by E. N. Joy
“After what I’ve just heard, if you give me a minute, Doreen, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to go with you.” Uriah looked from his wife, to Pastor Davidson, then back to his wife. “I’m leaving your house and your life too; for real this time.”
With arms folded behind her head, Mother Doreen lay fully dressed in her hotel bed staring up at the ceiling. She sighed, and then shook her head. “Lord have mercy, how in the world did it come to this?”
“You tell me,” Uriah said from the double bed that sat next to the one Mother Doreen was lying on. He too lay fully dressed with his arms folded behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He had his own room right next door to Mother Doreen’s, but for the last hour and a half, he’d been in her room explaining his . . . “resurrection.” They decided that Uriah would stay in the hotel for the night, but then Mother Doreen suggested that they call Pastor Frey in the morning to see if Uriah could stay with him until they got things straight. But in Mother Doreen’s eyes, everything was as crooked as a drunk hobo’s teeth, and would be just as hard to straighten out.
“My, my, my,” she sighed again. Mother Doreen shook her head once more. She thought for a minute. Finally, she sat up in the bed and looked at Uriah. “Now tell me again why you faked this whole death thing? For insurance money?”
Uriah took a deep breath. He knew that when he decided to come clean that he’d have to tell this story . . . a couple of times. But he’d planned on telling it to his wife and children first. They were the ones who he needed to understand. They were the ones who he needed forgiveness from. Then the four of them would decide together on what their next step would be. But after finally deciding to return home and find his wife with his pastor, who was also, from what he’d heard, his wife’s lover and father of her baby . . .
“You said something about a baby?” Uriah questioned without first addressing Mother Doreen’s query.
“Yes. But it didn’t make it.” There was silence filled with sympathy for the tiny lost soul. “Bethany miscarried.” The silence lingered. “Oh, but guess what?” Mother Doreen got excited, instantly changing the mood. “There is a baby; Hudson’s baby.”
Uriah bolted upright in the bed. “What? Hudson . . . my son? He has a . . . a baby?”
“Yes, a little girl. And my, oh my, is she beautiful. Looks just like her daddy. She’s three days old today. Tiny little thing. She came early. As a matter of fact, she came home today. That’s where Hudson and Sadie were, over at the mother’s house minding the baby. The baby is like honey, and they are like bees. Can’t blame ’em though. Wait until you lay eyes on her.”
“I’m a grandpa?” Uriah was still in a daze with a smile stuck on his face.
“Yes, you are.”
Slowly, Uriah’s smile faded. “Oh, my; the kids. What do you think Beth is going to tell the kids? I wanted to tell them. I wanted to explain everything.” His body fell back onto the bed. “This is not how my return was supposed to play out. It was supposed to be like in all the soap operas, you know. I come home, the family has been so grief stricken that they are just happy that I’m back. No questions asked, or very few anyway. We embrace, we hug, we laugh, we cry.” Uriah closed his eyes. “My kids are probably going to think that their own mama done lost her mind when she tells them that their dead daddy showed up at the house.” He paused. “And then left again.” Uriah thought for a moment.
“Oh, no.” Uriah got up out of the bed and began pacing. “I’ve got to go back. They’re going to think I abandoned them again. Then when I do get to see them, they are going to wish that I really was dead. I’ve gotta explain all this mess to them myself.”
“Just hold up and relax,” Mother Doreen stated. “I know that wife of yours, my sister, has dang near lost her mind for real, but I still think she’s got enough sense to wait and hear from you before she goes telling the kids anything. There’s already enough going on over there at the house without having to drop the bomb to those kids that their father isn’t dead after all.”
“Ugh. This isn’t how things were supposed to turn out,” Uriah reiterated, then plopped back down on the bed and buried his face in his hands. “All I wanted was for the family to finally be able to have something. To finally be able to live without worrying about whether the mortgage was going to get paid. I just felt that I was worth more to them dead than alive. So when the opportunity presented itself, that little devil on my left shoulder kept jabbing me with his pitchfork telling me to go for it.”
“So when you got into the accident, you say you were ejected from the truck?” Mother Doreen recalled from what he’d told her already.
“Yeah, and rolled down a hill, into some trees and everything. When I came to,” Uriah said, “I couldn’t move. My legs hurt too bad to move them. I could see my truck up in a blaze. I saw fire crews, ambulances, and police in the distance. I screamed, yelled, and hollered, but I guess they couldn’t hear me from up there. After a while, I passed out again. I went in and out of consciousness for a couple of days. When I came to, the dust had been cleared. I couldn’t believe no one had come looking for me, but then I remembered him—the hitchhiker, the guy I’d picked up as I headed out of the city. I put two and two together and realized that everyone must have thought that he was me. That he must have burned beyond recognition in the truck and they thought it was me who had burned. Then that’s when the devil got to working on me, telling me how all of this was God-ordained. How I’d never picked up a hitchhiker in all my days on that road; never even thought twice about it, but for some reason that night I had. It had all been a divine setup. This was my opportunity to give my family a new life.”
“By faking a death?” Mother Doreen questioned.
“I know it sounds crazy. I know it was wrong and against the law. I knew a lot of people would be hurting too. But I promise you, I never intended to be like some of those guys you see on 20/20, faking deaths so that they can go off and start a new life for themselves, never to return to their families. I just wanted Beth to be able to cash in on the insurance policy and take care of business, our home, and our children.”
“So is that what you’re going to tell the authorities?” Mother Doreen asked. “You know you’re eventually going to have to tell them. You can’t continue living this lie. But, of course, I guess you figured that out, which is why you came back.”
Uriah shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m going to tell the authorities. I know I need to tell them the truth, but I’ve thought of nothing but lies. Lies like I’d lost my memory and had been living on the streets all this time, then one day, it just came back to me.”
“Then you are like those other guys on 20/20, Uriah. You were still going to live the rest of your life a lie.”
“I know, I know, Doreen. God, forgive me.” Uriah’s eyes began to fill with tears.
“God will forgive you, Uriah.” Mother Doreen got up out of the bed. “Matter of fact, let’s go to the throne and ask Him for forgiveness right now.” She walked over to Uriah, took his hands, and led them in the most powerful prayer ever.
“Thank you,” Uriah stated after Mother Doreen had finished praying. “Thank you so much, sis. I really feel as though God’s forgiveness is upon me.” Uriah stared off, and then said, “Now, if I could only forgive my wife just as easily . . . and if she could forgive me.”
Chapter Twelve
The special Sunday evening service at New Day Temple of Faith had been awesome. Too bad Lorain hadn’t been there to experience it. Technically and physically, she had been there. As a matter of fact, she’d practically had a courtside seat; the second row from the front. Mentally, though, she’d been absent. Her mind was too busy anticipating her mother and Broady’s return from their little weekend excursion. She’d tried calling her mother’s house all evening but hadn’t gotten an answer. She wished she’d asked her mother what time on Sunday she planned on returning home. The wait was difficult. So although she was late getting there, Lorain had decided
to go ahead to the evening service to keep from going stir-crazy. There was no way she could sit at home alone waiting on her mother.
She didn’t care about dinner. Her concerns were no longer about picking Broady’s brain for answers. The truth had come to her. Her full memory had finally returned, with no lingering doubts this time. The visions weren’t just visions anymore; they were vivid recollections that she recalled as if everything had happened just yesterday. The nightmares were more than nightmares; they’d actually happened to her. And the documents; the folder she’d found while cleaning was her proof of the reality of everything. That folder had been the safe haven for the documents she’d accumulated after hours of Internet searches. Some of the searches were even paid searches she’d received hits on just by inputting Broady’s and Unique’s name, city, and state of residence.
That folder had held all the answers. No telling how many more sleepless nights Lorain might have had had she not discovered that folder that had fallen behind her desk. The folder was now found, as had been a piece of Lorain; the missing piece . . . missing pieces. It contained the truth she’d been trying to put together. It contained the proof to those truths. Truths that she now had to share.
She knew once she confronted her mother and Broady with the truth that they’d dismiss her, saying that her memory had been affected by the fall. That her mind was playing tricks on her. But she could back everything up now. She had it tucked safely away in her folder. It was all in black and white, and she planned on using it to bring color, some light, to the situation.
Her intentions were to drive to her mother’s house after church. Hotel checkout time was usually 11:00 a.m. Late checkout was normally no later than 4:00 p.m. Depending on how far her mother and Broady had driven, certainly they should be home by the time service was over.
She wasn’t quite sure where her mother and Broady had planned to stay. She hadn’t even bothered to ask. But since they were just gone for the weekend, she figured it wasn’t too far. They just had to be home by the time church let out. They just had to. The confrontation that would soon take place was all Lorain could think about.
Her favorite scripture had been read after the service’s opening prayer. The choir had sung her favorite praise and worship songs. The dance ministry had even ministered to one of her favorite songs. And the guest pastor preached the Word of God so tough that five people got a breakthrough and a revelation. And during altar call, two individuals turned their lives over to Christ. And if God hadn’t already moved in the place, the pastor opened the doors to the church and a family of four joined. All this had taken place, and Lorain had missed it.
Before walking out the door of her condo to drive to the evening church service, she had prayed that God would give her some type of confirmation that her means and methods of what she was about to do were in order. Had Jesus Himself been seated next to her in church, she wouldn’t have noticed, let alone heard a Word from God. But in her spirit, she felt it was the right thing to do. She had to tell her mother the truth about her fiancé. She could not allow her mother to marry a man who molested her as a child. A man who fathered the baby that she’d thrown in the garbage and left for dead. Only the baby hadn’t died. The baby lived; she grew up to be a healthy, beautiful young woman with three boys . . . who just happened to attend the same church as Lorain did.
“Sister Lorain? Sister Lorain?” Unique was calling out to her church sister as loud as being inside God’s house would allow. Folks were already looking at her like she was crazy for even using the tone she was. Evidently it wasn’t loud enough, because Lorain just kept it moving as if Unique hadn’t said a word. But everyone else seemed to hear her loud and clear.
On a mission, Lorain kept walking, heading straight out the church doors. Unique didn’t go after her. It was no biggie. She didn’t want anything; just to say hello was all. She still had to go get her children from child care.
Once in her car, Lorain looked at the time on her dashboard. It was almost nine o’clock. Service had been projected to end at eight-thirty. Church had gone over a little. “Wow,” Lorain said to herself. The service hadn’t seemed that long at all. As a matter of fact, it had felt pretty short. But that was because Lorain hadn’t really been focused on the service.
Realizing that her mother and Broady should have had more than enough time to make it home by now, she pulled out of the church parking lot and drove straight for her mother’s house. When she pulled up in the driveway, she couldn’t even recall having driven there. Jesus must have definitely taken the wheel. Thank you, God, for your angels that kept me on the highways and byways, Lorain silently prayed, for she knew only God could have gotten her there safely. And only God knows how many red lights or stop signs she might have run getting to her destination.
Lorain turned her car off, and after taking a few deep breaths, she walked to her mother’s front door. Once her wobbly legs were on the porch, she rang the bell. There was no answer. She knocked. Still no answer. It was apparent that they still had not arrived back home. Or maybe they’d gone to Broady’s place. No, her mother had never spent the night at a man’s house.
“Darn it,” Lorain groaned as she stood there contemplating whether or not she should go home and come back in the morning or just wait there. She had a key to her mother’s house. She could go inside and wait. Lorain opted to just wait in the car. No one wanted to come home from a mini getaway and find someone waiting for them in their living room. It was bad enough she was even there at all, bearing the news she needed to share.
After getting back into the car, she just sat there twiddling her thumbs. A few minutes passed by and she decided to rehearse the exact words she would say to her mother. After all, how does a girl tell her mother that the man she is engaged to is the man who molested her daughter as a young girl? A few lines went through Lorain’s head. After rehearsing them a couple of times, Lorain decided to say them out loud. She pulled down the sun visor and looked at herself in the mirror. As her lips began to move, the woman who she was today seemed to fade away. Before Lorain knew it, staring back at her was a little girl; a scared little girl.
Drenched with sweat and eyes full of tears, the little girl looked to be in so much pain. “Oh, God, what’s happening to me?” the little girl cried out as she stared at herself in the mirror. Then all of a sudden it was like an electric shock flowing through the child’s body. “Oh, God! Oh, God! Make it stop. Please make it stop.”
She’d never been in so much pain in her entire life . . . and she’d thought her menstrual cramps were bad. This felt like bad cramps to the one-hundredth power. Suddenly the young girl had a look of fear in her eyes as she heard voices getting closer and closer. Someone was coming. She panicked. She couldn’t let anyone see her like that; not in the condition she was in. They’d ask her what was wrong, and then she’d have to tell them. And then she’d be in a world of trouble. She had to hide.
Walking away from the bathroom mirror, she made her way to a stall. There were no toilet lids on the toilets, so she just sat down on the ring. Just as the crowd of girls entered the bathroom, another sharp pain ripped through her body. She quickly placed her hand over her mouth to muffle the moan that was bursting at the seams of her voice box. As bad as she wanted to yell out in pain, she had to swallow the sound. It was like swallowing razor blades.
In order to tune out all of the pain she was in, she decided to focus on the chitchat of the girls who were just touching up lip gloss and straightening their hair before their next class.
“Have you noticed Miss Thing ain’t been playing dress up here lately?” one of the girls said. “Coming to school in one thing, but then changing into something else once she steps inside the school.”
“That’s probably because she can’t fit in anything anymore,” another girl chuckled.
“Word. Homegirl is getting large and in charge.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me if she’s pregnant.”
“I over
heard Ms. Garrison talking to one of the other teachers one day when I went into her office. She said she’d bet anything that Viola is going to be one of those girls who gets pregnant and drops out of school before she even reaches her junior year in high school.”
“Nah . . . I don’t agree with that,” a new voice stated. “I say before her sophomore year.”
All the girls burst out laughing as the warning bell rang.
“Come on, let’s go. We don’t want to be late.” Soon the voices vanished, and the young girl was in the stall alone.
More tears were pouring down her face than before. She was now in excruciating pain. Only now, it wasn’t just her stomach that was hurting; it was her heart too. She had heard through the grapevine that girls talked bad about her. She knew not many of them liked her anyway. None of them walked to and from school with her. None of them ever invited her to come to their table and eat lunch with them. None of them ever picked her first to be their study partner in class. They treated her like she didn’t even exist. But Mr. Leary didn’t treat her that way. He told her she was special. He treated her special. He wanted to do things with her, lots of things. He wanted to do special things with her—because she was a special girl. And she let him. And now, because of all the things she’d let him do to her, she was hiding in the girl’s restroom, in a bathroom stall, at the peak of labor.
The pain that shot through her body this time was so powerful, that even with her hand trying to muffle it, a screech escaped, right at the same time the tardy bell rang. Then that’s when she felt as though something had just dropped out of her.