Rain Storm Page 9

  He could hear the laughter in her voice and wanted to join in. But his life was no laughing matter at present. “I’ll see you when I get home.” He closed his flip phone and said Grace over his and Iona’s food.

  Brows furrowed, Iona asked, “Why did you do that?”

  “Do what?” Isaac replied.

  “Pray over the food. That’s kind of stupid, don’t you think?”

  This kid looked like him and had his former bad traits. There was a time when he thought praying was stupid also. “Iona, do you believe in God?”

  She took a bite of her hamburger, chewed a little, and then answered, “Naw, my mom says all that God stuff is just a myth.”

  “What if your mother is wrong?”

  Chewing some of her fries she shrugged.

  “Look Iona, you are going to be staying with me until this stuff with your mother gets straightened out. Me, my wife, and son all believe in God. I would just appreciate it if you would open your mind to the possibility that God does exist. Okay?”

  “You have a son?” Iona rolled her eyes. “I bet you didn’t wait until he was ten to introduce yourself to him, huh?”

  The seed of unforgiveness toward Cynda grew deeper roots in his heart. How was he supposed to give back ten years of missed hugs, ten years of butterfly kisses, and ten years of holding daddy’s hand and receiving daddy’s love? He was no miracle worker. He hadn’t professed to turning water into wine. But thank God he knew the man who had. And right now he was calling on Him for help. Lord, Jesus, I need You to show me what to do. I need to know how to make this right.

  “Let’s get something straight, Iona. I didn’t know that I had a daughter. If I--”

  “Yes, you did,” Iona said, cutting him off. “My mama said you didn’t want nothing to do with us.”

  She was right on one count. He didn’t want anything to do with Cynda’s deceitful, snake-in-the-grass self.

  Iona’s cold, dark eyes accused Isaac of lying. “She said you were too busy chasing after some woman who didn’t even want you to care about what happened to me.”

  “Your mother didn’t tell you the truth, Iona.”

  “My mother always tells me the truth. You’re the reason she had to work with all those bad men. You’re too cheap to pay child support.”

  He wanted to tell her that her mother was on crack and that was the reason she “worked” with all those bad men. But no matter how bad he was hating on Cynda right now he refused to defame her to this child.

  They ate the rest of the meal in silence. By the time Isaac received the check he decided that he needed to get back on the road and face the music at home. Nina was more equipped for handling pre-teen little girls than he was.

  ***

  Nina and Donavan were in the dining room going over his homework when Isaac pulled into the driveway. Donavan jumped up.

  “Not so fast, mister, Nina said sternly. “Finish this math paper before you go anywhere.”

  “But Dad just pulled up.”

  Nina smiled. “He lives here, Donavan. You’ll be able to see him when your homework is finished.”

  Donavan sat back down and got back to work on his paper.

  Nina reminded herself to walk, not run, as she rushed to the front door to greet her man. His key clicked in the lock and she ran her hand through her short layered hair. She wished she had made time to wash and style her hair today instead of just letting it lay flat on her head. She wished she had put on some make up too. But it had been a blah kind of day for her, and she chose to let her appearance reflect her mood.

  Her heart beat a bit faster as the door slid open. She couldn’t help it. This man set her soul on fire. It was those deep dimples of his. Every time Isaac smiled, Nina wanted to scream, “What you want? Just tell me your dreams so that I can make them come true!” Her adoptive mother used to tell her that she loved her husband so much that she would drink his dirty bath water. Nina didn’t know if she was ready to drink dirty bath water, but she’d do just about anything else for this strong black man walking through her door.

  He was a whole foot taller than her, but she still felt right in his arms. She grabbed him and covered his mouth with hers. She needed to forget what her doctor had said. She needed to wrap herself in Isaac’s arms and believe that all things were possible. He lifted her onto their hand crafted cocktail table without caring if they cracked the glass top. The kiss deepened and Nina became mesmerized. How could this man walk back into her world after being gone only three days and cause her to yearn so deeply for him?

  “Baby, you make me want to come home.” Isaac told his wife.

  Smiling, she pulled her man closer. His statement thrilled her because she understood the meaning. Many married men came home as a sense of duty, because they had to. But wanting to come home was a whole nother-other.

  She whispered in his ear, “Let’s go to our room and make a baby.”

  His eyes clouded as he pulled away from her embrace.

  “What’s the matter? The man that wars with demons does not trust that God is able to perform a miracle for us?” She needed him to believe for her, to tell her that every doctor in this world could just shut up.

  “It’s not that, baby.”

  “Well, what is it? Because I choose to trust God before I trust what some doctor has to say. I thought you were in agreement with me on this?” Please be in agreement. You don’t know the day I’ve had.

  His head hung low as a dark-chocolate little girl stepped in front of him.

  Nina’s face flushed red. “Oh my God, I totally forgot that you were bringing someone home.” Nina bent down in front of the little girl and put out her hand. “Hello, I’m Nina.”

  Iona ignored Nina’s hand. She gave her the once over then said, “My mother looks ten times better than you.”

  Nina’s mouth hung open. She stood and looked at Isaac who had jumped in front of the little girl with his finger shaking in her face. “Now look here, Iona. You are not going to disrespect my wife. This is our home and you will appreciate that fact.”

  Iona shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Nostrils flaring, Isaac raged, “What did you say to me?”

  Nina grabbed his arm and turned him toward her. She felt as though the girl’s mother was in jail and that she needed compassion rather than a good thrashing right now. “Let it go, baby.” She ran her hand through her hair. “She’s right, I do look a mess.”

  Iona’s nose flared with anger. “I don’t need you taking up for me.”

  Isaac’s nose flared with anger next. As the two of them stood side by side, Nina looked from one to the other. Their complexions were the same, the shape of their eyes and the bone structure; the same. Iona smirked at Nina and Nina put her hand to her mouth and backed away. Those dimples on the little girl were exactly like her husband’s. As a matter of fact, this little girl looked exactly like her husband.

  Isaac walked toward her. “Baby, now I know this seems a little weird…”

  Nina looked from the child to her husband, from her husband and back to the child. She asked, “Who is her mother, Isaac?”

  He lowered his head.

  “My mother’s name is Cynda Stephens and she is triple-times prettier than you,” Iona spat.

  Nina’s hand went to her mouth again. As she backed away from Isaac, consuming liquid formed in her eyes. Now Nina understood why Cynda made such a scene at hers and Isaac’s wedding last year. All this time, that woman had Isaac’s child. As cruel as Nina knew Cynda to be, she imagined the woman sitting in a jail cell somewhere laughing at the thought of Nina having to raise a child that belonged to her.

  He reached out for his wife. “Let me explain, baby.”

  Donavan walked into the room. “What’s going on?”

  Nina brushed by Donavan as she ran towards her bedroom.

  “What’s wrong with mom, Dad?” Donavan asked.

  “It’s complicated, son. Can you show Iona where the spare bedroom is while I go
see about your mother?”

  “Does this mean I don’t have to finish my homework?” Donavan asked.

  “That’s fine, son. Whatever you want,” Isaac answered, half paying attention.

  By the time Isaac reached their bedroom, the door was locked. “Nina, baby let me in.”

  She didn’t respond.

  He leaned against the door. “I can hear you crying. Open the door so I can hold you. Please, Nina. I just want to hold you.”

  11

  Five days after the attack in the county lock up, Cynda’s body was still sore. Her face and arms were also still swollen and black and blue. She looked nothing like the beautiful woman he’d been used to seeing.

  As Keith gently pulled the covers over Cynda, he asked, “Can I get you anything?”

  “Get out of my face,” she replied, shoving him away from her.

  Keith frowned as he backed out of the room. Cynda had been unruly for two days now, accusing him of tricking her into marriage. Maybe he did take advantage of her at a vulnerable time, but she went to the courthouse and signed those papers with him. Cynda knew exactly what she was doing. She had been handed a get out of jail, while awaiting trial free card and she took it.

  In the kitchen he pulled a vase out of the cabinet, filled it with water, then put the white roses he’d purchased from the hospital gift shop in the vase. The faucet continued to drip even after he’d turned it off. Keith made a mental note to call the plumber to have that little nuisance fixed.

  He took a can of tomato soup down from the cabinet, put it in a bowl, and microwaved it. Putting the roses, the soup, a glass of 7-up, and some pain pills on a dinner tray, he walked back into his bedroom. Smiling at his disagreeable patient, he set the tray on the nightstand next to the bed. He took the roses off the tray and placed them on the dresser across from the bed so that Cynda could see them.

  Picking up the bowl of tomato soup, Keith sat down in front of her and held up a spoon. “I figured that you must still be in a lot of pain, so the sooner I can get some food in you, the sooner I’ll be able to give you something for your pain.”

  Cynda rolled her eyes and shot an accusing glance his way. “Don’t you have a job? Shouldn’t you be there?” she asked.

  Putting a spoonful of soup in her mouth, Keith answered, “I’m working from home this week. I want to be here to care for you.”

  Cynda turned her head as Keith tried to give her another spoonful of soup. “So when they fire you, I guess you think I’m going to take care of us?”

  Keith knew the skills Cynda had. He’d go on welfare before allowing her to take care of them. “You need to eat. You’ve already lost weight,” Keith said as he held out the spoon again. Cynda relented. “Don’t worry about me getting fired. I own the company, remember?”

  “A regular Daddy Warbucks, huh?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  “You okay?” She nodded and he shoved another spoonful of soup in her mouth. “Nothing like that. This is my first year in business. Things are still real tight, but we’ll manage, don’t worry.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Spoony said before I started tricking for him.”

  Keith sat with the spoon in his hand. He knew that life had kicked Cynda around so much that she didn’t know how to receive him. He sat the bowl on the night stand.

  “I’ll be in my office just across the hall if you need me. The pills are on the night stand, but I really think you should eat a little more before taking them.” He got up and walked out of his bedroom. Keith had been sleeping in the guest bedroom and his office, whichever he felt like sleeping in. He didn’t want to get to comfortable in either. As soon as Cynda was well enough and not in so much pain, Keith intended to move back into his bedroom, or better yet, their bedroom.

  He wasn’t in his office an hour when Cynda called out to him. She needed his help getting out of bed so she could relieve herself. He then put her back in bed, warmed up her soup, and fed it to her. She took the pills Keith offered and then asked, “Where are the pills the doctor prescribed for me?”

  “A person coming off drugs shouldn’t have such a high dosage of pain medication,” Keith told her.

  Smirking, she asked, “Oh, so when did they put MD behind your last name?”

  “I’ll be in my office if you need me.” He turned and walked out of the room.

  “I need my pain medication,” she screamed at his departing form. “Don’t get it twisted. I’ll never need you.”

  Later that evening Keith gave Cynda a sponge bath. Her face tightened with every touch. She winced, and then jumped when he tried to apply soap to her rib area.

  “Sorry,” he told her then quickly finished up.

  “You’re not sorry. If you cared at all, you would give me my real pain medication. Can’t you tell how much I’m hurting?”

  He let her air dry while he dumped the water out of the hospital pan he used to sponge bathe her. As he walked back into the room he said, “I’m just trying to keep you from having to withdraw from pain medication along with all the other stuff you are going to be having withdrawal symptoms from.”

  She picked up the dinner tray off her nightstand and hurled it at Keith’s head. “You’re a fool,” she screamed. “You think it’s better that I be in agonizing pain and have withdrawal symptoms?”

  Picking up the tray he told her, “I’m just trying to help.”

  She tried to lift her bruised body off the bed. “Give me my clothes. I’m getting out of here.”

  “You are on house arrest, Cynda.”

  “I don’t care. If the police pick me up, at least I’ll get some real pain medication from the prison nurse – they won’t just let me suffer.”

  He eased her back down on the bed and pulled the covers over her naked body. “Calm down, Cynda.” He opened the bottom drawer next to his bed and pulled out the addicting doses of pain medication and handed the bottle to Cynda. What else could he do – she was right. If the police took her back to the hospital, they would give her this stuff. He handed her a glass of water and then asked, “Do you want me to put a gown on you?”

  “Naw, I sleep like this all the time. You do remember what my profession is, right?”

  “I’ll have to put something on you in the morning, but hopefully, you won’t be so raw by then.”

  “Thanks for the bath, Daddy. I’m not up for sex this week. But at least you were able to feel me up.”

  The comment gut punched him – sent him to his throne room, crying out to God.

  “Lord, I really need Your help. I did what You asked, but now I need something from You.” Falling on his knees, tears stinging his eyes, he pleaded, “I can’t be in a loveless marriage. Teach me how to love this woman. And teach her how to love me back.”

  He leaned his back against the wall as he sat on the floor and moaned. Tears creased the corners of his eyes as he realized that he had let Cynda down by giving in and handing her those pain pills just as he had let his mother down when he was nineteen.

  “I can’t take this anymore, Mama. You have got to get off drugs,” Keith implored his mother.

  Dorthea Williams was stretched out on her dirty couch. It had once been orange, but now it was brown with tints of orange. She was leaning over, vomiting on the carpeted floor. Between vomit and wipes of the mouth, she told Keith. “I-I’m gon’ give this stuff up, son. You believe me don’t you?” She heaved, turned back to the floor, spilled out the rest of her guts, then told him, “This stuff don’t mean me no good.”

  Keith stood at the door, his hand on the doorknob. He wanted to go to her, put her in the shower and clean up that mess. But he was tired of being her fix it man.

  “You’re not getting another dime from me. Do you understand what I’m saying, Mama?” She didn’t respond. “And I won’t keep my stuff here anymore. You’ve stolen your last crack high from me.”

  Dorthea pulled herself into a sitting position and wiped her mouth again. “Boy, why are you being so high and mi
ghty? You’re the dope man, remember? If you and your friends didn’t supply the stuff, I couldn’t use.”

  His face was set. “And you won’t blame me for your addictions ever again. At least not to my face. I’m not coming back here again. I refuse to see you until you get clean.” He opened the door and walked out of his mother’s life. He just hadn’t realized that he had giving her a death sentence; hadn’t realized that the next time he saw her, she would be in a body bag.

  ***

  Cynda wanted to die. She wanted the sharp pains that were ripping through her body to just take her out. Life had already had its joke at her expense. Hadn’t she turned out just like the kids said she would? Her mother’s pain had been extinguished at twenty-seven. Why was she still here? Couldn’t God be merciful enough to just allow someone to put a bullet in her head?

  Spoony had almost done the job, but Cynda distinctly remembered a glowing form over her body, blowing life back into her and begging her to live and not die. Who would do that for her? Certainly not Linda – she hated Cynda’s guts. And Spoony the devil was dead, so he didn’t do it. Maybe Iona tried to resuscitate her. But where had she learned such a thing?

  She wanted her grammy to make it all better. Or better yet, maybe her grammy could take her to the place where there was no more crying and no more dying – the place she had gone off to. But to get there Cynda would probably have to make amends with God. She’d rather stay alive, or go to the devil, thank you very much.

  No matter which way you looked at it, God was just cruel. She could be dead, all her troubles over, but, instead she was on house arrest and married to Keith the do-gooder.

  She didn’t ask him to marry her. Hadn’t asked for anything from him. So what right did he have to look so sad when she screamed at him? If he didn’t like what she said, why didn’t he do something about it?

  When he’d brought dinner to her last night and she threw it on the floor, he said, “I know I’m not the best cook in the world, but my food isn’t that bad.”