B.B. smiled. "And you have Nate, but that's not what I'm talking about. You'll know soon enough what I mean."
CeCe didn't understand her friend, but she didn't want to dwell on herself. This was B.B.'s time, and she'd do whatever she could to make it a happy one. "Well," she said, "we don't have much time, but I think we can plan a great reception. So will it have a Christmas or a New Year's theme?"
* * *
When Nate arrived home after his argument with CeCe, he was greeted by the familiar sight of Marvin stretched out on the couch in his family room watching television.
"Hey," Marvin called, his eyes still on the set. "You're home early again."
Something about Marvin's comment hit Nate the wrong way, or maybe the right way. As he looked at his friend now, allowing life to pass him by, Nate saw a male version of CeCe. Marvin was allowing the past to control his future as much as CeCe was. And Nate was helping him do it. He'd thought he was helping to save Marvin's marriage by giving his friend refuge, but now he understood he was only supporting his friend's habit. He couldn't save Marvin's marriage any more than he could make CeCe forgive Eric. He loved both of them, but he couldn't live their lives for them, no matter how much he wanted to. Without preamble, he said to Marvin, "It's time, my friend."
Marvin turned his eyes from the television to Nate. "Time for what?"
Nate would have lifted his shoulders, but they were too heavy tonight. "Time for you to go home—or somewhere. You can't stay here anymore."
"What's this all about, man?" Marvin asked, sitting up. Nate had his full attention now. "You have a fight with CeCe, and now you're putting me out?"
Nate shook his head. It, too, felt heavy. "It's just time. I'm your friend, Marvin, your brother, but I don't think I've been much help to you. You've got to get on with your life, and living here in this room is not going to help you."
"So now you know what I need? Nate, the answer man, strikes again," Marvin chided.
Nate gave a humorless, tired laugh. "You don't know how wrong you are, Marvin. I'm the last person you should refer to as the answer man. Sometimes I feel I don't have any answers. But what I do know is that I can't make you reconcile with Shay, and allowing you to stay here just keeps you from having to make the tough decisions. I've effectively put myself in the middle of your marriage, and now I want out. I guess, in a way, I felt that if I saved your marriage, it would make up for failing in mine. But you know what? Your marriage is between you and Shay and God. There is no place for me in it, so I'm getting out."
Marvin stared down at his sandwich and soda on the coffee table. "I'll leave," he said.
"All right. You can have a week to figure out what you're going to do, but no longer."
Marvin nodded. "No problem. I'll be out of here."
Nate looked at his friend, but he didn't say anything more. There was nothing else to say. He turned and went upstairs to his bedroom. He pulled out the engagement ring he'd never had a chance to give CeCe, and his heart ached because he knew he'd never give it to her. He was going to have to live without her. He was sure of it. "Why, Lord?" he asked. "Why did you bring her into my life and let me fall in love with her and David if I can't have a life with them? I did everything you wanted me to do. I didn't rush her. I waited patiently just as you wanted. So, why, Lord? I would have been much better off not knowing her. It hurts so much, Lord. I love her, and more than anything, I want to help her, but I can't. I feel so helpless. Help her, Lord. Please help her. Not just for me, but for her and for David, too."
Nate closed his eyes and remained silent for a few moments. When he opened them, he reached for his Bible.
* * *
CeCe was running late as usual. Shay, Anna Mae, and she had finished their last Saturday morning session of the year about fifteen minutes ago, and she'd headed off for work. Instead of their usual workshop, they'd held a preholiday celebration with their students, past and present, as the guests. She'd been halfway across town before she realized she'd forgotten her portfolio. She'd immediately called Margaret's office, told them of her delay, and headed back to the Center.
The past two weeks had been excessively busy for her—work, planning for B.B.'s wedding reception, more work, getting ready for the holidays, Genesis House, and more work. She welcomed the work because it helped keep her mind off her worries. With B.B. leaving, she was going to have to make some decisions. She couldn't keep working three jobs, that's for sure, and she had to find someone to keep David while she did work, even if she only worked one job. She had no idea how she was going to handle these problems. She couldn't even deal with them right now. If things were better between her and Nate, she could discuss all of this with him, but she knew right now wasn't the time.
She still saw Nate often because he continued to spend time with David despite the problems he had with her—again showing himself to be different from the other men she'd known—but things between them weren't the same. Neither had called a formal end to their relationship, but they both knew it was dying on the vine and neither one of them seemed able to save it. She thanked God they'd built their relationship on a foundation of friendship, and though it pained her to be around him still, she knew his friendship with David was important to both him and her son. And to her.
She found that what she missed most was talking to Nate. He'd come to be her best friend as well as the man she loved, and she missed his companionship. She wanted so much to tell him about an alternative financing idea that she wanted to present to Mr. Cronin. If implemented, she believed it would qualify more lower and middle-income families to purchase quality Cronin homes. She would like to have Nate's support behind her when she presented her plan to Mr. Cronin. But she couldn't talk to Nate about the idea—or about much of anything else—because Eric stood in the middle of their relationship, as tangible as the two of them.
Nate would have believed in her and the idea, though—of that she had no doubt. He'd always believed in her, even when she didn't believe in herself. Like with this Eric business. In that, though, she'd let him down. Why couldn't she do what he wanted? she asked herself. All she had to do was pick up the phone and call. Why couldn't she do such a simple task? It wasn't that she didn't want to forgive Eric; it was that she didn't know how to forgive him. She'd carried her unforgiveness around for so long that it had become a part of her, and that now scared her. What scared her even more was that she was unable to pray about the situation. She knew that put her on dangerous ground.
She pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind as she pulled into the Rec Center parking lot and headed for the workshop classroom. She found her portfolio on the shelf under the podium. As she turned to leave the room, a boy entered. He was a young man, really. A good six feet, 180 or 190 pounds, she'd guess. He looked vaguely familiar. She'd seen him around, but she couldn't immediately place him. "Can I help you?" she asked.
"I'm looking for Mrs. Wilson," the young man said, his eyes darting around the room. "I thought she came down here on Saturday mornings."
CeCe remembered the young man then. He was Danita's boyfriend. Anna Mae had pointed him out once or twice, and she'd seen him a couple of times when she'd gone to church with Nate, but she'd never been introduced to him. "You just missed her. We wrapped up around noon. Have you checked her house?"
The young man nodded. "Nobody's there."
CeCe detected an uneasiness about him. "Can I help you with something?" she asked again, even though she knew she didn't have time to get into a long discussion. She was already late for work.
"Uh, no, not really. I just need to talk to Mrs. Wilson. Do you know where I can find her? I really need to talk to her."
The boy's anxiety bothered CeCe. She wondered if the reason he needed to talk to Anna Mae concerned Danita. "Is Danita all right?" she asked. The boy looked at her with questioning eyes. "Mrs. Wilson told me that you were her daughter's friend," she said in response to his unasked question.
The boy's shoulde
rs sagged, and CeCe thought she'd never seen anybody look so downtrodden. Her heart went out to the young man. "Then I guess she told you we broke up—Danita and me."
CeCe nodded. "She mentioned something about it," she answered honestly. "So is Danita all right?" she asked again, more concerned now about her friend's daughter.
"I guess," the boy said. "She's not talking to me, and she won't see me." His eyes clouded, and CeCe wondered if he was going to cry. Nonsense, she told herself. The young man would probably die before he cried in front of her. She needed to go, but—
"It's all my fault," the boy said.
Something in his tone made CeCe push her work to the back of her mind. She placed her portfolio on top of the podium. "Why don't you sit down a moment?" She pointed to a chair at the table next to the podium. "I'm sure it wasn't all your fault."
The boy dragged himself over to the table and slumped down in a chair. "But this was all my fault. I love Danita, you know. I love her so much, and now she hates me."
CeCe shook her head, still not sure what she was dealing with. The boy had said Danita was all right, and CeCe prayed he was telling the truth. "Have you seen her today?" she asked, trying to get more information.
"No, she's gone shopping in Commerce with a friend of hers." He peered over at CeCe. "I'm not following her. One of her friends told me." The boy leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and rested his head in his hands. "I didn't mean to hurt her. I would never hurt her."
CeCe became alarmed again. "What do you mean you didn't mean to hurt her?" she asked.
"She said I broke her heart. That's what she said. She said I broke her heart. But I didn't mean to," he explained brokenly. "I loved her. I still love her."
CeCe sighed her relief. Danita was fine. Physically. She was pretty sure of that now. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"
The boy shook his head. "It won't help. Nothing will help now. If only she hadn't..."
"If only Danita hadn't what?" CeCe asked, wanting the boy to keep talking.
He shook his head again. "Not Danita. Patrice. Patrice shouldn't have told her. I told her not to tell her. I was going to tell her. I should have told her, not Patrice."
CeCe thought she was beginning to understand. Obviously, this young man had been seeing someone other than Danita. "So there was another girl, and the other girl told Danita?"
The boy nodded.
"And Danita broke up with you when she found out?"
The boy sighed, and his eyes skittered around the room again. "Sort of."
CeCe didn't say anything. The boy seemed to have calmed down a bit, and she was glad for that. She'd give him a few more minutes, and then she had to get to work. She knew they were expecting her to arrive any minute now.
"Do you think a person should spend his or her whole life paying for one stupid mistake?" he asked. His tone told CeCe he'd been thinking on the question for some time.
She wasn't sure how to answer him. "It depends," she said. "It depends on what the person did and what the law says about it. We do have to face the consequences of our actions." She had come to work at Genesis House to pay for her mistakes. But God had turned that sentence into a wonderful experience. For a time, anyway. "But many times in facing those consequences we gain a lot more than we pay."
"Like what?" he asked.
Recognizing his interest as genuine, CeCe told him about how she came to Genesis House, developed life friendships, fell in love with Nate, and grew in her relationship with Christ.
"How much do you love Nate?" the boy asked.
CeCe was surprised by the question. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"Is there anything he could do to make you stop loving him?" the boy clarified. "Do you love him so much that you'd love him regardless of what he did?"
CeCe thought seriously about the young man's question. "I'd like to think so."
The boy shook his head. "I don't think you would. I think if you found out about another woman, you wouldn't forgive him even if he told you he didn't love the other woman. Even if he told you it had been a mistake. I don't think you'd forgive him. Women never forgive you for that kind of stuff."
CeCe considered carefully before answering, and then she spoke slowly. "I would be hurt, true, and I would be angry, but I would like to think that one day I could forgive him."
"Do you think you could ever go back with him?"
"I don't know. It depends on so much. Every situation is different."
"This girl," he said. "Her name is Patrice. And I was, well, seeing her." His emphasis on seeing told CeCe that he and Patrice had done more than merely see each other. "Danita didn't know, and I only saw Patrice a couple of times and then I stopped because I knew I was wrong. What we were doing was wrong. And I knew Danita would be hurt if she found out."
"And you said she found out?"
"Yeah. Patrice told her. I wanted to tell her, but Patrice beat me to it. When I saw Danita, I knew Patrice had told her. She didn't yell or get mad or anything like that. She just cried."
CeCe felt the young man's pain, and she thought he might cry too. He was just a kid, regardless of his size, and he'd tried to play both ends against the middle and gotten caught. He'd realized his error, but he'd realized it too late. She believed he was sincere in his feelings for Danita, and she hoped one day the girl would believe him. She doubted she did now.
"I love her so much, but she'll never trust me now. She thinks I should marry Patrice."
That suggestion caught CeCe by surprise. "Marry her?"
The boy's eyes skittered away from her. "She's pregnant. That's what she told Danita. She told Danita she was pregnant and I was the father."
CeCe felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. "Patrice is pregnant with your baby?" she asked.
The boy ignored her question. "I don't want to marry Patrice. I don't love her. I don't even know if I like her." He rested his head in his hands again. "How did my life get so messed up? I'm only nineteen years old. I shouldn't have to spend the rest of my life paying for one mistake."
The boy's shoulders were shaking now, and CeCe knew he was crying. She scooted her chair closer to his and pulled him against her side, which was awkward since he was so much bigger than she was. As she allowed his sobs to dampen her blouse, her own eyes filled with tears of sympathy for him, for Danita, and for Patrice. Three young people whose lives had been irrevocably changed by a youthful foray into territory where youth had no business venturing.
The boy had asked her if he should spend the rest of his life paying for his mistake, and CeCe had no answer for him. If the clocks were turned back, she'd be Patrice in this scenario, so her heart went out to the girl she didn't even know. But her heart also went out to this boy. Though he hadn't planned it, he was going to be a father. His reckless actions had resulted in the start of a new life, but what cost should he have to pay? Was the right answer for him to marry Patrice so they could try to make a life together for the sake of their baby? CeCe wasn't sure.
The boy pulled away from her suddenly, and CeCe knew he was embarrassed at having become so emotional. "Have you talked to your parents about this?" she asked after he'd regained his composure.
The boy shook his head. "I can't face them. My mom is going to be disappointed and start crying, and my dad is going to kill me."
CeCe bit back a smile. The man beside her was indeed still a child. "Don't sell your parents short," she said. "They may surprise you."
The boy cast a skeptical glance at her. "You don't know my parents like I do."
CeCe nodded. "You're right. I don't know your parents. But I have parents, and I know how my parents would react," she began.
Then she told him her story. For the first time, Eric wasn't the villain, and neither were her parents.
Chapter 20
By the time CeCe and Ronald—she'd finally asked his name—left the Center, the young man had promised to tell his parents about Patrice. After giving him her hom
e address and phone number, and telling him to get in touch if he needed to talk, she walked him to his car. Impulsively, she pulled him into an embrace. "It's going to be all right," she said. "You won't have to go through this alone."
When she pulled back, he gave her a half smile. She knew he didn't believe her yet, but he wanted to. She waited until he'd pulled out of the parking lot before going to her own car. Once settled inside, she put the key in the ignition. As she started to turn the key, her heart filled up and her eyes overflowed with tears. She was so overcome that she placed her forehead on the steering wheel and cried out the pain she'd stored inside for so long. She cried for Ronald, Patrice, and Danita and the challenges they were about to face. She cried for herself and Eric and the past they couldn't change. She cried for all the time and energy she'd wasted being angry with Eric. And she cried because she was no longer angry with him.
"Thank you, Lord," she murmured through her tears. "Thank you so much." When her eyes were again dry, she pulled out her cell phone and called Margaret's office. "I won't be in this afternoon," she told the office assistant.
When she hung up, she pulled out of the parking lot and headed for a spot where she could be alone. She didn't go home because she knew Mr. Towers and B.B. would be there, and she didn't want to disturb them. She went to the first place that came to her mind.
Twenty-five minutes later, she was seated in Nate's favorite spot at Stone Mountain Park, the Bible she always had in the car resting on her lap. It was cool today so she wore a jacket. The tree that had shaded them during the summer no longer had its leaves. This was the first time she'd been here without Nate, and it felt right that she was. Today was about her and God, not her and Nate.
For more than an hour, CeCe cried, prayed, and cried some more. "Forgive me, Lord, for my unwillingness to forgive others. I know I've been wrong—so very wrong. Thank you for sending Ronald my way and allowing me to see how wrong I've been. I pray for him, Lord, and for Danita, and for Patrice. Guard their lives, Father. Direct their paths to you, and show them your love. Use me, Father. If there is any way I can help, just show me how. I've been so wrapped up in my own guilt and shame that I never realized you could use my story to help bring someone else along the way. Thank you for using Ronald to show me that today. Please keep me open and sensitive to other ways that I can help."
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