by Shelly Ellis
Chapter 23
C. J.
C. J. knew something was wrong the instant she heard his voice. They hadn’t been together long, but she knew him well enough that she could detect when he was antsy, angry, or worried and she heard all of that now in his simple greeting of “What’s up, babe?” Her hold tightened on her cell phone and she grimaced, nervousness suddenly making the muscles in her stomach tighten.
“What happened?” C. J. asked, unable to keep her own alarm out of her voice.
“Oh, nothing,” Terrence replied dryly. “Just the whole damn world has gone to hell.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What? What does that mean?”
“My sister is giving birth to her baby . . . a baby I didn’t even know existed since she decided to tell no one that she was pregnant. And my brother called about an hour ago to tell me that every deputy in the county is looking for his fiancée’s daughter. The poor kid ran away or got kidnapped or . . .” His voice trailed off. “Hell, I don’t know. I have no fucking clue what’s going on anymore!”
C. J. fell into one of her kitchen dinette chairs in shock. “All of this happened today?”
“Pretty much. I’m starting to wonder whether it’s Friday the thirteenth and no one told me.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “You’re safe. It’s still Thursday.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Terrence sighed. “Well, needless to say, I don’t think we’ll be able to meet up tonight. I’m sorry, babe.”
C. J. winced. She had expected him to say as much, but part of her hoped he might still want her to come over to his condo for a romantic evening and a repeat of the first night they had spent together. She ran her fingertip along the brown surface of the oak table, envisioning running it along his brown broad chest and rippled abs. She took a deep breath and clenched her legs together tightly.
Focus, C. J. Focus, she told herself. His world is falling apart around him and you’re thinking about having sex with him again.
“Don’t apologize, Terry. Really, it’s . . . it’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Definitely! You saved me from having to get all dolled up,” she lied before glancing down at the clingy black dress she was wearing. She shifted in her chair and adjusted the lace thong beneath her dress. It was far from comfortable, but she had worn it just for Terrence—a surprise gift she knew he would enjoy. Now he wouldn’t get to see it. “You did me a favor. I can just lounge around in my pj’s!”
“Well, don’t act that damn excited not to see me! Way to make a brotha feel important!”
“Oh, stop! You big baby,” she said with a laugh. “Go deal with your family stuff. I’ll be fine. Just get back to me when everything settles down.”
“Don’t worry. I will.”
“I guess I’ll talk to you later, then,” she said.
“Yeah, guess so. ’Bye, babe. Love you,” he said, then hung up, not giving her a chance to respond.
He said the last part so quickly that she wondered if she had really heard it. Love you.
She smiled and hung up her cell phone, lowering it to the kitchen table, feeling warm all over.
Terrence Murdoch said he loved her and he had said it twice! Part of her wanted to break out into girlish giggles, but she resisted the urge. Instead she rose to her feet and began to lower the zipper on the side of her dress, preparing herself for a quiet evening at home alone.
Twenty minutes later, C. J. was removing a bag of popcorn from the microwave, carefully tugging open the seams of the bag so as to not burn her fingertips.
She had traded her slinky black dress for a baggy T-shirt and sweatpants. Her hair was piled into a crudely crafted bun atop her head. She set the steaming popcorn bag aside and walked to the other end of her counter to sample the bottle of merlot she had picked up at the Chesterton supermarket a few days ago. She uncorked it and poured some wine into a coffee mug before carrying the mug and popcorn to her living room. The opening credits to Imitation of Life—one of her favorite old movies—appeared on-screen. She set the popcorn bag and mug on the coffee table before plopping onto her sofa. Just as she stuck her hand inside the bag and pulled out a fistful of popcorn kernels, she heard a knock at her apartment door. She raised her brows in surprise. Besides Terrence, she hadn’t expected any visitors this evening.
C. J. shoved the buttery popcorn into her mouth, chewing it as she slowly walked to her front door. “Who is it?” she called out between chews.
C. J. stood on the balls of her feet and peered through the peephole. When she saw who was standing on the welcome mat in her hallway, she stumbled back in shock. Her hand flew to her chest, where her heart was beating so fast that she thought it might seize up and she’d die of a heart attack.
This can’t be possible, she thought, absolutely stunned.
She threw open the deadbolt and unlocked the bottom lock before cracking open the door and peering into the hall, to prove to herself that she wasn’t daydreaming.
“D-d-daddy?” she stuttered, barely above a whisper.
Her father gazed at her, looking staid and regal like an Ethiopian king. His face revealed no hint of emotion. He nodded curtly. “Courtney, how have you been?”
A tidal wave of emotions swept over C. J. She hadn’t seen her father in years and when she had last spoken to him she had been at an emotional low. She had been in tears, sobbing and telling him that there was no way possible she could marry Shaun Clancy.
“I can’t do it, Daddy!” she had remembered crying to him on the eve of her wedding, speaking with him in his private study. “I don’t love him! I can’t marry a guy I don’t love!”
“You can and you will,” her father had said firmly, when all attempts to rationalize and cajole her had failed. “My children obey me. It is what you owe me as your father. ‘Children, obey your parents in everything, for this pleases the Lord.’ Colossians, chapter 3, verse 20.”
C. J. had never forgiven him for how callous he had been, for quoting Bible verses and refusing to budge when she had poured her heart out to him. And how could he possibly quote Bible verses to her when she knew what he did behind closed doors, when she knew the double life he led?
But as she gazed at him now, she realized that even though she was hurt by her father and angry at him, she still missed him. A part of her still yearned for the man who had once called her his “precious jewel,” who had once been the center of her universe.
She pushed the door opened farther. Now she could see that the esteemed Reverend Pete Aston was not alone. Her mother and her brother, Victor, stood to the side. They both looked solemn.
“What . . . what are you guys doing here?” she asked, still stunned that her family was standing in her hallway. She wanted to reach out to touch her father and mother to assure herself that they were really there, but she fought back the impulse.
“We need your help, sweetheart,” her mother said with her head bowed and her hands clasped in front of her plump frame.
She had gained weight since C. J. had last seen her. She looked like she had put on about thirty pounds. Her hair also had more gray strands than C. J. remembered. Her wheat-colored face had several more wrinkles.
It’s only been five years, Mama! When did you get so old?
C. J. shifted her gaze to her mother. “What do you mean?”
“Look, can we come in, Court?” Victor asked, stepping forward. The dour expression didn’t leave his face. “We’ve been driving for hours. I think Mom and Dad would like to sit down.”
She instantly nodded and gestured for them to come inside her home. Her family silently walked through the doorway, her father taking the lead. After they stepped over the threshold, they peered around her apartment—staring at the space and the décor. The look of disdain that crossed all of their faces didn’t surprise C. J. Her humble abode was nothing like her father’s four-thousand-square-foot home back in North Carolina with its high ceilings, expensive knickkna
cks and artwork, and stately furniture. But she made no apologies for her plain existence. However, she did stiffen when her mother leaned down and scooped up C. J.’s half-filled coffee mug from the coffee table and sniffed its contents. The older woman raised her brows. Her heavy frown deepened even further, making C. J.’s cheeks warm with embarrassment.
“You’re drinking liquor now?” her mother asked, turning to her, looking distraught. “Has the devil ensnared you in his evil ways?”
C. J. didn’t answer her. What could she say? “Yes, Mama, I drink now. I also haven’t gone to church in years. And I had premarital sex and liked it. I hope to do it again as soon as I can. Maybe the devil has ensnared me, but compared to what Daddy and Victor do on the regular, I think I still have a long way to go on the grand scale of sinning!”
Instead she gestured toward the sofa and armchairs. “Please have a seat.”
Her mother slowly lowered herself onto the sofa, placing the cup back on the coffee table and shoving it away like it was arsenic, not red wine. Her father took a seat beside her. Victor sat in one of the armchairs and C. J. took the other. The living room fell into awkward silence. She could practically hear Victor’s Movado watch ticking on his wrist.
“So,” C. J. said when she couldn’t take the silence anymore, “what brings you all here?”
Victor opened his mouth, then paused. He glanced at his father. The older man nodded his dark head, giving him approval to speak.
“We have a . . . a bit of a problem at Aston Ministries,” Victor began.
“What problem?” C. J. asked. And what does it have to do with me?
“We’ve got wind of an impending lawsuit by a former employee. One of Dad’s previous assistants—”
“The low-down hussy,” C. J.’s mother spat. “I knew it the minute I laid eyes on her that she would be nothing but trouble! I could see it in her eyes. I heard the voice of the Lord whispering in my head telling me, Watch out for that one, Sarah. She is the wolf in sheep’s clothing,” her mother ranted. “She is the—”
Her mother immediately fell silent when her father placed his hand on top of hers and gave it a squeeze that looked affectionate at first glance, but C. J. knew it meant more than that.
Be quiet, Sarah, the squeeze said.
“Well, anyway,” Victor continued, “she’s making unsubstantiated allegations that could taint Dad’s reputation, as well as the reputation of Aston Ministries. Her lawyer says he’s going to go to the press with it if Dad doesn’t agree to settle for a substantial sum. And it’s coming at a very, very delicate time when Dad is seriously considering a run for office.”
C. J. turned to her father. “What allegations?”
“She says he’s the father of her bastard child!” her mother suddenly burst out, leaning forward on the sofa.
C. J. cringed.
“Can you believe that?” her mother yelled. “That hussy sinned and rutted with who knows what, and now she’s trying to tarnish your daddy with this! She’s trying to force him to take a DNA test after the baby is born. She should be ashamed of herself!”
“Sarah,” her father began softly.
“No, Pete! You were nothing but kind to that gal—helping her pay her way through college and giving her a good wage to take care of the child she already had out of wedlock. You took her under your wing! And this is how she repays you?”
C. J. gazed at her father, feeling a mix of disillusionment and disgust. Though her mother was sure that her father was innocent, C. J. wasn’t so certain. But the older woman had subsisted for decades on a buffet of denial and willful ignorance; C. J. couldn’t stand to live on a similar diet. She knew about her father’s dalliances and had even stumbled upon him in a heated embrace with one of his female parishioners back when she was nineteen years old. But he had never gotten any of his girlfriends pregnant before. Could he really have been so careless? So stupid?
“So what exactly do you expect me to do?” she asked, unable to hide her anger or distaste.
“We need to show a united front, Court.” Victor leaned forward with his elbows perched on his knees. “I know you agreed before not to do any on-camera interviews—”
“And I still won’t,” she said firmly.
“But we plan to hold a press conference,” Victor continued. “Dad wants to fight this lawsuit. And it will look strange if you’re not there!”
“I don’t care! No, I can’t do it. I won’t do it. I explained that to you in the beginning when you asked for my help . . . no, when you bullied me into helping the first time! I have a life here! A new life that I just won’t toss aside because—”
“So you would let that woman send your daddy down the river because you want to keep your privacy?” her mother asked, looking horrified. “When did you get so selfish, girl?”
“Selfish? Selfish?” C. J. screeched, feeling decades’ worth of anger suddenly erupt to the surface.
“Watch the volume and watch your tone,” Victor ordered tightly, pointing his finger at her.
“No, Victor, I won’t do that. And I won’t keep silent anymore, either. I’ve been silent long enough.” She turned back to her mother, feeling emboldened. “Mama, for twenty-one years I did everything . . . everything that you and Daddy told me to do! I was almost willing to marry a man I had no interest in marrying just to make you happy. But it was never good enough. Was it? You always wanted more and more and more and more!”
“Yes,” her mother said with a nod, “the devil definitely has his hooks in you, because the sanctified girl I knew never would speak to her mother like this. How dare you yell at me!”
“No, Mama, how dare you—”
“That’s it! That is it!” Victor shouted simultaneously, shooting to his feet. “I’ve had enough of this, you ungrateful little—”
“We will speak privately,” her father suddenly boomed. “Nothing will get settled here with all of you barking and growling at each other like some . . . some rabid dogs.” He walked toward the apartment’s hallway leading to her bedroom and master bath, expecting her to wordlessly follow him.
C. J.’s heart thudded wildly in her chest. Her chest heaved. Her face felt like it was on fire.
He paused at the hall’s entrance and turned to her. “Are you coming, Courtney?”
Old habits die hard. At her father’s question, she rose to her feet and walked past him, leading the way to her bedroom. She pushed her bedroom door open and he followed her.
When he shut the door behind him, she turned to him expectantly.
“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to her bed.
She furrowed her brows and slowly sat down. He stood near the bed, looming over her like he loomed from the elevated pulpit at his church.
“I know you think me a . . . a proud man,” her father began, pacing in front of her. “But I am not. I want to start off by humbling myself to you. I want to tell you, Courtney, that I am sorry.”
She raised her brows in surprise. An apology? That wasn’t what she had expected.
He lowered his eyes to his ebony, wrinkled hands. “I want to apologize for disappointing you, for not being the daddy I should have been. I should have listened when you turned to me for help. But I put my pride before my obligation, and I drove my precious jewel away. For that, I am deeply ashamed. Can you . . . can you forgive me?”
Her mouth fell open. Tears sprung to her eyes. She was at a loss for words. When he raised his dark eyes and stared at her expectantly, she quickly nodded.
“Of course, Daddy!” she said, her voice cracking with a well of emotion. “Of . . . of course, I forgive you.”
“Thank you. I am glad to hear it.” He sat on the bed beside her, reached for her hand, and held it. “I want us to be father and daughter again, Courtney. And I want it not just to have you standing beside me at a press conference, but standing beside me period. You’re my child . . . flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. It breaks my heart to have you so far away from me.”
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br /> “I will always be your daughter, Daddy, but I can’t lie anymore.”
“And I would never ask you to lie.”
Maybe. But in the past her father had had no problem asking her to pretend, which was the closest you could get to lying. Was he about to ask her to do it all over again? She needed to know the truth.
“So there’s no way possible that you could be that baby’s father? You never did anything with that woman?”
He dropped her hand and sat back, looking stunned by her question. “How could you even ask me that?”
“Daddy . . .” She paused. She couldn’t meet his eyes anymore. “Daddy, I know everything. I know about the other women and . . . and about all the affairs. I know, okay? Please, just . . . just tell me the truth.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I did not fornicate with that young woman. I saw her as a daughter, as a young lady with lots of potential who needed guidance and a helping hand. But she didn’t seem to be of the same mind,” he said ruefully. “She came to the house one day and tried to seduce me. I suppose she had gotten word of my . . . my past indiscretions that I had committed in a moment of weakness. But I prayed to God long ago for forgiveness for that sinfulness. I told Him I would never do it again. So I told her no and she became angry, belligerent.” He shook his head. “I had to ask her to leave my home. The next day she told me she would be resigning her position as my assistant. Five months after that, I got a letter from her lawyer saying that she was pregnant and she was suing me for sexual harassment.”
C. J. pursed her lips.
“Perhaps you see this as justice due for the sins I have committed, and perhaps you’re right. I know I have been tainted, Courtney. ‘Like a muddied spring or a polluted well are the righteous who give way to the wicked.’ ”
“From the Book of Proverbs,” C. J. whispered.
Now her father was the one who looked surprised. A small smile crept to his lips. “That’s right.”
“Look, Daddy, I don’t see any justice in what you’re going through now. I never wanted bad things to happen to you or Mom or even Victor. You’re my family . . . the only family I’ve ever known.”