Coming Home

by Stacy Hawkins Adams

  “Where was I?” Warren said into the cell.

  “Telling me that you don’t think I should inform Brent about his wife’s inappropriate call,” Dayna said.

  Dayna paused at a stop sign and looked both ways down the dark street before making a right turn.

  “Leave it alone,” Warren said. “She obviously has some issues with Brent getting back in touch with you, despite her agreeing to his surprise visit to your house and the dinner invitation. Can you blame her? She’s got to be going through a lot.”

  Dayna decided to ignore Warren’s sympathetic view of Tamara. “I can’t believe her. I made a call just like that to her, years ago, when she was dating Brent while he was married to me. At least I was justified.”

  “Dayna, you know by now that no good comes from rehashing past wrongs,” Warren said. “If you aren’t careful, you’ll get stuck there. You home yet?”

  Dayna turned another corner and this time sat idling at a traffic light. “In another five minutes. How close are you?”

  “I’m pulling into the driveway,” he said. “I’ll stay on the phone with you until you get inside.”

  “Such a gentleman,” Dayna teased. She wondered what it would be like to live with him and have him serve as her protector and her husband.

  “Stop kissing up to me,” he said, but she knew he was blushing.

  When she entered her kitchen, he bid her farewell. “Gotta check on Michael and Mason and make them get to bed,” he said. “Then I’m calling it a night. My first meeting is at seven in the morning. Thanks for treating me to the ribs, babe. Delicious as always. And yes, the greens were off the chain.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetie,” Dayna said.

  She fell into her usual routine of preparing a cup of hot tea.

  “Tell the boys I said hello, and tell Michael I’m already praying that all goes well with his surgery.”

  Dayna ended the call and took her tea into the bedroom, where she rummaged through her dresser in search of sleepwear. It was just 9:20, a good two hours earlier than her bedtime. But no catching up on a novel or watching her favorite sitcom on demand tonight. She felt drained by all of the day’s events.

  Dayna pressed the speaker on her bedside phone so she could hear her new messages. She sat on the bed and sipped her tea while she listened.

  The first voicemail was from her neighbor, Mary, inviting her to a Bunco party over the weekend.

  The next message was a surprise.

  “Hello, Dayna? This is Mama. Haven’t heard from you in a while. Can you give me a call as soon as possible?”

  Dayna’s stomach grew tense. Great. There went her good night’s sleep. She could put off calling Mama until tomorrow, but she’d spend all night wondering what she wanted.

  “Let me get it over with now.” Alabama’s time zone was an hour earlier than central Florida’s, so it was just eight-something there — perfect timing for her mother to lead a long evening chat.

  Dayna set her mug on the nightstand and tapped the telephone digits she’d learned in kindergarten.

  Daddy answered with a smile in his booming voice. “How’s my oldest daughter doing? Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

  “Hi, Daddy. How are you?” Dayna had learned it was safer not to try and explain herself. Daddy always had the last word, and in his world, his word was always right.

  “I’m doing fine, just settling in for a cold evening. We might actually get some snow this week, the weatherman says. Gotta get down to the church tomorrow to make sure everything is secured, in case we have to cancel Bible study.”

  Dayna knew that would be his top priority. The family home might also need “securing,” but his beloved church was going to be taken care of first, and whatever energy or resources he had left over may or may not cover the rest.

  “Is Mama around? I’m returning her call.”

  “She’s right here,” Daddy said. Dayna heard him huff and puff as he pushed himself up from his favorite chair to put the phone in her mother’s hand.

  “Take care, Daddy. Nice talking to you,” Dayna said before he made the transfer.

  “You too, young lady. Don’t be such a stranger.”

  Was he actually indicating that he missed her? Dayna wasn’t sure if that was the case, or if he was just making small talk.

  She heard her mother fumbling the phone to position.

  “Well, hello, Dayna,” she said in her sing-song Southern drawl. “How you been?”

  “Fine, Mama, just busy. How about you?”

  “I’m doing good, dear. Been keeping busy with your little nephews running underfoot in the afternoons. Shiloh is teaching piano most evenings now, so I offered to watch the boys.”

  Dayna smirked. Ah, Shiloh. Ever the perfect daughter, following in Mama’s footsteps as a good preacher’s wife, mother, and community member.

  “So what’s up?” Dayna asked.

  “Oh, I haven’t talked to you in a while, so I was calling to say hello, first of all,” Mama said. “Then I started thinking about Easter …”

  Here it comes, Dayna thought.

  “And I realized we didn’t see you at Thanksgiving or Christmas,” Mama said. “It would be a shame for another major holiday to go by and you not spend it with family.”

  “I wasn’t alone, though, Mama,” Dayna said. “Remember I had Thanksgiving here, because Vanora and her parents came to town to visit her great-aunt Duchess. Then Warren and I took his sons on a cruise for Christmas. Remember?”

  “I haven’t forgotten all of that,” Mama said. “But you and Warren aren’t married. What kind of example was that setting for his sons? And you know I love Vanora, but she would have understood if you had come home. You’ve been away so long, the folks at church are starting to talk.”

  Bingo. Mama’s words always had a way of winding to the heart of a matter.

  “Mama, I’m nearly forty,” Dayna said. “Why on earth would my absence over the holidays be something to talk about? It’s not like I’m in college and failing to come home during breaks. And by the way, Warren shared a cabin on the Christmas cruise with the boys. I stayed in my own space, on the other side of the ship. Anyway … what do you have in mind for Easter?”

  If she didn’t cut to the chase, Mama would beat around the bush for the next hour.

  “Would you be able to make it home that weekend? It’s in late March this year, and we’d all love to have you here. It happens to fall the week of Daddy’s pastoral anniversary too, and we might even want you to sing a solo during service.”

  She rolled her eyes. Was this visit for show, or because they wanted to see her? She hadn’t been able to tell for a long, long time. The oldest child in a family was usually the most doted on, from what she’d always heard, but every time she talked with her folks, she wound up feeling like the black sheep. That had been the case since she and Brent split, and all these years later, nothing had changed.

  Her hoping was in vain again tonight. Maybe one day Mama and Daddy would call to talk with her just because they wanted to hear her voice or invite her home without expecting a performance. That’s what she wanted, but that wasn’t reality.

  “Can I bring Warren?”

  Now it was Mama’s turn to pause.

  “Well, of course you know we like Warren,” she began, “but I don’t know how the congregation would handle …”

  “Why are you worried about the congregation, Mama? Shouldn’t you be worried about making sure that as your guest, Warren feels comfortable, especially in the Lord’s house?”

  Her voice had risen and Dayna knew she was bordering on being disrespectful. She took it down a notch.

  “Mama, you and Daddy need to understand how important Warren is to me. We may be getting married.”

  Mama gasped.

  “Why are you so surprised?” Dayna asked. “I’ve been dating him for eighteen months. What did you think?”

  “Has he asked you?”

  “Not formal
ly, but we’ve discussed it,” Dayna said.

  “Well, it’s never formal until he asks,” Mama said, with palpable relief. “Why not wait and bring him for a visit when it’s official?”

  Dayna’s heart ached.

  “Maybe I need to wait until ‘it’s official’ to visit myself,” she said. “I’ve gotta run, Mama. It’s almost ten p.m. here, and I’ve had a long day.”

  “So you aren’t going to come, Dayna? I really want you to come, it’s just that …”

  Dayna couldn’t handle any more excuses right now. Appearances still mattered most to Mama and to Daddy, regardless of the truths that lay behind them. What would they say if she told them their favorite former son-in-law had stopped by out of the blue last week to apologize?

  Dayna bet he’d still be welcome at the church, even after abandoning their daughter. In Atchity, Alabama, and especially in the Wilson household, Brent Davidson still held star status, though he’d only played for Alabama U for two years.

  Dayna quashed the despair that threatened to engulf her whenever she tried to talk to Mama about something meaningful.

  Mama’s voice trailed off, so Dayna finished the sentiment for her. “It’s just that you and Daddy need to do what’s best for the church, right? I understand,” Dayna said. “I’m going to run now. Thank you for the invitation to visit at Easter. I’ll let you know something soon, maybe by the end of the week. You take care, and kiss the boys for me. And by the way, will Jessica be coming home?”

  Mama hesitated. Dayna knew that meant her baby sister was on the fence as well. She’d call Jessica tomorrow and get the scoop. If her fabulously successful sibling couldn’t fit a visit home into her busy professional speaking schedule, maybe Dayna needed to be conveniently busy too.

  twenty-one

  In the week since Dayna had followed Warren’s advice, life seemed to be returning to normal.

  She kept her mouth shut about the call from Tamara and moved on. She was stunned then, when just after lunch today, Monica buzzed her office intercom and told her a woman named Tamara was in the lobby, waiting to see her.

  Dayna asked Monica to repeat herself.

  “Yes,” Monica reiterated. “She says her name is Tamara Davidson.”

  Dayna stood and walked around to the front of the desk. She looked herself up and down, surveying the black pantsuit she had worn today with her three-inch heels. She and Tamara were both ladies, but if she needed to defend herself, she could step out of the shoes and handle her business.

  “Send her in,” she said to Monica, and folded her arms across her chest.

  Seconds later, Monica swung open the door and ushered in Tamara, who was casually glamorous in jeans and a wrap top. The polished makeup, curly hairdo, and oversized designer purse helped her make an entrance that was also a statement.

  Dayna felt dull in comparison. Had this been one of her friends, she would have rewarded Tamara with a “Wow.” Instead, she nodded and motioned for her to have a seat.

  “This is a surprise,” Dayna said from her perch on the front of the desk.

  Tamara nodded. “I know, and I apologize for bothering you in the middle of your workday. But I figured having one Davidson show up unexpectedly at your home was probably enough.”

  Dayna crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “True,” she said. “So, what brings you here?”

  Tamara shrugged. “You’re probably tired of us Davidsons apologizing too, but I came to ask you to excuse that phone call I made a week ago, insisting that you not call Brent. I talked with him about it and realized that I was out of line. I had no right to accuse you, especially when Brent sought you out, so I’m sorry.”

  Dayna wondered what had prompted this olive branch but decided not to question it. “Apology accepted.”

  She wondered how Brent was faring, but in light of the reason that Tamara had come, she wasn’t sure it was a good idea to even ask about him. Tamara must have sensed the hesitation.

  “You’re welcome to call him and help him with the foundation, if you want.”

  Dayna’s brows furrowed. “Excuse me? Did you and Brent receive my email with the information I sent? Did he contact Carmen to schedule a lunch meeting?”

  Tamara sighed, and her voice wavered. “We got it, and we read it, and to be honest, it took us back to square one,” she said. “There’s just so much involved in doing this, I know my eyes glazed over. And Brent … Brent can fool you when he wants. He can make it through a dinner or a short visit and have you thinking he’s okay, but he’s been in a lot of pain the past week, so he hasn’t felt up to reviewing the information and considering what the next steps should be.”

  Dayna’s spirits sank. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Tamara’s eyes filled with tears. “Me too,” she said. “I don’t understand why this is happening.” She seemed to remember where she was and to whom she was talking, and with a sniff and a sigh, she pulled herself together and continued. “He hasn’t been feeling well lately, but all he can think about and talk about is this darn foundation. In a way, I think …”

  Dayna could tell she was still struggling with how much to say.

  “He wants to be remembered for having done something of value, and he’s pinning his hopes on this foundation helping him do that. But with the way he’s been feeling this week, I’m not sure how much progress he can make on his own. I do think … if you can … would you be willing to walk us through the process and help us get an idea of where to start and who can help us long-term? I know you have a career and all, and we don’t want to do anything that would take you away from that, but if you could get us started, Brent would … we would sincerely appreciate it.” Tamara released another big sigh, which seemed to help rein in the tears.

  Dayna was surprised at herself — her heart went out to Tamara. It must have taken a lot of courage for Tamara to come to her in the first place, but especially about a project that would require Dayna to work closely with Brent to help fulfill his wishes. But she had to honor her own truths.

  “Tamara, I don’t know what to tell you,” Dayna said. “You and I — and Brent — have some pretty ugly history. I thought you were a friend and all the while I was busy trying to help you settle into our neighborhood and make friends, you were helping yourself to my husband. Why do you and Brent think you have the right to receive my help, just because it’s convenient and you need it?”

  Tamara nodded. “I understand where you’re coming from, Dayna. Believe me, just as hard as it is for you to consider doing this, it’s hard for me to ask.” She hesitated. “Dayna, would you mind if we pray about this — together?”

  Dayna’s eyes grew wide. But she acknowledged her consent by bowing her head, and Tamara followed suit.

  “Lord, here we are, two sinners saved by grace, trying to figure out how to help one of your children. We don’t know what’s best for Brent, but you do. We don’t even really know what to pray for. We’re just praying for him to be healed as you see fit, for him to be given emotional strength, and for guidance on how to launch this foundation he’s dreamed of for so long. If it’s your will, please give Dayna and me the grace, the strength, and the patience to work together on this project, so that in the end, Brent’s wishes are fulfilled and your name is glorified. Amen.”

  Tamara raised her head and Dayna recognized gratitude in her eyes. Tamara rose from the cushioned office chair as if she wanted to hug Dayna, but thought better of it. She stood there, facing Dayna, looking lovely and lost.

  What could Dayna say? She had expected an argument or worse, but Tamara had delivered a knockout punch with prayer.

  “I’ll follow up with Carmen to see when she’s available to meet with you, me, and Brent for lunch, okay?” Dayna said. “We’ll get the ball rolling sooner rather than later and try to give Brent some peace of mind.” She’d ease her way into this, and see what happened.

  Tamara nodded. “Thank you, Dayna. Thank you.”

  With that, she pi
cked up her purse and turned to leave. She closed the office door behind her without looking back.

  Dayna sat transfixed for a while, processing all that had just occurred. Tamara might be camera-ready pretty and may have done some terrible things in the past, but she clearly loved Brent enough to put aside her issues for his sake. As much as Dayna had loved Brent when she was married to him, she didn’t know if she would have had the guts to approach her husband’s former wife and invite her into their lives. Where was this ride going to take them?

  twenty-two

  Seconds after sliding behind the wheel of her GMC, Tamara let go. Her head collapsed in her hands and she wept until she experienced dry heaves.

  Her tears were for Brent, who was at home in bed today, writhing in pain and worrying whether he’d finish all of the tasks on his personal to-do list. They were also for the babies she’d never have with her husband. After five years of trying with no success, the discovery of Brent’s cancer and the chemo and radiation that followed had snuffed out the dream. The realization hit Tamara again yesterday, when a coworker at the bank announced her pregnancy.

  These tears were also a sigh of relief for having done today what she didn’t want to do — ask a favor of Dayna, the woman in whose shadow she realized she’d always stand, at least when it came to Brent and his extended family.

  And finally, she cried for herself and for her dying dreams. Being the good wife, the long-suffering caretaker and companion, and the perfect daughter was taking a toll. She released her frustration through these tears and prayed that God would let them cleanse her.

  The sobs subsided and Tamara rested her forehead against the steering wheel. She must look a hot mess, she imagined, with tears and smeared makeup creating trails across her face. She rummaged through her floppy bag until she found a package of tissues and cleaned herself up. Minutes later, Tamara started the car and headed toward Cocoa Beach.

  Mom was at home with Brent, but since this morning had been so rough, Tamara didn’t feel comfortable leaving him for long. Neither of them knew where she’d gone, and Brent would probably be sleeping when she got home. She couldn’t wait to see his face when she told him not to fret; his dream of leaving a legacy for other college athletes was still alive.