“It is,” Dalton said as he walked in with his arms open. I didn’t know he was coming back to New York so soon. I jumped up from the chair and raced to give him a hug. But just as I got close to him I stopped. My eyes moved from his face down toward the floor. The right side of his face was badly burned.
“I know it looks bad but it doesn’t hurt as much, Yancey. I promise. The doctor gave me some cream and he said before long it will simply look like a birthmark.”
“Why, Dalton? Why?” I screamed. I wanted to cup his face in my hands and try to make it better. But I knew I couldn’t without facing my own demons.
The sight of Dalton’s face and the force of a childhood memory brought on uncontrollable sobs. Dalton held me tightly to his chest as I screamed and cried. He began rocking me like I was a baby and before long I was sharing with him the horror I’d experienced at the hands of the woman who gave birth to me.
“Look at this, Dalton,” I said as I slowly removed the robe and pointed to the discolored patch on my right arm.
“What’s that, Yancey?”
“I call it my birthmark but in reality it’s an iron burn. Is that what Anderson did to you?”
Dalton eyes went downward and he muttered, “Yes, Yancey. Anderson did this to me.”
I began to share with Dalton what seemed like an ocean of time ago.
“I was getting ready for my first dance recital. I was in the fifth grade and I had the only solo. We were going to wear black leotards and white blouses. We had white ribbons for our hair. I wanted my ribbons ironed and so I asked my mother to show me how. I had never ironed before. I wanted my ribbons to be perfect and so I was doing it very slow. I guess I left the iron on the end of the ribbon too long and it turned a dirty brown. I was so upset that I started crying and this made my mother mad. Really mad.”
I paused as my mind went back to the tiny house where Ava, my grandmother and I lived in Jackson, Tennessee. It wasn’t really a house but more of a trailer on a foundation. I hated that house and I hated it even more when my friends wanted to visit me. Now I was going to show up at the recital wearing a dirty white ribbon.
“What happened, Yancey? What did your mother do to you?” Dalton asked as he took my hand and began to rub it in a soothing manner.
“She started yelling at me, calling me a dumb, stupid bitch and how I was going to make her look bad. I started to cry harder, demanding to know why she and my grandmother were always so mean to me. All I was trying to do was make them proud. Before I knew what was happening, Ava jerked the iron cord from the wall and pressed the still hot iron against my arm. The pain was unbearable but what I remember most is the feeling I had. It was like something inside of me died that day and I felt no one would ever care or love me again. I was damaged goods and I would have this mark to remind me.”
“You’re not damaged goods, Yancey. You’re a beautiful woman who has a lot to offer the world. Don’t allow your past to haunt your future.”
“It’s too late. It already has. I took my mother’s hate and made it my own. It forced me to give up one of God’s most precious gifts.”
“What do you mean?”
Just as I was getting ready to tell Dalton about my secret, my door flew open and there standing before us was my daughter, Madison.
CHAPTER
17
Madison had stood at the door of Yancey’s dressing room in full eavesdrop mode. She had seen the strange man knock on her door and wondered who he might be. Was he a suitor who Yancey would choose over her father and crush his dreams of a reconciliation?
Instead Madison had become so engrossed with Yancey’s sad and terrible childhood story that she lost her balance and suddenly was standing face-to-face with Yancey and her friend.
“Madison, how long have you been standing there?” Yancey asked. A panic-stricken look covered her face.
“I’m sorry about what happened to you, Yancey. I can’t believe your own mother would do that to you,” Madison said. She glanced at Yancey’s arm and then Dalton’s face and then lowered her head in shame.
“Dalton, this is Madison. This is my daughter.”
Dalton did a double take. He first looked at Yancey and then quickly at Madison and back at Yancey again.
“Nice meeting you, Madison. I’m Dalton, a friend of your mother’s. I voted for you every week on American Star.”
“Thank you, Dalton, and it’s nice to meet you.”
“Same here,” Dalton said as he smiled at Madison and then at Yancey whose eyes glistened with tears. Her face had a stricken expression.
Madison suddenly felt a rush of tenderness for Yancey, her mother, but didn’t really know what to say. Should she tell her that she now understood that her seemingly narcissistic personality was only an armor to protect all the hurt that she’d endured?
That she finally understood why she couldn’t be a good mother since she had never known one. For the first time Madison understood why Yancey had given her up and why God saw fit for her aunt Jenny to raise her as a child and for her daddy to do double duty when Jenny died. Nicole had been right about how God always equals things out.
“Yancey, would you like to go with Daddy and me to eat some sushi? I want you to meet my best friend, Caressa.”
“I just came up with a brilliant idea,” Dalton said as he clapped his hands in glee.
“What?” Yancey asked.
“You two have to record ‘Dearest One.’ Your voices together would be perfect.”
“I thought you said it needed a rap to go with it.”
“What are you two talking about?” Madison asked.
“Dalton is a wonderful songwriter and I think he has some songs you could use for your debut release, Madison.”
“Really?”
“I don’t know if I’m all that but I do okay,” Dalton said with a laugh. His personality was taking all of the doom and gloom from the dressing room and for the first time Madison and Yancey exchanged honest, sincere smiles with each other.
“Why don’t we talk more about this over sushi?” Yancey suggested. She suddenly noticed the sunshine streaming through her dressing room window in a buttery yellow glow and for the first time in a long time felt a bone-deep sense of peace.
“Yancey,” Madison called out.
“Yes, Madison.”
“Don’t worry about your mother. Daddy and I will make sure she never hurts you again.”
Yancey simply smiled.
CHAPTER
18
It was a cold New York afternoon when the doorbell rang. Ava was thumbing through a magazine, trying to get ideas for her new California home. She looked at the phone and started to call Steven to see if he had gotten the approval for her to make the move back west as he had promised. Just as she headed toward the phone, someone knocked on the door. Ava swung it open and was greeted by two men wearing trench coats. They looked like policemen and they were.
“Ava Middlebrooks?” the white officer asked.
“Yes, I’m Ava Middlebrooks,” she said, tightening her robe. “How can I help you?”
“We’re Officers Justice and Anderson from the New York State Parole board.”
Ava immediately put on her outraged citizen act. “Oh, do you have some more questions about my daughter?”
“No, Ms. Middlebrooks, we’re here to see you.”
“About what, Officers?”
“You’re under arrest for parole violations,” Officer Justice said.
“What are you talking about?”
“You might want to put some suitable clothes on, Ms. Middlebrooks, you’re under arrest,” Officer Anderson said.
“There must be some mistake,” Ava said as she pulled her robe tighter across her breasts. There was no way she was going back to prison willingly. The cold wind from the outside brushed her face.
“Here is the order right here, Ava. Read it and then we need you to come with us.”
Ava snatched the paper from the offic
er’s hands and started to read it. It looked like she was going back to prison. Had S. Marcus double-crossed her? Ava started shouting at the top of her lungs, “Oh hell, nah. This shit isn’t happening. I’m not going back to that hellhole. You motherfuckers better pull out some guns or something if you think I’m leaving this house. Do you know who I am? Do you know that my granddaughter is one of the biggest names in show business?”
“Mrs. Middlebrooks, none of that matters. You just need to come with us and let’s not make this more difficult than it has to be.”
“I need to call my lawyer,” Ava said.
“You will be able to do that after you’ve been processed,” Officer Anderson said.
That’s when Ava let out a deep gasp, put her hand across her forehead, and fell flat out on her back, totally blacked out.
EPILOGUE
I had a dream last night. A beautiful dream. In my dream, I live in a beautiful house surrounded by nothing but God’s magic in colors of green, gold and blue. I have a wonderful husband whose love for me is real and true. When I see him or hear his voice, I glow from the inside.
In my dream, I have a precious daughter whom I watched grow from a girl into a young woman. The pride I feel as her mother makes me tingle with happiness down to my soul. I have never imagined a love so deep or so pure, until I felt—with every ounce of my skin and bones—a mother’s love for the child who grew from her own flesh and blood.
I know she really doesn’t need me now, but I love the fact that when she’s around me, she brings a child’s heart that puts everything in perspective. She has taught me what’s important, what matters: love. Period.
Because the unconditional love that sparkles at me from her eyes fills me with so much joy that tears glaze my eyes. Everything goes blurry, yet it becomes so crystal clear. She is my most precious gift from God, and I celebrate her, and what we share, every day, in the simplest yet happiest ways.
Sometimes we sit up in bed in matching pajamas, eating popcorn and watching old movies. Sometimes we gather around the piano and sing songs together, songs that become number one hits with our friend Lyrical rapping the intro. Sometimes we shop for hours, but don’t buy a thing because we’re just simply enjoying each other’s company. She listens when I warn her of the danger of growing up too fast and how show business is simply that … business. Sometimes we eye each other when her father tells a joke and fails to deliver the punch line. I think he knows we’re not laughing at him, but with him.
On days when I doubt myself and my ability to be a good mother, I depend on a good friend who knows what it’s like to be a good mother. Nicole Springer-Stovall and I have developed a good friendship, a true friendship. She tells me that no mother is perfect but when you do things in love they have a way of turning out right. Even in my wildest dreams I never dreamed of trusting another female the way I do Nicole.
Sometimes in my dream, it seems as though the days are passing with dizzying speed. And there are times—the good times—that pass at a snail’s pace. Other times, bad memories return. But I welcome them in like old friends, because the contrast of remembering how bad I once felt helps me appreciate how good I feel today.
Yes, it’s good to remember that once, in my past, I was haunted by dreams about people in my life showing up to steal my moment of glory. In those dreams, as I stood in the world’s spotlight, winning awards and being celebrated for my talent by the likes of Denzel Washington, that’s when friends and family would bogart onto the stage to shove me back into darkness and misery.
Today, though, I actually have friends. Real friends. People who want me to feel happy and be successful.
As for Ava, well, deep down, I wish I could have enjoyed the comfort and security of feeling a mother’s love the way I spoil my daughter with encouragement and love.
But the reality is, I’ve accepted the fact that I’ll never really have a relationship with my mother. And I’m finally at peace with that.
She never wanted to be a mother because her mother somehow lacked the maternal instinct to love and cherish one’s babies.
So this problem has plagued my family for at least two generations.
Now, someone has to break the cycle. For Madison.
And I believe that someone is me.
Today, I have the power and strength to do that, because I’m blessed with the understanding that nothing is more important than love and family. And I realize that I can be happy with my life, even though I can’t forget all of its sadness. I’m stronger. I really am confident. And I’m loved.
My dream showed me that every day is an opportunity to begin a new life, and I intend to take advantage of that promise.
So I’ve traded in my diva card for a mommy card. The card is green, but hopefully it will turn to platinum when the twin boys arrive.
Best of all, I’m facing a future full of sweet dreams.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Sometimes change is necessary for growth. But some things never change, like my belief and love for my Lord Jesus Christ, and my love and thanks to my family and friends who have supported me in good times and bad.
Another unchanging fact of my life is being grateful for a career as a novelist and the people who support me so fiercely.
I’m thankful for the people who encourage and enable me in this career. That includes agents, lawyers, accountants, editors and so many people who keep my life working.
I must offer special thanks to my writer-sister-friend Elizabeth Atkins, for being one of the best line editors I’ve had the opportunity to work with. I look forward to our future projects.
Special thanks to my niece Bria Barnes for helping me with the Madison character and Shunda Leigh for test reading my manuscript.
A major part of change for me has been selecting a new publisher. I can’t close without mentioning my new publishing family and how grateful I am for them taking me in with open arms. Karen Hunter and Karen Hunter Publishing came into my life and made my choice an easy one. Carolyn Reidy and Louise Burke offered leadership and the promise of a lasting friendship. Jean Anne Rose and Kerrie Loyd came with fresh ideas and enthusiasm on making my fan base even bigger. Finally, Brigitte Smith made sure everything ran smoothly and gave me the security that things at my new home would be just fine. And they were.
I have to thank all of you who write me on the website and Face-book because you make me feel so special every day of my life. I know a lot of you are experiencing change in your lives as well, and I want to be the living proof that change is a good thing. Trust me.
E. LYNN HARRIS
June 2009
Atlanta, Georgia
Table of Contents
Cover
Half Title Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Part One
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
Part Two
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 3
0
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
Part Three
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Mama Dearest Page 32
