Coming Home Page 11

  Brent sat stone-faced, nodding and jotting notes, as if he were participating in an executive board discussion about employee bonuses rather than how to handle his wishes upon his death. Was he really that okay with it, Dayna wondered, or had he perfected a public façade?

  It was obvious that the looming reality was getting harder for Tamara to handle. Dayna wondered whether Brent was giving himself space to grieve too.

  Tamara returned, but instead of sitting next to Audrey, she pulled out the chair on the other side of Brent. Everyone pretended not to notice, including Brent.

  An hour later, Carmen, Audrey, and Dayna had crafted a to-do list for the creation of the supporting organization, which Brent had decided to name the Injured Collegiate Athlete Fund. He decided to offer the scholarships and accompanying support to any athlete, not just football players, who participated in a sport at the college level and suffered a career-ending injury.

  “You don’t want your name in the title of the supporting organization?” Carmen asked.

  Brent shrugged. “That’s not necessary; it’s not like I’m a celebrity.”

  “Except at Alabama U,” Dayna said and smiled. “They still give him preferential treatment whenever he visits Atchity, I’m sure.”

  Brent shrugged and grinned. “What can I say? Seriously, though, I want this to be about the kids who need it, and the name Tamara and I came up with makes it clear. Any athlete who sees this name and gets injured will remember to look to this fund for support.”

  Dayna nodded. She was sure that if Warren were here to lend his marketing expertise, he would agree that it was an appropriate name with great branding potential.

  They wrapped up the meeting by deciding when they’d get together again. Since everyone felt time was of the essence, they agreed to meet a week later, on the next Tuesday evening.

  “Evenings are better because we aren’t as rushed as during lunchtime,” Carmen said.

  Audrey cleared her throat. “But you have a standing commitment most Tuesday evenings, don’t you, Dayna?”

  She knew Audrey was alluding to her salsa date with Warren, which she was missing for the third time tonight.

  “Yes, but —”

  Brent raised his palm to interrupt her. “I’m asking you to help with this out of the kindness of your heart, Dayna,” he said. “You don’t have to do this. But since you are, I’m fine with doing it at a time that’s convenient for you. Tami and I can drive up on Wednesday or Thursday evening, if either of those nights is better for everyone else. We’ll change whatever we need to in our schedules.”

  Dayna was about to protest, then hesitated. Audrey was right. Warren’s absence from these meetings was evidence that while he would never hold her back from something she believed in, she was skating on thin ice. He deserved to remain her priority.

  She fingered her faith, hope, and love charm bracelet, and out of the corner of her eye, saw Brent watching her. He had a faint smile on his face, and she knew he recognized the gift from his mom.

  Lord, she prayed suddenly, please don’t let this man mention this gift from his mother in front of Tamara.

  “Thanks for offering to change the meeting day, Brent,” she said aloud. “Thursdays at six-thirty would be great, if that’s okay with everyone else.”

  That would leave the door open for Warren to come if he ever chose. Wednesdays were his Bible study nights, and lately she’d felt the tug to join him and the boys there. It had been an important part of her life before the divorce, because it was the one place where no pomp and circumstance was required, just a Bible and a willingness to read and learn. But it had been among the casualties of her flight from organized church and God. The stronger she felt, however, the more she sensed a longing to reclaim the pieces of her broken past that had actually been good.

  The group agreed on the standing Thursday meeting, and half an hour later, Dayna’s dining room and house were empty.

  Dayna prepared her cup of tea and plopped on her sofa. Instead of turning on the TV or playing a CD, she closed her eyes and processed her day. It was still early, and she pondered how to spend the stretch of evening that lay before her. She thought of several important tasks she could tackle, but she knew what she wanted to do. Minutes later, she followed her heart.

  twenty-five

  Dayna considered calling ahead, but decided to surprise him.

  Ten minutes later, she rang Warren’s doorbell and heard him trotting down the wood stairs to the front door. He opened it with a breathless sigh and stood there with a question in his eyes. She was tempted to respond with a kiss, but restrained herself.

  “Hi, I came to check on you and the boys and to see if you’re still speaking to me,” Dayna said. “If you’ll let me in, I’ll practice my salsa moves with you.”

  Warren remained poker-faced but gently grabbed her wrist and tugged her inside. He closed the door with his foot and pulled her toward him for a kiss.

  “How’s that for a salsa move?”

  “Yuck!”

  Dayna peeked up the stairs and saw Mason sitting on the landing.

  “Get back in bed, son,” Warren said. “If you hadn’t been sneaking and eavesdropping, you wouldn’t have been grossed out. Good night!”

  Dayna laughed. “Good night, Mason. Smooches to you and to Michael. Tell him I hope his thumb is feeling better.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He disappeared, and Dayna laughed again.

  She turned to Warren, who was leaning against the wall, watching her. His tender expression reassured her that he wasn’t upset with her, and she relaxed.

  “Will you give me another chance?”

  “Will you stop canceling on me for some other man?”

  “But he’s —”

  Warren pulled her close again and placed his forefinger on her lips. She recalled Brent touching her in the same spot the evening he reappeared in her life, and she had been furious. Tonight, the same gesture from Warren made her heart soar. His face was close enough to hers that she could feel his breath on her cheeks. Moments like this made her wish she were Mrs. Avery, for more reasons than one.

  “I know Brent is dying, babe, and I respect how difficult that is,” Warren said. “But he’s technically part of your past. I am your present and your future, and we need to nurture that. Right?”

  She stared at him, wanting to protest — at least the bleeding-heart side of her did. But she heard him: he was echoing the warnings Audrey kept giving her.

  “You’re right, Warren,” she said. “I’m sorry if I’ve lost sight of that. It’s just that I really don’t know how much longer Brent has, and I can tell that he’s driven to get this thing rolling before he gets any sicker. I wish you had been there tonight; we could have used your help.”

  Warren didn’t respond. He loosened his grip and motioned for her to follow him into the family room. “TV or music?”

  She plopped on his sofa. “The usual,” she said.

  Warren turned on his surround-sound stereo and Lizz Wright’s contralto filled the air. Dayna closed her eyes and basked in the singer’s throaty voice and thought-provoking lyrics, as the CD rotated from a jazz selection to a gospel one. When Warren returned with a cup of ginger peach tea, the CD was switching to a tune that could almost be classified R&B funk.

  “I think she’s my favorite singer,” Dayna said, and curved her body into Warren’s as he settled on the sofa next to her with a book. “Thanks for the tea. What are you reading?”

  “Nothing intellectual,” he said, and ran his fingers through her hair. “Just the latest James Patterson. Keeps me current with the boys. They love his Maximum Ride series.”

  “That’s cool,” she said. “You know you’re gonna have to comb my hair before I leave here, right?”

  Warren smiled mischievously. “We gotta fix this leaving thing. It’s getting harder and harder, you know?”

  He kissed her neck, and if she’d been any shade but brown, he’d have known
the effect he was having on her before she shoved him away and slid to the opposite end of the sofa.

  “Careful, babe,” she said. “You’re in dangerous territory tonight. We promised each other we’d wait until after our vows … remember that?”

  Warren gave her a pained smile. “The fact that you remember so well makes me love you and hate you at the same time. What’s the plan here again?”

  He pulled Dayna close again and instead of protesting, she willed her pulse to stop racing. “Let’s see — a preacher, a ring, and a wedding. All in your time, though.”

  She grinned and shifted in his arms so that her back rested against his chest. “We slipped that one time, Warren, not long after we met, and you and I both felt guilty. It complicated things between us before we were sure of what we meant to each other. Now that we know, let’s stick to our commitment to not cross that line again until we seal our deal before God.”

  Warren shook his head. “Whether you own up to it or not, some of that preacher’s daughter upbringing is still in you. You’re honoring God even when you aren’t calling it that. And just so you know, I repented about what happened between us, but I don’t consider our first ‘encounter’ a slip-up since God has knit our hearts together. We made the mistake a lot of people make when they’re dealing with the ‘rebound relationship effect’: we jumped in feet first.

  “But fortunately, God saw us through that, and what we have now is real, babe.”

  Dayna was about to speak when he silenced her. “Shh! I know … you want to wait until our wedding night, and I do too. Just know that it won’t be too much longer. I’m a man, babe. Don’t be surprised if I get desperate and whisk you to Vegas one weekend. That will keep us saved until we can book the preacher.”

  Dayna burst into laughter. “You worry me sometimes, Warren. I really think you’ve got some Vegas tickets stashed somewhere, along with that preacher. Silly man. I guess I’ll keep you.”

  He turned her chin upward and kissed her. “Sorry for my attitude about this whole thing with Brent.”

  Dayna sat back and looked at him. She sighed. “You should be. You are being a little immature, but I hear where you’re coming from. The situation is more than a little strange. Besides that, the meeting messed with our salsa nights. I know I have a tendency to get consumed by what I’m working on, sometimes to the detriment of the people in my life. I need to watch that. So let’s call it even, okay? And by the way, the meetings have moved to Thursdays, so we can reclaim our salsa date night.”

  She punched his arm, and he hugged her. They spent the next couple of hours in one another’s comfortable company, with Dayna enjoying the rest of the Lizz Wright compilation while Warren read his novel. The silence between them was easy and full.

  Suddenly her thoughts turned to her to-do list and her promise to let Mama know whether she’d come home for Easter.

  “What do you think about going to Alabama with me next month?”

  “I don’t think I have anything major planned; I just need to check with Lily about the twins’ schedules. Why, what’s going on in Atchity?”

  “Easter, and the week leading up to my dad’s pastoral anniversary at Riverview Baptist.” Dayna sighed. “They want me to come so the congregation won’t think I’m snubbing the family. Plus, they want me to sing a solo.”

  “Come again?” Warren sat back so he could look into her eyes.

  “I’ve told you how my parents are. They’re all about appearances,” she said. “And by the way, I’m inviting you; they’re not. It might be ‘unsettling’ for the congregation to know you’ve come with me since … you’re not tan enough.”

  Warren frowned. “You’re serious?”

  “As a heart attack,” Dayna said.

  “I’ve spent time with your parents on more than one occasion and have gotten to know them. I thought they were cool with me, and now they don’t want me to visit? What’s this all about?”

  Warren sounded like an anxious teenager worried about impressing his prom date’s parents instead of a forty-six-year-old seasoned executive with two kids. Dayna sat up so she could tell Warren the real deal. If they were going to be together long-term, he needed to know.

  “I keep telling you, you’ve met the public personas of Rev. Dr. Alston and First Lady Annie Wilson. What I’m describing to you are the parents who raised me. For as long as I can remember, it’s been all about the congregation and what the members think or expect or want. My sisters and I had to toe the line. We were expected to look the part and act the part — no rebellious PKs in that household.”

  Warren looked incredulous, as he always did when she shared details about her childhood, and if it hadn’t been her life, Dayna might have considered this tale an exaggeration too.

  “The two years of therapy I received after my divorce from Brent helped me heal from my upbringing too,” Dayna said. “It still gets to me, for sure, but I’m much stronger than I was. Daddy was always there; but he was really never there. We were his trophies, to show off and brag about and make him look good; but it took too much energy to really love us for who we were and to spend quality time with us. And Mama went right along with it, like the perfect little Stepford wife. Maybe that’s all she knew about being a wife: Do what your husband says and make sure your children look nice and behave properly. I think Daddy loves us in his own way, but we never really had him or his heart, if you know what I mean.”

  As she said it, she doubted that Warren would, or could, understand, since he was so close to his mother, and had been close to his father before his dad’s death from cancer, a few months after they’d begun dating.

  “You know how when you decided we were getting serious enough that you should tell your parents I was black?”

  “Yeah?” Warren said, still looking perplexed.

  “You told me they accepted the news without any hesitation or issues; they just wanted you to be happy and loved, right?”

  Warren nodded. “Exactly. Your race was an interesting fact, but it didn’t change their love for me.”

  “Well, my divorce from Brent? It was nearly a deal breaker with my parents.”

  Warren made a funny face. “I’m not understanding that. The man cheated on you, dumped you — sorry for putting it so bluntly, babe — then married the other woman as soon as your divorce was final. How could that be cause for judging or disowning you?”

  Dayna shook her head. “It’s all about appearances,” she said. “To be honest, I think Mama is upset with me to this day for not finding some way to hold onto Brent. It didn’t matter that he’d had an affair; from her perspective and generation, men do that all the time, and some have families on the other side of town. I should have been woman enough to keep him and should have been patient while he sowed his oats, because eventually he would settle down and be all mine.”

  “That’s what you were told?”

  “That’s what I was told — by Mama and by my sister Shiloh, her twin for all intents and purposes. They really hurt me behind all that happened with Brent. You just don’t know.”

  Warren sat back on the sofa, stunned speechless.

  “It’s a lot to process,” Dayna said. “Guess you need to know what you’re in for … if you’re still in.”

  Warren stared at Dayna and cocked his head to the side. “And why wouldn’t I be, babe? I’m not in this relationship with your folks, and who said my family was perfect? We have our issues just like everyone else.”

  Dayna sat back on the sofa so they were shoulder to shoulder. “I’m talking about major issues, though, issues that left me feeling rejected as a child, and only good enough as an adult if I come home ‘on their terms.’ To make them proud, I have to sing a solo; to keep them from being embarrassed, I shouldn’t bring you along. It’s not enough for me to simply show up, happy to see them and wanting to spend time with them, or vice versa.”

  Warren put his arm around her. “That’s good enough for me, Dayna,” he said. “I r
eally don’t care what your parents think or want. If you decide to go home for Easter, I’m happy to come along regardless of how they’ll feel about it. You can stay with them and I’ll lodge at a nearby hotel. But if you decide to sing that solo in church on Sunday morning, this white, Presbyterian brother will be there. Bet on it.”

  Dayna wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. How had she been lucky enough to find herself with this man? She hugged him. “You are something else, Warren Avery. I love you,” she said.

  “I love when you tell me you love me,” he said and smiled. “Don’t decide tonight, but if you want me to go, just let me know in enough time to take off work, okay? You probably remember that the boys usually spend Easter weekend with April’s parents in West Palm Beach, so they should be squared away during that time. If not, we can bring them along, unless you think it will cause your parents to go into cardiac arrest.”

  “Deal,” Dayna said, and laughed. “I’ve got to stand up for myself sometime. I think this is it.”

  “In the meantime,” Warren said, “I’ve added your parents, and your relationship with them, to my prayer list. Put them on yours too.”

  The look she gave him conveyed her “Yeah, right” attitude. Warren knew she didn’t always remember to pray every morning and evening like he did. But maybe this was his not-so-subtle effort to get her back on track, and maybe she’d take him up on it. What could it hurt?

  Just so she wouldn’t have to fret about confessing her inconsistent prayer life to Warren, she decided to do what he was asking. If she put sticky notes on her bathroom mirror and nightstand, that would help her remember to pray. Along with concentrating on Mama and Daddy, she decided she’d pray for Brent and Tamara too. Wonders never ceased.