Love Delivered (50 page)

“I know we have a long program this morning with Children’s Day and all happening. I see Sister Kim lining them up in the back. If your child isn’t with her, please direct him or her to the rear of the church where she is.”

I chance another glance at my phone and my shoulders sink. Nothing. This is getting embarrassing. My child was requested to MC morning worship, out of the norm for even this occasion because kids don’t understand hosting responsibilities. But Jordan’s keen social skills over the years garnered him the request of doing something so unprecedented and he’s been so excited about the role. But he isn’t here.

Stenton, where are you?

“Before we get started, I want to welcome our brother in Christ this morning and see if he has a few words to share. It’s always a good time in the Lord when he visits. Welcome our brother, Ezra Carmichael,” Pastor Whitaker gushes as he makes his way at the podium.

Ezra steps forward, smiling mildly, the way I’d always remembered him to. Ezra has always been attractive in my eyes, Angela’s and Karen’s, too. We crushed on him hard as kids in high school, but would never make it known to him. He’s a nice build, warm brown skin, average height, clearly physically fit. He’d always been strange to me, in a weird yet intriguing manner. An Ivy League graduate, I’d always admired his educational pursuits, but never shared it with him. Ezra is also extremely intimidating. He speaks several languages, has a vocabulary larger than Merriam, and always sports a penetrating gaze like he can read right through people.

I was completely stunned when I learned he counseled Stenton and was even more baffled by my mother arranging it, according to Stenton. But it works for him. He always speaks good things about Ezra. I can only imagine how Stenton would feel if he knew of my childhood crush on him.  

“Good morning, people of God,” Ezra’s voice rumbles over the sound system, his usual self-possessed persona in play. The church applauds eagerly. Out of respect for his connection to Stenton, I make sure to join them. “I don’t have long to be in the tabernacle, but needed to stop by briefly this morning to see about my brother’s business.” Then his nicely aligned teeth come out, expressing rare joy.
That’s unusual
.  “Do you mind if I guide the psyche of your sheep, Pastor?”

Using light humor, Ezra turns back to Pastor Whitaker, who gives him an affirmative nod, bearing a big smile himself. This is weird. I look down at my cell again and see nothing from Stenton.

Ughhhhhh!

Well, Ezra’s bizarre visit has my attention. This should be enlightening.

“Please direct your attention to the nearest screen,” Ezra’s arm stretches to the projection screens we’ve added recently.

I follow the one to my right. Within seconds images appears.

“Hi, Mommy! I’m here!” Jordan boasts cheerfully.

Cupping my mouth, I gasp.
They’re here?

Jordan stands on a chair next to the one his dad is sitting on, wearing a cheery grin identical to his father’s. Stenton waves then shifts his attention to Jordan. Then I hear the sounds of surprise from the filling sanctuary around me.

“So, Mommy,” Jordan places his little hand on his chin, resembling an adult. The church bursts in laughter. “You know how you and daddy are boyfriend and girlfriend now?” I clutch my chest, fearing him spilling the beans about waking up to the two of us, half naked while we were in Martha’s Vineyard last week as a family. “Well, I’ve been thinking. Me and Daddy are two”—he holds up two fingers—“Rogers men. Sometimes we get bored and want somebody else in our crew. I know you’re a girl, but we want you to be a Rogers, too. Daddy said you’re too big to still be a Barrett like MaMa and PaPa. You wanna be a Rogers like us Rogers me—”

“Hey,” Stenton asserts, whispering something to Jordan.

“Oops!” Jordan slaps his mouth with wide eyes.

Then the camera focuses on Stenton. Those thick lashes shrinking his eyes and big white teeth do something lecherous to me—in church. My heart is pounding out of my chest. My breathing has spun out of control.

“Hey, Elizabeth,” he addresses me.

Elizabeth?

“My little man wants to steal my shine, but I can’t have that. First off, sorry about worrying you with not being here on time. As you can see, we are…just on an alternative agenda.” His smile falls. “There’s something I want from you and I think you know what it is. But I want to ask you for it in front of the people, whose perception of you I tarnished seven years ago when your life’s course changed. I want to publicly take responsibility for it, and to remind the people of your community of who you are and why I’ve been crazy about you since I met you.

“Elizabeth is not only beautiful—clearly irresistible to me, if that hasn’t been made clear—but she’s by far the smartest, bravest and most compassionate woman I’ve ever known. We’ve had a rocky few years, but it was by no means due to her wrongdoing or any deficiencies on her part. It’s been because I was afraid to do what my heart can no longer put off, which is ask for her hand in marriage and make her the honorable woman she’s
always
been in spite of my misleading.”

I glance down and see Jordon on one knee with an open black velvet ring box displaying more brilliance than I can wrap my head around. How did he get here, and so quickly?

“Is he ready?” Stenton, speaking to someone to the left of him grabs my attention. “Okay,” he says as he walks out of camera range, but not to me.

My eyes rove down to Jordan, who is resting on his knee patiently, wearing an unamused expression from not truly understanding what’s taking place here. Then I hear the crowd go up in applause, bringing my attention to the back of the room where Stenton is jogging up the aisle. I gasp again. He takes to one knee next to his son, resembling Jordan.

“Mommy, Daddy has something to ask you,” Jordan informs, earning a chuckle from Stenton.

“Elizabeth Ardell Barrett, will you do me the lifetime honor of becoming my wife?”

There are explosive hoots and hollers from the room. So loud that things turn hypnotic for me. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard such a boisterous outburst without the organ playing.

Flashes of our past flood my brain. From the time I met him at the country club in Moorestown, to our first inbox message, to our first kiss, to my first visit to Alpine, then his shower in Philly, then sitting on the yellow rock in the Cayman Islands, to crying for a week straight, then the anxiety of having to tell him I was pregnant, to Jordan’s first Christmas, my graduation from Princeton, then the look on Stenton’s face when he learned I’d been with another man in Dallas, to opening the bakery, to Brazil, to my mother’s birthday party almost two months ago, then finally to thoughts of giving up the hope of ever being with Stenton again.

I feel a popping of my consciousness. The next thing I feel is Stenton absorbing me into his long arms. He kisses me on the forehead before peering down on me.

“What’s wrong?” Stenton asks with his smile still intact, but with wrinkled brows, too.

“
I
-I don’t recall saying yes,” I say with a tremble in my chords.

His smile falters, but just marginally. “You did. Are you changing your mind already?”

“Oh, I did?”

“Yes, Zo, you did.” He cups my face adoringly with his hands to examine me.

When I feel his callous pads wipe my tears from my face, I realize I’m crying. It hits me: While subconsciously rolodexing all the peaks and valleys of our relationship, I consciously agreed to marry him. I don’t know how that happened, but even while being aware of the pain from our past, I chose this man to be my future. There is no other man I would have chosen to endure those years with. No other man I would trust to hold my heart in safe holdings all these years while he figured out himself to know what to do with it.

“I love you, Stenton,” I mouth to him.

“I would try to show you how much I love you, but I don’t think this is the right setting to do it in.”

He wants to kiss me—at least. God only knows what else he wants to do before leaving town for a while.

Stenton’s eyes peel away from mine and I follow them to my father.

“Seems like your days are coming and mine are numbered. I’ve already welcomed you. Can I at least congratulate my daughter?”

With a respectful nod, Stenton releases me to my father who wraps me tightly and whispers in my ear, “If he crosses the line just a little bit, I still have a bullet waiting with his name on it from seven years ago.” I choke on my tears. I can’t believe I’m crying. “You will be well, Elizabeth. I have no doubt.”

“Thanks, Daddy,”

I’m passed off to my mother, Ezra, Angela, Pastor Whitaker, Karen and others, who wear countless faces. It’s not lost upon me that Bernard isn’t in sight. It isn’t until I return to long arms I crave each day that I feel comfort return.

“I have to go.”

Now sadness.

I peer up to Stenton’s handsome face, wanting to say so much, but knowing now’s not the time.

“Okay,” I mutter.

Then I walk with my hand laced with Stenton’s on one side and Jordan’s on the other to the truck awaiting him. When we arrive there, Stenton stoops to hug Jordan goodbye and gives him a few words of expectation for the start of his school year this week. I know it bothers Stenton that he won’t be around for it. This year, he has a business trip before training camp.

Then he stands and faces me. “You know what’s next, right? The subsequent step in this whole thing.”

I’m confused. “What?”

“Planning a wedding.”

My neck jerks back. “Already? But that’s a lot of work. I’m sure we need months of planning for that!”

I can’t help my distasteful response. Immediately, I can tell it was over the top and not well received based on Stenton’s crestfallen expression. But it’s too late, I’ve already revealed my reservations. Although they aren’t about being with him forever, there’s no going back.

“We’re not going backwards, Zo.” His nostrils are flared.

“It’s not that. I just need time to adjust.”

“How much time do you need? You either need to get with it or have a good explanation as to why you can’t. I’m not pussyfooting around with wanting.”

“Okay,” I attempt to mollify with a conceding tone as I rub my palms over his pecs. “I know.”

What a way to kick off morning worship
.     

~~~~~~~~~~

September 2014

I punch in the keys, in an attempt to open the darn machine.

“I’m sorry, Momma. This is one of the new registers we’ve rolled out to all three locations. Give me a minute.”

I go back to trying different keys. Today is an important day for me. For years, I’ve wanted my mother to quit her job and take over one of the bakeries. I hated having her make pennies for the time she puts into a calendar year. A few years back, Stenton finally convinced her to quit cleaning. I don’t know how he did it or what he told her, but she quit cleaning homes for part-time income. Over the past few months, since having finally settled the bakery, securing its clientele, I’ve tried to persuade her to retire her full-time job of more than twenty years. She was still young and could still keep busy, but with less work and more pay. And I could rest well at night knowing my momma was running one of my locations.

Now, today, at her orientation, I’m so nervous, I can’t get the darn cash register to function!

“How about this one, dear.” My mom hits a key and the machine dings and opens with ease.

My eyes glide over to her, fluttering. “Yeah, that one. It was hiding from me.” She chuckles at me. “Okay. Let me show you your office. I had it painted and carpeted last week.”

My mother follows me to the back, quietly observing my responses to the few staff members, stopping me on the way with work-related questions. I’ve introduced her to everyone in this morning and will continue throughout the day. I’m excited beyond belief to be working with my superwoman, finally. We make it to her office and I go over all the file cabinets, bank envelopes and various bank slips, vendor accounts, and security codes. She takes notes on her notepad as I sit behind her desk to set up her desktop.

“So, how are you and Stenton making out with the engagement, dear? Have you set a date yet? I need to start my diet plan right away.”

I peer over at her with a wrinkled forehead and questioning eyes. “Since when do you diet, Sarah Barrett?”

My mom has never made a fuss over her weight. She’s voluptuous and perfect, the epitome of grace in beauty and my eyes.

“Since having children. I was as tiny as you before I finished having you girls. Where do you think you get it?”

I glance down at my thighs. They’re hardly small. I’ve gained almost fifteen pounds since having JR. I don’t begrudge them, never did since Stenton let me know right away that it pleased him some years ago. I kind of like it myself. It fits the
Elizabeth
motif.

“I want more,” I mutter, while waiting on the software to load.

“More what?” she asks. “Children?”

With my chin resting on my fist, I nod. Now that I have Stenton back, my heart aches for babies. His babies. Who knew Zoey Barrett was a glutton for being knocked up and changing diapers?