The Veil

by K. T. Richey

  Silence filled the room as both of them wondered what to say next. Misha headed for the door.

  “You don’t remember me do you?” Bernard asked.

  Misha stopped. “Well, you’re Bernard Taylor. I went to your concert at the Fox a couple of months ago. I was on the front row.”

  “I know. I remember you. That’s not what I’m talking about.” He stood and walked up to her.

  “You know, there’s something about you. I thought you looked familiar. How do we know each other?”

  He put his hand on his hip and walked in a circle. He said in a high-pitched voice, “Not every woman who sees you wants you. Not every woman who hears you sing wants you.”

  “What?” Misha was confused.

  He repeated himself, walking around the room with his hand on his hip. He stopped and approached her with outstretched hands. “Don’t you remember? We met at a rib joint one night. You told me not every woman who sees me wants me . . .”

  “Oooooooooh. That was you? I didn’t recognize you without the two goons who were with you.” Misha laughed so loudly she reminded herself of her grandmother.

  “Well?”

  “Well what?” Misha asked.

  “Aren’t you going to apologize to me?”

  “For what?”

  “For insulting me?”

  “I didn’t insult you.” She continued laughing and sat down on the sofa. “I offended you?”

  “Yes, you did. You didn’t have to go off on me like that. That was cold.”

  “I apologize for how I said what I said. I won’t apologize for what I said. You were trying to pick me up with that lame line about the time. I’m not a one-night stand no matter what it looks like now.”

  “What about now?” He sat down on the sofa beside her. “Did you love him?”

  “Who?”

  “Your baby’s father.”

  “You are getting too personal. I don’t want to talk about him.” She stood up again and walked to the opposite wall and leaned on it. He stood.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “I know.” Misha folded her arms on top of her belly.

  “I guess I better go back outside.” He started walking toward the door.

  Tell him I love him.

  “What?” Misha questioned the voice.

  He stopped and turned to face her. “Did you say something?” She shook her head no. He turned to continue his trek toward the door.

  Tell him I love him.

  “Pastor.”

  Bernard turned to face her again.

  “God loves you.”

  “What?”

  “God said to tell you He loves you.”

  He walked back to her.

  “God loves you. You have to believe that deep in your heart. God loves you.”

  “You know, I prayed this morning that God show me He loves me. I needed to know for more reasons than I want to explain. Then you say something like that to me and you didn’t even know what I prayed this morning.”

  “Since your concert, I’ve been praying for you.”

  “You have?”

  “I saw you up there dancing and joking around as if nothing were wrong. But, I could see you were in a struggle. It was almost like I heard a cry from your heart seeking to know if there was anyone in the building who loved you for you and not for your fame or money. I prayed for you during the concert and have prayed for you every day since. I believe we were ordained by God to meet. You need to know there is someone out there praying for you. Someone who doesn’t want anything from you in return.”

  Misha walked to him and touched his shoulder. His eyes were filled with tears.

  Tell him to take out his contacts.

  “Pastor. Could you take out your contacts?”

  He looked at her for a brief moment. Then he walked to a mirror over the fireplace and took them out and turned around.

  Misha gasped. “Wow.” Misha stared into his eyes, his deep blue eyes. “You have beautiful eyes.” There was something familiar about his eyes, sea blue and inviting.

  Ask him if he needs the contacts to see.

  “Do you need those contacts to see?”

  “No.”

  Misha walked over to him and turned him to face the mirror. She looked at him as he tried to hold back tears. Her heart went out to him. She looked at his curly dark blond hair that was cut so evenly and neatly lined up around his face. The deep dimples that lined his cheeks were pleasing to her even when he wasn’t smiling. This was one good-looking man. But, she had to focus and get back into ministry mode.

  “Pastor, we all have struggled with things in our lives. Right now, I’m in a personal struggle being a single, pregnant minister.”

  “You’re a minister?”

  “Yes. I’m a minister. However, it’s been awhile since I’ve preached anywhere. God has me in individual ministry now. He sends me places to minister to people in need. You know it’s amazing how God moves. He said in His word he would not leave us without a comforter.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s like every time we get discouraged he sends someone or something to encourage us. He sends that comforter.”

  Bernard listened intently as she ministered to him. Finally he allowed himself to cry and she caressed his back to let him know everything would be all right.

  “Pastor, I don’t know what your struggle is but I want you to know one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re a beautiful person. One day, it is my prayer you see the beauty that lies in you.”

  He sniffed back tears. She looked at him. Somehow she knew he needed to cry to release his struggle and to be free from the bondage he was in.

  After he calmed down, she decided it was time for her to leave. She felt she had done the will of God and her work was finished. “Everybody’s probably wondering where we are. I better get back outside. Besides, Miracle is hungry.”

  “Miracle?”

  “My baby.”

  “That’s your baby’s name?”

  “No. I call my baby Miracle because one day a doctor looked me in the face and told me it would take a miracle for me to get pregnant. So I call this child Miracle.”

  “You are a woman of great faith.”

  “I am who God says I am and nothing more. I better get outside and feed Miracle. If you need a listening ear, Sherrell has my number. I’ll keep you in my prayers.” Misha walked out of the house, leaving him standing alone, wondering about this incredible woman he just met.

  Chapter 28

  “I knew it.” Misha’s mother screamed with delight of the news the doctor had given them. “You were carrying high. I told you. I carried high when I had you.”

  “Miss Holloway, you should have listened to your mother. Looks like it’s a girl all right. Let me get this gel off of you. Then you can sit up.”

  Misha waited until the doctor finished wiping the gel off her stomach and she sat up on the exam table. She looked at her mother, who seemed like she was glowing in her victory. Misha was happy she was having a girl. She would have been happy having a boy. She was happy because everything looked normal and her pregnancy was progressing without incident.

  “Is this your first grandchild?” Dr. Trinidad asked.

  “No, my third. My son has a girl and a boy. This is different. This is my daughter who’s having a baby. It feels different. It’s so exciting to have a new baby coming into the family.”

  Misha looked at her mother and the doctor talking to each other, wondering who was talking to the doctor. Her mother’s face shined with excitement. Her father told her she was doing much better since Misha had involved her in everything about the baby. Her mother wanted to go shopping for the baby after the doctor’s appointment, but Misha had a class at Clark.

  Now that she was twenty-four weeks pregnant she was beginning to feel the effects of her pregnancy. There were days when she would have a lot of energy and there were other d
ays when she did not have any energy at all. Every day she was hungry. She had never eaten so much. Dr. Trinidad warned her about gaining too much weight during her pregnancy. Even with her exercise class, she could not manage to stave off the weight gain.

  Misha pushed open the door to the doctor’s office when her phone chimed. The caller ID number was unavailable.

  “Who’s that?” her mother asked.

  “I don’t know. I better answer it.” Misha pressed the button and placed the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

  “May I speak with Misha Holloway please?”

  “This is Misha.”

  “Hi, it’s Bernard Taylor.”

  Misha quickly turned to see how close her mother was to her. This was one phone call she did not want her mother to hear. In a very professional, proper tone, she said, “Hi, Pastor. How are you this morning?”

  Her mother turned and walked toward the car. Misha walked slowly behind her.

  “I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

  “My mother and I just left the doctor’s office.”

  “Doctor? Is anything wrong?”

  “No. Just my monthly appointment. What can I help you with?” Misha got into the car and continued her conversation as her mother drove her back home.

  “Well, I’m in town for a few days. I was wondering if we could get together.”

  “What’s wrong?” She could hear the hesitation in his voice. For some reason, she could tell something was wrong with him. He had been heavy in her spirit and she prayed harder for him each day. She knew he was going to call. She could not tell him because her mother was in the car listening to every word coming out of her mouth. Misha knew she was trying to determine what the conversation was about. That’s just how her mother was and that was something about her that hadn’t changed.

  “I just wanted to talk.”

  “Okay. Can you call me later? I have a class in about an hour. Then I can get back to you on that matter.”

  “You’re not alone.”

  Misha switched the phone to her other ear. “That’s right. My class at Clark ends at noon. I should be at home about thirty minutes after that. I can call you . . .” She remembered she did not have his number. “Or you can call me back. If it’s urgent we can discuss it now.”

  “No. I’ll call you back. You said about twelve-thirty?”

  “Yes. I should be back home by then.”

  “I’ll call then. Thanks. Have a good day in class.”

  Misha closed her phone and waited for her mother to ask about her conversation. Five, four, three, two, one...

  “Who was that?”

  “That was just Pastor. Sherrell, the singles minister at the church, gave him my number. He’s going to call me back after class,” Misha said nonchalantly. She was surprised this seemed to satisfy her mother’s curiosity.

  “So what are we going to name her?” Her mother glanced over at her.

  “We?”

  “We can call her Julia.”

  “Julia? Mom, that’s such an ol’-timey name. Grandma wants me to call her Elizabeth.”

  “Elizabeth?”

  Misha told her about the day she was going to have an abortion and how Aunt Mattie and her grandmother came over and gave her the gift.

  “Mattie should mind her own business. If Mama had bought you a gift, I would have known about it.”

  Misha wished she had not told her about the gift. Her mother returned to her normal self and she was so negative. Misha could not wait for them to reach her apartment. She definitely did not want to go shopping with her mother acting the way she was acting. She felt so free when she finally reached her apartment. Her mother had a way of draining her energy.

  When she walked into the apartment she was so tired she decided not to go to class. She had a craving for dry Honeycombs. She walked to her kitchen and opened her cabinet door. She took out the box of Honeycombs and reached her hand inside. As she placed the dry cereal in her mouth, she thought about the phone call she received from Bernard. She put the box down and sat on the sofa and began to pray.

  It was after two when he called her back. Misha had settled into her afternoon nap and was awakened by the sound of her cell phone ringing.

  “Did I wake you?”

  “No, I’m up. How can I help you?” She struggled to get up from the bed.

  “Well, I was in town and I thought about the last time I was here, our conversation. You didn’t tell Sherrell.”

  “I didn’t think she needed to know. It was between you, me, and God. Did you want me to talk to her?”

  “No. I’m glad you didn’t. Thank you.”

  “Pastor, you may not believe this but I knew you were going to call me. You have been heavy in my spirit the past few days. I have been praying hard for you. I don’t know what’s happening with you right now. God has assigned me to intercede for you.”

  “Thank you for praying for me. I don’t want to talk on the phone. Can we meet somewhere? Are you at home?”

  “Uh. Pastor, I usually don’t let men in my apartment.” Misha could tell from the sound of his voice he needed someone to talk to.

  Invite him to your apartment.

  “We can meet somewhere.”

  “Pastor, I’ll tell you what, why don’t you come over here? I think you’re safe. Besides, I feel you need some privacy right now. I don’t know you. I trust the Holy Spirit and I feel in my spirit it will be fine.”

  Misha gave him directions to her apartment. When she hung up the phone, she looked around her apartment. “Oh my goodness. Bernard Taylor is coming to my house.” Misha began running, moving things around in the apartment. She checked her plug-in air freshener to make sure her apartment had the calming scent of vanilla. She made up her bed. “I know he’s not coming in my bedroom. But, Miracle, if he tries, we can clock him.” She talked to her baby as she cleaned her apartment.

  She continued doing little things around the apartment. She wanted it to look perfect. Bernard Taylor was used to going into mansions of celebrities, not a small apartment of someone living on a teacher’s salary. She placed her Bible on the coffee table, opened it, and placed an ink pen inside. She set her Bible Study notebook beside it to make it look as if she was studying. Placing a finger to her lips, she looked at it. Too fake.

  Moving the Bible, she put her Dynamics of Instructional Learning book on the table alongside her book bag and her notebook from class. Then she turned on her CD player. Mary J. Blige’s voice rang out. She quickly stopped the music and looked for another CD. She put in CeCe Winans and played the music softly until she heard a knock on the door. She hesitated and looked around her apartment. Confident that it was presentable, she opened the door.

  “Hi, Pastor, come on in.”

  He entered her apartment, wearing baggy jeans and a long button-down striped shirt. She looked at his shoes. He was still wearing those cheap tennis shoes. She watched him look around her apartment as she closed the door.

  “Have a seat. Make yourself at home.”

  He moved to the sofa and sat down. She saw him looking at her books on the coffee table. “I was trying to catch up on my studying.”

  “So you went back to college?”

  “I’m working on my master’s in education at Clark Atlanta. I’m in my second semester.”

  “You’re a teacher?”

  “I’m on medical leave right now. Can I get you anything to drink? I think I have some milk and bottled water. The strongest thing I have is probably diet, caffeine-free soda. Can I get you something?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  Misha sat down in the side chair. “So, Pastor, what can I do for you?”

  “I don’t know. I wanted to talk. You said if I needed to talk . . .”

  “Pastor, let’s pray.” Misha sat down beside him on the sofa and took his hand and began to pray. She could feel him squeeze her hand hard. The more he squeezed her hand the harder she prayed. When she finished and opened he
r eyes, she noticed his blue eyes. “You’re not wearing your contacts today.”

  “I thought you would ask me to take them out. You’re the only one who told me to do that. I thought I would save you the trouble.”

  “Why do you wear those anyway? I mean you have beautiful eyes. Why would you want to cover them up?”

  He stood and walked around the room. Stopping in front of her framed degree he asked, “You went to Howard?”

  “I did my undergrad there. I wanted to get as far away from Georgia as I could. I was younger then. I didn’t appreciate the area.”

  “That’s the same thing my mama said. She went to Howard too.” For a short time they compared notes about Howard and all the activities, especially homecoming and the band.

  “You went to Howard?”

  “No. I went to FAMU.”

  “That was my second choice. It was too close to Georgia. I knew I wanted to go to an HBCU.” Misha walked to him and stood beside him. “So your dad’s white?”

  “Why would you say something like that?”

  “Are you embarrassed?”

  “No. My dad is great. He went to Georgetown.”

  “Are your parents married?”

  “Almost thirty years.”

  “Then what’s the problem? Why are you here?”

  He looked at her and moved back to the sofa. “Can I have some water?”

  “Sure, come on in the kitchen with me.” He followed her into the kitchen. She reached into a cabinet, pulling out a glass and handing it to him. “Would you like ice?”

  “No, I can drink it from the bottle.” He handed the glass back to her. She directed him to sit at her small dining table.

  She sat for a moment, watching him drink the water straight from the bottle.

  Tell him your baby is biracial.

  Misha took a deep breath and released it. “You know our meeting was not by chance. I believe God ordained us to meet for such a time as this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Miracle. Well, she’s biracial. Her father was white. I know people are more tolerant now. But, I can’t imagine what she’s going to go through in her life. People can be so cruel sometimes. I believe God sent you to me to prepare me to mother this child.”