Joy (41 page)

“Braxton, I think this baby was in God's mind before it was ever conceived. He brought this to us.”

“I don't believe that.”

“I know you don't, but I've got to stand by my faith.”

“We have the same faith.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then turned away.

“So you're saying what I believe is wrong?” Braxton asked.

“I'm not saying anything about you. I'm talking about me and what
I
have to do for
my
walk of faith. I either believe in God or I don't. I can't do this halfway.”

“That's what you think I'm doing?”

“I can't answer that. Braxton, I'm not judging you. I'm just walking the path that I believe God has set for me.”

“While you're walking this walk, what about my son?”

“Junior will be fine, I promise you.” She allowed a few seconds to pass. “I asked God for direction. And he gave me a scripture.” She picked up the Bible and handed it to him, then recited the verse that she had already committed to memory.
“Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou earnest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee …”

Braxton sighed deeply. “Anya, God is not talking about your baby.”

She took the Bible from him, then took his hand. “We don't need to keep going over and over this. We have to find a way to make this work for us.”

He gently slipped his hand from hers.

“So you're willing to choose this baby over me.”

“I'm not choosing the baby, I'm choosing God.”

“Over me?”

“Braxton, would you want to marry me if I didn't put God first?”

“Anya, there's no way …” He stopped.

She clasped her hands together to stop their shaking. “Finish what you were saying.”

He looked away. “This changes everything, Anya.”

Immediately tears came to her eyes. “I know.”

“I don't know how you expect me to live with this. You want me to bring that child into my home. That child is not mine.”

“Junior is not my son either and I want him to be part of our home.”

“That's different.”

“I know you
think
it's different.”

The present and the future were dichotomized only by the silence that fell between them. Finally, with a sideways glance, he spoke. “You need some time.” He slowly nodded his head. “I know you'll change your mind.”

Anya was unable to speak.

Their eyes didn't dare meet.

“I need to give you space,” Braxton continued, his voice now beginning to shake.

When he finally forced himself to face her, the tears that stung his eyes matched the ones that were already streaming down her face.

“Just a little time …” his voice quavered.

She finally spoke. “I understand.”

More minutes ticked by. Anya stared at her ring and began to twist it from her finger. A tear fell from her eye and covered the diamond. She wiped it away, then reached out, offering the ring to Braxton.

“No!” He shook his head vehemently. “It's not like that. I just want you to—”

She brought her forefinger to his lips. “When we work things out, you can put it back on my finger.” Anya opened his closed hand and put the ring into his palm. She held his hand for a moment longer, then pulled away.

“I love you, Anya,” he said, as a tear wavered in the corner of his eye.

“I love you.”

When he kissed her on the cheek, his tears began to fall. Anya used her fingertips to wipe them away, then stood silently as he walked through the front door.

She clutched her arms as a lump expanded inside her throat, choking her until she had to gasp for each breath. And in that instant, she knew she would never experience a greater pain.

She heard the soft knock on her bedroom door and sat up immediately in the darkened room. “Braxton!” she yelled out.

The door opened and Sasha peeked inside. “Can I come in?”

Anya scooted up in the bed, pulled Madear's quilt over her, and turned on the nightstand light.

Sasha came to the edge of the bed. “I tried to call, but you didn't answer.”

“I was trying to get some sleep.”

Sasha took her hand. “Are you all right?”

“I didn't do it.”

A slow smile crossed Sasha's face. “Oh, God, I knew you wouldn't do it.” She hugged Anya.

“I thought you wanted me to.”

“That's what I said the other day because I thought it was socially correct. But a lot of what you said made sense to me. I can't explain it, but somehow in my heart it seems … right for you to have this baby. I knew you guys wouldn't do it,” she said, throwing her fist in the air like she had just won a prize. “So Braxton finally gave in, huh?”

Anya paused for a moment, then lifted her left hand and wiggled her fingers.

Sasha gasped. “No!”

“Yes.” Even though she had cried most of the afternoon, the acknowledgment made her heart ache.

Sasha stood and paced the room. “He doesn't mean this, you'll work through it.”

Anya sighed. “All I know is that I've shed a million tears today, but now I have to find a way to survive through this.”

Sasha sat back down on the bed. “Are you scared?”

Anya nodded. “But I'm counting on God big time! He brought me here, so He's just going to have to pull me through.”

Sasha shook her head. “Your faith amazes me. You act like you have God sitting in your back pocket.”

Anya chuckled. “That's an interesting way of putting it, but that's how I feel. I know how God works.”

Sasha hugged her again. “I know you're tired. Do you want anything to eat?”

Anya lay back on the bed. “No, I just want to sleep. I have church in the morning, and then I'll go by Madear's and tell her. So I need my rest.” Anya grinned.

“Okay.” Sasha moved toward the door, then turned around. “Where's your ring?”

Anya frowned. “I gave it back to him.”

“You what? No, don't repeat that.” Sasha closed her eyes and brought her hand to her forehead. “I think I'm going to faint.” Then she put her hands on her hips and said, “Haven't you learned
anything
from me? You were supposed to keep the rock and let it give you solace in your moments of sorrow.”

Anya laughed. “Get out of here, girl.” Anya was still chuckling when Sasha left the room, still shaking her head in disbelief. And in spite of it all, Anya was still smiling when she turned off the light and went to sleep.

Chapter 50

A
nya took an aisle seat and laid her Bible in the chair next to her. She was surprised at how good she felt, sleeping through most of the night. But now, she sat anxiously waiting. Service would begin in less than five minutes and Braxton had not arrived. It was becoming reality—he meant every word he said.

She used the bulletin to divert her attention, glancing at the announcements, when suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She smiled, relieved, and turned toward the hand. “Braxton.”

It was his dimple that she noticed first. “David, what are you doing here?”

“Can I sit there?” he asked, pointing to the empty seat beside her.

She scooted over so that he would have the aisle seat. “I'm surprised to see you.”

“You invited me, remember?”

“Weeks ago.”

“So I'm a little slow. And now that we're friends,” he whispered, “I thought it would be a good idea to visit the place that makes my friend so strong. Dianna gave me the address.”

Before she could respond, the Praise Team began to sing and they both stood. Anya clapped, swayed, raised her hands to the Lord, and sang. But her eyes kept a vigilant watch on the door.

“Who are you looking for?” David asked, though she could tell by his smirk that he knew.

She turned her attention back to the choir.

Anya shared her Bible with David as the services continued, and at the end, she introduced him to friends as they made their way outside the church where the bright noon sun greeted them with open arms.

“I'm glad I came. Your pastor relates God to everyday living and I never heard Him talked about in that way before. I'm impressed.”

“I hope that means you'll be coming back.” She smiled.

“Yeah, it's a bit of a drive so early in the morning. Are there any other services besides this one?”

“There's an eleven o'clock, but this is the one I come to.”

“Then this is the one I'll be attending.”

She lowered her head. “That's not what I meant … I have friends who go to the second service. I can introduce you.”

“No need.” He grinned. “I'll be coming with you.” They stopped in front of her car. “So … what are you going to do now?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Go home … maybe go to the office … I'm going to my grandmother's later this afternoon …” Her eyes surveyed the street, looking for Braxton's car.

“Let's get something to eat.” When she hesitated, he said, “Come on, I came all the way up here to visit you.”

Before she could protest, he took her arm leading her to his car. “We'll pick up your car on the way back.”

They had to wait for almost an hour at the Soul Train before they were finally seated at a corner booth.

“Now I remember why I haven't been here in a while,” Anya chuckled. “Just inhaling adds two inches to my hips.”

“Your hips look fine to me.” He grinned. “Anyway, it's our birthright to have some catfish and collard greens, macaroni and cheese, with a little rice with gravy, some cornbread … this is the way Black folks are supposed to eat on Sundays.”

She laughed, as they walked through the long buffet line, piling their plates high.

When they sat down, David waited while Anya bowed her head, and for a few seconds, he even closed his eyes.

Before she had a chance to savor her first forkful, David said, “I'm surprised that Braxton doesn't go to church with you.”

She lowered her fork, still filled with yams, back onto her plate. “He does … normally.”

“Today wasn't normal?”

She shook her head and looked out the window.

“I knew it wasn't a normal day when I noticed that you had forgotten your ring.”

Anya glanced at her bare finger. “I gave it back to Braxton.”

“Oh!”

“We're postponing the wedding.”

“Oh!”

“Is that all you have to say?” She finally looked at him.

“Well, I don't want to be nosy.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, right.” She paused, then said softly, “Good friends can be nosy.”

He placed his fork on his plate and leaned toward her. “Are you okay?”

She picked up her water glass and took a small sip. “I'm fine.”

They ate for a while in silence, as others chattered and laughed around them.

It was Anya who spoke first. “Come on, Mr. Montgomery, you're dying to ask what happened.”

“I don't want to know unless you want to tell me.”

She breathed deeply, knowing that once she said these words, her reality would be in the atmosphere forever. “I'm pregnant, and it's not Braxton's.”

“Ooohhh!”

“I got pregnant when I was raped.” Her matter-of-fact tone hid the pounding in her chest.

There were seconds of silence. By the stiff look on David's face, and the way his jaw muscle jumped, she knew he wanted to ask her about Braxton. How could he leave you? was what she expected him to ask. But the only thing David finally said was, “Anya, I'm sorry.”

“There's nothing to be sorry about. I'm fine with the baby.”

His face showed his surprise. “You're going to keep it?”

She nodded.

He let out a low whistle. “I shouldn't be surprised.” David pushed his plate aside and tapped his fingers on top of the table. “So what does this mean … for us?”

She leaned across the table and laid her hand on top of his. “It means that I have a very good friend whom I'm going to lean on now. And I thank God because I'm going to need my friends.”

His dimple disappeared, but then he gave her a slight smile. “If that's what you want, that's what I'll be.”

They allowed their conversation to drift back to business—the safer ground for now.

Anya took a deep breath, and stepped into the house. “Madear.”

A few seconds later, Madear appeared in the hallway arch, smiling widely. Still wearing the cream dress she'd worn to church, Madear had small smudges of flour covering her face. She wiped her hands on her apron.

“Baby, what are you doing here so early?” Madear hugged Anya. “Are you all right?”

Anya smiled. “Yeah, but I wanted to talk to you before everyone got here.”

“Well, come on back.” Madear started down the hall to the kitchen. “You know I like to do this by myself, but I'll let you in this time,” Madear chuckled.

Anya could smell the aroma from Madear's preparations at the front door. But as she neared the kitchen, her nostrils were assailed with the familiar fusion of scents. By the time she walked into Madear's cooking chamber, she was twelve again, returning home from church, and sneaking in to get a peek at the goodies that awaited.

Her stomach growled. Oh, no, she remembered all she'd eaten at brunch. She hoped she wasn't going to be the walking cliché of eating for two.

Madear pulled a muffin tin from the oven, and Anya lifted the pot covers, drowning in the black-eyed peas and, then, collard greens.

“Get away,” Madear playfully slapped Anya's hand. She dropped the pan on top of the stove. “Come over here.” Madear led Anya to the small round table. “So tell me, baby. How are you really feeling?” Madear's eyes searched Anya.

Anya shrugged her jacket from her shoulders. “Fine.”

Before Anya could add another word, Madear's eyes moved to her fingers. She lifted Anya's left hand and held it. “You're going to keep the baby, and he couldn't deal with it.” Madear wasn't asking a question.

Anya nodded.

“Oh, Braxton,” Madear whispered, as she continued to rub Anya's fingers. “Baby, I'm sorry. I'm not surprised though, I just hoped …”

“He never gave this baby a chance.”

Madear nodded. “It's a hard thing for a man, but Braxton Vance should know better.” She paused for a moment. “I need to talk to him about love and family and the Lord—”

“No, Grandmother. Braxton and I have talked about all of that and there's nothing more to say. He gave me a choice and I made it.”