This book is a work of fiction. Certain real locations and public figures are included to make the story more vivid. However, all other characters and the events depicted in this book are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2009 by Xavier Knight
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
Grand Central Publishing
Hachette Book Group
237 Park Avenue
New York, NY 10017
Visit our Web site at www.HachetteBookGroup.com.
First eBook Edition: March 2009
Grand Central Publishing is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
The Grand Central Publishing name and logo is a trademark of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
ISBN: 978-0-446-54465-8
Contents
Copyright Page
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Reading Group Guide
PRAISE FOR XAVIER KNIGHT/C. KELLY ROBINSON AND THE THINGS WE DO FOR LOVE
“A well-written story that doesn’t sugar-coat anything. The Things We Do for Love is a truly satisfying read you will enjoy. I did.”
— MyShelf.com
“Perfect . . . Those familiar with his writing as C. Kelly Robinson will be in for a surprise at [his] new direction.”
— TheRawReviewers.com
“A very good read . . . readers are taken on a reading roller coaster . . . Recommend[ed].”
— SLSBookClubCenter.ning.com
“A well-written, multilayered novel about family, faith, friendship, and forgiveness. I recommend . . . to all readers who enjoy novels that will have them thinking for hours after they are done.”
— ApoooBooks.com
To Kyra and Kennedi with love, for keeping me focused
Acknowledgments
Giving honor to God, my ultimate “muse,” thank you for this seventh book. To my wife, Kyra, and to my daughter, Kennedi, thank you for helping Daddy keep the business side of life in perspective. Additional thanks go to Karen Thomas and the Grand Central Publishing team; Elaine Koster and the Koster Literary Agency; and every bookstore, book club, and journalist who continue to look out for my work. Thanks as always to my Robinson, Alford, and Grimes families and many friends for ongoing love and fellowship. Finally, to the readers —may this story be more than just a good read, but prayerfully a blessing.
Prologue
It was the last day on which he would be able to bathe, dress, and feed himself, but for Eddie Walker, that fall day in 1988 started like any other. Wiping at his eyes, he slid off the tattered cloth couch in his parents’ family room and dared to hope for more.
“Two more paychecks, babe,” Momma had promised the night before, kneeling so she could peck his forehead with a kiss. The couch was a few feet from the front door, which she had slammed behind her after a late night helping with inventory at the neighborhood Kmart. “Two more checks, and Lloyd and I’ll have enough to get that bunk bed you wanted. You know, the one at Levitz with the Batman and Robin covers?”
His eyes barely open, Eddie hadn’t bothered to hide his disgust, well aware that it probably oozed from his pores as he shook his head at Momma’s ignorance. “I asked for that when I was, like, ten. What was that, four years ago?”
Momma’s face had clouded with sad recognition before she spoke. “Four years? Eddie, I swear it was just yesterday you was asking for that bed.” Her eyes flicked heavenward and she asked, “Where does the time go?” before turning and skittering down the hall, her speed so great she reminded Eddie of a cockroach fleeing light.
If he’d been spared, been able to mature into the traditional form of adulthood, Eddie might have at least come to appreciate his mother’s guilt. Edna Morrison loved both of her boys mightily, but life had been hard and she was the first to admit she had fallen short of her Christian faith. Raised in the church, Edna had seen her faith wax and wane through numerous external and self-inflicted trials. The arrival of Eddie’s big brother, Pete, when Edna was a testy nineteen-year-old with nothing to her name but a dead-end relationship with an unemployed car mechanic, had reminded her of the need for a Higher Power’s help. How else could she ever shepherd a new life past the types of hills and valleys —mostly valleys —she had endured?
At fourteen, however, Eddie was blind to Momma’s journey, blind to the sacrifices she had made to provide him and Pete with the modest comforts of life, including a home of their own and —on the third try —a stepfather who never raised a hand in anger. Finally the toughest trick of all for a woman with a poverty-level income: private-school educations.
Not that Eddie really valued the privilege of attending Christian Light Schools. He fantasized about turning sixteen and dropping out, intent on signing up at the nearest vocational school. He’d had just about enough of the corny, starry-eyed religious teaching and preaching, the nosy teachers who questioned whether his parents were really married, and the preppy, pampered students of the “in crowd,” who so clearly enjoyed pretending he didn’t exist. The “in” kids were too scared of Eddie to ever pick with him, which got on his nerves even more; he licked his lips daily for an excuse to introduce one of the stuck-up jocks to the wonders of Pete’s Swiss Army knife, if his brother would ever let him borrow it.
As he bounded over to the bedroom he shared with Pete, though, Eddie found his thoughts turning to three of his least favorite people in the entire school —Julia, Toya, and Terry. Tall, pitch-black, smart-mouthed, and viciously angry, the nigger girls seemed like the only folks who hated Christian Light more than he did. When they weren’t looking, Eddie would occasionally slide up behind them in the cafeteria and chuckle under his breath. The girls cracked him up, the way they always fantasized about escaping Christian Light for the Dayton city school system, where they’d be surrounded by fellow blacks.
“I’m going to Dunbar for high school, forget this place,” Toya would always brag in her singsongy whine.
“Forget that, my momma says I can use my grandma’s
address and go to Meadowdale,” Terry claimed confidently.
Julia, the one who usually spoke to Eddie when he crossed paths with them, would always bring her mouthy friends back to earth. “Ain’t neither one of you jokers going anywhere,” she would remind them. “My pop-pops asked both of your mommas where you’re going for high school last week, during the parent-teacher conference night. He was so excited when we got home, saying he knows I’ll always have you two to count on as long as I’m at Christian Light. We’re all trapped here,” she would say, sighing, “so we may as well make the best of it.”
Inevitably, one of the girls would feel Eddie staring, and that’s when things would get ugly. One of them would ask, “What you starin’ at?” Eddie would respond, “Oh, just checking out a few baboons,” to which they would respond with wisecracks about his BO, his soup bowl haircut, or the fact he wore the same shirt from Tuesday on Friday. Just yesterday Julia had hit him with a new one: “Hey, Eddie, you still in love with Cassie? Too bad she says you smell like mildew!” That last line stung; as Julia and her friends’ laughter mocked him, Eddie recalled that kids he considered friends had made the same crack about his scent.
Cobwebs just now clearing from his brain, Eddie still felt his blood heat at the memory. How did these nappy-headed hos know about his crush on Cassie Duncan, who was too pretty and had way too much beautiful, feathery hair to really be black? And how did they know what Cassie thought about him?
Julia had lied, Eddie told himself as he rummaged through a creaky dresser in search of clothing. Cassie couldn’t have already ruled him out; he hadn’t even told her about his crush. Maybe it was time, though. Eddie knew who he was, and he was definitely worthy of a half-colored girl’s time. One thing his grandparents, aunts, and uncles had taught him in his young life —they had all helped raise him through the years as his momma had often held down two or three jobs to maintain the lifestyle she provided —was that he had a proud family legacy. The Walkers and Morrisons of East Dayton were hardworking, hard-drinking clans whose sweaty labor had helped construct many of Dayton’s most well-known buildings, from downtown throughout the entire Miami Valley.
“Get out of here, booger breath.” Eddie’s deep thoughts were interrupted by Pete’s grumpy greeting, followed closely by the thud of a gym shoe against his temple. “You woke me up, you little freak,” his brother continued. There were no blinds or drapes in the tiny bedroom, and Saturday-morning sunlight bathed the entire space, but Pete had enjoyed a blissful sleep until his brother stumbled across the threshold. Unlike Eddie, he had long been content without a real bed. Since graduating from high school last year, he had made do with the air mattress; his last bed had caved in halfway through an afternoon make-out session with an ex-girlfriend.
Pitching the sneaker back at his brother, Eddie reminded Pete that the room was really his; their stepfather had threatened to toss the older brother out on the street if he didn’t get a real job soon.
“You wanna see somebody get tossed,” Pete replied, “you keep pressing your luck with me, freak.”
Eddie chuckled, his back to his brother, as he stepped into a pair of wrinkled trousers and picked out a plaid sport shirt from a heap on the floor. “Forget you anyway, Pete. I got plans today.”
Pete sat up on his mattress, hands on his knees and an entertained grin on his face. “Oh, you do? What, you gonna go out and finally get some leg? Or are you buying into that Christian Light jive about being ‘pure’ and whatnot?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Eddie didn’t bother to look at his brother; that would just encourage him. No point writing checks with his mouth that his fists couldn’t cash. Once he figured out how to win Cassie over —and got his friends to understand that she wasn’t like the other black girls, that, in fact, she was barely half-black —he’d shut up smart-mouths like Pete for good.
Pete sighed theatrically, thudding back against his mattress. “Just get out.”
“See you later tonight,” Eddie said once he had pulled on his sneakers, including the one Pete had landed against his head. Fully dressed, he hustled toward the doorway before a force pulled him back. “I’m taking the bus to the mall,” he said without knowing why.
“So?”
“I’m just sayin’, Pete, that’s where I’ll be if Momma’s worried about me later on. I’ll either be at the mall or at the homecoming game later tonight. I’m gonna hitch a ride out there with Matt and his mom.” When his brother snored in response, Eddie raised his voice. “Pete! Just tell Momma, okay?”
“Yes, freak, I’ll tell her.” Pete turned away from his brother. “Don’t do nothing I wouldn’t.”
“Later.” Eddie took a lingering look at his cluttered room and the sleeping lump that was his brother, then darted quickly to the foot of Pete’s air mattress. Kneeling, he dug through Pete’s pile of dirty clothes until he felt the handle of his brother’s knife. Slipping the weapon into his backpack, Eddie headed back down the hall, unaware that his actions would echo into the next generation.
1
Two Decades Later
For the first time she could remember in years, Cassandra Gillette felt like a woman fulfilled. Freshly showered, she sat before the laptop PC in her spacious dressing room, checking e-mail. She had another hour at least before her newly built luxury home would be overrun by her family; her husband, Marcus, had gone to pick up their twelve-year-old twins, Heather and Hillary, from a friend’s birthday party out in Middletown. In addition, her seventeen-year-old son, Marcus Junior, was still seven hours away from his midnight curfew.
“There is so much to be thankful for,” Cassie whispered to God, letting her words ring through the quiet of her master suite. This was not the average lazy Saturday afternoon; for the first time in nearly four months, Cassie had made love to her husband.
Their separation had gotten off to a fiery start, but as tempers cooled and nights passed, God had brought Cassie and Marcus back together. Marcus had quickly tired of Veronica, the twenty-something news anchor who had welcomed him into her condo, and Cassie’s eyes had been opened. When her best girlfriend, Julia, confronted her, she finally realized how her actions in recent years had starved Marcus of the respect and affirmation that even the strongest man needed.
So it was that after several late-night telephone calls and a Starbucks “date” hidden from their children, Mr. and Mrs. Marcus Gillette had decided to get up off the mat and keep the promises they made before God seventeen years earlier, a few months after M.J.’s arrival. They had agreed to surprise the children with news of their reconciliation tonight, but with the house empty this afternoon, the couple had started a private celebration. The house was new enough that aside from the master bedroom, their frisky activity had “christened” the kitchen’s marble-topped island, the leather couch in the finished basement, and the washing machine in the laundry room.
As she dashed off an e-mail to the staff at her real estate agency, sharing news of the latest deal she had closed —a $420,000 sale, their thirtieth property sold for the quarter —Cassie nearly shuddered with delight as she recalled Marcus’s smooth touch. Although she had lost thirty pounds over the past year, she was still nearly twenty pounds heavier than she’d been on their wedding day, and she had been pregnant then. Nevertheless, Cassie’s Marcus knew and loved her body, in exactly the way that frank Scriptures, like those in Song of Solomon, encouraged. Like most everything else in marriage, the Gillettes’ sexual relationship had experienced ups and downs, but Cassie licked her lips unintentionally as she mentally applauded her man: When he’s good, he’s GOOD.
An instant message popped up on her screen: Julia, her best friend. I heard a rumor, she IM’d.
Cassie smiled as she typed back: No idea what you mean.
Julia’s IM response popped up: They say a handsome, bulky brother tipped into your crib this afternoon.
Cassie smiled as she typed, Girl, I am too old to be kissin’ and tellin’.
And I’m
too old to be listening to such filth, Julia typed. As a Ph.D. and superintendent of schools at their shared alma mater, Christian Light Schools, Julia let her words communicate their humor; Cassie’s friend was above the use of those corny emoticons. Julia sent another missive: You are coming to my Board of Advisors meeting Monday, right? I need help saving this school system, child.
Cassie stuck her tongue out playfully as she entered her response: Still not sure how I fit in with this crew. You said you’re pulling together the “best and brightest” Christian Light alumni? Don’t see how I count, given that the school expelled me when they realized why my belly was swollen.
Stop it, came Julia’s response. Besides, you have what matters most to a struggling school system: Deep pockets!
Cassie shook her head, her laughter easing any guilt she might have felt about throwing the painful memory of her expulsion — accompanied by the school principal’s labeling her a “girl of loose morals” —in her friend’s face. Julia alone had led a student protest in Cassie’s defense at the time, marching on the school’s front lawn and even calling local media in a vain attempt to embarrass the school into reversing its decision.
Cassie was typing a lighthearted response when her front doorbell rang, the chime filling the house. Changing up, she shot her friend a quick Doorbell —call you later before taking a second to tuck her blouse into her jeans. Padding downstairs to the foyer, she chuckled to herself. She would have to help Julia save the world later.
When she peered into her front door’s peephole, Cassie’s heart caught for a second at the sight of a tall, blond-haired gentleman flashing a police badge.
“M.J.’s fine,” said the voice in Cassie’s head as the badge stirred anxiety over her teen son’s safety. She wasn’t sure whether it was the Lord or simply her own positive coaching. For years now Cassie had combined her faith in God with affirmative self-talk meant to power her through life’s stresses and adversities. In her youth, she had crumpled one time too many in the face of indifference, prejudice, sexism, and just plain evil. By the time she and Marcus walked the aisle of Tabernacle Baptist Church, where each had first truly dedicated their respective lives to Christ, Cassie had vowed to never be caught unaware again. That same spirit of resolve propped her up as she confidently unlocked and swung back her wide oak door.
God Only Knows Page 1