“See, for years I hauled around guilt about the deaths of Carrie and her baby and it ate me up inside. I was so messed up, I never even asked God to change my situation because I thought it was what I deserved. By the time I learned better, it seemed too late. I was older, and all the men that had been interested, were married, with families of their own." Robin shrugged. "I realized I just had to make the best of it. As difficult as that seemed, I thought it was my only option.
“But then I met these women. The Langston sisters. You wouldn't believe what they've been through. One of them, Kristina, thought she was a lost cause, too. She’d given up on everything. I’ll admit, the situation looked bad. For several reasons. But as bad as it looked, it wasn’t beyond repair. It wasn’t too late.”
Robin sat on the edge of her seat, her enthusiasm evident in her animated gestures and glowing face.
"I saw them at their lowest. I was with them in ICU. Not once, but on two separate occasions. At one point, they were told there was no hope. But next thing I know, I'm getting a call and being told God turned it all around. That's when I decided, right then and there, no matter what, I would believe God. Even if everything in the natural said my chance had passed, I wouldn't give up. I wouldn't stop believing, because I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, my God was a God of miracles."
Robin stood and came to where Makayla was.
“And that’s why I say, you’re an answer to prayer. Not just for me, but Marcus, too." She lifted Makayla's chin so she could look at her face. "I know we’re not the parents that made you, but we could be the parents God gave you, baby.
“Don't you see? He brought you to us. I had that emptiness for so long. Nothing could fill it. Not money, career, or success. The longing was so intense, sometimes I thought it would suffocate me. I begged God, more than once, to take it away. I never understood why He wouldn’t. But now I see it's because of you. What I was longing for was you. What Marcus was yearning for was you. This isn't happenstance. This is our healing. Me, you, Marcus. All the loss and the hurt—everything the three of us have been through—it wasn't for nothing. All this time, God was orchestrating our lives, pulling us toward one another.
“I know right now you're reeling. What you've learned today would level even a person twice your age. But do you understand now? Why I said it doesn't matter? It's not who you are. It says nothing about your life or who you’re meant to be. This is not a sad story, Makayla. It's a love story. One that God has written just for us."
Makayla could only shake her head in disbelief.
Did Robin really think it was that easy? That they could all be together every day and pretend none of those terrible things had happened? It wasn't possible. Knowing what she knew now, Makayla could hardly stand for Robin to look at her. But even if she could, what about everyone else? Mr. Jones wanted to burn all traces of Angela, Carrie and Emery. How would he react to her?
No.
A bomb detonated the Jones family twenty years ago and Makayla was at the center of it. Robin could try to rewrite history all she wanted, it didn’t make it true. Makayla would always be what she was. The result of the people she came from. That wasn't Robin and it wasn’t Marcus.
Makayla straightened up and went to where her duffel and messenger bags lay. She took out the phone and the bracelet. She came back to where Robin stood.
“Was that all you wanted to say?"
Makayla kept her gaze on her feet, so she didn't know what Robin's face looked like. But she didn't have to see it to feel the emotional shift that occurred.
"Makayla…"
There was a pleading in her voice that made Makayla wish she was deaf.
She held up the phone and bracelet to Robin. When Robin didn’t move to take them, Makayla said, “If you won’t take them now, I’ll just send them back when I get where I’m going.”
Makayla heard Robin's breath catch. She saw her fists tighten until the knuckles went white.
"Please," she whispered. "Please don't do this…"
"You said you would do what I asked. You said you wouldn't fight me."
Makayla raised the items in her hands again.
"I need you to go away and pretend you never met me. I need you to let me do the same. I just want to forget this. You, Carrie, Mr. Jones, Emery. All of it.” Makayla gritted her teeth. “You gave me your word."
Moments passed and Robin didn't move. Finally, she took the phone and bracelet from Makayla. She went to the counter, put on her coat, and picked up her purse.
She came back to where Makayla was and stood before her. Despite her resistance, Robin slipped her arms under hers and wrapped them around her. She didn’t speak, but Makayla felt warm tears fall on her neck. Just when she thought she couldn't take any more, Robin let her go. She put her hands on either side of Makayla's face and looked into her eyes. Makayla waited for her to say something, but Robin only nodded, then walked out the door.
It wasn’t until she was gone that Makayla noticed the phone and bracelet on the kitchenette counter.
Chapter 41
Makayla waited another five minutes before she went to the counter and picked up what Robin left behind. She sat on the floor next to her duffel bag, opened it and took out the manila envelope.
As much as she hadn’t wanted to see Robin, she was incredibly grateful. The envelope and what it held were all she had now.
Opening the clasp, she turned it over and let the contents slide out. Two photographs, Carrie’s necklace and a magazine article. She laid the platinum bracelet from Robin on top.
Those five items told her life.
The picture of her grandmother and the necklace were her past, good and bad. The magazine article, her future.
The photo of the Jones and the bracelet…
What did they represent? Her dreams? Her fantasy? Her mistakes? Her humiliation?
She picked up the picture. Even knowing the truth, she couldn't help but search Robin’s face for similarities. She didn't know what hurt more—recognizing them or knowing the story behind why they existed.
Makayla shut her eyes and pressed her hand on her chest, trying to rub away the hollowness that had taken up residence.
Maybe keeping reminders was a bad idea. If she was to make a fresh start, maybe the smart thing would be to rid herself of everything linked to the old life.
In fact, if she pawned the bracelet, she wouldn’t have to stay in a shelter or hostel when she got to her destination. She’d be able to replace all the money she’d spent on her misguided mission for revenge. She could tear the pictures of Robin and her grandmother into a hundred tiny pieces and wake up the next morning with no history.
She’d done it before. She changed her name at eighteen so Kim couldn’t track her down. Surely she could do it again so Robin and Marcus wouldn’t find her, either. With a new name and no ties to her past, she could be whomever she wanted.
Makayla grasped the picture’s edge, but made only a minuscule tear before realizing she couldn't go through with it.
Who was she kidding?
Being able to look at those pictures was probably the only thing that would get her through the next few months. And as far as the bracelet, she'd rather sleep under a freeway overpass than part with it.
It was her proof.
Proof that she could look at, even years from now, and know that at her worst, someone had loved her.
Slowly and carefully, she put each memento back into the envelope. With her duffel repacked, she crawled onto her air bed, desperate for unconsciousness.
Makayla is eight and she's at her grandmother's funeral. She stands at the casket, but she's not the only one in the church. She can feel the presence of the others there with her. She turns and sees the girl on the back pew, watching her. The girl favors the picture of Robin, but Makayla knows it's not her.
Next to the girl is an older man. It's not Mr. Jones, but his carbon copy. And while the girl watches Makayla, the man watches the girl. He puts h
is hand on her shoulder, before letting it slip further down her body. Makayla covers her eyes so she won't have to see what he does next…
When Makayla woke up, she felt as if she were being smothered. She scrambled upright.
It's not real It's not real It's not real
After she could take a deep breath again, she reached for her phone. Seeing the time, she moaned. She hadn't even been asleep a full thirty minutes. She leaned back against the wall. She was still exhausted, but there was no way she was going back to sleep if dreams of Carrie and Emery were what awaited her.
She let the air out of her bed and stuffed it in her bag. That was, at least, one good thing about having to stay another night in the metroplex. Unlike her earlier escape attempt, she’d be able to take her bed with her.
Unable to fit anything else in the oversized duffel bag, she decided to fold the sheets and towels she had and leave them with a note at Rodney's door. If he couldn't use them, Makayla was sure he'd know someone who could.
By the time she finished folding everything, her stomach was cramping with hunger. She tried to ignore it, but she hadn't eaten since the tuna early that morning and her growling stomach would not be ignored. She went to the kitchen only to remember she hadn't been to the grocery store on Sunday. She fussed through her messenger bag. She didn't even have a mint to suck on.
Makayla made a quick assessment of the contents of her wallet. She knew the last thing she should do was spend more money, but she figured a package of peanut butter crackers wouldn't hurt, especially if she saved half to eat for breakfast.
She slipped her clothes on, grabbed a few dollars and was halfway out the door when Antoine's threat echoed in her ears.
She hesitated, weighing her options.
She wasn't stupid. She’d been around long enough to know dudes like Antoine didn't make empty threats. But the other thing she knew was, Antoine was patient. He wouldn't be waiting outside her door to jump her. No, he’d bide his time. Come at her when she’d least expect it. What he didn't know was, she’d be long gone by the time he got around to it.
When Makayla’s stomach cramped and growled again, she decided to go to the lobby and peek outside the door. If Antoine was still out, she’d stay in. If not, she’d run to the gas station and be back in no time. Then, in the morning, she’d take the first bus on the schedule and be gone before Antoine even rolled out of bed.
Just as she’d suspected, Antoine and his boys were nowhere in sight. Probably due to the pair of police officers still across the street, interviewing neighborhood residents.
Makayla ran to the store and found her purchase within seconds of arriving. She would have been in and out, had it not been for a man having problems with his credit card. Still, she was on her way home shortly. She wasted no time ripping into the plastic packaging and devouring half its contents as she went. But as she jogged back toward her building, she noticed the red and blue lights were no longer flashing.
She slowed to a walk and wondered when they’d left. Had to be just moments. She hadn’t been gone long. Hopefully, no one had noticed—
The sound of laughter made Makayla’s feet cement to the sidewalk.
It was Antoine.
Chapter 42
He was out in front of the building, smoking a cigarette and joking with his friends.
Hoping she hadn’t already been seen, Makayla dashed off the sidewalk to hide behind the half-wall to her left. But she miscalculated the depth of the shrubbery and while jumping over, her foot caught. Tripping, she landed face-first in the wood mulch covering the ground.
The laughing stopped.
Remaining still, she shut her eyes and listened. At first, there was only the sound of her rapid and raspy breaths.
Then she heard the footsteps.
They were coming in her direction. She held her breath.
The steps stopped less than three feet from where she hid.
A voice called out from further down the street.
"Hey, what is it, man?"
"I don't know. Some cat or something, I guess.”
With the sound of the steps retreating, Makayla took a breath.
As the adrenaline faded and her heart recovered from the accelerated rhythm, she became aware of how incredibly cold the ground was. When she heard the familiar sounds of laughing and joking, she soundlessly extracted her foot from the tangle of branches and leaned against the wall.
Once she’d worked up the courage, she peeked around the corner. Antoine and the three guys with him didn’t look like they had any immediate plans to leave, so she waited.
The chill of the ground seeped its way into her body, past her jeans and into her skin, through her muscle and down to her bones. But even with her teeth chattering, she remained behind the cover of the shrubs and half wall.
Just how serious were Antoine's threats? She’d made him angry, that's for sure, but angry enough to kill her? She doubted it. So what would he do? Most likely, just rough her up.
It wouldn't be the first time she’d taken a beating. Once, she’d blacked out completely. The memory of it made her shudder. The last thing she wanted was to go through that again. But she didn't want to freeze to death either. And that's exactly what would happen if she tried to wait Antoine out.
Her fingers were already stiff and the tips, numb. With every hour that passed, the temperature would only drop.
Makayla peeked around the wall again.
Just go… Get it over with.
Standing, she brushed the wood chips and debris off her legs and lower back. Fists clenched, she walked down the street toward her building. In a matter of moments, Antoine noticed her. He stopped laughing and stood up from the wall, staring at her.
It took everything in her not to turn and run as fast and far as she could.
A few moments. Minutes, at the most. Keep your body loose. Don’t fight back…
When she was about six feet from Antoine, the lobby door swung open and a man stepped out. It was her next-door neighbor, Rodney.
"Evening, youngbloods,” Rodney said, nodding at Antoine and his boys. They didn’t speak, but nodded in return. He turned and saw Makayla.
"Girl, what you doing out this late?"
She held up the crushed remains of the crackers, unable to speak, her throat tight with fear.
He nodded and grinned. "Yup, that's exactly what I'm about to do. Me and the Mrs. done got hungry. Get on upstairs. It’s too late for a young lady to be out by herself."
Makayla lowered her head and walked past him to the door. She reached for the handle, but Antoine beat her to it, opening the door wide for her. She stood still, not sure what to do.
"Now hurry on up,” Rodney said.
"Yes, sir,” she whispered.
She walked through the door and kept her eyes on Antoine as he kept his eyes on her. Then, just before she looked away, he smiled. And the look in his eyes sent chills down her spine.
Chapter 43
The first thing Makayla noticed was her open apartment door. The second was an acrid stench that made her gag so hard, her eyes watered. It took her brain a few seconds more to understand why.
The sheets and towels she’d folded for Rodney, as well as the clothes she’d packed, were strewn across the apartment floor. Upon closer inspection, she saw they were also soaked with urine and had been used to smear the human excrement spread all over the walls.
But it wasn't any of what she saw that made her heart pound till her chest hurt.
It was what she didn't see…
Her duffel bag.
Makayla's hands flew to the sides of her head as she spun around, her eyes searching every corner of the small room.
No no no. Please God…no.
She could sleep in a shelter. She could scrounge for food. She could do anything—survive anything—as long as she had her manila envelope. But without it?
Oh God. Please help me. Please, please, please help me.
Makayla knew t
he bag wasn't in the apartment anymore. When her clothes were taken out, the bracelet, the pendant, and what little money she had left, would’ve been found. Her head knew that, but her heart couldn't accept it.
She ran to the bathroom and snatched back the shower curtain. The filth inside the tub proved someone had been there, but no duffel bag.
She darted back to the main room and looked out the one window, now shattered and left with only a few jagged pieces of glass. Maybe they’d tossed it out there. Maybe she’d look and find it on the ground below, waiting for her to catch her breath and retrieve it. But no, it wasn't there either.
Or in the kitchen cabinets. Or the tiny pantry. The freezer, the refrigerator, the closet or anywhere else.
Makayla stood in the center of the room, shaking with frustration, hurt and anger. She didn't know where her bag was, but she knew who had it.
"Antoine?"
He was leaned against the building, his back to her. Instead of turning around, he lowered his head to light the cigarette dangling from his lips.
“Isn't it past your bedtime?"
Three of the guys with him snickered. The fourth one, the one with the mohawk, eyed Makayla and gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head.
She got the message. He was trying to warn her. His eyes pleaded with her to walk away. But he didn’t understand. This was life or death.
"I shouldn't have disrespected you. I shouldn't have hit you like that. You were just trying to be friendly.” Makayla gritted her teeth. “I’m sorry."
Play nice. One night. You just gotta get through one night...
He glanced over his shoulder.
"Now see," he said, standing up from the wall, "that wasn't so hard."
He came right up to her, so close, the smoke he exhaled filled her nostrils. He brushed his hand against her neck, then used the tip of his index finger to trace her collarbone. He looked at her swollen face and busted lip and squinted.
Nobody’s Child (New Life Tabernacle Series Book 1) Page 19