The Winter Wedding

by Rhonda McKnight

  Aunt Joe watched me move up and down and around before losing patience. “Tamar, stop moving, you’re making me dizzy.” She closed her eyes.

  I stopped and dropped into a chair. “I have a flight in the morning. I’m going to see Stephen first and then daddy.”

  “You’ve got your hands full.” Aunt Joe grunted.

  I stood again and walked to fireplace. I picked up a picture of the three of us together. Aunt Joe, my son, and I. I swallowed more disgust. Stephen Pierce wasn’t the only one I had to explain myself to.

  Stephen Isaiah Ferguson would want to know why his mother had pretended to be his cousin all these years. Why he’d been hidden from the rest of his family in Pennsylvania – grandparents and other relatives. I closed my eyes to the thought of my father…his only grandson. I’d robbed both of them.

  “Auntie, I made the only decision I could make back then.” I put down the picture and spun around to her. “Right?”

  “Don’t you let any of them make you feel bad about what you had to do.”

  “But I do feel bad.”

  “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, Tamar.”

  “You saved me. You saved Isaiah – from me and no one knows how big of a save that was except for me.” Thoughts of how depressed I was resurfaced and made my chest burn. “It’s not fair for them to judge, but they’re going to hate me for it.”

  Aunt Joe huffed. “Hate is a strong word. These are Christian people.”

  “What does that mean when you’re talking about an unforgiveable situation?” I thought about how much my Aunt Joe disliked my father. She was a perfect example of the Christian people who hadn’t risen above issues, but I dare not show her herself.

  Aunt Joe raised a trembling finger to her lips and shushed me. “There are no unforgiveable situations. You didn’t kill anybody.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to block out the angry images of their faces, but it didn’t help. I opened them again and raised my hand to wipe a tear that had escaped.

  “My dad will forgive me, but Stephen’s parents? They’re going to trip. Especially his mother. We haven’t always gotten along.”

  Auntie cocked an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

  I wiped more tears before saying, “She was afraid I was going to get pregnant and ruin his life.” I hadn’t thought about Stephen’s mother’s thoughts toward me in a long time.

  A large vehicle rambled down the road outside. I walked to the windows to look out for Isaiah. It wasn’t the school bus. It didn’t even sound like it. My nerves were shot. I was anxious about talking to him. I moved away from the window, wringing my hands and pacing again.

  “Baby, you were young and hurting and confused.”

  “But still, I feel like I stole something from all of them. Like I punished them because they all left me standing alone with the mess.”

  “Tamar, I want you to stop right now. Stop feeling guilty.”

  I stopped moving. “I can’t help it.”

  Aunt Joe shook her head. “You have something to offer Stephen. You have his son. You’re not coming to him with a story about a boy who’s gone. He’s still here. He’s still a child. He can still enjoy him.”

  I nodded. That was true.

  “Furthermore, it’s probably time for you to take him anyway. Isaiah is you and Stephen’s blood. He deserves to be with you both and you deserve to be with him.”

  I shook my head. Where was this coming from? “No, Auntie. He’s your son. You’ve raised him. You’ve been his mother.”

  Aunt Joe looked so tired. Chemo had taken every bit of energy she had, and I knew she felt sick – all the time. I could see it. I sat next to her. She took my hand.

  “He’s your son more than he is ours.”

  “I know that, honey. But I knew this day was coming the minute I took that baby out of your hands, so let’s call it what it should have been all along. Isaiah has been with me for safe-keeping. Until you were ready for him. And now you’re ready.”

  “Aunt Joe,” I shook my head again. The sting of more tears burned my eyes.

  “Take your child, fix the relationship with your man and live happily ever after.” Auntie coughed, painfully. “Do that for my sister.”

  I fell to my knees on the floor and rested my head on her lap. My mind went back:

  “What do I do Auntie?”

  “What do you want to do, Tamar?”

  “I can’t take care of a baby. I need to finish school. I need to…”

  “Shhh…don’t you cry. You give that baby to me.”

  I began to sob at the memory. Here I was again. Crying on her lap.

  “Shhh…everything is going to be okay.” She lifted my chin and looked in my eyes. “Everyone in this situation loves you. It’s going to be okay.”

  I heard Isaiah’s key in the door. I stood and wiped my eyes.

  Isaiah walked in. “You’re back. I thought you weren’t coming until Saturday.”

  “I had a change,” I said, turning away from him while I wiped my eyes again.

  I could hear him give his mother a hug and a kiss. Then he put down his bookbag near the dining room table where he always did homework and went into the restroom. When he came out Aunt Joe asked, “How was school?”

  “Good. I have a science test tomorrow.”

  “Change and get a snack.” She told him that every day. “No TV until you finish studying.”

  Isaiah disappeared into his bedroom.

  Aunt Joe and I locked eyes.

  My insides twisted. “I can’t do it tonight.”

  “Tamar, you can’t keep putting it off.”

  I raised a finger to my mouth and bit down on the pad of my thumb. I wasn’t ready for this. “He has a test. I’ll tell him when I get back tomorrow.”

  Aunt Joe nodded and closed her eyes like she was relieved.

  I always thought tomorrow was better, but that kind of thinking was the reason I was in trouble in the first place.

  Chapter 18

  Roy Cray lied. He released the story about my pregnancy with the morning news cycle. It was repeated on nearly every celebrity and gossip blog in the country.

  I called Cray before I boarded my plane.

  “You told me I had 24 hours.”

  “We decided to go to press.”

  “So why did you bother to call me, then?”

  “Come on, Tamar, you’re in the business. I’m sure you have friends who would have loved to have this story. My editor was concerned I’d tipped you off. We didn’t want me getting scooped.”

  “Thanks for the professional courtesy.”

  “So, no comment? I mean, you have to tell your side to somebody? Where is the child?”

  “Figure it out yourself,” I yelled, ending the call.

  ***

  My taxi stopped at the gate to Stephen’s subdivision. There were a couple of reporters hanging around.

  I’d texted Stephen to let him know I was here. He texted back:

  Your name is still on the guard’s list.

  The taxi pulled through the gate and emotional adrenaline came down heavy. I don’t think I’d ever felt so tired. It was the racing of my heart. The constant, constricted pounding in my chest was wreaking havoc on every muscle in my body.

  He’s going to hate me.

  It was all I could think. The possibility of a civil relationship between us was over. Over, again.

  Stephen opened the door. He was leaning on a cane. He hadn’t shaved in possibly days because he had a small beard. His curly hair was a mass of waves that wrapped around each other like plants on a vine. He reached up with his free hand and ran it through his hair like he was subconscious about it. Everything about him looked different. His looks, his physicality, and his demeanor. He didn’t look bad, just different – like a recluse.

  “I’ve been calling you for hours.” His voice was sharp.

  “I was on the plane
. I got here as fast as I could.”

  “Seems like you’ve been getting here for twelve years.” Those words were even sharper.

  I hadn’t even entered the house and he was jabbing at me. “Are you going to let me in?”

  Stephen stepped aside.

  I dropped my bag on the foyer table and shrugged out of my coat. “Let’s just talk, okay?”

  He nodded and took my coat. He hung it in the hall closet. He was getting around good. I was afraid to say so. I had no idea how he would take it. I didn’t need him biting my head off any more than he already would be.

  Once he finished with my coat, he turned to face me. “Ladies first.” He’d taken the temper out of his voice. He swayed a palm in the direction of the living room. Hospitable though he was, the tight lines on his forehead and his cinched lips told me what was really in his heart right now.

  I didn’t waste time getting started. “I’m probably not going to be able to make this make sense to you.”

  Stephen raised a hand, interrupting me. “Did you have a baby eleven years ago?”

  “Are you going to let me tell you what happened?”

  “No, Tay.” He frowned. “I’m not in the mood for your melody of words. I just want answers.”

  I took in a deep breath of tense air. “Here I’d prepared my speech.”

  Stephen said nothing.

  I swallowed before saying. “I had a boy.”

  Stephen dropped his body onto the arm of a chair. He closed his eyes and released a long, solid, pained breath. “Is he alive?”

  I cleared my throat and answered. “Yes.”

  He stood and took a few steps away from me, like he needed to distance himself. “Is he my son?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  Stephen closed his eyes again. When he opened them, I could see the glint of tears. “Where is he?”

  “He lives in South Georgia. He was adopted.”

  Anger flashed across his face. “By whom?”

  “My mother’s sister.”

  “Aunt Joe?” The name came out like it was stuck in his throat.

  All I had were nods and yeses, so I nodded again.

  Stephen didn’t respond for a long minute. I could see the wheels turning in his head. He was shocked. Shocked into a temporary silence. “So, you see him?”

  “Yes. I’m living with Aunt Joe right now.”

  He shook his head like I’d given him the wrong answer. “I mean, you’ve always seen him?”

  “Not often. Sometimes, when I visited.”

  His eyes became tiny slits as he stared me down. “Does he know you’re his mother?”

  “No.”

  “Who does he think you are?”

  “His cousin.”

  Stephen nodded. “Is he healthy? Happy?”

  “He is.” I tried to keep the pride out of my voice. “He’s a great kid.”

  Stephen stood. Attempting to pace, he hobbled around on his cane before stopping and dropping down on the arm of another chair, further away from me. “Does he have another father?”

  “No, my aunt is single – you know that – but she’s really active in her church, so he participates in different mentoring activities with the men.”

  Stephen was silent again. He raised his hand to wash over his hair and face a few times. Frustration was building and then releasing. He was like a ticking bomb. I took the moments to steel myself against whatever he would finally say when he spoke.

  “Tamar, I want to understand this. I really do, but you need to tell me why you did this to me?”

  I threw up my hands. “I was eighteen. I had left home. A home I didn’t think I could come back to. I was pregnant. I had neither a job or the skills to get a job that would feed me, let alone a baby.”

  “That’s because you decided to disappear. We graduated from high school and you left.”

  “You left first,” I replied, correcting him.

  Stephen frowned. “I left for two weeks. You knew I was coming home before I had to go back again—”

  I interrupted him. “You’re asking me what happened and I’m telling you. You left and you didn’t even say goodbye to me—”

  This time it was Stephen who interrupted. “Don’t you dare act like I didn’t try to say goodbye. I’m tired of your distorted memory of how things happened. You were locked away in the house. You wouldn’t answer the door, or the phone, or an email, or a letter. Your father was like a pit bull. He wouldn’t let me near you.”

  I closed my eyes, covered my face with both hands, and shook my head. I did the best I could at the time. I empowered myself with my truth before speaking again. “You asked me what happened.”

  Stephen sighed, calming himself. “Did you know you were pregnant when you left Pine?”

  “Yes.”’

  “Why didn’t you think you could tell me that, Tay? We were in love.”

  I finally sat. The weight of my answer was like that emotional cloud that engulfed me back in the taxi. This was the hard part. “You were leaving for summer training. We weren’t talking. We weren’t together.”

  “We weren’t talking because you wouldn’t talk to me.”

  I chuckled painfully. “What difference does that make? Our relationship was over.”

  Stephen closed his eyes to my words. Then he opened them with his. “I loved you. You knew that.”

  I shook my head. “No. I knew a video was circulating. That’s what I knew. I also knew you were leaving. My father hated me. I was being tortured by the entire town and the entire Internet. That’s what I knew.”

  He shook his head. “You knew who I was, from age six. You knew I wouldn’t want you dealing with a pregnancy alone.”

  “I hated you.” My lip trembled. “I hated you back then.” Tears slipped down my cheeks. “You were being celebrated, and I was being vilified. Stop acting like you don’t know what was going on.”

  Stephen groaned. “We’ve hashed this out already.”

  “Not in the context of Isaiah.”

  He was propelled to his feet again. He walked in my direction, closing the gap he’d opened between us. “Isaiah?”

  I reached for my bag. I removed tissues and a small photo album. “Stephen Isaiah Ferguson.” I extended the album.

  He accepted it and sat with it. “You named him Stephen.” Wonder filled his face. It almost hinted of a smile.

  “No one calls him Stephen. We call him Isaiah.”

  Stephen took his time going through the pictures. Occasionally, he asked me about one and I told him what I knew. Unshed tears filled his eyes. “He looks like me.”

  “He does.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t believe you kept him from me.”

  I shrugged. “You were going to college, Stephen. We had both worked so hard. We had scholarships. You wanted to play ball. I didn’t want to take that away from you.”

  He closed the album and placed it on the table. “I don’t understand why you would let me learn about my son from a reporter. Why didn’t you tell me back when you first came home?”

  I spoke on an exasperated wind. “It was complicated at first, but then I knew I had to tell. That was the reason I called you. This is what I wanted to talk about.”

  Stephen frowned. “Called me? When?”

  “A little over a month ago. I left a message, and I sent you a note in the mail with a card.”

  Stephen chuckled bitterly. “Are you kidding? What, is the Illuminati conspiring against us? I didn’t get a message from you and sure didn’t get a note. Why are you lying?”

  I rolled my neck. “Lying. I’ve never lied to you before in my life.”

  “Except when you didn’t tell me I had a son,” he practically snarled the words.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what? Let me guess a secret and a lie are two different things, right?” He raised his finger and pointed like he wanted to jab i
t into my face. “Tamar, they’re not, so from December 22nd up until today, you lied to me every time you talked to me.”

  I felt heat rush to my face. I crossed my arms. “Technically you don’t have a son. Like I said, he’s been adopted.”

  “If he’s my flesh and bone, I will always have a son.”

  I jumped back and dropped my arms. His screamed could have shattered the windows.

  “You should have told me.”

  The door to the townhouse flew open and I heard footsteps coming from the foyer. Robert and Donna Pierce entered the room. I cringed. This was about to get worse.

  Chapter 19

  “I always figured you were hiding something. I never thought it would be this.” Donna frowned and began pacing the room. “How could you?”

  “I made the best decision I could at the time.”

  Donna looked at Stephen and then her husband. Both men were mute, so she redirected her attention back to me. “Were you actually planning on letting the child grow up to manhood without his knowing his father and his grandparents?”

  “I gave him up for adoption.”

  Donna’s lip trembled. “Adoption.”

  “It’s something unwed mothers do.” I turned my head, refusing to look at her. Shame came down heavy.

  “You sound like you’ve memorized a commercial for Planned Parenthood. Something unwed mothers do.” She mocked me. “You could have brought him back to Pine from wherever the heck you went.”

  I shook my head. “No, I couldn’t.”

  “You could have!”

  Robert stepped in and placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders. He’d been invisible until this moment, but now he was trying to calm her temper. It didn’t work.

  Donna continued. “We could have helped you, but you didn’t give us a choice. You took our options away when you ran off.”

  I stood. “It wasn’t your choice. It wasn’t your pregnancy. He wasn’t your baby. It wasn’t your shame, or your burden. It was mine,” I said. “I considered my options. I was not going to raise a child by myself with no money and no support. I was not coming back to Pine after you all ran me out of it. My son deserved better.”