Preacher in Her Garden

(Of all the true stories, sweet romances, diaries, manuscripts or documented words of love and passion I have ever written, this is my favorite of all time. Read it and you'll know why. It's just so darn touching. You just know some women are going to make perfect loving wives. But if you're a man, the trick is to find one for yourself.)

The early morning sun was rising. Lynn looked at her own picture on the cover of House and Garden. She was the first black woman ever to be featured on the front page, a distinction she both cherished and was extremely proud of.

She looked away from the window for a moment and glanced at her Master's degree from The University of Houston. Ever since coming to America from Trinidad some six years earlier, she had really begun to make her mark. Not only had she acquired the prestigious degree with honors, but she had also become independently wealthy through her string of second hand shops. Perhaps what she was most proud of, however, was the fact she had played an integral role in reinvigorating a local church that had been ready to close its doors just before her arrival. With an infusion of love, faith, work and cash, she had helped organize an amazing revival of sorts.

It seemed that everything she was putting her hand to was becoming wildly successful. The only thing still eluding her, however, was a ring to slip onto her finger that denoted marriage. She was, therefore, despite her many successes, still frustratingly single. Getting to go out on suitable dates in the small Texas town was proving to be quite a challenge indeed. As a lonely thirty year old woman, she longed for the companionship and love of a kind-hearted, handsome young man she could marry. Whether her new man was to be white or black, mattered little to her. What did matter, was the fact that, in this rural Texas County, men in either color seemed impossible to find, much less date. She sighed in disappointment and looked back out the window.

The clouds were still purple, and seemed heavy with either rain or a stubbornly retreating evening. They drifted aimlessly against the back drop of a slowly emerging bright blue sky.

Lynn knew the clouds would soon lighten to grey, and then, if all went well, turn yet again to a fluffy marshmallow white, before finally dissipating into the brilliant glare of unfettered sunshine.

The local radio station had called for rain, but Lynn knew better. Like everyone else in the small town of Forest Grove, she knew you could pretty well plan your day around bracing for the opposite of whatever their forecasts predicted.

That was because Freddy Austen, the radio weatherman, was not a real meteorologist, neither had he gone to a real university like Lynn had done. Rather, he was merely the proud owner of a certificate he earned through a mail order company.

Still, Freddy was well liked by all the townsfolk, including Lynn, for his unending exuberance and larger than life hand waiving verbosity. Freddy was also a town native, a distinction which the transplanted Lynn from the Caribbean could not lay claim to. In fact, Lynn would often see herself as a contradiction in terms. Like Freddy, her way of thinking was something that went against the grain. Most of the single white women in her thirtyish age range were all chomping at the bit to vacate the town's tiny confines and seek marriage minded men elsewhere.

Lynn, on the other hand, despite her jet black skin, and the absence of any black men whatsoever, also daily noted the chronic shortage of handsome, single white men as well. But she refused to seek romance elsewhere. She had grown to love the town's humorous charm and folksy simplistic character. She was determined to believe that if she just stayed put, God would eventually send a suitable man her way. Such iron clad faith had been established powerfully in her happy heart and mind, unwavering due to the fact she was certain it was God's perfect will for her to reside in the seemingly dead end town. Lynn knew God was preparing her to save many souls for the kingdom, not just locally, but nationally, and, if all went well, internationally also. She was convinced it was God himself that had given her the idea for The Miracle Prayer Club. God had laid it on her heart to start The Miracle Prayer Club in Forest Grove and then quickly watch it sweep across the nation, and eventually, the entire world.

She had, however, no illusions about how folks would quickly mock her if they only knew of her grandiose scheme. But even Jesus himself had auspicious beginnings, coming from the tiny town of Bethlehem, a rather insignificant piece of Middle Eastern real estate in the eyes of the rulers of that day. And so, starting up a potentially world renowned prayer club in the middle of nowhere, or receiving a currently non-existent husband in that same nowhere, were just two of a long list of miracles Lynn was expecting by following God's will. After all, it was embedded in her mind that 'where God guided, he also provided.'

Lynn was also in the midst of testing God. She had prayed upon her arrival from Trinidad to this town, just six years prior, that the hand of God would help her miraculously raise a spectacular garden from the dusty, uncooperative ground. In just those six short years, God had responded to her challenge, and proved it was his perfect will for her to be in Forest Grove by raising up a sensational array of incredible flowers. Lynn had promised God, that if he would help her plant such a floral oasis in her back yard, instead of the usual crop of thistles and tumbleweed, that she would take it as a sign she was to start The Miracle Prayer Club he had shown to her in many a vision. And God had seriously exceeded all her lofty expectations.

With the stunning and elaborate garden already entered in the county's upcoming annual floral contest, she left her bedroom and sauntered down the steps then passed her front door, headed for her beautiful garden. She once again sought to survey God's breath taking handiwork.

Her two feet high Aquilegias, whose divided leaves boasted perfectly rounded lobes, sported spectacular bright shades of purple, crimson, white and royal blue. There were, however, preliminary signs that an aphid and caterpillar infestation was in the offing, with some foliage in danger of becoming ravaged. She quickly removed any infected leaves and felt relieved she had noticed the pilferers in time.

Her Anemones would also need similar attention, the underside of their delicate leaves having developed a touch of plum rust. She reached for the propiconazole spray, knowing that although the problem could not be eliminated, it could be masked until after the county's annual floral contest that was to take place in just two short weeks. She nevertheless sighed, knowing that the wide pink blooms on their five inch stems would eventually have to be destroyed to prevent a spread of the disease.

There were, fortunately, no other potential problems in sight, and she uttered a word of thanks to the almighty under her breath. Her fuchsia shrubs were free of the spider mites that had threatened them last month, and were now ablaze with bright carmine red and an intense deep purple, a strange color combination, which seemed to translate into a brilliant backdrop for her eye popping orange dahlias, and striking golden gladioli.

Off to the side stood her dozen white blooming hydrangea plants, with all twelve rising breathtakingly like proud steps, with each precisely four inches taller than it's predecessor. She sighed another whisper of thanks in God's direction at the disappearance of the gray molds and mildews that had threatened their leaves in previous months. Also conspicuous by their absence were the once prolific capsids, whose voracious appetites had only weeks earlier threatened to feed lavishly on the sensitive leaves and flowering buds. She nodded her joyous approval almost imperceptibly. Obviously her homemade pesticide concoction had worked without any visible side effects.

"Good morning."

The man's voice was not only unexpected, but startling, almost making her jump.

Her gasp was therefore audible and caused him to realize his sudden ill-timed appearance had frightened her.

"Didn't mean to frighten you," he spat out apologetically.

"Oh wow, well you did frighten me...you...you actually scared the bejabbers out of me. You shouldn't be sneaking up on people like that."

"Sorry," he sighed, his face somewhat reddening. "As I said. I didn't mean to startle you. I'm assuming you're Lynn, the church secretary. You gave me your address in your last email. I'm Steve Harkins, your new pastor."

Lynn took a moment to survey his appearance. He was tall, well over six feet, with stunning, wavy black hair that was combed off to one side. He had an amazing cute dimple, and dazzling white teeth that were magazine cover perfect. He also sported bulging muscles under his tight fitting t-shirt, indicating a muscular chest with rippling abs. She tried not to visibly swoon. He was definitely a hunk.

"I'm glad to finally meet you," offered Lynn tentatively, glancing at her plain, mud spattered dress and cringing at the thought of her uncombed hair. "But you might have called before you came. I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."

He didn't answer right away, but instead seemed somewhat captivated by Lynn's good looks that shined through despite her mediocre appearance. It gave her a chance to note that he also was far more handsome in person, compared to the grainy picture accompanying his last email.

"Your flowers are absolutely amazing. I don't think I've ever seen such fantastic-"

"Ohhh nooo!! You're standing in my tulips," she interrupted.

"Oh...am I? I'm sorry, I didn't notice."

"These are rare," she finally panted frantically, stooping quickly to where he had just removed his left foot. "They're Darwin Hybrid Tulips," she added, lifting the now crushed flowers off the ground where his careless foot had embedded them.

"I'll buy you some new ones," he offered, his face now reddening like an overripe tomato.

"You can't replace these. They were royal blue. They were a hybridization between botanical tulips and triumph tulips. The colors of such tulips are usually restricted to orange, yellow, pink or red. These were the first royal blue I've ever seen or heard of. Also, normally, the petals open seven inches across. These were oversized, beautiful ten inch blooms. As well, these kinds of tulips usually have stripes or splotches. Mine had both. Now you've destroyed three of them, the best three in fact."

"I am really sorry," he repeated. "I really should be more careful where I step."

"Apology accepted," she finally spat out. "Though you're right, you really should be more careful."

"I'm such a clod. It's only fair you let me make it up to you," he finally offered, quickly adding, "I can assure you I'm not used to going around, trampling a pretty church secretary's tulips into oblivion."

His attempt at sneaking in a compliment had been crass, but it worked, warming her up. He saw the opening and felt emboldened, adding, "perhaps dinner sometime? It'll give me a chance to make up for your prized tulips and also give us a chance to go over all the church business being left unattended."

She could tell his dinner invitation was not some spur of the moment date attempt, but rather a way for him to try to transmit how truly sorry he was over the triple tulip debacle. And he was right in figuring a lot of church business could be covered and disposed of at such a meeting. But mixing business with pleasure? It caused her to wonder if there might be more to his dinner offer than just sorrow over squashed tulips. She got the feeling that despite her unprepared appearance, he found her both attractive and interesting. She now wondered if her prayers to God over finding her that much needed man in her life were finally materializing into some positive results. Still, the loose ends he left dangling in the air made her nervous, and she was also smart enough to know that getting one's hopes up could be a recipe for a broken heart when the dust had finally settled and all was said and done.

"You still haven't explained why you're here a day early?"

"I was very much encouraged by some of the comments in your emails, particularly the ones concerning your views on dramatically increasing the church membership, filling seats. I was therefore really anxious to meet you and discuss it in person, not to mention the fact I wanted to see if the church secretary sending the emails was really as amazingly pretty in person as she was in the email picture."

Amazingly pretty?! Amazingly pretty??!! That was quite a telling mouthful for a man of the cloth to be tossing around, particularly when the recipient of such worldly praise might not find it appropriate. Yet, she had to concede to herself that his first, earlier attempt at a compliment had garnered him a sweet blush of unspoken thanks. Encouraging men usually meant bracing oneself for more of the same. Her early life in the Caribbean country of Trinidad had taught her that, as had also her newer country of America! Yet, she was unsure if such admiration was merely an ice breaker or...or-.

"You've explained being a day early, but not why you aren't wearing a wedding band to match that obvious indentation around the third finger on your left hand?"

He was astounded her two big brown eyes, now narrowed to two inquisitive yet disappointed slits, had been able to sharpen their gaze to detect the indentation.

A part of her wanted immediately to retract her words, but the other side of her was desperate for clarification. She had, after all, been praying for a single man, not one already taken. She felt it better for him to clear the air from the very beginning.

"My, what two sharp little eyes you have. But if you must know, I'm widowed. I did in fact wear a wedding ring up until a few days ago. It's been almost two years now that my wife was killed by a drunk driver. But, coming to a new town, I felt-"

"You don't have to explain," she spilt out, clearly mortified. "I should not have insinuated that you...well...I mean I'm sorry for thinking that you-"

"Don't apologize," he offered softly, the shine suddenly vanishing from his stunning, emerald green eyes. "My last posting was at a church twice the size of this one, so I guess I really took this pastoral posting to get away, a fresh start for myself and my two daughters...and ...I...I-"

His mouth suddenly clamped down like a vice, his once fiery gaze retreating to a mere smolder, his shoulders slumping to signify a saddened heart and mind, that had, up till now, stubbornly defied all attempts at healing.

"I'll be expecting that dinner sometime this week," she spoke up firmly, watching the warmth suddenly reignite in his handsome face.

"That would be nice," he agreed. "It'll give us a chance to discuss church plans."

"Tomorrow would be perfect," she offered, her repentant hands hiding the tulips he had so clumsily crushed, behind her back. He suddenly looked remarkably handsome to her as a man not afraid to wear his vulnerabilities on his sleeve. She sighed, pegging him refreshingly as a man of whom it could be said, 'what you see is what you get.'

"By the way," she added. "Did you get to look over my email proposal to start up the prayer club? I'm sure once you look at it's potential, you'll be just as excited as I-"

"Oh yes, the uhh whatchamacall it, the miracle something or another," he interrupted, obviously irked at it's mention. "Quite a far reaching country wide undertaking, and quite impressive, however, frankly Lynn, I tend to devote my efforts more to local pasturing. I'm afraid I don't think that is something we should be involved in. I mean the church here at Forest Grove seats one hundred and twenty, and yet, from your reports, we average only about fifty each Sunday. I think I'd rather focus on filling the empty seventy chairs than on some far fetched, country wide internet prayer scheme. You said yourself you thought we could fill all seats."

Lynn didn't answer, but her suddenly cold demeanor told him he had struck a nerve. It made him realize just how wrong he was in letting her down so callously. The project was obviously very important to her. And he suddenly wondered if the project may be important to God as well. Some visions were given to the pastor, and some, to members of the flock, who could envision things a man of the cloth might overlook. He tried to back track and remove his foot from his oversized, insensitive mouth. "Not that I'm against taking another look at it," he offered, desperately hoping to recoup her trust. I know sometimes God has a roundabout way of bringing projects to a church."

A silence ensued, which was suddenly deafening and he prayed he hadn't made her an enemy.

"You've obviously already made up your mind against it," she sighed indifferently, her stoic face an indication of the seething anger now in danger of not abating.

"She's black and she's pretty."

"Reeeeel black and reeeeel pretty."

"Madeline, Melanie, I told you two to wait in the car."

"But it's hot in there daddy, sooo sooo bery hot!"

"Plus we wanned ta see her."

"Yeah and she's pretty, reeeeeel pretty."

"Stop saying that," whined Steve, "it's impolite." His face reddening as he managed an apologetic smile. "Anyways, Lynn, now that the cat's out of the bag, so to speak, I present to you my daughters, the seven year old Harkins twins. The one with the purple dress is Madeline and the one in the orange is..."

"No," one of the girls giggled. "She's not Madeline, I am."

"I'm Melanie," laughed the other girl. "Dad's always mixing us up."

"I can see that," managed Lynn, her anger now fully disintegrated.

"You gonna be our new mom?" Madeline's hopeful, big brown eyed gaze launched an arrow straight for Lynn's heart. Her words were also concise and to the point and forced Lynn to smile apprehensively.

"Don't say that," corrected Steve, clearly mortified. "You'll embarrass her."

"What's embrarasees mean?"

"It means you two are being rude."

"I think they are adorable," beamed Lynn. "Can I invite these two young ladies in for some apple pie and chocolate milk."

"Mmmmm...can we dad, can we?"

"Yeah dad, can we?"

"Well, if Lynn here insists, I suppose it would give me more time to hear about her prayer club proposal."

Lynn eyed Steve cautiously. She was used to reading people with deadly accuracy. And now, she was reading her new pastor's motives with equal efficiency. He was clearly only interested in placating her anger and had no intention of ever giving her proposals serious consideration. She knew he was also only buying time so he could perhaps eventually twist her arm into seeing things his way. She was not interested therefore in merely allowing him to regain lost ground. She assumed that whatever was deeply rooted in his heart to begin with, likely wouldn't change over time.

"I think you've already spoken what's in your heart. My miracle prayer club would be contrary to your beliefs. How you can be a pastor and against miracles is beyond me."

"I never said I was against miracles. I just said that-"

"I know what you said," interrupted Lynn, the fierceness threatening to return to her pretty eyes. "So let's just leave it at that. When I am ready to launch my prayer club, if you are on board, well, fine. But if not, there are other churches in Forest Grove, and I'm sure they would not be so adversarial to the idea of nation wide membership, nation wide prestige and nation wide donations."

The thought of an avalanche of fresh money and publicity made him salivate but the thought of going beyond the borders of Forest Grove also made him wince. Regardless of the perks, he could never envision slacking off in his local responsibilities just to embrace some grandiose scheme. A part of him knew he was being small minded, but the rest of him knew he had to be true to his beliefs. Still, the thought of Lynn perhaps vacating her post, and bolting from his church left a morbidly bad taste in his mouth. The church membership was already in obvious decline, and if the popular Lynn were to vanish, so might many others follow her lead. Still, something told Steve that if Lynn believed she was hearing from God than she would also believe it was God's will for her to remain in the church he had placed her in. As the wheels in his mind turned, he nodded almost imperceptively. Calling her bluff might force her hand and reveal that she would indeed end up choosing to stay where God had originally put her. He supposed that time would reveal her thoughts to the point where he might be willing to take that chance.