Faith

by Michelle Larks

  “I’m good.” Her arms hung at her sides.

  “Well, I’m going to go downstairs and set up my living quarters,” he said, picking up the gym bag. The dark sweat suit molded to his body. “I’ll probably bring some of my clothes and things down there.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” she protested. “You know it doesn’t have to be this way.”

  “I know,” he conceded, “but it’s just the best way for now.” He walked to the basement door, which was off the kitchen, and went downstairs.

  Monet returned to her office, feeling joy and pain. Her husband was home, but in a sense he wasn’t. She walked over to the easel and resumed painting.

  Later she fixed dinner and asked Marcus if he wanted to join her. She knew the aromas from the kitchen were mouth-watering, just the way she planned. But he informed her he didn’t plan on sharing dinner with her that night, or any other night. He would eat out or bring food home with him. Monet, of course, was disappointed. Later that evening she prayed for strength.

  When Marcus was home from work, or needed to relieve stress, he’d play his saxophone, which he did that evening. And likewise, Wade played the guitar. The partners were music aficionados. Between the two men, they had amassed an impressive collection of music going back to the vinyl era.

  The melodies Marcus played the evening he returned home were so poignant that they brought tears to Monet’s eyes. She painted and he played the saxophone. And an uneasy truce had been reached between the couple. Separate living quarters became a way of life in the Caldwells’ household.

  She and Liz prayed nightly, asking God to change the situation, though they were well aware that God operated on His own time. After their prayer sessions, Monet would talk to Faith, or read her stories and play gospel music. She also began explaining to her daughter about their special gift from God.

  Three months had elapsed, and Monet was sporting a baby bump. She selected a doctor on staff at Northwestern Memorial Hospital, Dr. Armstrong, as her obstetrician. Morning sickness had nearly passed, and Monet was feeling good. She had just returned home from a doctor’s appointment. Though she was considered a high risk patient because of her age, by and large she was doing well.

  She hadn’t informed her brothers about the pregnancy, so she decided to invite them to dinner to share her news with them. Because Chicago was in the throes of a harsh winter, Monet and her brothers hadn’t seen each other since before Christmas. Marcus and Monet had stayed home for the holidays in their neutral corners.

  Monet’s attendance at church had become sporadic as her body swelled with child. She wasn’t sure how her church would respond to her pregnancy in light of the attack. Monet was ashamed of her feelings. She longed to call Reverend Wilcox and explain what was happening. Every day she said that she would call her, but she didn’t. She knew Marcus wanted to keep the pregnancy a secret as long as possible, and Monet acquiesced with his wishes since they were merely co-existing.

  “Hey, twin,” Monet said into Duane’s cell phone voice mail, “I’m fixing a pot of stew for dinner tonight. Why don’t you two come by? Give me a call later.” She thoughtfully clicked off the phone.

  Duane called back to say that he and Derek would come for dinner. A couple of hours later, Monet had just taken the cornbread out of the oven when the doorbell rang. She set the pan on top of the oven and went to open the front door. Her brothers walked in. They exchanged greetings, hung their coats in the hall closet, and then the siblings walked to the kitchen.

  The brothers sat down at the kitchen table, and then Derek stood up and walked to the refrigerator and took out two bottles of cranberry juice. He tossed one bottle to Duane, who caught it easily. A dusty rose sweat suit clung to Monet’s body as she brushed butter over the top of the warm, golden brown cornbread.

  “Looks like you put on some weight there,” Derek observed as his eyes scanned Monet’s body. Then he turned up the bottle and drank.

  “Hmmm,” she murmured, “I have. That’s why I invited you over for dinner, to share my news with you . . . that I’m pregnant.” She sat at the table.

  Derek sputtered and quickly grabbed a napkin and pressed it to his mouth.

  Duane’s mouth dropped open, and he said, “Say what?”

  Monet smiled smugly. “Come this summer, I’m having a little girl. You guys are going to be uncles.”

  The brothers glanced at each other. There was a period of silence, then Duane asked her in a quiet tone of voice, “When did you find out you were pregnant?

  “Back in December, I’m nearly five months along,” she answered evenly.

  “Just whose baby are you having?” Derek asked.

  “I’m hurt that you would ask me that question. But if you must know, it’s Marcus’s baby,” she answered.

  “Isn’t that around the same time you were attacked?” Derek asked. He leaned forward in his seat and stared into his sister’s face.

  “Yes, it’s around the same time. But regardless of the timing, I know that Marcus is the baby’s father,” Monet said with quiet dignity. She folded her hands on the table.

  “What does Marcus think?” Duane and Derek exchanged concerned looks.

  “Well, he isn’t as convinced as I am that this is his child. He’ll see the light when the baby is born.” She waved her hand airily.

  “Nay-Nay, I love you, but are you sure you’re doing the right thing? You and Marcus haven’t ever been able to have a child, and now you’re pregnant. I just find the timing a little iffy,” Duane commented.

  “So does Marcus, and it’s caused a strain in our marriage. We’re both living in the house, but we’re still kind of estranged. Marcus is staying in the basement. But hey, at least he’s here with me.” She tried to sound upbeat.

  “Let’s see, a man brutally attacked you, you’ve never been pregnant before, and then you expect your husband to take your word that he’s the father. That makes no sense to me. No wonder Marcus has distanced himself from you, and he’s moved downstairs. I don’t blame him,” Derek said judgmentally.

  “I know the timing is off, but I know this baby is Marcus’s child.” Monet’s face was serene, and her tone of voice was steady.

  “More like you wish,” Derek muttered. He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his hand over his head, a habit that surfaced whenever he was nervous. “I have to say I agree with Marcus. And it’s not even a matter of timing. You’ve never even conceived with him.”

  Duane, who was closer to his sister than Derek said, “Derek, I don’t think that comment was called for. If Monet says the baby is Marcus’s, then we have to believe her. She’s our sister, and we should give her our support.”

  “Well, I can’t, and I won’t. That baby is probably the attacker’s, so we already know it has deviant genes just because of how it was conceived. Who knows what else is in the monster’s background. I think you should get rid of it. You’ve been with your husband for twenty years and nothing has happened,” Derek said impas-sionedly.

  “There will be no abortion; it’s morally wrong in God’s eyes. And I know that this is Marcus’s baby because God told me so,” Monet announced calmly, though her insides were churning. She knew the discussion with her brothers was going to be difficult, but she never imagined Derek not supporting her.

  “So now you’re hearing voices like Momma did.” Derek shook his head pityingly. “And you’re going to end up like her . . . without a husband.”

  “Dude, there was no need for you to go there.” Duane objected to his brother’s choice of words. “Monet is the only relative we have outside of each other, so we should support and respect her decision. It’s what Momma would want us to do. And Derek, you know Momma had the gift, and you’re well aware it’s passed down from mother to daughter.”

  “I never believed in that gibberish,” Derek confessed, turning up his nose like he smelled a bad odor. “People don’t have those kinds of gifts. That’s just nonsense. And that superstition cost us
a father. Momma should’ve thought about our feelings, and how hard it was for us growing up without a father.”

  “I think Momma did the best she could under the circumstances,” Duane said, trying to lighten the mood between his siblings. He could sense a storm brewing and didn’t miss the look of consternation on his sister’s face. “We may not have had much money growing up, but we made do, and our house was filled with love. You’re the one in heavy denial, brother. Dig deep within yourself and draw on our childhood memories.”

  Derek waved his hand. “Monet has enjoyed a happy marriage for years. Why should she jeopardize it because of the actions of a pervert?”

  The brothers began arguing, and Monet sat in her chair with tears streaming down her face. “Stop,” she said, but Derek and Duane ignored her. She put her hands over her face.

  The back door opened and Marcus walked in. He stomped his feet on the doormat, took off his coat and hung it on the coat hook. Then he asked nonchalantly, “What’s going on?” He looked at his wife, and then at his brothers-in-law.

  “How come one of y’all didn’t tell us what was going on over here?” Derek stood up and pointed at Monet, and then at Marcus. “I thought we were closer than that,” he snarled at his brother-in-law.

  “Well, truthfully, it’s not my news to share. I’ve been leaving that up to Monet. I had no say-so in this pregnancy. So pardon me; the new arrival is your sister’s news.” Marcus waited to see how his wife would deal with the situation. The twins were her family. If they didn’t support her, maybe that would open her eyes and force her to do the right thing.

  Monet stood up and said somberly, “I’m so disappointed in you, Derek. I’m your sister, why can’t you support me?”

  “What do you mean by support you? I’m trying to get you to see the light. You having a rapist’s baby is just plain sick. This whole situation is a mess.” Derek sat down and drummed his fingers on the kitchen table.

  Marcus felt a rush of elation. “Finally, someone sees things my way.” He nodded to Derek as Monet shot him a defiant look.

  “When will you realize this situation is not about you, Marcus Caldwell,” she retorted. She stood up and planted her hands on her hips.

  “Well, it was before you got yourself knocked up. I tell you, that kid hasn’t even been born yet, and it’s disrupting our lives. Before you got pregnant, we could sit down and discuss issues as a family without everyone arguing,” he added smugly. He looked to Derek for support, and his brother-in-law didn’t disappoint him.

  “He’s right, Monet. There’s only so much a man can take,” Derek said chauvinistically.

  “You are wrong, my brother,” Duane said to his twin. “You know Momma always told us to look out for each other. Why are you acting like this and taking Marcus’s side?”

  “Because I want to save Monet from the heartbreak that was Momma’s fate. She suffered her whole life. And Monet is wrong. She shouldn’t force Marcus to be a father to a child that obviously isn’t his, considering the way that child was conceived,” Derek replied brusquely. He pounded the top of the wooden table with his fist to emphasize his point.

  The brothers began going at it again. Marcus monetarily felt ashamed for the division he’d caused the family. Then he shrugged off the feeling. He had manipulated Derek and his tactic worked. Monet needed to see what she was up against. He watched her trying to keep the peace between her brothers when the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” he said to unhearing ears. He walked out of the kitchen to the front door. When he opened the door, Reverend Wilcox stood outside the door clutching her handbag and stomping snow off her boots.

  “Hello, Marcus,” she greeted him. “Is this a bad time?”

  Marcus was aware for the first time how loud Monet and her brothers sounded. The level of their voices had reached a high decibel level.

  “Uh, no, Reverend Wilcox, come on in,” he said. He stepped aside to allow her to enter.

  “I haven’t talked to or seen Monet in church for a while, and I was beginning to become concerned about her,” she said.

  “Well,” Marcus dropped his hands to his side, “we’ve had some issues, but we’re working them out.”

  “If the sounds from the kitchen are any indication, then I’d say you have your work cut out for you.” Reverend Wilcox smiled. She took off her black leather gloves and stuck them in her pockets. Then she took off her boots and sat them on the welcome mat near the door.

  “I just got home from work and was getting ready to change clothes. Oh, I’m sorry, let me take your coat,” Marcus said.

  She unbuttoned her black wool coat, took it off, and handed it to Marcus. He opened the closet and hung it up.

  “Why don’t you have a seat in the living room, and I’ll send Monet in,” he said graciously. He turned on the light in the living room and walked toward the kitchen.

  “Thank you,” Reverend Wilcox replied. She walked into the living room and sat on the couch. She put her bag beside her feet on the floor.

  Marcus said to Monet and her brothers, “You all need to keep it down. Monet, Reverend Wilcox is in the living room. She wants to see you.”

  Monet swiped her hands over her face and said to Marcus and her brothers, “We aren’t done talking yet.”

  Marcus said, “I need you guys to hang around if you can. I had a phone call awhile back and again today that I’d like to share with you.”

  “No can do today. I have a date as soon as I leave here. What’s it about?” Derek asked. He walked over to the stove and removed the top off the simmering stew. “This smells good. Is it done yet, Monet?”

  Monet looked at her brother disgustedly. “Yes, the stew is done. I’m going to talk to Reverend Wilcox. Save some for me.” She walked out of the kitchen.

  When she arrived in the living room, Reverend Wilcox was standing at the mantle looking at a silver framed 8x10 picture of Monet’s mother and a portrait of Marcus and Monet on their wedding day. She turned when Monet came in the room. The women hugged and sat on the couch.

  “How are you doing, dear? I probably should have called before I came over. But I was in the neighborhood visiting Sister Williams, and thought I’d drop by. I’d see you in the back of the church sometimes, but you’d leave before I had a chance to speak to you.” Reverend Wilcox looked at Monet’s face and body. “Oh my, you’re with child.”

  “Yes, I am,” she said shyly. She pushed a stray curl out of her face. “Before you ask, I’m about five months along.”

  “Well, then, congratulations are in order.” Reverend Wilcox looked genuinely happy for Monet. She smoothed down the hem of her navy blue skirt. She wore a matching jacket with an ivory colored blouse. A strand of pearls encircled her neck, and pearl earrings adorned her ears.

  They chatted, and Monet brought Reverend Wilcox up to speed with what had been going on in her life.

  “This has to be a difficult time for you,” Reverend Wilcox said sympathetically. She smoothed back her silver close cropped hair. “You should have called me. I hate to think of you suffering alone.”

  “Well, as you know, Liz and I are prayer partners again, and we pray every night. I know I haven’t been coming to church like I should, but between morning sickness and the weather, I’ve been taking it easy.” Monet caressed her stomach. “And Marcus has me almost paranoid about leaving the house, about what people will think when they see that I’m pregnant.”

  “You haven’t returned to work yet?” Reverend Wilcox asked, as she took her turquoise cashmere scarf from around her neck, folded it, and laid it on her lap.

  “No, I don’t plan on going back until after I have the baby. My doctor has diagnosed me as a high risk case, and I’ve waited so long to conceive that I just don’t want anything to go wrong,” Monet explained.

  “I can understand that.” Reverend Wilcox bobbed her head up and down. “But you don’t want to seclude yourself away from life. I hope you’re participating in some activities. I�
��ve missed you at church. Perhaps you can do some volunteering?” she suggested.

  “I’ll think about it.” Monet nodded. “I always said I suffered from the Sarah Syndrome. And God has blessed me like He blessed her.”

  “Yes, and I remember how we prayed together many a times that you would conceive. Whenever I called altar prayer at church, you were the first person to come out of the choir stand.”

  “I always believed and knew that I would have a baby. I just didn’t envision these circumstances.” Monet leaned comfortably against the back of the couch.

  “I know dear, and many a night I’ve included you in my prayers,” Reverend Wilcox remarked calmly. She patted Monet’s hand.

  “I need all the prayers I can get. I’m sleeping upstairs in the bedroom, and he’s in the basement.” Monet lips tightened in a grimace. She had left out that part and a few other facts when she told Reverend Wilcox her latest happenings. Monet felt ashamed for not being totally honest with her minister.

  “You can take some comfort in knowing that he’s still here. He hasn’t deserted you completely,” Reverend Wilcox said soothingly.

  ”That’s true, and I do, but it’s still a complex situation. I don’t know what I’d do without Liz and Wade in my life. Liz is going to be my Lamaze coach.”

  “That’s a blessing and a testament to God’s intervention. Where one door is closed, another one is opened. I wouldn’t expect less from Liz and Wade.”

  “Sometimes I feel so selfish and wonder if I’m handling the situation with Marcus correctly. I feel so conflicted about this situation. What do you think?” Monet asked. She held her breath, waiting for the Reverend’s response.

  “Life can get so difficult sometimes, and no one is aware of that better than me. In the long run you’ll have to be patient, do what you feel is right in your heart, and everything will work out as God has ordained. From what I can see, Marcus is a pure alpha male, and he feels that he let you down by not being able to protect you when you needed it most. But he knows in the back of his mind that there was nothing he could do to stop the attack from happening. Keep praying, and know that God will resolve the situation. You can’t be concerned about what people will say; everyone has their own opinion about how things should be done. But at the end of the day, you have to do what God guides you to do, and keep your head up. I really wish you’d come back to church and return to your rightful place in the choir stand. “