“Hmm.” Cassie’s silence reminded Julia that while she and the other girls had disliked Cassie before the night of their run-in with Eddie, Cassie and Toya’s subsequent friendship had been the most fragile of the bunch. It seemed that the girls’ competing versions of beauty spurred an unhealthy sense of rivalry that survived even the traumas they now hoped to exorcise.
“Well, since it’s no longer 1988, can we return to present day?” Cassie trained her gaze on Julia. “I’m still not following why you passed on Maxwell’s invitation. You do want to have another romantic relationship someday, right, maybe even get married again?”
Julia frowned, nose wrinkling defiantly. “I don’t know. I’ve been so focused for years now on being a good mom to Amber and trying to save Christian Light. And it’s not like men are beating down my door, especially if you throw out the would-be robbers.”
“Real cute. An eligible doctor, no less, asked you out, Julia, and one who is apparently a Christian on top of that.”
“He was probably just being friendly. Patronizing, even.”
“So maybe he still has hang-ups about dating dark-skinned women —”
“Try black women.”
“Do you know the answer to that question? What is his preference these days?”
Julia stuck her tongue out before replying, “I have no idea.” She peered at Cassie, who had a funny look on her face. “What’s wrong?”
“I suppose I’m what’s wrong.” A gloved hand landed suddenly on Julia’s shoulder, and she looked up to see a statuesque, cocoa-brown woman standing over her. Dressed in an expensive-looking leather overcoat, she wore a pair of sparkling sunglasses, which added to the glamorous look of her layered, feathered hairstyle. “No matter how many years pass, I’d still pick you two out of a crowd. Mrs. Toya Raymond, Julia,” she said, extending a gloved hand and slowly nodding across the table toward Cassie. “I was able to catch an earlier flight. Let’s get a private table in a larger restaurant, shall we? I’d like to get this discussion behind us.”
13
Theresa “Terry” Lewis had big hair —huge hair, to tell the truth —and her five-foot-nine frame was now chunky where it had once been lanky, but when she turned the corner, all three women recognized her.
“Terry,” Cassie said, raising her voice just enough to cut through the din of surrounding travelers, “over here.” Happy to escape the uneasy small talk in which she, Julia, and Toya had now been trapped for almost an hour, she nearly ran to her old friend. Reaching out, she took hold of the battered navy cloth carry-on bag in Terry’s right hand. “Let me take that for you. How was your trip?”
Releasing the bag, whose handle Cassie quickly realized was so loose it nearly came off in her hand, Terry reached her newly free hand to her mouth and bit at a brightly colored nail. “My flight was fine, I guess,” she said, stiffening a little as Cassie attempted to hug her. “I don’t think I’d been on a plane since I flew back from Somalia.” Terry had joined the army straight out of Christian Light, surprising all of her friends. That decision had drawn a bright white line between Terry and the other girls; about all they knew was that she had been assigned to service of some type during Bill Clinton’s first term, had earned an honorable discharge, and moved to Cleveland with a fellow platoon member, who gave her three kids before abandoning her.
Once Terry had exchanged dutiful hugs with everyone at the table, Cassie and Julia alternated duties as moderators. Keeping a flow of conversation going, one that would ease the tracks toward today’s true purpose, required the emotional sensitivity of a diplomat and the verbal flexibility of a game show host.
“Being here is probably the closest I’ve come to Dayton in five years,” Toya remarked after another swig of her second Mud Slide ice-cream drink. Cassie had been surprised by her old friend’s choice of drink; though time had naturally added a few pounds to her long-limbed body, Toya had the tight hips and tapered waist of Tyra Banks in her prime. “I doubt I’ll get any closer to Dayton than this anytime soon. Ever since George paid to move my parents down to Florida —they love that assisted-living center, they never want to leave —I’ve had zero incentive to relive my years in the ‘Gem City.’ ”
Cassie couldn’t help asking, so she replied honestly, “What about your kids?” She knew Toya’s two boys were around her twins’ age, probably ten and twelve, if she had to guess. “When was the last time they were in Dayton? Don’t you want them to see your hometown, your old neighborhood? They should get a sense for the world that shaped their mom, don’t you think?”
Toya’s patronizing glance was so reflexive, Cassie chose not to take it personally. “We live in a world quite different from the average Daytonian’s, Cassie. I don’t think they’d get much out of strolling along Gettysburg Avenue and dodging bullets, or standing at Third and Main to count the number of passing gangbangers. Some things are best left in the rearview mirror.”
“Dayton’s not that bad,” Terry replied. Though her words countered Toya’s, her weary gaze was aimed over Cassie’s head. “I was hating on it when I first came back from the war, but, shoot, I spent a year in Atlanta with my kids’ father before we moved to Cleveland —and, trust me, every town has a nasty side.”
“Well, George always says life is about character, not location,” Toya said, removing a tiny mirror and an overpriced-looking lipstick from her purse. “You can live well in just about any city, if you put your mind to it.”
“Well, you’re looking at one lady who’s living proof of that,” Julia said, causing an uneasy sensation in Cassie’s stomach as her friend gestured in her direction. “You two may not know it, but Ms. Cassie here is one of the top realtors in the state of Ohio. And she did it on her own.”
“I’m sure we all work hard in our respective ways, Julia,” Cassie said, hoping her eyes could transmit a nonverbal message to her best friend. The last thing they needed was to infect the group’s uneasy chemistry by insulting Terry or sparking competition with Toya about which of them was truly the biggest success. She looked around the table as she asked, “Can we all hold hands? I’d like to lead us in a prayer.”
Toya recoiled visibly, though she kept her tone calm and cool as she said, “You all go right ahead, don’t mind me.”
Terry, who had begun to drop her head in reverence after taking Julia and Cassie’s hands, looked up suddenly. “Toya, please don’t block God’s blessing, not after I let Julia pay for my ticket and convince me to fly for the first time in nearly fifteen years.”
“I’m not blocking anything,” Toya replied, arms crossed. “I said you all can go right ahead with your prayer. I’ll wait.”
Terry’s brow furrowed in what seemed to be true confusion. “After all God has blessed you and your family with, you can’t at least be grateful enough to show a little respect?”
“I’m sorry, Terry,” Toya replied, picking up her mirror again and checking her hair nonchalantly, “you must think Ronald Reagan is still in office and you’re still my best friend. You don’t know me well enough to take that tone.”
Releasing Cassie’s and Julia’s hands, Terry leaned forward and jutted a finger across the table. “You can look down your nose at me all you want,” she said, “but that don’t change the fact I probably know you better than anyone you’ve met since we was at Christian Light. I know about the health scares from your juvenile diabetes, the teen pregnancy scare, all of it, Toya, remember? All the stuff you’ve probably never shared with your precious George. And I can pretty well guess why you think you don’t need God no more.”
“For the record,” Toya replied, her palms now flat on the table before her, “I do have God in my life, just not the same one you all probably pray to. George and I spent years studying the religions of the world, doing the type of thoughtful examination everyone should do before making such an important decision.”
“Maybe,” Julia said, raising her hands slowly, “we should just agree that we need God, however we define
Him —”
“Or Her, depending on Toya’s beliefs,” Terry said, shrugging in amused disgust.
“Let’s just say,” Julia continued, “that we need God’s covering over this conversation. Fair enough?”
Glancing at her watch, Toya sighed. “You have what you wanted, Julia. We’re all here, we’ve had our small talk, and now we’re as tight as the old days, okay?” The sarcasm in her tone leveled off finally as she said, “So what is it you want? Do you really want to talk about Eddie?”
“As I told you over the phone,” Julia replied, looking around the table, “it’s not about what I want. It’s about what we have to do, now that his brother has surfaced with these accusations.”
Terry looked over her shoulder before peering anxiously over at Cassie. “Are we sure it’s safe to talk here?”
“We’re in a back corner of the restaurant,” Cassie replied, “and as long as we keep our voices down, it’s clear everyone here is too busy to care about our conversation.”
“What I think we need to do,” Julia said, “is to first make sure we are all agreed on the details of what happened that day with Eddie.”
“Oh, really?” The tallest of the group, Toya looked down at Julia from her perch. “So you’ve already decided that we’re confessing to something, have you?”
“From what I hear,” Terry said, an emphatic hmmph underneath her words, “you the one that confessed already, Toya. Why you gonna tell Lenny, of all people?”
“Terry,” Toya replied, slowly raising a hand and aiming her index finger with precision, “don’t tread on ground that doesn’t concern you. I had my reasons for sharing this with him.”
Cassie sighed. “I actually think it’s a fair question, Toya. You put all of us at risk by telling Lenny about this.”
Toya folded her hands before her, glued her eyes to the table suddenly. “You all do know that he’s gone, right? That he’s been dead for several months?” When the women had nodded respectfully, she continued. “What I told him, I told him out of a desperate sense of trying to save him. Lenny was running his mouth about a lot of his past crimes in an attempt to shorten his sentence. My parents kept telling him he needed to shut up, because it was clear that the authorities didn’t value any information he had for them. All he was doing was making enemies for himself. I suppose I thought that if I told him about a secret I had kept, he would understand the value of keeping his mouth shut.”
Cassie patted Toya’s hand as she shared chastened glances with Terry. “You did what you thought you had to in order to reach a loved one. We understand.”
“Amen,” Julia said. “There’s nothing to be gained by finger-pointing at this stage, we are where we are. The point is, regardless of how God leads us to deal with the threats Cassie’s facing from Peter Whitlock, we have to first agree on what the truth is.” She met Toya’s piercing, defensive glare head-on. “Would you like to go first?”
14
Hustling down the soccer field, the tips of his Nike cross-trainer gym shoes scuffing the white chalk of the sideline, Maxwell screeched to a stop. “Luke, talk to me, boy!”
Ten-year-old Luke Sharp, the older son of Maxwell’s lifelong friend Lyle, stepped to the line so that he stood a few inches from his godfather. Fists rebelliously planted against his hips, he raised dart-sharp brown eyes to Maxwell’s stern gaze. “Uncle Max, the coach is always riding me —”
“He’s just helping you keep your head in the game,” Maxwell replied, nodding across the field to where the team’s coach, a beleaguered parent of one of the least-talented team members, stood talking in low tones with a referee. “Where’s your hustle, son?”
“Coach needs to keep another fullback with me, I can’t stop number twenty-two on my own. The dude’s too fast.” He jabbed a finger at Maxwell. “He made a fool of me on that last play, you saw it. He’s almost as awesome as you were in you and Dad’s day.”
Repressing a smile at the flattery, Maxwell said, “Between you and me, you’re probably right.” He leaned in until his nose was inches from the boy’s. “That doesn’t mean you give up, just because the boy’s got skills. Get out there and give it your all. You can ask Coach to give you more fullback support during halftime.” The referee’s sharp whistle cut through the air, and Maxwell stepped back as little Luke jetted back toward his team’s goal.
“Isn’t that cute? Maxwell Simon, always a bridesmaid, never a bride.” Lyle, reclining in an expensive portable chair, set his iPhone down as his friend returned to his seat. “If I wasn’t so self-confident, I might feel threatened to see you counseling my boy while I sit here texting half the country. Get a son of your own, man. I didn’t know any better, I’d think you didn’t even know how babies get made.”
Shrugging off his friend’s jab, Maxwell chuckled. “If you fathers were up to the job, I wouldn’t have your kids looking up to me in the first place.”
“I think Maxwell’s willingness to mentor our children is inspiring,” Jake Campbell said from his seat on the other side of Lyle. “You keep doing the mentoring thing, man, especially with Lyle’s boys. You may save me some heartache in case either of them ever tries to date one of my girls someday.” Jake’s four stair-step daughters ranged from four to ten, and as he and his wife did not practice birth control, it was just a matter of time before additional children would join the fold.
“Well, you know I’m not hatin’,” Lyle replied, his eyes intent again on an e-mail message on the iPhone screen, “but I do feel the good doctor is getting a little old to be a bachelor who spends most of his free time influencing other folks’ kids. Seems it’s about time he took the leap, built a house and a home, like the rest of us.”
Jake picked at his bare chin for a minute, seemingly formulating a thoughtful response. “You can’t clock God. He’ll bring the right woman into Maxwell’s life at the appropriate day and time.” Eyes ablaze with sudden glee, he knocked elbows with Lyle. “I take Maxwell’s lifestyle choice —long-term celibacy —as evidence he’s at peace with that.”
“Oh, you guys are so funny,” Maxwell replied, shaking his head even as a chuckle escaped. Catching the glance of a cute, but apparently married, mom next to him, he leaned over toward his friends and lowered his voice. “This is a family setting, so can we please change topics . . . quickly?”
“Oh, sure,” Jake replied, hands folded together as he smirked at his friend. “Just remember, Maxwell, if it ever gets that tight on you, it’s better to marry than to burn.”
“Oh, well,” Lyle said, laughing loudly, “that probably means the good doctor went up in flames a long time ago. We know he’s had a few slipups.”
Maxwell was surprised by a warming sensation in his cheeks, but he had full control over the words that popped from his mouth. “If anyone here should quit right now, Lyle, it’s you.” He loved Lyle like a brother, but the former hoops star, with the gift of gab, had a history littered with premarital and extramarital encounters. In addition to his obligations as a city council member, the main reason Lyle and his family still lived in Dayton, despite his status as a partner in a Columbus law firm, was that Lyle’s wife, Stacy, had refused to move. It was one of the few ways in which she made him pay for his spotty attempts to stay faithful.
“Excuse me,” Lyle said, whistling lightheartedly. “It, uh, seems somebody had a bad night.” He turned toward Jake and rolled his eyes before popping Maxwell’s shoulder. “The pastor and I were just having some fun, man, cool out. You know we’re just jealous of your freedom.”
“Oh, there’s not much to envy.” He felt the touch of the Spirit calming him now, but Maxwell was more aware than usual of his chronically single state —probably something about being surrounded by so many apparently happy families.
He knew enough about the complexities of both Jake’s and Lyle’s marriages to know that the grass wasn’t completely greener. Lyle’s attempts to reliably attend his sons’ soccer games and his daughter Maya’s dance recitals were cons
tantly foiled by the demands of his ambitious career. As for Jake, while he had a staff of assistant ministers to ease his workload, he had so little free time that he had sneaked away this morning to hang at a game that didn’t even involve any of his girls.
A few minutes passed as the game’s tempo heated up, and just before halftime, Maxwell’s counsel paid off, when Luke chased down an opposing forward and slide-kicked the ball out from beneath him. As the referee’s whistle blew for halftime, Lyle picked the conversation back up.
“I hear the sound,” he said, looking over at Maxwell, “of a man who’s tiring of life as a single Christian brother. Am I right? Now that you’re finally settled in locally again, do we have permission to start matchmaking for you?”
Maxwell shook his head. “Why would any desirable woman want to date a broke doctor?” Visions of his clinic’s red ink weighing on him, he was reminded of Toni, the fine sister on the television show Girlfriends, who had divorced her doctor husband when she realized he wasn’t making “real” money. Maxwell supposed it made sense: If he were a janitor, women at least could marry him knowing what to expect. When they heard he was a doctor, though, they immediately judged him through a lens that he no longer intended to live up to. He was intent on doing good for others, not necessarily doing well for himself; with the state the American health care system was in, he wasn’t sure it was possible to do both anymore.
“Maxwell,” Jake was saying now, “we’re not taking no for an answer. I’ve counseled Lyle that he needs to match you up with all these fine women he knows. It’s the best thing for the both of you —you get to meet women who may be wife material, and Lyle gets to make it clear that he’s not interested in them.”
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