The Winter Wedding

by Rhonda McKnight

  “I love Tamar. I do, I just.”

  “Just what, Stephen?”

  I shook my head. “She rejected me. She told me she didn’t want to be a part of my world. The football world.”

  Pastor shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t get a sense of that being the issue. I don’t pretend to know what is in the mind of you young people sometimes, but when you came to me and asked me for my daughter’s hand, I said yes, because I thought you had what she needed.”

  “I thought I did too,” I offered weakly.

  “Son, you’ve got to be sure. I thought you were sure.” Pastor Johnson paused. He took a deep breath and continued. “Tamar has struggled with her faith, ever since her mother died. You’ve always been stronger than her in that respect. I wanted my daughter to marry a man who would pray for her. She needs a man to spiritually take the lead in a relationship until she can confidently lead herself. If you’re not that man, I don’t want her to marry you, because I want better for her. Do you understand that?”

  I felt the first hot tear leave my eye and slide down my face. “Yes, sir.”

  “Can I pray with you, son?”

  I nodded.

  Pastor Johnson stood and came around to my side of the table. He placed a hand on my shoulder. We bowed our heads and he began to pray.

  “Father, we come before you as humbly as we know how. We come before you as men, imperfect in every way, needing to be fashioned like clay by You, the Master Potter. Lord, I pray for Stephen. I thank You for his honesty. I thank You that You have revealed to him where he is weak. Now Lord, I pray for You to make him strong.

  “Take away feelings of anger, contempt, entitlement, and self-righteousness. None of them are like You. None of them display Your character. None of them display Your glory. Remove his pride. Peel back the layers of it, so he can understand his purpose in this season in his life. Remind him of Your word in 2 Chronicles 14. Let him cry out, ‘Help me, O Lord my God, for I rely on You.’ Let him remember, weeping endures for the night, but joy comes in the morning. In Exodus 15:26, You say, ‘For I am the Lord who heals you.’ For You, Lord are Jehovah Rapha, the God who heals him. You will do as Your word says in Psalm 147:2. Heal his broken heart and bandage his wound. Grow him in this season. He will soar on wings like an eagle. He will run and not grow weary. He will walk and not faint. In the precious name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, I pray. Amen.”

  I stood and wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed as more tears erupted. “Thank you, Pastor. I needed that. I needed to see you.” I released him.

  His eyes were on me. All I saw was love and compassion.

  “You will come through the refiner’s fire as pure silver, because pure silver is what you are.” He reached into his pocket. “I wrote down some scriptures on these cards. Keep them with you. Read them several times a day, over and over, and be strengthened in the Word. The Word of God is what’s going to get you through this.”

  I accepted the stack from his hand.

  “And, son, be grateful. Find something to be grateful about every day. Gratitude takes the focus off what we don’t have.”

  Pastor looked around the room and said, “I know money isn’t everything, but you’re the 15-million-dollar man. That shouldn’t be too hard.” He smiled and patted me on the shoulder before leaving me with my thoughts, and tears, and gratitude that he had come to bless me.

  Chapter 36

  The next day I was on a flight to Georgia. Tamar didn’t want to leave Aunt Joe, so we decided to have dinner together at the house. I’d brought Isaiah a new video game. As soon as he scarfed down his meal, he asked to be excused so he could go put it in.

  “You’re not allowed to play video games on weeknights,” Tamar said before he could jump up from the table.

  “Please,” Isaiah begged. “Just a few minutes of it.” He looked to me. “Dad, you’ll play with me? You can make sure I don’t play that long.”

  I smiled. “You set it up while I talk to your mom.”

  Isaiah flew from the table.

  Tamar pinned me with a look. “We have rules here, Mr. Pierce. You can’t let him play us against each other.”

  I accepted my lashes. “I know, but he’s done with his homework. I need him to be occupied while I talk to you.”

  “He could read to be occupied or clean his room or a number of other things I can think of.” She wasn’t letting it go.

  I threw up my hands. “That’s fair. I’ll defer to you next time because this is y’alls house.”

  Tamar smiled. “I’m messin’ with you. I just wanted to see what you would say, Dad.”

  She stood and went to the stove to put the kettle on. I could see a little hint of a smile on her face as she worked. She had indeed been messin’ with me. “So,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s going on with the ankle?”

  I gave her an update and shared some of what her father told me. Thanks to him, I was able to keep the fear and fret out of my voice as I spoke.

  “I’m glad my dad was able to help.”

  “I appreciate you calling him.”

  She blessed me with a full smile and a nod. “You asked me to pray. I did. I felt like that was the right thing to do.”

  “You definitely heard from the Holy Spirit,” I said. “He was right on time.”

  Tamar dropped her arms and her eyes for a moment. “I don’t know about all that. I think any friend would have thought to call your pastor.”

  I grimaced. Friend. There was that word again. I stood and joined her in the kitchen.

  Tamar frowned against the intrusion. I stepped closer, like I was playing a game of red light-green light. She looked trapped, but she didn’t move away. She cleared her throat and said, “Go ahead and say what you want to say before Isaiah comes out of that room.”

  “Maybe do what I want to do.” I paused, my eyes dropping to her lips and then rising again.

  Tamar’s eyes bulged a little. She was not giving me permission to get closer.

  Mission aborted, I looked in the direction of Isaiah’s bedroom. “The fact that there is an Isaiah still seems surreal on some days.”

  The small galley kitchen was narrow. Tamar was able to place one hand on the counter and the other on the stove on the opposite side. She did so briefly and then something in her eyes shifted. She crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the counter like she’d closed herself up.

  “I birthed him and some days it’s surreal to me,” she whispered. “But I can’t keep going around about this, Stephen. I know you’re hurt, but I want this to be our last hard talk about Isaiah,” she insisted. “I can’t—”

  “Tay.” I raised a hand to stop her emotional breakdown. “It’s okay. Let me say what I need to say.”

  She released a sigh on a long wind of frustration, shifted her weight from one foot to the other and waited for me.

  “Initially, I thought you must really have hated me to keep my son a secret, but I realize, you were just trying to survive back then. This was not all your fault.” I shook my head. “I told you before, I played a part and I own that.”

  Tamar bit her lip. Her eyes misted over with tears.

  “I had to get hurt to understand pain. The mind can convince you of some things when you’re in survival mode.”

  Tamar nodded. “Survival mode is hard, and it’s ugly. When you’re in it, it feels like it’s never going to end.”

  I reached for one of her hands. “I understand now. I didn’t before because I never had to.”

  “You’ve lived a charmed life, Stephen.” Tamar looked down at our hands, then raised her eyes to mine. “That’s not a crime. It just doesn’t always help when a person needs empathy.”

  The words were tight in my throat, but I said, “I agree.”

  Tamar pulled her hand out of mine. “Speaking of hate,” she began, “I know I should have told you back in December, but I was terr
ified. I thought you were going to hate me.”

  I shook my head. “I could never hate you.”

  “Then what about your ankle?”

  I frowned. She’d changed the subject so quickly. “What about it?”

  “You blamed me for your accident.”

  I shook my head. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

  I dropped my head back and sighed. “I wanted you out of that hospital room. I was in pain. I was embarrassed. I felt weak and I didn’t think you loved me, so I used whatever I could to get you to leave, babe. That’s all that was.”

  She was in my arms in seconds. I squeezed her tight and kissed the top of her head.

  “All this time,” she cried. “I thought you blamed me.”

  I raised my hands and placed them on either side of her face. “The game happened to me. I’m so sorry you believed that.”

  Tamar took a deep breath. I could see she really needed to hear that. Her eyes spoke before she did. “I’m glad you came.”

  She took a step away from me, opened the cupboard, and removed a box of tea bags. She held the box up to me, and I shook my head. Then she removed a mug from the counter and dropped a bag in it. She finished what she was doing and turned toward me. She folded her hands over her chest again. “Something else is on your mind.”

  I almost smiled. I was glad she knew me, but I couldn’t smile about what I had to say.

  Tamar’s eyebrows bunched together. “What is it?”

  I looked down at my feet and then up again. “I’m not sure I’m going to be able to play.”

  Now she was shocked. My own heart was pounding.

  Tamar dropped her arms. “Don’t say that. You can’t give up because it looks bad.”

  “I know that in my head, but my heart is like frozen in my chest. I’m not ready to be finished, but I’m not better. I have pain in this ankle every day.”

  Tamar stepped closer again. She placed a hand on my arm and tugged at it a little. “Listen to me. You’re not finished. You have to be optimistic. That’s a part of the healing process.”

  I looked down at her hand on my arm and then back into her eyes. “You’ve always been my peace. Do you know that? Even when you were gone all those years, I would remember the things you said to me before my games. ‘Stephen, no one is faster than you. You have the best record in the state. No one can beat you. You’re a winner.’ Those words played in my head like a tape.”

  Tamar looked away. I raised a hand to her chin and turned her face back to mine. “You forgot about all that didn’t you?” I chuckled. “I never did, but I didn’t come here to talk about football. I came here to say what you wouldn’t let me say before.”

  Heat darkened her eyes. Her mouth dropped open. “Stephen, please.”

  “Please?” I know I looked puzzled because I was. “Are you begging me not to tell the truth? I’ve got zero interest in secrets, Tay. I love you, and I’m not going to let you or me or anyone keep me from telling you the truth.”

  Tamar stared at me like she was processing what I was saying. I leaned closer and kissed her. One quick kiss on the cheek and then the lips.

  She shoved me away. “No. You can’t just come here and say I’m sorry, I love you, and kiss me.”

  “If you don’t want a kiss that’s fine. I mean, I don’t understand it. Who wouldn’t want this kiss,” I teased, “but you can’t stop me from saying how I feel.”

  She wouldn’t look at me now. I know she was fighting to keep her heart closed.

  “Tamar, you’re not the only person in this relationship. You can call us friends and co-parents until Jesus comes back, but we’re more than that.”

  She rolled her eyes but didn’t speak in the break I gave her to do so.

  “I gave you a ring. You asked me for time. I think you’ve had enough time. You’re making excuses, and I’m not going to let you do that.”

  Her defenses were activated. “I’m not making excuses.”

  I stepped back, giving her the space I suspected she needed. “Last year, you told me that you believed God could make the relationship between you and me new again. That He could restore our love.”

  She nodded. “I remember that.”

  “Do you still believe that God has the power to make something new?”

  “If it’s His will.” Her tone hinted of exasperation.

  “I’ve told you this before. I’ve always known you were supposed to be my wife. The first time I heard your father preach about the woman being the man’s rib, I knew. I was like ten years old and you popped into my mind. There was never any doubt that my life would include you.” I paused.

  “I still believe that. Even after everything we’ve been through. Even after my lost time with Isaiah. I could never hate you. But I’m not going to lie. I wanted to be angry with you. I wanted to move on, but I couldn’t because it’s not God’s will that I leave my rib by the side of the road like it came from another man.”

  Tamar took backward steps. She picked up the kettle and filled it with water and turned on the stove. Her hand trembled the entire time. She obviously felt the same way, but she was fighting it. When she looked at me, her eyes searched mine like she was looking for a lie.

  “I’ll work at us,” I promised. “I know that if I want something, I have to put in work. I’ve been living clean for a long time, so work is all I know how to do. That’s why I’m here asking for a second chance.”

  Tamar scrunched up her nose. “Second?”

  I chuckled. “Maybe it’s a third chance.”

  She shook her head. I peeped that she was attempting to hide a smile.

  “Do you love me, Tamar?” I asked. “I mean, not as a friend, but when you look at me. Do you still have romantic feelings?”

  She threw up her hands. “I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel about you. You’re overwhelming me.”

  I stepped closer. I put my hand over her heart. “I don’t believe that racing of your heart when I get close is overwhelm. I’m going to prove to you that I’m worthy of that love you’re trying to keep to yourself.”

  I stepped back and Tamar noticeably began to breathe again.

  “I want this to be the last go ‘round and to make it official and proper, I’ll do it the right way. Tamar Johnson, if you’ll let me, I’d like to court you?”

  She frowned. “Court? Do people still do that?”

  “Yes.”

  Isaiah’s voice came from the bedroom at the same time the kettle whistled. “Dad, it’s downloaded. Come on!”

  “My time is up.” I raised a hand and stroked her cheek. “Saved by the kid.”

  Tamar moved the kettle from the hot burner. “I don’t need the kid to save me.”

  “Oh, but you do. I’m coming for you hard this time.” I leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. “You were right about me. I am a winner.”

  I winked, left the kitchen, and joined Isaiah in his bedroom.

  Chapter 37

  Draining the pulp from the bottom of my smoothie cup, I checked my watch. Again. My father was late. I was about to put the food in the warming oven when I heard the doorbell and then the alarm being disabled.

  “Sorry,” my father said, rushing into the room. “I had to go through fifty questions with your mother about where I was going.”

  He was baiting me and I wasn’t going to talk about my mother. “No problem. Everything is ready.”

  I slid a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast across the breakfast bar toward him. Then I removed juice from the refrigerator, poured two glasses and took a seat. I said grace and began to eat.

  My father went to the restroom. He slid into his chair. “So, you said you wanted to talk about Tamar.”

  I nodded and updated him on the last talk I’d had with Tamar. “So, now that I’ve opened my mouth and inserted my foot, I’m trying to come up with
a way to impress her. I don’t have any ideas about how to court her. It’s not like we can sit on her father’s porch on Sunday after church,” I said through chews. “I know Tamar, but I don’t. I don’t know what she would consider a date that would prove my worth.”

  My father raised his glass and took a thoughtful sip. “Grand gestures go far with women. I know they did with your mother.”

  “I’ve done a lot of that. The ring. The car. She didn’t care about either. She’s not wearing the ring and the car is sitting in Atlanta. Something grand would just be more of the same. I want her to feel my effort, not my money.”

  “Well, do something like this.” My father extended his hands over the table.

  I didn’t know what he was talking about and I said so, “Like what?”

  “Cook for her. Do things that don’t cost any money. Be creative. Be the Stephen she fell in love with in high school. The one who was broke.”

  I knit my brows together. “You mean dates that don’t cost money. That’s a novel idea, Dad.” I chuckled.

  “Not so novel for about fifty percent of the male population, son. I didn’t have anything when I met your mother. I made a picnic lunch. Took her for walks. We fed the ducks. She fell in love with me, not my money, because I didn’t have any.”

  “Okay, that’s it. That’s what’s up. I’ll come up with a list of romantic dates that don’t cost money.”

  My dad and I pounded and continued to eat.

  “So,” my father hesitated. “Your mother is wondering how long you intend to ignore her.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not ignoring her. I haven’t heard from her.”

  My father cleared his throat. “She feels like you owe her an apology.”

  “For what?” I scowled. “Oh, let me guess, I disrespected her by expecting more from her.”

  “She feels you disrespected her by asking for your key and then putting her out.”

  I pushed my plate away from me. Thinking about my mother put a knot in my gut. “I asked her to leave. It was for the best.”