The Winter Wedding

by Rhonda McKnight

  Her words came up the steps before she did. “Stephen, I talked to that fella from the scholarship committee at the NCAA about you—”

  They stopped just as suddenly as they began when she saw my expression. She approached the dining room table between us and put down the mail she’d retrieved. I watched her sort it – separating important mail from junk. Getting my mail was always her habit. She’d had easy access.

  Concern on her face, she looked at me. “What’s wrong?” She slid out of the mink jacket my dad had given her for Christmas. “Did the doctor tell you something?”

  “The doctor said the same thing he said last month. It’s wait-and-see.”

  “Why do you look like that? I know you’re not letting that Debra drama bother you. There’s no point –”

  “Mom…” I cut her off. “I’m going to ask you a question I’m pretty sure I know the answer to.” I raised a hand and cautioned her. “Please don’t lie to me.”

  “Lie?” She cocked her head as only a black mother could and planted a fist on her hip. “What’s this about?”

  “Did you delete a voice mail message from Tamar from my phone on the day I was discharged from the hospital?”

  She frowned. “Delete a phone message—”

  I spoke over her. “And did you also take a letter she sent to me in the mail?”

  My mother’s lip trembled, ever so slightly. She opened her mouth and then, seeing the seriousness in my eyes, closed it.

  “You were healing, Stephen. You did not need any more Tamar Johnson drama.”

  I sank into the chair behind me. I hadn’t wanted to believe she’d done it. I knew, but I still held out a sliver of hope that she would say no, and I would see the truth of the “no” in her eyes. I released the breath I’d been holding and washed my hand over my face. What was wrong with the women in my life?

  My mother took a seat across from me. “I know you think what I did was foul.”

  “I do!” I yelled, slamming my fist down on the table hard enough to crack the oak in two.

  Eyes widened, Mom was visibly shaken. She practically leapt back in the chair, but she recovered quickly.

  “I know you aren’t giving me a hard time about that girl when she kept your son from you for eleven years.”

  “That’s not what this is about, Mom.” I stood and circled my chair. “You didn’t know about Isaiah when you did this. This has nothing to do with Isaiah.”

  “I was protecting you.”

  “I didn’t ask for your protection.”

  “Well, you needed it.” She rolled her neck hard enough to need physical therapy of her own. “You let Tamar break your heart and your spirit. Debra is on television spreading lies. Your taste in women leaves much to be desired.”

  My chest filled up with steam. I measured my words to keep my tone respectful. “I’m grown. This is my life. I wanted that phone call. I wanted the letter. You interfered.”

  “I did what any mother would have done.”

  “Any manipulative, controlling mother. Dang, no wonder I was with Debra. She’s just like you.”

  My mother grimaced. “Stephen, you’re going too far.”

  “I’m not. You are going to tell me something right now. Why you have always disliked Tamar and why, even with whatever the reason is for your feelings, you think you have the right to keep her from me.”

  “I won’t have you talking to me like this.”

  “Like what? Like an angry grown up who deserves answers? I’m not a child. You don’t get to choose who I have a relationship or friendship with.”

  “She’s always been bad luck, all the way back to middle school, when you lost the science fair because you picked the project she wanted to do.”

  I wanted to scream. “Are you serious right now?”

  “The point is, you always do what she wants to do, and it’s always hurt you,” Mom said. “That little tramp had no business opening her legs in my house on prom night.”

  “Tamar and I were together because I asked her to be with me. Because she loved me, and I loved her. Why can’t you understand that?”

  “That little –”

  I raised a hand to halt her. “Be careful.” I shook my head. “She’s not about to be another tramp up in here.”

  My mother’s chest heaved in and out like she was trying to make fire. She was as hot as a dragon, but so was I. “You lost the Paul Award because of her. You earned that award. You’ll never be nominated again.”

  “I lost the Paul because of Debra.”

  “Losing the Paul started with you calling Sports Center. For what? To drag your reputation through the gutter like hers.”

  “Telling the truth was my decision. Aside from it just being time for the truth to come out, I made that choice to prove to Tamar I loved her.”

  “Her love was too costly. A woman is supposed to add value to your life. Peace. What has Tamar done for you except ruin your brand?”

  “You liked Debra. What’s she doing for my brand?”

  My mother was silent on that question.

  “She was going to tell me about Isaiah. That was the point of the call. Not that this is the most relevant part of it, but since you care about my image so much, if I had known about him first, then the media wouldn’t have been able to use the drama against me.”

  My mother stood. “You have no idea why she called you. She’s telling you now that it was about Isaiah, but how do you know if that’s even true?”

  “I’d know if I had talked to her. If you hadn’t gotten in the middle of it. You’re not seeing what you’ve done. You never do.”

  My mother’s lips tightened.

  “And where is my letter?”

  “What?” She waved me off. “I don’t have it.”

  “Yes, you do. I want it.”

  “Stephen, I threw it away. Honestly, I did.”

  “Did you read it?”

  “No. I didn’t care what she wanted. I just wanted to get rid of her.” My mother huffed. “For the love of God, please don’t pick back up with that woman.”

  “For the love of God,” I chuckled. “You actually said that? Tamar is a young woman who hasn’t had her mother since she was fifteen years old. What have you ever done to help her, to mentor her, or to encourage her? You’re supposed to be a Christian, but you made a teenager your enemy, and you’ve held a grudge against her ever since. What kind of love is that?”

  My words seemed to enrage my mother even more. “You can say what you want. I don’t think she’s right for you. I never have and all I wanted to do was protect you from everything that’s been happening for the past six months.”

  “I don’t need protection.” I emphasized every word.

  My mother bit her lip. She was thoughtful before saying, “Even with this, you need to leave her right down there in Georgia where she belongs. You need to focus on your ankle and your son.”

  “You don’t have the right to tell me what I need to be focused on. Not anymore. I want my key. I’m changing my code. I have nothing to say to you.”

  My mother snatched her head back. “What?”

  “You heard me. I want you out of my house.”

  She stared in disbelief. She didn’t move.

  “I’m not going to say it again. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I want my keys. You’re not welcome here.”

  “Stephen Isaac Pierce. I am your mother.”

  “Don’t remind me. I already feel sorry for myself.”

  My mother reached into her handbag, removed her key ring, and took my set off the clasp. She placed it on the table. “There’s no need to change the code. Your father has enough trouble remembering these things.”

  “Bye, Mother.” I turned my back.

  She left the house the same way she came. The only difference was her heels hit the wooden stairs more sharply. I heard the door open and slam behind her.

  I dro
pped back into my chair. I had never been so disappointed in her in my life. I also had no idea where she and I would go from here.

  Chapter 28

  I clicked the “send” icon on the email. I’d done it – pushed my fears from my mind and sent my novel to the agent Alicia had referred me to. I didn’t care for Alicia when I first met her, but I had to admit, she was a great writing coach. She’d helped me with all my publishing questions and hooked me up with her contacts.

  I’d queried one of them last week. I was shocked that I’d gotten a response so fast. I remembered years ago when I was shopping my novel, most of the agents never even answered me. The responses I received were all rejection letters, and they came one after another. Now, with a good contact, I’d gotten a response from one of the top agents in New York within days.

  “Are you still going to the post office?” Aunt Joe’s question broke through my thoughts. “I need stamps.”

  She’d dragged herself out of her bedroom. She was on a walker now. She fought using one for months but had no choice when she’d fallen in the bathroom a few weeks ago and bruised her hip. She was already dealing with enough pain. She didn’t need to add unnecessary soft tissue injuries to the list of physical issues.

  I stood and met her halfway, removing the coffee mug and magazine from her hand so she could focus on one thing – walking.

  “I was about to go now, so I can pick up Isaiah on the way back. He has a dentist appointment today.”

  “Oh yeah. They want to put braces on his teeth, you know. My insurance doesn’t cover but half.”

  I shook my head. “Aunt Joe. One thing we’re not going to do is worry about money for anything for Isaiah.”

  “I don’t want to start relying on Stephen. He’s still my son.”

  “His father is a multi-millionaire. We are giving him the orthodontist bill, and that’s final.”

  Aunt Joe let her body drop onto the sofa. “You’re right. I’m being silly. I just want to be careful with him. I don’t want him taking Isaiah away from me. I talked big talk about it before, but now that Stephen’s really here, I’m feeling some kind of way.”

  I considered her thoughts. They were mine as well, but I wasn’t going to let her worry. “Stephen travels too much to keep Isaiah. I’m sure that’s not in his plan.” I spoke confidently, but I wasn’t sure.

  I had no idea what Stephen was thinking. He had asked me a question about the quality of Isaiah’s school. He’d also commented once about the lack of cultural activities in the town. But that had been it. He hadn’t said anything else about what he thought Yancy, Georgia was missing.

  “Speaking of insurance, did you call to see if they would cover the treatment from the Cancer Center?”

  I cleared my throat before the lie slipped out. “No, I was busy with the book. I’ll call tomorrow.”

  The truth was, I had called, and I found out just what I expected to find out. Many of their services were not covered at all. And it wasn’t just that, although that was huge. The diet required for treatment was all organic whole foods. The cost of food was expected to run $500 to $600 a month and supplements another $300 before the medical expenses.

  Aunt Joe had not opted to take long-term disability through her benefit plan. Having worked in a low paying job her entire life, her income was modest. She had a small social security check. I was only getting paid half my income from my job because I wasn’t even working full-time. I was going to have to give up my apartment at the end of the lease in a few months. The money in this house was tight. I was glad I’d had the desire to write the book. I was hoping it would sell and I would get an advance that was big enough to get us back on track.

  I went into the kitchen. “Do you want anything before I go?” I asked, filling a glass with water and then washing off a tangerine for her.

  “Just water,” she replied as I put it down in front of her.

  I knew she’d be sitting there until I returned. I picked up my bag and the package I was mailing.

  “Don’t forget my stamps, baby.”

  “You have your cell phone?” I asked.

  “In my pocket,” she replied turning the television volume up to the loud level she liked it.

  I slid on my shoes and left her with the Golden Girls.

  I was almost at the post office when my phone rang. I pushed the Bluetooth speaker button. “This is Tamar,” I said moving the vehicle into oncoming traffic.

  “Tay, it’s me.” Stephen’s voice filled my vehicle.

  I released a plume of air. I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding my breath. I’d probably been doing it since I’d lied to Aunt Joe.

  “Hey,” I said, my heartbeat speeding up.

  “Do you have a minute to talk?”

  “I’m in the car so I can.”

  “How’s Aunt Joe?” he asked. I appreciated that he never forgot to ask about her.

  “She’s tired today. She’s supposed to start another round of chemo next week, but she’s too weak to begin. I’m not sure what I can do to get her to eat.”

  “Well, what about the new place you’re taking her, what was it?”

  “Cancer Center of Georgia. I still have to work out the insurance stuff.”

  “But you want her to go there, right?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Let me help you out.”

  “Uh, no. My Aunt Joe is not going to accept charity. She and I just had a conversation about Isaiah needing braces, and I had to talk her into allowing you to pay for them,” I said. “By the way, you’re paying for braces.”

  Stephen chuckled. “That would be my pleasure.” He paused. “There are ways around pride. When people think they’ve earned something, they take money. We could tell her it’s back child support. I think we need to talk about it anyway.”

  “She’s not going to take it.” Even though she needs it, I thought. “Legally, Isaiah is her child. He was her responsibility. That’s how she feels.”

  “But I’m his father, and I can afford it.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that. Let’s let her get healthy. I can’t put any more stress on her.”

  Stephen was silent again before he spoke. “Tay, the reason I was calling is that I need to talk to you about something important. When can we chat?”

  “I’m on the way to the post office to mail some paperwork for my aunt and then I have to take Isaiah for his dentist appointment, so it’s going to have to be later. After Isaiah goes to bed is best.”

  “Okay, that’s cool. I’ll call then.”

  “Do I need to prepare myself?”

  “No, it’s cool. I just need to say a few things. I don’t want you to be distracted.”

  “Now I’m more curious.”

  “It’s all good. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I released a long sigh. He didn’t sound agitated, so maybe there weren’t going to be angry words or drama. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be a new scandal or some mess with Debra. Isaiah was already getting told in school that he had a baby brother or sister on the way.

  I pulled into the post office and got out of the car. I was sending some medical record information off for my aunt. I was also mailing a copy of my manuscript to Kim. She was dying to read it and I was hungry for her feedback. She wouldn’t read a digital copy. I rushed in and before I could get in line, I heard my name. I turned to find Isaiah’s coach, Gerald.

  “I’m sorry, I was out of order calling you Tamar. I meant, Ms. Johnson,” he said.

  I shook my head. “Tamar is fine. How are you?”

  “I’m good. We missed you Friday night.”

  “I had to take my aunt out of town.”

  Concern showed on his face. “How is she?”

  “She’s…” I paused thinking about the right answer to the question. “She’s hanging in there. Getting treatment and trusting God.”

  “I’ll continue to pray for her.”
>
  “We appreciate it. This disease is hard.”

  His eyebrows went up. “I know, my dad had lung cancer. It was a tough time for our family.”

  “Is he in remission?”

  He frowned. “No, he passed a few years ago.”

  I raised a hand to cover my mouth. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “He actually died from a heart attack, but it was the disease. It was too much for him.”

  I nodded understanding.

  “I don’t want to hold you up. I know the kids are getting out of school soon. But I did want to say that, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m willing to be a shoulder to cry on or a sounding board, or even if you need a good dinner - I’d love to be there for you.”

  I thought about Stephen’s comment from the other night. This was awkward.

  I opened my mouth, but it locked into a fake smile. I was glad he reached for his wallet and lowered his eyes to search it, because it gave me a few seconds to fix my face.

  “Here’s my card. My office and personal cell are both on there. Please feel free to call me any time.”

  “Thanks, Gerald. I appreciate the offer.”

  “Because you’re not with Isaiah’s father, right? He’s still with that reality television woman.”

  My eyes widened. “I can’t say. You know legal stuff.” I shrugged. “I can’t keep up.”

  Gerald nodded. “Smart. Who needs that drama? Everyone knows those football players have a harem of women.”

  I fought rolling my eyes at his attempt to discredit Stephen.

  He smiled, gave me a sloppy, lusty, greedy once over and walked toward the post office boxes. “I hope to hear from you.”

  “Not in a million years,” I whispered under my breath as I walked to the counter. I took care of my business and was back in the car in less than ten minutes.

  I sent Kim a text letting her know the package would be arriving in a few days.

  My phone rang in a call from a strange number. I took it.

  “Ms. Johnson, this is the financial officer from the Cancer Center of Georgia.”