Walk a Straight Line (17 page)

Gina looked into Keith's eyes.
What would she decide?
He wished he could read her mind.

Then she lifted her chin. “I can't deny the passion you ignite within me. But, I love Michael too, and I can't bear the thought of hurting him.”

Keith groaned. He kissed her. Endearments poured from his heart to his lips. Their ardent kisses increased as they engaged in a passion-filled tango.

Keith blocked every single negative thought out of his mind. His love outweighed every rational thought. He unleashed all of his pent-up emotions, confident that Gina would be able to handle them. Without breaking the kiss, Keith picked her up in his powerful arms and carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. He entered Gina's room and gently placed her to stand, so that he could look at her.

“Gina, are you sure about this?” Keith wanted to make sure because there would be no stopping him from this point.

Gina nodded her head and unzipped her dress.

Keith just stared at her, taking in everything that he had only previously imagined. She was a vision. He reached out his hands to touch her shoulders and to draw her closer to him. Placing a kiss on her neck, he promised, “I'm going to love you with everything I have to give. All night long.”

She clicked her heels three times . . .

Colleen was ready to go home. Francine had been unbearably nice to her, and it had been ingratiating. She had had to grit her teeth to keep from being catty. Francine had been as sweet as sugar in her presence, which aroused her suspicions. The old bat was up to something.

Whatever it was, she knew she wouldn't like it. If she was a gambling woman, she'd bet all the money in her purse on that.

Then, at about eleven thirty p.m., the doorbell rang.

Colleen wondered who would be coming to Francine's house at such a late hour. Francine jumped up and rushed to answer the door.

Curious, Colleen looked at Terence to see if he had a clue. He shrugged, signifying that he had no idea who the mystery guest was that his mother had expected.

Francine entered with a woman close on her heels. Terence's indrawn breath made her focus on him. His eyes were widened with shocked recognition.

Colleen leaned forward to get a better glimpse of the woman. She was breathtakingly beautiful . . . a tall, majestic, dark-skinned beauty.

In her element, Francine didn't even acknowledge Colleen. She addressed her son, “Terence, you remember Dana White, don't you?”

“Terence!” Dana squealed with a distinct Jamaican accent and jumped into his arms. “It's been a long time since I've seen you.”

Terence visibly paled at the younger woman's exuberant greeting. He extricated himself from her arms and said, “Hi, Dana.”

Dana flung her arms around his neck. “Aren't you glad to see me?”

Colleen was tired of being the fly on the wall. “Terence, aren't you going to introduce us?” She asked the question with her eyebrows raised in inquiry. For some reason, her heart began to pound. Dana was probably an old girlfriend. Colleen fiddled with her ring finger—for solace. She wouldn't get jealous, not her. She who has the ring has the power.

“Uh, yes,” Terence stammered, again dodging out of Dana's arms. “Dana, this is my wife, Colleen.”

“Wife?” Dana exclaimed. She stood up with her arms akimbo. “You never told me you had a wife.”

Dana was acting as if Terence was her man. Colleen's heart hammered as she grappled to figure out the scene unfolding before her eyes. She stole a glance at Francine who remained quiet.

“When you came to Jamaica, you never mentioned a wife to me.”

“Wait a minute,” Colleen interjected. She addressed her husband. “Terence, I thought that you've only been to Jamaica once and that was with me on our honeymoon.”

“Colleen,” Terence beseeched her, “give me a chance to explain—”

Dana cut him off, “And, perhaps you need to explain that to me too.”

Colleen trounced over to the other woman and got up in her face. “My husband owes you no explanation.”

Dana backed up, but she didn't back down. “Yes . . . Yes, him do. After all, he was the one who approached me and sweet-talked me into giving him some; then he just up and disappeared. If his mother hadn't found me, I don't know what I would've done. I mean, I thought it was love at first sight.”

Colleen was at a loss for words. Was this woman saying that she and Terence had slept together? Colleen foamed at the mouth, but she sought to remain in control. She tapped her feet and counted to ten. That didn't work.
Lord, I need you. I need you, now.
“Terence, aren't you going to say something?” Colleen's voice escalated.

Wait a minute. Her brain caught up with Dana's words.

The ugly truth sank in.

“Is this woman saying that you slept with her on our honeymoon?” Colleen screamed at the mute man standing before her. She shook her head in denial. “That couldn't be right.”

Colleen kept her eyes pinned on Terence. He was going to give her some answers. He broke contact first and pointed at Francine, who gloated. He accused her, “You did this! You just couldn't stand to see me finally happy! I confided something to you and you . . .”

“So, it's true,” Colleen broke in with a sob. She marched over to him and slapped him hard. Riled, she grabbed onto his shirt. “You hypocrite! You're slime. Claiming to be a man of God. I can't believe you would do this. You're like a dog returning to his vomit—” Colleen looked at him with contempt. Through gritted teeth, she snarled, “I have no words for you,” before stepping back.

“Is it me she calling vomit?” Dana piped in and jumped into Colleen's face.

Colleen stopped her cold. “You'd better get out of my face, or you'll be picking your teeth up off the floor.” She knew she was saved, but she meant every word. It was eye for an eye time, and she wasn't going to turn the other cheek—except to slap it. Wisely, Dana retreated to a chair in the far corner.

Francine found her voice and ranted, “Keep your trampy paws off my son, you . . . You ingrate.”

Colleen sneered at her mother-in-law, but didn't bother to dignify her with a response. Spent, her tears flowing like a dam that had broken loose, Colleen clamped her jaws shut, but her resolve broke. “I loved you. I trusted you. I gave you the best of me.” She held her hands out toward him, “And this is how you repay me. I just don't believe it.”

Terence took her hands in his and said, “Baby, let me explain.”

“No.” Colleen shook out of his grasp. “I don't want to hear anything from you. In fact, I don't ever want to lay eyes on you again.” Her nose and eyes were now running. Colleen could barely see through her tears, but she knew that she had to get out of there.

Francine watched her with a self-satisfied smile on her face.

“I hope you're happy, you old witch. You finally got what you wanted,” Colleen's grief slurred her words. She told Dana, “You're welcome to him, 'cause I don't deal with swine.”

Colleen grabbed her bag and flung the door open. She broke her heel on one of the steps and uttered a minor expletive in frustration. Searching for her keys to Terence's car, she unlocked the car door and jumped in. Instead of starting the car, though, Colleen cried from heartache.

From the corner of her eye, Colleen saw Terence coming out of the house. He had her coat in his hands and took the steps two at a time. She did not hesitate. In one fluid motion, she started the car and pressed on the gas.

In her haste, she almost ran a stop sign. The tires screeched as she jammed on the brakes. She heard her phone buzz. Looking at the lighted screen, she saw Terence's grinning face.

She pressed the button to roll down the windows. In one fluid move, she tossed the phone out the window. It landed on the concrete with a satisfying smash.

Terence watched Colleen's car skid and the tires swerve. His heart leapt into his throat, and he clutched his chest. If something happened to her, Terence knew that he would never forgive himself. But he was powerless to stop her. Instead, he prayed, “Lord, please protect her. Don't let anything happen to her.” He watched, rooted to the spot, until her car sped out of view.

What have I done?
He put his head in his hands and dropped to the ground. He had just lost the only thing that had ever mattered to him.

Colleen had endured a lot at his hands, but asking her to overlook this would simply be asking too much. He let out a huge cry of agony and defeat. He had lost his wife for good this time, and there wasn't anything that he could do about it.

A loud crack filled the air. It was followed by many more popping sounds. Terence looked up at the fireworks and heard all the shouts and festivities as people rang in the New Year.

“Happy New Year, Colleen,” Terence brokenly whispered into the air. No, he couldn't let it go down this way.

He still had to try.

He called Colleen and left several messages on her cell phone. He didn't know how long he'd been standing outside his mother's house before he accepted that she wasn't coming back. Defeated, Terence called a cab.

A hand touched his arm. He flinched. “Don't you think you've done enough?”

Francine clutched her chest. “I just wanted to offer you a ride home.”

“No, thanks. I called a cab.” He cut his eyes at her as he waited. He tapped his feet trying to stay warm as he shivered from the cold.

“You can wait inside.”

“I suggest you get away from me, because it's taking everything within me not to strangle you and that woman with my bare hands.” He didn't even deign to look at her. His mother spun on her heels and ran inside the house.

Frozen, he said, “Thank you, Lord.”

When he made it home, he uttered a low “Hallelujah” when he saw his car in the driveway. Colleen's car was also still there. He sought her out. He saw piles of neatly folded clothes. Some were on the bed, and some were in opened suitcases. Terence panicked at the thought of her leaving, until he realized that it was his clothes that she was packing. “Colleen, please don't do this. Sweetheart, listen to me.”

She simply continued her methodical packing without even acknowledging his presence. When she was finished, Colleen had placed all of the things that she could fit into his car until it overflowed with suitcases.

“I love you, Colleen.” Terence spoke and declared his love for her until he was blue in the face, and still, his wife hadn't offered a single response. She was like a robot.

Colleen left the room and went into the garage to get his golf clubs and other paraphernalia he had stored in there. Terence didn't even bother to try to stop her. He was reluctant to admit it, but he was actually afraid that Colleen might snap and do something crazy if he interfered with her plans.

Once she was finished, Colleen didn't even glance his way. She simply went up to what was now her room and locked the door. Terence still did not leave. He stood outside the bedroom door wondering if he should use his key, but he was scared of how Colleen might react. For a brief second, he even considered breaking the door down, but he thought better of it. His wife could be a hellcat when riled, and he wasn't even trying to prick her temper in any way.

Then Terence heard what sounded like muffled sobs coming through the door. “Colleen, honey, please let me in,” he begged. He banged his head on the door in defeat. His heart started breaking at the sound of Colleen's abject sorrow. Terence knew that she was past listening to any excuses or explanations that he had to give. So he said nothing. He simply left.

Terence checked into a hotel not too far from where he worked. “How am I supposed to go to work tomorrow? I can't manage without her.”

His cell phone rang and hope flared in his chest. Colleen.

Quickly, he looked at the caller ID. His shoulders hunched with defeat once he saw his mother's digits looking back at him. He cut his phone off midring. Then, all his hurt, pain, and sorrow catapulted into a huge ball of rage. His chest heaved. He rocked back and forth, stewing. This was all her fault. She meddled too much. Well, he'd had enough.

Terence grabbed his keys and jumped into his car. He was going to give his mother a piece of his mind. A tongue-lashing she deserved. Face-to-face!

The sun had just risen in the sky when Terence swerved in front of his mother's house and screeched to an abrupt halt. His mother had just wrecked his life completely, and he deserved to know why.

Terence pressed on the doorbell until she answered the door. Her eyes dilated in surprise, but she wisely stepped aside. He pushed past but paused when he saw Dana was still there.

His eyes scanned the scene before him—the tea cups and other breakfast items. From the looks of things, the two of them were entertaining, carrying on as if they hadn't smashed his joy to smithereens.

He bunched his fists as fire blew from his nostrils. Terence zoned in on Dana. “Get out.”

She didn't move. Well, he was going to toss her out the door on her—

“Dana, could you please walk to the corner store and get me a few items? My son and I need some private time to talk,” Francine interjected. She stepped over to the counter, picked up a small notepad and pen, and scribbled a list of miscellaneous items. Francine reached for her Vera Bradley purse—a gift from him—hanging on the back of the chair and retrieved several twenty-dollar bills.

Dana took the list and cash and rudely shoved past Terence. “I ought to scratch your eyes out for the way you're treating me. I am Miss Jamaica, and I left my country and a lot of willing men to come see you.”

Terence curled his lips in contempt but by now had calmed enough not to dignify her with a response. As soon as he heard the front door slam, Terence rounded on his mother, “What in God's name were you thinking when you invited that woman here?”

“What do you mean what I was thinking? You were the one who told me about your little escapade,” Francine accused. She pointed her index finger at him. “You were the one who got yourself into this mess. Not me.”

Terence acquiesced. “Yes, Mother. I did it. I fooled around with another woman while I was on my honeymoon, and stupidly, I called my own mother for guidance and some much-needed advice. Exposing me like this is how you repay me for trusting you?”

“You gave me the ammunition,” Francine stubbornly replied without any sign of remorse. “I simply decided to use it.”

“On your own son,” Terence said miserably. “Mother, how could you? You destroyed my marriage to a wonderful woman.”

“A harlot is more like it,” Francine scoffed. “Terence, you're about to become a minister, which is your lifelong dream. I did what I thought was in your best interest. Colleen would never have made a good minister's wife.”

“And Dana will?” Terence asked with disbelief.

“Of course not,” Francine retorted. “That woman would be outrageous. She was only the tool I used to get the job done. Nothing else.”

“Listen to you,” Terence said with disgust. “Mother, you would use anyone and anything to get what you want. It's always about you and what you want. You would even attack me, your own son, to get your way.”

“That's not how it is,” Francine denied with a huff. “Terence, you're upset, and you're obviously not thinking straight. You used to agree with me that Colleen was not a pastor's wife.”

“Used to, Mother,” Terence rebutted. “As in
not anymore
. Colleen's perfect for me. She completes me. She helped me come to terms with a lot of things, Mother. She made me free to be me.”

“Free? That woman had you in bondage,” Francine countered, spitefully.

“No!” Terence shouted, which was uncharacteristic of him. He was always in control, but he was past the breaking point. He saw his mother's head whip backward in shock.

Francine shouted back. “Listen to you now. This is what Colleen is doing to you. She's changing my good little boy into a raving maniac.”

Terence grabbed his mother's arms. “No, Mother, Colleen didn't do anything. You did!”

“Me?”
He saw Francine clutch her heart. “What did I do?”

Terence released his mother and took a deep breath. He strove to conquer his swirling emotions and to bring himself under control. He had to be able to carry on a rational conversation with his mother. “Let me start over,” Terence said calmly. “Mother, I'm going to be totally honest with you. I don't want to be a minister because deep down, I know that I'm not minister material. I cheated on my wife on my honeymoon, for heaven's sake. Does that sound like someone who should be in a leadership position and in God's church? A minister must be blameless.”

“Well,” Francine insisted, “it was all
her
fault. I put the blame on her shoulders. She drove you to do that. It wasn't your fault.”

“Yes, Mother,” Terence said, “it was. It was entirely my fault. I was the dirty snake who cheated on a good woman for no reason.” Terence sat down having spent a lot of energy. “I was just a coward to let you continually condemn Colleen for my horrible actions. I'm going to contact the bishop later and let him know of my resignation.”

“No!” Francine cried. She pleaded with her son, “Don't do that! After all my hard work, you can't back out now. I didn't raise you to be a quitter.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Terence somberly asked his mother. “The pastoral position was
your
dream, not mine. Mother, don't you think it's time for you to take some accountability for
your
actions?”

“What do you mean?” Francine asked, feeling totally lost.

“Well, for starters,” Terence answered, “you can take responsibility for what you did to me all those years ago, Mother.”

Caught off guard, Francine held her chest and stumbled into the chair. His statement had come from left field and had dropped her on her rear end. She felt as if she'd been sucker punched.

Before she could say anything, Terence recounted all the events from his childhood, and Francine was forced to relive every hideous moment. When Terence was finished, he looked at her expectantly. She knew that he wanted—no—needed—her to confirm and confess. But she couldn't. She couldn't come face-to-face with the person she once was. Francine had done a lot to transform herself, and she wasn't ready to expose herself and divulge anything from her past. If she confirmed his stories as fact, Terence would only have more questions. Questions that she wasn't ready to answer.

So Francine denied everything. “Terence, that story you've concocted is all a figment of your overactive imagination. Or maybe that woman helped you conjure up such a spiteful and hateful story against me.”

Terence studied her intently, and she resisted the urge to squirm. She wasn't admitting to anything. He looked her in the eyes. “You know what I just realized? You're not lying to me. You're lying to yourself. You need to believe that you're squeaky clean and innocent, because then, you can hold onto your condescension, putting on airs, and justifying your selfish and nasty actions.”

Francine couldn't respond to his sentiment. Instead, she reminded him, “I'm your mother, and no one has ever loved you the way that I have.”

She felt his keen disappointment. “Mom, there is no hope for you. You don't want to change. Because if you expect me to believe that you really love me after all your evil machinations, then you're seriously deluded.”

Terence left Francine shaken and filled with doubts. She now knew that she had lost her son. She belatedly realized that she hadn't lost him before, when he and Colleen had gotten married. No, it was not until that very moment that she had truly lost Terence. She felt bereft, as if there were now a hole where her heart used to be. His marriage had not precipitated this feeling. Her own selfish and stupid pride had done it.

Francine placed her head in her hands and sobbed.