by Stacy Adams
Rachelle cringed. “Why, Aunt Melba? You’re beautiful. You own your own business. Nothing was holding you back. You could have had anybody. Why settle for a married man?”
Aunt Melba gave her a pointed look. “Why do any of us settle, Rachelle? I was in between serious boyfriends at the time and flattered by his attention. I didn’t realize he was married when we first began dating, and by the time I discovered his status, after our fifth or sixth date, I was smitten. He told me the usual—he was staying there for the kids, he didn’t love her, she didn’t have his back—and I wanted to be there for him.”
She released a dry laugh. “And I was there for him, for five years.”
Rachelle gasped. “That long, Aunt Melba? How did you hide it?”
She shrugged. “When you’re in love, or accept what masquerades as love, you’ll do whatever you have to do. We were never together in public, but we’d travel solo to island locations and other vacation spots and meet there. He would come here to my place after nightfall and leave out of the back door in the early morning hours. We had a system, and it worked.”
Rachelle’s mind was reeling. She wanted to know what this had to do with her, but she also wanted to know what happened. Aunt Melba was good at reading her face.
“By the fourth year, I was tired of playing the game,” she said. “I wanted to settle down. I wanted to start a family. I wanted a life.
“But he already had one,” she said and laughed softly. “That’s when I realized I was just another trinket, another hobby. I started to wake up and understand that I had been sleepwalking through life. I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted. I needed to find me so I could love me.”
Rachelle sat back and grabbed a pillow to hug.
Aunt Melba continued. “When I began to change, he stopped coming around as much. I didn’t push him away because I was still attached to him. I still loved him, and some part of me was holding out hope that he would eventually realize that we belonged together.
“About that time, two things happened. I found out I was pregnant, and when I told him, he went ballistic. He insisted that I get rid of the baby, and I was stunned. I couldn’t believe that he wanted me to kill something that was part of both of us.”
Rachelle glanced at Aunt Melba and tried to keep her disbelief from spreading across her face. Melba had always been the one who had it together—style, business savvy, self-confidence. How had she hidden all of this muck beneath the image she portrayed?
Aunt Melba stood up and paced the floor while she went back in time. “Irene noticed a change in me, but I wouldn’t tell her what was going on. She and Charles had begun attending St. Peter’s, and she kept bugging me to visit . I went the Sunday after Elvin told me that he wanted me to abort our child. I was just broken inside.”
She sat next to Rachelle and looked out of a window. “The minister that day preached about the woman at the well, who had been married to five men and was living with another man who wasn’t her husband. Jesus offered her a chance to follow him, to fall in love with him so that she’d never feel empty and lonely again.
“I wanted that for myself, Rachelle. I decided that day to start over.”
Rachelle leaned forward and looked at Melba. “What happened with Elvin and with the baby?”
Melba looked at her and took a deep breath. “I stopped seeing Elvin, and I lost the baby. Two days after deciding to live for God, I was opening the salon and I started bleeding. I drove myself to the hospital where I had a miscarriage.”
She picked up the photo album again and flipped to other pictures of herself and her married friend. “If you look at these images, our smiling faces don’t tell you all of these stories. You don’t know that he’s someone else’s husband and that we’re sneaking around, creating a pretense of happiness. You don’t know that he’s breaking his vows and that I’m not as fulfilled as I appear. It’s all a façade, Rachelle, and many of us live that way until we decide to wake up.”
“Yeah,” Rachelle said, “but what does waking up cost you?”
Aunt Melba shook her head. “I think the more important question is, what does it cost you to remain half whole? That’s why I brought you here today. I don’t know what all is going on between you and Troy, but it’s obvious that you two are at a crossroads, and before you take a plunge off a cliff, I had to at least warn you.
“I also don’t know what’s going to happen with you and Gabe—that’s between you, him, and God. But nothing needs to happen with Troy or with anyone else until you look in the mirror and figure out what’s going on with Rachelle. Now is the time.”
Rachelle hugged her aunt and didn’t let go. Melba was right. This was it. Who was she going to be?
28
Rachelle could tell her heart was softening because God had begun answering her prayers.
As she had requested, Troy’s participation in St. Peter’s service this morning hadn’t forced her to maintain a plastic smile for three hours.
When he stood in front of the Inspirations choir and led them through a powerful rendition of David Lawrence’s “Encourage Yourself,” she had been able to focus on the message in the music instead of on him. She had fretted about being under the scrutiny of St. Peter’s members who had discovered her connection to Troy, but she should have been more concerned about what folks were saying about Aunt Irene.
Alanna had driven down from Dallas yesterday and had accompanied her to church this morning. The sisters purposely sat near the back of the sanctuary, where they saw heads leaning together so people could whisper when Uncle Charles led the deacons in collecting the offering.
A few people rolled their eyes and others pursed their lips when he reached their pew to pass the plate. He shared his usual polite greeting and seemed unfazed, but Alanna was boiling.
“Can you believe these Holy Rollers?!” she whispered. “This is why I rotate churches every six months. Just when you start to get comfortable and believe they’re sincere, they go to showing you their ugly sides. I never give ’em the chance to hurt me!”
Rachelle sat back and looked at Alanna. Since when had this diva found time to sit still in somebody’s church? Had she really visited one place for as long as six months without telling her big sister?
Alanna caught Rachelle’s gaze. “What?”
Rachelle chuckled and shook her head. “We’ll talk later.”
Yasmin tapped Rachelle on the shoulder and asked to go to the bathroom. Indigo, who had been sulking the entire service, interceded and grabbed Yasmin’s arm.
“I’ll take her.”
She and Yasmin slid out of the pew, past Chaundra, before Rachelle could respond. Her heart went out to the girls, especially Indigo. What fifteen-year-old wanted the notoriety of having a mother who drove while tipsy and caused an accident that injured another child?
Yasmin’s play dates had dried up, even with her best friend Carmen, but it had been harder for her to understand why her mommy’s accident was causing these problems.
Rachelle noticed when they arrived at church this morning, for the first time since the accident almost two weeks ago, that the same girls who had huddled around Indigo at her party were now treating her like she was contagious. Indigo had been careful not to look their way; she knew what to expect.
Chaundra had spoken to the girls in the group, but walked past them to sit with Indigo and Yasmin. However, even that hadn’t lifted Indigo’s mood. Both girls sat with their heads lowered for most of the service and focused on writing in or reading their bulletins.
After the offering, Pastor Taylor announced that in two weeks, the eleven a.m. service would double as an installation program, just for Troy.
“We’ll have our usual choir selections and other participation by the members,” Pastor Taylor said, “but a guest minister will render the message, and after the offering, I and other ministers Troy has invited to participate in this special service will pray over him and formally install him as St. Peter
’s music director. Amen, church?”
Rachelle, Alanna, and their young cousins remained seated after the service and waited for Uncle Charles to finish counting the offering with the other deacons. Chaundra hugged Indigo and left with a young family who had asked her to babysit.
None of the girls’ other friends or their parents approached them to ask how Aunt Irene was doing. When Rachelle made eye contact with the women’s ministry leader, whom Aunt Irene raved about all the time, the woman turned her head and made a hasty retreat.
Troy stood at the rear of the church next to Pastor Taylor, shaking hands with members of the congregation as they departed. Rachelle averted her gaze when two women approached Troy together and took turns fawning over him. The petite one was dressed to kill in stiletto sandals and a form-fitting lavender dress. The other was tall and thick. She wore black slacks and a green silk blouse that draped her frame perfectly.
Guess they’re going to let him choose whether he likes “Minnie Mouse” or a sister with big bones, Rachelle mused.
Rachelle, Alanna, Indigo, and Yasmin were still waiting for Uncle Charles by the time those ladies and all of the other churchgoers had departed.
Pastor Taylor came over and hugged each of them, and Troy followed his lead. When Troy reached Rachelle, he hesitated but to ok her lightly into his arms.
She tried not to squirm when he embraced her. It amazed her that, after all these years, he still had that effect on her.
Pastor Taylor sat on a pew across the aisle and called Indigo and Yasmin over to chat with him.
Troy looked into Rachelle’s eyes. “You doing okay?”
Alanna, who stood next to her sister, cleared her throat. “Yeah, we are, Troy, thanks for asking.”
Rachelle wanted to kick her. An attitude wasn’t necessary all the time.
Troy took Alanna’s hands. “I’d be angry too, Alanna, if my family had been snubbed like yours was today. People sat through an entire sermon in which Pastor talked about the need to love others beyond what we think we can humanly do. They said “amen,” they clapped at all the right times. Some even shouted. But how many came over to you two or to Indigo and Yasmin and offered a hug or asked if they could pray for you or for Ms. Irene?”
Alanna stared at him without responding. Rachelle saw that her sister was taken aback by his straightforwardness.
“I’ll tell you what, though, Alanna,” he continued. “What I’ve learned over the years is that it isn’t about them anyway. God gave them a chance to replicate his love and mercy today, and from what I saw, not one of them took him up on the challenge.
“But in the end, will either of you do it? Will the girls or Deacon Charles? The next time you encounter someone who has made a serious mistake, will you be willing to love them instead of judge them? I guess that’s the whole point of this for you.”
Troy released Alanna’s hands and gave her a hug. He looked toward Rachelle as if he wanted to say something, but nodded instead and walked toward the rear of the church. Pastor Taylor had left through the same hallway seconds earlier, and Rachelle was guessing Troy didn’t want to be left behind.
“Hang tough, ladies, it’ll get better,” he said.
“How can you be so sure, Mr. Hardy?” Indigo called out after him. Her voice trembled, and her eyes were red.
Troy paused and turned toward her. He glanced at Rachelle before responding. “I’ve been in a pit similar to the one you’re in now, Indigo. Feels like the snakes are biting and no one understands. You’re hurt and angry at the same time. Embarrassed. Humiliated, and yet you have to go on. You have to.”
He spread his arms wide, eagle-like. “I’m walking proof that no matter how much someone hurts you, God can make things better.” He looked at Rachelle again, then disappeared down the hallway.
She wanted to run after him and tell him that she understood his pain, because it mirrored her own. They were always going to love each other. They just had to figure out how to do it from afar.
29
Have you won the lottery or are bill collectors trying to find you?”
Rachelle laughed and closed the book she had been reading aloud to Aunt Irene. “Neither, Auntie. This must be ‘Catch Up with Rachelle Day,’ though.”
She had ordered J. California Cooper’s latest short story collection from an online bookstore, and when it arrived three mornings ago, she pulled it out when she finished reading from the Psalms.
Aunt Irene loved the stories. She and Rachelle discussed the characters and chatted about what they would do if they were in those fictional situations.
It was becoming an enjoyable part of the morning routine for both of them, but today, the incessant ringing of Rachelle’s cell phone had distracted them. She hadn’t picked up every call, but the few people she had chatted with briefly reminded her of her full life back in Houston.
“Every day when I pass by your place and see the wrought iron gates closed, I wonder if you’re still living there,” said Kit Basque, her neighbor and tennis partner. “Is everything still alright in paradise, dahling? That handsome man hasn’t locked you out, has he?”
Her tinkling laughter was meant to convey that the question was a joke, but Rachelle had long been able to see the real Kit. Whatever she decided about her future, this woman would be the last to know.
“Sorry, you can’t get rid of me that easily,” Rachelle responded with her own lighthearted chuckle. “Get your tennis game together. I’ll be home soon.”
Shelley, Trina, and Jade called next and put her on speakerphone. They sat in the back of a limo, traveling home from the airport, and were calling from Jade’s cell.
“Barbados was fabu, girl!” Shelley said. “You don’t know what you missed!”
“We’ll send you pictures, though, so you can see,” Jade chimed in. “Next time don’t tell us no! Instead of having fun with your girls, you’re down there in that lifeless little town, where cable TV is probably the biggest form of entertainment. What are you doing anyway? Eating everything in sight and getting fat?”
The three women giggled.
“Actually,” Rachelle said, “I am doing a lot of cooking. My aunt was injured in a car accident and I’m taking care of her.”
“Girl, isn’t that what home health aides are for?” Trina said. “Get her some help so you can come home! I know you probably need another makeover after being down there. You disappeared from Houston before we left for our cruise. We’re back and you’re still gone!”
Rachelle glanced at Aunt Irene, who was occupying herself with the book’s jacket while she waited for the call to end. Her life just a few hours away seemed so distant now. She hadn’t mentioned her friend Jillian to the three of them, and listening to them now, she realized they wouldn’t understand.
Drinks and a massage would have been their prescription—one she had happily adhered to for years. Now, she wasn’t so sure that would satisfy her. She was beginning to question in which world she fit.
“Ladies, I’ve got to run,” Rachelle said. “I was right in the middle of something with my aunt. I’ll be home soon and promise to call so we can get together, okay? I’m glad the trip was wonderful!”
She hung up just in time for her housekeeper Helen’s ring.
“Hey, Mrs. Covington,” she said. “Just touching base to let you know that nothing important has come in the mail. House is still spic and span from last week, since no one has been home.”
Rachelle wondered if she was hinting for another week of paid vacation.
“I’m sure it is still clean,” Rachelle said. “Probably very little to do without the family underfoot, huh? Actually, though, it’s nice to have you there, Helen, just so the neighbors won’t think the place has been abandoned. Thanks for stopping by a few times during the week.”
The next time the phone rang, Aunt Irene chuckled and closed the book. She lay back in the bed and closed her eyes while Rachelle took a call from her kids.
“Mommy,
tell Gram that you let us have more than two cookies for dessert sometimes.”
Rachelle sighed and shook her head. When it got down to nitpicky things like the number of cookies one could have, the summer vacation was wearing thin. Then again, Rachelle knew how controlling her mother could be. About everything.
“Put Gram on the phone,” she told Taryn.
“Hey, Mom,” Rachelle said. “What’s the latest drama?” She’d be able to assess the weight to give the phone call based on her mother’s response.
“This little girl does not need any cookies, let alone three,” Rita Mitchell said. She lowered her voice, “I know her little pudgy self has gained five pounds since she’s been here, and I haven’t been letting her eat more than one serving of anything.”
Rachelle wanted to blow, but already knew how ineffective that would be. She took a deep breath and measured her words. “Mom, Taryn is eight years old,” she said. “Eight! Not eighteen. Please don’t restrict my child’s diet. She is a growing girl. I’m sure you are providing her with healthy meals, so let her have more, within reasonable limits, okay?”
She wished she could see her mother’s face, but knew it was clouded with indignation.
“That’s why all of these children have an obesity problem today,” Rita Mitchell said. “Parents can’t tell them no. I never let you have too many sweets or soda or stuff like that.”
“There were a lot of things you didn’t let me do,” Rachelle said. “Too many, in fact.”
Aunt Irene opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow. Rachelle noticed and decided to end the call.
“Mom, you do what you think is best,” she said. “Just remember that they’re kids. I’ll call later tonight to check on them.”
Rachelle hung up, turned back to Aunt Irene, and picked up the book. “Mom said to tell you hello and she hopes you’re feeling better.”
She resumed reading and made it to the end of the section before another call came through. She didn’t recognize this number, though, and decided to ignore it.
