Joy (16 page)

This had to be the longest freight train in the country. Anya tapped her fingers against the steering wheel and stopped herself from looking at her watch. She knew the time—just a minute past the last time she'd checked. She sighed as the train's whistle blew, the slow-passing cable cars showing no signs of coming to an end.

She tried to block the image of Braxton from her mind. It didn't help that she hadn't spoken to him since he canceled their dinner yesterday. She had stayed out with David much longer than she planned. They talked for almost four hours at the restaurant. Then for another hour when he'd taken her back to her car. Business had taken a backseat to the playful banter they exchanged about everything from politics to who was
really
the best WNBA team. By the time she got home, there were three messages from Braxton. The tone of the last one made her once again turn off the phone's ringer.

She was surprised that he hadn't called her at the office today and now guilt eased its way into her conscience. Maybe things had not gone well with his phone call. “I should have called him back,” she said aloud.

As she uttered those words, the last of the train's cars passed. Anya sighed. Please, God, make this all right.

It took just a few minutes for her to pull into the church's parking lot and run from her car, into the church and down the hall to the pastor's office.

She knocked once. “Hi. Sorry I'm late.”

Pastor Ford grinned and tapped her long manicured fingernail against her watch. She was sitting on the couch and Braxton sat across from her in one of the two matching wingback chairs.

Braxton mumbled as Anya scooted next to him. She ignored his unsmiling stare, and brushed her lips against his.

“Okay, let's get started.” Pastor Ford bowed her head and prayed. “Heavenly Father, we come before you this evening with praise and thanksgiving …”

Anya opened one eye, trying to sneak a glance at Braxton. He was tapping his right hand against his shaking knee. Oh God, she started in her own silent prayer, please let us get through this.

“Amen,” Pastor Ford said. “Okay, let's look over the assignment. Did you both complete it?”

They nodded.

“Who wants to go first?”

Anya turned to Braxton and, when he didn't return her gaze, she reached into her briefcase. “I will,” she volunteered.

Pastor Ford skimmed the notepad balanced on her lap. “I want you to read the list of why you're marrying Braxton. Then, before we discuss it, we'll have Braxton”—Pastor Ford turned to him—“read his list, okay?”

Braxton shrugged and rolled his eyes. The pastor frowned, but nodded toward Anya to begin.

She took a deep breath. “The five reasons for me are, I love him and I know he loves me. He loves the Lord. We enjoy being with each other and I trust him.” Anya stopped and the pastor lifted her eyes from the notes she was taking.

“That's four reasons.” The pastor looked at her list. “Did I miss one?”

Anya studied her sheets. “I counted I love him and he loves me as separate points. Is that okay?”

“It's okay if you can't think of anything else to say,” Braxton muttered.

Hushing stares descended upon him.

In a slow move, Pastor Ford laid her pad on the table. “There's something you two need to clear up.” Pastor Ford stood. “So I'm going to step out for a few minutes and then we'll begin again.”

They were silent as the pastor picked up her mug and closed the door behind her. For several minutes, Anya kept her head lowered. When she finally looked up, Braxton had turned away, his attention on the darkened street outside.

“This is embarrassing, Braxton.” He turned to her with a blank face. “What is wrong with you?”

“You tell me,” he grunted.

“You're acting like a child and I don't know why.”

He jumped from his seat. “Oh, I'm a child now.”

She stood in front of him, eye-to-eye. “You're acting like one.”

“Then I should leave. This counseling isn't for children, is it?” His voice was raised and he had turned his back to her.

Anya held up her hands. “I shouldn't have said that. But you're angry and I don't know why.”

He swung around. “You want to know what's wrong? I don't want to be here,” he hissed. “This was your idea, but, it's not important enough for you to make the effort to get here on time.”

“I'm sorry I was late. I got caught in a meeting and—”

“There's always something that keeps you from
us,
isn't there?”

“I was only a few minutes late.”

“If I counted up all the minutes I had to sit and wait for you.” He shook his head. “Never mind. You don't even try to understand.”

Anya raised her hands and massaged her temples as she spoke. “I said I was sorry—”

“And that's supposed to be enough? See, you don't even get it!” he exclaimed, pointing his finger at her.

She brought her hands to her sides and balled them into fists. “You better take your finger out of my face.”

He stood glaring, but only for a moment before he backed away. Anya fell into her seat, keeping her eyes glued on him. He stood at the window, his back to her. Almost five minutes of silence hung in the room before there was a knock, and the pastor entered.

“Are we ready now?”

“Pastor Ford, we can't finish this tonight,” Anya said, her eyes burrowing into Braxton's back. “We'll be better next week.”

Pastor Ford brushed her dark brown hair away from her face. “That is one way to handle this: Leave, ignore it, and hope that it will pass. Or you can do what you would do in a good marriage—and face it now.”

The room stayed silent.

“This is relationship counseling,” the pastor said, then paused. “Braxton, please join us.” She smiled, but her serious tone made Braxton drag himself to his chair.

The pastor's eyes darted between the two. “So what's the unsolved opportunity?”

“Well—” Anya began.

The pastor held up her hand. “Braxton, why don't you tell me?”

His face was twisted with anger, and it was a moment before he began. “I don't know, Pastor Ford. I'm frustrated, overwhelmed, and—” He stopped.

“Is it about the wedding?” Anya jumped in.

“Anya, let Braxton finish everything he has to say.”

Sighing, Braxton continued. “I was fine when I got here, but then when we had to wait for her …” His breathing seemed labored, as if his fury were building. “Anya's business always comes first, no matter what else is going on in her life.” He paused. “But I
always
put her first.”

“Always?” the pastor asked.

“Always! She is my priority. Just ask her,” he said, pointing toward Anya.

“This is ridiculous. I am not going to allow you to disrespect me like this,” Anya snapped.

“I'm just telling you how I see it.”

Anya plopped back in her seat and folded her arms.

The pastor smiled. “At least we're making progress.”

“Progress?” they said simultaneously.

“Yes, there are issues here that we can now address. Braxton,” the pastor continued, “what is it about Anya's business that agitates you?”

“It's not her business, Pastor. It's that her business is more important than anything else in her life, especially me.”

“What are you talking about?” Anya interrupted.

“Anya!” the pastor said strongly. “You'll have your turn.”

“Thank you, Pastor.” Braxton cleared his throat. “She throws everything aside for that business.”

Anya gritted her teeth. “I own the business.”

“Anya, please step outside for a few minutes,” the pastor said.

Anya pursed her lips and sat back. “I'm sorry, Pastor. I won't say anything else.”

“That's true because you're going to be outside.” Pastor Ford gestured toward the door.

No! Anya yelled in her head. But there was no way she would say that to her pastor. She grabbed her briefcase, and stomped toward the door, then took softer steps as the pastor caught her eye. Anya took her time closing the door behind her.

She threw her briefcase down and began to pace the small anteroom. As she passed the door, she stopped a few times but could hear nothing. Finally, she sat down and flipped through an issue of
Christian Life Today.
She started reading, but then turned to a new article before she finished the last. She repeated this pattern before she gave up and slammed the magazine shut.

I should just get in my car and go home, she thought, though she knew there was no way she'd leave.

She stood and went to Pastor Ford's door, this time flushing her ear against the wood. But the sounds were muffled. She tried to push her body closer, then heard movement and scurried back to the chair. Anya picked up the magazine just as the door opened.

The pastor opened the door. “Anya, join us now.”

Anya gingerly placed the magazine on the table, hoping Pastor Ford hadn't noticed that she'd been holding it upside-down. With as much grace as she could gather, she picked up her briefcase and walked back into the office. She took her seat, crossing her legs and arms at the same time.

“This has been a bit unorthodox, but you know how I feel about these things—let the Holy Spirit have His way. But we have discovered something that is crucial to this relationship. It can be worked out, but only if it's talked out. But, I'm going to require two things.” The pastor turned to Anya. “Remember, that the same letters that spell
listen
make up the word
silent.
” She paused. “Secondly, remain calm. You cannot listen when you're emotional.”

Anya raised her eyebrows. Surely the pastor wasn't talking about her. Braxton was the one who loved drama.

“Okay, Braxton, tell Anya what you just told me.”

Braxton faced Anya and leaned toward her, their knees almost touching. “I don't feel like I'm important to you, Anya. I feel that you would give up on me, give up on our marriage, if it interfered in any way with Mitchell & Associates.”

With her arms folded, Anya pursed her lips, willing her mouth to remain closed. She was still fuming over being expelled from the room. And this accusation made it worse.

“I'm concerned,” Braxton continued, “that your business will interfere in our marriage.”

That's it! There wasn't that much patience in her. She'd just have to get kicked out again. “Braxton, you're jealous of my business, and for no reason. I would never put my company in front of my family.”

Braxton looked at the pastor for assistance, but Pastor Ford remained silent.

“That's not true, Anya. You do it all the time.”

“Braxton, tell Anya how you see your future together.”

Braxton took a deep breath and took Anya's hand. “Anya, I love you so much.” His voice shook with emotion. “I want to have a family and build a life with you.”

“That's exactly what I want,” she said, softening to Braxton's words.

Braxton nodded. “I don't think you realize the toll your business takes.” He paused. “I wonder, what is going to happen when we have children?”

“Of course, I won't be able to work the same way, I'll make adjustments.” She rubbed her hands against his. “That's why I work so hard now. I want everything in place so that when we have children the business will run itself.”

“Braxton,” the pastor interrupted, “you and Anya are still not talking about the same things.”

Anya's heart started to pound. There was something ominous in Pastor Ford's words. What was Braxton hiding? Jumbled thoughts formed their own conclusions in her mind. “What is it, Braxton?”

The ticking of the clock on Pastor's Ford desk was all that could be heard for an eternal moment.

“I want to have a family now.”

Anya released a relieved sigh. But when she turned to Pastor Ford, the pastor's eyes were urging Braxton to continue.

“Anya, I've filed for custody of Junior. I want him to live with us. He needs his father and you would make a much better mother than Roxanne.”

Her mouth dropped as she leaned back in her chair, pulling her hands away from him. Just a moment before, she felt as if her heart was beating through her chest. Now she wasn't sure if it was beating at all.

“I didn't mean to spring this on you.” His words came quickly. “I've tried to tell you a few times, but something … always got in the way.”

“How long have you been thinking about this?” she whispered without looking at him.

“A while.”

She looked at him as if she couldn't believe his words.

“That's why you have to sell your business. We have to have something over Roxanne if the courts are going to give us custody. I figured with my income and you as his full-time mother, we have a good chance.”

She swallowed hard. With few words, he took away her career and relegated her to a housewife at home with his son. “What about me?” She wondered if she had shrunk to the size of her voice.

Braxton took her hands again. “I can give you the kind of life that you want.”

“I have the life I want.”

His hands tightened around hers. They stared at each other, saying nothing.

Pastor Ford said, “The tension you've been feeling has been built around this. Now that it's out, you can
talk.
Talk and listen. You'll be able to resolve this.”

Pastor Ford turned directly to Anya. “I know you love that boy. I'm not telling you what to do, but listen to Braxton and hear his desire to have his son in his life so that he can raise him to be a man. And Braxton,” she said, looking pointedly at him, “be very careful about asking anyone to give up anything for you. That's dangerous and would change the dynamics of any relationship.”

Anya couldn't move. Just one hour before, she had come into this room to discuss marriage, not an instant family. She listened as Pastor Ford gave them instructions and told them what they would discuss next week. She accepted the papers the pastor handed to her and, without looking at them, dumped the pages into her briefcase.

When the pastor stood, Anya followed, grateful for the direction. She bowed her head as Pastor Ford said a final prayer.

“I'll be available if you need me before next week.”

Anya nodded, her head moving in slow motion. She started toward the door, when Braxton picked up her briefcase and handed it to her. They followed the pastor to the front doors of the church where she left them.