A Good Excuse To Be Bad

by Miranda Parker

  She read in some magazine that the secret to marriage longevity was taking honeymoons instead of celebrating anniversaries. However, she skipped the anniversary idea and decided that taking honeymoons on a whim would be more fun.

  Ava had stopped crying by the time I came back into the kitchen.

  I sat on the stool next to her and placed my hands in hers. “Seriously, did you and Devon get into a fight? Is he cheating on you? I promise I won’t kill him. I just need to know.”

  “Of course we didn’t, Angel. Let me remind you, he is a man of God.”

  “Let me remind you that we all are children of God, and if he had hit you, then I’d hit him, too.”

  She huffed. “Your constant dance with violence. What has it gotten you?”

  “A broken heart.” I slid my hand away. “I don’t need to remember what I feel every day.”

  The doorbell rang. I stood.

  She touched my hand. “Angel, please forgive me. I wasn’t talking about Bella’s father.”

  “Whatever . . .” I stepped back. “Did your man hit you or not?”

  “The bishop would never hit me.” She snatched the hankie back and wiped her eyes.

  “The bishop . . .” I took a deep breath and cleared my mind of that last remark. Any woman who referred to her husband as a job title had issues. I handed her another hankie and walked toward the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  I walked back down the foyer, then looked through the peephole. Justus stood on the other side. My stomach flip-flopped. He carried a casserole dish in his potholder-covered hand. Did the man know how handsome he looked?

  I opened my door. “Hi, Justus.”

  He smiled, then extended the dish toward me. “Mac and cheese, as promised.”

  From where I stood, I could smell the cheese and butter bubbling over crusted parmesan.

  I shook my head. “Ava’s here. Come inside. I’ll introduce you, since you two haven’t met in person yet.”

  He nodded. When he walked beside me, I inhaled magnolias and cozy fires. Wow. If his cooking tasted as good as he smelled, I didn’t know what I’d do with myself. I ushered him toward the kitchen, but Ava was not there.

  Like a thief in the night, she had snuck out the back kitchen door. I looked out my opened door and stepped onto the patio. The hot muggy air held onto Ava’s soft peach perfume and tickled my nose. Where had she run off to, and why the disappearing act?

  Justus patted my shoulder.

  “She ran out the back door, Justus.” I turned to him. “Is that not the craziest thing you’ve ever seen?”

  “I’m sure she had good reason to leave like she did. Maybe she felt uncomfortable when she heard my voice.”

  “No way. Ava’s never uncomfortable around handsome men. Something’s definitely up.”

  “Handsome? You think I’m handsome?” He laughed softly.

  I waved him off. “You know what I mean. She’s a natural flirt, gravitates to men like a moth to a flame. Normally, she would have sniffed you at my door before you rang the bell. But she’s off her axis, apparently.”

  “She’ll find her way back to you.”

  “I just hope it’s not too late.” I shuddered.

  It wasn’t cold outside nor was a cool breeze stirring. Yet, I had a chill I couldn’t shake. Ava was hiding something important.

  “Maybe I should go after her.”

  “For her to leave the way she did, I don’t think she wants to be found right now.”

  “But her behavior isn’t like her. I’m really worried now.” I leaned over my patio railing. I couldn’t believe she ran out like that.

  I turned my attention back to Justus. “Something’s wrong. I feel it.”

  “Come here.” He pulled me into his arms. “If you need me, I’m here for you. Remember that.”

  The way he held me felt just right. Not in a kinky way, but a safe way, like I didn’t have to worry about taking care of every little thing when he was around.

  “If you don’t want to have dinner now, I understand,” Justus said.

  “Are you kidding me? I haven’t had someone else cook for me in a long time. Just give me a minute to collect my thoughts.”

  “Okay.” He walked back inside.

  I kept a pair of binoculars in a hanging flower basket on the patio. I swept my patio and backyard with them. They gave me no insight as to how Ava managed to wiggle that pencil skirt of hers down my steps, snake through my child safety-protected backyard, open the locked fence, and back out of my driveway in the itty-bitty time it took to walk Justus through my backdoor. I bit down on my thumb. Did she get a personal trainer or something?

  “Macaroni!” Bella’s sweet voice caught me off guard.

  When I walked back inside, I found her seated at the dinner table. She had snuck downstairs after her nap or I hadn’t noticed her come downstairs, because I was too preoccupied with how great Justus looked. She licked her lips while Justus spooned macaroni and cheese in her special plastic dinner bowl. I cannot lie. The sight of them melted me.

  I had decided to stop cutting Bella’s thick curly brown hair last year. Now it fell well past her shoulders. Thank goodness Whitney had brushed her hair back and parted it into two cascading ponytails before she left, else she wouldn’t be able to see the food in front of her. I wouldn’t be able to marvel with pride over her baby doll brown eyes, deep dimples, and button nose. She was a cutie. I was honored to be her mom.

  After Justus placed some strawberries and peaches in another plate for Bella, he walked over to me. My heart skipped a few beats as I watched his swagger. When he wasn’t in his church garb or preachy frame of mind, he had great promise.

  “Since Bella’s here, I assume that we will talk about my niece at a later time,” he said.

  “You don’t mind?” I asked.

  “Actually, I was hoping for another chance to cook for you.”

  “I better taste your cooking first before I ask for second helpings.”

  He laughed hard.

  “Mommy, food’s getting cold.”

  “Honey, I think it might be too hot for me.”

  Justus beamed and I enjoyed drinking him all in.

  At midnight, my questions about Ava were answered. Ava showed up on my doorstep again. This time she wore a floor-length peach silk marabou robe, my niece and nephew strapped to her hips, and the most apologetic pout a twin could make.

  Once inside, Ava peeked down the foyer and looked up toward the staircase, which compelled me to check my foyer and search my staircase. Wait a minute. I shook myself. You know what’s in your house, girl. What’s wrong with you? My older sister—by a mere four minutes—continued to have the knack of making me second-guess myself, even when the obvious hit me smack dab in our thirty-four-year-old faces.

  I turned toward her, really looked at her, and observed the situation. She came to my house unannounced, with her children, but without her husband.

  I asked her the only obvious questions anyone with good sense would ask. “What are you doing here, and where is your husband?”

  No reply. Not a good sign for a preacher’s wife, or at least the ones I knew.

  Six years ago, a local paper had botched a tax scandal investigation of Atlanta Faith Church, which I called Big Faith. Since then, anywhere Ava went or anything she said, my cronies from television and radio were sure to note and file away. I was once a reporter. I knew the game. So when this infamous, provocatively dressed preacher’s wife snuck out in the middle of the night with the celebrity preacher’s kids to visit a sister whom her husband promised to never speak to again, it didn’t look like Big Faith was involved at all. Looked more like big trouble.

  I didn’t like any kind of trouble, big or teeny tiny.

  I decided to ask another question. “Is something wrong?”

  Ava shifted her kids on her hips and spoke so soft I had to read her lips. “I don’t know.”

  Granted, it’s not hard for me to read lips. All i
t took was a basic knowledge of the human face—which was fairly easy, since Ava and I shared the same face. Yet, I was confused. We were in the North Atlanta burbs. Ava was safer than an angel at dawn here. Yet, she just scoped my place like Satan was lurking behind the couch. She searched my eyes like our being twins never mattered, like I hadn’t battled hell to save her or that Bible-spouting husband of hers six years ago. And the best answer she could come up with was she didn’t know? Who was she fooling?

  “You don’t know what? Why you’re here or where your husband is?”

  She bit her lip. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

  “Well, you’ve come to the wrong place. Honey, you know I’ve been fresh out of answers since Y2K.”

  She chuckled and shifted the kids again. “How about a fresh pot of coffee and a place to rest until I figure some things out?”

  “Now, that I can do.” I pointed toward my staircase. “Why don’t you put the kids upstairs? Lil’ D and Taylor can sleep in the guest room next to Bella’s. You can bunk with me. Whitney’s room is the pits, so don’t look at that mess. I’ll pull out my generic instant coffee and some stale coffeecake that’s been hovering in the back of my fridge. How ’bout that?”

  She hesitated before she nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

  As we approached the stairs, I thought of sleeping Bella. She had longed for another sister or brother since she realized all her friends had sisters and brothers. Why we women could not be satisfied with what we had was beyond me. Fortunately, she’d get her wish tonight.

  From where I stood, all I heard was her soft snore and her vacation bible school music stampeding down the floor—this year’s theme was Western Roundup. Their finale pool party was tomorrow. We had to giddyap by eight in the morning, so I needed to be asleep like now.

  “Let me help you.” I stretched out my arms to take one of the kids from Ava.

  She turned away from me and clutched them tighter. It reminded me of the time she didn’t want me to play with her porcelain dolls. It reminded me of how awkward and unworthy I often felt around her. Why did I let her in my house?

  “I wouldn’t hurt them. You know that,” I said.

  She nodded, but wouldn’t release one child to me. Whatever.

  I pointed toward the stairs. “After you.”

  Once we reached the second floor, I stopped. “I’m going to check on Bella. Okay?”

  She nodded with a slight hesitation again, then continued toward the guest room.

  An old statistics professor of mine once taught me that over sixty-five percent of communication was nonverbal. Fifty-five percent of what a person meant was in their facial expression. Ava hadn’t looked me in the eyes since she got here, and that last bob was suspect.

  “Avalyn Marie McArthur?”

  She turned around and winked at me. “I’m good, Angel.”

  I sighed. That Betty Boop wink of hers always calmed me down. For a moment, we were little girls again, sneaking off at dawn to fish in our granny’s creek. No puberty, boys, or any of those things that eventually separated us. We were in sync back then. Why couldn’t it be that way again?

  I winked back and then went to check on my child. Maybe Ava missed me as much as I did her. Maybe that’s why she was here. Or maybe I was jumping to conclusions again. I’d been doing that a lot lately.

  That’s the only negative about being a retired reporter. I couldn’t stop questioning every doggone thing. Like lately, I could swear that Ms. Hattie Mae, my neighbor across the street, stayed up at night watching passersby out her window. Or take Darlene Eades, the mother of three under three, two doors down. I had never seen her without a well-rested smile. Creepy.

  Bella slept soundly. I kissed her cheek and left for downstairs. When I got down there, Ava wasn’t there. I checked my kitchen, the den, every room, including the patio. So I went back upstairs to see if she needed any help with my niece and nephew.

  But when I got upstairs, I couldn’t find her there either. I found three suitcases, however. I assumed she brought them in while I was upstairs.

  “Ava?” I searched the guest room.

  No Ava. I went back upstairs and searched my room. She wasn’t there either. Then I heard a car door slam outside.

  I ran to the window and looked outside. I groaned. You gotta be kidding me. Sure enough, my perfect sister politely was backing of my driveway without a word. Gone again, but this time she left her kids behind.

  My heart pounded. What in the world was going on?

  I raced out the room, down the hall, and slid down the banister. It wasn’t pretty and it chafed. Despite the discomfort, I yanked the front door open and stumbled onto the porch. But I was too late. She peeled off into the night just as I hopped off the last step.

  “Avalyn!” I screamed at her taillights speeding down my normally quiet street. “I can’t take care of three kids and Whitney.”

  5

  Friday, 12:35 AM

  I stood on my porch for thirty minutes, waiting and praying for Ava to come back. My hands shook. My head swam. My mind raced. My sister had me bent with few options.

  I called her cell phone; she didn’t answer. I wanted to call her house, but there was no way she was there so soon, and I wasn’t sure if my calling would cause trouble. I wanted to call Mom, but then I remembered that if I did that, then I should also prepare for her to kill me, or worse, tell me how I continue to fail her as a daughter. Or, I could travel to Ava’s place in Decatur to find out what was going on and, if need be, kick D’s butt. Sounded good to me, except I had to tell Whitney what just happened.

  I took a slow walk to her room. Our little sister was no joke. Unlike Ava and me, she grew up in Atlanta instead of the country. Because she had always lived in the city, she had very little patience, except when it came to Bella. Her whole logic about life was different than Ava’s and mine, too. Although I learned to develop a thick skin, I believe Whitney was born to fight. At least that’s what Mom said when she made her come live with me.

  I knocked on her door.

  She flung it open. “What?”

  “You’re awake.” I hopped back.

  Whitney didn’t look like Ava and me, not because of the obvious. We had different dads. She was longer, leaner, darker, and oozed sexiness. Even with her hair in a ponytail and wrapped in a bandana. She looked like Atlanta.

  “I couldn’t help but be after all that jumping and running Bella was doing in the house. Do you know when I went to her room, she was sound asleep? How does a kid make all that noise, then look so innocent and quiet in the next minute?” She shook her head, then tilted her head at me. “How much do you know about her daddy?”

  “Whitney, it wasn’t Bella making that racket, it was me, Ava, and her kids.”

  Her eyes widened. “Ava’s here?”

  “Nope, not anymore. She left about a half hour ago.”

  “Why was she stopping through this late? Did she and Devon just come back from a road trip or something?”

  “Ava came here with the kids without Devon. She was dressed in a froufrou nightgown looking sad, real sad. I went to check on Bella, and before I knew what was happening, she left us with the kids and disappeared.”

  She grabbed me and pulled me inside. “What in the world? What’s up with her? Let me call her.” She reached for her cell phone.

  “Wait.” I caught her hand. “Ava has a bruise on her face. She says it was an accident, but it looked like a handprint to me.”

  Whitney reached for her shoes under her nightstand. “Let’s go.”

  “Hold on!” I snatched the shoes from her. “If it is what we think it is, we have to be careful. I think we need to call the Dekalb County Police first.”

  “Bump the police. Pack up the kids. Let’s go. I got some hurt for him.” She ran out the door and down the hall. “Meet you in the garage. I need to get some tools.”

  “Wait . . .” Maybe I should have asked her to be my heavy last night when I needed it.
“Don’t you wake up those kids.”

  The phone rang. I looked at it. It was Justus. I smiled.

  Whitney returned to the room with the other cordless phone on her right ear and a grin on her face. “Hold on, Justus. She’s right here . . .”

  She stood beside me, muted the phone, then elbowed me without dropping any of the tools in her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me Justus was here today?”

  “Because I didn’t have time to. Plus, Ava’s disappearing acts almost blew my night with Justus.

  “Your night?” She grabbed me by my pajama top. “Did y’all go on a date? And you didn’t tell me?”

  “No, technically no. He brought dinner here.”

  “Shut the front door,” Whitney squealed. “And now he’s making a booty call.”

  I snatched the phone from her. “He’s a minister. You can’t say stuff like that.”

  “Hmm . . .” She pursed her lips. “He’s a man, ain’t he?”

  “Girl, get a grip. He is a man, not one of your wang-ster boy toys.”

  “Whatever.” She looked at the phone. “I bet you five dollars he’s waiting on the phone.”

  I frowned. “And what would be the point of this bet?”

  “As long as we’ve been talking . . . if he’s still holding on, he wants more than just to talk with you.” She giggled. “Ooh. Why would he want you at one in the morning? You know what that means? He wants you for life, wifey.” She laughed louder.

  “Stop it. Please get that thought out of your head.” I checked the phone to see if he was holding. “It probably has something to do with his niece. He came over here today to convince me to work for him. Apparently, some mysterious Romeo has her nose wide open. The child probably snuck out the house tonight.”

  “Ttttt.” Whitney shook her head as she dumped a steel chain and two hammers in a duffle bag. “Been there, done that.”

  I plopped myself back on her bed. “I can’t help him right now.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “Tell him the truth.” I lifted the receiver and unmuted the call. “Hello, Justus. Is something wrong?”