Don't Tell A Soul

by Tiffany L. Warren

  Eva disconnected the call. She’d had enough. Why would her friend give Roe her cell phone number? The last thing she needed to worry about was him showing up at her doorstep. No one from that life knew where she lived.

  No one from that life would have any more information about Eva, because she was leaving it behind.

  Eva took the plastic wrapper off the new Bible and ran her hand over the deep burgundy cover. The salesperson had offered to engrave her name on the front, but Eva had turned that down. Putting her name on the Bible might offend God, considering how much wrong she had committed.

  After a bit of page flipping, Eva located the text that Yvonne had suggested. The passage was long, so she stretched out on the floor on her stomach and placed the Bible in front of her.

  When therefore the Lord knew how the Pharisees had heard that Jesus made and baptized more disciples than John (Though Jesus himself baptized not, but his disciples), He left Judaea, and departed again into Galilee.

  And he must needs go through Samaria. Then cometh he to a city of Samaria, which is called Sychar, near to the parcel of ground that Jacob gave to his son Joseph. Now Jacob’s well was there. Jesus, therefore, being wearied with his journey, sat thus on the well: and it was about the sixth hour.

  There cometh a woman of Samaria to draw water: Jesus saith unto her, Give me to drink. (For his disciples were gone away unto the city to buy meat.)

  Then saith the woman of Samaria unto him, How is it that thou, being a Jew, asketh drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria? for the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans.

  Jesus answered and said unto her, If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water.

  The woman saith unto him, Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep: from whence then hast thou that living water? Are thou greater than our father Jacob, which gave us the well, and drank thereof himself, and his children, and his cattle?

  Jesus answered and said unto her, Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again: But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.

  The woman saith unto him, Sir, give me this water, that I thirst not, neither come hither to draw.

  Jesus saith unto her, “Go, call thy husband, and come hither.”

  The woman answered and said, I have no husband.

  Jesus said unto her, Thou hast well said, I have no husband: For thou hast had five husbands; and he whom thou now hast is not thy husband: in that saidst thou truly. The woman saith unto him, Sir, I perceive that thou art a prophet. Our fathers worshipped in this mountain; and ye say, that in Jerusalem is the place where men ought to worship.

  Jesus saith unto her, Woman, believe me, the hour cometh, when ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the Father. Ye worship ye know not what: we know what we worship, for salvation is of the Jews. But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshipers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketh such to worship him. God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.

  The woman saith unto him, I know that Messias cometh, which is called Christ: when he is come, he will tell us all things.

  Jesus saith unto her, I that speak unto thee am he.

  Eva read and reread the verses several times. The first time she read them, only one thing jumped out at her. The woman had had five husbands, and she was living with a man who wasn’t her husband. Eva didn’t know what that meant back in biblical times, but she was sure that if this woman went to a church, she wouldn’t be head of the women’s ministry.

  The second time Eva read the passage, she noticed that the woman asked Jesus for the water so that she wouldn’t have to come back to the well. It reminded Eva of herself. She’d come to God because she didn’t have HIV and because she didn’t want to do the films anymore.

  The third and last time Eva read the Scripture, she marveled at the fact that when the woman told Jesus that she wasn’t married, He didn’t judge her. He didn’t tell her she would be punished. He didn’t tell her that she was going into hell’s hot fires.

  He told her how to worship God, revealed that He was the Messiah, and He offered her life. He didn’t care what she’d done. It had nothing to do with who He was.

  Something inside Eva gave way, and the tears flowed freely. These, however, were tears of joy. She picked up the Bible and hugged it to her chest.

  This was the God that Eva had been searching for. She had found Him. Or He had found her, just like He found that woman at the well. That woman was in the middle of doing everything wrong, and Jesus fixed her.

  For the first time in her life, Eva had hope that her future would be different.

  CHAPTER 28

  YVONNE

  When Kingston and I step off the ferry at Put-in-Bay, I don’t feel sick anymore. I actually feel energized and ready for fun. I don’t know if Kingston has anything in mind for us, but I already know where I want to go.

  “Have you ever been to Perry’s Cave?” I ask.

  “I don’t think so,” Kingston replies. “Is that where we’re going?”

  I nod as Kingston absentmindedly takes my fingertips in his hand and leads me away from the ferry’s dock.

  He turns to me, smiles, and repeats, “Are we going to the cave?”

  I’m so caught up in the tingling taking place in my fingers that I almost forget to answer him. “Y-yes. There’s a butterfly house next to the cave, and we can look for precious jewels in the cave.”

  “I’ve already got a precious jewel right here, but I’ll go look for more if you want.”

  I never know how to react to Kingston’s flirtatious compliments. Should I say thank you? I end up making a nervous sound that is halfway between a chuckle and a hiccup.

  “You okay?” Kingston asks. I guess it sounded more like a hiccup.

  “Yes, I’m fine. There’s the butterfly house up ahead.” Kingston leads the way and pays our admission. As we walk into the house, I inhale the fragrant scents of the bushes and flowers that they placed in strategic areas just to attract the butterflies.

  “I love this place,” I say. “When I was going through some rough times, I would come out here and the butterflies would remind me that transformation is a good thing.”

  “It is a wonderful thing. You’ve metamorphosed, Yvonne?”

  I stoop down next to one of the bushes and peer at a pretty black butterfly with turquoise circles on its wings. “I believe I have. I hope so. I’m definitely not the same person I was ten years ago.”

  “What’s different about you?”

  “I care more about myself. I never made myself a priority before. Now I take care of me.”

  Kingston stoops down next to me, and the butterfly escapes into a small tree. He says, “Would you be open to someone else taking care of you, too?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. This is all very nice. The dates, I mean. But I’m not sure I want to go the whole distance.”

  Kingston’s gaze becomes serious. I know that wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but I had to be honest. I’m trying to picture forever, but I just can’t wrap my head around that.

  “Why aren’t you sure? Do you want to be alone?”

  His questions hit home. Of course, I don’t want to be alone. Every now and then I think about that, but I don’t mind being alone, and that makes all the difference.

  “I enjoy your company, but I don’t know what I really want in a relationship,” I explain. “I know what I don’t want, but I can’t define what I desire or need.”

  Another black butterfly joins the first, and they fly in little circles around each other as if they’re dancing. “Look,” Kingston says, “I think they’re giving us a show.”

  “Do you think they even notice us?
Sometimes I feel like they completely ignore us, and they’re just going about their daily business.”

  “You may be right, but I choose to believe they’re performing.”

  Kingston takes my hand again, and we walk along the man-made path, enjoying the butterflies as they either perform for us or live their butterfly lives.

  When we leave the butterfly house, we head to Perry’s Cave. Hand in hand, we enter with our tour guide. Almost immediately, I realize that my flimsy top isn’t warm enough for the cave’s temperature. It can’t be more than fifty degrees in here.

  Kingston takes advantage of the situation by pulling me in front of him and wrapping both his arms around me. It’s hard to walk this way, but we take our time so that we can remain intertwined.

  We stop at the incredible underground lake. This is my favorite part of the cave, because I find it so fascinating that there is a lake beneath the ground and surrounded by rock. I always, for some reason, think about God making water come out of a rock for the Israelites. Something refreshing out of a dry place.

  “This is really nice, Yvonne. I’m glad you brought me here,” Kingston says.

  “I’m glad too. I’ve never been here with anyone. It’s been my hideaway for a while.”

  “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Even if you don’t want forever.”

  I snuggle against Kingston’s body and sigh. “Let’s not think about forever right now. Can’t we just enjoy what we’re feeling right now?”

  Kingston bursts into laughter. “You sound like a man trying to weasel his way out of a relationship.”

  “I guess I do, but I’m telling the truth.”

  It suddenly becomes darker inside the cave, as if someone switched off the night-light. The tour guide says, “They said there would be a storm this afternoon. I didn’t think it would come in this early.”

  “My weather report said scattered showers,” I say. “It didn’t mention anything about storms.”

  “It was updated this morning. They’re thinking it might get pretty rough for a few hours and then calm down this evening,” the tour guide replies.

  Kingston says, “It’s a good thing we did our roller-coaster thing this morning.”

  The tour guide says, “Come on, folks. You don’t want to be trapped in the cave when it starts raining. It can get pretty chilly in here.”

  By the time we leave the cave and get halfway to the seafood restaurant we’ve chosen, the downpour has started. Once we make it to the restaurant, we settle in and order a late lunch.

  “You must be pretty hungry, Yvonne,” Kingston says. “Surf and turf?”

  I laugh out loud. “Yes, I am. I purged all of my food from earlier.”

  “Order anything you want. Dessert, too, if you have room for it. I want you one hundred percent satisfied.”

  I narrow my eyes at Kingston and shake my head. It feels like there was some innuendo in that “one hundred percent satisfied” comment. I’m not the kind of woman to trade flirtations of a sexual nature.

  “You’re getting a little bit too comfortable, aren’t you?”

  Kingston chuckles. “Don’t close up, Yvonne. Don’t throw that wall back up. I’m just having a little fun.”

  “Mmm-hmm. As long as you remember that it’s just fun.”

  As if punctuating my thought, the sound of a loud thunder crack rocks the room. This really makes Kingston laugh.

  “I guess God is on your side, huh?” he says with a laugh.

  I nod. “Yes! Now, pull yourself together.”

  Then there is another thunderous sound, and all the lights in the restaurant go out. Seconds later a generator kicks in, but it lights only the emergency exit signs and the baseboards along the floor.

  “Can you tell God I apologize for flirting?” Kingston asks. “The power outage is a bit much.”

  “You are silly!”

  The manager of the restaurant walks out to the center of the dining room and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, our generator power is only enough to keep the food refrigerated. During an outage, we don’t have the luxury of being able to prepare your food. We hope the power is restored soon, and we apologize for any inconvenience this might cause.”

  I place a hand over my stomach as it grumbles in response to the manager’s words. Guess I won’t be getting my surf or my turf.

  When the rain slows down just a little, Kingston and I take our chances and quickly run back to the ferry loading dock. Maybe we’ll be able to get back to the mainland and find something to eat.

  “How soon after this rain stops will the ferry go out on the water?” Kingston asks the ferry attendant.

  “We won’t go out if we’re under a tornado warning or a tornado watch,” the young man behind the glass says.

  I ask, “Are we under either of those?”

  “We’re under both.”

  “Until when?” Kingston asks.

  “Until eleven o’clock tonight. This storm is big and moving slowly. It’s not expected to move out of the area until tomorrow.”

  “So how are we supposed to get back to our car? Back home?” I ask.

  The young man shrugs. “Do you want to see a list of the hotels on the island?”

  “I’ll take it,” Kingston says.

  While we stand inside the dock shelter, the rain and wind kick up again.

  “I can drive you guys over to the Put-in-Bay Resort if you want,” the young man says. “Nothing’s going to be happening here.”

  I look down at my very cute and very drenched outfit. “Is there anywhere we can get a change of clothes?” I ask.

  “You can get sweats at the resort gift shop. I’m afraid they won’t have undergarments, ma’am.”

  Kingston grins as I feel my neck heat up with embarrassment. “Sweats will be fine,” I say.

  “What’s your name, bro? I’m Kingston, and this is my lady, Yvonne. We sure are pleased to meet you.”

  “I’m Chad, sir. Nice to meet you, too.”

  “Were you raised in the South, Chad?” I ask.

  “Yes, ma’am. I was born and raised in Mobile, Alabama.”

  I knew it! He is way too polite to have been raised in Ohio. “And you moved all the way here?” I ask.

  “Yes, ma’am. I was in college at Kent State, and then I just decided to stay up here,” Chad says as he shows us to his car—a rusty Ford Escort.

  We pile into the car, with Kingston in the backseat and me riding shotgun. Chad has to try a few times to get his not so gently used car to turn over, but once it does, it roars to life with the energy—or at least the noise—of a much larger automobile.

  “This weather is pretty bad,” Chad says. “We haven’t seen a storm like this in a while.”

  I wonder if this is a bad omen for me and Kingston. Maybe God is trying to tell me that we’re moving along too quickly.

  We pull into the Put-in-Bay Resort’s parking lot as another fierce downpour starts. I give up on my hair looking like anything other than a wet fur ball, but Kingston doesn’t seem to mind. He’s still grinning at me every chance he gets.

  When we get into the hotel lobby, it’s packed with other stranded vacationers. Everyone looks damp and grumpy.

  “We are getting separate rooms, right?” I ask as we get in at the end of the line.

  “Of course. Unless—”

  “Kingston!” I slap Kingston on the arm.

  He chuckles. “I’m joking. Don’t you see the smile on my face?”

  “Mmm-hmm. It’s an impish grin, though.”

  This makes Kingston throw his head back and laugh. He’s so handsome when he laughs that it makes my breath catch in my throat. I could listen to him laugh all day.

  “May I help you?” the desk clerk says when it is finally our turn.

  “Yes. Can I have two single rooms for one night? We’ll check out in the morning,” Kingston says.

  The clerk taps on her computer keyboa
rd. She frowns, clicks some more, and then frowns again. “We don’t have any more single rooms. I’m afraid we’re booked up.”

  “So what kind of rooms do you have?” Kingston asks.

  “The honeymoon suite! It’s our very best room, and since it’s the last minute and all, we’ll give it to you for the same rate as a double.”

  “Absolutely not,” I say. “Let’s go, Kingston.”

  “Ma’am, everywhere on the island is booked because of the tornado warning and the ferry not running. But I can call and see if anyone has two rooms if you like.”

  “Or . . . we could just take the room. Don’t worry, Yvonne. I will be a perfect gentleman.”

  Me and Kingston in a honeymoon suite. I don’t think that’s a good idea at all. I stare blankly at him, trying to communicate my disagreement to him without opening my mouth.

  “I promise, Yvonne. I’ll behave.”

  I’m sure he will, but he’s not the one waking up from steamy dreams in a cold sweat. No. The question isn’t, will Kingston behave? The question is, will I?

  CHAPTER 29

  PAM

  It is Sunday morning, so I should be getting ready for church. But instead, I’m sitting on the couch, waiting for my husband and children to come home.

  I tried to write last night, but I couldn’t focus. I kept thinking about Aria knocking on Troy’s hotel room door in the middle of the night, him leaving my children in that room by themselves and going with her back to her room. Dangerous thoughts, I know, but I can’t keep myself from having them.

  In my mind, Aria’s fiancé doesn’t exist; only her professed love for Troy is real to me. That’s what happens when you leave a writer alone to ponder. I can create all kinds of scenarios in my mind, but for some reason, I don’t see a happy ending in the future.

  My stomach turns when I hear Troy’s car pull into the driveway. I look down at Aria’s letter in my lap. The scent of the faded perfume wafts up to my nostrils, giving me another sensory reminder that this is real. I wonder how many times Troy held the letter to his nose and inhaled. One time is too many. Twice is grounds for divorce.