One Prayer Away (34 page)

Just like he did every night that he knelt at bedtime, Mitchell began his prayer by thanking God for another day and ended it with a plea for Virtue. After not being able to get the song that he had played for Virtue out of
his mind, Mitchell gave his prayer a twist, telling God that
this
—another chance with Virtue—was his Christmas prayer. He got up feeling like the little gap-toothed boy that he'd seen years ago, dancing around and singing, “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth.” If Mitchell could have an “all I want for Christmas” wish, Virtue would be it. He'd prayed the prayer for so long that it seemed senseless to give up now. Every time he thought about giving up, Beverly's words rang in Mitchell's ear.

Sometimes what you're asking for is just one prayer away.

The thought that he might give up when the prayer was so close to being answered wasn't a chance that he wanted to take. Virtue was worth every prayer he uttered. Without a morsel of sleepiness inside of him, Mitchell sat up in the bed, put on his eyeglasses, and flipped through the channels of the television. The suitcase that sat in the corner caught his eye. As was customary for him, he had never unpacked it. When he traveled, all of his clothes remained in his bags unless they needed to be hung in the closet. That way, he never made the mistake of leaving anything behind, and he didn't have to get up any earlier than necessary to catch his flight on the day of checkout. Right now, the only clothing items that were outside of his bags were the ones he'd already pressed in preparation for Christmas at Beverly's.

He settled on a program to watch, cranked up the volume, and sat with his back against his pillows for comfort. At home when he couldn't sleep, the sound of the television sometimes helped. Forty-five minutes later, he was watching the credits scroll up the screen from an old episode of
In the Heat of the Night.
The show had long ago been out of production, but it was still one of his favorite TV series.

All the measures that normally worked during the rare times when Mitchell was faced with symptoms of insomnia had been exhausted. He'd read a few passages of Scripture,
drunk a cup of hot apple cider, and watched television. Short of driving to a convenience store and buying some over-the-counter sleeping pills, he didn't know what else he could do. He hadn't been so sleepless on the night before Christmas since he was a little boy anticipating the arrival of all the fair-weather friends who would stop by for some of his grandmother's cooking.

What at first he thought to be a sound coming from the television turned out to be knocks on his hotel room door. Mitchell turned down the volume. Oddly enough, when he had trouble sleeping, the louder the volume was, the better the chances were that he'd drift off. He slipped on his bathrobe and headed for the door, prepared to give an apology to the neighbors in the next room for his lack of consideration.

“Hey.” The word was barely capable of being heard when it escaped his lips. The last thing Mitchell expected when he opened the door was to look down into Virtue's eyes.

“Hey.” Her voice was even less audible than his had been, and even though she'd just gotten there, Virtue already looked like she was close to tears.

“Come in. I mean, would you like to come inside?” Mitchell wanted to be careful not to say or do anything that might make her feel threatened. She had come alone, and he didn't want to give her a reason for regrets.

Nodding slowly, Virtue brushed past him when he stepped aside to give her clearance.

“Would you like something to drink?” he offered as he closed the door.

Mitchell watched Virtue's head shake in slow motion as her eyes locked on the Bible that still lay open on his bed.

“Would you like to sit?” He pointed in the direction of the round table in the corner near the window.

“Why are you here?” she asked suddenly.

Mitchell paused. “Because Beverly invited me. Didn't she tell you?”

“Yes. But why are you
really
here?”

Her inquiry didn't exactly surprise him. Virtue was a smart woman, and she knew him well.

“Because I love you.” He saw no reason to continue hesitating. He'd prayed for time, and God had delivered. Mitchell felt that it was best that he make the most of it.

The tears that were pooling when she'd first knocked at his door had now begun to trickle down Virtue's cheeks. She shook her head as though his answer were unacceptable, or maybe it was just that she didn't believe him.

“I do love you, Virtue,” Mitchell said. “I know I hurt you in unimaginable ways, but . . .”

“There are no acceptable excuses for what you did to me or what you did to us. You lied to me, Mitchell. You said you'd love, honor, and cherish me; but instead you broke my heart and did all you could to break my spirit. There are no ‘buts,' Mitchell. There are no excuses.”

“And I'm not trying to give you any.” Mitchell started to step closer to her but didn't. “I was wrong, period. No reasons are good enough to explain away what I did. I meant every word of my wedding vows, Virtue; you have to believe me. I let alcoholism take over and turn me into somebody that I wasn't. But just like I told you when I met you and Beverly for lunch, I was a different person then. I was a drunk, a fool, and, worst of all, I was a sinner.

“I didn't know how to handle Grandpa Isaac's death nor Grandma Kate's. I hated myself and everything about me. You were the sweetest wife a man could ask for. I just took out on you what I felt about myself. I treated you like trash because that's what I felt like. I hurt you because I was hurting. I knew I was wrong when I did it, but it took God to bring me to the place where I could accept responsibility for it. I can't take away the turmoil, sweetheart; if I could I'd do it in a New York minute. All I can do at this
point is say I'm sorry and beg your forgiveness.”

Virtue shook her head. “You don't have to do that anymore, Mitchell. I've already forgiven you, but I still wanted you to know how I felt. The day you met us for lunch, I had a million things that I wanted to say, but I couldn't say them. I had all these questions to ask, but I couldn't ask them.”

“You didn't even look at me.”

“I
couldn't
look at you. All of that hurt and anger from seven years ago resurfaced that day. Even when you said that you had given your life to Christ, I was angry. God dealt with me heavily on that. I felt like it wasn't even fair that He would accept you. I wanted Him to punish you, not save you. I thought you should hurt the same way I had been forced to hurt.”

“If it's any consolation, I think my ex-partner took care of that for you,” Mitchell said while pointing at the fading bruise on his face.

“Oh, yeah,” Virtue said. “I'm sorry about what happened. Beverly said you were still in a lot of pain when she got there.”

Mitchell smiled. “She took care of me well. You're very fortunate to have her in your life. I guess when you're this far away from your mother, having a person like Beverly is an extra blessing.”

Virtue didn't respond. Instead she wrapped herself in her arms as if a sudden draft had entered the space.

“It was great to see you dance again,” he said, breaking the silence. “You did it beautifully, as always.”

“Thank you,” she said, looking up at him momentarily before turning away. “I had forgotten that you could play the piano so well. Thanks for doing it for me.”

“I'd do anything for you, Virtue,” he whispered. “I know you don't want to hear this, but I love you so much, and all I want is a chance to prove it.”

At his words, she turned and walked in the direction of
his window. The curtains were closed, but she stared at them as though she could see through the fabric. “It's been seven years, Mitchell,” she said with new tears spilling from her eyes. “It's too late.”

“No, it's not too late. It's been seven years; so what? Look at how we've both changed during those years. We needed those years, baby. We took two whole different paths during that time, but both of our journeys led us to God and then back to each other. I know I'm not the only one feeling this, Virtue. Can't we give this another chance? It's not even a chance,” he added. “Chance involves risks. What we have, if you let me back in, is a sure thing. There are no gambles here, Virtue. You and me . . . we're a sure thing. Please, baby.”

Even to himself, he sounded like a spineless, begging wimp, but Mitchell didn't care. There was no time for ego trips or masculine hang-ups. He remembered when he was a teenager in high school, bragging along with his friends that he'd never beg a woman for anything. If there was going to be any groveling in any of his relationships,
she
would be the one who would be pleading for another chance to be his one and only. All of that juvenile macho foolishness meant nothing right now. This could be the last time he would talk to Virtue, and he'd get on his knees if that would win her back.

“You hit me, Mitchell,” Virtue whispered through trembling lips and increased sobs. “I swore that I'd never become my mama by letting a man hit me and still remain with him.”

The words caused Mitchell to step backward. “Peggy?” His words reflected his shock. “Walter hit Peggy?”

“I grew up watching Mama get slapped around all the time,” she blurted. “I loved my daddy so much, Mitchell. I was a daddy's girl if there ever was one. He never showed me anything but love, but he beat Mama on a regular basis. I tried to pretend it wasn't happening because she tried to
pretend it wasn't happening, but I knew. I knew it all along, and I promised myself that I'd never live a life like that: lying to people about falling or cutting myself in the rose garden or slamming my hand in the car door. For years my mama got beat by a man who said he loved her. He was the same man who told me that he'd kill any man who touched his baby girl. And you know what, Mitchell? I believed him. That's why I never told him the truth about what happened with us—because I believed him. My daddy abused my mother for thirty years, Mitchell.
Thirty
years.”

Mitchell recalled Virtue's mother's arm being in a sling on the day he had met her, and she'd been on crutches with a sprained foot on the day they got married. The abuse was a secret that Virtue had kept from him throughout the time that they were together. Mitchell wished she'd never told him. Knowledge of it heightened the magnitude of the shame he already felt for what he'd done.

“I'm so sorry,” he said before proceeding with caution. “I know this doesn't make it any better, but you said thirty years. Did Peggy finally leave him? Did the abuse stop?”

Virtue accepted the box of tissues that Mitchell handed her from the dresser behind him. “Yeah, it stopped,” she said. “It stopped three years ago today, on Christmas morning, when she ran from the house during one of Daddy's beatings. I was home visiting for the holiday, and I begged him to stop, but he wouldn't. In her desperation to get away from him, Mama darted blindly between two parked cars and right out into the street. I saw my mother get killed instantly by an oncoming vehicle.”

Virtue's last words were distorted by a burst of tears. On impulse, Mitchell reached out and grabbed her, holding her close to his chest. He rethought his actions almost immediately, but she seemed to welcome his comfort. The tight hold that they had on each other drew pain from Mitchell's bruised rib, but having Virtue this close and returning his embrace felt too good to let go. Delivering a
single kiss to the top of her head, Mitchell stroked her pinned-back hair until her sobs quieted.

“I'm sorry for not being there for you,” Mitchell whispered. “I wasn't there for you then, sweetheart, but let me be here for you now.”

“I can't, Mitchell,” she said, slightly pulling away and looking up at him. “I can't forget the old memories. I have a scar on my head that won't let me forget the memories.”

Although she'd forced a small gap of separation between them, her hands remained around his waist, and Mitchell saw a glimpse of the look that the Virtue he married would give him in her eyes. He never considered himself a gambler, a daredevil, or even much of a risk taker, but Mitchell would bet it all for this one chance.

“Baby, I'm not asking you to forget the old memories. I'm asking you to allow us to make some new ones. Please let me give you some new ones.”

Before she could respond, Mitchell's mouth found hers; and for him, it was as though seven years of separation began dissolving. Initially, he was cautious, not wanting Virtue to feel overwhelmed by his heightening passion; but when she offered no resistance, Mitchell pulled her closer. Without letting go of her, he removed the clip from her hair and ran his fingers through her thick hair like he used to before his habit complicated their lives. Virtue moaned when his mouth traveled to her ear. Whispering words that he hoped would remove any doubt from her mind of how much he loved her and wanted to make things right between them, Mitchell placed more kisses on her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, wherever his lips landed. Ultimately, they found their way back to hers, deepening with every breath taken.

The telephone blared, startling both of them and prompting them to pull away from each other. Wiping the moisture from her lips, Virtue turned away. Mitchell
watched her momentarily and then looked at the phone again when it rang for the third time.

“Hello?”

“Okay, it's time for Virtue to come on home now,” Beverly said. “She don't need to be over there at that hotel with you for too long. Y'all might forget that you're not married anymore. Tell her I'll be waiting up for her.”

Twenty-Nine