Faith Alone © 2018 by Terri Ann Johnson
Brown Girls Books LLC
www.BrownGirlsBooks.com
ISBN: 978-1-944359-74-4 (ebook)
ISBN: 978-1-944359-75-1 (print)
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical or photocopying or stored in a retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages to be included in a review.
First Brown Girls Publishing LLC trade printing Manufactured and Printed in the United States of America
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It is reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped” book.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This has been a dream come true. First and foremost, I want to thank God for guiding me every step of the way. He gave me this vision and the resources that I needed to make it plain.
Thank you to my parents, Lavern and Thelma Johnson, for giving me life and love. You provided me with everything that I needed while growing up and it’s never stopped. When I thought about my pen name I landed on several variations. But, I decided on my full name because my Dad calls me Terri Ann. Therefore, my pen name was a no brainer. Mom, thank you for proofing the many rounds of edits.
Joshua, you are my muse. Everything I do, I do for you. Your encouragement means so much. When I’m typing and you run into the room to peep at the laptop and say, “Mommy you’re doing good,” those special moments pushed me to keep typing no matter how tired I was. Thank-you for your unconditional love, Honey Bunny.
To my sister in heaven, Michele, my love of reading came directly from you. I miss you every day. My main character’s name has part of yours, but she has all of your sweet spirit.
To my nieces and nephews, Krystal, Phillip, Christopher, Jr., and Naomi, thank you for the gifts of laughter and fun. I love you and the times that we spend together. Whatever you do in life, do it to the fullest.
To my brother-in-law, Christopher B. Wade, Sr., thank you for sharing your legal insight with me.
To my entire family and all of my friends, thank you for your continued support and belief in me. Your texts, emails, Facebook messages and phone calls, supporting my dream, helped me cross the finish line. Steven Fitchett, you continually asked “Godma when is your book coming out?” Please know that your question motivated me to finish.
To my East Friendship Baptist Church and O.L.Q.P. families, my Seton Sisters, my GWU crew, and my co-workers, past and present, thank you for your support. It means everything to me.
To my sorors in The Federal City Alumnae Chapter, your excitement has meant so much to me. I love you and hope to make you proud throughout my literary journey.
To the sorors in my chapter of initiation, Mu Beta, your youthful exuberance gives me life. To the sorors of the Washington DC Alumnae and the Prince George’s County Alumnae Chapters thank-you for your continued support throughout my Delta journey. And to all my sorors of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc., thank you for your love and support. To my Sister Scribes in VCM’s January 2017 Bootcamp, this novel started in this group and your guidance, support and transparency helped me to complete it. I can’t wait to read the work that will come from this collaborative group of women.
To Michelle Cole, Keleigh Hadley and Nicole Lester, thank you for sharing personal information with me so that I could make Lachelle’s high risk pregnancy more authentic.
To Patricia Bridewell, Naleighna Kai, Yolanda Gore, and V. Helena, thank-you for helping me to gain exposure as an author and getting my debut novel out to the public.
To J.L. Woodson graphic designer and owner of Woodson Creative Studio, you were easy to work with and the cover took my breath away. I’m looking forward to working with you in the future.
To my Brown Girls Books family, for everything that you do to help BGB authors to get their work out there to the public. Jason Frost, Social Media manager and Norma Warren, Publicist, you guys are, simply, the best. Thank you to each and every staff member at BGB.
To Terry McMillan, you have been my inspiration since Mama and my best friend in my head since Waiting to Exhale. On top of that we share the same name. Thank you for always being you.
To Rhonda McKnight, my literary Godmom, I love your books. Your class taught me so much and your encouragement makes me smile.
To my squad, LaTonja Belsches, Cheryl Boderick, Chris Hart-Wright, Gwen Jones, Lavern Miles, Tessa Murphy, Nichelle Poe, Diane Smith, Elaine Taylor and Kim Williams, you are the bomb dot com. The career of an author is solitary. Thank-you for being my biggest cheerleaders, making sure that my son is good while I’m working, and ensuring that I stay ‘in the mix’.
I want to give an extra big shout-out to my sister and soror, Latreece Johnson Wade and my BFF and soror, Rhonda Pope Brown. Thank-you for giving up your time to troubleshoot ideas with me and for reading and reading and reading Faith Alone some more. LOL.
And last, but not least, THANK YOU to the Founders of Brown Girls Books, ReShonda Tate Billingsley and Soror Victoria Christopher Murray, two BAWSE women. Thank you for including me in the All I Want for Christmas anthology. You have made dreams come true!
I hope you enjoy Faith Alone and please, leave a review.
Look out for my next novel. It. Is. Coming.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Chapter 1
I gripped the pregnancy box in my hand, thinking that telling my husband I might be pregnant should be one of the most exciting days of my life. Keyword: should. I had buried any and all thoughts of motherhood forever.
The sound of my heart beating hammered in my ears. Lying on the couch didn’t comfort me. So still holding onto the box, I got up and walked into the kitchen and headed straight to the fridge; but I couldn’t eat.
I tried to think: what would I normally be doing while I waited for Brian to come home? Then, I shook that thought away. It didn‘t matter at this point because there wouldn't be anything normal about the conversation Brian and I would have once he walked through the door.
Part of me thought that maybe I would take care of this by myself, without ever telling him, without him ever finding out. But I learned in my younger years that lies could equal loss. The last thing I wanted to lose was Brian. So it was best for me to honor my vows, best for me to handle this, for better or for worse.
And this part was the worst.
I glanced down at the box and set it in the middle of the dining room table.
He'll see it there, that's for sure.
Then, I staggered back into the living room. But not a second later, a car door slammed, and I jumped up off the couch, stubbing my baby toe on the edge of the coffee table. Dayum. Dayum. Dayum.
The pain didn‘t stop me, though. I raced down the hallway into the dining room, slipping on our polished hardwood floors, but thank God, I
didn’t fall.
I grabbed the pregnancy test from the table, then dashed up the stairs. Breathing hard, I hid it in our bathroom, tossing it onto the vanity. Then, I took a couple of moments to get settled.
Once my breathing was back to normal, I moseyed down the stairs, a stark contrast to the crazy woman who‘d been running around the house a few minutes ago.
Telling him is the best way.
That was what I‘d decided. Brian wouldn’t play games with me by leaving information sitting on the table, so I didn‘t want to do that to him. I would tell Brian what I knew: that I was two weeks late for my period and because I‘d been so focused on meeting the deadline for the grant I‘d just submitted, I hadn‘t noticed my missed period until this morning.
I had it all worked out in my mind; I knew exactly how we would handle this. But, Brian was a problem-solver. Would my husband try to fix this? Or would he go along with my plan?
By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was surprised that Brian still had not come through the door. I curled up on the leather sectional, pulling my favorite, fuzzy throw blanket over my legs, wanting my husband to find me in my most relaxed state.
Still, no Brian. What was taking him so long? I pushed myself off the couch and peeked out the window. Brian‘s car wasn‘t even in the driveway. It must have been a neighbor that I‘d heard.
Get it together, Lachelle.
Returning to the sofa, I grabbed the latest edition of O Magazine and tried to focus on Suzie Orman's article, but my thoughts soon wandered. Maybe if I practiced, my words would come out with more confidence. Maybe if I practiced, I wouldn‘t scare my husband to death.
Taking a breath, I said, “Brian, I have something to tell you.” I imagined how I would sit him down, grab his hands and say, “Brian, I'm pregnant.”
I practiced those two sentences over and over until it felt ridiculous and then, I turned on the TV. The news droned on and on until the anchor said, “Now, turning to local news, another young girl has been reported missing, here in D.C.”
A picture of a girl, no more than thirteen or fourteen, flashed on the screen and I turned the TV off before the anchor could say the girl‘s name. That was certainly not something I wanted to hear right now.
Before I could find another distraction, I heard the slam of another car door. I froze, though I still wasn‘t sure if it was Brian until, “Are you working on your rebound, Matt?“ my husband asked our teenage neighbor. There was a pause, and then, his voice again. “Yeah, okay, meet me at the gym around noon tomorrow.”
I began counting the seconds from him locking the car to walking up the six steps to checking the mailbox. His keys jingled as he opened the door and I was still frozen in place on the sofa.
One, two, three. “Chellllllllllle, I’m home.”
Once he turned the corner and saw me lying on the couch, he belted out, “I’m just a bachelor, looking for a partner.” Brian wiggled his non-rhythmic hips and began moving toward me as though his alter ego’s name was B-Fine, because he was fine, all five feet and nine inches of him. He‘d played college football, and the girls used to flirt with him, telling him that he looked like Emmitt Smith. It was true; it was his smile and his complexion.
But although he could run that ball, he could never really dance. Usually, if a guy couldn’t dance, I would never let him get past first base. Why waste my time? But, Brian was so fine and sweet, and once we became more than friends, he squashed my myth. He proved that just because you didn‘t have rhythm on your feet, didn‘t mean you didn‘t know what do between the sheets.
I forced a smile as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt.
“Alexa.“ He called out to our Echo. “Play Ginuwine’s Pony.” The whole time, his eyes remained on me. Brian pulled and tugged at his cufflinks. You’d think they were glued onto his shirt because they wouldn’t come off. But, he didn’t care. His goofiness and pretend ineptness was all part of the fun. Then, he crouched down, got on his hands and knees and crawled the rest of the way to the couch.
But right before he reached me, he shouted. “Ouch.” He picked through the carpet, then held up the push pin that had stabbed his hand.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Luckily, you only strip for me, babe.
Come here and let mama kiss da boo boo.”
“Alexa, turn it off. My entertainment for this evening is done.”
Brian took his shoes off and laid down with me.
We loved this couch. It held the two of us comfortably. I snuggled under his chin. This was my sweet spot.
After a few moments, he said, “Usually my striptease act cracks you up. You okay?”
I should’ve known that he’d notice a difference in my demeanor.
“I’m okay,” I lied.
“Are you hungry? Were you waiting for me to eat? It’s so nice outside; I should throw a few things on the grill.”
Dinner. “Uhmmm, I hadn’t really thought about food.” I wished the world would stop right here, right now.
“Well, I know a nice chargrilled steak will put you in the right mood. Let me get up and thaw out two rib-eyes. Can you take out the ingredients for my sauce while I run upstairs?“
As he rolled away from me and sat up, I shouted out, “Brian, I’m pregnant.” I had tried.
Keyword: tried.
But I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I’m about two weeks late.” Then, I spilled out the rest of the story in one long breath. “I was working so hard on that grant submission for Loving Our Babies that I didn’t even think about it until this morning. I stopped at the drug store on my way home and picked up a pregnancy test so that we could take it this evening. I knew you would want to be with me.”
His eyes were wide and then, he motioned with his hands. “Chelle, slow down.” He shook his head when he said, “So, you don’t know that you’re pregnant, right? As much birth control as we use, could it really happen?”
I gave him a side-eye. “As much sex as we have, I guess so.”
He exhaled a long breath as if he could blow this challenge away. “Well, let’s not assume anything. The stress of your job may’ve contributed to you being late.”
As I looked up, directly into his face, I said, “You know I’m never late. I’ve been stressing about telling you all day.”
His silence told me that he was thinking, thinking of a way to fix this.
I sat up and twisted because I wanted to look into his eyes when I whispered, “There‘s nothing you can do to fix this. It was a mistake. Let’s just correct it.”
He took another deep breath, then another long exhale before he pushed himself off the couch and picked up his shirt.
They way he leaned against the wall and rubbed his eyes, I knew he was thinking, thinking, thinking.
Then after what felt like too many seconds, he said in the most respectful tone, “It wasn’t a mistake. This was God’s plan.” He slipped back into his shirt, then walked over and knelt in front of me. “What happened to you happened almost twenty-five years ago. Doctors know more now and medical technology has advanced.”
I shook my head. “But, I could die,” I said through my tears. “I am forty-two years old,” I added like I needed to remind him of all the facts. “I have a history of high blood pressure and I had a baby that…”
He didn‘t let me finish. “Look at me.” His voice was so gentle, so full of love. His touch was the same as he wiped my tears, then tilted my chin upward. “No one is dying, no one. Let’s take this step by step. We’ll take the test tonight and we’ll call Doctor Price in the morning. Is that a plan?”
He spoke so assuredly that all I could say was, “Yes.”
“My Chelle, you married a man, a man who will stand with you through the storms of life. We have each other and God is on our side.”
Brian wiped more of my tears away and moved my natural curls out of my face. When he kissed me, I really thought that everything in my world would now be all right.
Keyword: thought.
Chapter 2
Walking up the steps to the master bathroom felt like I was walking to the gas chamber. Discovering that I might be carrying a life shouldn’t feel like death. But, death had been an anchor weighing me down since I became an adult.
This walk was nothing like the one I took to the Planned Parenthood office near my high school during the fall of 1993. When I thought I was pregnant then, I was shocked, but a little excited. I was young and ready to take on the world.
John met me at my locker at lunchtime asking, “Are we doing that thang today, shorty?”
“Yes, the plan has not changed; the sooner the better.”
We walked to the cafeteria in silence. His guilt stifled the corny jokes he typically cracked. My stupidity silenced me. It had been the first time for the both of us, and he begged me to let him put it in for only a minute. Little did I know that it would be over in less than a minute. Yet, that minute had been enough. Everything that came out of him, was inside of me.
Once we got to the lunch room, I whispered the plan to him.
I said, “We can go to the Planned Parenthood office in Southwest.” “Shorty, there is one right around the corner from here.”
“I don’t want everybody knowing my business,” I protested. “It won’t take us more than fifteen minutes on the bus.”
Before taking the last bite of his steak and cheese sandwich, he caved.
“Okay, where should I meet you?”
“Meet me at the bus stop right across the street from the main entrance, right after the last bell rings.” I thought about how mature he was handling this and added, “John, thank you for going with me.”
“Shorty, I got chu. I’m surprised that you didn’t ask ‘Tough’ Tracy to go with you. I feel honored.”
I didn’t tell him that I hadn’t even told my best friend. “This is between you and me, for now.”
After school, we got on that bus, headed to Southwest and light music greeted us as we walked into the Planned Parenthood office. I completed the paperwork that the receptionist gave me while John stood at the window pretending to shoot hoops as if we weren’t about to find out the most important news of our lives. I couldn’t be mad; he was here.
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