The Prodigal Son (A Reverend Curtis Black Novel) (9 page)

D
illon’s heart raced, and he felt as though he were hyperventilating. His body was hot, and he had to catch his breath a few times. But what were the chances? Here he’d been driving toward his dad’s house, just for the sake of doing so, and out of nowhere he’d seen Matthew. Had Matthew actually been over to see his dad and Charlotte? Had he finally forgiven them and called a truce? Had his father welcomed his precious little Matthew back with open arms and would no longer have any use for Dillon?

Dillon’s heart beat faster than before, and he punched his steering wheel with his fist. He just couldn’t win. He’d already been devising a plan to get Charlotte out of his way—he’d spent the better part of last night and this morning plotting it—but now there was a chance his brother might be back in the picture?

Dillon drove past his dad’s house, but he didn’t see anyone. Of course, there was no way to tell if Matthew had been there or not, but just the thought of it gave Dillon pause. It infuriated him and worried him, and he had to find out.

So he called his dad.

“Hello?” Curtis answered.

“Hey Dad, it’s me.”

“Hey son. How are you?”

“Good. So what’s goin’ on?”

“Just sitting here in my office preparing for Bible study. I need to leave for the church in about a half hour, though. Can I call you back when I’m driving?”

He sure was rushing Dillon off the phone, and Dillon knew it was likely because he was now focused on Matthew and didn’t want to talk to him.

“I’ll let you go,” Dillon finally said, wanting to slam his fist into his steering wheel again.

“Are you coming tonight?”

“To Bible study?”

“Yes, it would be good to have you there.”

“No, not this time. Maybe next week.”

“Okay…well, why don’t I just call you afterward? That way we’ll have more time to talk.”

“Whatever works best,” Dillon said.

“Talk to you later, son.”

It took every ounce of constraint Dillon could muster not to fling his phone against the windshield. He couldn’t believe his father was ignoring him once again. Maybe what he should do, though, was call Charlotte. He’d never done so in the past, but his dad had given him her number months ago, in case he ever needed it. The reason he wanted to call her now was because if Matthew had in fact been to visit, Charlotte would be glad to rub Dillon’s face in it. She would boast about Matthew being back in their lives and how Matthew would now be his father’s only priority. She’d brag about it for her own enjoyment and also to make Dillon feel bad. Only thing was, he didn’t want to call her when his father was around because for all he knew, that witch might be in the room with his dad.

So instead, Dillon set his phone down on the passenger seat and kept driving. He had a plan, but now with this latest Matthew development he had to work faster. He had to break up that little union between his father and that deceitful tramp he was married to. If he could manage that, Matthew would be a nonissue. If Dillon showed his father who his wife truly was, his father would be indebted to him. He would finally see which of his children had his back, and this was all Dillon wanted.

When Dillon arrived home, he walked inside and rushed straight into the bedroom where Melissa was.

“Take off your clothes,” he said.

Melissa gazed at him strangely and at first she hesitated—until she saw the angry look in his eyes. It was then that she began unbuttoning her shirt, but when she seemed to be taking far too long doing it, Dillon yanked her blouse apart with both hands and buttons flew in every direction. Dillon hated having to do this kind of thing, but he was frustrated and feeling rejected, and though he wished he could be with another woman besides Melissa, he needed her to take care of him. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d noticed as of late that sex always made him feel better about everything. It calmed his nerves and settled his thoughts very quickly. It allowed him to be in total control of his life, and he needed that.

When he’d finished with Melissa, he lay there, practically out of breath and feeling satisfied. She lay in silence. Dillon thought about a lot of things, but it wasn’t long before he thought about Charlotte again and his plan to destroy her. He also thought about the fact that he was going to need Melissa’s help.

“I need you to start researching everything you can about Charlotte. All the way back to her childhood. I’ll even pay for a hired professional if you need one.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because getting rid of her is the only chance I have of becoming close with my dad. It’s the only way.”

Melissa turned away from him.

Dillon frowned. “You don’t have a problem with that do you?”

Melissa sighed. “I just wish there was another way.”

“Like what? Waiting? Because I’ve been waiting for months for things to get better, and they haven’t. And I know it’s because Charlotte is constantly badmouthing me to my dad. She hates me, I hate her, and she’s got to be eliminated.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to find anything, because so many of Charlotte’s secrets have already been exposed. Things have been publicized about her for years.”

Dillon propped himself up on his elbow, reached his hand under Melissa’s chin, and whisked her face toward him. “You’ll do what I tell you. You’ll find the kind of dirt I need on Charlotte, or you can pack your things and get outta of here.”

Melissa stared at him in horror, but fear was a good thing. When people feared you, they did what was expected, so that there would be no consequences. Back when he’d needed her help with concealing their identities from his father, Dillon had been forced to get rough with her a couple of times then, too—she hadn’t felt comfortable lying to anyone or deceiving them, but Dillon’s aggressiveness had been the reason she’d done such a great job. It was the reason she’d worked hard and had done what was required. She would do an excellent job again…or else.

M
atthew walked inside Aunt Emma’s house and hugged her.

“So how was work today?” she asked, heading back toward the kitchen.

“It was okay.”

“Just okay?”

“It was fine,” he said but only because he knew that’s what she wanted to hear. She didn’t respond, though, which meant she knew his first answer had been an honest one.

“That son of yours is sleeping away, and dinner should be finished in a few minutes.”

“I’m gonna go look in on him.”

Matthew went into Aunt Emma’s bedroom and smiled at his beautiful little son. He was surrounded by a pillow on either side of his body so he wouldn’t roll over and fall out of the bed, and he slept peacefully. MJ was so innocent and helpless. All babies were, and they never got to choose their parents. Their protectors. The two adults who were supposed to love and cherish them, no matter what. Matthew stood admiring his son, but the thought of Racquel erased his smile. What was he going to do? How was he going to fix things? How would he ever be able to convince Racquel she needed help? He was carrying a very heavy burden to be so young, and for some reason, he thought about that famous saying his grandmother recited a lot: when you make your bed, you have to lie in it. If only Matthew could turn back time and do things differently, he would. He wouldn’t have sex before marriage, or even if he made that mistake, he wouldn’t do it without wearing protection; he wouldn’t leave Harvard until he graduated, and he wouldn’t marry any woman until he’d gotten at least a master’s degree.

Matthew gazed at his son and couldn’t remember ever feeling so downtrodden. He was beyond miserable, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle the awful heartache of being an unhappily married husband and father. He loved his son, but what was he supposed to do about a wife who had made it clear that she was ready to move on—a wife who wanted to start a brand-new life without him and MJ?

When Matthew left Aunt Emma’s room and went into the dining room, he saw Aunt Emma setting a couple of dishes on the table. It was only Wednesday but she’d cooked so much food, it seemed more like Sunday. Baked chicken, macaroni and cheese, mustard greens, and sweet potatoes. She’d asked him this morning if he could stay for dinner this evening, and though he’d sort of wanted to decline her invitation—because of how depressed he felt—he was glad he’d accepted. His grandmother’s sister was the best cook he knew and even as a small boy, he’d loved spending time with her. She and his grandmother weren’t all that close—thanks to his grandmother sleeping with Aunt Emma’s ex-husband, a story he’d overheard his parents discussing years ago—but his mom was very close to Aunt Emma, and Matthew had pretty much seen her every week of his life from the time he was seven. She’d also babysat him whenever his parents had needed her to, and now here she was doing the same for him with MJ.

After a few more minutes passed, his cousin Anise walked in. She was Aunt Emma’s only child and his mother’s first cousin, but sadly, Cousin Anise didn’t care for his mom for the same reason Aunt Emma didn’t have much to do with his grandmother: his mom had slept with Cousin Anise’s ex-husband, David, behind her back and she’d found out about it. This had all occurred before Matthew’s parents had married, but at one point, David had wondered if Matthew was his son. It hadn’t been true, but even now, Matthew shook his head at the thought of it because it reminded him of just how many people his mother had hurt.

“Hey Matt,” Anise said, setting her handbag down and hugging him. He could tell from the suit she wore that she’d come straight to her mom’s from work.

“Hey Cousin Anise.”

“It’s so good to see you, and where’s my handsome little baby cousin?”

“Asleep.”

“Awww. Well, I hope he wakes up soon. I just love him.”

Matthew smiled and sat down at the table.

“Hey Mom,” Anise said, hugging Aunt Emma. “Can I help you with anything?”

Aunt Emma set down a glass pitcher of homemade sweet tea. “No, I think this is just about it.”

“So, Matt,” she said, “how’s work going?”

“It’ll do.”

“Well, you know I think you should go back to school. Even if only part-time or online.”

“I’ve thought about it, but all the programs I looked at are way too expensive.”

“Doesn’t your job offer tuition reimbursement?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t really checked into it.”

“Well, you should. And there are always student loans to consider, too. I know you don’t want to end up with tons of debt, but I think getting an education will make a huge difference for you. I mean, Matt, you did so well all the way through high school, and you’re such a smart young man.”

Matthew heard what she was saying and though he would like nothing more than to go back to school, right now taking any classes, part-time or otherwise, was out of the question.

He and Anise chatted for a while longer until Aunt Emma finally sat down and said grace.

“Dear Heavenly Father, thank you so much for the food we’re about to receive, and thank you for allowing my daughter, great-nephew, and great-great-nephew to come together this evening as a family. Lord we ask that You would use this food for the nourishment of our bodies and that You would continue to bless each of us in our daily lives. In Jesus’ name, Amen, Amen, Amen.”

The three of them passed the various dishes around, serving themselves, but when Matthew bit into one of two chicken thighs he’d laid on his plate, he wanted to close his eyes. It tasted that good; almost like it was fried.

“So, Matt,” Aunt Emma said, “how’s Racquel doing?”

He’d been so hoping that neither his aunt nor cousin would bring her up, and now he had to figure out how to answer. But the more seconds he sat in silence, he found himself wanting to tell them everything. He wanted to tell the truth and release the anguish he was starting to feel again. Mrs. Downing had helped him with that a little when she’d given him advice about his parents, but what he needed was to tell someone else about Racquel. Jasmine knew about her and so did Jonathan, but he needed to tell his great-aunt, which was the next best thing to telling his mother. His cousin Anise only wanted the best for him, too, so he didn’t mind her hearing also.

“Things are awful between us. She hasn’t touched MJ in a couple of days, and she says she’s leaving for school in the fall.”

“Oh my goodness, Matt,” Anise said. “I had no idea.”

Aunt Emma reached her hand over and laid it on Matthew’s. “Lord have mercy, honey, I’m so sorry to hear that. I knew something was wrong when you asked me if I could keep MJ for you, but I just thought maybe you and Racquel had had an argument.”

“Well, it’s much more than that. She says she wants to be free, and she even offered me a divorce.”

“Gosh, Matt,” Anise said. “This just doesn’t sound right. Not coming from a woman who rarely put MJ down even when he was sleeping.”

“I know, but my in-laws think she’s dealing with postpartum depression.”

They looked at Matt in shock, and he knew it was because they likely didn’t believe this was possible, because MJ had turned one already. But once he explained it to them, they understood.

“I’m going to pray for that young lady like I’ve never prayed before,” Aunt Emma promised him. “And you and MJ, too.”

“I really appreciate that,” he said.

“We’ll both be praying,” Anise added.

Matthew believed wholeheartedly in prayer, and for a while he’d been praying, too, but to him things had only gotten worse. He wasn’t saying that he wasn’t grateful for his aunt’s and cousin’s nice gestures, but he wasn’t very optimistic about the results. If ever there had been a time when his faith had waned, it was now, and he couldn’t help it.

The three of them chatted about one thing or another and ate some of the apple pie Aunt Emma had made from scratch, but then Matthew’s phone rang. It was Jasmine, and he wondered why she was calling.

“Hey Matt, Quel just stopped by my house,” she whispered.

“Really? Why?”

“She’s trying to get me to go out to a club with her, and Matt, she had on the shortest, tightest dress I’ve ever seen.”

Matthew’s heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t sure why, what with Racquel being capable of just about anything these days, but he’d never known her to dress that way or want to hang out at bars. She was too young, anyway.

“How does she expect you guys to get in?”

“I asked her that. She said she met some guy at the store who works the front door.”

“What guy?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you going with her?”

“I don’t want to, but I sort of think I should.”

“If you don’t mind, I wish you would so you can keep an eye on her.”

“That’s what I was thinking. I’ll call you when I’m back at home.”

Matthew set his phone down, wondering what would happen next. There was just no telling.