Shay wasn't sure how she felt about Marvin's rendezvous with Bo. The way Marvin opened his heart to the boy, which had initially made her happy, now hurt and angered her. "I'd feel better if you and Marcus had gone with him," she finally answered, "but I know better than anyone how stubborn Marvin can be. I've learned to trust his judgment, even if I don't always agree with it." Too bad he doesn't show the same faith in me, she added silently.
Daniel picked up one of the colored party toothpicks Shay had placed on the counter and twirled it in his fingers. "Is everything all right between the two of you?" he asked.
Shay stopped arranging cold cuts on the serving tray and looked at Daniel. "What makes you ask?"
Daniel snapped the toothpick in half. "I'm a good observer of people, and anyone who's been around you and Marvin for more than fifteen minutes knows what touchers you are. I think you punctuate your sentences with little touches, and you aren't even aware you do it."
"Something's wrong with that?"
He folded his arms across his chest. "You know nothing's wrong with it. It's refreshing to see, and it's easily missed when it's not there."
Shay sighed. "What are you saying, Daniel?"
"I'm saying that you and Marvin are putting on a good show when you think people are looking, but there are some things you can't hide. Your pain. His pain. I'm saying that in all the time you, Vickie, Marvin, and I were together at the Genesis House planning meeting last month, you never touched him. Not once. You only touched him once when we went looking at houses for the Genesis House offices. And the time he touched you, he seemed to think long and hard before doing it."
Shay shook her head to deny Daniel's observations meant anything. They did, of course. She hadn't realized how obvious she and Marvin were with their problems. She hadn't even noticed the changes Daniel pointed out. "I think you're making a mountain out of a molehill, Daniel. In both of those cases, we were in a public place conducting business, for goodness sakes. People don't go around touching when they're doing business. It isn't appropriate or professional."
"You and Marvin do. And it is appropriate. It's more than appropriate. It's your life together and it's a part of your ministry. People need to see your relationship in action as much as they need to hear your words and receive your help. It's missed when it's not there, Shay. So are you going to tell me what's going on or not?"
She turned back to her cold cuts. "I don't know what to tell you. Maybe you should be having this conversation with Marvin."
"I've tried—"
"He won't talk to you about it?" She sighed, a weary sound even to her own ears. "I shouldn't be surprised."
"Tell me what's wrong, Shay," Daniel pleaded. "I want to help."
Shay stopped her preparations and met Daniel's gaze. "I'm pregnant, Daniel."
Daniel slid down from the counter and dropped down in the nearest chair. "Pregnant?"
Shay nodded. "We've known for about a month now. I'm about ten weeks along."
"And you didn't tell me? Marvin didn't tell me?"
Shay felt sorry for their friend. "Marvin hasn't told anybody because he doesn't want anybody to know. He wants to wait until the end of the first trimester before we start telling people. I'm not surprised he hasn't mentioned it to you. This is Marvin's modus operandi. He's withdrawing now in the same way he did after Marvin Jr. died. He's shutting out everybody, including me and the baby." The strain of everything seemed to come down on her, and she began to cry. "What am I going to do, Daniel? I need my husband."
Daniel stood and pulled Shay into a comforting embrace. "You're going to work this out."
She pulled back. "How—when my husband is shutting me out?"
"You've got to fight him, fight for him."
Shay shook her head. "I've done that before, Daniel. I didn't think I'd have to spend the rest of my marriage, the rest of my life, doing it. I don't want to spend the rest of my life doing it. I don't and I won't."
Daniel studied her eyes, and Shay knew he was stunned by her words. Then he surprised her when he took her hands and began to pray. "Lord, help me to be a help to my dear friends. Show me how to love them, and show them how to love each other through this trying time. Thank you, Father, for the gift of the child you've given them. I pray that he or she feels their parents' love even in the midst of the tension. Tear down the walls between them, Lord, and restore the unity of this home. Amen."
When Daniel finished, he told Shay, "I'll talk to Marvin."
"Don't." Shay felt a bit better after Daniel's prayer, but she didn't think confronting Marvin would do any good.
Daniel nodded, not questioning her reasons. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Then you have to talk to him. If you think it'll help, I'll be there when you do. I love you and Marvin, and I want the best for you. Don't give up, Shay, and don't let what you and Marvin have slip away."
Shay felt the seriousness of Daniel's words even after he'd left her alone in the kitchen, and for the first time she accepted the gravity of the situation with her and Marvin. Things between them would be fine if her husband would exercise a little more faith. He had to stop expecting the worst and open his heart to what God had for them. If Marvin would do that, then everything would be right between them. And right for their baby.
* * *
Marvin turned his Altima into Jo-Jo's crowded parking lot—if you could call the muddy area around the entrance in which a bunch of cars huddled a parking lot. A neon sign flashed J—J's above the door. Either Jo-Jo's nickname was J. J., or he had been unlucky enough to have the lights behind both Os go out at the same time.
Marvin, appropriately dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a light leather jacket, pulled open the heavy metal door. The smell of cigarette smoke, alcoholic beverages, sweat, grease, and hopelessness greeted him. Hopelessness, by far, was the strongest smell. The place was stereotypically dark and smoky, and the music stereotypically loud. A few couples swayed on the dance floor, more men than women crowded the small bar that extended the length of the left side of the room, and the remaining patrons sat at tables scattered throughout.
Marvin made his way through the crowd to the bar, glad he'd left his spiritual support—which included his wife, who was upset with him—behind, praying for him. He counted her prayers a good thing, given the general chilliness on the domestic front these days. Shay was stubborn and refused to be cautious. She could get as angry as she wanted to get about the caution he displayed, but he was determined to be cautious enough for the both of them.
"What can I get for you, man?" the bartender asked, topping off two suds and sliding them down the bar. Marvin concluded that the young man—he couldn't be more than the mandatory legal age—had been watching a bit too much television.
"I'm looking for Bo," he said, and when the boy merely stared at him, he added, "We're supposed to play some pool."
The kid's glance went from the top of Marvin's head to the bar counter. "You don't look like no preacher to me," he said when his observation was complete.
Marvin didn't laugh, though he wanted to. "What does a preacher look like?"
Marvin did laugh when the boy opened his mouth and closed it like a sputtering fish. "When's the last time you were inside a church?" he asked.
"My momma used to make me go when I was a kid, but I stopped as soon as I was old enough. Too boring, man."
Marvin leaned an elbow on the bar, well aware that the others nursing their drinks near them were following their conversation. "Things have changed since you were last there. You might want to give it another shot. Who knows? You may like the new preacher look."
The kid's gaze darted around the room before finally settling back on Marvin. "I doubt it."
Marvin shrugged, as if the kid's decision didn't matter. But it did. It mattered very much. If they could reach kids like this, adults like this... Lord, Marvin began, repeating a part of the prayer he, Shay, Daniel and Vickie had prayed before he'd left home, let your Spirit have his way
in this place tonight. "So, are you going to tell me where I can find Bo?"
The boy inclined his head toward a door to the right of the bar. "He's back there. That's where the pool tables are. Knock three times, and somebody'll open the door."
When Marvin reached the door, the boy called to him. "Good luck," he said, grinning. "You're gonna need it."
Following the kid's instructions, Marvin rapped on the door three times. Bo pulled it open for him. "Hey, Rev," he said, a bit too brightly, and Marvin wondered if he'd been drinking. Or worse.
"Hey, yourself," he said, taking in his surroundings. This room was much like the outer room, only smaller. It had its own bar and an island of pool tables instead of a dance floor. "You ready for the showdown?" he asked Bo, anxious to get the game over so he could get the kid out of here.
Bo nodded.
"Well, rack 'em up," Marvin said. As he watched Bo unsteadily ready the balls for play, Marvin knew something was wrong. "You all right, Bo?"
"Fine, man," he said. "Just play pool."
"What's the bet?" Marvin said, an idea forming in his mind.
"Bet? You're a preacher. Preachers don't bet."
Marvin didn't even bother pointing out that he wasn't a preacher. He merely shook his head. "That's where you're wrong. Preachers are probably the biggest gamblers around." Except they don't bet on cards, or lotto numbers, or horses, he added silently. "And the odds are on their side because they're intimate with the guy who owns the house."
Bo propped his folded hands on his pool cue. "Best three out of five. Winner gets fifty dollars," he suggested. "I'll go easy on you."
Marvin shook his head. "You get the fifty if you win. If I win, you buy me dinner. Tonight." He let his eyes slowly traverse the room. "Someplace other than here."
Bo nodded. "Play pool."
They played eight ball, and after winning the right to break, Bo took his first shot. "Bad break," Marvin told the boy after Bo failed to sink any balls on the break. Then he stepped up to take his shot. He prayed he could finish the game in short order, and the Lord answered his prayer. Marvin won all three games. Bo was suitably impressed, as was the crowd that had slowly formed around their table.
"Not bad for a preacher," Bo commented.
"Not bad, in general. I beat you at your own game."
"Yeah, Bo," one of the onlookers tossed out. "You finally met somebody who could set you down."
A whistle came from the crowd. "Three games in a row."
"Bad night," Bo said to the crowd. And Marvin didn't doubt that it was. The kid seemed a bit more alert now, but Marvin was still concerned about him.
"You owe me dinner," Marvin reminded him, "and I'm hungry. Now."
Bo rubbed his stomach. "I guess I could use a meal. We could get something here. Jo-Jo makes a mean hamburger, and even meaner onion rings."
Marvin shook his head. "I want a meal—a real one—and not here. Let's go."
Bo gave in honorably and led Marvin back through the smoke-filled outer room and to the door. Marvin looked for the kid behind the bar he'd spoken to earlier. Not seeing him, he prayed a silent prayer for the kid's well-being as he followed Bo to the parking lot.
"I hope you have a ride," Bo said, "because I don't."
"Yeah," Marvin said, heading off in the direction of his car, Bo on his heels. "How'd you get here without a ride?"
"Friends."
Marvin wanted to question the wisdom of having such friends, but he thought it best not to venture into that territory tonight. "Any place special you want to eat?" he asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.
Bo shook his head. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to eat. I'm feelin' a little sick."
Marvin turned to the boy, who was holding his stomach. "Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"
Bo shook his head. "No, no. It'll pass. I just need to lie down for a while."
"Okay," Marvin said, "I'll take you home."
"No, no. The Aunts, they worry. Take me back to Jo-Jo's. I can crash in his office until I'm feeling better."
No way was Marvin taking this kid back to Jo-Jo's. He took him home with him instead.
* * *
Shay watched her husband from the doorway of the extra bedroom in which they'd deposited Bo. He sat in a chair next to the bed, his head bowed in prayer—no doubt, for the young man on the bed. She knew he was as surprised and disappointed as she was to see Bo in such a state. She also knew he—again, like she—was not even thinking about giving up on the boy. They both viewed tonight as a minor setback, at worst.
She watched as Marvin raised his head and turned to the young man. Feeling guilty at the memory of Daniel's comment about their lack of touching, Shay eased into the room and placed a hand on her husband's shoulder. "He looks so young," she whispered.
Marvin reached up and placed one of his hands on top of the one she rested on his shoulder. "More a kid than a man." The words were spoken as if from a distance, and Shay wondered if Marvin was as caught up in thoughts of the past as she was.
"I wonder how often he drinks like this," he said. Earlier, they'd called Deacon Greg over, and he'd pronounced the young man sick with a hangover.
"I wonder why," Shay said, studying the resting face, "and for how long. Things had been moving along so well for him." She looked back at Marvin. "Did he mention the practice exam?"
Marvin shook his head. "We didn't get around to it. He was too busy being sick. The sad thing is that he's really not a bad kid. He just needs some direction and somebody to believe in him."
Shay knew Marvin never considered any kid he met a bad kid. All of them just needed help, and her husband was determined to give it. He started with youngsters, founding the first of many young boys' groups in their old church and loving those kids as if they were his own. His love for their son had seemed to flood his heart so much that his love spilled over to others. She knew the capacity was still there, and she was grateful for the evidence of it that she was seeing now with Bo, even though she was envious of it and hurt by it. If only Marvin would allow that love to flow unchecked to their unborn child.
She dropped her hand from her husband's shoulder and looked again at the young man in the bed. She thought with great sadness that she would never see Marvin Jr. as a young man. He'd always be the six-year-old he was when he'd been killed. She wondered what kind of man he would have become. Then she thought about the life of the child she was carrying. What would this child be like?
"Hey." Marvin stood and pulled her out of the room, softly closing the door behind them. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Bo's going to be fine."
Shay sniffled. "I was thinking about Marvin Jr. and the new baby." She felt her husband stiffen, a slight gesture, but she felt it, and feeling it made her a bit sadder. She pressed her hand to her husband's cheek. "Marvin Jr. was so like you, so wanted to be like you in all ways. I can still see him strutting after you, trying his best to match your stride. I bet the new baby will grow up to be the same—boy or girl."
"Don't do this, Shay," Marvin pleaded. He stepped back, and her hand fell from his face. "Not now. I don't think I can handle it right now." Then he turned and strode toward their bedroom.
Shay's heart thumped loudly in her chest as she watched him walk away from her. She wanted to talk about Marvin Jr. and the new baby, needed to talk about them. The baby growing inside her, the young man on the bed behind the closed doors... both brought thoughts of Marvin Jr. back in full force—thoughts she wanted to share with her husband, but couldn't.
Chapter 12
Shay was still asleep when Marvin got up the next morning. She looked so peaceful he didn't have the heart to wake her. He was going down to the house on Tremont Street to do some work today. She wanted to come along, he knew, but obviously she needed her rest. His gaze slid to her stomach, her hands protectively covering their child even in sleep, and the muscles around his heart tightened. A baby. Their baby. He extended his hand to touch her stomach but drew bac
k before he made contact, quickly turning away and heading down the hallway to check on Bo.
Marvin was surprised to find the boy up. The bed was made, and Bo sat on the side, staring at his folded clothes on the chair nearest the bed. Shay had tossed his clothes in the washer last night, and Marvin had placed them back in the bedroom after taking them out of the dryer. He'd put the boy's watch on the dresser.
"You all right?" Marvin asked the boy, causing him to look up at him.
Bo nodded. "I've been better, though."
Marvin knew better than to go into the ills of alcohol. No doubt Bo knew them better than he did. "I'll bet," he said instead.
Bo grunted and reached for his shoes, which were under the chair that held his clothes. A nervous motion, Marvin knew, since he doubted Bo usually put on his shoes before he pulled on his pants. When the kid looked up again, Marvin said, "You still owe me dinner. In case you don't remember, you lost last night. To me."
Bo grimaced. "I remember, all right. What can I say? I wasn't at my best."
"No excuses," Marvin said. "You lost, you gotta pay."
"I'm gonna pay. Just let me know when."
Marvin rubbed his chin in exaggerated fashion as he pretended to consider the matter. "Well, since it's morning now, I think I'll have to change your forfeit. How about instead of dinner, you come down and help us work on Genesis House?"
Bo shook his head. "I still can't believe you bought that rundown place. It's gonna take a lotta work to get it going."
Marvin grinned. "Then I guess it's a good thing I have you to help out, huh?"
Bo slid Marvin a studying glance before answering. "All right. I ain't got nothing else to do today."
"Good," Marvin said. Today was Saturday, and he expected a good turnout of workers. "I need to hop in the shower, and I suspect you do, too. After we're dressed, I'll whip us up a quick breakfast, and we can head out. Our ride should be here by then."
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