Joy (34 page)
T
he sheets were damp, as he lifted himself from the bed. It had been this way for the past few nights after he awakened from terror filled dreams. In his mind they were always in uniform, when they came and took him away.
It didn't make any sense for him to be thinking this way. He'd been questioned and eliminated as a suspect. He had outsmarted them all, just like he had before. There was nothing that would ever lead them to him. He held the only evidence.
But he couldn't get too cocky. Shakespeare said, “The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.”
Still, there was no need for him to be so worried.
He walked into his bathroom and stared at his reflection. Empty eyes stared back; he didn't even have the strength to smile. This was worse than the other times.
Seeing Anya didn't help. He didn't feel stronger and her words still cut beneath his skin.
Maybe it was time to leave this city. He had other options—New York, Chicago, even London. He'd make a decision soon, knowing that these nightmares were warnings. Someone was getting close.
He turned off the lights and returned to his bed, shivering even though he covered himself with two blankets. He closed his eyes, although he knew he wouldn't sleep. All he could do was hope that daylight would soon give him relief from the horror of his dreams.
A
nya massaged her temples, then her eyes. With only her desk light shining, her office had a soft, golden glow. She sighed.
“Long day, huh?” David asked, as he peeked into her office, then sauntered inside.
She nodded. “It never seems to end.” She picked up her message slips, glancing at the notes from Braxton, Madear, Donovan, her wedding coordinator. “Between business and my family and … everything else, I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed.”
“You've been working like a crazed woman for weeks.”
“Is that your diagnosis, Doctor?”
“That's it.” He settled on the edge of her desk. “And my recommendation is,” he glanced at his watch, “go home.”
Anya smiled at him. “You're the doctor. Give me a few minutes.”
“Let me get my things. We'll walk out together.”
Anya chuckled. David said that like it was a new idea. But he had walked her to her car every night since she'd returned to work.
As they descended in the elevator, they chatted like the friends they'd become. In the garage, they leaned against her car, continuing their talk.
“Hey, instead of standing here, let's go get a drink,” David suggested casually, the way he had almost every night. And she answered, the way she always did.
“David, we had lunch together. I don't want you to feel like you have to take care of me.” She paused. “And, I'm sure there's a special lady that you want to be with.”
“I want to be with you.”
Her smile disappeared. “I'm kidding.” He ran his hand across his mouth. “Anyway, let's have that drink tonight.”
She hesitated, then said, “I'm too tired.” She tossed her briefcase into her car.
“Anya, what I just said—I was joking. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
She lightly touched his arm. “I just have a lot to do.” She looked into his eyes. “My wedding plans are keeping me really busy.”
He lowered his head a bit and nodded. “I understand.”
She slid into the car, then backed slowly from the space, past David and down the aisle, resisting the urge to look back at him through the mirror.
Shaking her head, she said, “David is not part of this plan, girl. Get over it!” Then she steered her car toward home.
At first, Anya thought she was dreaming, but she reached for the ringing phone.
“Hey, babe. You sound like you were asleep.”
“No, not yet. I was just lying down. I think I've been working too hard.” She regretted the words as soon as they left her lips.
“I told you,” Braxton started in. “You need to take it easy. I think you should take a few days off. I can stay over there or you can come here.”
She sat up and turned on the light. “Braxton, stop huffing and puffing. I probably need to take some herbs or vitamins or something. Anyway—”
“I guess that means you want to go back to sleep.”
“Yeah and this time, I'll get under the covers.”
“Okay, do you want me to pick you up tomorrow for counseling?”
“No, I'll meet you there.” In his silence, she heard his doubt. “I'll be on time.”
He chuckled. “I love you.”
She leaned back on the bed. “I love you too, Braxton.” And, her eyes were closed the moment she put the phone back on the hook.
D
avid traced his finger along the picture. He could barely see the image in the dim fight of his living room. The light of dawn was still a half hour away. As he stared at the frame in his hands, hot tears rolled down his face. “Happy birthday, Mama,” he whispered to the picture.
No matter what experts said, time did little for his wounds. His pain was as sharp as the day his grandmother called him.
“Mama, why?” Years later, he was still asking the question. The memory remained sharp—his grandmother's explanation about the gun, but his mother hadn't left anything behind to explain. Only, he didn't need an explanation. It was all because of him.
Gently, he returned the picture to its place on the mantel, and with the back of his hands, wiped his tears. He took several deep breaths, then zipped his sweatshirt up to his neck. He'd get to the gym a bit earlier this morning and still have time to see Detective Bush before he went into the office. Questions fingered that had to be answered. Especially today. Because it was his mother's birthday.
He grabbed his gym bag and keys. Enough reminiscing. It was time to take care of business.
Anya dropped her briefcase on the dining room table and looked at the clock. It wasn't even four. She kicked off her pumps and went to the kitchen.
“Hey, girl.” Sasha bounced into the room. “I thought I heard something down here. I was getting ready to do my Kung Fu impersonation. What are you doing home so early?”
“I have a headache.”
“Must be a whopper for you to come home. Anything I can get for you?”
“No,” Anya said, closing the refrigerator. She'd been hungry, but the sight of food was making her sick. “I think I'll go upstairs,” she said, picking up her briefcase, but stepping over her shoes. “Aren't you working today?”
“Nope, that's tomorrow. Right now, I'm on my way to the gym. In my search of the new me, I joined a few days ago, to improve on this fabulous body. Are you sure there's nothing you need before I leave?” Sasha had followed Anya upstairs.
Anya just moaned her answer. “Have a good time. I'll be here when you get back.” She closed the door, leaving Sasha standing in the hallway with a deep frown.
Anya fell onto her bed, trying to understand the wave of warmth that suddenly washed over her. With quick steps, she moved to her bathroom and leaned over the toilet. After a few minutes of dry heaves, she straightened her head, then washed her mouth.
“What is wrong with me?” she asked her reflection. Her head was pounding so hard, she could feel her temple muscles beating against her skin. She stared at her dark eyes for a moment before she rushed to her bedroom.
Her hands trembled as she dialed Braxton's number and held her breath. She exhaled when his answering machine came on.
“Braxton, I'm so sorry, but I have to help Sasha with something tonight, so I won't make counseling.” She paused, wishing she had planned her words better before she called. “I'll leave a message for Pastor Ford. Also,” she hesitated again. “I forgot to tell you about my doctor's appointment. If you want, you can come with me.” She closed her eyes and tried to keep her voice steady. “I'll call you in the morning and tell you what time, okay. And Braxton … I love you so much.”
She hung up the phone and, before she had time to think, she called Dr. Moore. It took a few minutes to convince the receptionist that an emergency appointment was needed.
She finally put the phone into the cradle, and curled onto the bed. It was only then that her tears came. “Oh, God,” she prayed. “Please, God … please, God … please, God.”
A
nya and Braxton entered the townhouse, bodies stiff, like walking zombies. The inconceivable had hit them like a bomb. They had driven home in complete silence, each consumed by their own disbelief.
“You're pregnant.” Dr. Moore's words kept reverberating through their minds, bringing different but still haunting thoughts. They were simple words that would change the course of their entire lives.
Pregnant. By a rapist. By a man who had not been captured. What would this mean? What would they do? They hadn't spoken a single word, yet their questions were exactly the same.
Braxton followed Anya from the living room into the kitchen. The air was dead space between them.
Anya began opening, then slamming cabinet doors. Finally, she asked, “Do you want anything?” Her voice tried to conceal the emotions that waged war inside. She searched the cabinets for something that would keep her from facing this remarkable truth—if only for a moment. But every part of her brain was firmly fixed on the doctor's report.
“Anya, whatever you need, I'll get for you.” Braxton gently took her hand and led her from the kitchen into the living room. “Do you want something to eat or drink? I can make whatever you want. Or I can go out, but I don't want to leave you alone …” Braxton's voice trailed off.
Anya shook her head and rested her hand gently on her stomach. There was a baby there and the thought made her shudder.
Braxton sat down, removed her hand from her stomach, and held her hands in his. “You should eat something, honey.”
“I don't want anything.” She leaned back and closed her eyes.
Braxton leaned back as well and moved Anya's head to his shoulder. He buried his nose in her hair, pulling her as close as he could.
“It's going to be all right.” He rocked slightly as Anya wrapped her arms around him. “I promise, Anya. I won't let anything else happen to you.”
The sound that came from her was barely audible. Braxton pulled away and lifted her chin with his finger so that he could see her face clearly. “What's wrong?” She was chuckling or groaning, Braxton couldn't tell which.
“You won't let anything else happen to me. What else is there?” Her lips turned upward into a pained smile.
Braxton tried to return her smile. “I just mean that I will take care of you.”
She leaned back into him. “I know you will.”
They sat for what seemed like an hour, holding each other, and as each minute passed, Anya felt the weight slowly lifting from her heart. They had been through so much; they would find a way to deal with this.
“Braxton, we'll get through this, you know.”
She could feel him nodding his head as he rubbed his hand along her arm. Finally, he stood and went into the kitchen. He combed the cabinets before he settled on a can of soup, emptied it into a bowl, and set it inside the microwave. When he returned to the living room, he paused, staring at Anya.
She was sitting back, eyes closed, head against the wall. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful. Braxton tilted his head back and mouthed a thank you to the Lord for keeping them, even with what they had to do.
Feeling him, she opened her eyes and smiled. She had been thinking about the baby … and what their lives would be like from now on. This was such a shock, and it was scary. Who was the father? But every time that question screeched into her mind, she suppressed it. She couldn't dwell on what was in her head. It was what was in her heart that would keep her going. The only thing she could do was think about the baby and know that the Lord would sustain them.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked after a few seconds passed.
She reached for him, and he moved toward her. “I still can't believe this. Braxton, I'm
pregnant.
It doesn't even sound real.”
“I never thought this would happen,” he said. “You know it
could
happen, but what are the chances? I was more concerned that you would catch a disease or something.” He closed his eyes for a minute, then glanced at Anya out of the corner of his eye. “I didn't mean that. Anyway … Anya, I will be there for you the entire time. I'll handle everything if you want.”
Anya frowned. Of course he would be there. This would be a great test, but they would pass it. They just had a tough decision in front of them … although she couldn't imagine giving her baby away. As she thought about giving the baby up for adoption, something deep inside of her stirred.
“Isn't it interesting?” she finally stated. “All this talk we've been having about children and Junior and now this—”
“But you don't have to worry, sweetheart,” he said, putting his arms back around her. “We'll still have our family. An abortion won't change that.”
Ping!
Anya wasn't sure if it was the sound of the microwave or Braxton's words that startled her. Her head moved in slow motion from side to side. “An abortion?” Surely she had misunderstood him.
“Yeah …” Braxton looked at Anya as if he were confused by her confusion. Then his eyes widened. “I
know
you're not thinking about having this baby.”
“Well… I …” she stammered. “There are other options besides an abortion.”
Braxton dropped his head. “You have got to be kidding. There are
no
other options. Why would you want to bring this monster into the world?” he asked angrily.
Anya flinched. “The
monster
that you're talking about is a part of me.”
Braxton looked at her incredulously. “It is not! You were raped, Anya. You're not supposed to birth that thing.”
“You don't have to remind me how I got pregnant, Braxton.” Her words came out slowly. “And the
thing
that's inside of me is a living, breathing baby—my baby.” Anya crossed her arms in front of her, resting them on her stomach.