Chasing Faith Read online

  “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.”