Rain Storm Page 12

  But Isaac knocked on her office door, dashing all her palm-tree dreams. She opened the door and let him in. “What’s up,” she asked as if he needed a reason to enter her domain.

  He sat in the chair in front of her desk. “The kids said they haven’t seen you since breakfast.”

  She pointed at her computer. “I’ve got to get this story finished. My editor has been hounding me for it.”

  He looked at his watch. “Are you planning to fix dinner?”

  “I really don’t feel up to it tonight. Can you just order a pizza or something? Maybe you could take the kids out for pizza. I bet they’d like that.” Just go. Take them on a month-long trip around the world. Have fun with your children.

  Isaac pulled himself out of the chair and walked around the desk to face off with his wife. “Nina, Iona said that she screamed for you earlier when Donavan punched her in the arm. Why didn’t you come out of this room to help her?”

  The little snitch. Yeah, Nina had heard Iona screaming, but it was the first time Iona bothered to say her name all week. And anyway, Donavan wasn’t going to hurt her. “So, do we have an informant in the house now? Do I have to watch everything I do and say around here?”

  “Nina, I don’t know what has happened to you, but you are not acting like the same woman I married.”

  She stood up and snapped, “You happened to me, Isaac Walker.”

  Looking at the door he told her, “Lower your voice.”

  “Oh, do you think they don’t know that I’ve been disgraced and wronged by you yet again.” She moved to the window, putting distance between them. “Just when I thought you’d changed. That I actually mattered to you – you go and bring some other woman’s child in here and expect me to raise her.” She laughed, but the sound was bitter.

  “What do you want me to do, Nina? She’s my child. I couldn’t just leave her to children services.”

  “But she’s not my child, Isaac. Do you know how much that hurts? Do you even care?”

  He reached his arms out to comfort her. She halted him with the raising of her hands. “Don’t. Don’t try to make it better.”

  “Tell me what to do?”

  She turned her back on him. She was getting good at turning away from him. “I don’t know if I can raise that woman’s child.”

  “She can become just as much your child as she is Cynda’s if you give her a chance.”

  She opened her office door and went into her bedroom, locking the door behind her before Isaac could even turn the knob.

  ***

  On Monday, Isaac received a call from Iona’s school. She was being suspended for two days. A teacher tried to instruct her on how children should respect adults and not roll their eyes or flip them off when they didn’t agree with something said – Iona spit in her face. Like mother like daughter. Although Isaac had stopped dealing with Cynda ten years ago, he’d seen her twice since; a year ago at his wedding and a year before that when he’d spotted her in an alley trying to get some crack. He’d tried to help her, offered to get her some help for her drug problem and she had spit in his face.

  Mondays were his day off, so he was in a brown and tan Nike jogging suit and size twelve Jordan’s. Comfortable clothes – beat down clothes. Mrs. Walsh, the school secretary, was rubbing her temples when Isaac walked in.

  “Mr. Walker,” she sighed. “Thank God you could come so quickly.”

  Iona was sitting in the chair in the corner, elbow on her leg, fisted hand under her chin. Deviant.

  “Where is her teacher? I’d like for Iona to apologize to her,” Isaac said to Mrs. Walsh.

  “Ms. Days went home. This incident really shook her up.”

  Isaac turned to Iona. “Well, young lady, what do you have to say for yourself?”

  “Like you care,” she answered, with her fisted hand still under her chin.

  Anger pulled at Isaac and wouldn’t let him go. It caused him to step to his daughter. “W-what did you say to me?”

  “She’s been like that all morning, Mr. Walker. You can’t talk to her.” Mrs. Walsh said.

  Iona glared at Mrs. Walsh. “Didn’t nobody ask you nothing.”

  Putting his hand around Iona’s arm, Isaac yanked her out of the seat. His gaze bore into her as he leaned close to her ear. “If you open your mouth again, this woman is going to call Children Services on me – ‘cause I’m going to beat you half to death right here in this office.”

  Iona swallowed hard. With eyes bulging she told Isaac, “But they’ll take you to jail if you hit me.”

  With a smirk he said, “I’ve been to jail. And before I let a child disrespect me, I’d rather catch another case.” He tightened his grip on her arm. “Do you understand me, Iona?”

  “Y-yes sir,” she stuttered.

  He turned her toward Mrs. Walsh and released her arm. “Apologize,” Isaac ordered his daughter.

  Iona turned back to him. “But—”

  He gave her the look – the one that said, “don’t mess with me.”

  Iona turned back around. “Sorry for what I said, Mrs. Walsh.”

  They walked out of the office in silence. It was raining when they opened the school door, so they ran to the car. Once inside, Isaac looked at his daughter and shook his head. “What am I going to do with you, Iona?”

  “Just throw me away. My mom has thrown me away, so why don’t you go ahead and do the same.”

  “Your mother didn’t throw you away.” He really hated taking up for Cynda. “The courts took you away from her.”

  “She was glad. She hates me.”

  “Nobody hates you, Iona.”

  Tears were in her eyes as she screamed, “Everybody hates me! You hate me because you think I’m ruining your happy little home. And my mom hates me because she thinks I resuscitated her or something.”

  His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about? When did you resuscitate your mother?”

  “I didn’t. But she thinks I somehow breathed life back into her while she was unconscious on Spoony’s floor.”

  Still confused. “What would have been the problem with that?”

  The tears flowed down her face as she said, “She said she would have rather died.” She wiped at the tears but they kept coming. “You don’t want me and she doesn’t want me. Maybe I should just die.”

  Isaac pulled his daughter into his arms. Life hadn’t been kind to her. But life hadn’t tipped toed around him either. God would take away her pain. He would just keep praying for her.

  “I don’t want you to think that I don’t want you. You’re my flesh and blood and I love you.”

  She lifted her head, eyes wide open with the beginnings of a smile on her face. “You love me? For real?”

  Wiping the tears from her face Isaac said, “Yes. I really do.” Then he added, “But you’re still getting punished.” He started the car and they headed for home.

  15

  Keith and his crew were on a job site on the north end of town. Pete, Chris and Sam were using the jackhammer to knock down the concrete wall, while Keith searched through his truck for the blue prints and work order. He finally gave up and called Janet.

  “What’s up?” Janet asked.

  “Did I leave the work order in the office?” Keith inquired.

  “Hold on, let me check.” She put the phone down. When she came back, she told him, “It’s not here. I thought you took them home last night.”

  He snapped his finger. “You’re right. Now we’re going to get further behind. I can’t believe I left those plans at home.”

  “Why don’t I drop by your house and pick it up? I can swing by the job site and you won’t have to fall behind.”

  What would he do without her? “Thanks, Janet. I really appreciate it. I don’t know where my head is lately.”

  “I know,” Janet said, and then hung up.

  An hour later, Janet pulled up at the work site with the blue-prints and his work orders. She handed them to Keit
h and turned to get back in her car with not as much as a single word.

  Her face was ghost like and horror stricken. Keith stopped her.

  “What’s wrong, Janet? Did Cynda say something to upset you?” Keith asked, assuming that Cynda might have done something to Janet when she went to the house to pick up the blue prints.

  She clasped her hands together and opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She stepped back, scratched her head, then turned away from him.

  As she opened her car door, Keith again asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Go home, Keith. Go check on your wife.” She slammed her palms against the steering wheel, and as tears slid down her face she asked him, “What was God thinking? You deserve so much more.”

  She closed the door and Keith watched her drive away and wondered what Cynda could have done to upset her like that. He wanted to rush home, but didn’t want to feel like a fool if nothing was wrong. He pulled out his cell phone and called the house. The line was busy. It stayed busy.

  What was he supposed to do, leave his crew to do all the work while he spied on his wife? He couldn’t do it. His personal life would not affect his business anymore than it already had. He did, however, allow the crew to knock off about two hours early after dialing the house for the sixth time and still getting a busy signal.

  As Keith pulled into his driveway next to a midnight black Lexus that had never been in his driveway before, he kicked himself for not coming home sooner.

  He got out of the truck and sprinted toward his ranch-style house. The tulips and chrysanthemums the ladies from his church planted last spring were beginning to spring up. He stepped on one of them as the front door opened and a man dressed in workman overalls stepped onto his porch.

  “Same time next week, sugar?” the man asked.

  Cynda leaned against the doorpost. She had on a short black silk gown that Keith had not bought for her. “Yeah baby, same time,” Cynda winked.

  Keith put his hands around the man’s throat as he barreled his way onto the porch. He was five-eleven, no match at all to Keith’s six-two, 220-pounds.

  “Don’t you ever come to my house again! Do you hear me?” Keith raged.

  Cynda stepped onto the porch and grabbed Keith’s arm. “Are you crazy? What are you doing?” she yelled.

  Keith let the man go and stepped back. “Stay away from my wife.”

  The man sputtered something about calling the police.

  Cynda pulled Keith into the house. “Just leave, Joe. Get out of here,” she said to the man.

  Keith pulled his arm from Cynda’s grasp and jumped in Joe’s face again. “Are you deaf?”

  Joe stepped off the porch and headed for his car. Before opening the door he yelled back at Keith, “She invited me over here, man. I didn’t even know she was married. Geez, where I come from, men don’t marry hookers.”

  Deflated, Keith went into the house and shut the door. Cynda stood in the living room with her hand on her hip - defiant.

  “What was he doing here?” Keith demanded to know.

  She lifted her leg, displaying the monitor around her ankle. “I can’t exactly go to him, now can I?”

  He advanced on her with his fist clenched. “Did he bring this gown for you?”

  “No, my first customer brought the gown.”

  “Your first what? How many men have you had in my house?”

  She didn’t move. “Enough.”

  He was foaming at the mouth, madder than a lion chasing after the animal stupid enough to mess with his cub. “What did you say?”

  “So I guess you’re going to beat on me.” She shrugged. “Go ahead – not like I haven’t been down this road before.”

  Keith stopped. “Why, Cynda? You are my wife.”

  “Boy, please, don’t color it up. We are roommates.”

  He wanted to beat some sense into her. His mother had once told him, “Son, don’t ever put your hands on a woman. But if she acts like a man, treat her like one.” This one was certainly begging for it; in his face, daring him to hit her. Only men acted like that, right? If he hit her in the eye, she’d probably treat him with a little more respect.

  But he couldn’t put his hands on a woman no matter how wrong she was. He looked at her for a moment. Her eyes were glassy and wide open like tooth picks were holding them apart.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

  She started fidgeting, walking in circles. “W-why something got to be wrong with me?”

  “You on something?”

  “Why I got to be on something? Why can’t I just like sex?”

  He grabbed her arms and looked deep into her eyes. “You’re on crack?”

  Pulling away from him she said, “I just had a little hit. What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is – I opened my house to you; took care of you when you couldn’t do anything for yourself. And you thank me by prostituting and doping up in my house?”

  “You don’t own me. I can pay my own way.” She took a fifty out of her bra and tried to hand it to him. “Here, put this on the rent.”

  “If you think I could take money that you earned by… by…” He turned away, walking toward his office.

  She put her hands on her hip and posed as she sneered, “How does it feel, dear husband, to know that someone else wants what you don’t?”

  And there it was. The reason she’d done this to him. She wanted to punish him for not using her body as other men had. For wanting their union to be something special. He stormed into his office and slammed the door. Kneeling before the throne he prayed.

  “Father, I know You love me and desire good things for me. But I just don’t know if I heard you clearly about this marriage.

  “She can’t be the one for me, Lord. The woman has nothing but contempt for me.”

  He waited, hoping to hear God say, “Son, you’re married to a cold-hearted devil. Get out while the getting is good.” But his Lord didn’t reply.

  Keith continued calling out to God. “She doesn’t want me, Lord.”

  My bride whores after others, and I love her still.

  “But I’m not like You, Lord. I don’t know if I can stay with someone who treats me this way,” Keith reasoned.

  Keith bowed his head lower as he continued to pray. His own words had condemned him. If he was to be Christ-like, then he would have to love in spite of the treatment he received. Whether or not he received love back was not the issue. Jesus loved while he was being crucified.

  Keith got off his knees and exited his office, carrying his cross.

  His wayward wife was sitting on the couch in the living room with the remote in her hand and the phone to her ear. “The next time Donavan hits you, I want you to pick up the biggest stick you can find and wear him out with it,” Cynda said with authority.

  With Iona on the other end of the phone, Cynda was putting more poison in her mind, rather than encouraging the girl to make the best of her situation.

  “Just because you’re under their roof don’t mean you have to put up with their mess,” Cynda told her daughter. “You let me know if anything else goes down. Okay?” She hung up and looked in Keith’s direction while still flipping channels.

  “You really shouldn’t encourage Iona to disrespect Nina and Isaac,” Keith told her.

  Fire flashed through Cynda’s eyes. “So I’m supposed to let them treat my child like an unwanted orphan, and just keep my mouth shut? Is that the way you want me to handle it?” Mumbling under her breath she said, “The way you handle everything.”

  He could barely look at her. Didn’t want to be in the same room, same city, or same earth with her. But he was honor bound to treat her right anyhow.

  “I’m going to go pick up some food,” Keith said. “Do you want Chinese or pizza for dinner? I would have asked before I came home, but the line stayed busy.”

  “Chinese works for me.” She pulled that same fifty out of her bra and tried to hand it to him again.
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  He ignored her outstretched hand. “So, is this the way you dress to sit around the house?”

  She looked down at the skimpy gown then back at Keith. “You don’t like it?”

  Rolling his eyes he walked out the door. Driving to the Chinese restaurant he kept reminding himself that love is kind and love does not think evil. Love does not mix rat poison into a box of shrimp fried rice.

  When he got back home Cynda had changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt he had bought her. He set the food on the table and opened the boxes. Cynda grabbed the plates out of the cabinet. When they sat down, Keith held her hand and said Grace over their food.

  “Why do you find that necessary?” Cynda asked.

  “What?” Keith replied as he put some sweet and sour chicken on top of his rice.

  “Praying; like somebody cares enough to listen.”

  “My God listens when I pray.”

  She put some pepper steak and an egg roll on her plate. “Yeah, that’s why you’re stuck with me.”

  “God has a plan for me.”

  “God’s plan must be for you to suffer.”

  Chomping down on his food, Keith looked at her through pain filled eyes. “With suffering comes growth. The more I grow, the more I will be like Him.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand you.”

  “You don’t have to understand me. Just love me.”

  “I’m not into all this love stuff.” She walked to the refrigerator and took out a diet coke. “You want one?”

  “Yeah, I’ll take one.”

  She sat back down and handed him the soda. They ate in silence for a while then Cynda said, “Look Keith, I don’t think this is going to work out. When I get through with this court case, I’m going to move out. Okay? We can get a divorce or an annulment or something.”

  He wanted to remind her that she might go to prison before this was all over, but apparently she looked at her court case as nothing more than a traffic ticket that she could just go into court for, bat her eyes and the judge would let her walk out with a small fine.