Redeeming Waters

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  “Yeah . . . right,” Brianna said with a short, fake laugh.

  “I’m not going to charge him because I need a place to stay. And this house he wants me to sit for is on the beach . . . in Georgia, of all places. Right here in Georgia!” Alana said. “I’m thinking you and I can have a really nice time over there, relaxing, taking dips in the water, when the water is warm enough, that is. See, Brianna, I was thinking about you, too, even during all of my mayhem. Unzell has been gone for over a month now. What else do you have to do with your life and free time? Huh?”

  “Okay. I have to admit. It does sound like something that will work. This man needed a house-sitter; you needed a place to stay. It’s a win-win for both of you. And Unzell will be gone for at least another eight weeks. I’ll be finished with my class next week. Honestly, I can’t find anything wrong with any of this. I really can’t.”

  Alana burst into a full grin and started to bounce up and down. She put her foot back on the floor. “Now you’re getting it! I know you’ve been really praying for me. That’s why things are falling into place like they are lately. I know that’s why. Anyway, I went to Vincent’s beach house earlier today so he could show me all the things I need to know. I moved my clothes and a few other little things in just to give the place a feel of home for me. You know how I do. But it’s fully furnished. Vincent leaves in two days going overseas. At least, that’s what he said he was doing. But who cares whether he is or isn’t. I have a place on the beach for weeks to come. And as far as I’m concerned right this minute, everything is right with the world!”

  Chapter 12

  He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

  —Psalm 23:2

  A week later, Brianna met Alana and followed her to Vincent’s house. On Tybee Island, the house was a little more than a two-and-a-half-hour drive. Not too bad. Driving instead of choosing to let Alana come and get her as Alana had suggested meant Brianna could go home when she was ready. She knew Alana; Alana would have her over there for the entire time, sipping Long Island teas or something.

  Brianna stepped out of her car, set her overnight bag down at the back door of the house, and hurried around to the front. “This is nice,” she said. “The view is stunning. The waters are so calm . . . tranquil . . . still. I’ve never been to a house on a beach before.”

  “Isn’t it nice?” Alana said. “This is Vincent’s beach home. It’s not as large as his regular house or that huge four-story house right there.” Alana pointed at a light yellow house—with separate white painted railed porches in its front, that looked to be about twelve feet deep, and was as wide as the house, and with what appeared to be an observation / sunning deck on the roof also enclosed with intricate white railings—three houses down. “But it’s really nice. I can see why Vincent was worried about it sitting here without any activity for an extended period of time while he’s out of town. This is the time when most people start coming or, at least, start thinking about coming to the beach.”

  “Or he just did this to set you up.” Brianna went back and retrieved her red overnight bag from the back area. “Maybe he knew you were in a desperate place in your life and this was his way of making sure you had somewhere to stay without you realizing what he was doing. Maybe he’s really a nice guy after all. Then again . . .”

  “Is that all you brought, Bathsheba?” Alana asked, looking down at the red bag.

  “Yeah. I told you I wasn’t planning on staying but a day or two. I just wanted to see where you were. You never know when I might need to have this information.”

  Alana shook her head, then slid a sandal across some stray sands on a rock, causing a sanding sound. “That is so sad. You’d rather sit at home all alone for weeks on end than to spend it out here with me on this heaven of a beach.”

  Brianna waited as Alana unlocked the back door. “It’s tempting, that’s for sure.”

  They settled in for the rest of the day. The next morning, Brianna got up early from the baby blue–painted guest room and strolled outside. She immediately took off her flip-flops and let the sand slip and glide between her toes. She’d brought a few books with her as well as her notebook, just in case she felt inspired to write a poem or two. Around 10 A.M., she went back into the house. Alana was up now, sitting in the bright yellow kitchen, with its white cabinets, at the round, oak dining table that seated six.

  “I wondered if you were up yet,” Brianna said.

  Alana sipped her coffee. “Yeah. But you can’t help but sleep like a baby out here.”

  “Yeah, I know. However, it’s so wonderful outside that you, or at least I, don’t want to miss one moment sleeping it away. I had to get out there. The waters and the beach were calling my name. Brianna. Brianna.”

  Alana set the cup of black coffee back in its saucer. “It looks like you’re loving this place even more than I am. At least, you’re appreciating it the way it should be appreciated.” Alana yawned. “I suppose I’m so worn out from fighting for the last three months, I just want to sleep in peace.”

  “Well, you’ll have lots of opportunity later to enjoy this place and all of its benefits. You’ll be here for several more weeks to come.”

  “So, you never told me: how did you do in your religion class?”

  Brianna broke into a grin. “I received a 4.2. I aced my test and even got bonus points for that impromptu visit I made to that mikvah. My professor was impressed.”

  “Yay! Great!” Alana picked up her cup of coffee and took a sip. “So, are you going to sign up for more classes now that you’re back in the swing of things?”

  “I think so, starting in the fall. But I’d like to take a heavier class load, maybe three classes this time around. I’ll wait until Unzell gets home and see what he thinks.”

  “You don’t have to ask Unzell if you can take a heavier class load,” Alana said.

  “I know. But I’m not certain of his schedule for later this year. It’s possible he may be home a lot more since King d.Avid’s concert tour will officially be over. The last thing I want to do is to be out of pocket because of some college schedule, while Unzell’s in town,” Brianna said. “I’ve told you we haven’t gotten to spend much time together as husband and wife. First, there was his injury, surgeries, and recovery. He then finished college in Ann Arbor—again, away from me. He got this job that’s both rewarding and exciting. But as I’ve said, it can be quite taxing, to say the least, on a relationship.”

  “Well, I say sign up. It wouldn’t be any different than if you were working full time,” Alana said. “Go for it. The way you talk, Unzell doesn’t do much with you when he’s home anyway. This way, at least you’ll have something to keep you busy instead of you watching him watch TV, then him glancing at your patient self and saying, ‘Baby, you the best!’” Alana mocked, using a man’s voice when she pretended to be Unzell.

  “Listen to you.” Brianna laughed.

  “What?”

  “And what are you doing besides sleeping all day?”

  Alana stood up. “Ten o’clock is not all day. Besides, I’m planning a wonderful little dinner for us this evening and that’s going to be work.”

  Brianna stood up. “Well, I’m going back outside. Maybe I’ll sit on the porch until later in the day. I might even decide to take a little dip in the waters, stick my toes in.”

  “There’s a hot-water shower outside if you decide you want to use it,” Alana said. “It’s that little outhouse-looking shed right next to the house.”

  “I suppose that’s a good thing to have around. Especially if one is inclined to have guests over. That way you don’t have to worry about people tracking sand in and out of your house, traipsing from the outside into the house and back, to shower,” Brianna said.

  “Yeah, I guess.” Alana set her cup in the sink, then scratched her uncombed head.

  “Call me when you’re ready to cook and I’ll come in and help you.”

  “No
pe. You’re my guest, and I’m going to take care of you for a change.”

  Brianna lowered her head and tilted it toward Alana. “Seriously. You’re going to cook for me? And you don’t want my help? Not at all? Not in the least?”

  “Seriously. I’ve become quite the little chef over the past few months, thanks to Dre. I guess that’s one good thing that came from me having lived essentially with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde or who one might be inclined to call The Iron Fist Chef.”

  “Personally”—Brianna opened the refrigerator door and took out a bottle of water—“I find nothing good that came from you living with that jerk.” She closed the refrigerator door. “If you need me, you know where I’ll be—out enjoying the still waters.” Brianna gave a little Miss America wave. “Tata,” she said, then opened the screen door and sashayed out.

  Chapter 13

  And it came to pass in an eveningtide, that David arose from off his bed, and walked upon the roof of the king’s house: and from the roof he saw a woman washing herself; and the woman was very beautiful to look upon.

  —2 Samuel 11:2

  The sun was setting, a beautiful humongous orange at first suspended equally between the heavens and the water, before almost sitting on and seeing its reflection on the ocean waters. King d.Avid had awakened late in the evening and walked up the short flight of stairs to the railed observation roof of his beach house.

  He hadn’t really been looking for a house on the beach, but his third wife had insisted that they buy it. And it had to be this house, because this one was only twenty feet from the actual beach. This one had full glass windows from top to bottom (on every floor) on the ocean side of the house. This one had three bedrooms, three-and-a-half baths, that easily accommodated a king size, queen size, four twins, and a sofa bed with a finished one-car garage on the ground floor and space for two more cars in the driveway on the backside of the house with public parking directly across the street (just in case they entertained and needed the extra parking space). And of course, there was the elevator, as small as it was, that went from the ground floor all the way to the top.

  King d.Avid should have been on his plane, or at least getting ready to be on it, right about now. He had three weeks of concerts overseas, beginning next week. Then it would be right back to the states for two more weeks of concerts in four different cities, making a total of almost eight straight weeks of being on the road. Instead, he had come to his house on Tybee Island—a place he rarely visited—to get away, to hide out, to get a little peace and quiet, to regroup before his next round of concerts began again.

  Vincent had gone already, excited that all of the concerts had sold out so quickly—within hours, really, of going on sale. Vincent had business he needed to take care of prior to King d.Avid’s arrival in England. So naturally, King d.Avid was surprised to see someone, a woman who looked to be in her early twenties, at Vincent’s beach house a few houses down from his. She stepped into the outdoor shower. The one that—when the door was closed—theoretically hid its occupant rather well from all sides, but to his discovery, not at all from the top. She disrobed and began to wash from her head down to her toes. Seeing this made it abundantly clear that the outdoor shower didn’t keep one as private as one may have thought they were. Not if someone happened to be standing on his roof and looking down at the unroofed facility.

  Normally, he would, but he didn’t care that it was wrong for him to see her. For whatever reason, this woman was all that filled his thoughts now. And she absolutely took his breath away; she was just that beautiful. Long, dark-auburn hair that appeared black when wet. Flawless, light-brown skin, at least from where he stood. Petite. Curves in all the right places. Yes, he should have looked away. But for whatever reason, he didn’t . . . he couldn’t. He was utterly and completely, at this point, oxygen deprived and mesmerized. He then watched her do something rather interesting. She shut off the water; slipped on and tied tight a lightweight, purple robe; then trotted toward the ocean without even bothering to put on a bathing suit or anything else. She looked around as though she was searching for someone, only there was no one there except her.

  She then walked straight into the ocean waters with her robe on, until the waters reached her shoulders. Around that time, King d.Avid thought she might possibly be crazy, maybe even suicidal, and that instead of looking on, he should get down there and save her before she did something foolish. But for whatever reason that he couldn’t explain, he didn’t move. He merely stood there . . . watching . . . watching. And as he watched, he saw her disrobe (her body concealed by the waters), then submerge her whole self, including her head, into the waters. Her robe floated on top nearby, then once (purposely, it appeared) directly over her head. She had dipped one time, two times, three times, with no regard for her hair, which is what surprised King d.Avid the most. Every black woman he’d ever known didn’t play when it came to her hair getting wet. And in unfiltered ocean waters particularly, most of them always, always protected their hair by wearing a swimming cap.

  She then retrieved her robe, putting it on wet, tied the robe’s belt back securely around her waist as she trudged out of the waters just as she’d gone in (albeit with a little more labor now that she bore a water-soaked robe). She slipped back inside the outdoor shower, dried herself, put on dry clothes (a white top and white Capri pants), then started toward the house that belonged to Vincent.

  King d.Avid quickly pulled out his cell phone and, using its camera feature, snapped her picture just as she turned one last time to gaze out upon the ocean waters. She then bounced up the wooden steps to the house and equally into his beating heart.

  Chapter 14

  And David sent and inquired after the woman. And

  one said, Is not this Bath-sheba, the daughter of

  Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite?

  —2 Samuel 11:3

  King d.Avid hurried downstairs. He summoned the head of his security. Chad was there standing before him within minutes.

  “Yes, sir,” Chad said.

  “Not that it’s really any of my business, but did you know someone was staying at Vincent’s beach house? Do you know if he rented it out while he’s gone?”

  “Not that I know of,” Chad said. “Would you like for me to check on it? Make sure someone’s not there illegally?”

  “I suppose I could just call Vincent and ask him,” King d.Avid said.

  “I wouldn’t trouble him about it. I can just as easily walk over there and check things out. If whoever is there is authorized to be there, there’s not a problem. If not, hey, Vincent will thank you for being a good neighbor.”

  King d.Avid pulled out his cell phone. He retrieved the photo he’d secretly snapped earlier. “This is the woman I just saw go in there.” He showed the photo to Chad.

  Chad took King d.Avid’s phone and looked closely at the picture. “I know her.”

  King d.Avid instantly registered a puzzled look on his face. “You know her?” He took his phone back. “This woman right there?” He held up his phone. “You know her?”

  “Yes, sir. Her hair is different, most likely because it’s dripping wet here. But that’s a pretty clear picture of her face. Her name is Brianna Waters. I met her when her brother, Mack Wright, came to see you and brought Melvin around Christmastime.”

  King d.Avid tilted his head slightly as he took another look at the photo. “So this is Mack Wright’s little sister? You’re telling me that this woman here”—he gestured toward the phone with his head—“is Mack’s little sister Brianna?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m pretty certain that’s her.” Chad stood almost at attention, military style. “Mack asked if we could go by her house before we came to see you. So we stopped over there. He chatted with her for a few minutes. I was standing near her, so I got a good look. And from what I gathered, that was her first time meeting Melvin.”

  “Did Mack tell her he was on his way to my house?” King d.Avid asked.

 
“No. To my delight, he didn’t. She asked him why he was in the city. It sounded to me like he hadn’t been to visit her since she’d moved to Atlanta. Mack skillfully changed the subject. I was most impressed with him and how he handled things.”

  “So, you’re telling me this woman”—he held up the phone and shook it—“is Mack’s little sister, Amos Wright’s baby daughter, Pearson Wright’s granddaughter?” King d.Avid shook his head as he grinned. “Talk about a small world.”

  “It gets even smaller than that,” Chad said. “Brianna Waters is also married to one of the people working in setting up the stages for your concerts. That stage manager who came on board November first of last year: Unzell Waters. Well, that’s his wife.”

  King d.Avid looked at her picture again. “So this is little Brianna Wright, all grown up and now married. I met her once when she was ten. I never will forget that.”

  “Ten, huh? Well, she’s definitely all grown up now; definitely not ten anymore.”

  “So why do you think she’s at Vincent’s place?” King d.Avid asked, not really looking for him to have an answer. “Do you think Vincent and my old manager, Pearson, have somehow become friendly, and Pearson worked out something for his granddaughter to be able to come here to his beach house? Or maybe Vincent and her husband have connected, and that’s how this all came about? Although I honestly can’t see Vincent getting friendly with anyone he refers to as ‘the help.’ Hmmm.”

  “Not sure. But as I said, I can go over there and check things out. This is what I do. And I know how to do it in a way where she won’t have a clue that I’m gathering information,” Chad said. “I’m paid to be both effective and discreet.”

  “I would like for you to check on her. Make sure everything is okay. You know. Especially since her husband is overseas working so hard on my behalf. They’ve all been away from home for so long.” He shook his head.