Lead Me Home (19 page)

Shiloh left Bible study with Monica on her mind. The minute she settled into the passenger seat of the car to wait for Randy to lock the church doors, she decided she couldn’t hold off any longer. Her heart pounded as she dialed the girl’s number.

It didn’t surprise her at this point when she didn’t get an answer, but she left a message again, urging Monica to call. After what she’d heard tonight, she needed to talk to Monica, and soon.

Randy climbed into the car, buckled his seatbelt, and cranked the engine. A familiar Marvin Sapp song filled the airwaves:
So glad I made it …

Shiloh’s insides felt like jello. Before she changed her mind, she touched Randy’s arm to stop him from putting the car in drive and heading toward home.

“Babe … I need to talk to you about something really important. Right now.”

Randy’s eyes filled with concern and Shiloh’s filled with tears. “Don’t worry—I’m not sick or dying and neither are the kids. But what I have to share may leave me wishing I were dead.”

Randy responded by turning off the car. He shifted in his seat to face Shiloh, who wondered how just enough moonlight could be cast through the windshield to allow her and Randy to see each other’s faces.

“Whatever it is, I’m here.”

Tears fell as Shiloh grasped for the right way and the right words to begin. Reality hit her, though: There were no right words, and no
right way. She just had to tell him the truth, and after all of these years, allow it to set her free. She didn’t know what would happen after she made her revelations, but there was no turning back. She would be sharing all of herself for the first time in their seventeen-year marriage, and giving Randy a chance to decide which Shiloh he loved—the pretty and perfect Christian trophy wife, or the “good girl gone bad,” who at one time had been selfishly willing to save her reputation and her future by any means necessary. She hadn’t counted the steep cost back then, but as she thought about the recorder tucked away in the family room, near her two flutes, the melody of “Her Song” floated through her mind. After tonight, there would be no more private commemorations.

“I’m listening, Shiloh,” he said and reached for her hand. “Let it go.”

Let it go?

That’s what God wanted her to do. Randy was asking the same. But that also was the source of her deep shame and pain—letting “it” go.

Shiloh fixed her eyes on her hands in her lap and blurted the truth that had held her hostage for nearly two decades.

“Eighteen years ago I had an abortion, Randy.”

The silence that followed caused a chill to crawl up Shiloh’s spine, and she was afraid to look his way. After a few seconds, however, she peeked at her husband. His face was contorting, with emotions ranging from disbelief to sorrow to disgust to horror flooding his eyes and his features. Her heart hurt, but she kept going, because if she didn’t, she might not get another chance, nor the courage, to tell him everything.

“It happened the summer I went to France for my flute fellowship. I spent the bulk of those ten weeks dating a student from Spain who was there studying with harp professionals, and I got pregnant. Of course we broke up before the program ended, but by then, I was …
knocked up. I discovered it a few days before it was time to come home, and because I knew the relationship wasn’t going anywhere, I didn’t even bother to tell him. My future hung in the balance—the chance to finish college, my opportunity to shed my middle-sister status and shine with my flute, my reputation and even my father’s, with his congregation. I felt like I had no choice. I took the so-called abortion pill, which was legal in France back then, but I still wound up in a medical clinic when I suffered severe cramping. One, or both, of those actions led to me murdering my unborn child.”

There. She’d said it out loud. For the first time ever.

Shiloh lowered her head and wept. And she waited.

It felt like an eternity, but what must have been just a few minutes later, Randy squeezed the hand he was still holding. He didn’t speak, but the pressure of his touch let her know he was there, and apparently he wasn’t going anywhere. Dare she tell him the rest?

I am with you, my daughter.

God’s sweet reminder gave her the courage to finish what she had started, and to ignore her pounding heart, accompanied by an overwhelming desire to crawl away in shame. Randy hadn’t spoken yet, and she wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but she kept talking.

“There’s more …”

The ride home was long and quiet.

Shiloh finally stopped crying, and Randy released her hand so he could drive. He turned up the volume on the radio, but switched to a jazz station, which played nothing but instrumental numbers. No lyrics were necessary with his mind likely reeling from the unspeakable, Shiloh surmised.

Randy turned into their driveway and pulled the car into the garage. As the garage door lowered, he sat there, staring into space. Shiloh wasn’t sure whether to go inside or wait for his direction on when to leave the car. Given all that she’d just dropped on him, the latter seemed wisest. So she turned her eyes forward as well, and prayed that her husband wouldn’t leave her.

“When you agreed to marry me, were you in love with him?”

Randy’s question took her aback. It was a legitimate query, though. Shiloh had selfishly failed to realize how he would be affected by the timing of her decisions, as well as by the decisions themselves. That same summer of her fellowship, Randy had decided to stay in Atchity to pursue his calling to the ministry. When she came back from France, Randy had asked her on a date, picking up where they’d left off before she traveled to France. Before that summer, Randy had seemed more taken by their occasional outings over the past eighteen months than she was, but Shiloh always went out with him when he asked, and usually ignored his romantic overtures. When she had returned home, broken and ashamed, and realized Randy was
growing seriously fond of her, she took his deepening interest as a sign that God wanted her to devote her life to ministry, by serving as a helpmate to Randy. So when he asked her to marry him only two weeks later, before school started, she said yes.

Shiloh thoughtfully considered his question tonight: Had she been in love with Armando? She didn’t think so. They hadn’t known each other long, and were just excited to be on their own in a foreign country, flirting with someone different. She was disappointed when they broke up, but at the same time, they both knew it was inevitable. They lived in different countries and different cultures. Their summer together was a momentary season in their young lives—one they would remember, but not necessarily long to repeat. Armando had swooned over her and given her the kind of attention from a guy that she didn’t know was possible. Being swept off her feet had led her to lose all reason, and the sense of morality she had clung to since her childhood days at Riverview Baptist. In fact, she had willfully decided to forget the rules and even particular tenets of her faith, in order to embrace all that was possible that summer in France.

“No, Randy, I didn’t love him.” Shiloh uttered the statement with finality and reassurance. She hoped he believed her.

“It was a summer fling that shouldn’t have happened, but nothing more. I made the unwise decision to do what I did, because I couldn’t afford to get off track with such a promising future. Thing was, I didn’t anticipate the guilt and regret that have haunted me every day since I made those poor choices. I came home that summer and rededicated my life to God, after asking for forgiveness and a second chance. When you wanted to resume dating me soon after my talk with the Lord, I thought it was God showing me what he wanted me to do next. Marrying you was not a mistake or afterthought, Randy. You have been supportive in every way a husband should be … You’ve been very good to me, and I truly love you.”

His gaze remained fixed as he kept facing forward, and Shiloh knew he was deeply hurt.

“And that other thing … where did that idea even come from? That doesn’t sound anything like you. How could you be so … so calculating?”

Shiloh stared at him without responding, because she had no acceptable answer. There was no excuse for her behavior back then, and after all these years, she still hadn’t been able to formulate a sensible explanation.

“I don’t know, Randy; I was scared. I didn’t know what else to do. I was thinking only of myself, and it was wrong. That’s all there is to it. And one of the biggest consequences is having to sit down with you, and with Lem, and confess that I did this.”

Randy finally looked at her. Rather than accusatory, his gaze was sorrowful, as if part of him had died with her revelation.

“You need to tell all of the boys, not just Lem. Especially if you’re planning to share any or all of this with Monica, as you’ve mentioned. Your sons need to hear it first—from you.”

Shiloh nodded. What was going to come of all of this? Her stomach was still in knots, but even so, she knew it had been the right time to come clean. She just hoped that Randy, and their boys, would be able to forgive her, and continue to love her.

Shiloh’s hands gripped the steering wheel. It was Friday afternoon and she was heading to Fond du Lac, an hour’s drive away, to join other church members to support Jade in her bid for Mrs. Wisconsin. The plan was to enjoy an early dinner together at the hotel before the pageant began at seven. Needing some alone time, she had decided to drive by herself rather than carpool with the other ladies.

The quiet time gave her an opportunity to process all that had happened over the past few days: Daddy’s sudden illness, her confession to Randy, the shedding of her perfect façade. She realized she felt simultaneously grateful, awful, and free—grateful that Daddy’s heart attack was mild enough for him to be going home today; awful for the shame and disappointment she’d seen in her husband’s eyes every time he’d tried to look at her the past two days; and free that she didn’t have to hide the truth anymore. She had bared her soul, and despite the present pain, her heart was still beating. Somehow she’d survive this; God wouldn’t fail her.

Randy had chosen to stay home with the boys this afternoon, because they couldn’t afford to leave them alone again so soon after their trip to Atchity, plus he had a lot to do before their trip back to her hometown for Thanksgiving next week. Besides, she knew he could use some alone time himself. Since Wednesday night, he’d been quiet and withdrawn, and she had tried to give him the space he seemed to need. They had agreed that she would tell Lem, Omari, Raphael, and David about the sins of her youth sometime tomorrow
afternoon. That would give the boys the weekend to process what she shared, and ask any questions they may have, during their private family time.

She looked at the clock, which registered 4 p.m., and pressed on the gas to pass a slow-moving truck. The clouds were low today, and the fields, already harvested of their corn and wheat, looked windswept and bare. The landscape and the weather matched her gloomy mood.

Half an hour later, as she drove at a slow, but steady pace, a ray of light pierced the gray sky, highlighting one of the naked trees in a roadside field. Shiloh knew the setting sun was the source of this beauty, and the scene took her breath away.
Thank you, God, for reminding me you are here
, she silently prayed as she peered through the windshield.
Your light shines even during the darkest of times. How great you are.

Shiloh continued her internal dialogue with God, thanking him for giving her the strength to share her past with Randy, and asking him to allow Randy, and eventually the boys, to move forward with her. Besides Randy, Lem would have the hardest time, but God could make everything alright. She clung to that belief. Even so, it didn’t remove the dread of having to alter her sons’ view of her tomorrow, or her sorrow over the wall her confession had formed between her and Randy. She silently pleaded again with God to remove it.

Eventually, her mind was spent from tossing around various scenarios about how the conversation with her boys should unfold, as well as potential ways to regain Randy’s respect and trust. Shiloh finally gave up and turned up the volume on the car stereo, so the gospel songs on the radio could fill the car, and hopefully her, too.

The soothing, biblically based lyrics had calmed her by the time she pulled into the parking lot of the hotel hosting tonight’s pageant. She made her way inside the historic hotel and found its
quaint restaurant, where she and the members of St. Stephens had agreed to meet. A buffet line snaking around the wall was indication that many pageant-goers had decided to arrive early and dine. Several groups of St. Stephens Baptist members were seated at the small round tables, already sharing their meals. Each of them waved a greeting. Shiloh took her place in line and chatted with ladies around her.

She was surprised when Reverend Vic entered the restaurant a few minutes later with Naima. The girl lit up when she saw Shiloh, and she dashed over for a hug.

“You came, too? Wow—everybody’s here!”

Shiloh laughed at the girl’s excitement and hugged her again. “I don’t know about everybody, but a lot of us are here to support your mommy. I’m glad you’re happy to have our company. Where’s your little brother?”

Nicholas was living up to the behavior expectations of a two-year-old these days, and Shiloh had wondered how Jade and Vic were handling his attendance at the pageant.

“My grammy is here from California,” Naima said. “She’s watching him now and she’s going to stay in our hotel suite this evening and keep him while we are at the pageant.”

Shiloh was surprised. Jade’s mother was going to miss seeing her daughter live on the stage tonight? That was quite kind of her.

The woman strolled in a few seconds later, holding a squirming Nicholas in her arms. She searched the room for Vic, and headed in his direction when she saw him standing at a table, talking to some of the church members. Before they reached him fully, Nicholas’s hands were outstretched toward his daddy. Vic shook his head at the boy before taking him. Jade’s mother left father and son together and walked toward Shiloh and Naima with a smile on her lips and in her eyes.

“You must be Mrs. Griffin. I’m Melba Devereaux—Jade’s mother. She’s told me a lot about you.”

Shiloh returned the smile and leaned forward to embrace her. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Devereaux,” she said. “I know Jade is glad to have you here with her, for this special occasion.”

Mrs. Devereaux beamed. “My baby in another pageant—I wouldn’t miss it for the world! I’m going to be in the room with the baby, though, watching by TV.” She pouted for a split second. “That’s okay. We can’t have Nicholas there live, trying to sit still and making noises, especially when he sees his mommy on the stage. He and I will have snacks in the room and dance around to the songs and enjoy ourselves whenever Jade comes on screen.”

Shiloh imagined the scene and smiled. She had been tempted to offer to stay in the hotel room and keep Nicholas, but after that description of their evening plans, it was clear this was a night Mrs. Devereaux wanted to enjoy with her grandson.

“Have you all talked to Jade today? Is she nervous?”

“She didn’t sound so, but I’m sure she is,” Mrs. Devereaux said. “They are just so busy getting ready for everything this evening that she hasn’t had a chance to really think about, or allow herself, to be nervous.”

Vic slid into line with the ladies and with Naima, and they collected their food and found a table big enough to seat them all.

“So how are you feeling about all of this, Vic? What if Jade wins the crown?” Shiloh posed the question before taking a bite of her lasagna.

Vic, who was holding and trying to feed his bouncing son, shook his head and looked at Mrs. Devereaux. “First thing I’m gonna do is convince Grammy to move to Milwaukee from Long Beach!”

They all laughed.

“If the price is right, son, I just might help you out,” Mrs. Devereaux
quipped. “Convincing Jade’s step-dad to move might require a little more negotiation—some pro football season tickets, a golf club membership …”

Shiloh raised an eyebrow. “Vic can pull it off, I’m sure. Better get ready, just in case, Mrs. Devereaux …”