Under the Cypress Moon (15 page)

"Well, you can call 'em and cancel."

"You think Shylah's good enough to do everything needed, Son?"

"What do you have against her?!"  This was exactly what Mark had hoped to avoid.  He did not want to fight with anyone.  He did not want to be forced to tolerate his father's insecurities and demands, and worse, his attitude. 

"No, Son.  I mean, Shylah does not have medical training.  You sure you won't need somebody who is actually trained for this kinda thing?  I don't have anythin' against the girl.  I know you care for her, and I don't wanna get in the way.  It's your life."

"Well, you know, given your past, Pop."

"Hey.  Like I said the other day, that's the old me.  That stuff don't matter now.  If Shylah is the girl you want, she's the girl you should have.  No Crady has ever been a failure with the ladies, and you always lived up to that.  If she's the one your heart fancies, my place is not right in the middle of it all.  Hell, to be honest, and I don't really know exactly why, but lately, that whole family's been growin' on me.  I don't know why I spent my whole life opposed to them and their people just cuz they're dark.  I've been thinkin' an awful lot about all this, and I finally came to the point where I realized that it don't make 'em less God's children than either you or me.  It's just what my daddy and his people always taught me.  There's so little time for that kinda hatred in a man's heart.  I don't need it, and I know what my feelings did to you your whole life.  I don't have objections.  You want that girl, you go after that girl, and you NEVER LET HER GO! "

"So no more about how our family used to own her family?"

"Nope."  Smiling as if he really meant everything he had said, Thomas added, "That stuff, like I said, just does not matter.  You be happy with what you want and what you got.  She's what you want, and all I can say is I hope I'm still around when you marry that girl.  I gotta at least see my only surviving son take that leap, and maybe, with the Good Lord's helpin' hand, I'll even be around to see you give me a grandson."

"Wow, Pop.  Never did I picture the day to come when you'd be sayin' these things.  I guess the Lord does work miracles."

"Yes, He does!  I'm living proof of that, Son!"

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

Taking a long pause, Mark did not know how to continue.  He had so many emotions floating around inside of him and felt a dire need to release some of them.  He knew that time was winding down, bearing down on his father.  One day, he would have to deal with the grief of a tremendous loss, and time had to offer some sort of consolation for that.  "Dad, you know, we hardly ever talk about how we feel.  I just... I just want you... I want you to know."

"I know, Son.  I already know.  There's nothin' you can say that your old man doesn't already know.  I'm tryin' to be the kind of father you should've always had.  You don't have to tell me a thing you don't wanna."

"But I do want to tell you these things, Dad!  I want you... I need you... I need you to know how I feel.  You're right.  You might not have been the best father in the world, but I know you're tryin'.   I know you wanna do better.  I see it.  You've done wrong, but so has everybody.  There's not one person on this Earth that's perfect.  We both make mistakes, just like everybody else.  I'm just glad you're seein' the error of your ways.  But don't get me wrong.  I love you, Dad."  Mark felt himself nearly choking on every word.  So much was flooding out of him, yet there still seemed so much more that was needed.  Shaking his head and parting his mouth just barely, Mark searched desperately for the rest of what he needed to utter, to clear the air, to appease his own guilt, torment, and fear.  "I..." Mark fell to the floor, barely catching himself on the wall to his side, Thomas now doing all that he could to jump from his seat to help Mark up.

"Mark!"

"No, Dad.  Don't get up.  I'm alright.  Just a little weak is all."  Mark struggled but managed to find his footing.  "I hope you understand all this.  Yeah, you made my life hell a lot of the time, but you're still my dad.  I don't... I don't wanna lose you!"

Thomas attempted, with all of his might and all of the strength of an aged and decaying body to fight back the tears swelling in the corners of his eyes but couldn't.  "Son, I know.  Every man has a set time when the Lord calls him back Home.  Mine's just comin' a bit sooner than we expected.  I don't wanna leave you, Son, but one day, there is no more choice.  I'll be with your mama and your brother again.  We'll all be watchin' over you and lookin' out for you.  I may have to answer for a lot of things that I'm now prayin' so hard about, but I'll never really leave you.  Just know that, Son.  I'll always be around, one way or another."

"So, I guess you don't have a problem with Shylah stayin' here?"  Mark's eyes were glistening, but he, unlike his father, fought so hard against them that they never streamed out.

"No, Son.  I don't have a problem.  She's welcome here.  So is T.L.  I won't say nothin' mean at all to none of 'em.  I promise.  Just try to believe me, Son.  I know how important they are to you, and cuz of that, they're important to me."

Mark scurried off to his room, leaving his father to take his own rest.  Thomas was soon out cold on the couch but startled awake by the sound of slamming doors.  As Shylah knocked, Thomas shot up on the couch.  Shylah was unsure if she should just go ahead and enter the house but was deeply afraid that it would set Thomas into a rage.  When Thomas opened the door, Shylah jumped.  She had hoped with all of her that Mark would answer or that there would be a voice beckoning for Shylah to enter on her own.

"Hey, Shylah.  How are you."  This joyous greeting from Thomas was too shocking to endure.  Shylah had never known Thomas Crady to be nice, not in the least.

"I... I'm ok, Mr. Crady, Sir."

"Oh, you don't have to be so formal.  You can call me Thomas, if you want."

"Well, I would, Sir, but... but you know.  You are my elder, and you're Mark's father.  I was taught to always respect my elders.  I don't want to offend you, Sir."

"Offend me?!  Ha!  Don't you worry none about that.  Come on in.  Mark is in his room.  He told me you're gonna be stayin' here to take care of him.  You won't get no trouble from me, but if you find that you need help with anything, anything you can't do on your own... well, I won't be of much help in my own bad health, but I was already gonna hire a nurse.  If there's things you can't do, let me know, and I'll get you some help.  Ok?  Promise me you won't try and do too much."

"Ok, Mr. Crady," Shylah responded, shakily, smiling to hide her lingering disdain for the man.  "I'll do all I can, but I won't overdo it if I don't have to."

"Good.  Good.  Ok.  Well, I'll let you get to it.  You know where Mark's room is?"

"Down the hall, second door on the left?"

"Yep.  That'd be it.  I'll be in the parlor, on the couch, but if you need somethin', don't be afraid to ask."

"Ok, Sir."

"You gotta stop with the Sir stuff, Shylah.  I know I've been mean to you and your family in the past, and you have no idea how sorry I am for that.  I know it's too late to be beggin' for forgiveness and such, but do know that I am sorry and that I love you
and your family for everything you've done for my boy."

Shylah walked away without saying anything further, nearly shaking, unable to comprehend the full measure of this latest conversation.  More had been said in one minute with Thomas Crady than in Shylah's entire lifetime previous to it.  Shylah made her way into Mark's room, heavily laden with Mark's things and a couple of bags of her own.

"Mark?"

Mark, who had been lightly dozing, slowly opened his eyes to see Shylah standing in front of the door.  "Yeah?"

"What's goin on?"

"What do you mean?  I'm here.  You're here.  You're in my room.  You're stayin' here to help me and keep me company.  What else is there to be goin' on?"  Mark could not focus his eyes enough to stare directly at Shylah, especially with the light having been flipped on.  Instead, he again closed his eyes, thinking that all further speaking would be done in that manner.

"I mean you're dad is bein' super nice to me and even apologized to me for how he's treated me and my family.  What the hell is in the water in this house?"

"Oh," Mark replied, sighing.  "Yeah.  That's his new thing.  He's tryin' to make amends for all the bad stuff he's ever done.  He's not playin' games.  Trust me.  He's been apologizin' to me for stuff left and right lately.  He's actually sincere about it all.  Don't pay it no nevermind.  He's tryin' to do right before he's gone is all."

"Gone?  What do you mean, gone?  Is... Is your dad dying?!"

At this, Mark's eyes swelled and let loose a torrent.  Shylah, feeling terribly wrought with grief for the pain she had caused Mark, dropped everything from her hands and rushed to the bedside, lifting the cover and jumping in, cuddling up next to her patient. 

"I'm so sorry, Baby!  I'm so sorry," Shylah assured Mark, cradling his head gently in her arms.  "I didn't mean to make you cry!  I swear!"

Sobbing, mark stifled himself bit by bit.  "It's... It's ok.  It's a lot to take in all at once, but I'm ok."

The two remained lying in bed for the rest of the afternoon, Mark quickly falling back to sleep, leaving Shylah all alone and contemplating her life.  Surely, being with Mark would not prove easy, but it was what Shylah knew that she wanted.  Mark was an amazing man, Shylah reminded herself over and over, not that she needed to do so.  Mark would not only provide but would protect and fill Shylah's life with almost unbearable happiness.

Shylah already knew in her heart that she could never let Mark go again.  She could never again listen to the deafening voices of others or be dismayed at anyone's reactions or dissuaded from her goal.  She would, given the time to do it, marry Mark and bear him children.  It felt right.  It felt like it was all, perhaps, pre-ordained, necessary, and the only possibility for finding true purpose and fulfillment.

Shylah was perfectly content to continue lying there with Mark, stroking his head, running her fingers through his hair, at least that not at the back where the lacerations were.  Nothing could be more perfect than that moment.  For the first time since her rejection of Mark and for one of the only instances ever in her life, Shylah King felt amazingly happy, overjoyed, ready to take on any challenge that could present itself, no matter how big or small. 

When Shylah did not show up at home for supper, Darius began to wonder.  He had an idea why Shylah was not at home but had had no verification.  Turning to his wife as she set a plate before him on the table, Darius felt compelled to ask exactly what he suspected to be true, "Where is Shylah?  She knows when suppertime is."

"Oh, Darius, lay off.  You know good and well where she is.  Mark got home today, and she went to take care of him."

"I figured."

"So, what's the problem?  You said you'd leave 'em alone!"

"Yeah.  I know what I said."  Darius wanted to stay out of the whole affair, but it still felt somehow wrong.

"Darius King, you know how your daughter feels about that boy.  He's like a son to you, no matter how you feel about all this.  Ever since he and T.L. played together at the company picnic when they were three, those boys have been inseparable.  What is so bad about your daughter bein' with somebody you already take as family?  It don't hurt nobody."

"I know it don't hurt nobody, and I want her to be happy.  You know that.  And I do love that boy like a son.  I never meant to cause him or her trouble.  I just don't want either of them to get hurt."

"And you want her to be with somebody that ain't white.  Admit it, Darius."  Mrs. King, chuckling a bit to herself, even though she did not agree at all with her husband, turned back to the stove to fix the next plate of food.

"Maybe," Darius finally stammered, pursing his mouth upward and picking up the newspaper he hadn't gotten to finish that morning.  "Maybe I do.  But it's her life.  I guess it's their life."

"It is," Mrs. King said quite loudly, as T.L. entered the room.  "It is their life, and one day, I say, that boy is gonna be your son-in-law, so get used to it."

At that, T.L. let out such a laugh as to nearly shake the house, his whole body trembling with excitement at the thought.  T.L. was of the same mind as his mother and had, from the moment of Mark's telling him of his feelings for Shylah, celebrated the idea of two of the people he cared most for in the world caring for each other as only lovers can. 

Chapter 8

When Mark finally awakened, it was already dark.  He had spent nearly the entire day in bed, asleep, despite all of the rest gotten in the hospital.  Turning slowly to his left, Mark met the awaiting eyes of Shylah, who soon blanketed Mark's forehead with numerous soft kisses.

"Hello, Sleepyhead," Shylah mused aloud.  "It's nice to see  you can wake up."

"Pretty easy when you got such a beautiful woman next to you.  Why would I ever wanna sleep again?  I might have to go a while without seeing your face.  I might miss somethin'."

"Like what," Shylah quite loudly questioned.  "What are you gonna miss?  Like you wanna see my ugly face all the time."