Chapter 13
According to the word that I covenanted with you when ye came out of Egypt, so my spirit remaineth among you: fear ye not.
—Haggai 2:5
We need to go to the cafeteria,” Gabrielle said to Zachary as she clicked off her cell phone, after having just spoken to Jessica. They strolled through the automatic opened doors of Children’s Hospital. “Jessica says she’ll meet me there. I’m so nervous. We’ve talked on the phone since my part in this began, but this will be our first time officially meeting face-to-face after close to nine years.”
“Okay,” Zachary said, leading the way. They made their way to the cafeteria.
Gabrielle looked around. The place was empty of patrons. “She’s not here yet. I guess we can just sit and wait on her to get here.”
Zachary led Gabrielle over to an empty table away from possible traffic of folks. “She can see us when she comes in easy enough over here.”
They sat down. A minute later a man and a woman came in together. The woman stopped, looked over at Gabrielle, then tilted her head as though she was trying to figure out who Gabrielle was.
“That woman looks familiar,” Gabrielle said.
“Do you think that’s Jessica?”
“No, I’m pretty sure it’s not Jessica. Jessica will be much older. That woman staring our way looks to be around my age.”
The woman with auburn-colored hair strolled over to where Gabrielle and Zachary sat. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Please forgive me for interrupting. But you look so familiar to me. I’m trying to figure out why I know you.”
Gabrielle nodded. “You look familiar as well.”
“My name is Paris.”
“Paris?” Gabrielle stood up. “Paris Simmons? I’m Gabrielle.”
“Gabrielle Booker? Oh, my goodness!” Paris hugged Gabrielle. “It’s been ages! How have you been? I’ve thought about you so many times and wondered how you were doing. You look so good. Oh, my goodness! Look at you!”
Gabrielle tried to not lose her smile. She could just imagine Paris must have wondered what had happened to her . . . especially after she put her out on the streets with nowhere to go and not enough time to find a place. “I’ve been just wonderful, thank you very much.”
“Oh, my goodness! Gabrielle, you look absolutely amazing. Wow!” Paris continued to smile as she looked at Gabrielle. “Oh, my! Where on earth are my manners? This is my husband, Andrew Holyfield. He’s a really successful lawyer. I’m Paris Simmons-Holyfield now, with a hyphen. I went with the hyphenated thing. You know how it is these days. Have to keep my identity attached to my roots.” She turned to Andrew. “Honey, this is an old friend from way back: Gabrielle Booker.”
“Actually, it’s Gabrielle Mercedes,” Gabrielle corrected her.
“Oh, you got married!” Paris said with a grin as she looked at Zachary still sitting at the table. “Congratulations! It looks like you snagged a good one.”
“Oh, no. I’m not married. I just dropped the Booker as my last name and went with my middle name as my last.”
“Oh,” Paris said as she turned up her nose before quickly recovering with her Miss America–like smile.
Andrew extended his hand to Gabrielle. “I’m pleased to meet you,” he said.
Gabrielle looked at him. She knew Andrew already. But she decided if he wasn’t going to say anything, she wouldn’t, either. “Likewise.” Gabrielle then turned to a now-standing Zachary. “This is Zachary Morgan.”
Zachary extended his hand to Paris first. “Hello. Nice to meet you.”
“Charmed,” Paris said with a cheesy grin.
Zachary tugged his hand out of Paris’s firm grip and shook Andrew’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Andrew began to nod his head a few times like a bobble-head doll. “You’re Dr. Morgan, aren’t you?”
“Why, yes, I am.”
“You’re a doctor?” Paris said, her smile fading slightly. “So are you two in consultation right now? Did we interrupt you while you were working? I am so sorry! I walked in, saw someone I thought I knew, and I just came barging over—”
“We’re not in a consultation,” Gabrielle said.
“Then how do you two happen to know each other? Do you work for him or something?”
“No,” Zachary said. “This beautiful smart woman is the love of my life. And if I’m successful at all, I hope to someday convince her to be my wife.” Zachary placed his arm around Gabrielle and looked lovingly down at her.
Gabrielle wanted to hit Zachary after that last statement, a playful hit. Nothing violent. She almost laughed out loud, but managed to keep it to a blushing smile. She knew Zachary was laying it on thicker than he had to. He must have picked up on Paris’s snarky, covert jabs at her.
Paris put her smile back on her face. “Well, we didn’t mean to intrude. We’re here to visit a friend’s little boy. I saw you over here and couldn’t help but think that I knew you from somewhere. I’m sure you know how that can be. I didn’t want to be wondering about it for the rest of the night. So I just made my little way over here and at least thought I’d find out if we knew each other or not, and if so, from where.”
“Well,” Gabrielle said with a smile, “now you don’t have to wonder. It was great seeing you again, Paris. And Drew”—Gabrielle quickly realized she’d called him by the name she always called him and hurried to correct, hopefully masking her error—“Andrew, it was nice meeting you.”
Andrew grinned a little. Gabrielle knew it was because she’d called him Drew and that had to have brought back some memories. He used to always grin when she called him Drew, since only one other person (that she knew of other than her) called him that. “Nice meeting you both.”
Paris looked at Andrew first, then Gabrielle with a slight scowl, before turning on her pageant smile, as Gabrielle called that particular phony smile that anyone with half of a brain could tell wasn’t the least bit sincere.
“Yes, it was really nice meeting you, Dr. Zachary Morgan,” Paris said. “Tell me: Are you an OB/GYN? I may be looking for someone soon. Andrew and I are about to start our own little family.”
“No, I’m not. I’m a burn specialist. But I can certainly recommend someone, should you need me to,” Zachary said.
“Do you have a business card?” Paris asked.
“Of course.” Zachary reached in his pocket, took out his card holder, and handed her one of his gold, embossed cards.
Paris smiled. “Thanks.” She turned to Gabrielle and leaned in to hug her without getting too close. “It was really good seeing you again. And I’m so excited that things are going so well for you.” She released Gabrielle, grabbed her by the hand, and squeezed it. “I really am happy for you!” She shifted her eyes to Zachary and grinned, her way of letting Gabrielle know she had indeed snagged herself a real hunk . . . a true prize. “You know, Gabrielle, I should get your number as well. Maybe we can have lunch or something. You know, catch up.”
Gabrielle knew this was all a mere act. Paris had no desire to hang out with her and Gabrielle knew it. And if she were to follow through, it would be only to get more information out of her on the real deal going on between her and Zachary. Still, Gabrielle wanted to show that she held no grudges . . . that she’d forgiven Paris for the way she’d treated her, just the way Christ admonished all people to do. She reached inside of her purse, pulled out a business card, and handed it to Paris.
Paris looked at the card. “You work at a church?”
“Yes.”
“You’re the director over the dance ministry at Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center? Over there with Pastor George Landris? I’ve never been, but have said I was going to visit there someday. I hear he’s a powerful minister leading a powerful ministry.”
“Yes, Pastor Landris is. And Gabrielle is the director of the dance ministry,” Zachary said. “And she’s doing an awesome work for the Lord herself.”
Gabrielle looked at Zachary. The look in his eyes softened her words even more. “Thank you, Zachary. I appreciate that.”
“So does this mean you’re saved now?” Paris asked. “I mean, people can work in a church without being a member of that church or having given their lives to Christ. I know plenty of folks doing just that. It’s all about the paycheck.”
“Yes, I’m saved now. I gave my life to Christ on January 4, 2009. And I’m totally sold out for the Lord.”
“Wow. You know that just proves the power of God. I know when I was trying to tell you about Him, you didn’t seem interested in hearing me at all. It didn’t matter what I said, you weren’t hearing me and you weren’t listening.”
Gabrielle wanted to tell her it was because her actions didn’t line up with her words. She’d seen plenty of so-called talking Christians—those who could talk the walk. She just hadn’t met too many walking Christians—those who walked the walk and the talk. Gabrielle hadn’t grown up totally devoid of church. She’d gone to church plenty of times as a child. Her family was what some folks called CME attendees—they went to church for Christmas, Mother’s Day, and Easter. CME. Gabrielle knew about God, at least that He existed. It wasn’t like she’d never been exposed to church, church folks, or those who called themselves Christians prior to moving in with Paris for that brief time. But it wasn’t until she hooked up with Pastor Landris and that great ministry that she began to know God . . . to form a relationship with Him and not just know about Him.
A woman who appeared to be in her late forties, maybe early fifties, came over to Gabrielle. “Excuse me,” the woman said. “But I’m looking for Gabrielle Mercedes.”
“Listen,” Paris said. “We’re going to run. Gabrielle, it was great seeing you again. Dr. Morgan it was really great meeting you.” Paris and Andrew left.
“I take it you’re Gabrielle,” the woman said. She looked so tired.
“Jessica?” Gabrielle said.
“Yes. So finally, we meet again.” Jessica nodded, then immediately, as though she could no longer hold her own body in an upright position, she slowly lowered her body into the chair.