by Tyora Moody
The Replacement Date
A Victory Gospel Short #1
Tyora Moody
Tymm Publishing LLC
Columbia, SC
The Replacement Date: A Short Story
Victory Gospel Short #1
Copyright © 2019 by Tyora Moody
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author. The Replacement Date is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by:
Tymm Publishing LLC
701 Gervais Street, Suite 150-185
Columbia, SC 29201
www.tymmpublishing.com
Editing: Felicia Murrell
Cover Design: TywebbinCreations.com
This short story was originally published in Love Knows My Name, Aspiring Love Collection, Volume 1.
Check out other short stories in
Love Knows My Name.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
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1
For the third time in the past hour, I smiled at myself in the mirror trying to convince myself this would be the perfect evening.
You can do this, Donna Madison. It’s only been fifteen years since you’ve been out on a date. It’s like riding a bike.
My smile faltered. I never liked dating. In fact, I never even learned how to properly ride a bike.
I sighed deeply as I smoothed my dress down across my stomach. I hated my belly. Tonight, I would have to trust the control-top brief to keep the pooch in place. My body represented a woman in her mid-forties who despised exercise and relished her snacks a bit too much.
The dress was new for this occasion, since nothing in my closet served the purpose. I’m usually a neutral girl, but I couldn’t resist the coral dress when I passed by it in Belk. It was fitted at the waist and swung around my short legs as I walked. I turned to the side to peer down at my shoes. I’m not one for heels, but the bronze low-heel sandals added a sophistication that I needed. Not to include some height. They were surprisingly comfortable too. Even my natural hair was not working against me tonight. I had it twisted all week and decided to remove the twists, so my hair hung around my shoulders.
I placed my hands on my ample hips. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
It’s been a long time since I spent this much time on myself. Now, if only I could get through tonight.
It was a breezy Friday night in May when I walked out of my house towards my KIA Optima. Friday nights were usually spent curled up reading a book or binge watching Netflix. I cringed, smelling rain approaching in the atmosphere.
Rain, rain, stay away.
To head off any pending disasters, I checked the back seat of my car to make sure my handy umbrella was on the floor. I believed in being prepared. But despite all my preparation, my stomach twisted with nerves I forgot existed. I couldn’t believe I was actually going on a date.
I started the engine and backed out the driveway of the two-story home I used to share with my ex-husband. The house was awarded to me during the divorce settlement. I was grateful since I’d spent so much time making the house a home. I had hoped to move on with my life.
Except I hadn’t.
I turned forty-five last month. And in the last five years, I’d given up on love, choosing not to date. I loved with my whole heart once and the heartbreak had been too much. Ten years of my life was blown to bits in one day when Allen Reynolds handed me divorce papers.
Okay, maybe I exaggerate about the explosion part. If I was honest with myself, which I tend to not be sometimes, ten years had started out fabulously then slowly grew cold and, five years later, were now a distant memory.
Really, by the end of the marriage, I barely recognized the man I’d married.
I blew out a breath as I drove. I wasn’t bitter. Okay, not anymore. But sometimes mulling over the past did something to me emotionally. Failure was hard to swallow, especially for something I desired so badly.
What little girl doesn’t want her Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet into a life of happily ever after? What can you do as your dream slowly slips away?
My Prince Charming was a breath of fresh air. I was thirty years old and already avoiding dating when he dropped into my life. We met at church, and I just knew God sent him my way.
I was helping my mom and aunt Judy in Victory Gospel’s church kitchen. Allen’s family was using the church fellowship hall for their family reunion dinner. My mom and her sister, known for their catering business for years, were obvious choices. I didn’t take after my mom in the cooking department, but I did alright and helped out when I could.
That day, I was the designated person to scoop potato salad on plates. I almost dropped the plate when my eyes locked with a chocolate man with a bright white smile staring back at me. Later, while I was helping with the clean-up, Allen approached me. The following week, we met for dinner. We dated for nine months before he proposed.
My mama and everyone around me kept commenting about how fast we were moving. Mama thought I was pregnant. Not!
What I didn’t see coming was being replaced ten years later. The replacement wife was a decade younger than me with the kind of body I could never have if I tried.
She also delivered on something I never could. A son.
A child was never to come from my body thanks to my enemy, endometriosis.
Allen always said not having children of his own didn’t matter to him. I never figured out if the pregnancy with his mistress was accidental or not, but it didn’t matter now since the child was being raised by Allen and his new wife. After I saw a photo of the happy couple on my timeline, I stayed away from Facebook for weeks. When I returned to social media, I unfriended and blocked any friends associated with Allen.
All that was in the past, and tonight it felt good to be out.
It wasn’t like I was afraid of being alone. At least, I thought I wasn’t. But lately, the sense that maybe it was time for a change had been stirring in my spirit.
I sighed deeply as I flowed with the busy traffic. Rush hour in Charlotte had slowed, but I-77 was still heavy with cars. I took the exit to I-85, headed towards Concord. This was a longer drive than I wanted, but I was determined not to have my date pick me up at my house. I wasn’t quite ready for that.
The one person in the world who knew how much I didn’t like matchmaking decided to do just that. Thank goodness, I trusted my long-time friend, Fatima Lawrence. Friends since third-grade, Fatima has known me for over thirty-seven years. When I didn’t want to admit what was happening with my marriage, she recognized my deep sadness and prayed with me up until the divorce papers were signed.
Fatima had married her high school sweetheart. The two of them had been on and off more years than I could count, but they still were together. If anyone knew about marriage and its struggles, it was Fatima. A week ago, she told me, “God has someone for you.”
I wasn’t really banking on it being George Saunders.
Fatima had worked with George for years. She said he had a sense of humor and was not boring, despite his being an accountant.
We will see!
I steadied my thoughts as I drove to my destination, focusing instead on the oldies playing on the radio.
I pulled
into the Carrabba’s Italian Grill parking lot and cut off the engine. This is where things got tricky. My stomach had calmed down the last few minutes of my drive, but as soon as I turned the key in the ignition, the butterflies returned in full force. I was ten minutes early so I sat for a few minutes. Tonight’s date was either going to be the change I needed or would have me scrambling back to the safety of my quiet non-social life.
Lord, I’m trusting you to help me out here.
I stepped out of the car and glanced at the sky. The sky remained clear, but I could still see clouds in the distance. I reached for the umbrella and tucked it under my arm before peeking at my phone.
I was still about five minutes early for the seven o’clock dinner date, and I was definitely hungry. I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. I hoped my hunger and nerves would settle down so I could enjoy my meal.
I swung the doors open and entered the restaurant. There was quite a crowd so I stood to the side seeking out signs of George. I had never met George in person, but Fatima supplied me with plenty of pictures. And last night, I friended him on Facebook, so this wasn’t totally a blind date. There was some advantages to social media.
The crowd seemed to keep packing inside the doorway, so I inched my way to the hostess and asked, “Has George Saunders arrived?”
The hostess checked her list. “I don’t have a Saunders. Can I take your name?”
I was a little perplexed. It was officially seven o’clock, and someone needed to get the table. I placed my name on the list, and then sat on the edge of a bench occupied by a group of college-aged women. As they chattered, I pulled out my phone to see if George had sent a text message.
There was nothing. I didn’t like being late and frowned upon others’ tardiness as well, especially on occasions like this. Despite the crowd, the hostess called out, “Madison.”
Still a little worried, I popped up from the bench and followed her to a table in the back.
A few seconds later, a clean-cut, young man appeared and smiled down at me. “Ma’am, can I get you a drink?” He placed menus on the table.
“Sure, I’ll start with a glass of water for now.”
“Great. Will someone be joining you?”
My nerves wrapped around my heart a brief moment.
What if George didn’t show?
I pushed the thought away. “Yes, my date will be arriving soon.”
After the waiter left, I noted that my phone displayed ten minutes after seven. I tried to not let my nerves take over, but a full fifteen minutes had passed.
The waiter came back with my water. “Would you like to order an appetizer?”
I was really tempted, but I shook my head. “No, I’ll wait.”
I peered at my phone again and grimaced. It was Friday night and Charlotte’s traffic remained heavy in some areas. I gripped the glass of water and took a sip. I often ate by myself, so I did what I usually did and kept busy with my phone. It occurred to me that most of my communication with George had been through Facebook Messenger. I wondered if he had sent a message and I missed it. I clicked to open the app, but none of the messages I saw were from George. By the time I responded to all the messages, another seven minutes had flown by.
The disappointment of George not showing started to weigh on me. Not to mention the fact that I was really hungry.
Should I just order something?
I searched the restaurant for my waiter.
I decided if George didn’t show in the next five minutes, I wasn’t going to waste my entire evening. And I would most certainly call Fatima and tell her what I thought about her matchmaking skills.
I passed the time looking through my emails. Most of them, I usually ignored and should have unsubscribed from a long time ago.
A shadow crossed over my face, and I felt the presence of a tall figure standing by the table before I looked up. I peered up with expectancy, hoping my eyes wouldn’t flash the anger I was feeling from waiting so long.
My eyes locked on the hovering figure. For a brief moment, it felt like everyone else in the restaurant faded into the background.
The man who stood in front of me was definitely not George.
My eyes stretched in surprise, and after I stopped blinking in disbelief, a smile spread across my face. This man was even better than George. A gorgeous man of maturity with a hint of gray around his temples, his eyes were just as brown and bright as they had been when he was much younger.
Some part of my brain told me my mouth was wide open and I snapped it shut. “Maxwell?” I stuttered. I hadn't spoken that name in years.
Maxwell Anderson grinned at me. “Yep. Donna Madison. It’s good to see you.” He stepped back. “Wait, didn’t you get married?”
I shooed the question away like a fly had appeared in front of me. “I was married for a while, but I’ve been divorced for five years now. I went back to my maiden name.”
Some of my excitement at seeing him deflated as I remembered. “How’s your wife and family?”
Something like sadness shifted over his face, and his smile slipped away. “I’m widowed now, I’m afraid. Just me and the kids.”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry to hear that. That must be hard.”
“Being a single dad has definitely been a transition. How long has it been since we’ve seen each other?”
I sighed. So much regret was in that sigh, but I couldn’t help it. I had crushed hard on this man for years. “At least fifteen years.”
He looked around before directing his hand to the seat across from me. “Is someone joining you? I don’t want to interrupt.”
George had clearly been forgotten. I glanced down at my phone. It was already seven forty-five. “You can have a seat. I was supposed to meet someone at seven o'clock, but I think they may have stood me up.”
The smile returned to Maxwell’s face as he pulled out the chair in front of me.
I was mesmerized by his face. Maxwell lived down the street from me most of my life so we’d walk home from school together all the way up to graduation. I remembered a time when I dreamed that he and I would marry. Perhaps he was shocked to see me after all this time, but I don’t think I was the only one mesmerized. Maxwell’s eyes were riveted on me as well.
“I’m really sorry about your wife. How long has it been, if you don’t mind me asking?”
I looked down at the table, scolding myself for the intrusion. Clean hands, fingernails clipped, and he still wore his wedding ring. He must have really loved her.
“It’s been about two years now. Breast cancer.”
My heart fell. I knew that must have been hard. “I’m so sorry. If I remember, you had three children together?”
His face beamed with pride. “Twin boys and a girl.”
A pang of regret hit me. I always had that sense of loss when others talked about children. That was something I would never get to say.
Maxwell must have noticed something in my face. “What about you?”
“I couldn’t have kids.”
He reached across and squeezed my hand. “I’m so sorry, Donna. I remember you were really good with kids at vacation bible school.”
I grinned. “I still am. VBS is back next month. I’m a Sunday School teacher too.”
“Still at Victory Gospel Church? I’m planning to attend on Sunday.”
That warmed my heart. “Yes, Victory Gospel is still home.” I frowned. “How long have you been back in Charlotte?” And how did I not know he was back?
“We moved here a few months ago from Atlanta. I got a promotion to Reliance Financial’s Southeast region headquarters which happens to be in Charlotte. My kids weren’t happy about the move taking them from their friends, but it's good to be back home. I’ve caught up with so many friends I hadn’t talked to in years. I was hoping I’d run into you.”
Out the corner of my eye, I saw the waiter approach.
“I see your guest finally arrived,” the waiter smiled. “Are you ready to
order?”
I looked at Maxwell instead of correcting the waiter. “You hungry?”
He flipped open the menu. “Sure, let’s eat.”
After we placed our order, a comfortable silence settled between us. I wondered if Maxwell was soaking in this time as much as I was. I noticed he kept turning his ring around on his finger.
He finally broke the silence. “You said fifteen years ago was the last time we saw each other in person?”
I leaned forward. “Yes, I remember it was a few months before my wedding.”
He cocked his head. “Oh.”
“And...” I hesitated as the occasion dawned on me. I wasn’t sure if I should bring it up. “It was your mom’s funeral.”
I watched him wince. That time in his life seemed to hit him all over again. His mother had lost a battle with cancer too. I couldn’t imagine the depth of his pain at losing his wife to the same battle.
He nodded. “You’re right. I remember now. That was a tough time for me. Alison had just had the twins a year before Mom received her diagnosis. She was pregnant with Ashlee. Mom never met her granddaughter.”
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. I remembered Maxwell’s mom well. She was my mom’s best friend. “Ashlee. That’s a pretty name. What are the boy’s names?”
He grinned. “Alex and Adrian. They’re twins, but just as opposite as they can be. Alex is the athlete, more like me. Adrian is quiet and studious like his mother.”
“So, they are all teenagers now? That must be rough.”
He nodded. “They’re good kids. They all have matured beyond their years losing their momma. They look out for me sometimes even better than I look out for them.”
The waiter returned with our food. Even though I was beyond hungry, I took time to savor my lasagna. I wasn’t sure what to think of how my evening turned out, but I didn’t want to rush through it. I was grateful Maxwell was my date tonight.
A replacement date, Donna.
Maybe God felt like we both needed each other tonight.
The conversation continued long after our plates were cleared. We even opted for dessert.