Under the Cypress Moon (38 page)

"Yeah?"

"You mad at me?"

"No.  Why?"

"We haven't said a word to each other in a long time.  You act like you don't really wanna be around me.  Are we good?"  Mark hoped terribly that Shylah would answer affirmatively and quash their obviously near forgotten quarrel.

"We're talkin' now.  We're good."

"So what's goin' on?  You still don't act like you wanna talk to me. I know most guys are happy when their woman doesn't wanna talk, but I actually like you, so it bothers me.  What's wrong, Baby?"  Mark still sat hunched and almost disfigured-looking, slunk down into the bowels of the couch.

"I don't know," Shylah said, moving an inch closer to Mark.  "I guess I'm just irritated by a lot of things.  A lot is just gettin' on my nerves so much I don't know what to do."

"Would it make it better if I hired a full time, live-in nurse to take care of my dad?  I've been thinkin' about this.  What do you think?"

"Might be good.  It'd save us both a lot of trouble, but wouldn't it have to be a licensed nurse?"  Shylah now moved another inch closer, coming within a few inches of Mark's side, turning to him, smiling slightly as she did.  Her hope was, much as it was for Mark, that everything would be settled and that they could resume their normal romantic functions.

"Yeah, probably.  We could find one of those pretty easy, I'd say.  Let's do it."

Shylah suddenly had what she thought to be a brilliant idea that she felt overwhelmingly in need of voicing.  "Can she be black?!  Please say she can be black!"

"Why?"

"I think that it'd be kinda ironic and funny that the person that has to take care of your dad would be black.  I'm not makin' fun of a dyin' man, but c'mon.  You gotta see the irony of it all.  You remember my cousin, Shawntel, and don't you dare make fun of her name, though it is a pretty stupid name.  She's an LPN and quit workin' to take care of her son.  He's better, but she hasn't found a job.  She could use the money.  She's got a license, and she's got a lot of experience.   She'd probably jump at the chance.  I could call her.  What do you think, Mark?"

"That is kinda funny.  If she wants the job, it's hers, but you realize she's gonna be livin' here with us.  She'd have to be on call twenty-four/seven, so she wouldn't be able to leave much.  I'll pay her top dollar, though.  She can name her price.  Call her whenever you want, Babe."

"Cool.  I'll get on that soon.  You want me to come a little closer, Sexy?"  Shylah, without an answer from Mark, scooted over until she was sitting side by side with him, their legs seemingly enjoined as one.

Things were soon better than they had been before the fight.  Mark and Shylah had never previously felt more in love with one another.  With so much splendorous wonder in their lives, night faded to day before either knew it, and it was time to get ready to go to church.  Neither had attended in a while, filling them with the utmost desire to go. 

Everyone at the church seemed very happy to see both Mark and Shylah, though few knew that they were a couple.  It came as a shock to many, though most nodded their joyous approval of the coupling. 

With the beginning of Reverend Hill's sermon, Mark pulled Shylah closer to him as they sat between her parents and her brother.  The sermon seemed, at first, not to be directed toward anyone and to have no particularly specific meaning or message to any of the congregation; however, after a few minutes, Mark's ears attuned themselves more carefully upon hearing the mention of his father.

"Brothers and Sisters, I know you may be growing tired of hearing ol' Reverend Hill speak so much of love, of the commandment to love one another.  There is so little love in this world that I need to continue speaking of it.  Many of you know of Thomas Crady, of his endless bigotries and hatreds toward his fellow man, people of a hue of skin much darker than that of his own, hating such as these for that very reason.  Many of you, I am sure, have judged the man evil and the perfect example of what tears at the very fabric of our precious society.  I say to you, Brothers and Sisters, that even though the man has given many of you reasons to assuage him and deem him servant of the Devil, he is your brother.  His son sits there in that fifth row, surrounded by people of a different hue than himself.  I see that he has taken into his heart the very lovely Shylah King.  This union proves the possibilities of the endless love of our Savior, Jesus Christ.  If a son can show so much love toward his fellow man and feel none of the bigotry of his father, how can not the father come to see such love and mend his ways?  I only speak of such things because of two things.  I have heard so many of you as of late saying many mean and spiteful things toward the man of whom I speak.  Not only is that the case, but the time has come, I'm sure, to the great dismay of Marcus, that the Lord and Savior is calling Thomas Crady home.  That is right.  Thomas Crady is a dying man.  Is not it enough that if he has not as of yet mended his ways upon his own merit of change and seeking of inner peace that he will soon be with our Lord and have to answer for the wrongs which he has committed over his many years?  I ask, Brothers and Sisters, that you leave the man to God.  Leave him to die in peace, without the pain and judgments of his fellow man.  He is your brother.  Yea, more than that, the Lord would have you love him.  You cannot love him once in a while.  You cannot love him because it is commanded.  You cannot love him only for your own peace.  You MUST love him because it is right and just.  Pray for the man.  Pray that he finds his own peace and that the Lord may have a place of rest for such a man.  I must now apologize to the man's son, whom I have mentioned.  Mark, know that I love you.  Know that the good Lord loves you.  Know that your father will be enfolded to the bosom of the Lord.  I'm sure of it.  I'm sure that the Lord will have mercy on even the most unrepentant of sinners.  The Lord is love.  The Lord is good!  I know you love your father, as any son should.  I do not mean to speak any ill of your father.  I pray with all of my strength and faculty, Mark, that your father does find that peace which I am sure he now seeks."

When the service was open, Reverend Hill sought Mark and Shylah out immediately to apologize in person and to make sure that Mark was alright, not to mention to congratulate the two on their joining to one another.  "Mark, Shylah, how ya'all doin'?"

"Just fine, Reverend," Mark replied, smiling and offering his outstretched hand.

Taking Mark's hand between both of his own, the reverend continued, "I think it is wonderful that you two have found each other.  You set a great example to everyone with this union.  I pray that you two find your way to the altar one day, and may I suggest the lovely one that we have right here in this church?"

"Hopefully, one day, Reverend," Shylah happily chimed.

"Mark," the reverend resumed, patting Shylah on the shoulder with a gentle nod, "I do want to apologize once again for my words at the pulpit.  I do not mean to say anything that would be bad toward your father.  My hope is that I can maybe take away some of this anger and bitterness that a great number of the parishioners seem to hold toward the man.  If I offended you in any way, I hope that you will forgive a humble servant of the Lord."

"No, Reverend," Mark replied, his hand once again extended, "There is no need to apologize.  I appreciate what you're doin'.  You're a good man.  And you're right.  My dad has done a lot of bad things.  I think that God has performed a miracle in him lately, but he may still have a lot to answer for when he gets where he's goin'.  It's nothin' to get worried over.  It's just somethin' to pray about, and that's more than what a lot of folks would do.  I appreciate everything you're doin', Reverend.  And be prepared for us to maybe one day come to you and ask you to perform a certain ceremony."

"It would be my honor!  You have a guaranteed place and a guaranteed minister for such a sacred event!  I wish you both well.  You really do look like you two belong together.  I really believe it.  You two just go together.  I think the Lord is lookin' down on you very pleased about this.  Well, if you will excuse me, Mark, Shylah, I must go tend to the rest of my flock.  You two have a wonderful day!"

As Mark and Shylah turned to walk away and leave, Shylah caught the eyes of her father, staring in her direction.  Something seemed amiss, but Shylah had no clue what it might be.  She wondered if her mother had not somehow let something slip about the pregnancy.  "Mark, Baby, my dad is givin' me weird looks.  I think maybe he knows."

"Know what?"

"You know what I'm talkin' about.  I told my mom, and I'm worried she might've said somethin'.  We gotta tell him and tell him soon.  If not, he's gonna be so mad.  Who knows what he might do?  We gotta tell him!"  Shylah anxiously squeezed Mark's arm, squeezed it so hard that Mark felt a deep wince of pain shoot through it.

"Ok, but if he kills me, you better plan me a good funeral."

"He's not gonna kill you, Baby.  He might shoot you, but it wouldn't be enough to kill you, probably just enough to maim you for life."  Shylah wanted to laugh and normally would after such a remark, but it seemed not to be the right occasion for such merriment.

"Well, it is a good day for maimin'.  I feel pretty good right now.  Let's go get this over with, I guess."

The couple slowly inched their way toward Darius who stood at the back of the church, talking with a couple that was about his age.  Mark did not know whether he should come so close to the man or at least wait until after he had finished speaking before making it known that he needed to talk to him.

The deepest and most cripplingly imaginable dread filled Mark's entire being at that moment.  He was thankful to have Shylah by his side, holding his hand.  He did not fear that Darius would actually try to kill him, but he wanted everything to be done right and did not want there to be bad blood between he and his soon-to-be father-in-law.

After waiting for several minutes, Mark and Shylah were relieved to see that Darius had ended his conversation with the other couple, yet they knew that confronting the man would likely prove disastrous in some way.  He had already held so much disdain for the relationship between Mark and Shylah that they were certain he would find even more with their having a child together.

"Daddy," Shylah asked in a childlike voice of her father.

"Yes, Baby?"

"We have somethin' we need to talk to you about.  We were hopin' maybe we could come to the house and discuss it."  Shylah held her head so low that one might have believed it preparing to snap off of its body.

"Well, Baby, I think I know what that might be, but come on over.  We're headin' that way now.  Your mama's got some chicken she's gonna fry up.  There should be plenty for everybody, if you wanna stay.  We ain't seen quite enough of you the last week."

"I know, Daddy.  I know.  We'll be right behind you."  Shylah feared that her father really did know what the issue at hand was and how he might have found out, but she knew that it must be confessed and soon.  Throughout the entire drive to the King home, neither Mark nor Shylah could stop lighting cigarette after cigarette, both on their third by the time that they arrived.  The moment of truth had come, thought it would be one far more worthy of rejoicing and more rejuvenating than either expected.

Chapter 18

Mark was left with the task of informing the Kings of Shylah's pregnancy, much to his general worry, only to add to those already present in his mind.  Surprisingly, Darius and T.L. took the news very well, despite the fact that Darius admitted to overhearing Pearlina discussing the matter over the phone with her sister.  Darius was little pleased that the news was hidden from him, though he took solace in knowing that Mark and Shylah had fully planned to take full responsibility of bearing it all and that they had only waited two days after finding out the surety of things.

Darius, while Pearlina and Shylah busied themselves with cooking lunch, promptly asked Mark if he would accompany him outside.  Mark knew that he had no choice but felt the same sickening fear fill his belly as he stepped to the kitchen door leading outside of the house.

"Mark, what do you plan on doin'," Darius asked before they had gotten more than ten feet from the house.

"What do you mean, Sir?"

"I mean what do you plan on doin' with my daughter?  I know you care about her, and she cares about you.  I realized that it's not my business you two bein' together and that you make each other happy, but now, you got my little girl, my only daughter, in trouble.  What ya gonna do, Boy?  You gotta have some kind of a plan."  Darius stood with his arms crossed, signifying his approbation of the news and concern over what would be done next.

"Well, Sir," began Mark, distancing himself more and more from his inquisitor, "I love Shylah.  I know we haven't been together real long, but I know I love her.  I've been crazy about her so long, you can't even imagine.  She's all I want, and even though this might not be the best way to go about things, Sir, if I might ask your blessing, I would like to find a time to ask Shylah to marry me.  I want to be good to her and to our child and be the best husband and father possible.  Just please know that, Sir.  I'll never hurt her.  She's the only woman I see, the only one I'll ever want or need.  I'll treat her like the queen I know she is."  Mark let out a gasping sigh as he completed his statement, almost exasperated and so weary from worry that he believed himself near to collapsing.