Embrace Me (45 page)

“Wow.” Just one moment and he repented right away. He didn't take months like I did. “Wow.”

“Pretty crazy, isn't it?”

“No. It was just right. It was your personal Pentecost.”

“Yes. God meets us where we are, though heaven knows we don't deserve it at all, none of it. I stayed in my house for several months, only going out for medical tests, and I read the Gospels again and again. Hopefully some of it sank in.” He lifts one side of his mouth. “Son, what you're doing here is what this country needs.”

“Some food, God's love. I'd say you're right. Besides, I gave up politics years ago, Dad.”

“Well, it's probably just as well. Look what it did to me.”

And yet here you are.

“Want some more tea?”

“Yes, I'd like that. You make a good pot of tea.”

TWENTY-TWO

VALENTINE

I
pull my camper into the narrow driveway to the left of Dad and Jody's house. It's actually Jody's house. They met on eHarmony, hit it off, and he moved up to Lexington after they got married.

Their downtown home is really a glorified shotgun shack. But it's been completely redone inside and they don't need more than one bedroom, or so Jody said when I called her and asked to visit. “You sleep on couch, okay? Very comfortable.”

“I'll have my camper.”

“Okay too.”

As I extract myself from the truck, they pour down the front steps. I'm ashamed this is my first visit. That I've kept myself from the person who loves me the most.

Dad pulls me into a close hug and kisses the top of my head. Jody, black Asian hair soaking up the sunshine and holding it close, pats my back as he does so and says, “Is good. Is good. Thanks be to God.”

I laugh as I pull back. I'm not foolish enough to think I'm home, but I'm so glad I've come.

“Now you sure you sleep in that truck?” Jody lays out lunch meats, cheese, and bread for sandwiches.

“Positive. It's a nice little setup. So how's everything going, you two? You still selling your cards?”

Jody nods. “They going like pancakes! Stores can't keep enough in. I make 'em, cards cards cards, night and day.”

“And your beads, Dad?”

“Revamped the Web sites, lowered the prices a bit, and it's going great! You got any more work you want me to put up? Everything else has sold. Well, except for that ugly marcasite one you did . . . with the carnelian.”

“What was I thinking?”

“Don't know, honey.”

“I've got a big box in the truck from this winter. And I'll make more while I'm here too.”

“Good. You can go through the storeroom and pick out anything you'd like.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

We sit and munch on sandwiches. When we finish I help Jody clear the plates, after which she says, “Gotta work. Sorry, Daisy. Order due tomorrow. Fifty cards!”

“We'll finish up here.” Dad hands me an apron.

“Who uses aprons anymore?”

“You'd be surprised.”

“Oh, well.” I tie it around my waist.

He hands me a dish towel. “You dry.”

“I can do that.”

He ties on his own apron. “It's good to see you, Daze. Quite unexpected, though. Not that it's a problem!”

“I just wanted to visit before I head back out on the road.”

“Won't be long now.” He turns on a stream of water, adjusts the temperature, then fills the basin, adding a shot of dish liquid.

“No. Next week.”

“You sound thrilled.”

“Lella left the show.”

“Oh, honey. I'm sorry. You can always move to Lexington.”

“And do what?”

He shrugs. “You could help me with the business, and Jody would welcome some help with her greeting cards.”

The Laundromat comes to mind. “No offense, Dad, but I've got to figure out my own life.”

“Good for you. I heard from your grandmother,” he says.

“What did she want?”

He wipes a lunch plate with a soapy dishrag. “Your mother's been dead for three years now. She thought I should be reminded. Since she blames me and all.”

I take the plate after he rinses it. “Hard to move on with her around to remind you all the time.”

“Not at all.”

“Really?” I set the plate in the drainer. “How is that even possible?”

“I don't know, honey. I guess we're responsible for our own moving on, don't you think? I've got a good life. Jody's wonderful. We have a nice routine, things to do, places we're known—like the coffee shop and what have you. Your mother's dead. She shot us all with her shotgun and now she's gone. If we keep picking at the scabs, it's our own fault.”

“Like it's that easy.”

“In any case, she can't make things right, and neither can we.”

“Do you think she would have ever come to her senses and tried?”

“I doubt it.” He sighs. “No. Can't picture it.”

“I don't know, Dad. It's hard to move on.”

He hands me a glass. “I know, sweetheart. But we all do sooner or later. Maybe we just have to figure it's where we're meant to go.

And it helps to have some gratitude for where we are, sometimes even where we've been.”

“That's impossible in my case.”

“Is it?”

“How could you stand being married to that woman?”

“I just did what I had to do.”

“And me?”

“I wasn't much help at all.”

“No.”

“I'm sorry, honey.”

For some reason it's easy to forgive my father. But I've never doubted my father loves me.

So much pain and heartache. Why couldn't Mom and Drew have just been content with what they'd been given?

I grab a pad of paper and a pen from the kitchen drawer.

Okay, Dad, I'll write down what I'm thankful for.

I begin to make a list and I find that almost every single one of them but Dad and Jody are in Mount Oak. And I've decided to go on the road? In black ink it makes little sense.

I show him the list.

“So what are you doing here?”

“Drew Parrish, that's what!”

“From everything you've told me, he's different now. I admit it, I can hardly believe it myself. But the kind of life he's living isn't some kind of act. Nobody would do all that for show. And not in Mount Oak! Sounds like he's undergone a real spiritual transformation.”

“So what you're saying is that I'm doubting God's ability to transform a scum-sucking hypocrite into a man of God?”

“Well, not in those words exactly. But what about you? Have you been transformed?”

“I don't know now. I thought so, but when it all came slamming into my face . . .”

“Sounds to me you need to give yourself a little time.”

“Can I just stay here a little while longer, Dad?”

“What about the show? Although, I have to admit, I don't know how healing that would prove to be. Not with Lella gone.”

“Not to mention displaying myself.”

“True.”

“I'll call Roland and tell him I'm not going on the road.”

“Stay as long as you like.”

I make myself a cup of tea in my camper. Jesus looks down with His disciples from the icon I set up on the dinette.

“There's nothing more Drew can do to prove himself to me. So will you help me forgive him?”

You'll have to make peace with your mother while you're at it.

Oh, God! Why me?

I walk into a small church around the corner. An AME church, red brick, old wooden pews.

Empty.

'Fess up, Daisy.

I know, Lord, I know.

A black woman enters and sits down on the pew in front of me. She turns and I gasp. Her face. She doesn't smile.

Half of her face looks just like mine.

I pull down my scarf. “How did yours happen?”

“Bad boyfriend. What about you?”

“I did it to myself.”

And there sits the truth of it all.

I wanted to get away from my mother. I didn't have the guts to do it on my own. I signed the surgical consent forms. I auditioned. I used sex to try and snag Drew. I let myself be led by the nose by two people who only wanted to use me.

“Have you forgiven yourself?” the lady asks me.

“I'm doing that right now.”

TWENTY-THREE

AUGUSTINE

I
held his hand when he died. He hadn't spoken for two days, just lay there peacefully. The hospice nurses walked us through step by step and made the dying process somehow, well, godly.

And as I ready myself for his funeral, I can say I truly loved my father. The last five months of his life were a gift of grace.

Monica enters my bunkroom and pats me on the back as I face the mirror, tying my tie. “You look nice.”

“I haven't worn a suit in years.”

“You still look nice. Are you sure you can do this? Reverend Hopewell would be happy to fill in for you.”