My Soul Is Satisfied (The Langston Family Saga Book 3)

by LaShonda Bowman

  "But Pam, that's what Xavier’s whole life has been." Kristina motioned at his brother. "You were there. You saw the condition he was in when he was born. Your mom just told me today, no one expected him to live."

  "They didn't. Not once, not twice, but three times. Three different times they told us he would die. And three different times, he made it through. And that's not even counting all the surgeries. They also said he'd have learning disabilities. That he’d never be able to keep up with kids his age. He graduated at the top of his class."

  "And what about us?” Kristina asked Pam. “We thought he was dead. And after all those years, we got him back."

  "But he wasn't dead, was he?"

  “That's not the point, Pam. The point is, miracles do happen. And if they do, why can't we have one more?"

  "I don't want you to get your hopes up and end up having a relapse when it doesn't work out.”

  Kristina came to where Pam stood at the door. “Listen to yourself. Listen to what you just said. Relapse. We've never even talked about a relapse before because there was never a time when I was clean. But you put your faith on the line. You and Robin and Tamia believed God would give me a breakthrough and that's exactly what He did. I should've died in that bathroom and you know it. But you didn't give up on me and neither did God. I'm not giving up on Xavier.”

  Pam only stood there, a stunned look on her face. She slowly shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “You know what? It’s been a long day. We’re all exhausted. Let’s just talk about this later, all right?”

  “Pam.”

  Pam went through the door, not looking back. “Later.”

  Kristina turned to Tamia. "I don't want you worrying about this. The only thing I want you focusing on is getting better."

  Kristina smiled, but Tamia didn’t respond in kind. Instead, she looked away and said, “I’m tired. I’d like to be alone.”

  Chapter 7

  The rest of that day and the morning of the next passed without change. Having spent the night in the hospital chapel, Kristina tried to snatch a few minutes sleep while sitting outside Tamia’s suite. No sooner than she closed her eyes, she heard footsteps. Pam sat next to her, offering a steaming cup of coffee. Kristina groaned.

  "I appreciate the thought, but I don't think I could drink one more ounce of that stuff."

  Pam stared at the two cups in her hand. "You know, neither can I. I don't even know why I got them." She sat both cups on the table next to them and leaned back in her seat.

  "Have you talked to Esther today?"

  Kristina rested her head against the wall. She didn't want to have this conversation with Pam. Not again.

  “Not since this morning.”

  "So you two haven't decided when you're going to do it?”

  "We're praying about it."

  “But—“

  "Don't, Pam."

  Kristina had hoped to stop the discussion before it started. Unfortunately, her sister had other thoughts.

  "Prolonging it isn't going to—“

  Before Pam could launch into her advice, a commotion at the end of the hallway caught their attention. Kristina got up and walked down the hall a bit before Pam grabbed her by the arm.

  "Don't. Let security take care of it. That's what we hired them for."

  It was hard to make out what was happening on the other side of the doors, but from the sound of it, someone other than family or authorized staff was trying to get through. The disorder only lasted a few moments before all became quiet again. Soon after that, the double doors opened and Pam's husband, Reiland came through.

  “What was going on out there?"

  Reiland just looked at them, his expression tight. An older man and woman came behind him, neither of which looked like hospital staff. Kristina shot her brother-in-law a look, trying to figure out why in the world he wasn't doing anything to stop them.

  “It was me,” the man said. “I was trying to come in but the guards wouldn’t let me through.” He walked with a slight limp and looked somewhat disheveled. The woman, fair-skinned and small, was also rumpled. She seemed so exhausted, Kristina felt bad for what she was about to do, but with all the tricks the media had resorted to over the last two days, she wasn’t taking any chances.

  She approached the couple, her arm extended. "And for good reason. This area has been blocked off. If you're looking for a patient, I guarantee you they're not in this area. I can show you to the nurses’ station—“

  "No. The patient I'm looking for is here."

  Kristina turned to Reiland again. “Can I get some help here? Or should I go get security myself?”

  "Kristina, before you do that, you might wanna hear what he has to say."

  "And why would I do that?"

  "Because, according to him, he's your father."

  Kristina stopped, her mouth open. She turned and looked at her sister. Pam glared at the man and retreated to the row of chairs she and Kristina had just left.

  "Please. My wife and I drove straight through. All the way from Seattle. We left as soon as we saw it on the news."

  Kristina waved her hands and took a step back. "I'm sorry. But can we rewind to the part where you claim to be my father?" Kristina whirled around and looked at Pam again. "Did you hear this?"

  Pam remained silent, picking up one of the abandoned coffee cups and taking a drink.

  "I know I probably don't even have a right to be here, but I had to try. When I heard about Tamia—“ His voice faltered and he took off his glasses to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. The woman put her arm around him and looked up at Kristina, her eyes pleading.

  “When we left, there was no news on who made it out. Did she? Make it out?”

  The woman’s desperation to know and her genuine concern took Kristina by surprise and she nodded before she could stop herself. The man clasped his hands together and looked heavenward.

  “Thank you, Father!”

  The woman buried her face in the man’s shoulder, crying. “See, honey? Prayer works!”

  The man took a step toward Kristina, his face bright with joy and tears. “Where is she? Can you take me to her?”

  "Whoa." Kristina put her hand up again. “Take you to her? I don't even have any proof you are who you say you are. If you think I'm about to let you—“

  "Oh, he's who he says he is, all right."

  Kristina turned to see Pam getting up from her chair and walking toward them. She stopped in front of the man, glaring at him.

  "This is most definitely the sorry excuse of a man that left us alone with mama.” She scoffed. “Just as useless now as he was then. I guess some things never change.”

  The man tilted his head to the side, as if he hadn’t understood the words Pam said. She looked him up and down, then sucked her teeth before looking at Kristina and her husband.

  "I need some air. He had better be gone when I get back. If one of you two don't take care of it, I'll bring in somebody who will."

  As she stole a glance at the couple sitting at the cafeteria table with her, Kristina felt like she was having some sort of waking dream.

  First, the baby she thought was stillborn turned out to be alive. Then, she was reunited with his father after nearly two decades. Only to face losing that same child less than a year after meeting him. Not to mention her sister, who was now looking at life in a wheelchair. And to top it all off, the father that left when she was too young to even remember him was sitting next to her, along with his new wife. When did her life turn into a soap opera?

  “This must be overwhelming for you.” Justina, her father’s wife, put her hand on Kristina’s arm. “We never wanted to disrupt your lives, but after hearing Tamia was on that bus, we knew it might be our last chance to see her.”

  The woman’s eyes became wet as she spoke. Kristina didn’t know what to make of it. She’d always imagined their father as some deadbeat player, taking up with a different woman every night and keeping the children he le
ft behind, a secret. But from what she was seeing, he and Justina had been together for quite some time. Not only that, Justina talked about them as if they were her own.

  "I'm just trying to take it all in.”

  Her father, Gerald, nodded. "I understand. It’s a lot. Especially on top of all you’ve been going through. That news report we saw? The reporter said your mother just recently passed. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

  Kristina wasn't sure how to respond to that. Didn’t he know what their mother was like? He’d lived with her for a few years, hadn’t he? Was she so different back then that he thought her passing was actually a loss for them and not a relief?

  He shook his head, grinning. “My little Krissi, all grown up. I never thought I’d see you again. Not face to face like this.”

  Justina chuckled and nodded. “God is good!” She stood and patted her husband on the back. “I’m gonna give you two some time alone.” He kissed her hand, and then Justina came around to Kristina and enfolded her in her arms. “It sure is good to finally see you, baby.”

  Neither Gerald nor Kristina spoke for a few moments after Justina left. Kristina didn’t know where to begin. What do you say to the stranger who fathered you?

  "I don't remember you. I don't even know your first name.”

  "Well," he said, reaching into the inside pocket of his sport coat. "I know it's not the same as a memory, but it's what I've held onto for the past thirty-odd years."

  He handed her a stack of photos, some Polaroids, some printed. Mostly, they were of her and Pam as toddlers. She was shocked. She’d seen very few pictures of them as children. But even more surprising was that, in every single picture, they were smiling. Actually smiling.

  Other than her school pictures, publicity shots and red carpet snaps, Kristina had never seen a picture of herself smiling. If she hadn't been holding the proof in her hands, she never would've believed it.

  Gerald put his glasses on and pointed at one of the pictures.

  "That's you. Three years old. It was your birthday and you’d asked for a pony." He laughed. "Can you believe that? There we were, living in the sticks and you had the nerve to ask for a pony!"

  He slapped his knee and laughed louder. It was warm and deep. And though Kristina never would've been able to pick her father out of a crowd, even with a gun to her head, something about that laugh was familiar.

  "I tried to explain to you more than once that I didn't have the money to do that, but you were completely convinced I could. So I went and bought a toy saddle, got one of the guys at work to switch hours with me so I could get home before your bedtime and, well, as you can see…"

  "You made yourself into a pony."

  Kristina felt a lump rise in her throat. She flipped through the pictures and saw more of the same. Piggyback rides, ice cream cones, Popsicle stick houses. But none of it made sense. Sure, it was her face in the pictures. Pam’s, too. But this wasn't their childhood. Not even close.

  And how in the world did a man crawling around on his hands and knees to fulfill his daughter's outrageous birthday wish turn into the deadbeat that left them at the mercy of an abuser?

  "I don't understand this. Any of this," Kristina said, holding up the pictures. "If this is who you were, if this is who we were, why did you leave? And better yet, why did you come back? Now? After all this time?"

  "Leave? Is that what she told you?" Gerald shook his head and tightened his jaw.

  "Well,” he said, rubbing his hands down the front of his legs. “I’m not gonna call your mother a liar. I understood her better than most. Probably better than she did herself. And whatever story she told you girls, I’m sure she’d convinced herself it was true. But if you want to hear my side, if you're willing to give me that chance, I'd like to tell you what really happened.”

  Chapter 8

  Upon entering the smoky and darkened pub, it took Reiland less than a minute to locate what he’d come in for.

  “You have any idea how long I've been looking for you?"

  Pam, on a stool and hunched over the bar, threw him a quick glance over her shoulder.

  "Probably for as long as I've been staring at this glass of bourbon."

  Reiland pulled out the stool next to her and sat down. She felt him looking at her but couldn't bring herself to look back.

  "Have you had any of it?"

  Pam wiped away the tear that rolled down her cheek and shook her head. "No. But not because I don't want it. I want it so bad, it hurts."

  Reiland dropped his head and exhaled. He put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

  “It's not too late then, is it? I know it's tough. It seems like we just keep getting shoveled under it. But you can get through this without a drink, Pam. I know you can."

  "Well, that makes one of us."

  Reiland took the glass in front of Pam and slid it down the counter and out of her reach. Pam buried her face in her hands and shook her head.

  "I don't know how much more of this I can take. I really don't."

  "I hear you, babe. And now, with your father showing up? It's no wonder you're having a hard time. Seeing him must've brought up a lot of bad memories."

  Pam looked up and took a deep breath.

  "See, that's the thing. It’s just the opposite."

  "But how? You've never even talked about your father. At least, not to me. That's the only reason I never asked. I figured it was too painful."

  "It was. Is. But only because I remember what it was like when he was there. Not a lot, but more than my sisters. I remember what it was like to laugh and play. I remember what it was like to be happy."

  "That's crazy. All this time I imagined your dad to be the bad guy. Or some coward that couldn't stand up to your mother."

  "Bad guy? No. Coward?" Pam shrugged. "If I took mama’s word on it, then, yeah. But…” She stared at the wall behind the bar for a few moments before continuing.

  “I just remember waking up one morning in the car. My sisters and I were still in our pajamas and all our belongings were stuffed in the front seat and the floor of the backseat. Mama was driving and I asked her where we were going. I asked her where daddy was. She said he’d left us and we had to find a new place to live."

  “Did you believe her?”

  "At the time? No. I knew there is no way he’d go anywhere without me. Without any of us. But each day passed and he never showed up. And then as I got older, I thought maybe it was true. Maybe he couldn't take how she was and had to get out. I certainly couldn’t blame him if he had. After Kristina became famous, I just knew he’d show up one day, you know? I knew we'd walk out of some appearance or award show, and he'd be there, waiting with all the other fans. He'd show us his folder full of newspaper and magazine clippings. He’d tell us how he’d followed her career that whole time and waited for the moment we would be reunited."

  "But that never happened."

  "Nope. It didn't. So I thought he was dead. For a while there, I thought maybe he wasn’t even real. Thought he was some fantasy I’d made up to get through life with mama.” She shrugged. “One day I stopped thinking about him at all."

  "And then today?"

  "And then today he walked in and I saw his face and every single memory I ever had of him came flooding back. I realized he was real. Alive. And he never came for us. What in the world am I supposed to make of that?"

  Reiland moved in closer and put his arm around her.

  "I wish there was something I could do to make it better."

  Pam leaned over and pointed at the glass of bourbon. "You could slide that back over here."

  Reiland pressed his lips together. Pam laughed.

  "It was a joke, baby."

  “You need to brush up on your comedic skills.”

  "Yeah, I know. But I'm not really at the top of my game nowadays, am I?” Pam cocked her head to the side. "And can you explain something to me, please? When did Kristina become the pillar of strength in this family?” She laughe
d. “Seriously. I spent the last fifteen years being the only thing standing between her face and the floor, but now… Now it's like no matter what comes, can't nothing knock her down. Meanwhile, I'm falling apart at the seams, trying to mess up five years worth of sobriety."

  Reiland stared at her, his eyes narrowed. She knew that look.

  "What? Just spit it out.”

  "You're not gonna like it."

  "I never do. But that hasn’t stopped you before.”

  Reiland snickered. "True, true. Well," he said, rubbing his hands together. "You know that Bible toting nephew of ours? That boy is forever sending me sermons and devotionals."

  Pam smiled, but it was tinged with sadness..

  "Yeah,” she said quietly. “No one is safe."

  "I was reading this devotion he sent me about the grace of God. It's like that song, when I am weak, He is strong. Krissi already knows how much she needs Him, so instead of depending on herself, she leans on Him. But you? Since day one, you've been trying to do it all on your own. Kristina is resting in Him and letting Him do the work. You're wrapped up in doing the work, instead of just resting. She’s Mary and you’re Martha. Like Jesus said, only one thing is needful. I think Kristina found that one thing. ”

  Pam leaned back and stared at him.

  "Should I start calling you Rev. Ray now?"

  Reiland laughed out loud. “Please don’t. I might lose all my street cred.”

  Chapter 9

  "See, the first thing you have to understand about your mother is where she came from.” Gerald told Kristina. “First off, things were different back then. Nowadays, anything goes. But when we were coming up, the world operated on a higher set of morals, even outside the church. Now add to that her father being a traveling preacher. And strict!” Gerald shook his head. “You wouldn't believe the punishments he came up with, the stories she told me."

  Actually, I can. It’s probably where she got most her ideas.

  “In spite of all that, she adored him. And I guess, in his way, he loved her too. He called her his Little Sparrow. They traveled from place to place, living off the offerings he got from preaching. She’d get up and sing before every one of his sermons.” Gerald looked down at his hands. “She was a good girl. A real good girl. Until she met me." He smiled, but Kristina noticed it didn't quite reach his eyes.