Down On My Knees

by Victor McGlothin

Genres: African American

Synopsis

When a single mother takes a vow of celibacy, she has no idea that trying to be good will make her want to be so bad. . . A single mom and busy advertising executive, Grace has been a bridesmaid one too many times. Not that she doesn't have her share of admirers--and lovers--but Grace wants something more. She's ready for a husband--and a father for her thirteen-year-old son, André. With a little counsel from her church minister's wife--and a little inspiration from the sight of André's handsome English teacher, Wallace Peters--Grace decides to keep her mind open and her clothes on. No matter how hard the Devil chases her. . . After a series of dating fiascos, Grace receives a call from Wallace Peters. Will the school teacher save the day? Or will André's biological father, who mysteriously reappears after thirteen years, turn out to be Mr. Right after all? As Grace soon discovers, it's amazing what miracles can happen once she puts her life--and her heart--in His hands. . .

Release date: March 1, 2012

Publisher: Dafina

Print pages: 320

Sample

Grace Hilliard sauntered into the lobby of the Hotel Carlylejust as she had done once a month for the past year. Her canary yellow skirt swayed in step with her confident strut. An impish grin danced on her full lips when the doormanstopped dead in his tracks to inventory the most attractivecurves he’d seen all day. Upon stepping inside the elevator, Grace turned around slowly, wearing a self-assured smirk befitting a woman who was quite accustomed to drawingattention. She wasn’t in the least bit surprised when she noticed that the doorman hadn’t moved an inch from the very spot where his curiosity had rendered him defenseless. He had seen Grace on several occasions, gliding past with a patented, carefree ease that accompanied her like a silken shadow. Regardless of how often he’d viewed that perfectly framed picture, the way she moved captivated him every time.

Although Grace was attractive in her own right, including being blessed with radiant skin, the deepest shade of chocolateconceivable, she would have been categorized as overqualified in the assets department compared to America’s flawed idea of beauty. Fortunately, she wasn’t the kind of woman who wasted her time trying to live up to fashion-industrystandards. She was way too busy working her shapely size twelve like a part-time job to give it much thought at all. Grace wore self-confidence as if it were a badge of honor. In fact, she was honored to be a proud black woman, although she’d discovered wearing that particular designer label was at times as much a blessing as it was a curse after having to deal with male business associates, who rarely knew how to manage a working relationship to benefit both parties involved.She had discovered for herself some time ago that manipulating circumstances as a means to an end offered better results when it wasn’t personal, but rather for the sake of business. Because of her strong work ethic, Grace didn’t allow anyone to confuse one with the other under any circumstances.

Likewise, Grace wasn’t the type to become disillusioned immediately following casual, albeit mind-blowing, sexual acrobatics. After experiencing her share of disappointment, she understood the high cost associated with permitting her emotions to climb into the same bed she shared with a man that wasn’t hers. “Check your emotions at the door, girl,” Grace whispered softly, to remind herself, whenever tempted by the silly notion that casual sex, no matter how physically rewarding, ever resulted in anything other than what it actuallywas, fun and games.

That’s exactly what Grace had in mind with Tyson Sharp, the epitome of fun and games, sensual bliss, and good times, when suddenly, her purse began to vibrate. She slid her hand inside the brown leather tote bag dangling from her manicuredfingertips. While fishing around inside it, her heart rate quickened. “Oops, that is not a cell phone,” she chuckledquietly, after discovering that it was another battery-operateddevice vying for her attention instead. She flipped the “off ” switch and then wrestled it back to the bottom of the bag. “Got to be more careful. Ain’t that right, Big Mike?” she said jokingly. No sooner had she stepped off the elevator onto the ninth floor, than her bag started up again with anotherchorus of “Good Vibrations.” This time, it was the flip phone summoning her.

“Hey you,” Grace cooed seductively into the tiny handheld.“I’m running a bit late, so I knew you’d be calling. How did I know? Because you always get impatient when you want some. Yes, I do like that about you. Huh? What else? Oh, don’t trip; isn’t being my sex slave good enough?” Grace strolled down the long corridor leading to room 921, their favorite pleasure nest, where Tyson was undoubtedly undressed, cocked and ready for her arrival.

“Hey, I’m here. Yeah, right outside,” Grace confirmed, anxious and aroused. “What, you want me to knock? All right then, get your naked self out of that bed and open up.”

When the door swung slowly from the inside, Grace tilted her head to catch a glimpse of what wasn’t concealed behind it. “Ooh, is all that for me?” she asked, knowing that it was.

Tyson’s smile widened. “Every inch. Just tell me how you want it,” he answered cunningly, with the same dose of spiritedverbal foreplay that Grace had initiated. As he hung a DO NOT DISTURB sign outside and locked the door, she leaned against the mahogany armoire to watch him. Tyson’s muscles seemed to gather together in all the right places when her eyes traveled his entire body. She studied his dark skin, deep set dark brown eyes, sculptured arms and thighs, washboard abs beneath a developed chest, broad shoulders, and the tightest butt she’d ever seen. And as usual, Grace blushed seductivelywith her gaze trained on the talent.

Imagining what the opening act would be when the talent show began, Grace became giddy with anticipation, knowing that sooner or later Tyson Sharp always got around to doing what she liked best of all. Today, however, Grace was hardly in the mood for appetizers. She slipped out of the skirt and let it hit the floor, noting how Tyson’s eyes narrowed when they landed on her thighs. “What you looking at?” she teased as he took two measured steps toward her.

“Everything I see,” he told her convincingly.

“Tyson,” Grace whispered urgently, her white silk blouse falling onto the cloth-covered chair near the thick drapery. She fell back on the bed, pulling Tyson down with her. “Mmm, what are you going to do to me?”

“That thing you like,” he answered softly, tracing her body with his soft lips and fingertips. “That thing that keeps you running back to me.”

Grace caressed his bald head gently until the irresistible urge to guide it between her legs refused to be denied. “Ooh, yeah, that’s it,” she moaned passionately. “That’s it. That’s what I want.”

Of course, Tyson knew exactly what Grace wanted, as well as how she wanted it. He’d made time in his busy scheduleto get away from a thriving financial services business to do just that, before she returned the favor with unrivaled proficiency.While Tyson was a brilliant money manager, drop-deadgorgeous, and generous to a fault, at age thirty-five, he had yet to grow into the kind of man who possessed the maturityrequired to look past his own accomplishments in order to applaud someone else’s. He wore shallowness like the impeccable designer suit tailored to perfection that hung in the hotel-room closet. Other than that, Tyson Sharp was a single woman’s dream, and a married woman’s fantasy.

Hours after receiving more of what she wanted, Grace was staring at her own reflection in the large rectangular bathroom mirror, once she’d wiped the steam away with a bath towel. She opened the miniature makeup kit she’d brought along, then paused to get a glimpse at what a single and satisfied woman looked like after an afternoon rendezvouswith one of Dallas’s finest bachelors. Grace ran her fingers along the ridges on her supple breasts, admiring how they were still holding their shape and fullness after thirty-sixyears. Then she giggled quietly when she noticed her hair sticking up in a hideous telltale just-got-laid fashion. She quickly made herself presentable, collected her clothing, and exited the lavish den of sin, with Tyson sleeping off the aftereffectsof Grace’s naughty nimbleness. The thought of snugglingup next to him zigzagged through her mind, but she chased it away before it caused her to do something stupid, something emotional, something she would have regretted. Grace had to remember that flextime with Tyson was simply an exercise in futility, nothing more. Besides, she was alreadyup against Friday evening traffic. She was forced to hurry to make it home in time for dinner with the one true love of her life, her thirteen-year-old son, André.

It was half past five when Grace zoomed out of the hotel parking garage. During the thirty-five-minute drive home, she grew increasingly uneasy. Having feelings of culpability and exhilaration, an edgy twinge gnawed in the pit of her stomach. As she pulled into the driveway of her two-story buff-colored brick home in a well-to-do subdivision, it occurredto her that she had forgotten to pack a spare pair of panties. In such a hurry to make her scheduled appointment, it didn’t cross her mind until then.

Grace parked her Volvo SUV in the garage and entered through the laundry room, with intentions of slinking past André undetected. She tiptoed around the cherrywood dinnertable and eased into the mouth of the hallway leading to the master bedroom. When it appeared the coast was clear, Grace quickly realized that the jig was up.

“Hey, Ma,” André said loudly, with his hands fastened to the controls of a PlayStation video game, his elbows resting on his bony knees.

Grace smiled awkwardly as she entered into the den. Deliberately,she moved directly behind the evenly brown-hued teenager when she answered his standard salutation. “Hey, yourself,” she replied pleasantly to the gangly boy evolving into a young man before her eyes. “And what did I tell you about that ‘Hey, Ma’ stuff?”

André continued wrestling with the video-game controls until he realized what she’d said. After placing the joystick on the coffee table, he climbed off the walnut-colored sofa. Grace panicked when he approached her from the opposite side of the broad sectional. “Where are you going?” she stammered, fearing the inevitable.

“To say hello proper, like my mother taught me.”

Grace wanted to back away as he reached out for her, but she couldn’t think of an acceptable excuse for doing so. “You didn’t have to get up,” she said, in an exasperated tone. “All I expected was a sensible acknowledgment.”

“I know. That’s what I got up to do,” André told her, with a warm embrace. “How’s that?”

“Uhh, very refreshing actually,” she answered, then immediatelychanged the subject before her peculiar behavior was called into question. “So would you like to go out later, or should I whip up something for dinner?” Suddenly, André leaned away from his mother, wrinkled his nose, then sniffed the air.

Oh my Lord, Grace thought to herself, hoping to high heaven that her child didn’t recognize the remnants of grown folks’ business or have a clue what she’d been up to on the other side of town.

“Mom, you smell kinda funny,” he said as he continued sniffing around her. “Kinda like those stinky little soap bars from that hotel on the San Antonio Riverwalk that gave me a rash.”

Frozen in her humiliation, Grace played it off as best she could. “Don’t be silly, Dré. I haven’t been anywhere near San Antonio.” She was thoroughly relieved that he hadn’t learned enough about life to ask whether she’d been anywherenear a hotel. Immediately following a narrow escape, Grace snatched up the telephone and hit “2” on the speed dial to order a pizza. Then she slid into the shower again to rinse away the incriminating evidence. While languishing in her solitude, a single tear streaked down her cheek. It occurred to her that André was no longer the boy she’d said good-bye to that morning before heading off to work. His senses were sharpening, and there wouldn’t be many years left to offer motherly advice or see to it that his homework was completed to her strict specifications. She wasn’t preparedfor André’s ascension into manhood or having to increaseher level of cleverness to get around his impending understanding regarding her indiscretions with men. Grace remained in the shower for quite some time to conceal her sadness and troubled soul with undeniable traces of gratuitoussex hiding just beneath it.

Saturday morning at eleven sharp, Grace scurried around inside the ladies’ powder room just off the main chapel of church as she mixed in Golden Glimmer eye shadow with a delicate brushstroke of Mocha Madness foundation to even out the hue. Chandelle was a blushing bride-to-be, but her skin tone was much too rich to apply the makeup directlyfrom the small container, as intended by the manufacturer.

“I don’t know what that cosmetics company was thinking when they marketed this precious-metal line to sistahs withoutadding a touch of bronze,” Grace grumbled while dabblingher own mixture of ingenuity and good old-fashioned know-how underneath Chandelle’s eyebrows. “Someone ought to crash their next sales meeting with some of this here to set them straight.”

“I know you’re going to make me so beautiful, Grace,” Chandelle whispered, holding her eyes closed. “I saw the photos from Maryland’s wedding, when she was shoving them in everybody’s face at the job. The way you put her face together like a movie star sent me running to your office.I wasn’t too proud to beg, either.”

Grace tilted her head to the side as she thought back to the memorable scene that had happened two years earlier. “Yeah, I do recall a skinny little college grad fresh off the bus traipsing into my office and interrupting my conference call.” She laughed when the memory came back crystal clear, as if it had happened yesterday. “Miss Hilliard, Miss Hilliard!” Grace mocked, while trying to imitate Chandelle’sexcited voice. “I know you don’t know me, but I just peeped Maryland’s wedding album, and her makeup was so tight that no one even noticed her ugly dress.” Other women in the busy room snickered.

Chandelle chuckled lightly herself as she reminisced. “How was I to know you were a corporate big shot? All I knew was that you had a rep for being nice to everyone, and that you’d worked magic on Maryland. You probably won’t admit it, but that chick needed it more than most. That’s when I figured there was hope for me. After you said yes, all I needed then was a man.”

“Be nice, now,” Grace warned. “Maryland has already taken the plunge, and now has an adorable set of twins and a backyard. You still need the minister to ink your deal, so lighten up. Not everyone is a natural beauty like you, Chandelle, with a line of men beating her door down for the honor of sharing their last name.”

Chandelle blushed, casting her eyes away. Grace had helped her to realize how insensitive she had been to Marylandand other women who couldn’t pass for a Fashion Fair model with a shake dancer’s behind. Suddenly Chandelle reached across the small vanity to hug Grace. “You’re right, but then, you always are,” she said. “I had no business putting anybody down that way. I should be happy that Maryland’s happy. There are way too many black women who never get the chance to wear these white satin shoes or sit here and have friends and family fussing over their special day. My bad.”

“Uh-huh, now close your eyes again so I can finish what I showed up early for,” Grace advised, “to help you look your very best on your special day. Besides, I’m sure there’s a young man waiting to get all this fluff out of the way so he can get on with the honeymoon.”

“Who you telling?” Chandelle huffed. “We’ve put all that on hold a few months ago, so I’m praying that I don’t pop when the preacher says, now he can kiss the bride.” She took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and then stared at herself in the mirror. “Ohhh, Grace. It’s, I’m so ...”

“Get a hold of yourself, girl,” Grace demanded. “If you cry on me and have my masterpiece running down your face before all those people get to be blown away, you’ll be assignedto the copying machine for a month.”

“I won’t cry,” Chandelle whimpered. “I won’t. I’m just so nervous and so glad that I have a friend like you.”

“Good, then straighten up and get ready for the biggest event of your life next to pushing your way into this world.” Grace brushed a few renegade strands of hair away from the younger woman’s face. “Now, that’s more like it. There’s nothing to be nervous about. Just think of all the joys to come after the ceremony, and you’ll be fine. I’ve seen enough wedding ceremonies, up close too, so I know what I’m talking about. Been a bridesmaid nearly twenty times.” Without giving it much thought, Grace smiled brilliantly as she gave her work a final once-over. “Chandelle, all these people came to see your blessing, live and in Technicolor, so enjoy it.”

“Thanks so much, for everything,” Chandelle replied, beforeher curious gaze and statement spun Grace’s world in a whole other direction. “All those times, Grace, leading someone else down the aisle, you’ve never once thought about jumping the broom yourself?” If Grace had seen it coming, she might’ve ducked. “Well I’m sure that you’ll settledown when you get tired of running men, on your terms,” Chandelle concluded. “Not many women get the chance to walk in Grace Hilliard’s shoes, either.”

Before Grace had the opportunity to dissect or debate what her younger associate had presumed about her personal life and the men in it, the stern wedding planner knocked on the door to announce the time had come for the ceremony to begin. “I know Chandelle didn’t just try to tell me about my business,” Grace said to herself. “If she wasn’t getting marriedtoday, I’d strangle her.”

Little did Grace know that her private life wasn’t all that private. Over the years, several of Grace’s coworkers had caught wind of her fun-and-games arrangements with no strings attached; so it was speculated that she hadn’t marriedbecause she already had a great career, a gorgeous home, an expensive car, and a wonderful son with his head in the books instead of on some gang-related most-wanted poster. In reality, Grace had been too busy building her reputationas a savvy marketing executive in a male-dominated environment and raising the kind of son any mother would be proud of to realize she had never been asked to become some man’s wife, at least not by one who was serious and sober at the same time. Chandelle’s assumptions forced Grace to challenge each decision she’d ever made regardingthe men she allowed to rent space in her head, or those she’d rationalized to be worthy enough to jump in her bed.

Although reasonably disturbed, Grace tried to convince herself that Chandelle was too young to comprehend life on her level and was grossly incorrect about her personal affairs,but the truth was irrefutable. Now, Grace remembered something she’d read in the Bible, regarding the validity of truth and consequence emanating from the simple minds of children. She was standing outside the wedding chapel before it hit her like a ton of bricks. Out of the mouth of babes, Grace thought to herself. Chandelle was born in the early 80s and was already getting married. Suddenly, Grace was deflated when it occurred to her that she was enrolled in college before the bride realized that ponytails and pink dresses weren’t the only things differentiating girls from boys. Where had all the time gone?

The chapel was buzzing with anticipation. Three hundredguests became animated once the procession march began and the entrance doors opened. Just as she had many times before, Grace accepted the arm of a willing groomsmanand followed the parade of bridesmaids, adorned in elegantgold and cream gowns, into the presence of excited onlookers, but this wedding was different from the others. Instead of merely witnessing the happy couple agree to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, so on and so forth, she observed every single detail from beginning to end.

Well-wishers, family, friends, and those who attended out of curiosity, envy or worse glanced expectedly down the aisle. The bossy wedding planner reprimanded Grace when she failed to smile during the procession. “This is a joyous occasion, so act like you would if it were yours,” the woman insisted, through clenched teeth, as she marched by. After cursing under her breath, Grace agreed that, althoughthe wedding planner’s delivery lacked tact, she was absolutely correct. The guests had received costly invitations,marked this particular date on their calendars, wrapped thoughtful gifts, gotten dressed, and arrived on time to witness two people in love confess it before God and everyone else.

Ribbons and bows matching the bridesmaids’ dresses were fastened to the ends of each pew. The lights were brightly illuminated.“Pomp and Circumstance” rang throughout the hall while two professional photographers and an imposing video-camera crew captured each millisecond for posterity’s sake. Grace looked on, thoroughly impressed by the grand spectacle. She tried to remember an instance where she was more absorbed by an event that didn’t directly benefit her. When nothing came to mind, the thought of only going through the motions during all of the previous ceremonies caused her to feel somewhat disappointed. There had been numerous occasions to celebrate, holy unions of friends and loved ones, but she’d merely managed to watch while neglectingto actually see the significance of a heavenly communionthat God himself had ordained. Out of nowhere, Grace found herself looking forward to her own special day.

She stood with the other two attendants, gushing and wonderfully arrayed in designer taffeta gowns, but neither of them shared Grace’s mixed emotions when the officiating minister appeared with a handsome groom and entourage in close step behind him.

The small ring bearer, wearing a dashing miniature tuxedo, held onto a white satin pillow for dear life. As he tiptoed toward the taped X marking his spot in the well-choreographed production, Grace winked at the child’s mother, who was hand signaling further directives from the second pew. A darling flower girl followed his path while flinging red and yellow rose petals to and fro, like she’d been shown during the rehearsal. Her dress was a scaled-down replica of the bridesmaids’ .

After the little girl reached her position, she stuck out her tongue in reply to a heckling sibling who was making funny faces at her from the safe confines of the crowd. It was difficultfor Grace to concede that she missed out on all of this before, but she had.

The groom sighed deeply, with a stream of tight breaths as the pianist dove into the wedding march. “Here comes the bride,” the minister said, to notify the groom that his life was about to change. The audience rose to its feet. Despite having chatted with the woman of the hour moments before,Grace stretched her neck, along with the audience, to catch an early peek of Chandelle. Her friend glided down the aisle effortlessly as if she’d practiced endlessly, graciouslyaccepting a chorus of oohs and ahhs. It appeared as if Chandelle’s fiancé was going to faint after laying eyes on her exquisite strapless wedding gown. When she exchangedinitial glances with him, the poor man was visiblyawestruck by her appearance. Afterwards she mouthed “thank you” to Grace, whose eyes had begun misting uncontrollably.

“You’re welcome,” Grace mouthed in return, yet to realizethat she had the most to be thankful for. Within hours, Chandelle’s makeup would be washed away, but the gift she’d given Grace would last for the remaining days of her life. For that, she would be forever grateful.

After Chandelle’s brand-new husband promised to love her, come hell or high water, he held her around the waist like she was made of glass, then he kissed her so eagerly that it bordered on obscenity. The minister turned his eyes away, thoroughly uncomfortable with the sensual tongue dancing exhibition that took place on the very spot where deacons served Holy Communion every Sunday morning. The audiencecheered when Chandelle was announced as “Mrs.” with a new last name. They laughed heartily when they saw the smeared lipstick ring circling her husband’s mouth. Chandelle’sspecial day was a true blessing, and one that the Lord had fashioned just for her.

Grace continued taking it all in, posing with the wedding party for one photo after the next, wondering why she hadn’t taken the same interest in the one thing most women have longed for since they were little girls refining their mudpie skills or improving on their Easy Bake Oven metal-sheet-caketechnique.

During the reception, Grace felt out of place, so she raised her glass to the happy couple, sipped a flute of champagne,then left the festivities shaken and stirred. She decidedthat an entire world existed on the outer fringes of hers. From that point forward, she was intent on paying attention to other positive things she hadn’t given any thought to but should have. Although Grace had no plans of racing frantically through the streets with expectations of landing a husband, she was inclined to examine her current relationships,just in case there was a diamond in the rough she might have overlooked.

“ André,” Grace hollered as her son dashed from her silversport-utility vehicle. “Don’t forget your Bible and make sure you stop by the office to tell Sister Jones what I said about the women’s retreat. I’ll attend, but I’m not going to present this year.”

André reached into the backseat, grabbed a black book bag, then turned toward the church activity center, on his way to Bible class, when his mother called his name again. “Dré!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he sighed. “I’ll give Sister Jones the message,but she likes to hug too much.”

“She’s getting old, baby, so let her squeeze on a fine young man if that makes her day.” After André considered the compliment within his mother’s orders, he stuck his chest out and grinned.

“All right, Mama,” he said, appraising the situation differentlythan before. “But no kisses. Her mustache itches.”

Grace shook her head, holding in the laughter fighting to get out as she pulled away from the curb to search for a parking space. She slammed on the brakes when an old woman whipped a 1975 model Lincoln Continental in front of her car. The boat-sized deathtrap rambled nimbly into an availablespot. “Ooh, somebody’s gonna make me cuss this morning,”Grace said under her breath, seething. By the time she’d circled the lot and lucked out on another open parking space, Grace was running later than she planned. She reasonedthat her favorite pew, seven rows from the back, would be full, so she decided to relax and take her sweet time for once. It actually felt good to have three male ushers stumbling over themselves to find her an alternate seat. . . .