by Thorn, Ava
"I broke up with Rebecca. Everything was a lie," Austin said.
"Please give her time, cousin," Shane pleaded. "Farrah needs to do some soul searching."
Austin could hear noise in the background. "Where are you?"
"I'm at the airport." There was a pause before Shane continued. "She still loves you."
"I need to see her," he said through clenched teeth.
"She doesn't want to see you, and I'm not going to tell you where she's at!" Shane yelled.
"Shane!" Austin shouted.
"Farrah will contact you when she is ready; just give her time. That's all I ask. I know you care about her."
"I love her!" he shouted.
"Then give her time—and yourself time—to sort your feelings out," Shane quickly said. "I have to go, but I will keep in contact with her and relay information to you."
"Shane!" Austin called out to dead air. That bastard had hung up on him.
Austin was about to put the phone down, or maybe throw it across the room, when he saw Shane had sent him a text message. He opened it and stared at a picture of Farrah in a metallic silver, two-piece bathing suit.
He thought about the feelings he'd had from the first time he had seen her face, and he knew she was the one.
He needed to let her know that he was going to make everything better. He had to show Farrah that she was the only woman for him. She was the woman he had been searching his whole life for.
Austin stood up and picked up his guitar. He hummed out a few different tunes before writing a whole new song. He would call it "Complete."
"I realize you are the woman I need by my side
"She encouraged me and loved me
"I am meant to be with her and I can't live without her
"My momma told me if I ever found that woman who I would lay my whole life down for, I had to make sure
I didn't let her go."
Austin wasn't afraid to pour his heart out in each and every song he wrote. He wasn't afraid to let his fans know that he'd cried because he missed the woman he loved.
"If I could take back the pain I caused you, I would."
***
New Orleans, LA
Farrah sat in the rental car, looking at the old yellow house she'd stayed in for a year until she graduated and moved to New York to attend culinary school. Twisting the gold necklace around her neck, she knew she couldn't sit in the car all day even if she wanted to. She opened the car door and stepped out into the hot, humid New Orleans weather. Farrah made the trek up to her grandmother's front door and rang the doorbell.
"Child, is that you?" Mona Rue said as she peered through the screen door wearing a sundress.
"Hi, Nana." Farrah could see the disapproval in her grandmother's eyes. "I wanted to see how you are
doing."
"I'm doing well." Mona coughed. She made no move to let Farrah inside the house.
"I was wondering if we could talk, Nana," Farrah said. She was beginning to feel like a stranger.
"Come in," Mona said reluctantly as she held the screen door open for her.
Farrah nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a car alarm blaring in the distance. She remembered as a teenager that her mother didn't want her hanging outside due to the crime rate in Uptown. Since Hurricane Katrina, crime in Uptown had escalated. When Farrah made her first profit off Southern Rose, she had offered to move Mona to a retirement community in Dallas, but Mona was a stubborn woman who didn't want anyone, including her own grandchild, to do anything for her.
Farrah looked around the tiny but tidy three-bedroom house. She sat down on the sofa, which was covered in plastic. She didn't know why she felt so nervous and uneasy around her grandmother. Maybe it was because she knew how judgmental the woman could be. No matter what she did in life, it was never enough in Mona Rue's eyes.
"So, you are knocked up?" Mona's voice was full of disapproval.
"Yes," Farrah said.
Her grandmother always had a way of sensing when a woman was pregnant—and telling her about it. Farrah didn't understand how Mona knew about her pregnancy, because it wasn't like she was running around town telling people.
"You're pregnant by that white man?" Mona spat. "You telling me you laid down and had unprotected sex with a man who was getting married to another woman?"
Farrah bit on her bottom lip so hard she thought it was going to bleed. She could only smile and nod her head. She was fearful she might say something to her grandmother that she would later regret.
"Everybody in my church talking about how my slut of a granddaughter wrecked a relationship, same as her mother!" she yelled.
Farrah felt numb and in shock as she looked over at her grandmother. Straightening her posture, she looked her grandmother directly in the face.
"No disrespect, Nana, but I didn't come here to hear what you or what the congregation at Shiloh Baptist Church has to say about me."
"Lord, please help this rude child who is sitting in my house talking back to me." Mona shook her hands up in the air.
"It was a terrible mistake coming here, Nana. I just wanted to see how you were doing." Farrah stood up to leave but stopped. "Actually, Nana, I wanted us to have a better relationship, but I see that's not going to work."
"Do you know why your father killed your mother?" Mona said as she started to cough abruptly.
"They always fought, Nana. It was nothing new," Farrah said as she walked to the front door.
"My son found out you weren't his daughter. Your mother told him to get out the house he bought with his hard-earned money after he told her another man had approached him and let him know that the daughter he had been raising for seventeen years wasn't his child."
Farrah stood there in shock. "That's a lie! My momma wouldn't do that!"
"Your whore of a mother pushed my son over the edge. She went and slept with a married man, and now you following in the same footsteps as your mother!" Mona screamed.
"Who is he?" Farrah's voice was more of a whisper.
Mona sneered. "Claude DeCuir. He owns a few businesses in the area."
Farrah's bottom lip trembled. "I will see you later today."
"Farrah!" Mona called out.
"Yes, ma'am?" Farrah said and looked back.
"You are not my grandchild. Every time I look at you, I see the mistake my son made with your mother. He should have married Valerie Williams, the woman who gave him a son."
"Nana, I didn't come here to fuss or argue with you. You're the only family I have left."
Farrah wanted to run to her grandmother and ask her why. Why was she saying these awful things?
"Farrah, I'm not your blood." She sat and lit a cigarette. "I'm done with you. You ain't no blood of mine!"
Mona yelled and started coughing.
"Blood or not, I still love you, and nothing can change that," Farrah said through clenched teeth. "Not even you."
Farrah made a U-turn and went to the kitchen, where she fixed Mona a glass of water for her coughing spell. Kneeling down, she handed her grandmother the glass of ice water.
"Every time I see your face, you remind me of your no-good mother, who ruined my son's life the day she walked into it," Mona said as tears ran down her wrinkled face.
Farrah kissed her grandmother on the cheek and walked out the door. She didn't know how she made it to the car without falling apart, but she did. When she got there, she cried and cried until she couldn't cry any more.
"God, why?" she asked. "Why?"
Farrah took one last glance at the house where she was practically raised. Tearing her eyes away from the house, Farrah drove away from the painful memories and words that tore her heart apart.
***
"Farrah, wake up. I done killed your momma."
"What, Daddy?" Farrah slowly rose from her bed. She looked at her dad, covered in blood. "Momma!" she screamed as she pushed past her father.
Farrah ran down the hall, following the blood trail. Sh
e could hear moans coming from the kitchen.
"Oh, God, what did he do?" Farrah grabbed the cordless phone. "I need help! My dad stabbed my mom, she's bleeding everywhere." Farrah applied pressure to her mother's wounds, but there were too many, and she was bleeding heavily.
"Farrah, my baby girl!"
"Momma, please!" Farrah could see the light in her mother's eyes becoming dull. She yelled into the phone.
"She's going to die if you don't come quickly."
"I love you, Farrah," her mother said.
"Tell me what to do. She's stopped breathing!" Farrah screamed to the dispatcher before a loud pop made her jump.
Farrah woke up in a cold sweat, her breathing hard. She recalled the night her parents had died. Turning the light on, she sat up in her bed. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly as she tried to slow down her rapid heart rate. Grabbing the cordless phone, she called the one person who could understand her.
***
Austin raced down the ladder from the barn's loft when Hank yelled up to him that Farrah Rue was on the phone.
"Hello," he said breathlessly.
He was greeted with silence, but he could hear her breathing on the other end of the line.
"Farrah, baby, talk to me," he pleaded. "Are you okay?"
"I'm okay, Austin. I think I just needed to hear you voice."
"Don't hang up." Austin took off his gloves and sat down on the bale of hay in the barn. "Just listen to me." When Farrah didn't respond to him, he continued talking. "The first day I looked into your eyes, I knew there was something between us. My mother always said that I needed a woman who could cook and who would keep me grounded." He paused, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I found that woman the day I met you. I found the woman who brings out the best in me. Farrah, I want you to marry me and be the mother of my children."
"Austin—"
"No," he interrupted her. "Being around you made me realize how wrong Rebecca and I were for each other. If you tell me right now that you don't want me, well, I won't accept that, baby, because as long as I'm here on God's green earth, I'm going to show you that I could be the husband and friend you need."
"Austin! I'm pregnant," she interrupted. "How do you feel about that?" she asked.
"Happy, blessed, excited," he rambled until he realized that Farrah didn't say anything. "How do you feel about it?" he asked.
"Scared, nervous, and ecstatic," she replied. "When is your wedding?"
"Farrah, didn't you listen to anything I just said?" he asked softly. "I'm not getting married to Rebecca. And she's not having a baby. She was lying. There will be a wedding, but only you marrying me," he said.
"I'm sorry," she replied. "Austin, I need time to figure things out." She disconnected.
"Shit!" he yelled as he hung up the phone.
"Trouble in paradise?" Hank said as he stood against the wall. "Hank, not now," Austin grumbled. He snatched his gloves up.
"Give Farrah a break. You are grown-ass people who had an affair and fell in love. I knew that deep down Farrah didn't expect you to leave Rebecca. Shit, I didn't either. Rebecca was on you like white on rice. Even Ray Charles could see that Rebecca didn't love you, only the green that you had coming out of your ass." Hank smirked.
"It took me a minute to close one door and open another," Austin said as he brushed the sweat off his forehead. He had been working hard on the farm, trying to keep his mind off Farrah.
"Did you know that Farrah had been here for three years?" Hank smiled. "Your mother loved Farrah's restaurant, would go there just to get a bite of pecan pie. I don't even know that Farrah realizes Charlene was your mother."
Austin sat down on the bale of hay.
"When you met Rebecca, your momma already had someone else in mind for you. Who do you think started the routine of eating Sunday dinner at Southern Rose? Charlene was hoping that she would have the chance to introduce you to Farrah, but it didn't come."
A smile slowly crept across Austin's face. His mother had wanted him to be with Farrah from day one. Maybe she was still pulling strings for them up in heaven.
***
"There is someone I want you to meet," Charlene said happily.
Her smile faded when Austin walked through the front door holding hands with a woman. "Mom, I want you to meet Rebecca," Austin said cheerfully. "Oh," Charlene said and kept a pleasant smile on her face.
Later that evening, Austin walked into the living room, where his mother was reading her Kindle by the fireplace. He could tell since he had been home that there was something she wanted to tell him.
"Mom, are you okay?" He kissed her cheek and sat on the ottoman across from her.
"Yeah." Charlene took a sip from a steaming cup of ginger tea. "Actually, I can't stand idly by while you make stupid decisions. I see the look in your eyes for the woman upstairs, and I can tell you right now, Austin Benjamin McBride, that this woman upstairs is wrong for you."
"Mom, lower your voice," Austin said.
"Austin, I'm dying." Charlene took Austin's hand in hers. "That woman may be an easy distraction, but she is not the one you need in your life."
"What? How long?"
Austin couldn't fathom life without his mother. He'd lost his father a year ago, and now he was about to lose the woman who gave birth to him and had been there for him through thick and thin.
"Six months." Charlene stroked the side of Austin's face. "I know I raised you right, son. But a mother knows what's best for her son, and I can tell you right now that Rebecca is not the woman for you. When you choose a mate, you look for substance and character. And ask yourself, could this woman be the mother of your kids and your companion for life?" Charlene chuckled. "And make sure she can cook."
"I will."
Austin pulled his mother in his arms and hugged her tight.
***
"And Farrah doesn't know?" Austin asked.
"No, I don't think so." Hank shook his head. "Your mom didn't want to burden you."
Austin nodded his head. Charlene McBride had known that Farrah was the woman for him; even Snowflake chose her. He knew he'd put Farrah through a lot of shit; he didn't blame her for telling him to kiss her ass.
"All I have to say, man, is that you have a wonderful girl in Farrah. She accepts you for you. She loves your country ass. She chose you the first day she decided to love you."
"I chose her," Austin said as he grabbed the phone and made some calls.
Chapter Thirteen
Farrah tried to remember if she resembled her dad. People used to always tell her that she was the spitting image of her mother, but not her father. The fact that he might not be her biological father never crossed her mind.
But now, as she sat at the Jinx Café that Claude DeCuir owned, Farrah couldn't help but harbor resentment—her mother had lied to her her whole entire life.
"She is not mine?" Reggie Rue yelled, causing Farrah to wake up.
"Mommy and Daddy, please stop fighting," she cried, holding her stuffed animal.
"I'm sorry, pumpkin." Reggie picked Farrah up and carried her to the kitchen, where he made her a banana split before tucking her into bed.
"I love you, Daddy."
"I love you too, pumpkin."
Farrah realized why Mona blamed her for her parents' deaths. There had been resentment in Mona since the day of the funeral. Farrah had blocked so many things from her mind back then. She blocked out how cruelly Mona treated her, which was one of the many reasons why Farrah had decided to go to the culinary school all the way in New York—she had to get away from her grandmother.
Farrah tossed enough bills on the table to cover her meal and tip. She wanted to talk to Claude DeCuir, but her heart and mind wouldn't allow it. Deep down, she was scared of being rejected by him. She was scum on the bottom of her grandmother's shoe, and she didn't have any other family left. Farrah took a deep breath, deciding she had nothing to lose. For the past three days, she had come to Claude's restaurant only t
o leave without seeing or talking to him, but today was going to be the day she met the man Mona claimed was her father.
"Is the owner in?" Farrah asked as the waitress came over to the table.
"Mr. DeCuir?"
Farrah cleared her throat. "Yes."
"I'll go get him for you," the waitress said as she disappeared behind the double doors.
Farrah drummed her fingers nervously on the table. What was she supposed to say to a man she didn't know? Hello, my name is Farrah, and I believe I'm your daughter. This was a bad idea. Cold feet set in, and she grabbed her purse to go.
"Farrah?" a man said with a heavy French accent.
Farrah was stunned as a dapper man in his late fifties walked over to her table. Claude DeCuir was very light-skinned, with red hair and light brown eyes. Farrah knew at that moment that this was her father.
"How did you know my name?" she asked.
"Je suis ton père."
I'm your father.
Claude smiled and sat down at the table across from her.
Awkward silence hung between them as they stared at each other.
"So, how about this weather?" Farrah said after a while.
She knew she sounded like a blithering idiot, but she also knew without a doubt in her mind that Claude DeCuir was her father.
"You look just like your mother; you even bite your lip like she did when she was nervous or upset."
Farrah opened her mouth only to close it. She was trying to find the words to say to him. There were a hundred questions she wanted to ask. The man sitting across from her was a total stranger. For all she knew, this could all be a lie.
"During a stressful argument with Mona, I learned that the past twenty-seven years of my life might have been a lie." Farrah played with the napkin on the table. "It took me three days to find the courage to face you."
"Ma fille, I'm happy you found the courage to come see me. I waited for this day for years." His eyes twinkled with happiness and relief.
"What relationship did you have with my mother?" Farrah asked.
