The Prodigal Son (A Reverend Curtis Black Novel) (4 page)

Yes, that’s what Dillon would hope for. He’d hope and wait for things to work in his favor. He just
hoped
it didn’t take too long, though, because whether his father realized it or not, he wasn’t as patient as Curtis believed him to be. Truth be told, he didn’t have much patience at all…not when it came to getting what he wanted.

M
atthew drove his fire-red BMW—the one his parents had given him during his high school years—into the bank’s parking lot. Then he coasted down the second aisle and pulled in next to a white SUV. Matthew was thirty minutes early, yet his boss had still made it there before him. She was a workaholic to say the least, and Matthew wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d gotten to work before daylight. She’d done it before, and with the low interest rates they were offering on car loans, they had definitely been very busy.

Actually, Matthew was the opposite, though. He was the kind of employee who never walked in late, but he also never sat at his desk until about five minutes before start time. Today, however, he’d left the apartment a whole lot earlier because he hadn’t been able to stand another minute with Racquel. A whole other day had passed, yet she still wasn’t speaking to him. She was wallowing in anger and dwelling on the arguments they’d had over the weekend, and Matthew was tired of her attitude. Even as they’d driven over to her parents’ yesterday afternoon for dinner, she hadn’t said one word to him, unless you counted the curt answers she’d given him when he asked her certain questions. It was as if the only words she knew were
yes
,
no
,
maybe
, and
whatever
.

So, this morning he’d left as soon as he could and now here he sat, trying to gather his thoughts and waiting for the nervousness in his stomach to settle. He was starting to feel as though he couldn’t cope, and that nothing in his life was right except the love he had for his son. He was actually beginning to feel depressed, and suddenly he wished he could talk to his father. Hear his voice and maybe ask him to pray for him and Racquel—ask his father, the wisest man he knew, for some good solid advice about his marriage. His father hadn’t been the best husband to any of his three wives, including Matthew’s mother, but nonetheless, his father had still been able to advise other couples with sheer excellence.

If only Matthew had the courage to pull his phone out and call him. If only he could find the words to say to his dad after all this time. But he couldn’t, because his pride wouldn’t let him. He couldn’t just give in to his parents so easily, because they’d done too much. They had caused a massive amount of pain and humiliation in his life, and they didn’t deserve to hear from him or ever see him again. Matthew wrestled with his decision, but then it dawned on him: he had to stay away from his mom and dad because if he didn’t, they would soon start causing problems for MJ. That was the one thing he flat-out wouldn’t tolerate.

Matthew relaxed against the headrest, weighing his troubles back and forth, until there was a knock at his window. It was Nicole Jordan, a gorgeous woman who was seven years older than he was and the same age as his big sister. She must be five foot ten and didn’t wear more than a size eight. Her clothes always fit her perfectly, and married or not, a man would have to be blind not to notice her.

Matthew rolled down his window. “Hey, good morning.”

“Good morning,” she said, smiling. “Is everything okay?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re sitting here with your eyes closed, and you’re never here this early.”

“Got a lot on my mind.”

Nicole glanced at her watch. “You want some company?”

Matthew unlocked the passenger door. “Sure.”

Nicole went around to the other side of the car and got in. “So what’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

“Wow, that’s a lot.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Matthew rarely shared his personal business with anyone, let alone one of his coworkers, but if he didn’t open up to someone he wasn’t sure how he’d make it through his work day.

“My marriage is a mess, and I’ve never been more unhappy in my life.”

“Gosh, I’m really sorry to hear that. Have you told your wife how you feel?”

“Yeah, but she basically couldn’t care less. All she does is sit around the house, day in and day out.”

“What about your son? I mean, is she a good mother to him?”

“Yeah, actually, she’s too good.”

“I guess I don’t understand.”

“He’s all she cares about, and she doesn’t think anyone else can take care of him. She doesn’t even like it when I take him places. She’s a nervous wreck from the time we leave until the time we get back. She calls my phone every fifteen minutes.”

“That’s not normal.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Have you tried to get her some help? At the very least, the two of you should see a marriage counselor.”

“I agree, but I’ve already suggested that to her, and she’s totally against it. Says she’s fine and nothing’s wrong with her.”

“Being married and unhappy is tough. I was married once, so I know how it feels.”

“Really? How long were you together?”

“Hmmph. The quick answer is: too long. But we were actually married for five years. Our situation was a lot different from yours, though. I married a man who thought beating me and my son was some kinda sport.”

“Wow,” Matthew said. He couldn’t imagine ever laying a hand on Racquel, and he had absolutely no respect for any man who did that kind of thing. And to beat a child? Matthew was mortified. “I’m really sorry that happened to you. I’m sorry for you and your son.”

“Don’t be,” she said, stroking her long, coarse black hair to the side. “The important thing is that I finally took care of things. I found the courage to leave, and I haven’t looked back.”

“Does he ever try to contact you? Does he help take care of your son?”

“No, but I prefer it that way. I’m glad I don’t have to see him or talk to him.”

“How old is your son?”

“Six.”

“When did you leave your husband?”

“Two years ago, but enough about me. That train is long gone, and I’m over it.”

“I guess.”

“So tell me about
you
. Of course, you can’t work here and not know that Pastor Black is your father. Even though you’ve never volunteered that information.”

“That’s because it’s complicated.”

“You don’t have a relationship with him?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I just don’t wanna talk about my family is all.”

“Well, what about work? Is that off limits, too?” she asked, laughing.

Matthew couldn’t help chuckling himself. “No, but what is there to talk about?”

“I don’t know. Do you like it? Do you plan to stay here for a while?”

“I’d definitely rather be doing something else,” he said. “And to be honest, I’d like to go back to school.”

“Why didn’t you go when you graduated?”

“I did, but then Racquel had the baby, things happened, and I dropped out so we could get married.”

“Oh really? Where did you go?”

“Harvard.”

“University?” she said, sounding shocked.

“Yep.”

“And you left there?”

“Yep. Four-year scholarship and all, and now this is the result.”

“You must really love your wife. Have to if you gave up four years at one of the most prestigious schools in the country.”

“I did love her, and I thought she loved me, too. I also couldn’t stand being away from my son for so many weeks at a time. Boston is a long way from here.”

“I had no idea.”

“My life is crazy. It’s all messed up, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Nicole placed her hand on his leg, and the flirtatious look in her eye made Matthew nervous. “Things’ll work out,” she said. “I know it may not seem like it now, but they will.”

Matthew pretended her hand wasn’t touching him and said, “It’s almost eight, so we’d better get inside.”

Nicole opened the passenger door but then looked back at him. “Just know that I’m here for you if you need me.”

“Thanks” was all Matthew said. Not because he wasn’t grateful, but because he wasn’t sure how to take Nicole’s generosity. He pushed the whole thing out of his mind, though, got out of his car, and locked it. They walked through the parking lot and over toward the building. As they headed closer to the entrance, however, his phone rang. He pulled it from the inside of his blazer and saw that it was Racquel. She rarely called him, so maybe she’d thought about things and had finally decided to call a truce. Maybe she was just as tired of all the bickering and drama as he was.

“Hey,” he said, watching Nicole walk inside the bank.

“MJ is out of everything,” Racquel said matter-of-factly, “so you need to stop at the store on your way home.”

“It’s not a problem,” he said, trying to be as nice as possible. “Can I call you back later so I can make a list?”

“I already sent you an e-mail. See ya later,” she said and hung up.

Matthew pulled his phone away from his ear and looked at the blank screen. He wasn’t sure whether to curse or crack up laughing. The thing was, though, he never cursed and laughing just didn’t seem appropriate. So he did or said nothing. He just stood there, looking like a fool, until he finally found the energy to walk inside the building.

He strolled through the lobby, over to his office, and sat at his desk. He immediately prepared for whoever his first customer of the day would be. Whether they’d be opening a new checking account, applying for a car loan, or purchasing a certificate of deposit, he would be ready. He would pretend he loved being a customer service representative, and that he simply couldn’t be happier with his home life. He would display a huge smile and would go on with business as usual. He would do this because there was no way out. He was trapped, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

D
illon was still furious. A whole day had passed, it was Monday morning, yet he still couldn’t understand why his father hadn’t told him about his decision to return to the pulpit. It just didn’t make sense, a father not sharing such an important matter with his son, his oldest child. It wasn’t fair, and ever since yesterday, Dillon hadn’t been able to think about much else. He’d barely gotten two hours of sleep last night, a result of his tossing and turning and trying to rid himself of the pain and anger he’d felt. He just didn’t know what it was going to take for his father to treat him with love unconditionally. It was bad enough that he’d gone fishing with a man who was no longer his son-in-law and hadn’t as much as invited Dillon to come along, but now this thing yesterday was much worse. It was as if Dillon wasn’t even a part of the Black family. A year ago, his father had seemed to go out of his way trying to make things right with Dillon, but now his father treated him like he was no big deal. He was just another person and nothing special at all.

Dillon leaned back in the chair in the kitchen, waiting for Melissa to finish preparing breakfast. Before moving to Mitchell, he’d had to work at a job he didn’t love and report to some unappreciative supervisor, but thanks to his father’s generosity he no longer had to answer to anyone. Although it was true that whenever the subject of coming to work for the church or going back to school came up, Dillon talked his dad in a different direction. He just couldn’t see himself taking any old job, not when he was a son of the Reverend Curtis Black, and he wouldn’t. His dad had gone on and on about having a plan and preparing for one’s future, and while at first he’d been open to getting a job or even going back to earn his degree, once he’d realized Alicia didn’t have a full-time job, he’d changed his mind. Alicia was an author of two or three novels and likely earned an income from those he was sure, but why should he have to work some thankless nine-to-five if his sister didn’t? When the right position came along, he would take it, but until then, he would focus on bigger and better things, such as some of his entrepreneurial ideas. He had goals and dreams just like the next person, and he wouldn’t ruin his chances of seeing those goals and dreams come to pass because of some petty level of employment.

Dillon watched Melissa place a veggie and cheese omelet on each of their plates, then add a couple of slices of whole wheat toast next to them and also a couple of patties of turkey sausage. He stared at her but the more he did, he became irritated. Sometimes he didn’t mind being in her company, but there were other times like now when all he saw was a weak, pathetic female. Not to mention, as he looked back at things, he was surprised she’d been able to portray such a strong, independent woman last year when they’d pretended to be a happy couple who were about to be married. During each of the counseling sessions they’d had with his father, she’d been as vocal and as opinionated as Dillon had told her to be and she’d been so believable, his father hadn’t realized they were running a scheme on him. Apparently, she was a great actor because she was nothing like that. She was spineless and naïve, and Dillon had very little respect for her.

Melissa set his plate in front of him, along with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, but Dillon looked at it and pushed it toward the middle of the table.

Melissa’s eyes widened. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“What do you think is wrong?” he yelled.

“I’m really sorry about yesterday,” she said. “I’m sorry about what happened with your dad.”

“The whole thing is a big joke.”

“Honey, maybe your dad wanted his news to be a surprise. Not just for the congregation but for you and the rest of his family.”

“Please! You can bet Alicia knew days ahead of time and so did Charlotte’s parents. I could tell just by looking at them.”

“Maybe you should talk to him. Tell him how you feel, because maybe he doesn’t realize he did anything wrong.”

“No son should have to do that. A father should include his son in everything he does. Period.”

Melissa drank some of her juice but didn’t say anything.

Dillon felt his heart thumping faster. “He’ll never treat me as well as he treats my two sisters. And when he spoke at church yesterday, he made it pretty clear that Matthew is still his pride and joy. He’s still hoping and praying for their reunion. It’s as if I don’t even matter. And when I told him that you and I couldn’t make it over for dinner yesterday, all he said was, ‘Okay, son. We’ll see you later then.’”

“I don’t know,” Melissa finally said. “Maybe it’s just gonna take a little more time for the two of you to become closer.”

“Yeah, right!” he said, frowning. “It’s already been a whole year, so how much longer do you think I need to wait? How much longer should I sit on the sidelines waiting to be accepted? Waiting to become an equal with my sisters and my brother? And anyway, why are you defending my father? How dare you!”

Melissa got up and rushed around to where he was sitting. “Oh my God, Dillon, no baby,” she said, caressing the side of his face. “I didn’t mean it like that at all. I just hate seeing you so upset.”

Dillon slid back from the table, got up, and slammed his chair over. “I hate this! I hate I ever came here.”

Melissa went over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Baby, don’t. I know you’re angry and hurt, but try to calm yourself down,” she said, kissing him.

At first, he resisted, turning his head away from her, but soon he gave in and kissed her back, wildly and passionately. Their connection seemed genuine…until things turned ugly.

Dillon tore her robe open and slipped it down her arms and then ripped the neckline of her pajama top.

Melissa slightly pulled away. “Baby, wait. Let’s go upstairs. Let’s go where we can get comfortable.”

Dillon breathed heavily and turned angrier. “I don’t wanna go upstairs. I want it right here,” he said, leaning against the counter and opening his own terry robe. “Now, what are you waitin’ for?”

Melissa hesitated, and he could already see tears filling her eyes. He wasn’t sure why giving him oral sex was the one thing she never wanted to do for him. She did everything else he demanded, but he always had to become forceful when it came to this.

“Did you hear me?”

Still, she stood solid in her tracks, acting as though she couldn’t move.

Dillon didn’t know why she pushed him to such outrage. “Why can’t you just do what I tell you? You know what I want, now do it!”

“Baby, no…let’s just go upstairs and make love the right way.”

Dillon laughed at her. “First of all, we don’t make love, we have sex. And secondly,” he said, grabbing her by her hair and yanking her down to the floor on her knees, “you’ll do what I tell you or else.”

Jumbo tears streamed down her face, but all Dillon said was, “Don’t make me tell you again, Melissa.”

She cried more, but all Dillon cared about was that she took care of business. He’d given her many opportunities to leave Mitchell, many, many times, but she hadn’t taken them. Said she wanted to stay with him forever. So now she belonged to him. He still hadn’t changed his mind about marrying her, but until he found someone better and much more worth his while, she would do what was expected of her without question. Either that or there would be consequences.