Page 30 of Lost In London

Standing to flip the steaks, I looked over at my garden. “My shoulders are strong. I’m far from a weak man.” I stood firm in my truth.

I knew all of my strengths as a man. Did I know what type of issues London was dealing with? No, but I knew how to fight her battles to make her burdens feel light.

“Putting the spotlight on you. Why haven’t you dated since you ended things with Mariah?” Quest hated talking about his ex-fiancée. He hated talking about their relationship period. I never cared too much for Mariah starting from our first introduction. She had a prideful people pleasing spirit and that was nothing but a recipe for disaster.

Dating someone who cared more about the opinions of others than her partner would never work, and she proved that.

Tossing his empty beer can, he shrugged. “I’m way too clingy to casually date. The talking and getting to know you stage irritates my soul.” He groaned and winced like a memory triggered him. “I’d rather wait on my one and only and give all my clinginess to her.”

“You do know that in order for you to meet her you have to start being nice to people. Start socializing. Maybe even get out of the house and stop hiding thinking she’s just going to knock on your door.” I was setting him up to rub his truth back in his face and he didn’t even know it.

“Nah, I don’t have to do what you and everyone else does. I know what I prayed for and part of that prayer is to be ready and in position.” He looked up from his phone smiling. “Be ready in and out of season. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me, Qu?”

Placing my spatula down, I crossed my arms and looked at my brother. “You know what you prayed for, yet you keep running from her? How is that being ready in and out of season?” And just like that, his smile fell, his signature snarl crossing his face making me smirk.

If you want to get under Quest’s skin, mention his relationship with Dove and he’ll transform right before your eyes.

“That’s not the same thing,” he gritted, tossing his phone on the table.

“How is it not the same thing? You’ve had dreams about this woman for the last ten years. God has confirmed her place in your life on more than one occasion but you choose to fight it because from the outside looking in most might consider it taboo.”

“I’m not fighting it. I called off my engagement for her.” His voice raised. Veins started protruding out of his temple. That woman unraveled my poor brother something serious.

“Pretending like you’re coming into town to spend time with me isn’t fooling anyone, Quest. I know you’re here because of her. You had a dream about her and don’t know what to do. What did you see?”

Standing, he started pacing with his hands in the pockets of his jeans and head tossed back looking up at the setting sky. “Something is about to happen to her and I’m scared.” That made me pause. Never have I heard my brother admit to being scared of anything. This man is a decorated soldier. Fought in wars and saw some terrifying things but never was he scared.

“I keep having the same dream of her covered in blood and screaming for me. Reaching out to me and I’m never there to save her. Her screams bring me to tears, man. I’ve placed every tracking device I can on her. Cameras all around her house. Does she know, that’s not important.” He and I snickered.

Turning to me, he let down his guard and let me see him in honesty and truth – vulnerable and afraid. “What if I’m not here when she needs me? What if I’m not able to save her? Why is anything going to happen to her in the first place?” Dropping his head, his shoulders sagged too. “I’ve been in love with her for years, Quincey. I burn for her. Do you know how extreme that is to say? I’m captivated by everything Dove is. All it took was one look and everything changed. I know she loves me. Her love sings for me so loud that it competes with the screams I hear in my dreams, but for the first time in my life I don’t know what to do.” Eyes heavy with his troubles, his voice cracked, “What am I supposed to do?”

Walking over to my brother, he and I stood toe to toe. “Like you said, you have to be ready in and out of season and that means being ready when she needs you. Whatever’s going to happen, you can’t interfere with that.” The weight of my words rocked us both. He sat down and I had to rebalance myself. “You’ve seen her in need of you so that means you have to be in position to answer her call.”

I thought of London.

I knew there was going to be a day when she was going to call out to me in need. Just like I charged my brother to be prepared, I hoped when she did call on me, I was ready. This was far deeper and more serious than answering the heart's call. This was about survival.

Her survival.

I found peace and comfort in the most unlikely of all places.

Church.

My relationship with God tetters and totters every second of every day depending on my mood.

One minute I’m filled with a peace that surpasses my understanding and the next I am borderline going off on Him because of the things He’s allowed to happen in my life. There are times when I want to stop praying and communicating with Him. Times when I want to wipe my hands clean, but in my darkest moments when it feels like the pain of my trauma slithers its way around my chest, stabbing through to my heart, and inflicting the most excruciating pain ever, I cry out and He takes my pain away.

He dries my tears and gives me a peaceful slumber.

Bishop Cambridge’s first service starts at nine in the morning. I’m here on the top balcony sitting in my seat by 8:45 am at the latest. Right after the first service ends around 10:30, I’m still seated and waiting for the eleven o’clock service to begin. Bishop is a phenomenal preacher. Relatable and cutthroat but that’s not why I sit through two services.

I have a serene level of protection sitting in my seat.

Rarely is anyone sitting up high like me, they prefer to be as close to the pulpit as possible.

Not me.

I like to be the furthest away but close to the blanket of comfort and protection that settles around me. Out of all the days of the week, I looked forward to Sunday’s the most. These were my five hours of solitude.

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