The Winter Wedding

by Rhonda McKnight

  “Son, I know your mother did a terrible thing. Believe me, I have made sure she knows I agree with you, but she is your mother.”

  “I know that, dad, but I just need a minute to figure out how to bridge this gap between us. I just have to —”

  “Forgive her,” My father said. “The forgiveness you’ve wanted from Tamar and from God is no different from what you need to give your mother.”

  I avoided my father’s eyes on that point. “What’s going on with Mom? It seems like she’s changed.”

  “She has a little.” He shook his head. “Your money has brought out the worst in her, but she’s always been a little more focused on the – let’s see how I can say it – worldly things.”

  “When you were dating?”

  “Sure. But I loved her anyway. I still do.” My father threw up his hands. He grunted. “Do you know why my father gave his church to Johnson?”

  I sat back in my chair now. I was ready for the story I’d never had the courage to ask for.

  “It was a big deal that I didn’t get the church. I was heavily involved in ministry. But I married a woman your grandfather didn’t deem fit to be a First Lady.”

  I snatched back my head. “Really?”

  “Your mother doesn’t know. I never told her. She wanted to be the First Lady of Pine Christian Church, but my father wouldn’t budge. He bypassed me and gave it to Johnson. He had a wife that was good First Lady material and she was, a wonderful woman who served in a way your mother never would have.”

  “Dad, do you think she resented Tamar’s mother and Pastor Johnson for that?”

  “Oh sure. She’s said things over the years.”

  “Do you think that could be the reason she resents Tamar?”

  My father shook his head. “No, I can’t,” he paused. “I don’t think so, son. I just think she’s controlling. She didn’t like Debra either.”

  I stood and put our dishes in the sink. “I thought she did.”

  “Not really, but she liked Debra’s screen presence, so she gave her some grace.”

  I clenched my teeth and shook my head against thoughts of Debra. “Everybody saw who Debra was except me.”

  My father wiped his mouth and put his napkin down. “You were lonely. It happens. For the record, I never thought you’d marry her.”

  I shook my head. “Making Saint Stephen’s Baby. That’s who I was engaged to.”

  My father laughed. “That too shall pass.” He stood. “Look, I have to go. Your mother thinks I’m at the bookstore. If she finds out I’m here, she’ll kill me or die from jealousy.”

  I sighed. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “Nope. Deal with it your way. Just remember, none of us are perfect. In relationships, you have to love someone through their imperfections. Mothers are not exempt from grace.”

  I leaned back against the counter and crossed my arms over my chest. “I understand. I guess right now, I’m trying to figure out how to trust her. I need some time.”

  “I’m praying for both of you.”

  My father left the house.

  I cleared the rest of the dishes and went into my office. I picked up my iPad and pulled up a search window and typed in: “Inexpensive dates” because I hadn’t had one those since college. I didn’t even know what might be good. I found a list. A long one. I smiled.

  “Okay, Tamar Johnson, be prepared to be swept off your feet.”

  I sat down began to scroll.

  Chapter 38

  Going to the supermarket was a form of self-care. It was a way for me to get alone time. I exited my bedroom with my bag and keys. I was on my way again.

  “Where are you going?” Aunt Joe eyes widened like I’d come out of my bedroom with two heads.

  Maybe I’d startled her. “To the store. We need a few things.”

  She frowned. “You have to go now?”

  I frowned back. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t go now. You’re good and Isaiah’s not even here.”

  “No…I mean, I need some things too. I haven’t gotten my list together. You shoulda asked me earlier.”

  I hadn’t asked her, but she’d been doing so well sticking to her meal plan, I didn’t think she needed anything different other than the few things I always made sure to stock. “I’ll have a seat. You tell me what you want.” I dropped next to her.

  Aunt Joe rolled her eyes. “I have to think about it.” She picked up her cell phone and opened to the Candy Crush app.

  I glared at her curiously. “Can you go ahead and do that?”

  She received a phone call. I waited as she chatted with her church sister.

  When she got off the phone, she picked up the remote control like I wasn’t waiting for her to give me her grocery list. Was she getting senile? She was too young for that.

  “Auntie,” I pressed. “You do know I’m waiting for you.”

  A text message pinged in on her phone, and she picked it up.

  “Aunt Joe!” I exclaimed.

  She looked at her phone and then turned to me. “I don’t want anything, honey. You go ahead.”

  “Really?” I stood. I was annoyed but kept it out of my voice.

  I went to the door and pulled it open. Stephen was standing there with a slick grin on his face.

  “Surprise!” He handed me a bouquet of barely alive wildflowers I suspected he’d picked off the side of the highway. I knew the honeysuckles in the arrangement had come off Aunt Joe’s tree. I scrunched up my face. “No time for a real florist?”

  Stephen smiled. “I made sure to get some purple ones in there. I know it’s your favorite color.”

  “Stephen!” Aunt Joe’s greeting was a little more enthusiastic than usual. Now I knew why she was delaying my exit. She was in cahoots with him.

  He walked into the house and gave her a hug. “How are you feeling today?”

  She slapped him on the forearm. “Fair to middling. How ‘bout you? How’s the ankle?”

  Stephen raised his leg and twisted his ankle around. “Middling to better.”

  Aunt Joe shook her head. “Northerners. That’s not a thing. But praise the Lord anyway.”

  We laughed.

  “I almost forgot.” Stephen reached into his pocket and removed a small box. “I have something for you.”

  Aunt Joe’s eyes gleamed. “Is this my oil?”

  “Best in the country.” Stephen clapped his hands together and threw a thumb up.

  I went into the kitchen for a mason jar. I filled it with water for my sorry, weepy flowers that I was certain would not reach the height of a vase. Curious about the exchange in the other room, I asked, “What kind of oil?”

  “CBD,” Aunt Joe replied.

  I frowned. “Is that like cannabis oil?” I asked walking back into the living room.

  “Yes, it’s for the inflammation and sleep, but you have to have the good stuff.” Aunt Joe twisted the top of the lid and took a whiff. “My doctor told me it was okay to try.”

  I looked at him. “You’re not getting my aunt high are you?”

  Stephen laughed. “Do I look like a weed man? Come on. It’s hemp CBD. Perfectly legit and legal in all fifty states.”

  I nodded. “Okay, I just want to make sure you didn’t let her talk you into some shenanigans.”

  “Like tricking you into staying in the house.” Aunt Joe cackled. “Y’all git on. The Golden Girls have a marathon today. Sister Williams is on her way over here to watch some of it with me.”

  I picked up my bag and exited the house with Stephen. “Surprise, ha?”

  “I told you I’d be back soon,” Stephen said, hitting the key fob to open the doors of his rental.

  I looked down at my worn jeans and tee-shirt. “I’m not exactly date ready. What are we doing?”

  “We are going to the movies and having dinner,” Stephen replied. “You look fine as is.”

  Stephen opened my car door and I g
ot inside the SUV. “What movie are we going to see?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll let you pick when we get there.”

  He joined me in the car, and we got on the road. After a few miles, I noticed he was going in the wrong way and I told him so. “You just missed the turn for the mall.”

  “I’m not going to the mall.”

  He kept driving, until he came to the side of town where the old broke down mall was that I never went to. He got a hat from the back seat and put it on. Then he put on a dark pair of sunglasses. “My disguise.”

  I chuckled. “No one would recognize you in a Falcon’s hat.”

  “Absolutely not,” he replied.

  I looked up and saw the sign for Dollar Theater and realized this was it.

  “Why are we at the dollar movie theater?”

  Stephen placed a hand on my knee. “Do you remember our first date?”

  I tried to recall, but I was drawing a blank.

  “We went to Philadelphia for the debate competition thing. You and I snuck out of the hotel and went to see Halloween. The theater was showing the old version.”

  “The one we’d never been allowed to see because it was evil,” I confirmed.

  Stephen laughed. “Yes. What year was that?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know…circa early 2000’s. That wasn’t a date. I couldn’t date until I was sixteen.”

  Stephen cocked an eyebrow. “I know, but we were rebelling. We snuck out for it.”

  I frowned at his distorted memory of the event. “Yeah, we snuck out, but it wasn’t a date.”

  Stephen smirked. “You ain’t have no dollar, girl, so that was a date. You just didn’t know it.”

  Stephen hopped out of the car. He came around and opened my door. “I thought this would be nostalgic. I wanted you to know that I remember everything about you and everything about us.”

  I took his hand. “Okay, but I hope our butts don’t stick to the cheap, soiled seats up in this spot.”

  “That’s why I told you that you were dressed fine. We can always burn these clothes.”

  I laughed and walked to the entrance. The ticket line was filled with teenagers and the movies were old. Some were probably already available for rent.

  “Let’s see,” Stephen said. “We have a choice between the new Viola Davis film and this D.C. comic flick.”

  “Sir, there ain’t nothing new about that Viola Davis movie,” I replied smartly.

  Stephen ignored me. “Oh, and Brat Pitt, you had a crush on him in high school, right?”

  I squinted at the poster. “I guess Brad will work. I’ve seen Viola, and I prefer Marvel to D.C.”

  “Cool.” Stephen removed $2 and some change from his wallet and went to the box office to pay.

  Once inside, we chose popcorn and drinks from the concession stand. The theatre was nearly empty, most of the kids opting to see the D.C. Comic movie and a horror movie Stephen hadn’t even suggested.

  We enjoyed the film, with Stephen chatting all the way through like he always did. When it was over, we found we weren’t sticking to the cushions. We laughed and exited the theater.

  “You were as bad as those kids with all that talking.”

  He chuckled. “I didn’t know there was going to be so much suspense.” He opened my car door and we were back on the highway in minutes.

  “What next? McDonalds?” I asked.

  “No, I wouldn’t take you to McDonald’s. It’s unhealthy.”

  We drove away from the mall area. Stephen stopped the car at a park in Aunt Joe’s neighborhood.

  “I thought we were eating.” My stomach confirmed I was ready with a rolling growl.

  “We are. One minute.” Stephen popped the trunk and climbed out the vehicle. He opened my door and helped me out and then went to the trunk and removed a picnic basket and a blanket. “Your dinner, Madame.”

  I twisted my lips to keep from smiling. “This is different.”

  Stephen took my hands and pulled me to a shady tree under which he put down the blanket. He got busy setting out paper plates, bottles of water and other juices. Then he removed bags of chips, a loaf of bread and two disposable containers, mayo and mustard.

  I dropped to my knees. “What in the world?”

  He opened the containers. “I got you all the cheddar cheese and fried baloney, you can handle, girl.”

  I squealed when I looked at the boloney. “It’s burnt on the edges.”

  “Of course, what other way is there to eat fried baloney?”

  I threw my head back and laughed. “You’re silly, you know that?”

  Getting more comfortable, he shifted his position on the blanket. “I got you hooked up.”

  I looked at the cheese. “Hooked up with constipation. This looks like some old school government cheese right here.”

  Stephen laughed. “I went to a supermarket in a really questionable part of town for this cheese. Risked my entire life.”

  I slapped him on the arm but welcomed the opportunity to try the hood meal. We laughed and ate sandwiches and then lay on the blanket. Our bodies were in opposite directions, but our heads were next to each other.

  “I’m surprisingly very full,” I said.

  “You ate three sandwiches. That’s like a half a loaf of bread.” Stephen chuckled.

  I laughed. “It is not.”

  “You gonna have to spend some time in the gym this week or something,” he teased.

  “Not before I hit the toilet. I haven’t had a cheese sandwich in forever. God, it’s funny how you stop doing stuff, right?”

  I could see Stephen nod in my peripheral vision. “It is.”

  I was sated. “That was nice. It took me back to my childhood.”

  “A simpler time,” he added propping himself up and looking down into my eyes.

  I agreed. “A much simpler time.”

  “The movie wasn’t bad.”

  “I wasn’t sure if we were going to be able to get out of those seats. I thought my feet were stuck to the floor.”

  Stephen smiled. “Yeah, that was a train wreck.”

  “But the company was good.”

  Stephen smiled again. “So, if you had to give a score on this here date, where would I be?” he asked. “I know I have competition, Gerald and all.”

  I sat up and propped myself on one elbow. “Stop it with Gerald. I am not interested in that man.”

  “He’s gonna be trying to holler soon.”

  I pressed my lips together before telling the truth. “You’re late. He gave me his number a few weeks ago.”

  Stephen nodded. “I knew it. I knew that dude was gonna shoot his shot.”

  I waved my free hand. “Anyway, I would give this date a solid B.”

  Stephen frowned. “B, huh? What could I have done to improve my score?”

  I shrugged. “Dessert.”

  “Oh, well, then get ready to make an adjustment in my grade.” He sat up, reached into the basket, and pulled out two packs of cookies. The kind we ate in the cafeteria in high school.

  “No way,” I shrieked. “I didn’t even know they still made these.”

  He handed me a pack. I squealed like an excited five-year-old and opened them. The first bite was like heaven.

  Stephen chewed and swallowed. “These bad boys taste exactly the same.”

  “They do.”

  We ate our cookies and then Stephen asked, “So, you know I’m an overachiever. Am I working with an A today?”

  I made him wait while I pretended to be thinking about my answer. “Definitely, an A.”

  He met me halfway across the blanket for a kiss. Stephen whispered, “You might have to go to the gym twice. This courtship is not supposed to end with you fat.”

  “Shut up!” Just like a blushing high school girl, I playfully slapped him on the arm.

  ***

  Over the course of the next few weeks, Stephen co
ntinued his romantic gestures. He cooked for me, cut Aunt Joe’s grass, he planted my favorite flowers in the front yard – dug up the dirt himself and everything. He wrote me a poem, brought me ice cream, and we went for long walks. He had a picture of Isaiah and me blown up to a poster size. He even highjacked my grocery list and went to the supermarket for me. I was enjoying our time together. It was nice to get to know him again and to realize he hadn’t changed. Sometimes that was hard to see in fancy restaurants.

  Now he was standing at the door dressed in old jeans and a t-shirt insisting he was going to change the oil in my car. His effort to impress me had gone too far.

  “But you probably shouldn’t get down on your ankle like that,” I said, attempting to steer this courting thing in a different direction.

  “My ankle is cool. I have one of those roller things to wheel myself around.”

  Isaiah came flying out of his bedroom, dressed to assist with the job.

  Stephen winked at me. “Just go back inside. We’ve got this.”

  I made one final plea. “It’s my car.”

  Stephen opened the car door and popped the hood. “Babe, I got it.”

  Hesitantly, I went back inside and climbed onto my bed with my e-reader.

  I woke to the sound of banging and looked at my cell phone. I’d been sleeping for more than an hour. I had a text message from my agent that said:

  Three publishers are interested in you. Call me, so we can discuss.

  I called her immediately.

  “Tamar, I didn’t want to turn you off by sending the real message in the text.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “They aren’t interested in the novel,” she said. “They all like your writing, but they want a series that connects to your brand. Maybe a novel about cyberbullying or revenge porn.”

  My heart sank. “Are you serious? I don’t even want that to be my brand.”

  “But honey, it is. It’s what you’re known for and quite frankly, it’s not a terrible thing.”

  I rolled my eyes. Disappointment crept into my heart. Rejection again.

  “Tamar?”

  I sighed heavily. I wanted her to hear my disappointment. “I’m here.”