From Faith to Faith: A Mcgregor Novel

CHAPTER 1

M ack strolled over to the brown beauty seated at the bar. He normally clubbed with his best friend, Roscoe, but tonight he prowled alone.

Bartender, the lady needs another drink, Mack crooned.

The employee nodded. Her smile was flirtatious. Mack leaned closer. Every seat surrounding the bar was occupied. Music pulsed from speakers dominating the room’s perimeter.

I haven’t seen you here before.

Up close, he noticed blemishes concealed under heavy makeup, and contacts caused the woman’s eyes to appear a peculiar shade of turquoise. He humorously shook his head. Her weave was also in desperate need of repair.

She finally said, I come when I can.

Mack peered closer, trying to determine her age, and guessed it to be upwards of thirty. It wasn’t a deterrent although he preferred slightly older women. Do you want to dance?

Not really. My feet hurt.

Mack glanced at the woman’s shapely legs and then gawked at her four-inch heels. I guess they do, he said jokingly.

Laughter was interrupted when the bartender set a drink on the counter.

Thank you. She took a sip.

Mack drained his bottle and ordered another. My pleasure.

The musty room reeked of smoke, cheap perfume, and warm bodies. The beer he’d just ordered was his fourth or maybe his fifth. He couldn’t remember, nor did he care. A fifty-hour workweek of manual labor justified the indulgence.

You always wear your hair like that? The words were harshly spoken.

Mack sighed. His shoulder-length jet-black hair was the bane of his existence. Some women were actually jealous of his locks.

I normally wear it in a ponytail, he sheepishly said.

Huh! She grunted and then patted her tracks.

Mack’s beer arrived. He paid for both drinks. She coquettishly sipped her beverage while Mack quenched his thirst with large gulps.

You live around here? he finally asked. This cat and mouse game of seduction was just part of the game.

The woman nodded. Yep! About a mile up the road. The slight smile she offered was an open invitation.

His instincts hadn’t been wrong. How about you and me getting out of here when I finish my beer?

The woman took another sip and shifted her legs. The skirt she wore moved higher.

An easy target, he thought.

Mack appraised her toned thighs and moved in for the kill. He finished his drink and then placed the empty bottle on the counter before wiping his mouth with his shirtsleeve.

He leaned forward. Let’s leave! His gaze was direct.

The woman hesitated slightly and then reached for her drink.

Leave it. Come on! he ordered.

She appeared uncertain before grabbing her purse. I don’t even know your name, she said, musing.

Mack knew the small detail didn’t matter. Mack. Short for Macklin."

She took another sip. My name’s Michelle.

Then she stood and smoothed her skirt, which left little to the imagination, before hopping down from the bar. Mack placed his hand on the small of her back and possessively guided her toward the door. The bartender gave him a salute. He observed the gesture out of the corner of his eye and smiled crookedly. Other brothas let them pass without comment. Mack felt her slight tremble when the warm night air breezed across her exposed arms.

Where’s your car? he asked.

She pointed. Mack escorted her to her vehicle and then entered his, pulling alongside her car in minutes. He followed the taillights from the parking lot and down a darkened rural road. It was two in the morning. He chuckled at a remembrance. One evening during his senior year in high school, he’d pleaded with his father to extend his curfew. His dad had crudely explained that convenience stores and legs were the only things open past midnight. Mack chuckled to himself. His father was wise.

On Monday morning, Mack tipped his hard hat and used a forearm to wipe his brow. Sweat poured down his back and pooled under his massive arms. He wiped his hands on the back pockets of his well-worn jeans and then unrolled the construction plans.

Concrete’s being poured on lot fourteen, Jerome said. We’re ahead of schedule, so I’m sending the trucks to lot sixteen when they’ve completed the job.

Mack nodded in total agreement with his younger brother. Sounds good. Keep me posted!

Mack was filling in for his father today. Shawn McGregor, Jerome and Mack’s father, managed the family business started by Mack’s grandparents, Stuart and Verna McGregor. Jerome had worked for the family business all through high school and came on board full time immediately after graduation. At twenty-three, he was a licensed realtor and managed the buildings and grounds portion of the company. Jerome was also his father’s right-hand man. He and his Aunt Jessica, their father’s younger sister by three years, were the developers of the McGregor’s Corner construction project. Once the family board of directors had approved the commencement of the three-phase building project, ground had been broken within months. Homes were now being built on property formally known as the Anderson Farm.

Mack had planned to continue living in Alabama after his college graduation, but the lure of working with his family had been greater than his love of the South. Maturity and counseling had helped him understand some of his parents’ issues. However, at eighteen, he’d enrolled at his mother’s alma mater near Birmingham, living in close proximity to his mom for the first time in years. They’d had time to develop a solid friendship during the six years he’d attended college. All he’d ever wanted was to be loved and a part of his mother’s life, and leaving the area too soon might have jeopardized their budding relationship. He’d never expressed why it had taken him so long to graduate, and no one had ever asked. Thankfully, she was now a major part of his life.

When are you meeting with Pops? Jerome asked.

Tomorrow morning, Mack said.

Jerome looked like he wanted to say more, so he waited. Maybe I’ll join you. Jerome looked questioningly.

Don’t bother! Mack snapped.

Jerome appeared startled and shook his head before walking away. Mack knew he’d overreacted. His volatile temper had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion. He and his father were alike in that regard. They were close, but their relationship was wrought with mercurial explosions. Unfortunately, he and his younger brother had never really gotten along. Mack respected his brother’s business acumen. Naturally gifted, Jerome could determine earning potential at a glance. He’d decided to forgo college and earn his real estate license immediately after high school. That decision had paid off handsomely, and Jerome was now a homeowner with multiple properties in his portfolio. Mack was jealous of his younger brother’s accomplishments, and the fact that he proudly flaunted his faith was just another irritant.

Jerome and his girlfriend weren’t having sex. Why they would abstain from something that God had created to be enjoyed was beyond Mack’s understanding. If he had to give up sex to be a Christian, then he didn’t want any part of it.

Mack stared back at the men working. He couldn’t believe his father had placed him in a position of leadership when he knew so little about the business. Every night, he spent hours reading and studying construction models. Unfortunately, his degree in communications wasn’t helping him at all with this project.

Jerome reappeared. Tall and massively built with cocoa coloring, his looks were in contrast to Mack’s golden hue.

What time are you cutting out today? Jerome asked.

Mack shook his head. Not sure. It’ll be late though. I’ll secure the lot when I leave. Mack knew he should apologize for his earlier outburst, but he just couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

All right. Then I’m out of here. Dana and I have plans for the evening.

Mack stared at his brother in bewilderment. The couple had completed marriage classes but still hadn’t set a date.

I’ll see you tomorrow! Mack yelled as his brother walked toward his truck.

He then rolled out the construction plans on a workbench. His father’s expectations were high. Mack knew he wasn’t meeting the mark in some areas of his life, so exceeding them at work was important. He resumed reading and hoped today’s efforts earned a favorable report tomorrow.

CHAPTER 2

T he next morning, Mack greeted his father’s foreman with a nod and a wave. His dad was standing off in the distance. Their resemblance was amazing even to him. Both sported long, shiny black ponytails under their work hats, although gray now peppered the older McGregor’s hair. Each passing day had darkened their burnished colored skin. Dark, bronzed arms now peeked from Mack’s rolled-up sleeves.

Mack!

Mack turned when he heard his father’s voice. How long have you been on site?

About an hour. How’s it going? Shawn asked.

Mack gave his father a brief, quick overview of yesterday’s accomplishments and the goals for today. He looked pleased, so Mack relaxed. The men talked as they walked toward lot sixteen.

Did Jerome stop by yesterday? Shawn asked.

Mack nodded. Yeah, he came by late in the afternoon. Took care of a few things and left. When will his babysitting days be over? Irritation dripped from his voice.

His father said in kind, When you’ve proven that you can effectively manage people and I feel comfortable with your knowledge of construction, then I’ll relieve him of his duties. Got it?

Clearly, the discussion was over, so Mack begrudgingly let it go.

How about attending church on Sunday? Pastor Deon just asked about you. Shawn tentatively broached the subject.

Incredulous, Mack glared at his father, who had successfully avoided entering a sanctuary for most of his adult life. Pops, it ain’t gonna happen. We’ve had this conversation before.

Shawn glared. Unrepentant, Mack scowled back. Old habits were hard to break. Father and son had gone toe-to-toe on more than one occasion, although neither Shawn’s temper nor his womanizing had kept him from effectively parenting. But now, Shawn’s salvation was proving problematic more than their passionate natures ever had. Mack observed his father walk toward the foundation and peruse the site. The separation allowed their tempers to cool.

Everything looks good. The concrete is hardening nicely, so let’s get back to lot fourteen. I still want you to do a few things over there, Shawn said.

Father and son walked side by side.

Have you spoken with your Aunt Jessica lately?

Mack, completely caught off guard, cringed. His aunt had left phone messages that he’d ignored. He glanced sheepishly at his father.

It’s been a while, he said.

Shawn shook his head. She and Keith practically bankrolled your college education. The least you could do is return her phone calls. You were raised better.

The rebuke stung.

Call her. Better yet, stop by the shop and visit, Shawn said.

Mack humbly walked away. He hated to admit that his father was right once again.

Mack spent the rest of the day immersed in work and simmering in guilt. Later that evening, he had just enough energy to shower, heat up a can of soup, and plop on the sofa. He ignored a call that came in after midnight. He just wasn’t interested in exerting the kind of energy the woman desired. Now awake, he padded to the kitchen and stood in front of the open refrigerator door. Bored and definitely not hungry, he slammed it shut and reflectively gazed out the kitchen window. The moonless night contributed to his feeling of desolation. Time passed slowly as he peered at nothing in particular. He eventually fell back asleep on the living room couch while the television blared and, hours later, groggily awakened to an infomercial. His shoulder muscles were cramped, and he felt out of sorts and irritable.

Mack sat and leaned forward until his body and mind awakened. Then he shook off overwhelming sadness and walked silently down the hallway. He bathed and grabbed a bowl of cold cereal. And like he did each and every morning, he headed out the door.

Mack drove to work. His father was off site again, and he was back in charge. He parked, punched in, and secured his hard hat. His crew followed suit. However, one crisis after another soon forced him to call Jerome for assistance. It was now late in the afternoon, and his workday still hadn’t improved.

When it finally ended, Mack secured the construction site. A security firm had just dropped off dogs. Shawn had installed a security fence to protect equipment, but as an added precaution, guard dogs were delivered each evening to patrol the grounds. Unfortunately, this added expense was necessary. Times were hard in rural Michigan. Thousands of dollars in equipment and supplies were routinely stolen from construction sites. So far, theft had been kept to a minimum.

Mack rotated his neck to alleviate tension. The day had been long and frustrating. He walked toward his truck and realized what a mistake he’d made in not taking his legacy seriously. The family business provided income for countless employees and their families. Responsibility weighed his shoulders down. Mack unlocked his truck and gingerly eased into the sizzling hot interior. He quickly lowered the windows. Bought out of necessity, this vehicle was his first major purchase after graduation. He’d wanted a sports car or a flashy convertible, but his father had rightly talked some sense into his thick head. The car would have been a major distraction.

Mack had, however, purchased a motorcycle months later. The sleek black bike was his baby. Man and bike were one when Mack rode the open roads. Surprisingly, he’d found the bike at a yard sale. The glimmer of metal had caught his eye as he traveled down a rural road, and he’d stopped to investigate. The treasure had called to him. That evening, father and son had gone back to the house and negotiated a deal. Although the bike’s mileage was high, it was in fairly good condition in spite of needing a paint job.

Once a price had been finalized, father and son carefully placed the purchase in the back of Mack’s truck. Having spent his teenage years hanging out at the local garage, he knew just how much work was needed to restore the bike to its original glory.

Jerome had never understood why Mack preferred spending time with the alcoholics and car junkies at Sylvester’s Garage, but as he made progress on the bike, it became apparent to everyone that Mack was a solid mechanic, although he had learned other less positive life lessons there as well, like the lie that women couldn’t be trusted. A heavy dosage of this untruth and the knowledge that his father hadn’t married any of his children’s mothers now contributed to his low view of womanhood.

Mack cranked up the stereo volume. A soft breeze filtered in through the open windows. The dry air was perfect for riding the open road. Excitement replaced physical exhaustion. Freedom was hot wind caressing warm skin, hair blowing free, and the feel of the purr of an engine. He didn’t desire sex tonight. Instead, he needed another kind of release. He floored the accelerator of his truck. His nervous energy dueled with the speaker’s vibrations as Mack raced home.

CHAPTER 3

D estiny Harding continued dusting. Her younger sister Meesha had committed to work at the antique shop, not realizing she had another commitment. As usual, she had called Destiny for help. Destiny was now working on her one and only day off from her job as a registered nurse.

Destiny, I want to see pictures of your kids, Jessica’s niece, Shanice, asked.

Shanice was visiting her father, Jessica’s older brother, Shawn, for the summer, and she worked for her aunt.

They’re in my phone, Destiny said.

So go get it, Shanice quipped.

Destiny indulgently smiled. Shanice’s