Stuart laughed. “No, but I think it means no more parking tickets for me.”
Sly chuckled. “I’ll be glad when you get a position where you can help me. It looks like the only thing I’ll get out of your new status is bragging rights. My friend, the Supreme Court judge. Hey, we needed you when we had that hanging-chad thing in Florida.”
“It’s the Georgia Supreme Court, Sly, not the U.S. Supreme Court.”
“Oh yeah,” Sly said. “I guess that’s right. Anyway, who knows, maybe you’ll be the next Thurgood Marshall.”
“Let’s not get carried away.”
Sly studied his friend, thinking of the pain he’d suffered over the last few years. If anyone deserved good things, Stuart did. “This news should have made for a good day. If this is the worst thing that happened to you today, I think we should have had that bet. I know I would have won. Are there some downsides to this that I don’t see?”
Stuart dropped his head back against his chair. “It’s good news, man, but it’s so different from how I imagined my life would be. All my plans included me and Marie. Moving up the court system was never really on our timeline.”
“It seems God has other plans.”
“So it seems.”
“You don’t sound so sure?”
Stuart sat up and rolled his shoulders forward. “About as sure as I am about anything these days. I’m just going to follow it and see what happens. Either I trust God and the plans He has for me, or I don’t, right?”
“Right.”
“Then I’ll trust God to guide me and try not to get ahead of Him. That’s usually where I get in trouble!”
Since Sly had taken a similar approach to life himself, he said, “Sounds like a plan to me.”
“Hey, I met your sister-in-law today. I dropped by the bookstore earlier. I don’t think she likes me.”
“Why do you say that?”
Stuart frowned at the memory of the ominous look on Francine’s face when she’d rung up his bookstore purchase. “I get the feeling she thinks I have evil intentions toward Monika, who also works at the bookstore. I saw Monika there today too and we were our normal friendly selves. Apparently, a bit too friendly for Francine.”
Sly tipped his chin down. “It’s what she’s been through. A lot of evil stuff went on in that—I hate to even call it a church—in that place, and it has to have colored the way she sees things. I wouldn’t take it personally. She’ll come to know you and Monika, and she’ll understand.”
“That’s pretty much what I figured. I wanted to say something to her, but I couldn’t see myself declaring that I wasn’t a pervert.”
Sly chuckled. “No, I don’t think that would have gone over well. Just give it time.” He cast a sideways glance at Stuart, a thought he hadn’t considered before forming in his mind. “She’s cute, isn’t she?”
“‘Who?” Stuart asked.
Sly rolled his eyes. “Who do you think?”
“She’s pretty cute.”
“You’ll have to come over to the house for dinner one night. Seeing you in another setting will help to ease her concerns about you.”
“Are you matchmaking?”
“Who? Me? Never.”
Stuart chuckled. “You’d better not be. Now, what happened to you today?”
Sly shrugged off thoughts of Dawn and their relationship; they were not going to be the topic of conversation this evening. “Same old, same old. Let’s talk about something else.”
Stuart knew Sly was referring to his ongoing problems with Dawn, so he wisely changed the topic. “I’m sitting down next week with the BCN guy, Rev. Campbell.”
“Oh, you mean Mr. Slick,” Sly said, grinning. “You know, he reminds me of that television evangelist that used to come on when we were kids. I can’t remember his name but he used to sell prayer cloths.”
Stuart chuckled. “Man, you come up with some crazy stuff. The guy wasn’t that bad.”
“No, he wasn’t,” Sly admitted, serious now “Which church does he pastor? I’ve forgotten.”
“Pilgrim Baptist in southeast Atlanta. He has a nice-sized congregation. I’m surprised Amen-Ray hasn’t done any funerals there.”
Sly nodded. “We have, but not that recently. I can’t believe I forgot the man. What did you think of his idea of a collective of churches coming together to make this network happen?”
“It’s a common approach. On the surface, there’s nothing wrong with it. It works very well when executed properly.”
“I’ve been thinking about applying that idea to the funeral home.”
“Come again?”
Sly went back around the desk and took his seat. “I’ve told you about the conglomerates that are sucking up family funeral homes all over the Southeast. Well, what if a bunch of small, family funeral homes banded together and operated as a collective?”
Stuart considered the idea. “What exactly would this collective do? Would you still be independents or would you be parts of the collective?”
Sly leaned forward. “Independents, definitely, but we could do collective purchasing and advertising, and maybe some other things. I’m envisioning a logo that we would all use that would identify us as being a part of the same collective. For example, something like ‘Amen-Ray Funeral Home, a Good Sense Funeral Home,’ where ‘Good Sense’ is the name of the collective. We’d want a better name than ‘Good Sense,’ but you get the idea.”
“It could work,” Stuart said. “Have you talked to any other funeral homes about it?”
Sly shook his head. “I’ve only mentioned it to Francine. She has a good head for business and I’ve asked her to help me think the idea through. I’d like you on board as well. Naturally, we’ll pay you for your time.” He paused. “At your pre—Supreme Court rate, of course.”
Stuart chuckled. “Of course. But seriously, you know you don’t have to pay. I do this kind of thing all the time. I won’t be able to take you far in the process, but I can identify some points you might want to consider early on.”
Sly nodded. “I’d like for Francine to be in on the discussion. Do you have some time this week or next to sit down with us?”
“I’ll have my clerk check my calendar. If we can’t find any time during the day, we can surely find a free evening.”
“Thanks, man,” Sly said. “This idea could be exactly what we need to take the funeral home to the next level.”
Stuart leaned forward. “Is Dawn going to be in on the discussions too?”
Sly shook his head. “I don’t want her to worry.”
“She’s your wife, Sly.”
He shook his head again. “Now’s not the right time. She’s agreed to think about marriage counseling and I don’t want to do anything to take her attention from that. I think this would.”
“I don’t agree with you,” Stuart said, “but it’s your decision. I’ll have my clerk call you tomorrow.”
“Great.” Sly stood and lifted his arms in a stretch. “Now, on that note, how’d you like to do dinner?”
“I thought you’d be ready to get home.”
“Not tonight. Dawn has choir practice and Francine is closing the bookstore for Mother Harris so I’m alone for dinner. You look like a cheap date. How about it?”
Stuart laughed. “With an offer like that, how can I turn you down?”
~ ~ ~
“Why do we have to do math?” Monika asked Francine. “I mean really. Why do we need it?”
“You tell me,” Francine said. “I’m sure you can think of a couple of reasons.” She had enjoyed Monika’s company this afternoon. After the teenager had finished putting up all the stock, they’d passed the afternoon trading customers and doing homework. When Monika had a customer, Francine checked a homework problem. Francine had volunteered to take all the customers, but Monika had told her that she needed those breaks to keep her mind fresh. Even though Francine hadn’t quite believed her, she’d gone along with the plan and they’d had a very
pleasant time together.
The chime sounded and Monika quickly closed her math book. “My turn,” she said.
Francine looked down at the notes the girl had written on her tablet. Monika might not like math, but she was good at it. She watched Monika welcome the customer, a woman, and direct her to the biblical prophecy section. Judging from their friendly greeting, the two were already acquainted. There was something familiar about the woman that made Francine think she also knew her, but she couldn’t recall her name.
The chime sounded again and a second customer entered the store. Francine’s eyes widened when she saw that it was George Roberts, Toni’s brother. For a brief moment, Francine felt Toni was with her again, in George’s eyes, the same soft brown as his sister’s. Those eyes had made him a killer with the girls when they were growing up. Not even Francine had been immune to the unique combination of George’s eyes, his caressing baritone voice, and his football player’s physique. Those traits apparently had the same effect on the voters. A politician since he graduated college, George had never lost an election.
The softness of the brown in his eyes turned to a hot blaze—maybe the softness had been her imagination—as George stalked toward her with an angry glare on his face. “I didn’t believe it when they told me,” he said, his voice loud enough to attract the attention of Monika and her customer. “How can you even show your face around here after what you’ve done?”
Francine shook her head in defense of herself, but it was a feeble attempt since part of her believed he was right. She wasn’t without responsibility in Toni’s death. How could she make this angry man understand that she hadn’t known? Should she even try? “This is not the place, George,” Francine said, taking in the wary look on Monika’s face. She inclined her head toward the back, and Monika took her cue and headed to the back room, leaving the customer standing there watching them.
“That church you took my sister to wasn’t the place either, but that didn’t stop you, did it?”
“I’m sorry, George,” Francine said. The pain in his eyes—yes, she saw it now—was almost identical to the pain she’d seen in Toni’s eyes that fateful day in Dayton. More than anything, Francine wanted to ease it, but she knew she couldn’t. She settled for “I’m so sorry.”
“Well, sorry isn’t good enough. It won’t bring my sister back. It won’t give my mother grandchildren.” He spat across the counter. “You are the one who should be dead, not my sister.”
“I know—”
“You don’t know anything,” he yelled. “You don’t know anything, you hear me?” He jabbed a finger in her face. “You pimped her to your pastor. How could you do that to her? What did she ever do to you?”
Francine absorbed each of George’s accusations as body blows delivered to her midsection. “I’m sorry, George, I didn’t know. You have to believe me, I didn’t know.”
His crazed eyes widened. “What are you—stupid? You should have known! The man was sleeping with half the women in your church, including your own best friend. How could you not know?”
“I trusted him,” she said, helpless against the facts he presented. “I trusted him too. I didn’t know.”
George brushed his hand across his eyes, but not before Francine saw the tears. “You should have known. You were responsible for her. You brought her to that church so that man could abuse her.”
“I know,” Francine said, and tentatively reached out a hand to comfort him, but he shoved the hand away. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re right about that. You are sorry. You’re a sorry excuse for a friend and a sorry excuse for a sister.” George glared at her. “I pity Dawn because she had to take you in, but you ought to be ashamed of yourself for taking advantage of Mother Harris the way you are. What did you do? Beg her for a job? Give her some sob story and force her to take you in? She’d better watch her back. Being around you can be dangerous to her health.”
The customer, a middle-aged woman—Mrs. Reid from the high school, Francine remembered now—joined them at the counter. “You should go, George,” she said. “You shouldn’t be saying these things here.”
He turned to her. “It’s the truth. Everything I’ve said is the truth. She killed my sister.”
After casting Francine a quick glance of shocked pity, the woman put her hand on George’s forearm. “Come on with me,” she said, as if she were speaking to a child.
“She killed my sister,” George said, his words wavering. “Toni was such a sweet girl. You remember her don’t you? Toni was so sweet and she killed her.”
“It’s all right, George,” the woman said, leading him to the door. “Yes, Toni was a sweet, sweet girl.”
Francine watched the door, her heart breaking for George and his family. Her grief over Toni’s death washed over her afresh, just as she knew his had upon learning of her return to town. Help him, Lord.
“Francie?”
Monika’s weak voice captured her attention. She turned to the younger girl, saw the fright in her eyes. “It’s all right,” Francine said.
“Mr. Roberts said—”
Francine closed her eyes. She owed Monika an explanation. She didn’t want the young girl thinking a murderer would be driving her home, but she had no idea what to tell her. “I knew Mr. Roberts’s sister,” Francine said, praying for the right words. “She was one of my closest friends and she killed herself a few months ago.”
Monika’s eyes widened. “Killed herself? Suicide?”
Francine nodded.
“I never knew anyone who committed suicide. Why did Mr. Roberts say you killed her?”
Francine sighed. “He knows that I didn’t kill her. He blames me for her death because I was her friend and when she needed help, I wasn’t there to help her.”
Monika scrunched up her nose as she considered Francine’s words. “How did she kill herself?”
“It makes me sad to talk about it, Monika,” Francine said, being honest. “It’s about closing time. Why don’t we close up and you can ask me questions on the drive home.”
Monika nodded, and true to her words, she held her questions until she was in the car with Francine. “Why did your friend kill herself?”
Francine wondered how much of the story to tell a fifteen-year-old. “She had a problem that she thought she couldn’t solve. She felt very alone and thought no one would help her. She felt so scared and so alone that she killed herself.”
“Man,” came Monika’s dazed reply.
Francine glanced over at her. “Toni was wrong, Monika. Things get bad but they are never that bad.”
“Was she pregnant?” Monika asked.
Francine almost veered off the road. “What makes you think that?”
“There was a girl at school who almost died. She was trying to kill her baby.”
In high school? “I’m glad she didn’t die. There’s no problem worth killing yourself over or your unborn baby” When Monika didn’t respond, Francine glanced at her and said, “Monika?”
“I heard you.”
“What are you thinking about?”
The girl shrugged but didn’t say anything. Francine began to pray in earnest. A picture of a laughing Stuart, his arm around Monika’s shoulders, flashed through her mind. “You know that if you have a problem, you have a lot of people you could turn to. You know that, don’t you, Monika?”
“I guess,” the girl said.
“No, you don’t guess, you know. You have Mother Harris, you have me,” she said. “You have parents who love you and friends too.”
“I don’t have parents,” the girl said. “I have a mother, but I don’t have a father.”
Francine calmed down a bit. This she could handle. “I didn’t grow up with my father either,” Francine said.
“Did he die?” Monika asked.
“I don’t know, I never knew who he was. My mother died before I was old enough to ask her, and my grandparents, who raised me and my sister, didn’t know who he w
as.”
“My momma says my father died when I was a little girl.”
“You sound like you don’t believe her.”
Monika cut her a wary glance. “She won’t tell me his name or anything. I may have grandparents and cousins, but she won’t even tell me. I’m not a baby. She can tell me stuff.”
Francine knew she was out in deep waters, but she couldn’t end the conversation when the girl was opening up to her. “Have you told your mother how much you want to meet your father’s side of your family?”
“Lots of times, but she doesn’t listen. She never listens to me. I don’t think my father is dead. I think she’s telling me he is because she doesn’t want me to know him.”
“Now, why would she do that, Monika?”
“Because maybe I’ll want to go live with him and she’ll be all alone. I may have brothers and sisters and she’s all worried about herself.”
Francine’s heart turned over at the teenaged angst. She didn’t see any assistance she could offer in regard to Monika’s mother, so she changed the focus. “Would you like to have brothers and sisters?”
“That’d be neat. Everybody thinks being an only child is so cool, but it’s not, not really. I would like a sister and a brother.” She turned to Francine. “There’s this girl at school who has a bunch of sisters and brothers and they all look alike. I’d like to see somebody who looks like me. I don’t even look like my momma. I bet I look like my father, but I’ll never know because she won’t tell me.”
Francine began to remember what it was like being Monika’s age. Even though she’d loved her grandparents, there had been times when she’d yearned for her own parents. “I used to wonder about my father too,” she said. “I wondered what he looked like, if I looked like him. You see, we have pictures of my mother, and my sister looks like her, but I don’t. I always thought that I must look like my father.”
“But you had your grandparents. I don’t even have grandparents. It’s me and my momma, all alone.”
“Some people don’t even have a mother, young lady.”
“I know I should be grateful,” Monika said, “and I do love my momma, but it’s like a part of me is missing. I have to know about my father. It’s like a big hole inside me and sometimes it gets so big that I feel I’ll get lost in it.”
Genesis House Inspirational Romance and Family Drama Boxed Set: 3-in-1 Page 56