Dreams That Won't Let Go

by Stacy Hawkins Adams

  Peyton’s smile exuded sadness. “It’s tough to see him estranged from God, isn’t it?”

  Indigo’s heart went out to her sister-in-law. “How did you get past that and decide to marry him, since God has been so important to you for so long? It’s almost like you went against biblical teachings.”

  “The thing is, those ‘teachings’ are open to interpretation,” Peyton said. “That’s why it’s so important to have a connection with God for yourself, so you can understand what he wants you to specifically glean from his Word. What he speaks to you through the Scriptures might be different from the message he has for me. That’s why we’re each accountable to him for our actions, our words, and our deeds. Nobody else is going to judge you fairly.”

  Peyton stood up from the table and stretched. She allowed Indigo to lead her back to the sofa, where she tucked her feet under her again, Indian style, and rested her head along the top edge of the seat.

  “Now, to answer your question—Reuben and I are indeed in two different places spiritually, and that was the one thing that gave me pause. But when he described your grandparents, and how he had been raised, I was reassured.

  “Everything Reuben needs is right inside of him, waiting to burst forth,” Peyton said. “The only thing holding God at bay in Reuben’s life is Reuben, with his doubts and fears and anger over how your parents died. When it appeared that our relationship was growing serious and I knew I loved him, I started talking to God about whether this was right.

  “God helped me see past Reuben’s defenses and even his lingering pain, to the man who’s tucked inside the tough ‘little boy’ exterior the world sees,” Peyton continued. “He showed me that Reuben was a good man, and a man after his own heart. Reuben just needs to accept that about himself and stop running from himself and everyone else. I had a peace when I said ‘yes’ to his marriage proposal that in God’s timing, he would come around and share my faith. In the meantime, I just have to be thankful for the loving, giving husband he is and share my light with him without badgering him. God’s going to do the rest. I know he’s working it out.”

  Indigo was humbled. She had never given much thought to how their biological parents’ deaths could still be affecting him as an adult.

  I’ve been hating on my brother when I should have been praying for his wounded soul.

  Her disdain and avoidance had only heaped coals on the fire he had lit around himself. She was ashamed. “I don’t know everything, do I?”

  Peyton shook her head.

  “This family likes to keep secrets, and I hate that,” Indigo said, trying to quell her frustration. “But you see where it gets us? Misunderstandings. Broken relationships. Surprise disappearances. We’ve got to stop this, but how?”

  “The solution is simple, but implementing it isn’t,” Peyton said. “We break negative patterns by giving everything to God. All of it. Our desires, our fears, our frustrations, our need for revenge. When we hand all of it over and go on about our business, he works it all out without us having to break into a sweat or lift a finger. I’ve seen it happen time and time again in my own life.

  “And that’s why I allowed myself to fall for your brother, because I knew that he was a man who would catch me if I ever physically faltered or needed emotional strength. And regardless of whether he acknowledged it, I knew that his strength came from God, because of how and when it was instilled in him.

  “Reuben has let a mountain of hurt chink away at his self-confidence, at his faith, and at his being, but even so, he’s been able to be such a giving person. Anybody who has that kind of capacity when they’re wounded is going to be amazing when they’re healthy, and I know that God is going to heal him. That’s really why we moved back to Jubilant, Indigo. This is all part of God’s plan to bring Reuben back to him, and from what I’m hearing tonight, to bring you closer to him too.”

  Indigo was seconds from baring her soul when the ringing cell phone saved her. She glanced at the number and saw 212 again. Knowing it was probably Sasha, she decided not to answer. It was Saturday evening, and she had company.

  “Go ahead and take the call,” Peyton said. “I’ll get my deck of Braille playing cards so I can beat you at Bid Whist.”

  She felt her way to the edge of the sofa and rummaged through her purse while Indigo strode to the kitchen.

  “Indigo Burns here.”

  “Thank God.”

  Indigo pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at the receiver, to make sure she was hearing correctly. This couldn’t be Sasha Davies calling.

  “Hello?”

  “Indigo?”

  “Yes?”

  “Hi, it’s Sasha. I didn’t mean to catch you off guard, I’m just so glad that you answered.”

  What was the world coming to? Indigo was eager to hear this. She sat at the small round table in her kitchen and waited.

  “I know where Yasmin is.”

  She must be losing it. She was hearing things. “What did you say?”

  “Your sister Yasmin is here in New York. She has been living with me for a few weeks, but now she’s gone.”

  Peyton appeared in the kitchen doorway, holding the deck of cards.

  “Sasha, I need you to repeat yourself. Are you telling me that Yasmin has been in New York with you for nearly a month? Why are you just now calling? No—better yet, just tell me where she is!”

  Sasha sighed. “That’s the problem, Indigo. I don’t know anymore. She got upset with me when I enforced her curfew and we had a fight. I came home three days ago from the office and she had packed her bags and left me a note, informing me that she didn’t need me to make it. She has other friends in the business too.

  “That’s why I’m calling. Those so-called ‘other friends’ are bad news. Every reputable agent in New York knows they use girls up and spit them out. I’m worried.”

  Indigo’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t believe she had been a phone call away from her sister all this time. Yasmin had had the good sense to run somewhere safe, but now it sounded like she was getting sidetracked.

  “Did she come straight to you when she got to New York, Sasha?” Indigo asked.

  The lack of a reply was her answer.

  “Why didn’t you call then?”

  “She’s eighteen now,” Sasha said. “She can make her own decisions and sign her own contracts.”

  Indigo understood. Her sister was being groomed for Ford Models again, but at a price and at a pace that Sasha preferred. Just like any good talent scout or agent would, she was going to take care of herself through Yasmin and whoever else she could.

  “So your meal ticket’s gone now and you’re calling to tattle.”

  Indigo knew she had gone too far when Sasha didn’t respond. She could feel the woman seething through the phone.

  “I’m sorry, Sasha. I’m just worried about my sister. I appreciate the fact that you did call. What do you suggest my family and I do to find her, to get her back home?”

  “I don’t know that she’ll be coming home anytime soon, Indigo. She has jobs lined up with some of the upper-echelon fashion houses through next spring. She’ll be working pretty steadily, just like she wants.”

  “Who vetted her contract, Sasha?” Indigo reigned in her anger by speaking slowly. “Slave labor is against the law, you know.”

  “She’s better off with me than where she’s headed.” Sasha didn’t sound a bit remorseful. “I don’t know how you could possibly track her down in New York if she doesn’t want to be found, but if she touches base with you, let her know she’s headed for trouble. Any big missteps could ruin her chances for a reputable career with Ford or any other A-list agency.”

  Indigo felt trapped and helpless. What could she do from Jubilant, Texas? “Do you have her new cell number, Sasha?”

  Sasha hesitated, but passed it along. “She’s not answering my calls. Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

  Indigo thanked Sasha again and ended the call with a prom
ise to tell Yasmin to contact her regarding her contract. She quickly dialed Yasmin’s new number and held her breath, unsure of what to say first if her sister picked up.

  But Yasmin didn’t answer. The best thing Indigo could do was reiterate Sasha’s warnings about the questionable modeling agencies, and beg her to at least call.

  “Mama and Daddy need to hear your voice, and I do too. Don’t give up your dream, but don’t give up on us, either, Yas-min. Call us.”

  Indigo shut off the phone and sank into a chair, deflated. Peyton cautiously crossed the room until she felt the edge of the table and searched for the seat across from Indigo.

  “The good news is that she’s alive and well, and that she’s been staying in a safe place,” Peyton said.

  Indigo nodded and remembered that Peyton couldn’t see. “You’re right. But how do I call Mama and Daddy and tell them what I just learned, especially that she’s probably not coming home or finishing high school? They can’t take much more.”

  Peyton rested her chin in her hand.

  “Remember the conversation we just had, about not keeping secrets or hiding truths? Now might be a good time to stop holding back. The truth sets all of us free—from fear, from manipulation, from the need to be right. It is what it is. At the very least, you can let them know that she has been making safe choices thus far, and the hope is that she’ll continue. Tell them that you’ve left her a message and urged her to call. Then we all can pray for the same thing: for Yasmin to be wise and mature and to make it home safely, despite all that glitters before her right now.”

  Indigo flipped open her cell phone and pressed the speed dial code for Mama and Daddy’s home number. She passed the phone to Peyton.

  “Here, sis. Help me out.”

  26

  Max gave it to him straight.

  “You think you’re the man and you can heal yourself. Ain’t gonna happen, Reuben. You can’t cure whatever you’re wrestling with without some professional help, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Reuben wasn’t sure how he and Max had landed on the subject of his nightmares, but somehow it had all come out during the pickup game of basketball they launched into after Reuben lost his third game of pool.

  The recurring dreams, the decision to move back to Jubilant to fix his mistakes, the frustration over his unsuccessful attempts— until just recently—to reconcile with Indigo, the guilt over Yasmin running away.

  Max seemed unfazed, and he had a ready answer: Reuben was trying to do the impossible. “It’s like opting to perform surgery on yourself, and without anesthesia.”

  Reuben attempted to mask his embarrassment with lightheartedness. “I thought colored folk, especially men, had issues with going to counseling. You seem just the opposite.”

  Max paused and tossed the ball to him. “We do have hang-ups about it, but that’s why we stay stuck in our mess,” he said. “My mother took my sister and me to counseling when she decided to leave my father. I was fifteen and angry and rebellious. I didn’t want to go and acted a fool for the first few sessions. But when I let my guard down and started to get real, those sessions helped me figure out how to handle my pain and disappointment over my parents’ divorce.”

  Reuben paused with the ball positioned for a shot. “You got all of that in counseling. How long did you go?”

  “For about a year.” Max stole the ball from Reuben’s grip. “It was the worst and the best year of my life.”

  “How could it be both?”

  “Because out of the devastation of losing my intact family, I discovered how to find lessons in life’s difficulties. The therapist helped me determine what steps I needed to take to become the man I wanted to be. He showed me how to make choices that would matter for a lifetime, not just for short-term gains or pleasure.”

  Reuben chuckled. “I’m almost thirty-two. If I don’t know who I am by now, I’m in trouble.”

  Max ran alongside him and nudged him with his elbow. “You’re moving too slow to be the same age as me. Step it up!”

  They played for a few more minutes, until Max tossed what he called the final throw and conceded his loss to Reuben.

  “Good game, man.”

  A short time later, on the way to his car, Reuben brought up the subject again. “I enjoyed myself tonight man, and thanks for listening. It’s not often that I open up like that.”

  Max grabbed Reuben’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “It’s all good, Reuben. We’re family. I could tell something was on you the night we went to Bible study. I’m here if you need to talk, but Pastor Taylor is a good resource too. Not many people know it, but he’s a professional psychologist as well as a theologian.”

  Reuben’s eyes widened. “But he worked at a homeless shelter, he said.”

  Max nodded. “Yes—as the assistant director, a role he was able to assume because of his undergrad and master’s degrees in psychology.”

  The revelations just kept coming. This was good information, though. If Pastor Taylor could confidentially advise him, he wouldn’t have to drive so far for help. He must be trustworthy if Max recommended him.

  The men hugged and slapped palms, and Reuben slid behind the steering wheel of his SUV. He lowered his driver’s side window, so he could continue his conversation with Max.

  “How’s Indigo feeling about me these days?” He had promised himself he wouldn’t put Max on the spot, but he couldn’t help it.

  Max shrugged. “Ask her, Reuben. Go straight to the source. The more you do that, the more you’ll find those nightmares losing their power.”

  Under normal circumstances he would have stayed as far away as possible from anyone who showed as much disdain as Indigo had. But he knew a lot of it was his fault. He had summoned the courage to tell two people the truth—Peyton knew everything and Max knew enough to be helpful. He was getting close to home base, but he hadn’t hit a homerun yet.

  He wondered, for the first time since coming home, what it would be like to sit Indigo down, and his parents, and simply tell it all. The thought both terrified and intrigued him. Max was right, though—something had to give; he couldn’t continue down this path.

  He looked up the church address and phone number on his navigation system, and although it was Saturday night, he left a message on Pastor Taylor’s private voice mail, requesting an appointment.

  Reuben ended the call and sighed. Already he felt lighter. He was going to work through this, and God help him, he just might be alright.

  27

  R euben parked on the street in front of Mama and Daddy’s house because the driveway was already full. He was stopping by to pick up Charles David before swinging by Indigo’s place to get Peyton. To his surprise, Aunt Melba, Rachelle and Gabe, and even Indigo were there. Why hadn’t Peyton called to let him know where she was?

  Yasmin.

  If she had come home and he were the last to know, he might hit the roof. He jogged up the path to the house and pushed on the door to see if it was open. It was.

  He strode to the family room and found everyone gathered around the desktop computer positioned against the far wall.

  “What’s going on? Max and I weren’t invited to the party?” he asked and approached the group to see what had captured their attention.

  They were scrolling through a list titled “B List Modeling Agencies” and jotting down the names of places with particular zip codes.

  Peyton wiggled through the group to his side and hugged him. She wrinkled her nose, but didn’t comment. Reuben knew his basketball sweat was unappealing.

  “We tried to call you and Max, but no one answered at the house or on either of your cells,” she said. “I got here and got engrossed and didn’t think to call back and leave a message. Sorry, babe.”

  He remembered the basketball game. They had been outside and probably hadn’t heard the rings. Max would probably show up shortly, if they’d left him a voice mail.

  “What’s going on? Have we fig
ured out where Yasmin might be?”

  Peyton filled him in on Indigo’s chat with Sasha Davies. “We came over to tell your parents and they called Melba and Rachelle and Gabe and decided to try and figure out where she might be headed.”

  Reuben shook his head. He wanted his sister home safe and sound too, but unless they had more information, this seemed like a wild-goose chase. “Indigo, would any of your friends from your grad school days know about the places models hang out, or the names of modeling agencies notorious for scamming young girls? That might help narrow the focus.”

  He saw a glimmer of respect in her eyes, and his heart skipped a beat.

  “Great idea, Reuben,” she said, without a trace of her usual animosity. “I’ll get my PDA and see whose numbers I still have.”

  She trotted off to find her purse, and Reuben searched the room for Charles David, who wasn’t scampering around as usual.

  “Where’s my little man?” he asked.

  “He was bathed and in jammies by the time Indigo and I got here,” Peyton said. “He and his Grammy had decided he could spend the night, they just hadn’t broken the news to us yet.”

  Mama and Daddy sat on the edge of their seats, watching as Rachelle and Gabe scrolled through the agencies, looking for clues. Fifteen minutes later, they printed the long list and logged off the computer.

  “This could be impossible, with this many modeling agencies,” Gabe told Mama and Daddy. “This really doesn’t help us at all.”

  Melba pushed her chair away from the computer and stood up. “Let’s give this a rest,” she said. “Come on, everybody, get in a circle.”

  Reuben wasn’t sure where this was headed, but since no one else balked, neither did he. Indigo returned to the family room just in time to close the gap. She hesitated before joining the group.