Like Sheep Gone Astray (33 page)

“There you are!” Mona was standing behind him, a little New Testament in her hands. “You're on the phone?”

“I was just checking our finances, but I'm about to hang up.”

“Call me back when you can.” Malloy had heard Mona in the background.

Kent said nothing as he hung up the telephone. He had to figure out a way to get a copy of those papers from Malloy. Mona was oblivious to his furrowed brows.

“This free-will debate is pretty intriguing.” Her eyes were lit up with the excitement of a newfound interest as she pointed to a verse. “Tell me what you think of this.”

Kent looked, but his heart was not in it.

Anthony pulled into the gates of Haven Ridge Nursing Home just after eleven on Sunday morning. He parked in the gravel lot and let the peaceful scenery envelop him. He'd been on the road for almost eleven hours, stopping only twice at two interstate rest stops, the first to eat, the second to get a quick twenty-minute catnap and stretch.

This was his first trip to the birthplace of his family. Sharen was a beautiful township of varying landscapes, from gentle rolling hills of forests and dipping valleys of grass; to fertile farmlands and formidable old plantations. And then there was the rocky coastline where thunderous waves drowned out the screech of seagulls.

Anthony wondered why his mother never wanted to visit Sharen. The countless times his great-aunt Rosa returned for family reunions and funerals, his mother had refused to go with her and was adamant that Anthony not attend either. He had stayed true to her stubbornness and never visited Sharen himself, even after her death. Now he wondered if the reasons for her rejection of Sharen extended beyond her disdain for “country folk and their country ways.”

He sat still in the car a moment, listening intently to a trill of nearby birds, as if the answers he needed were somewhere in their chirped notes. The quietness of the rural countryside contradicted the flurry of questions that piled up in his mind like so many rear-ended cars. He had spent the past eleven hours with constant thoughts of his childhood, trying to summon up memories of his father, who, his mother said, had walked out on the two of them before Anthony's first birthday.

The story was that he'd left their Shepherd Hills apartment to pick up milk and never returned home. The police ruled out foul play, and after learning about the tumultuous home life he and Stephanie Ann had shared, the police concluded that Charles Anthony Murdock had left to start a new life away from his wife and child. Their small joint savings account was licked clean to the bone by an out-of-state withdrawal.

Stephanie Ann and her young son would have gone homeless and hungry had legendary Aunt Rosa not stepped in with a roof large enough for the three of them to share and a stove that never stopped turning out culinary masterpieces. Aunt Rosa had moved up to Shepherd Hills when Stephanie Ann's mother took ill and stayed after her death to help her young niece raise her infant son. She'd purchased a home on the outskirts of Shepherd Hills, not too far from Second Baptist Church.

Aunt Rosa's shingled bungalow was one of Anthony's first memories. It was the first home he could recall living in until his mother remarried and a first-floor den in Harold Cook's two-story condo became Anthony's new bedroom.

Anthony smiled at the memory of his blue-and-red Superman-themed bedroom at Aunt Rosa's house. His mother made the curtains herself out of old cape costumes, and he had blue Underoos that matched the S-inscribed comforter on his bed. He remembered Aunt Rosa walking in on him one day as he attempted to leap from his bureau to his bed.

“What are you doing?” she had screamed, the harshness in her voice tempered by the laugh lines in her face. Anthony chuckled at the memory, thanking God Aunt Rosa had not told his mother half of the things she'd caught him doing.

He looked out his car window at the massive plantation turned convalescent home. Through a curtainless window he could see a Sunday service going on in what looked like a rec-room area. Soft piano keys filtered out the window to Anthony's ear. “Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine/oh what a foretaste of glory divine.” Was that Aunt Rosa's soprano voice blending in with the others?

A smile spread across his face as he entered the building. He signed in at the visitors' station and immediately singled out Aunt Rosa. She was at the far end of a circle of wheelchairs and walkers surrounding a podium in a large open area to Anthony's left. A man who looked just as old as the senior saints he was ministering to stood on the podium, a Bible open in his deep brown, wide hands. Thick, knotty curls covered his head like a silver cap.

“Okay, everybody.” His voice was soft and rhythmic like the coastal breeze. “Let us look today at the Word to see what God has to say to us. Brother Gregory, do you need some help?”

A heavyset nursing aide rushed to the side of a man leaning too far out of a metal chair. She readjusted his legs and placed his cane firmly in his palms.

“Keep this in your hand and on the floor so you won't fall.” She whispered, but everybody could hear her hoarse words. Brother Gregory looked confused as he kept his eyes on her, his bottom lip, hands and feet shaking from what looked like Parkinson's disease. The nursing aide stayed beside him as the speaker continued.

Anthony marveled at the crowd of worshippers. Many sat or lay with their bodies disfigured, their words disordered, their movements disjointed. But their faces said joy and peace. Light and wisdom and gratitude were in their eyes. They had sojourned and endured for many years, and after it all, they still concluded that it was worth the sacrifice to begin their week in the Lord's presence with songs of Zion on their lips and hearts, and words of prayer and praise. God bless them, they were not forgotten or useless limbs in the Body of Christ.

Anthony stood in the back of the hall, not daring to interrupt the flow of fellowship, not missing the light that seemed to shine on even the most dejected faces once the reading of God's Word began. The atmosphere of worship was contagious; Anthony bowed his head where he stood. God was good, letting him still be in the service six hundred miles from home.

He would have almost forgotten the reason for his trip had he not looked back up and seen Aunt Rosa looking at him. The service was now over, and the patients were being wheeled back to their rooms. He grinned as his long legs took him to her side. They were alone in the room.

“Aunt Rosa.” He bent down to kiss her cheek but froze when he saw the look on her face. She was not smiling. Her eyes were small slits as she glared up at him.

“Aunt Rosa?” He had never seen her like this before, not even the day he broke her vase that was a gift from her grandmother.

“Kofi Olakunde? What are you doing here?” She hissed. “Get away, I'm not going to let you hurt my babies.”

“Aunt Rosa.” Anthony tried to stroke her cheek but she swatted at his hand like it was a house fly on a hot summer day. She began mumbling something, but before Anthony could make sense out of her words, a wellspring of tears poured from her eyes and her hissed words became shaking sobs.

“Get behind me, satan! I'm going to forgive him! Oh, Jesus, help meeeee.”

Several nurses and aides rushed to them, one carrying a paper cup filled with water, another bringing two large pills.

“I'm sorry, sir,” said one of the uniformed workers, looking apologetically at Anthony as the group tried to calm Rosa down. “I understand that you are Anthony, Ms. Rosa's great-nephew.” She nodded toward the sign-in sheet. “She used to talk about you all the time, but she's been getting worse lately with the Alzheimer's. Half the time she doesn't know who any of us are, and she sees us every day.”

There was nothing for Anthony to do but step back and watch as an experienced clinician tried to coax his great-aunt out of the fog that had enveloped her mind. He slipped away almost unnoticed and leaned against the nurses' station.

“Lord”—he rubbed his temples—”I just need some answers.”

“What are you looking for, baby?” A woman sitting in front of a computer at the station saw the anguish on his face.

Anthony shook his head as he replied, “I just drove almost eleven hours to see if my aunt could tell me something about my biological father who was born down here, but I don't think it's going to happen.”

“What was his name? Ain't too many people down here that go unknown.”

“His name was Charles Anthony Murdock.”

“Charles Anthony Murdock?” She looked up at the ceiling, her mouth turned down in a frown. “I'm sorry. That doesn't ring a bell.”

“Thanks anyway.” He gave a sincere smile as he turned to check on Aunt Rosa. The woman called after him.

“Wait a minute.” She was reaching for the telephone. “I don't want your trip to be for nothing. My sister works down at the vital records department. I know it's Sunday, but if I tell her how far you came, I'm sure she'll help you. She's in church right now so I'll leave a message on her answering machine if you don't mind waiting around for a couple of hours.”

“I'll be glad to. Thank you.”

The woman left a message and then pointed Anthony in the direction of the home's kitchen. There was no reason he shouldn't have a proper Sunday dinner while he waited.

The den in Cherisse's condo was more like a comfortable closet, simply furnished, and looking like a showroom in IKEA. Terri had laughed when her friend had sat sprawled on the small floor, boxes, screws, metal, wood, and directions swallowing her. But when the red-and-white-striped sofa bed, wooden coffee table, and cushy red armchair were up and operating, Terri openly admired Cherisse's choices and handiwork.

“Not bad for a wanna-be designer,” she had said approvingly, offering carved wooden elephants she'd found at an offbeat boutique to finish off the Delta-themed room. Terri had planned to pledge AKA in college, but when she'd found out Cherisse was going the Delta Sigma Theta route, she put all her sorority dreams into supporting her best friend, attending every party, cheering at all her step shows.

Now, with college years long behind them and apart from the occasional Delta-sponsored event Cherisse attended, Terri knew that she and her friend were true sisters for life, a two-woman sorority based on mutual trust, care, and respect.

They were lying stomachs down, elbows propped on the den floor. Although it was already approaching late Sunday afternoon, the two of them were still cozy in terry-cloth robes, white slippers on their feet. A pile of magazines sat between them on the berber carpet and music blasted from a nearby stereo speaker.

“See, here's the article right here,” Cherisse flung an old Essence magazine to Terri. ‘Why Men Cheat.’]” She made her voice deep and official sounding as she read the boldfaced title.

Terri flipped through the pages, her eyes barely taking in the paragraphs and subtitles.

“Can you believe this craziness that's happened to me?” She sounded tired. “I'll never understand men. All of them are dogs.”

“Don't say that, Terri. You know somewhere out there is a man or two who knows how to treat a woman. At least I
hope
it's two so that
I'll
be covered along with you,” she finished with a short chuckle.

Terri did not join the laugh, instead letting out a long sigh as she sat up and leaned her head back on the sofa bed behind her.

“Well, I don't think I'll be wasting any time trying to find him. Why should I?” She stabbed a fork into a box of cold beef lo mein and let the oily noodles slide to the back of her throat. “I mean, look at me. I'm a successful black woman with a good—make that great—job. I have the house of my dreams, the car of my dreams, and you should see all the looks of jealousy I get when I pass by. Most women only wish they could sport my size four the way I do. And on top of all that, I'll have at least half of Anthony's millions by the time I finish wringing him out in divorce court.”

Cherisse turned serious. “So you're really going to go through with it? A divorce?”

Terri blinked back a tear, sounding stronger than she looked. “I never thought I'd have to go down that road with Anthony, but after all he's done, what choice do I have? I still don't know exactly how many women he's been with, but I can tell you one woman he is now without.”

“And you're sure he's been cheating on you with Gloria and company?”

“I told you, he admitted to me himself that he was wrong, talking about how he was ‘trying to fix things now.’] Now I see why he never told me about the money. He's been using it to play sugar daddy to all his women. After watching my mother and aunts go through all kinds of drama with their so-called men, I decided a long time ago that would never be me. I told Anthony before a single wedding plan was made that I would never even consider staying married to a man who abused my body, my brain, or our bed. Anthony's just fallen into category number three. So, see ya.”

They were quiet for a moment, the neo-soul notes from the CD and the rustle of turning magazine pages filling the space between them.

“What about Mr. Reggie?” Cherisse broke the brief silence with a sly smile on her face. “Have you decided what you're going to do with that brown sugar? If you're not going to get a taste of him, I've got some tea that needs some sweetening.”

“You better throw some ice cubes in that pot and cool down,” said Terri, a smile finally breaking through on her face. “Girl, you don't want that kind of trouble. That man may be sweet to the eyes—”

“And the ears. You know that voice alone is enough to stir up some trouble—”

“But he's sprinkling that sugar around too many places. Don't forget cockroaches and mice find sugar just as sweet, and he doesn't seem to mind feeding the vermin population.”

Cherisse laughed, her hands clapping as Terri recounted last evening's spectacle featuring the best of her lacy lingerie and the worst of Nikki's wet and wavy hair weave.

“But you have to admit, a man willing to bare his boxers to win you back is worth some attention.”

“Cherisse, I am in no way, shape, or form ready to pursue another relationship with anyone right now.”