Love Led By the Spirit (Restore My Soul Book 3) Read online

  Love

  Led By

  the Spirit

  by

  PAT SIMMONS

  Copyright @2016 Pat Simmons

  This novel is a work of fiction. References to real events, organizations, or places are used in a fictional context. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical—including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system—without permission in writing from the publisher. Please direct your inquiries to [email protected].

  ISBN- 13: 978-1533332592

  10: 1533332592

  Editor: Chandra Sparks Splond

  Proofreader: Judy at Judicious Revisions

  Beta reader: Darlene Simmons

  Cover design: Nat/Bookaholic Fiverr.com

  Author photo: Angie Knost Photography

  Readers’ Praise for Pat Simmons

  5 Stars. “Oh my goodness. I so enjoyed Jet's story, even though it left me heartbroken for her, and her struggles. Jet's story added "filing" and depth her and to "Crowning Glory", and is the perfect lead in to "Love Led by the Spirit". The excerpt has me excitedly waiting the book to come out. I am so pulling for Jet and Rossi!” —Reader Jewel on JET The Back Story

  5 Stars. “I enjoyed the insight into Jet's mind. I understand her character. She is interesting. Whenever an author creates a character that develop strong feelings in readers, that is an excellent author. Well done Pat Simmons.” –Amazon Customer on JET The Back Story

  5 Stars. “This book is for EVERYONE whom feel there no second chances in life, Mrs. Simmons is the BEST CHRISTIAN AUTHOR the Lord as best the world to know through her books, I always want to be a better person after reading her books, a better Christian, a better everything. This is truly a must read books.—Theresa Cartwright Lands on Crowning Glory

  5 Stars. “Truthfully, there was absolutely nothing about this story to dislike. This was an awesome Christian fiction read. Miss Simmons pulled us into this story to the point of making you feel as though you were friends of the families involved. Well done Ms. Simmons; well done. I'm beginning JET right now; I will be anxiously awaiting Love Led By The Spirit.—Vanessa Hunter on Crowning Glory

  5 Stars. “Pat has done it again! There is nothing like a praying, caring man...and that's exactly what the main male character is like. Where is my Tyson???? I like the friendships that the main character, Monica, had with her friends. We all need a ride or die friend or three in our lives. Great job, Pat!” –LeeLee, reader on Every Woman Needs a Praying Man

  From one special reader, reposted with permission from Nicole Cummingham’s Facebook wall.

  Can't wait to read Love Led by the Spirit.

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  “Even with all the deadlines, meet and greets, conferences, retreats, you still pour yourself into your books giving fully of yourself ALWAYS leaving us with a treat that's uplifting, encouraging, enlightening, spiritual, moving, exciting, wonderful and amazing. I say with a heart of gratitude. You still are my favorite author. Don't grow weary while doing good.”

  Thank you so much, Nicole. This story is for you!

  Dedication

  To all the ministers God has called and chosen to do His will, God bless you and give you strength to carry the torch until the end.

  Acknowledgements

  Special thanks to Becky Rosner, Marketing Associate, and Paul Woody, Special Counsel, American Poolplayers Association for answering my questions.

  Editor extraordinaire Chandra Sparks Splond for bringing my characters to life and loving this story.

  To family and friends, Kerry, Simi, and Jay, thanks for your support, and so many others who have blessed me with their prayers and purchases, so that I can continue to write Christian inspired stories. Thank you!

  .

  Chapter 1

  Minister Rossi Tolliver didn’t have enough fingers to count the number of women inside and out of the church who would say yes if he proposed. God knew he wasn’t boasting. It was a fact that these sisters wanted a man of God for a husband. In turn, he wanted a woman of God for a wife. He only dated practicing Christian women baptized with water and fire, yet something was always amiss.

  He sighed and rubbed his eyes. It was a Saturday morning in early June, and Rossi was supposed to be studying a passage in his Bible, but his mind kept drifting. When he looked out the window from his downtown St. Louis loft, his imagination came alive. He could see himself bike riding alongside a companion on the riverfront or sharing a bag of peanuts at a Cardinals game at the nearby stadium.

  At thirty-five, Rossi was the oldest of four sons and the sole minister in a mostly practicing Christian family. If a Tolliver had a crisis, he was the one they turned to. In essence, their problems became his to petition before the Lord. Not that he was keeping tabs, but he had an ever-growing list.

  It was well known that Rossi took God’s anointing over his life seriously, so it seemed like everybody had an opinion about what type of woman would make him a perfect wife. He recalled a conversation at a recent family get-together.

  “She has to be pretty—I’m thinking about my grandbabies,” his mother, Laura Tolliver, stated, “if any of my sons care to give me any.” “She has to love the Lord, not be prone to anger, have a gentle spirit, be kind to others, and be a faithful churchgoer,” Aunt Sharon, his uncle’s wife, added to round off the ingredients for his ideal wife.

  His father, Rossi III, or Ross as the family called him, gave the so called benediction to end the discussion. “The most important factor to consider is your wife’s willingness to work with you in the ministry. That, son, is a true helpmate. Why do you think I fell in love with your mother? Laura is a peacemaker.”

  Talk about pressure. They gave him a checklist when all he wanted was a woman who loved God and him—period.

  Their unsolicited advice reminded him of the stern talk they gave him about his responsibilities and their expectations before he took his date to his junior prom. He closed his Bible. There was too much distraction in his head to reread Mark, chapter two for a third time. “They that are whole have no need of the physician, but they that are sick: I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” Instead of meditating on verse seventeen for the upcoming community outreach program, his heart seemed to scold him: You need a wife.

  “I got that,” he said aloud, flustered. He stood and wandered through his spacious bachelor pad. Would his wife want to redecorate? Would she want to live there?

  His family meant well, but... “All those are good qualities, but you’ve all forgotten about the most important criteria: She has to have my heart,” he explained to the bird that landed on the window’s ledge.

  It pecked on the pane as if it was trying to get his attention. Frowning, he noted it was a sparrow. Hmm. The rarity of seeing that type of bird made him reach for his Bible again and flip through Matthew until he stopped at chapter ten. He scanned the verses, then reread twenty-nine through thirty-one: Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? And one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore, you are of more value than many sparrows.

  After praying for years for “the one” to cross his path, was God sending him a Word? The Lord had heard his every prayer that were as numerous as the hairs on his head. Maybe this was confirmation that only one woman could complement him. “Who has my heart, Lord?”

  An alluring face flashed before his eyes: Jesetta “Jet
” Hutchens.

  Rossi smirked. The beautiful Jesetta couldn’t claim three out of five of those qualities. He gritted his teeth, doubting she would ever possess two of those attributes. Or will she?

  To his cousins’ displeasure, Jesetta was due back in town in a couple of days. After almost a year’s absence, Rossi wondered whether he had planted enough spiritual seeds in her life and God had caused them to grow during her time away from home. If so, how would everybody handle the news that Jesetta would be his wife?

  Keep praying, the Lord whispered.

  ***

  St. Peter’s Cemetery in Normandy, Missouri, right outside the St. Louis city limits was Jet’s first stop when she arrived back in town from Nashville. The cemetery on Lucas and Hunt Road was one of a few historic cemeteries in the area that didn’t have a separate burial area for blacks.

  While most natives would go for the White Castles burgers, Ted Drewes Frozen Custard, or Imo’s pizza, not Jet. Her connection was buried six feet under in Section 25, Block D, Lot 4 and Plot 6. She didn’t need a landmark to find her baby sister, Diane. Jet hadn’t lasted nine months in Nashville living with her former college roommate, Layla Keyes, even though she enjoyed working as a manager at her friend’s franchised boutique hotel, a position for which she was way overqualified. But it was something to keep her busy.

  The drastic move had come years after a botched robbery claimed the life of her only sibling, and Jet struggled with getting on with her life. Personally, Jet thought she was progressing fairly well—until her friend put her out, literally. Layla was sticking to her story that it was for Jet’s own good.

  That was debatable. As far as Jet was concerned, Layla was removing the training wheels off her tricycle on the road to recovery. She hadn’t seen it coming as the two of them ate dinner.

  “Part of me says stay here. You’re at peace here, and I like the company,” Layla had said.

  “Not to mention, you have me as cheap labor,” Jet reminded her, although it wasn’t about the money.

  Layla grinned. “Besides that, I know how close you were with Diane and how much you love her little girl. If you can’t make a decision, then I will. Jesetta Hutchens, I’m putting you out.”

  She had shrugged. “No problem. I can get my own place like I wanted to do in the beginning.”

  “And I’m firing you, too, so you have nothing here. Go home.”

  Jet blinked. “Don’t you want me to give you my two weeks’ notice?”

  “Nope. Because I’m giving you one week to go home. Enjoy the summer with your niece. Don’t let Dori grow up without you. You’re her only connection to Diane, so don’t come back.” She grinned as if to soften the blow.

  So here she was again, mentally starting over for a third time after her sister’s death. She parked her car and took a deep breath as her eyes watered. Maybe her best friend had been right. Jet should have never abandoned Dori. She should have stayed and fought for her right to stay in her niece’s life.

  Grabbing the bouquet of flowers, Jet stepped out of her car in her dress boots, not bothering to change into her flats like she often used when she came to the cemetery. She had walked the path so many times for almost seven years that her footprints had created a path for others.

  Her deceased parents were buried not far away, so she stopped by their gravesite first. Next, she veered left and counted the paces to Diane’s brown glazed headstone.

  She dared herself not to blink as she whispered the inscription, “Diane Lovanne Hutchens Tolliver. Loving wife, mother, and sister.” After a series of breaths, Jet blinked to rid the moisture that blurred her vision. And dead at twenty-three.

  Two months shy of her twenty-fourth birthday. “Murdered,” she choked out. A robbery gone badly had claimed the lives of sixteen innocent people. Her sister, who had run to the store for a few items, had walked into a death trap. Was there really such a thing as wrong place, wrong time?

  Jet sniffed as she squatted to place the flowers on Diane’s grave. “Sis, I’m back. Since you’ve been gone, I haven’t been the best role model for Dori, and I’m so sorry, I’ve been so, so mad at God for taking you away.” She paused and fumbled through her purse for a tissue.

  Usually when she visited Diane’s grave, she carried a washcloth because her tears were so heavy. Maybe the short time spent in Nashville did help heal wounds.

  Tears washed My feet, the wind whispered in her ear, but she didn’t understand what that meant.

  She blew her nose and sniffed. Her demeanor instantly changed when she thought about her brother-in-law. “Girl, if you could, you would roll over in your grave at Levi’s choice of a woman to replace you and be the mother of your child.”

  It wasn’t the first time Jet had vented about the former Karyn Wallace to her sister’s headstone. A young mother of a month-old daughter, Diane’s life was cut short. As if that weren’t heart-wrenching enough, the ultimate betrayal came when Levi married an ex-felon, a convicted murderer. That had been a slap in the face.

  No one seemed to share her concern about Karyn being unfit to a mother her niece. Jet’s suspicions that something was amiss about the woman came to light at a grief counseling session.

  Rossi had tagged along for support, as did her brother-in-law, Levi, and his then-girlfriend, Karyn. The heart-wrenching personal stories of loss evidently had been too much for Karyn to handle because she freaked out and confessed she didn’t mean to kill someone. The knee-jerk reaction and temporary insanity that followed caused Jet to lash out on behalf of all victims and slap Karyn silly. Of course, Jet regretted her actions days later—well, it was longer than that, but she did eventually feel bad about it.

  Jet blinked, not wanting to revisit her own irrational behavior. She had been a peacemaker growing up, so that was definitely not her character. Only for her niece’s sake did she plan to be cordial to the new Mrs. Tolliver, but she was going to watch her like a hawk in case Karyn got any ideas about harming Dori.

  Funny, she missed St. Louis when she was in Nashville. Now, she missed Nashville because she had started to heal emotionally and spiritually. She chuckled. A Bible had been in her possession all the time, and she had never bothered to study what it said until she moved away. Of course, she would follow along whenever she attended a service with the other Tollivers to support one of Rossi’s speaking engagements, but her anger never allowed her to see past the words.

  Layla had forced her hand to get help, which led to Jet actually reading her Bible regularly. Since she was back in Dori’s life to stay, she was open to some spiritual counseling from Rossi. That was if his girlfriend, Nalani—Karyn’s sister—would let him out of her sight. Another twist of fate. The only thing she had in common with Nalani was they both were loyal to their only sibling, a sister. Nalani was a petite size four, fair skinned, and sported a short hairstyle. Jet was five-ten and a size fourteen with long black hair and rich brown skin. They both had curves. Men seemed to prefer smaller women, calling her full-figured. Since when were hips considered full-figured?

  She glanced up into the clear ocean-blue sky to draw her mind back to the present. This was the hand God had dealt her, so Jet was going to play it like a poker champion—and she had never gambled a day in her life.

  The clouds floating above her seemed to empty her mind. In a trance, she squinted at what appeared to be figurines shaped like men on horses, angels with trumpets, and a body on a cross. Were her eyes playing tricks on her?

  You have the victory, God whispered. Read Proverbs 21:31.

  Bewildered and frustrated, Jet frowned. She saw no victory in her current situation, and the few times God did speak to her through the scriptures, she wasn’t quite sure what He was saying.

  Maybe Rossi would guide her. He seemed to be eager in the past, but that was before Nalani turned his head and dug in her claws. Honestly, she was surprised the two hadn’t tied the knot yet since Rossi appeared to be enthralled by her beauty.

  Before she knew
it, Jet had been at the cemetery for more than an hour. This had been her place of peace before the storm. She took a deep breath and worked a smile on her face.

  “It’s time for me to go, Diane. Whatever is broken inside of me will get fixed, I promise, and I won’t abandon Dori again—ever.” She swallowed, then her voice trembled. “Also, I…” She paused. She had to say it, “I won’t be back. The next time we meet I guess will be on the other side.” Whew, she exhaled. Jet was finally closing the door on the past so she could move forward. “Lord, You said You would help me if I asked. I need some type of spiritual overhaul,” she whispered, bowing her head and closing her eyes.

  Her lids fluttered open as she squatted again. Bringing two fingers to her lips, she kissed them, then touched the headstone. “I love you.”

  Standing, she rubbed her hands on her pants. Despite her willingness to leave, her feet wouldn’t budge. It had nothing to do with her designer boots sinking into the soft ground.

  “Come on, I can do this.” She gave herself a pep talk as she spun around, then froze. An imposing man stood next to her car, watching her. Dressed in black from head to toe, his buff figure was intimidating. Her weapon of choice while screaming would be to take off one of her shoes. The stacked heels on her boots were weapon ready.

  His face came into focus as he began his calculated steps toward her, then Jet recognized Rossi’s signature swagger. Fear left her, and the sense of peace she had returned.

  As if he wasn’t handsome enough with his silky black goatee and deep dimples, the groomed beard enhanced what God had already made perfect—if that made sense. The determination on his face kept her staring. When he invaded her physical space and his cologne crept into her nostrils, she shivered. “What are you doing here?”