Redemption Lake (4 page)
Authors: Monique Miller
With a firm pat on Travis's shoulder, Phillip said, “Why don't you go inside and try to relax? It'll probably get pretty intense around here soon enough. You don't need to be worrying yourself tonight. Go get some rest. You'll need it.”
“I'll try,” Travis said.
Phillip led him back into the cabin and to his and his wife's assigned room. Upon entering, Travis paused, looking at the separated twin beds on opposite walls of the room. “It doesn't seem like this retreat really wants couples back together if they've got us sleeping in separate beds.”
“Actually, this cabin is used for various retreats. Not just for married couples. The beds can be pushed together.”
“Oh,” Travis said, knowing Beryl would probably welcome the idea of them having space away from each other.
Phillip chuckled. “I was bemused by the separated beds the first time I came to this retreat too. The reverend that ran the retreat told me I'd be surprised by how many couples first come here welcoming the idea of not having to sleep in the same bed with their spouse.”
“I'll just bet my wife was glad to see the beds were apart,” Travis said under his breath. In the other room, Travis heard the women laughing and talking. He couldn't think of anything funny at the moment.
“Why don't I let you get settled,” Phillip suggested.
Travis nodded his head. “Thanks again, man.”
“No problem,” Phillip said.
After Phillip left, Travis commenced to unpack his duffle bag. He let out a huge moan when he realized he'd forgotten to pack socks and underwear. Actually, as he thought about it, it was Beryl's fault he didn't have any underwear. She normally packed his bag for him, but during one of her you-make-me-sick moments, she'd told him to pack his own stuff. So he had. And because of her, he didn't have any extra underwear or socks.
He shook his head in frustration. As soon as Beryl came into the room, he'd tell her what happened and she'd think of a solutionâshe always did. She'd probably packed some extra things for him anyway knowing he might forget something.
Now that was funny. She was always trying to teach him something. Travis laughed. This was another one of her teaching moments.
Chapter 4
Travis Highgate
Monday: 6:21
A.M
.
Monday: 6:21
A.M
.
Travis was jolted awake by the slamming down of what sounded like his wife's toiletry bag on the dresser. Then light spilled onto his face after he heard the curtains being slung open. He slid the pillow over his head.
When he heard the bathroom door close, he slipped the pillow off of his head and pulled his cell phone off the nightstand. He groaned realizing it was only a little after six o'clock in the morning. Beryl knew he didn't like loud noises in the morning and hated it when the lights were turned on in his face while he was still sleepingâmuch less the curtains and blinds being opened.
Travis figured Beryl was just trying to get back at him and get under his skin. He wasn't going to let it work. He felt if she wanted out of the marriage, it would be because she gave up on him.
He turned his back to the window in order to get more rest. Her plan to get him agitated was only going to backfire. He'd stay in bed just to spite her. That would get under
her
skin. He hoped she'd be dressed and out of the room by the time he did get up.
her
skin. He hoped she'd be dressed and out of the room by the time he did get up.
It seemed as though only a few minutes had gone by when Travis heard Beryl rustling around the bedroom. After she left and closed the bedroom door, he again pulled the pillow from over his head to peek at his cell phone.
He shot up in the bed. It was already 8:50
A.M.
“What in the world? Why didn't my alarm go off?” he asked himself aloud, knowing the answer before he finished the thought. He hadn't set the alarm on his phone. “Shoot!”
A.M.
“What in the world? Why didn't my alarm go off?” he asked himself aloud, knowing the answer before he finished the thought. He hadn't set the alarm on his phone. “Shoot!”
Travis threw the covers off. “I've got to get myself into gear.” Hearing his voice out loud helped clarify things for him. He picked up the duffle bag and rummaged through it for some underwear, a pair of jeans, and a T-shirt. Then he remembered not packing any extra underwear, and he also remembered how things had gone the night before when he and Beryl finally decided to call it a night.
When Beryl came back into their room to turn in for the night, he'd told her about his packing mishap. She'd looked at him with a smirk on her face that asked
what do you want me to do about it?
He'd asked if she'd packed any underwear or socks for him and she said she hadn't.
what do you want me to do about it?
He'd asked if she'd packed any underwear or socks for him and she said she hadn't.
Then she'd had the nerve to tell him for what seemed like the millionth time that she was not his mama, and he needed to stop waiting for her to do everything. Travis had heard it so many times he was desensitized to the words coming from her mouth. She whined on and on about how she wasn't appreciated and how she wished he'd take some initiative when it came to their marriage. After a while she sounded like the teacher on the Charlie Brown cartoon. The words bounced off his ears without comprehension.
After she finally paused from her insistent babbling, Travis asked her what he was supposed to do about not having a change of underwear. She'd told him he'd have to drive an hour to a real store to buy some, or the ones he was wearing would have to be washed each night.
He'd thanked her for the idea and asked where he should put the underwear for her to wash. Beryl had laughed so hard that she'd had to hold her stomach. When her laughing finally calmed down, he'd asked what was so funny.
She'd rolled her eyes and told him to wash his own funky underwear. After that she continued to laugh as she pulled out her sketchpad to draw. As she sketched God knows what, Beryl's laughing continued in intermittent spurts until she'd finally gone to bed and fallen asleep.
Travis had been so upset with her that he'd jumped in the bed and went to sleep also. Now he stood with his jeans, T-shirt, toothbrush and toothpaste, but no clean underwear. He was wearing the only pair he had.
The bathroom was small but functional. Luckily someone had not only added some feminine touches, but had also supplied them with washcloths and towels. He hadn't even thought about packing any. Again that was something Beryl normally did. He was a grown man, and knew how to pack. And anyway, it seemed to be turning out okay. There was fresh linen folded neatly on a shelf over the toilet, and next to the medicine cabinet, Travis saw a mini blow dryer hanging from a hook.
Travis nodded his head. “This might actually be all right.” All he'd have to do was wash the underwear and dry it with the blow dryer. In no time at all he'd have a pair of clean underwear. Beryl's attempts at trying to make him look bad weren't going to work.
He began humming a tune to the song “Lovely Day” by Bill Withers. He hummed the song throughout his shower and shave. And after washing and drying his only pair of underwear, he emerged from their room looking and feeling refreshed. That was until he rounded the corner to the dining room, and his eyes fell on the scowling face of his wife.
Travis dropped his head and looked the other way. All of a sudden, his stomach dropped as if it were speeding a downward slope of a roller coaster at Disney World, going fifty miles per hour. His stomach was the only thing that felt like it was at Disney World, because the rest of his body felt like he was in a low budget horror movie, starring as the villain.
“Good morning, Travis,” he heard the voice of Shelby call from the direction of the kitchen. Travis hoped the woman had witnessed the angry looks Beryl had shot toward him.
“Would you like something to eat?” Shelby asked. Her voice was soft and sweet. Travis remembered a time when Beryl's voice had been just as soft and sweet. Not now though. Now her voice was hard and gruff. He wondered when it had changed, but couldn't put his finger on a specific time or date.
“I'm not hungry right now,” Travis said. “My stomach is doing a few cartwheels.”
Beryl rolled her eyes at him again and left the kitchen to sit in the living room.
“Do you have anything to take?” Shelby asked with obvious concern. “We've got a first aid kit.”
Beryl's leaving the room had allowed the flipping of his stomach to subside. “Naw. It will probably pass with a little time.”
“We also have some ginger ale in the pantry if you need some,” Shelby offered.
“Thanks. If I need any, I'll get some,” Travis said.
He took a deep breath, trying to think of a way to pass the time and stay out of his wife's way in the process.
Phillip entered the kitchen with a coffee cup in his hand. “Good morning, Travis. How'd you sleep, man?”
“Okay, I'd say. I guess I overslept.” Travis laughed.
“I slept like a baby,” Phillip said. “You want some coffee?” he added while heading back to the coffee pot to pour another cup.
“Nah. My stomach's been doing a few cartwheels.”
With concern on his face Phillip asked, “Sorry to hear that, man. You need to take something?” He looked to his wife. “Shelby, do we have anything for an upset stomach?”
Shelby answered, “Yeah, I already asked him if he needed anything.”
“Sorry, babe. I should have known.” He turned his attention back to Travis. “You know my wife's a nurse, right?”
Travis shook his head. “No. I didn't know that.”
“If you get sick, definitely let her know; only use me as a last resort.” Phillip chuckled.
Travis nodded his head, and when Phillip headed back toward his bedroom, Travis was left to awkwardly stand in the area between the dining and living room. With the “Lovely Day” song still running through his head, he stepped closer to the living room. Hoping for the best, he attempted a conversation with Beryl. With a pleasant lovely day voice, he said, “Good morning.”
She was obviously upset with him for some reason, and he didn't want to upset her any further.
Again, she'd pulled out her sketchpad and was drawing. Without looking up she said, “Morning. I see you finally decided to get up.”
“Yeah, guess I overslept,” Travis said, grinning.
“Guess you did, as always.”
Travis closed the distance between he and his wife and sat on an opposite chair. With his voice lowered so that Shelby and Phillip wouldn't hear, he said, “Come on, Beryl. We haven't even been here twenty-four hours, and you're already honing in on me. Can't a man have a break? Relax and let's just enjoy this trip.”
Beryl stopped drawing, huffed, and looked over at him. “When are you going to get a clue? This isn't a relaxation trip. We are here for a purpose; hopefully to save our marriage. And as for your break, I've given you more than enough breaks.” The volume of her voice elevated with each sentence. “That's your problem. All you want to do is relax, and I'm sick of it.”
Embarrassed, Travis motioned his hands in a âcalm down' gesture saying, “Come on, honey.” He looked around to see if anyone was listening. He didn't see anyone. “Calm down. All I was saying wasâ”
Beryl cut him off, and with her ever rolling head and waving hand, she said, “I know what you were trying to say. But I really don't think you understand how important this trip is. This is it, Travis. If this doesn't work out, it's over.”
“You don't really meanâ”
Beryl cut him off again. Her eyebrows furrowed. “I do. Try me. If some things aren't resolved, you'll see just how serious I am.”
Travis opened his mouth to speak again, but closed it when he heard a heavy knock at the cabin's front door.
Chapter 5
Travis Highgate
Monday: 9:13
A.M
.
Monday: 9:13
A.M
.
Travis watched as a woman and man, looking to be in their mid-thirties, entered the cabin. The man held the door for his wife and stood back so she could enter. The husband's smile was warm and radiant as he looked around the cabin. His face looked very familiar. And in an instant, Travis recognized who he was. With unbelieving eyes, his mouth dropped.
Walking into the cabin was the infamous Pastor G.I. Jones, a true soldier for the Lord. Pastor Jones was known for his often riveting sermons and the crowds who attended his services. He was also the author of at least five books that Travis knew of, and had appeared in a couple of Christian based movies as the pastor of a church.
Travis had only seen him once in person, but he might as well have been watching him on television, because he'd been sitting in the nosebleed seats of a coliseum with hundreds of other people. He hadn't been fortunate enough to sit in the floor seats with the thousands below them who'd arrived early.
Now he was in the same room with the man he'd admired so much. Whenever he could, Travis used to watch the pastor's broadcast. That was when they still had cable; before Beryl had put her foot down, saying that they couldn't afford a cable bill with all the other things they had to pay for.
And even though Beryl hadn't come right out and said it, Travis knew she was implying he was the reason they didn't have enough money. She was just trying to make him feel bad, but he wasn't going to let it bother him.
Lucky for him, she'd warned him about the deal on the cable. So before she had it turned off, he'd purchased VHS tapes and recorded his favorite shows. He'd ended up with eleven tapes, each filled with eight hours worth of programming. So whenever he wanted to watch cable, he just popped in a tape and it felt like they still had it.
He'd even had a few of Pastor G.I. Jones's programs. He'd watched the sermons so much he could almost recite them verbatim. Travis couldn't believe he was actually almost face to face with Pastor Jones. He wondered if the pastor was going to be one of the facilitators for the retreat. He knew it couldn't get any better.
Travis guessed they probably had to keep secret the fact that G.I. Jones would be here; otherwise there would probably be hundreds of people trying to register. He was going to meet a celebrity. Man, he was glad Beryl had made him come. This was truly going to be a trip of a lifetime.
Standing next to G.I. was his wife, Nina Jones. The first ladyâas she liked to be calledâlooked just as she had on television. People often said she was the African American version of Tammy Faye Bakerâonly on the heavier side. She could have easily been a nice plus sized model. Nina's hair was always done in some sculptured style, and her makeup literally looked as if it had been painted on by the same makeup artist as Bozo the clown. But unlike the woman he saw smiling and grinning on television whenever the camera was squarely on her, she entered the room with a sneer sprawled across her face as she looked around the cabin without saying a word. She wore a black and silver jogging suit that definitely didn't look like it had been purchased at Wal-Mart, his favorite shopping place. She also had silver matching accessories and what looked like a brand new pair of black tennis shoes.
Travis looked down at his old, worn sneakers. He wished Beryl had bought him a new pair before they came on the trip. He'd tried to get her to loan him some money to buy some new shoes and a pair of jeans he'd been eyeing at Wal-Mart, but she mumbled something about there not being any money for him to buy new jeans and sneakersâagain looking at him like it was his fault.
“Good morning,” G.I. Jones said.
“Oh, good morning,” Shelby replied. “I'm Shelby Tomlinson. Are you here for the couples retreat?”
Travis watched as Shelby's mouth dropped wide open with recognition, realizing who was standing before her.
“Ah, yes.” G.I. strode toward Shelby to shake her hand. “I am George Jones.” He gestured toward his wife. “And this is my wife, Nina.”
Nina's smile was weak as she nodded her head and said, “Hi.” Unlike her husband, she didn't move closer to greet Shelby and didn't acknowledge that anyone else was even in the room.
Dismissing the anger Beryl had previously been emitting, Travis took the opportunity to introduce himself. Turning toward G.I., he extended his hand and made his own introductions. “Hi. G.I.; I'm Travis, and this is my wife, Beryl.”
Beryl, who'd had her face buried in her sketchpad, finally looked up to see what the spectacle was all about.
Then her eyes widened. She dropped her pen and did a slight wave to the Joneses.
G.I.'s handshake was strong and firm. “Nice to meet you. And please call me George.” George sighed. “I wish it were under better circumstances, but such is life.”
Nina Jones rolled her eyes at her husband's comment.
Travis was glad he wasn't the only one who had a wife with a rolling of the eyes problem, but Nina looked so weird doing it. It seemed out of character for the woman he'd seen so many times on the television.
Then after making a point of rolling her eyes at Travis again, Beryl finally spoke with a simple, “Hello.”
Travis didn't understand his wife sometimes. Here she was sitting in front of a high man of God, and all she could say was hello? She hadn't even stood or offered to shake the man's hand. Travis was embarrassed by his wife's nonchalant attitude.
George nodded his head toward Beryl. The preacher wore a baseball cap with the letters JC embroidered on it. Travis had seen the emblem standing for Jesus Christ on baseball caps and jerseys. He himself owned a baseball cap with the same emblem, but just like his worn sneakers, the cap had seen better days. Unlike his underwear, Travis had packed his beloved baseball cap. But now after seeing the crisp new looking one George was wearing, Travis decided he'd leave it packed in the duffle bag.
Phillip emerged from the side of the cabin with the bedrooms. “I thought I heard someone come in.” With a brisk pace, Phillip greeted George and shook his hand. “Hi, I'm Phillip Tomlinson, and this is my wife, Shelby.”
“Yes, we've met your wife. I'm pretty sure you already know us,” George said.
“And I must say, it's good to meet you, Pastor Jones.”
“Please, please ... you can all call me George and my wife, Nina. We aren't G.I. and the first lady here.”
Nina had finally made her way next to her husband. She extended her hand to Phillip to offer a limp handshake. “Hello.”
“Yes, Pastor Jones ... I mean, George. We know of your ministry. We watch your broadcast on Saturday nights whenever we can get a chance,” Phillip said. “How was your drive up?”
“Not too bad. Even though the church is in Greenville, we actually live about forty-five minutes from the church, closer to this side. So we didn't have to come through the Greenville traffic.”
“Well, it's truly an honor to meet you both,” Phillip said.
“I was just telling Travis and Beryl here I wish our meeting here was under better circumstances. So this week, I'm not G.I. or Pastor. I am just George. My wife and I are here to learn as your student, Phillip.”
Now Travis understood George's statement. When he'd first said he'd wished they were there under better circumstances, Travis thought the man meant he wished he didn't have to be there helping couples in trouble. But now it was clear that G.I Jones and the first lady were having troubles of their own. Now he knew why Nina was acting so ill. She was probably embarrassed about having to be there.
Travis also noticed that after the pastor repeated his statement about their circumstances, his warm demeanor took on a distant coolness, making it seem like a cloud had just blocked the sun.
Nina spoke again. “Sorry to interrupt, but is there a bathroom around here anywhere?” She continued to sneer as she looked around the cabin.
“Oh yes. Right this way,” Shelby said. Acting as if she hadn't noticed the snobbish attitude Nina Jones had, Shelby continued speaking. “You can use the one in the room you'll be calling home for the next few days.”
With that said, Nina followed Shelby to the bedroom.
“George, let me help you get your luggage, and then I'll get your registration packet,” Phillip said.
“Sounds good,” George said.
Figuring two men were enough to gather the bags, Travis didn't volunteer to help. Instead, his stomach began to growl. The diversion of George and Nina's arrival had allowed his stomach to settle. Turning toward the kitchen, he grabbed a plate and some food.
As he sat and ate, he watched as Phillip and George made three trips to the SUV George and Nina owned. The luggage had the initials GJ and NJ on themâmost with the initial's NJ. It reminded Travis of the scene from
Coming To America
when Eddie Murphy's luggage was unloaded on the streets of Queens, New York. He shook his head wondering how much luggage two people needed. They were only going to be there for a week, and as far as he knew, except for a few trails near the cabin and the lake, they weren't going anywhere else.
Coming To America
when Eddie Murphy's luggage was unloaded on the streets of Queens, New York. He shook his head wondering how much luggage two people needed. They were only going to be there for a week, and as far as he knew, except for a few trails near the cabin and the lake, they weren't going anywhere else.
As Beryl had described it, this was to be an intense couples' retreat, trying to help people's marriages get back on track. He wondered what kind of problems Pastor G.I. Jones and the illustrious First Lady Nina were having. And why of all the places they could probably afford to go, they were there on Lake Turner with the common people. Especially since one of his hottest and best selling books,
I Do, I Don't
, was about helping married couples keep things on track.
I Do, I Don't
, was about helping married couples keep things on track.
But after looking at all the luggage that had been tracked into the cabin, Travis figured maybe George was just tired of all the baggage, especially all the baggage he'd just brought in belonging to his wife. Travis snickered at the pun he'd made.
So far, he hadn't seen anything intense except for the intense way Nina looked around like something or someone might touch her pretty new clothes or mess up her spritzed up hairdo. It was actually comical to him; so comical, in fact, that a laugh escaped his lips.
A glare from Beryl made him stop. But if things kept up the way they were, he was going to have a lot of fun people-watching the whole week.
Just as Travis finished eating his breakfast, there was another knock at the door. When the couple didn't enter, Travis took it upon himself to be the greeter, curious to find out who was behind door number two, like the whole thing was a game show.
Upon opening the door, Travis's mouth dropped for the second time that morning. He was face to face with the man who was known across Central North Carolina as “Pretty Boy.” This guy reminded him of the guys on campus known as the Kappas he'd seen when he used to visit his sister in college.
They called the Kappas pretty boys also. These guys, a part of an African American fraternity, were always clean cut and had an air of what some would call arrogant sophistication. But Travis just called it being stuck up.
Residents of Central North Carolina called the man standing in the front door Pretty Boy X. Pretty Boy was a well-known car salesman, often appearing as an actor in a series of ongoing soap opera-like commercials. The commercials were always cleverly written and enthralling to watch with their action scenes and intriguing cliffhangers. Travis also enjoyed the commercials with the pretty girls who sometimes literally hung off the salesman.
Even though Travis was a married man and would never think about cheating on his wife, he still appreciated a beautiful woman. He'd never touch another woman, but he sure enjoyed lookingâthere was no harm in that.
After seeing the annoyed look on Pretty Boy's face, Travis finally said, “Hey, come on in.” He extended his hand, receiving a firm handshake in return.
Standing just behind the man was a woman. Travis guessed it was Pretty Boy's wife. Travis greeted her also, then moved aside so they could enter. Introducing himself he said, “I'm Travis, and this is my wife Beryl.”
Pretty Boy introduced himself. “I'm Xavier, and this is my wife, Charlotte.”
Charlotte nodded her head and offered a weak smile. She was pretty enough with her petite frame, pecan brown skin, and short haircut which resembled Halle Berry's when she wore hers short. She reminded him of some of the women conducting business at the bank whenever he cashed his unemployment checks. Her demeanor wasn't exactly snobby like the women at the bank, but she did seem just a little withdrawn.
In a line up, he would not have picked out the woman as being Pretty Boy's wife. She didn't look anything like the women he often had salivating over him in his many commercials.
Continuing his host duties, Travis said, “Phillip or Shelby should be back out in a few moments. They're the ones running the retreat.”
Xavier looked around the cabin, and his wife did likewise. He then pulled out his BlackBerry, holding it up in the air for a signal. “Man, I can't believe I can't get reception out here.”
Other books
Killer Nurse by John Foxjohn
Vacations From Hell by Libba Bray, Cassandra Clare, Claudia Gray, Maureen Johnson, Sarah Mlynowski
A Cast of Killers by Katy Munger
Shadows 7 by Charles L. Grant (Ed.)
Forbidden Fruit by Kerry Greenwood
A Scandalous Adventure by Lillian Marek
Last of the Dixie Heroes by Peter Abrahams
A Chink in the Armor by D. Robert Pease
Las luces de septiembre by Carlos Ruiz Zafón