My Son's Next Wife

by Shelia E. Lipsey

“Believe me, I know that for sure. She’s my boo. And my little Angel, having her in our lives is simply remarkable!” he exclaimed with intense pleasure. “But you and Detria will experience it firsthand. I tell you there’s nothing like being a parent. Look, is there anything I can get you?” Deacon Jones asked.

  “Naw, I’m fine. Tired, but I’m still blessed.” Stiles leaned against the wall.

  “Some of the sisters and brothers from the sick and shut-in ministry should be here soon, so don’t even think about spending the night at this hospital. You already know that no one at Holy Rock will stand for that. They’re going to camp out in the CCU waiting room. They’ve already worked out shifts so that there will always be someone here representing the family. That means after you talk to the doctor and see Pastor again, I’m ordering you to go home to your wife. Someone will call if anything changes.”

  “I’m not going to fight you on this, Jones. I’ve got to learn to accept God’s blessings and favor. I do need to be with Detria. I know Pastor wouldn’t want it any other way. Plus, I know he’s in good hands.” Stiles looked upward.

  When the first shift arrived at CCU, Stiles went back to see Pastor again and checked with the nurse to make sure they had his phone numbers in case they needed to reach him. The nurse assured him that Pastor’s condition had not changed, but she promised to call him immediately if it did. Stiles told her that members from his church were in the waiting area and would be all night.

  Stiles walked out the door and went back to the CCU waiting room. He lingered for only moments to tell the members who had arrived how grateful he was for their loyalty. Deacon Jones followed him, and they walked slowly along the hospital corridor.

  “I called Crystal,” Jones told Stiles. “Did you remember there was a phone in the waiting room?”

  “Yeah, but there was someone on it every time I was in there.”

  “Well, I caught it at the right time then.”

  “What’d she say Detria was doing?” Stiles asked with concern.

  “Lying down, resting. Crystal said Detria ate, played with Angel for a while, and then Crystal ordered the mother of your child to take a nap. I told Crystal you were with Pastor again but that you would be home just as soon as you stepped on this side of the door.” Deacon Jones’s voice was firm and final.

  Stiles cocked his head. “Hold up. Don’t forget I’m the one”—Stiles pointed to himself—“who used to beat your butt way back when.”

  “Man, please. In your dreams. You betta be glad you’re in pastor mode rather than friend.” Deacon Jones laughed with a wave of his hand. “For real, go on home and get you some rest.”

  Stiles stepped up to Deacon Jones and gave him dap. “God bless you, man. But I’ll still give you a workout that’ll make you go home crying to Crystal. Now, I’m out of here. Call me if you hear anything.”

  “You know I will.”

  On his way home, Stiles prayed silently for several minutes for Pastor. After praying, he pushed the cell phone button on the steering wheel. He heard the home phone ringing. Detria answered.

  “Hi, sweetheart. I was expecting Crystal to answer. She told Jones that you were lying down, resting.”

  “I was . . . I am,” Detria said in a dull voice. “When Crystal told me you would be home shortly, I told her she could leave. Angel was beginning to get fussy. I think she wanted to be at home in her own familiar space.”

  “Makes sense. Well, I’m on my way. You need anything while I’m out?”

  “No, honey. Thanks for asking. I told Crystal about our baby news. She’s thrilled. I had a good time with her and Angel. I got some practice being a mother by feeding and changing Angel. It was fun.” Detria’s voice rose slightly.

  “When Deacon Jones told me Crystal volunteered to keep you company, I knew you would love that. How do you feel? You sure you don’t need me to stop to bring you something? Do you have any weird cravings?” Stiles laughed.

  Detria laughed into the phone. “No cravings yet, but it’s sweet of you to ask. I’m fine. All I want is you. Okay?”

  “Umm, I like the sound of that.”

  “Bad boy,” Detria said. “How is Pastor doing?”

  “I’ll tell you when I get there. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Stiles made a kissing sound into the phone. “I love you, girl.”

  “Me too,” Detria said and ended the call.

  Chapter 9

  Children are the hands by which we

  take hold of heaven.

  — Henry Ward Beecher

  Pastor remained in the hospital for eight days. His head bandage had been replaced with a small dressing that covered the five staples in the back of his head. He was weak and required the use of a wheelchair. Much like the first stroke, this one left him with paralysis in his left leg and limited use of his right hand. His speech was unintelligible. It would more than likely be a long way to recuperation, and it wasn’t known how much mobility and speech he would regain.

  Detria arrived home from work, and once inside she went to Pastor’s bedroom. He was propped up by two memory foam pillows. The television was tuned to TBN, and Pastor’s head was turned away from her when she entered into the room.

  “Pastor,” Detria called quietly as she walked to the other side of the bed so she could see his face. His eyes were closed. Detria walked back around and pulled the cover up to Pastor’s chest. She kissed him on his cheek and walked out of the room.

  She went upstairs and saw Stiles lying across their bed. He was also asleep. She smiled, then proceeded to get out of her work clothes. The rustling in the bedroom must have been what caused Stiles to turn over slowly and open his eyes.

  “You’re home. How was your day?” Stiles said with slurred speech, having just woken up.

  “It was good.” Detria hung up her pantsuit. Clad in her underwear, she walked over to the side of the bed, and Stiles pulled her down next to him. He leaned in to kiss Detria.

  “Yummy,” he said and kissed her again. He massaged her tummy in a circular motion.

  “That feels good. I’m sure the baby loves it. And you can’t stop there. One of the rules of pregnancy is that husband-slash-father must massage baby and mommy every day.” Detria kissed Stiles this time.

  “Is that right? Well, I think that’s something that can be easily arranged,” he said without so much as putting up a rebuttal. “You sound tired. Do you think you need to be working full-time? And then you’re still going to the gym every morning. That’s one of the things I don’t like about your job—having an on-site fitness center. I know there are some women who have to be on bed rest during their pregnancies.” Stiles’s voice rang with genuine concern for Detria and their unborn child.

  “I am tired, but I don’t need to be on bed rest. And exercise will not hurt the baby, Stiles, so there’s no need to worry about that. I’m fine. There’s a lot going on inside my body. I have a little one growing inside me. I’m not going to be ready to do a cheerleading routine every day, and even when I wasn’t pregnant, there were days I’d come home exhausted,” she said with light sarcasm.

  “I know. Listen, I can arrange for someone from the sick and shut-in ministry to come and sit with Pastor tonight since I have the preacher’s meeting. I already made dinner, so I don’t want you to think about doing anything but resting.”

  “I told you, I’m fine. I’ll see to Pastor. There’s no need to call anyone. And thank you for cooking dinner. You’re such a good husband, and you’re going to be an even better father.”

  “Thank you, honey. I’m sure going to try. With God’s help, we’re both going to be good parents.”

  Detria and Stiles ate dinner together. Afterward, he left for church. He kissed Detria good-bye. “I’ll see you later,” he said.

  After Stiles left, Detria began to feel a gnawing emptiness. The house was eerily quiet and being alone with Pastor was no longer the same. She missed the long conversations the two of them used to have. Now all she could do was
sit and talk to him, or read to him as Pastor lay in his bed with gaping eyes like he was longing to speak. Tonight, while Stiles was at his meeting, Detria pulled out Pastor’s favorite Bible, one that he said had been in his possession since he was thirteen years old. She laid the Bible on the bed and began to flip through its well-worn pages. She started to read when she came to the first chapter of Psalms.

  “Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful . . . oomph.” Detria grabbed the lower part of her back and leaned forward in the bedroom chair where she sat next to Pastor’s bed. A sharp, unfamiliar pain almost cut off her breath. “Whew.” She released a concentrated breath. Detria prayed for the intense pain in her back to stop. “Ewww. Have mercy, Lord.” A tear rolled down her cheek and landed on her shirt.

  Pastor’s eyes bulged, almost like they were about to pop out of their sockets.

  “Everything’s fine, Pastor.” Detria patted his hand to reassure him. She breathed in and out, then straightened up, focused back on the Bible, and started reading the remaining words of the chapter. Detria rubbed her belly in a circular motion, something that had become routine for her. Only this time, she felt a rush of momentary fear run through her mind. The negative thoughts dissipated the more she read. “. . . But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in His law doth he meditate day and night.”

  Detria called Pastor’s name, but he didn’t budge. She heard his labored breathing and was relieved that he had fallen asleep. She left the Bible open on the bed. When she stood, she felt another sharp pain, one that wasn’t as bad as the first, but it stunned her to stillness. “Lord, what’s wrong?” she asked out loud as she dashed from Pastor’s room. She went to the kitchen, poured a glass of cold grape juice, and took off upstairs to her room to lie down. Detria thought that perhaps she was beginning to feel all the aches, pains, morning sickness, night sickness, and numerous other things most pregnant women experience. She pulled off her clothes and changed into her jammies. No sexy nightie tonight. She wanted to dive in the bed and pass out.

  The phone rang. Detria fastened the last button on her jammie top, glanced at the caller ID, and answered the phone in a tone that sounded somewhat edgy. “Hey, sis.”

  “Ew wee. Don’t you sound like one pregnant chick? What are you doing?” asked Brooke.

  “About to go to bed. I’ve been nauseated, my back is killing me, and now I’m cramping like I’m on my cycle, only it’s a thousand times worse,” Detria complained. She took a swallow from her glass of juice, then sat it on a coaster on top of her bedside table. She followed up by turning the cover back, propping up her pillow, and easing down on the bed.

  “Is Stiles at home?” asked Brooke.

  “No, it’s just me and Pastor. I just finished reading the Bible to him. It was while I was reading to him that the back pain started. Maybe I sat in the same position too long. I don’t know. But Stiles ought to be here shortly.”

  “You haven’t been spotting or anything, have you?” asked Brooke.

  “No, nothing like that. I keep thinking about seeing all of that blood pouring from Pastor and the way it smelled. Ugh. Every time I think about it too long, it seems like I get nauseated.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s definitely the preggies,” Brooke replied, giggling into the phone.

  “You are one crazy woman,” Detria said. She was glad to be talking to Brooke. It took her mind off worrying about her baby. The pain had calmed down tremendously.

  The sisters talked until Brooke succumbed to the cries of her children, whom Detria heard continually making a ruckus in the background. “You go on and take care of your brood. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Okay, but promise me if you’re still feeling bad when Stiles gets home that you’ll tell him. This is not the time to keep anything about your pregnancy a secret. You might need to call Dr. Henderson in the morning and tell her what’s going on, too.”

  “Okay, okay. I will. Buh-bye.”

  “Bye,” Brooke replied, and they ended the call.

  Detria pulled one layer of bedcovering up to her waist and eased down into the bed. The feel of the memory-foam mattress and pillow soothed her. She closed her eyes and prayed a short prayer out loud. “Amen,” she said.

  Detria was awakened by the feel of Stiles lying next to her. His warm breath against her ear caused her to stir, and she turned over and melted in his embrace.

  “Go back to sleep,” he whispered into her ear and followed it up with a kiss on her earlobe.

  “What time is it? Is Pastor still asleep?” Detria was slightly confused.

  “It’s almost ten, and Pastor is asleep. I checked on him when I came in.”

  “Did you eat?” Detria asked.

  “Remember, I ate before I left for church.”

  “But you didn’t eat much,” she said groggily. “There’s still some food left.”

  “Will you stop worrying about me? I’m fine,” Stiles repeated. “I’m the one who needs to be asking you how you are.”

  Before Detria could respond, a sharp cramp hit her like a jackhammer. She screamed out loud and dug her fingers into Stiles’s shoulder, almost breaking skin. Stiles jumped up.

  “Detria, what is it?” Detria tried to sit up, but another sharp pain knocked her back flat on the bed. “I’m calling nine-one-one,” he said and grabbed the phone.

  “No, I’ll be fine. I’ve been having these cramps on and off for the past few hours. I was going to tell you. I’ll call Dr. Henderson in the morning.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” He threw down the phone. “I’m taking you to the hospital right now. I don’t think this is normal. Look at you.” He returned to the bed and sat down. “You’re sweating, and your face is flushed.” He scanned her body with his worried eyes. “Oh, no,” he said as he witnessed the blood stains on the sheets.

  Detria followed his eyes. She screamed in hysteria when she saw the fresh blood. She felt between her legs, and her hand returned bloody. Stiles ran to the bathroom, got a towel, and placed it between her legs. Next, he searched frantically for Detria’s jacket, put it on her, and scooped her up in his arms. He hurried down the stairs and out to the car. He didn’t think about Pastor or anything else. His mind was on his wife and unborn child.

  “Pastor,” Detria said as Stiles sped down the street.

  “Don’t worry about Pastor. I’ll call the Stewarts. They have an emergency key to the house, remember? I’ll ask them to come over and check on him.”

  “Okay.” Detria was petrified. She couldn’t lose this baby. She cried as another cutting pain hit her. She bit her lip and held the towel between her legs. The car came to a screeching halt, and before she realized that Stiles had arrived at the hospital, he had made it to her side of the car, opened the door, and lifted her out. He dashed off into the entrance to the emergency room and was met by several medical attendants. He hurriedly told them what was going on. A stretcher appeared from nowhere, and someone removed Detria from Stiles’s arms and placed her on it. They took her back to one of the rooms, with Stiles in tow.

  “Sir, please.” A nurse stopped Stiles just as he was about to go inside the room with Detria. “Please wait in the waiting area. We need to examine your wife.”

  Stiles was alarmed, but he followed the nurse’s instructions. When he made it to the waiting room, he immediately gathered his composure long enough to find his neighbors’ phone number in his cell phone. He needed them to go to his house and stay with Pastor. He used the wall phone in the waiting room to call and tell them what was going on and that they should be able to get inside because he’d failed to let down the garage door, nor had he locked the entry door to the house in his haste. The neighbor readily agreed to go to the house to check on Pastor. Next, he called Deacon Jones, who told him that he was on his way to the hospital.

  “No, don’t come. I’ll call you back and let you know how she’s doing. I jus
t wanted you to know what was going on. Pray, man. Please, pray for Detria and our baby,” Stiles pleaded with Deacon Jones.

  “Man, you know you don’t have to ask. That’s already done.”

  “Thank you, man. Look, I’ve got to go. I need to see what’s going on with my wife.” Stiles hung up the phone and then nervously paced the glossy floor of the ER waiting room, which was surprisingly almost empty of patients. He didn’t have to wait too long before the same nurse who’d escorted him to the waiting room returned and retrieved him.

  “How is my wife?” he immediately asked.

  “Your wife is fine, sir.” The nurse stopped walking. “Dr. Henderson was called, and she should be coming to talk to you in just a few minutes. But for now, I want you to have a seat in this area.” The nurse guided him to a small room that had a sign that said WAITING ROOM on it.

  “The doctor will be here shortly,” the nurse said again before she left. Stiles went in and sat down alone, anxious to hear what Dr. Henderson had to say.

  “Oh, thank you, God,” Stiles said and lifted his head up toward the ceiling with both hands clasping his face. “Thank you, Lord.” This time tears trickled down his face. He was still crying with joy when Dr. Henderson walked in and closed the door behind her.

  Stiles bounced up from the cloth waiting room chair. “How is she? I want to see Detria!” he exclaimed to Dr. Henderson.

  “Hold on. You’ll see her, but I need to talk to you first. Please, sit back down, Mr. Graham.”

  Stiles obeyed.

  “Mrs. Graham is going to be fine. She’s resting right now. But, unfortunately, she lost the baby.”

  Stiles broke down in tears. His body shook as emotional pain racked his body. Dr. Henderson reached over and patted him on his back. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Graham.” She passed him several tissues that were in a box on the table next to him.

  “What happened?” Stiles sniffed, wiped his nose, and focused his red eyes on Dr. Henderson. “Are you saying something was wrong with our child?”

  “What I’m saying is that something wasn’t right with the baby’s chromosomes. It could be that the miscarriage was caused by a defective sperm cell or egg. Sometimes abnormal stress can contribute to it as well, but the good news is that your wife is going to recover quickly, and I don’t see why the two of you can’t work on having another child.” The doctor’s voice was sympathetic and full of concern.