Brock was silent, but this time I wasn’t bothered by it. The way he looked at me, the way he slowly nodded his head, he was considering what I’d said. He said, “Ring strange, huh?”
I nodded.
“Well, even if it does,” he began, “the point is that you still don’t get it.”
I blinked.
The muscles in his jaw flexed. “You still don’t get that it’s none of your business. And that’s the part that I don’t get.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, almost hitting me with his foot. He jumped up, then stood in front of me. “Even now,” he said, throwing up his hands as if he was exasperated, “you still want to be all up in Quentin’s business.” He paced in front of me. “What is it, Sheridan? Why is it that you won’t leave your ex alone?”
“I wasn’t thinking about Quentin,” I said, my volume matching his. “I was thinking about Harmony.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, right. Harmony’s just an excuse. You’re using her not to cut ties with him.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Really? You need to dig deep and be honest.”
“I am being honest. This was only about telling Harmony what I thought she should know.”
“It has to be more than that. Because even though your ex just came here wanting to blow up this spot, and even though Christopher just called asking me to tell you to stop calling him, and even though you know that I’m really hot about this . . . even with all of that, you still sit there, curious about Quentin’s life, talking about something that’s strange to you.”
“It’s just that I’m the only one seeing clearly. I know something’s not right. I know it in my gut.”
“And that’s what’s wrong with this whole thing. You don’t need to be seeing anything in Quentin’s life and you don’t need to be gut-checking him. I told you before, his life is not yours. His life is not supposed to be a concern to you.”
I sat there for a moment, wanting to agree with my husband, but why couldn’t he agree with me? Why couldn’t he see my side and understand that I was only trying to help?
But I didn’t need to be right—at least not right now. I wanted to fix this with Brock. I’d convince him of all that stuff about Quentin and Harmony later.
So, I pulled back and said, “I’m not concerned about Quentin. I just didn’t want Harmony to get hurt the way I’d been.”
“This is a problem, Sheridan. You need to let what happened with you and Quentin go.”
I nodded. “I know. And, I will from now on.”
He shook his head. “You’ve said that before.”
“I will this time. I mean, what else can happen? What more can I do? The damage is done, right?”
He frowned. “Is that what you were trying to do? Cause damage? Hurt people?”
“No, I’m just saying that everything has all played out.”
“Has it?”
He paused and all kinds of emotions washed over his face. The doubt, the anger I expected to see. But it was the absolute sadness in his eyes that froze me. The sadness that let me know that he’d been hurt by what I’d done.
“Has it all played out, Sheridan?” he whispered. “I’m just not sure.”
“Brock, what I did has nothing to do with you. It has nothing to do with what I feel about you.”
Shaking his head, he said, “How can you say that? If you have all of these cares for Quentin, how do you have any room for me?”
“You’re the only one in my heart; I love you.”
Then there was silence. I mean, the type of silence where all I heard was a symphony of crickets. And here’s the thing—there had never been a time when I told my husband that I loved him and he said nothing back.
Finally, he spoke. He said, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” as he slipped into his loafers.
When he grabbed his keys from the nightstand, I asked, “Where are you going?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe to get something to eat. I don’t know.”
“Okay,” I said as I rose to go with him.
But he held up his hands. “No, I’m flyin’ solo.” Then he turned his back on me and marched out of our bedroom. And just for good measure, it seemed, he slammed the door closed once again.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
My business logo danced across the screen of my computer, but I wasn’t going to press enter again. Why should I? It wasn’t like I could get any work done anyway. Even though my to-do list was massive, I’d done nothing since I’d first sat behind my desk two hours ago.
But how was I supposed to do anything when it was impossible to concentrate? My head was crammed with thoughts, and the stress was piling up and weighing me down.
Three days had passed since Quentin had stormed into my house, then left with just a whimper. And in those three days, nothing had changed. Or maybe everything had changed, because life felt a whole lot worse.
Quentin wouldn’t answer my calls, Christopher hadn’t returned any of my messages . . . and then there was Brock.
This was the first time since we’d been married that we found ourselves in this space. That space where you mumbled your hellos, grumbled your good-byes, and said little to each other in between.
Before this, Brock and I had never let our heads hit our pillows at night if we held any kind of anger in our hearts. We’d never given each other the silent treatment. But I guess what I’d done was a serious violation. So serious that each time I approached Brock to talk, all he did was say, “Not now, Sheridan.”
How were we going to get past this if Brock wouldn’t talk to me?
Pushing my chair away from my desk, I rolled it around and faced the window. From this bedroom-converted-to-my-office window, I could see the gazebo in the backyard where Brock and I had stood in front of God, Pastor Ford, and just thirty of our family and friends. Holding hands, Brock and I promised to love each other straight into eternity.
I was never naive enough to believe that between our wedding and eternity, Brock and I wouldn’t have disagreements, but this didn’t feel like just an argument. This was a chasm, a fissure that was filled with Brock’s doubt that I loved only him.
I had to fix this, I thought as I stood. I was not going to let my ex get inside this marriage. By the time Brock and I laid our heads down tonight, we were going to be on the other side of this divide.
I could use some advice, though, and I reached for my phone, so ready to call a prayer meeting. Asia would at least listen to me, and Kendall would, of course, have some kind of smart-aleck answer that just might be my solution.
Before I even clicked on Asia’s number, I remembered that she was in San Diego, with Angel, on an overnight school field trip. If I hadn’t been filled with so much personal despair, I would’ve chuckled at that thought. Asia, on a school trip with a bunch of twelve-years-olds? This would’ve never happened two months ago, but since the blowup in Bel Air, Asia was a different kind of mother. She was more attentive, more involved. If Caroline thought that she was going to take Angel away in any kind of way, Asia was showing her something. I was so proud of my friend.
So, I clicked on Kendall’s number. But when my call went to voice mail, I hung up without leaving a message. She was probably with her father.
But I had to talk to someone. I had to talk this out so that when Brock got home, I knew exactly what I was going to say, and exactly what I was going to do.
With a smile, I looked down at my phone. I knew exactly who to call. But before I could click on a name, it rang and a picture popped up on my screen. Startled and shocked, I answered.
“Pastor Ford, I was just about to call you,” I said.
“I figured as much.”
I paused. There were a couple of ways I could go with this. Either someone in my life had called Pastor to let
her know what happened, or it could’ve been that my pastor had received a message from God. Because that’s just how it was with Pastor Ford. There were times when she could look at you and know what was going on. Sometimes it was scary, but most of the time it was wonderful. Like right now. Pastor just knew that I needed her.
Pastor said, “I need to speak with you, Sheridan.”
“Okay,” I said, knowing that she meant for us to do this in person. Pastor didn’t handle her business over the phone. She didn’t do it via e-mail or texts or posts on Facebook. It was all about face-to-face relationships with her. “When do you want to see me?” I asked, hoping that she’d give me her soonest appointment, probably sometime tomorrow.
“Now,” she said.
I glanced down at the sweats and T-shirt that I’d put on the moment Brock walked out the door this morning. I hadn’t even showered. “Can I have an hour?”
“I’ll give you forty-five minutes. See you in a bit, honey.” And then my pastor hung up.
She wouldn’t have to ask me again, wouldn’t have to call me back. I dashed downstairs into my bedroom.
I wished that I’d thought about speaking with my pastor on Sunday, right after Quentin left. Really, I should’ve talked to her long before that, even before I had that first meeting with Harmony. Because my pastor always kept it real, always kept it right, and I wouldn’t be feeling like my whole life was a mess now.
But that was okay. In an hour, I’d know exactly what to do. That’s how it was with my pastor. She would help me to set things right.
• • •
Just by walking into my pastor’s office, I could feel the shift in the atmosphere. It was like I was walking into a place where God had been. I never knew what that was. Maybe it was being surrounded by bookshelves stuffed with every kind of Bible and all kinds of commentaries.
But really, it wasn’t the books or the pictures of Pastor Ford that hung on the wall, or the framed accolades that held everything from my pastor’s degrees to her commendations and proclamations.
It was none of that; it was the overwhelming feeling of love that permeated all through the air in this space. Complete, unadulterated love.
“So, how’re you doing?” Pastor Ford hugged me before she motioned for me to sit next to her on her sofa.
I shrugged. “I’m okay.”
When she reached over and laid her hands on top of mine, tears came to my eyes. I felt like crying, though not from sadness. I felt relief, like help was on the way.
She said, “It’s been kinda tough, huh?”
“Who called you? Brock?”
“The first call I got was from Christopher.”
I sniffed, feeling like I was really going to cry now. “I haven’t even had a chance to talk to my son. He’s upset at me.”
“Quite,” Pastor said. “He’s so upset that he’s canceled his wedding.”
“What!” I jumped up.
Pastor nodded, then motioned for me to sit back down.
“He canceled his wedding because of this?” I asked.
My pastor nodded again.
“But why?” Now I really did cry. “What does this have to do with him marrying Evon?” Then I had another thought. “Oh, my God. It wasn’t Christopher; it was Evon. She’s the one who doesn’t want to get married. She gave him back his ring because of me.”
“You need to calm down and stop guessing so that I can tell you what’s really going on.”
I pressed my lips together, folded my hands in my lap, and blinked back my tears. It felt like I’d ruined everyone’s life, including my own.
Then Pastor said, “They’re still getting married. They’re eloping.”
I moaned, though that was a little bit better.
She continued, “Chris said that with what’s going on between you and his father right now, he couldn’t see the family gathering for any kind of celebration. He’s pretty sad about it, but he and Evon are determined.”
“I can’t believe this.” Pulling out my cell phone, I said, “I have to call him. I have to stop him from doing that. We’re going to have this wedding.”
Pastor held my hand, stopping me. “Haven’t you realized yet that you can’t control everything?” She shook her head. “Christopher is grown. You need to let him do this the way he wants to.”
As I tucked my phone back into my bag, all kinds of thoughts went through my mind: the months of preparation, the dresses that Evon had designed, the dreams I’d had about this day for years for both of my children.
Now I wasn’t going to be part of his day all because I wanted to do what was right.
Pastor scooted over until she was close and put her arms around me. And when I sobbed, I cried for more than Christopher’s wedding. I cried for this whole ordeal. How did I get here? Where my husband wasn’t speaking to me, my son didn’t want me to be part of his day. And his father? I doubted if Quentin would ever utter two words to me from now on.
Pastor stayed silent as I released all the anguish inside and it wasn’t until my sobs turned into sniffles that she stood and reached for the tissues on her desk. After she handed me the box, she leaned back on her desk. “Now let’s talk.”
She didn’t have to say it twice. I was so ready to tell someone my story. Someone who would listen and understand. “I really thought I was doing the right thing.”
“Tell me what happened.”
I looked up at her. “Christopher didn’t tell you?”
“He told me his side and now I want to hear yours.”
I nodded. “From the moment I met Harmony, I felt sorry for her. I don’t know what it is, Pastor, but I just felt like Quentin was playing her.” I paused, waiting for Pastor Ford to tell me that I was wrong, but she just nodded for me to continue. I told my pastor about the call from Harmony, and then meeting her. “Pastor, I was going to leave it right there . . . until I saw Quentin and Jett.” I sniffed. “When I saw the two of them, all of those feelings I had all those years ago came right back to me. And, I thought about Harmony and how she was going to feel. I just didn’t think it was right. I didn’t think what Quentin was doing was right.”
My pastor tilted her head a bit and nodded slowly. “Do you remember when I talked to you, Asia, and Kendall right after Christmas?”
“Yes.” I’d had lots of conversations with my pastor, but the one she’d had with me and my girls after the disastrous Christmas dinners we’d all had would always stand out in my mind. My pastor always had a good word for me, but what she’d told me that day I felt was a direct word from God. It was a warning that had stayed with me, but not long enough, I guess. She’d given me words that I wished I’d heeded.
I said, “You told me that Quentin wasn’t my sin and I wasn’t his savior.”
She said nothing.
I said, “When you told me that, I thought those words freed me. I thought that I would never be thinking about Quentin and his life again. And then Harmony called.”
“Why did you decide to see her? Why didn’t you listen to Brock?”
I let a couple of moments go by before I said, “Because I felt like I owed that to her. I felt that she should know.” I pushed myself off the sofa and began to pace in front of Pastor Ford. “I felt like she was going to be living my life all over again and I could help her, I could stop it. Because I wish to God that someone had told me. If I’d known, I would’ve never married Quentin. If someone had just told me, I would’ve never been with him, wouldn’t have had all of that pain, I wouldn’t have had all that heartache.”
“And, you wouldn’t have had Christopher and Tori and you wouldn’t have met and married Brock.”
Her words startled me, stopped me right in my tracks. “No, that’s not what I was saying. I want Christopher and Tori and Brock.”
“And you have them because of Quentin.” Pastor Fo
rd said, “What makes you think that you weren’t supposed to marry him?” She paused as if she wanted me to answer that question, but I couldn’t. I was still stuck on thoughts of not having Christopher and Tori . . . and Brock. I was so taken aback that I couldn’t even pace anymore. I had to sit down and think about that.
Pastor said, “This is what people don’t understand about life. All the roads you’ve taken have led you to this moment. You were exactly in the place God wanted you to be. All I have to do is look at the fruit that has come out of your life from your marriage with Quentin. There was a lot of fruit.” She sat down next to me. “You’re looking back on those days in the wrong way. You’re choosing to remember the times that brought you pain. But what about all of those years of happiness? And what about the happiness that you’ve had after Quentin?”
Pastor stayed silent, as if she was giving me time to measure my life with Quentin. And when I added it all up, I’d really been so happy with him. Until that final day.
“Sheridan, if you had been thinking about what you received from your marriage with Quentin instead of focusing on all of your pain, you would’ve never gone to Harmony. You went to her out of all of the hurt and anger that you’ve been holding on to.”
I sighed. “I never thought about it that way. And I wish I had, because it turns out that what I told Harmony wasn’t true. Did Christopher tell you that?”
She nodded. “He told me what Quentin and Jett were doing together, and he told me that Harmony’s gone.”
“I really feel bad about that. I wasn’t trying to break them up.”
“I believe that. But I guess you’ve finally figured out that you can’t get involved in that, Sheridan. Even if what you said turns out to be true.”
Hold up! I replayed Pastor’s last words in my mind and looked at her for a long moment. Was she saying that she, too, thought Quentin was gay? That she didn’t believe this whole “I’ve got a fiancée” story?
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