Rhythms of Grace (46 page)

“Braids.”

“Yes. Braids and two-strand twists. Mostly the twists. The girl did great with the synthetic ones, but when it was my hair, not so much. I do them sometimes, but it takes me forever.”

Against my better judgment, I buried my fingers deeper into Grace’s hair, massaging her scalp. “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry. You just might have waited too long to trim the ends off. I don’t understand why really, but it happens. Like a plant that outgrows its pot.”

She pulled away and pushed forward on the edge of her chair. I went for her scarf, but she already had it in hand and going around her head. “I did wait too long. Mal liked me to keep it blown out straight all the time. My hair was one of our biggest fights.”

At the mention of Mal’s name, it was my turn to tense up. If Grace’s hair had been one of their worst arguments, I could only imagine what one of their other big fights had been about—me.

“Speaking of him, I need to talk to you about something—”

Grace’s watch beeped to the tune of a gospel song I’d heard on many mornings but didn’t know the name of. She mumbled something about setting the alarm to be safe and I should get to what I wanted to tell her because this was really difficult and on and on. It was all I could do to keep from tearing that scarf off her head and kissing her senseless.

I held a finger to her lips instead. “I know just how you feel.”

“You can’t possibly. I—”

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to tell you. It sounds strange, I know, and I debated telling you at all, but since we’re not teaching together anymore—”

The phone rang. Any other time I would have ignored it, but I was waiting for a call from Joyce’s doctor. We’d talked during my last visit about her not having signed some of her forms. I’d thought Ron would have been the one they called, but Joyce had listed him on many of her forms.

“Hold that thought. I’m expecting a call from the hospital about Joyce.”

Grace looked concerned, but I waved it away. “Nothing like that. Just some paperwork. Let me get this.”

I caught it just when I thought they’d hung up. Out of the habit of being alone, I clicked on the speakerphone.

“Dr. Mayfield?”

“This is he.” I straightened a little at the sound of a woman’s strained voice. The doctor I talked to had been a man. It was probably nothing.

“This is Charles Drew Memorial Hospital. You’re listed on Joyce Rogers’ emergency list. She’s fading fast and we can’t contact anyone else. I’d suggest you come at once.”

Grace let out a sob behind me.

I grabbed Grace’s coat and my keys. “We’re on our way.”

73

Jerry

“That’s it. You’ve lost your mind.” I stood in my ex-wife’s living room staring down on Sean and Justice sprawled on the couch asleep. And Monique in the chair beside them. What a mess.

Carmel’s voice sounded over the hiss of ground beef in the kitchen. “Sit down, Jerry. We need to talk, but not like this.”

I snatched the covers off the happy group. Sean murmured and reached for the baby. Monique opened her eyes, just a bit at first and then wider.

“Dad?”

“Me, Dad? You tell me. It seems I’m nothing around here anymore. I came over to talk to you all about something, and I find this—this boy laid out like he lives here.” I leaned over Sean again, determined this time to wake him up. A tangle of basketball shorts and pajama pants peeked from under the couch. I had the same pair at home. “Is that it, Carmel? Is he living here?”

A spoon clanked against the spaghetti pot. The stainless one, my favorite. Sean sat up and wiped his eyes. He dug in the bag under the couch for his jacket, his keys. He turned to Monique.

“Baby, I’m going to dip and let you talk to your father. Call me.”

I stepped back for the boy to pass, fighting the urge to sweep his legs out from under him. Baby? What gave this little chump the right to call my daughter “baby”? The fool was nothing but a baby himself.

“Excuse me, sir.” Sean stepped around me, pausing at the door. “You want me to bring you back some basil, Mrs. T? It’s good like that.”

Mrs. T.
It sounded so strange to hear Sean call my ex-wife by the name the students used for me. I took a deep breath.

Carmel put a finger to her lips before waving goodbye to Sean. As the door slammed, I exploded again.

“What in God’s name is going on? Can somebody tell me? Please?”

Monique got up from the couch, her thumbs hooked in the pockets of her jeans. “Daddy—”

“Wait.” Her mother, standing at the stove, shook her head while her body moved in a motion I’d seen so many times before. The spaghetti dance. Her hips swayed left and right in front of the range. Salt. Pepper. Oregano. And a pinch of sugar, just for me.

“Sit down, Jerry. Monique, take Justice into your room. I’ll leave some food for you in the microwave.”

“I’ll lay her down, Mom, but I’m coming back. This is about me too.”

After drizzling sauce in a design around the edges of the plates, Carmel filled the center with angel hair pasta, more meat sauce and two sprinkles of Romano cheese. She made a second plate just like the first. She knew just how to get to me.

“Want some?”

Of course. “No thanks.”

She shrugged and walked to the table, motioning for me to have a seat. As soon as I sat down, she hopped up again for a basket of garlic bread and a tumbler of water.

“I can explain about Sean—”

“I doubt it.”

“It won’t be an explanation you like, necessarily, but it’s the truth nonetheless. Before I start, I’d like you to tell me what you came here to say. It must be important. You haven’t come inside here since . . .”

I stared behind me at the bedroom door, looking for Monique. I knew exactly how long it had been since I’d crossed Carmel’s threshold. Since the day she’d left me alone with a space heater and a cold bed. Since the day she’d decided that I’d be better off with Zeely instead of her.

“Monique, come on out. I have something to tell you and your mom.”

My daughter tiptoed out of the room, pulling the door shut. “Shh. She almost woke up.” She walked around the table to the chair opposite me, next to her mother. “What’s up, Dad?”

I rubbed my tongue against the top of my mouth. How to start? “As you know, your mother and I have tried to work out our differences over the past year. A few months ago your mother, well both of us, decided that wasn’t going to happen.”

Carmel’s fork stopped midair.

“Something—someone—came between us. According to your mother, she’s always been between us.”

A knowing look passed between mother and daughter. Panic overtook Monique’s face. “Miss Wilkins? What about her? I thought since she moved to the other class, that maybe . . .”

I hadn’t sent her across the hall. The separation just made me miss her more. “You thought what, honey?”

“Nothing. Go ahead.”

“Well, since your mom and I can’t work things out and she and I both agree that Zeely is the person I should be with, I’ve decided to make it official. I’ve decided to be part of a family again.”

Carmel closed her eyes. “When is the wedding?”

Good question.
“We haven’t set a date yet. Next summer maybe. Zeely was coming over here with me tonight, but she didn’t feel well.”

Monique pursed her lips. “I’ll bet.”

I hadn’t planned on this being so hard. “What do you say, Monique, won’t it be nice to be part of a family again? And your mom won’t have to worry about Justice and you can dump Sean—”

My daughter banged the table in front of me, her eyes filled with tears. Anger. And something else. Hatred? It couldn’t be. “Dump Sean? He’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time! And what do you mean Mom won’t have to worry about Justice? Do you think you’re going to take her off for some other woman to raise?”

“Zeely is an amazing woman. She’s waited for children for a long time. She’ll make a great mother.”

“And I won’t? She’s my baby, Dad, no matter what you say. And I don’t need you or your little girlfriend to raise her. You can keep your little family. I’ve got one of my own.”

I reached out and grabbed my daughter’s hand. I lifted my other hand to her eyes and wiped her tears. “I know that you’re upset, but don’t talk to me that way, do you understand?”

She squeezed my fingers, talking through her tears. “Ye-es, sir.”

“I know you’re probably surprised about me getting married and you’re saying things you don’t mean. The three of us are still a family. Your mom and I will always be here for you and Justice. Zeely will too. You’ll see.”

Carmel walked to the sink with her plate. She changed her mind and stuck it into the refrigerator. “Jerry, I wish you all the best, but let’s talk about your new family another time. I think that’s enough for one night.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Okay. I’ll drop it for now, but we’ve still got to talk about Sean and what he’s doing here.” I got up and walked to Monique’s chair, and put my hands on her shoulders. She tensed. “Like I said, you can let him go now. You don’t have to make a family for Justice. I took care of it.”

Monique brushed my hands away and stood to face me. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Dad. Sean is my family. Justice too. Your job is done.”

“Honey, I know you think that, but—”

She dug in her pocket and fished out a ring, a gold band with a fleck of diamond. She slipped it on her finger. “I don’t
think
we’re a family. I know we are. Sean is my husband.”

I slammed a fist into the concrete wall. I fumbled across the blinds and the windowsill trying to get back to my chair. I tried to breathe, but my chest hurt. Only a little air at a time. When I finally dropped into the chair, the metal made a crunching sound, yielding under my weight. “Carmel, what is she saying?”

My ex-wife stepped to the table, the other plate of pasta in her hand. She placed it in front of me. “It’s true. They got married in Kentucky, with my consent.”

My head dropped forward, almost into the spaghetti. “Why would you let her do a stupid thing like that? Just to make me mad? We tried so hard to give her a chance. What can Sean offer them? He’s nothing to Justice, just some thug off the street.”

Monique pinched her eyes shut. “You’re wrong, Daddy. Sean is everything to me. And to Justice. He’s her father.”

74

Ron

I knocked at the door of Reverend Wilkins’ study, still wondering how I’d ended up here. Of all people, Zeely’s father seemed the worst choice to confide in. But tonight, I needed to talk to someone who knew me, someone who had always known me. I needed perspective.

“Come in.”

I walked in and had to smile at the Reverend, one of the last guards of the old school of ministry. Even this late in the evening, the old preacher was hard at work in a shirt and tie, bent over a
Strong’s
Concordance
. He looked up over his bifocals. A grin spread across his face like chocolate icing. He waved toward the door. “Well, if it isn’t the preacher boy himself! Come on in here, son. Where’ve you been? I get all those emails you send me. Good stuff.”

Stepping behind the desk, I embraced my former pastor, patting his shoulders. “You look so good, Rev. Just like when I left. Taking good care of yourself, I see.”

The pastor laughed. “I stopped trying to take care of myself years ago. The good Lord takes care of me. Long as I do what he tells me, things turn out all right. In the end anyway. Sit down.”

I took a seat.

“What’s troubling you?”

“You never were the subtle type, huh?”

“No sir. Time’s too short. These are the last days. We have to redeem the time. You preached on that back when you was a boy, remember that?”

I chuckled, remembering myself hemming and hawing in the pulpit in Brian’s hand-me-down suits. I could still see Eva on the front row, fanning her mortuary fan in one hand and waving her scarf with the other, amening me every other word. “Those were the days, huh?”

“Sure enough. And it ain’t over yet.” He took off his glasses. “The prayers of a righteous man availeth much.”

I shook my head. “I told you last time. I’m not ready. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

Reverend Wilkins raised his hand. “I done said too much. Time for you to talk. What brings you?”

I waded through the tale, swimming around Zeely, but revealing the rest. Ending with my encounter with Mindy in the abortion clinic parking lot and my meeting with her father, I eased back in the chair. “Saving that baby is the right thing to do, but all of a sudden I’m not sure if marriage is the best way to do it. What do you think?”

Pastor Wilkins poked through the cellophane-wrapped basket on his desk. He picked a tangerine, skimmed the middle with a paring knife, and cut it in half. He flipped the seeds into the trash, and handed half of the fruit across the desk.

Nodding, I accepted and bit into the sweet flesh. Juice ran down over my goatee and onto my shirt. I looked around for a napkin.

The pastor extended a wet napkin in a plastic sleeve. “Surprised you, didn’t it? That’s how things are. They look just about the right size, like you can handle them, but when you bite in, more comes out than you expected.”

I sighed. What was I thinking, expecting a straight answer from the Reverend? “You’re not going to tell me what you think, are you?”

“What I think? Heavens, no. What good is that? You’ve got to get God’s opinion on the thing. What I can say is that marriage is not something to be taken lightly, no matter the circumstances. If you marry this girl, you’re going to have to stand by her, not just her baby. That’s the part where things get juicy.” He took another bite.

“Right. That’s the part I’m worried about.”

Another knock at the door. The pastor shook his head. “I ought to start a drive-thru, you know that?” He turned to the door. “Come in.”

Zeely came in slow with red eyes and plump, plum-colored lips pushed first this way and then another. Her eyes were on the ground. “Daddy? Are you busy?” She looked up in surprise—more like terror, actually. “You have company. I’m sorry—”

“I was just leaving.” I dropped my peel into the trash and wiped my fingers. I smiled at the Reverend and nodded goodbye. I reserved no expression or goodbye greeting for Zeely, stepping around her instead as though one touch would burn my skin.