“I just wanted to see what it felt like,” Emoni explains as she drops her head in embarrassment.
“You mean that was your first kiss?” I’m so stunned I can hardly form the words.
Emoni nods, and I can do nothing but scratch my head in confusion. I don’t even know how to proceed. What is the proper etiquette for first kisses? I can’t even remember. I was eleven when I had mine. How can Emoni only now be having her first kiss and she’s twenty-four years old?
“How was it?” I ask for lack of a better comment.
Emoni relaxes and smiles up at me. “It was great.”
Okay, so I can’t help but grin as I walk over to the waffle iron. Emoni’s got me shook up, that’s for sure. Even more than Dorcas, who now considers me the devil’s spawn. But I cannot start this with Emoni. Not unless she knows why I’m in Atlanta.
While the waffles are cooking, I quickly set the table and fill a glass pitcher with juice. I also place freshly cut fruit, whipped cream, syrup, and butter in the center of the table. Then I motion for Emoni to sit down. “I’ll take it from here,” I tell her.
Emoni frowns when she looks at the table. She moves her place setting and chair so that it is adjacent to mine instead of safely on the other side of the table. She then smiles seductively as I serve her Belgian waffles and bacon. When I sit down, I bow my head, ready to offer my own silent prayer for my breakfast. This girl shocks me again by taking my hands.
She prays, “Lord, bless this food and make it fit for our nourishment. Bless the hands that prepared it. In Jesus’ name.”
“Amen.” I snatch my hands away abruptly because her touch has me thinking thoughts that have no business in the context of a prayer. Forgive me, Lord.
Emoni takes a bite of her waffle. With her mouth full, she exclaims, “This is the best waffle I’ve ever eaten.”
I smile with pride. “Thank you. Yet another satisfied customer.”
“Why don’t you cook for a living? It seems to suit you.”
“I asked my father to send me to college to study culinary arts, and I think I literally saw his head fly off.”
Emoni scoffs, “I can’t believe that! Has your father ever tasted your food?”
“When I was seventeen, my mother let me prepare Thanksgiving dinner. I made roasted turkey, sausage dressing, seven-cheese macaroni and cheese—the works!”
“What did he think?”
“He was grubbing hard!” I say, fondly remembering the dinner. “Until my mother told him that I cooked it.”
“Are you serious?”
“Serious as a heart attack. He started growling like a wounded bear and screaming at my mother that she was turning his only son into a punk.”
“Oh no!”
I shake my head and laugh. “But I did catch him sneaking a plate of leftovers that night.”
Emoni is tickled. “So that’s how you became a writer?”
“Pretty much, but my dad hates this job, too. He calls it a hobby.”
“Wow. You can’t win, right?”
“I’m getting to the point where I don’t care what my father thinks.”
Emoni takes another bite, and her face becomes serious. As she chews, I can almost see the wheels in her brain spinning.
“Me, too. I’m tired of what Daddy thinks, Oscar, and everybody else. I’m sick to death of being boring, dependable Emoni.”
I don’t even know how to respond to this, but it sounds like an invitation. “So what are you going to do about it?”
Her eyes tell me what she’s going to do before she moves a muscle. I offer absolutely no objection when she leans over and smothers me with another kiss. This one is less timid. She even has the audacity to bite my bottom lip, punctuating her maturity.
I want it to stop there. Don’t mean for this to be happening. I’m trying to remember some of the tips from Bishop’s Bible study, but my elevated hormone levels are drowning it all out.
“Emoni,” I plead in a hoarse whisper, “don’t do this. You don’t really want this.”
“Everybody thinks they know what I want.”
She kisses me again, and as I’m about to push her away, her tiny manicured hands start groping where they have no business groping.
That’s it. I give up.
With all my resistance gone, I start giving Emoni what she’s giving me. She doesn’t object. In fact, she’s the one who stands from the table and leads me to my bedroom.
I don’t need to give the details about what happened when we closed that door. But I will say that it wasn’t just sex, or fornication for the church folk. It was more than that. I felt like after we both had our releases that I was bound to this girl. Now I know what Priscilla is talking about when she says that I have soul ties to all of the women I’ve been with.
I wonder if Emoni feels the same way, because I can’t tell what’s going on in her head. I was expecting tears or worse, but she’s strangely quiet.
“You all right, Moni?” I surprise myself by dropping the E off her name. It just comes naturally.
She nods slowly. “I can’t believe we did this.”
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”
“We let it happen, Darrin. Not you.”
I can’t help thinking about what Dorcas said about me. She said I was on assignment and from the pits of hell. Looks like she was right.
A single tear runs down Emoni’s cheek. “Darrin, can I ask you a question?”
“I am an open book.” I can’t help but note the dishonesty of my own statement. Actually, I’m a tightly shut book.
“Do you think that man in Savannah is really my father’s son?”
So she’s going to let me go here. Perfect. “Can I be completely honest with you?”
“Yes, of course. We’re probably thinking the same thing.”
“Honestly, I think he is your brother. I mean, lookswise, the dude is a carbon copy of your father.”
Emoni nods slowly. “You know, I’ve been thinking that exact thing, but I just can’t believe that my daddy would turn him away like that without even finding out.”
“Do you think your father wants to remember the life he had before Jesus?”
Emoni wraps my comforter around her body and stands up from the bed. She starts pacing the floor as I scramble to cover myself. I don’t know why I feel extra naked.
“I don’t guess he wants to remember. He never talks about it, unless he’s testifying about God bringing him out,” Emoni says.
She then walks out of the bedroom, dragging my blanket behind her. I wrap myself in the sheet and follow.
“Do you want me to help you find out the truth?”
Emoni grabs her glass from the table and sips her juice as if the entire conversation has depleted her energy. “I think I do. If I have another brother out there, I want to know who he is.”
Emoni sobs into my chest, transforming my twinge of guilt into a stabbing pang. I can’t write a story that’s going to make her world even crazier. Something inside me fiercely wants to protect this woman. The feeling is more intense than the need to prove anything to my father.
Chapter Twenty-four
Emoni
We’re having a family meeting.
Tyler, Sascha, and I are all sitting on Mother’s favorite couch in the family room. The one she prefers we don’t use. But since she and Daddy are pacing back and forth in front of the sectional, we have no choice except to use her favorite.
We do this only when serious stuff is about to hit the fan. The last time we had a family meeting was when Tyler stayed out all night as a teenager. The way Mother and Daddy are pacing and wringing their hands, I’m getting nervous.
That nervousness can’t replace the other feeling I have, though. I am finally a woman! No one can tell me that I don’t know anything now. I’ve known a man, and it was all the wonderful things that I’ve read in every romance novel.
And Darrin was so sweet to me afterward. I was afraid he was going to
push me out of his bed in disgust, but he didn’t. Now that I think about it, he seemed to feel a little bit guilty. I’m guilty, too, though. I wish I could take it all back.
I know that sin does not come without consequences. I know that. And I’m sorry I didn’t have enough confidence in God to wait until my wedding night. I regret my impatience and my lack of faith. And I am not going to continue down this path. Darrin’s gotten all the tail from me that he’s going to get unless he changes my last name. I just hope I’ve got Darrin thinking, Dorcas who?
Daddy clears his throat. I guess it’s his signal that he’s going to begin. He opens with a very brief word of prayer. Then he says, “I’m sure you all know that this family is under attack from the enemy right now. I can only hope all of this turmoil means that God is about to do something extraordinary in all of our lives.”
Why is he talking to us like we’re Freedom of Life? He is our bishop and everything, but right now I need him to be Daddy.
He continues, “I think I should share this with all of you, because it may soon be out in the open anyway. In Savannah a young man came up to me at church and accused me of being his father.”
The only one of us who looks surprised is Sascha. She’s been too caught up in her own secrets to notice anything going on around her. She was fortunate that Daddy didn’t find her and Kevin in their love nest. Of course, her little raggedy friends covered for her.
“He accused you of being his father?” asks Tyler sarcastically. “Are you his father?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“What do you mean, ‘Not to my knowledge,’” I say, the anger in my voice rising with each word. “You treated Kumal Jr. like he was a criminal when he just wanted you to acknowledge him.”
Sascha’s mouth is hanging open. “His name is Kumal Jr.? Does he look like us?”
“He looks exactly like Daddy.”
Mother gasps when I say this. I suppose she’s been holding out hope that this would all go away.
Daddy interjects, “Listen, we don’t know anything for sure.”
“Are you going to take a paternity test?” Tyler challenges.
“No. Your mother and I have decided that it would be best to give him and his mother a settlement that would help them live comfortably.”
I cannot believe my ears. This cannot be my daddy talking about paying someone off to keep quiet. I’m stunned and hurt, but most of all, disappointed. My daddy, for the first time ever for me, has taken off his super- hero costume. And now all I see is a man who’s scared to death that his past is going to overshadow his future.
“What makes you think he wants money?” I ask. “He just seemed to want to get acquainted.”
“His mother is a crack addict and probably hard up for cash. She’s one of the most devious creatures I’ve ever known. The only reason she brought him to me is because she knew I’d pay to keep this quiet.”
Sascha asks the question we’re all thinking. “Why do you need to keep this quiet? You talk all about your former life in your testimony book. Everyone knows you have a past.”
“It’s one thing to have a pastor with a testimony,” Daddy explains, “and quite another to have a pastor with a living, breathing reminder of his past.”
Mother responds, “We need to all stick together and back Bishop up on this one. This is not the time for us to disagree.”
Daddy takes Mother’s hand and nods. “There is still, of course, the chance that this secret will be exposed, and we need to talk about how we’ll handle that if it happens.”
“Bishop, you’re talking about damage control like we’re some major corporation under siege. We’re a family.” This is Tyler, but Sascha and I cosign by nodding.
Bishop says, “I am, if nothing else, the head of this household. So, since our family is going to be under close scrutiny, if any of you have any secrets, I’d appreciate hearing about them now, instead of reading about them on the cover of the newspaper.”
Tyler and I look at Sascha, and she frowns. “What y’all looking at me for?”
“Sascha,” asks Daddy, “is there something you want to share?”
“No! I don’t have anything to share.”
Tyler rolls his eyes. “You might as well tell him, Sascha. It’s not the type of thing you can hide for long.”
Sascha’s face reddens. “I know you not trying to front, Tyler! You’ve got a little secret, too!”
“Yours is worse—”
Mother interrupts the bickering. “I think you both need to come clean.”
Daddy is sitting down and holding his head in his hands. He’s obviously figured out Sascha’s secret, but even I don’t know what Tyler is hiding.
Tyler says, “I’ll go first. I accepted an assistant pastor position at Love Outreach.”
“You what?” I see Daddy squeeze Mother’s hand tightly.
“I gave my first sermon before the church on Sunday evening, while you were here denying your oldest son.”
Tyler’s words hit Daddy hard. So much so that I want Sascha to be quiet.
But she’s not. “I guess it’s my turn. Me and Kevin are having a baby, and we’re getting married.”
Mother lunges across the room and grabs Sascha by the neck. “I knew it! Get out of my house.”
“Mother!” I scream, and try to pull her off Sascha.
“This heifer has lost her mind. I’m not having some fornicating hussy living in my house. If she’s grown enough to give it up, she’s grown enough to get out!”
Daddy gathers his wits and pries Mother’s hands from Sascha’s throat. “She’s made a mistake, Diana. If we put her out, she’s going to run to her boyfriend.”
“I don’t care. Let her run to him.”
“So.” Daddy clears his throat, but his throat still quivers. “You and Kevin are getting married? Is that why Ophelia was here on Sunday morning?”
“She doesn’t know yet,” replies Sascha.
Mother asks, “Emoni, do you have anything to share?”
“Me? No, of course not.”
Sascha narrows her eyes in anger. “Right. Of course not. What’s going on with you and that guy Darrin?”
“Nothing! Don’t try to drag me down with you and Tyler. I actually happen to care about Daddy’s ministry,” I say.
Tyler smirks. “You don’t care about it more than Bishop. He cares more about Freedom of Life than about his own son.”
Tyler gets up to leave, even though we’re not finished. We usually dismiss with a family prayer, each one of us sending a petition before the Lord. Sascha follows closely behind Tyler, leaving me feeling like a third wheel to my parents.
“Daddy, are we done?” I ask.
Daddy nods slowly and deliberately. His expression is defeated, and Mother’s is unsure.
I venture to ask, “Are you really just going to forget all about Kumal Jr.?”
“His name is Kumal, but he’s not a junior,” replies Mother matter-of-factly.
Daddy’s silence tells me that he isn’t convinced. Neither am I.
Chapter Twenty-five
Darrin
Emoni is sitting in my living room, staring at the phone. It has been two days since we located Genevieve Walter’s contact information on the Internet, and three days since our sin. Neither one of us has had the courage to discuss either.
“Do you want to call her?” I ask.
Emoni shakes her head. “Not yet. I need to build up the nerve first. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay,” I reply. “You look nice today, and you did in Savannah, too. Did you, like, buy a whole new wardrobe?”
Emoni scrunches her nose. “Please tell me it’s not that obvious.”
“It is. But change isn’t a bad thing. You look good.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you do all this for me?”
“No. What? No!” exclaims Emoni defensively. “I just wanted a change, that’s all.”
“It would b
e okay if you did it for me. I’d actually find it extremely attractive that you went to all that trouble.”
“You would?” she asks.
“Of course, but that doesn’t matter, because you didn’t do this for me, right?”
“Uh … right.”
I am the last person who needs to clarify or define relationships, but I’m not sure what’s going on with Emoni. I’m calling it a thing because I don’t know what else to call it. We’re not dating, but we’ve warped past friendship. It’s awkward.
But I’m really digging Moni. She reminds me of the first crush I ever had. Before I became a player and before the women in my life learned how to play games. When Emoni laughs at my jokes, the laughter is genuine. Everything about her is real.
Emoni sits gazing up at me with her inquisitive eyes, and I feel the sudden and overwhelming urge to kiss her. But I don’t know if I should go there. We’ve already done the deed, so any type of foreplay is headed straight to the bedroom. And this whole “willful sinning” thing is not my cup of tea.
God must be listening to my thoughts, because there’s a knock on my front door. I feel myself praying, even though I don’t know what to pray for. Lord, forgive me. For all of it. For accepting Emoni’s virginity and not keeping my word about living right. I just don’t know how to do this.
I open the door and see Dorcas standing there, all smiles, and carrying a grocery bag. I can’t help but send up another short prayer. God, are you trying to tell me something?
Dorcas starts the conversation. “Hi. I just want to apologize for how I acted on Sunday.”
“I forgive you.”
“To complete my peace offering, I’d like to cook you dinner.”
I start to object, but Dorcas doesn’t wait for a response. She pushes me to the side and starts into my apartment. The countdown starts in my head. Five … four … three … two …
“Oh. Have I interrupted something?” Dorcas asks, her voice laced with attitude.
I reply, “No.”
But Emoni simultaneously says, “Yes.”
Dorcas looks at us both as if she’s trying to decide whom to believe. I try to smooth things over. “We’re doing a project for Bishop.”
“What kind of project?” Dorcas asks.
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