Coming Home

by Stacy Hawkins Adams

  They pulled in front of a red-brick church with white columns. People of all ages and in all forms of dress, from Sunday best to shorts and sneakers, were streaming inside. Michael and Mason spotted a few kids they knew from school. “Dad, can we sit with them?”

  Warren hesitated, but relented when Dayna winked at him.

  “As long as you behave and don’t talk the entire service,” Warren said. “Leave the DS game in the car, and I’m gonna quiz you on the sermon later, so you better pay attention.”

  The boys rolled their eyes and climbed out of the SUV to catch up with their friends.

  Dayna grinned at Warren and accepted the soft kiss he planted on her lips. “Good morning again, babe.”

  “You silly man,” she teased, even though she loved this more-romantic greeting. “Let’s go inside.”

  “I’m just glad to be spending the morning with you,” he said when he reached her side of the Range Rover and opened her door. “I know Sunday mornings can be a struggle for you, but I appreciate it when we worship together.”

  She peered at him. Warren had been nudging her for a while to spend more time studying the Bible and attending church, but this was the first time he’d articulated how much it meant for her to accompany him. She’d have to do better.

  Once inside the sanctuary, an usher escorted them to the front center section to sit with Stephanie and her guests. Stephanie beamed when she looked up from her program and saw Warren.

  “You came!” She stood and gave him a hug, then leaned past him to hug Dayna.

  Dayna and Warren settled in the pew just behind her, and Dayna feared that Stephanie’s cloud of strawberry-blonde hair might block her view throughout the baptism and sermon. She was contemplating whether to trade places with Warren when Stephanie turned and motioned for her to lean forward. She cupped her hand around Dayna’s ear. “I hope you’re going to be okay being the only … person of color here. I didn’t know Warren was bringing you.”

  Dayna decided to be appreciative rather than offended. She knew Stephanie meant well. Day in and day out, she served as one of a few minorities on the hospital’s executive staff, a reality that mirrored her days in advanced placement high school classes and throughout college and grad school. Though she had struggled with feeling good enough while in her marriage, coping as a minority wasn’t one of her issues.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered and patted Stephanie’s arm. “This is God’s house, and we’re all created in his image. I may learn a few new songs or rituals today, but that’s a good thing.”

  Stephanie blushed. “Just wanted to make sure. I’m glad you’re here. You and Warren are so good together.”

  Dayna sat back and Warren reached for her hand. He questioned with his eyes what the exchange had been about, and Dayna shook her head and mouthed, “No worries.”

  Organ music filled the sanctuary, and the pastor and associate pastor entered the pulpit. After a few pleasantries and the reading of Scriptural passages, they prepared to baptize three adults and five children, including Stephanie’s son.

  Dayna’s thoughts wandered to her own baptism, at age twelve, and how afraid, yet obligated, she had felt. Daddy had been hounding her for waiting so long. “No preacher’s daughter should enter their teen years without knowing the Lord,” he’d said repeatedly as her thirteenth birthday approached. When he’d threatened not to let her have a birthday sleepover if she hadn’t “gotten right with God” before the time came, Dayna knew what she had to do.

  Six weeks before her birthday, she wrote and memorized what she’d say when she stood before the church to give her life to Christ. The next Sunday, when both sets of grandparents happened to be visiting Riverview Baptist, she ran to the altar and fell into her father’s arms when he asked if anyone wanted to accept Jesus.

  Daddy had clung to her that Sunday and shouted praises. She remembered praying for God to really come into her heart and to help her daddy love her since she had taken this big step. After she’d been dipped in water a few Sundays later, Dayna had marveled that she felt like the same girl, and she’d been saddened that Daddy’s affection had ended with that one-time public display.

  Warren insisted that baptism was merely a public symbol of one’s changed heart and acceptance into God’s family; the true change occurred gradually, as one grew to know God on a personal level and followed the principles he outlined in the Bible. Dayna wondered whether someone had taken the time to explain this to Stephanie’s adorable son and to the others who seemed so excited to be initiated into God’s kingdom this morning. Or would they, too, spend years wondering what was different now and why the process of baptism hadn’t literally changed everything?

  Dayna’s thoughts skated around again as she held a hymnal and stood next to Warren singing “Amazing Grace.” This time they landed on Brent and how his abandonment had led her to defiantly stop “playing” church. If her church service and religious obedience had been worth something, why had God allowed her to lose everything that mattered?

  During those numb years, the only emotion she’d truly felt was anger. It bubbled forth when she sat in church next to so-called friends who gossiped about her circumstances instead of extending kindness and concern, and when members of her family — the Christians who knew her best — accused her of losing a good husband because she’d been a poor wife. When she listened to other parishioners shout for joy during sermons about God’s grace and healing power, she sat stone faced, because none of that seemed evident in her life. Eventually, it had been easier to stay away, and when the craving for inspiration arose, to turn on one of the popular TV ministries and get her fill for an hour.

  Usually these memories were accompanied by resentment, but this morning, standing next to Warren, she felt okay. Warren believed in God’s Word, and he sought to live by it, and while he wasn’t perfect, his relationships with his boys, his parents, his employees, and even with her, proved he was succeeding.

  His routine, gentle suggestions that she dig deeper, beyond the surface requirements of what it meant to live for God, intrigued her, but also made her uncomfortable. The wonderful thing about Warren, though, was that he loved her unconditionally. She didn’t have to move at his pace to make things right between them and that made all the difference.

  She glanced at the church program and saw that today’s sermon title was “Letting God Lead — No Matter What, When, Where, or How.” Whoa. This was deep.

  Unbidden, an unsettling question filled Dayna’s spirit: What if the unexpected encounter with her former husband this weekend was a test? What if God wanted her to go to dinner with Brent and Tamara? Not so much for Brent’s sake, but for hers? What if her former husband’s return meant she really hadn’t forgiven and forgotten, as she had worked so hard to do since their divorce?

  Her prayer skills were rusty, but in recent months, she’d been trying to simply talk to God — something she’d never done before. Growing up, her prayers and blessings over meals had always been formal. Warren kept urging her to just have a conversation, and right now, with the minister preparing to speak, she did just that.

  Lord, sometimes I think too much. Don’t let me read too much into Brent’s return, or too little. Show me whether to ignore him or take him up on his offer for dinner so I can resolve my lingering questions. For me to get it, make it really clear, will you? Either way, please help me go back to life as it was two days ago — pre-Brent — when my past wasn’t taunting or haunting me. Thank you, and amen.

  Dayna realized she’d done more request-making of God than surrendering to him, but a lot was at stake. Didn’t she have a right to preserve her peace of mind?

  six

  Dayna sat at her desk on Monday morning preparing for the executive team’s weekly meeting and weekend fundraiser debriefing when a new-message alert popped up on her computer screen.

  She did a double take when she saw Brent’s name. First he tracked down her home address, now he was emailing her at work
. Was the man stalking her?

  She took several deep breaths to calm herself, then opened the email. His message seemed harmless.

  Dayna, what a blessing it was to see on you Saturday, after all of these years. I apologize for showing up at your home unannounced, but thanks for talking to me. I wish we’d had more time, because there are some things I need to tell you, and I think face-to-face would be best. Would you bear with me again and allow Tamara and me to treat you to dinner? I promise to leave you alone after that. This is just something I really need to do. Feel free to email me back. Or better yet, here are my phone numbers again.

  Dayna glanced at the numbers and realized she’d misplaced the business card he’d given her on Saturday. She didn’t remember him being this persistent when they were married, but she had changed a lot too.

  Sometimes the best way to get the message across that one didn’t want to be bothered was to ignore the “bother-ee.” Her computer pointer was hovering over the delete key when her cell phone rang. She released the mouse to answer the call.

  “I’m about to go into a meeting shortly,” she said, without first saying hello to her girlfriend Vanora, “but boy, did you call at the perfect time. I hope all is well in Chicago.”

  She quickly filled in Vanora, who had been her college roommate and maid of honor, about Brent’s appearance and persistence.

  “What do you want to do?” Vanora asked.

  “I don’t know if I can tell a good Christian girl like you,” Dayna said. “Let’s just say I’m more into slapping the other cheek, rather than turning it.”

  Vanora remained silent for a few minutes, and Dayna knew her friend was trying to find a nice way to share her point of view.

  “Dayna, I thought you’d worked through the pain and anger from this relationship. What is this I’m hearing? One visit and an email can throw you that much off course? Makes me think you’ve got more work to do, my friend.”

  Dayna felt her anger rising. “Van, this isn’t about me.”

  Vanora sighed. “Look, I know exactly where you’re coming from, and you have every right to think and feel what you’re experiencing. But in the broad scheme of things, Dayna, this is about you. You want to move forward with Warren without any baggage from Brent. Maybe you should meet with him, hear what he says, and let him know how you’ve felt all these years about what he did. That might move you a step closer to really letting go, regardless of what Brent is saying or doing.”

  Dayna considered how thoughts of Brent had consumed her the past few days and how along with those memories had come negative emotions.

  “So maybe I should meet with him on my terms to say what I need to say, huh?” Dayna said. “I can’t think of a thing that I’d want to say to him, though. Nothing that would matter. He wants to meet to get something off his chest, it sounds like. How is that fair to me?”

  Dayna could imagine Vanora nodding on the other end of the line.

  “I hear you, Dayna. But the fairest thing you can do for yourself is to take care of you — emotionally, physically, and spiritually — and it just so happens that each of those areas is intertwined. If you’re weak in one, it prevents you from performing your best in the other two. Meet him for dinner, and if you don’t like what he has to say, you can always get up and leave. But if he has something to say that’s worth hearing, listen, and try to make peace with him, with yourself, and even with his wife. This is all about you. If they happen to get some perk out of it too, you can’t be concerned about that.”

  Dayna’s long-time assistant Monica rapped on the office door and stuck her head in to remind Dayna that her meeting would start in fifteen minutes. Dayna gave her a thumbs-up.

  “Okay, okay, I hear you, Van,” Dayna said. “I’ve got to run, but thanks for your advice. I’ll keep you posted. Love you.”

  She tucked her cell phone in her briefcase and read through Brent’s message for the tenth time.

  She hit reply and started typing, then deleted her message.

  “Forget that,” she said and picked up the phone on her desk.

  She read Brent’s email again and decided to try the cell number. He answered on the third ring.

  “Brent speaking.”

  “Why do you want to treat me to dinner so badly?”

  A brief silence hung in the air. “Dayna?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you for calling. Why dinner? I don’t know. I figured that would be the least awkward way for us to get together. I just really want to clear up some things, so we both can move on.”

  “What makes you think I haven’t moved on? It’s been seven years. You don’t think the personal apology and the roses you gave me on Saturday were enough? Come on, Brent. What’s up?”

  He was silent for so long that Dayna thought the call had dropped. She glanced at the clock. She needed to leave in five minutes or she’d be late for the meeting.

  “That’s a fair question,” he finally said. “What’s up is that I don’t deserve any of your time, and here I am pleading for it and telling you in what package to give it. Look, if you don’t want to go to dinner with Tamara and me, I’ll understand. But I would like to finish our conversation and at least put some things to rest between us.”

  Dayna gripped the phone and let the movie in her mind replay several pivotal incidents from their marriage and breakup. She sat there wrestling with herself over the longing that just wouldn’t go away: the need to know what she had done to lose Brent to another woman. At least that was the way Mama always phrased the question.

  Maybe this was an opportunity she shouldn’t ignore. Maybe it would help her recognize some detrimental habits that she should avoid in her relationship with Warren. She sat back in her leather chair.

  “I’ll join you for dinner, Brent. Where do you want to meet?”

  “Really?” His joy was palpable. “Thank you, Dayna. You pick the place and the time.”

  She didn’t want to think about this any longer than she had to, so she mentioned what came to mind first. “Wharfside Restaurant on Pelican Drive. Seven o’clock tonight. And Warren’s coming with me.”

  “That’s cool, Dayna. Tamara and I will see you two then.”

  She hung up without saying good-bye and tried to squash the knot of fear growing inside her belly. She had chosen a tasty restaurant, but something told her she’d better eat a solid lunch, because seeing Brent and Tamara together might be more than she could stomach.

  seven

  After all of his insistence, Warren couldn’t come. “Why’d you set the date and time without checking my schedule?”

  She leaned against the door to his office and pouted.

  “I don’t know, Warren. It was impulsive. He emailed me first thing this morning, and I called him to get it over with so he’ll go away. I didn’t even think to ask if you had to work tonight. You can’t get away?”

  Warren stood up and walked around the desk. He pulled her into the office and closed the door behind her before resting his hands on her shoulders.

  “Sorry, babe. The title VP of marketing comes with official and unofficial duties I can’t change. I came in early for the morning meeting, then went to lunch with Spencer and a few other folks from the executive team. That’s when he asked me to join him for dinner tonight with several of the hospital’s board members. They want to explore using some of the funds raised at Saturday’s gala to expand Chesdin Medical’s hospice program.”

  Dayna rested her head on his shoulder and hugged him. “That’s important; we’ve wanted to add more beds and nurses to that program for a while,” she said. “I’m a big girl; I can handle tonight by myself.”

  Warren stepped back and looked her in the eye. “Are you sure you’re up to sitting across from this Tamara person? Why don’t you reschedule to tomorrow or later in the week? They’re doing this on your terms, right?”

  Dayna considered Warren’s advice. He was right; she didn’t have to go tonight. She could change th
eir dinner meeting to an evening when he could be there with her.

  “Yeah, I could reschedule …” she said, but stopped herself. “I could, but I don’t think I will. I need to face the two of them on my own, I guess. Whatever he, or they, want to say, I need to hear it and get it over with. Just pray that I don’t do or say anything I’ll have to apologize for later.”

  Warren chuckled. “I know you better than that. Even in this situation, you’ll be a lady.”

  She wanted to tell Warren she’d slapped Brent on Saturday, but then she’d have to share that Brent had invaded her personal space, and Warren would have a fit.

  Dayna embraced him again and stared over his shoulder at a newly framed picture on the bookshelf behind his desk. It was a candid shot of the two of them at a recent holiday party thrown by friends. She was sitting on Warren’s lap, smiling and hugging his neck. He looked happy, and she did too. Whatever tonight might bring, her goal was to make sure she and Warren stayed like that — forever.

  eight

  The hands on the grandfather clock in the corner of Dayna’s bedroom ticked so slowly she was convinced they had been submerged in ice and needed to thaw.

  Of course, the clock wasn’t the problem, she was. She’d left work promptly at five to dash home and change into something less businesslike. Half an hour later, she wanted the minutes ticking by to both speed up and slow down. The faster time went, the sooner this dinner would be over; the slower it went, the longer she’d have to stress about what to wear and how to style her hair as fabulously as she could. She hadn’t seen Tamara in years and didn’t know what to expect from the former beauty queen; she just knew she needed to step into the room ready to turn heads. It was shallow, she knew, especially since Brent was part of her past, but she was human. She had just the right outfit, still bearing tags, hanging in her closet.