Forgive Me (27 page)

“We're here to see—”

“Millie, is it the courier?” Royce said behind the lady's back, interrupting Jamilah's question. He placed his hands on her shoulders as he eyed them. “Jamilah, what a pleasure! Come inside.”

Millicent, unsure of their business with her ex, stood her ground in silence. She'd learned more about his generosity in the past month than she cared to stomach, but they were divorced, so she had little say-so in his affairs.

“Jamilah, this is my ex-wife, Millicent Hinton.”

Jamilah extended her hand to Millicent, admiring the lovely dress beneath the apron, dainty pearls, and every-hair-in-its-place coiffure. It was obvious Millicent wasn't going down without a fight, evidenced by the coal-black shade of her hair.

“We're baking cookies, so I don't want to ruin your hands. It's nice to meet you.”

“Let's all have a seat in the living room,” he said.

Aunjanue asked Royce, “Where should I put my shoes?”

“You don't have to remove them.”

“I don't want to mess up the carpet, sir.”

“It's just carpet. If you'd be more comfortable without your shoes, set them in the corner behind the door.”

Lasheera and Jamilah followed Aunjanue's lead and removed their shoes as well. The house felt more like a museum, and they couldn't pay for any broken items. Royce welcomed them into the sunken living room area. They rested on the elegant Queen Anne furniture.

“I'm putting my apron in the kitchen. I'll join you in a moment,” said Millicent.

“Royce, this is my friend, Lasheera, and this is Tawatha's daughter, Aunjanue.”

Royce shook Lasheera's hand first, then Aunjanue's. He kept her hands in his and said, “Please let me offer my condolences on the death of your great-uncle, Mack. Tawatha told me how close you all were, and I feel horrible about the roof accident.”

“Uncle Mack?”

“Your mother left Thanksgiving heading to Georgia for his funeral. The service is today, correct?”

“Georgia?” Jamilah asked.

Millicent joined them in the living room and placed a plate of
chocolate chip cookies and napkins on the coffee table. She ankle-crossed her legs and smoothed back her stiff bangs.

“Last week, Tawatha came to me and said she was Georgia bound. She got permission from her parole officer to leave the state, and I helped her with funds for the trip.”

Millicent raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She shifted her gaze to the front lawn.

“Mr. Hinton, we don't have an Uncle Mack. Aunt Jamilah brought me here to talk to my mom. I haven't spoken to her since she went to prison, and I wanted to start over with her.”

Jamilah felt a migraine coming on.
Was I this dumb thinking helping
her would make a difference?

“Royce, so that I am clear on what you've said, Tawatha left the state without telling me, and said she was going to a funeral?” Jamilah asked.

“Correct.”

“When is she expected to return?”

“Friday.”

“Have you talked to her since she's been gone?”

“She texted me once, but I haven't heard anything else from her.”

“Do you know where she's staying?”

“The Jameson Suites. I have the address and room number. She gave me the info in case I needed to reach her.”

Millicent, tired of holding her tongue, addressed the visitors. “Listen, Royce is my ex-husband, but he's a good man. Your friend has taken advantage of his kindness, and I don't think it's fair. He's been shunned by many of his friends for harboring a felon, and all she seems to do is lie to him every chance she gets. I may be overstepping my boundaries, but I want her off this property. Are either of you willing to take her in?”

“Millie!”

“Don't
Millie
me. You're the only one who can't see she's making a fool of you! Our daughter is dead, and Quinton will probably walk the streets doing drugs the rest of his life. You can't undo what's happened!”

Millie's anger humbled Royce. She kept a stoic face throughout their marriage and never raised her voice. In the span of four sentences, he felt more concern from her than he did throughout their marriage.

“I was only trying to help her,” said Royce.

“You've done more than enough,” said Jamilah. “We all have.”

Millicent faced them once more. “I'll ask again. Are either of you in a position to take her in? This may be Royce's house, but I made it a home. I'm not going to let some ungrateful maniac destroy it.”

“She can live with me,” said Jamilah. “Lasheera has a husband and two children at her home. I live alone since my parents died. I have more than enough space for her.”

“Good. Follow me to the garage. I'll get some trash bags, and we can gather her things. After today, she's banned from the premises.”

Jamilah excused herself and dialed Tawatha's number. After four rings and voicemail, Jamilah said, “Be ready in the morning. I'm taking a flight to Augusta late tonight and bringing you home. Your foolishness ends today.”

T
awatha drove past Shear Heaven a third time. No sign of James. A police car parked on the side of the building deterred her parking. She only wanted to lay eyes on him and see if he was doing well.
Maybe he's back in Indianapolis. Maybe there's another Shear Heaven in Augusta.

She headed back to the Jameson Suites. She'd drive back to Indianapolis tomorrow. If she was lucky, she would be able to catch James at one of his locations. She was tired of being alone and wanted someone to love her. Royce had told her he was having dinner with Millie, but she didn't prod him for details.

She looked down at her phone and saw four missed calls from Jamilah and a voicemail message.
I'll respond to her when I wake up from my nap.
Tawatha took the elevator to her room. Royce's paradigm advice made more sense. She kept doing the same thing and getting the same results.
How do you do things differently?
Different is what she'd discuss with Royce when she got back to Indianapolis. She opened her room door, shocked to find Jamilah sitting at the desk.

“Jamilah, what are you doing here? How did you get in my room?”

“I am your attorney, and you did leave the state of Indiana without notifying me.”

“I didn't have to notify you.”

“The front desk manager is clueless about legal proceedings. Get your things so we can go.”

“Go where?”

“Home.”

“I'm not leaving until tomorrow. I'm taking care of business here.”

Jamilah folded her arms. “What business is that? James Dixon?”

Tawatha averted her eyes.

“Took a little digging, but I found out he's been here a few months with his wife.”

“He's divorced.”

“With plans to remarry.” Jamilah calmed herself. She knew Tawatha was unstable; she had to complete the task at hand. “Did you listen to my voicemail?”

“I was going to listen to it after my nap.”

“I'm here to pick you up, Tawatha. We're going back to Indianapolis, and you're moving in with me until I can help you find a job and get a place of your own.”

“I have a place to stay.”

“Not after yesterday.”

Jamilah took photos from her purse and gave them to Tawatha. She'd photographed the packed items now stored in her garage in the boxes and bags Millie supplied. The packing was done in less than two hours, and Millicent went back to the main house, brought cleaning items out, and insisted on cleaning the carriage house from top to bottom. She wanted no traces of Tawatha in the home.

“How did my things get in your garage?”

“Millicent, Aunjanue, and Lasheera helped me pack your things. Funny thing is, Aunjanue decided she wanted to see you and talk with you. Imagine how surprised we were to find out you were attending your Uncle Mack's funeral.”

Tawatha bit her bottom lip.

“Wait, it gets better. You made Royce look like a complete idiot in front of us and his ex-wife. All this time he's tried to assuage his guilt over his daughter and his cousin by helping you, and this is how you thank him and us.

“Your family and friends have bent over backward to help you, and this is the thanks we get?”

“You don't understand. James loves me! He just hasn't accepted it yet.”

“Shut up, Tawatha! Do you hear yourself? Do you know how crazy you sound?”

“I'm not crazy!”

Jamilah lowered her voice. In grade school, the best way to reach Tawatha or help her comprehend an idea was writing it down. Her spoken, faulty rationalizations were cleared once she saw a written concept. Well, most of the time. Jamilah found a tablet next to the Bible in the hotel desk drawer.

“Sit down, Tawatha.”

“I'm fine standing.”

“What did I say?”

Tawatha sat at the desk as instructed. She flipped the tablet back a few pages. “I need a pen.”

Jamilah fished in her purse for a pen, flinging it next to the tablet.

“Make two columns on a sheet of paper. Mark one side for James, the other for family and friends.”

Tawatha obeyed. She wanted to get the exercise over and to drive by Shear Heaven once more.

“What's the point?”

“Write down all the pros James has added to your life. On the other column, write down all the pros your family and friends have added to your life. When you're done, flip it over on the back, and
write down all the cons James has added, then all the cons your family and friends have added. Take all the time you need.”

Tawatha scribbled away. Jamilah resisted the temptation to look over her shoulder. She walked over to the window, observing oncoming traffic and the maintenance crew in the parking lot hauling trash bags. Prison should have stopped Tawatha's fantasy thinking, but it didn't.

Thirty minutes passed before Tawatha put her pen down. “I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be back.”

Jamilah waited for her to lock the door before picking up the list. Jamilah's eyes deceived her. She hadn't given Tawatha enough credit. Under the pros, and beneath James's name, she listed: Jameshia. Under her daughter's name she read, “Nothing else.” She read the laundry list of blessings beneath family and friends' names. “Love, support, beautiful children, a place to stay.” Jamilah stopped reading. She didn't flip the page. She waited for Tawatha to come out of the bathroom.

“What time are we leaving?” She wiped her swollen eyes and put the list in her pocket.

“Our flight leaves later tonight,” said Jamilah.

“But I drove down.”

Jamilah faced her friend before dropping another bomb. “Royce has made arrangements to have to car shipped back to Indy. He asked that you clean it out and leave the keys with the driver.”

A
unjanue locked the postcards in the back of closet. Her mother was at Jamilah's.
Why discuss the cards?
She folded sweaters, organized them in her drawer, and went back downstairs with Lasheera and Stephanie. She sat next to Stephanie and rubbed her belly.

“Stephanie, this baby will be here well before Christmas,” said Lasheera.

“I'd welcome it, but I think Caleb wants his son to stay in the womb for nine more months. I think he may be the one who faints when I go into labor,” Stephanie tried to get in a comfortable position on the sofa. “Where are you going tonight, Onnie?”

“Tarsha's coming by and we're going to the movies. We might get something to eat, too. I told her I wanted something other than Panera.”

“Friends with hookups. Sounds like my kind of night,” said Stephanie. She shifted again in her seat and grimaced.

“Are you okay, Ms. Stephanie?”

“CJ is on fire tonight!”

“What did you feed Caleb Jr.?”

“I had to have Los Rancheros. I love the spicy chicken nachos, but they don't love me. I'm feeling that meal in the worst way.”