The Ex Files (25 page)

K
ENDALL

“Baby girl, please…call me back.”

Kendall clicked off her cell phone and tossed it into the passenger seat. She’d dodged her father’s calls for four days now. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard from her. She’d called, left messages when she was sure he wasn’t home. For the last few days, her messages were all the same.

“Daddy, I’m still trying to decide. I’ll call you as soon as I can. Please don’t do anything until you hear from me.”

But the only decision to be made was how to save her father from risking his health and life.

She sighed with relief when she turned her Jeep into Hope Chapel’s parking lot. She’d thought about it for days now, and she was going to share the story—the entire story of how she didn’t have enough love in her heart to erase the hate—with her prayer partners.

A small chuckle pushed through her lips. After Anthony and Sabrina, she’d vowed never to trust a single soul. But here she was with three women, almost strangers, who were pulling her slowly back to the side of believing in people again. Sheridan, even Asia. But especially, Vanessa. She had no doubt that Vanessa would have wonderful words, guiding words of wisdom that would help her do exactly what needed to be done.

Kendall scurried toward the church doors anxious to get to the meeting.

A
SIA

“Tracy, can you get the phone?” Asia yelled to the nanny who was downstairs with Angel. She glanced at the clock, she had only twenty minutes to get to the prayer meeting and the church was at least twenty-five minutes away. She slipped on her shoes, then searched inside her closet for her jacket.

“Ms. Ingrum, telephone for you.”

I know it’s for me
, Asia wanted to scream.
The only calls that come into this house are for me
.

But before she could tell the girl to take a message, Tracy yelled, “It’s a Ms. Thomas, from Child Protective Services.”

Asia froze, but just for a moment, before she grabbed the telephone. Ms. Thomas introduced herself and said, “This is regarding the report you filed against Bobby Johnson. I’d like to schedule an appointment to speak with you about your report.” Asia could hear papers shuffling. “Would Monday morning at ten work for you?”

“My daughter is in school at that time.”

“That’s fine. I need to interview you first, and then we will bring her in. She’s five, right?”

Asia swallowed. This is it. “Yes.” Asia reconfirmed her address, and as soon as she hung up, called her aunt. But after three calls—to her office, home, and cell—and no answer, Asia decided to catch up with her at church.

She trotted down the stairs, kissed Angel good-bye and told Tracy to stay over in the guest bedroom.

The valet had her car waiting; she jumped into her Beemer and sped down Wilshire Boulevard. This meeting was coming right on time. She needed the ladies, especially Vanessa, who would reassure her with comforting words. She had no doubt all of them would offer their support.

It was just what she needed after living the three longest days of her life. It began on Monday morning, while Angel still slept, and her aunt handed her the telephone.

Her hands—actually, every part of her—had shaken from the moment she made the call until the time she hung up. A potpourri of feelings had simmered inside as she answered the counselor’s questions:

“The full name of the child?”

She’d responded.

“And the name of the person suspected of this abuse?”

She took a breath before she said his name. “Bobby Johnson.” Paused, said a two-second silent prayer. “Angel’s father.”

That revelation didn’t seem to come as any kind of surprise to the counselor. The questioning continued. It could have been a computer making the inquiries—no emotions, just facts.

“What kind of abuse are you reporting?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it physical, sexual?”

She’d closed her eyes.
Forgive me
, although she wasn’t sure who she was asking for that pardon. “It’s…sexual, I believe. But I’m not sure.”

“That’s all right,” the woman responded, her voice softer now. “Even if you just suspect, it’s always better to make the report. We’ll be able to determine if something is going on.” Then the woman’s hard voice returned. “Is the child in the home with the father?”

The report had concluded that since “the child” was not in “the home” with “the father,” the “Johnson case” was deemed Priority Two.

“That means,” the counselor explained, “that within the next few days, you will be contacted by a CPS caseworker who will go over the next steps with you.”

Asia had asked, “How long will this process take?”

“Depending on scheduling with all the parties involved, no more than a few weeks. Final reports are required to be filed within thirty days.” The counselor went on to advise Asia not to contact the father and to keep the child away from him.

“If you have any problems with this, please call us back and we’ll contact the appropriate law enforcement agency.”

“Law enforcement agency?”

“The police, Ms. Ingrum. If you have any problems keeping the child away from her father, we will call the police.”

That advice had made Asia tremble more.

“You shouldn’t have any problems though,” the computer-voiced lady continued. “Mr. Johnson will be contacted and advised to stay away from you and the child.”

She’d hung up the telephone, closed her eyes, and tried not to imagine Bobby’s reaction when he received that call.

“It’s going to be all right,” her aunt had said, before she embraced her niece. Asia had stayed in her arms, needing the comfort.

Now, as she turned into the church’s parking lot, she needed that comfort once again. First from the ladies in her prayer group; then afterward, she’d go home with her aunt.

It was a small smile that she wore as she walked toward the Learning Center. It had taken Bobby ten years to ruin her life. But in just thirty days, he and his wife would be the ones destroyed. That fact gave her just a bit of the comfort she needed.

A
SIA

Asia sauntered into the Learning Center. “Hey,” she said, and hugged Sheridan then turned to Kendall. She frowned as her eyes moved between the two. “You guys look like I feel.”

Kendall slumped into her chair. “It’s been a long week.”

“Just what I was thinking,” Asia said, sitting next to her. “Ladies, there’s something I really need to talk about tonight. Something that’s going on; I need a lot of prayer.”

“Me too,” Kendall said. “I was hoping that I could get a little advice as well.”

Sheridan said, “I actually have something I want to share with you guys, too. I need an opinion…a younger opinion.” She smiled at Asia. “When Vanessa gets here, we’ll get started. Sounds like it’ll be a long meeting.”

“That’s fine,” Kendall said, making Sheridan raise her eyebrows just a bit. Kendall glanced at her watch. “Where’s Vanessa, anyway? She’s usually the first one here.”

“And the last one to leave,” Asia kidded.

“Here she comes now,” Sheridan said, turning toward the sound of footsteps.

Their eyes widened with surprise when Pastor Ford walked into the room.

Sheridan said, “Oh, Pastor, we thought you were Vanessa. Are you going to sit in with us?”

And then Sheridan noticed it. The way Pastor Ford’s skin sagged with sadness. The way her eyes, usually sparkling so brightly, seemed dimmer, her gait stiff—she moved like she was in a trance.

Asia stood. “Aunt Beverly, what’s wrong? Did something happen to Angel?”

The pastor shook her head. “I…I have to talk to you ladies. Sit down.” She lowered herself into the chair next to her niece. “I have some very bad news.”

Sheridan swallowed; Kendall and Asia did the same.

“It’s Vanessa.” She paused, the next words difficult to say. “She…Vanessa passed away today.”

Asia’s tears were instant.

“What happened?” Sheridan’s voice trembled.

With a sniff, Pastor Ford unfolded a piece of paper from her pocket. “I found her this morning….”

“You found her?” Asia asked, her pain apparent.

Pastor Ford nodded. “The coroner estimated her death somewhere between yesterday evening and this morning.” She looked down at the paper she held. “She left a note.”

“A note?” Asia frowned, and then her eyes widened with understanding. She gasped, “Oh, my God.”

Sheridan whispered, “She committed suicide.” It wasn’t a question.

Pastor Ford nodded. “I thought she was doing so well.”

“I thought so, too.”

Asia glanced at Kendall, who sat like a zombie, eyes wide, unblinking, just focused on the pastor. Asia took Kendall’s hand and squeezed it, but still Kendall didn’t move.

Pastor Ford said, “I received a FedEx package this morning with a key…and a note addressed to her mother. And then, this note.”

Asia couldn’t stop her tears. “Aunt Beverly, why did she do this?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed, and once again focused on the paper she held.

“Pastor, do you want to share the letter with us?” Sheridan asked softly.

“No!” Asia shook her head. “I don’t want to hear it. I can’t.”

This time, Kendall squeezed her hand.

The pastor said, “There’s a message for all three of you. But Asia, if you don’t want to—”

“She wrote something—to us?” Asia asked.

The pastor nodded. “A part of this note, although I have a feeling she wanted me to share the entire letter with you.” There was a moment of silence. When no one said anything, the pastor glanced at Asia, cleared her throat, then began in a voice thick with emotion, “To my dear pastor and the women I’ve come to love…thank you for making my last days so special. My homies from Compton, and you too, Sheridan, you all mean so much to me. Keep on doing what you do and no more boxing matches! And to my pastor, you have been the best spiritual leader anyone could have. I hope you won’t be too disappointed; I had to do this—for me. Please take care of my mother. She’ll need you. I have to warn you, she’ll probably grieve for the next ten years, but don’t give up on her. Thank you, for the love, thank you, for the hope.”

When Pastor Ford stopped, Asia said, “That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Asia’s hands flailed through the air. “Her last words were thank you for the hope. If she had hope, why did she do this?”

Pastor Ford shook her head. “I don’t think anyone can explain or fully understand suicide.”

Sheridan said, “This was probably about her husband.”

Pastor Ford shrugged. “Yes. No. Maybe. None of us will ever know. And there’s never a good reason. Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary situation. The reason it’s done doesn’t matter. Anyone who chooses to do that is not in their right mind.”

Again, silence, until Asia leaned forward and folded her head in her lap, her sobs claiming the quiet space. Pastor Ford stood and rubbed her niece’s back. “I thought about waiting until your prayer meeting was over to tell you this, but there’s never a good time.”

“And we would have known something was wrong, Pastor,” Sheridan said. “Vanessa’s always on time.”

The pastor nodded. “Well, I need to get going. Elder Pearl is with Vanessa’s mother and I want to get down there as quickly as I can.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Sheridan asked.

“Not yet, but I’ll definitely let you know in the next few days.” She tapped Asia’s shoulder. “Are you going to be all right?”

Asia sniffed, nodded.

“I’ll make sure she’s okay, Pastor,” Sheridan said.

The pastor hugged Sheridan, then Asia. Finally, she stepped toward Kendall. She smiled at the one who had stayed quiet throughout.

“Kendall, is there anything you want to say? Anything you want to ask me?” Pastor Ford asked.

Kendall stood, but still said nothing.

Pastor Ford took Kendall’s hands into hers. “Are you all right?”

The rumbling began at her feet. By the time Pastor Ford called her name again, Kendall’s body trembled with the force of an earthquake. Her head rolled back and she screamed—a piercing sound that frightened them all. A moment later, she laid her head on her pastor’s shoulder and wept.

S
HERIDAN

Sheridan’s head ached from her tears, yet they still flowed. Her mind wouldn’t let go of Vanessa. She was crammed with images of her—her voice, her laughter, her smile.

She gripped the steering wheel.
This doesn’t make sense
—she wanted to scream those words to God. Of all of them, Vanessa was the one she wanted to know better, the one who was most connected to God.

You never know who you’re sitting next to
.

Those were Vanessa’s words, spoken that first week. She remembered being so impressed with that statement. Instead of being impressed, she should have been aware. Watched her more closely, so that she could have seen the signs.

She grabbed her cell phone and dialed the number without memory of the last words he’d said to her.

The call went to his voice mail. She hung up, and dialed again. And then again. And again.

“Brock!” she said the moment he finally answered.

“Sheridan, what’s wrong?”

“I…” She couldn’t continue through her sobs.

“Sheridan,” he screamed, “where are you?”

“I’m at home,” she said looking through the windshield. She’d sat in the driveway, unable to move.

“Where’s Tori?”

“She’s here, inside the house. I can’t go in.”

“Is anyone there with you?”

“No.” And then the cries came again.

“I’m on my way.”

She clicked off the phone and laid her head on the steering wheel, her body shaking with her sobs.

The tap on the window made her raise her head and her eyes widened when Brock opened the car door and took her hand, pulling her out. Had she been crying for half an hour?

“I was at Starbucks.” He explained his quick trip as he opened the back door and the two slipped into the rear seat. Then he drew her head to his chest. And she sobbed more. Through her cries, she told the story of Vanessa’s pain. Vanessa’s pain that now belonged to her. And he held her tighter.

“I cannot believe she did this.”

He kissed her head.

“I feel so bad for her.”

When her tears subsided, he said, “Come on, let’s go inside.”

Still he held her as she staggered toward her home.

“Tori,” Sheridan called, the moment she stepped inside. When her daughter didn’t answer, she said, “She’s probably watching television.” Then she glanced at the clock. “Or asleep. Let me go check on her.”

When she returned, she stood at the entrance to the living room and paused as she watched Brock stretched out on her sofa, his head back, eyes closed. He looked like sunrise in Tahiti.

Her heart ached more.

Without a word, she slipped off her shoes and lay next to him. Without opening his eyes, he pulled her close and they rested, their heartbeats becoming one. In his arms, Sheridan found comfort. And just a bit of peace.

She was so sure. Now.

“Thank you,” she finally said. “I needed you.”

He tightened his arms; his only response.

“Brock, this is where I want to be. This is where I want you to be.” She opened her eyes and when she looked up, he was gazing at her. “I want to be with you. I really do.”

“Sheridan…” He paused, shook his head. “I didn’t come over here to talk about this.”

She pulled away from him. “But I want to talk about it. Losing Vanessa, and losing her this way, I know what’s most important. I don’t want to waste any more time apart.”

He clasped his hands as if he were praying. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you say this?”

“I know. I don’t have any idea what I’ve been waiting for.”

“But I know….”

She stared at him for a moment. “Please, Brock,” she said, knowing where he was going.

“You still have unresolved feelings for Quentin.”

“That’s not true!”

“He’s still right there.” With a single finger, he caressed the center of her chest. When he pulled his hand away, he said, “And I can’t even begin to think about a future with you when there’s another man in your heart.”

“I don’t know why you won’t believe the words I say.”

“Because I’d prefer to believe the things you do.”

She took a breath, closed her eyes, tried to figure out what she could say to convince him. Her eyes popped open when she felt him stand.

“I’m going to head home.”

“Brock, please, believe me.”

He pulled her from the couch and into his arms. “I want to. I really do,” he whispered into her ear. “But I would rather you be with Quentin, instead of wondering for the rest of our lives why you chose me.” His lips brushed her forehead, and then he released her.

She trembled as he walked away. “What do I have to do?”

He faced her. “Sheridan, I’m letting you go.”

She couldn’t believe how many tears she had left.

“I’m letting you go,” he continued, “because I want you to look at what you’ve been doing. Maybe even spend some time with Quentin”—he paused, breathed—“if you have to. But what you definitely have to do is be honest with yourself—for you and for me. Then, if you can really come back to me, if you can bring me your heart the way I’ve given you mine, I’ll be there.” He stared at her for just a moment more before he stepped out the door.