“I am not,” Zachary said with a deliberate whine.
The telephone rang. Gabrielle went and looked at the caller ID. She made a face. “Hmmm, I wonder who this is.” She clicked on the talk button. “Hello.”
“Hi, may I please speak with Gabrielle Booker,” a woman’s soft voice said from the other end.
Just that one word gave Gabrielle pause. She hadn’t been called Booker in eight years. Not since she’d legally dropped that surname and opted for her middle name to become her last. Her first reaction was to tell her that she had the wrong number. She felt if this woman was that behind the times that she was asking for her by her old name, it couldn’t be anyone she cared to talk to.
“This is Gabrielle,” she decided to say instead of merely hanging up. At least she would find out who this was and what she wanted.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m calling in association with the Red Cross. You gave blood once—”
“That was ages ago,” Gabrielle said with a sincere frown as she tried to remember how far back that had to be. “I was eighteen, and I only did it that one time.”
“Yes, but the reason we’re calling is that we have someone who is in desperate need of a donor. Actually, it’s a bone marrow transplant,” the woman said.
“Whoa. Hey, look, I’m not interested in being a donor of anything, let alone something that has to do with transplants.”
“Ms. Booker, it’s not what you think. The procedure doesn’t require you to lose anything. Well, not anything that won’t regenerate completely in a few weeks. But this is a child we’re talking about. And it’s very possible you may be a perfect match. All we’re asking is that you go in and let them do a blood workup on you to see. If you’re not a good match, then that will be the end of it. But if you are, and you agree to, you would then check into the hospital—”
“Hospital?” Gabrielle looked over at Zachary and widened her eyes.
“It would be an outpatient procedure. I promise you, it’s not bad. You can’t die or anything like that from the procedure. But this is only if you happen to be a match and if you agree to do it. Ms. Booker, this child is going to die if she doesn’t get a donor soon. Her mother is heartbroken and, as you can probably imagine, desperate to save her child’s life. I’m sure you must understand how she feels seeing that’s it’s a child . . . her daughter.”
“I’m sure this must be hard for her, but I’m not interested in doing anything like this.”
“But Ms. Booker—”
“Listen, Miss or Mrs. . . . what did you say your name was?”
“My name is Mrs. Wendy Watts.”
“Listen, Mrs. Watts. First of all, you are looking at very old records. My name is not Booker anymore, it’s Mercedes.”
“I’m sorry. Please accept my apology. I’m updating my information now.”
“Well, you really don’t need to bother updating your records with any of my information. I’m not interested in giving blood again, and I sure don’t care to have anyone calling my house about being a donor of any kind.”
“But Ms. Mercedes, this child—”
Gabrielle hated the tactic this woman was using. Telling someone it was a child made it harder for anyone to say no. But she also couldn’t be sure if it really was for a child or just this woman’s way of manipulating her heart and conscience.
“Would you please take me off your list? I asked the last person who called me about donating blood years ago to take me off the list. I don’t know how I managed to get back on it. And quite frankly, I don’t know how anyone got this phone number since I didn’t have this number when I originally gave blood.”
“Ms. Mercedes, I apologize if I’ve upset you. It was not my intention to do that. All we try to do here is to help others. For me, this is not just a job, it’s my mission. Will you at least think about this and get back to me? I can give you my number and you can call me back to let me know. Do you have a pen and paper handy?” The woman waited.
Gabrielle really didn’t want to pretend she was interested in considering this or in calling her back. Still, she got pen and paper and took down the phone number. “If I change my mind, I’ll call you. But I’m going to be honest with you, Mrs. Watts, because I don’t want you sitting around thinking you’ve found someone when you clearly haven’t. I’m most likely not going to call you back. I’m pretty certain this is not something I’m interested in doing.”
“I do pray you reconsider. It’s a little girl, and she’s only eight. I’m going to do all I can to help her. All I ask is that you think about it. Just think about it, that’s all I ask right now.”
Gabrielle swallowed hard as she placed the phone back into its base. An eight-year-old little girl. She couldn’t help but think about the child she’d given up some eight years ago.
Zachary went over and held her as he began to rock her. And it was only then that she realized the loud sobbing and wailing sounds she was hearing were actually coming from her.
Chapter 17
The rich and poor meet together: the Lord is the maker of them all.
—Proverbs 22:2
“Instead of watching a movie,” Zachary said, leading Gabrielle away from the telephone to sit on the couch in the den, “why don’t we just sit and talk.”
“I’m okay,” Gabrielle said as she wiped away her tears. She tried to put on a good-front smile. “See.” She bounced on the balls of her feet. “I’m fine.”
Zachary pulled her down as he continued to hold a wrapped arm around her. “Okay. Talk to me,” he said.
She tried to maintain the smile, but the tears continued to make a trail down her face. She wiped harder as though the strength of the wipe would somehow scare any other tears from trying to make the trek from her eyes.
“Talk to me,” Zachary said once more.
“I’m always the one talking. You know pretty much most of the things in my life,” Gabrielle said. “Why don’t you talk? Tell me how things went at work today.”
“That phone call upset you. I could tell from what I heard on your end of the conversation, it had something to do with you being a donor.”
Gabrielle looked up into his eyes. His eyes had such a calming effect. She saw how much he really cared. “You must think I’m awfully selfish and heartless.”
“No. I don’t think any such thing.”
“Yeah, but that was someone calling about me possibly being a donor for someone who’s obviously in need of a bone marrow transplant. According to her, the person might die if she doesn’t get it.” Gabrielle started crying again. Zachary held her even tighter.
“Listen. There are people who are in need of donors all the time. Why is it upsetting you like this?” Zachary asked.
“It’s a little girl. That woman says she just might die.”
“A little girl is in need of a bone marrow transplant?”
“Yes. And Mrs. Watts told me it won’t kill me or cause me any problems if I were to do it. Of course, they aren’t sure I’m a good match. But for whatever reason, they believe there’s a strong possibility I might be.”
Zachary sat back with her still in his arms. “Truthfully, there really aren’t enough African-Americans in the donor pool. But I can understand you not wanting to do it. A lot of people don’t. But what I don’t understand is why you’re reacting to it this way.”
Gabrielle pulled away and looked at him. “She’s an eight-year-old girl. I suppose I started thinking about the baby I gave away. She’s eight now, the same age as this little girl. I can’t help but feel for this family. What if this was my child? I feel bad saying no. And what if this child dies and I could have done something to help save her and I didn’t? But I really don’t want to do this. I don’t. And I feel bad that I’m apparently so selfish.”
Zachary pulled her back into his arms. “You’re not being selfish. If it’s something you wanted to do, that would be fine. But if you don’t want to, you shouldn’t be guilted into doing it. I�
�m sure the woman who called wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty. She was merely trying to make you think about what it could mean if you decided to do it.”
After a few minutes, Gabrielle pulled herself together and scooted over out of Zachary’s soothing arm. “Why am I thinking about my daughter so much?” she asked, mostly to herself. “I was fine when I gave her up for adoption. I’ve been going on with my life without stopping to think about her. But since I’ve been saved, all I seem to do lately is think about her. I wonder what she looks like.” Gabrielle smiled.
“Does she have any of my features, any of my mannerisms? I wonder if she’s happy. Are they treating her right? Does she know she’s adopted, and if so, how is she dealing with me having given her up? Does she think I didn’t love her or want her? Does she like to dance?” Gabrielle laughed. “I need to get it together. My emotions seem to be all over the place these days.” She briefly pressed her hands hard against her face.
“If I might ask, did you set things up where your daughter is able to find you when she’s of age?” Zachary asked.
“Yes. I did do that, although I don’t know what I’ll do if she ever does decide to contact me. What if she hates me? How do I explain to her why I did what I did?”
“You be honest with her. You tell her what you told me: that because you loved her so much you wanted her to have the best in life. Something you didn’t feel you could give her at the time. That when we love . . . we do things that may not make sense to others, but our hearts are in the right place at the time. We never mean to cause harm.”
“Like you?”
Zachary looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“We’ve touched on this somewhat, but we’ve never really talked about it. Miss Crowe. Tell me what happened with her. Why did she go to Chicago the way she did, and why do you feel that what happened to her . . . her accident . . . was your fault?”
Zachary sat forward, lacing his fingers into each other. He blew hard into his now-fisted hands. He relaxed his hands and sat back against the couch, rapidly pressing the thighs of his pants with his hands. “I suppose now is as good a time to talk about this as any.”
“Well, you’ve probably heard that the truth is the light.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that. The truth is the light.” He blew out hard again. “The truth is the light.”
Chapter 18
Say not thou, I will recompense evil; but wait on the Lord, and he shall save thee.
—Proverbs 20:22
Gabrielle sat back and turned more toward Zachary as he began.
“There were four of us. You’ve met Queen. She’s the baby of the family. I’m the knee-baby. We have an older brother named Yancey. The oldest was my sister Xenia.”
Gabrielle let out a slight giggle. “It looks like your parents liked using the most difficult letters when naming their children: X, Y, Z, and Q.”
He let out a slight chuckle in response. “Yeah. I’d never thought of it quite like that. I suppose maybe that’s why we like to tease one another by using our initials instead of our actual names from time to time.”
“I’m sorry. Forgive me. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Gabrielle said. “Please continue.”
“It’s okay. You pointed out something I hadn’t really thought of. Those really are some of the most difficult letters to use for names, and yet my mother and father managed to do just that. I’ll have to ask my mother if she did that on purpose.”
“Just don’t tell her I was the one who brought it up. The last thing I need is to get on your mother’s bad side: me questioning her reasoning behind the naming of her children.”
“Well, in truth, there is some logic behind the names. I’m named more after my father, whose name is Zechariah. My father didn’t care for his name too much when he was growing up, so he decided it would be cruel to do the same thing to me. Still, my mother wanted one of her boys to carry his name, although I suspect it was as much my father’s doing as my mother’s. They decided even though legally my father’s name wasn’t Zachary, he still went by it, so it would be fine to name me that officially.”
“So, you could have been a junior?”
“I’m sure they thought about that. But honestly, I love the name Zachary.”
“Well, not that I get a vote, but I love Zachary as well.”
“You mean you love the name Zachary or that you love Zachary?”
She hit him playfully on his arm. “Don’t start that. I’ve told you, we don’t need to play over there in that sandbox. I don’t want either one of us to end up getting sand in our eyes.”
He laughed. “You have the funniest way of putting things. Playing in the sandbox. Sand in our eyes. . . .” He tilted his head down and smiled as he looked softly into her eyes. “You still didn’t answer the question.” When she didn’t immediately respond, he said, “Do I need to ask the question again?”
“No, I heard you the first time.” Gabrielle tried hard to keep him from seeing that she was now blushing.
“And the answer is?” He said it like a game show host.
“The answer is: you need to finish your story and stop trying to be sneaky and call yourself changing the subject. We’re talking about you and your family and what happened. Remember? Not me and you. So, go ahead.”
“Yeah, okay. But don’t think we won’t be coming back to this subject later. Because I can tell you how I feel about you, Gabrielle.”
“The logic behind the names,” Gabrielle said. “You were telling me how your folks came to the names Xenia and Yancey. You’ve already told me about Queen being named after your aunt Esther and your mother compromising by being able to add Queen before Esther, which also happens to reference to the biblical Queen Esther.”
“Yeah, that explained Queen’s name. As for Xenia, my mother was an English teacher. She loves English and loves reading the classics. She happened to have been heavy into Greek epic poems at that time, and of course, there was Homer’s Odyssey. She named Xenia after the idea of xenia, which is one of the themes in that poem.”
“I suppose then you should be glad she didn’t name you Zeus.”
He put his hand up to his face and did a peek-a-boo gesture. “Oh, please. You don’t know how glad I am about that. But my daddy wouldn’t have ever gone for a name like Hercules or Zeus. He’s too into the Lord to have his child named after something that references a god. That’s why he didn’t catch Xenia. It was an idea and not a goddess.”
“Zeus, the god of the sky and thunder. Aphrodite, the goddess of love, lust, and beauty. Apollo, the god of music, medicine, and health, and also said to be the god of light and truth.” Gabrielle shook her head. “So many little g gods. And to think that there really is only one true God, big G. The blessed trinity: God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit.”
“You sure do know a lot about Greek mythology,” Zachary said. “I know you and my mother are going to hit it off wonderfully.”
“Yeah, well, reading that stuff was okay when I was growing up. But there’s nothing like Jesus: the true Truth and the Light.”
“Amen to that!” Zachary said. “Let the church say amen!”
She shoved him playfully. “Okay, Zachary. So far we’ve talked about names and Greek myths.”
“Yeah, and I’ve learned I should have known you back when that course in Greek mythology was kicking my behind.”
“Tell me more about Xenia,” Gabrielle said with a warm smile.
“Xenia. Did you know that xenia is the term for hospitality? Well, that’s what my sister Xenia was about. She was the kindest, most generous person you could have ever met. She cared about people and those that needed help. I remember when we were children, there was this girl who wore these raggedy clothes to school. The kids in school picked on her and teased her mercilessly. Not only did my sister befriend this girl, but she came home, went through her clothes, and took enough for her to have a week of nice things, including a brand-new pair of tenn
is shoes.” He began to chuckle.
“My mother went through the roof when she found out that Xenia had given away her new clothes, including the pair of brand-new tennis shoes she’d just bought her. And do you know what Xenia did after that?” Zachary said.
“No. What?”
“She invited the girl to our house for dinner along with her parents. My mother didn’t know she’d done that. But one thing you could always count on at our house with my mother was plenty of food, whether she was expecting guests or not. My mother only found out what Xenia had done when the family of five showed up at our doorstep. But it turns out Xenia was right in what she’d done.” With an ankle resting on his knee, he began to play with the hem of his pants leg.
“They were good people who had fallen on hard times,” Zachary continued. “The father had MS but he was still trying to go to work every day. He told how difficult it was for him to get ready for work. How he had to start getting ready hours in advance just to be sure he made it to work on time. They didn’t have insurance, and one visit to the hospital had devastated them financially. The family was doing well if they had food to eat, let alone buy clothes. They made do. But education for their three children was important to them. After they left, my mother gathered up bags of clothes, some of mine, some of hers and Dad’s, some from friends who she knew had family members that fit their sizes, and she took them over. They are still friends to this day.”
“That was nice.”
“Yeah. Xenia had that kind of effect on people. I remember one time she found this bird that had somehow broken its neck. Everybody told her the bird didn’t have a chance of making it with a broken neck. But she bandaged its little neck up and kept that bird in her room, feeding it with an eyedropper.”
“Did the bird recover?”
“No. The bird died, and you would have thought a family member had passed away. But that was Xenia. She was four years older than me, but unlike our older brother, Yancey, who was named after my mother’s father, Xenia never made me or Queen feel as though we were a bother to her when we were around.” Zachary began to fidget. He placed his foot back down on the floor and readjusted his body.
The Truth Is the Light Page 9