In the Light of Love. Deborah Fletcher Mello

emphatically, her blond ponytail swaying from side to side. “It’s time I took a break. I’ve done a mission trip every year since I was a student here. It’ll be a pleasure not to have to worry about inoculations, visas, and all the other stuff you’re going to have to bother with. Plus, I love our kids dearly, but they will work your nerves once you get them out of the country.”

      Talisa laughed. “Now you tell me!”

      Stevie shook her head. “I wish we were going together, but you’ll do fine. You have David, Paul and Clarissa going with you. They have over ten years of experience between them. They’ll be a big help.”

      “But you won’t need much help, Talisa,” Johanna said. “You’ve got great instincts. All you will need to remember is that you are not there to babysit them. They’re adults. All they need is for you to occasionally remind them that they represent the church and their school, and that they need to behave like it. Once you get them settled and organized, they’re on their own and so are you.”

      Stevie waved her head in agreement. “When you finish this trip you need to walk away knowing that you fulfilled a calling in your heart, that you served well, and that everyone can be proud of whatever it is you accomplished. You also need to relax, enjoy and have a great time.”

      Talisa grinned as the two women chattered excitedly around her. She had been working at the student ministry for almost three years, her duties ranging from being a housemother to a homesick freshman, guidance counselor for an anxious senior, maintenance woman, building manager, and everything else in between. The Wesley Foundation, home of the United Methodist Church’s student ministry, had become her second home and she welcomed the opportunities it afforded her to be a part of the campus community.

      When she’d initially applied for the position, Reverend Warren had explained their jobs simply. He had explained that they were there to help the students grow in their love for and their commitment to God. At the time, neither knew that the foundation would do that exact thing for Talisa. But from the moment she first stepped into the building and the staff had embraced and welcomed her, Talisa had marveled at how powerful, how healing, how sustaining an environment the place would be for her. She was excited at the prospect of sharing that through their outreach ministry. She was also excited about the opportunity to visit the motherland she only knew through outdated history books, an occasional world news item and the travel brochures she’d periodically picked up at the local travel agency.

      Her grin widened as Stevie changed the subject. “How much do you plan to bid tomorrow?” the woman asked, turning the pages of the auction catalog she’d swiped off Talisa’s desk.

      Talisa laughed again, the sound vibrating between them. “I have no intentions of bidding at all. I’m only going because my friends insist that this is where I need to be for my birthday. That, and my father is hoping someone will take pity on me, marry me, and move me out of his house. I just plan on making a nice donation for the cause, enjoying the hors d’oeuvres, and then I’m going home to a good book and a hot bath.”

      Johanna stared over Stevie’s shoulder as the two scanned the photographs and read the bios of the auction’s participants. “I like this one,” she said, pointing to the black-and-white photo of a senior pilot for Southwest Airlines. The man’s wide smile filled the image, accentuating his thick eyebrows, dimpled cheeks, and the graying edges of his hairline.

      “They all work for me,” Stevie said with a deep laugh. “I think he’d be cute for you, Talisa,” she finished, pointing to the image of a pro basketball player for the Atlanta Hawks. The young man staring up from the page was a richly toned, blue-black specimen, in a pin-striped suit and wide-brimmed Panama hat, and matching, two-toned, black-and-white shoes. A wide grin filled his very round face and Talisa could almost imagine the number of hearts he’d broken in his lifetime.

      She rolled her eyes. “You two are starting to sound like my father. If he tells me one more time how much I need a good man, I’ll absolutely bust.”

      Johanna rubbed her palm against her bulging abdomen. “Personally, a man is the last thing I need. My poor husband is not having any fun with me right now. Every time I look at my swollen ankles, get heartburn or feel a twitch of pain, I take it out on him.” She sighed, looking toward Stevie. “I thought you said this pregnancy thing was going to be a piece of cake?”

      The older woman laughed. “It was…for me.”

      “I should never have listened to you. What would you remember? It’s been what, thirty-four years since you gave birth to your daughter?”

      “About that, give or take a year,” Stevie said.

      Johanna shook her head. “That’s what I get.”

      Talisa laughed. “You know you’re enjoying every minute of this pregnancy and I’m sure you haven’t been that hard on Allan at all. That husband of yours is golden the way he fawns all over you.”

      Johanna smiled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Listen to your father. Go find yourself a really good man. Just don’t pay too much for him. A bargain is always better than full price any day of the week.”

      Chapter 3

      The morning sun peeked through the blinds of her bedroom, the rising warmth summoning Talisa awake. As she stretched the length of her body against the padded mattress top, she suddenly remembered that her work week had ended well and that she actually had something to do to get the weekend off to a promising start. She smiled.

      Although she professed to not be interested in the evening’s auction, she was overly excited at the prospect of being in a room with so many eligible, employed, socially promising men. It was an ideal way to celebrate her twenty-fifth birthday—and her best friends had promised her an exceptional birthday party. She stretched again, yawning as she shifted from sleep mode to wide-eyed and awake.

      She had already lifted herself from beneath the covers and was returning from the adjoining bathroom when her mother and father knocked on the bedroom door.

      “Happy birthday to you…happy birthday to you…happy birthday, Pumpkin Pie…happy birthday to you!” they both sang, one more out of tune than the other.

      “Happy birthday, pumpkin,” Herman London said, leaning to kiss his only child on the cheek.

      Her mother reached for the covers on the unmade bed, instinctively smoothing out the rumpled sheets and blankets.

      “Stop, Mom! I can make up my own bed,” Talisa said, reaching to pull the covers from her mother’s grasp. She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

      Mary flipped her hand at her daughter. “I know what you can do. I was just helping out.” She smiled widely at the young woman, nodding approval in her daughter’s direction.

      Herman shook his head from side to side. “So, what do you have planned for the day, baby girl? Anything special?”

      Talisa grinned. “Going out with the girls tonight, Daddy.”

      The man nodded. “Do you need some money?” he asked, reaching for the wallet in his rear pocket.

      Talisa shook her head. “No, sir. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

      “Give her the present, Herman,” Mary said, clapping her hands together as she hopped in place. “What are you waiting for, Daddy?”

      The man winked, reaching for an envelope in the pocket of his work shirt. “Child ain’t even dressed yet and you rushing folks.” He passed the envelope to Talisa who looked at them both curiously.

      “What’s this?” she said, pulling at the sealed container.

      Her parents stood beside her, beaming in her direction.

      “Your daddy and I thought this was the best present for you. Hurry up and open it now!” her mother said excitedly.

      Opening the envelope, Talisa’s eyes widened