“What was I supposed to do?” I shouted back. “Just let him keep beating on Syreeta? Your brother has a problem, and now maybe it will stop.”
“You should’ve let them handle it.”
“Well, Syreeta didn’t want to handle it.” Then I thought of another approach, another way to get him to see what I was trying to say. “If someone were beating on Marquis, you would want it reported.”
“Marquis is a boy, Syreeta is a woman. You should’ve let grown folks handle their own business.”
Tyrone stomped out of our house pissed, but I was as angry as he was. I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to stand by and let my friend be beaten no matter who was doing the beating.
Tyrone didn’t come home that night and I was really pissed. But when he didn’t come home the next night, I was frantic. By the third night, I was truly scared.
Had Tyrone really left me? He was willing to break up over his brother?
I called his cell, every hour on the hour, and every fifteen minutes in between. But he never answered. And though Delores did answer her phone, she didn’t say too many words to me, and the ones she did utter gave me no information about where I could find my husband.
I did my best to hide my distress from Marquis, telling our fourteen-year-old that his dad had an emergency business trip, though I wasn’t sure he believed that since Tyrone, an auto mechanic, had never gone out of town on business before.
But that’s all I had to give him, and now I needed someone to give something to me, someone to give me hope. It couldn’t be Syreeta; she was part of the problem and felt bad enough about what was happening with me and Tyrone.
So my pastor was my only choice, but the best choice because he would do more than talk to me . . . he would pray, too.
On the fourth day, once Marquis had left for school, I ditched work and went off to church, crying all the way, and asking God not to let my marriage end just because I was trying to do the right thing.
By the time I got to the church, my tears had blinded me, weakened me. I couldn’t even get out of the car.
Then a tap on my window made me look up.
“Janice?”
“Pastor . . .” That was all I could get out.
He opened the door, took my hand, and led me away. Not into the church, but into the parsonage next door, where he lived.
His voice brought me back from my memories. “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Caleb said. “No one ever has to apologize for being hurt, for being upset.”
I looked at him for a quick moment, then turned away. “You know what’s going on?”
He nodded. “I think so . . . the trial? And you? And me? Last night, every station recapped everything about yesterday. And you. And me.”
“Oh.” I prayed that wherever Tyrone was, he hadn’t seen any of those reports.
“And then,” Caleb continued, “my phone started ringing. Members of the church started calling.”
“Oh,” I said again. I hadn’t thought about that. I hadn’t thought about what this news that was destroying me and Tyrone was doing to Caleb. Again I said, “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “It’s been going on all summer. Since all of this first broke back in June. It’s been tough, but it looks like the congregation is willing to stand by me.”
“I’m sorry.”
He chuckled just a little bit. “You can’t think of anything else to say, can you?”
I shook my head.
He said, “I really should be the one apologizing to you. If I hadn’t let it get out of hand . . .”
“You were grieving, too,” I reminded him. “We were both at fault, and then neither of us was at fault. It was just the time, and circumstances, and—”
“Two people who needed to be comforted,” he finished for me.
I nodded, thinking about his words. Thinking about how I had really needed to be comforted then.
Caleb said, “So is that why you’re upset? About what happened at the trial?”
“I can handle what happened in court. But Tyrone can’t. He’s gone . . . again. Just like last time.”
“Wow,” Caleb said, making the word sound like it had five syllables. “I thought you guys had worked it out. I thought that’s why you didn’t come to church anymore.” He held up his hand. “Which I understand.”
“I thought we had worked it out, too. But I guess we really hadn’t, because at the first sign of trouble—” I stopped because I could feel the tears and I tried my best to send them back to wherever they were coming from. I just didn’t want to cry anymore.
He reached for my hand. “I want to pray with you.”
I looked down to where he touched me. And once again I thought about his words.
Two people who needed to be comforted.
Again I thought about all the comfort that I’d really needed then. And I thought about all the comfort that I could really use now.
As gently as I could, I slipped my hand from his. There was only one man who could give me what I needed.
I looked up at Caleb so that I could explain to him what I knew now that I didn’t know then. But the tap on the window made me turn the other way.
“Janice!”
“Oh, my God!” I screamed as if I’d seen a ghost. And in a way, that’s exactly what I was seeing.
The car door opened. “Get out.”
For a second, I stayed right where I sat. Because I was hoping and praying that this wasn’t real. How could it be? Lightning didn’t strike twice in the same place.
“Get out of the car, Jan,” Raj repeated.
It was only because I was so scared that I did what my brother-in-law told me.
Caleb leaned over from his seat. “Raj, it’s not what you think. We were just—”
Raj slammed the door on the rest of Caleb’s words. Then, with a gentle hold on my arm, he led me to his truck, parked right next to the Lexus.
There were a gaggle of thoughts going through my mind. And at first, I wasn’t able to capture a single one. But then, when I stood on the passenger side of Raj’s truck, one thought became clear—Tyrone was inside!
I trembled as Raj opened the door, almost wanting to close my eyes. There was no way I would be able to stand if I had to see the hurt on my husband’s face.
But then Raj said, “Get in,” and I breathed. Because that meant we were alone.
Then Raj got in on the other side. He gave me one glance and those dang tears rushed back. Yeah, I was tired of crying, but crying was all I could do. Because if I hadn’t been sure that my marriage was over before, it was over now.
Tyrone would never understand. Especially not after he heard this story from Raj, which is exactly the way this had all gone down before.
What happened with Caleb had only happened three times.
Just three times.
The first time, Caleb had taken me into the parsonage instead of the church, so that no one else would see my tears. So that my pain could stay private.
He had been so shocked to find me and so caring when I told him how I was losing my husband.
And then Caleb reminded me that he completely understood that pain because he’d just lost his wife.
It wasn’t like I’d really forgotten that his wife had died six months before, from cancer that was already stage four by the time Caleb had discovered the lump on his twenty-nine-year-old wife’s breast. It was more like I had just been focused on myself until he made me remember.
And for a while, we just sat there and cried together, and held each other, and ended up in bed.
It had really been that quick, that simple, though I knew that if anyone heard about it they would’ve said that either Caleb or I had preconceived motives.
But only a person who had walked in a pair of sorrow’s shoes would ever understand how it could go down like that. I was sure that even God would have understood—if it had been just that once.
But there was no way to explain why I’
d gone back two days later when Tyrone still had not come home. Nor to justify the third time, when two days after that, Caleb called and said that he needed me. And Tyrone still had not come home . . .
It was after that third time, when Raj just happened to be driving by the Walmart on Christopher Columbus Boulevard, where I parked my car because Caleb and I were being so careful in our duplicity . . .
Though I never believed it was one of those just-happen-to-be moments. Those things just didn’t happen. And from that moment three years ago until now, I would have bet all kinds of money that Raj had somehow followed me.
But not today. Raj wouldn’t have followed me today. So how did I end up here?
Like Caleb had done a few minutes before, Raj just sat in his truck, with the engine running, and waited for my tears to pass.
He just didn’t know that I never planned to stop crying.
It was only physiology that made my tears finally end. A human couldn’t cry forever, I suppose.
“So, you just happened to be passing by again?” I sniffed, accusing him with my tone more than my words.
He shook his head. “You didn’t know that the Guardians have been following you since the trial began?”
I twisted in my seat. “What?” I wouldn’t have to worry about tears now. I was too pissed to cry. “Following me?” I knew it! Just like before. “Why? Why would you have someone following me?”
“Not just you; Ty, too. I thought Tyrone told you. Threats had come in.”
“What?” I said, blinking, trying to figure out what he was talking about.
“Threats to you and Tyrone.”
“Why would anyone threaten me and Tyrone? We’re the ones who lost our son.”
“We live in America. This is how Americans handle people they don’t know and they don’t like.”
“Wow.”
“I’m sure they’ve had a lot of threats on their side, too.” Before I could say anything, he added, “Not from our people, but from all over.”
I shook my head.
He said, “So we had you covered. For protection. Not that we think anything’s gonna happen. No one wants to go up against us. The Guardians are better than the Secret Service.”
I blew out a long breath knowing there wasn’t any way that I could be mad at this. Still, I said, “Someone should have told me.”
“I thought you knew.” He looked over at Caleb’s car. “I guess you didn’t.”
“Raj,” I said, and then I paused. What was the use? Like last time, he was going to run to his brother. Tell Tyrone. And then what I’d been trying to save would be over.
But in the next second I decided that my marriage was worth fighting for, no matter what I had to say.
“I know you won’t believe me.”
He waited a couple of moments. “Try me.”
So I did. “Nothing was going on with me and Caleb. I’d been driving around all morning, looking for Tyrone, and I came here and he just happened to be walking in as I was walking out and . . .” I had to pause. “He took me to his car and we were talking. That’s it. Just talking.”
Raj nodded, but when he didn’t say a word, I knew it was time to beg.
“Please, don’t say anything to Tyrone. He’s so upset already, and if he finds out . . .”
Raj shifted his truck into park. He said, “One of the Guardians will come back for your car. I’m taking you home.”
What I wanted to do was jump out of this car and stomp back to my own. But I didn’t because I was tired, just so tired. So my silence was my agreement.
We’d driven for only a few minutes, when Raj said, “You and Tyrone both need to stop running. You both run; at the first sign of trouble, you run.”
“I wasn’t running,” I said. “I told you, Caleb and I were there together, by accident.”
“I believe that. But what would’ve happened if I hadn’t knocked on that window? Would you have turned to him like last time?”
“No!”
“That’s good.” And then he spoke words that sounded like more than just music; they were a whole symphony. “I believe you; I’m not going to say anything to Tyrone.”
Gratitude made me want to cry again, but pride kept my tears inside. “Thank you,” I said.
I felt like I needed to give him something for what he was giving to me. Maybe I needed to tell him that I was sorry for turning him in to the police and for the months that he’d spent in jail.
But the thing was, I wasn’t sorry about that. So I had to think of something else. Maybe I could tell him that I was sorry for the way I’d been treating him. I mean, I was a little bit sorry about it, especially with the way he was coming through for me now.
“Raj.”
Before I could say more, he held up his hand. “You don’t need to say anything, Jan.” He spoke as if he’d read my thoughts. “Let’s just start over from here ’cause like I’ve been trying to tell you, I’ve changed, you changed, and everyone deserves a second chance.”
I nodded, feeling even more gratitude now.
When he stopped his truck in front of my house, I gave him the key to my car. Then I did something that I hadn’t done with Raj in years.
I gave him a hug.
Chapter 33
Janice
I had a dozen messages on my cell phone, but none of them were from Tyrone. All were from Syreeta, and I knew she was probably a mess by now, wondering what was going on.
It was just that I didn’t want to talk to anyone, except Tyrone. And I figured Syreeta would call Raj eventually, and he would fill her in.
I just wanted to keep all of my attention on Tyrone. And that’s why I was on my knees at the side of my bed, praying, when I heard the first sound.
A car door slamming. Then, a few seconds later, the key in the door.
I leaped up and dashed to the stairs. I was halfway down when the door opened and Tyrone walked in.
He looked up; I looked down. I was afraid to say a word and he said nothing either. All he did was open his arms and I ran down the rest of the steps.
“I’m sorry!” we said together.
He took my hand and led me into the living room. When we sat down, I still held his hand, deciding right then that I would never let him go.
“I spoke to Raj,” he said.
At first, I blinked and my heart called Raj a traitor. After what he promised! But then I blinked again. If Raj had told Tyrone where he found me, my husband wouldn’t be sitting here.
“My brother and I had a long talk. He told me to stop running,” Tyrone said. “My little brother told me to man up and handle the situation.” He chuckled. “My little brother ain’t so little anymore if he’s telling me what to do.”
“I know. He kinda talked to me a little bit today, too,” I said, hoping Tyrone wouldn’t ask for specifics.
“He told me.” Tyrone looked at me sideways. “He said if the two of you could make up, then what was my problem?” He paused. “Look, Jan, this has been a lot for me to handle.”
“I know and—”
He squeezed my hand. “Let me finish. It’s just . . . it’s just that it’s so hard to imagine you with another man, with . . . him, when I love you so much.”
“I know and I will never be able to say that I’m sorry enough.”
“That’s not true. You’ve already said you’re sorry enough. And, I think, I know, that I’m ready to accept that. Finally. Because the bottom line is I love you.”
“And I love you, too. It wasn’t about love with Caleb. You have to believe me.”
“I know that. Still . . . it’s a man thing.”
I nodded.
“But you know what? It’s a man thing to save his family, too. It’s a man thing to live up to the for-better-or-for-worse. If I’m strong enough for the better, I’d better be man enough for the worse.”
“I’m—”
He pressed his fingertips to my lips before I could apologize again. “Love means never
having to say that you’re sorry.”
For a moment, I stared at him. “You know that’s the corniest line ever!”
“I know, it just kinda came out.”
And then he repeated it. And I smiled, and the smile turned into a giggle. And he chuckled, too. And his chuckles made me laugh. And he laughed, too.
And we laughed. And laughed. And laughed.
We laughed until Tyrone rolled off the sofa and pulled me down with him. I tumbled and fell on top of him, still laughing as if I would never stop. But then I looked down into his eyes. And I stopped. And he stopped, too.
The way we gazed at each other, it was probably as corny as his line. But it was real to me. Because this was the man that I loved. Really loved. And the only man that I had loved. Ever loved.
And right then, I made a silent vow, to do all that I could to make up for the hurt that I’d caused.
I had a feeling that Tyrone made a vow like that, too, because he cupped my head in his hand and pulled me close.
And when his lips touched mine, I felt like I was being kissed by an angel.
This was love. With all of its ups, and all of its downs, this was what love was meant to be.
Chapter 34
Meredith
I was embarrassed.
Truly, I was embarrassed to be married to Wyatt Spencer. It had been bad enough watching what he allowed, what he encouraged the attorneys to do to Janice Johnson on the witness stand.
But the embarrassing part came in the way that Wyatt and the attorneys had celebrated what they called a victory over the questioning of Janice.
“She has no credibility anymore,” Newt had said on the drive home. “If a woman would cheat on her husband, she would do anything, including lie for her son. And the female jurors know that.”
I hoped that they didn’t; I hoped that the women on the jury were smarter than that. I prayed that they knew that we all made mistakes and what Janice Johnson did in her personal life had nothing to do with the trial.
But as bad as it had been on Friday, I dreaded what today would bring. I’d found it all out last night when Newt had come by for yet another strategy meeting. This time, even my mother had sat in with us.
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