“Don’t think I’m not terrified, because I am. This could be the end of my marriage. But I have to take the chance. I don’t want to suffer the consequences of keeping this from him, only for him to find out one day what I did, you know?”
“Yeah, I hear you. I can understand that. I’m praying for you, for real. I don’t wish what you’re about to do on my worst enemy, not that I have one,” Brooke mused.
“Ha, ha, ha. So funny. Seriously, though, please pray. I’ll try to call you later tonight if I can. If not, I’ll call you when I get to work tomorrow.”
“Okay. Bye.”
“Bye,” Detria replied. She hung up the phone and finished preparing dinner, then went upstairs to bathe and put on more clothes. She texted Stiles to let him know there was no need to stop and get something to eat, because she had cooked dinner. She also told him that she had something important she needed to talk to him about.
Stiles responded to Detria’s text: IS EVRYTHIN AWRITE?
Detria texted back: YES, JUS NEED 2 TLK.
The last text message from him simply said: K.
Stiles would be home from his evening class soon, so Detria took extra care to make sure everything was ready. She prayed another prayer, asking God for the proper words to say. On her way back downstairs, she saw Stiles at the foot of the stairs.
“Hey, you,” he said with a broad smile that perfectly accented his chocolate skin.
Detria bounced down the stairs and into his outstretched arms. She kissed him fully and passionately on his lips.
“Now, that’s the kind of welcome I like. And something smells mighty good in here, too. Did I forget something?”
“No, you didn’t forget a thing. I just thought I’d prepare a nice meal for the two of us. Then we can talk.”
“Talk? Umm? Now you’ve got me worried,” Stiles said. “I didn’t know what to think about that text message.”
“No need for you to worry about a thing. Now, why don’t you get comfortable, and I’ll fix our plates?”
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” he said and took the stairs two at a time.
Stiles returned moments later dressed down in a pair of blue pajama pants and a white tee. “Everything looks good,” he said.
“Thank you. I hope it tastes as good as it looks,” Detria responded.
“I know it will. You always have been a great cook.” Stiles sat down at the table, followed by Detria. She extended her hands toward Stiles. He held them, the two bowed their heads, and Stiles blessed their food.
Stiles used his knife to cut a piece of steak. “This is delicious,” he complimented her.
“Thanks, baby.”
“Tell me, what is it you want to talk to me about? It must be pretty major to warrant such a great meal.” Stiles stopped talking momentarily to chew his food. “Let’s hear it,” he said.
Detria cleared her throat. “Stiles, what I’m about to say is not going to be pretty. I already know that you’re going to hit the roof. That’s expected. But when I finish telling you what I have to say, promise me that you will go before God and pray for His spiritual guidance before you do anything else.”
Stiles held the forkful of salad in his hand. He immediately swallowed what he had in his mouth. “What’s going on? This doesn’t sound good.”
“It isn’t good,” Detria said. “As a matter of fact, it’s terrible, and I’m responsible.”
Detria shifted her eyes slightly away from Stiles, then sucked in a deep breath before she began to confess what she’d done to Pastor. Detria ignored the changed expression on her husband’s face. The urge to tell the truth was stronger. Detria got to the part about her abuse of Pastor. She jumped suddenly when both of Stiles’s fists landed with monstrous force on the dining room table.
Stiles jumped up from the table. Like a tiger about to attack, the back of his foot kicked his chair from behind him.
Detria felt hot tears rolling down her face. Stiles stood before her with a look that revealed she’d hurt him. The realization that Stiles was deeply disturbed by what she’d told him could not quench the sudden sense of peace that fell over her. The truth, as bad as it was, had fought the battle and won the war. What Stiles would do was yet to be seen.
Stiles bolted from the dining room. He rushed to reach what was once Pastor’s bedroom and closed the door behind him.
Stiles grabbed his head with both of his hands. He could still hear Detria’s words replaying in his mind. She was the one who had hurt his father. Each footstep Stiles took in the room seemed to cause the pine hardwood floors to rumble.
“Not this again,” he mumbled. “No, no, not betrayal.” Stiles looked upward. “Father God, I don’t understand what’s happening.” Stiles wailed like a baby. At first, he had wanted to tune out the words spewing from her mouth. Pastor, you need to talk to Pastor. The inner voice pricked his spirit again. Talk to Pastor.
Detria ran up the stairs as soon as Stiles dashed from the dining room. She trembled with fear and cried over the realization that her marriage was probably coming to an end.
Stiles remained in Pastor’s bedroom, his mind jumbled with confusing thoughts. He held his head like he was desperate to keep away the words Detria confessed. He then whipped around and left the room. He raced to the bedroom upstairs, where he quickly changed into a pair of trousers and a shirt. From her chair in the corner of their bedroom suite, Detria watched in utter silence as her husband moved around the room like a madman. If he saw her, he acted like he did not.
Stiles kicked off his lounging shoes and replaced them with a pair of basketball sneakers. He looked inside the pocket of the slacks he had on earlier in the day and pulled out his keys.
“Stiles, are you going to be all right?” Detria asked. Her tears had dried on her face. She hated to see her husband in this state. But Detria believed there was no other way, not if she wanted a truthful relationship with her husband.
He looked shocked to hear her voice. Stiles turned and looked at his wife. “Am I going to be all right?” A look of disdain toward her was on his handsome face. “You ask me if I’m going to be all right? Are you serious? Who are you? What kind of person are you? Who am I married to? How can you even expect me to be all right after unloading this kind of bombshell on me?” Stiles rubbed his head over and over again.
Detria stared at him, her mouth partially opened. He had every right to be upset. She’d give him that much. Even if she wanted to answer his questions, it would not have been possible because Stiles turned and left the room in a hurry. His heavy feet pounded down the steps.
Detria’s body stiffened when the downstairs door was slammed shut. She reached for the Bible parked on the table next to her chair. Detria pressed the brown leather Bible against her chest. “Lord, I surrender all,” she said.
Chapter 24
Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see
the whole staircase.
—Martin L. King Jr.
Francesca continued to feel better each day. She had a renewed strength about her and a determination to live a full, complete life dedicated to God. The doctors reminded her that it was crucial that she see her primary doctor regularly, something Francesca had neglected to do practically since she was initially diagnosed with HIV. Now that she had been diagnosed with AIDS, she realized that if she planned to live many more productive years with the incurable disease, she had to take care of herself and do what her doctors instructed.
She sat in her chair and went through the pile of messages, get well cards, and letters she’d received since her illness. She ran across Rena’s phone number and saw the messages that Rena had called. Francesca looked at the clock on her table and decided to give Rena a call. It was early midday Saturday, and if Rena was still the same woman Francesca had known for so many years, then she was probably busy tidying up her home or out running errands.
She dialed the number listed on the paper. The phone rang several times but then went to v
oice mail. Francesca started leaving a message, but her phone rang while she was in the middle of leaving it.
Francesca clicked over. “Hello.”
“This is Rena. Someone just called from this number.”
“Hi, it’s Francesca. How are you, Rena? I was sitting here going through my messages when I saw the notes that you had called. Thank you for thinking about me.” Francesca’s voice rang with humility.
“Francesca, oh my goodness, you sound great. I’m fine. How are you doing?” From Rena’s voice, it was easy to discern that she was happy to hear from Francesca.
“I’m blessed. God is good. Now that I’m home, I’m going through tons of cards, notes, letters, and all kinds of things people sent to me. I tell you, it really feels good to know that there are people out there who care about me and who are praying for me. You’re one of them. Thank you for your prayers and concern, Rena.”
“Of course, I’m concerned about you. I know we’ve had some extremely rough times, but I still care about you, Francesca. It’s good to hear from you. How is your friend, Brother Tim?”
“Oh, he’s great. Have you heard?”
“Heard what?” asked Rena.
“Well, Tim and I have taken our friendship to the next level.”
“The next level? What do you mean?” Rena asked.
“We’re actually going to get married. It won’t be a big wedding. We’ve decided to let our pastor marry us at the church. We’re going to do a small reception in the fellowship hall.”
“Did you say you and Brother Tim are getting married?”
“Yes, that’s what I said,” Francesca answered.
“I can’t believe it. I’m . . . I’m,” Rena stammered. “I’m shocked, but I’m happy for the two of you. I guess my mother doesn’t know about it, because she hasn’t called to tell me. Usually someone from Holy Rock calls her and fills her in on the latest news.”
“Well, I just told Stiles about our plans earlier today. He wished me well and told me he would call me back. He already guessed that there was something more to our relationship than mere friendship. And he was right.”
“He didn’t have anything else to say about it?” Rena queried.
“When I called him, he said he was in the middle of something, so I didn’t get a chance to tell him our wedding plans. He said he would call me back as soon as he could. And Pastor, well, I talked to him last night and told him. So I’m sure the news will find its way through Holy Rock pretty soon.” Francesca giggled into the phone.
“I don’t know what to say”—Rena sucked in her breath and paused—“except congratulations. I can’t believe this.”
“I know. I can’t either. Who would have thought that I, of all people, would end up with a husband? Girl, life is a trip, and God is definitely a comedian.” Francesca laughed and then coughed.
“You okay?” Rena asked.
“Yep. I still have some problems with my lungs, but I’m doing better. But this coughing gets to me every now and then.”
“Are you sure you want to marry this man, Francesca? Does he know about . . . you know?”
“He knows everything, Rena. I wouldn’t think of going through with this if he didn’t. I didn’t leave a thing out about my past. In spite of everything, the man still loves me, and he wants me to be his wife. I asked him if he had a mental problem or something.” Francesca laughed again. Rena was quiet. “I know what you’re thinking, Rena. How does someone like me deserve a wonderful man like Tim? Well, I’ve asked myself that question too.”
“No, I wasn’t thinking that. To be honest, I can’t envision you with a man, that’s all. So this is taking a little time for me to digest.”
“Think about how I feel about it. This is definitely a newbie for me. But I have to admit that I love myself some Tim.”
“Ooh wee, God is so amazing, Francesca.”
“Rena, I’ve screwed up so many other people’s lives that I can’t understand why God decided that He’d bring an awesome man like Tim into my life, of all people. I don’t know, but I’m tired of trying to figure God out. I’m just going to let Him be God. That way, I know my life will be fine.”
“That’s good, Francesca.”
“How’s your life going? How are Mr. and Mrs. Jackson doing?”
“Mom and Dad are fine. As for my life, I’m still seeing Robert. He wants to marry me.”
“And? When is the date?” asked Francesca.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ve been putting it off for some time. I did tell him that I would marry him, but I can tell that he didn’t believe I was serious.”
“Were you?”
“Francesca, frankly, I don’t think so. I’ve been hurt, and I’ve hurt other people, like you, your brother, your entire family. And I’ve hurt myself. How can I live with a man, give myself to him as a wife when I have—”
“Stop. Don’t even go there. Did you hear what I said earlier? I have AIDS. Not just herpes, not just HIV, but AIDS. And I have Tim. He loves me, Rena. He doesn’t care that I could pass on a death sentence to him. He loves me. For the first time in my life, I know for myself what true love looks like and what it feels like. Whenever I see Tim, I’m reminded of unconditional love. When I hear his voice on the phone, I’m reminded of love. I’m a changed person inside and out, Rena. I hope you don’t let yourself be the cause of ruining your own future.”
“It’s different for you. Robert knows about my past, but it doesn’t make me feel better. But I guess I have you to thank for that, huh?” Rena said without sounding like she resented Francesca. “But, anyway, just like Tim told you, Robert says it doesn’t matter about my past or about my STD, but it’s hard for me to believe and accept that he means what he says.”
“If God can bring a man into my life, a good man at that, why do you feel like He can’t do the same for you? It’s a desire of your heart. As for me, I had no idea I would ever be with a man, let alone marrying one. But you . . . Rena, you loved my brother. I know you did, and he hurt you. I thought he would have been able to forgive you and that the two of you could move on together with your marriage. But it turned out not to be that way. Some people say that since he’s a preacher, he should have forgiven you, but they don’t understand that Stiles is still made up of flesh. And who’s to say that he hasn’t forgiven you. People are so quick to judge others, especially preachers. This body, our thought process, everything about us needs work. That’s why God had to die for us. There was no other way to get us cleaned up enough for us to have a chance at eternal life. The first time I met your friend, Robert, even though it was at my mother’s funeral, I sensed that he was a great guy. I’m sorry I tried to come between the two of you. I think it was a last-ditch effort on my part to get back at you for moving on with your life. In some way, I think it was a way of me getting back at Audrey, too, even though she was dead. I was still confused back then, Rena. But even after everything I told Robert about you and me, he loves you. The question is, do you love him, or are you still hanging on to memories of Stiles?”
“Stiles? Where did that come from? Stiles is married and has moved on with his life,” Rena explained.
“That’s not what I asked you. I said, ‘Are you still in love with him?’” Francesca repeated. She pushed some of her cards and papers to the side.
“No, I am not in love with Stiles anymore. I love Robert. I love his kids. I love everything about him.”
“Then I suggest you have a little talk with God, honey. Get your stuff together and walk on down that aisle.”
“I’ll keep praying about it. Well, I guess I need to go. I’m glad to hear from you. I’ll call and check on you from time to time. Oh, and please give Tim my love. Congratulations to the two of you.”
“Thanks for caring, Rena. Bye.”
Rena hung up the phone. She thought of Francesca and the fact that she was about to get married. That practically blew Rena’s mind. She fought against Robert, didn’t trust that
he could love her despite all of her imperfections, yet Francesca had accepted love into her life without the least bit of hesitation. That was Francesca. She was a warrior. A soldier. Anything she did, she did it wholeheartedly. She served God with that same fervor and determined spirit.
Rena worked throughout the day at her house and then did some grocery shopping. When she returned home later that afternoon, she called Robert. She didn’t expect him to answer. Their relationship was troubled, and it was all her fault. Robert deserved more. He deserved someone who loved him as much as he seemed to love her. If Francesca could, allow love into her life, surely she could too.
Rena prayed, drew in a deep breath, and called Robert. She was nervous. She had no idea how he would receive her, or if he would talk to her at all. She listened to the phone as it rang. She thought about hanging up, but then his little girl answered the phone.
“Daddy,” the little girl called out, “Miss Rena is on the phone.” Rena heard her giggling into the phone, and Rena couldn’t help but laugh also. She found it made her feel more at ease.
“Hi,” Robert said; then he fell silent.
“Hi,” responded Rena. “I wanted to know if you and the kids would like to come over later this evening. I thought we could do some grilling. It’s so nice outside.”
“Uh, I don’t know, Rena. I had some other plans.”
Rena’s heart fluttered. “Oh, I see. What about tomorrow after church? That might be even better. Whaddaya say?” she asked again.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I don’t want you to feel pressured. You’ve made it quite clear where our relationship is headed, which is nowhere.”
“Robert, I know I was mean to you. I said quite a few things that I didn’t mean. But, please, I really want to see you and the kids. We need to talk. Please.” Rena could hear him sigh. Lord, please let him say yes.
My Son's Next Wife Page 20
