She felt better after praying and closed her eyes as she thought about Brian. What was he doing now? How was he feeling about her? She turned on her side and caressed her pillow. Would she ever have the opportunity to have a husband she could turn to in the lonely hours of the night and talk, or had she forfeited all of that with her youthful mistakes?
She closed her eyes and in her mind's eye could see Brian as they walked together on their regular walking trail, his face suffused with the joy of being with her. Would she ever see those brown eyes smiling her way again? A lone tear trickled down the side of her face. She was going to stop thinking about Brian for now. Obviously that was still a bleeding wound.
Maribel had packed her weekend bag and headed for the Goblin Hill Guest House in Portland for a full week. She had informed her friends and her workplace and then turned off her phone. The time away in the quiet parish, with its tranquil blue sea and lush green vegetation, was good for her. She had idled away her time in a hammock overlooking the sea and read detective novels.
She had Dido’s White Flag constantly playing on her iPod and it brought a tear or two to her eyes. The guesthouse staff left her alone as she wallowed in her pity fest and came to terms with her loss.
It was not a shock to her when she turned on her phone after driving back from Portland and found that she had a gazillion missed calls from Thelma Lawrence. She contemplated calling her back but decided that she was going to ignore her for the time being.
It was, however, a great shock when she pulled up outside her apartment building and saw Horace Lawrence waiting for her.
He got out of his car when he saw her driving in and waited patiently as she locked her car door and faced him warily. “I saw a whopping 97 missed calls from your wife.”
Horace grinned and scratched his beard. “She was not too comfortable with you disappearing on her. You weren’t around for her to gloat and she started getting worried.”
Maribel nodded. “So are you here to deliver the news that you cannot have me handling your firm’s account?”
Horace smiled. “Thelma would have wanted that; actually, she suggested it, but I vetoed her on that one. Your friend Vivian told me that you were coming in today. Luckily, I did not have to wait too long for you to get here. I just stopped by to tell you that everyone has a past, some more colorful than others, but if you dig deep enough there is something in everyone’s background that they would rather keep quiet. Take Thelma, for example.”
Maribel straightened up; she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Horace was on her side.
“Thelma?” Maribel whispered hoarsely, tensing up slightly. She wanted to drag the words from Horace’s mouth.
“Well … my … delightful wife was not always the paragon of saintliness that you see in church. She doesn’t know that I know that Rose is not my child.”
Maribel’s mouth hung open.
Horace laughed, “Shocking, isn’t it?”
She nodded mutely.
“Rose is my business partner’s child. She had an affair with him when I was abroad doing my doctorate. At the time, she passed off Rose as a premature baby, but my partner confessed about the affair to me. To this day I haven’t said a thing to Thelma. Your fate is now in Thelma’s hands; I just thought you should go into the fight with a little ammo. I am just telling you this to make a point that nobody is perfect. Hell, I am not perfect. You have done a great job for my company so far; keep at it. I wish you all the best with your pastor.”
Maribel nodded. “Thank you so much. I doubt he will be able to look past what I used to do, you know …”
Horace shrugged. “These days I am not so hung up on judging people. I think God was clearly instructing us when he said judgment is His, don’t you think?”
“Oh yes,” Maribel whispered fervently, “and he is still in the prayer-answering business apparently. I specifically told him to take care of this situation for me.”
“There you go.” Horace got into his car. “Take care.”
He tooted his horn and drove out of the complex, leaving a very stunned Maribel behind. He told me Thelma’s secret so that we would be even. She just couldn’t believe it. This really was a miracle.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Church was packed the next Sabbath when Maribel drove into the parking lot; she entered the foyer with tense anticipation and collected a program from one of the ushers.
“Oh Sister Maribel.” Carlene rushed up to her, her round face beaming. “I have not seen you at Women’s Ministries Meeting now for two weeks.”
Maribel smiled, “I’ve been a bit busy these past couple of Sundays.”
“Well, I announced last week that I am engaged.”
Maribel gasped. “You are? To who? Let me see the ring.”
“He doesn’t believe in jewelry wearing,” Carlene giggled.
“Or women talking in church,” Cathy sidled up to the two of them and kissed Maribel on the cheek.
“He is just a bit eccentric.” Carlene’s ears were bright red.
“He is plain weird,” Cathy laughed. “Do you remember Brother Timble, the man who sits at the back of church and plays the mouth organ and has five-six kids? His wife died four months ago and Carlene here is her replacement.”
“Well, I asked the Lord for a husband,” Carlene said, frowning, “and he answered my prayers.”
“Do me a favor,” Cathy whispered as people were coming toward them, “and wait on the Lord and stop jumping up and down to get married. Virginity has never killed anybody yet, and I am sure it won’t kill you. Can you really imagine lying beside Brother Timble night after night while he humps you energetically while playing his mouth organ?”
Carlene gasped, “Cathy, this is the house of the Lord.”
“And God created sex,” Cathy said, grinning. “He wants us to enjoy it with our spouse, not lie down and think of Beulah Land.”
Carlene eyes widened like saucers. “Brother Timble says I should not consider what goes on between a man and a woman outside of a bedroom.”
Cathy rolled her eyes. “Brother Timble? You are actually calling your future husband Brother Timble? Lord have mercy, please get counseling before you marry Bertram Timble, and get him to fix his front teeth before you march down the aisle in your wedding finery.”
Maribel shuddered in mirth as Cathy laid it on Carlene.
Carlene looked wounded and said a limp goodbye to Maribel, while she pointedly ignored Cathy.
“Cathy, you are something else.” Maribel searched her purse for a kerchief to wipe her eyes. “Do you think Carlene is that desperate for a man?”
Cathy snorted, “Someone has to tell her the truth. Brother Timble is looking for a housemaid and a doormat. On a brighter note, I am happy to see you in church today. I was planning to come and haul you out of your apartment if I didn’t see you but here you are, fresh as a daisy and looking spiffy in that red suit.”
Maribel smiled. “Thanks.”
“I thought you would have been cowering in fear from Sister Thelma and her busybody tongue.”
Maribel grinned. “Let’s just say that Sister Thelma and I are on a level playing field, and her husband says he is quite pleased with my work and won’t be telling my boss a thing. As a matter of fact, I can’t wait to see Thelma.”
Cathy giggled, “Go girl, stick it to her.”
Maribel was about to reply when she saw Brian enter the foyer. He was talking to an elder. As if he sensed her presence he looked up, and their eyes met and held. For a split second Maribel felt her heart racing like a car on a steep hill without brakes. And like the metaphorical car, her heart raced out of control and was heading for a precipice when he walked over and said, “Hello Maribel, Cathy.”
“Pastor Edwards,” Cathy said formally.
Maribel gave him a tremulous half smile. She looked in his eyes to see if there was anything in them for her, but they were shuttered. He looked tired and sad. She hastily turned away when the el
der grabbed his attention again, and they headed into the church.
“That was intense,” Cathy murmured beside her.
Maribel tucked her trembling hands through her friend’s and walked shakily into church.
“The topic of today’s sermon is forgiveness.” Brian looked out at the congregation; he had planned to preach this sermon since he first came to the church but he hadn’t gotten the chance, but now, today of all the days, the moment when he was least sure of himself, he was preaching on the topic.
Ever since Maribel had gutted him with her news he was not so sure that forgiveness was such an easy thing to do. Even after praying about it and wrestling with it, he still felt a burning ache in his gut when he thought about her past. He just couldn’t get past it. It made him angry and vulnerable. He took turns wanting to kill her parents for such a rotten childhood and then praying that the Lord forgive him for his thoughts and then wanting to shake Maribel and ask her why she had to succumb to such a depraved lifestyle.
He glanced over at her in her red dress and fluffy hairstyle, looking as innocent as the first day he met her, and knew why he was waffling so much. He had this sermon that he was reluctant to preach because he was doing the very opposite of the words laid out on the paper in front of him. He was, quite frankly, not practicing what he was about to preach, and this made him edgy and uncomfortable.
"Brothers and Sisters," he cleared his throat, "as most of you know I am writing a book on forgiveness. When I started writing the book I thought that it would be fun to research and explore the limits to which human beings will go to forgive their fellow men. You see, brethren, it is very easy to talk about this thing called forgiveness, but it is entirely another matter to do it. What is very scary about forgiveness is that without it the Lord does not answer our prayers. Don’t believe me? Turn your Bibles to Matthew 6; here Jesus taught his disciples how to pray.
“Embedded in that prayer is the whole issue of forgiveness. While we are asking for forgiveness we should also forgive. Jesus himself said, ‘For if you forgive men their trespasses your heavenly father will also forgive you.’ But if we don’t forgive, then there is no forgiveness for us. It is as simple and as serious as that …"
Maribel listened to his voice and her eyes watered slightly. Did this mean that he had forgiven her? Surely he wouldn’t be up there preaching about forgiveness if he hadn’t forgiven her.
She sighed. Forgiving and forgetting were two different sides of the coin. And he possibly needed a lot of time to forget her past. Maybe the next fifty years would suffice.
Or maybe he would have sudden acute amnesia and wouldn’t remember anything that he learnt for the last week. She shook her head from her fanciful musings and glanced across at Thelma, who was sitting piously in a row across from hers, her broad black and white hat obscuring her face from view. Thelma had deliberately set out to reveal her life for everyone to see, just because she wanted the pastor for her precious Rose.
Rose had smiled at her earlier, an easy natural smile that gave Maribel no clue as to what her mother had said to her about her past. She couldn’t wait to talk to Thelma so that she could ascertain how many persons were privy to the story of her past life.
She got her chance when standing beside her car and waving goodbye to Cathy and Greg. Thelma walked up to her and huffed, “I never thought I would see you around here again.”
Maribel smiled. “Why not?”
“Because you are … were … a slut, a common whore. I told the pastor about your very crowded history and he seemed shocked.”
“Well, church is a hospital for sinners. We all come here so that we can encourage each other along the way as we strive to go to heaven.”
Thelma snorted, “For a prostitute you have a bold tongue.”
“How many people have you told that I was a prostitute, Thelma?”
“I was ready to shout it to the world but the pastor came to my house and begged me not to,” Thelma sniffed, “and Horace has gotten all cold and judgmental on me, as if I had done something wrong, so I will keep it under wraps for now. But don’t expect me to after this—with your very cocky attitude.”
“How do you want me to act?” Maribel questioned, folding her arms. “Beaten, scared, beholden to you?”
“You sold your body to numerous men; you have no right to be even standing there now looking at me, a decent person. Your type makes me sick. And then you have the nerve to come into this church and try to steal the attention of our pastor.”
Maribel laughed. “Your type makes me sick.” She sobered up and looked at Thelma seriously. “You are a hypocrite without a case. If you are so much better than me, Thelma, tell me, who is Rose’s real father?”
Thelma gasped, “What did you say?”
“You heard me.” Maribel looked out at the parking lot and waved to Sister Bertram.
She then glanced back at Thelma, who looked as if she was struggling for breath. “Here’s the deal, Thelma: I am going to take the pastor’s sermon to heart and I am going to forgive you your trespasses, and I fully expect you to forgive mine.”
“Where did you … how did you?” Thelma was tongue-tied and sounded garbled.
“Promise me you will shut your big, hypocritical mouth and I will promise you the same,” Maribel said, looking at Thelma, a half smile playing along her lips.
“He won’t marry you after this,” Thelma sputtered.
“Promise me, Thelma,” Maribel said strongly.
“Oh well, I promise. How did you find out about Rose? Nobody knows about that.”
“About what?” Maribel asked innocently.
“About the little issue of her paternity.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Maribel said, a deadpan expression on her face. “You have a nice Sabbath now, Sister Thelma.”
Thelma nodded and stepped away.
Maribel went into her car and pushed in her gospel CD. The Lord’s Prayer by Aaron Neville filled the car with its soothing sound and she drove away, leaving a very deflated-looking Thelma in the parking lot.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The song Warning Sign by Cold Play was playing and Maribel found herself humming to the song as she pulled into the Hilton Hotel parking lot. The haunting melody drifted along the airwaves and she listened to the words and started crying.
Foolishly, she had thought that three months was enough time to get over her relationship with Brian, but it still felt like yesterday when he had looked at her with that hurt look in his eyes.
These days when he saw her at church, he gave her a sickly half smile that did not quite reach his eyes, and the truth was it pierced her heart every time she saw it. She hadn’t been to church now for the past two weeks. She just couldn’t face him and that enigmatic look he had when she came close to him.
These days it seemed as if he had moved on. He had brought Rose to Cathy’s wedding and she had had to endure standing up in her bridesmaid dress once again and staring at him as he performed as one of the attendant ministers.
She felt like singing really loudly to the bridge of the song that was playing, as it well reflected her thoughts, 'When the truth is, I miss you so.'
Whoever, wrote the song was surely privy to her situation. She sniffed as she gazed out into the parking lot. She was in no mood to go to the appreciation party thrown by Lawrence and Rich for their clients and business associates. But Horace had called her and specifically asked her to come. She had reluctantly agreed because it was a wise business move and because Mark and the other partners were going and would fully expect her to come since she managed the account.
Apart from the business obligation, she felt pretty grateful to Horace for standing up for her when she was down. She had grown to like him over the months and couldn’t help envying Rose that she had such a great father.
The last chord of the song faded and Maribel checked her face and wiped her eyes delicately with a wet wipe. They looked a little damp but the
re was no reason that anybody would conclude that she was crying. She checked her dress and smiled vaguely as she locked the car door. She was in a white cocktail dress, which showed a hint more of her upper torso than she normally allowed. It flared out to the ground but had an indecent split at the side, which revealed her nicely toned legs. She had lost a stone since the breakup with Brian, or was it a breakdown.
He had never really come to her and said, “Maribel, it’s over.” But she was no fool and she was well aware that when a man went out of his way to avoid you for three months that was pretty much it.
She had felt reckless when purchasing the outfit. She had gazed in the mirror of the store and somehow her eyes had blurred and she had imagined that the dress was a white wedding dress and that she was fitting for her wedding. Unfortunately, reality intruded and she had come back to earth, but she had taken the dress anyway. And thought comically that she looked like a virginal ex-whore.
The function was being held on the top floor of the hotel at a suite named the Talk of the Town, which overlooked a good slice of Kingston. Maribel stood in a corner, trying to avoid several persons, including Mark and his beady eyes and Thelma and her superior attitude, but had gotten stuck in a conversation with Michael Rich, a distinguished looking gentleman in his mid-fifties. He had singled her out and was telling her a witty discourse about his efforts to make the track team in high school and then it hit Maribel that he was the other partner, he was Rose’s real father. After that sudden realization she had lost her bored posture and had perked up, staring intently at his face, trying to decipher if Rose had any of his features.
She catalogued the similarities and wondered how Thelma slept at night with such a huge secret. Especially when they had been meeting in settings like this for years.
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