Faith

by Michelle Larks

  “That’s good, and I consider that progress. I just want you to think about the support group, and by all means talk to you minister. It doesn’t hurt to have guidance from a spiritual perspective. The quicker you talk to someone, the sooner your life will be back on track,” Dr. Washington said, as she jotted down a name and number on a pad. She tore off the paper and handed it to Monet. “This is Sheila Winston’s number. She facilitates the crisis group at the University of Chicago Hospital. If you decide to try it, then give her a call. Is there anything else going on with you?” Dr. Washington looked at Monet casually. Her large dark brown eyes seemed magnified behind the glass lenses, and were filled with compassion. She thought Monet looked a little tired or rundown.

  “Well, I have been feeling nauseated for the past few weeks. I’m sure it’s nothing, just nerves.” Monet’s voice trailed off.

  “Hmmm. When was the last time you had your period?” Dr. Washington folded her hands together. She had an inkling of what was happening with Monet. She suggested Monet take the “morning after pill” following the assault, but Monet declined the offer.

  “Let me think.” Monet closed and opened her eyes. “You know I’m irregular, I think about a few weeks before the attack.”

  “Are you experiencing any other symptoms?” Dr. Washington probed gently.

  “My breasts have been tender and odors bother me.” Monet gasped and said cautiously, “Dr. Washington, you don’t think I’m pregnant, do you?”

  “It won’t take us long to find out. I’m going to order a pregnancy test and send you next door to the lab to take a blood test,” Dr. Washington advised. She stood up. “Why don’t you get dressed, come back to the nurse’s area, and Erica will give you a cup for a urine sample. While we wait for the results, you can go across the hall for the blood test. I’ll write up the order now.”

  “So you do think I’m pregnant?” Monet asked, in a shaky voice. “I just assumed it was nerves.”

  “It could be nerves, but we can’t rule that possibility out. Still that’s easy enough for us to find out.” Dr. Washington looked at her watch and said, “I’ll see you in my office in about twenty to thirty minutes.”

  Monet nodded, feeling shell shocked. She sat on the examination table for a few minutes. When she rose, her body was shaking so badly that she could barely get dressed. She put her sweater on backward and her socks on inside out.

  “Lord, could it be true? Am I really pregnant?” She laughed aloud giddily, then became somber. “Is the child Marcus’s or my attacker’s? God, forgive me. What am I saying? I know this baby is Marcus’s. You told me Marcus and I would have a child.” Her breathing became shallow, and she felt lightheaded.

  The couple had been trying to get pregnant since year three of their marriage. They had been examined what seemed like a million times by various doctors, and there wasn’t a medical reason for why they couldn’t conceive. Monet had wanted to try in vitro, but Marcus vetoed the idea. Years ago she had broached the subject of adoption, but Marcus didn’t want to, citing that he wanted their biological child or none at all.

  Monet prayed daily, a prayer she called the baby’s prayer. She was both elated and apprehensive by the possibility of being with child. What if the baby wasn’t Marcus’s? Then she pushed those musings to the back of her mind because God had told her otherwise, and she always trusted God.

  Monet dressed and berated herself for jumping the gun. Her legs were shaking as she walked to the nurse’s station and got the cup from Erica. Then she went into the restroom. When she was done, she placed the cup on the side of the sink, washed her hands, and then returned it to the nurse, who gave Monet a work order for the lab. Thoughts swirled in and out of her mind as the lab technician took a vial of blood.

  The technician put a bandage on Monet’s arm and said, “You won’t have long to wait for the results. Your doctor put a rush on the test.”

  Monet tried to smile. Then she returned to the physician’s waiting room.

  Minutes later, Erica escorted Monet to Dr. Washington’s office. As she waited for the doctor, her stomach felt like fish were darting inside of it. She looked up at the door, mentally willing Dr. Washington to hurry back and tell her what the test revealed.

  Chapter 7

  “What have you got there, Marcus?” Wade asked. He’d just returned from the kitchen area after pouring himself a cup of coffee.

  “Travel brochures.” Marcus held them up. “I was thinking about taking Monet on a Hawaiian cruise for the holidays. So I’ve been checking around, doing some research online, and calling travel agencies.”

  “That sounds like a good plan,” Wade answered. “If it weren’t for the kids, me and Liz would go with you.” He sat down at his desk and began eating a donut.

  “I know.” Marcus nodded. “If we don’t go to Hawaii, then we’ll be at your house for Christmas, and you’ll come to ours for New Year’s.”

  Wade picked up his coffee and sipped. “That tastes good. Nothing is better than a good cup of coffee in the morning. And yeah, I figured you and Monet would be at the house for Christmas like always.”

  The couples, along with Liz and Wade’s children, usually spent major holidays together. The friends rotated, meeting at each other’s houses on the last Friday of each month for a fish fry.

  Marcus nodded and left the room to refresh his own cup of coffee. When he returned to his desk, Wade asked, “Did you mention your idea to Monet?” He began moving files on his desk.

  “Not yet, I wanted to check the prices first. The Hawaiian cruise is for ten days, departing the day before Christmas Eve, so that would cover both holidays. I checked with the chief, and he approved the time off,” Marcus said.

  “Are you sure Monet would want to go? Christmas is her favorite time of the year,” Wade queried. He put a file on the bottom of his three tier tray.

  “I thought about that, but I still think it would be good for us to get away. Monet still hasn’t fully recovered from the attack. Some nights she wakes up screaming and can’t go back to sleep. So I think a change of pace would be good medicine for both of us.”

  Wade nodded. “Great. I imagine Monet’s symptoms are normal considering what she’s gone through. What does her doctor say? What’s her name?” He snapped his fingers. “Wallace?”

  “No,” Marcus corrected. “It’s Dr. Washington. Monet has an appointment with her today. Doc mentioned giving her a sleep aid the last time she was there, but Nay-Nay fought that suggestion. She doesn’t like doing the pill thing.”

  Wade paused with his filing and complimented his friend. “I want to say that you’ve stepped up to the plate for Monet, just like I knew you would.”

  “I couldn’t do any less, and I know if something happened to me, Nay-Nay would do the same.” Marcus’s telephone rang. “Excuse me,” he said, picking up the phone. He listened intently for a few minutes and wrote notes on the pad next to his phone.

  Wade looked at his partner, who seemed to be involved in an intense conversation. Marcus had knocked over his cup of coffee and made no effort to clean up the mess. Wade sprung up out of his seat and took napkins off his desk and handed them to Marcus, who ignored him. Wade sopped up the spilled liquid and waited for Marcus to get off the telephone. Marcus hung up the telephone, stroked his beard, and looked at Wade with an astounded expression on his face.

  Wade raised his eyebrows inquiringly, and asked, “What’s up, man? What was that about?”

  “I never would’ve believed that call if I hadn’t heard it with my own ears,” Marcus replied, staring at Wade with amazed filled eyes.

  “Believed what? What are you talking about?” Wade asked impatiently.

  “I talked to a man on the phone who said he was Monet’s father. He wants to meet her and the twins.” Marcus shook his head in disbelief.

  “I thought Monet’s father was dead?” Wade cocked his head to the side and peered at Marcus.

  “The truth is Monet’s old man desert
ed his family when she was a kid. He just up and left Birmingham, and hasn’t been heard from since,” Marcus said.

  “That’s remarkable,” Wade muttered, shaking his head. “What are you going to do? Do you think Monet wants to meet him? What about your brothers-in-law? What will their reaction be?”

  “I really don’t know. Monet has expressed sadness over the years from not knowing her father. But she never tried to actively seek him. I don’t remember Derek or Duane saying anything one way or the other.” Marcus shrugged his shoulders, and then held up damp pieces of paper and waved them in the air.

  “So, what are you going to do? How did you respond to his request? What’s his name?” Wade asked. His arm was propped on the desk, and his face rested on his hand.

  “His name is Aron Reynolds. I told him I’d think about what he wanted and call him back in a few days,” Marcus replied.

  “How did he track you down?” Wade went into investigation mode, drilling his partner.

  “He said he saw one of the newspaper articles about Monet’s attack.” Marcus frowned. “He also said that Monet’s mother gave him our information.” He set the papers back on his desk, wiped his hands on a napkin, and leaned back in his chair.

  “I wonder what he’s been doing all of these years,” Wade mused, shaking his head.

  “The call came from a prison in Illinois, and I plan on finding out what he’s in for before I say anything to Monet or the twins.”

  “I don’t know that you’re approaching this correctly. I think you should at least tell Monet’s brothers. I can understand your wanting to protect Monet in the long run,” Wade advised.

  “I hear what you’re saying, but I still want to check Aron out myself, and then I’ll take things from there, depending on what I find out. I think they’ll trust my intuition on this. I won’t let too much time elapse before I tell them,” Marcus promised. “Too bad you and Liz can’t go with us on the cruise. I know the girls would enjoy the trip together,” he said, changing the subject.

  “I hear you, but all the kids will be home this year, and this is Samera’s first Christmas.” Wade picked up a picture of his nine-month-old granddaughter from his desk and grinned like the proud grandfather he was. “She’s our first grandbaby, and Liz is driving me crazy. She’s been shopping like there’s no tomorrow. I keep reminding her that Samera is a baby and won’t remember a thing about the holiday.”

  “I imagine if Nay-Nay and I were in the same position, she would be doing the same thing.” Marcus felt a twinge of longing for the children they would never have.

  “I didn’t mean anything by bringing up Samera.” Wade looked away as if he’d committed a fauxpas.

  “Hey, dude, it ain’t nothing. I can live the rest of my life without little ones; it’s Monet I feel for. I don’t think she’ll ever give up her desire to have children. We’ve seen so many doctors over the years, and remember we went to Jerusalem to the Wailing Wall, and to Hot Springs Arkansas to bathe in the spas. We’ve had more ministers pray over us than terminally ill patients in a hospital. And at the end of the day, all the doctors could tell us was that there aren’t any medical issues with me or Nay-Nay that would stop us from having a baby,” Marcus reminisced.

  “I remember those times.” Wade nodded. “I’m surprised you two didn’t go the in vitro route.”

  “Trust me, we almost did. When Monet’s mother passed, she had an insurance policy, and the amount doubled due to her being in an accident. Monet wanted to use the money for in vitro. It took me months to talk her out of the idea.”

  Wade cleared his throat. “Well, me and Liz, and WJ and Genesse consider you two to be honorary grandparents to Samera.”

  “I know, and trust me, Monet has been spending money on Samera too,” Marcus said. The men shared a laugh, and then he said, “I guess we should get back to work.”

  Marcus was grateful that he had a friend that he could talk to about his most intimate issues, and it was a bonus that Monet and Liz were best friends. The men had worked together since they were rookies on the police squad, and had lived in the same apartment building before they bought their homes in Auburn.

  Wade was like the brother Marcus didn’t have, and Liz more than filled the void as a sister for Monet. They were godparents to all of Liz and Wade’s children; WJ (for Wade Junior), Shavon, and their youngest daughter, Erin. Liz was an only child, and Wade had one brother.

  When WJ and Genesse got married, Monet and Marcus contributed to the pair’s wedding costs, and were escorted to their seats along with the couple’s parents and grandparents.

  The department clerk walked over to Marcus and Wade. “This just came in.” She handed an assignment sheet to Marcus. “The chief wants you to get on it right away.”

  Marcus scanned the paper. “There was a murder on Seventy-first Street and Eggleston.” He told the clerk, “Tell the chief we’re on it. I guess I’ll call Monet later and see how her doctor visit went,” he said to Wade, as they stood up and prepared to leave. They placed their weapons in their shoulder holsters and left the room.

  Marcus’s thoughts strayed to Monet once again, and he hoped her visit with Dr. Washington had gone well. He didn’t have a clue that their lives were about to careen out of control again.

  Chapter 8

  More time elapsed, and Monet was fidgeting in her chair, still waiting for Dr. Washington to return. She almost couldn’t believe there was even a remote possibility that she was pregnant. She shifted into denial mode and decided, until she heard otherwise, that she was just suffering after effects from the attack. Her heart rate accelerated when she thought about being raped. She pulled a book out of her bag and began to read it to pass the time.

  Dr. Washington walked into the room with a subdued look on her face and sat heavily down in the chair next to Monet.

  Monet swallowed a couple of times and thought, Dear Lord, she looks so serious, I hope I’m not dying. “Well?” She guffawed nervously. “What are the test results? You look so grim. I hope I’m not dying or anything.”

  “Monet, in all my years of practicing medicine, I’ve never encountered a situation like this. You are definitely pregnant, this is December and I’d say you’re about two months along,” Dr. Washington stated.

  At first, Monet sat in stunned silence. Then she smiled to herself and chortled with glee. She said softly, then louder and raised her hands in the air. “Thank you, Jesus. Father, you answered my prayers.” She pressed her hands together, as if in prayer.

  Dr. Washington watched Monet for a few minutes. Then she moistened her lips and said, “I would usually congratulate my patient at this point in the conversation, if the circumstances were different. But with the timing of the pregnancy, coinciding with the time of the rape and your conception issue, I’m truly at a loss for words.”

  “Why?” Monet asked, as her left eyebrow rose quizzically. “I beg to differ. I believe congratulations are in order.”

  Dr. Washington said as gently as she could, “I think there’s a great possibility that the baby you’re carrying might be your attacker’s and not your husband’s child.”

  “You’re wrong,” Monet replied vehemently. “I know this is Marcus’s baby. I had been ovulating that morning and for a few days before that. Oh, Lord,” she moaned, “it couldn’t be his baby. God wouldn’t be so cruel to me.” She composed herself and said, “I know this baby is a girl, and that it’s me and Marcus’s child. There’s nothing you can say to convince me otherwise.”

  “I know this news is totally unexpected, but I think you should at least consider the possibility that the child might not be Marcus’s. I know this is a lot for you to comprehend. One option available to you is to terminate the pregnancy. Trust me, no one would fault you under the circumstances.” Dr. Washington spoke in a kindly tone of voice while she reached for Monet’s hand.

  Monet snatched her hand away from the doctor. “No, you’re wrong, Dr. Washington. I’m a Christian, and I would nev
er have an abortion under any circumstances. I knew one day I would become pregnant because God told me that I would.”

  Dr. Washington was worried that Monet might be having a breakdown. So keeping her expression neutral, she asked, “When did He tell you that?”

  Monet waved her hand dismissively. “He has told me that many times. Sometimes in my dreams, and other times I could feel Him speaking to me in my heart.”

  The doctor looked at Monet pityingly. “I believe you if you say so, but what will Marcus say? I’m sure your ordeal has been as difficult for him as it has been for you.”

  For the first time since Dr. Washington had given Monet the news that she was pregnant, Monet felt doubtful. “I don’t know how Marcus will feel. But we’ve been married for a long time, and I know he’ll come around.”

  “What if he doesn’t? Are you willing to sacrifice your marriage over a child that more than likely is not your husband’s?” Dr. Washington probed.

  “I respect you as my doctor, but I think you’re out of line. If you continue talking to me in that vein, then it’s best that I leave before I say something I might later regret. Is there anything else?” Monet said distantly. She picked her purse up off the floor and stood up.

  Dr. Washington walked around the desk and sat in her chair. “I’m sorry if I offended you. That wasn’t my intention. But I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the possibility of the baby’s paternity.” She touched her chest. “If you think you want to continue the pregnancy, then I can give you a referral for a good obstetrician.” The doctor felt like she’d handled the situation incorrectly and wanted to make amends. Monet had been her patient for years.

  “No, I can find one on my own. Thank you, Dr. Washington,” Monet said frostily. She put on her jacket. “I’m a nurse, I know doctors too.” She lifted her chin up defiantly.