“Same old thing. It’s Christmas Eve, so we were packed beyond belief. I’m glad we closed early.”
“You ready to go to dinner at Lake and Lasheera’s?”
“I thought that was tomorrow night. Christmas dinner.”
“No. They have a Christmas Eve tradition.”
“I am dog-tired. Do I have to come?”
“Yes. This is the first night we’ll all dine together, remember? Ms. Roberta and Mr. J.B. are coming, too.”
Tawatha groaned. “May I get an hour nap? Please?”
“We’ve got plenty of time. I’ll wake you up in an hour and thirty minutes. I know it takes you forever to doze off.”
Tawatha headed to her bedroom. She took off her work Naturalizer shoes and rubbed her feet. She splayed her tips on the bed and counted out the day’s bounty. When she’d tallied the dollars and change, her tips came to $95.18. She fell back on the bed, wondering when things would change. She missed being at Royce’s, but he no longer accepted her calls. The final text message he sent her said, “I only want to see you once you’re back on your feet. Stay strong. I know you can do it.” Back on my feet. How long will that take?
Tawatha turned over on her stomach and imagined how the night would unfold. Her contact with her family had been so-so since returning from Augusta. A quick visit here, a phone call there. Nothing substantial. She thought the camaraderie would flow, that some of the good memories from years past would replace the distance they now experienced. Who am I kidding?
She’d been banned from James’s salons. Shandy had taken out a restraining order against her, and she no longer felt comfortable doing drive-by surveillance. James was becoming a far-off memory as well. She worked, came home, watched TV, and started the next day all over again. Jamilah knocked on her door.
“May I come in?”
“Sure.”
Jamilah came in, still dressed in her lounging clothes. “It’s written all over your face. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell that lie to someone who doesn’t know you. Come on and talk to me.”
Tawatha blinked back tears. She intended to nap and get ready for dinner, but her world felt off-kilter.”
“I wish you hadn’t gotten me out of jail.”
“Why?”
“What good am I?” Tawatha covered her face, embarrassed she’d let Jamilah see her cry.
“You’re getting your life back together. It takes time, Tawatha.”
“Nobody wants me here,” she said.
“We want you here. We want you stable and able to cope with reality. You can get help.”
“A shrink. Is that your answer?”
“No, that’s your answer. How do you think I got through my parents’ deaths?”
“You’ve always been so strong. You graduated college, got your own place, and you’re building a name for yourself.”
“And I’m neurotic, moody, frustrated, tired, and some days, I want to chuck it all and live in the wilderness.”
Tawatha sat up. “You do?”
“Of course, but I imagine how disappointed I’d be in myself, and how disappointed my parents would be if they knew I gave up.”
“It was easier for me in prison. I had a routine, a system.”
“You have a routine and system here, too. You need to give it more time.” Jamilah paused. “May I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“I rarely hear you mention the children. Why?”
“I see them everywhere. I hear their voices. I smell them. I was never fit to be anyone’s mother, and I try not to bring them up because they’re better off without me. Not the way they died. If I could do things over, I would have stopped at Aunjanue and gave her up for adoption. I loved them, I didn’t know how to raise them. Even with a good village, I was a lousy matriarch.”
“I wished you’d voiced that opinion years ago. There were other options instead of what happened.” Jamilah rubbed Tawatha’s back.
“What should I do at this dinner tonight?”
“Be yourself.”
“What if they don’t want me there?”
“Lake and Lasheera wouldn’t have invited you over if you weren’t welcome.”
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach again.
“Let’s get dressed and go. I’ve got your back.”
“Let me get my nap, and I’ll be good as new.”
Chapter 43
Aunjanue went to the mailbox. The postcards had stopped coming, so she didn’t mind taking the walk to bring in the mail. Tawatha’s presence at dinner would be the first time she’d been with the family at length since her release. She was excited and afraid. Her biggest concern was her grandmother. Roberta promised to be cordial, not mention the children, and embrace Tawatha at least once. She had a good feeling about the night. They’d experienced so many ups and downs since September that Christmas had to be a gift. It had to be.
Aunjanue brought the mail inside and went to her room. She had less than an hour before dinner started. The family, along with the Wilsons, would be having Christmas Eve dinner. She sorted through the mail and would take the household mail downstairs after she dressed. She sifted through the letters, coming to an oversized envelope addressed to her. It had no return address, and she couldn’t make out the postmark. She gently opened the envelope with the decorative letter opener she’d received after her siblings’ funeral. Her room was filled with an assortment of things people gave her to soothe her conscience. If Tawatha sent another item, knowing she was coming to dinner, she would scream.
She whiffed the floral scent of the envelope before opening it. She unfolded the neat letter as another document fell on the bed. She read the letter aloud:
Dear Aunjanue:
This is Hattie, Maggie Ransom’s daughter. I’m writing you to let you know Mom passed away the second week of December. I called the school to ask for your address. They were hesitant to give it to me, but I told them about all the wonderful drawings you sketched of Mom, and they gave in. Her last days weren’t so good. She was in and out of consciousness, but she still spoke of you. In a moment of clarity, she asked if I had given you, “Felicia,” the box. I told her I did, and that you appreciated it very much. She said she knew you needed it more than she did. I’ve enclosed an obituary from her home-going service. It was lovely. My siblings all came, and we sat around sharing memories of Mom. I hope you are having a wonderful holiday. Thanks so much for caring for my mother and being there when she needed family most.
With deepest gratitude,
Ms. Hattie Ransom
Aunjanue unfolded the obituary. A younger version of Maggie stared back at her, her mouth fashioned in a confident pout. The black-and-white photo of Maggie must have been taken during her single days. Her ring finger was empty. If Aunjanue guessed her age, she’d say twenty. Her soft, clear eyes were innocent, calm. She read details of Ms. Mag’s life and wished they’d met at a different time. She placed the obituary back in the envelope and put it in her drawer. Silent, she reminisced about her elderly friend. She’d never opened the box, and decided to wait until her graduation day to do so.
Aunjanue took the family mail downstairs. Zion was in charge of bringing the cooler from the garage. She was responsible for setting the table. She went outside to the shed to get a set of goblets Lasheera had placed on the top shelf last Christmas. She entered the shed, climbed the ladder, and found the goblets. She lifted the box and touched the gold rim of the crystal glasses. She held on to the top shelf as she looked out the window.
Across the street she saw the Wilsons’ car. They were parked just below Belinda Rosewood’s house. She squinted to get a better look. Stephanie’s arms flailed wildly as she got in Caleb’s face. Caleb struck the dashboard with his fists. She pointed a finger in his face, opened the door, and slammed it with such force Aunjanue felt the power in the shed. Stephanie waddled up the walkway carrying an MCL bag. Her contribution to tonight’s dinner was three dozen yea
st rolls. Stephanie, a severe asthmatic, bent down, patted her chest several times, leaned her head back, and shot several bursts in her mouth from an inhaler. Aunjanue climbed down the ladder and ran outside to meet Stephanie. She was so angry. I know she must have left her coat in the car. Aunjanue noted she only wore a raspberry maternity dress with matching tights. She was shoeless, and she’d lost an earring at home, in the car, or the driveway. Only one sparkling, burgundy autumn leaf dangled in her ear. She stepped in front of Stephanie, whose head was lowered.
“Ms. Stephanie, let me get the bread.” Stephanie caught her breath, plastered a smile on her face. “Aunjanue, how are you? I didn’t see you there.”
She grabbed the bag. “Do I need to get your coat and shoes?”
“No!” Stephanie said. Her brusque response sent Aunjanue two steps back. Stephanie softened her tone. “I didn’t mean to be snippy.” She looked back at the car where Caleb sat, staring straight ahead.
Lasheera joined them in the driveway. “Stephanie, where is your coat? Hurry up and come inside.” To Aunjanue, she said, “Go to the car and get Stephanie’s things.”
Lasheera led Stephanie inside. Caleb opened the door, handed Aunjanue the coat and shoes, and closed the door, never acknowledging her presence with a greeting.
She took the coat inside. Lasheera had fashioned a pallet on the floor where Stephanie lay in a fetal position. Aunjanue noted the wet floor.
“Onnie, call everyone and cancel dinner. Stephanie’s in labor.”
Chapter 44
Stephanie’s labor lasted fourteen hours. Lake, Lasheera, Aunjanue, and Caleb sat in the waiting room. The doctor came into the waiting area with great news about CJ.
“Are you with Stephanie Wilson?”
“Yes,” they said in unison.
“Mother and baby are doing fine. You may go to the nursery and see him.”
Everyone joined Caleb. With his anger lessened, he went to Stephanie’s room where a nurse provided him with a gown and gloves. They stood outside the nursery, eyeing a room full of babies. Swaddled in a blue-and-white striped blanket and a blue knit cap, CJ cried and kicked in his clear bassinet. The nurse wheeled CJ to the window. Caleb looked at his son.
A nurse passed by them and Caleb, pointing to CJ asked, “May I take Baby Wilson to our room?”
“I’ll wheel him down in a minute.”
Caleb headed to their room, quiet, withdrawn.
“What happened earlier?” Lake whispered to Lasheera.
“I don’t know. I looked outside and Aunjanue was helping Stephanie bring in bread. She came inside, her water broke, and we got her here as fast as we could.”
“I’ve never seen Caleb so silent. I wonder what happened.”
“Probably new-father jitters. Did you see anything, Aunjanue?” Lasheera asked.
“No. Only Ms. Stephanie coming toward the house with the bread.” I can’t believe they argued. They wouldn’t want anyone to know.
They waited and walked down to the room. Stephanie held CJ in her arms. Aunjanue watched the baby’s head rotate as he sucked milk from a bottle. Stephanie stroked his curls. Caleb sat next to her, both admiring their baby.
“May I hold him?” Lasheera asked.
“Of course,” said Stephanie. “Get used to him. He’ll be at Aunt Lasheera and Uncle Lake’s house a lot. Aunjanue, get ready for your babysitting time.” Stephanie’s weak voice indicated they didn’t need to wear out their welcome or her.
“Caleb, may I speak with you outside a minute?” Lake asked.
“Sure.”
Caleb removed his gown and hat and followed Lake down the hallway. The found a corner on the opposite end of the hall to chat.
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“I’m a little stressed about the baby. I want us to be good parents, but I’m afraid I’ll make mistakes and do something that doesn’t please Stephanie.”
“Get ready. It’s coming. Parenting isn’t for punks. I’m not a biological parent, and I know it’s a huge job. You’ll be fine. You’ve got a great village to help you. Your problem will be if you decide not to call on us for help.”
“What if I do a lousy job?”
“A baby is on-the-job training. You’ll fall into the rhythm.”
“I hope so. I’m going outside for some fresh air.” Caleb went back to the room, put on his coat, and left the hospital.
Lake walked back down to the room. “Lasheera, I’ll be in the lobby area if you need me.”
“Thanks, baby,” she said. She shifted the baby on her right shoulder to burp him.
“May I hold him?” Aunjanue asked.
“Yes,” said Stephanie.
Aunjanue held CJ. She took in his fresh, powdery scent. She followed suit and cradled his head as Stephanie and Lasheera had. She sat back in the chair and placed the baby across her lap. She replayed Stephanie and Caleb’s lovers’ spat. With her image of them forever changed, she rubbed CJ’s back and thought, If they can play the masquerade, so can I.
Chapter 45
Seven months had passed since Aruba’s suicide attempt, and she was finally unthawing. She pulled along the curbside of Delta’s arrivals at Hartsfield-Jackson in Atlanta and waited for James to arrive. The curbside Nazis blew whistles and kept traffic moving. She spotted James in business attire as usual. He flagged her down as she circled the area again. When he called, James said he had a surprise for her, for them. She had dropped Jeremiah and Aaron off at her parents’ home hours ago.
She’d spruced up today and enjoyed the warm weather. Still in one-day-at-a-time mode, she enjoyed the moments she shared getting to know James again. When she stepped out of his vehicle to switch places with James so he could drive, she enjoyed the catcalls and whistles from men admiring her beauty. He tossed his suitcase in the backseat and playfully mocked her by rolling his eyes.
“Did you have to come out looking so fine today?”
“What did you want me to look like?”
“Just the way you are. I want people to know I have good taste and you’re mine.”
She held his hand and rubbed his face. He veered into I-75 traffic.
“Where are we going today?”
“I’m doing a little business and wanted you to join me.”
“What kind of business?”
“It’s a surprise, remember?”
James headed toward Duluth to meet his sister, Teresa. His brother, Marvin, gave up his garage business and was doing civilian work in Afghanistan. Teresa still held on to her wedding planning business. Today, she promised to meet with James and her ex-sister-in-law to make party plans.
“Are we meeting Teresa for pleasure?”
“Don’t ask another question.”
Aruba popped the glove compartment open and took out a list of properties in the Atlanta area. She still hadn’t committed to remarriage, but she liked James’s suggestion they start over again in a neutral area. Not Augusta. Not Indianapolis. Atlanta was large enough for James to expand his clientele as well as make inroads with their relationship. He asked Aruba to print out a list of “dream” properties, homes she could see them living in some time in the near future. She stayed within price ranges on the lower end. She wanted to contribute to their way of life if they reunited.
“Check out Mrs. Fisher,” James said.
Teresa stood outside her office as they pulled into her commercial property. Teresa refused to take back her daddy’s name and kept her married name on the marquee. She was Teresa Fisher, wedding planner extraordinaire. She ran to the vehicle, opened Aruba’s door, and swept her up in her arms. Teresa’s ex-husband wasn’t one for fellowshipping. He kept Teresa isolated, only wanting her to mingle with clients or others when it benefited him. When they divorced, she vowed to make up for lost time with all the relatives and friends she’d shunned over the years. She’d start with her brother, James, and work her way around.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you two were st
ill married,” she said. She made Aruba stand back so she could inspect her outfit. “Still on your game, I see.”
“I have a little help from someone who loves me,” Aruba said.
Teresa pretended to throw up. “Come in here before you two make me gag,” she said.
Teresa led them to her office. She’d laid out several party themes on her desk as well as on her computer screen. “Check these out and tell me what you think,” Teresa said.
Aruba eyed James. “Why are we here again?”
He faced her and held her hand. “You said you weren’t ready to remarry me. Would you at least consider having a party?”
“A party?”
“Yea, babes. Something like a Back Together Again party. A party my family and yours can mix and mingle so they know we’re trying to mend our relationship. Teresa has agreed to help us with the planning.”
“Whew, I thought you were going to propose again. I can do a party!”
Teresa slid the party ideas toward them. The tropical themes were the only ones that elicited further discussion.
“How about mid-summer?” Teresa asked. “We could do something in the downtown Atlanta area, or maybe at one of the wineries in North Georgia if you’d like.”
“We have enough time to think about it, James.”
“I have to meet with a possible vendor in about thirty minutes, so Teresa, if you could get us going with this selection, we’d appreciate it.”
“I’m so happy you two are together again. I always saw great things in store for the two of you. You’d be amazed at the number of people who wished they could reconcile,” said Teresa.
James hoped Teresa wasn’t referring to her ex. Teresa seemed so much better off without him, but he’d never tell her.
“We’re rolling, Teresa. We’ll be in touch.”
Aruba and James left the office, headed to the meeting. James, sensing a change in Aruba’s attitude, turned the music down.
“What’s wrong, Aruba?”
“Secrets.”
James waited for her to explain.
Forgive Me Page 21
