by Stacy Adams
“How does it feel to be a college graduate?” he asked. “A summa cum laude one, at that?”
Indigo hugged him sideways. “Feels good, babe. I’m excited about the next chapter.”
He wrapped his deep brown arms around her waist and they turned their attention back to her friends and family milling about below, consuming seafood and barbecue, flipping through scrapbooks that contained her photos, and dancing to some of her favorite old school R&B and hip-hop grooves.
At one end of the patio, Brian’s parents swayed in sync, tucking their round bodies into each other’s like matching puzzle pieces. A few feet away, Indigo’s mom and dad sashayed to the riffs of Chaka Khan, a half second off beat as always. And holding center court were Indigo’s cousins, Rachelle and Gabe.
Indigo smiled as she watched the tall, lean couple move in close and pull away at the beckoning of the beat. Their eyes remained locked, and at one point, Gabe lowered his head and stole a kiss from his wife.
Indigo blushed and instinctively framed the picture in her mind. If she weren’t locked in Brian’s embrace right now, she’d grab one of her cameras to capture this miracle. Those two clearly didn’t need words to let the family know their marriage was back on track.
The song ended, and before the DJ could start another, Aunt Melba and Shelby climbed the steps to a small stage that had been positioned on the side of the patio. They each grabbed a microphone from its stand and Aunt Melba pointed in Indigo’s direction.
“That’s where they’re hiding,” she said into the mic, leading everyone to turn and wave. “Brian, will you please escort the guest of honor to the stage?”
In jest, Brian saluted Aunt Melba. He held out his arm so Indigo could tuck hers inside and they descended the stone stairs. A minute later, Indigo was facing her guests.
Wearing a smile that flaunted her perfect teeth, she stood between her aunt and her best friend and the crowd cheered. The three women looked like purposely posed catalog models of different shades and sizes—Indigo with toffee skin and a thin bone structure that gave her jaw and cheekbones prominent angles; Aunt Melba with her bronze complexion, full red lips, and thick hips; and Shelby, a dark chocolate Hershey’s kiss, whose smooth skin and curves made her eligible for Barbie-doll status.
“Aw, ya’ll really love me!” Indigo said to the lingering applause. She laughed, but her eyes were glistening.
Shelby pulled out a tissue she had tucked in her palm and passed it to Indigo. “I knew this would happen,” she told the other guests. “We haven’t said a word about her yet, and she’s acting like the Grammy is hers.”
Indigo swatted Shelby’s arm.
“Seriously though,” Shelby said, “It’s an honor to be here to celebrate Indigo Irene Burns. For those of you who don’t know, I’m Shelby Arrington, Indigo’s friend and sister in spirit. We met at Tuskegee University our sophomore year and graduated together yesterday.”
Aunt Melba waved. “If any of you don’t know me, you better ask somebody!”
The crowd roared.
“I am Indigo’s favorite aunt and one of her biggest fans,” Melba said. “Indigo graduated with honors yesterday, with a 3.8 GPA. She has received a partial scholarship to the School of Visual Arts in New York City, where she’ll move in August to get her master’s in photography.
“She’s going to tell us what her summer plans are, but her long-term goal is to become as good as, if not better than, famed photographer Ansel Adams,” Aunt Melba said.
Shelby continued. “She wants to shoot still-life images for magazines and museums and maybe even for movies. The awesome thing about Indigo is that not only does she want to do these things, being the person she is, she’ll get them done.”
She turned toward Indigo. “Indie, we wish you much success and Godspeed on your journey. And when you hit it big, I’ll be your ‘Gail.’ If Oprah can have a gal pal, you can too!”
Indigo hugged Aunt Melba and Shelby and took Shelby’s microphone. The two women stepped aside to give Indigo center stage. She thanked everyone for coming and for supporting her over the years.
“Now, to my parents,” Indigo said and shook her head. “I can’t say enough. They gave me a camera that used 35mm film when I was ten. Remember those? I took so many pictures that at some point, they began upgrading me to a better model every Christmas.
“They’ve always believed in me and supported me, even when it meant they had to sacrifice something else. They have taught me, and shown me, that with God and personal grit, there’s nothing I can’t accomplish. Anything that I’ve achieved so far, or will achieve, I share those accolades with you, Mama and Daddy. I love you.”
Indigo dabbed her eyes with the tissue again and searched the crowd. “Where are Rachelle and Gabe?”
The couple waved from their seats, in the last row of black folding chairs positioned near the stage. Their teenagers, Tate and Taryn, sat next to them.
“Rachelle, you’re a first cousin who’s more like a big sister, and I appreciate you for that,” Indigo said. “Thanks to both of you for giving me this party at this beautiful place. Our usual backyard barbecue was all I had in mind. You’re so good to me!”
Gabe stood up and blew her a kiss. “Remember this day when you’re rich and famous and I need a loan!” he joked.
Indigo raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Okay, Doctor Cov-ington,” she said. Just about everyone there knew Gabe was one of the top heart surgeons in the nation and wouldn’t need her financial help anytime soon.
“Tell them what you’ll be doing this summer,” Aunt Melba reminded her.
“I will be interning at the Jubilant Herald for nine weeks,” Indigo said. “My calling isn’t photojournalism, but this will allow me to add a range of photos to my portfolio before I head to grad school. Plus, it will be great to spend the summer at home.”
Brian approached Indigo and put an arm around her waist.
“This man isn’t on the program,” Shelby teased.
Brian winked at her. “Hey, everybody,” he said in his husky, laid-back drawl, skipping the self-introduction. “I just want to say that I’m very proud of Indigo. We met at Tuskegee when she was a sophomore and I was a senior.” He looked in Shelby’s direction. “Our friend over there introduced us, and within half an hour of talking to Miss Indigo, I knew she was special. She hasn’t proved me wrong. She has big plans for the future, and I’m praying that I’ll be part of them.”
Indigo felt tears surfacing again. Brian had never been much of a romantic; this overt show of affection surprised her.
Then he knelt on one knee. She felt faint.
“If you’ll take this ring, and agree to become Mrs. Harper, you’ll make me the happiest man in the world. Indigo, will you marry me?”
Indigo stared at Brian and tried to process what she’d just heard.
Did he just propose? In front of everyone she knew? Had this man forgotten that he’d be leaving in a few weeks for the Navy’s Officer Candidate School, with plans to become a Navy pilot?
Countless emotions engulfed Indigo, from love and gratitude to a tidal wave of fear that churned in the pit of her stomach. As much as she loved Brian, becoming his wife wasn’t in her immediate plans. Neither was giving up her first-choice grad school.
“I love you too, Brian,” she said weakly, trying to mask her mental wrestling match. How could she say no to this fine, smart brother, who had a bright future ahead of him and happened to be crazy about her?
She couldn’t. Especially not in front of all these people.
God forgive me, she prayed silently.
“Yes . . . I’ll marry you!” she told Brian.
She flung her arms around his neck and let the tears fall. She did love him, and she did want to be his wife. Just not now—before she, and her dreams, had a chance to blossom.
Acknowledgments
Many people visualize novelists toiling away in isolation as we pound out words about the figments of our imagination.
To a certain extent—especially when a deadline looms!—this is true. However, along with carving out the time to write, many of us spend hours conducting research, bringing our characters to life by discussing them with others, and praying for divine creativity and discipline. For me, at least, this is a huge part of the process, and I couldn’t accomplish the task without my heavenly Father’s guidance or the earthly angels he sends me.
Given that, I first offer a sincere and humble thank-you to God for his unconditional love, grace, and favor: Thank you for granting me the gift of writing and allowing me to serve you as a writer and speaker. I don’t take the fact that you’ve chosen me for granted.
I sincerely appreciate my husband, Donald, and my “little assistants,” Syd and Jay, for your love and constant support. Thank you for joining “Team Mommy” and giving me extra time to write so that this manuscript could be birthed.
Heartfelt gratitude is extended to Sharon Shahid, Carol W. Jackson, and Teresa Coleman, my dear friends and first readers, who devoted hours to reading and offering constructive feedback as I created these new characters and plopped them into a fictional setting.
Thank you, as always, to my spiritual mentor, Muriel Miller Branch, for your love, prayers, encouragement, and a sanctuary in which to write whenever I need it. You are an inspiration and a blessing!
Similar thanks is offered to my extended family, especially Dr. Barbara Grayson, Sandra K. Williams, Patsy Scott, Henry Haney, the entire Adams family, Terra Luster, and Lisa Armstead.
I am grateful to everyone who in some way assisted with my research for this book, including Dr. Carolyn Boone, Alexica Lay, Dr. Cheryl Nelson, and John Keltonic, who leads annual mission trips to the Canaan Children’s Home in Buziika, Uganda.
Abundant thanks to my agent, Steve Laube; my publicists, Pamela Perry and Barbara Rascoe; and the Revell Books staff for the opportunity to work with you from book idea through publication. A special thank-you is extended to Lonnie Hull DuPont, Brian Peterson, Cat Hoort, Barb Barnes, Twila Bennett, Karen Steele, Nathan Henrion, and Cheryl Van Andel.
I am especially grateful to the many book clubs, booksellers, and media professionals who continue to support my work, and to the following individuals: Bobbie Walker Trussell, Comfort Anderson-Miller, Charmaine Spain, Deborah Lowry, Joe and Gloria Murphy, Gwendolyn Richard, Fritz Kling, Sharon Ewell Foster, Marsha Sumner, Claudia Mair Burney, Marilynn Griffith, Margaret Williams, Vikki Johnson, Carol Mackey, Phyllis Theroux, Rachel Hauck, Joyce E. Davis, Kendra Norman-Bellamy, Tiffany Warren, Victoria Christopher Murray, Jann Malone, Geneva Scott, Cheryl Miller, Rhonda McKnight Nain, Marina Woods, Sherri Lewis, Adriana Trigiani, Jacquelin Thomas, Virginia DeBerry, Donna Grant, Cindy Windle, Eva Nell Hunter, Rachel Valenti, members of the ACFW Richmond Chapter, the Cannon family, Dr. Linda Beed, Patricia Davis, Beverly Adams, and members of Real Life Ministries and Trinity Baptist Church who have offered their support and encouragement over the years.
And last, but certainly not least, I thank you, the reader, for getting to know these characters and traveling with them to a world not so different from our own. May their journeys inspire your journey.
Here’s wishing you abundant grace and new mercies every day.
In His Service,
Stacy
Stacy Hawkins Adams is an award-winning author, journalist, and inspirational speaker. She and her family live in a suburb of Richmond, Virginia. Her other published titles include Speak to My Heart, Nothing But the Right Thing, and Watercolored Pearls. She welcomes readers to visit her website: www.stacyhawkinsadams.com.