The Vows We Break

by Briana Cole

  My phone vibrated in my pocket and I stepped to the side, pulling it out to view the screen. A little glimmer of relief coursed through me when I saw it was Jahmad.

  “How is everything?” he asked as soon as I answered.

  I sighed, struggling to keep the tears from falling. “Some kind of electrical fire,” I murmured, quoting the firefighter.

  “Well, thank God no one was hurt,” he said. “Are you out there by yourself?”

  He sounded legitimately concerned which, I had to admit, did lift my spirits. A bit. “No, Tyree, Adria, and Keon are here. We are really just waiting around now. They’ve already put out the fire. I think the police want to talk to us too.” I paused before continuing. “Hey, Jahmad, about earlier—”

  “Don’t worry about all that now,” he stated simply. “We’ll talk, just not now. Handle your business, and I’ll see you later.”

  I hung up the phone. He was right. As much as I wanted to have that conversation, I couldn’t worry right now about Jahmad or his little hush-hush phone calls with some mystery woman.

  Again, I turned my attention to the remnants of my dreams lying in a pile of rubble in front of me. For some reason, it felt symbolic. And I knew it wasn’t just my business that was crumbling before my eyes.

  * * *

  I was so tired that it took a few moments for my eyes to register the white envelope taped to the front door of Jahmad’s place. I frowned, eyeing my name scribbled hastily across the front in thick red ink. I didn’t even have to open the little package to know it was from Leo. Damn, and here I was thinking he would go on about his business and leave me alone. But no, that was too much to expect from Leo.

  I ripped the envelope from the door and shoved it in my purse. Thankfully, Jahmad hadn’t seen Leo’s little gift.

  He had left a hall light on for me, but otherwise, the house was dark and quiet. I carried myself upstairs, peered into the empty master bedroom before making my way to the nursery. The visual had me halting in the doorway on a smile.

  Right there, at that very moment with only a sliver of moonlight casting a faint glow on their sleeping faces, right there I could’ve put money on Jahmad being the father. They looked so much alike, all the way down to their slightly parted lips that had a light snore wafting throughout the room. Jahmad had placed the baby on his back on the futon, surrounded by four pillows to create a makeshift barrier, even though the baby was too young to roll off. Still, the extra precaution was too adorable. Jahmad lay next to the pillows, using one arm to support his head and the other a gentle hand on Jamaal’s tummy. Compelled to capture the moment, I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture.

  Part of me wanted to wake up Jahmad. I had so much frustration about the whole fire ordeal just sitting like a weight on my chest. Even more, I certainly wasn’t done confronting him about my suspicions that he was now trying to reclaim his little playboy card. But my love wouldn’t allow me to disturb the peace.

  I would have kicked off my shoes and snuggled right there with them, but Jahmad’s frame plus the baby pillow wall already dominated the full-size futon mattress. So I just left the door cracked and made my way back into Jahmad’s room.

  The stench of smoke was heavy and had me quickly peeling out of my clothes and tossing them in a pile on the floor. I caught a quick glimpse of my figure in the mirror, and I sighed at the slight bulge in my belly. Faint stretch marks adorned my stomach and hips, but other than that, I had managed to bounce back to my little pre-pregnancy weight. My finger caressed the thin incision from my C-section.

  It pained me to know I had complicated this situation so much. But in my heart of hearts, I wanted to believe Jahmad was Jamaal’s father. I wished Leo would just disappear and leave us alone, because I’m sure he didn’t want to be a father to my son any more than he had wanted to be to Leo Jr. What was the difference? What was the big damn deal? And why the hell was he so hell-bent on making my life so difficult?

  Suddenly remembering, I pulled the envelope from my purse and turned it over in my fingers. I was tempted to just rip up this little check. Maybe that was the hold Leo thought he had over me. But I wasn’t the money-hungry little girl he could manipulate and dangle his millions in my face to make me obey. Sure, that was before. But now, now I knew what I deserved. Even still, something pushed me to tear open the flap and pull the contents of the envelope into view.

  Not a check. No, not this time. Hesitantly, I unfolded the single sheet of paper, my eyes scanning the contents, trying to decipher the jargon. A lot of it I didn’t understand, but one thing was very, very clear as the results fell from my limp fingers: the paper was one sheet of a paternity test. A paternity test for my son. For my son with Leo Owusu.

  Chapter 10

  “Hello?”

  I listened to the breathing on the other end, my panic slowly rising. “Hello?” The word came out in more of a pleading whisper. This was getting out of hand. Ever since I had received the paternity test results, the paper that I had stuffed into an empty purse and shoved to the back of the closet in Jamaal’s room, my anxiety level had certainly elevated. All I could think about were the results: 99.6 percent positive that Leo was the father. How the hell had he managed to test my child? And what the hell would Jahmad do if he found out?

  I had dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. That I couldn’t let happen. Jahmad and I were already rocky, especially since he was considering this random-ass move to Texas. And whoever he was keekeeing on the phone with the other night, the mysterious “baby” in his contacts, the news of my son would send that man packing quicker than I could manage an apology.

  And now this? The fourth call this week from some unknown number that I tried to ignore but would only call and call until I finally answered, only to be met with his heavy breathing. I knew it was Leo. It had to be.

  “Leo, stop this,” I spoke again, lowering my voice even more. “Please, I just—” Click. I pulled the device from my ear, looking at the screen to confirm the person had indeed disconnected the call.

  I thought again about the paper I had hidden, then glanced at my phone where I had saved the picture of Jahmad and Jamaal sleeping as my screensaver. I didn’t want to believe, couldn’t believe it was true. Leo could fake his own damn death. Surely he could fake some paternity test results.

  I shook my head and pushed the thought from my mind. For now, I turned my attention back to my dad. Thank God my mom had finally convinced him to go to the doctor. He claimed he was feeling better, but that wasn’t enough to appease my mother, especially when another Sunday rolled around and my dad was still too weak to make it to service.

  “He’s going to the doctor,” she had said. “Even if I have to hog-tie him to the bumper and drag him to the office like some ‘Just Married’ cans.”

  I laughed, but knowing my mom was good and serious, I insisted on going with them, more for my dad’s sake than anything. He needed someone on his side against my mother.

  As if on cue, I spotted Adria’s car pulling into the driveway outside of the window. I stooped down to kiss Jamaal on the cheek and smile as he just stared at me, his pacifier moving with each suckle.

  “Mommy will be back,” I said as if he understood. “Let me go make sure Grandmommy doesn’t give Granddaddy a heart attack.” Jamaal let out a little gas in response, and I rushed out to meet Adria at the door.

  “Your nephew left you a little surprise,” I teased, then immediately frowned when I noticed her troubled expression. “What is it?”

  Adria stopped on the porch and held up a finger as she continued listening to something, probably a message, on her phone. A few seconds more, and she shook her head and shoved the phone in her pocket.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked again.

  “I’m not sure. That was from the police. Some message about needing more information about the fire.”

  I shrugged, not sure what else they needed but probably something routine. I didn’t see anything stran
ge about that. “Probably just needing to tie up loose ends,” I assumed with a wave of my hand. “Especially because of the insurance having to pay for the damages.”

  Adria nodded slowly. “Yeah, probably,” she murmured. “Let me know what happens with Dad. Where’s Jahmad?”

  “Work,” I said, though I wasn’t even all that sure anymore. “I guess too we need to come up with a game plan for the store. Got to get everything started again.”

  Adria sighed, a direct mirror of how I felt. “Damn, I don’t feel like doing all that shit over,” she admitted. “I mean that was a lot.”

  I nodded. She was right. And the idea of tackling every single task again, duplicating each and every effort to get this business up and running strong, it was discouraging.

  Adria looked like she wanted to say something else, but instead she just nodded. “Let me see what ‘surprise’ my baby left me,” she said with a smirk.

  I watched her walk in the house and paused for a moment myself. With everything else that was going on, I hadn’t wanted to bring up to Adria my predicament with Leo. At least, that was the excuse I was using for the moment.

  By the time I made it to the doctor’s office, my dad had already gone back for a battery of tests. The nurse showed me to his room, where my mom was waiting patiently, thumbing through a magazine.

  “Anything yet?” I asked, taking a seat in the chair next to her.

  “Not yet. Other than him fussing the whole way here. I swear that man gets on my nerves.” I could tell she was trying to exaggerate some faux irritation to hide her worry.

  “He’s fine, Mama,” I said, tossing her a comforting smile.

  “I’m not about to let your father worry me into an early grave,” she said, turning accusatory eyes on me. “Him. Or you.”

  I frowned. “Me?”

  “Keon told me about the fire, Kimera.”

  I rolled my eyes. Of course he did. “It’s no big deal, Mama. Just a little electrical thing.”

  She narrowed her eyes, clearly doubtful. “If it was no big deal, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want you to worry,” I admitted. “You have so much going on right now.”

  “And you don’t?” My mama rested her hand in mine, gave it a gentle squeeze. “Listen, I know you don’t agree with the decision for the church—”

  “Mama—”

  “No, listen. I know you’re beating yourself up because you think it’s your fault, but I don’t want you stressing yourself out trying to keep from stressing me out. Because, frankly, that stresses me out.”

  I laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m serious.” She narrowed her eyes. “Now is there anything else you need to get off your chest?”

  A collection of images flashed in my mind: Jahmad, Texas, mysterious calls, Leo, a question mark over the faceless father of my son. I forced a smile and mustered up as much confidence as I could in my lie. “Everything is fine, Mama.”

  Thankfully, the nurse wheeled my dad into the room in a wheelchair, and his face broke into a wide grin when he noticed me in the chair. I couldn’t help but smile too. I heard what my Mama said but I had to admit, my dad certainly looked better. Thank God.

  “There’s my baby girl.” With the nurse’s and my mom’s assistance, he positioned himself on the bed, the paper gown rustling under his weight.

  “I couldn’t leave you here alone,” I said, tossing a wink in my mom’s direction. “You know you’re no match for Mrs. Davis.”

  “And he better be glad I love him like I do,” my mom said, crossing her arms over her chest. “If it was left up to him, he’d be in a casket still talking about ‘it’s not that serious, baby girl.’” That prompted a laugh from all of us. And it felt damn good. For a moment, a brief moment, all was right with the world. I didn’t mention anything about the fire to my dad and thankfully, my mom didn’t either.

  Eventually the doctor, an older gentleman with kind eyes behind small-framed glasses, entered the room with a laptop in tow. He greeted each of us as he slid onto a rolling stool at the foot of the examination table.

  “Tell ’em, Doc,” my dad said. “Tell ’em I’m one of your healthiest patients so I can get this woman off my back.”

  Dr. Moore didn’t join in the joke. In fact the creases in his face seemed to deepen with concern. “Well, for the most part your tests came back fairly regular, but we did detect traces of arsenic in your urine.”

  The doctor’s words seemed to chill the air about eighty degrees. My mind stumbled over the news, trying to make sense of the obvious.

  “Like, poison?” My mom spoke up first, piercing the silence. While it hit me and startled me and my dad into stunned silence, it was clear my mom was pissed, as if the doctor had just confessed some forbidden sin against her family.

  Dr. Moore nodded. “There are only small traces as if the poison is being flushed out. But I’m deducing this was what was making you sick, pastor.”

  “How did arsenic end up in his body?” I said now, fear gripping my words. It was as if they were strangling me. “How could that have happened? How could he not have known?”

  “Relatively small doses over an extended period of time,” Dr. Moore answered gently. “Perhaps mixed with food or a beverage of some kind. It’s really hard to pinpoint the exact source, but can you think back to food you’ve ingested and from where?”

  My dad shook his head, more from disbelief than actually responding to the question. I knew what he was thinking. My mom typically cooked for him. That opened up another can of unknowns. Because since we knew my mom would never, could never, then who? And how? Why the pastor?

  “Lucky for you, there appear to be small remnants of the drug,” the doctor reassured us. “And you’re acting like you feel good. So chances are whatever it was, it’s over now.”

  My parents exchanged confused glances, and I could only think about the string of bad luck that seemed to be happening. And if it was who I thought it was, then no. It was far from over.

  Dr. Moore glanced between us, his brows creased with worry. It was obvious he had something else to say, just didn’t know how.

  “What is it?” my mother pressed at his continued silence. “Is there something else?”

  “It’s just . . .” His sigh was heavy. “Cases like this are normally referred to the police for criminal investigation.”

  “No.” My mother’s tone was brisk and final with the objection.

  I frowned. “Mama, what do you mean?” I turned bewildered eyes in her direction. “Someone did this to Daddy. We should find out—”

  “Is there any way this could have been some kind of accident?” my mama interrupted, directing her question to the doctor.

  Dr. Moore sighed again, the brief turn of his head enough indication that he felt this instance was anything but. His expression brought on feelings of panic and worry.

  “You know you have been my pastor for many years,” Dr. Moore went on. “My family and I have nothing but the utmost respect for you and Word of Truth.”

  “The feeling is mutual, Doc.” My dad’s voice was gruff in sincerity.

  “That is why I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize your health. I have not only an obligation as your doctor, but also as a caring member of the congregation.”

  “We will handle it,” my mom spoke up again. She inclined her chin. I recognized the gesture. A silent dare. When the First Lady had her say, it was as good as the gospel. “I don’t want any kind of negative publicity on the church or the pastor, especially as he is recuperating. The last thing we need is some sort of investigation taking place, on top of . . .” She trailed off and averted her eyes. I winced, knowing exactly what she meant. On top of the publicity with my scandal. Yeah, it was bad enough already. Let’s not make it worse. “We will handle it,” my mother repeated, this time laying a hand on my dad’s arm. I watched the silent exchange, my dad’s hand coming up to pat hers reassuringly. Always the united front.<
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  Dr. Moore hesitated before he gave a quick nod and left the room. I certainly hoped the effort to keep trouble out of the limelight hadn’t left the door open as an invitation for more of it.

  Chapter 11

  “Mama, I think I changed my mind.”

  My mama paused in the middle of packing Jamaal’s bag, a stack of diapers in hand. “Oh, no, Kimmy, we are not doing this.”

  I sighed, turning my attention back to the task at hand.

  “Maybe it’s just a little too soon,” I murmured, almost to myself.

  “Kimmy, he’s older now. Didn’t you say yourself his checkups have been good?”

  They had. In fact his pediatrician had been slightly surprised at how well he was progressing given his prematurity and complications. But it was one thing to go to the doctor and back. It was an entirely different consideration when you’re talking about having a baby’s day outing.

  It had taken a lot of convincing on my mother’s part. And compromising, also on my mother’s part. But I did settle on her taking Jamaal up to the church for an hour or two. My mom was right. Jamaal needed air. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t very well keep him in the house the rest of his life. Besides, it wasn’t long. Really just enough time for me to grab some lunch with Adria. And bring her up to speed on the shit I had been going through.

  I was still reeling from the doctor’s news from the previous week. Arsenic? How in the hell did that happen? Sure, now he was almost 95 percent better, but what disturbed my mom and me was that he had gotten sick in the first place.

  My mom had been nearly delirious when I’d spoken to her after the visit. “He’s not going back to the church,” she had said, pacing the living room. I couldn’t help but notice the slight trembling, despite her arms wrapped around herself. “He’s not. Forgive me, Lord, but I am wishing for a drink right about now.”

  “Why is he not going back to the church?” I asked.

  “Kimmy, where else can someone be doing something to your father?” she asked like it was obvious. “Of course he hasn’t ingested any poison here. The church is the only other place he eats. All those dirty women from the church bringing him food all the time, the pot lucks at the executive board meetings. Where else could he have gotten it from?”