Watercolored Pearls

by Stacy Hawkins Adams

  She prayed that the vein in her temple that pulsed when her heart was racing wouldn't give her away.

  "What about the things I told you the other day when Mr. Edwards was here too?"

  Tawana sighed and dropped the facade. "Look, Neal, I don't want to play games with you. Don't worry about any of us with the law firm breaking your confidences, as long as we're representing you. But I need you to stop being coy with me.

  "Why did you confess the other day, and why specifically to me? What will you gain by announcing that you killed Drew Thomas?"

  Neal lowered his head to the table and broke into sobs.

  Tawana was startled. She sat back and waited for him to regain his composure.

  "What is it?" she asked when he finally lifted his eyes.

  "What do you do when you're just so tired of running and hiding and playing by everyone else's rules because you have none of your own?"

  Neal's red eyes pleaded with her to provide an answer.

  Tawana's heart softened. She had resented him the last time they met because he had so callously talked about people with less material wealth than his family possessed.

  But today, he sat here in a jail cell, stripped of everything outside of himself. Without the car, the clothes, the status, and the money, he clearly was lost.

  Tawana leaned toward him and spoke softly. "I'm only five years older than you, Neal, and I still have a lot to learn too. I'm still making mistakes and taking wrong turns as I figure out life. The only sure thing I can tell you is that for me, faith has been there through thick and thin."

  She thought he would turn away, but Neal continued to listen.

  "Until you look inside and figure out who you are and who you want to be, you'll always be floating from one thing to another, searching for validation. Those things or people could be good or bad for you, depending on the way their winds blow. Believe me, I speak from experience. It's important for Neal to be able to live with Neal, at the end of the day."

  Now if I could just remember that for myself, Tawana thought.

  "You're saying all the right stuff, but why do you call yourself 'Elise' when you're here and you go by 'Tawana' everywhere else?" he asked.

  Tawana was busted.

  "Like I said, I'm still a work in progress too, Neal. I've spent the last few weeks asking myself what I'm ashamed of, what I'm trying to hide by doing that. I don't have an answer yet. I'm curious, though. How did you know?"

  Neal zeroed in on his hands, which he had connected in a teepee.

  "It's a long story, but part of the reason I wanted you to come back today. I could tell that I shocked you the other day with my revelation, and I wanted you to know that I'm not this cold and calculating killer."

  "But you confessed, Neal," Tawana said, shifting the conversation back to him. "And I'm not even sure if it was true self-defense, or if you pinned Drew in a wrestling move before he could attack you. My question is, how did you get his body out of there without being seen by somebody? You're from D.C. How did you find a place to dump Drew's body, and how did you turn up as a suspect?"

  "Now you're asking the right questions," Neal said. "But if I answer them, both of us could be in jeopardy."

  "Us?" Tawana asked.

  "How much time do we have?"

  41

  Erika stood in front of the black double doors and prayed silently for the right words.

  When she lifted her head, she almost jumped out of her skin. He had opened one door and was leaning against it, watching her.

  "You going to stand there 'til kingdom come and not ring the bell?" He hadn't said it harshly, but he wasn't smiling. "What are you doing? Praying?"

  Erika slowly put her two forefingers to her lips and kissed them. She pressed them to Derrick's lips, both to silence his questions and share her heart.

  Derrick stared at her without responding. He took her hand and led her inside. They stood in his foyer, on this Sunday morning, silently sizing each other up.

  She should have been in Richmond, at the fourth joint service for New Hope and Zion Memorial, but she had awakened with Derrick on her mind. She remembered how brusquely he had ended their last phone conversation and decided she didn't want a repeat episode. Plus, she just wanted to see him. She needed to see him.

  Serena had agreed to keep Aaron for the day.

  "If you love him, you need to let him know," she had advised. "It may be too late, but maybe not. You won't know if you don't try."

  The two-hour drive to his home in Bethesda, Maryland, just outside of D.C., had given her time to think about what she would say, or should say, once she reached him.

  Erika had arrived just before he would be leaving for Sunday morning service. She wore a silk summer dress and high-heeled sandals; maybe, if he were willing, she could join him.

  Now here she stood, in his home, gazing into his beautiful eyes. Everything she wanted to say rushed through her mind. Her heart pounded.

  He had let her inside, but what if he still told her goodbye? Erika knew she had no right to be here. She had strung him along and given him valid reasons to move on with his life, and the Bible they both revered had been her weapon.

  Should she tell him that she loved him, she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, she needed him, or. . .

  Before she could say anything, she heard the click-clack of heels on Derrick's marble floors.

  A thin, light brown woman with freckles and a short, layered hairdo rounded the corner. She put a manicured hand on one hip and paused to stare at Erika.

  "Oh," she said and looked at Derrick. "Who is this?"

  Erika thought she might die. Derrick moved to introduce her, but she waved him off. She didn't want him to see the tears or the searing pain emblazoned across her face.

  She pulled the envelope she had brought for him from her purse, laid it on a side table, and fled. It didn't matter now, but she wanted him to know that her divorce was final. She had made her decision.

  Back in the car, she somehow put the key in the ignition and drove out of the neighborhood's unlocked gates. She couldn't call Serena, because she was in church. So was Charlotte. Who could she talk to now that she knew she had taken too long, wasted too much time, and finally lost the one man who had loved her? How could she continue to work for him?

  Come to me and I will give you rest.

  God hadn't failed her yet, but what could he do with the shattered pieces of her heart?

  Erika pulled off an exit and into a gas station parking lot where she sat until she regained her composure.

  She thought about how Derrick must have felt all those times she had pushed him away or asked him to wait. Life had a way of coming full circle; if he had endured the pain she was feeling right now, she couldn't blame him for moving on with his life.

  The question now was, could she?

  42

  Serena was proud of herself.

  Four months pregnant and no meltdown. She had been extra patient with the boys, willing to cut herself some slack on her lacking Martha Stewart and B. Smith abilities, and had even considered taking on a few consulting assignments, to keep her hand in the business world and bring in some extra income.

  Having Misha around had been a joy. Serena had never spent this much time with her goddaughter. Misha was like a big sister to Jacob and Jaden, helping supervise their indoor playtime and reading them stories, along with making them play along with her imaginary school sessions or tea parties. Seeing her rough-and-tumble sons try to practice tea etiquette had been one for the scrapbooks.

  Today, though, Kami had come by at just the right time.

  One of the boys had poured his cereal on his brother, Misha was cranky from staying up late the night before to wait for Tawana to return home, and the washing machine had gone kaput. Kami showed up on her way home from the dentist and offered to help. Serena had literally shoved her dishtowel into her younger sister's hands.

  "Don't worry about the clutter
in the sink—just watch the kids," she said, praying that Kami wouldn't protest. "I need some fresh air. Right now."

  She was circling the block at a leisurely pace for the second time when she spotted Mrs. Brown, the retired teacher who lived a mile away and had babysat Aaron for her during his infancy.

  Serena waved and crossed the street to say hello. Mrs. Brown was pulling two toddlers in a red wagon. She gave Serena a hug.

  "You look beautiful!" said the stately woman. "And I see you have a little bun in the oven. When are you due?"

  Serena rubbed her stomach. "December, and I have two boys already—twins."

  Mrs. Brown's eyes widened. "Oh my goodness, no! How old are they? And how is my sweet little Aaron?"

  The little girls climbed out of the wagon and knelt beside Mrs. Brown to pluck flowerlike weeds from the cracks in the sidewalk.

  The difference in genders, Serena thought. My boys would have crushed and smushed those weeds instead.

  "Jacob and Jaden are two; they'll be three in December," Serena answered. "Aaron is doing great. He turned four in April and is as smart as a whip, thanks in part to you."

  Mrs. Brown clapped her hands. "That is such wonderful news. And he's back with his mother?"

  Serena nodded.

  "Erika lives here with him now. All is well."

  "We live only a mile apart; it's surprising that I haven't seen you out walking before," Mrs. Brown said. "I watch these little cousins here now, and I usually take them out on nice days, in the mornings before it gets too steamy."

  Serena looked sheepish.

  "I'm only taking this walk to have some quiet time. I really should get out more with the boys. It's just that with the housework, keeping them busy, keeping on top of everything else ..."

  Her voice trailed off and Mrs. Brown nodded. "Like your sanity?"

  Serena smiled in embarrassment.

  "I fully understand, Serena. These days, you moms try to do it all, but it's okay to have some help every now and then. You know what, why don't you bring the boys over one day a week so they can spend some time with me and give you a few hours to yourself, just to do nothing but relax or pamper Serena?"

  Serena was taken aback. "How thoughtful of you to offer. I guess I hadn't thought about needing a sitter when I'm home all day. I'll check with Micah and see if it's in our budget."

  Mrs. Brown smiled. "Check with him if you'd like, but this is my gift to you. There's no charge. Bring the boys over one day a week, the same day each week, for up to six hours.

  "With a new baby on the way, and them so young, you've got to take care of yourself."

  Serena protested. "Mrs. Brown, you can't work for free!"

  She grasped Serena by the shoulders. "Let me handle my business, okay? When I was a young mother, people opened their hearts to me. I'm just sharing my gift of caring for children with you. When you're older and have more time, you pass it on in your own unique way.

  "Do you remember where I live?"

  Serena nodded. "Your phone number too."

  "Call me. I can't wait to meet the twins. Tell the rest of the crew I said hello."

  When Mrs. Brown rounded the corner and was out of view, Serena looked heavenward.

  Thank you for the angel visit today, Daddy. I needed that.

  43

  Micah still hadn't gotten used to the idea of having an office where he could meet with ministry leaders, hold counseling sessions with members, and conduct other business.

  Now that New Hope had space, he also had room for an assistant. Mrs. Billingsley, a retired executive secretary, eagerly accepted the part-time position.

  After service today, she had tugged on his robe and whispered in his ear.

  "Great sermon, Pastor. A gentleman who attended the service this morning says he needs to talk with you. He says you'll know him—Deacon Ames?"

  Micah nodded and scanned the mingling congregation to see if he could spot him.

  "From Standing Rock Community Church," he said. "Ask him to meet me in the office in fifteen minutes."

  Micah sat here now, waiting and wondering what had prompted this visit. He was somewhat angry that it was occurring now, weeks after he and his members had been in desperate need of support from area churches.

  Micah had been grateful for the outpouring of love New

  New Hope had received support from congregations throughout metro Richmond, but he had noticed Standing Rock's silence.

  He stood to greet Deacon Ames when he heard a light tap on the door.

  "Come in," he said.

  Deacon Ames shuffled in with his cane, looking the same as he had when Micah left Standing Rock Community Church several years ago.

  "Rev. McDaniels! How are you? Thank you for taking time to see me this afternoon."

  Deacon Ames extended his hand to shake Micah's. Micah responded by motioning for him to take a seat in one of the leather chairs across from his desk.

  "This is a surprise. What brought you over to South Side today? Standing Rock didn't have service?"

  Forgive me for that dig, Lord.

  Deacon Ames smiled self-consciously. "No, no, Standing Rock is still on the move," he said. "Rev. Lyons is expanding our TV ministry overseas and is getting more and more famous."

  He suddenly turned the conversation to Micah. "I've been hearing great things about New Hope and the ministry work you're doing over here, and I thought I'd come for a visit. I hope . . . you don't mind?"

  Micah felt bad. "Overlook me, Deacon. I didn't mean anything by that comment. You know you're always welcome in the Lord's house. I'm just the shepherd here; the doors are open to anyone."

  Deacon Ames remained silent, but nodded.

  "In fact," Micah said, "I think I've seen other Standing Rock members visiting in recent weeks. None has come over to say hello, but I've seen some familiar faces. It's a blessing that God isn't confined to one sanctuary, one style of worship, or one type of ministry. He's like the pearls my wife is always talking about—multicolored, multilayered, and offering something for everyone, in just the way their needs should be met."

  Deacon Ames looked at Micah and smiled. "You're a good man, Rev. McDaniels."

  Micah raised an eyebrow. "Where did that come from?"

  Deacon Ames leaned forward on his cane.

  "I wanted to meet with you today, after sitting in the service and being blessed by your sermon, to apologize for the way I treated you when you left Standing Rock."

  Did Deacon Ames just apologize to me? This must be the day after never.

  Micah wanted to ask him to repeat himself. Instead, he came around the desk, and Deacon Ames hugged him. Micah towered over the elderly man; his head reached just above Micah's chest.

  As they embraced, the deacon began to weep.

  Startled, Micah pulled away. He helped Deacon Ames settle back into his chair and took the seat next to him.

  "Is everything okay, Deacon? Do you need me to pray with you?"

  Deacon Ames pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his face. He looked down at his hands, obviously embarrassed by his outburst.

  Micah sensed that the deacon didn't want to say too much. He waited.

  When Deacon Ames raised his head, he looked at Micah and exhaled.

  "Sorry about that, Reverend. You know, if you'd be willing to pray with me, I would appreciate it. I found out last month that I have colon cancer."

  Micah sat forward and touched Deacon Ames's shoulder.

  The older man tried to smile. "Only a few people know, and Rev. Jason Lyons isn't one of them. I've left him message after message to call me, but he's too busy being fitted for custom suits to wear on-air for the television ministry, or dating the women who are flocking to him. It's not the kind of news you want to leave on voice mail."

  So that was it. Deacon Ames couldn't get spiritual guidance from his spiritual leader. Maybe some of the other Standing Rock members who had been frequenting New Hope couldn't either.

&nb
sp; Micah didn't mind standing in at all. This man had been a mentor and a great help to him when he first arrived at Standing Rock. The bad blood between them needed to flow away. Micah was going to pray away any lingering animosity today.

  "Deacon, I'm sorry to hear about the cancer," he said. "You can call me anytime you need me. If I'm not available right away, someone here will track me down or pray with you in my place. Let's go to the throne of God."

  The men knelt in front of their chairs and bowed their heads. When Micah had helped Deacon Ames rise and retrieve his cane, he offered the deacon the chair again.

  Deacon Ames shook his head and walked toward the door.

  "No, I've taken enough of your time. Thank you so much for the prayer, Reverend. You and I both know that the prayers of the righteous are powerful. You are clearly walking in God's favor."

  Micah looked at Deacon Ames's sorrowful eyes and hesitated. He didn't know how serious the cancer was or whether he would see him again, so he went ahead and spoke the words God was urging him to share.

  "Deacon, thank you for coming to me today. It meant a lot to see you again and to pray with you. I'll be checking on you, but I want you to leave here certain of this: What may have been meant for bad has turned out to be for better. All that Standing Rock stuff is old news; I am where the Lord wants me to be. No regrets, no grudges."

  Deacon Ames turned back to hug Micah fiercely before opening the door and shuffling away on his cane.

  Serena, Erika, Tawana, and Ms. Carter had been sitting in the hall with the children, waiting on Micah to emerge. They looked from Deacon Ames to Micah and back again.

  "Did I just see who I thought I saw?" Serena asked as she rose from her seat and walked toward her husband.

  Micah pulled his wife into his arms.

  "God is something else, Serena. That's all I can say."

  44

  As the women bustled in the kitchen that afternoon, working together to prepare dinner, Deacon Ames's visit remained the hot topic.