A test of Love - Navaura Campbell (best management books of all time .txt) 📗

Pologue:
Jordan Williams sat in seat 4b staring out of the window of the plane, watching it taxi the runway. He couldn't believe after a year and a half of being away from home that he was going back. He cleared his throat and sat back in his seat and buckled the belt that was attached to it. It had been around seventy five degrees out that after noon allowing him the option of blue jean shorts and a white polo t-shirt. A pair of brown rust colored men's sandals that he'd gotten from a Walmart in Chicago encased his feet. He wiggled his toes from inside the shoes and glanced down at his laptop. He was playing a chess game over the internet. It was his turn. He checked to see exactly where he could move a pawn, just so he could get into his opponent's domain. After some decisive thinking, he moved his pawn to the right of a third chess peice on the board.


Jordan pulled up to his old house, staring out at the home, not really sure he wanted to proceed to its entrance. There were so many memories there that left a familiar pang in the center of his heart. He wiped his eyes and swallowed back the pain. He remembered learning to ride his tricycle out on the sidewalk at two years old. His dad had bought it for him; his first bike. He could see the tall, rail thin, two year old with equally long arms and legs little boy he'd been. During that time, he was going through his superman phase and had worn a blue superman outfit he'd gotten that christmas while he was riding. A smile formed across his face as he remembered the wind blowing across his body, giving him the feeling that he was flying. Inhaling sharply, he could hear the sounds of the little horn on his handle bar, warning the invisible villains to get out of the way.

Jordan laughed softly at this nastalgia and turned off the ignition. He opened the door to his rental vehicle and exited. Closing the door and locking it, he stepped over the curb and walked up to the house. Unlocking the door, he listened as it creaked open. The creaks were from its lack of use. Pushing it completely open, he went inside and then closed it. He walked down the hallway, noticing that the floors looked amazingly clean for having not been walked on in two years. He entered the living room. The blinds were still closed the way he'd left them, leaving the room dark and impossible to see into. He went over to the mini blinds and twisted the rod, allowing light to flood the room. When it did, he stared out in surprise at the neat condition the room was in. The furniture looked as if it had recently been polished, the floors were mopped, and the throw rug that sat underneath the coffee table looked as if it had been vacuumed. He didn't recall leaving the living room like this. He hadn't. A frown took over and he went through the living room to the kitchen. Even that sparkled, shined to the best of its ability. It was like his mother had never passed. The brass knobs on the cabinets gleaned with brightness. The gass stove looked brand new. Even the table looked as if it hadn't been left in chaos upon him leaving. Taking a deep breath, he walked past the back door, not bothering to check to see if it was locked and up the stairs, feeling odd.

When he entered the hallway, his heart seemed to stop. He recognized the scent of lilacs immediately. Sighing, he wondered if she was the one who'd been doing this. Of course! His mind screamed. That's why he was smelling lilacs. He glanced into the hallway bathroom. It looked just as immaculate as the rest of the house. He stared in admiration, a smile forming. He would have to find out where she was and thank her. He walked past there, to the master bedroom where his mother things were. Opening the door, he noticed all of her things had been in the same order he'd left them in. Nothing had been disturbed. He nodded, understanding why she would leave those undone. He closed the door and went to his room. He glanced around, seeing that the bed was made, the floor vaccummed, and even the clothes were folded neatly in the drawers. The only space in the room untouched was his dresser. He glanced over at it and looked down.
~

Denise stood outside the house, wondering if she should go inside. She knew that it would be trespassing and should any officers find out, she'd be given a fine. She sighed and as usual, ignored that nagging plea to not go inside. She couldn't help it. Ever since he'd left, she'd felt as if it was her responsibility to take care of this house. She'd promised Mrs. Williams that she would. She twisted the knob and opened the door.

Jordan paused when he heard the creak from downstairs. Nervously, he walked out of his room, went to the hallway closet and grabbed a bat. Although he'd love to say that it was Denise, he couldn't be too sure. That's how he'd ended up on his back with a concussion in Chicago. When he had been staying with Andrew, he'd come home one evening, thinking whoever was in the house had been Andrew and he'd been rewarded with a tko on spot. He swore he'd never make that mistake again. Pulling the bat to his shoulders, ready for aim, he took the stairs slowly; making his way to the kitchen.

Denise closed the door behind her and turned around to turn on the lights.

Jordan came down the last step, gripping the bat tightly in his hand. Taking a deep breath, he said in a clear, calm, voice. "Stop right there!"
Denise stopped, feeling her heart beat accelerate. He wasn't supposed to be here. How'd she manage to miss his car? 

Jordan turned on the switch next to him, light flooding the room. Immediately, his heart jumped out of his chest and he felt even more anxious than he had before grabbing the bat. "Denise."

She stood there not moving or saying anything. He could imagine the thoughts going through her head and began to speak what ever tumbled out of his mouth. "I parked out in front of the curb. You wouldn't recognize the car. It's a rental."
Denise stiffened. Jordan's eyes scanned over her body, running along all the curves. He stood there for at least two minutes before walking over to where she stood. She took this time to turn around and stare him in the eyes.

"Hi."

"Hi. What are you doing here?"

Denise pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. When his eyes went to them, she pushed it back out self consciously, stuttering. "Well...I..I"
Despite the circumstances, Jordan found a smile forming. She was flustered. He watched as she stumbled over her sentence. "I...well, your mom...I just wanted to help...you know, since I...um promised your mom that I would."
Jordan pulled himself off the wall, allowing her room to move. "Thank You."
Denise put her hands in her pockets, anxious. Taking in the short cropped hair, which now looked straight and the beautiful green eyes, she couldn't believe he was there. He had on a white polo shirt with a collar to it and a pair of blue jean shorts with sandals. She couldn't help but notice the nice bulge in his shoulders and legs. Even his face looked fuller in its heart shaped form.  He'd grown a gotea right below his lips; Very sexy it was.
She stood there as he walked to the kitchen table and took a seat. Glancing up at her, he stated, "Have a seat."

Denise stood there, unable to will her feet to move. He exhaled sharply, his eyes on her. "Suit yourself." His gaze went over her form, taking in the pastel pink muscle shirt, pencil leg blue jeans and a matching belt secured around her waist. He let his eyes run all the way down to her tennis shoes and then back up to her face. Looking her in the eyes, he smiled, "Still beautiful. You look good." This caused her to divert her eyes away from him and to the left where the cabinets were. He was reminded that he hadn't asked her if she wanted anything to eat.
"Are you hungry?" He inquired, excited.
Denise cleared her throat. "You know, I think I need to go. I should go." She turned and opened the door. He watched with curiosity as she ran out of the house.

Chapter Two:

Jordan laid there in bed, thinking of all the stuff he'd endured the past two years. His mother's passing, his own son being born and then leaving this world as well. He remembered not being able to close his eyes at night the first three months he'd been away from Hampton. Guilt, anger, pain and frustration had all managed to lay claim to him during those times. Sometime during the ninth month, he began to feel the emotions let up one by one, until finally, he'd started working again, moved out of Andrew's and Tanya's place and got his own home. Two weeks after moving, he'd been going through his things and found quite a few stuff that Denise had given him over the years. These things of memorabilia, held fast to his heart, reminding him of the one sentence letter he'd written her telling her that he'd be back for her. Although he'd wanted to come back, he'd felt unsure as to whether or not she'd want to see him. After deliberation, he bought a plane ticket and here he was, back in Hampton.

Inhaling sharply, he sat up, and put his hands to his face. He'd also come back because he had some unfinished business to take care of. Getting up, he walked out the door and to his son's room. Everything was still in its proper place. Nothing removed. As he cut on the light, he saw dust mites lingering over the furniture, in the closet where the clothes still hung. Staring around the room, he inhaled sharply as the recollection of the little boy he'd once held in his arms surfaced in his thoughts. He went out into the hallway to the linen closet, reached up on the top shelf and grabbed some cleaner, where he took it back to the room. Bit by bit, he disassembled everything.

The following morning, Denise awoke with a bright disposition. She glanced over at the clock, reading that it was nine o'clock in the morning. Throwing the covers off of her, she stretched her limbs, turned to the left and then right to get the creaks out of her hips. Grabbing her clothing out of