Chapter Seven
VANESSA
Another night. Alone. Another dream.
Vanessa tossed in her sleep, struggling to find Reed, needing to see his face like she had every night since he’d left for heaven. She opened her mouth, wanting to call for him. But no sound came. And neither did Reed.
But then she heard him. She dashed toward the voice. In the bathroom—that’s where he was. But when she rushed into the room, all that was there were the bottles—the orange containers that she’d lined on the counter. But now there were not six, seven, or eight bottles—there were hundreds.
The bottles moved, metamorphosing into bodies. Now the containers had ears, eyes, mouths. And the bottles laughed. And danced. And their eyes watched her, taunted and teased her.
It was a song; they sang, If you do it, you won’t hurt anymore. Her head ached with their mocking.
She stepped toward the counter. Reached toward one bottle—it leaped into her hand. She dumped its contents into her palm, lifted the pills to her mouth, and then…there was nothing.
Vanessa looked at her hand; the pills were gone. She frowned. She needed those pills. It didn’t matter. There were more.
But the bottles had moved, formed a new line, were now in the shape of a heart.
She grabbed the first bottle—it slipped through her hand, touched the ground, and then, poof! it was gone. The same with the second, third, fourth, fifth bottle. Each bottle fell away—until there were none.
Vanessa shouted, “I want the pills. Give me the pills!”
“No.”
It was a soft voice. Vanessa searched the bathroom—under the cabinets, inside the shower. But there was no one.
“Give me my pills!” she yelled.
“No.” Gentle. Guiding.
She stood in the center of the room, spinning, searching for the one who was speaking. “Where are you?”
“In your heart,” the voice said over and over. Again and again.
And then the pills came back. At first, the bottles just mocked her—laughed and teased. But then the containers jumped her, a vicious attack.
Vanessa screamed; bolted up straight in the bed. Her skin glistened with sweat. She panted, as if she’d just run a race, as if she’d just fought a fight. In the dark, her eyes searched for the bottles. Her ears strained to hear the voice.
Nothing.
She clicked on the lamp, turning the dark into light.
Still, nothing.
It was only a dream.
Chapter Eight
VANESSA
Vanessa pulled open the wooden door of the church wearing the smile that she’d fixed on her face the moment she’d slid into her car.
“What are you doing here?” Charlotte, a woman who had been an usher from Hope Chapel’s beginning, accosted Vanessa the moment she stepped inside.
“What do you mean?” Vanessa took one of the programs that were almost slipping from Charlotte’s hand. “I’m here every Sunday.”
“I know, but Reed…” Charlotte’s wide eyes now became sad and the ends of her lips turned down. “Vanessa, I’m so sorry,” she offered softly. But then as quickly as compassion came, it was gone and in its place was the glow of morbid curiosity. “You know,” Charlotte began again, this time leaning in close. “I didn’t feel right asking at the funeral, but do you know why Reed…did what he did?”
Vanessa lost her smile.
Charlotte continued, “I mean, suicide, that’s so serious. Why did he do it? Was he just tired of living?” She fired her questions like an award-winning journalist. “Were you two having problems?”
With each question, Vanessa’s mouth opened wider.
“Charlotte, I always knew you were an idiot.” Louise stepped from behind Vanessa and took her hand, dragging her friend away.
“Thank you,” was all Vanessa could say when she finally spoke.
Louise shrugged. “That’s what best friends are for.”
“I didn’t know what to say.” Vanessa shook her head. “I should have been able to handle that, but I was so surprised.”
“Hmph,” Louise started as she led Vanessa to a seat. “You couldn’t have handled that—no one knows how to handle stupidity.” Once seated, Louise added, “But at least one of Charlotte’s questions made sense. What are you doing here?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Because you need some time. And you need to give dummies like Charlotte time to move on to the next piece of gossip.”
Vanessa shook her head. “I don’t need time away from God. I need to stay close to Him.” The dream she’d had last night flashed through her mind. She shuddered.
Louise peered at her friend for a moment, then with a small smile, she wrapped her arms around her. “You know I love you, right?”
Vanessa nodded, but opened her bulletin, keeping her eyes away from her friend. She’d been shaken by Charlotte, and didn’t want to become more rattled by Louise’s emotions. She had to keep all tears away.
She breathed with relief when the Praise Team strolled onto the stage. But when she stood to join in the worship, Vanessa could feel the stares. And she could hear the whispers. And she certainly knew their thoughts. They were all like Charlotte—without care or concern. They all just wanted the juicy details of her tragedy.
Vanessa raised her head higher and clapped her hands to the music’s beat. No one would see her distress. No one would see on the outside what stirred inside her head.
As she sang, her eyes settled on the pulpit—and on the space below. She froze, imagining the forty-eight hours before, when Reed’s coffin had lain in that place.
She dropped into her seat. She hadn’t thought about this. Hadn’t thought that every time she stepped into this sanctuary, she’d be reminded of her husband’s final services.
You’re going to be all right, the small voice spoke.
Her head responded, If you do it, you won’t hurt anymore.
Louise glanced down. “Are you okay?”
Vanessa nodded. “Just tired.” With all that was within her, she plastered happiness on her face and stood again. She clapped, and sang, and swayed, and the tears flowed inside.
If you do it, you won’t hurt anymore.
When Pastor Ford sauntered onto the pulpit, Vanessa’s eyes roamed around the church, soaking in the familiar place. She’d had wonderful times in this sanctuary, listening to the preaching and the teaching, meeting with friends during good and bad times.
If you do it, you won’t hurt anymore.
And she wondered if she would ever be in this place, alive, again.
“Remember,” Pastor Ford began as she motioned for the congregation to stand, “there’s a reason why we sing ‘Speak to my Heart.’ That’s where He is. That’s where He’ll talk to you. And, it’s right there—in your heart, where you have to listen.”
The pastor bowed her head for the benediction, and Vanessa pondered her words. Thought about the voice that she felt in her heart. Thought more about the relentless voice that pounded inside her head.
“Have a blessed week,” Pastor Ford said with a wave of her hand. “And hug someone on the way out.”
Vanessa turned to the woman sitting on the other side of her. “Have a blessed week.”
“You too, Vanessa,” the woman whispered when they hugged.
Vanessa stood back, surprised that this woman—whom she’d only seen once, maybe twice—knew her name. She smiled, but before she could turn away, the woman added, “I’m so sorry to hear about your husband.”
“Thank you.” Vanessa whipped around, ending the conversation before it began. She’d taken just one step into the aisle when the woman tapped her shoulder.
“Vanessa, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I’ve been so curious. Didn’t you see any of the signs from your husband before he…killed himself?”
Slowly, Vanessa twisted back toward the woman. For the second time that morning, she’d been shocked into silence. �
��What?”
The stranger repeated her question.
“Excuse me,” Louise interjected and grabbed her friend’s hand. “I cannot believe these people,” Louise muttered as the two marched toward the back doors.
“Vanessa!”
They turned, poised for battle right in the middle of the sanctuary. But both relaxed when they faced the smiling face of Etta-Marie, Pastor Ford’s assistant.
“Hey, girl.” Etta-Marie wrapped her arms around Vanessa. “Good to see you.” She smiled at Louise before she continued, “Pastor Ford wants to see you.” Not waiting for a response, she turned; Vanessa and Louise followed her through the still exiting crowd.
“Pastor will be right in,” Etta-Marie said once they were in the pastor’s office. “You know how folks are after the service. They want to be all in her face. I’ll go get her.”
Once alone, Louise said, “Pastor wants to talk to you. There’s no need for me to be here.”
“No, stay.” She paused. “What do you think Pastor wants?”
Before her friend could answer, Pastor Ford swept into her office with a smile and enough energy to power a city. “No need to speculate about what I want.” The pastor grinned. “I’ll tell you.” She hugged Vanessa and then Louise.
“I was glad to see you this morning.” Pastor Ford smoothed her St. John’s suit before she sat, then motioned for the women to do the same. “I planned on calling you when I got home this afternoon,” she said to Vanessa.
“Is there something wrong?”
“Definitely not.” Pastor Ford reached across the space and took Vanessa’s hand. “I just planned to check on you, but I’m glad you came to church. This is where you need to be.”
Vanessa straightened her back. “I didn’t see any reason to stay home.” She smiled at the pastor before she turned to Louise. “I have a lot of support.”
“And she needs it, Pastor. These people have been acting like they were hiding when God gave out good sense,” Louise exclaimed.
“Really?” The pastor’s perfectly arched eyebrows rose.
“Yes,” Louise continued, moving to the edge of her seat. “First Charlotte asked—”
Vanessa held up her hand. “I can handle these people, Pastor.” She paused and added, “And when I can’t, Louise is right there to put everyone in their place.”
Louise folded her arms. “You got that right.”
“You’re a good friend, Louise. But neither of you should concern yourself with other people. Nothing you can do about them.” Pastor Ford faced Vanessa. “But there’s a lot you can do to help yourself. Can you be here in my office on Thursday at seven?”
Vanessa frowned. Her intention was to never step back into this church. But she couldn’t tell Pastor Ford about her plans. Her pastor would never understand, never agree. Might even try to have her committed.
“I don’t…know, Pastor. I’m not ready…to go back to working with the youth….”
The pastor held up her hand. “It’s not about that. You can come back to our youth group when you’re ready. There’s something else I want you to do for me. So, can you be here?”
It sounded like a question, felt like a command. “I’ll be here,” she said, wondering if that was the truth.
“Great.” Pastor Ford stood and took Vanessa’s hand. “You know, you’re going to be all right.”
It surprised her—the way her pastor’s words were so similar to the ones she felt inside.
The pastor said, “I have to get ready for the second service, but I’ll call you before Thursday.”
She hugged Vanessa and Louise before the friends exited through the pastor’s private entrance. As Louise walked Vanessa to her car, she asked, “What do you think Pastor Ford has planned?”
“I don’t know.” Vanessa shrugged.
“I guess it doesn’t really matter.”
Vanessa nodded. Her friend had no idea how true her words were.
Chapter Nine
ASIA
Asia zipped up Angel’s jacket before she lifted her from the car seat inside her BMW.
Angel said, “Are we going to tell Auntie-Grammy our surprise?”
“What surprise?”
“The one you said you would tell me, but you forgot.”
Asia sighed. It was her daughter who’d forgotten—at least until this moment.
“There’s no surprise,” Asia said as she took Angel’s hand and they scurried across the driveway. “It’s gone.”
“Mommy, I want the surprise,” Angel whined.
“I’ll get a new surprise for you later.”
Before Angel could protest further, the door swung open. “Auntie-Grammy,” she cheered, using the name she’d given her mother’s aunt.
“Come here and give me a hug.” Pastor Ford pulled Angel into her arms before she kissed Asia’s cheek.
“Hi, Aunt Beverly.” Asia followed her aunt and Angel across the marble entryway and into the living room. She sank onto the gold sofa, shoved off her coat, and tossed it to the side.
“Would you mind hanging that up?” Pastor Ford said, without looking Asia’s way. “So, what have you been up to?” she asked Angel as she helped her take off her coat.
“We’re doing math in school.”
“Math? What do you know about math at five years old?” Pastor Ford laughed. “You’re so smart.”
“I know.” Angel giggled.
Pastor Ford glanced across the room at Asia. “How are you?”
Asia shrugged. She had promised herself that she was going to wear a happy face, but the memory of Bobby’s words kept joy away. From the moment he left on Friday, through Saturday, and even this morning, all she could think about was what she was going to do. She didn’t have a plan yet, but giving up was not an option. Her daughter, her life was invested in Bobby. She’d come up with a three-point play; she was going for the win.
But victory wasn’t going to be easy. Over the years, she and Bobby had had plenty of battles that took them to the brink of breaking up. But it was all a charade, just part of their passion. Their fiery fights led to the best making up—sex-filled nights and fabulous “I’m sorry” gifts.
But now, there had been no fight. And never before had he spoken a good-bye that sounded as real as the one he’d given her on Friday.
“I guess you’re not in a good mood,” Pastor Ford said, still hugging Angel on her lap.
“Just tired.”
Angel said, “Mommy’s sad because she had to give up the surprise.”
“What surprise?”
Asia rolled her eyes.
“Mommy had a surprise, but then she said it’s gone.”
Pastor Ford eyed Asia and said to Angel, “Sweetie, guess who wants to see you?”
Angel clapped her hands. “Milo, Brooklyn, and Lola,” she said with glee, referring to Pastor Ford’s Shiba Inus. “Can I go and play with them?”
“They’re in the backyard, but you can wave at them through the window until I bring them in, all right?”
Angel dashed toward the back and Pastor Ford sauntered to the couch. “What’s up?”
Asia shrugged, studied her fingernails.
Pastor Ford said with a sigh, “Please, I preached two long services this morning. I’m not in the mood for twenty questions.”
Asia looked up. “Do you want us to go? We can—”
Pastor Ford held up her hand. “No, you can’t leave, so you might as well tell me—what’s going on with you and Bobby?”
“I didn’t say it was Bobby.”
“Didn’t have to.” Pastor Ford stopped, motioned for Asia to go on.
Asia gave her aunt a sideways glance. “Aunt Beverly, you don’t want to hear this. You’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel about my relationship with Bobby.”
“I’ve told you before, you’re not in a relationship with Bobby. He’s married. You’re in a situation with him. And until you understand that difference—”
Asia held up
her hands. “See? This is why—”
Pastor Ford sighed. “I’m sorry, go ahead. Tell me what’s going on.”
A moment, and then, “Nothing serious. Bobby and I had a little fight, but we’re fine and I don’t want to tell you any more because of your feelings—”
“It’s not just my feelings.”
“Oh, please, Aunt Beverly,” Asia said, folding her arms. “I’ve had a rough week. I don’t feel like hearing how God is against me.”
“First of all, I never said anything about God being against you. Secondly, what kind of rough week have you had? Did you get a job and not tell me?”
There was a chuckle in her aunt’s tone, but Asia didn’t feel like being at the end of any joke today.
Pastor Ford said, “Wow, it must have been a serious fight.”
Asia stood, moved through the dining room toward the kitchen. “Whatever you’re cooking smells good.”
“It’s gumbo.” Pastor Ford followed her. At the stove, she stirred the deep pot.
Asia sat at the dining room table and watched her aunt tend to the food with the same care that she gave to everything in her world. Beverly Ford wasn’t her aunt by blood, although few knew that. No one could ever tell—the pastor loved Asia as if she’d birthed her herself.
Beverly Ford had been a client of her grandmother Hattie Mae for as long as Asia could remember. She hadn’t even started school when the woman, who moved like a queen, first knocked on their door one Wednesday morning. And every week, in the finest clothes, Beverly Ford would sit on the small plastic chair in her grandmother’s kitchen and have her hair washed, straightened, and curled.
Soon after, Asia and her grandmother began attending church where the woman was the preacher. Asia loved hearing the woman speak—not because she understood, but because she sure put on a show as she strutted across the platform and threw her arms and Bible in the air to make a point. And when she talked about God, sometimes the adults would laugh. So Asia always laughed too.
By the time Asia was eight, the woman who was the pastor became Aunt Beverly and she and her grandmother spent as much time with Aunt Beverly and her daughter, Gail, as they did in their own home.
The Ex Files Page 4