A Good Thing

by Stacey Evans Morgan

  A GOOD THING © 2017 by Stacey Evans Morgan

  Brown Girls Publishing, LLC

  Brown Girls Faith

  www.BrownGirlsBooks.com

  ISBN:

  978-1-944359-54-6 (Digital)

  978-1-944359-55-3 (Print)

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical or photocopying or stored in a retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages to be included in a review.

  First Brown Girls Publishing LLC trade printing Manufactured and Printed in the United States of America

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It is reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped” book.

  Cover photography be www.ososeoboh.com

  Acknowledgments

  Writing my debut novel has been an amazing, humbling experience and a creative goal of mine for some time now. I thank the Lord Jesus Christ, who is the author and finisher of my faith and because I can do ALL things through Him, I will continue to #WriteTheVision.

  Thank you, Victoria Christopher Murray, ReShonda Tate Billingsley and the dynamic Brown Girls Books team. I am grateful for your vision and guidance throughout this process.

  To my mom Barbara Evans, your unwavering faith in me, unconditional love, constant supply of encouragement and inspiration keep me going even when you find yourself asking, “What is my daughter up to now?” you always know it’s something good and I am grateful to share my journey with you. To my father, Benzell Evans, you have been there every stage of my life and your ambition is what motivates me to turn my dreams into reality. Your love and words of affirmation are a blessing to my soul. Dr. Karla Scott, thank you for being my creative confidante from 3,000 miles away. Girl, you have been there from the beginning of this project and your constructive feedback means more to me than you’ll ever know.

  Thank you Bechir Sylvain, Dinora Walcott Alexander, Yvonne Orji, Kameshia Duncan, Thomas Lazare, Ben Cain, Steven Turner and Destiny Lightsy for gathering around my dining room table and in the studio years ago to read through the original version of this story and giving life to my characters.

  Your tremendous talent is a blessing and may your gifts continue make room for you. Family is everything to me and the Evans family rolls deep with love and support. In addition to Mom and Dad, thank you Bentley, Valicia, Kylee, Bentley Jr., Lamonte, Ola, Lauren, Chloe (Tarikh, Cairo, TJ, Tru), Lamonte Jr., Ronald, Dr. Ronnie, Adrian & Sanai, Ontreal & Herb, Nile & Julia (welcome to the family Julia a/k/a/ Mrs. Evans, Nile Jr., Gia and Eden) Benzell (“Terry”) & Anita, Dominic, James (Elias) Melanie and Tre’ Davis (Sophia, Olivia and Victoria) Steven & Andrea Bullock, Symone, Sydney, LaNelle Sauceda (Riley), Margo & Randall Smith (Zaria, Zachary, Sheldon). Thank you to the other branches of my family tree: The Kilgores, Grahams, Groves, Crawley/Crowley, Johnsons, Sims, Doyles and my family-in-love, The Morgans, Shepherds and Telesfords. Love to my extended family: Deneen Hadley-Carter, Shaun Earl, Terza West-Dantzler, Jack & Sheryl Lightsy, Dr. Beverly “BAM” Crawford and the O.G. WU-Crew: Sherri, Chrystal, Camille, Kim G.W., Kim S, Wendy, Chizz and Buffy. If your name is missing from this list, please know that you are not missing from my heart!

  Speaking of heart…To my Hubbyboyfriend Dwight, thank you for your love, protection, support, and for embracing my creative process. Your words of exhortation and admiration of my creativity is a blessing and the wind beneath my wings. Maia and Myles, I love you, I am proud of you and here for you always. To my darling Amali Christine, from the time you were born, you have given my life new purpose, teach me a whole new definition of love and you will always be my latest, greatest inspiration. I love you with my life!

  To all my supporters, mentors, mentees and prayer warriors… thank YOU and God bless you always in ALL ways.

  -SEM

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Autumn...

  CHAPTER ONE

  I loved the crisp, cool and evident change of season the east coast offers. It was my absolute favorite time of the year, fashion-wise, and I was reminded of that intoxicatingly gorgeous fall day in the nation’s capital where I was finally feeling like an east coast girl. Not that my west coast upbringing was anything to be ashamed of. I was proud to be a Los Angeles native living and loving life in Washington, D.C. I couldn’t wait to rock my new suede, chocolate brown Stuart Weitzman boots that paired perfectly with the camel, brown and mauve tweed skirt and sweater ensemble I bought from Ann Taylor. It was just cool enough to finish my fall look with my favorite faux vintage swing coat that hugged my waist like it had a crush on me. Lord & Taylor always had a good coat sale and that cashmere coat was a good investment. If there was ever a time when I woke up feeling fierce, this was one of those days.

  I would often use Massachusetts Avenue as my personal catwalk, taking power walks or enjoying the cityscape on the way to lunch. Even now I chuckle, thinking back on times when I would catch a glimpse of myself in a storefront window and imagine Ru Paul affirming my strut with a series of finger snaps and his signature, “You, betta, werrrrk!”

  That particular day for lunch, I decided to venture over to Union Station, where my favorite gourmet sandwich shop was located at the food court along with many boutiques perfect for window and or impromptu shopping sprees. There’s an old saying: When you look good, you feel good and with my hair and makeup just right, I felt great.

  As I got closer to the train station, a woman with great looking hair and makeup offered a friendly nod of admiration, just as the impeccably dressed man exiting a nearby business office nodded with approval as he watched me strut. Now, whether it was the fact that I looked good or because I was high-stepping to the sounds of Jill Scott blaring through my earbuds as I unashamedly sang out loud causing folks within close proximity to look in my direction, didn’t matter because as I proudly proclaimed along with Miss Jill, I was in fact living my life like it was golden.

  Entering Union Station was always an aesthetically pleasing experience. The classic architectural lines and pristine white granite always caused me to stop for a moment of appreciation. It was as if I walked into a moment in history and I would imagine how many famous individuals had stood in my same spot, headed to destinations up and down the eastern seaboard. My craving for a sandwich from Au Bon Pain was calling my name and as I stepped onto the steep escalator headed down to the food court, my inner model/alter ego decided to strike several poses, giving upward bound riders a quick fashion show working that bad ass coat.

  During one of my silly poses leaning against the rail, I noticed a handsome gentleman drinking coffee while reading the Washington Post. Brother looked good, minding his own business when suddenly without warning, he glanced up and caught me staring at him. Busted! I tried to play it off by shifting my focus away from him and onto the nearest random object... a coffee cup, sitting on a table in front of Starbucks. Coul
d this escalator move any faster? I thought to myself as people were blocking the only pathway that could’ve given me any shot of making a mad dash. As my boots hit the landing, I dashed in the opposite direction of the man, intentionally going the long way to Au Bon Pain. I don’t know why it is embarrassing when you catch people staring at you. People do it all the time, but for some reason, when someone suddenly locks eyes with you locking eyes with them, it’s just weird.

  Anyway, I was safely out of eyeshot of the guy and headed to satisfy my hunger with the most delectable sandwich, the Newport Turkey: A grilled sandwich, on toasted sourdough, with cheddar cheese, avocado and zesty honey mustard... Yummy! A while later, I was nestled into a booth with my food, a bottle of water and my tablet where I was engrossed in a great book while destroying my sandwich, when I noticed the guy from earlier walking in my direction.

  I know he is not coming over here. I shook off the thought and continued to eat. Before I could wipe the honey mustard from the corner of my mouth, I looked up to see the man now standing in front of my table. Awkward! He gave a cool, confident, direct, “Good afternoon.”

  “Hello,” I offered back as I grabbed a napkin and tried to discreetly dab my mouth.

  He flashed a smile, reminiscent of the one I witnessed as he caught me staring at him. “I saw you earlier, and you looked so beautiful coming down that escalator, I had to at least come and introduce myself. I’m Kendall.”

  “And I’m flattered and embarrassed,” I responded. “Embarrassed, why? You were striking poses and working that invisible camera like you were America’s past, present and next top model,” he continued with a slight snicker.

  I couldn’t help but giggle back. “The invisible camera? Yeah, I am officially embarrassed. I’m Pilar.”

  Kendall laughed, but reassured me that I should not be embarrassed. He extended his hand, and I shook it as he continued explaining that he missed his train to New York just to see if I was still on the premises and he was happy that I was.

  “You missed your train intentionally?” I asked.

  He told me there was another one coming soon and repeated his reason for missing it.

  I couldn’t help blurting out, “That is really...” “Crazy?” he said completing my question. “Yes, and sweet,” I assured him.

  Relieved, Kendall took the liberty of letting me know that he was in D.C. pretty often on business and wanted to know if he could call me next time to perhaps have lunch. “That was kind of you to miss your train just to meet me, but I’m going to have to decline the offer because, I’m...”

  “Married?” he chimed in. “Engaged to be,” I informed him.

  He glanced down to notice the nearly flawless three-karat diamond Tiffany engagement ring sparkling back at him. “Thus that nice rock on your finger. Well, it was definitely worth a shot and for what it’s worth, your man is a very lucky brother. He is a brother, right?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh as I answered with a simple, “Yes.”

  An announcement rang over the P.A. system: “TRAIN TO PHILADELPHIA AND NEW YORK CITY, NOW APPROACHING AT GATE C, TRACK 29.”

  That was his train, and he expressed his pleasure meeting me, calling me “beautiful Pilar” and wished all the best and so much more for me, and my man.

  My man... Jonathan Bradshaw, Esq. The man I loved and would marry within weeks, never crossed my mind during this entire exchange with Kendall. I guess it was just refreshing to have a nice conversation with a brother who knew how to step correctly to a woman. In my experience, east coast men were a little more direct approaching women as opposed to some, not all men on the west coast who used a more laid back, wait for women to step to them approach.

  I thanked Kendall for his well-wishes, we said goodbye and I watched him briefly as he walked away, then I remembered the remains of my sandwich waiting for me and diverted my attention back to my plate and enjoyed the last few delectable bites before heading back to work.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Exactly one week later, I went for my final bridal gown fitting at Winnie Couture in Beverly Hills, California. I decided to schedule the fitting around the festive bachelorette weekend my best friends Sunny and Karma had planned for me.

  Sunny Garrett, my best friend dating back to 7th grade, had always had a creative eye for detail. After working for years in marketing and publicity for high profile corporate and celebrity clients, she parlayed her talents into her new post as a branding expert, consulting for one of L.A.’s top brand and strategy firms. Standing at 5’5, Sunny always carried herself with the stature of a six-foot tall woman and had always been blessed with a curvaceous physique. She was the true definition of that old Commodores song “Brick House” but she was more like a 38- 26-38 stunner.

  My friend had never had a problem telling a man who found himself mesmerized by her ample bosom during conversation, “Hey, my eyes are up here!”

  As teens, I used to call her Hottie McBody, which I meant as a total compliment. I was thin as a rail and when walking with Sunny, boys looked right past my skinny frame to zoom in on my friend. When I finally filled out later in my teens, I was no brick house but I came to embrace my extra lean figure and my favorite asset… my long, toned legs.

  As I stood still in my strapless silk taffeta Amsale gown, Anna, the store’s seamstress carefully zipped and buttoned me in, making sure to mark any remaining alteration areas with pins and dress clamps. While she was busy working on my dress, I wasted no time going over the final details of my meticulously planned wedding with my girls who waited outside the dressing room in our private fitting area of the bridal salon.

  As much as I hated to admit it, I was close to becoming one of those Bridezillas seen on reality TV and I tried to make sure the girls knew that was far from my intention.

  “You both know I’ve been planning my wedding since I was a child,” and before I could continue, Sunny cut me off in her patient yet stern manner.

  “Pilar, for the umpteenth time, the doves will arrive the morning of the wedding to be released on cue. The violins will start playing approximately...” Sunny stopped as I stepped out of the dressing room. Her whole demeanor changed as she exclaimed, “Oh, Pilar.”

  “I know, I’m driving you girls crazy,” I said as I noticed both Sunny and Karma standing there misty-eyed.

  Actually, Karma, our flower child friend who believed in letting your emotions flow, had crocodile tears in her eyes and although it was too late, I warned her, “Karma, don’t you start crying, girl.”

  Karma walked over to me. “I’ve never seen a more stunning bride,” and that was when I lost it, rapidly fanning my eyes to avoid my mascara running all over my dress.

  Karma Johnson, my other bestie became instant friends with me and Sunny in high school when she and her single mother, Gladys, relocated to L.A. from San Francisco. Her mom worked as a nurse at Cedars-Sinai Hospital, sometimes during the night or weekends shifts. Since Karma was an only child, she spent a lot of time at the home of friends or as she liked to call me and Sunny, her “Sisterfriends”. Although my fiercely competitive and athletic friend was a beast in track and field and on the volleyball court, Karma was quick to show her emotions. She cried when we took senior cap & gown pictures, when we tried on prom dresses and now, here she was crying tears of joy at my fitting.

  Sunny reminded me that I needed to save those tears for the big day. “You know, after careful consideration, I’ve decided on no tears for the wedding,” I declared.

  Sunny and Karma looked at me like I was crazy.

  “Girl, I know you’re a bit of a control freak, but how are you going to stop the tears from flowing?” Sunny was curious to know. When I told them that I was having my tear ducts removed, they both laughed. Even Anna found herself giggling to herself.

  Of course, I wasn’t serious, just trying to lighten the tear-filled moment.

  As I modeled the dress for my friends, checking myself out in the three-way mirror, I thanked Anna and s
he told me my soon-to-be husband was going to fall in love with me all over again when he saw me in my gown. I hugged her as we headed back to the dressing room.

  Now that the dress was taken care of, the girls were ready to get the weekend started, reminding me of the full itinerary of events. Karma ran down the list: A spa day, the bridal shower and my bachelorette party... a complete girl’s weekend. I was excited but I felt the need to remind my friends that I did not want any strippers involved and Karma reminded me to leave the weekend to them.

  Sunny sounded off with a more direct approach, “Girl, you need to relax and let us do this! We’re about to turn up in a very real way and you need to live a little before you go on lock down.” Lock down? I never considered the next phase of my life as lock down. On the contrary, I felt so blessed to be moving into the marriage phase. I didn’t consider it settling down or lock down, this was what both Jonathan and I wanted. Marriage, children, promising careers, a beautiful home, a happy life. “Marriage is not lock down. It’s a choice, when two people who are made for each other make the conscious decision to share their love and life together,” I responded.

  Sunny smirked and chuckled. “Like I said, clink, clink!” “Whatever, Sunny. I love my man, and he loves me,” I said as