The Eleventh Commandment (27 page)

“
Y
ou're cheating!” Stacy stood up, reached over and bopped the middle brother, Damien, on the head. “You know good and damn well that wasn't your book!”

“Watch your damn language!” Stacy's mom shouted from the other room.

Everyone laughed.

“She's just mad,” Damien told his brother, Brent, as he raked up the cards and shuffled for another hand of a family favorite, bid whist. “The only way she and Scully are going to see Boston is if they pack their bags and go with us!”

Damien and Brent high-fived.

Stacy rolled her eyes.

“Forget both you nuckas,” Scully mumbled.”

“Mama, Scully's in here cursing,” Damien yelled.

“Stop lying, punk! I said forget!”

Their mother walked into the dining room with her hand on a slim hip. “I tell you, some things haven't changed in twenty years. Am I going to have to break up this card game?” She placed a hand on Stacy's shoulder. “Do you need some more girl power in this room?”

Stacy placed her hand on top of her mom's. “I can handle these clowns.”

“Come on and sit down,” Scully said, rising from his chair. “I need to go check on the nieces and nephews.”

One of their cousins sat down and soon the trash-talking, and bantering across the table began again. Amid raucous laughter, Scully reentered the room. “Stacy, you have a visitor.”

Stacy's brow furrowed. “Who?” Her answer walked into the room, carrying two dozen roses. She stood and faced him, indignation written across her face. “Tony, I told you that I didn't want drama today. What are you doing here?”

“It's on me, sis,” Brent said, rising. “He called me, asked if he could come over, and I said that it was okay.”

“Oh, so when did you start speaking for me and when did I stop being able to speak for myself?”

“Listen, I'm not trying to get in your business—”

“I can't tell—”

“But I know that both of you are missing each other; both of you are hurting. I figured that since this is the day we're being thankful and all, that we could call a truce for a minute.”

“I can't believe you did this, Brent. You of all people. It was just a few short weeks ago that you were on the verge of getting arrested for assault!”

Brent fixed Tony with a determined look. “I'm still not far from it. If he ever puts his hands on you again, Tony knows how it's going down.” He turned to Stacy. “But what you don't know is that he also called two weeks ago and asked to meet with the family. Without you.” Stacy looked from Brent to Tony, with a confused expression. “He shared what had brought him to that awful place with you, and what he was doing to make sure it never happened again. He also wanted our forgiveness. I'm one of the ones who gave it to him.”

“I'll only stay a few moments,” Tony said, the conversation now finally with him instead of about him. “But I wanted to see you, Stacy. And give you these.” He held out the roses.

Several seconds went by without her moving. Brent finally stepped forward. “Girl, are you going to just let the man's arm fall off?”

Stacy took the flowers. “They're lovely, Tony. Let me put them in some water.”

When Brent left the room, an awkward silence followed. Unlike Brent, Damien still had nothing to say to the man who'd dared put his hands on his sister. His and Scully's was the forgiveness for which Tony was still waiting. “Time will tell,” was Damien's answer when Tony insisted how sorry he was. Even now his fingers were itching to open up a can of whoop ass and use it on the man who hurt his sister. As for hotheaded Skully, he was only two seconds and about five feet away from let-me-handle-this-punk-ass-fool, so he again left the room.

He'd left, but Stacy didn't trust Skully. He was likely to get to thinking about what happened and bum-rush a brother. “Let's go outside,” she suggested, turning and leaving without waiting for a response. While walking to the sliding doors just off the dining room, she tried to sort out the myriad of feelings that seeing Tony had brought on.

“I didn't mean to upset you,” Tony said, as soon as they were alone in the Gray's backyard. “But you haven't answered your phone all day. Or returned my calls.”

“Maybe that should have told you something,” Stacy quietly replied.

“I guess. But the last time we talked, you said that you weren't going to close the door on us, that you were going to give me time to prove to you that what happened was a once-in-a-lifetime mistake.”

“I said that, Tony. And I meant it. But that doesn't mean I want to talk to you on the regular, because I don't. Yes, I've forgiven you, but I haven't forgotten. I'm not going to fake the warm and fuzzy feelings when they are not there. I always said that if a man ever hit me, it would be one hit too many. And I'd be gone without looking back. Whatever you said to my brothers may have softened Brent's position, but two of my brothers are still very angry. And, quite frankly, so am I.”

Tony took a deep breath. “There are no words for how sorry I am. If I could take back that night—”

“But you can't....”

“But if I could, I would never, ever have put my hands on you. If I knew then what I know now, I never would have begun taking the steroids; and I would have listened when my supplier told me to back off.”

“Woulda, shoulda, coulda...”

“Doesn't change a thing. I know.”

The two were quiet as they watched two yellow-rump warblers flit between the bird-of-paradise bush. One seemed to be chasing the other before both stopped and had a chirping conversation. Stacy imagined the one doing the most chirping was female because as soon as the other bird jumped on the same branch, the chirping bird took off again. Observing the birds' shifting for closeness and distance, Stacy wondered whether or not she and Tony would ever again be on the same page.

“I know you're trying,” Stacy said at last, her back to him as she continued to look for where the birds had gone. “The flowers are nice. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

“So...” She finally turned around and looked at him. “Did you have a nice time with your family?”

“It was good, the usual. Mom asked about you. She's still mad at me too.”

This elicited a slight smile from Stacy. She loved the feisty Mrs. Johnson, admired her courage in battling back from cancer. The day after the incident, she'd called Stacy and let her know in no uncertain terms that her son was one-thousand percent wrong, that she didn't condone what he'd done, and that she would totally understand it if Stacy filed for divorce. After they'd talked for almost an hour, she'd also admitted that Tony had never been a violent man and that what had happened was totally out of character. Stacy had continued the relationship with his mother, even when she and Tony were not speaking.

“The family is thinking about going somewhere together for Christmas and New Years.... Maybe renting a large cabin in Big Bear or a house in Palm Springs.”

“That sounds nice.” For them, not Stacy. She hadn't been to Big Bear since her debacle there with Bo and Darius. And she couldn't remember the last time she'd been to Palm Springs.

“Do you know what you and little man are doing yet for Christmas?”

Stacy shook her head. “Haven't even thought about it.”

“I probably don't have to tell you what I'd like—for us to spend it together.”

“Tony—”

“I'm not looking for an answer today,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “I know I'm going to have to work hard to earn your trust, for you to let me back into your life.”

“You're right. And I honestly don't know how long it's going to be before that happens. Besides, I've been in this game long enough to know what the deal is. It's probably not like you're hurting for company of the female persuasion.”

“Listen, Stacy.” He placed a hand on her arm. She didn't flinch or pull away. “I'm not even looking at any other women right now. And I'm not being unfaithful. You're my wife and you're the one I want. Good things come to those who wait. You're worth waiting for.”

Stacy looked in his eyes and saw honesty, sincerity, and vulnerability. In short, she saw the man that she married. Her heart flip-flopped, revealing the love for him that was still there, and the room to believe that their marriage could be saved. “You say that now. But how long do you think you can wait for me to get over what happened?”

Tony dared to take one step, and then another, and then there it was: Stacy wrapped in his arms. “I love you. I miss you. And I can't see myself living without you. So I will wait as long as it takes.”

I
n the similar vein she'd adopted these past few months, of doing different things to yield different results, Frieda was spending Thanksgiving alone. She'd seriously considered joining Hope, Cy, and family in Oklahoma and dining at the table of her dear Aunt Pat, who would be there with Uncle Earl and Hope's stepmom, the woman who'd used an uncanny amount of chutzpah and diplomacy to bring the three together on one accord. But at the end of the day, Frieda didn't want to face the inevitable questions of where her family was, specifically her son, Gabe, and her husband, Gabriel. Which led to the second invite she'd contemplated, and declined—the one from her mother in Kansas City, who'd said that her cousins would be joining them for the affair. While she'd recently learned how to forgive, she had no desire to break bread with the man who'd raped her, the one who even after Frieda had come clean with the sordid details had continued to have an open relationship with her mother, and who Frieda was ninety-nine point nine percent sure would be breaking bread in Kansas City this holiday season. Finally there was the last and most compelling invite—one from Stacy and the rambunctious and always entertaining Gray family. This was an invite that she almost accepted. After all, she could count on the renowned Gray brothers to let her get her flirt on, and the love-their-liquor relative that every family has even if they don't acknowledge, Uncle Boomer, was well into his cups at not even nine in the morning. Stacy had even offered to have Lamar pick her up. Her youngest, still-single brother lived not far from Frieda's condo, and had a sparkling personality sure to put a smile on Frieda's face. Plus, he was fine. It was a sorely tempting offer, but in the end, Frieda declined. It wasn't too long ago that she couldn't stand having only herself for company. Now that she was learning to love herself, she could actually be alone with her thoughts, sans weed or alcohol, and contemplate them. Doing so had led to the revelations she'd shared with Hope and Frieda—that she missed being a mother. Even more surprising, she missed Gabriel too. Not his money or the lifestyle; she missed him.

Looking at her watch and realizing the day was quickly getting away from her, Frieda went into the kitchen and took a minicooler from the walk-in pantry. Within minutes she'd filled it with some of the items she'd bought the day before specifically for this solo beach trip: turkey salad, potato salad, Hawaiian rolls, and sparkling apple juice. After placing ice packs around her personal picnic spread, she pulled a container of Thin Mints Girl Scout cookies from the freezer and placed the roll on top of the ice packs before closing the cooler.

On her way out of the kitchen, her home phone rang. Frieda checked the caller ID before answering. “Hey, Mama.” The smile on her face was genuine. It was enough that she was learning to forgive herself. That she was also learning how to forgive her mother and reestablish a real relationship with her was a bonus.

“Frieda, I can't believe you're going to spend the day by yourself.”

Frieda laughed. “I know, huh? Not the typical Thanksgiving, for sure.”

“I called Pat earlier, talked to Hope. She assured me that you are all right.” A pause and then, “Are you?”

“I'm good, Mama, seriously. I just didn't want to spend the day around a bunch of people. I wanted to—” Frieda hesitated. The one topic she hadn't discussed in detail with Sharon was her family. Sharon's general distrust in men (even as she entertained a plethora of them) had inadvertently fueled Frieda's attitude. She really didn't feel like hearing anything negative about Gabriel right now.

“You wanted to what?”

I wanted to spend the day with the two most important men in my world.
“I wanted to spend the day...by the ocean. There's a place in Rancho Palos Verdes that is away from the crowds but has beautiful views of the Pacific. That's where I'm headed.”

“What about your son? Are you going to see him today?”

“Later,” Frieda lied. “They're spending the day at his grandmother's house. That's not a dinner I want to join.”

“You need to be with your child, Frieda.”

I wish you'd remembered that when I was young.
Rather than become angry or worse, get into an argument, she decided to end the conversation. “I need to run, Mama. I want to get on the highway. With this being a holiday, there will probably be heavy traffic.”

“Girl, I don't see how y'all stand it out there, all those people, the cars, threats of earthquakes.”

“You get used to it,” Frieda said as she walked to the hall closet and grabbed a collapsible lawn chair. “You'll have to come out for a visit. Maybe Christmas.”

“Girl, I don't have that type of money.”

“Then you could consider my buying your ticket as a Christmas present. Look, Mama, I gotta go.”

“Okay, Frieda. I worry about you.” There was a long pause, during which time Frieda wondered if her mother was going to say those three words that coming out of her mouth were all too rare. “Take care of yourself,” she finally muttered.

“Love you, Mama,” Frieda said.

“Bye, girl.”

An hour later, Frieda was at one of her favorite spots, an elevated area with an unobstructed view of the Pacific. Having skipped breakfast, she made quick work of the lunch she'd packed and in between reading pages of another book, she took in the beauty around her. The scene was postcard perfect, the food tasty ...but the joy that Frieda felt the area would bring her remained at bay. That is, until her phone rang with a familiar number on the caller ID. It was the one call she'd been too afraid to hope for, yet the one that she wanted most of all.

“Hey, Gabriel.”

“It's me, Mommy!”

Frieda laughed. “Oh, hey, baby!”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mommy!”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Gabe. Did you eat lots of turkey?”

“No, we had pizza!”

“Pizza?”

“Yeah, and it was good too. Grandma said she made them just for me because she said I don't like real food.”

“Well,” Frieda said, surprised that she was tearing up. In the moment, however, she realized that there was another grandmother that Gabe barely knew. “I hope you thanked your grandmother for being so nice to you.”

“Yeah,” Gabe replied, his voice in a pout. “But I forgot at first and Daddy scolded me.”

“Where is Daddy?”

“He's right here. He wants to talk to you. Bye, Mommy. Love you!”

“Love you too, Gabe.”

“Why don't you come over, Mommy? We have lots of food and we can share some with you.”

“That's so nice, baby. Let me speak to your father.” Her heartbeat tripled as she waited to hear Gabriel's voice.

“Hello, Frieda.”

“Hey there. Sounds like you guys had a good time—but pizza for Thanksgiving?”

“That was a part of the kiddie menu—turkey pizza made with a stuffing crust. It was pretty good actually.”

“Hmm, that sounds like something I might like. Dressing has always been one of my favorite parts of this holiday.” Frieda became quiet, thinking of how different this day might have been for her...if she'd only recognized the treasures she had.

“What did you do?” Gabriel asked.

She told him. “I'm still here, actually,” she finished, placing her empty containers back in the cooler. “But I'm getting ready to leave.” Gabriel was silent for a long moment. “Hello?”

He cleared his throat. “I'm sorry you spent the day alone, Frieda.”

“It's cool. I had invites, just felt like chillin' out. No, really, I wanted to see my son, but your mother hates me and you probably do too, so—”

“I don't hate you. I hate some of your actions and what you did to our family, but I don't hate you.”

“I'm sorry, Gabriel. But I couldn't really love you because I didn't love myself. I'm working on me though. I'm tired of the person I used to be, so I'm inventing a new me.”

“Good luck with that.”

Frieda heard the smile in his voice. “Right? I know it sounds like a tall order, but everything is possible.”

“It is.” There was a companionable silence for a moment before Gabriel spoke. “Have you eaten dessert?”

“No, but I've got some Girl Scout cookies with my name on them!”

“Why don't you come have dessert with us? Mom baked a pineapple upside-down cheesecake and insisted I bring home half with me. It's way more than Gabe and I need to eat.”

“I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Cordella hates me and I can't say that I blame her.” And seeing Cordella would remind her of Clark, the now ex-lover who'd quickly moved on as soon as both of Frieda's pocketbooks closed.

“All of the house staff have the day off. It's just Gabe and me.”

“In that case,” Frieda said, rising from the chair and gathering her things, “I'll see you guys in about an hour. Is that cool?”

“We'll see you then.”

Frieda arrived at her old home and had a pleasant time with the two men she wanted back in her life. She watched Gabe splash in the pool and then helped him to bathe before assisting Gabriel with an early tuck in. “We're up bright and early for a trip to Universal Studios,” Gabriel explained. “It's sure to last all day.”

When she arrived back at her condo at around 8:30 p.m., there was a smile on her face. It had been a different kind of Thanksgiving, but it had been a good one. And while Gabriel hadn't invited her to join them, or said anything about their getting back together, he hadn't mentioned the divorce either. He still loved her. She could see it in his eyes. For the first time since that night she came home to changed locks, there was hope that she hadn't totally ruined the best thing that had ever happened to her.

“Don't go there, Frieda,” she whispered, heading to her bedroom to take a shower.
You've forgiven yourself, remember?
Upon entering the bathroom, she changed her mind about the shower and decided on a long bubble bath instead. She started the water, then went into the bedroom for some vanilla-scented candles. On the way back she passed the mirror and the plaque that hung beside it:

She stepped up to the plaque, ran her hands over the raised lettering. Continuing on to the bathroom, she felt a peace that was hers for the first time in life. When told about it, Hope had insisted that there were only ten commandments. Maybe so. Frieda didn't know anything about scripture. But this one, called the eleventh commandment, was helping her change her life.