Rhythms of Grace (32 page)

“You didn’t know? I didn’t mention it because I figured Zeely had told you. It’s a small town, you know. No secret is safe here.”

Except mine.

I cringed, imagining how close I’d come this morning to spilling my own secrets into Zeely’s ear. And now, in the tenderness of Brian’s honesty, I could have easily told him my story too. All of it, even what I’d left out when I talked with Mal. I swallowed the words whole. “I hope you find your family. I’m sorry if I rubbed you the wrong way with the kid thing.”

“It’s okay. If I ever have kids, I’ll be there for them. I don’t understand how anybody could cast off their own flesh and blood. Especially a mother.”

I dropped my eyes. On my desk was a notice from the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission asking me to testify at a hearing—on Lottie’s behalf. After the day I’d had so far, I’d chosen to ignore it. Until now. “Like I said, sorry.”

“No problem.” Brian looked down at his desk, where a similar notice awaited him. “My past doesn’t worry me as much as the present.”

After staying at Zeely’s for a few nights, I came home to find a note saying that the new window had arrived. The original wasn’t exactly damaged according to the repairman, but I’d requested a new one anyway. At lunchtime, I’d gone out to one of the new shops in the pseudo-historical district that seemed to be taking over Testimony and bought some things for my moving-back-in party, of which I was the only name on the guest list.

Zeely seemed a little salty that I’d be missing exercise class, but I knew it was also because I wouldn’t be sleeping over anymore. We’d had fun and I’d enjoyed it, almost enough to give up my place and move in. Not quite though. Now, inside my bedroom, shoving open my new window so that the cold could kiss my new curtains, I knew that I couldn’t let anyone run me out of my house. Zeely and everyone else I knew would have freaked to see me in front of the window like this, but I needed some air. I’d had enough fear to last a lifetime.

The phone rang just as I got the tiebacks on straight. I hesitated before picking it up. Mal hadn’t called in a few days, but he usually waited for evenings and weekends. Only another teacher would call in the middle of the afternoon. With Zeely at dance class and Joyce in meetings downtown, that only left . . . my mother. I checked the caller ID and picked up the phone with a prayer that I would hold my tongue and lend my ear instead.

“Hello?”

“It’s me, dear.”

“Hey, Mom.” Though I never would admit it to her, I felt comfort at the sound of her voice. This call could mean a lot of things. Either she’d made peace with my move or she meant to go to war until I moved back—which I wasn’t. I wound the kitchen timer beside my phone, where I’d placed it soon after moving in, knowing this call would come. I set it for fifteen minutes, the only safe window of time when dealing with Mom.

“You sound tired. Are you okay? I heard about some mess at your school.”

Even in Cincinnati, my mother didn’t miss a trick. Best to let her tell me what she knew, rather than spilling my guts. “Uh-huh.”

“Well? Are you going to tell me about it or what?”

“There was an incident with the police at orientation. You know how it is, even in a small place like this. High school is just different now.”

“You never should have stopped teaching middle school over here. You don’t have to be so difficult about telling me what happened either. I’ll call Zeely. My soror will tell me what I need to know. How is she, anyway?”

It begins.
In any conversation, my mother never failed to mention the sorority to which she and Zeely belonged. I’d passed on pledging in college, but Mom thought I still had a chance at becoming a real woman by pledging the graduate chapter. I’d considered it a few times—I’d never tell her that—but never felt a peace. Keeping up with Jesus was more than enough for now.

“Zeely’s fine.”

“She hasn’t gained any weight, has she? I have some skirts for her. I would have bought you some too, but they didn’t have your size.”

Not that she’d checked. My mother wouldn’t be seen on that end of the rack. “No problem. As for Zeely, not a pound. In fact, I think she’s lost some.”

The voice on the phone changed pitch. “If you were that size, you’d be married. I just don’t understand you.”

Halt. Do not enter.

Like a fool, I raced past the mental warnings to respond. “Zeely’s still single too, Mom. And I’m not looking for a husband.” I ran a hand down my hip. Contrary to my mother’s opinion, I looked pretty good these days. If Brian’s reactions meant anything, real good.

“Zeely would be married if she weren’t so picky. Before the African died—”

“Mom.” In all the years I was married to Peter, my mother had rarely spoken his name. It was always “the African.”

“Anyway. I introduced her to a nice fellow. His wife left him with a new house and she didn’t ask for a dime. No children. A perfect opportunity.”

I smiled, remembering Zeely’s frantic phone call detailing the incident.

My mother’s account continued. “She spent the whole evening interviewing the man. Was he a Christian? What church did he go to. On and on.”

I giggled.
That’s my Zee.

“That boy’s daddy has been a deacon for thirty-five years, and his mama is the superintendent of Sunday school. Zeely acted like he was a heathen.”

I checked the timer on the stove. Almost done. The last three minutes were the most dangerous. Especially on my end. “No offense, Mom, but what do his parents have to do with anything? He’s a grown man now. You act like faith can be passed down or something.”

A blowing sound came through the phone. “See, I can’t talk to you. You are so negative and judgmental. Ina Mae was right.”

Here we go. No conversation was done without Aunt Ina being thrown in my face. “Mom, I didn’t mean to hurt Aunt Ina’s feelings. The Lord put it on my heart—”

“Don’t go bringing the Lord into it, Miss High and Mighty. Writing my sister letters on her deathbed about how to become a Christian. As much as she did for you? The nerve.”

I thought the same thing the whole time I was writing it.

The timer sounded.

“Mom, that’s why I wrote it. Aunt Ina did so much that I wanted to share with her the best gift in the world.”

“You are so sickening. We were singing in the choir before you were even thought about.”

And long after I was forgotten.
“I love you, Mom. I’ve got to go.” “Don’t you hang up this phone. You think you’re so holy. At least I was a grown woman before I had a b—”

I closed my eyes and rested the phone in its cradle. “Lord, forgive me, but I just can’t take it. Not today.”

45

Ron

“So where’ve you been?”

I stared across the restaurant booth at Zeely, not sure how to really answer her. I’d been nowhere and everywhere at the same time. I’d tried to call her before leaving, but in the end, I just had to go. “I took the Greyhound to Florida. I had some coupons for a free hotel stay. Once I was there, I decided to stay for a few days.”

She picked up a rib bone and nibbled one side. “You should have turned your phone on at least. And Greyhound? That’s insane.”

“It was nice actually. I read quite a bit. Stared out the window and thought about some things. I forgot how nice it is to think.”

Zeely spooned baked beans onto my plate from the Styrofoam cup on the table between us.

“I hope you didn’t think too hard. You were messed up enough before.” She smiled, a spot of barbecue sauce at the corner of her mouth. “Speaking of messed up, what did your lady friend think of your disappearance?”

“Good question.” After our last encounter, she was probably relieved. I still had her father to deal with, but at this point, I didn’t care about that either.

Zeely poked a hole in her napkin as she wiped her hands. “I’ll leave that alone.” A serious look replaced her smile. “I’m glad you emailed to say you were okay, but I was worried.”

That was nice to know. “Look, I’m sorry. I bungled the whole thing. I invited you here to make it up to you.”

“The Rib Hut is supposed to make it up to me? You’ve got to cook to make up with me, mister.”

I’d known that she’d have wanted that, for me to cook for her. I’d planned a menu, even bought the ingredients. And then I’d looked at that empty space in my dining room where Mindy’s curio was supposed to go, that bare stretch of carpet that would have been behind Zeely’s chair. I thought about it so long that I settled on the Rib Hut and went for a walk. I was going to have to get over that. She’d have to come over sometime. “No problem. I’ll cook for you. You can even pick the menu.”

“Deal.” She pushed back from the table, tugging a sweater dress away from her curves. She put her tray into the trash. “So what are we going to play tonight?”

I tossed my stack of bones too and hugged Zeely as I passed her, expecting her to wiggle away as always.

She didn’t. “For real, what are we playing?” Her voice softened. She relaxed in my arms.

“Monopoly.” I smiled down at her, hoping she’d pull away before I did something even more stupid.

Zeely tapped my chest. “Monopoly? That’s a switch.”

The first of many.

Her perfume crept up my neck. I loosened my grip—for both our sakes. “Do you mind playing something else?”

She shook her head. “I like Monopoly. I just wondered why you chose it.”

“Tonight, I need to own something.” I pulled my house keys from my pocket and grabbed her hand. “Come on, my place for dessert.”

46

Grace

The secret is out. Mom saw me naked. She kept me
home from school today and took me to a clinic for
them to kill it. There were three girls with their fathers
and some women with wedding rings. I don’t know
why a married woman would want to kill her baby. I
wanted to ask somebody, but it’s probably another one
of those things that women are just supposed to know.

Diana Dixon

“Miss O, you looking good today. Not that you don’t every day—” Sean stood in the hall, trying to salvage his compliment.

“That’s okay. I know what you mean.” I took a second look at him. A low afro had replaced his usual fuzzy cornrows. No earring. Was he standing up straight?

“You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“So I’ve been told.” He walked away like a prince.

A brown tree of a girl, all eyes and hair, turned the corner. Jerry’s daughter. Sean nodded and walked to meet her. I shook my head before starting my own journey. Relief washed over me at the sight of Brian’s empty chair. We had an assembly today, so he and I had two free planning periods this morning. Maybe he’d stay away as long as he could.

I hoped that he would and prayed that he wouldn’t.

For the last few weeks, I’d been on the losing side of a war between my heart and my spirit, and Brian was the spoils being fought over. I didn’t need to see him now, no matter how much I wanted to. And yet, he’d appear before long.

This weekend in Thelma’s at-home beauty shop, with a straightening comb sizzling through my hair, I’d sat and listened to the old ladies unashamedly telling their tales as their hair smoked and sizzled into precision. When they got to me, I said a little about Mal and they laughed, waiting for more. I couldn’t get the words to go past my lips, but I watched with wonder as they aired fifty-year-old laundry and cut through family dramas as though they were chicken bones.

“You remember when my Joe used to slip around with heifer Sally on Kentucky Street?”

“Yes, Lord. That Negro had his nose wide open, didn’t he? Well, we prayed him right up, didn’t we? Got snowed in over there. Frostbit and all. He don’t even walk on that side of the road no mo’!”

The ladies under the dryers strained to hear, pressing their plastic rollers against the hoods until there were bobby pin imprints on their foreheads. I tried not to listen, but it was impossible.

“And oh, remember when Toot went out there to meet the white side of her family?” someone said from under the dryer.