More Than I Can Bear

by E. N. Joy

  More Than I Can Bear:

  Always Divas Series Book Two

  E.N. Joy

  www.urbanchristianonline.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Also by

  Dedication

  Acknowledgment

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Reading Group Discussion Questions

  About The Author

  Coming Spring 2015!

  Copyright Page

  Other Books by E.N. JOY:

  Me, Myself and Him

  She Who Finds a Husband

  Been There, Prayed That

  Love, Honor or Stray

  Trying to Stay Saved

  I Can Do Better All By Myself

  And You Call Yourself a Christian

  The Perfect Christian

  The Sunday Only Christian

  Ordained by the Streets

  “A Woman’s Revenge” (Anthology: Best Served Cold)

  I Ain’t Me No More

  Flower In My Hair

  Even Sinners Have Souls (Edited by E.N. Joy)

  Even Sinners Have Souls Too (Edited by E.N. Joy)

  Even Sinners Still Have Souls (Edited by E.N. Joy)

  The Secret Olivia Told Me (N. Joy)

  Operation Get Rid of Mom’s New Boyfriend (N. Joy)

  Sabella and the Castle Belonging to the Troll (N. Joy)

  Dedication:

  This book is dedicated to my most dedicated readers. Because you picked up this book, you have invested in me with either your time, money, or both. Without that investment, there would be no divas series. There would be no BLESSEDselling author E.N. Joy. Because of you, I am. Thank you!

  Acknowledgment

  Natalie Weber of Urban Books; Girl, I don’t even know what title to give you. You wear so many hats with the company. But what I do know is that you are the wind beneath so many of the authors’ wings. Unfortunately, just like the wind, you sometimes might feel invisible. So I just wanted to take this time to let you know that I know you are there. I see you!!!!!!! Thanks for everything.

  Chapter One

  “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” With a piece of paper crushed inside each one of Paige’s fists, she looked up to the heavens and cried out. Tears streamed down her face like a flowing river that had no ending place. If her eyes could shoot darts, she’d aim them at God’s heart . . . if He even had one. As far as Paige was concerned, if God had a heart for her and He loved her as much as the Bible had professed, then why would He do something like this to her heart? Why would God tear it up into a million little pieces and serve it up to Satan on a silver platter?

  Paige pulled her fists from the sky slowly and rested them under her chin, still clutching the two separate documents that each played a starring role in her real-life drama. Her mouth opened to ask God, for the thousandth time, “Why?” This time, though, nothing came out. Her query was stuck in her throat. Perhaps the word knew, like all those that had managed to escape Paige’s throat within the past hour, it was useless to try to free itself. No answer had come as of yet. What would have made the exception this time around?

  Paige melted down into what metaphorically resembled a pile of extra-dark chocolate that had lost its previous form of a nice sturdy bar. The mascara on her thick, long eyelashes had not run, but instead caked up on her lashes like dirt does once mixed with the wetness of rain. Although the sun was beaming through her living room window, she could barely see through the thick, black, blurry clouds her eye makeup was creating, not to mention the rain that kept pouring down from her eyes as well.

  Right there on her living room floor, where she’d opened the piece of mail that was ultimately the straw that broke the camel’s back, Paige could not stop the tears. She could not stop the pain. Hadn’t she endured enough pain in her almost twenty-nine years of life? She’d dealt with the pain of being the blackest berry on the vine as a result of her dark skin complexion. She’d dealt with the pain of feeling as if her own mother had been ashamed of her, therefore not spending any quality mother-daughter time while Paige was growing up. She’d dealt with the pain of being a plus-size girl and pretending she was happy and comfortable with the skin she was in. She’d dealt with the pain of being in an abusive marriage. She’d dealt with the pain of finding out that her best friend, Tamarra, had slept with her abusive husband. She’d dealt with the pain of ultimately choosing to divorce both her husband and her best friend.

  For the first time since she could remember, Paige was on the verge of true happiness. Forget true happiness; she’d been on the verge of joy. Of peace. For once in her life, true freedom from the grip it seemed the devil had had on her all her life had been within her reach. It was in plain view. She could have almost reached out and touched it. And now, just like that, it had been snatched away from her.

  “I don’t want Satan to consider me anymore,” Paige pleaded to God in reference to the Book of Job, where Satan had been roaming the earth seeking whom he could devour. Then out of nowhere God asks if Satan had considered His servant Job. From that point on, Satan made Job’s life a living hell. “Enough! Enough!” Paige began to pound her fist on the floor like a terrible two having a tantrum because her mother had refused her a lollipop in the supermarket checkout line.

  Not even the ringing of Paige’s cell phone tore her from her fit. As far as she was concerned, unless Jesus really was on the main line, no one on the other end of that phone could comfort her right now. She was certain no one else had the answers to the questions she’d been crying out. No one could possibly understand how she felt at this very moment. So to voicemail the caller went as Paige spread her body across the living room floor, finally releasing the papers from her grip. After a couple minutes she pulled herself into a fetal position and bawled. After a few minutes of that she lay on her back staring up at the ceiling, shaking her head, still in disbelief. Next she rolled onto her stomach again. Onto her side, pulling her knees to her chest with one arm across her stomach, as if the pain were something tangible she could scoop up like a baby. And like a baby, she ultimately fell off into a sleep.

  By the time Paige opened her eyes again, the sun had taken cover for the night. Opening her eyes to complete darkness, Paige managed to pick up all 165 pounds of herself off the floor and walk her size-fourteen frame over to the lamp that sat on the end table next to her couch. She flopped down on the couch and washed her hands down her face. She’d almost felt like she was awakening from a bad nightmare until she spotted the balled-up pieces of paper at her feet. There lay the ev
idence that today’s findings had been oh so real.

  Living on the hope and a prayer of the possibility that this all still could have been a nightmare, Paige slowly bent down and picked up one of the balled-up documents. Back in a sitting position she unwrinkled it, flattening it out in her lap. After taking a deep breath and then exhaling, she allowed her eyes to roam the document in hand. There it was; she’d been granted her divorce from her now ex-husband, Blake. He hadn’t contested any of the judge’s orders. Thanks to the assistance of legal aid, it had been a rather quick and smooth process. The house: hers. Fifty percent of Blake’s assets: all hers with the agreement that she would waive any type of alimony or seek any other type of support or civil damages from him whatsoever. Blake had also slid in a clause that Paige would forfeit and have to pay back all funds if she was ever found to have been unfaithful in the marriage. Blake had been adamantly convinced that Paige had cheated on him with her coworker-turned-best-friend, Norman. He could never prove it though, probably because it wasn’t true. But it was obviously something Blake felt in his spirit was in fact true and would one day come to light. Knowing that wasn’t the case, Paige didn’t dispute the clause.

  “The nerve!” Paige had spat upon reviewing the clause. “How dare the cheater have a clause about cheating?”

  Overall, Paige had been just fine with her divorce arrangements. She couldn’t have cared less about receiving alimony from Blake. She wanted no ties to the man. Besides, she’d been an independent sister taking care of herself before she’d met Blake. She would continue to do the same post-Blake. Under ordinary circumstances she wouldn’t have even considered taking 50 percent of his assets, but he’d abused her mentally, physically, sexually, and spiritually. Yes, Paige had been certain vengeance was the Lord’s and God would make Blake pay . . . eventually. But having no idea how long God would take to get him and get him good, Paige wanted to make Blake pay now—literally. So she hit him in his pockets, knowing money meant the world to Blake.

  The next step Paige had planned on taking once the divorce was final was restoring her last name to Robinson: her birth name. Dickenson was her ex-husband’s last name. The woman so unlucky enough to ever marry that man was the one who deserved to bear his last name, not her. The last thing she wanted to do was walk around being Paige Dickenson. That was not who she was anymore. Carrying a man’s family name was serious business as far as she was concerned, and she was no longer part of Blake’s family. What’s in a name? Obviously a lot; otherwise, God wouldn’t have renamed so many people in the Bible. And even though the last thing she was concerned with at the moment was remarrying, how did she expect her future husband to find her, the real her, Paige Renea Robinson, if she was still running around connected to and disguised as her last husband’s wife? She did not want to present herself to the next man while bearing the name of the last man.

  Paige looked down at the other document that lay balled at her feet. This paper just might have been the thing to have her reconsider this whole business of changing her last name back to Robinson. She picked it up, laid it on top of the divorce decree, and unwrinkled it. She blinked as she read the doctor’s notes from her visit just a couple hours ago. She blinked again, hoping and praying the words would unscramble to read something else. They didn’t.

  “Pregnant.” The word wrestled its way out of Paige’s mouth. She wasn’t just pregnant, but right at the peak of her second trimester. With the criminal trial against her husband for abusing and raping her, the filing of the divorce from Blake and the emotional divorce of her friendship with Tamarra, Paige had neglected her body to the point where she didn’t even acknowledge her MIA monthly cycle.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Paige directed the insult at herself. “How could I have been so stupid as to not realize I hadn’t been having a period?” The only reason why Paige had even gone to the doctor was because it was time for her annual Pap smear; otherwise, she probably wouldn’t have even known she was pregnant until her dang water broke!

  “This can’t be happening.” She continuously shook her head. “I don’t even want his last name, let alone his baby. Please, God, don’t do this to me. It’s too much.” Paige began to breathe in and out so deeply she just about hyperventilated. Scared that she would have an anxiety attack, she stood to her feet and began pacing her breaths until her breathing pattern was normal as well as her heart rate. She swallowed hard and then sat back down on the couch.

  She rested her forehead in her hand as she tried to keep from throwing up just thinking about why she had ever willingly lain down with Blake and made a baby with him. That’s when it hit her, the god-awful truth. She hadn’t willingly lain down with Blake and made a baby. He’d raped her.

  No sooner had Paige sat down on the couch than she jumped back to her feet. “The product of rape. You place a baby in my womb that’s the product of the most awful experience of my life: my husband raping me? Really, God. I mean for real? You hate me that much?”

  Paige refrained from using cuss words at God, as if technically she hadn’t already been cursing him. There was so much more within her that she wanted to spew out, but she knew God knew her heart so her words were falling on deaf ears. Deep inside she loved God, but right now she was so frickin’ mad that the last thing she wanted to do was tell Him how much she loved Him. Even though that’s exactly what she knew she needed to do in order to get through this ordeal. She needed God. No matter how angry and upset she was with Him, she needed Him right now: this hour, this second. So without further delay, Paige kneeled down, looked upward, clasped her hands together at her chin, her fingers intertwining, and then closed her eyes.

  “Dear God, first and foremost, I repent for my negative and hateful words I’ve spoken in this time of sorrow,” Paige prayed. “I know you are a kind and loving God, but I’m so mad right now that I had to just get that off. And, well, you were the only one around for me to lash out at . . . besides myself. And believe me, I know I’m the only one to blame for this.”

  Tears fell down Paige’s dimpled cheeks as she continued to pray. “I should have known Blake was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I knew He wasn’t my soul mate when I married him. But I wanted him. I wanted him whether he was the one you had for me or not, which is why I didn’t even ask for your permission before I walked down the aisle with him. Which is probably why I turned a blind eye to all the signs you placed before me telling me he was not the one you had for me. So I can’t help but wonder, God, if being pregnant with his child is my punishment for not seeking you first. If it is, please let me off punishment, God. I know I might be asking a lot, but with you, I know I’m never asking the impossible. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.”

  Paige found the strength to get back on her feet. Next she just had to find the strength to take a step. Not literally, but she had to find the strength to take a step toward resolving the dilemma she now found herself in. She had to do something and she was going to do something . . . with or without God’s help, or His blessing.

  Chapter Two

  It was ten o’clock at night. Paige had wasted away that entire day, weeping on her living room floor. Finding out first she was pregnant and then returning home to find her divorce decree in her mailbox had been a gift and a curse, overwhelming her. The divorce decree would have been cause for a celebration had it not meant that in about five months she’d be an unwed mother. She’d give birth to a baby out of wedlock. She almost wished she never would have . . .

  “Girl, don’t you even think like that,” Paige kept telling herself every time the notion popped in her head that had she known she was pregnant, she would have never filed for divorce. It was bad enough that God hated divorce and she’d have to bear that cross among her Christian peers. What would they think of her now as a divorcée running around pregnant? The thought was more than Paige could bear. That thought alone kept her weak.

  Just when she thought she’d found the strength to pull herself together, she’d burst out
crying. Now, after taking a shower and putting on her pajamas, she lay in her bed, practically turning it into a waterbed with all her tears. She’d ignored the many calls to her cell phone until the phone had gone dead. When her landline started ringing, she was quick to take it off the hook. She wanted to be alone and wallow in her own tears. Misery didn’t want company today and neither did she. But evidently someone didn’t get the memo as Paige heard her doorbell ring.

  “Who in the world . . . ?” Paige asked, lifting up on her elbows and looking toward her doorway. Paige contemplated answering the door but, knowing she’d been crying all day, was certain she looked a mess. Her eyes were probably as swollen as Kim Kardashian’s feet during her pregnancy and as red as Kim’s cheeks the day she realized her and Ray J’s sex tape had leaked.

  Refusing to be seen as such a complete mess and not yet ready to talk about her situation to anyone, Paige decided against answering the door and lay back down. The doorbell rang again and once again Paige ignored it. When the ringing bell turned into a pounding knock, Paige placed the pillow over her head in an attempt to drown out the annoying sound. There were a few seconds of silence and Paige was almost sure the caller had gotten the hint and left her to lick her wounds in peace. That was until she heard a rapping on her bedroom window.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Paige’s emotions had done a 180 and gone from pity to pissed. She stomped over to her window and ripped the curtains back like she was imitating Norman Bates during the shower curtain scene in the movie Psycho. “Norman?” Paige said in surprise. She wasn’t referring to Norman Bates either, but instead the Norman who had seemed to take over the role of her best friend.

  “What’s going on?” Norman’s voice was barely audible through the window glass. “I’ve been calling you and texting you all day. I tried your cell phone. I tried your house phone. I knew you had to go to the doctor’s today, so I’ve been scared to death,” Norman spat, his tone a mixture of being perturbed and worried. “I hate to say this, but if you weren’t already diagnosed with a terminal illness today at the doctor’s office, then I’m going to kill you, woman.”