Soulful Strut (11 page)

“That’s only part of it.” Trudy huffed as
though trying to gather her thoughts and words. “What I really mean
is maybe a lower profile would be less pressure. Having all eyes on
you, in a manner of speaking, only adds to the burden of starting
over.”

Monette looked at her. “Yeah, but that’s the
way things have worked out. Look, it’s like this. I had to make a
lot of noise to get attention to my case. That attention got me out
of prison. The spotlight won’t be going away anytime soon, not with
my pardon hearing coming up. In the meantime, maybe I can use the
spotlight to do some good. You know, like you. I’m trying to take
care of my social responsibility.”

Trudy gazed back at her for a few moments,
and then nodded. “I’d better stop underestimating you, Miss
Monette. One more thing.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Monette said with a smile.

“No more accidents involving broken dishes or
folks knocking each other down accidentally. We haven’t had any
serious incidents at New Beginnings on my watch, and I intend for
it to stay that way. I gave Yarva the same advice,” Trudy pressed
on when Monette started to protest Her formidable expression had
returned.

“Message received,” Monette said.

“Good,” Trudy said. Her heart-shaped face
eased back into a look of benevolence. “Now let’s go help these
young ladies benefit from those hard lessons you’ve
learned.”Monette let out a long breath. “Sure. Remind me not to
underestimate you either, Ms. Sherman.”

Trudy let out a tinkling laugh that gave no
hint of the iron will within. ‘Trust me, if I don’t one of the
other ladies will.”

They walked across toward the entrance,
SECOND CHANCES ACADEMY scrolled across an electronic sign set on a
tall pole. The date and list of events followed. Monette was
impressed by the neat appearance of the grounds. Pretty flowers had
been planted in rows on either side of the double front doors. As
they neared the building, Monette had another idea.

“Please be a guest on my show. You can put in
a plug for contributions. I’m sure Chaz Franklin won’t mind at
all.” Monette had also decided to ask the director of Second
Chances as well.

“Sure,” Trudy said promptly. “But I’ll wait
until after your stay ends and you’ve moved on. We don’t want to
give the other ladies the impression that you’re getting special
treatment back at the house.”

“Good point. I don’t mind the wait, but I
want to help New Beginnings in some way,” Monette replied.

“Anything that raises our profile helps with
donations. I spend a lot of time begging for money. ‘Fund-raising’
is the nice term for it,” Trudy replied with a laugh.

Monette laughed hard as she followed Trudy
inside. For the next hour they took a tour of the program and met
the staff. Next they spent another hour talking to the adolescent
girls who were participants in the program. Trudy sincerely loved
interacting with the energetic teens. By the time they left,
Monette and Trudy had spent most of the morning at Second Chances
Academy. The executive director, Danica Zachary, had convinced
Monette to volunteer at least ten hours a week. The dynamic thirty-
something woman never seemed to stop moving. By the end of
Monette’s visit, Danica had agreed to do an interview on Hot
Topic.

When Monette got back to New Beginnings, her
mood was much improved. Not all of her loose ends were tied up, but
at least she had more direction. With three shows planned, she had
one less worry. By late afternoon, when other residents began
arriving from work or community service, Monette had even made
progress on her book. Candi came upstairs first, followed by
Tyeisha. Candi sank onto the bed with a sigh, Tyeisha, still full
of youthful vigor even after a day on her feet, dashed down the
hallway yelling that she would be back.

“How’d it go with the kiddy desperados?”
Candi finally said. She lay with her eyes closed.

“They’re high-spirited, though misguided,
young girls, Candi,” Monette corrected.

“Uh-huh. So?” Candi opened one eye to look at
her.

“I think they really did listen. Well, some
of them, anyway.” Monette finished writing one last sentence and
turned around in her seat at the desk.

Candi sat up, yawned and scratched her
stomach. “In other words, they blew off most of what you said. At
least you got more community service credit”

Monette shook her head. “Don’t be so cynical.
The children are our future.”

“Then we’re in big trouble,” Candi replied
with a snort. She saw Yarva out in the hall and leaned forward.
“Hey, what’s up?”

“Nothin’,” was the terse reply.

“I want to say something to you, Yarva.”
Monette went to the door.

Yarva stopped but stayed outside the room.
She looked Monette up and down. “Well?”

“I’m sorry about this morning. You were just
teasing, and I took it the wrong way. My fault” Monette
shrugged.

“Damn,” Candi breathed. She blinked rapidly
at Monette, then glanced at Yarva to see how she’d taken it“Yeah,
whatever.” Yarva studied Monette with a look that said she didn’t
trust her.

Monette doubted Yarva had let go of being
knocked around that easy. Still, she was determined to be
conciliatory. They wouldn’t become buddies or hug, but at least
they could avoid a fistfight “Good. Anyway, that’s all I wanted to
say.”

“Okay.” Yarva frowned slightly, as though
still trying to figure Monette’s angle. She seemed to let it go—for
the moment, at least. She nodded and walked away.

‘The new me,” Monette said when she turned to
Candi again. She did a neat curtsy and grinned at her.

“Damn,” Candi whispered again and shook her
head slowly.

Chapter 5

Late on Saturday afternoon Monette rubbed
sweaty palms against the denim jeans she was wearing. Her son had
come to see her. Lenore watched her pace upstairs, trying to
prepare herself. Karl was more forgiving than Talia had ever been,
yet Monette was still nervous. She wanted to be the woman Karl saw:
Whenever he looked at her, no matter what she’d done or what anyone
had tried to tell him about his mother, Karl had continued to
believe in Monette. Even when Monette had told him they were right,
even when they’d been separated for months at a time. Karl kept
believing, and loving her. As a child, his honey-brown eyes had lit
up each time he’d seen her. Monette kept right on being afraid that
someday she’d disappoint him one time too many and that light in
his eyes would die.

“First time he’s seen me outside of prison
since he was a teenager.”

“Then don’t keep him waiting,” Lenore said
quietly.

“Yeah.”

Monette nodded once but still hesitated.
After a few seconds, she went down to the room where the women
received visitors. Karl stood with his back to the door, looking
out the window. He turned when Monette cleared her throat. Dressed
in dark jeans and a light blue T-shirt that outlined his muscles,
Karl looked like his father. He had the tanned, handsome Creole
features of Juanico Marchand. Called Juan, he’d been Monette’s
first love, though neither had known what real love meant. What
they’d had had been adolescent lust. Juan had moved on after the
male pride of fathering a child had faded. Looking at her son now,
Monette saw the best that had come from her heartbreak. Her breath
caught when Kart smiled. The light was bright.

“Hey, Monette.” Karl’s shy grin produced twin
dimples on both cheeks.

“Hi, baby,” Monette said softly. His smile
wiped away her jitters in an instant. She crossed the space between
them quickly and wrapped him up in her embrace.

“I’m glad to see you out of that place.” Karl
pressed his face into her shoulder.

She held onto him tightly for several
minutes, unable to speak. Monette cried for the first time in
months. Karl sniffed a few times, then stood straight again and
wiped his eyes with a large hand. He coughed to cover one last sob,
and Monette dabbed at her eyes with a tissue she’d taken from her
jeans pocket.

“Look at you. Tall, dark and handsome. How
are LaTrice and the kids?” Monette shook her head. “Still can’t get
used to being a grandmother.”

“They’re all fine. Them kids are growing like
weeds, as the old folks say. You look great, Monette. Guess I could
call you mama once in a while, too.” Karl gave her a shy smile.

“You better.” Monette placed a palm on his
right cheek. His skin was still smooth from having shaved. Then she
pulled him over to a sofa. “Come on and sit down with me. Unless
you got to rush off.”

“Nah. How you doin’?” Karl stretched one long
arm along the back of the sofa. He gazed at Monette as though
searching for answers.

“Fine. Busy, busy, busy.” Monette shrugged
and smiled at him.

“I worried about you all the time. Prison is
a tough place. I oughta know.”

“But look at you. Got a good job, a family
and your own home. I’m glad you survived having me for a mother.”
Monette swallowed the bitter taste of guilt that burned the back of
her throat.

“I can’t blame everything on you. I made some
of my own bad choices. You did the best you could.” Karl took one
of her hands into his large one.

Monette brought it to her cheek and relished
the gift of being able to touch her son. “You give me more credit
than I have a right to expect.”

“Sorry I took so long to come see ya. I’ve
been workin’ lots of overtime. Karl Jr. been sick with the flu and
we just had our hands full.” Karl gave a shrug of apology.

“Don’t you worry about me. I know you got
your life to live. I’m just glad you’re happy.” Monette let go of
his hand. “You talked to your sisters lately?”

“Alisa don’t call often. I mean you know how
it is. She’s in college.”

Monette’s pain was tempered by the knowledge
that Alisa had every advantage—her adoptive parents and two older
sisters doted on her. They were a family in every sense except
genetically. Alisa even resembled the Randalls.

“Sure. I understand,” Monette said.

“She loves her nephews and niece, though.
Here, I brought pictures. I took some of these last Christmas.”
Karl took the photos from his shirt pocket.

“Look at these beautiful babies.” Monette
took her time as she went through all twelve of the color
photographs. Alisa beamed at the camera as she hugged Karl’s three
children. She had long, sandy-brown hair that fell below her
shoulders and nut-brown skin. Then Monette came to a picture of
Karl with one arm around Talia and the other around Alisa.

‘Talia came down to visit Mama Rose around
that time, too,” Karl explained.

‘That’s good. At least she keeps in touch
with you,” Monette said without looking at him.

“Yeah. Has she called yet?”

“You know the answer to that question.”
Monette stared at her oldest daughter. Talia had Monette’s mouth
and her temper. The part of Juan Marchand that came through was the
beautiful, golden-brown eyes. Another picture showed Talia with her
handsome husband, Derrick.

“She’s real busy up there in D.C. ya know.
Her and Derrick travel a lot, too,” Karl explained quickly.

“Sure she is. It’s okay.”

Monette stared at Talia’s picture for a long
time, holding back a sob until her jaws ached. Crazy to think she
had cried herself out years ago. Karl had been in group homes or
correctional facilities most of his teen years. Because of their
separation, he imagined Monette as the ideal mother he wanted, not
the irresponsible player who darted in and out of his life. Alisa
had only been six months old when she’d been adopted. Unlike her
sister and brother, Talia had stayed with Monette through hell.
Talia had no illusions about Monette and the things she’d done.
Karl broke into Monette’s thoughts when he touched her
shoulder.

“Hey, let’s have dinner. You, me and the
family.”

“I’d love that. I need to fix my hair. I’ll
be back in ten minutes.” Monette jumped up and hurried out.

“We’ve been waiting a long time. A few extra
minutes won’t be a problem,” Karl called after her as she took the
stairs fast. She almost ran into Candi, who was coming out of their
bedroom.

“Slow down. We got plenty of time to get to
the movies now. No use runnin’.”

“Sorry, Candi. I’m goin’ out to eat with my
family.” Monette slipped out of the plaid oversized shirt she wore
and pulled the red blouse over her head. She smoothed it down, and
then grabbed a hairbrush. “I’ll get to see my grand- kids.”

“Oh. Okay.” Candi watched her.

Monette styled her hair until she was
reasonably pleased with the results. “Can’t wait to see them. I
never let Karl bring them to the prison. That’s no place for kids
to see their grandmother.”

“Sure. We can see a movie tomorrow night
maybe.” Candi chewed her bottom lip.

“I don’t know. Tell you what; we’ll catch a
movie on your next day off.” Monette checked her appearance in the
mirror again, and then searched the closet for her purse. She
finally found it, stuffed her small cosmetic bag into it, and
whirled to face Candi. “How’s that?”

“Go on and have a great time.” Candi smiled
back. “Don’t keep that fine son of yours waitin’ too long. You know
how these man-hungry women just outta prison can be.” Monette burst
out laughing. She flipped a brief goodbye wave as she went down the
stairs fast. “Girl, you so crazy. Then again, you got a good
point.”

“Yeah. Bye.” Candi leaned against the
banister until Yarva came out of her bedroom and gestured to her.
“I’m available for a game of pool after all.”

“Hell, we can go to the movies if you want
to,” Yarva replied.

“That’s right. Don’t miss the movie because
of me,” Monette said and paused at the bottom of the stairs.

“Real generous of Your Highness,” Yarva
tossed back. She pulled Candi away.