Coming Home

by Stacy Hawkins Adams

  What if she had lost Warren? Over a man who was not only married to someone else, but who also didn’t have long to live?

  She wanted to roll over and pull the covers over her head and stay in bed, but executive duties called. Some of her back-to-back meetings slated for today couldn’t be rescheduled, plus lying in bed and thinking about her woes all day would make them larger than life.

  Half an hour later, she finally stood in the shower, letting the water glide over her skin, and prepared to have her morning talk with God.

  What have I done, Lord? Warren wanted to marry me! I was finally going to have a family. And now he thinks I love Brent more than him. I can’t believe this.

  Fortunately none of her meetings today included the marketing department, so she wouldn’t have to sit across a table from Warren and try to remain composed. She inhaled and exhaled deeply several times to center herself and did what she knew she should have done months ago.

  Lord, I surrender this entire situation to you — my relationship with Warren, my friendship with Brent, the tension between Tamara and me, and Lily and me — everything. I don’t know what to do with it anymore. Have your way, may your will be done, and may I survive the outcome, knowing that you’ll do what’s best for me.

  The end of her own prayer told her she subconsciously believed it was over with Warren, though that thought terrified her. What if God allowed that nightmare to be true?

  That possibility made her weep harder. She wanted him. She needed him. Didn’t he know that?

  By the time she emerged from the shower and slid into a white linen pantsuit and fuchsia blouse, the redness of her eyes had faded. But her heart was still heavy.

  She skipped her usual breakfast of oatmeal and fruit and breezed through the kitchen to grab her cell phone on her way to her car. Once buckled in and backed out of the garage, she paused in the driveway to listen to the message from Carmen. She sounded weak.

  “I heard you came by the office yesterday. I’m still home sick, but call me on my cell if you need me. I don’t think I’ll be in the office at all this week. This flu bug is something else.”

  Yes, the nurse in Dayna thought, definitely keep the flu germs out of the office.

  She was tempted to call Carmen right away, but felt bad about disturbing her friend while she was miserably ill. Instead, she dialed Warren’s cell. When he didn’t answer, she wondered if he was getting the boys off to school, had the phone in another room, or simply didn’t want to talk to her.

  Can I blame him, Lord?

  She maneuvered through the morning traffic and, half an hour later, pulled into her reserved parking space at the hospital.

  God, give me the strength to focus, to be productive, and to make it through this day, come what may.

  She managed on the elevator ride up to return Carmen’s call and briefly filled her in on Brent’s rapid decline and the need to turn over the execution of the foundation to her. Even after acknowledging that Warren was right — she still loved Brent and enjoyed being in his company — she knew she had to step back — for the sake of his marriage and to give herself time to sort out the mess her life had become.

  “I think it’s easier on everyone this way,” Dayna told Carmen, without going into detail about Warren’s — or Tamara’s — concerns. “My only ‘Are you sure?’ warning is that you will probably have to drive to Cocoa Beach for the meetings, instead of having Brent and Tamara come to Calero. Brent seems to be getting weaker by the day.”

  Carmen coughed. “That’s no problem; I can do that once or twice a week for a few weeks. But keep in mind that it may be a while before I can get down there, with this virus and all. He can’t be exposed to me until I’m completely well.”

  Dayna stepped off the elevator, thankful that her cell phone hadn’t dropped the call.

  “Yeah, I know. Whatever you can do to speed things along will be appreciated, I’m sure,” Dayna said. “Thanks so much, Carmen. I’ll inform Brent and Tamara that you’ll be taking over as soon as you are well. Get some rest, okay?”

  She clicked off the phone and waved to colleagues as she passed their offices on the way to hers. Monica greeted her with coffee, a stack of files, and a pat on the shoulder.

  “This will be a busy day, boss. I’ll make sure you get through it as smoothly as possible. I’ve got your back.”

  Dayna flinched. That was a promise Warren usually made. She wondered if she’d ever hear it again.

  She gave Monica a thumbs-up, because she didn’t trust herself to speak. Once she settled into her seat, though, she switched into executive mode and managed to shut out the world outside of Chesdin Medical.

  Dayna loved what she did, and she was good at it. Helping on the front lines of nursing had been her passion for many years, but this way her service had lasting impact not only on the nursing staff, but also on the patients they helped. Her first meeting of the day was with Spencer regarding some of the general-floor nurses’ request to work rotating shifts in the expanding hospice program. She thought it would be an asset to have RNs from general care areas serving hospice patients, even as assistants to the regular hospice nurses. But Spencer was worried about how this would affect their need for nurses to staff the main hospital.

  Dayna pulled out the top file Monica had given her and quickly jotted a list of pros and cons in the margins of the first page of the document.

  Thank God she wouldn’t have much downtime today. Five o’clock would be here before she knew it; she had to get busy. At some point during the day, she’d find time to email Warren to check in and to call Brent and tell him about the plans to have Carmen take over the foundation.

  It might be too late to save her relationship with Warren, but maybe she could help salvage Brent’s relationship with Tamara while they still had time together. She’d realized as she lay awake in bed last night that she’d never forgive herself if, instead of making sweet memories, Brent and Tamara spent their last days together at odds because of her presence.

  She thought about how she would feel if she were in Tamara’s shoes and a woman who had once been very important to her husband showed up and infused herself into his life in such a significant way. When her thoughts turned immediately to Warren and Lily, she knew.

  The ringing phone brought Dayna back to the present. She pressed the speakerphone button on her desktop device.

  “Yes?”

  “Brent Davidson is on line one. I know you’re swamped, but I thought I’d ask if this is an important call, just in case.”

  Dayna sighed. She had no time for distractions today, but she did need to let him know that Carmen was going to be working with him.

  “Put him through, but if I’m not off in five minutes, come in and rescue me.”

  “Got it,” Monica said.

  Seconds later, Brent’s voice filled her ears. “Good morning, my lady.”

  “Good morning, Brent. Are you back home? How are you feeling?”

  “Yes, I’m back home and feeling pretty strong, so I was just wondering if you could come down today. I thought we might be able to finish writing the executive summary for the foundation.”

  Dayna paused and tossed her pen from one hand to the other.

  “Actually, Brent, I was going to call you about that. First of all, I’m not able to come today because I have so much going on at work that when I leave I’ll be exhausted. But I also wanted to tell you Carmen is going to be helping you wrap up things now. She’s the in-house foundation expert anyway, so I’m passing the leadership over to her.”

  “Why?”

  The simple and straightforward question caught her off guard. She shouldn’t have been surprised; this was classic Brent.

  “It’s just best this way, Brent, okay? I’m at work and can’t go into a lot of details right now. I’ll call you later to check in. Carmen’s sick with the flu, so she can’t come down today or probably at all this week. But don’t worry, she won’t drop the ball. I trust her.�
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  The silence that loomed told her Brent wasn’t happy. He’d have to get over it this time.

  “Gotta run, Brent, okay? I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Yeah. Bet.”

  He hung up before she could. Dayna shook her head and tried to refocus. Let him be mad; she couldn’t fix it this time.

  She sat back in her seat and twiddled her pen between her fingers. Maybe that had been one of their issues all along; she had been so busy trying to keep him happy and please him that he’d never realized it should be a mutual effort. Her feelings and needs mattered as much as his.

  She’d never told him that, she realized; she had expected him to know. Maybe if she had been more vocal, he would have been less self-centered.

  She put her pen down and massaged her temples to ease the tension forming there. She couldn’t psychoanalyze herself or Brent today; she needed to focus on the mountain of work and meetings before her. Her iPhone made a pinging sound, and she saw that today’s Scripture had popped up on the phone’s display screen:

  Cause me to hear Your loving kindness in the morning,

  For in You do I trust;

  Cause me to know the way in which I should walk,

  For I lift up my soul to You. (Psalm 143:8 NKJV)

  The verse reminded her she wasn’t in control; God had the whole world, including every issue in her life, in his hands. She opened the second folder on the stack that Monica had handed her this morning so she could make notes on its contents. First, however, she bowed her head and closed her eyes and uttered a silent prayer.

  Lord, please open Brent’s eyes during this difficult season so that he can see the abundant love and support surrounding him and take none of it for granted. Let Carmen be able to help him get the foundation finalized so he can transition to your arms in peace when the time comes. Amen.

  Dayna felt at peace with her decision. Now if she could just get some clarity around her relationship with Warren and with her family. The Easter visit was going to be hard without Warren there to support her and make her laugh at Mama and Daddy’s quirkiness. Simply put, without Warren, life was going to be hard.

  fifty-three

  The judge entered the courtroom through a side entrance behind the bench, and Dayna prepared herself for the words she often heard on TV dramas: “All rise!”

  The bailiff uttered the phrase, and she and others in the courtroom gallery stood as a thirtyish woman with a short brown bob strode to the bench. The County Court courtroom was full. Defendants prepared to stand before the judge to plead for mercy in traffic cases, petty larceny arrests, and simple assaults.

  Audrey’s case was called two hours into the court session, and the minute her friend stood to walk to the front of the courtroom with her attorney, Dayna’s heart began racing. She felt as if she herself were on trial.

  A tall, reed-thin African American woman sat behind the prosecutor’s table on the first row of public seating and kept her eyes glued on the defendant’s table. The fair-skinned man next to her followed her lead, but Dayna saw him peering at Audrey as if he knew her. This must be the infamous Raymond, Dayna surmised.

  Dayna studied the man more closely. He had close-cropped, wavy hair and appeared to have a dimple on his left cheek. When he turned toward his wife, whose perfect posture made her appear regal, and put his arm around the back of her seat, Dayna saw just how handsome he was, a quality he clearly used to his advantage.

  The court clerk stood and read the charge against Audrey: one count of simple assault against Evelyn Anderson.

  The female judge peered at Audrey over her glasses. “How do you plead?”

  Audrey cleared her throat and said, “Guilty,” so softly that Dayna almost missed it.

  “Could you repeat that loud enough for the clerk to record, please?”

  The judge’s expression and voice conveyed no emotion.

  “Guilty,” Audrey said again, this time louder.

  Her shoulders were shaking, and Dayna wanted to go over and hug her.

  “Judge, Ms. Hammond is pleading guilty to take full responsibility for her actions,” her attorney, a dapper silver-haired gentleman in a three-piece suit, said. “However, given that this is her first offense, we are asking for the court to show mercy.”

  He rummaged through a folder and pulled out several pieces of paper, which he handed to the bailiff to give to the judge. “I’m providing you with documentation of Ms. Hammond’s solid work history and a letter of reference from her boss. Her boss has also offered to help place her in an appropriate community service setting if you’re in agreement.”

  Dayna was impressed at how the attorney answered the judge’s questions before they were asked, and in doing so, avoided mentioning where Audrey worked or who her boss was. Then again, this was an attorney that Spencer recommended; of course he was the best.

  The judge took a few minutes to review the information.

  “I see you have been thorough as usual, Mr. Caldwell. To your point, this is Ms. Hammond’s first offense, and based on the little testimony I’ve heard this morning, plus reviewing the case history, I am comfortable with rendering a sentence within your requested parameters.

  “Ms. Hammond, will you please stand?”

  Audrey stood again and the nervous twitch resumed.

  “I hereby accept your guilty plea and sentence you to three hundred hours of community service, to be performed under the direction of your probation officer and the designated supervisor at Hospice of Hope, where you’ll undertake and complete whatever tasks they see fit. Understood?”

  “Understood, Your Honor,” Audrey said. “Thank you for this second chance.”

  “We appreciate the lenient sentence, Your Honor,” her attorney chimed in. “My client has written a letter of apology to the victim, which we’d like to deliver today, and she is looking forward to completing her community service to the best of her ability.”

  Mr. Caldwell provided the letter Audrey had written Raymond’s wife to the judge, who read it before passing it on to the prosecutor to give to the victim, who declined to make a statement during the proceedings.

  The judge banged her gavel to quell the murmuring that arose in the courtroom.

  Dayna glanced at the woman seated with her husband behind the prosecutor. She didn’t seem upset either way, which left Dayna even more curious about her. Her husband leaned over and whispered something in her ear and she nodded without looking in his direction.

  Audrey and her attorney filed out of the courtroom, and Dayna was right behind them. Once in the lobby, Audrey hugged her attorney before turning to give Dayna a tight squeeze.

  “Thank you — thank you so much, Mr. Caldwell,” she said. “What happens next?”

  He smiled at Dayna and looked back and forth between her and Audrey.

  “The judge will submit your paperwork to the probation team, and in about two weeks you’ll be contacted by the probation officer assigned to you,” Mr. Caldwell said. “In the meantime, since your boss has connections to the hospice where you’ll be volunteering, you two can get the ball rolling with the community service hours by contacting the hospice program to get you started.”

  “Thank you,” Audrey said.

  Dayna extended her hand to Mr. Caldwell and thanked him as well. “You were wonderful in there today.”

  He smiled. “Another client needs me in about fifteen minutes. Good day to you both.”

  He walked away without looking back, and Audrey shrugged. “He can be as arrogant as he likes; he helped save my life today.”

  Dayna started to point out that it was a simple assault charge, not murder, but decided to leave it alone. She hadn’t walked in Audrey’s shoes, so she didn’t know what this public embarrassment or a conviction of any kind felt like.

  She looped her arm through Audrey’s and pulled her along toward the courthouse exit. “Come on — let’s grab some lunch and do a little retail therapy. One of your favorite stores is having
a blowout sale today.”

  Audrey smirked. “You’re acting as if we have something to celebrate.”

  “You do — the fact that God has given you a second chance, my friend.”

  Audrey smiled. “Hadn’t thought about it like that; you’re right.”

  They exited the courthouse and were greeted by the sun-filled Florida sky. When they were near Dayna’s car, Audrey stopped and followed a dark blue Mercedes with her eyes as it cruised past them and out of the courthouse’s winding driveway.

  “He acted like I didn’t exist today,” Audrey said.

  Dayna frowned. “Come on, Audrey. Did you expect any different with his wife right beside him?”

  Audrey sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know what I expected. More than that, after a year of devoting my life to him. Guess I’m a bigger fool than you thought, huh?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think, friend; what matters is what you know,” Dayna said. “You know he’s married to someone else, so he can never fully give himself to you. You know he’s selfish and self-centered by the way he treated his wife and you. And I hope you know that you deserve way more than that.”

  Dayna and Audrey hugged, and Audrey wiped away a few tears before settling into Dayna’s car.

  “I’m beginning to understand that, as old as I am,” Audrey said, and laughed. “Let’s hit this sale you mentioned.”

  fifty-four

  An hour later, each of them had a couple of outfits priced 40 to 50 percent off, and they were now rummaging through designer purses.

  Dayna stood nearby as Audrey struck up a conversation with a petite blond woman who had her grandson in tow.

  “I need a new bag, but it needs to fit my body type,” the woman told Audrey. “You and I are about the same height and size — those big hobo bags swallow us!”

  Audrey nodded and grinned at Dayna, who was holding her oversized tan purse while she searched for a new one. The woman asked Audrey to “try on” each of the bags she liked for herself, so she could see if they worked on a petite frame.