Boaz Brown (44 page)

I followed him, with an intentionally cheerful attitude.
I will not let the enemy tear my family apart.
“Hey, Daddy.”

“Mmm,” he grumbled, searching through my utensil drawer.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Where are your forks?” he asked.

“Daddy, stop. Listen to me,” I commanded him.

He finally put one hand on the counter and stopped. Daddy looked into my eyes. He probed me, searched me, and examined me. We were deadlocked, each looking for the soul of the other, like two alien creatures, each searching for that familiar place inside the other.

Daddy stood back and waited for me to blink or cower. But I didn’t. One of us was going to have to back down, and it wasn’t going to be me. I wasn’t going to take any less than his full respect and love—the kind he had always given me. The kind I deserved.

“Stelson is coming over for dinner.”

Daddy took a seat at my kitchen table and crossed his arms defiantly. I sat across from him, hoping that his decision to sit down was a good thing.

I spoke softly, “Daddy, listen. I want you to meet the man in my life. I know you don’t approve of interracial anything, but this is my choice. If you can’t respect that, then you never really respected me.”

He raised his head sharply. “Who taught you to talk to your father like that? This white friend of yours?”

“No, you did. I was so afraid to tell you about Stelson because I knew you’d react this way. But with all due respect, Daddy, I have to live a life that is pleasing unto God. If that means going against your beliefs about white people, then so be
it.
You’re the one who taught me to stick with my beliefs no matter what anyone else says. I’m still your daughter. But I don’t apologize for the fact that I owe more allegiance to Christ than to the black race.”

“So that’s the way it is, huh?” He bobbed his head. “Just gonna forget about your people?”

“I don’t have to forget where I came from to move on with my life. That’s where you’ve been stuck, Daddy. You think that if you let go of the pain and anger and hurt, you’ll be left with nothing. But that’s not true. When you forgive and move on, you free yourself up for joy. Joy. Do you even know what joy is? Have you experienced it, day in and day out?”

“I’m leaving.” Daddy stood up, his chair screeching like a car slamming on its brakes.

Momma tried to calm him as he walked toward the door. “Jonathan Smith, listen to somebody for once. You said just the other day that you wished you could live to see the day that blacks and whites could get along.”

“I also said that would be when hell freezes over,” he added.

“Well, your daughter just threw down some ice. Now, you just sit down and enjoy this dinner. You never know, Jon, you might actually like Stillman.”

“Stelson,” I said.

“Stelson.” Momma stood next to him at the door now.

Daddy stopped, facing the door, with his feet flat on the center of my welcome mat.

What if he walks out that door?

He put both hands in his pockets. . . jiggled the loose change. He tilted his head back, letting the overhead lights cast a glow on the center of his head. He just stood there. Still. He must have been thinking. Weighing his past against his relationship with me.

I prayed with everything in me, and I felt Momma and Jonathan doing the same.
But what f he walks out that door?

Then Daddy took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and asked in a shaky voice, “What kind of bread did you get?”

Exhale
. Thank you, Lord.

Daddy was civil, and that was enough to be thankful for. He shook Stelson’s hand, for the second time, in my living room. They were both apprehensive and silent throughout most of the dinner. Jonathan, Momma, and I did everything we could to keep conversation going. I’m sure we sounded like a sitcom with all that gibberish. But Daddy knew now. And we’d survived.

I came face to face with an undeniable truth about myself that day. Of all the people who I thought would have a problem with my dating Stelson—my parents, Jonathan, Peaches, my coworkers, the general public—the person with the biggest issue was me. I gave it all up to the Lord that evening in the comfort of my prayer room. As I knelt beside the bed, letting my knees settle on the floor, I laid it all before God.

Lord, I am tired of fighting this battle within myself I am tired of running back and forth between what I feel, what I’ve heard, and what You have revealed to me as the truth of Your love. Help me to stand up to my fears and fight against the enemy in this battle for my mind one last time. I claim victory right now in the name of Jesus. Amen.

I jumped through my last hoop, deciding then and there not to let the past overrun my future anymore, to stop reaching back, feeling for what had been comfortable in order to determine what should be acceptable for me in the days ahead with Stelson.

After all, I already knew in my heart that Stelson was the one. He’d loved me, actively, even before I was ready to love him, without expecting anything in return. He did right just because.

Chapter 22

Momma and I sat glued to the television, watching the royal wedding ceremony of the Prince of Wales and Lady Diana. She looked like Cinderella as she walked down the aisle wearing the train that seemed to go on forever. I wished I were Lady Diana. That I could ride through the city as royalty, with millions of people watching and wishing me well. Waving at the commoners, in love.

“Momma, where are they at?”

“They’re in England.”

“Are there any black people in England?”

“Yeah, a few,” she speculated.

“Can a black girl be a princess?” I asked.

“Not in England. Maybe in Africa—but you don’t want to marry no African man,” she warned me. “They can have as many wives as they want. You just get you a good man who goes to church, baby. You’ll be just fine.”

* * * * *

Jonathan was ready to go by five Monday morning. I dragged through the house, trying to convince myself that it
is
humanly possible to get out of bed two hours before the sun gets up.

I was a little late getting to work that morning after dropping Jonathan off at the airport. I was sad to see him go. It might be years before I’d see Jonathan again. We took a few pictures at the airport, gave hugs, and prayed for his safe journey.

I thanked him for his role in helping me with Daddy. “Hey, maybe that’s why I was here after all.” I watched him until he was out of view, and then made my way out of DFW traffic and onto the city’s main highways.

Traffic was heavier than I’d anticipated coming out of the airport and heading into the mid-city. I called ahead to tell Miss Jan that I’d be later than I thought. “I’ll do my best to hold down the fort. Just get here as soon as you can,” she said, sounding more cheerful than usual.

“Okay.”

When I finally made it to school, I rushed past Miss Jan to catch up on all the work I was sure had been piling up on my desk since Wednesday. But there was something else on my desk, to my surprise: a dozen yellow roses in full bloom, baby’s breath sprinkled throughout the bouquet, and a fluffy, brown teddy bear centered at the base of the vase. I stood there looking at it for a second.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Miss Jan was standing right behind me, smiling, with stars in her eyes.

“Oh, this is so beautiful!” I exclaimed.

“It’s romantic.” She sighed and laid a hand on her chest.

I walked to my desk and plucked the card from the holder in the center of the roses. I read the card out loud.

To LaShondra—Happy Belated Birthday—Stelson.

I breathed in the scent of the roses, letting the aroma settle deep in my lungs.

“Stelson again?”

“Yes.”

Miss Jan complimented me. “He seems like a good catch.”

“He is,” I told her. “He really is.”

Miss Jan left the room, closing the door behind her. I sat down at my desk, still marveling at the beauty of the bouquet. I picked up the phone and called Stelson’s office.

“Brown-Cooper, this is Jolynn Abernathy. How may I help you?”

“Miss Abernathy, this is LaShondra Smith.”

“Oh, Miss Smith! How are you?” she asked in a friendly tone.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Shall I put you through to Mr. Brown?”

“Well, actually, I wanted to know if he would be staying in the office for lunch today. I’d like to surprise him, if you think that’s a good idea.” My heart pounded.

“Certainly. I’m sure he’d love that. He was going to have me order Subway for lunch today. Would you like for me to include your order as well?”

“That would be perfect. I’ll take a six-inch turkey and cheese on wheat. What time should I be there?”

“Eleven-thirty,” she squeaked.

The Brown-Cooper receptionist was as pretty as she was cheerful. Her bright green eyes and auburn hair stood out like major attractions, but her attitude was even more fluorescent. “Hi! How can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Mr. Brown.”

“I’m sorry, he’s at lunch.” She gave me a sincerely over- dramatized frown and slumped over. Then she bolted up straight in her chair and pushed her fake breasts forward. “But I’d be glad to tell him you came by.”

“I’m having lunch with Mr. Brown,” I informed her. “Oh,” she blinked a few times, “Okay. I’ll call his secretary.”

I took a seat in the waiting area and scoped out Stelson’s office. The motif was contemporary: mauve and hunter green with oak trimmings. There were photographs of Stelson and Mr. Cooper hanging on opposite walls in the waiting room. Stelson looked considerably younger in his picture. He’d obviously put on a few pounds since then, but those pounds had fallen in all the right places.
That’s my man.

“LaShondra?” Stelson stepped out of the side door.

“Hey!” I smiled.

“Come on in.” He hugged me and led me down a short hallway. “Miss Abernathy, this is LaShondra Smith.”

“Hi!” She shook with her right and enclosed mine with her left. Her hands felt soft, but the skin sagged a little. She looked much younger than she was. “I am so glad Mr. Brown has found someone to help keep his mind off work. I have a life now, thanks to you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

“Hold my calls,” he asked her. She nodded.

“What a pleasant surprise.” He closed the door behind me.

“Oh, Stelson, the roses are beautiful.” I hugged him, my voice giving way to emotion.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he tried to calm me.

“They are so beautiful,” I tried again.

“I’m glad you like them. Love, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I let the air escape from my lungs and released him. “It’s just that. . . Stelson, I’ve been so afraid to love you because I’ve never really loved anybody with God’s love before now and I don’t know exactly how to do it and I don’t know exactly how to let you love me but you are so good to me.. . I just don’t know what to do. I mean, I know what to do, I guess, but this is all new for me.”

“Hey”—he tried not to laugh—”it’s okay. It’s new for me, too. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, either. But I know that
it
not only feels right,
it
is
right. If you want me to slow things down, that’s okay. Just let me know, LaShondra. I want to be everything God wants me to be for you.”

“Well, you’re doing a pretty good job of it by being Stelson,” I assured him.

“Even with the tattoo?”

“Even with the tattoo.”