Faith (21 page)

Read Faith Online

Authors: Michelle Larks

BOOK: Faith
2.15Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
She had asked Liz and Wade to be Faith's godparents, and they accepted proudly. Reverend Wilcox was a source of comfort to Monet, and made herself available whenever she needed someone to talk to if Liz wasn't available. All in all, life was good. The only blot on the horizon was Marcus's attitude. The police hadn't found any new leads regarding her attacker, so her case remained opened, but cold.
Monet was headed to the kitchen for milk when the doorbell rang. She walked to the front door and squinted out the peephole. Liz was standing on the top step holding a bag of food. Monet unlocked the door, and Liz stepped inside the house.
“How are you and my goddaughter doing?” Liz asked, after setting the bag on the table in the foyer and taking off her coat, which she hung in the closet.
“I'm doing fine, but baby girl has been kicking up a storm. I think she's hungry.” Monet laughed as she rubbed her abdomen.
“Then my timing was perfect. I brought you some turnip greens, cornbread, and a jar of ice tea. I know you're probably worried about what's going on in Dwight, so I left work early to spend the afternoon with you.”
“Thank you, and yes, your timing is impeccable. I've had a craving for greens since last weekend. My momma used to make the best greens in the world.” Monet looked away from Liz.
“Sweetie, I know you're longing for your mother right about now. My mother was a lot of help to me when I was pregnant and after my babies were born. Let's go to the kitchen and warm up the food.”
“Let's do just that,” Monet said gaily, as she put her arm through Liz's arm, and they walked to the kitchen.
She removed two glasses from the counter, and then sat in a kitchen chair while Liz put the bowl of greens in the microwave to heat them. She opened the freezer, took out a tray of ice, put a couple of cubes in their glasses, and then poured the tea into the glasses.
“Have you heard from Wade?” Monet couldn't prevent the question from coming out of her mouth.
“He called to say they had made it to Dwight safely and that was it,” Liz answered. The microwave beeped, signaling the food was warm. “You haven't heard from Marcus?”
“No. Not that I expected to, but I was hoping he would call me since he was going to see my father.” Monet's voice trembled. She stood up and took two plates out of the cabinet and forks and knives out of the drawer. She placed them on the table and put napkins next to the plates.
“Why don't you sit down and relax? Worrying isn't going to change the situation. We'll know the answers to your questions in due time,” Liz advised.
Monet sighed. “You're right. I might as well enjoy some of the perks of being pregnant and getting spoiled while I can.”
“Now you're getting it.” Liz smiled. “That was one of the things I really loved about being pregnant. That and the mostly wrong predictions from family and friends as to what sex my babies were going to be. Come to think of it, all your predications were always right.”
“Yes I was, wasn't I?” Monet dipped her head. “Sometimes I get so caught up in the situation with Marcus that I forget to enjoy life and just be happy.”
“Well, that's what I'm here for,” Liz said, after she had placed a helping of greens and a piece of cornbread on their plates. She wiped her hands on a paper towel and sat down across from Monet. They grabbed each other's hands and Monet said grace.
Afterward, Liz looked at Monet and asked, “Are you good? Do you need anything?”
“A tomato would go great with the greens. Would you get me one out of the vegetable bin?” Monet threw a dash of pepper on her greens and then sipped her tea. “Um, that's good.”
Liz handed Monet a tomato. She diced the red vegetable and mixed them into her greens. Liz had prepared the greens with smoked turkey wings, giving the dish a mouth-watering taste. Monet put a forkful of food in her mouth, and quickly followed that up with several more forkfuls.
“Liz, these greens taste almost as good as my momma's did.” Monet held two fingers close together.
“Well, thank you. I brought enough to last you a few days.”
“I thank you, and Faith thanks you. She has settled down for now.” Monet set her glass of tea on the table after taking a few sips.
“Monet, Wade and I have been talking, and we'd like to buy a bedroom set for the baby. What do you think about that?”
“I'm touched, Liz, but you and Wade don't have to do that,” she said.
“We want and would love to. You and Marcus have been so generous to us over the years. Like when Wade and I were a little short when it came to WJ's tuition money his first semester of college, you and Marcus made up the difference. You also helped us with the down payment on our house. Your love and support over the years has been immeasurable, and we want to do something in return since you and Marcus wouldn't accept repayment from us.”
Monet could see from her friend's pleading eyes that she and Wade had their hearts set on buying the bedroom set. “Of course you can. I'm flattered, and all of us, me, Marcus, and Faith, appreciate your generosity.”
Liz had finished eating. She stood up and put her plate in the sink. When she sat back down in the chair, she reached into her purse and pulled out some furniture catalogs. She placed them on the table in front of Monet's plate. “I saw some bedroom sets that I like and put a check mark beside them. After you finish eating, we can look at them and see what you like.”
“That sounds like fun. I've been debating if I want to go the traditional pink route, or have white walls with a rainbow motif.” Monet had just eaten the last of her greens and tomatoes. She burped softly and caressed her tummy. “Oops, I'm sorry, excuse me. I guess I'd better slow down.” Her face reddened with embarrassment.
“Girl, don't start getting funny on me. With babies pressing on your internal organs, you've got to get some relief. Now I was the one who stayed humiliated. I had gas like I was a shareholder in People's Gas,” Liz said unashamed.
“Now that you mentioned that, it seemed like there was always a faint odor about you when you were carrying your babies,” Monet teased.
The women cracked up. Monet picked up a catalog and opened it. Her eyes alit on a white lacquered crib, dressing table, and changer. She also liked a dark pine set. She had an affinity for wood, which showed all over her house.
Monet and Liz looked at pictures of nursery sets and made a date to go visit the mall the following day to look at furniture. Monet was insistent that she wanted to wait until her ninth month before she bought baby furniture.
Liz had managed to successfully distract Monet from worrying about what was going on in Dwight. Every now and then, Monet would try to picture Marcus and her father in the same room, but the picture was always blurred.
Chapter 24
Marcus and Wade had just passed through the prison's last security checkpoint before they arrived in Aron's cellblock. A guard armed with a rifle escorted them to a small meeting room. After they removed their jackets and put them on the backs of their chairs in the tiny 5x5 cinder blocked room, the door opened.
Two different guards escorted into the room a white haired, elderly, heavily bearded man with a slight limp, wearing an orange correctional jumpsuit. The man rubbed his wrists and flexed his hands after one of the guards removed the manacles. Aron sat down in a metal chair across the table from Marcus. Wade had positioned his chair to Marcus's left side.
Marcus stared at his father-in-law. It was obvious which parent Monet had inherited her eye coloring from. The twins had their father's nose and mouth. Marcus noted that Monet and her brothers bore a stronger resemblance to their father than their mother.
Likewise, Aron peered intently at the man sitting in front of him. He saw a man whose curiosity and intelligence shone in his eyes. Aron also saw pain etched in the hollows of Marcus's face. It was an expression that Aron was familiar with. He knew the pain in his son-in-law's face mirrored his own at times.
“You must be Marcus,” he said with just a touch of a southern accent.
“I am.” Marcus studied the man sitting before him with his arms folded across his chest.
“I'm Aron Reynolds.” He extended a withered hand.
Marcus debated whether to shake his hand or not, but finally he grudgingly held out his hand. Wade watched the interaction between the men in silent curiosity.
“How are my daughter and sons doing? Do they know you've come to see me?” The older man's voice was feeble and shook slightly.
“That's a shame that you have to ask me, not even a blood relative, how your family is doing?” Marcus said coldly.
“You're right. It isn't right, but it is what it is. I have tried to get in touch with them, but my wife decided the time wasn't right, and I honored her wishes.” Aron lifted his chin a notch, and his voice gained strength.
“Sure you did,” Marcus sneered. “Obviously you didn't try hard enough.”
“I did the best I could at the time. One thing I've learned from all these years of being locked up is that life doesn't always go the way you planned, and if you're lucky, you get another chance to make it right. That's all I ask of my children, an opportunity to make it right,” Aron stated.
“What do you want from us, old man?” Marcus asked. He propped up his arm on the table and looked at Aron with a cynical glint in his eye.
“I would like to stay with you and my daughter until I can get on my feet. I want to try to get to know my girl and my boys,” he countered.
“Did it ever occur to you that she and your sons might not want to see you?” Marcus shot back.
“I know my wife, and I have a pretty good idea of how she raised our children. She wrote me to say that she would ask them to see me, and I'm hoping they will at least grant an old man that one request.”
“I hate to break it to you, Aron. You're not the most popular person in the family right now. Just consider me here to do the pre-screening, and if I approve, you may be in like Flynn. But don't count on it.” Marcus shifted his body in the uncomfortable chair.
He continued to interrogate Aron with the masterful skills of the highly successful police detective that he was, and Aron volleyed answers right back at his son-in-law. An hour later, Marcus seemed to lose steam. He looked Aron dead in the eyes and asked him, “Can you give me one good reason why I should convince your family that you've learned the error of your ways, and why it would be a good idea for you to meet and stay with them?” He leaned forward in his seat, anticipating the older man's answer.
“Because I'm their father,” he answered with quiet dignity. “And every child should know his father.” He bobbed his head and added, “And that's what Gay would have wanted.”
Acidic bile rose from Marcus's stomach to his throat. He stood up abruptly. “Guard, would you let me out!” he yelled, grabbing his jacket and rushing to the door.
Aron uneasily looked at Marcus retreating, trying to figure what he'd done wrong. Then he shrugged his shoulders helplessly. Wade rose from his seat to follow his friend, but before he could turn from the table, Aron grabbed his shirt sleeve. “What did I do? Was it something I said? I didn't mean any harm.”
Wade shook his head, sympathy evident in his demeanor. “This scenario will play out just the way God intends it to. I hope you don't wish my sister, Monet, any harm.”
“Sir, I swear I don't. I just want to make up for years lost.” The guard walked over to Aron and asked him to stand up. Then he snapped the handcuffs around his wrists and led him out of the room.
Wade kept his eyes honed on Aron, who had turned toward him. He looked at Wade, and whispered just loud enough for him to hear, “Tell my son-in-law that the man who hurt Monet may be here in the prison.”
Wade's complexion turned ashen, and he was thrown for a loop by the words Aron had uttered. He hurried out of the room to find Marcus. When he returned to the check-in-points, Marcus was nowhere to be found. Wade's personal possessions were returned to him, along with his gun. He looked for Marcus as he walked toward the exit. Wade sighed with relief once he was on the outside of the huge complex. He inhaled and exhaled deeply as he thought what a small blessing it was to enjoy the sunlight at one's own leisure.
He walked toward the car and found Marcus leaning against the SUV with a sickly look on his face. Marcus clicked the keyless remote control unit, unlocked the car, and both men got in the vehicle. There was silence until Marcus got on the ramp to enter the expressway.
He pursed his lips pensively, then glanced at Wade and commented, “I'd say he's a real piece of work. What do you think?”
“I think he's a man who's entered the elderly phase of his life. Time has run out for him. Perhaps, as he said, he's looking for peace and to right some wrongs in life. This world would be a better place if more people did that. ‘I'm sorry' would go a long way toward making amends,” Wade answered bluntly. “I didn't feel that he had any ulterior motives. And I know for a fact from Liz, because Monet told her, that he has tried to contact his children. I guess with you still not talking to Monet, she didn't tell you about the letters your mother-in-law left Monet and her brothers.”
Marcus felt embarrassed. The gulf between him and Monet seemed to widen with each passing day. He knew that it was his fault, but he couldn't find it within himself to remedy the situation. “Hmmm, I didn't know that. But that doesn't change the fact that he's a man who took another person's life, was abusive toward his wife, and deserted his children.”
“Whatever happened between Gayvelle and Aron has long since passed. It's not really our business or concern. I do know from the letters that Monet's mother left her and the twins that she asked for forgiveness from her children for not allowing Aron to reach out to them when he began straightening up his life. There are always two sides, maybe three, to a story. And if Monet and Duane, we'll leave Derek out of the equation for now, are willing to talk to their father, then who are we to stop them or pass judgment on Aron?”
“Well, I don't trust him,” Marcus said mulishly. His jaw tightened, and the vein on the side of his head throbbed nonstop.
“Could it be that you're feeling a little guilt right now, and taking those feelings out on your father-in-law?” Wade prodded. “In Monet's mind, she may think you're not treating her correctly. That's why it's best not to judge another person harshly, because you may have to walk in their shoes one day. And we have all fallen short at some time or another and depended on God's mercy and forgiveness, and that includes Aron too.”
The sunlight seemed to bounce off the gray asphalt road. Marcus reached in the cup holder and put his black Ray Ban wrap-around sunglasses on his face. When he was done, he said, “Okay, I get your point.”
“Anyway, you left in such a hurry that you missed the surprise that Aron dropped,” Wade said. He had debated with himself whether he should say anything to Marcus, but knew his friend would never forgive him if he didn't.
“What was that?” Marcus peered at Wade, puzzled. Then he looked back at the road ahead of him.
“Aron said he may know who assaulted Monet, and implied the person was inside the prison.”
Marcus's mouth drooped open, then he frowned and snapped his lips together. He glanced at Wade, and the car swerved a bit before he gained control of it. “Come on, man, don't fall for that. You know what they say about cons; you can only trust half of what they say.”
“This con happens to be your wife's father, and he had nothing to gain by revealing that information,” Wade said mildly.
“I disagree with you, Wade. He could be just trying to get in good with the family. Score some brownie points,” Marcus argued.
“Then again, he could be telling the truth. He didn't say that he verified the information. He just said that he heard the person who might have assaulted Monet was on the inside. What kind of man or father would he be if he didn't tell you that? I'm just saying it's something Smitty might want to check out,” Wade suggested patiently.
“No, I'd like to check it out myself, so I'd have the pleasure of telling Aron how wrong he was,” Marcus replied venomously.
“Well, I'm not going to sweat it because I know the chief isn't going to let you get involved. I just felt I should tell you what Aron said. Did you ever get around to talking to Reverend Wilcox? If you did, how did that go?” Wade changed the subject.
“It went as expected. The good Reverend gave me her spiel on life from a spiritual perspective, and how I should feel blessed, even though my wife is carrying the child of a rapist.”
“I'm sure that's not what Reverend Wilcox said.” Wade shook his head. “I know your talk with her was a little more detailed than that.” He checked his cell phone for messages.
“Reverend Wilcox suggested I take a few counseling sessions with her or someone on the job. I informed her politely that I didn't need to talk to anyone, nor did I want to listen to someone telling me how I should react to a situation they know nothing about. Say, there's bottled water in a cooler in the back on the floor. Would you get me one?”
Wade unbuckled his seatbelt and reached in the backseat and removed a twelve ounce plastic bottle of spring water. He unloosened the cap and handed the bottle to Marcus, then said, “You know that you're making the ordeal tougher than it needs to be. When all you have to do is—”
“I know what I have to do according to you, Liz, Reverend Wilcox, and Monet . . . let go, and let God handle it. That seems to be the universal cure for whatever ails Christians,” Marcus said.
“My granny used to say a hard head makes a soft behind,” Wade said solemnly. “And she was correct. I just pray your words don't come back to haunt you one day, or you'll find yourself in the same predicament as your father-in-law.”
“If I find out that I was wrong about anything regarding Monet's child, then I'll get down on my knees and beg her forgiveness. Heck, I'll apologize to the entire church. But I'm one hundred percent sure it won't come to that.” Marcus threw back his head and laughed.
“You'd better start working on that speech then,” Wade said soberly. “We all care for you, and hate to see you like this; sullen, moody, and distant from your wife. Liz and I will continue to pray for you as we always have.”
“How about we agree to disagree about the way I'm handling my problems? I'm hungry, let's stop at the next exit and get something to eat?” Marcus suggested as he changed from the left exit to the right. Within minutes he pulled into a gas station/restaurant parking lot.
“You go ahead and get a table. I'll be there in a minute. I'm going to call Liz and tell her we're on our way back and what time she can expect us back in Chicago,” Wade said, pulling his cell phone out of his jacket pocket.
“Sure, just lock up the car when you get out,” Marcus said as he opened his door and went inside the restaurant.
Wade called Liz and relayed the information. She notified her husband that she was at Monet's house, and would stay there and they could ride home together since Marcus had picked Wade up from their house on the way to Dwight that morning. Liz didn't ask Wade any details about the visit.
Wade got out of the car and pressed the button to lock all the doors. Then he walked into the restaurant. Marcus was sitting at a table and waved Wade over.
 
 
Several hours later, the men were stuck in rush hour traffic a few miles from the Caldwells' residence. Finally, Marcus turned into the alley and parked the SUV inside the garage. Before he could put the key in the lock, Liz opened the door. Marcus and Wade walked into the house. Liz returned to her seat, and Monet was sitting at the table eating strawberries. The television was turned to
Judge Mathis
.

Other books

A Long Silence by Nicolas Freeling
Four of Hearts by Roz Lee
A Mate's Denial: by P. Jameson
The Purity of Vengeance by Jussi Adler-Olsen
Raisin the Dead by Karoline Barrett