“Oh, yes.”
“You were sending some paperwork to us?”
“Yes, I don’t have access to a fax or scanner, so I put it all in the mail. I’m leaving the post office right now.”
“Okay, I could have saved you some postage. I was hoping we could schedule an appointment for your aunt this Thursday so we can complete our tests and develop a treatment plan.”
I hesitated. “I, uh, we’re still looking at our options. I haven’t really talked to her doctors.”
“Well, Dr. Mowry referred you.”
“She did, but we hadn’t followed up with her.”
“I see. I assumed you’d decided. We just received a donation for your aunt’s care.”
“Donation? My aunt doesn’t have anyone who would –” I paused. I realized my aunt did have someone who would donate money.
Stephen.
“Are you sure the money was for Josephine Ferguson?”
“Of course. We received a commitment to the funds a little while ago. My understanding is the balance of any monies needed will be coming through a charity, the S.I. Pierce Foundation.”
I twisted my lips in an effort to hold back my tears, but it wasn’t working. “I wasn’t aware that things would move so quickly.”
I couldn’t believe he had done that. There was no point arguing with him about the money. Auntie needed it, besides, he’d already done it. She didn’t need to know that insurance wasn’t covering everything. I had no idea what Stephen wanted to say to me tonight but “thank you” and “God bless you” were definitely coming off my lips.
“Ms. Johnson?”
“Yes, I apologize for being distracted.” I wiped a tear from my face. “I’d like to set up the appointment.”
***
Isaiah and Aunt Joe were in bed. Auntie was alternating between watching television and playing Candy Crush on her cell phone. She was in a good mood. She’d had a brief visit from Dr. Butler tonight, and it wasn’t a medical house call. I knew the two of them still talked on the phone from time to time because he was the only person in the world that made her blush. I looked in on her. She didn’t need anything, so I decided to get in the tub.
I knew Stephen would be calling soon. I planned to talk to him on speaker while I soaked. I stripped down and went into the bathroom to start the water. Just as I put my hand on the knob, my phone rang. It was him.
“Hey, Tay. I’m at the front door.”
I stared at the phone in disbelief, put on my robe, went to the door and pulled it open.
Stephen was standing there. He was wearing a Freedom University hoodie, jeans and sneakers. He’d gotten a fresh haircut. It was the lowest it had been in a long time. His goatee was trimmed neat and the scent that was coming off him was warm and woodsy. It prickled my nose and made my head swim for a moment.
He was smiling. “You look, clean.”
“I haven’t taken the bath yet, so I’m actually dirty.” I opened the door wider to let him in.
“You’re dirty.” Stephen’s smile widened. I think I saw all thirty-two of his teeth. “A wordsmith should be more careful.”
“Don’t put that on me. You’re the one with the less than clean mind.”
“That may be true, so let’s move the topic on over.” He chuckled. “I don’t want to disturb anyone. Get dressed and come out.”
I bit my lip. “Give me a minute.”
He walked down the steps and went back to the SUV he was driving. I closed the door.
What was up?
I looked in at my aunt. She’d fallen asleep. I went into my room and slid on some clothes.
Stephen was leaning against the truck when I approached it. He was on his cell phone.
I threw up my hands. “So, what made you get on a plane?”
He frowned. “Let me finish this.”
I looked over his shoulder. I could see he was on IG.
He groaned. “I’m getting a lot of comments about Debra’s show.” He closed the app and stuck the phone in his pocket.
“I heard it premiered with pretty high ratings. I guess the trailer accomplished what she needed it to do.” I bit my lip, waiting for him to finally talk about it.
Stephen waved that off. “Yeah, I’ve been avoiding that conversation with you.”
“You’ve done a good job.” I chuckled. “I don’t mean to laugh. I know it’s got to be hard.”
Stephen nodded.
“So, is Debra’s new story more lies, or is there something for you to be concerned about?”
“Let me ask you a question.” His deep, velvety voice got deeper. “Why are you so curious?”
“Because I try to be prepared for Isaiah on this stuff. One of his schoolmates already told him he was having a little brother or sister.”
Stephen poked out his lip. “Too bad. I was hoping it was something else.” He smiled again. At the angle he stood, the moonlight bounced off his teeth. “I’ll talk to Isaiah, but just in case you’re curious for another reason, I am an innocent man.”
I nodded. “If you’re going to talk to Isaiah, you don’t owe me an explanation.”
Stephen sighed. He reached for my hand and pulled me a little closer to him. The same way he used to do when we were a couple.
“Tay, I’m here because I felt like I owed you this in person.”
I frowned. “Just say it. You’re scaring me.”
“No need to be scared. I’m here to apologize.”
“Apologize?”
“For calling you a liar. For not believing you called me. You know the call about Isaiah and the note.”
I stepped back, crossed my arms and cocked my head to the side a little. “Okay, but I don’t understand. You didn’t believe me then. Why do you believe me now?”
“I got curious, so I went back to the date in my phone records. I found a missed call from you. My mother deleted it. She took your letter too.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I fought to hide my disgust. “How could she?”
“How could she indeed,” he said.
“Why?” I shook my head, but I knew the answer. There was no point in making him explain.
“You know why. But I’m not letting her get away with it. I’m not dismissing it.” He dropped his head back for a moment. “But you know what?” he asked looking in my eyes. “My mother is the least of my concerns right now. I’m going to let her sit in her mess for a minute. She needs to do that.”
I didn’t like what his mother did to me, but I didn’t want him having any additional stress, so I decided to stay out of it. “I understand.”
Stephen cleared his throat. He pushed his body off the SUV. He took a few steps back and forth – a mini-pace and then stopped closer to me than he’d been. “I’ve been trying to play it cool, but my head has been messed up for a minute. This thing with my ankle has got me like crazy. I haven’t been myself, Tay. I feel like a different Stephen sometimes.”
I placed a hand on his forearm. “You’re not a different Stephen. You’re human. This is hard. You’re entitled to your emotions and your feelings,” I said. “But what is the main issue? Is it physical, mental, or spiritual?”
“Probably all three.” He raised his free hand to the back of his neck like he always did when he was stressed.
I reached up and pulled his arm down. I slipped my hands into both his hands and squeezed. “Stephen, you’re rehabbing as hard as you can. You have no control over the physical, but you can work on the other two.”
“Tay,” he shook his head. He looked lost. “I need a friend. I miss you. I keep coming down here and seeing Isaiah, but I feel alone.” He groaned so hard it came out like a growl. It was painful to hear him express himself that way.
I waited for him to continue.
“I’m usually crazy busy this time of year, you know, with my foundation, but all I do is go to PT and come home and I can’t stop thinking ab
out what if. What if I can’t play ball?”
“You can’t worry about something you can’t control.”
“I know that, but I also can’t stop myself.”
“What about therapy, not physical? I know they have to recommend it for stuff like this.”
“I’m seeing someone – kind of.”
“Kind of?” I didn’t know what that meant, so I pushed for an answer.
“He’s the team psychologist, but I’m not feeling him. I don’t know. I might need to try someone else.”
“What about the chaplain?”
“He’s not around right now. He got married and he’s on an extended trip or something.”
I wasn’t giving up. I could see he needed help. “What about your pastor? I know he’s not a sports specialist, but surely he can help you or refer you.”
Stephen raised a hand and swiped my chin. His eyes burrowed into mine with an intensity that stole my breath. “My pastor is your dad, Tay.”
“You don’t have a church in New Jersey?”
“No. I have games on Sundays. When I’m not playing football, I’m in Pine, so I repeat, your father is still my pastor.”
“Then call my dad, Stephen.”
He raised my hand and stared at it in the full light of the moon.
“I’ll think about,” he said. “I guess I could have apologized over the phone.” We were quiet for a moment.
“The truth is, I wanted to see you. I don’t care what you do or what we go through, you’re still my peace.”
I pulled my hand out of his.
“You were wearing my ring. I know it was a promise ring.” I could see the glint of wetness in his eyes. He raised his hands and pinched his fingers together. “But I was this close to having everything I wanted in life. How did it all go so bad?”
I stepped back. I stuck my hands in my pockets.
“I was sure about you,” he said. “From the time I was a kid…but I’m not sure about anything right now.”
He sounded defeated. He looked defeated. I didn’t know what to say. His ankle was clearly giving him more pain than a drug or therapy could fix.
“We’re at least friends, right?” he asked. “I know I rejected that in the hospital, but I didn’t mean it.” He was so pitiful. So, unlike himself.
I sighed. “Of course, we are. Do you want to come in for some coffee or tea or something?”
“No, believe it or not, I have a flight back in an hour. I have PT tomorrow. I have PT every day. I can’t miss.”
“Stephen.”
“But I’m not supposed to complain, right? I have to be grateful that I didn’t break my neck. It doesn’t matter that I tore my ankle up because my neck is okay.”
He raised his hands and gripped his head. “This is a season. This too shall pass.” The words came out of his mouth, but they lacked conviction.
I got closer to him. I pulled his arms down from his head and held onto his hands. “It will pass. You know that better than I do.”
“It doesn’t look like it’s going to pass,” he said, shaking his head.
Our eyes locked and silence filled time.
Stephen spoke first. “You are so beautiful. Seeing you was worth the flight down. It always is.” Sadness oozed from him. “I’m really sorry for talking to you like that. You didn’t deserve it. You’ve never deserved any of the crap I’ve put on you.”
Stephen slid his hands out of mine and turned back toward the car.
“Thank you for the money.” I’d almost forgotten it. “The woman called from Cancer Center of GA. She told me there was a donation.”
Stephen did a half turn. “That was supposed to be a secret.”
“Well, she missed the memo. I appreciate it. It was kind of you, and it took a huge weight off my shoulders.”
“I’d do anything for you,” he whispered. “Anything. All you have to do is call. I’m here for you – forever.”
I took a few steps toward him and wrapped my arms around his neck. We hugged, longer than we should have, because Stephen’s hands found their way to my waist. He pulled me back and our faces were inches from each other. We were frozen there, under the moon like twin owls on a branch. Both our hearts were pounding. I felt mine and nearly heard his.
“You should go.” I stepped back.
He smiled like that hug did something for him. “Enjoy your soak.” He climbed into the truck and started it.
“Travel safe.”
I stood there while he backed the truck out of the driveway and pulled out onto the road and drove away. Other than the time I visited him in the hospital, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Stephen Pierce this broken.
Chapter 29
This weekend was my first official Mother’s Day, but I didn’t feel like a mother. I still felt like Cousin Tamar. Isaiah was still calling me Cousin Tamar. Aunt Joe said she didn’t know if she would be alive in a year, so she wanted to spend this Mother’s Day with Isaiah. I hated she was thinking that way, but I understood, and I wanted to give them their time without my biological motherhood hovering over the celebration.
I hired a home health aide to check in on her and keep things tidy while I was gone. I didn’t have to worry about meals. One of the referrals from the Cancer Center was an organic meal service. They delivered chef prepared meals once a week. I’d put spaghetti and a few other kid friendly meals in the fridge for Isaiah.
They’d do fine without me for a few days, so I was spending the weekend in Pine with my father. It was his fifty-fifth birthday. His congregation was hosting a dinner for him. I would also get a chance to visit my own mother’s grave. I hadn’t done that on Mother’s Day in years.
I stopped in at Dell’s Diner to pick up breakfast and was told Dell had taken the day off. I smiled to myself. I’m sure she was in a beauty salon getting all fixed up for my dad’s party. I ordered the lunch special to go and stopped at the florist to pick up a bouquet of white roses for my mother’s grave. My mother loved all things white, including the snow. She believed white was pure and honest. She told me you couldn’t hide anything on a white surface. I hated that as a kid because it meant extra cleaning in areas of the house that had white furniture and rugs, but now as an adult, I was drawn to the color that wasn’t even technically a color. I wore something white almost every day.
I entered my father’s house, kicked off my shoes and put my flowers in the extra refrigerator in the mudroom out back. After unpacking, I took a hot shower, came downstairs, lit a fire and settled in the family room with my meal and a book. Quiet and no responsibilities - when had I last had this?
I knew my father was hunting. He rarely hunted when I was a child, but he told me he usually went most Fridays and Saturday mornings when something was in season to hunt and he didn’t have an obligation at the church. I was glad he had a hobby to take his mind off his deceased wife and prior to my reappearance, his missing daughter.
The doorbell rang, stealing my peace instantly.
I pulled it open to a teenager who was holding a large vase with a beautiful floral arrangement.
“He’s got a bunch of flowers at the church too,” the young man said.
“Fifty-five is a big birthday.” I put the vase on the foyer table. “Give me a minute.”
“I already got a big tip,” he said, having read my mind.
I nodded and he walked back down the steps to his van.
I pushed the vase back further to ensure it didn’t tip over. Then I returned to my comfy chair.
My cell phone rang in a call from Kim.
“Hey girl, what are you doing having time to call on the day before Mother’s Day? Aren’t you jammed with press and curls and weaves?”
“Honey, I am, but I’m sitting out here taking a break. My plantar fasciitis is acting up. I had to get off my feet for a minute,” Kim said. “And I had to call. I’m so proud of you I don’t know what to say.”
I stu
ck my spoon in the chili and placed it on the table next to me. “Proud of me for what?”
“The Melissa Teasley thing.”
I frowned. “Melissa Teasley? How do you know about her? What thing?”
“Her mother just made a public statement. She said you saved her daughter’s life.”
I sat up straighter. “Kim, what are you talking about?”
“Go to her Twitter or something. It came on television a little while ago. She said this would have been the worse Mother’s Day ever if it wasn’t for Tamar Johnson reaching out to her daughter. Eva hasn’t called you?”
“Eva is in Cancun. She told us she was turning off her phone,” I replied. “Let me look this up and call you back.”
I signed onto Twitter and went to Congresswoman Teasley’s page. Sure enough, she had posted a video of a statement she’d made. With a trembling voice, the congresswoman said:
“Prior to talking to Tamar Johnson, my daughter, Melissa was locked in her bedroom with a bottle full of sleeping pills. She’d intended to kill herself that night, but Ms. Johnson took the time to encourage her to survive this nightmare. I thank Ms. Johnson from the bottom of my heart. I will be reaching out to her personally.”
Then she went on a rant about cyberbullying and revenge porn and shared the different agencies that were available to help women.
“Wow!” I knew she was in a bad way, but I didn’t know she was really planning to kill herself. She’d mentioned wanting to die, but she actually had pills. I couldn’t believe I had played a part in someone’s life this way. My heart started pounding. Now I was emotional, as emotional as her mother had been when she’d made the statement. I took a few deep breaths to calm my racing pulse before I called Kim. “I’m shocked.”
“You’re shocked? I’m shocked. You didn’t tell me you called that girl.”
“I don’t tell you everything.”
“Obviously you don’t, Anne Ferguson, mother of Isaiah Ferguson, former Video Virgin. But I’m saying, this was nothing to hide.”
“I didn’t think about it. I mean, I was reposting the story about her and I decided to send her a message to encourage her. Lord knows if she was reading the stuff on her Twitter feed, she probably needed one.”
The Winter Wedding Page 17
