me to come. Of course, I agreed, and I was gladI did. The minute I walked into Pat Boone’s big, beautiful, sprawling house in Beverly Hills, I met the most welcoming, wonderful, magical group of people I’d ever known in my whole life.
Pat Boone hosted, but others often led the studies, particularly our pastor, Kenn Gulliksen. Pat couldn’t have been nicer, and his wife, Shirley, was so sweet. I met his daughters, too, and I was especially excited to meet his daughter Debbie, who would become a popular singer just like her dad. We would meet in Pat’s big family room with all his friends and extended family members and talk about faith and Christianity, stories from the Bible, what they meant, and our interpretations. The speakers always gave us something to really think about all week. I had a wonderful time going to the meetings and I really became closer to Jesus Christ because of them.
Robert and I started attending Pat Boone’s Bible study groups regularly. I met a group of friends there that I would keep for years afterward. Robert introduced me to religion in a whole new light. He really taught me the importance of Christianity and how making it more of a focus in my life could make me feel whole. It felt so right to be dating someone who felt the same way I did. I accepted Christ through those Bible studies at Pat Boone’s house, and I became a born-again Christian.
Soon after that, Robert decided I should move out because it was against God’s plan for us to live together. Not long after that, because of the Bible studies, Robert decided that it wasn’t a good idea for us to even have sex anymore. We were full-on dating, with full-on sex, and all of a sudden, mid-relationship, he decided that we were not going to sleep together anymore, because it was not God’s will. I agreed, since that
is
what the Bible says. But Robert wanted me to move out
altogether
. So I found myself sitting there, packing up all my clothes, thinking,
What the hell is going on here?
A. C. Cowlings, one of Robert’s and O.J.’s friends, who wouldlater gain fame for driving O.J.’s Bronco after the murder of Nicole Brown Simpson, helped me move. I went from Robert’s big, grand house in Beverly Hills into a tiny little apartment in Sherman Oaks, right behind a Marie Callender’s pie shop. So there I am in my apartment, and one night Robert came to take me out in his spanking-new white Rolls-Royce. By then he had a black Rolls and a white Rolls, and he parked in the garage underneath my apartment to pick me up. He took me out to dinner and then he walked me back upstairs. We would still kiss and make out, but otherwise nothing, because we were living this clean, Christian relationship.
One night, after we kissed, he left as he always did. But a few minutes later he was knocking on the door. When I opened it, he was shaking, and I could tell he was about to cry.
“What’s wrong?”
“I banged my new Rolls-Royce into a pillar in your garage,” he said.
We went downstairs, and there was a huge dent in the back of his car.
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
I don’t know why he came back to tell me. I think he was just shaken up. He just needed a hug. But in my head, as I watched him drive off, I thought,
Serves him right for kicking me out!
R estlessness is my nature. And I was restless about my relationship with Robert.
This is a guy who asked me to marry him three weeks after we started dating, and now . . . nothing. What’s the problem?
I thought.
Ask me AGAIN!
I waited and I waited.
Then, in August of 1977, Elvis Presley died. We got the news while we were at dinner at the house of our best friends, Joyce and Larry Kraines. The first thing Robert wanted to do was call Priscilla. He was close to her and Lisa Marie, and he wanted tocheck on them. He got her on the phone right away and asked her if she was okay.
Oh, boy,
I thought.
They’ve reconnected.
I never really understood why they broke up, so I didn’t know
Pat Boone hosted, but others often led the studies, particularly our pastor, Kenn Gulliksen. Pat couldn’t have been nicer, and his wife, Shirley, was so sweet. I met his daughters, too, and I was especially excited to meet his daughter Debbie, who would become a popular singer just like her dad. We would meet in Pat’s big family room with all his friends and extended family members and talk about faith and Christianity, stories from the Bible, what they meant, and our interpretations. The speakers always gave us something to really think about all week. I had a wonderful time going to the meetings and I really became closer to Jesus Christ because of them.
Robert and I started attending Pat Boone’s Bible study groups regularly. I met a group of friends there that I would keep for years afterward. Robert introduced me to religion in a whole new light. He really taught me the importance of Christianity and how making it more of a focus in my life could make me feel whole. It felt so right to be dating someone who felt the same way I did. I accepted Christ through those Bible studies at Pat Boone’s house, and I became a born-again Christian.
Soon after that, Robert decided I should move out because it was against God’s plan for us to live together. Not long after that, because of the Bible studies, Robert decided that it wasn’t a good idea for us to even have sex anymore. We were full-on dating, with full-on sex, and all of a sudden, mid-relationship, he decided that we were not going to sleep together anymore, because it was not God’s will. I agreed, since that
is
what the Bible says. But Robert wanted me to move out
altogether
. So I found myself sitting there, packing up all my clothes, thinking,
What the hell is going on here?
A. C. Cowlings, one of Robert’s and O.J.’s friends, who wouldlater gain fame for driving O.J.’s Bronco after the murder of Nicole Brown Simpson, helped me move. I went from Robert’s big, grand house in Beverly Hills into a tiny little apartment in Sherman Oaks, right behind a Marie Callender’s pie shop. So there I am in my apartment, and one night Robert came to take me out in his spanking-new white Rolls-Royce. By then he had a black Rolls and a white Rolls, and he parked in the garage underneath my apartment to pick me up. He took me out to dinner and then he walked me back upstairs. We would still kiss and make out, but otherwise nothing, because we were living this clean, Christian relationship.
One night, after we kissed, he left as he always did. But a few minutes later he was knocking on the door. When I opened it, he was shaking, and I could tell he was about to cry.
“What’s wrong?”
“I banged my new Rolls-Royce into a pillar in your garage,” he said.
We went downstairs, and there was a huge dent in the back of his car.
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
I don’t know why he came back to tell me. I think he was just shaken up. He just needed a hug. But in my head, as I watched him drive off, I thought,
Serves him right for kicking me out!
R estlessness is my nature. And I was restless about my relationship with Robert.
This is a guy who asked me to marry him three weeks after we started dating, and now . . . nothing. What’s the problem?
I thought.
Ask me AGAIN!
I waited and I waited.
Then, in August of 1977, Elvis Presley died. We got the news while we were at dinner at the house of our best friends, Joyce and Larry Kraines. The first thing Robert wanted to do was call Priscilla. He was close to her and Lisa Marie, and he wanted tocheck on them. He got her on the phone right away and asked her if she was okay.
Oh, boy,
I thought.
They’ve reconnected.
I never really understood why they broke up, so I didn’t know
Similar Books
