Joy

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  “At least you know it. The Christians I've met think they're above us mere mortals. That's why I was so surprised to hear that you were a Christian. You seem so different from the ones I know.”

  “How so?”

  Sasha bit her lip in thought. “Well, you're cranky, but you're not judgmental. You're all in my Kool-Aid because you're my cousin, but you're not judging me on some religious level. The Christians I know aren't like that. Their lives are so perfect that they spend all their time telling other people what to do and how to live.”

  “How do you know these people are Christians?”

  “Because they act like Christians. They act … holy. They don't drink or smoke or anything like that.”

  Anya had to stop herself from chuckling. “Do you drink?”

  “Just a little wine now and then.”

  “Do you smoke?”

  “No, but it's my choice. I don't want some old fogey dictating to me what I can do.”

  “Neither would I. You know how old fogies can be.”

  Sasha glanced sideways at Anya. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “No, it's just funny what people believe about being a Christian. All it means is that you've confessed with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and you believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead.”

  “Sounds like you're just quoting the Bible.”

  “Romans 10:9. Do you want me to show you?” Anya asked casually.

  “No.” Sasha paused. “And what else do you have to do?”

  “That's it.”

  “What about all those other things?”

  “There are things I try to do because I'm saved and I want to please God. But as far as being saved, that's all there is to it.”

  Sasha shook her head. “You make it sound simple, but I know this religious stuff is confusing.”

  “It is hard to understand. There're a lot of things that don't make sense in my mind. But it makes all the sense in the world … in my heart. That's because it's all inside—it's about having a personal relationship with God.”

  Sasha, silent, was thoughtful.

  “Do you want me to show you what I'm talking about?” Anya asked again, this time reaching for the brown leather, gilt-edged Bible that she kept on her coffee table.

  “No, not right now. I'm starving. Wanna get something to eat? My treat.”

  Anya felt the opportunity slip away. “Sure.” She hoped she hid her disappointment. “We can go to Santa Barbara. There are some great places to eat up there.”

  “Great. Where's Santa Barbara?”

  “Almost two hours up the coast.”

  “Girl, I will die from starvation! Let's go somewhere closer. Remember, I'm sick.” Sasha dramatically touched the back of her hand to her forehead.

  Anya tossed a pillow at her cousin. “We're going to Santa Barbara. It'll keep you away from Hunter for at least one afternoon. You're spending too much time with him.”

  “I surrender,” she said, tossing the pillow back and ignoring Anya's commentary. “But what if Braxton calls?”

  “I'll call him when we get back.”

  Sasha was the first to stand. “Let's go then.” Sasha started up the stairs and Anya followed.

  “It might take me a few minutes longer to get ready,” Anya said. “I have some things I need to pray about.”

  Sasha turned around and looked at Anya questioningly.

  “That's the thing about being a Christian. When I sin, I pray and God forgives me. Now you, on the other hand …” Anya casually strolled into her bedroom and closed the door softly, leaving her sentence unfinished and Sasha standing in the middle of the hallway, with her hands on her hips and a deep frown on her face.

  “Sasha, please take your foot out of the window!”

  She sighed and pulled back, readjusting her seat. “You are so uptight.” Sasha looked at Anya out of the corner of her eye. “I hope you're not going to be like this all day.”

  Anya smirked. “No, I'm determined to have a good time, no matter how much you try to upset me.”

  Sasha laughed. “Now that we have that settled.”

  They proceeded in comfortable silence up the coastal highway with the ocean's mist hanging in the air. Although it was almost the middle of February, it was warm and they drove with the top down. At speeds a bit over seventy, the trip took just two hours. Anya turned into a sparsely filled lot along the beach.

  “This is pretty cool,” Sasha said, eyeing the main street over the top of her sunglasses. “We'd better get to a restaurant soon or else there'll be a corpse sitting in the seat next to you on the ride back.”

  Anya laughed. “What do you want to eat?”

  “Food!”

  They went into Whaler's and were seated along the windowed wall. They took a moment to enjoy the ocean view, marveling at how the high surf came almost to the restaurant's edge. One of the blond, tanned, muscular waiters brought water glasses to their table and stood impatiently as their eyes roamed the menu. They placed their orders and watched the waiter sulk away, as if this were the last place he wanted to be.

  “Anya, thank you for letting me stay with you. I'm having a great time.”

  “I'm glad.” She smiled. “I just wish you weren't spending all of your time with Hunter.”

  “Why are you so against him?” Her question sounded like pleading.

  “I'm not. He's just not right for you, especially with what you've been through.”

  “Don't you think I'm too old for this advice? Plus Hunter is helping me. I feel good when I'm with him.”

  Anya twirled the water glass in her hand. “Do you know his … history?”

  Sasha leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I was wondering when you were going to bring that up. Anya, Hunter was cleared of all of those charges. That woman admitted that she was lying.”

  Anya thought back to two years before, when Hunter had been accused of assault by an extra on his sitcom. The police had taken her statement, but a few days later the young woman recanted and charges had never been filed.

  But the tabloids continued the story as if Hunter were on trial. It wasn't until Hunter hired Melvin Johnson, a Johnnie Cochran protégé, that the story miraculously disappeared and before long was forgotten.

  In her head, Anya knew that Hunter had been falsely accused, but doubts still lingered. She hated that her brain kept repeating that cliché: Where there's smoke …

  Anya said, “I'm just concerned because Hunter is not serious about any relationship. Since his divorce, he's been linked with every single woman in Hollywood.”

  “And after all those women, now he's with me.” Sasha put her hand on top of her cousin's. “I'm not looking for a relationship. That's what makes this so special. We're not trying to be like you and Braxton. And, speaking of Mr. Author, why are you avoiding him?” Sasha asked, purposely changing the subject.

  The waiter returned and, in one swoop, set their plates in front of them. Sasha knew the routine now, and she waited for Anya to say grace. But before Anya could pronounce the second syllable in “Amen,” Sasha had dug full force into her lobster omelet. After a few bites, she eyed Anya's salmon pasta.

  Anya laughed and waved her fork in her cousin's direction. “Don't even think about it.”

  Sasha returned her laugh. “So, why are you doggin’ Braxton?”

  Anya shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “We're just going through some … things that I'm sure are normal for any couple.”

  “Is it the pressure of the wedding?”

  Anya sighed. “No, we're just trying to find a comfortable place in our relationship. It's not like it was in the beginning.”

  “Thank God for that,” Sasha said, her mouth stuffed with lobster and eggs. “Let's hope that you've both grown. The only thing that matters is that you're still in love.”

  Sasha's statement sounded like a question, and Anya felt the need to affirm it. “I do love Braxton. I just don't know if that's enough. We're al
ways arguing. Everything in our lives is an issue. We're not pleased with each other.”

  Sasha shrugged. “Then don't marry him.”

  She said the words so casually that Anya wondered if she had heard her correctly. “I can't do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because …” Anya stopped and put down her fork.

  Sasha's mouth opened wide. “I was only kidding, but if you can't answer that question—you don't need to get married.”

  “I really do love Braxton.”

  “Girl, I loved Gordon. But, like you said, sometimes that's not enough.”

  “If I'd known you were going to try to talk me out of getting married, I would have left you in L.A. with Hunter.” Anya laughed, but she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

  “I'm just responding to what I've seen. You haven't been happy since I got here. Except for that night on the boat and, even then, you said you guys had a fight. You should call the marriage off.”

  “I'm not prepared to do that … just yet.” Anya twirled the ring on her finger.

  “You're afraid of being alone.”

  “That's not true! I've been alone all these years.”

  “My point exactly. I think you feel that you're getting older and this might be your last chance. And,” Sasha lowered her voice, “I think you missed having a family and now you want one of your own.”

  Anya shook her head. “Madear and Donovan are my family. You and your parents were there for me too. I never felt I was missing anything.”

  “You missed your parents more than you'd ever admit,” Sasha said softly. “And you want to create that family unit in your own life now.”

  “That's not true.” Anya was still shaking her head.

  “Then how do you explain an independent, successful woman like you going through all of these changes? I know you. If something's not right, you get rid of it.”

  “This is a relationship, not a pair of shoes. I can't throw it away because of a few little problems.”

  “Your problems have suddenly been downgraded. A minute ago, they were big issues.”

  “We're in counseling,” Anya protested. “I have to at least see the counseling through.”

  “You think counseling will change anything?”

  “I think counseling will reveal everything. We'll understand each other better.”

  Sasha nodded, but then another thought came to her mind. “How are you going to handle the fact that Braxton isn't a Christian?”

  Anya pushed her plate aside and sat up stiffly in her chair. “I never said Braxton wasn't a Christian.”

  Sasha squinted at her cousin for a long moment. “Then you're all set.”

  “Yes, I … am.”

  Sasha smiled. “I'm glad to hear that, because I think Braxton Vance is one fine catch.”

  Anya blinked rapidly. “A moment ago, you said that I should get rid of him.”

  “Just testing you. But I think you should marry the man. He obviously worships you. Sure, he doesn't do everything right, but he's a man—and it's not like you're perfect. You guys are going to make a great team. There are women who would offer up their well-managed stock portfolios for that man, not to mention their first-borns.”

  “Funny you should mention children.”

  Sasha's eyes opened wide. “I knew it! You're pregnant!”

  “Almost.”

  “You're going to have to explain that.”

  “I'm about to give birth to a ten-year-old, Braxton's son.”

  “He's coming for a visit?”

  “A permanent one, if Braxton has his way.”

  “Oooh! An instant family. How do you feel about that?”

  “I don't know. I just found out and I'm stunned more than anything. Braxton's a good father, but I didn't know he wanted this much of a role.”

  “I can't imagine you with a grown boy.”

  “He's only ten.”

  “Honey, you haven't been around a lot of ten-year-olds. They are grown and it is not a pleasant sight.”

  “Maybe I'll hire you to help me,” Anya joked but she was only half-kidding. The idea of having Junior was beginning to settle in, making her feel unsettled.

  “Oh, no! I'll sell Amway before I'm ever locked in a room with kids again.”

  They both laughed.

  “But having that kid is going to be no joke. How are you going to do it with your business and everything else in your life?” Sasha asked.

  “You're getting ahead of things,” Anya said, holding up her hands. “Braxton and I have to talk first, not to mention winning a custody battle that I think is a long shot.”

  “I don't envy you, but is this why you're mad at Braxton?”

  “I'm mad because he didn't tell me.”

  “Come on, Anya. You said you guys have been having some issues—translation: fights. What was Braxton supposed to do? In the middle of a battle say, ‘Hold it. I have something to tell you’?”

  “He should be able to talk to me about anything.”

  “That's only if he can catch you. Between you dodging his calls and telling him lies, what's the man supposed to do?”

  Anya remained silent but smiled.

  Sasha licked her finger and held it in the air. “One point for me. You wanna know what I think? We should get in the car, break the speed of light, so that you can get to Braxton.” She leaned forward and looked Anya straight in her face. “That man loves you.”

  Anya swallowed a piece of ice, then motioned for the waiter.

  When he brought the check, Sasha tried to grab it. “I told you, this was my treat.”

  “No, this is mine. Call it a fee for service—for all of your advice. And don't argue with me. That will just slow me down. I have a fiancé that I have to see.”

  Sasha smiled and raised her glass in a toast. “Now that's what I'm talking about.”

  Anya jammed her hands deep into the pockets of her leather swing jacket and pulled it tightly around her waist. A cool night had descended upon Santa Monica. Looking at the stained-glass window in the front door of the two-story Colonial, she took a deep breath before she pressed the doorbell. Almost a minute passed before the entryway light came on, then the door opened immediately. He was covered by just tan silk pajama bottoms, totally naked to his navel.

  “Hey,” she said softly.

  “Anya.” His voice matched hers.

  Seconds ticked by.

  “May I come in?” She was shivering on the front steps.

  “I'm sorry. I'm just surprised to see you. I've been calling all day.” He reached for her, but she kept her hands hidden.

  After he closed the door, they stood in the vast foyer, not daring to make eye contact.

  “Anya—”

  “Braxton—”

  They chuckled nervously.

  “You first,” Anya said, her eyes darting between his face and the mosaic-marble tiled floor. She didn't dare look at his chest.

  Braxton took a step toward her, then stopped when she lowered her head. He cleared his throat. “I feel so bad. I should have told you what I was thinking and it was wrong the way it came out.”

  She met his eyes. “You never talked about wanting Junior,” she said softly. “Why didn't you tell me?”

  “I don't know. As soon as it came to me, I should have told you.” He took another tentative step forward. “But I promise there are no other surprises.”

  She forced a smile. “There's a lot we have to talk about.”

  “I know! Let's go in,” he motioned toward the sunken living room.

  She kept her feet planted. “No, it's getting late. I only came by because I couldn't sleep without seeing you.”

  He smiled. “I'm glad to hear that.”

  “I want you to know, I'm not against having Junior with us.”

  Braxton let out an audible sigh. “Thank you, baby. We'll work this out, I promise.”

  An easy quietness fell between them.

  “I'd better go.�
��

  This time his step brought him so close, she could smell the mintiness of his freshly brushed teeth. “I wouldn't mind if you stayed. Even if you don't want to talk. I just want to hold you.” His eyes pleaded with her.

  She reached for him and they held each other in silence, feeling the need to hold on to the moment. It was Anya who pulled away first.

  “I'd better get out of here if we're going to make it to church in the morning.”

  “Want me to pick you up?” His voice was filled with hope.

  She hugged him again, her palms lingering for a moment on the hardness of his back. “I'd like that.”

  “Let me get my robe so that I can walk you out.”

  Her eyes followed him as he ran up the winding staircase and then, when he disappeared down the hall, she looked around the formal entryway. In a few months, this would be her home. Her eyes scanned the open, sparsely furnished space. He was waiting for her to move in so they could shop together.

  He trotted down the stairs and tied his robe around his waist. They walked to her car with their arms entwined. “Maybe I should drive you home.”

  “No you shouldn't. I'll be all right.”

  “I want to always protect you.” He kissed her forehead. “Call me when you get home.”

  “As soon as I walk in the door.”

  They kissed.

  “I love you, Anya” was the last thing he said before she got into her car.

  Another battle had passed. Anya still didn't know how she felt about this—she couldn't imagine Junior living with them. It was too much to think about right now. She popped the CD that Braxton had given her into the player.

  My love … is so good to me

  It's your love that I need

  She smiled. She did need Braxton's love. They would find a way to work through this.

  She was in automatic mode, driving the familiar route without taking much notice of anything around her. She never saw the car that followed her all the way to her front door.

  The second time Anya called, the phone only rang once. “I'm home.”

  “I was worried—you didn't call right away.”