The Prodigal Son (A Reverend Curtis Black Novel)

by Kimberla Lawson Roby

  Racquel stared at him, and he stared back at her. They watched each other until Racquel rushed toward his phone, but Matthew snatched it up from the sofa before she could get her hands on it.

  “Let me see it, Matt!”

  “No! Do I ask you to see your phone?”

  Racquel lunged toward him again, and this time they tussled off the sofa and onto the floor. Matthew stretched his arm away, keeping the phone out of reach, but that only made Racquel angrier. She struggled with him, but then she stopped and got herself up—and kicked him in the head.

  Matthew lay there for a few seconds, gathering his faculties and trying to clear his blurred vision. But it was only for a few seconds because now he grabbed her by both her legs, tripping her to the floor. Then he leaped on top of her.

  “Oh my God,” she screamed. “Stop it, Matt! You’re hurting me.”

  Matthew grabbed her by her throat, squeezing with all his might. He hadn’t even realized what he was doing until he saw water oozing from her eyes. He gazed at her, released her, and rolled onto his back, breathing heavily, and she coughed nonstop and went into the bathroom. He’d never felt more devastated or broken. Still, though, regardless of all of the commotion and heartache he was feeling, he’d come to a major conclusion. He had to move out today. That was all there was to it, because if he waited any longer, he would end up in jail.

  But just as he’d settled on his decision, Racquel came at him again—like a madwoman.

  Chapter 25

  No matter how scenic the brick building appeared or how manicured the landscaping was, this funeral home gave Dillon the creeps. He hated anything that had to do with death, funerals, and cemeteries, and he was glad his aunt had asked that her services be held as quickly as possible. Thankfully, it was happening the day after tomorrow, on Monday.

  Dillon, his dad, and Tina walked through the glass double doors, and a scary-looking gentleman greeted them with a smile. He almost looked dead himself, and Dillon wondered if this came with the territory. He didn’t know very many funeral directors, actually none at all, but the sooner he left this place and the likes of Mr. Lawrence, the happier he would be.

  “I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said.

  “Thank you,” they each responded.

  “If you’ll follow me to my office, we can get started with the arrangements.”

  They strolled down a long carpeted corridor, and Dillon scanned his surroundings. He knew it was silly, but it was almost as if he expected one of the closed doors to fly open and he’d have to see dead people. Or worse, he’d be forced to see his aunt when he wasn’t ready for that either. The hospital staff had offered to let him see her yesterday, but Dillon had declined. He wanted to remember the beautiful, kind, and very vibrant aunt he’d known since childhood, so seeing her once at the funeral would be enough.

  Mr. Lawrence took a seat behind a shiny, huge wooden desk, and the three of them sat in front of him. Tina laid the plastic garment bag that contained his aunt’s clothing on her lap.

  “You mentioned an insurance policy?” Mr. Lawrence asked her.

  “Yes,” she said, pulling it out and passing it to him.

  The funeral director looked it over and though Dillon wasn’t sure, Mr. Lawrence seemed to sort of smile.

  “Everything looks to be in very good order here, and I’ll contact the insurance company first thing Monday. What I’d like to do now, then,” he said, standing up and giving each of them a colorful brochure, “is go over the various options and prices we have. You can choose just about anything you want for your loved one, and since Miss Whitfield has such great coverage, your choices are infinite.”

  Dillon frowned, and if his father and Tina hadn’t been sitting there, he would tell this man something. Mr. Lawrence was consumed with greed and glad to be working with a chunk of money worth fifty thousand dollars. But Dillon was going to set him straight before he drooled any further.

  “My aunt was a very frugal woman who didn’t like a lot of flashiness or expensive worldly possessions, so we’re going to keep the cost of the funeral at a minimum. We’re going to put her away nicely, but we won’t be buying anything over-the-top or unnecessary.”

  Curtis and Tina passed on commenting, but Dillon could tell they agreed with him.

  Mr. Lawrence grinned a nervous grin, trying to figure out what to say. “Of course, son. We offer all levels of price ranges, so please choose only what you’re comfortable with.”

  Dillon and Tina answered all of Mr. Lawrence’s questions regarding next of kin, where Aunt Susan had gone to school, where she worked, what organizations she was a member of, etc., etc., etc. Sadly, her obituary would be short and to the point because once she’d graduated high school, she’d immediately gone to work for a company that she’d remained with until her passing, and with the exception of Dillon she had no close relatives. Dillon had considered including the names of her two cousins, but they’d never really come around much, anyway, so he decided against it. They did list his grandparents and his mom in the predeceased section, and they also included the name of her church, along with the church auxiliaries she was a member of, but that was it.

  Mr. Lawrence printed out the information he’d typed in, read it out loud for accuracy, and then set it to the side of his desk. “We have an array of casket colors and styles, so if you’ll come with me, I’ll show them to you.”

  They all strolled back down the hallway and went into an oversized room. There must have been twenty caskets displayed. Black, white, bronze, dark blue, silver blue, brown, off-white, tan, and multiple shades of wood. Dillon had no preferences at all and hoped Tina and his dad would choose something fast and in a hurry, so they could get out of there.

  “If you’d like, I can explain some of the features and tell you which of these are top sellers.”

  Dillon held his tongue, but what he wanted to ask Mr. Lawrence was whether he thought this was some sort of furniture store.

  “Dillon?” Tina asked. “Do you wanna choose?”

  “Not really. You go ahead.”

  “Well, if it’s okay, I like the shiny wooden one over there. I know it’s a little pricey, but…”

  “This one?” Mr. Lawrence asked, pointing to the shiny, medium-stained oak and already walking toward it. Dillon could only imagine what the funeral home’s markup was on something like this. Dillon wouldn’t make a fuss, though, only because he wanted this to be over, but if he had time he would search online and purchase the casket wholesale. He’d be willing to bet the same brand and quality would be much lower than forty-five hundred dollars.

  “Yes, that’s the one,” Tina answered.

  Curtis nodded. “I like that one, too.”

  Dillon didn’t know how anyone could like a casket, but whatever.

  “We’ll go with that one then,” Tina said.

  Mr. Lawrence smiled, of course. “Great choice. Now, all we have to do is select a vault.”

  Dillon had no idea what a vault was until Mr. Lawrence explained that the cemetery required it and that it would be placed in the ground. That way the casket could be lowered inside of it. This would protect the casket, and there were various price points for those, too. Dillon didn’t have an opinion on this subject either, so Tina chose one mid-range.

  When they went back to the funeral director’s office, they went over a few more items, and Tina pulled out the crimson red suit she’d brought for Aunt Susan.

  “This is what she said she wanted to wear.”

  Mr. Lawrence took it from her. “Wonderful. She’ll look very nice in this.”

  “I think we’ll choose red roses for the flowers as well,” Tina added. “But only if you’re okay with that Dillon.”

  “That’ll be fine. My aunt loved roses. It’s the one thing I hope you don’t cut any corners on.”

  “You can go with me if you want.”

  “No, I’ll just let you handle that,” he said.

  When they walked ou
tside, Tina hugged Dillon and his dad and left. Curtis sat inside the SUV, but then realized he’d left his sunglasses on the edge of Mr. Lawrence’s desk.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Dillon watched as his dad strolled back inside and couldn’t help smiling. This had been a tough day, but having his father there had made all the difference. His father’s love had never been more evident, and this gave Dillon peace. As a matter of fact, he felt so good right now, he opened the armrest console and pulled out the envelope Tina had given him yesterday. He’d been hesitant about reading it, but now he felt like he could handle it because no matter what his aunt had written, his father was going to be there with him until the end.

  Dillon carefully tore the letter open.

  To my dear nephew, Dillon:

  If you’re reading this, it can only mean two things. I am gone, and I never got a chance to tell you that I was dying. I debated writing you this letter, but when you finally called me, it was then that I realized you were never coming back to see me before I passed on. I’d wanted to tell you, and then again, I hadn’t wanted to burden you with my illness. But when I called you several times and you never called back, I decided that maybe it really wasn’t meant for you to know. I was even a little sad about it because what I couldn’t understand was how a young man I’d raised up from the time he was a newborn could forget about me. It has been more than a year since you moved to Illinois, and although I know how happy you are to be with your father, I never imagined that you would go months without calling me or that I would never lay eyes on you again. I spent many nights wondering what I’d done wrong, but I never came up with anything. Then I wondered if maybe being only an aunt to you hadn’t been enough. I loved you like I was your mother, I made sacrifices for you, and I would have given my life for you if I’d had to. But in the end, what I finally had to accept was that, regardless of all of that…I still wasn’t really your mother. Then I thought about the fact that maybe it was me who expected way too much. I’d never considered that one day you would grow up, desperately wanting to know your father and that having a father would trump having been raised by some needy old auntie. The reason I say “needy” is because what I never told you was that just before your mom died, I was six months’ pregnant and had gone into early labor, and I lost my baby. I’d only been married to my husband for one year and was devastated. But then when your mom died and I took you in, I was finally able to go on. I was happy. I even saw you as God’s way of giving me a child again. There was one problem with that, though. My husband never sat well with the idea of bringing you to live with us. He complained a lot and said we couldn’t afford more than one child, because he still wanted to have a child of his own. He even demanded that I give you over to a foster care agency, but I told him I couldn’t. I refused, and the very next day he walked out and I never saw him again. Then I never saw you again, Dillon, either. I do hope, though, that you and your dad eventually become closer and that his love grows stronger for you every day because I realize now that it is your father’s love and acceptance that means more than anything to you. I also want you to know, Dillon, that I have always loved you the same as if you were my biological son, and that I pray only the best for you. More than anything, though, I want you to know that I forgive you.

  Aunt Susan

  Dillon read the last line again, and his heart crumbled. What had he done, and how could he have been so selfish? He’d been so caught up with trying to bond with his dad that he’d ignored his beloved Aunt Susan. But he hadn’t meant to hurt her. He would never purposely do that, and he truly did love her like she was his mother. But now he could never tell her that or make things right with her. Dillon folded the letter and saw his dad coming back outside. He fought back tears as best as he could.

  Curtis hurried to the SUV and opened the door. “Dillon, Matt has been rushed to the hospital, so we’ve gotta get back to the hotel as soon as possible. I have to get back home.”

  “What? Why?”

  “He was stabbed, and I need to take the next flight out of here. Charlotte already has Lana working on my reservation.”

  “But what about the funeral?”

  “I’m sorry, son, but I can’t stay here knowing Matt’s life is in danger. I hope you can understand that.”

  Dillon glared at his dad and then turned away from him. His father was never going to change. His other children were always going to be his priority no matter what. Dillon hadn’t wanted to believe his aunt when she’d told him his father would never love him the way he loved the others, but now he knew she was right—he knew his father had only pretended to love him and be there for him. He didn’t care about all the pain Dillon was feeling or that Dillon had no other family to lean on. But starting this very second, things were going to change. Dillon was done playing nice. He was finished being made a fool of. He would make every one of them sorry.

  Chapter 26

  Matthew took a couple of deep breaths and tried forcing his eyes open, but then gave up. Beeping monitors and several different voices surrounded him, and it took him a while to realize where he was. He was at the hospital, and soon he remembered why: Racquel had stabbed him multiple times.

  He coughed a couple of times and frowned. He wasn’t sure what they’d had to do to him, but he was groggy, and he felt a little pain in both his abdomen and his right arm.

  “Matthew?” a female voice called out. “I’m Mary, and I’ll be taking care of you while you’re in recovery. How are you feeling? Can you open your eyes for me?”

  He coughed again and then squinted at the woman.

  “Do you know where you are?” she said. “You just had surgery, and you’re in the recovery room. Are you having any pain?”

  Matthew nodded yes.

  “We’ll see what we can do about that, okay?” she said.

  Matthew opened his eyes a bit further, focused them, and he saw her squirting something from a needle. He guessed maybe she was adding something to his IV. He’d seen a nurse give his dad medication that way when he’d been in a car accident a couple of years or so ago.

  “That should kick in pretty quickly,” she said. “We’re going to keep you here for a little while longer, and then we’ll send you to a room. Oh, and your sister has been here the whole time.”

  Now, as he thought back, he remembered the paramedics bringing him into the emergency room, and how he’d given one of the hospital staff members Alicia’s number. He’d been in so much pain, though, he hadn’t been sure they’d understood him. He was glad Alicia was there because he needed her. Sadly, he also needed his parents and wished they were there, too. He knew he was a grown man, but he was afraid and he couldn’t help the way he was feeling.

  He lay there thinking until…

  “Oh no!” he yelled, struggling to raise his body from the gurney.

  “Honey, what’s wrong?” the nurse hurried to say.

  “My son! I have to go check on him.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine, so please try to settle yourself down.”

  “No, I have to make sure he’s okay. I have to make sure my wife hasn’t tried to take him. I need to call my aunt Emma.”

  “Why don’t we ask your sister to check on him for you?”

  “No,” he said, raising his body and flinching in pain.

  The nurse grabbed his shoulders and forced him back down. “Honey, you’ve got to calm down. You just had surgery and you can’t move around like this. You have to take it easy.”

  “Somebody, please give me a phone,” he said, raising his body again.

  “Please get his sister,” the nurse said to another.

  “I need to get out of here. I need to check on MJ.”

  Matthew rustled back and forth, steadily trying to get up until Alicia walked in.

  “Matt, I’m right here,” she said. “MJ is fine. He’s still with Aunt Emma, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “So you talked to her?” he asked, out
of breath.

  “Yes, she called to check on you.”

  “And you’re sure he’s okay?”

  “I promise.”

  Matthew relaxed a little more, but he wouldn’t be content until he saw MJ. He wouldn’t be at peace until he knew Racquel was nowhere near him.

  Matthew closed his eyes and replayed what she’d done. He’d been sure she’d left the living room for a while, and that’s when he’d decided he was moving out right away. But then, when he’d looked up, he’d seen her storming out of the kitchen with a huge butcher knife. He hadn’t even heard her come out of the bathroom, so by the time he’d seen her, it had been too late for him to jump up, but he’d rolled away from her. She’d rushed toward him again, though, and drew the knife back, and when he’d thrown his hand up to block it, she’d slit his fingers. Blood had spewed everywhere, but when he’d tried taking the knife from her, she’d slashed his arm and then his abdomen and he’d fallen to his knees. It had all happened so fast, but what he couldn’t believe was how he’d allowed her to cut him three separate times. Had he been that caught off guard and unable to stop her, or had he been naïve enough to think he could actually block a sharp butcher knife with no problem? Had he maybe not wanted to fight back because deep down, he’d worried that if he got control of the knife he would hurt Racquel even worse? He didn’t know what to think but this whole thing was sick and crazy, and he was ashamed. It was bad enough that Racquel had slapped him and kicked him in the head, but now she’d stabbed him?

  Matthew closed his eyes again, hating that his big sister had to see him like this. He was so embarrassed.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  Matthew didn’t say anything.

  “Matt?”

  “I’m fine,” he said, opening his eyes and lying to her.

  “I’m so sorry this happened,” she said with tears streaming down her face and holding his hand. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  Matthew tried to smile but felt groggy again.