“Melody Sinclair?”
Melody smiles, revealing teeth that have undergone all kinds of work. A few years ago, the girl’s grille looked like the shark’s from Jaws. Thank God for modern or-thodontia.
“You do remember,” says Melody.
“I never forget a face.”
Melody motions to Leon. “So who’s your friend?”
“Oh! I’m so rude. This is my boy Leon. Leon Chambers, meet Melody Sinclair.”
Melody takes Leon by the arm and starts to pull him away. She’s quite the aggressive one. A snippet of their conversation as they walk off has Melody asking, “So, what do you do?”
To which Leon gives the hilarious reply: “I’m in the automobile industry.”
Shayna laughs out loud. “Do you think he’s gonna tell her that he fixes cars?”
“Not until after he gets some.”
“Some things never change.”
“Right.”
“Except you, Darrin. You’ve changed a lot.”
“But it’s for the better, I think.”
“Maybe.” Shayna waves at someone across the room. “Come on, Darrin. I’d like you to meet someone.” She drags me over to meet her friend—a male friend. Makes me feel uncomfortable, because I’m not in the mood for mingling. I’ve got too much on my mind.
“Justin, this is Darrin, the one I told you about,” says Shayna.
Justin responds, I don’t know whether I should punch you out or hug you.”
“It’s a holiday. Let’s go with the hug,” I reply with what I know is a confused look.
“Darrin, I met Justin on my flight home from Atlanta. We talked all the way home.”
Justin chuckles. “I talked. She cried.”
“I was so distraught over you sending me home, but I really connected with Justin. We got home, had a few dates, and the rest is history.”
“Wow. I should probably return that tennis bracelet I bought you for Christmas, then, huh?”
Shayna’s eyes light up. “That won’t be necessary.”
“I was just playing, girl. Congratulations, you two.”
I walk away, leaving Shayna to pick up her face off the floor and explain to her new boyfriend why she still wanted my gift. I hope she wasn’t trying to make me jealous. Because she oh-so-miserably failed.
I sneak away from the party to my father’s study. I know he’ll be in here, hiding from Priscilla’s friends. And he is here, doing his usual, drinking bourbon and smoking a cigar. I might as well get this showdown over with.
“Son. You made it in.”
“I just got in a little while ago.”
“So, tell me something good.”
I give a nervous chuckle. “I joined this really nice church in Atlanta …”
“I’m being serious, boy. Let’s see this career-launching story! I’ve been waiting all day to feast my eyes on it.”
“Dad, I couldn’t write that story. It would’ve hurt too many people. People I care about.”
“I thought that was the idea. Find a scandal … blow the top off of it … ruin some lives … build a career. Wasn’t that the plan?”
“I guess, but I didn’t expect to get in so deep.”
Mathis grins. “No story, huh?” He tosses an office furniture catalog from his desk.
I catch the heavy book and sigh. “What do you want me to do with this?”
“You can start picking out the furniture for your office. I’ve got a nice one waiting for you. Great view of the lake.”
I sit down at the chair next to his bookcase. “Dad, I’m not coming to work for you.”
“Then what? Do you need a letter of reference for a job? Because I’m not giving you another cent.”
“I’m going back to school.”
Mathis seems to brighten a bit. “For what? Your MBA? That would really help you in the business. I’m all for it.”
I reply in a barely audible voice, “No, I’m going to chef school.”
“Boy, you’re going to have to speak up, because I think I heard you say chef school.”
“You heard right.”
“Get out of my office. I can’t look at your face right now.”
Since he’s looking more than menacing, I do just that. Priscilla is waiting right outside his door, and her expression is a combination of anxiety and anticipation.
“Did you tell him about the story?” she asks nervously.
“Yeah, and he wasn’t happy. I also told him about chef school.”
Priscilla gasps. “You should’ve saved that for tomorrow. Now he’ll be totally inconsolable for the entire holiday.”
“He’ll get over it.”
“Did you do what I told you to do?”
“Yes, Mother. I purchased everything that I need for school and took cash advances on all of my credit cards.”
“That will have to hold you over until he calms down.”
I kiss Priscilla on the forehead. “Thank you.”
Christmas dinner is a strained occasion. There are frowns all around. Mathis’s is from my revelation; Priscilla’s is due to Mathis being such a wounded bear about the whole thing. And mine has nothing to do with them. I’m still thinking of Emoni’s last visit. I’ve been thinking that maybe I should’ve handled the whole thing differently. It could be the loneliness talking, or the holiday spirit, but I definitely wish I were introducing her to my parents this weekend.
The only person not frowning is Leon, who is enjoying all of the catered food. “Mrs. Bainbridge, you really know how to give a Christmas dinner,” he says through a mouthful of turkey.
“Thank you, Leon.”
Mathis’s jaws are slamming into his turkey like it’s a piece of leather jerky. I know better than to open my mouth now. Better to let him implode rather than explode.
“Mathis, did you congratulate your son?” Priscilla asks.
He glares angrily and ignores the question. I’m trying to send my mother a telepathic signal: Mother, please don’t poke the bear.
“Did you hear me, Mathis?” Obviously, my mother is not telepathic.
“I don’t have a son,” grumbles my father.
“Well, I think it’s great that Darrin is going to do what he loves. So many people spend their lives unfulfilled.”
Mathis retorts, “Many of those fulfilled people are living in poverty.”
“Darrin doesn’t have to worry about that.”
Why does she continue with the poking?
I interject, “I’m going to work my way through school.”
“You don’t even know what that word means,” Mathis says.
Now I’m getting angry. “Your definition of work is sitting in some boring office, looking at the four walls and firing people at will. That ain’t me.”
“You hear him, Priscilla? That ain’t me! All that money you spent on his private school education, and he can’t even put together a proper sentence.”
I stand up and throw my utensils to the table. “How’s this for proper? Mathis Bainbridge, I need neither your money nor your approval.”
“You’re not man enough to call me by my name,” barks Mathis.
I’m getting ready to respond in kind when my father starts to pull at his chest. He drops his fork and tears the napkin from his shirt. He gasps and struggles to catch his breath.
“Dad? Are you okay?”
He cannot respond. Priscilla’s eyes widen. “Oh, Lord! Darrin, call the paramedics.”
Mathis shakes his head furiously, but we ignore him. Leon tries to check my father’s pulse, but he pushes him away. He even fights the paramedics when they get here, and it takes all three of them to overpower him and get him on the stretcher and into the ambulance. We follow close behind in my truck.
“Mother, don’t worry. He’s going to be fine.”
She’s wringing her hands and praying. I’m sending up my own silent petitions to God, but I’m not letting Priscilla see that I’m worried.
When we get to the hospital,
my father is being rushed into a trauma room, and we’re being ordered to stay calm and stay outside the room. I’ve watched enough ER to know that when a code is being called, it’s serious. A whole team of doctors and nurses come flying around corners and rushing into the room with my father.
“Oh my Lord … help him, Lord! Lord, send your angels right now,” cries my mother as I hold on to her hand tightly.
After the most tense moments in my life, a doctor emerges from the trauma room. And he’s smiling. Smiling is a good thing.
Mother asks, “How is he?”
“Mrs. Bainbridge, your husband is going to be fine. He had a heart attack, but not a massive one. From the tissue scarring, I’m assuming he’s had several miniature attacks in the past year or so. He probably thought it was indigestion.”
“So our argument didn’t do this?” I ask.
The doctor shakes his head. “High cholesterol did this.”
“When can we see him?” Mother is already standing, ready to move any- and everyone out of her way.
“We’ve got him sedated right now so he can rest. You’ll be able to talk to him in a little bit.”
I let out a sigh of relief and leave my mother and Leon to take a walk around the hospital grounds. Need to blow off some steam and get my head right before I see my father.
If it weren’t Christmas Day, I’d call Bishop Prentiss. I need some prayer or counseling or both. Maybe I just need some reassurance that I’m doing the right thing in defying my father’s wishes. I don’t know.
When I’m done with my walk, my mother is gone from the waiting area, but Leon is still there.
“She’s in with your father. Room 2157.”
I have to blink back tears when I see my father with wires coming from his nose and an IV dripping into his arm. He has always looked so intimidating, but now he seems small and vulnerable.
“How you feeling, Dad?”
“Been better,” he says with a light smile.
I go over to the side of the bed and embrace my father. I can’t remember the last time we hugged. Yes, I do—it was at my high school graduation.
“I’m sorry, Dad.” I try to make my voice steady, but it comes out sounding like I’m five years old.
“Me, too, son. Live your life.”
“Thanks for your blessing.”
He clears his throat. “You have my blessing … not my money.”
Can’t help but laugh. It takes more than a heart attack to loosen Mathis Bainbridge’s purse strings.
Chapter Forty-one
Emoni
Merry Christmas, Emoni.”
This is Sascha, waking me up at the crack of dawn like she used to do when we were little girls. I smell biscuits baking. Not homemade, but Mother can put her foot in some Pillsbury.
“Merry Christmas.”
“Ooh … you need to go back to sleep and try that again. You look and sound like the Grinch.”
That about sums up the way I feel. Downright Grinchy. I’m not looking forward to spending the day with Oscar breathing down my neck, harassing me about getting engaged, not to mention that Ophelia and Kevin will be here, too.
Fun times. “Wake me up when breakfast is ready.”
Sascha shakes her head. “No can do. You have company. Oscar is here already and asking for his lady love.”
I throw a pillow at Sascha. “There should be rules about this!”
Sascha giggles and closes my door. Pregnancy has made her entirely too pleasant. It’s a good thing her wedding is in two weeks, because her little bump is going to be a big bump real soon.
I drag myself out of the bed and look for something festive to wear. I select my Christmas sweater and a long jean skirt. I stomp down the hall to the bathroom with all of my shower essentials.
“What is wrong with you?” asks Tyler, who is coming out of the bathroom.
“Nothing. Merry Christmas.”
He gives me a juicy kiss on the cheek. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”
“Wait a minute. Why do you look dressed to leave? Where are you escaping to?”
“I’m not escaping! Love Outreach is delivering Christmas presents at five area women’s shelters.”
“Can I come?”
“Now, wouldn’t that be rude to leave your man here? I’ll be gone all day.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“I’ll see you later on. Save me some of that turkey!”
“Sure thing.”
After a ridiculous amount of stalling, I come downstairs, trying to look as chipper as possible. Oscar stands to his feet and kisses me on the mouth. My immediate reaction is to wipe it off. I restrain myself from doing this, because everyone is staring at me.
“I’m glad I brushed my teeth,” I grumble.
“Merry Christmas, Emoni,” says Mother as she puts biscuits on a plate.
“Merry Christmas, all. Where’s Daddy?”
“I’m not sure,” Mother replies. “He left in the middle of the night, said it was urgent. I’m guessing one of the church members was in trouble, because he was being very secretive.”
“Can’t he at least be off on Christmas Day?” asks Sascha.
Mother answers, “That’s my bishop. I just wish he’d hurry back so we can open our presents.”
Oscar says, “Emoni, can I talk to you alone for a few minutes?”
“Sure … I guess.”
Oscar and I go into the front parlor and sit on Mother’s pretty couch. Since this is Oscar’s idea, I let him start the conversation.
“Emoni, I just wanted to give you your present in private.”
“Oh, is that all? Okay.”
Oscar frowns. “What did you think it was?”
“I don’t know. So where’s my present?” I’m so relieved that this whole thing isn’t about setting a date for our wedding.
Oscar hands me a gift bag, and I take it with a smile. But as soon as I open the bag, my smile fades. This man has given me a wedding planning portfolio.
“What is this?” I ask with much attitude.
“I thought you’d like something that would get you organized in planning our wedding.”
I let out a long sigh. “Oscar … this is too much. I haven’t even agreed to being engaged yet.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I need you to wait for me to get all of this sorted out in my mind.”
He frowns again, deeply. “What is there to sort out? You either want to be with me or you don’t.”
“Oscar—”
Before I get a chance to finish my thought, Daddy opens the front door and saves me. I’ve never been happier to see him! As he steps in the door, I see why he left so early in the morning.
He’s gone to pick up my brother Kumal Jr.
I squeal, jump up from the couch, and hug Kumal Jr. He hugs me back and says, “It’s good to see you again, little sis.”
Mother and Sascha come into the parlor to see what all the commotion is about. I guess Daddy feels this is the time to make proper introductions.
“Everyone, I want y’all to meet Kumal Jr. … my oldest son. Kumal, this is your stepmother, Diana, your youngest sister, Sascha, and Emoni’s boyfriend, Oscar.”
Kumal Jr. hugs Sascha and Mother and shakes Oscar’s hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you all. I’ve never had a family Christmas, so I’m looking forward to this.”
Mother looks ill and sits down on the couch next to Oscar. Oscar asks, “Are you all right, First Lady?”
“No. I’m feeling faint.”
Daddy says, “Diana, I apologize for shocking you with this, but it was something I needed to do on my own.”
“Fine,” Mother replies. “Kumal Jr., how is your mother?”
“She was doing horribly, but Dad talked her into entering an in-patient detox center. We dropped her off before we came here.”
“Wonderful,” says Mother as she rises from the couch. “I’m going to check on dinner.”
Sascha and I look at each other and laugh; there is nothing to check on. The caterers are preparing the food and bringing it later this afternoon. All Mother has to do is serve cookies.
Kumal asks, “Emoni, is this the young man who was with you in Savannah? I’d like to apologize for my rudeness that day.”
“N-no. That was someone else.”
Oscar states, “That was her ex-boyfriend. I doubt if you’ll get a chance to see him today—or ever, for that matter.”
I roll my eyes and say to Kumal, “You might see him at Sascha’s wedding. You are coming to Sascha’s wedding, right?”
“Am I invited?”
Sascha gushes, “Of course you are! I can’t wait for you to meet my fiancé.”
“Someone is missing. Where’s my brother, Tyler?” asks Kumal.
I answer, “He’ll be back later. He’s off doing some charity work with his church.”
“He doesn’t go to Freedom of Life?”
“That is a long story, and not one for a holiday,” Sascha replies.
The doorbell rings again. This time it’s Kevin and Sister Ophelia. Sascha kisses Kevin full on the lips while everyone watches.
Ophelia sucks her teeth. “Y’all can at least not fornicate on this day that we celebrate the birth of our Lord Jesus!” She marches through the parlor and sits down on the couch. Kumal Jr. takes a seat next to her. Ophelia narrows her eyes and looks Kumal Jr. up and down. “Who are you?” she asks.
Kumal Jr. extends his hand. “My name is Kumal Jr. I’m Bishop Prentiss’s oldest son.”
Ophelia looks from face to face in the room for an explanation. When none is offered, she says, “Emoni, baby, go and get me a glass of water. I’m feeling a little dehydrated.”
I’m glad to escape the room so I can let loose the floodgates of laughter. Ophelia looks like she just saw Lazarus rise from the dead and push the stone from in front of his tomb. Somebody’s going to have to clear things up for her before she puts her own spin on it.
Daddy is in the kitchen, fixing a tray of cookies and cocoa for everyone. He is humming to himself, and there is a peaceful expression on his face. He looks truly happy.
“Daddy, what made you reach out to Kumal Jr.?”
“I had a conversation with your friend Darrin. I felt convicted about not being a father to my son.”
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