His mind went back to Las Vegas where they created the life growing inside of her. DeShondra was a twin. Her father was a twin. Her brother had triplets.
“Yeah, Rafe and Leonardo are also twins,” Tisha said picking at the food on her plate with her fork. “Why do you think I’m always so tired?”
Isiah couldn’t help it. He started to laugh. The possibility that they would have more than one child hit him hard. The bright side of it all would be if there were more than one, she would only have to be pregnant once. The downside of it would be broken glass dishes and a houseful of their own hellions. DeShondra, as if she read his mind, also began to laugh.
John didn’t find any of it funny. He saw no humor in it at all. DeShondra was in love with someone else.
A PAIN SHOT LOW ACROSS her belly as she struggled to sit up on the side of the bed. Her bladder screamed for release as she tiptoed to the bathroom to get a relief. The frequency of urination was annoying to her, especially with her schedule and being out in public. As the pregnancy entered its second trimester, there would be homes and showings where the bathrooms didn’t work. She had to figure out a game plan to handle tinkling every hour.
DeShondra, easing her way back into the bed, tried not to wake her bearded buddy, but he wasn’t asleep. In the dim light of the bedroom, he lay awake, millions of thoughts preventing him from sleeping over the past two weeks, and it had begun to affect his waking hours. A warm hand rested on her thigh.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said softly.
“Wasn’t asleep,” he said, snuggling close to her.
“Is the bed still too hard or just you?” she asked.
“No, too much on my mind to get any peace. I haven’t really slept this past two weeks and I’m starting to feel it,” Isiah confessed.
“Talk to me, maybe together we can work it out,” she said.
Isiah exhaled a load of breath which felt as if he’d been holding for the entire two weeks. Unaccustomed to sharing his feelings with anyone, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to unload everything in his head on a pregnant woman to have her worry as well. Yet, it would also be unfair for her to marry a man that was unable to sleep due to issues he was unable to discuss.
“Isiah, we are a team. What hurts the captain, hurts the co-captain,” she said.
“Sweet, you think I’m the captain,” he mumbled into the side of her face.
“No, I’m the captain, you are the co-captain,” she said laughing. “This is my damned life raft.”
He chuckled along with her. “So, I’m relegated to manning the oars,” he said kissing her shoulder. “Aye Aye, Captain.”
“Wow. No objections to taking the second chair,” she said. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or frightened. Very few men would be okay with that.”
“I’m okay with being the co-captain on your ship as long as you understand that outside of our front door, you can run the world, but when you step inside of our home, the captain’s hat comes off. Inside the home, there is no great cabin, but all the cabins are equal and your title is wife and Mom,” he said.
“I honestly don’t know how to be either of those things. My only working examples are my Mother and Aunt Millie. Then, of course, Cabrina’s mom, but I don’t want to be any version of those women,” she said.
“Then don’t be,” he offered. “We are different from your parents, my parents, and Cabrina’s parents. It is up to us to decide, figure out, and mold our own paths. You can be the type of wife you want as long as it works for both of us. I’m self-sufficient, but our child will not be. He will need his Mama.”
“And what will you need, Mr. Neary?” she desired to know.
“I need to be wanted and loved,” he said.
“That I can do,” she said while squeezing his hand. “Now that we have that out of the way, give me the top five sleep robbers.”
“The first is this hard-ass bed. Even with the egg crates, I just can’t get comfortable,” he said.
“Okay, I will buy a new bed tomorrow. See, that was easy,” she said. “Number two.”
“I am starting a new job behind a desk, which freaks me the hell out. I am a doer, used to working with my hands. Now I have to wear a tie every day and choose my words carefully with a bunch of pencil pushers that have never worked in the field,” he said.
“Baby, you have a way with people. Gut punching them when they say something you don’t like isn’t the right way to handle those you disagree with, but it’s a job. Clock in, do the job, come home to your family,” she said.
“Your family, I like the sound of that, which is also reason number three I can’t sleep,” he said. “You could be incubating versions of your brother’s kids in there. Do you know yet if it is just one? Or more in there? Triplets? That shit is scary.”
“They only heard one heartbeat, so relax,” she said.
“What if one is on top of the other, and under that one is two more, hiding out to surprise us on delivery day?” he said shuddering. “We would have to hire a nanny just to keep up with diaper changes.”
“Whatever comes our way, we will figure it out and work it out,” she said. “Tell me number four.”
He sighed heavily, not wanting to say the words but he needed to let her know. “Number four is you,” he said softly. “I don’t want your love by default.”
“What?” she said, turning in bed to face him.
“You heard me. I’m not sure if you are marrying me because of the baby or if you truly believe this can work out for us. I’m in this for the long haul and I love you,” he said. “I have changed my entire life to be at your side to slumber in a bed I can’t sleep in, a job I’m probably going to hate, and eating burned meat twice a month because your daddy is a menace on a grill.”
Her hand went to his face in the dark, running over his cheeks, touching the beard that she’d grown to love. She loved the man as well. It was time he knew it, too.
“I love you, Isiah Neary,” she said, kissing his lips. “I don’t love you by default, and I am not marrying you because you put a pea in my pod. You are a good, honest man of your word. I have no doubts in my mind that our life together will be awesome. I will take care of you and you will take care of us. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” he said.
“Good, now the last one on your list,” she said.
“That one is a little harder,” he said.
“Challenges don’t scare me and neither do you. What is it that is keeping you from sleeping,” she asked.
“Being shot,” he said. “At times, when I close my eyes, I can see the flash of the rifle. The aura of the bullet coming at me, lifting me off my feet. A couple of inches higher and I wouldn’t be here. That shit is disturbing me. Shondra, I would have been gone from this earth, not able to see the face of my child, you, my family. It’s keeping me up at night.”
She rolled to her back as she reached for his hand, placing it on her stomach, the butterflies flittering at the sound of his voice. I am his lifeline. His captain on this raft. I can keep him from drowning by helping him float.
“Each time you talk, the flitting in my stomach goes nuts,” she said. “Our child reacts to the sound of your voice just as I do. PTSD is no joke and we will get you some counseling. In the meantime, this is your grounding wire. A little person inside of me is anxious to meet you.”
“Seriously, he is moving right now?”
“Yes, she is,” DeShondra said, pausing for a moment to shift gears. “Isiah, do you trust me?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I am going to give you a couple of sleep tabs to get you over the hump,” she said.
“Uhmm, not comfortable with that,” he said.
“They are over the counter, not prescription, and it will help silence the voices keeping you from sleeping and relax you,” she said, turning to reach into the nightstand drawer. She handed him two of the nighttime sleep aids, along with the bottle of wate
r on the nightstand.
Reluctantly, he swallowed the pills and leaned back into the pillows. “One last thing that is troubling me that I want to mention before I go to sleep,” he said.
“Sure, Baby, what is it?”
“Are you getting your feet done this week? They feel rough,” he said. “I think you may have scraped the hairs off my shin.”
“Oh shut up!” she said, snuggling close and rubbing her rough feet on his legs. “Get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow with the church and the open house.”
Chapter 13 – Amen, Vision, and WTF
Pastor Thomas, a boisterous man with a protruding belly, paraded across the dais preaching about love. Isiah listened intently, impressed that the good reverend incorporated each verse of first Corinthians, chapter 13, explaining what love was and what it wasn’t. The parishioners waved hands and weathered fans in the air, giving an amen at the appropriate intervals in between the pastor’s huffs and puffs for breath.
Isiah didn’t think he wanted to talk to the man about marrying them out of fear of being subjugated to an hour-long sermon on fornication. Prying eyes gawked at him and DeShondra throughout the service as the Pastor Thomas came to a highly anticipated benediction, declaring the doors of the church to be open. Sitting on the pew with DeShondra’s family, a gasp went through the church as he stood and made his way down to aisle of the nave to arrive at the transept to join the Greater Mount Zion Baptist Church. His family was Protestant, but as long as he got the house of the Lord on a regular basis, they wouldn’t hold it against him.
“Welcome brother,” Pastor Thomas said. “Are you here to make a testimony, become a candidate for baptism, or to join your brothers and sisters in Christ?”
“I am here to join the church,” Isiah said, looking good in a tailored black suit, crisp light blue shirt, and coordinating striped tie and standing with pride in a room full of people taught not to judge others, but who were judging him.
Harrumphs, oohs and ahs went through the building in shock that a white man would want to join an all-black congregation. The pastor waved his hand over the flock, asking them to pipe down. Curiosity propelled the reverend forward with his new member.
“All are welcome in this house to worship,” Pastor said to the congregation. “In the Book of John in the fifteenth chapter, verse 12, I want all of you to turn in your Bibles and on the count of three read to me Jesus’ words.”
Pages flipped as Pastor Thomas counted down. In a resounding voice of one, the parishioners all said, “My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.”
“Surely, this loving congregation will extend to...what is your name, son?” he asked Isiah.
“Isiah Neary,” he responded, his chest stuck out, standing tall in front of the hundreds of eyes bearing into him.
“Please welcome Isiah into the fold,” he said, shaking Isiah’s hand. “What is your testimony this morning?”
“My fiancé grew up in this church. She was baptized here as well as her parents, brother, uncle, and cousins,” he said. “If this is her church home, then it shall be mine as well.”
“Amen, amen,” Pastor Thomas said. “Who is your fiancé, young man?”
“DeShondra Leman,” he said with pride.
“Say what now?” the reverend said before he caught himself while murmurs ran through the church. People whispered and turned in the pews to look at DeShondra, who got to her feet and joined Isiah at the altar. Dressed smartly in high heels and a designer dress, she stood at this side with a broad smile.
“God is Good, all the time,” she said as the church repeated to her, “All the time God is good.”
“Isiah and I plan to get married in this church and bring our children here to be baptized and nourished spiritually just as my family, and members of my family, have since the day the doors of the building were opened,” she said. “Thank you for years of support and love that I am certain you will extend to my intended.”
“Amen, sister, amen,” Pastor Thomas said, signaling with his arms to the choir to start the song to end the service. “You two stay here.”
Side by side they stood as members of the church filed by to give Isiah unwanted hugs, overzealous handshakes, and few lusty looks which made him uncomfortable. In the rank and file were his future in-laws. Xavier stopped, whispering in his ear, “You got a set on you, that’s for sure.”
“Yep,” Isiah replied, releasing his hand to hug Maya.
“I hope you guys are joining us for dinner. I have a coupon to the steakhouse over on Lanyard Street,” Maya said.
“Not today, Mom, I have an open house in an hour,” DeShondra responded.
Javier was next in line. “Man, I like you more and more,” he told Isiah. “I want to see this farmhouse and fishing pond. I want to know where I’m going to be hanging out once a month.”
“That may be too often,” Isiah said with a forced smile. “We will work something out, Sir.”
“Call me Uncle Javie,” he told Isiah, flashing a perfect set of teeth entirely too white for a man his age. Isiah chalked it up to having a brother as a dentist and moved on through the remainder of the line.
Thoroughly welcomed, the pastor joined them at the front of the church, asking them to sit. The building was nearly empty except the first lady and few elderly stragglers who were still eyeballing Isiah and DeShondra. For a moment, he rubbed his chin, looking at the two of them, searching for the right words.
“I see the love,” he said. “I also see a rounded belly, but I’m not judging and by your bold move today, you want the wedding to be soon?”
“Yes Sir,” Isiah said. “But a neighbor told Peter, above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.”
“Don’t come to my church quoting scriptures to me so I can overlook you putting the cart before the horse,” Pastor Thomas said. “You two will have to go through counseling. At least six sessions before I will consent to do the ceremony.”
“DeShondra, does a wedding in six weeks work for you?” Isiah asked.
“If we can get it on the Pastor’s calendar,” she said.
“How do you know it is going to be six weeks?” Pastor Thomas asked.
“A session a week, usually on Thursdays from 6 to 8 pm, which makes six weeks, if we jump into the session this week,” Isiah said.
“What if that session is in the middle and I want you to start over from the beginning?” Pastor Thomas asked.
“Then we will get married elsewhere,” Isiah said, squinting his eyes. “I know it would break my Sweetie’s heart to not be married by the man who baptized her, but I had to ask. I have asked, and you have given me an answer.”
“Rushing is not the way of this world, young man,” he told Isiah.
“True and normally, I would agree. However, I do not want to get married in the church with my wife eight months pregnant,” he said. “It is not a good look for her or her stellar reputation in the community. We are not ashamed of the life we have created, and God is forgiving, but church folks are judgmental. If I can spare her that, your assistance would be appreciated.”
The pastor leaned back in the pew, his hands resting across his rotund belly. Scratching at his chin once more, he leaned forward and smiled.
“We can start your sessions online, get you caught up, but there are only three more sessions left in this group. You can get married in three weeks,” he said. “IF, you complete all the work online and get everything in to me.”
“Thank you, Reverend,” Isiah said. “That would be perfect.”
“Son, I have to ask, where did the two of you...how did the two of you even find each other?” Pastor Thomas wanted to know.
Isiah was grinning when he answered. “Believe it or not, we were put together by a matchmaker who runs a mail order bride company,” he said. “Long story short, I guess that makes her my mail order bride.”
They left the confused pastor on the pew as they walked ou
t of the church. DeShondra promised to check her email later in the day to get started on the sessions. Three weeks. I am getting married in three weeks. Will the house be ready? I need a dress.
“Three weeks? My mother is going to lose her mind,” DeShondra said. “Plus, we have to get your mother here. Heck, I need to meet your mother. Oh, Merciful Father in Heaven, guide me and order my steps.”
“Amen,” he said, leading her out of the church to the car. There was a great deal to make happen and he only had two weeks left before starting his job.
THE OPEN HOUSE DESHONDRA was hosting was a remodeled home in the middle of a neighborhood bested by drugs, bad choices, and poverty. The house itself was an updated ranch with plenty of bonus features, granite countertops and overpriced in his opinion for the area. He looked at the sell sheet as she pulled cookies from the oven, the scent of chocolate chip goodness wafting through the house. To his amazement, buyers showed up in varying races, creeds, and colors. In less than two hours, she had three offers on the property, one willing to pay cash for the house and ready to move in.
“WTF is going on here?” Isiah asked. “Did I miss the gentrification memo for the neighborhood? Did you just sell this house three times in two hours?”
“Yes, I am a bad chick,” she said, nibbling on a cookie.
“This is not the best neighborhood, and you sold this house for $100,000! That man had a cashier’s check for that amount. This is nuts,” he said.
“No, what is nuts is that I own the house and this is all profit,” she said. “I have two more in this neighborhood, and the two other buyers, I will push into those homes.”
“Is this part of your vision I keep hearing everyone talk about, refurbishing run-down neighborhoods?”
The house held minimal staging with a table, a couch, and a few chairs. DeShondra took a seat on the couch. Her ankles felt fat and the dress was getting snug across her hips. Soon, she would need to buy maternity clothes.
“Initially, once I had gotten started in real estate, I wanted to do a neighborhood with low-income housing for single moms,” she said. “However, when I started to buy a property here or there, others would come in behind me and snatch it all the other available in the neighborhood.”
Bleu, Grass, Bourbon Page 12