Nobody’s Child (New Life Tabernacle Series Book 1) (25 page)

Though he knew what was coming, he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. Because while his mother and her impending wrath was the first thing he saw, Carrie and her shy, heartfelt smile, was the second.

But a smile was just the start. What Marcus really wanted was to convince Carrie no other guy could love her more than him.

At age thirteen, he spent all his free time memorizing the books of the Bible so he could participate in the youth night Bible drills.

By this time, his mother had grown even more suspicious of his godly endeavors.

“You better not be doing all this just to impress that girl."

Marcus played like he had no idea what she was talking about, all the while begging God, the Holy Spirit and any angel that would listen, to put him and Carrie on the same team. Marcus’ prayer was answered, and then some. When he could find more verses, faster than anyone else, Carrie quietly said, “Maybe we'll be on the same team again next week."

At fourteen, he spent months practicing Michael Jackson's dance moves and proceeded to give her and her cousin a one-man show in the fellowship hall after Sunday school. Carrie wasn’t as impressed as he’d hoped, but Robin whispered to him on their way out, “She thinks you're cute."

When Carrie joined the choir at fifteen, Marcus was right behind her. It didn't take long for everyone to realize how talented he was, and like his brothers before him, he began getting most of the solos.

That didn't last long.

No matter how many times the choir director told him not to, Marcus looked at Carrie and grinned through the whole selection. Finally, he was asked to leave the music department. From then on, he just looked at her and grinned from the congregation.

Then one day, when he was eighteen, he and his family attended the church’s annual Memorial Day picnic. While the other young people played tug-o-war, double dutch and tag, Marcus sat at one of the picnic tables.

He’d recently discovered how cool he looked in a muscle tee and shades and decided to share his findings with the rest of the world. He sat, leaned back, elbows on the tabletop behind him, eyes closed. He didn’t know anyone had approached until the perfume that’d become his favorite fragrance, wafted by his nose.

When he opened his eyes to find Carrie right beside him, he sincerely thanked God he was already sitting down.

“Okay, Junior, this is the thing: I like you. I really, really like you. But I want to marry someone like my Uncle Emmett. I want to marry a man who loves God. I want to marry a man who's saved."

Marcus sat still, saying nothing. Carrie looked at the ground.

"Do I have to get saved
today
?"

She laughed and he thought his heart would explode with pride.

"No. Not today. But before you can marry me."

Marcus wanted to run all over the park like a madman, whooping and hollering to everyone in sight, but he knew that wouldn’t be cool. And seventeen year-old Marcus Thomas put a lot of time and effort into being cool.

"Deal," he said, taking a swig from the can of soda at his elbow.

He didn't sleep a wink that night.

F
rom then on
, they were like the sun and moon. In any and all ways, each other’s better half.

Until that last spring, when everything changed.

Even years later, he'd wonder how he didn't notice. In hindsight, there were dozens of little signs, warnings that something was wrong. But at the time, he failed to see them.

For instance, Marcus was never good at telling a joke. On his own, he could be hilarious, but he couldn't tell a joke to save his life. Only, he never knew that. Why? Because no matter how bad his retelling, Carrie laughed.

She was always laughing, even at the smallest thing. She reminded him of a child, the way she would throw her head back and hold her sides. And when she laughed, everyone around her laughed, too. They couldn't help it. Her joy was contagious.

But starting that spring and on into the summer, when he thought back on it, he couldn’t recall hearing her laugh. Not once. It’d made him angry, more than once, to realize that. To know he hadn’t noticed something so vitally important.

The biggest red flag of all came the night of her twenty-second birthday. He should’ve questioned her about her sudden change of mind. Her chastity had always been important to her. He should’ve known something was wrong when that changed. But no, he just plowed ahead, overjoyed to finally be with her in that most intimate way .

How many times had she told him he’d have to wait until they were married? How many times had she playfully popped him on the mouth, giggling as she said, “You betta keep those lips to yourself, mister!”

And yet...

After the night they spent together, she distanced herself from him. He assumed it was out of guilt for what they’d done. And then later, when he learned she was pregnant and he proposed, he thought her tears were because she was scared.

And who could’ve blamed her? Not only was she pregnant and unmarried, Marcus didn’t have enough money to buy her a real engagement ring for his proposal. His job prospects weren’t the best and he hadn’t gone to college. Even worse, he still lived with his parents.

On paper, he didn’t look very promising. But he intended on changing that.

In lieu of a ring, he presented her with an engraved gold pendant and explained that it was a promise. A promise to take care of her and their child, even if he had to work three jobs to do it. He had no idea Carrie’s tears had nothing to do with any of that. But by the time he did, it was all over and much too late.

M
arcus had
a hundred regrets regarding Carrie and their final summer together. But more than anything, he regretted the conversation they had one Tuesday night. Because if he’d known it would be their last, he never would’ve let her off the phone.

"Hello?"

"Mother Jones? This is Junior. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm blessed, baby. You calling for Carrie?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Marcus heard Mother Jones call out to Carrie to come to the phone. It took so long for her to pick up, he thought she'd forgotten he was waiting.

"Hello." Her voice was barely audible.

"Hey, girl! You okay?"

Silence. And then finally, “Yeah, I'm fine."

"My dad said you came by the house to see me. You should've waited."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. I... I was just tired."

Again, silence. Marcus bit at his lip. Something wasn't right, he just didn't know what it was. He'd read the first trimester of pregnancy was tough. Could that be it?

"Junior?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He grinned. "I love you, too, Carrie."

"I..."

More silence.

"I've messed up."

He sighed. "No, it wasn't just you. I could've stopped and I didn't. And now… Look, everything's gonna be okay. I promise. I'm gonna take care of you." He could hear her softly crying. Very few things brought him down like knowing Carrie was unhappy. “Baby, why don't I come over—“

"No. It's too late. It's too late for that."

"First thing in the morning then, okay? First thing tomorrow morning, I'm coming over and we'll talk to your grandma and Pastor. I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you, you understand? If I have to move us to another city, I will. So don't worry about your family or those church folks or anybody else. It's me and you and this baby now, okay?"

She didn't answer. Marcus felt a restlessness he couldn't understand. Maybe the trouble was more than morning sickness…

"Carrie?"

"First thing in the morning?"

''Exactly."

"I love you, Junior."

"I love you too, baby. Good night."

"Good bye."

L
ess than twenty
-four hours later, the entire family was a wreck. No one had any idea where Carrie could be. She was incredibly responsible and had never been in any trouble. And she never went anywhere without Robin or Junior.

Never.

Marcus, like everyone else, immediately set out to find her. He waited outside of all her classes and talked to anyone who would stand still. One girl, Emily, seemed as if she knew something, but whatever it was, she wouldn't say. The Jones family called every aunt, uncle, cousin, niece and nephew they had. No one had heard anything. It was like Carrie had vanished into thin air.

The police were no help at all. They wouldn’t even hear what the family had to say until forty-eight hours had passed. Once they had, the family was told, because Carrie was an adult, had taken money and packed her things, there was nothing they could do. They said she had every right to disappear and it was apparent that’s what she’d done.

But that didn't make any sense. Carrie was not the type to "disappear.” And everyone that knew her, knew that. No. Something was wrong. Something had happened.

Initially, the only people that knew she was missing were the Jones and Thomas families. But in less than a week, her disappearance was all the church could talk about and theories abounded.

Some had it going around that Carrie left Junior for a guy she met at school. Said they’d run away together. Others believed she’d joined a cult and had been disowned by the family. Even Marcus' mother had to put in her two cents.

“God knows I hope she ain’t dead or nothing like that, but I ain’t gonna lie, it’s better for you she's gone. The way you always acted around her? Like didn’t no one else exist? Never felt right to me.“

Marcus was not surprised by his mother’s confession. It wasn’t a secret she would’ve preferred him to be a mama’s boy. He was, however, surprised to hear her finally admit it.

"Don't worry about it, mama. When she gets back and we're married, I'll take her far enough you won't have to bother with either of us."

Eugenia didn't have much to say after that.

But it made no difference. Marcus didn’t really care what anyone thought, his mother included. He’d loved Carrie for most of his life and if he knew anything, he knew she’d return to him. The possibility of any other outcome never entered his mind. And since she was coming back, he had no time to waste. He got a second job, working nights, and bought a proper engagement ring and a set of inexpensive wedding bands.

Before going to bed, he'd read through the apartment guides he'd picked up, searching for a place suited for a young couple raising a baby. On the weekends, he’d meet the guys he'd started a group with. They scrounged up enough cash to rent studio time and spent hour after hour preparing a demo to be sent out to the major labels. When he wasn’t recording, he shopped around the songs he’d written in his little free time. He worked nonstop, but didn't mind it one bit.

He’d made a promise to Carrie and when she came back, he wanted her to see he was a man of his word.

C
arrie probably hadn’t planned
for the letter to arrive when it did, but it happened all the same.

It was Marcus’ birthday and his manager let him off early. Determined to save as much as possible toward their new life, he’d made a habit of walking to and from work instead of driving his car or taking the bus. That day, he was falling asleep on his feet and decided to save time by cutting through the neighbor’s backyard straight to the back of his parents’ house.

He was passing through the tiny kitchen when he saw it.

An envelope with his name and address. It was lying atop that day's mail. What stopped him dead in his tracks was the handwriting. He would’ve known it anywhere.

He picked up the letter and held it in his hands. His heart was beating so hard, for a split second, he was worried he’d black out. His hands trembled as he ran his fingers over the perfectly shaped letters of his name.

He knew it.

No matter what anyone else had said, he knew Carrie would never disappear from his life. She loved him too much. And now, there in his hands, was the proof. Even if it were just a "Dear John" letter, it was still her, reaching out to him. He'd use it to find her and their baby and bring them back home.

He turned the envelope over in his hands. He tore at the sealed flap and pulled out the folded paper inside.

Years later, when he thought back to that moment, he wouldn't remember actually reading the letter.

What he’d remember was the sound of horrible wailing, something like a dying animal. He’d remember realizing the sound came from him. He’d remember the pain of his knees hitting the cold kitchen linoleum. He'd remember his father, arms wrapped around him, saying, "I gotcha, boy. I gotcha. It's gonna be all right." He’d remember his mother and Daniel standing in the doorway, helpless. And he'd remember thinking, "I'm never going to love someone like that again."

T
hough he no
longer had any reason to, Marcus continued working two jobs. Pretty soon, he was picking up extra shifts and, for the few hours he was home, he slept. After it became obvious he was losing too much weight, much too fast, his mother made sure she was awake and in the kitchen whenever he was due to leave or return. She’d go all out, preparing his favorites in an effort to tempt him to eat. It never worked.

She fussed at him. She yelled at him. She cried. She pleaded. She prayed. She begged. She bargained. He only sat there, staring back at her, saying nothing.

She thought if she could just get him to church, he'd be all right. But every Sunday morning, he'd say he was too tired from his night shift. And every Friday night, he'd say he needed to get to bed for his morning shift. No amount of shaming or scolding made him budge. She put him on every prayer list at every church in the city. He only got worse.

Before long, she could hardly stand to look at him. His eyes were sunken and shaded by dark circles. He looked like a dead man walking. At the end of her rope, she demanded his father do something.

At the start, Marcus, Sr. had decided to give his son space, so he was shocked to see what Junior had become when he entered his bedroom early one Sunday morning. He'd lost so much weight, he looked more like a boy than the strapping twenty-three-year-old man that towered over everyone else in the house.