Читать книгу Practicing What You Preach - Vanessa Davis Griggs - Страница 10

While they behold your chaste conversation coupled with fear.

—1 Peter 3:2

Marcus showed up fifteen minutes early for our date. He looked amazing—different than before. When he visited my boss, he mostly wore suits and ties. For our night out, he wore a lightweight pullover sweater with a geometrical design and pecan-colored slacks. He wasn’t as lanky as I’d thought. And those nerdlike glasses he always sported? Gone.

“Why aren’t you wearing your glasses?” I asked as we rode to the church. I thought for sure that after coming to my door to get me he would have put them on to drive.

He looked at me and smiled. “Oh, so you noticed?” He glanced away from the road to look at me.

“Well, yeah. I’m pretty observant. So you must wear contacts.”

“No. I wear glasses if my eyes become strained from too much reading. And I happen to read a lot. A lot. But mostly I wear them when I want to appear more serious.”

“Glasses make you look different, that’s for sure.”

He tilted his head toward me and grinned. “Is that a good different or a bad different?”

I shrugged, trying to make him think it really wasn’t that big a deal. “Just different, that’s all.” I looked over at him. With the help of streetlights, I was able to see his eyes again, and they were just as gorgeous as I remembered. I’ve never seen eyes that sexy on a man. I turned my gaze away from him. “Me? I have to have glasses to see,” I said. “Fortunately, I’m able to wear contacts, too. But I’d love not to have to wear glasses ever.”

He didn’t respond immediately. I wanted to look back over at him, but I fought the urge and continued to focus my attention on the road ahead.

“Well, I suppose it might stem from when I was a little boy. Everybody in my family wore glasses except me. It was something I was a little envious about,” he said. And although I didn’t see it, I heard the smile in his voice. “My mother used to think I was nuts because I wanted to wear glasses when I didn’t have to.”

“Then aren’t you being a bit dishonest by wearing glasses?” I turned to him. “If you really don’t need them, aren’t you merely using them to misrepresent yourself?”

“No, I don’t think I’m misrepresenting myself. My doctor prescribed them for those times when my eyes feel strained. Do I need them to read every second of the day? No. Do I need them to drive? No. But when I work a lot or late into the night, sometimes my eyes do get tired, so I put them on. My ophthalmologist says it doesn’t hurt for me to wear them all the time. So I wear them when I want to even though I don’t really have to.”

We were getting close to the church’s exit. “Turn left at the light, then right about a half mile up, and you’ll see the church on your right,” I said.

“So, Melissa Anderson, tell me. What are your dreams? What are your goals in life?”

“Now that came completely out of the blue,” I replied, a little surprised, though I was impressed that he even cared enough to ask. I turned and looked at him.

“Oh, really now? Well, I believe you can tell a lot about a person based on their goals and dreams for life.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right. And I’d like to know you better. So what are your dreams?”

“Okay, if you really want to know. I’d like to own my own business someday. A pretty big goal, since I’m not that crazy about everything I’d need to do to own a business. Let’s just say that I like the creative side of what I want to do a lot more than I do the business side. I’m not all that fond of having to do all the paperwork it requires, all the records you have to maintain. But one thing I’ve learned in life is you do what you have to do in order to do what you want to do.”

The arrowed light turned green. He started moving as the line of cars in front of us began rolling. “That’s interesting. I don’t know if I would have ever guessed that about you,” he said.

“Wouldn’t have guessed what? That somebody like me might be remotely interested in owning my own business? That I could be capable of running, let alone owning, a business? What?” I hunched my shoulders a few times. “What?”

“No,” he said with an unspoken question I felt directed at me as though he were asking where that little outburst had come from. I quickly realized how defensive I must have sounded at that moment.

“Honestly, the times I’ve seen you at work, you appear dependable and rather comfortable with handling everything,” Marcus said. “In fact, Dr. Brewer constantly comments on how he doesn’t know what he would do without you. He talks all the time about how you run his office practically single-handedly. He loves your work ethic and can’t seem to say enough great things about your organizational and administrative skills. I suppose I just never thought about you having a desire to leave his office and do something else entirely, that’s all. But you running your own business, I can absolutely see that.”

I blushed. Dr. Brewer had told him how much he appreciated me. “Thank you,” I said when I realized he was surprised that I was interested in leaving Dr. Brewer someday, and not about my being able to own my own business. “I do my best. But I do have dreams. I don’t want to work for somebody else for the rest of my life.”

“Do you have an idea of what kind of business you’d like to own?”

“Yes. I love organizing events, putting them together, watching them work. Right now I do it more as a hobby. I charge a fraction of what I could get while I’m learning and working out all the kinks. At this point, it’s a win-win for everybody. I started out putting together small events like baby showers, birthday parties, and various get-togethers. But the past few months, I’ve been working on this wedding.”

I started to tell him the bride-to-be’s name mostly because I thought it was pretty neat. But then I decided he wouldn’t care that her name was Angela Gabriel and that she likes being called Angel, like the angel Gabriel. When I first met Angela and she told me that, I thought she was joking. But her last name really is Gabriel and most folks really do call her Angel Gabriel.

“The wedding is shaping up to be a major production, although the bride-to-be has done a lot of the work herself,” I said. “But I would love to own an event planning business, not just planning weddings but all types of events, and do it full time.”

Marcus pulled into a parking space beneath a lamppost, then turned off the ignition. I could see him clearly now with the light shining down on us. He turned toward me. “Then I think you should seriously pursue it.” He smiled, and that’s when I saw them. Dimples.

I don’t know why I’d never noticed his dimples before. I love dimples. And on top of everything (gorgeous eyes, dimples, and his going to church with me), he—unlike Cass—genuinely listened to me when I talked. He got out of the car, walked around to my side, and opened the door for me just as he had when he picked me up. And even though I was fully capable of getting in and out of a car by myself, I graciously took his proffered hand. He had the gift of making me feel special. He treated me like I was royalty or something. No man had ever opened a car door for me before. But then again, we independent women can have a way of shutting a true gentleman down.

I couldn’t help but thank God at this point. Here I was with a man who actually listened, seemed to genuinely care, and was not bad on the eyes at all. So far, so good.

Yet, there is one rule I have found, and it has proved itself time and time again with accuracy, at least in my life, no matter how clichéd it is. If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

But tonight—tonight I’ve decided to suspend all negative thoughts and judgments and just see where this takes me.

For tonight. And tomorrow…well, tomorrow is yet another day.