There was a bookmark her grandmother kept in her Bible. Makayla must have read it a hundred times. It had a scripture that started out: I know the plans I have for you… She didn’t remember the exact phrasing, but the rest of the verse went on to promise goodness, hope, a future.
All the things she thought she'd never have.
"Robin?"
“Hmm?”
"I think I’m done running. I want to come home.”
Chapter 54
"You start measuring the dry ingredients and I'll chop the vegetables."
Robin set the various bags, boxes and containers on the kitchen island, then took out glass bowls and measuring spoons. Makayla stood back and watched her for a bit. She liked what she saw.
No, she loved it.
It was just a regular ol’ day and she and Robin were doing regular ol’ things. And Makayla absolutely loved it. Preparing meals was one of the many activities they did together now. She was turning Robin into quite the chef.
It had been two months since the impromptu press conference and Makayla couldn't have been happier with the outcome. Most of the news outlets that ran Bree’s story, picked up the footage of Makayla’s speech and aired the most relevant parts. Robin's book sales not only went back up, they surpassed all previous releases. The conference that had “requested” that Robin not attend, issued a public apology.
All of her more famous friends took to Twitter, Instagram and Facebook to talk about how much they admired her sacrifice and how refreshing it was to see someone walk the talk. Best of all, she was in negotiations to have a show on OWN.
That was all Makayla had wanted when she came forward, to somehow fix the damage she’d done. What she hadn’t unexpected, was getting the family she’d always dreamed of in the process.
But even with all the blessings God had given her, for the past two months, one thing still bothered her. She hadn't brought it up because it meant admitting, yet another, terrible action. But she knew she wouldn't have complete peace until she put it out there, so…
“There's something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Robin was at the counter, laser focused on chopping celery.
"All right. Shoot."
"You might want to sit down for this."
Robin stopped chopping. She slowly turned around.
"Makayla…”
"Please."
Robin sat, but with an expression of terrified anticipation.
"When you were out of town that first time… Well, I went into your old room."
Robin eyed her with guarded curiosity. "Okay."
“And… Well, I found this." Makayla took out the old Planned Parenthood pamphlet, unfolded it and slid it across the table.
Robin frowned and picked it up. "What is this?" But before Makayla could speak, Robin said, “Oh…” She let out a sigh. Then, almost to herself, she whispered, "I remember this.”
Looking up at Makayla, she said, “How in the world did you find it? Where was it?"
“Under the bed. Behind one of the bedposts.”
Robin closed her eyes, nodding. "Yeah, okay. Carrie must’ve tried to hide it behind the headboard when mama came in." Robin leaned back in her chair. "Carrie had come over that day, eyes red and puffy. I asked her what was wrong. She had this," Robin held up the pamphlet. "She told me she'd skipped classes that day. A friend took her to a clinic, but she couldn't bring herself to do it."
Robin shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. "I'll never forget how desperate she was. How panicked. My mother came in to put my folded laundry away. She saw Carrie's face and wanted to know what happened. I told some story about her and Junior being in a fight.”
Robin and Makayla sat in silence for a few moments.
"You once asked me if I regretted anything. I didn't think so, but I suppose if there were one thing I could change, it would be that. I wouldn’t have kept quiet. I don't know if she would’ve spoken to me again, but maybe she'd still be here. You could have been raised with us instead of that—“ Robin looked heavenward and said, “Forgive me, Father. That heifer, Kim."
Makayla doubled over with laughter. If Robin had to pray for forgiveness for calling Kim a heifer, Makayla needed to set up camp under the altar.
"But listen," Robin continued. "Don't be too hard on Carrie, when you think about her. She was barely older than you. She was scared out of her mind and did the best she could."
If Makayla knew only one thing, it was she was in no position to condemn anyone.
"And Marcus? Give him a chance."
Makayla wrinkled her nose. Not for any other reason than to give Robin a hard time.
Robin lowered her chin and arched her eyebrow. "I'm serious, brat. He loves you. He always has."
"Okay, okay. I'll be nice to the dude."
Robin looked exasperated.
"I will! I promise!" Makayla got up from the table and crossed her heart. Robin shook her head and rolled her eyes, returning to her food prep at the kitchen counter.
Makayla swiped the pamphlet off the table and tossed it in the trash, happy to finally put that last piece of the previous few months to rest.
“Did I hear you in there on the phone with Trey last night?”
“You did. And no, we are not dating. Please stop asking.”
Robin snickered as she grabbed another stalk of celery. “Fine by me. I’m in absolutely no rush to be mother of the bride. Remember that.”
"So," Makayla said, leaning against one of the counters, "do you think you'll ever get married?"
Robin stopped chopping and shot a sideways glance at Makayla. "Now where in the world did that come from?”
"I want you to be happy. Especially after all the mess I put you through."
Robin's face relaxed and she went back to chopping. “Aww. I am happy. I have everything I want. Don't you worry about a thing."
"Soooo," Makayla said, backing away to the archway leading out of the kitchen, "secretly creating an online dating profile for you wasn’t a good idea?"
Robin’s shoulders dropped. "Makayla, you didn’t…”
Makayla grinned, looking every bit the little imp. "Gotcha!”
Robin fell back against the counter, her hand over her heart. “Girl, if you were any smaller, I’d put you over my knee."
Makayla bounced to Robin and kissed her on the cheek.
"Don't worry," she said, as she left the room. "When I find you a man, I'll do it the old-fashioned way!"
Then she ducked, barely missing the kitchen towel Robin sent flying at her head.
Chapter 55
Robin brought the platter of garlic roasted chicken into the dining room and set it in the middle of the long, mahogany dining table. The chicken, along with the delectable side dishes, filled the room with mouth-watering aromas.
Everyone at the table—Marcus, Denice, Rodney and Makayla—couldn’t say enough about how incredible it all looked.
Everyone, except Mr. Jones.
"I see you," Robin said to him, her hand on her hip.
"I'm just sitting here. Minding my own business," he replied, with perfect innocence.
“Uh huh.“ Robin pulled out a chair and sat, cutting her eyes at him. "Who's going to say grace?"
"With my Olive Oyl doing the cooking, it better be someone who can get a prayer through."
Without missing a beat, Makayla said, “That rules you out, doesn’t it?“
Mr. Jones howled and slapped his knee. He pointed at her, a grin on his face. “That's my girl!”
Robin sighed. Rodney and Denice exchanged glances. Makayla had told them, despite the fancy cars, Grammy awards, and church background, her family was down to earth. Still, it was obvious they were unprepared.
Marcus folded his hands together and said, "I'll pray. But whatever happens next, nobody panic. There's a Popeye’s just down the street."
He shot a mischievous glance at Robin. She narrowed her eyes at him, but smiled. Of course, Makayla notic
ed.
"God always has a ram in the bush,” Mr. Jones said.
"Preach!" Denice shouted, laughing out loud.
"All right, all right. Is somebody going to pray or not?"
Marcus prayed over the food, but Makayla whispered her own offering of thanksgiving. She had a family. It wasn’t bound by blood, but it was just as solid as any other out there. And for that, she was eternally grateful.
Plus, she had one additional request she wanted to run by her heavenly Father. A request that involved a happily married mom and dad.
"So Mr. Thomas—“
"Now, I already told you, call me Marcus."
"Okay, Marcus. This gospel gig. It pay well?"
Robin nearly choked on her chicken.
Marcus smiled and nodded, clearly amused. "You could say that."
Makayla pointed her fork at him. "You married?"
"No."
Makayla could see Robin out of the corner of her eye. She was trying to get her attention, but Makayla pretended not to notice.
"Are you gay?"
"Makayla!" Mortified. Robin was absolutely mortified.
"Look," Makayla said, turning to Robin. "The man is practically my daddy. That's what you said. Shouldn't I be able to ask him a few simple questions?"
"She's got a point,” Marcus said.
"That she does," Mr. Jones added, shoveling back dressing as if it were the last dish on earth.
Rodney laughed so hard, tears sprang from the corners of his eyes and Denice gasped between cackles. She patted an exasperated Robin on the shoulder and said, "You have my sympathies. You really do."
Robin put her face in her hands.
Makayla turned back to Marcus to resume her interrogation.
"Well?"
"Am I gay? No. I'm not. Why do you ask?”
"Robin's single."
Robin threw her linen napkin on the table. "Little girl, I'm warning you...”
Makayla shrugged and stabbed a broccoli floret with her fork. "Just sayin’…”
Oh, she was going to get an earful that night. The minute company was gone, Robin would let her have it. But even knowing that, Makayla smiled.
Robin and Marcus were perfect for each other. They just didn't know it. But if Makayla had anything to do with it, they would soon enough.
Chapter 56
Marcus’ Story
After a long night of ministering through music, Marcus Thomas only wanted one thing—to go to bed. His bandmates, however, had other ideas.
"Come on, man. Not even a piece of pie from that diner we hit last night? That sweet potato was better than my grandmama's!"
The group burst into boisterous laughter. They stood at the corner of a busy intersection, still dressed in their concert best, hyped from the rousing performance and more than ready to eat.
Marcus forced a smile and shook his head. "Naw, man. I'm gonna call it a night."
T. J., the band’s drummer, grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “Marcus, it's just after twelve. I know you ain't sleepy yet."
The rest of the band and singers joined in, each offering their reasons why Marcus should stay with them instead of returning to his hotel room alone. Only one person remained silent, the band's bassist and Marcus' brother, Daniel.
One of the singers, Octavia, grabbed his arm and pulled. "Uh, uh. I'll drag you if I have to. Caveman-style. You may be big, Marcus Thomas, but I'm bigger!"
Again, the group erupted into howls and laughter and even Marcus had to grin.
"Yeah, this isn't a negotiation, Marcus. You're coming with us."
''No. Really guys. I've got an early flight tomorrow, but you all have a good time.“
Before anyone else could protest, the keyboardist said, “Oh, wait! I know what this is about. Today’s the fifteenth.” He shook his head. “Y’all might as well give it up. You’re not getting this brotha to go anywhere tonight!”
Octavia clapped her hands. "That's right! I forgot!"
"Yup. In all the twelve years I've known him, this boy don't do nothing but go home and sulk on his birthday."
They all started laughing again.
Octavia punched him in the arm. “Everybody gets old, Marcus. Let's go drown your sorrows in some more sweet potato pie. I'll even stick a candle in it for you."
Marcus just smiled and took out his wallet. He handed Octavia six fifty-dollar bills and said, “You all go eat all the pie left in the place and we’ll catch up in Dallas, okay?"
"Don't have to tell me twice,” T. J. said, snatching the cash out of Octavia’s hand and running across the intersection.
“Boy!” Octavia yelled, giving chase.
The rest of the band members and singers hugged Marcus and gave their birthday wishes, before crossing the street to the diner. Only Daniel stayed behind.
"You gonna be all right, baby brother?"
Marcus took a deep breath and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, man. I just... I can't be around everybody, you know?“
"No need to explain. You know I understand." He put his hand on his shoulder. "I got all this. Just go on and get some rest. I'll call you when we get in tomorrow."
Marcus entered the hotel lobby, relieved to see there were no fans gathered. Any other evening, he would’ve been happy to stop and talk to each and every person, even after an exhausting three and a half hour concert, but not tonight.
He usually turned down dates that included November 15th, but the new management handled the bookings for this tour and by the time he realized the mistake, it was too late.
At first, he didn’t think it’d be a problem. He’d gotten so much better with each passing year. But for some reason, the entire day had been a battle. He knew what his old pastor, Emmett Jones would’ve said… “A big battle means a big breakthrough. You must be close, son. You must be real close.”
Marcus headed straight to the bank of elevators at the back. Seconds later, a little bell sounded and the doors opened. He stepped on the elevator and just before the doors closed, a woman ran toward him, calling, “Hold the doors, please!”
Marcus stopped the doors with his hand, allowing the woman to slip in. He couldn’t help but notice how tall she was and wondered if she were a model of some kind. She had flawless, honey colored skin, hazel eyes and thick black lashes long enough to cast shadows on her high cheekbones.
Through the reflection of the elevator wall, he saw her staring at him.
"You're that gospel singer, right? Marcus..."
“Thomas.”
She flashed a brilliant smile. “Right! Thomas.”
He waited for her to push the button for her floor, but she just stood there, looking at him.
“Which floor?"
"Oh," she said, motioning at the only illuminated button. "One-oh-eight. Same as you, I guess." She stepped a bit closer as the elevator began its ascent. "I saw you perform on the Grammys. You're the biggest thing in gospel since... Wow. I don't think there’s ever been a gospel singer as famous as you are right now."
"God is good," Marcus replied, looking straight ahead.
"He sure is…” She said it in a way that convinced him they were talking about two different things. She held out her hand. "I'm Melanie. Melanie Howard." He shook her hand, but she held on for a few moments longer when he tried to let go.
Marcus couldn’t get out fast enough when the elevator doors opened onto the 108th floor. "It was nice to meet you, Miss…
“Howard," she said, as he stepped out of the elevator.
He nodded politely and turned to walk away. She grabbed his arm. Looking him in the eye, she unbuttoned the top button of her blouse. Smiling, she unbuttoned the second.
"It was nice to meet you, too…” She said, as her third button came undone. "But I'd love to get to know you. Discretely, of course."
Before she could touch the fourth button, he pulled her hand away.
"It's late. You should get to your room."
A moment passed before she
let go of his arm and laughed. Her chin jutted forward and her lovely eyes glinted with disgust.
"So I guess the rumors are true. You rather play with boys than girls, huh? Your loss...fag." She jabbed one of the elevator buttons and the doors closed on her as she gave him a look hateful enough to turn flesh to stone.
He was used to it.
Most people wouldn't believe how often it happened to him. He hardly believed how often it happened to him. Idris Elba? Okay. Usher? Sure. But him? Apparently, a man on stage was something desirable, gospel singer or not.
What really surprised him were the reactions to his refusals. He always tried to be polite when he turned down the "offers,” but it didn't seem to matter. There was always an angry outburst.
Between that and his permanent bachelorhood, questions about his sexuality flourished. For every one of his supporters, there seemed to be another that couldn't help but wonder, "Is he?"
He could’ve stopped the rumors. Answered the questions once and for all. Explained why he hadn't seriously dated a woman in almost twenty years. Tell the story of his past. A past that would prove to all the naysayers he was, indeed, a straight man.
But that would never happen.
Because to tell that story, he'd have to relive it. And now, even after all the years that’d passed, he still wasn't sure he was strong enough to do that.
The heavy hotel drapes blacked out the room, making the digital clock display especially bright.
4:20 AM.
Marcus had been staring at the ceiling for the past three hours. He still had another hour before the car service arrived to take him to the airport. He sighed and decided to stop chasing sleep.
With his bags already packed and nothing else to do, he switched on the television. He was flipping through channel after channel of informercials when something caught his eye.
The logo in the corner of the screen read Classic Gospel Gold. On-screen were four of his brothers, known to the gospel world simply as, Redeemed. His mother would have preferred the group to have been more than a quartet, but Marcus had other plans at the time.
Nobody’s Child (New Life Tabernacle Series Book 1) Page 24
