Falling Into Grace

by Michelle Stimpson

  Camille held herself steady by resting one hand on Ronald’s arm as she bent over to laugh. “That’s crazy. I didn’t know there was so much drama for a minister of music.”

  “You wouldn’t believe half the stuff I encounter on a daily basis. At church. But I won’t go there. The people of God aren’t perfect.”

  She had to agree. “I’m sure I would believe your stories. My mother was the church musician.”

  “Oh, really? What—”

  “Daddy!”

  “Hey, baby girl.”

  Daddy? Camille traced Ronald’s line of sight. Brittney?

  “Hey, Miss Camille!” She hugged her fellow Fly Girl. “This is my daddy. Ooh, Daddy. This is the lady I was telling you about, from the camp.”

  “Yes, I know. And you were right.” Ronald faced Camille now. “She has a beautiful voice.”

  Oh, that he were talking about her face. Her body. Anything that might actually lead to a peek at his body. Wait a minute. This was Brittney’s dad. Now that they were standing side by side, the resemblance was undeniable. Same eyebrows, same lips, only his had a slight moustache above them. Okay, so he was Brittney’s sexy dad.

  “Thank you,” Camille finally remembered to respond.

  “Daddy, I need ten dollars.”

  “For what?”

  “I’m gonna buy some candy for Renatta’s cheerleading fund-raiser.”

  He reached into his back pocket. “Do we really need any more candy at the house?”

  “It’s only a little bag of gummi worms, gosh.”

  Camille covered her lips. Watching them was like viewing a rerun of her own teen years; one hand on a hip in defiance, the other extended, begging for money.

  Brittney faced Camille. “Ooh! You got any of your CDs?”

  “I sure do.” She led them to her car. The pop of the trunk officially opened the Sweet Treats store. However, for this customer, Camille decided to give. “Here you go. This one’s on the house.”

  Brittney held out her hand, but her father intercepted the gift. “I’ll burn the songs you can hear on a separate CD.”

  “Aww! Why you gotta be so strict?” Brittney crossed her arms.

  Camille felt like doing the same. Been a while since she’d been so insulted. Well, no. Actually, Ronald had done a pretty good job of it when he rightfully insinuated that she was one of the shameful ones. Still. Couldn’t he have had this conversation with his daughter at home?

  “Bye, Miss Camille. Thanks for the CD. I’ll listen to whatever my dad lets me listen to.” Brittney gave a sarcastic grin. “See you later.” She shuffled back into the building with a single bill in hand.

  Ronald spoke again when Brittney was out of hearing distance. “No offense. It’s hard enough being the single father of a teenage daughter. She hears enough suggestive material on television and at school. I censor as much as I can.”

  “What makes you think my music needs to be censored?” Camille rolled her neck to one side.

  “I remember the Sweet Treats.” He held the case in the evening’s last light and read. “‘Meet Me in the Hot Tub.’ ‘Stroke It.’ ‘Between My Hips.’”

  When he read the titles like that, back to back, there was a certain ... ring to them. “So, the titles are sexy, but they’re nothing compared to what the kids listen to today.”

  “All I’m saying is, I censor as much as parently possible.”

  She smacked, “She’s gonna go buck wild when she gets to college.”

  Ronald contested, “Do you have kids?”

  “No. I know girls, though. When you keep them sheltered, they don’t know how to act when they leave the house.”

  “Says who?” he challenged.

  “Says everybody who knows anything about raising kids!”

  “I beg to differ,” he half flirted.

  Camille crossed her arms and asked, “And what experience do you have being the teenage daughter of the church musician?”

  He matched her movements. “Try being the bishop’s only son.”

  “Then you ought to understand better than anyone else what it’s like to have this see-no-evil lifestyle shoved down your throat,” she reasoned.

  He paused. Gave in. “I do understand what you and probably two-thirds of the world are saying. But what I know now is that the Word is true. If you train up a child in the way she should go, when she’s older, she won’t depart from it. That’s His promise.”

  Ronald’s eyes darted toward the doors again. Brittney. “The Word worked for this PK. I’m glad to know it works for MKs, too.”

  Camille cast a questioning glance.

  “Musicians’ kids,” he joked.

  She squinted. “That is so corny.”

  He winked. “’Night.”

  “ ’Night.”

  CHAPTER 18

  They say prayer changes things. Alexis knew this to be true, except she never realized it could change her mind so drastically. Make her go back on her word. Perhaps that was because she’d never promised something so sneaky before, never would again.

  Her hands shook as she held the cell phone. This conference call, facilitated by Tonya, should have taken place a long time ago.

  “You there?” Tonya asked.

  “Yeah.”

  The other line rang once. Twice. “Hello.”

  Tonya spoke first. “Hi, Courtney, how are you?”

  “Good and you?”

  “Fine. Alexis is on the line, too.”

  “Hey, Lexi,” he singsonged. “Is everything all right?”

  Alexis answered for both women. “Yes and no.”

  “What’s up?”

  “We’ve been thinking about Camille,” Tonya ventured.

  Tension rose in Courtney’s voice. “What about her?”

  Tonya continued, “We know what happened in the past wasn’t right. She led the conspiracy to fire you as our manager and we all realize that was a big mistake.”

  “It wasn’t simply a mistake,” he stated. “It was a matter of greed and betrayal.”

  Alexis had to acquiesce. “You’re right. She was wrong. We were all wrong, to some extent. I’m pretty sure Camille realizes that now, too. I talked to her recently and ... I think it’s time to let bygones be bygones.”

  Nothing but silence.

  “Hello?” Tonya said.

  “I’m here,” Courtney nipped. “If you all want to rekindle your relationships with her, knock yourselves out. I wouldn’t recommend it, but I can’t stop you. From what my dad says, she’s still the same old Camille, only claiming to be broke now.”

  “She is broke,” Alexis said. “She’s trying to get Sweet Treats back together.”

  An all-out guffaw came from Courtney. “She’s crazy.”

  Tonya reasoned, “I really think she’s desperate.”

  “What am I supposed to do? Her problem, not mine.”

  “We were thinking maybe we could record the songs you have right to again, release a remix version in the UK and Japan. With Camille singing her part,” Tonya suggested.

  “No.”

  “Come on. They love us overseas,” Alexis tried.

  “Absolutely not.”

  Alexis sighed. Ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. “It’s not fair, Courtney. We’re all still capitalizing on the songs, but Camille’s struggling. No, she didn’t record those other versions with us, but she’s a big part of why the Sweet Treats were even the Sweet Treats in the first place. Some might even say she was the biggest part.”

  He mocked, “Yeah, some like Camille herself. Look, I know my sister. She’s always been stingy, always looked out for numero uno. Having more money doesn’t fix character flaws. Matter of fact, I think we’ve all learned that money only magnifies the person you were before you got a dime.”

  “You’re correct,” Tonya argued, “but I’m having a hard time reconciling the fact that what we’ve done behind her back is just as conniving as what she did to you. Two wrongs don’t make a r
ight.”

  “I don’t feel like we’ve done anything wrong. Before T-Money’s label filed bankruptcy, I secured the rights to songs I wrote and produced. I decided to rerecord them without Camille, which was perfectly within the law.”

  “But was it the moral thing to do?” Tonya pressed.

  “I have to give my sister some credit. One thing she taught me was not to mix business with family or feelings. This is business, not church,” Courtney asserted.

  Alexis tried another angle. “Have you even talked to your sister lately?”

  “No need to. She’s got her life, I’ve got mine. Never the twain shall meet again.”

  “Stop with the old English,” Tonya commanded. “If you’ve got any sense at all, you’ll forgive your sister for your own sake.”

  “I don’t have a problem,” he snapped.

  “Yes, you do,” Alexis agreed. “Money and singing aside, every time we bring up Camille’s name, even before today, that little vein in your forehead pops out. I’ll bet it’s out right now, huh?”

  He paused. “And if it is?”

  “You need to let it go,” Alexis coaxed. “Deep down inside, you know you still love your sister—the good, the bad, and the ugly. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t get so angry. Yes, she hurt you, but the two of you need to come to terms with what happened. Just like you get upset every time you think about the past, I’m sure she feels ashamed and guilty. It’s ridiculous for you two to keep this strife alive when it’s only hurting you both.”

  “I’m not keeping anything alive. It’s over, all right? I don’t bother Camille, she doesn’t bother me. I don’t wish any harm on her. If she needs a blood transfusion, I’m down. But other than that, we don’t deal with each other,” Courtney defended himself. “We’re not the first family members to come to that agreement, and we won’t be the last. Just because you were born under the same roof doesn’t automatically mean you get along.

  “Furthermore, if my sister’s broke, that’s her fault. My father and I tried to get her to invest. She wouldn’t listen. Now she has to suffer the consequences. You reap what you sow.”

  “Well, since you brought a biblical principal into this,” Tonya bargained, “let’s go there. We’ll leave this whole Camille thing alone on one condition.”

  “What?”

  “As far as the music is concerned, you have the rights. You can pull any four girls off the streets to sing it if you want to. No one can take that away from you unless, of course, you sell those rights. I don’t agree with you, but I understand and respect your position.”

  “True,” he stated.

  “Here’s my condition. If you pray about this and find that you’re okay with leaving your sister out of your life and out of future music deals, we won’t bring it up again.”

  Courtney exhaled. “Why do you have to bring God into this?”

  “I’m just sayin’, if this sits well in your heart and in your spirit, who are we to judge you?”

  “I agree,” Alexis said.

  “What is this—reverse spiritual psychology?”

  “It’s the truth at work,” Tonya clarified. “I only want you to be honest with yourself. If you pray and God gives you peace about your stance, that squiggly line won’t pulse on your head every time you hear your sister’s name.”

  Alexis could sense his defenses lowering, which, of course, lined up with their prayer that Courtney’s heart be softened.

  “Ever since you started singing with that Liza woman, you’ve always got religious words coming from your mouth. You remind me of my momma, you know that?” He laughed slightly.

  “Well, I never met your mom, but from everything you and Camille said about her, she was a wonderful woman of God. So, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Tonya accepted.

  “Good, ’cause that’s how I meant it.”

  “We’ll give you some time to think about things with your sister. Depending on the outcome of your prayer, we may or may not need to talk again about rerecording with Camille. Deal?” Alexis asked.

  “Deal.”

  “Good talking to you, Courtney,” Tonya said.

  “Same here. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Alexis waited for Tonya to disconnect Courtney.

  “Okay, it’s just us.” Tonya giggled. “God is so good, isn’t He?”

  “Yes! Did you hear how Courtney’s whole attitude changed when you brought up prayer?”

  Tonya marveled, “That was wonderful. Let’s keep praying. God’s gonna work this out for His glory.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Eight o’clock on the money. This concept of getting to work on time was actually a good thing, from what Camille could tell so far. She could get settled in without rushing. No more sneaking through the cubicles, dodging her supervisor. No more paranoia about coworkers reporting her repeated tardiness so they could earn an employee-of-the-month parking spot. They wouldn’t have anything to snitch about because she wasn’t doing anything wrong.

  In fact, she was doing everything right—except sleeping at night. Several times, her eyes had simply popped open, as though something or someone was telling her to wake up. If this restlessness didn’t end soon, she’d have to find some kind of over-the-counter meds.

  She was tied for top scheduling producer this week, along with a guy named Patrick. He was an old-timer; he had been at Aquapoint Systems since the foundation of the company. It was rumored that the only reason he never got promoted was because he didn’t want more responsibility. He’d retired from a school district, and now he worked just to get out of the house, not because he needed a paycheck.

  Camille could only dream of such a lifestyle. At the rate she was going, she’d never be able to retire. Not comfortably, anyway. Nothing to look forward to except a fixed income and the occasional bingo prize.

  But she couldn’t think about that now. She had the choirs. She kind of had John David in her corner. And she had one shot at the praise team this coming Sunday. All distractions aside. There was work to be done.

  She got herself situated at the desk, and as soon as she entered the virtual system, she clapped on her headset. Every lead counted.

  “Cameee-alll!”

  She her heard her name sung before the dialer could put her in contact with the first programmed business owner. The voice was unmistakably Sheryl’s. “Yes?”

  “I’ve got something for you.”

  Seconds later, Sheryl stood directly in front of Camille, bearing a gift-wrapped box with matching lid. She began her speech, “I’ve noticed how down you’ve seemed for the past couple of days. I know how devastating it is to lose a pet. So I got you the only thing that can help you get over the loss of a furry friend.”

  She shoved the fairly large box toward Camille, who swung her chair around to receive this last little remnant of the Fluffy saga. Whatever the animal-shaped trinket, she’d gladly accept it and kindly discard it at some point in the near future.

  Camille set the box on her desk and lifted the lid off the package. What the heck! A mass of gray fur all curled up into a tiny ball. A stuffed kitten. Then she saw the motion. Swelling and falling, swelling and falling of this mass. Its wide eyes blinked. Oh, snap! It’s alive! Camille jumped out of her seat, backed up against the unstable wall. One of the things she forgot in all this fiasco was the fact that she didn’t like cats. Actually, couldn’t stand them. “Sheryl. I don’t know what to say.”

  Her boss flushed with pride and empathy. “I knew you’d love him. I rescued him from an animal shelter. Sure was hard not to adopt his siblings, but I didn’t know if you had room for them. I forgot his paperwork at home. I’ll bring it tomorrow. Anyway, look at it like this: Through Fluffy’s death, he saved a life.”

  I don’t want no stupid life-saving cat! Camille leaned toward the container, using only one outstretched arm to shut the top. “Wow. Wow. Um ... this is such a kind gesture. I ... can’t keep him, though.”

  Sheryl coaxed, “Yes you
can. He’ll fill your empty heart before you know it.”

  “No, really, I can’t. My ... apartment complex has a no-pets rule.”

  “Oh. So you snuck Fluffy in?”

  “No. It’s a no new pet rule. Management changed in the middle of my lease. They let me keep Fluffy, but I can’t get another pet.”

  Unfazed, Sheryl wagged an index finger and lectured, “They tried to do that to my friend, too, under these same circumstances. It’s against the law. If you paid a pet deposit, you’re grandfathered. They have to let you keep a pet until you leave.”

  “Oh.” Camille slumped, tried to think of another lie. Lies are what got me into this mess in the first place. Maybe she could come up with something close to the truth. “I don’t think I’m ready yet.” As in never would she be ready to house a cat.

  “Trust me. From one animal lover to another. You can’t ever replace a pet, but taking in a fresh source of love is the best way to move forward. I’ll leave you two alone. You might want to take an early lunch so you can take the little guy home and get him settled in.”

  No need to get this feline settled in. That early lunch might need to come right now. No way was Camille going to sit at her desk through midmorning with a cat in her midst. “Do you mind if I run home now?”

  Sheryl shrugged. “Sure. If you take a thirty minute lunch today, that should make up for the lost time.”

  “You’re too kind, Sheryl. Thank you.” Camille grabbed Fluffy II’s box and rushed to the parking lot. Halfway there, the kitten poked its little head out and meowed at Camille. She nearly dropped the container right there on the concrete.

  “Get back in there.”

  Now that she’d forced its head back into the box, she could see the little air holes Sheryl had poked in the lid.

  Meow. Meow. Meow. Sounded like a newborn-baby whining. Ridiculous.

  She set the box on the passenger’s seat and weighted the lid with her purse. Meow. Meow. Camille wondered if it had to pee or something. She couldn’t let that thing roam around in her car. Scratch up her leather seats. Bite off her volume knob. Nuh-uh. This cat had to go.