Into Each Life

by Shelia E. Bell

  “Teary, be for real. You know how it is when you have someone else to answer to. This husband of mine is something else. Being married is great, but it’s a lot of responsibility.”

  ”You’re happy aren’t you?” Teary asked her.

  “Yeah, of course. He’s good to me. But hey, why shouldn’t he be, because I’m good to him too.”

  “I heard that.”

  “What’s up with your buddy? Have you heard from him lately?” There was no use of saying his name, it was understood that they were both talking about Prodigal.

  “I talk to him at least every couple of weeks. We email each other a lot. I hated to leave him and come back to Memphis, but time is helping him heal.”

  “I was really sorry to hear about Faith. I wish I could have made it to the funeral, but things just didn’t work out for me to get to Bonsai Bay.”

  “I’ll tell him you asked about him the next time I talk to him,” Teary promised. “So tell me. What is happening with you?”

  “That’s why I’m calling you.”

  “What do you mean by, that’s why you’re calling me? What’s up?”

  “I’m pregnant.” Debra exclaimed. “I couldn’t wait to tell you.”

  Teary couldn’t believe it. Debra? Pregnant? She’d been married for less than a year and already she was pregnant? Teary almost dropped the phone.

  “Hey, are you still there?” asked Debra.

  “Yeah, I’m still here. Congratulations. I’m happy for you. When is the baby due?” Teary feigned excitement.

  “I just came from seeing the doctor. I’m eight weeks. Can you see me with a big stomach, walking around all slow and stuff?” she giggled.

  A smile formed on Teary’s lips as she pictured the scene. “No, frankly I can’t. You have definitely got to email me some pictures, especially when that belly of yours starts swelling like a watermelon.”

  “You know I will.”

  Teary laughed out loud before saying, “I never thought you of all people would be an at home wife playing the Miss Betty Crocker role. And you’re about to be a mother.” Sarcastically she said, “Wow, I’m impressed.”

  “Funny, but to tell you the truth, neither did I. A desperate housewife, maybe,” Debra joked. “Seriously though, who knows what life is going to hold.”

  “What else is going on around Broknfield, girl?”

  “Not much. Same old, same old. But if you’re asking about your boy on the sly, last I heard he was doing pretty well. But I don’t even want to go there with you. This call is not to depress you.”

  “I know that’s right. I was just curious, that’s all. I don’t really care what Skyler is doing.”

  Debra couldn’t understand why Teary still wanted to know what Skyler was up to. She deserved so much more than he could give her. She wished Teary could find someone she could love and trust. Maybe one day she would.

  “Look, I better get off this phone. I have a million and one things to do around the house before the hubby gets home.”

  “Take care of yourself, Debra. Congratulations," Teary said again. “We’ll talk again soon.”

  “Sure, and I’ll send you those pictures. Love ya, bye.

  Chapter 34

  Choke Hold

  While Prodigal was busy getting his life back to some semblance of order, Teary was doing the same. She found herself thinking less of Skyler. So what if he was doing fine. So was she. There was more to life than love and relationships anyway, is what she kept telling herself. Yet somehow she knew she was only fooling herself. She was lonely, frightened and quite unhappy. She tried to become involved in the single’s ministry at the church she attended sporadically, but she felt out of place, as if she didn’t really belong there either. She didn’t know quite where she was supposed to be at this time in her life. She wasn’t getting any younger and she was still in search of that yellow brick road that leads to happiness.

  After working a twelve hour day, Teary arrived home from work, plopped down on the cushiony plum loveseat and breathed a sigh of relief. She pulled off her black leather muse and dropped them to the floor. She then reached over the top of the loveseat and grabbed the cordless phone off the sofa table and hit the button to listen to her messages.

  “Teary, just calling to see what’s up for the weekend girl,” was the message from one of the girls who lived a few houses away from her. The two of them sometimes hung out together. “Call and let me know what you have planned.”

  Beep. “Ms. Fullalove, this is Bridget from The Furniture Store,” was the next message. “Please contact me at 333-1458. I want to know if you still plan on purchasing the living room set we have on hold for you.”

  Several weeks had passed since Teary had picked out the suave Bradford lilac and cream living room suite she thought was to die for. Oh, dang it, I forgot all about it, she thought. She scribbled down the woman’s name and number to remind herself to call and let her know that she still wanted the furniture.

  Beep. “Teary, it’s your mother. I haven’t heard from you in over a week. Give me a call. Let me know you’re still in the land of the living. Love you, bye.” Teary laughed at her mother’s message.

  Beep. “Hey, girl.” It was Patricia. “Just checking to see what’s up with you. Give me a call when you can. Talk to you later.”

  Beep. “Teary. It’s me,” the voice on the other end said without little emotion. Teary jumped straight up and listened. “I was just thinking about you. Don’t worry, everything is fine. I just wanted to talk.” His voice quivered over the crackle of the answering machine. “Call me when you get a chance.”

  She rewound the answering machine to listen to the time of his call. The mechanical device said, “caller number four received at 12:45 a.m., Monday?”

  “Monday, that was two days ago,” Teary said to her cats and dog who had gathered around her feet. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t listened to her messages. Well, actually she didn’t find it so unusual because she often went days before she listened to them. After all, it wasn’t like anyone special would be calling or anything.

  Every now and then Teary would meet a guy. The relationship would last a few weeks at the most. But they all turned out the same way. He would turn out to be married, a wannabe playa, divorced with four or five kids to support; an atheist or just the oppositea religious fanatic. Either he was too big or too skinny, too tall or too short, too dark or too light, too fine or too ugly, didn’t make much money or didn’t work at all. The list of no no’s was endless. There was always something she would find that was wrong. So most of her time was split between work, church or cooped up in the house with her pets and a good novel. Sometimes she’d hang out with Patricia or a couple of other girl friends she’d formed friendships with since living in Memphis. And once a month she attended a book club meeting at the local mall.

  She glanced at the grandfather clock standing in the corner of the nearly bare living room. Eight twenty five. That means it’s 7:25 in Bonsai Bay. She picked up the phone and dialed his number.

  “Runsome resident, may I help you?” Teary was shocked to hear a female answer the phone. She hesitated a moment before she responded.

  “Uh, yes. This is Teary. Teary Fullalove. Is Prodigal in please?" she asked. Her voice echoed its curiosity.

  “No, ma’am. He should be here around nine thirty or ten. Would you like to leave a message?” she asked rather politely.

  As Teary listened, she realized the voice on the other end belonged to a young girl, perhaps fifteen or sixteen at the most. She must be babysitting the boys.

  “Would you tell him that I called? My name again is, Teary. By the way, are the boys there?” Teary asked just to be certain she was indeed the babysitter.

  “Yes, ma’am. They’re upstairs playing their video games. I’ll tell Mr. Runsome you called. Does he have your number?” The girl asked while popping her chewing gum into the phone.

  “Yes, he has it. May I ask your name, young lady?


  “Carrie.”

  “By chance are you babysitting Kevin and Kaleb this evening?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I keep them a lot for Mr. Runsome. We go to the same church. Well, if there’s not anything else you want me to tell him, I better go and check on them.”

  “Alright, be sure to tell him that I called.”

  She responded, “Yes, ma’am,” before quickly hanging up the phone.

  ♦

  Teary had planned to spend a quiet evening at home alone with her pets. Originally she had planned to go home to Broknfield to visit her parents for Thanksgiving, but quickly decided against it. She had the time and the finances but she lacked the enthusiasm that would be expected from being around family and familiar friends. Her parents missed her and she missed them too. But Teary couldn’t deal with going back to revisit her past.

  When she called and told her mother that she wouldn’t be coming home for the holidays, it didn’t sit too well with Cynthia Fullalove. It was rare that Teary came home period, but for her not to come home for Thanksgiving or Christmas really upset Mrs. Fullalove. Cynthia would talk to Brian and see if he could convince his baby girl to come home for the holidays.

  Prodigal couldn’t believe that almost a year had passed since Faith’s death. He didn’t know how he would make it through the approaching holiday season. Thanksgiving and Christmas, once his two most favorite holidays, were marred by memories of Faith’s illness and her death. But he would do all he could to keep his spirits up for the sake of his sons. He never really had time to completely grieve because he concentrated his efforts on making sure Kevin and Kaleb were happy and adjusting well to life without their mother. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to fall in love again, but the boys needed a mother. They need a woman in their lives. I don’t have to be in love with her either, just as long as she loves my sons and treats them kindly, he told himself.

  He missed Faith so much, and the time of year was proving to be devastating for him. He had to make sure that the boys had plenty to keep their little minds busy and active during this time.

  “Look, boys, I have to leave for work. Mr. and Mrs. Richards are going to take you to church for the children’s pre-Thanksgiving Day potluck.” Prodigal explained to Kevin and Kaleb

  “Okay, Daddy,” they both chimed in together.

  “When I get off work tomorrow morning, we’ll start some of our Christmas shopping.”

  “Yeah, yeaaaa,.” they squealed with joy.

  “Come on. Bundle up so we can get out of here.”

  He whisked them out the door to confront the cold, wintry day. It had been snowing most of the night and Doppler radar said no let up was in sight. They were expecting at least five to seven more inches of the white stuff.

  While he walked the boys across the street to the Richards, the three of them grabbed the chance to play around in the snow. They chased after each other with giant snowballs in their hands while the wind pushed them along at a rapid pace across the wide neighborhood street.

  Mrs. Richards stood in the doorway watching them with a big grin on her face. After playing for several minutes, Prodigal dropped them the boys off at her doorstep.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Richards. Have a good time fellows.”

  He gave each of them a hug before turning around and going back across the street. Climbing into his champagne Lexus SUV, Prodigal headed to the firehouse. As he drove, he allowed his eyes to occasionally roam up and down the ice slick streets. People had already begun to put up Christmas decorations. He made a mental note to remind himself to put up some for Kevin and Kaleb. With envy, he watched couples strolling along the slippery sidewalks. Some laughed, others snuggled. Children were laughing, jumping up and down, dodging snowballs and making snow people of different shapes and sizes. The scenes before him could have been placed on a greeting card. Looking at the carefully adorned preparations, Prodigal’s heart filled with grief. Silent tears swelled. Inhaling deeply, he tried to avoid the pain that was determined to push itself out.

  “Why couldn’t she be here with me? Life is so unfair. His body shook hard as he tried to maintain control of the SUV. The sound of a blaring horn jarred him back to his senses. He slammed on his brakes. Swerving over the ice and snow-filled street, he wrestled with the steering wheel until he regained control of his vehicle. Whew, that was a close one, he told himself.

  After making it safe and sound, Prodigal strolled into the fire station. “Hey, guys, something smells awfully good,” he said.

  “Glen has some of his homemade chili brewing, bro,” said one of the other firefighters. “You know he thinks he’s a chef instead of a firefighter.”

  “One thing’s for sure, we're going to eat hearty today. We already have the crackers, chili peppers and our appetites,” another firefighter added.

  Prodigal nudged his fellow firefighter, Glen, in the ribs. “Hey man, don’t worry about them checking you. Let me tell you what I have to say about your cooking. I think it’s great — for a pack of hungry wolves that is.” The firefighters responded in laughter at Prodigal’s teasing. “Naw, seriously, man. I definitely brought my appetite with me this evening, so you fellows better watch out,” he said while continuing to laugh.

  After each of them ate their fill, several of the firefighter chose to relax by watching football on ESPN. A couple of them played checkers and some of the others decided to take a nap. In the middle of the fourth quarter, the loud, almost deafening sound of the siren started to blast.

  “Move it,” the fire commander yelled to his team. “We’ve got a four-alarm on Fifth and Granger, about six and a half blocks out. Let’s go!” They moved with lightning speed, jumped into their gear, and climbed aboard the fire engines with record breaking speed.

  In less than four minutes they had arrived on the scene. A crowd of people stood outside of the complex. People were fleeing outside of the burning building. The midnight wind blew and fueled the flames. Prodigal heard screams. He tilted his firefighter’s hat and veered his face upward. His well-trained eyes focused on a young girl and a little boy who looked to be about the same age as his sons. They stood in the window of an upstairs apartment unit, arms outstretched and flailing, screaming for help.

  Prodigal and Glen rushed inside. They made it up to the second floor of the three story building, fiercely fighting the flames they cautiously moved along. Searing heat scorched Prodigal’s skin. He smelled the unpleasant aroma as the flames found their target. The fire was spreading rapidly.

  From the amount of debris falling, years of experience had taught Prodigal, who had made Lieutenant two years before, that it wouldn’t be much longer before the entire structural remains of the building collapsed. They had to move fast. If they didn’t, not only would the children stand to lose their lives but they were in danger of losing theirs as well. Prodigal was the one who first spotted the scorched clothes of the children and saw how quickly the flames were demanding to overtake the room where they were trapped. The fire was already covering the stairwell and the kids couldn’t get out. They huddled together hoping someone would save them.

  “We’re coming. Everything is going to be fine,” Prodigal shouted.

  “We’re going to get you out of here,” Glen echoed Prodigal’s words as they tried to reassure the terrified children.

  Prodigal, being closest to the trapped children, moved even closer to them, escaping the blinding smoke and mounting flames by mere inches. He didn’t know how many other victims there might be, but he definitely knew for sure that he had seen two screaming children in the window.

  “Prodigal, can you reach them?” Glen screamed loudly through the blaze of fire.

  “Yeah, I think I so.” Prodigal replied, moving carefully pass the flames and the thick swirling black smoke to get to the children. “Come on now, I’ve gotcha.”

  He grabbed hold to the little boy and swiftly pushed him safely into Glen’s arms. “Hurry, get him out of here, Glen,” Prodigal ord
ered.

  Next, Prodigal went for the teenaged girl. There wasn’t much time left. He had to get her out, so he worked with speed and skilled accuracy. With the building threatening to collapse, Prodigal thought it best to find an alternate means of escape. Grabbing hold of her, he shielded her with his own body. The second fire truck had already arrived and was positioning the ladder at the window where the frightened child stood.

  The girl’s long sculptured nails dug deep, seeking Prodigal’s flesh.

  “You’re safe, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” Prodigal reassured her. “I want you to trust me. Okay?”

  Though frightened, she shook her head up and down.

  “Look, baby, remember, you said you trusted me.” The young girl wore a look of utter terror on her face as she surveyed the crowd below. Prodigal recognized right away her apprehension. Two other firefighters were climbing the ladder toward Prodigal and the girl. A safety basket was attached to the ladder.

  “I can’t do it. I’m scared,” she cried and clung to Prodigal.

  “I know you are, but I have to get you out of here. Now I need you to do as I say.” He spoke in a soothing voice.

  She mumbled, “Yes sir.”

  “You see those guys coming up here?” Prodigal pointed below.

  “Uh, huh,” she said with a nod.

  “They won’t let anything happen to you. You here me?”

  “Yes.”

  Prodigal glanced over his left shoulder. The flames were moving in closer. The room was black as midnight. He had to hurry. “When you step onto it, they’re going to be right there to help you. I promise they won’t let anything happen to you. Now on the count of three I want you to step out on the ledge. My buddies are going to help you get into the basket, you hear? Then they’re going to lower you down. Allright?”

  “Okay.”

  “One, two, three,” Prodigal counted.

  Slightly hesitating, she stepped forward out on the ledge. The other firefighter guided her steps and she climbed into the basket to safety. Prodigal turned around to survey what was left of the burning room. Just as he turned to make his own escape, he heard a whimpering sound. “Eh, eh.” He cautiously moved against the darkness that consumed the room, searching for the other victim.