Flawfully Wedded Wives (3 page)

—
Sullivan Webb

 

Pastor Charles Webb entered Charity's butterfly-themed bedroom as Sullivan was fastening a clean diaper on Charity's bottom. He kissed his wife on the cheek. “Do you know how sexy you look doing that?”

Sullivan rolled her eyes in jest. “I see Charity's diaper isn't the only thing in here that's full of it! How was the ministry leaders' conference?”

Charles loosened his tie. “It was good. I'm glad to be back home with my girls, though. Three days is too long to be away from the two most beautiful ladies in the world.”

Sullivan lifted the baby from her changing table and lowered her into the crib. “When this one goes to sleep, you can show me how much you've missed me.”

“Count on it.” Charles winked his eye at her. “Did our little princess enjoy the tea party?”

“Of course she did. You know Charity loves being the center of attention. Like mother, like daughter, I guess.”

“She certainly has her mother's gorgeous looks,” remarked Charles, looking down at Charity in her crib.

“But she's smart and strong like her daddy.” Sullivan's words were met with silence. Both she and Charles felt an uncomfortable vibe blanket the room as the proverbial elephant in the room reared its head again. As an unspoken rule, they never openly discussed the likelihood that Charity could be Vaughn's biological child. Sullivan hastily cut through the tension. “I think she's the perfect balance of both of her parents.”

Charles laid his hand on her shoulder, as if to reassure her. “I think most children are.”

“Not me,” Sullivan averred. “Not that I know of, anyway. Now that I think about it, my mother was a whore, and my father was an adulterer. I may be more like them than I want to admit.”

“Sullivan, don't even joke around like that. Whatever your parents are or are not doesn't have any bearing on you. You're a wonderful mother and wife.” He saw that she was still troubled. “Not knowing your father has really left a void in your heart, hasn't it?”

She nodded. “A lot of fathers underestimate how much their daughters need them. People are always saying how much little boys need their dad, but I needed my father too. I needed his protection when my mother's boyfriends were molesting me. I needed his guidance when Vera was pimpin' me out for vacations and clothes. No matter what I have or accomplish or get recognized for, deep down inside I'm still that little girl who longs for her father's love and approval.” She playfully tousled her fifty-year-old husband's gray-streaked hair. “Maybe that's why I've always been attracted to older men.”

“You have that love and approval, Sullivan, in your heavenly father. Deuteronomy reminds us that we have a father who'll never leave us or forsake us, and He's never left you. Earthly parents leave or die, some go to jail or have any number of calamities befall them, but God is always right there with you.”

“I know, but it doesn't make me wonder about my biological father any less.”

“When was the last time you heard from him?”

“I don't even remember,” Sullivan stated sadly. “I couldn't have been more than six or seven years old.”

Charles took a deep breath. “Sullivan, what do you know about your father? What does he do? Where is he from?”

She frowned and shrugged. “I don't know. Aside from telling me that my dad was a lying bastard and a cheating bastard and a no-good bastard, my mother rarely talked about him when I was growing up. I remember once, when I asked her where my father was, she told me he was with his
real
family and not to ask her about him again. It was one of the few times I actually obeyed her.”

“So Vera never told you anything personal about him?”

“Not really. I don't think he and my mother had anything serious. I've never known Vera to be serious about any man, only his bank account. Samuel was probably just one of many pit stops on her road to financial security.”

“Is that why you haven't tried harder to find him?”

“I guess I always assumed if I mattered to him, he'd try to find me.”

“Do you think you would know him if you saw him?”

“Honey, Vera had so many men in and out of the house, I don't think I'd recognize him if he was standing right in front of me.” She stopped for a moment and set one of Charity's stuffed animals down in the crib with her. “I do remember his smile, though. He wasn't around enough for me to remember much else.”

“Oh.”

Sullivan turned to face Charles. “Why the sudden interest in my father?”

“There was a pastor at the conference by the name of Samuel Sullivan, from Milwaukee. He recently moved to Georgia to pastor a church in Duluth, outside Atlanta.”

Sullivan's curiosity was piqued. “Really?”

“The name is probably a coincidence, but I figured it was at least worth mentioning to you.”

She was hopeful for a moment, before reality set in. “I doubt it's him. Samuel is a pretty common name, and so is Sullivan. I mean, what are the odds, right?” Sullivan said, not allowing herself to consider the possibility.

“Stranger things have happened. Look at your friend Lawson and how she ended up working alongside the long-lost father of her child.”

“Yeah, but Savannah is a pretty small place. Lawson was bound to run into Mark sooner or later. My surprise is that it didn't happen sooner.” Sullivan veered the conservation back to Samuel Sullivan. “Did you talk to him?”

“Who? Pastor Sullivan? Yes, but it was just small talk. I met his lovely wife, Martina. They both seem like good, salt-of-the-earth people. They have big plans for taking Friendship Temple to the next level.”

Sullivan turned up the corners of her mouth. “Humph.”

“He said they have two grown children. Two sons, I believe.”

“No mention of a thirty-three-year-old illegitimate daughter with a drunken, chain-smoking hussy?” joked Sullivan.

Charles chuckled. “Not that I can readily recall.”

“Figures.”

“To be honest with you, I don't think that a man who professes to love the Lord and to be called by Him could abandon a child that way.”

“Not every pastor has the same morals that you do, Charles. More than one professed preacher has darkened Vera's doorway, including ones with wives and children at home.”

Charles shook his head. “I don't see it, not coming from him.”

“I learned long ago not to put anything past anybody, not even your so-called friends. Any man can play the role of a devoted husband and father long enough to get through a ministry leaders' conference.”

“On the off chance that he is your father, would you even want to see him?”

Sullivan rolled the scenario over in her mind. “I can't say. A part of me would like to see my father again and get some questions answered, but why bother? If he hasn't thought enough of me to pick up a phone or try to find me in all these years, is he really the kind of man I'd even want in my life? I went through hell growing up. I don't think it would've been that way if he'd stuck around.”

“I can't imagine what that must've been like for you.”

“The sad part is that that's the way it's been in my family for generations. I've carried the scars from my childhood for a long time, but I guess you know that better than anyone. It means the world to me that life will be different for my daughter.” She looked down at Charity. “But it makes me kind of sad that she'll never know her grandfather, and even sadder that the only grandparent she'll ever know is Vera.”

“I hate that my folks passed away before they could meet her.” Charles grinned. “They would've spoiled her rotten.”

“I think we're doing a pretty good job of that without any help,” mused Sullivan.

“Every little girl deserves to be her daddy's princess, even you, Sullivan. It breaks my heart that you didn't have that.”

“Vera would be a strong contestant for the Worst Mother Ever title, but I can't blame her or my dad for the mistakes I've made as an adult. It makes me sick to my stomach when I think about how much I've hurt you.”

“I'm strong, Sullivan. I'm okay. I went into this marriage with you with my eyes wide open.”

“Yeah, but I know I made you want to close them and pretend this was all some horrible nightmare! You couldn't have predicted my drinking problems, the affair with Vaughn, or my psychotic mother.”

“We've all made our mistakes, Sullivan, myself included.”

“You're no saint, Charles, but compared to me, you're seated on the throne next to Jesus!”

He laughed. “You're not so bad, my beauty. The drinking, Vaughn, and that whole mess are all in the past.”

Sullivan nodded, looking down at her baby, who smiled at the sight of her mother. Sullivan desperately wanted to believe her husband and embrace the idea that all her past sins were behind her. After all, didn't the Bible say she was a new creature in Christ and had been forgiven? She allowed Charity to squeeze her finger. Though Sullivan returned Charity's smile, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that, instead of being behind her, the living evidence of her sins was staring her in face.

—
Reginell Kerry

 

Reginell broke into a smile the second she saw her fiancé sitting alone at the Green Truck Neighborhood Pub. Even in a polo shirt and jeans, his toned body, chiseled from his days as a football player, was something to be admired.

Reginell still had to pinch herself sometimes to believe that it was real. Even now that they were engaged, it was still hard for her to grapple with the fact that a man as handsome, smart, and kind as Mark Vinson would want her, that he'd chosen her over Lawson, who was much more his equal and the mother of his oldest child. Mark was aware of everything she'd done in the past, and loved her in spite of it. For Reginell, there was no clearer metaphor for understanding God's love for His wayward children than to see Mark's love for her.

“Did you order for me?” asked Reginell, joining her fiancé in the booth.

Mark passed her the drink. “Vodka and cranberry with light ice, exactly how you like it.”

“Finally, a drink I can recognize! You wouldn't believe the crap Sullivan was serving.” Reginell took a sip. “A couple more of these and I'll be straight!”

“You mean headed straight to bed, right?”

“No, I mean ready to get my party on,” she sang, gyrating in her seat. “I'm in the mood to shake something.”

Mark rose. “Good. You can shake something for me when we get to my house.”

She pouted. “I thought we were going out.”

“I thought you just wanted to meet up here for a drink, then go back to my place.”

Reginell sulked. “Baby, it's the weekend. I don't want to be trapped in the house like some old fogys!”

“You won't be trapped. You'll be chillin' at home with your future husband.”

She blew him off. “We have the next fifty years to sit home in front of the TV. YOYO!”

Mark returned to his seat. “I thought the saying was YOLO. You only live once.”

“No, this is
YOYO
. You're only
young
once, so I say live it up while you can. Plus, there's a new reggae club opening. I want to check it out.”

“I'm not feelin' the club scene tonight, babe.”

“Mi no wan no wutless bwoy,” protested Reginell in a pseudo-patois accent. “Mi wan dance!”

Mark chuckled. “Wa mek you so speaky spokey?” he asked, mocking her.

She pulled on his sleeve. “Come on, Mark, please! I'm way too crunk to spend the night at home.”

“Babe, I'm tired. Why don't you go call up some of your girls and go clubbing with them?”

The offer was tempting, but Reginell knew that Mark would be disappointed if she actually took him up on it.

She sighed. “No, it's cool. We'll go to your place and watch some dumb romantic comedy and fall asleep on the couch . . . like we did last weekend and the weekend before that and the weekend before that.”

“Oh, so you're getting bored with me already? I thought you promised me the next fifty years, woman?”

She kissed him and winked her eye. “You think I'm letting you off the hook with fifty? I've got you forever, playboy!”

“Don't worry. You'll have plenty of time to show off those dance moves in a couple of weeks,” Mark announced.

Reginell perked up. “Is there another club opening?”

“Not exactly. My college football coach is retiring after forty years. The school is throwing a huge banquet in his honor, black tie and everything. So I need you to grab your baddest dress, your flyest heels, wrap those braids up in a nice li'l bun, and come on.”

“Ohhh, how about that leopard-print dress I wore to your cousin's birthday party?” she suggested. “You know, the one that's kind of low cut and makes the girls sit up and pop!”

Mark laughed. “I know
exactly
which dress you're talking about, but the banquet is going to be formal. It's your chance to get red carpet ready, not cookout fresh. I'm sure you have a nice after-five gown in your closet somewhere. Lord knows, you've got everything else in there.”

“I might.” She withdrew a little, abashed. “I don't really get invited to fancy places like that.”

“Get used to it, little lady! I get invited to this kind of thing all the time.”

Reginell was less than thrilled by that notion. “Is the banquet going to be at the Civic Center?”

“No, it's going to be at one of the banquet halls on campus in Virginia.”

The prospect of going to unchartered territory was even less appealing. “Are we driving?”

Mark reeled back. “Do you think I'm going to make my bride sit in a car that long? We're flying first class, baby.”

Reginell hung her head. “I've never been on plane before, never been out of Georgia, really, except that time I went to New York, trying to get a record deal. Even then, I took the bus there and back.”

“My lady doesn't have to travel by bus or car,” he told her. “We do everything first class. That's what you deserve, Reggie.”

Her excitement withered completely and was traded for self-consciousness. “Mark, are you sure you want me to come?”

“You're my fiancée. Why wouldn't I want you to come with me?”

Reginell shrugged. “All of your old professors and college friends are going to be there. Everybody will be there with all their degrees and high-profile jobs, and I didn't even finish college. Shoot, I barely
started
college!”

“Reggie, you have more charm and personality than anybody I know. When you open up your mouth to sing, there ain't a soul on this planet who can touch you! Anyway, having a degree doesn't necessarily mean you're smarter than the person who doesn't. It only means you had the drive to see something through.”

“Baby, I don't want to embarrass you around all those educated and important people. What are they going to think when you show up with an ex-stripper on your arm?”

Mark reached for her hands. “Will you stop doing that? I don't care what other people think. I love you, and I'm proud to be your man. I'm proud that you're going to be my wife. I can't wait to show everybody that I bagged the finest woman this side of the Mississippi!”

“Just this side?” teased Reginell.

Mark kissed her on the cheek. “That's more like it. It'll be a blast. You'll see.”

Reginell slowly started becoming used to the idea. “You might be right. It'll be fun to get all dolled up. Plus, you know I'm always looking for an excuse to go shopping.”

“Yeah, I know,” he murmured. Mark stood up and grabbed Reginell's hand. “So you ready to watch that movie? I'll even let you pick it this time.”

Reginell slid out of the booth. “Yes, let's go.”

As they were walking out, a group of loud, chatty females barged in. They appeared to be happy and having the time of their lives. Reginell glanced back at them in longing, remembering when that used to be her.

Mark held the door open for Reginell as they filed out. She gave him a quick peck before walking ahead of him. Reginell felt secure in her life with Mark and had never thought she could feel so much love for one person, but she hadn't expected to miss her old life so much, either.