I rocked her in my arms and felt Anthony sit next to me, but I didn’t take my eyes from the baby.
“I hope I wrapped her up good. I was worried about bringing her out finally, but I wanted you and Dad to see her, since I kept her home all week.”
“I’m actually glad you kept her home. I wouldn’t have wanted her around all this sadness. But today, it’s fine. Today is a celebration of a life well lived.”
He sighed. “A young life.”
I looked up and squeezed his hand. He nodded and blinked hard as if he’d made the same commitment that I did—no more tears!
For minutes we sat in the silence as I rocked and stared at this baby. She was still sleeping as I lifted her to my chest, and when I held her against my heart, I couldn’t help it—I cried. I sobbed and held Ciara tighter. And as I held Ciara, Anthony held me.
When she cooed, I lowered her just a bit so that I could see her face. “Hi, baby,” I said. “Was I holding you too tight?”
“No,” Anthony answered for his daughter. “Tell her, Ciara, an auntie can never hold you too tight.”
I smiled and then, “But what about a godmother?” I said to Ciara at first, and then turned to Anthony. “Sabrina had asked me . . .”
He nodded before I could finish. “Yes! That’s what we both wanted. Yes, Kendall. Thank you.” Then he stood up. “I’m going to get her diaper bag and then grab something to eat. Do you want anything?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. I have everything that I want right here.”
Anthony stepped out of the room, leaving me and Ciara alone. And I said, “Let me tell you about your mommy. She was such a special lady . . .”
Chapter
Forty-Three
The first of May.
As I leaned back on the lounger and peered into the ocean, I couldn’t believe how time had moved so quickly. It had already been two weeks since Sabrina had passed away and it didn’t seem like that much time could have possibly gone by.
But then, in some ways, it seemed like I’d lived through an eternity. Because in two weeks, I felt like a different person.
The tables had turned for real. I was mellow now. Not angry, not bitter. And like Pastor Ford had asked, my heart was open. The only thing about an open heart was that it made me mushy. Before Sabrina passed away, I never cried. But now . . . those Mother’s Day commercials that had just hit the TV were getting to me. And sometimes, just looking out at this ocean and beauty of God’s majesty . . . it was too much. I shook my head and wiped my eyes. See? I was turning into a crying fool. And that thought made me laugh.
I took another sip of my tea and noticed a lone figure far away walking on the edge of the beach. This stretch of the coast was private, so there were hardly any people on it. The weather was just breaking, so I expected my neighbors to be setting up on the sand pretty regularly soon.
But in the two months that I’d lived here, I never saw anyone just strolling the way this person was. I watched as the figure came closer, closer, closer. And then close enough for me to make out all parts of him. It was his swagger that was most distinctive. And then there was what I called his uniform: today, a black T-shirt, black jeans, and his Tims that were now covered with sand.
By the time he trotted up the steps to my deck, the tips of my lips had connected to each ear.
“D’Angelo Stewart,” I said. With my hand, I shielded my eyes from the glare of the sun. I wanted to get a good look at this man.
He leaned over and kissed my forehead. Then he sat at the end of the lounger. “What’s up?”
“Just you. Did you just get back?”
He nodded. “Yeah, just the morning. And I wanted to make sure that I came and saw you. So, you’re good?”
“I am. I have my days. I have to try hard not to think about all the things that I wish I’d done differently.”
He shrugged. “We all wish for a do-over at some time or another.”
I took a deep breath. “Well, tragedy brings clarity.”
“At least you got clarity. At least you learned the lesson. And now you need to stand up in front of the world and shout out that message. ’Cause there are people out there who profess to know the Lord, but they pray, they send their petitions to God, and they have such hard hearts. I just don’t get it. Don’t they know that God can’t honor that?” He shook his head. “I was worried about you. I never wanted that to be you. I never wanted you to be one of those people that God wasn’t able to hear.”
I tilted my head. “Sometimes you sound just like a preacher.”
He laughed. “Maybe that’ll be my next vocation. Who knows?”
“Who knows?” I agreed. “One of the lessons I’ve learned over the last few weeks is that none of us knows what the future holds.”
“The future,” he said with a side glance at me that sent my heart a-thumping. After a silent moment he said, “I made a tough decision; I’m heading back to Iraq.”
I nodded. “I’m not surprised.”
“Really? You should be. Because I gave it some serious thought. I thought about staying here.”
“But you’re not that kind of man,” I said. “Remember, you told me that you couldn’t imagine settling down.”
“I couldn’t. Before. But now . . .”
He spoke in incomplete sentences that I completely understood. “Me, too,” I said. “I couldn’t. Before. But now.”
He chuckled. “Pretty lady, you made this hard for me. But I think you need some time. And, I need some time, too.”
I nodded.
“And who knows?” he said.
“Who knows?” I agreed, thinking that the tables had turned for real. Was I really considering this? Was I really having this talk-nontalk about the possibility of a maybe relationship someday?
“We can always stay in touch,” he said. “We can Skype or do that FaceTime thing.”
I shuddered at that thought. After what had happened to Asia? But I said, “Maybe.” Then I asked, “So, when do you leave?”
“Tomorrow,” he said. “That’s why I had to make that run down to San Diego. Just got our new orders.”
He didn’t say anything else and I didn’t want to know.
But neither one of us got to say another word, because Ciara’s cries came through the baby monitor. He looked at the machine on the table and his eyes widened. “Ciara’s here, with you?”
I nodded and then giggled. “She spent the night with me last night,” I said as I jumped up from the lounger and rushed into my bedroom.
“And she’s still alive?”
I slapped D’Angelo’s arm playfully before I peeped into the bassinet that I’d sent to Sabrina and Anthony when Ciara was born. But just days after Sabrina’s funeral, Anthony had brought the bassinet over here for visits such as this. “Oh, what’s wrong with the baby?” I said as I lifted her up.
As if she could feel all of my love, right away, her cries stopped.
“The magic touch,” D’Angelo said. “And I should know.”
If I were a few shades lighter, he would’ve seen the heat rise beneath my skin. I said, “A godmommy’s touch.”
He paused for a moment. “Well, can her godfather get some love?”
I looked at him and he nodded as he held out his hands to hold Ciara. As he took her from me, he said, “Anthony asked me the day of Sabrina’s funeral.”
“That’s great. I guess this means that you and Anthony are cool again.”
“I told you that we would be. But what this really means is that if you’re the godmother and I’m the godfather, we’re going to have to do some duties together.”
Then, while he still held Ciara in his arms, he leaned forward and kissed me. A soulful kiss that made me glad that I wasn’t the one holding the baby. When he backed away, he handed Ciara to me, then strutted
from my bedroom.
Still holding Ciara, I followed and stopped at the deck door. He trotted down the steps then went back the same way he came—along the beach. I watched him and rocked Ciara. I watched him until I couldn’t see him anymore.
But even though he was gone, he’d left me with a smile on my face. And a tear rolling down my cheek.
Pastor Beverly Ford
Lessons Learned
Chapter
Forty-Four
This wasn’t the first time that I’d done this.
I’d summoned the ladies to the church before, most of the time, though they were by themselves. But today, I’d called them to the sanctuary together, just like I’d done a few days after Christmas.
But today was so different from that time almost five months before. Today, I had something special for them.
I stepped into the sanctuary and marveled at just how different it was. The last time I’d been here with them, I’d walked in and it was so silent. They were spread across the sanctuary as if they didn’t even know each other.
But today, it didn’t seem like they were waiting for a death sentence. Today, the three of them—Sheridan, Kendall, and Asia—sat in the front pew right in front of the altar, chatting like the friends that I’d always known they’d become.
It almost brought tears to my eyes just thinking about the way they’d grown in God. When I brought them together all those years ago in a prayer support group, I knew I was doing the right thing. And today, seven years later, this was proof of it.
Even with the tragedy that was still fresh in our lives, these ladies were smiling. Kendall was not wallowing and that was what I was most proud of. Each of these ladies knew that they would get through Sabrina’s death, and anything else with the Lord. And with love. And with friendship.
It wasn’t until I was almost in front of them that the ladies noticed me.
“Hey, Pastor,” they said in unison. Then, as if it was choreographed, they each jumped up to hug me.
I saved Kendall for last because I wanted to give her a little extra.
When they sat back down, Sheridan said, “So, you wanted to see us?”
I nodded and looked at each of them. What amazing lessons they had all learned.
“Do you know how proud I am of each of you?”
The beamed as if they knew exactly how far they’d come.
“It’s been a long journey,” I said.
“Hold up, Aunt Beverly,” Asia said. “You’re talking like our journey is over.” She laughed.
“Well, in a way, it is.”
That wiped the smiles off of their faces.
I said, “Don’t worry, your friendship will go on forever. There’s nothing that anyone can do to stop that. But did you realize that we’re coming up on the seventh year of the Ex Files?”
Their stares told me that meant nothing to them—at least not yet.
“Well, I know you know that seven is God’s number of completion. And though He is a long way from being finished with you, or me, I think this is a good time for us to think about where do we go with the Ex Files in the eighth year. The number eight—God’s number for new beginnings.”
“Okay,” Sheridan said. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’m glad you asked.” I chuckled. “I think each of you has learned some amazing lessons over the past few months that need to be shared. For example, Sheridan, what do you think you’ve gotten out of this journey?”
I could see her measuring the words in her head, not sure at all how much she wanted to say.
“I guess the biggest lesson I’ve learned, Pastor, is that I’m not anybody’s savior. And it seems like a simple lesson, but I think sometimes, as women, we take on everybody’s issues. Our children’s, our husband’s, even our friends’ . . . when they have issues, we think we can solve everything. When most of the time, the best thing we can do for anybody is just take them and their issues to the altar.”
I smiled. That sounded like a sermon to me.
Normally, I would go to Kendall next, but I glanced instead at my niece. I still had to shake my head at the hard lessons she’d learned. Even now I wanted to strangle her, ask her what she’d been thinking. But she had a powerful message for so many women . . . and girls.
I didn’t even have to ask Asia what she’d learned; she began, “Well, I know what I’d want to tell some people, especially these young girls out here.” Her finger swayed in the air with each word she spoke. “We need to educate these girls on tablets, social media, and how all of it is the devil’s playground!”
Sheridan, Kendall, and I laughed out loud. But Asia didn’t crack a smile. She was serious.
“I’m not playin’,” she said. “I think Satan created all of that. Look at how people are getting in trouble. That ain’t nothin’ but the devil!”
“Or maybe not,” Kendall said before I could say anything. “Maybe there’s nothing wrong with tablets and social media and the Internet. Maybe it’s just how we use it.”
“Whatever! Somebody needs to be teaching these girls something. I don’t want people to have to go through what I went through.”
I nodded.
“Oh.” Asia raised her hand again. “And, my biggest lesson is that I can’t even tell if someone loves me until I learn how to love myself first. I think it was because I wasn’t sure of myself that I didn’t recognize Bobby’s game. But now that I am, nobody will be able to step to me like that again.”
Lesson learned! Can I tell you how proud I was to hear my niece finally talk this way? I knew that the seeds she’d sown with Bobby Johnson had not been good. He was always another woman’s man. But he’d gotten to my niece when she was young, nurtured her to be the woman he wanted her to be, then almost destroyed her.
It had to be difficult—Bobby had been part of her world for half of her life. And with the good things that he’d done for her, he was a hard man to get over.
But Asia seemed to be doing it. And what I loved best was how her focus was now on Angel.
Now I turned to Kendall.
Without me saying a word, she took a deep breath. “I learned that we don’t get many chances to have do-overs in life. So, when you know better, you should do better. I was stubborn for so long. I just wanted the world to know how much I’d been hurt. And I wanted everyone to understand and agree with me and hate Sabrina, too. But really, while people listened to me, the only person who cared about that mess was me. And what good did that do?”
Kendall sighed and glanced down at her hands. “Love has to trump everything; no one in this world is as bad as the worst thing they’ve ever done. Sabrina was amazing in my life for over thirty years, until . . . and I never gave her a chance to make a comeback. I wiped thirty years out like it was nothing.
“After a few years, I should’ve done something. Counseling, something, especially since she’d always tried to make an effort with me. And I’m really sorry that I didn’t. But I’m determined to not have any more regrets like this. Never again.”
I wanted to raise my hands in victory, do a Holy Ghost dance, and shout Hallelujah! But what I said was, “Excellent. You’ve learned lessons that no man could ever teach. Only experience could be this kind of teacher. And I’m hoping that you’re willing to use your experiences to teach.”
“What do you mean?” Asia asked.
Before I could answer, Kendall said, “You want us to stand up in front of the world and shout out this message,” as if she already knew what I was talking about.
“Well, you can put it that way . . . just leave out the shouting.” I laughed. “Seriously, though, I think you ladies have a show that needs to go on the road. The three of you are dealing with issues that women need to hear, and learn from.”
The three of them looked at me, and then, when they glanced at each other, they shrug
ged and nodded.
“So, what do you think?” I asked. “You think we have something here?”
“Yeah,” Sheridan said. And then Kendall and Asia agreed.
“Okay. Well, you ladies get together and let me know what you come up with. And we’ll make it happen.”
“Okay,” they said together, seeming like they liked the idea.
They may have only liked it, but I loved it. Because I knew that their lessons were going to touch so many.
Standing up straight, I reached for their hands and they stood, too. And just like we always did when the four of us got together in this way, in this sanctuary, we formed a circle of four and held hands.
I never had to say a word, the ladies all bowed their heads. And then in the quietness of God’s house, we sent our prayers to the Lord.
A Note from the
Author
I think many people would be surprised to know that I’m not crazy about sequels. That’s hard to believe, huh? Especially since I have a series of six Jasmine books (not counting the ones I’ve done with ReShonda) and now this “Exes” group (which really began with Grown Folks Business—Sheridan’s story). So for a person who doesn’t like to write sequels, why do I do so many? Because I listen to my readers and to the marketplace. And when I can, I respond to them. But what I love as a writer is taking new journeys, meeting new people, and listening to new voices in my head. If I had my way, I would have more than twenty books out there filled with people you would never see again. But I look at this career as a partnership—me, my publisher, and you, the readers. So in this partnership, as in any great partnership, we’ve all compromised. And I’ve written books that will satisfy a little for a lot of people.
Now, while I’m not crazy about sequels, every time I finish a novel, I’m glad I went back to revisit these folks. I love to see characters grow so I’ve never regretted a single sequel that I’ve written, and I was really happy with the way Forever an Ex turned out. The story lines shocked me, especially Kendall’s. I was so sorry when that tragedy hit her. I argued with the writing voice in my head that told me I had to do it. I. Did. Not. Want. To. Do. It. But after complaining and being a little pissed about it, I went with that tragedy because that story had to be told. People have to see the possible consequences of nonforgiveness in their lives. So I hope a heart or two will be changed by what went down between Kendall and Sabrina. And if one heart is, then writing Forever an Ex in that way was worth it.
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