The Father's Voice - Chapter Five

Perhaps common for many first novels, the heroine in The Father’s Voice, bears some resemblance to me. The character, “Brenda Quinn,” a successful African-American attorney struggles with whether to give up her high-paying career in order to become a teacher. The other issues she faces are products of my imagination.

Below is a portion of one of my favorite chapters. The novel is available at local bookstores. Or, you can purchase the book online at:

Moody Publishers
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Christianbook.com

Excerpt from Chapter 5 of The Father’s Voice:

Russell crouched inside the back of his van, arranging cleaning equipment in preparation for Saturday morning’s rehab project at the Taylor home. Tired from being awake most of the night, Russell thought the carpet steamer and other pieces of equipment seemed twice as heavy as normal.

After Brenda had left him, he’d sat in his van for more than an hour. Darkness surrounded him before he finally gave up hoping that Brenda would return to talk with him. He’d driven around aimlessly after he left the parking lot. Passing the center, he couldn’t bring himself to go in. Even if all of the kids had been there, he knew he would have felt alone. He toyed with the idea of going to the new house where he could throw his own private pity party. Deciding that he’d be terrible company for himself, he finally drove to his dad’s place and had wasted no time in climbing into bed.

Slumber eluded him, and when he did manage to doze off, Brenda’s words repeatedly awakened him. “There’s no reason to see each other after tomorrow except in passing at the office.” By the time Kenneth rose at six o’clock, Russell was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee. It had gone cold, being untouched for a couple of hours. The men left the house and spoke few words before arriving at the center at seven.

Russell heard the purr of a car engine and, glancing up, rubbed his red-streaked eyes when he glimpsed Brenda’s car. Whoever had said, “Tomorrow never comes,” was wrong. Despite the long night, the day Brenda had said would be their last one together had arrived much too quickly. How was he to deny what he was feeling when he would be with her for almost every second of the day? Lord, I could use some help here. Can You please step into this day in some way so that Brenda and I can have more time together?

Kenneth walked out of the center and glanced at Russell while pointing at Brenda’s car. Russell climbed out of the van and motioned for Brenda to park in the lot behind the building.

As Brenda emerged from the car, his breath stilled as he noticed the way Brenda’s tee shirt, tucked into her blue jeans, revealed a small waist above the flare of her hips. Her bronze skin warmed the shirt’s sky blue color. Her jeans were faded, with grass stains on the knee. She’s a gardener, he thought. She needs a plot of land big enough for flowers and vegetables. His new house boasted a huge backyard. He imagined Brenda on her knees, digging in the earth, rubbing the soil between her fingers.

When the car trunk popped open, Brenda walked to the back and bent over to reach inside. Hattie stood next to Brenda and, as if noticing Russell’s gaze upon her daughter, moved to one side, affording Russell a full view. Lord, how am I supposed to be focused on the work when all I have eyes for is Brenda?

Kenneth greeted the women and then poked Russell’s side, putting Russell’s mouth into motion. “Good morning, Miz Hattie, Brenda,” he piped up.

Hattie sounded a quick “’mornin” to Russell and his dad. Brenda’s voice rang out as she spoke to Kenneth. Russell thought there was a brief hesitation before she uttered a small “hello” directed at him. She quickly returned her focus to the contents of the car’s trunk as Kenneth took up position alongside the women.

Peering into the trunk, Kenneth let out a low whistle. “Russell, you ought to see what these two have brought here this morning. Trunk filled to the brim.”

Russell joined the threesome at the rear of the car. “You must have used every pot and pan in your kitchen,” Russell said, his gaze raking over the contents of the compartment.
“ Hmph,” Hattie said. “Russell, you mean to tell me that all you notice is what we were cooking with?”

Kenneth laughed. “Just ’cause a man is eager to see what’s been cooking on the stove don’t mean he ain’t interested in nothin’ else that’s in the kitchen.” He winked at Russell, and his gaze drifted toward Brenda. “Here,” he said, lifting a roaster out of the trunk and thrusting it toward Russell. “Why don’t you take this into the kitchen? Brenda,” he said, handing her a pot, “you can follow Russell.”

As Russell and Brenda walked to the center, Russell said, “I feel as if I’ve just had enough embarrassment to last me the rest of my life.” Seeing Brenda smile for the first time that morning, Russell thought that maybe God was indeed at work. He didn’t know what God would do, but he reassured himself that God worked all things for good.

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Brenda watched Russell lift the top from the roaster. The hickory smell of the liquid smoke Brenda had brushed on the brisket wafted toward her as Russell also sniffed the vapors rising from the meat.

“ Man, that smells as good as it looks,” Russell said, replacing the top and rubbing his stomach. “Guess it would be tacky to ask your mom to hold a slice back for me so I could have some to snack on before the dinner?”

“ Next you’ll be bringing your own containers like some of the people at Mama’s high-rise. They come ready to take a plate home.” Brenda smiled, knowing how hard Russell was trying to avoid mentioning their conversation from last night. If he didn’t bring it up, neither would she. Her discussions with Bob, and later with Russell, had replayed themselves endlessly in her mind all night. She didn’t think there was a conflict of interest being with Russell today—not a business one, anyway! She didn’t have any intentions of bringing up the firm or anything to do with the law.

It was almost illegal that a man could look so good even clothed in a pair of paint-splattered blue jeans and a tee shirt. Russell definitely was enough to keep her mind off work. She found that thought more than a little unsettling. It would be hard working alongside him all day, but she’d faced obstacles of all types before. But ignoring the first man she’d been attracted to was a challenge she’d never dealt with before. Give me strength, O Lord!

Brenda heard the front door open, then slam shut. Cocking her head, she yelled, “Mama?”

“ It ain’t your mama, or your daddy neither,” a voice responded.

She glanced at Russell, and he stilled any question with an upraised hand. “I’ll get it,” he said.
Brenda stayed on Russell’s heels as he walked out of the kitchen, through the swinging doors, and into the main part of the center. Two young men stood in the open doorway.

“ Something we can do for you?” Russell asked, approaching the teenagers.

One of the youths wore a black doo rag on his head and held a cigarette loosely at his side. He took a long drag. Smoke curled around his face, clouding his features, as he exhaled. “The old people in the parking lot said we need to come in to get an invitation to some big dinner y’all got going on tonight. We even helped out.” Turning to the young man behind him, he said, “J.R., give ’em the box of stuff that old lady asked us to carry.”

Brenda sidestepped around Russell. “I didn’t know there was any old lady out there. Last time I looked, I saw a nice older couple—one of whom is my mother.”

“ J.R., give ’em the box.” He flicked the cigarette on the stoop and ground it out with the tip of his tennis shoe. Keeping his head down, he said, “No offense, lady. Didn’t mean to be talking about your mama or nothing like that.”

The second youth handed the box toward Russell. He spoke in a high, reedy voice. “Heard of this place. Ain’t it something like a church?”

It’s a Christ-centered recreational center,” Russell said, taking the box and thanking the young man. When he turned to address the youth who had been holding the cigarette, Brenda noticed the scar on his face. His cheek looked as if it had been knifed. “What’s your name?” Russell asked.

“ Michael. Like one of God’s favorite angels.” His lips curled into a sneer.

“ Glad to hear you know something about God’s Word,” Russell said. “Michael, J.R., you’re welcome to attend tonight. You can even come in now and take a look around. But I have to tell you, there are some rules we go by.”

Michael laughed. “Rules? This is a free country, man. Ain’t you heard?”

Kenneth approached, hefting two plastic bags, while Hattie carried one of her cakes. “Excuse us,” Kenneth said. “Wisdom and beauty coming through.”

J.R. stepped off the stoop to make room, while Michael maintained his position.

“ Michael,” Brenda said, drawing the youth’s attention her way. “Could you give Mr. Dawson a hand?”

Michael’s gaze shifted toward Kenneth before he spoke to his friend. “J.R., give the man a hand. I ain’t into no physical labor.” J.R. took one of the bags and followed Hattie and Kenneth into the center.

“ Listen,” Russell said to Michael. “Dinner’s at seven. You’re welcome to stay. But I’m telling you, son, we keep this place clean.” He straightened to his full height and walked toward Michael, causing him to step off the stoop. Russell bent down and picked the cigarette butt off the ground. He dropped it into the large trash container placed on the corner. “Clean. We start with the outside and point the way to Someone who can clean up the inside.”

J.R. soon joined them. “Got all the bags unloaded. Y’all finished talking?”

Michael shrugged. “Brother here doing all the talking. I’m just listening.” He gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t hold dinner for us tonight,” he said, turning abruptly, leaving J.R. to catch up to him.

Brenda watched the young men as they sauntered across the street. “I’m not sure that was a good idea to invite them to dinner. They look like trouble.”

“ If we excluded everybody that didn’t look like what we thought they should, I don’t know how many would receive a passing grade.”

“ If they come back, tonight’s dinner could get an F for fiasco.”

“ God gives Fs too, Brenda. Forgiveness. We can’t ever forget that.”

“ That doesn’t mean we can’t exercise good judgment.”

Russell held his hands up. “What do you expect me to do, Brenda? Close the center’s doors? Call the police? Those two haven’t committed any crime that I know of. Not unless you want them arrested for littering.”

She pointed a finger at his chest. “If anything happens involving those two, I’m holding you responsible.”