Dear Reader:
Stacy Campbell’s debut project, Dream Girl Awakened, was a highly successful novel complete with twists and turns. Forgive Me is her sequel and as the title suggests, the author explores the quality of forgiveness. Sometimes one can forgive—but they will never forget.
After broken friendships and mishaps, will Victoria Faulk forgive her former friend, Aruba Dixon? Will Aunjanue forgive her mother, Tawatha Gipson, once she is released from prison after five years?
Facing the challenges of marriage and divorce, grief and female bonding, discover if these characters are able to pardon and move on with their lives—together or apart.
Stacy, who listened to her relatives’ stories on her family’s front porch, spins a wonderful tale that surely will appeal to all readers. Everyone can make a mistake. Everyone has faced the decision on whether to forgive.
As always, thanks for supporting Strebor Books, where we strive to bring you the most groundbreaking, out-of-the-box literature in today’s market. If you would like to contact me directly, feel free to email me at [email protected]. You can also find me on Facebook @AuthorZane and on Twitter @planetzane.
Blessings,
Publisher
Strebor Books
www.simonandschuster.com
This book is dedicated in loving memory of Lorraine Byrd Lawrence (5/18/1950-10/15/2013), Sister-in-law extraordinaire and a true friend, and to all the people who feel life isn’t worth living. It is.
Acknowledgments
I’ve wanted to write since I learned to read. Stories transported me from my rural setting in Georgia. Thank you God, Sara, and Zane for making my writing dream possible. Thank you also to Charmaine Parker for keeping me in check and on point.
Special thanks to the early manuscript readers: Darlene Lawrence, Andrea Allen, Kimyatta Walker, Devetrice Conyers-Hinton, and Orsayor Simmons. Your input was invaluable and I truly appreciate you taking the time to give me feedback.
To my family, thanks for putting up with my disappearing acts in the writing cave.
To the industry champions and book ambassadors who continue to coax me out of my shell, thank you for your services and your voices. Keith Saunders, Editor Carla M. Dean, Lasheera Lee, Yolanda L. Gore, Johnathan Royal, Ella Curry, Tiffany Craig, Delonya Conyers, Kim Knight, Teresa Beasley, Readers Paradise, Naptown readers, and all the other book clubs and reviewers who took the time to give me feedback and spread the word about Dream Girl Awakened.
Victoria Christopher Murray and Renee Swindle: your advice, character interview sheet, and character examination knowledge are making books three and four come to life. Thank you.
To the fellow authors I’ve met or connected with the past year, thanks for the laughs, wisdom, and support. Sadeqa Johnson, Trice Hickman, Julia Blues, Adrienne Thompson, Author Saundra, Vanessa Harris, Michael July, Phoenix C. Brown, Donneil Jackson, Cathy Jo G., Alvin L.A. Horn, Karen Quinones-Miller, Shamara Ray, Ben Bennassi, Suzetta Perkins, Audrey Ford, Tracy Cooper, Cherlisa Starks Richardson, Curtis Bunn, Shane Allison, and Shelia Goss. I admire your journey and your words.
Special thanks to the Pike Branch of the Indianapolis Marion County Public Library system for the writing room and quiet space. You make writing enjoyable. A big-shout out to the representative of the National Suicide Hotline who provided me with valuable information, and the Marion County Jail officer who explained standard procedures.
Thank you, Peta Gay Campbell, for being the first reader to reach out to me after publication of my first novel to tell me you enjoyed it. I will treasure your email forever. I appreciate all the readers who’ve reached out to me and would like to give special thanks to the Atlanta postal workers; my Sparta, Georgia, hometown heroes who attended my first book signing; Sharon Simmons and the patients at Davita Dialysis in Jonesboro, Georgia; and the avid readers who’ve reached out to me on my website and through Facebook. You keep me going when the words play hide-and-seek. I’m truly grateful that you’re taking this journey with me. Stay blessed and take one small step each day toward making your dreams come true. One move makes the difference.
Chapter 1
Today is a good day to be released from prison, Tawatha thought. She gathered her duffle bag and wondered what was taking Royce so long to pick her up. She glanced backward at the Indiana Women’s Prison, her home for the past five years. She would miss the few friends she’d made, the Wednesday evening Bible study sessions, and the exchanges among the others who were also confined because of bad love choices.
She still wasn’t convinced about spirituality and all the things she learned behind bars, but she was sure of one thing: her girlfriend, Jamilah, pulled a ram out of a bush and set her free. Not only was she free, but she’d also gained a certain measure of respect from the other prisoners—even after killing three of her four children in a house fire.
“Tawatha,” a voice called out behind her.
Tawatha turned to see Faithia Perkins, a trustee and mother of the group. She’d embraced Tawatha from the beginning of her stint and kept the wolves at bay after Tawatha’s first beating by the other inmates.
“I almost missed you. CO Morris told me you were leaving. I hopped all the way from the infirmary just to say goodbye.”
“I was hoping I’d see you,” said Tawatha.
“I just wanted to give you a hug and tell you to keep your head up. I don’t want to see you back in this place. You’ve got a second chance to get it right, and I want you to make good on it.”
I will not cry, I will not cry. Tawatha opened her arms and let Faithia’s embrace soothe her. She would miss the earthy smell of Faithia’s skin, the gentleness of her hands when she braided her hair, and all the long talks they had about Faithia’s sentence. “I knew saying goodbye to you would be hard. That’s why I snuck out.”
“No matter what happens, you have to move on. Don’t look back; move forward, Tawatha.”
Before Tawatha could shed a tear, Royce’s Mercedes appeared. He smiled when he saw her and dimmed his lights at the sight of Faithia. He pulled alongside the curb.
Faithia watched the handsome, salt-and-pepper gentleman step out of the stylish car. Tawatha had mentioned her former boss would pick her up, but from the look in his eyes, Faithia picked up on more than an employer-to-employee vibe.
“Mr. Hinton, I’m so happy you’re here,” said Tawatha. “This is Ms. Faithia Perkins, a prison trustee, and the only reason I survived in this place.”
Royce folded his arms, raised an eyebrow, and gave Tawatha a tsk-tsk look.
“Royce, this is Ms. Faithia Perkins.” Tawatha corrected her formal introduction of Royce’s name.
“That’s better.” He extended his hand to Faithia.
“I trust you’ll take good care of Tawatha. She’s special to me. She’s come to be like a second daughter.”
“I plan to take the very best care of her.” He took Tawatha’s bag, popped the trunk, and placed it among the surprises he’d planned for her. He opened the passenger door as Tawatha eased into the seat, unsure of where they were heading.
She waved to Faithia one last time and looked ahead as Royce drove away from the prison. There was no need to look back—only forward.
“So, where are we going?” asked Tawatha.
“Well, I figured you’d want to take a shower and perhaps go out to dinner. I remember you loved Olive Garden. I want you to unwind tonight.”
“Did my mother return your calls?”
“She did.” Royce sighed. “She said she’s not ready to welcome you into her home right now and asked that you give her some time.”
Tawatha’s countenance deflated. “So where am I supposed to go? She didn’t write me in prison, and the few times she came to see me, she just s
tared at me like I was a monster.”
“Calm down. I anticipated this before I picked you up.”
“What about Lasheera?”
“Ditto. Since Lasheera and Lake adopted Aunjanue, they feel your presence will disrupt her life. This is Aunjanue’s senior year, and well …” Royce’s voice trailed off.
Tawatha sat back in her seat, unable to hide her hurt. She almost wanted him to turn the car around and take her back to prison. She wondered about the kind of life would she have if the people she loved treated her like she didn’t exist. Jamilah was the only crew member who still communicated with her and had her back. To everyone else, she was a child-murdering ogress who should have been given the death penalty.
“Is that okay with you?” Royce asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“What did you say?”
“The arrangement to stay at my place for a while. You won’t actually be staying with me. There’s a carriage house in back of my property. You’re welcome to live there until you get back on your feet. That is the address I gave the corrections system.”
“What about Millicent?”
“Millie and I have been divorced for about two years now. After our daughter died, things were never the same between us. I filed. I don’t think she wanted to admit we were through.”
“I wish you’d told me that. Millicent was always nice to me when she came by the office. I envied your relationship. How long were you married?”
“Thirty-four years.”
“That’s a lifetime.”
Royce drove past the main dwelling to the carriage house. His in-laws had passed nearly four years ago, leaving the house lifeless.
“Royce, this place is beautiful. Are you sure it’s okay for me to stay?”
“Last time I checked, my name was on the deed to both places. Come inside.”
Royce removed her bag and gifts from the trunk. He gave her a set of keys to the house and stepped inside the living room, giving her time and space to take in her surroundings.
“Get some rest and call me if you want to go out later tonight.”
“Royce, I’m speechless. If it takes me forever, I promise I’ll make this up to you.” She hugged him and counted the ways she’d show him just how much she appreciated his kindness.
Chapter 2
“Baby, don’t fidget. Let me get this tie straight,” said Shandy.
“How many times do I have to tell you that I can knot my own tie, Shan?” James joked and swatted Shandy’s hand.
“And have us looking crazy at this banquet? No way.”
“Oh, I’m representing you now, huh?”
“Don’t you forget it, either.” Shandy kissed James on the lips, grateful for an evening on the town. She hoped that the kiss would be a precursor to a night of passion that kept eluding them.
“Slow your roll, Ms. Fulton. We’ve got all night to be together,” James said, chiding her.
I won’t start with him tonight. I’ll let things unfold. “So how long do you think this shindig will last? When Isaak gets worked up, he can’t stop talking. Even Katrina can’t make him be quiet.”
“If my mentor wants to talk all night, let him. Sitting at his feet made me the success I am, so you won’t hear any complaints from me.”
James raked his fingers through his curly mane as he eyed Shandy. His thoughts worked double-time to concoct another excuse not to be intimate with her. Although they had grown closer over the past four years of dating, he felt something was missing in their relationship. He knew any man would gladly trade places with him. Shandy became his business partner first, then his lover. She’d moved in with him over a year ago and went to work making his house her own. She never uttered her motivation, but he knew the renovation was to erase all traces of his ex-wife, Aruba.
Maybe Shan could erase traces of Aruba, but he couldn’t. Lately, it seemed Aruba was all he thought about. Their divorce ended bitterly after she pursued her friend’s husband and won hands down. Aruba waited for him to get his act together, encouraged him to work, and reassured him she’d always be there for him. She held out for ten years, and then swiped back the promise of forever when she discovered his affair with Tawatha Gipson, a secretary at his former job. Tawatha’s obsession graduated to insanity when she burned three of her children in a house fire to be with him. He marveled at Aruba’s audacity, self-righteousness, and unwillingness to give their marriage a second chance since she crept with Winston as he crept with Tawatha. Who was he kidding? It would have been impossible after the way he’d treated her. If that were not enough, an out-of-wedlock daughter he produced with Tawatha, Jameshia, was still at the forefront of his mind. He always said if he had a child, he wanted to be a part of the child’s life. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, and he didn’t know how to make things right. The few times he’d visited Aruba in Los Angeles, their son, Jeremiah, refused to talk to him. Little man had grown into a sharp, witty nine-year-old who needed him.
“So, will I have to stage a mutiny for a vegetarian meal tonight?” Shandy asked, coaxing James from his thoughts of Jeremiah and past indiscretions.
“I got that taken care of already. I know how much you detest meat, Shan.”
“Keep eating secretions if you like. I want my man to be healthy.”
“I’m pure meat and potatoes. Always have been, and always will be.”
“I’ll wear you down eventually,” said Shandy. Literally and figuratively. She wanted to know what he was thinking but was too afraid to ask. When she scooted closer to him at night in bed and rubbed the hair or his stomach, he’d turn to her, eyes still shut, and say, “I miss you, Aruba.” The only thing she knew about their divorce was that Aruba cheated on him with her girlfriend’s husband. She wondered how he could miss a woman like Aruba and why, after all these years, he seemed filled with regret. The last time she broached the subject, an ugly shouting match ensued, James stormed out the house, and he spent two nights in a hotel. There was no way she would mention the subject again. She loved him and wanted to be the new Mrs. Dixon. This summer would be the mother of all tests because his son, Jeremiah, was coming to stay from late-May to August. Her exposure to children was babysitting her niece, Kathryn, whenever she visited Vegas and gave her twin brother, Simeon, a night on the town with his wife.
“Afterward, we can go dancing if you like,” said James.
“What did you say?” asked Shandy.
“I said after the banquet, we can go dancing if you like.”
“Or we can come home and make passionate love until the sun comes up,” said Shandy.
“Is that all I am to you?” James joked.
“Of course not. That’s one of many things I like about you, James Dixon.”
Shandy twirled around in her teal and black evening gown. She had her shoulder-length hair pulled back in a bun and her makeup done at Makeup by Sparkle, the same studio she’d frequented since meeting James. Shandy hoped James would find the look appealing enough tonight. She always looked good on his arms, but lately she had found it difficult to captivate him behind closed doors.
Tonight has to be different. I can’t take this pain much longer.
Chapter 3
“Lake, are you coming out of the office or do we have to come in and get you?”
“I’m almost done typing this chapter, so give me five more minutes. I promise you won’t starve by then,” said Lake.
“Keep up the jokes and the three of us will leave you here,” said Lasheera.
“When will Dad be done?” Zion asked.
“We’ll all watch Lake march across the stage next spring. He defends his dissertation soon.”
“Will Dad make us call him Doctor?”
“You know Lake isn’t hung up on titles. Go get Onnie so we can go to Cheesecake Factory.”
Lasheera watched Zion walk down the hall to the family room. Tonight’s celebration of Aunjanue’s academic achievements would be bittersweet for the family. Aunjanue�
�s day was filled with excitement after receiving acceptance letters from Stanford, Spelman, and Bryn Mawr. Those would be added to the pile from Clark Atlanta, Yale, and UC Berkeley. No sooner than she ripped open the letter from Bryn Mawr, her best friend, Tarsha, called to ask if she was watching the news. Before Lasheera could grab the remote from Aunjanue, word of Tawatha’s release from prison flooded the living room. Lasheera didn’t intend for her to find out about Tawatha’s release—nor was she prepared to reintroduce Tawatha into their lives.
“Onnie, honey, let me…turn the television,” Lasheera said as she took the remote from Aunjanue. She turned off the television and went to Lake’s home office. She needed his help with this one.
Aunjanue’s face froze. She watched the anchor describe the jury- tampering technicality that set her mother free. Memories of her siblings, Grant, Sims, and S’n’c’r’ty, rushed through her mind as she stared at the urn holding their ashes on the mantle. Aunjanue plopped down on the sofa as Zion joined her. He held her hand.
“Onnie, what’s wrong?” he asked.
“Remember when I told you about my brothers and my sister, the ones on the photos I showed you?”
“You told me they died.”
As she sought the right words to explain her feelings, Lasheera rescued her. “Zion, go to your room. We need to talk to Onnie alone. Straighten your room before we go to dinner. I’ll call you down when it’s time to go.”
Zion walked away. He hated leaving good adult conversation. What’s so important that I can’t listen in? She’s my sister, too.
Lake and Lasheera joined Aunjanue on opposite sides of the sofa. They held her hands for comfort.
“Did you know she was being released?” Aunjanue asked.
“I did,” said Lasheera. She paused. “We didn’t want to disturb your senior year. You’ve done so well and we didn’t want anything to interrupt your progress.”
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