Stuart lifted his arms as Victor turned to walk off. “What? Don’t I even get a good-bye?”
Victor smirked. “You start looking like her and we’ll talk.”
Stuart shook his head, watching Victor walk away. “Now, that’s a character.”
“Always has been,” Francine said. “But he has a good heart.”
Stuart looked at her. “He’s not the only one.”
“What?”
“A good heart. He’s not the only one who has one.”
Francine met his gaze and saw the truth of his words in his eyes. She didn’t know how to respond.
“I’ve been trying to get to you all afternoon, but you’ve been pretty much surrounded,” Stuart said. “I’ve felt like I needed to take a number and get in line.”
“People are being nice. I sorta feel like the returning prodigal. I guess I am.”
“Not a bad feeling, huh?”
“A really good feeling, actually,” she said. “I wasn’t sure what the response was going to be to my coming back, to what I said in church. The love has been overwhelming.”
“We’re Christians and that’s what we’re about.”
She cast him a sideways glance. “Not everybody. George and his entourage left.”
“Don’t let it bother you. That’s George’s problem, not yours. All you can do is pray for him and be obedient to the Lord yourself.”
“Easy for you to say. I bet there are others who feel the same way George does. You weren’t around when I left town, so you missed the fond farewell I gave everybody.”
He shrugged. “I know the gist of it, but it doesn’t really matter what you did five years ago. What matters is where your heart is now and you let all of us know that pretty clearly this morning. Your heart is with the Lord. What you shared this morning encouraged every one of us, because we’ve all done things that we wish we hadn’t done and many of us still carry the shame of it around with us. You gave us space this morning to confess our faults and get rid of the shame.”
“That was the Lord,” she said. “Not me.”
“But the Lord chose to use you.”
Francine’s heart quickened at those words and she knew they were true. The Lord had chosen her to say what she said this morning. He’d taken her sin and shame and turned it into something powerful. She now had a much better understanding what Romans 8 and 28 meant when it talked about God working all things together for our good. “He did choose to use me, didn’t He?”
“You sound surprised?”
She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. “I guess I am. When I left here five years ago full of pride and false teaching, I thought He’d chosen me. But that hadn’t been Him. When I came back to town humbled and ashamed, that He used. Go figure. Nobody but God works that way.”
Stuart grinned. “You got that right.”
She looked up at him. “I appreciate what you did for me Tuesday.”
“What did I do?”
She explained about the prayer he’d prayed for Monika. “It meant a lot to me. It affirmed for me that God does answer prayer, that He’s with us, hears us, loves us. I’m not sure I’d have been able to do what I did this morning without that prayer of yours.”
Stuart gave her a slow smile. Taking her hand, he leaned in and bussed her cheek in much the same way Victor had, but it felt different to Francine. So different that she stepped back from him. As if sensing her discomfort, Stuart said, “That’s for telling me how the prayer affected you. It’s always encouraging to know the Lord uses things He has us do.” He pointed to the volleyball net set up across the backyard. “Look at Monika,” he said, “you’d think she didn’t have a care in the world.”
Francine was grateful to turn her attention to the younger girl. “She does look happy,” she said. “So does her mother.”
“That she does,” he said. “Let’s go join her.”
~ ~ ~
As Dolores watched her daughter play volleyball, her heart expanded in her chest. This child of her heart meant everything to her. She’d tried to be a good mother, to make up for the circumstances of Monika’s birth, but she realized now that was impossible. Her daughter would be hurt and there was no way she could prevent it.
“Hey, Dolores.”
Dolores turned to see Stuart and Francine striding toward her. “Hey yourself,” she said, forcing into her voice a lightness she didn’t feel.
Stuart leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I was glad to see you at service this morning.”
She glanced over at Monika. “I thought we needed to be in the same place this morning.” Turning back to them, she added, “Maybe we need to go to the same church all the time. It was probably a mistake to let Monika attend Faith Central while I continued at Grace Cathedral.”
Stuart glanced at Francine, sending her a silent message to pray. “What’s wrong, Dolores?” he asked.
She glanced again at Monika before turning back to them. “Can we go somewhere so we can talk?”
“Sure,” Stuart said. “We can go inside.”
He took her arm and began to lead her to the house. When she noticed that Francine wasn’t following, she turned to her and said, “I’d like you to come too, Francine, if you have the time.”
“Sure,” Francine said, and fell into step with them.
Apparently very familiar with the older woman’s home, Stuart led the two women through the family room and back to Mother Harris’s den. He closed the door after the women entered. Dolores sat on the daybed and Francine sat next to her. Stuart was left with the big leather recliner.
Dolores studied her hands, unsure where to start. She took a deep breath. “Now that I’ve gotten you here, I don’t know what to say.”
Francine glanced at Stuart and then she placed her hand atop Dolores’s. “It’s all right. Take your time.”
Dolores breathed out a heavy breath. “You had me thinking in church this morning, Francine,” Dolores said. “The things you were saying about pride and shame and sin. I was too embarrassed to come to the altar but you were talking about me. All of it was about me.”
Francine squeezed Dolores’s hand in an offer of comfort as tears spilled down her friend’s cheeks.
“It was all about me but I didn’t have the courage to go to the altar.” She wiped at her tears. “But I did stand at my seat as Pastor asked and I confessed my sin and shame to the Lord.” She looked from Francine to Stuart. “Now I want to be obedient to what Pastor said and share it with both of you.”
They both nodded, and Dolores was thankful they didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure she could go ahead if they did. “You both know that Monika wants to meet her father.” When they nodded, she said, “What you don’t know is why she hasn’t met him to this day.” She took another deep breath. Focusing on the picture of Mother Harris with her husband that hung on the wall, Dolores said, “He was married.”
After she dropped what she considered to be her bombshell, she cast a quick glance at Stuart and Francine to get their reaction. Instead of seeing the revulsion that she expected, she saw love and concern. She had to bite her lower lip to keep from crying harder. “He was married and he had a family, and I knew all of this, and I slept with him anyway.”
Francine squeezed Dolores’s hand tighter, but still neither she nor Stuart said anything. “I could say” Dolores explained, “that I loved him, but I know that doesn’t make it right. I know now that it was wrong and I knew then that it was wrong. The difference is then I didn’t care, and now I do.”
“That’s the Holy Spirit at work,” Stuart said. “When your heart is turned toward God, things that no longer bothered you, sin that no longer bothered you, bothers you a lot.”
“I know you’re right, Stuart,” she said, needing to be honest. “But I wonder if I’d feel this way if I didn’t know my daughter’s heart was going to be broken because of sin in my life. Talk about the sins of the mothers—”
“Don’t say that, Dolores
,” Francine said. “Don’t even think that. God is not vindictive that way. Monika is not paying for your sin.”
“Then why does it feel like she is, or she will?”
Stuart got up from his chair and dropped down on his knees in front of Dolores. “God’s not vindictive,” he said, “but sin can have enormous consequences. It’s like Francine said this morning. What she did—her sin—not only impacted her, it impacted all those around her.”
“So my sin impacts my daughter?”
Stuart nodded.
“Why?” she asked. “Why does Monika have to suffer for something in which she had no part?”
“That’s one question you can ask, Dolores,” Stuart said, “but you can also ask how God can use this situation for something good in your life and in Monika’s. Think about what He did this morning with Francine. He took something that was ugly in her life and made it an encouragement to those around her, even an encouragement to her.”
“But she’s my daughter,” Dolores cried. “I don’t want her to hurt.”
“Monika is God’s daughter too,” Francine reminded her. “He loves her as much as you do, if not more.”
Dolores sat back on the daybed and allowed the truth of those words to wash over her. This was an angle she had not considered. “She is His daughter, isn’t she?”
Stuart and Francine both nodded.
“It doesn’t mean that Monika won’t be hurt,” Stuart said, “but she won’t be devastated. God has her back, and her front. He won’t leave her alone and He won’t put more on her than she can bear. She’ll survive and she’ll thrive. We have to help her see God in all that’s happening. If we’re going to do that, we’re going to have to see Him in it ourselves.”
Dolores took comfort in Stuart’s words, knowing he was right. She knew too that there was more of her story that she needed to tell them. Partial confessions didn’t count. “You’re right,” she said. “I know you’re right. I needed to be reminded though.”
“We all do at times. That’s why we’re here for each other. You’re not alone in this, Dolores,” Stuart said. “I hope you know that.”
“I do,” she said, “but there’s one more thing I need to tell you both about Monika’s father. This is going to get bad for her and I don’t know what to do. I talked to him yesterday and he doesn’t want me to tell her who he is. He says that if I do, he’ll deny that he’s her father.”
Bile rose up in Francine’s throat. “How could he be that cruel?”
Dolores shook her head. “That’s what I keep asking myself. He says he has too much to lose.”
“Too much to lose?” Francine asked. “Is the man crazy? What’s more important than his daughter?”
Dolores lifted her eyes to Francine’s. “He’s not crazy,” she said. “He’s a minister.”
~ ~ ~
Dawn looked around for her sister, wondering if she was ready to leave. She’d had a great time this afternoon, and she thought the picnic had been a great way to end an almost perfect day for Francine, almost because George and his friends had walked out when she’d started to speak. It had been obvious to Dawn and everyone else why they had. She knew their leaving had hurt Francine, and she hoped the picnic was soothing the hurt. Still, she was a bit tired and wanted to go home. She hated to admit it but she missed Sylvester. Though he’d sat with them at church as he’d promised, apparently he hadn’t been able to get away from the funeral in time to make the picnic.
“Hey, pretty lady.”
Dawn turned to see Walter Andrews standing behind her. “Where did you come from?”
Walter laughed. “You forget that your Mother Harris is my great-aunt Martha. She told us she was having this shindig and invited us over. I came as soon as we got out of service.”
Dawn was stuck on the “us” he’d mentioned. She knew it was time to leave now; she wasn’t up for another run-in with Ms. Fredericka.
“She’s not here,” Walter said, as if he’d read her mind. “She went to a funeral.”
“Which one?” Dawn asked, and wished she could take back the words.
“That one,” Walter said. “I guess I don’t have to ask where your husband is. I thought Amen-Ray had the body, but I wasn’t sure. I wonder what they’re doing.”
Dawn refused to be baited. “Your imagination is getting the best of you, Walter. They’re at a funeral. What do you think they’re doing?”
“Funerals don’t last all afternoon,” he said. “They could be up to any number of things. I really don’t care, but I guess you do.”
Dawn fought the uncertainty she felt. No way was anything still going on between Fredericka and Sly. “What do you want, Walter?”
“I told you what I wanted. Have you thought about it?”
“You must be crazy.”
“I’m not, and you know it. They found comfort in each other, maybe we can too.”
Dawn sent a smirk his way. “I can’t believe you’re talking to me about this. You just left church and you’re talking to me about a one-night stand. What kind of man are you?”
Walter gave her a cruel grin. “I guess I’m like your husband.”
Dawn’s hand slapped his face before she could stop herself. “Stay away from me,” she bit out. Then she pushed past him and rushed toward the house. Mother Harris almost bumped into her as she entered through the patio doors.
“Excuse me, Mother Harris,” Dawn said. She attempted to go past the older woman, but Mother Harris held her arm.
“Is something wrong?”
Dawn shook her head.
“Dawn—”
“Really, Mother Harris,” Dawn said. “It’s nothing.”
Mother Harris tipped Dawn’s chin down. “I know it’s not nothing, Dawn,” she said. “I’m here for you when you want to talk about it. Anytime.”
Dawn nodded and continued through the house and out the front door.
Walter rushed into the house behind her. “What’s going on, Walter?” Mother Harris asked.
He kissed her cheek. “Nothing, Auntie.”
“Don’t lie to me, Walter,” she said. “I may be old but I’m not senile. I know something’s wrong. You and Freddie haven’t been to this house together in I don’t know how long. And I saw that slap Dawn gave you. I’ll ask you one more time, what’s going on?”
“Nothing I can’t fix, Auntie. Don’t worry.”
Mother Harris held him in place with a stare. “I’m not going to worry,” she said, “but you can bet I’m going to be praying.”
“Well, we all need prayer.”
Mother Harris huffed at his offhand comment. “You’ve changed, Walter, and it’s not for the better.”
“It’s not that bad, Auntie,” he said. “I’m going through a rough patch. I’ll be okay.”
“And Freddie? What about her? Will she be all right?”
Walter straightened his spine. “I can take care of my wife,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about her.”
“I hope so, Walter,” she said. “I pray so.”
Walter waited a brief moment as he watched his aunt go back to her guests, but his mind was on Dawn. He rubbed the cheek she’d slapped as he stalked off in the direction she’d gone. He found her standing outside at her car.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m sorry if what I said hurt you,” he clarified, “but I’m not sorry I said what I did. I’m right and I think you know I’m right.”
Dawn paced the length of her parked car, wishing Francine were here so she could get away from Walter. “I don’t believe you’re saying this to me. Do you really expect me to go to bed with you to get back at my husband? What kind of woman do you think I am?”
Walter grabbed her shoulders and made her look into his eyes. “I think you’re a woman who loved her husband and never even dreamed he’d cheat on her. I think you’re a woman who’s had her world blown to bits by a cheating husband. I think you’re a
woman who’s hurting more than she ever imagined she could and who has no clue how to stop the pain.”
Dawn shrugged away from him. “You don’t know me, Walter, and you don’t know how I feel. You really don’t.”
“Ah, but I do. I know how you feel because I know how I feel. The love you felt for Sylvester is the love I felt for Freddie. My world has been blown to bits and I hurt more than I ever imagined I could hurt. That’s what their affair has done to me. I can only imagine that it’s done the same to you. Do you deny it?”
Dawn couldn’t deny it. She and Walter did have a shared pain, but a shared pain was no reason for her to hop in the sack with him. She may have been a bit hazy on this point when he’d first mentioned it to her, but now she had clarity. “I’m not going to sleep with you, Walter, so you can get that out of your head.”
He touched her cheek. “I think you will,” he said. “I can wait until you’re ready, Dawn.”
She moved away from his touch. “You’re an arrogant one, aren’t you?”
“Not really. I just know what you’re feeling. Like I know that right now you’re wondering if Sly and Fredericka are together. You’re wondering if they saw each other, if they spoke to each other, what they said. You’re wondering if they planned to be there together. You’re wondering what it was like for them before and you’re wondering what he found in her that he didn’t find in you.”
Dawn closed her eyes against the truth in Walter’s words. He’d captured her thoughts almost exactly.
“I know,” he continued, “because I’m wondering the same thing.”
Chapter 16
Sylvester stood with his hands behind his back and watched the cemetery crew lower the casket into the grave as the mourners made their way to their cars and away from the cemetery. The morning service at Faith Central filled his thoughts, adding to them other thoughts he’d rather not have—thoughts of the affair he’d had with Fredericka. Stuart had asked him how it had happened, how he had allowed it to happen, and Sly had always answered with some form of “It just happened,” but as he thought about it now, really thought about it, he understood that it hadn’t just happened. Sin never just happened, though it sometimes seemed that way. No, there was always a buildup and now he could clearly see the steps that had led to his downfall.
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