Forever An Ex (32 page)

“I want you to have the life you deserve and you will
never
have that as long as there is any unforgiveness in your heart. Learn from this, Kendall. Live now with an open heart. An open heart that can give love fully—to your father, to your niece, to Anthony and all of your friends. And I want you to have an open heart so that you can receive love, because I know that God's not through with you yet. You were born to be a wife and He has someone for you, but your heart has to be able to receive love. You will never live the life you deserve with a hardened heart.” She paused. “So forgive yourself, Kendall. Forgive.”

That burning rumbled up through me, pausing first to leave a fiery lump in my throat and then escaping through my lips in wrenching sobs. I crumbled down onto the sofa and into my pastor's arms.

“I'm just so sorry,” I cried.

“I know you are. God's forgiven you, your sister is smiling down on you. So go ahead and forgive yourself.”

And I cried. And I cried as my pastor held me. I cried until for the first time in years, I truly felt relief.

Chapter

Forty-Two

I
hadn't been sure that I would be able to do this, but after that talk with my pastor, I knew that I could.

I held my father's hand as we marched into the church after Pastor Ford. Behind us, Anthony walked side by side with his brother. I'd been so glad to see D'Angelo this morning. Not for me, but for Anthony.

It was Anthony who wanted my father to walk into the church first, and that gesture reminded me just how generous of a man he'd always been. As we stepped slowly down the aisle while Pastor Ford read from the fourteenth chapter of John, I glanced at the solemn faces that stared at us. So many I knew, so many I didn't. There were church members, of course, and a few people from my business. Closer to the front were the people I loved the most: Sheridan and Brock, Christopher and his new wife, and Asia, and even Angel had come with her.

Then we took the seat of honor, next to Anthony and D'Angelo in the front row.

As the service began, I kept my eyes on the golden casket and tried to imagine my sister inside of that coffin. I just couldn't do it. But in my mind's eye, I could see her so clearly. And, I could hear her, too . . .

“Kendall!”

It was just a whisper, but even at the kitchen table, I could hear Sabrina calling from our bedroom.

“Kendall!”

I pushed my seventh-grade math book aside and rushed to my sister.

“Kendall!” Sabrina reached her arms up to me.

“What's wrong?” I asked as I sat on the edge of her bed and held her.

“I had a bad dream.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. But you know it was just a dream, right?”

She nodded.

“Do you want me to turn on the light?”

She shook her head. “No, 'cause Mama said we have to save lectressity.”

“Do you mean ‘electricity'?”

She nodded.

“Okay. Then we won't turn on the light, but you know what I'm gonna do?” She shook her head. “I'm gonna lie in the bed with you until you go back to sleep, okay?”

She nodded.

I climbed into the twin bed and pushed my body against the wall so that Sabrina would have enough room. Then I wrapped my arms around her and said, “Is that better?”

“Uh-huh. I'm not scared anymore. I'm never scared with you, Kendall.”

“That's good.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too . . .”

The memories kept coming, like a video stream of the greatest hits, the best of times with my sister. I remembered it all. Her first day at kindergarten and how she was so proud that she had homework. She'd sat at the table with me, and while I tackled algebra, she'd colored a picture of a princess and tried to stay inside the lines.

And then, as the years went by and her homework became more challenging, we'd sit together every night, Sabrina just as determined as I was to get straight A's.

“I'm going to UCLA just like you!” she'd exclaimed when I'd received my acceptance letter and scholarship. “And then we can be roomies again.”

“No, golden girl,” my father had said. “Kendall will be long gone by the time you go to college.”

Sabrina had been so disappointed by that news, but I'd promised her on that day that no matter what, in a way we'd always be roomies because we had each other's heart.

The service continued through the scripture readings and song selections and acknowledgments, but I barely heard any of it. I didn't even want to hear, not really. All I wanted to do was think about Sabrina.

And so, I just let the memories go on. Until it was time to say good-bye.

When they opened the casket, I turned away and instead focused on the well-wishers who streamed by. Who said their good-byes to Sabrina, then turned to us with more words of condolence. I greeted everyone with a hug, even people I did not know. I had to because it gave me something to do.

It came to the point where I couldn't delay this anymore. Anthony whispered to his brother, who reached for my father, and together they went up to say their good-byes. I breathed, relieved. No one expected me to go up to the casket, and for that, I was grateful.

As my father's body convulsed with his cries, I was so glad that he was with D'Angelo, who stood next to him and held him, even as he leaned over to kiss his golden girl. Then D'Angelo brought my father back to the pew.

But before I could take my father's hand, Anthony reached for me. “Come on,” he whispered.

I wanted to protest, but before I could, I had already taken the five steps to the casket. And as Anthony held me, I looked down at my sister and sobbed. Even in death, she was just gorgeous. Sleeping Beauty.

And, she was smiling. A smile meant for me, I had a feeling.

I stood there for a moment, then leaned over and gently kissed her forehead. “I'm so sorry, Sabrina. I will always love you.”

And this with a final gasp, I turned around. My father was standing right behind me. And we hugged. And we sobbed. Together.

 • • •

I was a teenager when my mom passed away, so I should've remembered. But I didn't remember this many people being in our house. There was hardly room to move around, but that didn't seem to bother any of the almost one hundred people who were eating and drinking and chatting. It felt festive, a celebration of life, exactly the way my father wanted it.

But about four hours had passed now since we all said good-bye to Sabrina and left her to the hands of the Inglewood Park Cemetery workers. And it had been about three hours since my friends had taken one look inside my father's home and told me that they would catch me later. Even D'Angelo had stayed for only a couple of minutes.

“I have to make a quick trip out of the city,” he told me as he gave me a hug. “I'll call you when I get back.”

I'd watched every one of my friends drive off and I'd almost wanted to run after each car, begging them to take me, too. But I had to stay. I had to be here for my father.

The kitchen was as packed as the living room, but at least by being in the kitchen, I was closer to the place where I knew I could go to get some air. I eased my way through the crowd, twisting and turning, making my own path until I got to the hallway. Then I rushed to my bedroom and closed the door behind me.

The chatter, though muted, made its way through the door, but it was so much better in here. Compared to what was out there, it was almost silent.

I sat on my bed and allowed my mind to wander through the events of the day. But no matter what I tried to focus on, I kept going back to one thing. Seeing Sabrina sleeping. That's how she looked to me. Like she was just asleep. She looked like she'd seen the face of God and had nothing but joy.

The expression on her face wasn't much different today than it had been the first time I saw her, the first time I had the chance to look down onto her face . . .

I'd been standing behind my mother when she opened the door for my father and he'd rushed in with a baby doll.

For me? The excitement of this made me tremble. My birthday was still a week away, but I guessed my father remembered that I wanted one of those new talking dolls. I clapped my hands. “Yay, a new baby doll.”

“Not a doll, baby girl. This is a real baby.” And then my father had glanced at my mother. She looked like she had tears in her eyes and I was just about to ask her why when my dad said, “Do you want to hold her, baby girl?”

“Can I? Please?”

My dad nodded and pointed to the sofa. I couldn't sit down fast enough. Then I held out my arms and my father placed the pink-bundled baby into my arms. She was so beautiful with hair that looked like it was gold, long curvy eyelashes, and lips that had so much pink on them I thought she was wearing lipstick. The only thing was, her skin was a little yellow. And I wished that it was more brown, like mine.

“This is your little sister,” my dad said.

I looked up at him, not quite understanding. “My sister?”

My dad nodded, and when I looked at my mom, she nodded, too. But after that, she ran into her bedroom.

“Daddy, what's wrong with Mommy?”

For a moment he looked as sad as my mother. Then he shook his head. “I think she's not feeling very well, but I'll take care of your mom. I'll make sure that she's happy. You just help me take care of your sister, okay?”

“Okay!” That sounded like a fantastic deal to me. I loved this wiggling, gurgling baby already . . .

I sighed. For many years, I'd kept that promise and I'd done all I could to take care of Sabrina. Until . . . I shook my head. I didn't want to go back there. There was no need to go back to what had happened. It was over. All of it was over.

I'd wanted to be alone, but when I heard the knock on the door, I felt a little bit of relief. Just about anyone would make good company right now. “Come in.”

The door opened and the best company possible walked in. I smiled the way I used to when I saw Anthony. But now I smiled because of what he held in his hands. A pink-bundled baby.

“Mind if we come in?”

I shook my head. “No, come on. Just close the door.”

He chuckled. “I know what you mean. There're a lot of folks out there.” But though I'd invited him in, he took tentative steps toward me. As if he wasn't quite sure.

I helped him out. I reached up and held my arms open. Exactly the way I'd done all those years before when Sabrina was a baby. He lowered Ciara into my arms and I held my niece for the first time.

As I cradled her in my arms, I studied her the way I didn't the day Sabrina had brought her into my office. And I could see that Ciara was definitely her mother's child. Yes, she was the same gorgeous chocolate as Anthony. But the rest was all Sabrina. Ciara's golden hair, her long lashes, and lips with so much color she looked like she was wearing lipstick.

“My goodness!” I said.

“Yup,” Anthony agreed, already knowing what I was thinking. “She looks just like Sabrina.”

I rocked her in my arms and felt Anthony sit next to me, but I didn't take my eyes from the baby.

“I hope I wrapped her up good. I was worried about bringing her out finally, but I wanted you and Dad to see her, since I kept her home all week.”

“I'm actually glad you kept her home. I wouldn't have wanted her around all this sadness. But today, it's fine. Today is a celebration of a life well lived.”

He sighed. “A young life.”

I looked up and squeezed his hand. He nodded and blinked hard as if he'd made the same commitment that I did—no more tears!

For minutes we sat in the silence as I rocked and stared at this baby. She was still sleeping as I lifted her to my chest, and when I held her against my heart, I couldn't help it—I cried. I sobbed and held Ciara tighter. And as I held Ciara, Anthony held me.

When she cooed, I lowered her just a bit so that I could see her face. “Hi, baby,” I said. “Was I holding you too tight?”

“No,” Anthony answered for his daughter. “Tell her, Ciara, an auntie can never hold you too tight.”

I smiled and then, “But what about a godmother?” I said to Ciara at first, and then turned to Anthony. “Sabrina had asked me . . .”

He nodded before I could finish. “Yes! That's what we both wanted. Yes, Kendall. Thank you.” Then he stood up. “I'm going to get her diaper bag and then grab something to eat. Do you want anything?”

I shook my head. “I'm fine. I have everything that I want right here.”

Anthony stepped out of the room, leaving me and Ciara alone. And I said, “Let me tell you about your mommy. She was such a special lady . . .”

Chapter

Forty-Three

T
he first of May.

As I leaned back on the lounger and peered into the ocean, I couldn't believe how time had moved so quickly. It had already been two weeks since Sabrina had passed away and it didn't seem like that much time could have possibly gone by.

But then, in some ways, it seemed like I'd lived through an eternity. Because in two weeks, I felt like a different person.

The tables had turned for real. I was mellow now. Not angry, not bitter. And like Pastor Ford had asked, my heart was open. The only thing about an open heart was that it made me mushy. Before Sabrina passed away, I never cried. But now . . . those Mother's Day commercials that had just hit the TV were getting to me. And sometimes, just looking out at this ocean and beauty of God's majesty . . . it was too much. I shook my head and wiped my eyes. See? I was turning into a crying fool. And that thought made me laugh.

I took another sip of my tea and noticed a lone figure far away walking on the edge of the beach. This stretch of the coast was private, so there were hardly any people on it. The weather was just breaking, so I expected my neighbors to be setting up on the sand pretty regularly soon.

But in the two months that I'd lived here, I never saw anyone just strolling the way this person was. I watched as the figure came closer, closer, closer. And then close enough for me to make out all parts of him. It was his swagger that was most distinctive. And then there was what I called his uniform: today, a black T-shirt, black jeans, and his Tims that were now covered with sand.

By the time he trotted up the steps to my deck, the tips of my lips had connected to each ear.

“D'Angelo Stewart,” I said. With my hand, I shielded my eyes from the glare of the sun. I wanted to get a good look at this man.

He leaned over and kissed my forehead. Then he sat at the end of the lounger. “What's up?”

“Just you. Did you just get back?”

He nodded. “Yeah, just the morning. And I wanted to make sure that I came and saw you. So, you're good?”

“I am. I have my days. I have to try hard not to think about all the things that I wish I'd done differently.”

He shrugged. “We all wish for a do-over at some time or another.”

I took a deep breath. “Well, tragedy brings clarity.”

“At least you got clarity. At least you learned the lesson. And now you need to stand up in front of the world and shout out that message. 'Cause there are people out there who profess to know the Lord, but they pray, they send their petitions to God, and they have such hard hearts. I just don't get it. Don't they know that God can't honor that?” He shook his head. “I was worried about you. I never wanted that to be you. I never wanted you to be one of those people that God wasn't able to hear.”

I tilted my head. “Sometimes you sound just like a preacher.”

He laughed. “Maybe that'll be my next vocation. Who knows?”

“Who knows?” I agreed. “One of the lessons I've learned over the last few weeks is that none of us knows what the future holds.”

“The future,” he said with a side glance at me that sent my heart a-thumping. After a silent moment he said, “I made a tough decision; I'm heading back to Iraq.”

I nodded. “I'm not surprised.”

“Really? You should be. Because I gave it some serious thought. I thought about staying here.”

“But you're not that kind of man,” I said. “Remember, you told me that you couldn't imagine settling down.”

“I couldn't. Before. But now . . .”

He spoke in incomplete sentences that I completely understood. “Me, too,” I said. “I couldn't. Before. But now.”

He chuckled. “Pretty lady, you made this hard for me. But I think you need some time. And, I need some time, too.”

I nodded.

“And who knows?” he said.

“Who knows?” I agreed, thinking that the tables had turned for real. Was I really considering this? Was I really having this talk-nontalk about the possibility of a maybe relationship someday?

“We can always stay in touch,” he said. “We can Skype or do that FaceTime thing.”

I shuddered at that thought. After what had happened to Asia? But I said, “Maybe.” Then I asked, “So, when do you leave?”

“Tomorrow,” he said. “That's why I had to make that run down to San Diego. Just got our new orders.”

He didn't say anything else and I didn't want to know.

But neither one of us got to say another word, because Ciara's cries came through the baby monitor. He looked at the machine on the table and his eyes widened. “Ciara's here, with you?”

I nodded and then giggled. “She spent the night with me last night,” I said as I jumped up from the lounger and rushed into my bedroom.

“And she's still alive?”

I slapped D'Angelo's arm playfully before I peeped into the bassinet that I'd sent to Sabrina and Anthony when Ciara was born. But just days after Sabrina's funeral, Anthony had brought the bassinet over here for visits such as this. “Oh, what's wrong with the baby?” I said as I lifted her up.

As if she could feel all of my love, right away, her cries stopped.

“The magic touch,” D'Angelo said. “And I should know.”

If I were a few shades lighter, he would've seen the heat rise beneath my skin. I said, “A godmommy's touch.”

He paused for a moment. “Well, can her godfather get some love?”

I looked at him and he nodded as he held out his hands to hold Ciara. As he took her from me, he said, “Anthony asked me the day of Sabrina's funeral.”

“That's great. I guess this means that you and Anthony are cool again.”

“I told you that we would be. But what this really means is that if you're the godmother and I'm the godfather, we're going to have to do some duties together.”

Then, while he still held Ciara in his arms, he leaned forward and kissed me. A soulful kiss that made me glad that I wasn't the one holding the baby. When he backed away, he handed Ciara to me, then strutted from my bedroom.

Still holding Ciara, I followed and stopped at the deck door. He trotted down the steps then went back the same way he came—along the beach. I watched him and rocked Ciara. I watched him until I couldn't see him anymore.

But even though he was gone, he'd left me with a smile on my face. And a tear rolling down my cheek.