Redeeming Waters

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  “Okay. So allow me to read what’s apparently between the lines here. Since you’re such a sweet person that you can’t bring yourself to say it and hurt my feelings. It’s none of my business where you were or what you were doing. And even if you were there, merely watching the phone every single time it rang, people don’t always feel like talking. So some people just need to take a hint, get a life, and chill!” Alana said. “Now how was that for straight, undiluted, unadulterated truth?”

  “Alana, I’m sorry, okay. It’s just . . . I miss Unzell. I wish he were here. And I’m a little upset with myself because it looks like I’m not measuring up to what God is expecting from me.”

  “Okay, let me stop you right there. If anybody loves the Lord, it’s you. If anyone tries to do what God is telling them to do, it’s you. I think you’re being a bit too hard on yourself. If anyone should be upset with her life, it ought to be me,” Alana said. “I live in a constant state of sin, it seems. At least when you feel like you’ve messed up, you go to God and ask Him for forgiveness. Not me. I figure: if I’m not going to stop doing what I’m doing that caused me to come before Him in the first place, then I might as well not waste His time asking His forgiveness. Particularly for something I know I’ll just be right back asking Him to forgive me for, most likely, a few days later.”

  “Alana, we have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. I don’t care how much we try. And I’m not saying that we shouldn’t try, but somehow, somewhere we mess up. Whether it’s something we did that we shouldn’t have; or something that we didn’t do that we should have. I’m trying my best, God knows, I’m trying. But—”

  “But nothing. I’m sitting over here in somebody else’s house because my finances and life are so messed up that I can’t get my own place. I’m hoping the man comes back and sees what a great catch I am and makes me his live-in companion permanently. And what am I willing to do to show him how great of a catch I am? Whatever I think will work, that’s what. Now, if that’s not premeditated sin, I don’t know what is. Then there’s you: Mrs. Brianna Bathsheba Wright Waters, working every day of your life, trying to do the right thing—”

  “And still, I miss it,” Brianna said. “Don’t you see that? We all miss it sometimes. So can we just drop this? No, I’ll tell you what: why don’t you and I, right now, right this minute, confess our sins and ask God for forgiveness . . . me and you.”

  “Say what?” Alana said.

  “Let’s pray for forgiveness of our sins right now, while we’re on the phone.”

  “Oh, I get it. You’re ready to get off the phone now. Well, all you had to do was say so,” Alana said. “You don’t have to go that low to get me off the phone.”

  “But I’m serious, Alana. And I’m not doing this to try and make you feel or look bad. I need to ask God for forgiveness, too. I’m just saying we can go to Him together.”

  “I see that you are desperately in need of a prayer partner. And you already know that I am not the one. So, I’m going to get off this phone and find something constructive to do,” Alana said. “Oh, Vincent called supposedly from London today. He wanted to see how things were going. I told him how Chad came by. He didn’t seem too pleased about that. He wanted to know—word for word—what Chad said. Like I’m some kind of tape recorder or something. Then he wondered, out loud, what may have caused Chad to drop in like that. I guess maybe they aren’t as neighborly as they’d like folks to believe.”

  “What did you tell him?” Brianna said.

  “The truth,” Alana said. “That Chad saw someone down here, and that he came by to make sure no one had broken into the place and was a squatter. Vincent seemed really surprised that Chad would care enough to come by, even if he did think someone had broken in and was a squatter on the place. I don’t have a clue what that’s all about. But I told Vincent that other than that, everything else was going along swimmingly. I didn’t mention that you were here, although I doubt that he really cares.”

  “Well, I’m sorry you freaked out because you couldn’t find me,” Brianna said. “But as you can tell, I’m fine. So, I’m going to get off the phone now.”

  “Okay,” Alana said. “I hope you feel better.”

  “I’m fine. I promise you, I’m fine.”

  Brianna hung up, sat back down, turned on the television, and began scanning through the channels. A preacher caught her attention. She stopped and began to watch.

  “ ‘The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom: and the knowledge of the Holy is understanding,’” the tall, thin preacher, whose name she didn’t know, said. “I’m reading from Proverbs, the ninth chapter, tenth verse; continuing with my teaching on An Invitation to Wisdom,” he said. “In verse twelve, we find, ‘If thou be wise, thou shalt be wise for thyself: but if thou scornest, thou alone shalt bear it.’ Okay, did you happen to catch that? In other words: it is wise to be wise. It’s smart to be smart. Wisdom is a good thing. But if you choose to do what is not wise, then you’re going to bear the fruit of your unwise decision. It will be on you and you alone. You can’t blame anyone else. Uh-uh.”

  The preacher took a step forward. “Now, if you keep reading, you’ll find words that will encourage you to avoid foolish women. You see, a foolish woman, and I’m not just going to regulate this to a foolish woman. Because I know y’all know there are a plethora of foolish men out there as well. In fact, when you read the rest of the scriptures in this chapter, you’ll see that it might be the man who is the most foolish because he believed the foolish woman.”

  Brianna was just about to change the channel when he said, “ ‘Stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant. ’ It’s right here in Proverbs 9:17. This is what the one who’s trying to entice the other wants the one being enticed to believe. That water may be good, but stolen waters are sweet. However, that last verse, number eighteen, states what’s really going on. ‘But he knoweth not that the dead are there; and that her guests are in the depths of hell.’ People of God, and anyone else under the sound of my voice right now,” the preacher said. “There is the Wisdom of God, and then there’s Folly. Wisdom invites you to her feast; and Folly, depicted in these scriptures as an adulterous woman, invites you to hers.” The preacher set his Bible on the lectern.

  “With Miss Wisdom you live and you gain abundant life,” the preacher said. “But, should you choose to listen to Miss Folly, then you die, or in other words you miss out on the good life. You get to choose. So will you choose to follow Wisdom; or will you choose to listen to and follow Folly, telling you how sweet stolen waters are and how pleasant bread eaten in secret can be? It’s lies, people, all lies. Stolen waters aren’t the real thing. Stolen waters are full of artificial sweeteners. Stolen waters cause you to feel guilty after you finish. And bread eaten in secret? It does nothing but pack on extra weight you have to lug around later. Weight that becomes miserable to both the spirit and the body.”

  The preacher nodded. “There’s someone out there right now listening to me who has messed up. Yes, you’re saved. Yes, you love the Lord with all of your heart. But somehow Satan slipped in during the night, and before you knew anything, you found yourself out of the will of God. But glory to God, I’m here to tell you that you can go to your Father in Heaven and you can ask Him for forgiveness. Somebody needs to ask for God’s forgiveness right now so you can be restored, realizing that with Jesus, you’re redeemed.

  “Then there’s someone . . . you have asked to be forgiven already. But Satan, that sneaky little rascal, is trying to tell you that what you did was so bad that it doesn’t matter that you’ve asked God for forgiveness. He’s trying to convince you that you need to come back again and again and keep asking. Well, whoever you are who has asked God for forgiveness already, the Lord is telling me . . . to tell you . . . to stop asking over and over again. He forgave you the first time you asked. Now you need to pick yourself up, gird yourself, strap your armor back on, and get back out there on the field rea
dy to stomp Satan and his imps. The game is not over yet. There’s still more time left on the clock.

  “And God needs you on your post. When you ask, and you keep coming back asking the same thing, it signals to God that you didn’t believe it was done, even though God said it is. God needs faith in order to operate in your life. For without faith, it is impossible to please God. I say to you, son . . . daughter . . . have faith in God.”

  Brianna began to cry. “I’m forgiven. Thank You, Lord. I’m forgiven. Oh, Lord, You are so loving.” She fell down on her knees and lifted her hands. “You are so caring. And I thank You for loving me so much that You would take the time to speak to me, little ole me . . . going as far as to do it through the airwaves. Thank You. Thank You.”

  Chapter 24

  And the woman conceived, and sent and told

  David, and said, I am with child.

  —2 Samuel 11:5

  It had been five weeks since Brianna had been to the beach and then to visit with King d.Avid. She hadn’t spoken with him even though he’d called her cell phone and left several messages stating that he merely wanted to check on her and be sure that she was all right. He reassured her that he was there if she ever needed anything.

  Her grandfather had called her a few days after King d.Avid called him. Pearson was so excited and pleased to have heard from his old client and someone he had, at one time, considered a friend.

  “God is amazing,” Pearson said. “Who would have thought—just out of the blue, for no apparent reason—King d.Avid would call and say some of the most heart-touching things as what he said to me. I’m so blessed, baby girl. So blessed! Ain’t God good?!”

  “I’m happy for you, Granddad. You deserve every good thing that comes your way and more.” And Brianna meant that.

  “I don’t know whether or not I deserve it, but I sure am thankful for God’s mercy and His grace. You know it’s the favor of God that can take us places where money and who we know can’t. Now, that was the favor and the hand of God that had King d.Avid call me. I truly believe that from my heart. And for him to have gotten my private number, not that it’s hard for someone like him to do. But still, just the thought of him making such an effort,” Pearson said. “I know he’s been in contact with your brother Mack. I asked Mack if he gave him my number, and he said it wasn’t him.”

  “Well, don’t worry about how it happened,” Brianna said. “I think it was wonderful of him to still be thinking of you and to have such high regard for all that you’ve been and done for him. I can hear the joy oozing from your voice.”

  “I would love for you to meet him, now that he’s a big-shot artist,” Pearson said. “I realize Unzell works for him, setting up his stages and things. Unzell could arrange a meeting. But since he and I have reconnected, and he wants me to come visit him when he finishes with this tour, I think it would be great if you’d come with me.”

  “We’ll see, Granddad,” Brianna said, knowing she wasn’t going to. “We’ll see.”

  Brianna was tired. She’d been stressed more than she cared to admit, which likely was contributing to her exhaustion. She also figured it was possibly stress that caused her always reliable, you-could-set-your-calendar-by-it, twenty-eight-day cycle to be a little over a week late. Reluctantly, she purchased an early pregnancy test, refusing to believe she could possibly be pregnant. But the fact was: she could. And she knew that burying her head in the sand and trying to pretend that it wasn’t possible was being irresponsible and naive and, in the end, would change nothing.

  She couldn’t talk to Alana about this. Alana would know, just as well as she, that with Unzell having been gone for two months, it would be impossible for her to be pregnant by him. So she took a deep breath and followed the instructions for the test.

  Brianna looked at the strip, fidgeting while she waited. “Pregnant,” the result said.

  “Pregnant? I’m pregnant?” she said to the stick as though talking to it would convince it to change its mind. “This can’t possibly be right.”

  So she took the second test, thankful two had been included in the package.

  “Pregnant,” it said again.

  If this was correct, then she was most definitely with child.

  Brianna called her doctor’s office and made an appointment.

  Three days later she sat in Doctor Hayward’s office. “Congratulations, Mrs. Waters. You’re definitely pregnant.” He smiled, something Brianna had never seen him do during the entire two other times she’d been to see him.

  The look on her face must have said what she verbally hadn’t.

  “You don’t seem too happy,” he said. “Is there a problem?”

  Yes, there’s a problem! A big problem, she thought. But she couldn’t speak, for fear that she’d burst into a full-blown cry. She merely shrugged a couple of times.

  “Do you want to talk about it with me? Talk with your husband first?” he asked.

  Brianna shook her head fast, then bucked up. “I’m okay,” she said. “How far?”

  “Well, from the information you’ve given me, I calculated you to be around six weeks, give or take two weeks. When we do an ultrasound, we can pinpoint it more accurately.”

  Brianna stood up to leave.

  “Here are a few prescriptions you need to have filled.” He tore off the small sheets. “But Mrs. Waters, if you’re not planning on carrying this baby to term—”

  “Doctor, no matter what I feel right now or how I might look, I have no interest in or intention of terminating this pregnancy. I am a pro-choice person who is pro-life. I’m just a little confused right now. But one thing I’m not confused about is carrying this baby to term. I will admit that, after that, the waters get a bit murky.”

  Doctor Hayward nodded, then stood up. “Well, I’d like for you to make another appointment in a month. And we’ll get you on a routine until delivery. Unless, of course, you talk with your husband and you change your—”

  “I won’t be changing my mind.” Brianna walked out of his office, set up her next appointment, and drove home, pretty much all done in a daze.

  As soon as she arrived home, Brianna lay across the bed, broke down, and cried. She cried for at least an hour before pulling herself together. Unzell would be home in about three weeks. They were back in the states now, but not able to come home since there was a concert scheduled in New York. She knew she would have to tell him the truth. There’s no way he wouldn’t figure out that this baby wasn’t his. Not after almost three months—by the time he got home—of him having been away. If he came home in a week and we were together, it wouldn’t be hard for him to think this baby is his.

  “What am I doing?” she said out loud. “I can’t try and pass off someone else’s child as his. That’s just wrong.” She pressed her face down hard into her pillow.

  But if I had been or could be with my husband within a reasonable time of this conception, Unzell might believe the baby is his without questioning it. And if—or better yet, when—the truth does eventually come out, since the truth always seems to, Unzell is a loving man, a forgiving man, a kind man; surely he would love this baby . . . even if the baby isn’t his.

  “Stop this! Stop it! What are you doing? What are you thinking?! Stop it . . .”

  Brianna dragged herself up and got her cell phone. She stared at it before retrieving his number. She mustered up her courage, then pressed the call button. There was no reason to put this off any longer. It was time to face the truth.

  It went to his voice mail. She wasn’t going to leave a message like this. It wasn’t safe. And she knew the consequences that could come if this information were to somehow fall into the wrong hands. She pressed the end button.

  Not a minute later, her cell phone rang. She looked at the number. It was him; he was calling her back.

  She sucked in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. “Hello,” she said.

  “Hi,” he said, hopefulness and joy dancing all in his voice. “Did you
just call?”

  “Yeah,” she said, weaker than she intended. She didn’t want him to hear the defeat in her voice, not before she could begin.

  “Is everything all right? Is something wrong? You don’t sound like yourself.”

  “Yeah. I guess. If ‘all right’ means that I’m with child,” Brianna said.

  “What? With child? What are you talking about? You mean you’re pregnant?”

  She blurted out one quick, short laugh, definitely not a laugh of joy. “That’s a great way of getting right to the point,” Brianna said. “Yes. I’m pregnant.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  “And the baby’s father?”

  “Must you ask?” Brianna said. She thought she heard him sigh, but she couldn’t be sure.

  “What about your husband?” King d.Avid said. “Have you—?”

  “No. I haven’t said anything to him as of yet,” Brianna said. “I just found out for absolute certain a few hours ago. I’m still trying to process all of this. It definitely threw me for a loop. My doctor says I’m about six weeks, give or take about two weeks. Truthfully, I can do better than that; I can pinpoint the exact date that it happened and count forty weeks from there.”

  “Listen, don’t say anything to your husband about this just yet, okay? Let me see what I may be able to do,” King d.Avid said.

  “I’m not getting rid of this baby,” Brianna said adamantly, shaking her head as though he could see her over the phone. “I’m not.”

  “And I would never ask that you do anything like that. Not to my child. Not my baby. I’m just asking you not to say or do anything until I tell you differently. That’s all.” King d.Avid paused for a few seconds, then continued. “Can you do that for me?”