Tears produced in my own eyes. And before I could respond, Solomon was back on the phone.
“Mrs. Johnson, I’m sorry. All she does is cry. And talk about you, of course. She can’t get over what she’s done to you and your husband. She starts talking, and then the next thing I know, she’s crying hysterically. I figured the only way for her to get on a progressive journey was to make one step by apologizing to you.”
Again, I was at a loss for words. I couldn’t believe my ears. I couldn’t believe that Twylah was actually alive. How did she survive? Had she really tried to kill herself? Had three men really thrown her into a lake? If so, wouldn’t she have drowned, even if she hadn’t killed herself when they tossed her in?
Too many questions were running through my mind.
“Where are you?” I blurted out.
“I’m in North Atlanta right now.”
“Maybe we can meet downtown,” I suggested.
“I’ll meet you at the Starbucks in Midtown in about an hour,” he said before hanging up.
I sat at a small table at the Starbucks, sipping a latte with a dash of cinnamon, when a tall man entered the establishment. He was almost the identical image of Twylah. I knew instantly that the man was Solomon Andrews.
I stood from the table and went to the door.
“Are you Solomon?” I asked.
“Yes, I am. You must be Mrs. Johnson,” he said, extending his hand toward mine.
“I am. My table is over there in the back,” I said, pointing toward the area I’d been sitting in.
He followed me to the table, and we sat down in an awkward silence.
He was the first to break it. “I’m sorry to have to disturb you on a Saturday evening. I’m sure your husband is not too enthusiastic about you meeting me—a total stranger.”
I didn’t want to address his last statement. While I was probably out of my mind for meeting a stranger in light of all that had happened recently, I would have really lost my senses if I told him Darvin was out of town. I didn’t need Twylah or her brother breaking in on me.
“It’s okay.” I sipped my latte. “So, can you please tell me more about this situation with Twylah? I’m sure you know I have several questions.”
He smiled and sort of dropped his head. “First, I’m grateful to God that my sister is alive. I didn’t get a chance to make it to her memorial service because of my tour in Iraq. I harbored so much guilt about it; I thought I’d never get over it. So, when I found out she was alive, I was more than relieved. It was a week ago tomorrow that I got the call.
“An older couple in Alpharetta found Twylah standing dangerously close to a lake in their neighborhood. They got out of their car, approached her, and asked was she okay. Twylah, I guess, began to cry and tell them that she couldn’t remember who she was, or how she’d gotten there. They said that she appeared to have been wandering around for many days. They took her to their house out of the kindness of their hearts, allowed her a hot bath, a hot meal, and a place to stay.
“After a few weeks of nurturing her, Twylah began to remember certain things. My name was one of them. From there, they researched, found me online, and contacted me. I went up there to verify that it was her, and it was.”
He took out his cell phone and showed me a picture of a woman who’d lost a tremendous amount of weight, but nonetheless was Twylah.
I hadn’t even realized that I was crying.
“Don’t cry. She’s all right. And she feels terrible about all of the things that she’s done to you in the past. She is sorely regretful, especially for the break-in. That was the last thing she can remember the two of you discussing before she was presumed dead.”
“It was,” I said as my thoughts wandered back to that day. “So, are you saying that Twylah never attempted to kill herself?”
“From what I can gather, she had been contemplating thoughts of suicide. She mentioned something about a suicide letter she wrote the night she broke into your house. She never got rid of it, and I’m assuming that is the reason the police ruled it a suicide. However, someone did try to kill her, and after that person left, coincidentally, those three men came in and discovered her—nearly dead.
“Since then, we’ve learned that they panicked, and for fear of being charged with murder, removed her body, drove her to that lake, and tossed her in. And I’m assuming that when they dumped her, the cold water brought her back to consciousness, and she was able to float back to the bank.
“We are still a little unclear about that part, but it explained why that couple found her there. She had been venturing out to the town area, but kept going back to the lake, attempting to trigger her memory or something. The police discovered that those three men were residents in the vicinity of where they left her, and had traveled down to South Atlanta and broken into several homes. Long story short, God saved her life,” he finished by saying.
“Wow. I can’t believe it. I’m overjoyed. I mean, your mother must be very excited. I’m sure you all are.”
“We are thankful, simply put.”
“I’m very happy. This is good news.”
“There’s more.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I wanted you to know about Twylah being alive, but I also wanted to talk to you about the person who tried to kill her that day.”
My interest was piqued again.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Everything,” he said seriously. “And I’ve tried to figure out several ways to approach you, but there’s only one way to do it, and that is to do it.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, throwing up my hands. “You’re saying that the person who was trying to kill her is somehow connected to me? Because I’m going to tell you right now, I had nothing to do with it, and I certainly don’t know who was responsible for it.”
“Calm down. I know that you’re not responsible, and I know you had nothing to do with it.”
“So, what are you getting at?”
“Twylah and this person got into a very heated argument that day, and they got into a tussle. From what Twylah can remember, this person began choking her, and from there she can’t remember anything else until she woke up in the water.”
“Who is this person?”
I could see the signs of anger developing in the creases of his forehead, and in the flames of his eyes. His jaw hardened, and he wrung his hands together tightly.
I gently touched his hand. “I hope I’m not overstepping my boundaries, but are you okay?” I asked cautiously. “Who is this person you’re referring to?”
“Daphne Carlton.”
In that moment, my heart threatened to stop beating. My nerves packed up and ran out of the door screaming, We can’t take any more!
Chapter Thirty-two
Daphne
Darvin and I had the most fabulous time tonight. We’d laughed like school kids. His subtle, flirtatious gestures had all but driven me insane with desire for him.
He was tremendously surprised to see me when I bumped into him in the lobby of the Marriott hotel where we were staying.
“Dawn, what are you doing here?” he asked, taken aback.
“Pastor,” I said shamefacedly. “I knew from Ann that you were flying up here today, and I wanted you to have some support. I figured that with all of the people not wanting you to come here, it would do you good to see someone standing by your side.” I saw him get uncomfortable. “You know, as a follower of your ministry,” I said, hurrying to dismiss any adverse thoughts he might have.
“I’m at a loss for words, Dawn. I’m impressed that you would go to such lengths to show your support.”
I would go through anything for you, Darvin.
“Well, here I am,” I said, displaying my perfect white teeth. “Are you waiting for someone?” I asked, looking around the lobby.
“No, I was going to grab a bite to eat in the hotel’s restaurant after I called my wife.”
But I am your
wife.
“Oh, I see. That’s funny, because I was headed out to dinner too. I didn’t know if the food here was good.”
“It usually is. I typically eat here at least once whenever I preach up here.”
“So, you would recommend it?”
“It’s pretty good.”
I didn’t need to seem too desperate. “Well, I’m sure you want to get in a quiet moment. I’m going to just go down a block or two and see what I find.”
He looked down at his Rolex. “It’s a little late, Dawn. Maybe you should consider eating here. I would hate for you to be out at this hour by yourself.”
His concern for my well-being made me want to do backward flips. “Are you sure? I really don’t want to intrude.”
“No intrusion here.”
We walked up to the host at the restaurant, and Darvin ordered a table for two. Once seated, we ordered appetizers and talked all about the folks at Bethelite. I reiterated to him the fact that I was extremely proud that a church of that caliber was recruiting him and he was my pastor.
A few times he pulled out his cell phone, no doubt calling Michelle, but the gods in heaven were in my favor, because she had not answered.
I spent the remainder of the evening allowing Darvin to confide in me personal goals and aspirations. He shared that he really wanted to accept the offer to pastor Bethelite, but was sure Michelle would be in dire straits before she allowed that to happen.
“Pastor, you have to do what the Lord is leading you to do,” I said. “If First Lady is truly meant to be your wife, she will follow your leadership. I mean, what could be so bad about moving to Baltimore? Sure, it will be an adjustment—major adjustment-—but in time, she’ll get over it.” I paused.
“Follow the voice of God. It will never lead you wrong. It has never led me wrong.”
I could see the appreciation of my words reflecting in his eyes. I had scored major, major points. It was time for truth or dare.
“I have something to tell you,” I said, lowering my lashes.
I could see the muscles in his face harden. “What is it?”
“You don’t have to be nervous,” I said, letting him know I could sense his tenseness. “I just need to let you in on a little information . . . about what to expect tomorrow.”
He took a sip of his water. “Expect? What do you mean?
“Well, the day that I revealed to you that Bethelite had been desperately trying to reach you, I failed to mention one little small detail.”
“And what was that?” he asked, taking a bite of the filet mignon he’d ordered.
“The reason I was able to get so much information from the search team was because I called them, pretending to be your wife.”
He started choking. For a minute, I thought he was playing, but he really had gotten strangled.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Did you just say you pretended to be my wife? You mean to tell me that you couldn’t think of any other way to get information? Like approach me with the fact that the church had been trying to reach me?”
I had not seen this going this way in my mind. I thought he would consider it a joke.
“No, I didn’t consider that option. I only knew that I had to find out what was going on. I wanted to help you. I knew they would have never given any details about the call to the staff, because they wouldn’t have wanted anyone to know the reason for their call. So, when I found out that Michelle had obviously talked to them about their offer, I figured the only way I could get details was to pretend to be her,” I said, throwing the heat back on Michelle. “So, I did. I flew up here and—”
“You flew up here?” he interrupted, practically screaming.
“Yes. I met with the search team—as your wife. I gathered all of the information, brought it back to you, and here we are.”
I knew I’d taken a big risk telling him all of this, but it was either now or tomorrow. When I walked into the church, no doubt they would be treating me as First Lady Johnson, and Darvin would want to know why.
We sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. It was pushing me closer to the brim of madness every second he remained quiet. If only he would scream, shout, yell—something. Anything.
“Dawn, I’m disappointed in you. I understand your motives, but your methods were all wrong. You should have never done anything like that, because what am I supposed to tell those people tomorrow when we arrive to church?” He paused and signaled the waiter for the check. He sighed.
“Thank God Michelle isn’t here or coming. I would have the biggest mess on my hands.”
“Pastor, I’m—”
“You know . . .” he interrupted, “this is something that your sister would have done. I would have never expected this from you, Dawn. I thought you had much more class than that. I must say, you’re definitely your sister’s sister.”
Those words were murder to my self-esteem. He had compared me to Daphne. Even though I was Daphne, I hadn’t wanted him to remember her.
As far as I was concerned, she was dead. And the only three people who knew the truth were my mother, Twylah, and Solomon. This is why I had to convince him by tomorrow that it was me who should be his wife.
I had already planned to send for my belongings, so I would never have to set foot back in Atlanta. Everything that I’d arranged in Atlanta in the name of Dawn Johnson had been cancelled. I would stay here and build a life with Darvin, and no one who knew me would ever hear from me again. I had already prepared myself to have to deal with Michelle occasionally, because of their baby together, but even that wouldn’t be often.
“I really hoped you would be able to see the goodness in what I’d done. Had it not been for me, you wouldn’t be here right now. You would have never known, because the one person you were supposed to trust to assist you in your destiny schemed, and withheld what could prove to the biggest opportunity of your ministerial career. And you have the nerve to sit here and harp on the fact that I pretended to be your wife, for the sake of only obtaining information? In my mind, I could hear you saying, ‘Thanks, Dawn.’
“True, my sister has her ways, but that woman was in love with you. Truth is, I feel that I may be falling in love with you, but you know what? I pushed my feelings aside, and I did this for you.
“Imagine if you take this position. I don’t benefit from it. I set this up for another woman who was too selfish to make the trip to support you. And you’re appalled by me?” I pulled a hundred dollar bill out of my Versace wallet and laid it on the table.
“Dinner was on me. Consider it a love gift,” I said as I began to walk away from the table.
I walked out of the restaurant and to the elevators. I pushed the button, and saw Darvin approaching me.
“Dawn, I’m sorry.”
Bingo.
“Don’t mention it. It’s not a big deal.”
“Yes, it is. That was very rude of me to behave that way back there. I guess when you said that you had pretended to be my wife, it struck a chord. We dealt with so much with your sister; I had a flashback. Please forgive me.”
The elevator doors popped open. I stepped inside, and Darvin followed. I pushed the button for the nineteenth floor. He didn’t know it, but my room was across the hall from his.
“What floor?” I asked, trying to sound annoyed.
“I guess we’re going to the same one. I’m on nineteen.”
We rode in silence.
“I’m sorry,” I spat out. “The last thing I planned to do was make you upset. I love you, and I would never intentionally hurt you,” I said, a lone tear skiing down my face.
I was surprised by my own words. I hadn’t meant to tell him I loved him, but my heart got in the way.
The elevator doors opened again, and we walked out. I paused in front of my door.
“Did you know you were staying across the hall from me?”
I knew that was coming.
“How could I know that if you’
ve been gone all day?”
I saw him deliberate the validity of my answer, as I turned and slid my key into the electronic lock system.
“So, are we going to figure out how to deal with this tomorrow? Exactly how many people think you’re my wife?”
“The entire search team, as well as the limo driver coming to pick you up in the morning.”
He rolled his eyes and released a breath of frustration.
“There’s no way we can continue this façade. They are sure to find out the truth at some point—like, for example, when I accept the pastorate.”
So, he was going to accept it? At least one thing was accomplished. The rest I could work on.
“I’ll tell you what; you don’t have to tell them tomorrow. You know how big the church is. I’ll sit in the back, or in the overflow section, and nobody will ever know I’m there. I don’t have to be on the front row, or be the first lady to show my support. All that matters is that you know I’m here.”
Approval graced his face.
“Dawn, you’re—actually, I don’t know what else to say,” he said, gazing into my eyes.
I did what came natural. I kissed him on the cheek, turned around, and went into my suite. Inside, I looked through the peephole and realized that he was still standing in the same place.
I leaned against the door and moaned. I wanted so badly to fling that door open and drag him into my room and make sweet love to him. I was tired of going to sleep alone. I needed my man. My female needs needed to be met, and only he was able to meet them.
Tomorrow would be different. I had a wonderful evening planned for us after he was done with both services. It would be a night that he would remember for years to come. I knew it would work, because I was in his head now. And when you have a man’s head, you have access to his heart too. There was no separating the two, as far as I was concerned.
I got into bed, closed my eyes, and dreamt terrifying dreams of Michelle trying to kill me.
Chapter Thirty-three
Michelle
Diary of a Mad First Lady Page 24
