by E. N. Joy
When All Is Said and Prayed:
Book One of the Forever Divas Series
E.N. Joy
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
When All Is Said and Prayed: Book One of the Forever Divas Series
OTHER BOOKS BY E.N. JOY:
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Readers’ Questions
Joylynn M. Ross is now writing as BLESSEDselling author E.N. Joy (Everybody Needs Joy)
UC HIS GLORY BOOK CLUB
Copyright Page
When All Is Said and Prayed:
Book One of the Forever Divas Series
by
E.N. Joy
OTHER BOOKS BY E.N. JOY:
Me, Myself and Him
She Who Finds a Husband
Been There, Prayed That
Love, Honor or Stray
Trying to Stay Saved
I Can Do Better All By Myself
And You Call Yourself a Christian
The Perfect Christian
The Sunday Only Christian
Ordained by the Streets
“A Woman’s Revenge” (Anthology: Best Served Cold)
I Ain’t Me No More
More Than I Can Bear
You Get What You Pray For
Behind Every Good Woman (eBook only)
She’s No Angel (eBook series)
Angel on the Front Pew (eBook series)
California Angel (eBook series)
Flower in My Hair
Even Sinners Have Souls (Edited by E. N. Joy)
Even Sinners Have Souls Too (Edited by E. N. Joy)
Even Sinners Still Have Souls (Edited by E. N. Joy)
The Secret Olivia Told Me (N. Joy)
Operation Get Rid of Mom’s New Boyfriend (N. Joy)
Sabella and the Castle Belonging to the Troll (N. Joy)
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my sisters, Jawan, I’na, Wakeelah, and Samari. We are family. I got all my sisters with me!
Acknowledgments
God, you never, ever cease to amaze me. The way you allow your message for your children to flow through me is so humbling. On my own, I could never come up with the words to help deliver your people. On my own, I can do nothing. With you, I can do all you call me to. You called me to be a writer. I write, not to become a famous author, but to make you famous with my words. The goal is not that when I enter a room, everyone knows who I am, but that through my work, everyone gets to know you.
Chapter 1
“You may be older than me, but I’m prettier,” said four-year-old Norma to her older sister, Adele. Even though she was a few inches shorter than Adele, she stood there with her hands on her hips, leaning in as if she were towering over Adele, instead of looking up to her.
“How you gon’ be prettier than me?” replied Adele, who was almost six years old, with her hands on her hips, looking down at her little sister, who mirrored her stance. “We look just alike.”
“Yeah, but I’m light.” Norma rubbed the skin on her arm. “Your arm is dark, so I’m prettier.”
“Stop it right now!” Paige shouted from the doorway of the den, where, the last time she’d checked on them, her two daughters had been sitting on the rug in front of the television, watching it. She threw the dish towel she had been drying her hands with on the floor and marched over to her girls. “I have the dishwater running, the microwave going, and Tamar Braxton playing on my phone. And I can still hear you two arguing over all that.”
Paige didn’t realize she had assumed the exact same stance as her Mini-mes. Her fists were planted on her hips, and she had a plaid apron tied around her thick waist. She’d been finishing up dinner. She hadn’t clearly heard the words that had been coming out of her girls’ mouths that past few moments during their argument. It was an argument that had started with one of them wanting to turn the channel rather than watch the program they had both initially agreed on. But Paige knew by their tones and how loud they were that they were not having a friendly conversation.
“Now turn off this television, and both of you, go to your rooms now.” Paige pointed to the thirty-two-inch flat-screen television that was mounted on one of the mustard-colored walls.
“But she started it.” Adele pointed to her younger sister. “Why am I in trouble?”
Wobbling her head, Norma replied, “And I finished it too, ugly.”
“I’m not ugly. If I’m ugly, then Mommy is ugly, because she’s dark too.”
The girls continued to go back and forth. Paige was in a temporary state of shock. Had her younger daughter just told her older daughter that she was ugly? And why had her older daughter assumed that she was ugly because she had dark skin?
Norma’s words had knocked Paige back in time, to a childhood during which she was teased for having dark skin. Oreo. Charcoal. Black monkey. Darky. Blacky. Midnight. Tar baby. Paige could hear the voices of her tormentors on the playground. As she got older and society gave celebrities like Wesley Snipes and Denzel Washington credit for making darker black skin beautiful, sexy, and attractive, Paige had become comfortable with and accepting of the skin God had given her. She no longer looked at it as a flaw. After all, these celebrities had brought dark skin “into style.”
El DeBarge and dem were on a time-out until actors like Michael Ealy and Terrence Howard brought light skin back into style again . . . according to only some members of society, of course. Not all, and certainly not Paige. When all had been said and whispered, Paige had determined that society’s opinion about what was considered beautiful really hadn’t played a role in how she felt about her complexion. She had just matured, and she liked to think that so had her generation as a whole. She assumed that such opinions about dark skin and light skin had vanished, along with her generation’s immaturity and ignorance, leaving no traces behind for the next generation to dip and dabble in. She had honestly thought this whole “light skin, dark skin” thing had died out. Clearly, it had not. Otherwise, where in the world would her child have gotten this crazy idea from, and how could she have allowed it to come out of her mouth?
“You just mad because you’re black,” Norma said, adding insult to injury. “And I’m pretty, light, and almost white.” She rubbed her arm. “Just like Daddy’s side of the family.”
Paige saw her past self in the hurtful expression on Adele’s face. The child’s little brown face had dropped to the floor, along with bits and pieces of her self-esteem.
“Who told you that?” Paige stormed. Norma’s last statement had snapped Paige out of her thoughts from the past and into the present. The pain on Adele’s face made her want to seek revenge for her daughter—for her younger self. At that moment she didn’t even see young Nor
ma as her offspring. Instead, she was just another kid on the playground, taunting and throwing jabs. Paige bent down and grabbed her youngest daughter by both her arms and squeezed. “Who told you that, Norma? You tell me right now!” Paige shook Norma’s bony little shoulders. “Who told you that white was better than black?”
“Nobody, Mommy,” Norma said, her eyes full of fear and at the same time filling with tears.
“Then why are you saying it?” Paige asked. “You had to have gotten it from somewhere, or else you wouldn’t be saying it.”
“I don’t know.” Norma shrugged, and a tear slid down her cheek.
Realizing her actions had frightened her daughter, Paige released Norma and stood up straight. Norma began bawling.
“It’s okay, Norma,” Adele said as she put her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Let’s go to our rooms.”
Norma sniffed and wiped tears as her older sister escorted her out of the den. Adele shot Paige a look over her shoulder that said, “Bad mommy,” and the two girls disappeared down the hall. Paige could hear them trekking up the stairs. Just a couple minutes ago the siblings had been at each other’s throats. Paige had interfered only with the intent of shutting down the argument, sending the girls to their rooms to take a break, and then making them apologize to each other. She had had no idea she’d end up being the sworn enemy. But from her daughters’ reactions, she was just that.
Paige stood in the den, taking deep breaths. Although the room was a fairly nice size, furnished with nothing but a television, a couch, a rug, and a bookshelf, plus a couple pictures on the wall, she began to feel claustrophobic. What was happening here?
She was starting to feel engulfed, never thinking in a million years that skin color would be an issue she would have to address with her girls. Yes, her two children did have different fathers. Yes, Adele’s father was African American, while Norma’s father was Caucasian. But both her daughters were the spitting image of her . . . with the exception of their complexion. Adele was dark skinned. Being biracial, Norma had inherited the complexion of her father’s side of the family, which was fair. The girls had similar hair, which they’d inherited from Paige, so at least Paige wouldn’t have to deal with the whole “good hair, bad hair” issue between the girls. She hoped not, anyway. But then again, she’d much rather be dealing with good hair versus bad hair than with good skin versus bad skin.
Paige had suspected that later on in her children’s lives, there would be talks about the birds and the bees, good secrets and bad secrets, good touches and bad touches. What she had not anticipated in her wildest dreams was that she’d ever have to have a talk with her children about the differences in their complexion. One might think it would be a pretty easy conversation to have with the girls. Paige could just simply explain that because they had different fathers of a different race, their skin was different. The thing was, though, that the girls had no idea that they had different fathers. As far as both girls knew, Norman was their father. In fact, his name was listed on both their birth certificates. And all three of them, Paige and her daughters, bore Norman’s last name, Vanderdale.
This whole “two children with two different baby daddies” situation was never something Paige had wanted for herself, nor had she planned for it to happen. Everything had just happened so quickly, though. The same day Paige found out she was pregnant with Adele was the same day her divorce from Adele’s father, Blake, was finalized. Divorced and pregnant all on the same day, Paige, who was a member of New Day Temple of Faith, was not about to subject herself to the ridicule and scrutiny of her Christian family. Not only that, but Paige’s ex-husband was incarcerated at the time for his physical and sexual abuse of Paige. As a matter of fact, the pregnancy was a result of nonconsensual sex between Blake and Paige. No way could Paige bear that monster’s child. No way could the first child she gave birth to be the product of rape—any child, for that matter. Paige couldn’t do it.
At the time she’d felt that she wasn’t strong enough to handle something like that. After all, she was still trying to put the pieces together after the trial against Blake and the end of the friendship with Tamarra, Paige’s best friend once upon a time. It had devastated Paige to no end to find out that her best friend, her sister in Christ, had slept with her husband. Roll it all up together, and it had been just too much for Paige to bear.
God had brought Paige through it all, though. Everything she felt she had lost through the process, He had restored. He’d placed another best friend in her life. He’d placed a new husband in her life as well. It was a blessing on top of a blessing that her best friend and her husband were one and the same. Norman and Paige had started off as coworkers. Over the years of working together, the two had become confidants and friends. Norman had been there for Paige during her divorce from her best friend and then from her husband. He’d been there for her the day she found out she was pregnant. He’d been the one to talk her out of the abortion, thanks to the bright idea he’d come up with that prevented Paige from bearing the guilt and shame of being an unwed, divorced, single mom, and a so-called Christian woman. He’d offered to marry Paige to keep her from being assigned any of those titles. At first Paige had laughed in his face, but a week later she’d found herself saying, “I do.”
First came friendship, then came marriage, and then came Paige with a baby carriage. Last, but not least, came love. Given their shotgun wedding and their shared experience of the birth of Adele, it was inevitable that the bond the couple shared would only strengthen. Paige and Norman eventually fell deeply in love. The very day Paige shared with Norman that she’d fallen in love with him, which was after they’d consummated their marriage, was the first time she’d gotten up the nerve to tell him just how in love with him she was. Only thing was, it had been communicated via text. He’d just left their place, on his way to work. Upon receiving the text, Norman had attempted to send Paige a text back while he was still behind the wheel, to let her know that he was in love with her too. Unfortunately, trying to text while driving had been fatal for Norman.
Suffering the loss of her second husband had been the worst of the worst for Paige. Finding out, though, that consummating their marriage had led to the creation of Norma had filled a void for both Paige and Norman’s family. The Vanderdales had treated Adele like she was one of their own, and then with Norma, they really had been blessed with one of their own. Never once had the Vanderdales made a distinction between the two girls. At least not under Paige’s watch. But what about when she wasn’t watching? This thought now penetrated Paige’s mind.
“No, she wouldn’t have,” Paige said under her breath. She walked over to the icy-gray-colored couch and sat down, feeling sort of faint. She recalled the reaction of Mrs. Vanderdale, Norman’s mother and her children’s grandmother, when she first found out that Norman had married a black woman. Mrs. Vanderdale had stereotyped African Americans, especially African American women, in the worst way possible. She’d done it based on all the reality shows with predominantly African American casts. One conversation she and Norman had had with Mrs. Vanderdale entered Paige’s mind.
“My mother doesn’t care about what color you are,” Norman said to Paige and then turned to face his mother. “Do you, Mother?”
Mrs. Vanderdale couldn’t speak, but with her pupils dilated, she silently begged her son to realize that he’d hit the nail on the head.
“Mother, is that what has you acting this way? The fact that Paige is black?”
The only words she could manage to force out were, “Who on earth names their African American daughter Paige?”
“Mom!” Norman said, embarrassment apparent in his tone.
“Well, I’m sorry, son, but I thought I raised you better than that,” Mrs. Vanderdale spat.
“What?” Paige had held her tongue long enough.
“Oh, my, and I see she even has the attitude that comes along with it,” Mrs. Vanderdale said, grabbing her chest.
“
That comes along with what?” Paige asked with words, while Norman asked with his eyes.
“With . . .” His mother moved her index finger up and down the length of Paige’s body. “With that.”
Paige took a step toward her mother-in-law.
“Hold on just a minute.” Norman put his arm out, stopping Paige from getting any closer to his dear mother. “Mother, I’m not clear on what you’re trying to say here, but if it’s what I think it is, disappointment in you would be describing how I feel without crossing the line of respect.”
“Norman, it’s totally clear what your mother is implying,” Paige said. “But just in case you really don’t understand, let me break it down for you.”
“Oh, gosh, and there she goes, ready to start breaking things,” Mrs. Vanderdale said, panicking. “Put away all the china and crystal. I’ve caught glimpses of those reality shows and know how they like to throw glasses and stuff at each other.”
Paige’s mouth fell to the floor.
And now, after hearing her daughters argue, her mouth fell to the floor once again. What Norma had said truly did sound like something Paige wouldn’t put past her former mother-in-law saying . . . back then. But this was now. Mrs. Vanderdale had apologized to Paige for her actions. The two had made amends and now shared a much different relationship than they had at first. They’d ultimately ended up forging a mother and daughter-in-law relationship to be envied.
But had Mrs. Vanderdale’s old ways of thinking resurfaced? And even worse, had she imparted them to Paige’s youngest child, who was biracial, turning her against her older, 100 percent African American sibling?
Anything was possible. And even if this whole thing between her daughters wasn’t about black versus white per se, Mrs. Vanderdale had also had some thoughts on African American women, period.
“She looks like those women on the television,” Mrs. Vanderdale had told Norman in a private conversation they’d had, one that Norman had ultimately shared with Paige. “I don’t want to have to worry every night that that’s what my son is dealing with. Those women are damaged goods. They carry so much baggage with them. They are hurt and are full of pain and misery. Lots of them don’t have fathers who stuck around, and some of them have never even laid eyes on their fathers. Wouldn’t know him if he was standing in front of them in the grocery store. Then there is their health. They deal with that sugar diabetes, high blood pressure, and all that weight they tend to end up carrying. Have you noticed how thick most of ’em are? Or just outright overweight? I don’t want that for you, not my son. Maybe somebody else’s, but not mine.”
