Robin took the phone and stared at the picture as if seeing it for the first time. Her face crumpled. "Oh God, I'm so sorry…”
Sorry? That was her response? Sorry?
Makayla felt a torrent of emotion rise, then swirl about her chest. She couldn't tell if it was anger, desperation, or panic. She only knew it made it near impossible to breathe.
"No. Every fall. Every fall! That’s what Trey said. Every fall you would go into a depression and—“
"The letter."
Makayla turned to look at Marcus.
"The letter," he repeated. “That was when we got the letter. In November."
Makayla had had enough of his interruptions.
"Okay, look, I don't even know why you’re here. You don't have anything to do with this."
"Makayla," Robin whispered.
"Unless he's my father, he needs to leave. This is between you and me."
Robin exhaled and covered her face with her hands. She looked weary and ten years older than when they’d sat down. Makayla instantly regretted being so rude.
"Please," she said quietly. “I don't mean any disrespect. I don't. I'm just asking you to give us a minute so we can work this whole thing out."
But Marcus didn't move. Instead, he looked at Robin. And once again, Makayla couldn't help but feel the glance had meaning she couldn’t interpret.
Not getting any response from Robin, he returned his attention to Makayla. "Fine. I'll leave. After you hear this."
He pulled out his wallet and from it, took a worn and folded piece of paper. "This was sent to me many years ago. The girl who wrote it was Robin's cousin, and my fiancé. We called her Carrie.”
Makayla looked to Robin for explanation. Robin only stared down at her tightly clasped hands. Makayla turned back to Marcus and shook her head. Robin was Carrie. She had to be.
"One day Carrie disappeared. We didn't know what happened or where she’d gone. Had someone taken her? Did she run away? It didn't make sense. We tried to find her, but couldn't. We didn't know what to think. We just knew we couldn’t give up hope. Then this arrived."
He unfolded the paper. Makayla saw faded handwriting covered the length of the page.
"There's a lot for us to explain to you, Makayla. So much you need to know. But the answers to your questions start here." He held up the letter. "Robin’s sadness, my twenty-year search, what happened to the Jones’ family all those years ago—it all started with this letter."
He cleared his throat and began to read.
Chapter 36
Dear Junior,
I need you to know I'm sorry. It's not enough. It'll never be enough to make up for what I've done or what I'm about to do, but it's all I have.
I’m writing this letter because you deserve an explanation. I owe you that much. I know I'm a coward for telling you like this, in a letter. A letter you won't even be able to read until after I'm gone. But I can't face you. Any of you. I'm so ashamed, I can't even face myself.
The letter went on to mention a pancake breakfast. Makayla realized it was the same breakfast Mr. Jones had pictures of.
According to the letter, Carrie had been sent to the church’s kitchen pantry to retrieve something. While she was in the darkened closet, the lights from the kitchen went off. She came out to see what had happened and was pushed back inside.
When the man had done what he’d come to do, he left her there, where she stayed for another thirty minutes, too stunned to move. Finally, she picked up her panties from the floor, put them back on and returned to the breakfast as if nothing had happened.
You knew something was different, but I promised you nothing was wrong. That was the first lie I told you.
I was so stupid, I couldn't even believe it happened. Even over three months later, when I took the pregnancy test, I thought I was just stuck in a bad dream. When I accepted I wasn’t, I lied to you again. You asked me why I changed my mind about waiting until marriage. I said it was because I loved you too much to wait.
And I do love you, Junior. I love you more than anything in this world. But I thought if I could make you believe the baby was yours, I could make myself believe it, too. I had to believe it. It would've made me crazy to think about the truth. But in the end, I couldn't go through with it. You were working so hard, trying to save money to give us a good life and I knew it was all based on a lie. I just couldn't do it. But it's not just that. It's me—
Makayla snatched the letter from Marcus. She couldn't stand to hear any more of Carrie's word spoken out loud. She thought if she read them silently, it would make them easier to digest. It didn't.
I'm no good. Not anymore. You deserve so much. I want you to have everything. That's why I left. I know as long as I'm around, you won't give up on me. But I'm not the person you fell in love with. He took something from me. Something is broken and it can't be fixed.
Please try to forgive me. Help my Robin. She's going to take this hard. I know her. She’ll blame herself for keeping my secret and think this was her fault. But there's nothing she could have done. Tell her that. Please take care of Gram.
And please, please don't hate me.
I love you forever.
Carrie
By the time Makayla finished reading the letter, her hands were trembling. She could feel Robin and Marcus watching her, but it didn't feel as it had before. Instead of care and safety, she felt an overwhelming need to hide.
"This is a suicide note."
Marcus nodded.
Makayla tried to swallow, but couldn’t. "So this girl—this girl that was raped and committed suicide—this girl is supposed to be my mother?"
Again, Marcus nodded. Robin might have too, but Makayla couldn't bring herself to look at her.
Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don’t cry.
"Baby…" Robin reached out to touch her wrist, but Makayla pulled away. The last thing she wanted was for Robin to be nice to her, to try to comfort her, especially after everything she'd done.
"I know it seems all bad now…"
Makayla held her breath and tried to block out whatever Robin was saying. It took all her effort not to cry. She couldn't. Not there. Not in front of them. She needed to get out. She needed to be alone.
Makayla shoved the worn-out piece of paper at Marcus.
"I have to go."
Before either one could stop her, Makayla leapt up and started for the door. She heard them scrambling after her, so she started running. She busted through the front doors of the church, the daylight temporarily blinding her. She had no clue where to go or what to do, so she just kept running.
"Makayla! Makayla, wait!"
Then, like an answered prayer, she heard the brakes of her old familiar bus screech to a stop around the corner. Running as hard as she could, she got there just before the doors closed.
As the bus crossed the intersection and passed the church, she saw them out front. Marcus moved toward the bus, as if to chase it down, but Robin held her hands up to stop him. When he tried to get around her, she grabbed him and wouldn’t let go.
She glanced over her shoulder at the bus and Makayla, where she sat and watched through the back window. Their eyes met.
And that's when Makayla knew. Out of all the things she’d said and done to hurt Robin, running away was the worst.
Makayla remained on the bus as it retraced its route. She didn’t know how much time passed, her mind was too cluttered with information to care.
Her father was a rapist.
Even though she’d suspected as much, she’d never let herself dwell on it. On him. He was a shadowy figure she’d shoved to the recesses of her mind. But now he had form. Now he was real. Now there was no denying it—he was a monster.
What did that make her?
She’d felt justified in paying back people that’d treated her like dirt, but what right did she ever have? Could she expect to be treated with any decency if that was how she came into the world? Did she have any right
to expect anything at all?
Makayla pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes, refusing to allow any tears to fall.
She thought about Carrie and tried to imagine what she looked like, but all she could envision was the picture of Robin at the pancake breakfast.
Makayla felt bad for Carrie, she truly did. But if she were honest, knowing what happened to Carrie wasn’t what tore her apart. It wasn't knowing what her father was. It wasn't even knowing Carrie took her own life.
What threatened to do her in was the truth that made her run for the bus in the first place: Robin wasn't her mother.
Makayla brought her knees up to her chest and buried her face in her arms. She felt so stupid. How could she have been so wrong? She never should’ve set foot in New Life. Or even Texas, for that matter. She needed to get away. Out of the city. Out of the state. She didn't belong there. She never had.
It was too late to use the bus ticket she’d bought that morning and she was strapped for cash, but she had to do something. She decided to use what little money she had left to buy a ticket to wherever she could afford. When she got where she was going, she’d find a shelter or a YMCA. That would have to do until she got a job.
Makayla sat up and leaned her head against the back of the seat. Getting out was the only thing that made sense. And the sooner, the better. But before she split, there was one person she needed to see.
Chapter 37
"There's my girl!"
Before Makayla could get in the door, Mr. Jones wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. It was exactly what she needed. For years she'd longed for a grandfather. That one man in her life she could love and trust. No sooner than she thought she had him, she’d lost him.
"You just couldn't stay away, could you?" He said, leading her inside. "My cornbread gets 'em every time!" His laughter filled the house. But once they made it into the kitchen, he noticed the look on her face.
Without saying a word, he pulled out a chair at the end of the dining table. She sat in it and he took one of the chairs next to her. They must've sat in silence for a good twenty minutes. Every time Makayla tried to speak, the words got caught behind the lump in her throat and she'd stop.
She'd felt a lot of things during her short and painful existence. But the one thing she'd never experienced was hopelessness. There was sadness, hatred, loneliness, longing—but never hopelessness. It was a sorrow for which she had no defense. It threatened to swallow her whole and she feared she wouldn’t be able to prevent it from doing so.
When the tears began streaming down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away, Mr. Jones got up and went to the living room. He returned, a box of Kleenex in one hand and a tissue in the other. Gently, he blotted away the tears, returned to his seat and waited.
Quietly, patiently, he waited. As if they had a thousand years and nothing to do, he waited.
The crying would seem under control but when Makayla would open her mouth to talk, it’d start again.
The sun moved across the sky and the house got darker. Mr. Jones only moved to turn on the kitchen lights, then sat right back down next to Makayla. Even when the phone rang, he ignored it. After several times, he finally unplugged it.
After what felt like hours, she spoke.
"I'm sorry."
"What for, baby?"
She motioned at the dusky sky outside the window with a handful of balled up tissues. "I've wasted your whole afternoon.”
He sat back in his chair and waved his arm at her. "Naw, nothing's been wasted."
Makayla wished he wouldn't be so understanding. For some reason, his kindness only made her want to cry more. She looked down at the table surface and the invisible pattern she traced with her finger.
"If you knew who I was…” She lowered her head. “If you knew what I've done, you wouldn't be so nice to me."
Mr. Jones didn’t ask her to elaborate. Makayla was grateful. As much as she might’ve felt the need to confess, she didn't want to. Mr. Jones was the only part of her fairytale not left in shreds. She knew she'd have to give him up, like Robin, she just wasn't ready to do it.
"I could say the same thing."
She looked up. His face was hard and without emotion.
"I nearly killed a man with my own hands. And I would have, if his wife hadn’t called the police on me."
Makayla wasn't sure how she'd expected him to react to her admission of guilt, but one thing was for sure—she hadn’t expected him to make one of his own. But she understood what he was trying to do, how he was trying to help.
"But then you got saved and God forgave you and made you new." She tried to remove the sarcasm from her tone, but a bit seeped in anyway. She loved him for the effort, but at the moment, she wasn’t interested in a testimony about the transformative power of God.
"No. This was after all that. After I was already a pastor of a church.”
Makayla was sure she’d misheard him.
“After you were pastor?”
Affairs? Yes. Babies outside of marriage? Yes. Misuse of church funds? Yes. Makayla knew the list of typical pastoral ‘shortcomings.’ But of all she’d heard, attempted murder was not one of them.
Mr. Jones tapped his finger on the tabletop and looked at the ceiling in contemplation. "I've never told anyone about this. Never talked to a soul. Not even Robin.” He shrugged. “I couldn't. But you…" He looked at her, his eyes once again soft with kindness. "Maybe it could do you some good."
He scrubbed his face with his callused hands and let out a deep sigh. "But first I have to go back to the beginning. Back to my Angie.”
Chapter 38
For the first half of his life, there wasn't anyone in the world Emmett Jones loved more than his baby sister, Angela. She was ten years younger than him and his twin brother, Emery. Although he and Emery did share a bond, it was nothing compared to the one he had with Angie.
From the moment his mother put her little newborn body in his arms, she was his world. He started doing odd jobs when he was thirteen just so he could buy her presents. She was nicknamed "Shadow” because of how she'd follow him wherever he went.
He did his best to watch over her and protect her. But the one thing he couldn’t protect her from was a good-for-nothing mechanic named Malcolm. He was smooth talking and charming. In no time at all, he had Angie hanging on his every word. As far as she was concerned, he was her soulmate and nobody—not her mother or her brothers—could convince her otherwise.
In a matter of months, he’d walked in her life and right back out, leaving her alone and pregnant.
The day her baby was born was one of the happiest days of Emmett's life. The little angel looked just like her. But instead of being happy, Angie sat in the hospital bed, crying over the fact her daughter would face life without a father.
But Emmett wasn't about to let that happen. He promised his sister until she found a man worthy of her, he would care for Carrie as if she were his own daughter.
That first night, he held her for hours. The nurses fussed at him the whole time, but whenever they tried to take her, she'd cry. Finally, they took her anyway and Emmett ended up falling asleep in the chair next to Angie's bed.
Early the next morning, before the sun had even risen, he was awakened by a loud beeping, doctors yelling and nurses running about. Someone pushed him out of the room before he even knew what was going on.
They did what they could, but it was already too late. After the birth, Angie had an internal rupture. Nobody caught it and she bled out most of the night, while he slept there next to her bed.
Just like that, she was gone.
Determined to keep his promise to his sister, Emmett wanted to take the baby home with him. But because he’d just married, his mother insisted she raise the little girl. Though he fought it, he knew she was right. He didn't know a thing about babies. That became clear when Robin was born the next year. But he learned quick.
Though she wasn't being raised in his ho
me, Carrie was like a firstborn daughter to him. He loved both girls with all he had, but if he were to tell the truth, Carrie had a special place in his heart. Maybe it was because he gave her all the love he had for his sister. Maybe it was because she looked so much like her. He didn’t know and it didn’t matter. He only knew he’d give his life if it meant protecting hers.
As his girls grew, so did Emmett’s church and ministry. He moved up the ranks in his denomination and was invited to speak all over the country. It was upon his return home one spring, that he first noticed the difference in Carrie. By that summer, she wasn’t herself.
Usually, she spent all her time at his house. That changed. She seldom shadowed the door and when she did, she and her cousin went straight to Robin's room. She avoided him and when he spoke to her, he noticed she wouldn’t look him in the eye.
His wife assured him it was just a phase. She reminded him of the extreme mood swings they’d survived during Robin and Carrie's mid-teens. Maybe his wife was right. Maybe he was too sensitive when it came to Carrie. He finally decided to let it go and give her some space.
Later, much later, he came to realize he wasn't being sensitive at all. She had been avoiding him. And when he understood why, it nearly finished him.
After she disappeared, Emmett spent all his free time searching for her. He turned down all out-of-town speaking invitations and let his assistant pastor carry most of the workload at New Life. But even when he worked at the church, he was never really there. All he could think about was Carrie. Was she hurt? Was she scared? Was she in danger? He actually hoped she was going through some sort of rebellion. If so, she’d return home once it had passed.
The one question he refused to ask was the hardest one.
Was she dead?
When Angie died, it was Carrie that got him out of bed every day. What would he do if she were taken away, as well? He couldn't even think about it.
Nobody’s Child (New Life Tabernacle Series Book 1) Page 17
