Keisha Heart wants a real marriage to a man passionate, who talks, but she is unsure if she is lovable enough to get him. Now when Keisha sang, she realized the toils and dangers of John Newton.  He saw the suffering he wrote about.  It was no theoretical songs.  He was there in a way no person today can understand.  Today's educators are renaming African-slaves, of the slave trade, "immigrant workers" as if they volunteered to travel to America in chains, squalor, as if women volunteered to be raped, men and women being starved, as if to obtain some economic opportunity.  The song Amazing Grace showed how the slaves wanted to jump to the sharks following slave ships in the choppy Atlantic waters below.    In compared to John Newton's problems, her problems were slight ripples.  Worrying about how do I get there--married?  Worrying, am I really a grownup unless I get and keep a man?  Worrying why I keep myself fine looking and my hair straightened and done in this cute-girl-flip style.  I don't have any real problems.  I have a home and roof over my head, a decent middle-class job, two good children, and we eat three meals a day.  I have good friends and associations.  What am I complaining for?  Fight off the negative vibes of the media and anyone else around you, Keisha girl!

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Cupideros Cupideros

The Marriage Wait (Trilogy B1)

An African American Romance Story

DEDICATION: This ten-thousand word contemporary romance novella is dedicated to the Great God-dess who helps us to do everything. BookRix GmbH & Co. KG80331 Munich




© Copyright Cupideros, Monday, January 23, 2017

10,767 words









Keisha Heart wants a real marriage to a man passionate, who talks, but she is unsure if she is lovable enough to get him.







AGUSTA, GA 30012





Keisha sang the words in her mind as her dark-brown fingers hovered, moving gently over the three cords of the song, above the keyboard.


'Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,

That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost but now I'm found,

Was blind, but now I see.


'twas Grace that taught,

my heart to fear.

And grace, my fears relieved.

How precious did that grace appear,

the hour I first believed.'


"Is it coming back to you Keisha?" asked Clarrissa Ferri, the choir director? You used to be our best musician back in the day."

Keisha wore blue jeans, and hot-pink top and a big-wide grin that hid the romantic sadness in her heart. She wanted to be married, but no man so far wanted to stick around. "Back in the day, I wasn't up all night grading middle schoolers papers. You must know our children need try harder to spell correctly. They also harbor the attention span of a glint of moonlight on the waves of the Atlantic Ocean."

"Even with spell-checkers and spell-checking programs online, for free," Clarrissa perpetual smile hardly disappeared as she gasped, in horror. The thirty-five-year-old choir teacher loved school and was the editor of The SPIRITUALIST, THE GOSPEL JOURNAL for their ON THE THIRD DAY BAPTIST CHURCH.

Keisha played the first chorus. The play was easy. "It's coming back. I mean, it is only three chords. Some people can play it with two fingers of their right hand and one finger of their left hand."

"Maybe true, but it doesn't go as smooth as using both your hands harmoniously at the same time," counter Clarrissa, who wore a black top and light-brown dress pants and low-ankle boots. She wore big oval-silver earrings, even though the Pastor Wilson and no single men sat in the one-hundred pews behind Keisha and Clarrissa.

"Always helps if I sing the chords as I play."

"By all means, sing aloud if you want. No one here but us ladies." Clarrissa quipped. Clarrissa enjoyed a happy marriage and her husband, Phillip, stayed around to raise their two children, two boys, twelve years of age, at least on the weekends. "While you're refreshing your piano skills, I'm going to find you a husband before your birthday."

Keisha laughed. She tried to hold the laugh in, but it slid out in snickers, then giggles then she chortled, and laughed. "You are finding me, a frumpy mom-middle schooler-teacher a husband. Wow--that will be a miracle."



Both women rocked age thirty-five. To Keisha, Clarrissa had it all. God blessed Clarrissa with a job she loved to work for him, two children, and an adoring passionate husband. Keisha fought off jealous feelings all the time, because Clarrissa's positive attitude was infectious. And Keisha needed to hear and feel those positive vibes, positive vibes that reminded her to perk up and feel gratitude for her successes in life. Competent in other areas, but not marriage and left to her own devices, Keisha struggled to keep that positive marriage vibe.


Though, in the back of her mind, she expressed disbelief a mom was supposed to rear her children on her own. What was the purpose of having a dad then? Monitoring her progress also hampered her outlook. One can't grow under their own microscope. Sure analysis was good, but sometimes she needed to give herself a break. Apply mercy and kindness to herself as a primary cause for assuring future happiness. These things she often told her students at Coldridge K-7 Middle School. Those children came from homes broken, shattered or in the state of recombining into cohesive wholeness on a daily basis. She never fully knew what problem plagued her students. And most of the families didn't possess the college education and reasoning skills, she did.


Keisha said, "You know Elvis played this with G and F cords."

"That's guitar. Elvis had a thing for novelty. Most people, churchgoers, want to hear the traditional cords, D and G and C."

Keisha kept playing the traditional cords. The music soothed her as she sang in her mind.


'Through many dangers, toils and snares,

I have already come.

'tis grace that brought me safe thus far,

and grace will lead us home.


The Lord has promised good to me,

His word my hope secures.

He will my shield and portion be,

as long as life endures.'


"That's beautiful Keisha. Keep it up, one last chorus."

Keisha nodded, kept singing and went on playing. Her right hand playing the melody and her left hand handling the C chords.


'When we've been there ten thousand years,

bright shining as the sun.

We've no less days to sing God's praise,

than when we first begun.


Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,

That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost but now am found,

Was blind, but now, I see.'



Keisha stopped playing; amazed it all came back to her.

Clarrissa clapped like an enthusiastic child. "Great. Wonderful. Bravo!"

"You're too kind. It wasn't as smooth as I liked."

"If it got any smoother, both you and me will slide off this wooden floor and outside the church door."

"This song fits a negative thinker like me."

"Actually," Clarrissa said, walking around to the front of the grand piano. She let the top down, put her elbows on it, and faced Keisha. "You're not as wretched as the author who wrote this song was."

"I don't know--"

"You've never dealt in slave trading, cursed better than the worse sailors; shouted your doubts about God to the world; bragged about your disbelief to your peers."

"The writer of this song did all those things?" Keisha felt horrified.

"But it is a beautiful song isn't it?"

"Yes. But tell me about the person who wrote it, the sailor."

"English sailor who eventually came to America. The song didn't take well. Maybe because he wrote it without the New Britain chord music that later was paired to the words of Amazing Grace."