And she hopped into her mother’s minivan and sped away.
________
“You lied to him? You told that—” Vivienne gulped down her words before finishing. “. . . JD that you’d miscarried?” She sounded incredulous, like she was working through a difficult puzzle by herself.
Maxine accepted the tissue Lilian pressed between her trembling fingers and offered her a silent thank-you. She dried her face. “It was all I could think to do at that moment to protect him, to protect all of us from making an even bigger mistake. JD was supposed to be my safe place, but all he did was get me kicked out of the church youth choir—which is exactly what would’ve happened if I’d strolled in there with a belly out to there and no husband to be seen.
“Mother, I didn’t know what to do. I just knew what I didn’t want to do. And that included telling you and First John and listening to you bash JD for the rest of my life, pointing out how wrong he was and how stupid I was and how disappointed you were. It was my decision to let him go so he wouldn’t ruin his life, too. He didn’t deserve that when he was only trying to help me. So . . . I decided not to say anything until I could figure something out. I threw away every letter JD wrote, ignored all his phone calls, nodded along when you celebrated our breakup.”
“You mean your divorce. Something I never would’ve celebrated had I known.” Vivienne didn’t try to hide her bitterness.
Maxine held up a hand. “I’m not sure about that. Once I heard you tell Mama Ruby it was about time I ‘woke up and left that boy.’ But it’s okay. You were right. It was time for me to wake up to the truth. As a daughter, I wasn’t obedient enough. As a wife, I wasn’t mature enough. As a mother, I wasn’t good enough.”
“Not good enough?” Lilian’s and Vivienne’s voices formed a duet, their tones expressing varying notes of disbelief.
“Not enough of anything. Regardless of what you thought, Mother, JD was willing to change his whole life for me, which is exactly what he did! He became my home when it was taken from me—no offense, First John—and he tried to stand up and do what was right when I told him I was pregnant. Then out of respect for what I wanted—for what I didn’t want—he let me go.”
“Maxine, Maxine.” First John cradled his head in his hands. “What did you think would happen when he found out you’d had his child? I mean, he did find out. What did he say?”
“When I left, I honestly thought I’d never come back. My seventeen-year-old self planned to raise her on my own. Do what Mother couldn’t do. It seemed the end of the world as I knew it. But then I did come back. And you forgave me. You accepted us. Not only that—” Maxine took a big breath to fill lungs that seemed deflated—“one day, I was forced to let JD know the truth.”
“Forced?”
When they all started at Lilian’s interjection, the pastor’s wife winced. “I’m sorry. That slipped out. I told you I’m a curious cat. Forgive me. The Lord is still working on me.”
Maxine was surprised that she could smile a little at the woman. Actually, she felt a bit lighter. A bit. “I’m the last person to hold it against you, believe me.” Sobering, she turned her attention to her family. “And, Mother, even after I told him about the adoption, he agreed. He gave up his own child, all because I convinced him it was the right thing to do, especially after all that time. If I’d been strong enough, I would’ve stuck it out.”
“Or not married him in the first place,” Vivienne muttered.
Maxine stared at her. “Or not given up his daughter in the second place.”
Mother looked away.
“Anyway. That’s what I was thinking then.” And now, she thought. “I was too weak to tell you before we left for Alabama, and when I couldn’t hide my pregnancy any longer, I ran away.” Maxine gripped the stiff arms of her chair and leaned back, spent.
Reverend Atwater shifted in his seat. “When we first met and you talked about your family, you never gave any indication.”
You lied, a voice accused. And you’re still lying. “What? I didn’t say, ‘Hello, I’m Maxine, Teddy’s fiancée. And while I’m making introductions, I should tell you about my first husband, JD Lester, and Celeste, my daughter?’”
“Your daughter? But isn’t that your sister’s name?” Atwater sat back.
“Willy, I’ll get you some water. How about I just wheel the server over? We could all use some refreshment.” Lilian gripped his shoulder and rose.
First John cleared his throat. “Maxine left us for nearly a year. Just up and disappeared one day after we’d moved to Mobile. She left a note that told us not to worry, that she hadn’t been kidnapped or killed. We called the police anyway and tried to file a report, but she was over seventeen, so there was nothing they could do—or rather would do. We just prayed, cried, mourned. We stayed in Alabama, hoping she’d return.
“Then one night, we opened our door. And there she was. There they were—Maxine and Celeste. I can imagine how Mary and Martha must have felt when they saw Lazarus emerge from the tomb. What was lost found again. Alive.” He sniffed and wiped away a tear. He cradled Vivienne’s hand and pulled her closer to him on the love seat. “Soon after that, we had a new baby girl, and our oldest daughter had graduated from high school and was attending college. Life was . . . life was . . .”
“Beautiful. Life was beautiful. Everything was as it should be.” With her free hand, Vivienne used a handkerchief to dab her cheeks.
Reverend Atwater inhaled slowly. “In one of our earlier sessions, you revealed that Celeste is adopted. She knows?”
Maxine nodded.
“And she knows the circumstances?”
Vivienne volunteered in the pause, “Not everything, no.”
“I convinced them that Celeste didn’t need to know because I didn’t want to undermine her security. She just knew she was adopted and that we’d tell her the rest of the story when she turned sixteen. All she knew was that her birth mother was a family member who loved her enough to do what she thought was best, that she was so young when she had her and that we offered our help because we loved her . . . them. We kept it in the family.”
The pastor nodded. “That family business Maxine mentioned.”
“Yes. No need to be broadcastin’ it to various and sundry. It’s our business, and we took care of it.”
“But what about the child’s birth father?” Atwater pressed.
“What about him?” Vivienne reared up like a threatened swan, prepared to spread her wings and knock senseless a predator with a heavy thwop to his head.
As if sensing the threat, Lilian squeezed her husband’s knee and ventured gently, “I think what Pastor means, Vivienne, is what did you tell your daughter? Does Celeste know about JD?”
Vivienne scooted back an inch, still eyeing the Atwaters warily. “Oh.”
Maxine cleared her throat when they all set their sights on her. “She doesn’t know his name, but she knows he gave her up because he loved her. He loved me.” She squirmed in their crosshairs.
She soaked in all the faces and emotions in the room, absorbing the benevolent sympathy from the Atwaters and the overwhelming regret flowing from her parents. “But we’ve been living in the past. Every day. Pretending I was still a kid, living at home. For years, I got to be the obedient teen, not the rebellious one. Have a mother and a father, be the best babysitter for my little brothers and sister. The virginal bride-to-be to an upstanding man my parents picked out for me. Until now. JD’s back, and we’re reliving the nightmare of my teen years.”
“Maxine, no,” Lilian whispered.
“Yes. Yes! Except today I’m not just devastating my parents, I’m also taking my fiancé and my daughter down with me. And let’s not forget JD.”
Reverend Atwater retrieved his Bible from the table between them and opened it. “Let’s see what the Word says about this. Here . . .” He flipped through his well-worn pages. “According to Psalm 103, God forgets all our iniquities, heals all our diseases, and redeems
our life from destruction. In His great, everlasting mercy, He has removed our transgressions as far as the east is from the west.” He moved the ribbon to the page and closed his Bible. “If God forgives and remembers our sins no more, then why do you cling to them, Maxine? Celeste is a gift.”
She hung her head. “Because I continue living a lie, Pastor. As long as Teddy doesn’t know I have an ex-husband, I lie. As long as he and Celeste think I’m her sister, I lie. As long as she thinks JD is—” Maxine’s voice broke. “My sins are this close.” Only a hair’s breadth separated her thumb and index fingers.
Lilian handed Maxine a glass of ice water. “Then ‘go, and sin no more,’ as Jesus told the woman caught in adultery. No one here condemns you—not God. Not Pastor or me. Not your parents.” She glanced at Vivienne and John before turning back to Maxine. “So if you need to sit Celeste down, talk to Teddy, or confront JD, do it, whatever the case. Go. And sin. No more. Then, when guilt’s not hunting you down, you can see what you’re chasing and figure out just what you want.”
June
“Behavior follows belief. You will act consistently with what you believe about yourself. That’s why you’ve got to know your identity in Christ. What you’ve done is not who you are. Failure is an event. It’s not who you are.”
UNKNOWN
Chapter Twenty-Five
“MAXINE, I KNOW WHAT YOUR GRANDDADDY said about me. But he’s the broken refrigerator.” Ruby straightened the white damask tablecloth.
“Mi rubí preciosa, that customer left with a smile on his face. No te preocupes.” Lerenzo waved away his wife’s concerns like a nagging fly.
Ruby put a fist on an ample hip. “‘No te preocupes’? Don’t worry? Even though you told a stranger what I put in my baked beans!”
“And he’ll be back to order even more. No matter how much bacon fat he adds to his beans, they won’t taste like yours. Sí o sí, nietecita?” Lerenzo winked at Maxine, who was helping him even out the table linen on the other side of the round table.
“Claro que sí. You’re right, Granddaddy.” Maxine yawned. Mama Ruby’s phone call had yanked her from bed just before the sun crept from its resting place that Saturday morning.
“I still can’t understand how that child got it into her head to leave me with this luncheon. She knew what was happenin’ today! Flittin’ off to the mountains like she don’t have a care in the world.” Ruby yanked on the linen.
Maxine held her peace, knowing the “child” her grandma referred to was Vivienne and her last-minute getaway with First John to their mountain house. Since Jean had canceled the staff meeting, Maxine had hoped to hide under the covers until she picked Teddy up for their date with Evelyn, Kevin, and baby Lauren. But here she was, filling in at a Manna catering job in Raleigh. No rest for the soul weary.
Run, run, run, as fast as you can . . . Been there, done that. Maxine buried her regrets in a mental grave. Then she tossed in her thoughts about the meeting with the Atwaters and piled imaginary dirt on top for good measure. She surveyed the five tables they still needed to prepare.
“Thanks for steppin’ in, Maxine. Can’t keep good help. Folks always complainin’ about not having money, but they won’t do somethin’ to change their situations. If only they knew workin’ hard fills an empty pocketbook and an empty spirit.” Ruby smoothed out the wrinkles in a tablecloth and moved on to another. “Hand me that over there.”
“Does it, Mama Ruby? I’m not so sure.” Maxine retrieved the box.
“It helped your mama.” Another tablecloth billowed out like a cloud as Ruby nodded at the ceramic salt- and pepper shakers nestled in plastic. “Put a set on each table.”
“Because she met First John?”
“Because she was doing something besides feelin’ sorry for herself.” Ruby pointed to the back of the room. “Now go do what I told you, girl.”
Maxine frowned—internally—and obeyed.
Her grandmother disappeared behind the kitchen’s swinging doors.
Lerenzo stroked Maxine’s arm. “Tu abuela has a good point, even if it stings when she pokes you with it. Fretting never solved a problem. Know what does? Oración y fe.”
Prayer and faith. His gentle pressure balanced out Mama Ruby’s firm push. “I know, Granddaddy. Sometimes worrying feels easier.” Maxine moved to the next table.
He nodded as he reached into the box and retrieved a few shaker sets. “It may seem that way.”
“Because it is that way.” Ruby seemed to materialize from thin air, smelling like baked chicken and the grape jelly–chili sauce mixture for her meatballs. She pushed a cartload of dishes. “Trusting God is an act of the will. It isn’t easy to fight your nature. Worryin’ and fussin’ over a matter come easy to you. That don’t mean you do nuthin’, but that somethin’ may mean standin’ still. Believers spend much of their time waitin’ and watchin’.”
“Sounds like fun,” Maxine said under her breath.
“It’s more fun than cleanin’ up the mess from your mistakes when you rush ahead of God. Anyway, I don’t have time for pulling weeds. Child, come over here and push this cart. Lerenzo, start with the utensils. Oh, goodness, the flowers!”
Ruby called out to two women who breezed into the room bearing containers of violet, white, and indigo asters and anemones set in greenery. “Y’all can start placing those centerpieces on the finished tables in the back and work up this way. We’ll be outta your hair in a minute.”
Maxine hustled over to grasp the cart’s handle as her grandmother centered plates in front of chairs. Lerenzo followed behind, arranging forks, knives, and spoons.
Ruby flicked a hand around the hall. “Now you and Lerenzo finish up. I’m goin’ back to the kitchen to check the food. Hungry folks will be here any minute. See if the florists need any help, but keep them outta my kitchen. We got to get crackin’.” She cast a look over her shoulder. “And that means you, Maxine.”
Her grandfather leaned toward her. “It probably means me, too.”
Maxine and Lerenzo repositioned tables and chairs and rearranged centerpieces after the florists had left while Ruby basted, stirred, sliced, and pointed out their mistakes. Right after Maxine set out the last chafing dish and slipped a serving spoon into the ambrosia, the host of the luncheon braced open the double doors and ushered in the first group of septuagenarians. Gradually the room filled with chatter, chuckling, and the clanking of utensils on glass dishes.
For more than an hour, Maxine followed her grandmother’s directions, refilling iced tea and replacing dropped forks and napkins. She lost count after the thirty-fifth “bless your heart” and rolled her eyes the third time she returned a saucer holding dentures. When at last the event’s hostess climbed the two steps of the dais and spoke into the microphone, Maxine sloughed off to the industrial-size kitchen and threw herself across the stainless steel countertop.
“My hat is off to you and Granddaddy. These folks wore me out. The slippers—is that how you do it?” Maxine pointed to Mama Ruby’s polka-dot, terry cloth slides, her normal work attire whether she was cooking at home or in a four-star restaurant. “If one more lady in a flowered dress and hat shakes her cup of ice at me and calls me honey, I’m going to explode. And if I had to listen to another story that starts off with ‘When I was your age . . .’ or ‘Back in . . .’”
Ruby stopped wiping the counter and propped a hand on her hip. “If you had to listen to another story, what? Now tell me somethin’, child.”
Maxine clamped her lips together.
“Mmm-hmmm. That’s what I thought. Those folks in there been through some things, and you’d best pick up a basket and gather up some wisdom. You could use it right now. Consider it a blessin’ to serve them and listen to their stories. Some of those people marched with Dr. King. They carried the newspaper yesterday—when they were your age—so you could write your articles today. They bore the stripes so you could vote, marry whoever you wanted to, and sit up in here moanin’ and groanin’ abo
ut the sorry state of your life. Sure, they may not be able to text on that phone and play games on the computer like Robert and Second John, but there’s plenty more important things those folks know and did—and can still do, let me tell you.”
Ruby tsked. “Now go see to the dishes and stow these boxes in the van while I slice this red velvet cake. And make it quick. You’d best believe that speaker won’t be too long. They’re all ready for a nap after that heavy lunch.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Maxine murmured and pushed herself upright.
Lerenzo’s eyes twinkled at the chastened Maxine as he clicked open a plastic container storing a sheet cake. He set it on the counter and reached for the next.
Maxine tried to make herself as small and as useful as possible as Ruby continued to grumble, throwing daggers her granddaughter’s way as she sliced the cake. Contritely, Maxine rinsed and dried the dishes, then packed red velvet squares into small white boxes each lunch guest would take home as a favor. Her grandmother was cutting the second cake when she froze, the tip of her stainless steel knife just breaking through the frosting.
“What is it, Mama Ruby?” Maxine set down a dish.
“Who’s that?” The older woman shuffled to the paneled door and peeked through its diamond-shaped window. Apparently unsatisfied with the view, she pushed open the door slightly.
Maxine heard a resonant, well-modulated voice say, “. . . inviting me. As you heard, I’m Hugh Anthony McMillan, but please, call me what my wife calls me. Hugh Anthony McMillan.”
Mama Ruby watched for a minute, then slowly let the door swing shut. “He didn’t sound like no Hugh Anthony.” Ruby’s voice was hushed as she stood eye level with the glass pane.
“Entonces quién?” Lerenzo unloaded the last of their cookware from the dishwasher.
“Then who, I can’t say. He just puts me in the mind of . . . Nah, ain’t no way.” Mama Ruby seemed to be shaking herself free of a thought and returned to her cake distribution.
Maxine assumed her grandmother’s spot at the door and checked out the speaker, a man who appeared to be around the age of most of the people in the room. But he exuded a warmth and vitality that rivaled the June sun streaming through the windows around them while looking as cool and fresh as the spring breeze. Maxine propped her foot in the opening in order to hear him.
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