Faithful (24 page)

“Hmm. Bet that discussion was interesting.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Last thing Phyllis wanted to talk about was the meeting. “So what were you all studying?”

Rod chuckled. “My pastor's been giving the men a rough time. He's on a series called How to Be a Real Man, and he's hitting it hard on Sunday morning
and
Wednesday evening.”

“So what's a real man?” Phyllis was smiling inside, enjoying his company.

“A real man is a man who knows and fears the Lord.” Rod was having fun, trying to sound like his pastor. “A real man is the spiritual head of his home and leads his wife and children in the ways of the Lord.” He laughed at himself. “Seriously, though, it's been good. Challenging.”

Wonder what Hayes would say about that series
.

“So what's been the most challenging for you?”

“Hmm,” he said, turning thoughtful. “Probably the reminder of how much I need God. It's like, I know it, it's there, but in the day-to-day I can get caught up in everything I have to do, and I'm not praying like I should. I can get lax.”

It was almost comical. She'd easily take one of Rod's lax days over one of Hayes's so-called best. “I know what you mean,” she said. “Sometimes life can throw you off track.”

“Everything okay, Phyllis?” Rod's tone took on a softness. “You sound kind of down.”

“Oh, I'm fine. Listen . . .” Talking to him was making her sadder now, making her long for what she couldn't have. “I won't hold you. I know you've got work to do.”

“Hey.”

“What?”

“I'm glad you called.”

If she weren't crying she might have smiled. “Me too. Take care, Rod.”

“Bye, Phyl.”

She held the phone to her chest, replaying the conversation, recording his voice, wishing she could transport herself eight hundred miles east. She would much rather go there than the one mile home to her husband.

Eighteen

L
ATE SATURDAY NIGHT
Dana opened the garage door and entered the kitchen, amused by the sight. Scott stood before a sink full of bubbles, arms deep inside, working a dishcloth beneath. His sweatshirt sleeves were pushed all the way up, and he looked like he wanted to turn around to greet her but was afraid he might lose the rhythm of what he was doing. Reminded her of the carefree days when scenes like this would turn her silly with laughter. At least she was able to smile.

“Hey, babe,” he called over his shoulder.

She pushed the door closed. “You didn't have to do the dishes.”

“I wanted to.” He peered back at her finally as he rinsed a plate and put it in the dish rack. “I was trying to have everything done and put away by the time you got home so we could relax.”

Dana's stomach tightened. “Relax” had always been their code word for sexual intimacy. She dropped her purse on the kitchen table, next to a pizza box. “I see who won the dinner debate.”

“Can you believe it?” he said, bubbles threatening to spill over as the water continued running. “You saw what I had on the menu— oven-fried chicken fingers, fried potato wedges, a salad. And they insist on pizza!” He threw his hands up and bubbles flew into the air.

“Hon.” She pointed to the water trickling down the side.

“Oh. Thanks.” He moved the spout to the second sink.

She slipped off her coat and laid it on the back of a chair, eyeing the back of her husband. He was as handsome to her now as when they first started dating, even in a simple Cardinals sweatshirt and athletic pants. In all their years together, her attraction to Scott—sexy dark hair, toned body—had never waned. And yet, because of his indiscretion, she couldn't view him the same. “Are they asleep?”

“I think so. We watched a movie, played hide-and-seek and a million games of UNO, and they still complained when I said they had to go to bed so they could be up for church tomorrow—you know the routine.” He glanced back at her. “So did you all have a good time?”

Dana pulled out a chair at the table and took a seat. “We did. The Alvin Ailey Dancers were awesome, and I didn't think I'd like that fondue place Cyd wanted to try, but it was really good. We almost missed the start of the show because it takes so long to move through the courses.”

Scott put the last plate in the rack and let the water drain from the sink. “Glad you all got a chance to celebrate Cyd's fortieth.” He rinsed and wrung out the dishrag, placing it between the double sink. “I'll put the dishes away later.”

Scott wiped his hands on his sweatshirt and pulled her up by the hand, flicking the lights off as he led her upstairs. As they passed the kids' rooms, Dana poked her head in and confirmed that they were asleep. She'd come back and tuck them in before she went to bed.

Scott went straight to his closet and kicked off his shoes. “How was Phyllis?”

Dana removed her heels and sat near the edge of the bed, one leg tucked underneath. “She put on a good face tonight, but she's hurting. When we asked about Hayes, she said she didn't want to talk about it. I've never seen her so down that she didn't want to talk.”

Scott sighed, walking over to her. “I've been praying a lot for Hayes, but I guess I need to pray as much for Phyllis. It's got to be hard. Their whole situation is hard.” He paused. “Just like ours.”

Scott pulled Dana to her feet and slipped his arms around her waist. “But I'm so thankful it's not too hard for God. So thankful we're still together.” He pecked her cheek, then her lips, then touched the sides of her face as he took the kiss deeper.

Dana's skin began to crawl. “I can't, Scott. Not yet.” She turned her face and moved away.

Scott exhaled hard. “I'm sorry, Dana. I should've known you weren't ready.” He plopped down on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I
hate
what I did to us.” Hunched over, he gazed off into the distance.

Dana joined him and they sat, silent, lost in thought. She hated what he'd done to them, too, but she could almost believe it hurt him more than it hurt her. He had to live with the guilt as well as the consequences, consequences like this one—she could barely stand for him to touch her.

Holding hands was fine, but she couldn't bear physical contact that hinted at more. Suddenly she'd see Heather in his arms— Heather's
taut, shapely body
in his arms. Surely Scott had compared them . . . marveled at Heather's, wondered why Dana had let hers go.

She glanced down at her black slacks, three sizes larger than when she was a bride. How could she undress in front of him now? How could she not feel the pain of knowing he'd size her up against Heather— subconsciously or not—and find her lacking? All of this
before
the actual lovemaking, which held its own painful images and emotions.

She looked at Scott from the corner of her eye. Right now, he understood her hesitancy, but what if it took months for her to overcome this? Would he be strong enough to wait? What if Heather tried to see him again? Given his feelings for her, would temptation pull him back to her?

H
AYES RAN HIS
hand under Phyllis's nightshirt, kneading her back. Her face away from him, she opened her eyes a peep and saw the light of the rising sun through the blinds, felt Hayes nudging closer to her under the covers.

She rolled her eyes closed again, feigning sleep.

He must be crazy
.

She was hardly in the mood, not after last night.

When she'd come in from dinner and the Alvin Ailey show, all the kids were asleep except Cole, who got out of bed and came downstairs to say good night to her. On his way back up, he said, “Maybe we'll finally get to church on time tomorrow, now that Dad's going.”

The house joke was that Phyllis could never get anywhere on time unless Hayes was going too. He hated to be late and would do all he could to hurry her along.

Hayes called him back. “Cole,” he said, pausing a moment, “I won't be going tomorrow.”

Cole's face fell. “Why?”

Hayes sighed, and his eyes darted briefly to Phyllis. “I only went last week because it was a special service that I wanted to hear. I don't plan to return.”

“But
why
, Dad?” Cole's eyes filled with dismay. “It's what I said before, isn't it? You hate God.”

Hayes waited a moment. “You deserve to know where I stand, Cole.”

Phyllis had stepped closer. “Hayes—”

He held up a finger to Phyllis and turned back to Cole. “It's not that I hate God,” he said. “I just don't believe in Him. I did when I was your age, but then I wised up.”

Cole frowned as if he'd just learned his father was from another planet. He looked at Phyllis, and Phyllis stepped between them, ushering him upstairs with an arm around his shoulder. “Come on, sweetheart.”

She walked him back to his room and talked with him at length. When she left his room, she headed straight to Hayes—who was in the bedroom, stretched across the bed watching a basketball game. She grabbed the remote and clicked it off, throwing it back on the bed. “You've gone way too far, Hayes, trying to poison Cole's mind against God.”

Hayes bunched a couple of pillows under his neck to prop himself up. “If you ask me, you're the one who's been doing the poisoning. All these years they've been going to that church, they're brainwashed now.”

Phyllis was so upset she began shaking. “Believe what you want to believe, but don't talk to the children about it. It's not right.”

He brought a leg up and rested it atop his knee. “Maybe it wasn't right for me to let you take them to church. I thought it wouldn't hurt for them to learn some morals, how to treat people and all that, but Cole especially is taking it way too seriously. When it starts coming between our relationship as father and son, it's time to cut it off.”

His statement hit her in the gut. “Cut what off?”

“They don't need to be at that church, at least not every week.” He sounded calm and assured.

Phyllis worked to gather her own calm for the sake of the children, to plead their case. “Hayes, listen.” She took a breath as she pondered what to say. Better to avoid anything spiritual. “The boys have been going to Living Word for six years. Their closest friends are there. You've said yourself that the one drawback to this neighborhood is that it isn't diverse. Church balances it out. They're surrounded by diversity there.”

“That's true. I do like that part,” he said. “But I don't like the effect it's having on Cole and me. Our relationship is more important than his little friendships at church.” He reached over and picked up the remote, holding it in his hand. “They can go tomorrow. I'll see after that.” He clicked the game back on.

The noise from the crowd and the buzzer and the announcers filled her ears.

Why is this happening?

Why was God letting things get increasingly worse?

She'd gone to bed without saying another word to him, and now here he was, thinking she could generate a desire to be with him. They hadn't been intimate since earlier in the week, before his Wednesday night tirade. Since that time they'd been agreeable in front of the children, but alone, they hadn't had much to say.

Well, Phyllis hadn't had much to say. Hayes tried to talk about work and the kids and whatever else, but Phyllis let him know she wouldn't pretend everything was fine. He needed to acknowledge he was wrong.

But he only defended himself. And the stunt he'd pulled last night with Cole only added fuel to the fire.

Phyllis got out of bed.

“Baby, what's wrong?”

She wouldn't look at him. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“You're coming back, right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Phyllis took her time. A strong urge to pray came over her, but when she hung her head, the only words that came were Hayes's words from last night and Wednesday night.

How am I supposed to make love to him?

She had a hard time
liking
him right now. She held herself, and the urge came again—
pray
.

A tear slid down her face as she realized where she was, a place of heartache and overwhelming discouragement, a place where hope didn't reign, only reality. A place where prayer only made things worse, only heightened an expectancy for change, only made the heartache deeper.

She was in a place distant from God.

She wiped the tears that dotted her face, a resolve she couldn't avoid coming over her. Fine. Though her heart wasn't in it, she would go in there and give herself to her husband. And then she would get ready to go to church and worship God.

Though her heart wasn't in that either.

Nineteen

L
IVING WORD WAS
back to normal with two services, but it was still more crowded than usual. The church had posted the Sunday morning program on its Web site midweek, and Cyd suspected word had gotten around that another member would be addressing the congregation.

This wouldn't be a surprise confession like Scott's. Everyone knew Jessica Handy's situation. The former kids' choir director was twenty-five, single, and about five months pregnant. But no one had seen her in weeks. Once she stepped down as director, she seemed to disappear. The surprise was simply seeing her name on the program. People were curious as to why she was back and what she had to say.

“Do you know her?” Cedric leaned over and whispered as Jessica made her way to the podium.

Cyd hadn't talked to Cedric since he left her house Wednesday night. When she arrived at church, she wondered whether he'd come to the nine o'clock service, and if so, whether he'd sit with them again.

While in the fellowship area talking to friends, she saw him enter but continued her conversation. He saw her, too, and came directly over, easing his arm around her waist for a side hug. She brushed off the feeling it gave her and introduced him, watching eyebrows rise among these people she'd known for years.