Don't Tell A Soul (10 page)

TAYLOR

 

 

 

 

“M
a, I don't want to go to Bible study. Why can't you and Spencer just leave me here?”

This boy is really about to get on my last nerve. He just started this mess calling Spencer by his first name instead of Daddy. It hurts Spencer's feelings, but it just makes me mad.

“Your father and I aren't going to leave you at home, Joshua. You are only eleven. You can't take care of yourself.”

“Yes, I can. Those kids in the youth Bible study are lame. I'm not feeling that tonight.”

I put my hand on my hip and frown. “Even Gretchen and Cicely? They're lame, too?”

“They're girls. Plus, they be snitching.”

Spencer walks into the room and kisses me on my neck. “What's going on in here?” he asks. “You arguing with your mother?”

Joshua says, “No, I'm not arguing. I'm just saying that y'all can leave me at home and it'll be okay.”

Spencer points to the couch. “Sit down, Joshua. We want to talk to you about something.”

“Now?” I ask. I knew that Spencer wanted to have a conversation with Joshua about Luke, but I was trying to put it off until the very last second. I want to give Luke plenty of time to change his mind about being in Joshua's life.

“Whatever it is, I didn't do it,” Joshua says. “I swear I haven't done anything since I got into it with my teacher.”

“Don't swear!” I say as I sit down next to Joshua.

Spencer continues to stand. “You haven't done anything, Joshua, and you're not in trouble.”

“Oh. What's this about, then?”

I take my son's hand in mine. “Well, son, your biological father wants to meet you and spend time with you.”

Joshua looks alarmed as his mouth drops open just wide enough for me to feel his breath on my face. “Why does he want to meet me?”

“Well, because he's made some changes in his life, and he thinks that now he has something to offer you, I guess,” I say.

Joshua looks at Spencer and asks, “Are you cool with this?”

“Yes, as long as it's okay with your mother.”

“Well, what if I'm not cool with it? Who is he, anyway? I don't even know his name.”

I clear my throat and drop Joshua's hand. I knew this day was coming, ever since I first decided to keep the secret of Joshua's paternity during my pregnancy. When Joshua was little, he asked me all the time what his daddy looked like and who his daddy was. The questions stopped when he was five, because that was when Spencer became a permanent fixture in both our lives.

“His name is Luke,” I say. “Luke Hastings.”

“Hastings? Like Auntie Yvonne? Are they related?”

I look to Spencer for a rescue, but he doesn't say anything. He nods at me like I should just continue. Should I tell Joshua the truth? I don't know if he's old enough to understand what happened with Luke, or if he'll ever be old enough to understand it.

“He used to be married to your auntie Yvonne. He's her ex-husband.”

Joshua is clearly confused now. He looks from me to Spencer and then back to me again. “You hooked up with Auntie Yvonne's husband?”

I let out a huge sigh. “It's hard to explain. Yvonne and I weren't friends then, but it was still a mistake. The only thing I don't regret about it is you.”

“Ma! I can't believe this! This is some ho type stuff you talking 'bout!”

Joshua jumps up from the couch before I have time to lay hands on him, but he's not quick enough for Spencer. Spencer grabs him by his arm and snatches him up, suspending him in midair.

“Apologize to your mother right now, or by God, I will beat the mess out of you.”

“My mama ain't gonna let you hit me!”

Spencer looks at me, as if for permission, and I nod. Spencer smacks Joshua three times across the backs of his legs, and Joshua falls to the floor, wailing in agony.

“You ain't my daddy! Keep your hands off me!”

“Get up! Go wash your face, and get ready for Bible study. But first, apologize to your mother.”

“I'm sorry,” Joshua sobs.

I nod my forgiveness, because I'm still too shocked to speak. Did my son just call me a ho? Did that really just happen to me? This is worse than anything that ever happened while I carried him in my belly with no ring on my finger.

Joshua scampers out of the room just before my tears fall. “Spence . . .”

My husband sits down next to me on the couch and wraps me in his arms. “He didn't mean it, babe. He didn't. You just shocked him.”

Now my tears are sobs that make my entire body shake. I feel that the only thing holding me together in one piece is Spencer's hug.

“We'll get through this,” he says. “But I don't think that he should meet Luke.”

“No. Let him meet him. Let him see for himself how Luke is rotten to the very core. He wants to think I'm a ho? Well, let him meet his ho daddy.”

Spencer doesn't reply with words. He pulls me in closer and strokes my hair as I continue to cry.

Maybe everything that's happening with Joshua—his anger, getting expelled, and everything else—is my fault. Even after repentance and after forgiveness, consequences are still coming into my life. I'm still paying for my sins with Luke.

While my husband holds me, I talk to God.
Lord, I know you've forgiven me. I know it, but I am still reaping. Please, God, don't let my baby reap, too.

YVONNE

 

 

 

 

I
got flowers today at work. For the first time in my life, I got a bouquet of roses delivered to me. I was excited and happy about it, until it occurred to me how pitiful it was that I'm forty-seven years old and I'm just now getting flowers from a man.

Of course, they were from Kingston. He keeps smiling at me, when he should be paying attention to Bible study. He seems so proud of himself, but I'm not sure how I should respond. I know what everyone is telling me, but I still don't know what to do.

I always thought that if I found out Luke had moved on, I'd be free of our marriage and all the things that happened to me at Luke's hands. But I don't know if it's freedom that I feel.

When Taylor told me about Luke getting married, I felt . . . jealous. Why would I feel jealous over that man? I know that I don't still love him. What kind of fool would I be to love someone who beat me within an inch of my life and slept with church members? A big fool, and if I messed around with Luke, probably a dead fool.

Eva walks into the gymnasium, where we hold Bible study, and I see her scanning the room, probably looking for me. I wave at her, and she takes a few hesitant steps in my direction. I'm in the front row. Maybe she doesn't want to sit up here, on display.

I quickly gather my things and walk back to where Eva is standing, and I see relief all over her face. I must've been right. I haven't been a new member in a long time, so sometimes I forget what that feels like.

Eva's two-piece jogging suit and gym shoes are a little bit on the casual side for our congregation, but she does look nice and neat with her long brown hair pulled into a ponytail. It gives me the opportunity to really look at her extremely pretty face. She's got a tiny nose that's sprinkled with freckles and naturally thick and perfectly arched eyebrows. Her eyelashes are long and thick, as well, and her full pink lips wouldn't ever need lipstick if she didn't want to wear it. I think the focal point of her face is her light brown eyes, which possess a hint of sadness. Makeup free, the girl is a stunner, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who notices.

“You didn't have to switch seats, Sister Yvonne,” Eva whispers.

“Well, I want to sit next to you, and you didn't seem like you wanted to sit up front.”

Eva's face lights up with a smile. “I didn't want to sit up there. I don't have on the right clothes.”

“Jesus doesn't care what you're wearing, girl.”

We take a seat at one of the rear tables. I notice that Eva's Bible is very old and very worn, but when Pastor Brown tells us to turn to the book of Ephesians, she has trouble finding it. Someone wore that Bible out, but it sure wasn't Eva.

Eva seems very preoccupied during the lesson. She fidgets with her hands and absentmindedly flips pages in the Bible. I place one hand over hers and whisper a prayer to myself.

Then I say to her, “Whatever it is, it's going to be all right.”

Maybe I should've waited until after Bible study to say this to her, because she bursts into violent tears. When she sees that she's drawing attention to herself, she claps her hand over her mouth, grabs her Bible and purse, and rushes out of the gymnasium. I follow at her heels, because even though I said that it would be all right, her reaction tells me it's worse than I thought.

Outside, Eva paces back and forth across the parking lot, in tears and shaking the hand that's not holding her Bible.

“What's wrong?” I ask her. “How can I help?”

“I don't think you can help, Yvonne. No one can help me.”

I pause and breathe in deeply. She sounds desperate. “Maybe I can't, but God can. Why don't you tell me what's wrong?”

“I—I don't have the money for my rent. I don't have anywhere to go. I'm gonna be homeless soon.”

“Is that all? I most definitely can help with that. We have a shelter here at the church. There are only a few rooms, but it will hold you until we can get you a job. I'll talk to Pastor Brown as soon as service lets out.”

“You'd do this for me, and you don't even know me! I could be a murderer or something.”

“And if you asked God, he'd forgive you. Why do you want me to think the worst of you?”

Eva begins to cry again. “Because nobody in this world thinks the best of me. Why should you be different?”

I encircle her in my arms as her entire body shakes with her tears. “Nobody in this world matters, Eva. God sees the best in you. He does.”

“If you knew the truth about me, you wouldn't hold me like you're doing right now.” Eva's voice is tiny and sorrowful. The most pitiful thing I've ever heard.

“Whatever you're keeping is between you and God.”

Pam rushes out of the gymnasium and over to me and Eva. “Is everything okay?” Pam asks.

“Yes. Sister Eva just had something she needed to get off her chest. I've got this. Can you do me a favor and let Kingston know that I had to leave early? We're supposed to have dinner, but I'm going to help Eva tonight.”

“I can help her,” Pam says. “Is that okay with you, Eva? Go on your date, Yvonne.”

I feel Eva's body tense in my arms, and I hand her a tissue from my pocket. “He'll understand. Let me handle this.”

Pam nods. “All right. I'll tell him. Call me later, okay? Let me know if there's anything I can do to help.”

“Okay.”

As Pam walks back toward the gymnasium, I release Eva from my embrace. “Have you eaten? You want some dinner? I could go for some seafood.”

Eva gazes at me the way a little girl looks at her mama when she hurts herself or gets a scrape and needs comforting. Even though she's not young enough to be my daughter, her facial expression releases something maternal in me. I want to take care of her like, it seems, no one ever has before.

PAM

 

 

 

 

W
hen I pull into my driveway from Bible study, I see Logan's car parked in front of our house. My first instinct is to pull back out and find somewhere else to go, but the children are tired, and they have school in the morning. I can't drag them around the city just because I don't want to look at my husband's friend.

No, that's wrong. I
do
want to look at my husband's friend, and that is the problem.

I haven't been able to get him out of my mind since we met at Starbucks the other day. I'm afraid that if Troy sees me in the same room with him, he'll know, that is, he'll be able to tell how Logan's flirting affected me.

Before I can make a mad dash for it, Troy comes out onto the porch. He's on his cell phone, and he waves at me to come on in.

I hurry and park and rush the children inside, with my heart pounding the entire time. I go in the back door to avoid walking through Troy's work area. This house is big enough to engulf a small army, so I should be able to get to my bedroom without having to see Logan.

But it's just my luck that Logan is standing in my kitchen, drinking a glass of water and looking like a tall drink of water at the same time. The children squeal with delight. They like Logan, too.

“Uncle Logan!” TJ says as he gives Logan a fist bump.

The girls wave and give him hugs before scurrying out of the kitchen, probably looking for their daddy.

“Hey, Logan,” I say.

“Hey, Pam. Get any good writing done today?”

“No, not really.”

“Still distracted?”

I take a nervous swallow. How could I not be distracted? The scent of his cologne has a dizzying effect on me. “Uh . . .”

Troy pokes his head into the kitchen. “Come on, man! I just put Aria in the booth, and she's about to knock this song out tonight.”

“Cool. Just getting some water.”

Troy nods. “You want something else? Pam can get it. Pam, can you fix us some tea or something? Aria might need it for her voice.”

How about a “Hello, Pam” or “How was Bible study, Pam?” Troy really gets on my nerves sometimes, and now is so not the time for him to be getting on my nerves.

“Pam doesn't have to get me anything,” Logan says. “I'm pretty capable of finding my own snacks.”

“That's cool, too.
Mi casa es su casa.
Just hurry up with whatever you're gonna do so we can get this song mixed down.”

“I'll be there in a sec.”

I put on a kettle of water for tea and take out a tray and fill it with tea bags, cups, and sugar cubes. Logan leans back on the counter and watches me in silence.

“Don't let him treat you that way,” Logan says.

“What way? He's just asking for some tea. That's what husbands do. They ask for stuff.”

He clears his throat. “Now you're defending him. That's interesting. I'm just making an observation, that's all. I'm sorry if I overstepped my boundaries.”

“You've absolutely overstepped your boundaries.”

“I'm sorry. I guess I'm just trying to be your friend.”

“You're Troy's friend. That's good enough. Leave the rest of it alone.”

“Do you really want that? I enjoy talking to you. You're funny, smart, and I admit, I don't have many friends.”

“Well, I've got plenty.”

I pile a few more items on the tray and grab the tea kettle as it begins to whistle. Logan turns on the faucet and fills his water glass again.

“Is it because you're attracted to me?” he asks.

“Please, get over yourself. I'm not attracted to you.” I've never been a very good liar. The quiver in my voice gives me away.

“Well, I am attracted to you,” Logan says. “But you are my friend's wife, so I'm ignoring those feelings.”

“Good.”

I push past Logan with the tray and head down the long hallway to the study, which Troy turned into his studio when he lost the lease on the warehouse he got when we first became millionaires. He's seated at the keyboard, tapping a few keys. Aria is seated at Troy's desk with her head in her hands, gazing at my husband the way she's gazed at him from day one. I keep telling myself it's only admiration, but I fear that it's more than that. Logan comes in right behind me.

“Here's your tea, Troy. I'm gonna be upstairs.”

“Thanks, babe. You don't want to stay and watch us record?”

“I really have to get some work done on my book. I've been so busy this week, and now it's already half gone.”

“All right. Get that book money, then. I'll be up in a few hours.”

“Good night, Pam,” Logan says. “See you next time.”

“Good night.”

“Pam, can I ask you something?” Aria says. “Do you mind if my boyfriend comes over when I record? I know how you are about people in your house around your kids.”

Troy says, “I already told you it was okay.”

“But it's Pam's house, too, and I don't want her to be mad at me. I think we're finally friends, and I don't want to ruin it.”

This is so out of the blue that I don't even know how to take it. Aria and I hardly ever exchange words, and I certainly don't consider her a friend. I am happy to hear that she has a boyfriend, though.

“As long as Troy doesn't mind, I don't have a problem with it.”

“Thanks, Pam.”

I wave good-bye to everyone as I leave the room. When I get upstairs to my bedroom and close the door, I finally relax.

My cell phone buzzes in my pocket. “Hello?”

“Pam, are you really not attracted to me?”

I hold the phone away from my face in shock. “Logan, what are you doing? Where are you calling me from?”

“I'm outside.”

“Well, go back indoors before Troy wonders what you're doing.”

“Why would Troy be in my mix like that? I'll go back inside when you tell me the truth.”

“Oh well, stand outside, then. I don't care. See you later. Wait. How'd you get my number?”

“I took it out of Troy's phone.”

“You what?” Now I'm feeling a bit alarmed.

Then I hear Logan laughing on the phone. “Pam, I'm teasing you! You looked so crazy at me in the kitchen. I wanted to smooth everything out.”

“Everything is fine.”

“Okay, then be honest. You think I'm hot.”

This makes me burst into laughter. “No, I don't.”

“You do! It's okay, because most women find me irresistible. I am well aware of the effect that I have on women. Now that we have that out of the way, we're going to be great friends.”

“You're pretty conceited.”

“Well, then you understand why I don't have a woman. Maybe you can help me with that.”

“This is the most juvenile conversation I've ever had with a man. I've got work to do.”

“Juvenile? I thought we were having a little fun.”

“I don't know what that means, Logan.”

“Okay, I'll let you work now.”

I disconnect the call and place my phone back into my pocket. I open up my laptop and try to concentrate on my manuscript and ignore the completely warm feeling in the pit of my stomach.