The Ex Files (29 page)

K
ENDALL

“Don’t worry, Kendall, I’ve got it under control,” Janet said.

“Call me here if you need me. But I don’t want anyone to know where I am.”

“Gotcha. I’ll have Cheryl take messages.”

Since she’d opened her business, Kendall had taken few days off, a fact that led to more fights in her marriage.

“We have Janet,” Anthony had said on the first anniversary of the club’s opening. “We can take one day off and celebrate. I wanna take you out, baby.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. But I have to do the time schedules and I want to look at that video from the potential trainers. And then, I already scheduled a meeting with Lawrence Orbach.”

“From the bank?”

“Uh-huh.” She’d grinned. “At the rate this club is growing, I think we can open another one in a year or two. But we have to start planning now.”

She’d been excited. He was not. She’d won; they both worked that day.

That was then. Now she hadn’t been to work in five days, if you count the weekend, and she always did, since The Woman’s Place was open seven days.

But she couldn’t imagine going in and sitting behind the desk—reviewing schedules and marketing plans and the expansion proposals—not when she needed to do this other thing. She’d get back to work as soon as she finished saving her sister’s life.

She glanced at the clock—it was just nine; she’d give Dr. Hudson until noon.

By nine-fifteen, she was pacing between the living room and the deck, trying to imagine what it was going to be like, lying on a table watching her blood flow from inside her into her sister.

At ten, Kendall dialed Dr. Hudson’s number. His assistant put her right through.

“Ms. Stewart, I was going to call you.”

“Dr. Hudson, I just wanted to know when we’re going to get the procedure started. I have to arrange my schedule and—”

“Ms. Stewart,” he interrupted, “I’m sorry, but you’re not a match for your sister.”

It took her a moment to say, “And that means?”

“I’m sorry” was all he said.

That’s when she got it—like a punch to her gut. “Thank you, Doctor.”

It should have been relief that she felt, but instead her stomach twisted, making her moan.

How could she not be a match? She was the big sister, the giver. Something was wrong with this news.

It was then that she realized she still gripped the phone. She let it dangle from her fingers, before it hit the floor at the same times as her knees.

“Oh, God,” she cried. “What are we going to do?”

The telephone rang, over and over. She wanted to answer, but she couldn’t face her father. Couldn’t tell him that she’d let him down. Again.

She didn’t have any idea what time it was, but it was dark by the time she decided to answer.

“Baby girl, I’ve been so worried about you. Where have you been?”

He didn’t know yet, and she wanted to tell him. But her cries choked her. “Daddy, I’m so sorry.”

“About what?”

She should have told Dr. Hudson to tell him the news. Because how was she supposed to tell him that the daughter he loved best would probably die now?

Edwin said, “Baby girl, you have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Yes, I do. You don’t know.”

“I know that you tried. I know that it wasn’t your fault. Dr. Hudson told us the odds going in.”

He does know
.

He continued, “I’m just grateful that you did the test.”

“I thought I was going to be a match, Daddy.”

“I did, too, baby. But that’s because of our faith. Just means that God’s going to find another way to save your sister.”

“How?”

“We’re not going to ask the questions. We’re just going to do the work. We’re going to find that one person in this country who will be the donor.”

She wondered if she should tell him how ridiculous that sounded. If she wasn’t a match, Sabrina didn’t have any chance.

“Baby girl, I’m proud of you.”

She closed her eyes. Soaked in his words. Needed to know that she still had his love.

“Hold on a sec,” her father said.

A moment later, “Hi, Kendall.” Her eyes popped open at the sound of her sister’s voice. “Kendall?” She called her name again. And again. And after the fourth time, Kendall hung up the phone.

S
HERIDAN

Sheridan sat in her car, tapped the steering wheel. She peered through the crowd of the forty or so people milling around outside the mausoleum. Every single one of them dressed in black. Except for Asia.

Where is she?

Sheridan kept searching. She wanted to get away from here. Get as far away from this cemetery as she could. Far away from the memories of her father that had come plummeting back with Vanessa’s funeral today.

The gash in her heart had not healed—not enough for her to come to these services. She’d made an absolute fool of herself. Hoopin’ and hollerin’ like she was about to die up in that church. Those around her tried to console her, but she could not be comforted. She was sure everyone just knew she was Vanessa’s kinfolk—a sister, a cousin, someone deeply connected to Vanessa. What would they have thought if they’d found out that two months before, she didn’t even know this woman?

With a tissue, Sheridan wiped the corner of her eyes where tears lingered. She had to get away from this place that made her behave like a crazy woman.

Where is Asia?

She especially wanted to leave the memory of poor Wanda Fowler trying to climb into the casket with her daughter. She needed to get away from her cries that still rang in her ears, “Please, Lord Jesus, just take me now! Take me now!”

Sheridan closed her eyes, massaged her head. Even when the car door opened, she stayed in the same place.

Asia said, “Sorry, I just wanted to see if my aunt wanted us to go back with her to Mrs. Fowler’s house.”

Sheridan’s eyes popped open, and she stared at her friend, wearing that red Gucci dress. “What did Pastor say? I didn’t plan to go to the repast.”

“She’d like us to be there.”

Sheridan shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t do this anymore today.”

“Okay, okay.” Asia rubbed Sheridan’s hand.

“This was too close to my dad’s…”

“Sorry. I didn’t know.” Asia looked through the window. “With all these folks here, I can get a ride.”

“Are you sure? I hate to leave you like this.”

Asia pulled down the vanity mirror, fluffed her hair, lined her lips with more gloss, and then smoothed out her formfitting dress. Finally she said, “Don’t even worry about me. Somebody’s son is going to be very happy to give me a ride.” She grinned.

Through her anguish, Sheridan found a smile. “I’ll wait, just to make sure.”

Asia nodded, jumped out of the car, and then Sheridan lost her again—even in that red dress—in the crowd. But it didn’t take Asia ninety seconds to come back with a thumbs up. Then she mouthed, “I’ll call you.”

Relieved, Sheridan turned on the ignition and wove through the narrow cemetery roads. Within minutes she was saying good-bye to the graveyard gates.

But her head ached. And her heart did too.

She reached for her cell and, without thinking, pressed the speed dial. But the next instant, she clicked End, and dropped the phone into her lap.

It had been a week since she’d spoken to Brock and she needed him now. But was it fair to call him when she needed to take the time to do what he asked her to do?

But I need him
.

She picked up the phone again, hesitated for a moment, and then dialed.

“Hello,” Quentin answered.

She listened to his voice, thought about Brock.

“Sheridan?”

She clicked off the phone, turned it off completely. Her heart ached, but Quentin was not the one she needed.

S
HERIDAN

Sheridan stretched out on the couch. She was exhausted from a night of watching the phone. All night, she debated about whether to make that call. And in between those thoughts, all night, she prayed that the phone would ring.

She didn’t expect to miss Brock this much. Didn’t know it would hurt like this.

The ringing phone startled her and she paused. Had she willed him to call?

She grabbed the phone.

“Sheridan?”

“Hey, Quentin.”

“Are you okay? You don’t sound so good.”

“I’m fine,” she said, pushing herself up. “I was just resting.”

“At eight in the morning?”

“Quentin, did you call for something?”

“I was checking on you…and Tori. Last night, she said she was going back to school. Did she leave yet?”

“About fifteen minutes ago.”

“Great. I told her to call me during her lunch break, but I’m not concerned. I don’t think she’ll have any more problems. She’ll be a star.”

“I hope so. But I made it clear that if this ever happens again, there’ll be a higher price to pay than just a few days in her room.”

“She understands that.” He paused. “You don’t sound good.”

She wished he didn’t know her so well. “Yesterday was Vanessa’s funeral and it was tougher than I expected.”

“Because of your dad.”

“Yeah, but I’ll be okay.”

“I know you will be because you’re going to have lunch with me.”

“No. I’m not.”

“What are you going to do? Stay there and sulk? How is that going to help Tori when she comes home excited about her first day back? You won’t even have the energy to talk.”

Sheridan sighed, thought about Brock.

“Just lunch, Sheridan.”

Now she thought about Quentin. Their last time together. On this couch. How they…kissed.

He said, “It’ll be fun.”

She thought about Brock again. “All right.”

“Great. Wanna do something light like Magic’s Fridays in Ladera?”

Oh, no
, she thought.
Too close
.

“What about Eurochow?”

“All the way in Westwood?” he asked as if he were surprised she’d chosen a restaurant fifteen miles away. “That’s cool.”

That restaurant had been one of her favorites, but its attraction was that there was no chance of running into Brock that far north.

“I’ll meet you there at one,” she said.

“One it is.” She’d hung up before she could hear him add, “I can’t wait.”

A
SIA

Asia slammed the Off button on the alarm clock, then rolled over and grabbed the telephone. As if she were on autopilot, she pressed the numbers to get to her messages.

“You have thirteen new messages.”

She moaned. She didn’t have to hear any of them; she knew what every single one said. Still, she pressed the key for Listen.

The first thing she heard was Bobby, cursing. Calling her names that she’d never even heard before. She pressed the Delete key thirteen times. She was sure every call was from Bobby. She’d last checked the messages a little before midnight and had erased eight messages then. And she’d erased fifteen the day before.

If nothing else, he was consistent. But she also knew Bobby was smart. And she was certain by now, he’d been advised by an expensive attorney to stay away from her and Angel.

But that good advice hadn’t stopped his barrage of messages. Hadn’t stopped his demand that she call him back. Like she would really dial his number after the way he raged.

She wasn’t even mad about it. Asia knew that if this table had been turned, she would have been worse. Right now he’d be driving around on flattened tires, waking up to hate messages spray-painted on his front door, and there would be enough anonymous calls to his home to warrant a number change.

How had it come to this; although it really didn’t matter. She’d long ago learned to live with no regrets. All she could do was hope that somehow the relationship could be salvaged—not hers and Bobby’s. She doubted if he would ever part his lips to say “Hello, dog!” to her. It was Angel that she prayed for. Angel that she hoped would one day love her daddy again.

In the meantime, she had to play this thing through so that Angel wouldn’t be taken from her. That meant keeping her appointment with CPS. She pushed herself from her bed and scurried toward Angel’s bedroom.

Through the windshield, Asia peered at the numbers, then veered into the parking lot of the gray brick building. As she helped Angel jump from the backseat, her daughter asked, “Where are we going?”

“I told you, precious. There’s a lady here who wants to talk to you.”

It was easy being five years old. Angel had no more questions. Just nodded.

“I’m here to see Ms. Thomas,” Asia informed the receptionist, but before she and Angel had a chance to settle in their seats, Ms. Thomas appeared with a woman who was her antithesis. While Ms. Thomas was short and squat, the woman she introduced as Ms. Lloyd looked like Olive Oil.

Ms. Thomas turned to Angel. “Angel, this is Ms. Lloyd and she wants to talk to you.”

Ms. Lloyd crouched down, making herself Angel’s height. “You are a beautiful little girl,” the woman told her. The compliments continued, and within minutes, Angel had a new friend.

“Do you want to see my office?” Ms. Lloyd asked, her warm-up now complete.

The child nodded and before Asia could say a word, Angel skipped off, as if she and Olive Oil were going to meet Popeye.

Asia followed, but Ms. Thomas stopped her.

“You’ll be joining me in my office.”

“I have to make sure my daughter is all right.”

Ms. Thomas curled her lips, amused. “Does Angel look like she’s not fine? Follow me. You’ll be able to watch.”

Asia didn’t understand until they entered Ms. Thomas’s office. When she stepped inside, Asia faced a wall covered with a mirror, a two-way mirror. She could see Angel sitting at a small table, with Ms. Lloyd sitting across from her in a chair so small her knees were pressed into her chest.

“Can I get you anything, Ms. Ingrum?”

Asia shook her head. “How long will this take?” she asked wanting to get away.

“We don’t like to keep the children too long, but it depends on Angel.”

Asia nodded. It had been almost two weeks since Angel had uttered those words that she’d waited so long to hear. And since that Sunday, she’d never said another word about this to Angel.

All of a sudden, Angel’s giggles filled the room.

“I turned on the speakers,” Ms. Thomas said.

“So,” Asia heard Ms. Lloyd say, “who are your friends at school?”

“Lucy and Amy and Charlotte. And we stay in school all day like the big kids.” Angel continued to talk about her teacher and how much she liked school.

“Does your mom help you with your homework?”

Asia listened as her daughter chatted about her and Tracy. She glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed.

“Does your dad help with your homework?”

Angel frowned, bit her lip, shifted in her seat.

Ms. Lloyd repeated the question.

“Can I see my mom now?” Angel asked.

“I was hoping that we would play with my dolls.”

Angel shook her head. “I don’t want to.” Her lips trembled.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Ms. Lloyd. “What’s your favorite TV show?”

Even through the glass Asia could see Angel’s tear-filled eyes. “Where’s my mom?”

Asia whipped toward Ms. Thomas. “I’m going in there.”

“Ms. Lloyd has years of experience,” Ms. Thomas said in a tone that told she’d handled many desperate mothers. “She won’t push Angel.”

A moment later, Ms. Lloyd stood, waved through the mirror, and Ms. Thomas motioned toward a door that Asia hadn’t noticed. Asia flew into the room and scooped Angel into her arms.

“Mommy, where did you go?”

“I’m sorry, precious. I thought you wanted to talk to Ms. Lloyd.”

Angel looked at the woman, then quickly turned to her mother. “I want to go with you.”

Asia took her daughter’s hand and, without a word to Thomas or Lloyd, rushed into the hallway.

“Ms. Ingrum, you’ll be hearing from us.”

Those words floated over her shoulder. She wasn’t sure which one of the women had spoken, but it didn’t matter. This was going to end now—even if she had to get her aunt involved.