Yes sir, yes sir!” someone exclaimed.

“Gotta have a vision, now!” a woman wearing purple declared.

“After working in the U.S. Senate, I realize that this country needs a serious change,” Stokes declared.

“Need a change!” a man shouted.

“And the best way I can make the greatest impact is to become President of the United States. I know you all have your own dreams. What is inside of you, yearning to become reality? Don’t keep it bottled up. Release it. So what if it seems impossible—with God, all things are possible.”

“Yes, they are, chile!” the woman wearing purple said, shouting loudly again.

“Start working on your dream today. If obstacles appear, find a way over, through, under, or around them. If you believe you can, with the Lord’s help, you will.”

“Amen!” someone from the crowd exclaimed.

“Hallelujah!” another shouted.

“Come on, Springrice Baptist, and show some love for your next President of the United States.”

The crowd whooped and hollered so loudly that I had to cover my ears. Cool Falcon was a hit.

I knew that with God all things were possible, and that with Him beside me I could accomplish any and every thing. The message motivated me to make my dreams come true, and not to let anything stop me. However, I still felt unworthy of His love and blessings because of my past.

I glanced at Ryan Hold, who was standing at attention next to me while we watched the protectee eat after the service. I knew his dream. He’d told me he wanted to run the Secret Service one day.

“Ryan, do you remember what Reverend Stokes talked about today?”

“Yeah. He talked about actualizing your dreams, making them realities.”

Intrigued with the fact that he knew what he wanted to do, I asked, “Why do you want to run the Secret Service? Why is that your dream?”

“Well, Christian, I definitely don’t think it’s a level playing field, but I love my line of work. I want to run it so I can be the one to iron out the kinks,” he revealed.

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“No, no! It’s just that I think that’s a really good reason to want to run it.”

We stood in silence for a moment, watching the members of the church mingle with the Reverend and his wife.

“Chris, what is it that you want? What is your dream?” He caught me off guard.

“I don’t exactly know,” I said, remaining pensive. “I want something. Does that make sense? To desire to have something, though you don’t know what it is?”

“I follow you.”

“I’m chasing something.” I paused. “I mean, I’m well into my late twenties, nearly thirty. I don’t have anything stable. I don’t have anything to hold on to.”

“And you’ll get it soon enough. Sooner than you think. Shoot, at your age I was married with a kid on the way. Enjoy being single. Enjoy this time of development and growth.”

“So I take it all is good on your end—with your family, I mean?”

“Things are okay. I’ve been on the road a lot since I took this assignment to guard Reverend Stokes. We’re just trying to hold it together. Make it work. I love her—we’re in love with each other. That’s how I know we’ll be fine.”

“Wow, that is so totally awesome,” I declared, wishing I could relate.

“How about you? How are things with your family?” Ryan asked.

“Things are okay, I guess. My teen sister is going through one of many phases. Right now, she’s boy-shopping.” I laughed to myself, a half-worried laugh, remembering the day I walked in on her little escapade. “I’m worried about her. She seems to be running with the wrong crowd.”

“Oh, trust me, I know how that goes. I have two younger sisters myself. I worry about them just as much. I only want the best for them. We used to fight all the time as kids, and we even argue a bit now. But I still love them dearly.”

“My sister is close to my heart, too.” He nodded as he listened to me. “And my mother…” my voice trailed off. “She’s okay, I guess. I honestly haven’t talked to her since I first took this job.”

“Wow. Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. I’m sort of…angry.”

“Well, what happened?”

“Nothing really happened per se.”

“Then why are you upset?” he questioned.

I turned my head toward the corner of the room. What was I supposed to say? My personal life was bothering me more than I’d realized. Ryan was still waiting for my answer.

“Chris, talk to me.”

“It’s nothing,” I said, bringing my eyes back to meet his. “I just wish I could do more for my family. You know, I look at Mrs. Stokes, all dolled up and iced down, and I get kind of upset. I mean, why does my mom have to be the black version of trailer trash? Why did it have to work out this way for us? That’s all. I want to do so much more to help them.”

“Continue on your path. Keep working hard. One day you’ll be able to do all the things for your family that you want to do.”

“I sure hope so,” I said wishfully.

Reverend Stokes appeared at events attended by both blacks and whites. Since it wasn’t as necessary for the protectee to have an African-American around him, so that person could blend in with the crowd, my partner Agent Hold and I were transferred to posts in the van. But I didn’t mind. Switching with Agents Moss and Pitts gave us some time to relax. Ryan and I munched on BBQ Lay’s, listened to the radio, and kept encouraging each other. I really enjoyed his sense of fun, mixed with our work. He’d run the Agency excellently one day. We were brisk, but not burnt out.

After the second week’s campaign trail ended, it was time to head back home. On the way back to Georgia, I was in the front seat of the car the Stokeses were riding in. The candidate and his wife spoke in hushed tones. Suddenly, Mrs. Stokes’s voice rose in both pitch and volume.

“I can’t believe they’re having marital problems. Our son has got to learn how to compromise.”

Sebastian wasn’t married, and they only had two sons, so they had to have been talking about Steven Jr.

“He’s just being smart,” Reverend Stokes snapped back. “He can’t let his wife know everything he’s doing.”

“Of course you’d defend him,” Mrs. Stokes said, obviously feeling more than she was stating.

When we got back to the house, I inspected the premises. As I entered the kitchen, I unexpectedly found Sebastian sitting at the table eating a peanut butter sandwich. Having not seen or thought of him in over ten days, I was apprehensive about facing him. I turned to come back later.

“Well, hello there,” he said, getting up. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

I didn’t respond, but I didn’t head out of his presence, either.

He came in front of me, “Look, the first night I met you, you may have gotten the wrong impression.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Why do you care, anyway?”

He took my hand. “I’ve been asking myself that same question for days. All I can come up with is that there’s something about you.”

“Well, that’s nice and all, but I’ve got to get back to work.”

Without hesitation, he released my hand and stepped out of my way. Part of me didn’t want him to move, but I had to fight whatever it was I was feeling.

I heard laughter booming out of the kitchen—I recognized the loud voice as belonging to Agent Sawyer. His hillbilly laugh could be distinguished anywhere. What was all the fuss about? We only had a short window of time before the next detail unit took position. He should be gathering his things, not running his mouth.

As I made my way toward the kitchen, I stopped when I heard Agent Sawyer say, “I hated having to call attention to the man with the grenade. No colored boy needs to be running for president, anyway. Maybe he could have stopped some of this steam, heated up around here.”

“Hahaha!” laughed Regunfuss.

“Oh no, he didn’t!” I said to myself, not able to ignore it.

What a racist comment! And who says colored anymore? Where does he get off, thinking he can call that grown man a boy? And why does Regunfuss condone his comments with laughter? Oh, I was too through!

“And tell me something—how does a black man live in a house like this? He must be selling drugs on the side. What do the little hoodlums call it now? Trapping?” I heard Sawyer say from my place right outside the kitchen.

“Hahaha! Trapping!” Regunfuss echoed.

“And I tell you what: these are the funniest-talking black folk I ever seen! All the rest of ’em seem like they talk like they ain’t had no kinda schoolin’ at all. Just straight out the ghettos and on into our world.”

“What it do, my brother?” Regunfuss said as she leaned in to imitate black culture and slap hands with Sawyer.

The roaring laughter continued, echoing and bursting through the halls. I’m surprised they didn’t bring everyone into the kitchen, wondering what was so funny. Their laughter was incredibly loud! I couldn’t let this bashing continue. I had to stand up for my protectee and for my people.

Storming into the room, I said, “Sawyer, no more!”

“Excuse me, missy?”

“You heard me! No more! No more name-calling, no more bashing, no more laughter, no more stereotypes, no more of your ignorant stupidity! No more!”

An “oooh” escaped from Regunfuss’s mouth.

“And you, Regunfuss, how dare you egg him on like that! Don’t you know that if you don’t stand up for what’s right, you’re just a part of the problem?”

She lost connection with my eyes and she looked down at the floor.

“You guys are supposed to be protecting him, but you’re sitting here tearing him down behind his back. Not all black people sell drugs. Not all black people eat fried chicken and watermelon. Not all black people play basketball. Do the names Tiger Woods, Robert L. Johnson, and Chris Gardner ring a bell? No? I think it’s about time you opened your eyes and released your mind from these stereotypes and pigeonholes. Before you say some of this stuff to the wrong black person and get straightened out for real.”

I hoped I wouldn’t ever catch him saying such nasty things again. Not in my presence, not even in my absence. My arms crossed over my chest, I stared him hard in the eye, daring him to refute, retort, or rebut. At that moment, Sebastian entered the room, first looking slightly upset, and then softening his look. He stared at Sawyer, then at Regunfuss. Then he looked at me, his face expressionless. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he nodded slightly. The other agents began filing out of the room, hoping he didn’t hear too much. I knew he did. There was dejection in his face. I could feel it. No matter what we achieved, some people still held us back.

When a little over twelve hours had passed, Sebastian and I bumped into each other again at his folks’ home. I had just come in from taking the mail to the van, and he was sitting at the dining room table, going over his campaign brochure. With both of Stokes’s politicians having a second headquarters in the mansion, I knew I’d need to get used to seeing him on the job.

Trying to pass by the room he was in discreetly, I caught Sebastian’s attention anyway.

“Agent Ware,” he called out.

“I’m on duty. I can’t talk,” I said, again trying not to go into the gray area.

“You’ve certainly been working hard,” he said, stepping out in front of me. “Every time I see you, you’re running. When do you get a break? I’d like to show you Georgia.”

The lovebug in me did a somersault, as I could no longer keep myself from doing what I deemed wrong. “Aren’t you busy with your campaign for lieutenant governor?”

“To be honest, that’s just a front. My father and I are just trying to stir up interest for his presidential campaign. He doesn’t think I’m really into politics.” He leaned toward me, so close I could smell his musky aftershave. “So, what do you say?”

He really seemed to want to take me out. Apparently the attraction I felt for him was mutual. Why not go?

“You must have meant Atlanta, right? The entire state of Georgia would take weeks to explore.”

His voice lowered to a whisper. “We can cover everything in a couple of days if we put in long hours.”

“Since I just finished over two weeks of straight duty, I do have a couple of days off coming to me.”

“Starting when?”

“Tonight,” I said, thrilled that he seemed so eager. “But I had planned on heading back to D.C. to check on my place.”

“Don’t go.”

Mrs. Stokes sashayed into the kitchen. “Agent Ware, is this room secure?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, then, you’d best get to the rest of the house, don’t you think?”

Sebastian winked at me behind his mother’s back as she pulled him aside and began chattering at him. I returned to the task of securing their mansion.

I entered the game room and began checking it out. The enormous room was empty and quiet. I noticed a large King James Bible lying open on a stand in the corner, and it drew me like a magnet.

“Lord, what are You doing with me? I so want to please You, but I don’t know where You’d have me go,” I said, as if seeing the open book was a sign.

I hadn’t talked to God since the night at Troy’s place, but somehow it just seemed appropriate in the presence of the open Bible. There was a longing inside of me to do what He would want, but my flesh was speaking to me as well.

“Who are you talking to?” a sexy male voice asked, not making it easy for me to do what was godly.

I twirled around and saw the man I’d been excited about. “No one,” I choked out.

“Were you praying?”

I glanced at the Bible. “Yeah, I guess so.”

His beaming smile lit up his face. “I knew you were a believer. This is great. So, you’re not going back to D.C., right? Let’s get together tonight. And don’t even think about it—it’s not too soon. I’m not an ax murderer. I’m normal, I promise.”

Sharing a giggle, I regained a straight face and said, “I don’t know. It might not be a good idea for me to be seen parading around town with the son of the man I’m supposed to be protecting.”

“Who cares about that? I’ll pick you up in front of your hotel at eight. I overheard my father mention where you all are staying.”

“I’ve already told the Agency I was checking out. I’ve got my plane ticket and everything.”

“Then go ahead and check out. I’ll have my assistant call the airlines and have your ticket cancelled.”

“Where am I supposed to stay?” I asked.

“Trust me,” he said with a grin. “I’ll see you at eight.”

With a peck on my cheek, he disappeared. I stood there like a statue, the soft touch of his lips lingering against my face.

I had a date with Sebastian Stokes! The only problem was, he thought I was a strong Christian. And that seemed to be important to him. What would he do when he found out I wasn’t? I guess with a mystery date planned, I’d find out.

Sebastian Stokes had class. He showed up on time and opened the door for me. With a dismissive smile at the bellhop, he put my bags into the trunk of his spotless, pearl-colored Jaguar.

What in the world was I doing? I didn’t even really know this guy. Plus, this goes against the rules. But that didn’t stop me from sliding in on the passenger side.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said as he hopped into the driver’s seat.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Even your name is beautiful. Christian. I love it.”

“I’ve never liked it much,” I admitted.

“What do you like to be called?”

“Most people in the Service call me Ware,” I said with a laugh. “But my friends call me Chris.”

“Do you have a middle name you like?”

“I don’t have a middle name at all,” I said. “My mother said she couldn’t come up with anything that could stand beside Christian.” I shook my head. “What about you?”

“My middle name starts with a K. Can you guess it?”

“Maybe. Give me a hint.”

“It’s a political name.”

“How old are you?” I asked, figuring that the year he was born would affect his parents’ choice.

“I’ll be twenty-eight on Valentine’s Day.”

“Really? My birthday is December 25.”

“So we were both born on holidays.”

“Your middle name is Kennedy, isn’t it?” I guessed.

He smiled and modestly shook his head. Boy, was he a cutie.

Our dinner reservation was at a cozy restaurant on Lake Lanier Island. Sebastian got us a table on the balcony overlooking the water. The sound of small waves hitting the shore, the smooth Ella Fitzgerald track, “Taking a Chance on Love,” playing in the background, and the dim lights made for a very romantic meal.

When the waiters served us, Sebastian asked me to bow my head for grace.

“Dear Lord, thank You for the food we are about to receive. May it nourish our bodies. Lord, this is a very difficult time for my family and me because of the threats we’ve had to endure. Please watch over us and keep us safe from harm. Thank You also for my newfound friendship with Christian. In Your name we pray, Amen.”

“You’re amazing on your job, do you know that?” he asked as he cut into his medium-rare sirloin.

Sipping my tea with one hand and bashfully holding my chest with the other, I asked, “What makes you say that?”

“You saved my dad’s life in Illinois.”

“No, I just got him out of the way.”

“Be modest, but my family watched it over and over on tape because we want to be aware of situations like that for ourselves.”

“Oh, so you all are doing self-training,” I teased.

“Yeah, because when you hear other agents joke that maybe he should have gotten blown up, it makes you want to take matters into your own hands,” he said, before looking away.

Again, I felt where he was coming from. Some things weren’t meant to be frivolous, so I touched his hand gently to assure him it was okay. He looked back at me and our eyes held a compelling gaze. We finished that course with lighter conversation.

During dessert, Sebastian reached across the table and placed his hand on mine. “Christian, are you in a relationship right now?”

“No,” I responded confidently.

“Can a man be interested?” He smiled, showing me that sexy dimple of his again.

“Yes,” I said.

That night, Sebastian checked us into a bed-and-breakfast in Macon—separate rooms, of course.

He went to his room and I went into mine. I took a hot shower and dressed for bed. All I could think about was the heat of his breath on my skin. I crawled into the full-sized bed, but knew I wasn’t going to sleep right away.

I gazed out the window and could see the outline of the mountains of Georgia. All I could think about was what he was thinking.

Eventually, sleep overtook me. I slept well.

The next day we visited Savannah and rode the ferryboat. We went to Albany, and I remember being impressed by the newly built additions to the college, Albany State University. Forty miles south in Valdosta, we saw the tree lighting ceremony at Wild Adventure amusement park. We had tea in Plains, where former president Jimmy Carter was raised.

On the third day, Sebastian took me to the Château Élan, a four-star hotel on the north side of Atlanta that stood out on a patch of land all by itself. My room contained a king-sized bed with an old-fashioned quilt. There was a fireplace in the large living room area and a Jacuzzi that could fit four people.

“This suite is amazing,” I said as Sebastian brought in my bag.

“So are you,” he said with a grin.

Sebastian Kennedy Stokes had me completely confused. I didn’t want our time together to end, but I didn’t want to fall for him too quickly. He could easily break my heart, and I didn’t want to give him the chance to do so.

We stood by the window, admiring the view of Stone Mountain. He grabbed my hands and held them tightly. “What are your goals? Are you planning to stay a federal agent forever, or would you like to have a family someday? I’ve heard it’s hard to do both.”

My heart froze. I’d forgotten all about the possibility that I might be pregnant with Troy’s baby. I quickly withdrew my hand from his and excused myself. Tears of fear ran down my face as I rushed into the bathroom.

“Chris, what’s wrong?” he asked, following me.

I stood there, staring at him, for several moments. Finally I said, “I’ve got to go,” and quickly left the room.

He followed me as I practically sprinted down the hall. “Please tell me what’s going on,” he pleaded.

I turned to him, nearly hyperventilating. “I just need some time to think,” I said. I walked past the reception desk and out through the revolving glass doors. Breathing deeply of the cool, fresh air, I found a woodsy area with a stream. After spending about thirty minutes with nature, I finally felt a little more relaxed. I still didn’t know what to do about my situation, but at least I could return to my room.

When I got there, the room was empty. Sebastian had apparently returned to his own room. I sank onto the big couch. My body was scaring me. I was going into the second month of missing my cycle. I remembered the last time I missed a period…when I got pregnant in college.

My thoughts were interrupted by a loud rapping at the door.

“Christian,” Sebastian said through the door, “I want to talk to you.”

I let several moments pass without responding. I figured he would go away eventually. He didn’t.

“Please?” he begged.

“No, Sebastian. I want to be alone.”

“Let’s just talk about the problem. I’m concerned.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. You’ve got a state race to get ready for,” I said, and placed my head back against the door.

“Chris, trust me. If I didn’t want to be here, if I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t be here. But because I care about you and your well-being, I’m asking you to tell me what’s got you down.”

I didn’t respond. Maybe he was right. Part of me wanted to just release all of these issues into the open—mainly my potential pregnancy.

“Okay,” I said, unlatching the chain. “The door’s unlocked.”

He rushed into the room and pulled me close. “What’s tormenting you, Christian?”

I didn’t answer.

“Whatever it is, just tell me. We’re supposed to be friends. I’ll listen—I promise.”

“Sebastian, I don’t want to burden you. Why don’t you just go home? I’ll be okay.”

He pulled me closer.

“Sebastian, please!”

“I refuse to leave when you’re obviously upset, so you may as well tell me what’s going on.”

“All right,” I said, letting my guard down. “You want to know what’s up with me? Then I’ll tell you.” I paused. “I might be pregnant. I mean, I thought I wasn’t, but now I’m just unsure.”

He didn’t bat an eye. “So let’s talk about it.” He took a seat in the chair next to me. “Are you in a committed relationship?” he asked.

“Well…I can’t even believe I’m telling you this.”

“Christian, nothing you say can keep me from wanting to know you. I want us to be honest with each other.”

“No. I’m not in a committed relationship,” I said. “I mean, I was in a relationship, but not anymore. I’ve always lived that aspect of my life spontaneously.” I nearly choked on my tears. “Sebastian, I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m pregnant.”

“God can help you find a way to deal with any situation.”

His confidence in the power of God almost made me ill. How could he be so comfortable with his relationship with God? I silently wondered if it were possible for God to love someone like me, someone who had purposely committed the sins I had committed: ending an unborn life, sleeping with married men, enjoying casual sexual relationships. I had to tell this guy I was not the strong, put-together Christian woman he thought I was.

“I’m supposed to be a role model for my younger sister, and if she follows my path I don’t know where she’ll end up,” I said boldly and honestly. “Sebastian, I don’t know what kind of girl you’re looking for, but…I did something a long time ago that still haunts me. How can God forgive me when I can’t even forgive myself? I don’t think you need to hang out with me.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“My walk with God isn’t really strong, because I have done something that is so horrid I don’t believe that I’m worthy of His forgiveness. But I guess that’s pretty obvious now, isn’t it?”

He took my hand. “My life hasn’t always been perfect, either. But God’s grace covers all.”

“How can you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that He is so forgiving?”

He looked me in the eye, his face filled with confidence. “By faith I believe that Jesus Christ was sent to this earth by God to die for my sins and the sins of the world. He’s there for me all the time.”

“Most of the people I know who say they’re Christians are the biggest sinners I know. Every time I turn around, I see some fallen mega-pastor in the news.”

“It’s true—there are some leaders who profess to be Christians and don’t act like it. But I leave that up to God, because they’ll have to answer to Him on Judgment Day. Only God can judge what kind of person someone is on the inside.”

I nodded once to let him know I understood. Sebastian just stared at me. I didn’t feel uncomfortable. I felt like a lady.

“I’m very attracted to you, Christian Ware. You’re a beautiful woman inside and out. You’re a genuinely good person. My intuition tells me so. However, right now I’m more concerned for your soul,” he said.

I looked away, unable to look into his piercing eyes. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been pregnant.” I confessed to having an abortion four years ago.

“Christian, Jesus Christ died on the cross for all the sins of the world. Even yours. There’s not a single person who hasn’t sinned in some way. But God promises that if we repent and ask Him for forgiveness, He will grant it. He’ll even help you learn to forgive yourself.”

Sebastian stayed and talked the whole night. He read a small passage from the Book of John and I sat there, soaking up God’s word. It was as if someone greater was talking through Sebastian.

Sometime in the early-morning hours, I fell asleep in his arms. When I awoke, Sebastian was snoring softly, still holding me. I didn’t want to disturb him, so I lay very still, enjoying the warmth of his chest through his silk shirt.

It had been five weeks since that night at Troy’s place. Maybe I needed to go to the doctor to get a blood test since my cycle still hadn’t come.

I was awakened by the patter of little feet and children’s voices shouting in the hallway outside of my room. I wondered what time it was. I glanced at my watch to see that it was nine A.M.

When I couldn’t lie still any longer and adjusted my position, I woke Sebastian. He opened his eyes, smiled, and said, “Good morning.”

“You’re still here,” I said, smiling. “You didn’t run away in the middle of the night.”

He smiled. “I’ve got a peace that surpasses understanding. I know God can take care of anything.”

“I wish I had your faith.”

He held me closer. “Christian, just because you had an abortion before doesn’t mean you have to make the same mistake again. If you are pregnant, you can give your child a home, either with an adoptive family or keep it yourself.”

I knew I couldn’t go through another abortion.

“Even if the child’s earthly father won’t be there for you, the heavenly Father will be.”

I hugged Sebastian tightly. At that moment, he was closer to me than a confidant.

“Why don’t we get dressed and go down for some breakfast,” he suggested. “I’m famished.” He stood. “I’ll be back as soon as I get changed and cleaned up.”

After he left the room, I got my cell phone out of my purse and checked my messages. Eden had called to tell me things were going great. My mom had called to see how my new job was going. My fifteen-year-old sister wanted money for a new leather jacket. Max said he enjoyed seeing me at the wedding. Surprisingly, Troy had called to tell me that he missed me. He sure did wait a while—he hasn’t called in over a month.

I hadn’t called, either. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t spoken to Troy since that night I left him. At first, I wouldn’t have minded never talking to him again; however, I knew he would play a big role in the decision I was going to have to make, if I was in fact pregnant.

I called his house.

“Hey,” he said. “How’s the big celebrity?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw you on TV saving Stokes’s life.”

“Oh.”

“So you really applied for that temp job, and my girl got it, too. Gon’ with your bad self,” he teased, before changing his voice to a more seductive tone. “When are you coming back? I miss you.”

I started pacing. “I don’t know. Troy, I’m late.”

“Late for what?”

“You know. Late. I think I might be pregnant.”

“Oh,” he said nonchalantly. “So, do you need some money to take care of it?”

“Troy, I’m not going to have an abortion,” I said, making my way to the bathroom.

“You have to, Chris, because I’m not going to have any kids right now.”

“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “If I am pregnant, I’ll either keep and raise the baby myself or place it up for adoption.”

“Well, don’t count on me for any of that daddy stuff.”

“I didn’t plan to.” I began to run my shower water.

“So you think you can raise a kid alone? You don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for.”

His comment stung. As much as I hated to admit it, I knew he was right. I couldn’t raise a kid all by myself, without a daddy figure. I couldn’t support my baby. Heck, I could barely even support myself, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Guess I’ll find out, won’t I?” I replied with an attitude.

“Hey, you said you weren’t sure, right? Maybe you’re stressing for nothing.”

“I’m hoping I can confirm one way or the other sometime today.”

“Well, call me back when you know.”

I hung up without saying good-bye. Maybe I’d get back to him when I knew, maybe I wouldn’t. In a way, I was hoping Troy would be more supportive. I didn’t understand it: Troy could lie down with me in a bedroom, but couldn’t stand up, be a man, and take care of his responsibility. One thing was for sure: I wasn’t about to abort my baby.

Later that morning, Sebastian and I found ourselves at a Planned Parenthood office in Gwinnett County, Georgia. It meant a lot, having his support. We clutched hands in the waiting area. He kept smiling as if everything was going to be all right.

“You didn’t have to come,” I told him as we sat in the lobby awaiting the results of my pregnancy test.

“True friends don’t abandon each other,” he said. He took my sweaty hand. “Can I pray for you?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

He closed his eyes. “Heavenly Father, I come to You right now, asking forgiveness for past sins. Comfort Christian and let her know You love her.”

I was comforted by Sebastian’s prayer and presence. I got up and thumbed through magazines I had no interest in. The wait for my results seemed endless.