My Son's Next Wife

by Shelia E. Lipsey

  Stiles gave her the number and said, “Rena, are you going to be all right? Is there anyone I can call to come over there with you?” He asked question after question. “Is your friend with you?”

  “I’ll be fine.” Rena sniffed on her way to the bathroom. She tore some toilet tissue off the roll and used it to blow her nose and wipe her tears. “I’ve got to go now. I’ll call you.”

  Rena hung up the phone, rushed to her queen bed, and fell down on it. She bawled until her eyes were practically swollen shut.

  Chapter 17

  One of the hardest things in life is watching

  the person you love, love someone else.

  — Unknown

  Detria stood with her back against the office door and listened to Stiles on the phone. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Stiles was talking to Rena. He practically begged her to let him call her again. Calling Rena sweetheart? She had never been the jealous type, but this was a little too much for her to keep calm about. She stood out of his view until he finished talking.

  “So,” she said. “That was Rena you were talking to?”

  Stiles jerked around from his desk and appeared startled. “Yes. I called to check on Francesca earlier, and Brother Tim told me Rena had called the hospital to check on Francesca. Seems that one of our church members called Rena’s mother, Mrs. Jackson, and told her about Francesca and Pastor.”

  “Oh, I see.” Detria’s arms were folded, and she walked farther inside Stiles’s home office. “Look, Stiles, I know in your ministry you have to talk to a lot of people. I know you talk to a lot of women, too, and I’ve never had a problem with that. But what I do have a problem with is hearing you call another woman sweetheart. And what I also have a problem with is that the woman happens to be your ex.” Detria rolled her eyes in anger. “We already have enough problems as it is.”

  Stiles squinted and cocked his head back. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I heard you calling your ex-wife sweetheart. That’s what I’m talking about. Don’t even try to deny it, Stiles. Then you tell her that you want to call her again. For what? She has nothing to do with this family anymore. Okay, wait. Let me back up a minute. I can understand that she would want to know how Francesca is doing, but what I don’t understand is the way you were communicating with her. She is not your wife. I am.”

  “I know that. And if I called her sweetheart, I didn’t mean anything by it. She was crying on the phone,” Stiles defended. “Obviously, she’s upset. I was talking to her, trying to calm her down like I would anyone else who just received bad news.”

  “As far as I know, I don’t believe you go around calling women you counsel sweetheart—unless I’m missing something.”

  Stiles got up from his chair. “Detria, let’s not do this tonight. Honey, I love you. Nobody but you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it, I promise. Rena was upset, and I was merely trying to tell her that I would be here for her if she needed to talk. She was devastated to hear about my sister.”

  “I bet,” Detria said.

  “Don’t act like this,” he said. He walked up to her and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her on her neck and then followed up with kisses along her cheek until his lips found hers. “Don’t you know I would never do or say anything to jeopardize our marriage? I love you.”

  Detria accepted his kisses and apology. “I love you too,” she whispered. “I love you so much. I’m just so worried about us, Stiles,” she told him between kisses. “I don’t want anything or anyone to come between us. Not ever.”

  Stiles leaned back, lifted Detria’s chin up, and gazed into her eyes. “You don’t have to worry your pretty little head about anything like that. Come here,” he said and reached for her hand. He returned to his office chair and pulled Detria down on his lap. “I know things have been strained between us lately. We haven’t really talked much about anything that’s been going on in our lives. I mean, from losing the baby to all of this with Pastor and Francesca. I know it’s been hard on you, one thing after another. Added to it all, I’m not around much. But none of this is your fault. We have to be here for each other, baby,” Stiles explained.

  Detria seemed intent on listening to her husband. She returned his gaze with her own and rubbed the side of his face as she listened.

  “We’ve been through a lot in the short time we’ve been married. I believe we’re going to come out stronger for it, too. God has something great planned for us, Detria. We’re going to have that family we both want so badly. We’re going to hear the pitter-patter of little feet running around here one day. We’re going to see Francesca healed and Pastor restored to health. Just wait and see. Watch what God does.”

  This time Detria took the initiative and kissed her husband. Her passion mounted, as did his. They eagerly embraced and allowed themselves to be swept away in the moment.

  Stiles took hold of her hand again and led her upstairs to their bedroom.

  Detria rested in Stiles’s arms. It felt good to be cuddled against her husband. She missed his touch so much. He was right about everything he had said. They had to be there for each other through the good times and the not-so-good times. She couldn’t keep blaming Pastor for the death of her baby. She had to forgive him in the same way she had asked God to forgive her. As for being jealous, she wouldn’t allow herself to believe that there was anything between her husband and his ex. Stiles was not a cheater. No one would ever be able to make her believe otherwise. It was time for her to get her act together.

  Detria listened to Stiles’s labored breathing. She used her free hand to caress his sweaty, still body. She loved everything about this man. She refused to give in to anything that could come between them, including her own actions. Her thoughts jumped to her resentment toward Pastor. He was improving each day. For that, Detria was thankful to God. No matter how angry she was at him, she understood that Pastor was a good man—a man who loved God and his family.

  She glanced over at Stiles again, and a tiny tear-drop slid down her face and onto his chest. How could she have been so evil and mean toward another human being? It was not in her character or nature, or so she thought. She didn’t know what Pastor’s intentions would be once he was able to speak clearly again. Would he tell Stiles that she was the one who abused him? Maybe she should tell Stiles herself. Detria eased away from her sleeping husband and sat up in their bed. She placed both hands against her face. Rampant thoughts ran through her mind like a Zippin Pippin. She thought of something her mother used to always tell her and Brooke—it’s better to suffer the consequences of telling the truth than to suffer the consequences of telling a lie. Detria had to make a decision.

  Detria looked over at Stiles again. He was snoring lightly. She got out of the bed and went into the bathroom. Standing before the mirror, she analyzed her life. Since her miscarriage, she had changed drastically, and not for the good, either. She was living a double life. There was one part of her that appeared compassionate, kind, and loving. There was another part of her that had no regard for others. She proved it when she beat on an ill, innocent, and defenseless man who had shown her nothing but love, gratitude, and acceptance. It was time for her to confront Pastor. She had to beg him to forgive her, even though he had every right not to. As for Stiles, she had no idea what she was going to do. Right now, she couldn’t see herself confessing to him that she was the one who had hurt his father.

  Detria decided that as soon as Pastor was doing better, she was going to go visit him. It was time for her to get her life back in order and move on toward her future. She hoped that would include settling things between her and Pastor so Stiles would not discover what she’d done.

  The home health agency had cleared all of their staff from any wrongdoing. There was not enough evidence to place the blame on any one person. Stiles remained unconvinced and dismissed the agency from working with Pastor in the future. Detria felt lucky that Stiles hadn’t blamed her even o
nce for what happened to Pastor. She mouthed a prayer and asked God to be with her when it came time for her to talk to Pastor. It would probably be difficult, and she wouldn’t blame Pastor if he didn’t want to see her. But she knew she had to try. If she was going to save her marriage, she had to ask Pastor to forgive her and convince him to keep quiet. She was determined not to become Stiles’s next ex-wife.

  Chapter 18

  There is no revenge so complete as forgiveness.

  — Josh Billings

  In the ensuing days, Pastor showed marked improvement. He was now able to get up and walk around the therapy room. He still had significant weakness on one side of his body, but he was no longer bedridden and suffering in silence. His physical wounds had healed as well. In the short time he’d been at rehab, his speech pattern had improved dramatically. Most of his words, if one listened closely, were intelligible. Stiles was in total amazement at how God was proving again just how powerful He is.

  Not only had Pastor’s health picked up, but Francesca was expected to be discharged from the hospital soon. She wouldn’t be leaving with a clean bill of health, but the good news was that Francesca had pulled through a life-threatening illness.

  It was Saturday morning. The day was already gorgeous, with the temperature hovering around seventy degrees. The clear blue sky was radiant. Stiles had gotten up at the first sign of sunlight and left for Dyersburg.

  Detria left the house not long after Stiles and went to work out. Afterward, she called Brooke and asked her to meet her at a nearby deli for lunch. Brooke agreed.

  “Hey, sis. How’s it going?” Brooke asked as she took a seat inside the booth with Detria.

  “That’s why I called you. I need someone to talk to. I can’t keep what I’ve been hiding inside any longer. If I do, I’m afraid I’ll end up like Pastor—stroked out.”

  Brooke wrinkled her mouth and flapped one hand. “Girl, puhleeze. What are you talking about? You know you have a tendency to make a mountain out of a molehill.”

  “Are you ladies ready to place your order?” the waitress asked.

  “Yes,” Brooke answered right away. “I’ll have the special please.”

  “What kind of soup, and do you want the half ham or turkey sandwich?”

  “I’ll have the tortilla soup with the turkey sandwich half.”

  The waitress turned and looked at Detria. “And you, ma’am?”

  “I’ll have the same, please. And may I have a glass of water with lemon?”

  “Sure,” the waitress replied before she turned and left.

  “Now, tell me what’s going on with you,” Brooke urged.

  “I don’t know how to tell you. It’s so terrible. I’m afraid you’ll hate me.”

  “Hate you? Now you’re really bugging out. How can I hate my own sister?”

  Detria’s face suddenly turned ashen.

  “You really are serious, aren’t you?” Brooke asked when she looked at Detria’s ghastly face.

  “Do you think I would be here, about to have a nervous breakdown, if I wasn’t serious? I don’t know how to start, so I’ll just come out and say it. You remember when Pastor had the stroke, and then I lost my baby?”

  “Yeah, and?”

  “Well, you also remember that I told you I believed Pastor was the reason that I had a miscarriage?” Detria’s face turned from a pale, ashen color to a bright crimson.

  Brooke’s eyebrows furrowed. “Yes, but I still don’t think that was the cause, honey. Why do you keep thinking that?”

  “I told you why. The day he had his stroke, I was the one who found him. He was laid out in the bathroom with a big gash on the back of his head. I tried to pick him up. He was so heavy, but I knew I had to get him up. I didn’t think that I could be hurting my baby.” Detria hurriedly wiped away the tears from her eyes with her fingers. “I got him up enough for him to sit up against the tub, and then I called nine-one-one.”

  “Okay, so how did that . . . Oh, no,” Brooke said, as if she suddenly had an epiphany. “That’s right. You had the miscarriage not too long after that happened.”

  “Yes,” Detria answered and wiped more tears from her eyes.

  “Detria, I still do not believe that caused your miscarriage. I mean, Dr. Henderson told you differently, too.”

  “I don’t care. She gave me some cockamamie story about the egg being defective or that a miscarriage means that something would have been wrong with the baby. But I don’t buy that, at least not in my case. I know it was because of Pastor. Stress and strain can cause a miscarriage. That man is the reason my baby is not alive today.” Detria bowed her head.

  The waitress returned with their orders. Detria barely looked up when the waitress sat their orders on the table. The sisters discontinued the discussion until the waitress left.

  “Did you ever tell Stiles about this?” Brooke asked.

  “No, and why are you acting like this is the first time you’ve heard all of this? I told you that I didn’t tell anyone. No one ... nada,” Detria said. Her tone sounded on the verge of anger. Neither of the women touched their food. Brooke seemed to be disturbed by what she heard. “But there’s something I didn’t tell you.”

  Brooke took a spoonful of her soup and then returned her attention to Detria. “Come on.” She reached over and took hold of Detria’s hand. “Let it out. You’ve been holding this stuff in for far too long. I can’t believe this.”

  “Well, it’s true, and here goes the rest. And before I tell you, I’m asking you not to pass judgment on me, Brooke. I don’t need you or anyone else to condemn me. I’ve condemned myself enough already.”

  “You can tell me, Detria. You should know that by now. You can tell me anything.”

  “I abused Pastor Graham. I was so angry. No, I was downright furious that he made me lose my child. I hated him, Brooke. I hated him so much that almost every time I went in that room to take care of him, I would hit him and hit him. I hit him on his upper thigh so it would be less noticeable. I punched him over and over again for every pain he caused me to feel over the death of my baby. My baby didn’t have a chance to enter this world because of that man.” Detria cried.

  “Wait here,” Brooke instructed Detria. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?” Detria asked between sobs.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Brooke returned with two carryout boxes. She hurriedly placed the food in the containers.

  “What are you doing?” asked Detria.

  “We’re getting out of here. I paid at the register. Now let’s go. You don’t need to be sitting in a public place this upset. We’re going to my house. John took the boys to the auto show. We have the place to ourselves for at least a few hours. Do you think you’re able to drive?”

  Detria used the napkin to clear her tears. “Yeah, sure.”

  “Come on, then. Let’s get out of here.” Brooke picked up the carryout, and the two of them left the restaurant.

  Fifteen minutes later, both cars pulled into Brooke’s covered double driveway. Once inside the house, Brooke directed Detria to go into the family room, and she went toward the kitchen.

  “Do you want me to warm up your soup and sandwich?” Brooke asked Detria from the kitchen.

  “No, I don’t want it right now. Maybe later.”

  “Okay, just remember to take it when you leave. I set it in the microwave,” Brooke said as she entered the family room and sat down on the couch next to her sister. “So, let me get this straight. You’ve been physically abusing your father-in-law?”

  “Not now, but yes, I did physically abuse him. I don’t know what came over me. The first time I did it, I felt so awful. I begged him to forgive me. Of course, he couldn’t talk, but his eyes spoke volumes. Then it happened again and again. Every time, I thought of the pain I felt losing my baby. Oh, God, Brooke, I am a terrible, terrible person. And when Stiles finds out that I was the one who hurt his father, he’s going to hate me. I know he wil
l.”

  “Shh, it’s going to be all right. Did anybody discover that he was being abused?”

  “Yes, one of the aides first noticed it and told me and Stiles about it. She reported it to her employer. Then when he had to go back into the hospital, the admitting doctor saw the bruises. He reported it to Adult Protective Services. Of course, Stiles was furious. APS did an investigation into the home health agency that was responsible for Pastor Graham’s home care, but they never could prove that the aides did anything to him. And no one suspected me. If they did, I didn’t know about it. You know Pastor Graham is in rehab now. He’s doing well, and his speech is returning. I know when he gets better, he’s going to tell Stiles what I did. Then my marriage will be ruined. My life will be over when everybody finds out that I’m an abuser. They’re going to look at me like I’m demon-possessed.” Detria sobbed.

  Brooke got up hurriedly and left the room. She returned with a box of tissues and gave them to her sister. She eased close to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “First of all, Stiles is not going to leave you. Second of all, no one is going to think that you’re demon-possessed. Thirdly, you went through trauma, serious trauma, when you had that miscarriage. You tried to pretend like you were all right, but I knew you were hiding your pain. You’ve always been good at that. You want people to think you’re invincible and that your faith in God is insurmountable. But what you’ve failed to realize is that your strength is made perfect in weakness, Detria. God knows you’re not a mean, cruel person. You’ve gone through your own personal torment. Losing a child through miscarriage is major. I can see why you blamed Pastor Graham. To be honest, I probably would have to if I had been in your situation. But the thing you have to remember is that it wasn’t Pastor Graham’s fault. It was nobody’s fault. God is in control of every single situation that occurs in our lives, Detria. You have to remember that. And God knows your weakness. He knows the pain you experienced.”