you,” he murmured after a moment.
Pearl moved without haste but with hurried purpose. She had no idea why Wade affected her the way he did, but instead of dwelling on the thought, she pushed it to the back of her mind as she wrote down more dinner orders.
She smiled at the two men entering her station, acknowledging them. As soon as they took their seats, Pearl went over to introduce herself.
She stole a peek over her shoulder at the table where Wade was sitting.
He was watching her. Pearl thought she detected a flicker in his intense eyes, causing her pulse to skitter alarmingly.
She drew her attention back to her customers and managed to get through the specials and take their drink order without fumbling. Having Wade seated in her station made her nervous.
But why? she wondered.
Pearl had been completely caught unawares seeing him. Wade was just as surprised to see her standing at his table. She looked as stunning in her uniform as she did any other time. All of the Lockhart siblings were beautiful, but Wade thought Pearl the prettiest.
She was also the most outgoing, it seemed. And the most opinionated, for sure.
His eyes traveled to the two men sitting at the table across from his. They shared similar features, so much that they had to be related to each other. Probably brothers, Wade decided.
Pearl paused at his table to refresh his glass of water, her appearance distracting him briefly from his thoughts.
He cast another smile her way. “Thank you.”
“Would you like something else to drink with your dinner besides water?” she inquired.
Wade shook his head. “This is fine.”
“Your food should be ready.”
While Wade waited for Pearl to come back with his meal, he reflected back over his life. His journey to the pulpit had not been one without heartache. His gaze landed on the two men laughing and talking nearby, his heart breaking all over again.
I miss you so much, Jeff.
Memories of his dead brother rushed to the forefront, bringing tears to Wade’s eyes. Ten years had passed since Jeff’s death, but to him, it still felt like it had happened yesterday. Wade didn’t know if he would ever be able to escape that particular heartache or be free of the guilt.
It’s my fault that Jeff is dead.
Wade had joined the Chicago Kings, one of the city’s largest and most violent street gangs, when he was fifteen. Two years later, when his younger brother, Jeff, wanted to join, Wade didn’t do anything to dissuade him, despite the constant pleas of their mother.
He knew the dangers, but back then, it was nothing more than a way of life to Wade. It took Jeff being killed in a drive-by shooting a year later to change Wade’s way of thinking and to change his life.
Wade went through the motions of eating but not really tasting his food. Seeing families together, enjoying each other, was a constant reminder of everything that he’d lost.
Suddenly needing to get out of there, he dropped two twenty-dollar bills on the table and rose to his feet. He spotted Pearl coming his way and met her.
“I’m sorry but I need to leave,” he blurted. “I left money on the table. Keep the change.” Wade didn’t give her a chance to respond. He walked briskly to the door.
Outside, he took a deep breath and climbed into his car.
Wade pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind as he drove down I-75, en route to his house in Auburn Hills.
At home, Wade went straight to the dresser in his bedroom. From the top drawer he pulled a yellow bandana and a necklace made of gold and black beads—the items Jeff was wearing when he was killed. The faded brownish stains on it were his brother’s blood. Wade kept the bandana and necklace because it was all he had left of Jeff.
But the items couldn’t help him remember the exact details of what happened that day. Wade had tried over the years to piece together everything, but there was a huge gap in his mind from the time they were walking to a nearby store to his holding Jeff’s bullet-ridden body.
Holding the bandana to his chest, Wade sat down on the edge of the king-sized bed, lost in the memories of his brother and the precious little time they’d spent together.
The images Wade dreaded most were of Jeff wearing the bandana and the necklace, and the day Wade took him to get a royal crown tattooed on his shoulder. Wade had since gone through the expensive process of having the Kings’s symbol removed via laser treatment. Even now, the faint image of a crown still remained as a permanent link to his past.
“I’m so sorry, Jeff,” he whispered, his voice breaking.
Wade would never forget the look on his poor mother’s face when she was told that her sixteen-year-old son was dead. She was in denial initially until she looked into Wade’s eyes. Her expression changed from grief to pure hatred. She charged at him, beating him with her fists and calling him a murderer.
He winced at the memory.
After they’d buried Jeff, his mother had told him at the cemetery that he no longer had a home or a mother. A close family friend who’d been in town for the funeral had invited Wade to live with his family in Indiana—but only if he was ready to leave the gang.
Harold Green and Wade’s father had been in the military together. Afterward they’d both decided to go into law enforcement. Wade’s father had been killed five years later when he went to check on a domestic dispute. Uncle Harold had stayed in law enforcement until retiring a few years ago. He’d tried to counsel Wade against gangs, but his words had gone unheard.
Until Jeff’s death.
When Jeff died, life with the Chicago Kings no longer appealed to Wade. It had cost him all that had ever mattered to him—his family.
Wade had moved in with the Green family and surprised everyone when he not only accepted Christ into his life, but finished high school and announced that he felt led to ministry. When Harold accepted a position with the Detroit police department, Wade opted to stay in Indianapolis to finish school at the Christian Theological Seminary.
He received a master’s of divinity degree with the Green family in attendance. Although he didn’t really expect his mother to be in the audience, Wade kept hoping she would come to see him graduate. He missed her dearly.
Wade had not spoken to her in ten years—not since the day they buried Jeff. His death was a wound that would continue to fester and never heal.
Even after her last customer left, Pearl was still wondering what made Wade leave the restaurant in such a hurry. He’d seemed really upset about something.
She cleaned up her station, picked up her dinner and Paige’s, then left the restaurant.
She drove straight home, listening to Yolanda Adams’s new CD.
Her cousin was waiting for her in the living
