Broken Together

by K. L. Gilchrist

  “Pastor—” Brian said.

  Pastor Downes held up a hand. “No, hear me out. Brian, you betrayed your wife in the worst possible way. That’s not who you are. When we first met, you confided in me. You told me you were exhausted and depressed going through your residency. I told you God would keep you if you focused on Him and took it one day at a time. I also advised you to get your dreadlocks groomed properly and trim your mustache so you would stop scaring the women you passed in the church hallway.”

  Tracey stifled a giggle but couldn’t keep a small smile from her lips.

  Pastor Downes shifted his weight and turned toward her. “I also remember when you didn’t laugh so much. You were a workaholic single mother when you came to me and Sister Downes in tears because Tyler’s father wouldn’t spend any time with him and you were lonely caring for him by yourself day after day. We prayed with you and told you the Lord would provide for you.” He turned his eyes skyward, then looked back over to them and sighed. “Both of you tell me, did those situations end?”

  Tracey and Brian nodded.

  “Did either of you consider your unique life situations worked out for the better because God guided you to be together? Brian, you’ve become distinguished and confident and able to run a medical practice well because your wife is in your corner one hundred percent. Tracey, your husband is an outstanding provider and I don’t know what happened this year, but prior to this you both seemed happy with one another,” Pastor Downes said with a stern look. “God didn’t bring you this far for you to act like fools!”

  Tracey focused her gaze on a piece of black lint on the grey carpet. The truth hurt. Like a quick kick to the backside.

  “Mrs. Jones, what did you do with the book I gave you? The one by Dr. Dockens?”

  She kept staring at the floor. Gee that lint looked really interesting. Nice form and contrast.

  “Never mind,” Pastor Downes said, picking up his desk phone receiver and pressing a button. “Mrs. Gunning? Yes … just making sure you hadn’t left the office yet … yes … can you please pull up and print out Dr. Zhang’s contact information for me? Thank you.”

  He hung up, put his hands on his desk and leaned in again. “Relax,” he said. “I’m done fussing.”

  “So you’ll be counseling us?” Brian asked.

  Pastor Downes shook his head. “No, I meant what I said. I am referring you to an excellent Christian marriage counselor and family therapist. He’ll be completely neutral while you work out your issues. His name is Dr. Peter Zhang. Mrs. Gunning has the contact information at her desk up front.”

  “Fine,” Tracey said, shrugging. What choice did they have?

  Pastor Downes stood, motioning for them to join hands with him. “Now let’s pray so you all can go home and I can go take an Advil. Both of you have given me a headache.”

  The soft “no argument” zone they’d built around themselves started to crack during the drive home. Tracey had hung up her phone after leaving a message at Dr. Zhang’s office. Considering all they’d been through, seeing him sooner rather than later made sense.

  She looked over at Brian as he drove. “Have you been in contact with Lisette?”

  “No. Why?”

  “To talk to her about scheduling DNA testing to establish paternity.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you agreed to it.”

  “I don’t need to stir that pot right now. We can wait until the baby is born.”

  “Why? Paternity can be established through CVS or amniocentesis testing.”

  “I know all about those tests. They can only be done within a certain window of time, and both are invasive. Besides, calling Lisette wouldn’t be good. She still talks to Janette and I need gossip to die down at the practice. I helped build our practice and I need the trust and cooperation of my co-workers.”

  Tracey turned her face toward the passenger side window. “Maybe I should be the one to ask her?” Tracey said.

  “No.”

  “Brian, if she’s going to be a part of our lives—”

  He interrupted, “For the last time, she won’t.”

  “Then we need to know where her head is. Instead of treating her like an enemy, maybe it would be best to see where she’s coming from.”

  “I can tell you where she’s coming from. She’s coming from a place of trying to trap me.” Brian said.

  Tracey bit her lip to keep from responding.

  Brian reached over and touched her shoulder. “You and I, we’ve been getting along. We’re having great conversations. We’re starting counseling soon. I feel like the Lord is leading us to still waters. Please, let’s leave Lisette and her pregnancy alone for now. We’ll find out the truth soon enough, okay?”

  She gave a slight nod and turned away again, watching the scenery rush by. It was a cooler night than usual for July. More comfortable.

  For the moment at least.

  It turned out Tracey didn’t have to tell Charla a darned thing. Ricky had already told her about Brian’s affair with Lisette, the trip to New York and back, and the opinions of their in-laws. God bless her sister-in-law’s upbeat personality. When she picked her up later that week to go shopping, a dressed-to-the-nines Charla started blurting out family business and cracking jokes like only a sister-in-law could.

  “Girl, you know you’re our MIL’s favorite topic of conversation right now. I need to thank you. At least you took the pressure off of me to have some grand babies for her,” Charla said.

  Tracey sighed and guided the car out of Charla’s neighborhood. “Yeah, I know, I ran off and left her baby boy and his daughter then I came back and … can we talk about something better.”

  “Like grand babies?”

  “Grand babies would be good,” Tracey said.

  “Well, me and Ricky are trying.”

  “For real?”

  Charla nodded. “Its official! No more pills for me. We’re gonna go for it.”

  “Congratulations! You’ll enjoy your kids, and they’ll be beautiful,” Tracey said, then dropped her tone of voice. “Now listen to me, you keep being your fabulous self, keep your interests, grow your business, and love your babies but keep doing everything you do with Ricky right now.”

  “Wait, you’re getting all serious on me. I don’t have any news yet! It might take some time.”

  “Well sis, that’s my first piece of advice for you. And I hope you remember it and sign me up as babysitter the first time you want to go out on date night.” Tracey winked.

  They stayed silent after that. But Tracey had some unfinished business and instead of directing the car toward King of Prussia, she pointed it toward Bala Cynwyd.

  “Where are we going?” Charla swiveled her head around as Tracey drove around to Presidential Blvd, then parked in a lot beside a tall modern-looking building.

  “When’s your first client coming in today?” Tracey asked.

  Charla slid her big sunglasses off. “Not until three. What is this place?”

  Tracey shut the car off and stared at the building. “It’s a medical office building and on the third floor is Family Care One.”

  “And we’re here because?”

  Tracey looked sidelong at her sister-in-law. “This is where Lisette works now, or so Ruthie tells me. And this is where I’m going to talk to her about DNA testing.”

  Charla’s eyes widened. “Hold on. On her job? You have more class than that.”

  Tracey gripped the bottom of the steering wheel and sighed. “Yes, because I have enough composure not to ambush her at night time, with her family standing around in a parking lot.”

  “Sis, I hear you, but … seriously? Once the baby’s born, you might not ever have to see her again.”

  “You sound like Brian,” Tracey scolded. She sat back and stared at the blue
and white painted brick building. She blinked, turned her gaze to the dashboard then looked up again.

  “Tracey, look, we’re going shopping, remember? We can swing by the boutique where I got this dress and get you something to jazz up your wardrobe. Come on,” Charla insisted.

  Tracey extended her hand. “No. I have to go talk to her. Let me borrow your Hollywood shades.”

  “What for?”

  “If she gets a good look at my face when I walk in the door she’ll run off somewhere.”

  Charla hesitated for a moment, passed Tracey the glasses, and turned away. “Here. I can’t stop you.”

  “Char, I might not do anything other than take a look and retreat.”

  Tracey donned the glasses and peeked at her image in the rearview mirror. Since the shades covered half of her face and her hair was pulled back tight, she doubted Lisette would recognize her right away. She left the air on for Charla, scrambled out, shut the car door, and marched to the front of the building.

  Inside, the first floor looked much larger than the outside architecture made it seem. A huge waiting room sprawled out before her as she walked inside. The nurses station stood more than sixty feet away from where she stopped next to a long silver coat rack.

  She had to sit down quickly. Her heart thumped as she rushed to an empty chair near the back of the room. All right. That worked fine. She snatched a TIME magazine from the table next to her elbow and shoved it in front of her face. When she peeked around the side of the magazine, she spied two nurses behind the front desk, but neither one was Lisette. Good. Now she had a moment to let the adrenaline die down. Kids of all ages milled about the place, their parents in chairs positioned around the perimeter. She’d picked the right time to visit. A side door swung open into the waiting area and a nurse stepped out. Tracey jumped, but managed to keep TIME in front of her face.

  “Jordan Shields? Jared Shields?” a voice called out.

  Tracey recognized the voice and peeked around the magazine. Lisette stood across the room. Light pink scrubs and white nursing clogs. Pretty. Gorgeous thick hair held back by a braided headband. Small bulge in the abdomen area. Red file folders in her hand.

  Lisette.

  Chubby twins toddled over to her, with a woman Tracey guessed was their mother trailing behind. Lisette kneeled down and smiled at them, showing them two stickers in her other hand. When she stood, she grinned at their mother, greeting the woman warmly, ushering them all inside the door before shutting it.

  Tracey put the magazine down in her lap. Lisette seemed different. Smiling and gracious. Warm and friendly.

  Still shocked, Tracey didn’t even bother to pick up the magazine again when Lisette returned several minutes later. This time she greeted a red-haired teenage girl with braces.

  “How are you? Come in. The doctor will see you in a minute. Now how old are you?”

  The girl giggled. “Thirteen.”

  “Thirteen. My goodness, you’re a head taller than me! Come in, let’s see how much you’ve grown,” Lisette kidded with the girl before closing the door behind them.

  It didn’t make any sense. How could a warm, gracious young woman turn into the vicious female she’d seen in the back lot at Rise? Did she turn on the charm at work and become a barracuda at night?

  Tracey crossed her arms and legs tight. Maybe the woman she’d seen previously was hormonal, flustered, and unsure of what to do next. For someone to go from charming to hellish, well, something pretty devastating must have happened.

  That something might have been Dr. Brian Jones.

  Tracey knew all about being broken-hearted and pregnant, all her dreams shattered while carrying a member of the next generation inside her womb. Been there. Done that. Bought the souvenir t-shirt and the highlights DVD. She’d lived it the morning Kyle informed her he’d drive her to the local women’s clinic and she flatly refused. When he broke up with her the next day, the future she’d dreamed of vanished.

  She shut her eyes behind her sunglasses. A film played in her head. She envisioned twenty-one-year-old Tracey Renee Watson. The Tracey who couldn’t stop Kyle from smashing her heart into smithereens. The bitter young lady who had no choice but to drop out of Syracuse and come back to Philly. She’d had nowhere to go with her mother and father practically homeless and divorcing. Had to stay in North Philly with Aunt Zee, who was just crazy enough to share Christ with her. A blessing she didn’t recognize at the time.

  She clicked the fast forward button in her head. Thirty-seven-year-old Tracey Jones. Christian. Confident. Classy. In control? No. She couldn’t control Brian. She couldn’t snap her fingers and fix her marriage. She couldn’t even control Tyler’s choice of living arrangements. What made her think she could control the outcome of Lisette and her baby?

  It won’t work.

  So. Just. Stop.

  Tracey sprang up, dropping the magazine on the floor. She stooped to pick it up, and when she stood again, she saw Lisette come through the door to call another patient. Tracey shuffled to the corner, beside a fake ficus tree. Thank goodness there were so many kids and teenagers moving around that Lisette didn’t notice her.

  From Tracey’s view, Lisette’s face looked kind of swollen. Tracey squinted at her belly from the side. Interesting. She appeared a lot smaller in the middle than Tracey thought she would be, if she became pregnant in January or February. From February to late July. Six months. Second trimester. Back when Tracey became pregnant with Brianna, her abdomen had pushed out pretty far by the end of six months. Lisette sported a belly that appeared more like three months.

  Before Tracey could squint any more, Lisette left the room. Tracey turned and sprinted for the office door, making it to the side parking lot faster than Usain Bolt could.

  “Did you ask her about DNA testing?” Charla asked as Tracey climbed in the car.

  Tracey took a deep breath. Her hands shook as she placed them on the steering wheel. “No.”

  “So you went in and she …”

  “Didn’t do anything. She didn’t even see me. I sat in the back and looked at her … and … I don’t have any business being here. I can’t keep … there’s …” Tracey shook her head. “Forget it. Here’s your glasses.”

  “Thanks.” Charla slid the huge shades back on her face.

  Tracey’s breathing slowed. “We’re out of here sis. What’s the name of that boutique you wanted me to see?”

  “Fancy Free. It’s on the Main Line,” Charla said.

  “All right, show me where to go,” Tracey said.

  No really, Lord, show me where to go.

  34

  The last hot Saturday evening in July and Tracey sat with Brian on Alice’s living room couch. Jamal had just arrived home from his job. Brianna sang to herself as she played in the kitchen making ice cream sundae replicas out of brightly colored Play-Doh.

  “Dad’s going to need a visiting nurse.” Tracey said, as she fanned herself with a Woman’s Day magazine. All of Alice’s fans were on and her front window was open but it was still hot in the house.

  Jamal swallowed a mouthful of purple Vitamin water before he spoke. “No, he doesn’t. I’ve been with him four times this week and he’s doing fine.”

  Brian unbuttoned the top of his polo shirt. “What does his care plan say?”

  Tracey turned toward her husband and said, “He needs to continue his physical therapy and see his doctors regularly. Since he doesn’t have lasting paralysis, I guess his care plan doesn’t need much more than that.”

  “That’s what I was saying,” Jamal insisted.

  Tracey wiped sweat from her forehead. “What happens when we get to a week where you can’t check on Daddy, and I can’t either? I don’t trust he’ll always take his medication, and you know Uncle Ray gets busy with his bar and store and he’s—”

  Brian finished her sent
ence. “Too busy to keep after his brother all the time.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Tracey, we can’t force Dad to do the right thing, know what I’m saying?” Jamal placed his empty water bottle on the glass coffee table.

  “I know. Please, I’m not about forcing him to do anything. Getting him some help isn’t forcing.”

  Alice, who had been sitting across the room the whole time, blew out a billow of smoke. She smashed her cigarette butt into the lid of a jar. “Y’all going round and round about this isn’t getting you anywhere.”

  Tracey glanced over at her mother. Cool as a cucumber. You could tell her the entire world was about to blow up in seven minutes and she’d still be sitting in her overstuffed La-Z-Boy with her feet up and a Virginia Slims in her hand.

  She was right though.

  Tracey kept fanning. Stop controlling things, she told herself. “We need to figure out an alternate way of checking on him when Jamal and I get busy.”

  Brian took her hand. “We can start going over as a family on Saturday nights. As long as there are no emergencies for me, I’m right there. I think it would lift his spirits if he had someone to watch ESPN with on the weekends.”

  “How come none of you thought about me?” Alice inquired.

  “You?” Tracey asked, confused.

  “Yes, daughter. I can go on over and see about the man when none of you can make it.”

  “You?” Jamal said, widening his eyes.

  “Yes, me,” Alice repeated, putting her feet down. “I take care of people all week long. I know something about taking blood pressure and checking medications.” She winked at Brian. “You aren’t the only person in the family that knows something about patient care.”

  Brian nodded and smiled. “True.”

  “You’d really do that for him?” Tracey shook her head in disbelief.

  “Sure,” Alice shrugged.

  Jamal rubbed a hand over his scalp. His hair cut was so low now he appeared practically bald. Looked just like it did when he was in the Army. “We didn’t think of you because you swore you’d never do another thing for him after your divorce.”