“So, you’re saying he can challenge the adoption.”
“He can and he’d probably win.” Aunt Joe smiled. I thought it was an odd time for that. She shook her head. “He may want to take Isaiah away from me, but he won’t take him from you.”
“I’m not so sure. Those lost years – he’s stuck there. I can’t give them back.”
“That ring he put on your finger is more than enough proof that he loves you enough not to really hurt you. He’s angry, Tamar. Nothing more and nothing less. That’s to be expected. But anger passes. He’ll come here. Meet his son. See what a great child he is, and we’ll let him know he can see him all he wants. It’ll be okay.”
“Auntie, I can’t believe you’re being so easy about this.”
Aunt Joe stood. I heard every bone in her body crack when she did so. “I’m exhausted. I don’t have the energy to worry about a problem I don’t have yet. I’m going to bed. You pray about how you want to tell Isaiah.”
“Me? We’re not doing it together?”
“Isaiah knows he’s adopted, so at this point, this is between you and him. I’ll let you handle it. Tomorrow after school. Stephen will be here by then. You can explain it all to him at one time. He’ll want to know who his daddy is anyway.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
I stood and gave Aunt Joe a hug. Her body was frail. I’d been staring at her since I got home – looking for signs that she was getting healthier when in fact all I could see was failing health. Weight loss, thinning hair, her skin was pocked. She was tired. She wouldn’t eat. She had those sores in her mouth.
I closed my eyes to my thoughts. Those were just side effects of the chemo. They weren’t signs that it was failing. I’d let my father’s words get in my head. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t talking to Aunt Joe. He didn’t know what I knew. She was not contemplating her death. Aunt Joe fully expected to recover.
The next day, Stephen arrived a little after one. That was early enough for me to pick him up from the airport and get back to the house before Isaiah got out of school, but it was just early enough. We barely had time to talk before I heard the school bus coming down the street. I stashed Stephen in my bedroom. He agreed I could talk to Isaiah first and then he would.
I was sweating like a bull by the time Isaiah entered the house.
“Hey, Cousin Tamar,” he said walking into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator for a bottle of water and an apple.
My nerves entered my voice. “How was school?”
“I got an A on my science test.”
“I’m not surprised,” I said.
“I gotta tell Mama,” he said. “Where is she?”
“She’s sleeping. She’s tired today.”
“I’m glad you’re here then. She seems better when you’re around.” He walked out of the kitchen and went to his bedroom.
I followed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to play a video game. I can on Fridays. No homework.”
I nodded. “Can I ask you to come out here for a minute? I need to talk to you.”
He looked concerned. “Is it about my mama?”
“No. It’s something different, but it’s important though so the video game needs to wait.”
Isaiah came out of his bedroom and joined me at the dining room table. I thought about Stephen standing on the other side of the door and felt the pressure of his listening. This was going to be hard enough without an audience.
“What I have to say is going to surprise you. It might even upset you, but I hope you’ll let me explain and try to have an open mind.”
“Okay, but you looked worried.”
“I’m not worried, but it’s going to be a big surprise for you.” I took a deep breath. “You know how Auntie adopted you when you were a baby?”
“Yes.”
“Well, she adopted you from me. I’m your birth mother.”
Isaiah’s eyes widened. His jaw unhinged. He processed my words for a minute and then asked, “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Because it’s complicated. I know that sounds like an adult not wanting to tell the truth, but I was really young when I had you. I couldn’t take care of you. I had no money. No job. I didn’t even have a place to live. I was going through a bad time in my life.”
“What kind of bad time?”
“You know I told you about how I had that experience when I was in high school when I was bullied.”
Isaiah nodded. I hadn’t told him about the video, but I’d told him about how I was teased. “It was then. I was sad and crying all the time. I didn’t have the strength to take care of anyone. I could barely take care of myself. Aunt Joe offered to take you. I needed to know you would be safe, so I decided it was a good idea.”
Isaiah looked away from me. His brow knitted like he was confused. I resisted interfering with his process. He needed time to wrap his mind around everything I was saying. He shook his head and looked at me again. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
My mouth felt dry. It was the incessant question about why I’d waited so long. Why so many years with no real good answer for Stephen, our parents, or now Isaiah. I stammered over my answer. “I think at first to honor your mom and then I don’t know. It never seemed like the right time.”
“I asked her who my mother was. She said some young woman, like she didn’t know.”
“I’m sure she was trying to protect me.”
“I don’t understand. Everybody is protected but me. I’m not being protected. Why are kids the only ones that have to tell the truth?”
“Isaiah, you’ve never asked me who your mother was.”
“But I call you Cousin Tamar.”
“And I let you because technically, I am your cousin. Adoption is legal and permanent.”
Isaiah got a faraway look in his eyes and then he turned back to me. “So, then if you’re my mother, you know who my father is.”
The door opened to my bedroom. I closed my eyes. This wasn’t what we’d discussed. He was supposed to wait until I came for him, but I was glad. I was glad he was coming to take the focus off of me.
“I am,” Stephen said.
Isaiah frowned. He didn’t have to turn around because he was facing my door. He squinted and then snatched his head back. “You’re Stephen Pierce.”
With his cane clanking on the wood flooring in the corridor, Stephen approached the table where we were sitting.
Isaiah looked at me. “My father is Stephen Pierce?”
The question split my heart in two. I looked between him and Stephen. I whispered a broken, “Yes.”
Stephen’s eyes were on Isaiah like he was inspecting every inch of him. He was fighting tears. I could see that. I watched as his Adam’s apple went up and down and up and down again. He took slow controlled breaths. I did this to him. I did this to my son.
Isaiah frowned. “Did you know you were my father?”
Stephen shook his head. “I found out yesterday.”
Isaiah looked at me. His frowned turned to a scowl. “Why didn’t he know?”
“Isaiah, I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry I—”
“Tamar.” Stephen rarely called me by my name. It was odd hearing it. It was painful hearing it in the tone he was using. “Why don’t you let us talk for a moment?”
I nodded, but I was afraid to leave the room. I was also anxious to escape the room. What would Stephen say about me? He didn’t understand my actions. How could he explain them to Isaiah? Would he even try?
I picked up my phone and stood. “I’ll go outside.”
Stephen nodded and I rushed out the door. On the other side, I fell against it. I tried to stop my heart from pounding. I pushed the self-hate messages out of my head.
I did the best I could at the time.
“God, please help everyone to forgive me.”
***
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br /> I couldn’t believe the resemblance. My son was a cloned copy of me at that age. He was even a little chubby like I was.
“You play for the New York Giants.”
“I’m a running back.”
“Starting running back. You’re famous.”
I smiled. We were off to a good start. “I am pretty well known.”
“You got hurt in the Super Bowl. Is that why you have that boot and cane?”
“Yep.” I propped the cane against the table and took a seat. “I’ve had a few surgeries, and I’m going through rehab.”
“Are you going to be able to play again?”
“Oh, for sure. I mean one injury don’t stop me.”
“I like the Falcons,” Isaiah teased.
I smiled again. He had my sense of humor. “I bet if you go to a few Giants games, you can like us too.”
Isaiah’s eyes widened. “Cool, so I could go to your games?”
“Definitely, we’ll make sure you go to some games,” I said. “Look, Isaiah, we have plenty of time to talk about football. I want to get to know you. I was your father before I ever became a famous football player. I just didn’t know it.”
Isaiah nodded. “Can I ask you a question?”
“You can ask me anything.”
“Why didn’t you know Cousin Tamar, was having a baby?”
“Because we broke up and she left our hometown. I went to college, and I never talked to her again until right before Christmas of last year.”
“How did you talk to her at Christmas?”
“We both attended our high school reunion.”
“So, she didn’t tell you about me then?”
I shrugged. “She was kind of waiting for the right time.”
“Are you mad at her?” Concern creased Isaiah’s forehead.
Was I angry with Tamar? Of course, I was. I had to be. I wasn’t even sure right now. I was still in shock. Isaiah was too young for all this grown up business, so I kept it to myself.
“I think disappointed is the right word. I’m disappointed I didn’t get to know you sooner.”
“I don’t even know how to feel. I think I’m mad.” He released a long breath. “But I don’t want to be. I don’t like being mad.”
“You don’t have to be upset with Tamar. You can feel confused or even disappointed, but you don’t have to be angry.”
“Grown-ups always tell us not to story and then they do.”
I squinted. “Story?”
“I’m not allowed to say lie, sir.”
I nodded. It must be an Aunt Joe rule. “Look, Isaiah, the thing is that your mother is a good person. She made a young person’s decision. I can’t just blame her for what happened. Not really. Your mom was – is an important person to me. If I had pushed harder back then to find her and see what was up with her, I would have discovered she was pregnant. You can’t hide that. So, there were mistakes all around.”
Isaiah clasped his fingers together and made a fist on the table. “Do you have any other kids?”
“No.”
“Do you like kids?”
“I do. I work with a lot of boys your age in my charity. I can show you some pictures if you want.”
Isaiah sat. I pulled up my Instagram page and showed him pictures from my different events. “I really hate that I didn’t get to know you all those years, but I’m glad that I get to know you now.” My eyes filled with tears.
“My first name is Stephen.”
My heart warmed. If Tamar did something right, it was his name. “I know. I’m proud of that.”
“Everyone calls me Isaiah though. Do you want to call me Stephen?”
“I’ll call you whatever you want to be called.”
“I’m used to Isaiah. I like it.”
I held up my fist for a pound. “Isaiah is a great name.”
My son pounded back. Then he touched my fist. “You have big hands. I always wanted a strong dad. I always wondered if he was big like Mom says I’m going to be.”
“Being big runs in our family. My dad, your grandfather is a pretty big man, too. He wants to meet you soon.”
“I have a grandfather?”
“You have two.”
Isaiah’s eyes got big. He stared off for a moment and then when he looked back at me a half mile played on his lips. “That’s cool, like I’m getting a whole new family or something.”
“Cousins too,” I added.
His smile was a full one now. I bit back resentment. He’d been robbed just as much as I had.
Isaiah and I continued to talk about family. I showed him family photos I had uploaded to my phone. I told him about the party I was planning for him in Pennsylvania where he would come up and meet everybody and then we talked about his life here in Yancy.
“I play baseball,” Isaiah said. “I’ve been playing since I was five. I have trophies. You want to see them?”
“I sure do.”
We both stood and went into his bedroom. He showed me his trophies and cups and toys and books. He showed me everything that had meaning to him. It was easy to see he was a well-adjusted, happy, child, just like Tamar said. But still I’d lost so much it was hard to just be grateful in this moment.
The Holy Spirit pushed a thought into my head.
You have him now.
Was that supposed to be good enough?
I glanced out Isaiah’s window and spotted Tamar pacing back and forth under a tree in front of the house. I’d surprised myself when I said I’d failed her. While trying to protect her, I guess I’d been honest. But eleven years was a long time to miss out. His first words, his first steps, his first day of school, his first baseball game, first hit. I missed all the firsts. I resented it, but I couldn’t rewind the hands of time. I was going to have to create more firsts.
Chapter 22
Tamar and I took Isaiah out to dinner. I didn’t exactly want to include her, but she was driving, so rather than ask her to chauffer, I asked her to join us. I wanted to spend time with my son – alone. I deserved that.
But once we got to the restaurant, I was glad I’d allowed her to come along. Isaiah forgave her easily. I needed to see that. I was also glad to see how easy they interacted with each other.
But the dinner wasn’t without incident. A local reporter approached out table and asked if he could have a quick interview.
“I’d appreciate it if you respected my privacy,” I said.
“Just one or two,” the reported insisted.
“Stephen,” Tamar called my name. She slid her eyes in Isaiah’s direction and whispered tightly, “Doesn’t need this.”
I nodded and got out of the booth. She was right. This guy wasn’t going away. All I needed was for him to ask some inappropriate question.
“I just want a quote to go with the picture I took,” the reporter said. “Who would have thought your son was in Yancy? My luck.”
“Look man, don’t mistake this cane for a weakness.” I flexed every muscle in my upper body. “Ask your questions and don’t come back to my table, or you won’t be what anyone would consider lucky.”
Fear flashed in his eyes. He cleared his throat and said, “Sorry, Mr. Pierce, we don’t get many celebrity stories down here.”
“Ask your question,” I repeated.
He did. He asked respectful questions and promised to publish a gentle piece. He even showed me the picture he’d taken of Isaiah and I sharing laughter and a pound across the table.
We finished our dinner in peace, but I realized this was not the time for me to take advantage of photo ops. I needed my privacy and so did my son. I might need a hat and dark glasses for my trips out with him.
“I don’t know what to call you,” Isaiah said to Tamar as we entered the house.
Tamar stroked his shoulder. “You can call me whatever you want.”
“As long as it has a good ‘Ma’am on it, it’ll be fine,”
a voice, I presumed Aunt Joe’s, called out from the kitchen. I closed the door and followed Tamar in.
Aunt Joe was a petite woman. I imagined she’d be bigger – savior size – since that was what Tamar made her out to be. She was noticeably frail. Her skin was blotchy and drawn, and she looked older than a woman in her mid-fifties. It was her eyes that aged her. She had deep, dark circles under them. She looked tired. She wore a scarf. I wondered if she’d lost her hair.
“How was dinner?” she asked, putting an arm around Isaiah’s shoulder.
“It was good. We had shrimp and crabs.” His eyes got as big as saucers like they had when they brought his food to the table. “Cousin Tamar brought you a salmon dinner.”
Tamar raised the takeout bag, and Aunt Joe accepted it.
“Ah, the Fish House,” she said. “I’m going to have to say yes the next time you all invite me to dinner.”
“It would be our pleasure to have you, ma’am,” I said.
Aunt Joe and I exchanged a smile. She raised a hand to Isaiah’s chin. “It’s late. How about you go take your shower? You can tell me more when you get out.”
Isaiah nodded obediently and left to go toward his bedroom.
Aunt Joe came from around the kitchen counter and through the door. She raised her hand for a shake. “I’m Josephine Ferguson.”
We shook. “Stephen Pierce.”
“Nice to meet you.” She smiled like she meant it. “Can I get you something?”
“No, I’m fine. We just…” Tamar made a jerky head movement that distracted me. I could tell she was trying to hide her face, but even from her profile, I could see she was fighting tears. Her bottom lip was trembling. I pushed out the desire to comfort her. God, she made me so weak. I gave Aunt Joe my attention again. “I don’t need anything. We just ate, ma’am.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you Stephen. Let’s take a seat.”
We all sat. Aunt Joe smiled like she was greeting some friends from church to discuss a fundraising event. “Did you get a chance to look at the photo album?”
“I did. I appreciate you putting it together.”
“I’ve been putting it together for years,” she said, pushing back into the sofa. “I figured putting it together along the way was going to be easier than pulling out a bunch of pictures and doing it at once.” She prattled on nervously. “I knew this day would eventually come.”
The Winter Wedding Page 12
