Sins of the Father (31 page)

On days like today, Rocklin “Rocky” Monroe hated being dead.

He eased down on the bench next to his wife, Delilah, who sat at the piano near the
back of the stage, beaming with pride as their three daughters—“Delilah’s Daughters,”
as he’d named their singing trio—took their bows to a standing ovation at the annual
Gospelfest in Birmingham, Alabama. The sassy and upbeat rendition of “Revive Us Again,”
arranged by their youngest, Alisha, had brought the house to its feet. He put his
arm around Delilah’s shoulders.
You did good, sweetheart,
he whispered, even though he knew neither she nor those around her could hear him.

She shivered, rubbed her arms, and he knew she felt his presence. “These are our girls,
Rocky,” she murmured softly. “I’m so proud of them, and I know you would be too.”

I
am
proud of them!
he wanted to shout, but knew it would do no good. He could see her, touch her, smell
her, but she could only sense his presence. As he’d learned in the three years since
a blood clot in his lung led to his untimely and totally unexpected demise, being
dead was certainly a limiting experience.

The applause grew amid chants of “Praise Him!” and “More, more!”The girls glanced
back at their mother, whose fingers flowed across the keyboard as they launched into
Alisha’s rendition of “Take My Life and Let It Be.”Their eldest, Roxanne, who had
the best voice of the three, brought the lyrics alive. When she crooned, “Take my
voice and let me sing,” he jumped to his feet along with the audience. Who could keep
sitting when his baby poured out her heart and soul that way? It was as though her
words became the words of the hearts of her listeners. It wasn’t her song anymore—it
was everybody’s song.

Alisha and Veronica backed Roxanne up in perfect harmony. Their choreographed movements,
which he knew to be the work of Veronica, the born entertainer of the family, were
every bit as powerful as the lyrics. The three of them were angels, singing and dancing
with joy before their Lord.

The song ended with the audience on its feet in another ovation and moment of praise.
He rushed toward his girls, his heart more full of love now than it had ever been.
He wondered how that could be possible, since he had loved them with all that was
in him when he was alive. Maybe his heart had grown larger in death.

He reached Alisha first. His baby girl was the shy one who had always been closer
to her mother than to him. He brushed a kiss against her forehead and whispered,
I love you,
in her ear. When he pulled back, her eyes were full of tears. She missed him, he
knew, but she also knew he loved her and that he was there with her.

He moved next to Roxanne, favoring her with a kiss and the same
I love you.
Parents weren’t supposed to have favorites, but God help him, Roxanne had been his
favorite. He guessed it was because she was most like him. While Alisha and Veronica
enjoyed singing, Roxanne
had
to sing. The music gave her life and purpose. She sang when she was happy and when
she was sad. He knew, too, that she sang when she missed him, sang until she felt
him in every part of her being. In those times, he saw her heart in ways he hadn’t
seen it when he’d been alive. Sometimes he ached for Roxanne because along with sharing
his love for music, she also shared his willingness to do anything for it. Praying
she would make better choices than he had, he pressed a second kiss against her forehead,
then moved on to his middle daughter.

Ah, Veronica, the child he least understood. She worried him more than the other two.
He reached her as the trio moved down the stairs in front of the stage and toward
the audience. He managed a whisper kiss against her cheek, so fleeting he was unsure
she even felt it. His heart ached that Veronica was as elusive to him in his death
as she had been when he was alive. Her thirst for the limelight scared him at times.
While he was glad that she was so at ease with the spotlight, he didn’t want it to
consume her. He’d hoped her marriage would provide her with some much-needed perspective,
but her husband seemed to fuel that fire rather than help calm it.

Shaking off his melancholy, Rocky stood back and watched with pride as his girls mingled
with the audience, showing their appreciation with handshakes and hugs. Many of the
audience members knew the girls—had known them since they were kids—which made the
sharing now even more special. He glanced back and saw Delilah looking on them with
pride as well.

He turned to go back to his wife, but a tall, slender man reached her first.
Who is that?
he wondered.

“Hey, Mrs. Monroe,” the man said, causing Delilah to look up at him.

“Roy,” she said, getting up to give him a hug. “It’s so good to see you. I didn’t
know you were going to be here today.”

Roy?
Rocky thought.
That’s Roy Stiles? Well
,
that boy sure has lost a lot of weight. How long has it been since I last saw him?

Roy hugged Delilah back. “I missed Gospelfest the last couple of years because of
American Star
commitments, but I’m back now. I don’t plan to miss another one.”

“We understand, Roy,” Delilah said. “We’re all so proud of you. You’re an example
to all the young people. Us old ones too,” she added with a twinkle in her eye.

“I can feel the love, Mrs. Monroe. Some people look at me and think I was an overnight
success. I have to tell them that my overnight took fifteen years.”

Delilah laughed. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Rocky agreed. He’d watched Roy’s career, and he’d wanted what Roy had for his girls:
to be given the opportunity to sing before a television audience of millions. Like
Roy, his girls sang a blend of gospel and pop that he called “gospel for the world,”
and as with Roy, he hoped a television audience would embrace them and their sound.
You couldn’t pay for that kind of exposure.

Roy pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his shirt pocket. “Delilah’s Daughters is
special, Mrs. Monroe, really special. They’ve only gotten better over the years.”

Delilah beamed. “That’s nice of you to say.”

Roy shook his head. “I’m not being nice. I’m being honest. They need the kind of exposure
that I got on
AS.
”

“If only there were an
American Star
for groups,” she said.

Rocky had been thinking the same thing.

Roy chuckled. “Well, there is—or there will be.”He handed her the paper he had pulled
out of his pocket. Rocky moved over to stand behind Delilah so he could read it too.
“It’s a spin-off of
American Star
that’s going to be filmed in Atlanta,” Roy said. “They take solo acts and groups.
I think Delilah’s Daughters should try out.”

I do too,
Rocky said, forgetting that nobody could hear him. According to the flyer, the winners
of the
Sing for America
competition would get a recording contract worth around $300,000.Right then, he began
praying Delilah’s Daughters would win.

“I can’t believe this,” Delilah said, still staring at the flyer. “This is perfect
for the girls.”She looked up at Roy. “I don’t know if they’re ready, though. Since
their father died, they haven’t had much of a rehearsal schedule. Getting ready for
Gospelfest each year is a major effort.”

What are you saying, Delilah?
Rocky shouted at his wife.
The girls are more than ready! If they could pull themselves together for a Gospelfest
performance a few short months after I died, they can certainly get ready for this
contest.

“Believe me, Mrs. Monroe,” Roy said, “they’re ready. Of course, more rehearsal time
will help, but to be honest, I don’t see how they can pass up an opportunity to try
out. If they’re chosen to compete, it can be a life-changing experience.”

Not only will they compete,
Rocky said, touching Delilah’s arm and willing her his confidence,
but our girls are gonna win this thing.

“I’ll talk to the girls about it,” Delilah said, with a little bit more enthusiasm.
“What could it hurt?”

Roy smiled again. “That’s exactly what I thought when I tried out for
American Star,
and look what happened.”He hugged her again. “I need to head off to the green stage
for my performance. I’ll look for you and the girls in the audience.”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Delilah said. She stared at the flyer after Roy left. “If only
Rocky were here,” she murmured.

I
am
here,
Rocky said, his frustration at being unheard growing. Though this was his third Gospelfest
visitation, the boundaries between the living and the dead still grated on him.
The girls have to try out. They’re going to win this thing. It’s their destiny. I
feel it, Dee.

He watched his wife as a light chuckle escaped her lips. She felt the girls’ destiny
too. He knew she did. When she quickly sobered, he knew she was thinking about him
and his dream for Delilah’s Daughters to one day become a chart-topping gospel group.
It was a dream that had begun forming early in their marriage, after they’d survived
a major challenge to their love and recommitted themselves to each other and their
family. It was a dream that later had been put on hold so the girls could complete
their education. The plan had been for them to resume their careers after they finished
college, but he’d died soon enough after Alisha’s graduation that the dream had been
lost in their grief over his death.

“Maybe it’s time,” Delilah murmured to herself. “The girls have to do this for Rocky—I
have to do this for Rocky.”

Rocky smiled, his heart full. He never knew what to expect during his yearly visits
with his family, but this year was proving especially gratifying as he got to be a
part of the moment when his daughters restarted the music careers he had always known
were destined to be theirs. He pressed a kiss against his wife’s forehead, thankful
for her continued belief in their daughters’ gifts. By the time he returned next year,
Delilah’s Daughters would be well on their way to bringing their brand of music to
households all over the world.

Six months later

Television commercials were a legal form of torture. Delilah Monroe was convinced
of it as she sat in the front row of the studio audience of the hit show
Sing for America.
This had to be the tenth commercial they’d gone to since the show started forty-five
minutes ago. The studio folks said the ad segments were a minute long, but when she
checked her watch for what must have been the umpteenth time, she realized this last
one had gone on for
at least
three minutes. She frowned, wondering where she should send her complaint. How could
a live sixty-minute show have five hundred three-minute commercials? Okay, five hundred
was an exaggeration, but still. . . .

She drummed her fingers on the armrest of her seat in a cadence that matched the beat
of her heart. She hoped she didn’t have a heart attack while she waited for the show
to resume. No way did she want to miss the announcement of the three finalists.

“They’re going to make the finals, Mom,” said her son-in-law, Dexter Timmons, putting
his hand atop hers to stop the drumming. “They made it through the quarterfinals last
month. They’re going to make it through the semifinals tonight. And then next month
they’re going to win it all. I can feel it.”

Delilah gave him a fake smile. She’d never liked him and doubted she ever would. What
Veronica saw in him she’d never know. All three of her daughters said he looked like
Boris Kodjoe, the six-foot cutie from the television show
Soul Food,
but to her he looked more like Boris Karloff, the man who played the monsters in
old movies now only seen on
American Movie Classics.
The way Delilah saw it, Veronica had only gotten involved with Dexter to escape the
pain of her father’s death. “I wish they’d get on with it,” she said. “These commercials
are going to be the death of me.”

“They’re drawing out the suspense,” Dexter said in that know-it-all tone he always
used with her, Roxanne, and Alisha. Let some folks get an advanced degree and they
got a big head. She respected the MFA as much as the next person, but she didn’t think
it was a requirement to become a successful artist. She didn’t have one, neither did
Roxanne or Alisha, and Dexter looked down on them for it. Only Veronica had chosen
to pursue graduate study in the arts, so he considered her his intellectual and professional
equal. Well, almost his equal. Dexter was a professor, while Veronica was still a
student. The good news was that she wasn’t his student. Veronica was in the dance
program, while he was on the creative writing faculty. At least, he had been until
his recent tenure denial at the University of Alabama. She guessed a book every three
years didn’t cut it. Anyway, he had the upcoming school year to find a new position.
By then, Veronica would have her degree, and there was no telling where he’d drag
her baby. That was another reason she didn’t like him. She liked her family close.
Both Roxanne and Alisha still lived in Birmingham, though Roxanne did travel a lot
in her job.

“I don’t know if my heart will hold out until the announcement of the finalists,”
she said.

Dexter laughed. “I’m gonna tell you like you’re always telling me and Veronica: have
faith.”

Delilah hated to admit it, but he was right. She didn’t give him much credit for it,
though, since even a stopped clock is right twice a day. “I have faith,” she said.
“I still want them to hurry up and announce the finalists.”

Dexter chuckled. “Delilah’s Daughters will make the finals. You saw them up there,
Mom. Your three daughters tore it up. You were right to have them sing ’I Believe
I Can Fly.’ They brought the house down.”