Falling Again (A BWWM Interracial Novel)

by Tina Martin

  “Again, you don’t know him.”

  “Well, let me tell you what I do know...I know he hasn’t been here. I know he doesn’t call you to check on you...make sure you’re fine. Make sure you’re not depressed and sad over your father’s passing.”

  “That’s only because I told him everything my father put me through!”

  “And yet he’s not here...he’s not here to support you...to take care of you.”

  “I don’t need him to be here right now. He’ll be here Saturday.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “Either way it goes, it’s not like my father gave a rat’s behind about how I felt about anything, so I really don’t need to have a special ceremony for him anyway. I have good mind to take that urn to the landfill and toss it in with the rest of the garbage there.”

  “Wow. I can’t believe you would say something like that. Where’s your respect?”

  “Respect? You were there! You saw the things he made me do. I was his slave. I cooked, cleaned, mopped floors, cut grass, washed clothes...I did everything for that man! And I still had to beg him for money to buy things I needed. All the nights I spent dodging him. All the bad dreams, sleeping in the stable in the cold...he made me hate him.”

  “I could say the same thing about you.”

  “What? That I made you hate me? Say it. Say it, Wyatt,” I say, fuming. “Because I don’t care what you think of me.”

  He grimaces, rubs his fingers through his hair and turns away from me. And then, like the calm before a storm, he says evenly, “I won’t say it, because I respect you, but I won’t be made a fool of twice. I’ll get some divorce papers drawn up immediately. In the meantime, I’m going to gather my things and get out of this house. I’ll let Mr. Price know that you’re still here so hopefully, that won’t prevent you from getting your inheritance. After all, that is the only reason you came here, right?”

  I watch him leave the kitchen and then I hear him ascending the stairs. I’m still standing in the kitchen, feeling lightheaded. Before I completely lose it, I head upstairs for my bedroom.

  In my bedroom, I close the door, lock it then sit on the bed, burying my face in my hands. I hear Wyatt in the room next door, moving swiftly to gather his things. This morning, we were laughing together. Kissing each other. Now, we’re at odds. He’s packing, and once he’s gone, I’ll be in this house all alone.

  What will I do here alone? Stare at the walls and have recurring nightmares? I want to pack up my suitcase and head back to home to Atlanta, but I won’t. I also want to apologize to Wyatt, beg him to stay and finish what we started this morning, but I can’t. I came here for my inheritance and I intend on leaving with it.

  CHAPTER 23

  A Week Later

  The first week here alone wasn’t so bad. At least I didn’t have to deal with the chemistry between me and Wyatt. I even had enough courage to look through an old photo album, seeing pictures of my mother and father at happier times. I was brave enough to finally go inside of my father’s bedroom, to see his clothes, shoes, things that reminded me of him. I see a watch on the nightstand next to a Bible, a candle and a picture of my mother. Maybe he was trying to change…

  * * *

  Today, as I sit at the dinette, enjoying a cup of coffee I get a phone call from Stacey. She’d been calling me all week and all week, I’ve been avoiding her. I just needed time to think about things on my own without any outside influences.

  “Hey Stacey,” I answer.

  “Girl, where on earth have you been?”

  “I’m here…just focusing on myself. So much has happened since you left.”

  “Like what.”

  “Well, for starters Wyatt and I got into a huge argument. He packed his suitcase and left.”

  “Jeez. What happened, Geneva?”

  “I took your advice…I couldn’t keep making him feel like there was a chance for us when I’m engaged to be married to someone else. So when he noticed that I was putting distance between us, we argued and he told me that he would be signing divorce papers soon.”

  “Gosh. I don’t know what to say, Geneva.”

  “It’s all good. I’m okay with it. He’s been gone for a week now and I’m fine. And he needs to file divorce papers so I can move on with my life. That way, Darnell and I can get married without any hiccups.”

  Stacey grows quiet. She’s so quiet that for a second, I think the phone has lost connection, but we’re still connected.

  “Stacey?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Why are you so quiet?”

  “No reason,” she says and I can sense it’s not true because I know her that well. She’s probably thinking that she shouldn’t have given me the advice to stop leading Wyatt on since, for the longest time, she has been #teamWyatt, but I’ve made my decision. It’s a decision that hurts me. Haunts me. Instead of following my heart, I follow principle. Since I’ve accepted Darnell’s ring, I need to see it through. Give us a chance.

  “Anyway, you know I’m dumping my father’s ashes in the pond today.”

  “You said you’re dumping them?”

  “Dumping, pouring, sprinkling...you know what I mean.”

  “I believe the proper term is scattering.”

  “Okay,” I say clearing my throat so I can be proper. Then I say with a British-sounding accent, “I’m going to scatter my father’s ashes in the pond today.”

  “You’re silly, Geneva.”

  I grin and say, “And Darnell is going to be here with me so...”

  “Oh. He’s actually going to make an effort to get there, huh?”

  “Yes. Confirmed it with me this morning.”

  Knocks at the front door disrupts my conversation. I walk to the door, peer through the peephole and see Mr. Price standing there with a manila folder in his hand.

  “Stacey, let me call you back.”

  “Okay, girl.”

  I open the door and invite Mr. Price inside.

  He takes a seat and says, “Good day, Geneva.”

  “Hi, Mr. Price. If you’re here about Wyatt—”

  “No. I wanted to make sure you still had plans to fulfill your father’s wish of scattering his ashes in the pond.”

  “Yes. In a few hours.”

  “Good. Then I want to give you something...actually, something Alfred wanted you to have.”

  He removes what looks like a DVD from the folder, then hands it to me. “He wanted you to watch it before he was laid to rest.”

  “Oh...okay. I’ll watch it.”

  Mr. Price is looking at me intently. He’s not saying a word more. Just sitting there.

  “Um...do you need to see me watch it?”

  “No.”

  “Do I need to sign anything?”

  He adjusts his black-rimmed glasses and says, “How are you holding up, Geneva?”

  If one more person asks me how I’m holding up…ugh. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I release an exasperated breath. “Yes. I’m sure. Why does everyone think that I’m just going to fall apart? My father and I didn’t have a good relationship, Mr. Price. You know that.”

  “I know that, yes, but your father had a lot of hurt in his heart.”

  “But—”

  “The good book says, if errors is what our Heavenly Father watched, who could stand. We all make mistakes, Geneva. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not making excuses for Alfred. I’m simply stating fact. I’ve known your father for a long time...actually since your family moved here from Wisconsin. I’ve seen the changes in him, too. I watched him deteriorate when your mom passed. I saw the alcohol abuse.”

  “Yeah. You and everyone else watched from afar while I had to live with the man.”

  “Did Wyatt McDowell watch from afar?”

  I sigh. I know the answer to that and so does he. Back when I had to deal with my father’s mental abuse, Wyatt was always there for me. I don’t think I would
’ve made it without him.

  “Why are you bringing up Wyatt into this? Thought we were discussing my father?”

  “Wyatt came to see me...told me he moved out...that he was filing for a divorce and wanted to make sure his actions didn’t interfere with your inheritance.”

  “And does it?”

  “No. It doesn’t, but—”

  “But what, Mr. Price?”

  “Nothing. I shouldn’t stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. I’ve taken up enough of your time,” he says, standing.

  I stand and follow him to the door.

  When he steps out onto the porch, he turns to look at me and says, “Money should never trump love, Geneva. Have a good night.”

  I close the door, lean up against it and stand there.

  Money should never trump love...

  I wonder if that’s how he sees me...as a woman who only wants my father’s money. Even Wyatt yelled at me...told me that my father’s money is the only reason I came here. The only reason I agreed to live in this house. I do feel like a have a right to the money after everything my father put me through. But I’m not a gold-digger.

  I walk to the family room, slide the DVD from the protective sleeve and put it in the DVD player. A sharp pain stabs me when I see the image of my father sitting there. It’s a cleaner, shaved, well-groomed version of him...one that I barely recognize. He’s even wearing a black suit, a white dress shirt and tie. He looks good and sober. I sit on the couch, turn the volume up so I can hear him clearly:

  Hello, daughter. I...I know this may be coming a little bit too late, but better late than never, right? I know I wasn’t much of a father to you. You deserved better than what I had to offer you. When I lost your mother...

  He pauses, sniffles and I see tears run down his face effortlessly. When I see him cry, I recall seeing and hearing him weep so many times in the past. Is it possible for a man to really love a woman that much? I dab my eyes and continue watching:

  When I lost your mother, Geneva, something inside of me died with her. I felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest...felt like God was punishing me. Why? I don’t know, but that’s how I felt. Then I began to blame you – that maybe if your mother didn’t have you, she would’ve been fine. So I resented you.

  He dabs his eyes with a Kleenex and tears well up in my eyes again.

  I hated you, but I know I was a fool to shun my only child. I’m sorry for all the years I didn’t love you – all the years you had to endure my suffering. And I want you to know that I’m not angry that you never came back to visit your old man. If I were you, I wouldn’t have come back either.

  He dabs his eyes again, but the more he wipes the tears away, the more they continue to fall.

  Lastly, I want you to know that I drafted up a will with Preston Price. In it, I have included Wyatt McDowell. He’s been helping me out around here a lot. Sometimes, we’ll sit down and talk. He likes to keep me company and I’m glad he does because it gets real quiet around here. Anyway, Wyatt has grown up to be a good man. I know he was a good friend of yours back when you were in school. I still remember him coming over to help you with your chores. If you sit down and talk to him, he could probably give you understanding into the pain I felt when I lost your mother because I can sense the same hurt in his life.

  More tears spill out of my eyes. I know why Wyatt has pain and hurt in his life.

  He would come over to the house and sit in your old room, just sitting there. One day, when he brought me home from an AA meeting, I saw him sitting on the couch with a picture of you in his lap, brushing tears from his eyes. Of course, when he saw me, he pretended that he was fine, but that man ain’t fine. He loves you, and if, my daughter, you find it in your heart to be with him again, just know that I’ll die a happy man knowing that you’ll have a man who loves you as equally as I loved your mother. Tell Wyatt that I love him like a son. And you, my dear daughter, I love you very much, Geneva. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you that in person. Goodbye, sweetheart.

  ____

  Tears drown my face. My hands are trembling. I curl into a ball on the couch, hold a pillow tight against my chest and let myself cry. I don’t want to be comforted right now so in a way, I’m glad I’m here alone. I just want to cry, so that’s what I do. Cry.

  After watching my father’s message to me, I regret staying away for so long. Wyatt had told me that my father was making changes in the last few years of his life but I didn’t really believe it. That is until now. My father looked good. And Wyatt had been taking him to AA meetings. And my father did love me.

  And then there’s Wyatt...

  My father seems to hold him in high regard, as do I, but I’ve already managed to mess that up. He packed his bags and angrily left a week ago and I haven’t heard from him since. And why should I go seeking him out when I’m already engaged? Besides, he could probably never love me as much as he used to because I hurt him. I don’t want to hurt him anymore.

  My cell phone rings and I wipe tears from my eyes so I can see the display. It’s Darnell. I clear my throat again, try to erase any hint of sadness from my voice and answer, “Hey, are you close?”

  “Ah...Geneva, sweetie, something came up at the last minute?”

  “What?”

  “Something came up, baby.”

  “Okay, so where are you?”

  “I’m still in Atlanta. I’m not going to make it tonight—”

  Before I can hear his annoying voice say another word, I hang up the phone and toss it across the room where it slams into the wall and breaks. I cannot believe I’ve put off the scattering of my father’s ashes for an entire month, waiting for him and he backs out on me at the last minute. Looks like I’m on my own which is probably the way it should be. Just me saying a peaceful goodbye to my father.

  CHAPTER 24

  The last time I cried this much was ten years ago. It was when I left Wyatt. I didn’t want to leave, God knows I didn’t want to leave him, but his mother was near tears when she told me to let her son have a chance at a normal life.

  I’m crying just as much for my father. After watching the DVD, it has finally hit me that I no longer have a mother or a father on this earth. Both of my parents are dead and gone. And I’m a mess.

  I walk over to the fireplace, use what little strength I have left to pick up the heavy urn and walk outside. It’s dark, but the fog lights around the property provides enough light even out to the pond. And it’s cold. My face is cold and wet with tears and I didn’t even bother to grab a jacket. I want to finally get this done, to lay my father in his final resting place. The only solace I have is that he no longer has to suffer. He’s suffered for years when my mother died. Now, he can finally rest in peace.

  I set the urn on the ground and, when I stand up, I feel someone draping a warm jacket on my shoulders. Just by the mere scent of it, I know it’s Wyatt. I turn around to look at him but, with bubbles of tears in my eyes, I can’t see him clearly.

  “What are you doing here, Wyatt?” I ask faintly.

  “I didn’t want you to be alone,” he says.

  I feel more tears fall from my eyes, and he swipes them away with his thumbs.

  “You can do this, Geneva. I know it’s difficult, but you can do this.”

  I turn away from Wyatt, look out into the pond and suck in a deep breath. Then I pick up the urn, kiss it and say softly, “I love you, daddy.” I take off the top, then scatter his ashes in the pond, walking alongside it and shaking the urn to empty it. When I’m finished with the task, I’m still in tears, but I feel a certain level of satisfaction in knowing that I’ve completed what my father wanted me to do. I set the urn on the ground but I feel so lightheaded that I can’t stand up straight. So I fall to my knees and weep out into the dark, star-blanketed sky asking why – why did this have to happen to my family?

  “Geneva,” Wyatt says, dropping to his knees in front of me. He picks up his jacket from the ground and puts it back around me
then folds his arms around me. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

  I allow myself to cry on his shoulder while he holds me. While he says comforting words to me. He tells me that everything is going to be okay. That my father and my mother would be proud of me for being so strong, for enduring this. For carrying out his wishes. He tells me to cry all I want, saying it’s my right to do so and that he won’t leave my side unless I wanted to be alone. I didn’t want to be alone and I know he knows that by the tight grip I have around him. My arms are around him so tightly, we may become one.

  “Don’t let me go, Wyatt.”

  “I won’t, angel. I’ll stay here with you as long as you need me.”

  And he does. I don’t even know how long we’ve been out here. All I know is, I’m in the arms of a man who loves me. A man who loves me more than I love myself.

  A man who loves me with the same fervor, passion and trueness with which my father loved my mother...

  * * *

  In the morning, I wake up to a handsome face with sparkling blue eyes beaming back at me. He smiles, softly, almost seductively even, and the curve of his lips nearly makes my heart skip a beat. It’s then that I realize we’re in my bedroom, under the covers together. And his arm is around me. His fingertips are grazing the small of my back. I notice he’s still wearing the same shirt he had on last night and I’m still wearing the same clothes from yesterday as well. Then I remember scattering my father’s ashes in the pond and Wyatt, my true knight in shining armor, came to my rescue. What I can’t recall is how or when we found ourselves here. In my bedroom.

  “Good morning, Geneva.”