My Soul Then Sings Read online

  My Soul Then Sings:

  Book Two of the Song of the Heart Series

  Michelle Lindo-Rice

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  A Note to My Readers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Reading Guide Questions

  About the Author

  UC HIS GLORY BOOK CLUB!

  What We Believe:

  Copyright Page

  What readers are saying about

  My Soul Then Sings:

  Book Two of the Song of the Heart Series

  “Michelle Lindo-Rice really pushed herself to the next level of literary entertainment.”

  —Blessedselling author E. N. Joy of the New Day Divas series

  What readers are saying about

  Sing a New Song:

  Book One of the Song of the Heart Series

  “Ms. Lindo-Rice writes with heart, humor, and honesty.”

  —Shana Burton, author of Flawless, and Flaws and All

  “Michelle Lindo-Rice has written a sweet story of the power of love despite the main character’s (Tiffany’s) sordid past.”

  —Michelle Stimpson, bestselling author of Falling into Grace

  “The author’s writing is crisp and her character’s emotions are authentic.”

  —Pat Simmons, award-winning and bestselling author of the Guilty series.

  “The author did a phenomenal job in drawing the reader’s heart and spirit into the characters . . . Ms. Lindo-Rice developed an endearing, engaging, multilayered story with realism and redemption.”

  —Norma Jarrett, Essence bestselling author of Sunday Brunch

  What readers are saying about

  Walk a Straight Line

  “The message of resilience in Colleen’s story is powerful and important . . . as is the message of commitment, love, and friendship that come through.”

  —Rhonda McKnight, bestselling author of An Inconvenient Friend and What Kind of Fool

  What readers are saying about

  My Steps Are Ordered

  “The author does a wonderful job expressing issues in marriage, how secrets affect a family, and how God can turn any situation around.”

  —Teresa Beasley, A&RBC Reviews

  Dedication

  To my sister, Zara Grace Nicola Anderson

  Your smile lights up a room.

  Your voice ushers in the presence of God.

  Acknowledgments

  I am very thankful to God. He is my all.

  THANK YOU:

  To my sons: Eric Michael Rice and Jordan Elijah Rice.

  To my parents, family, and friends, who read, reread, and then purchase my books: Zara Anderson, Sobi-Dee Lindo, Margaret “Mommy” Anderson, Jane Adams, and Christine Reed.

  Extra special mention to my young publicist: Angelicia Anderson. Thanks, Angie, for giving out bookmarks and telling everyone at school, even teachers, about my books.

  To Velma Thompson: Thanks for the prayers and for putting a bookmark in every letter you put in the mail.

  To the Urban Family: Mr. Weber, Natalie, Smiley, Karen, and all the others.

  To Joylynn Ross, acquisitions editor and bestselling author of one of my all-time favorite reads: I Ain’t Me No More. Yes, I have to mention it.

  To J. J. and Amy. To bloggers and reviewers who journey with me through every novel: Teresa Beasley, Kiera Northington, Orsayor Simmons, Tiffany Tyler, Patricia Markham Woodside, and others.

  To all my loyal readers: Your words of encouragement, reviews, and word-of-mouth praise are unequaled. Special mention to Leslie Hudson, the first person to write me as a new author. And, I must include April Gordon Buchanan.

  A Note to My Readers

  Friends, thank you so much for choosing to read my work. Welcome to my world. I am so blessed to bring you my fifth novel with Urban Books. When I started writing over twelve years ago, I never imagined that God would bless me with the opportunity to reach so many readers.

  My Soul Then Sings is the second book of what I am calling, the “Song of the Heart” series. Though I love drama and all the complication and messiness that come with it, I want to tell you about something that is not complicated. In fact, it is quite simple.

  Salvation. Salvation is a free gift from God to all who are willing to accept it. Even though we do not deserve it, Romans 5:8 says, “But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”

  Yes. It’s true. Jesus has paid for all our sins by shedding His blood. All those thousands of years ago, Jesus looked ahead in time. He saw me. He saw you. And Jesus decided we were worth Him giving His life. And, He did.

  Now, please enjoy My Soul Then Sings. Strap on your seat belts and enjoy the ride!

  Sincerely,

  Michelle Lindo-Rice

  Chapter One

  Five years.

  For five whole years Ryan Oakes had kept a secret, but he knew it was confession time.

  “Today,” he said, gripping the steering wheel, “I’m telling Patti the truth, today.”

  Ryan pulled his cream-colored Lincoln Navigator in the driveway of his five thousand square foot Brick Georgian Colonial home in Garden City, Long Island. He put the car into park but kept the motor running.

  Ryan tapped the wheel. He had been saved for all of six months now, and someone had forgotten to tell him that salvation came with a Conscience—with a capital C—that prodded him to fess up and tell his wife and son what he had done.

  The car sat idle as he vacillated. No, he could not do it. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that there were some lies that should remain in the past. God had forgiven him and tossed all of his sins in the sea of forgetfulness. He would hold on to that.

  Ryan sighed. He was forgiven, but if only he could forget. He leaned back into the leather seat and hit the back of his head several times against the padded headrest before closing his eyes. Determined, he shook his head and groaned, “No no no,” but that did not erase the guilt gnawing at him. There was no other option. He had to tell the truth. He knew it.

  Patricia “Patti” Oakes opened the front door and poked her head out. Ryan’s eyes raked
her five-ten slender frame, olive skin, and flowing auburn curls. One look at her sultry smile and pouty mouth and Ryan switched gears. Anxious, he undid the locks and crooked his finger.

  She ambled toward him with a seductive sway of her hips. Patricia was a neurosurgeon, which meant she was a heady combination of smart and sexy.

  Ryan hid a small smile. He knew what she was thinking, and he liked that idea. He waited for Patricia to open the passenger door and watched as she swung her long legs to hoist herself into the vehicle. As soon as she was settled, he placed his hand on her left leg and inched upward. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered. “As I sat in business meetings all day, I only had one thought. Coming home to see your face.”

  “I’ve missed you too.” Her skirt hiked higher. “I didn’t expect to be in surgery all night, and by the time I came in this morning, you’d already left.”

  He heard her plaintive voice and knew what she needed. Ryan reached for the seat adjustment and slid his seat backward. In a swift move, he lifted Patricia like a rag doll and positioned her so she straddled his lap. He drew her close to him and sniffed. She smelled like lavender. “I can’t wait,” he said, while his lips and hands proved his point.

  “I figured as much,” Patricia groaned.

  He was going to have her here and now. Ryan shifted the car in drive and curved his head around her body so that he could see. Then he pressed the garage door opener and pulled into the huge space. He did not care about being discreet, but if Brian, their only son, pulled up and saw them in such a compromising position, he would have their heads.

  Ryan and Patricia loved each other almost to the point of obsession. Their consuming passion had made them oblivious to all, including Brian. For most of his formative years, Brian had felt ignored and unloved, which had led to his acting out, truancy, and aberrant behaviors. Ryan and Patricia had not known how Brian felt, and if they had not met Tiffany Knightly before she passed, they would have lost their son.

  Tiffany had taken Brian under her wing as a surrogate mother. She fed him and encouraged Brian to quit smoking, get his act together, and improve his grades. Thirsty for love, Brian had clung to her and flourished under her attention.

  It was because of Tiffany—and later her daughter, Karlie—their son was now in college and on the right path toward becoming a contributor to society. Brian, Karlie, and her boyfriend, Jamaal, attended New York University.

  “I can’t wait, honey,” Patricia moaned. As soon as the garage door closed, she undressed.

  Ryan eyed the tempting display and smiled. He was all too willing to comply. After almost twenty-five years together, Ryan still found her desirable and insatiable, and he loved that about her.

  “Me, either, honey,” he whispered. He kissed her with passion before tearing his lips away. “Patti, we’re behaving like teenagers when we have a king-sized, four-poster bed inside the house.”

  “I don’t need a bed,” she pouted. “I just need you.”

  Patricia made a valid point. Throwing caution to the wind, Ryan made love to his wife. Afterward, when they exited the vehicle, they did not make it past the living room. Ravenous, Ryan and Patricia clawed each other with unbridled passion. He knocked over one of the $300 Murray Feiss lamps from an end table. Both ignored it.

  Fortunately for them, Brian had not decided to pay them a visit that day. As they lay on the carpet in each other’s arms, Ryan cradled his wife’s head and played with the tendrils of her hair. Her skin glistened from the effects of their passion. Again, his conscience pricked him.

  Tell her.

  “No, I can’t.” He uttered the words in a low tone of voice, but Patricia heard him. She turned her body toward him and kissed him on the neck. “Can’t what?”

  I can’t tell you the truth. Ryan rubbed his nose in her hair. Mmm. He smelled apricots. “I can’t have you again, though I want to.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He wanted Patricia all the time.

  “Oh, Ryan, I love you,” she sighed. “How did I luck out with such a good man?” She took his face in her hands and kissed him gently on the lips. “I hear women at work gripe about their husbands, boyfriends, and baby daddies, and I consider myself blessed that I don’t have any worries like that. You’re a rare breed of man, Ryan Oakes, and I love you always.”

  Ryan gulped, and his conscience gave him a swift kick in the gut. He closed his eyes because he knew that he did not deserve that trusting look on her face. Not anymore. But, he could not bear to see Patricia’s trust turn into disgust. What was he going to do?

  Nothing.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead.” Patricia poked him in the chest.

  “Lord, help me,” Ryan prayed. He pried his eyes open.

  His wife misunderstood and chuckled. “Yes, He’s going to have to help you because of what I’ve got planned . . .”

  Ryan felt her body shift and knew what she intended to do. Tomorrow. He would tell her tomorrow. Never mind that he said that yesterday—and the day before that. He would keep his word this time. Tomorrow would be the day.

  Chapter Two

  “What do they mean my sound is too sweet?”

  Karlie Knightly swept her shoulder-length curls out of her face. She crisscrossed her long legs on her king-sized bed in the Marlton Hotel.

  Karlie had wanted to rent an apartment, but her adopted father, Neil Jameson, convinced her to live in the hotel. That way she would not have to cook or worry about housekeeping with her coursework load. She had stepped into the luxurious building resplendent with rich burgundy undertones and had fallen in love. Though the rooms were small, she loved the crown moldings, brass fixtures, and the private marble bathroom. The onsite restaurant and café added to its appeal.

  She clutched a printout from a quack blogger who was gathering clout. Her debut song, “How Great Thou Art,” had released to not-so-stellar reviews. According to this twit wannabe reporter, Karlie’s voice was nothing like her “dearly departed mother’s.”

  In fact, Brenda Northeimer called her sound “too sweet, saccharine, and filled with fake sentiment to grasp the raw emotion needed for a song like that.”

  Try losing your mother and see how you would feel.

  Karlie grabbed several tissues from her nightstand and blew her nose. She knew she could not sing like her mother did. She was not trying to. She was her own person. Karlie crumpled the paper and tossed it against the wall. It landed on the herringbone wood floor with a thud.

  Karlie strolled in her bathroom to throw out the soiled tissues and wash her face. She looked in the mirror at her almond-shaped face, so much like her mother’s except Karlie had honey-colored eyes and slightly fuller lips.

  Brenda Northheimer did not know what it was like to be left alone because cancer had reared its head and torn her life to pieces. Five years had passed, but that did not stop Karlie from wetting her pillow at night for a mother who she would never see again.

  Neil and his wife, Myra had taken her into their home and hearts. Their daughter, Addison, Addie for short, whom she adored, was the sister she never had. But Karlie missed her mother. Tiffany Knightly was irreplaceable.

  Karlie’s cell phone buzzed. She jumped to retrieve it from her computer desk, hoping that it was her boyfriend, Jamaal Weathers. She had texted him earlier, but he still had classes, and then had step rehearsal after that.

  It was not Jamaal. It was Brian.

  Let me in.

  Ugh, why didn’t Brian ever give her advanced notice? He just popped in whenever the mood struck. Karlie wiped her face. Since she lived on the second floor, she knew he would be at her door any minute. She scrambled to make her bed and picked up the crumpled paper. She was about to throw it into the trash can when she heard the knock.

  Holding the paper in her left hand behind her back, Karlie opened the door. “Hey, Brian.”

  “Hey, yourself, Sweet Cheeks.” He squeezed her cheeks and entered her small space.

  Trying to be discreet, Karlie tossed the paper into
the trash can, but Brian zeroed in on her action.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “It’s nothing,” Karlie replied, shooing her hand and moving away from the can.

  Brian squinted his eyes. He was not buying her act. He bent his six-foot-five frame and pinned his light brown eyes on her face. “Your eyes are puffy. Have you been crying?”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  Brian studied her before walking over to the trash can. He reached in and picked it up.

  Karlie lunged toward him to get the paper out of his hands. “What’re you doing? You can’t just come in here and rummage through my trash!”

  Brian held his arm above her head.

  Karlie jumped to get the paper. “Brian, give it to me. You’re so juvenile.”

  He swayed it out of her reach. “Considering it’s the only thing in the garbage, I wouldn’t say that was rummaging. In fact, I was only searching for a piece of paper to stick my gum in.”

  “You’re such a liar, Brian Oakes,” Karlie said. “You don’t have any gum in your mouth. You’re being nosy as usual, and this is a severe breach of my privacy.”

  “Whatever.” Brian unrolled the paper.

  Mortified, Karlie tromped over to her bed and plopped down, not the least bit comforted by the plush Duvet covers.

  Brian’s head moved from left to right as he read the contents of the article. With a frown, he walked over to sit in the chair by her computer desk.

  She saw his brow furrow and his lips curl and knew that he had gotten to that part.

  “Who writes this trash and gets away with it?” In a fit of rage, Brian shredded the paper and hurled it back into the trashcan. “I hope you don’t believe any of that filth written solely to gather a following of people who have nothing better to do with their time.”