“Yes, mercy is what I need,” she said in agreement with Pastor David as she opened the bedroom door to join the fellas in an early morning prayer session. A hush fell over the living room as she stepped out of the room. Pastor David and Marvin rose from their seats to acknowledge her presence.
“I just want to make it right. I've been wrong, I've done wrong, and I just want to make it right. I didn't come here to cause trouble. I came here to fix this mess that I've made,” Cynthia said, biting her bottom lip to keep it from quivering.
“Cynthia, it is God who fixes broken things.” Pastor David took a step toward and continued his mini-sermon. “He makes the crooked straight. You have got to turn it over to Him. He is the restorer. He will cleanse you and restore you to your position as the wife of this household.”
Cynthia looked at Pastor David and then at Marvin. She doubted that it was just that simple. “Marvin, I can't be your wife. I've betrayedâ”
Marvin reached out and took hold of her hand. “No, I betrayed you, your trust, our love and our vows,” he said, clutching her hand. “If you want to go on without me, that's something I can understand, and through the help of God get past. What I'd rather do is to give this thing another try.”
“But . . . but Iâ” Cynthia fumbled searching for an answer to Marvin's questions.
“Forget about you and listen to Him. Listen to the voice of the Lord God, your Creator, the small voice inside of you saying you can't but I will. You can't fix this and neither can I, Cynthia, but His blood can cleanse you and heal you if you want Him to,” Marvin instructed.
“Yes, I do. I don't want to live like this anymore, Marvin. I don't want to hurt anyone else.” She clutched her heart as she thought of Cheo waiting for her to call with his cell phone glued to his palm.
“Then join us in the reading of the fifty-first Psalm,” Pastor David urged Cynthia.
Cynthia licked her dry lips and wiped the corners of her mouth. “Yes, Pastor,” she said holding on to Marvin's hand tightly.
Pastor David began reciting the psalm from memory. Marvin and Cynthia followed along from a pocket-size copy of the New Testament and Psalms Pastor David carried with him. As those words filled the air and the darkened sky went from navy to varying hues of orange, a new era in the Barclay family was born at dawn.
Chapter 54
From the sixth row in the center of Rawlings Funeral Home, Cheo watched as Marvin hoisted Cynthia's curved body from off Keith's. The echo of her cries rang in the ears of every mourner.
“Sorry, sorry. I am so sorry. Please forgive me,” she pleaded over the body with one hand clutching the stomach that once carried him and the other holding her veiled top hat to her head. But her cries were not loud enough to stop the whispers.
“I wonder where she was all this time. You know what I mean?” a woman asked, elbowing Cheo. Cheo leaned back and questioned her with his eyes.
“That's the mom. She's been gone for like six years and now that the boy is dead and the other one is almost grown.”
“The other one?” Cheo asked.
She sat on the edge of the bench and pointed toward the front row. “Yeah, the other one is right over there seated with his hands folded.”
Cheo studied the lines of the boy's profile that the woman had pointed to. He could see Cynthia's face in the sharp, clean line of his nose and curve of the corner of his eye. Cheo shook his head as he tried to absorb everything that was coming at him.
“It's a shame what she done to those boys,” the woman continued. “Keith done gone out and got himself killed, and James stopped talking when she left. The two of them were awfully close. Someone ought to be tending to him, not worrying about her sorry behind.”
“You seem to know a lot about the family. Are you close to them?”
“My name is Bridget. I used to be, but I couldn't let that stop me from paying my respects to the dead.” She crossed her legs, sat back in the pew, and kept her commentary to herself for the rest of the funeral.
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A dark cloud encompassed Lenox Avenue, and the howl of the wind sent dead leaves and debris running up the block. Cynthia didn't want to watch the pallbearers carry her son out in a box, so she ran out of the room when the pallbearers assembled around Keith's casket.
Cynthia's eyes widened at the sight of the crowd of mourners who waited outside of the funeral. As she shielded her eyes from the flash of the news reporters' cameras, she felt a strong arm curve around her waist and whisk her back into the pavilion of the funeral home.
“Thank you,” Cynthia said, straightening the wrinkles out of her dress without looking up. “What a circus. You never realize how crazy the press can be when they're after a story.”
“Yeah.” The man chuckled. “They'll stop at nothing.”
The rich sound of Cheo's accent resonated in Cynthia's ear. She adjusted her dress once more and straightened out her mind as best she could before looking up into his smoldering brown eyes.
“Cheo, what are you doing here?”
“I'm glad to see you too, Cynthia. No, I didn't go through any trouble getting here to support you in your time of loss,” Cheo said, reprimanding her.
“I'm sorry, Cheo. It's not that I don't appreciate your presence, but it's kind of strange seeing you here considering I didn't give you the funeral information.”
“Oh give it a rest. I'm not out to get you or spying on you. I had to come to New York to finalize my travel plans and renegotiate my contract because my agent noticed something that was a little off, and I decided to tap into my few journalism skills to find you. Since the funeral information was in the
New York Times
along with a picture of a boy who bore an undeniable resemblance to you, I made it here. Sue me for caring about you.” Cheo stepped closer to Cynthia with every word until they were standing chest to chest.
“Cheo, there is so much I have to tell you.” She placed her left hand delicately on his chest. She could feel his heart beat beneath her hand. “I pray you can forgive me.”
Cheo covered her small hand with his. “No matter what it is, I've forgiven you already in my heart.”
“The boy who diedâ”
“Keith?”
“Yes, Keith. He's my son. I mean he was my son.”
“I know. You told me that already, Cynthia.” Cheo placed his hand on top of her trembling hands.
“That's not all. I have another son as well. I don't know how to explain this so you'll understand.” Beholding the pain and anger brewing in Cheo's eyes Cynthia shrank back.
“Well, you've had some time to figure it out. I think you should have more to say to me than that. I deserve more from you than that. I deserve an apology. I deserve an explanation and I want it now,” Cheo demanded through his lips that were drawn tightly together to form a grimace.
“Is everything okay over here, Cyn?” Marvin shouted as he approached the pair parked in the pavilion.
“We're good over here, bro. Sorry for your loss, man. I'm Cheo.” He extended his palm to shake Marvin's hand.
Marvin froze behind Cynthia. “I didn't tell you because I didn't know how to explain that I was still married to his father,” Cynthia revealed. “Cheo, this is my husband, Marvin. Marvin, this is Cheo.”
“I'm her boyfriend, Cheo.”
Marvin stepped out of Cynthia's shadow and stood next to her. He clenched his jaw and balled his hand into a fist.
“Like she said, I'm her husband.” Marvin's voice was brittle and rough. Cynthia had heard that sound before. It was almost always followed by a punch.
“And I'm the man she ran to when she got tired of you,” Cheo retorted.
“What?” Marvin inched closer. Cheo didn't flinch.
“What was unclear about that? She is the woman that she is because of me. The devil used you to break her down, and the Lord used me to build her up.” Cheo looked down at Cynthia. Possibly for some sign of confirmation, and Cynthia looked around for some divine intervention.
She now realized the truth to the scripture what is done in the dark shall come to light. Cynthia hoped the Lord wouldn't allow her mistakes to continue to wreak havoc.
“Is that right?” Marvin snickered, flexing his fist, prepared to lay a left hook followed by a right cross on Cheo's pretty jaw.
“Brothers, brothers, this looks like a heated discussion, and while there is an appointed time for everything under the sun, according to Ecclesiastes, I don't believe this is the time nor the place for this.” Pastor David slapped Marvin on his back.
The thud that Pastor David's palm made when it connected with Marvin's skin reminded him they were at his son's funeral.
“This is your first test,” Pastor David whispered in Marvin's ear. “The devil only comes to steal, kill, and destroy. He knows you only just laid the foundation to your new life, and he's calling for the old you to come out. Hold on, brother.”
Marvin locked arms with Cynthia to resist the urge of hitting Cheo smack dab on the jaw for messing around with his wife. He gave Cheo the once-over: clean-shaven face, squared shoulders, and a puffed-up chest. He looked down at his paunch of a belly.
She upgraded
.
I'm going to have to hit the gym.
“Calm down,” Pastor David whispered to Marvin. “Remember, against you and you alone have I sinned,” Pastor David said.
Marvin cut his eyes in Pastor David's direction and relaxed.
Marvin and Cheo stared at Cynthia begging her to put an end to the confusion and anger that filled their hearts while Pastor David called on the Lord for an intervention. Finally, her past and present had intersected, and they were both demanding she make her calling and election sure in order to secure her future.
Cynthia turned around to face her husband. Her fingertips traced his jaw and traveled up to his cheekbone. “Marvin, I made a mistake walking out on you like that. Regardless of your behavior, I certainly should have been more responsible and considerate. I should have been more of a wife and a mother,” she said, biting down on her quivering bottom lip. Marvin leaned in to comfort her with an embrace. She backed out of it, turning to face Cheo.
“Cheo,
mi amor.
” Cynthia slid her tongue across the top row of her teeth and swallowed the saliva gathering in her mouth. “Cheo, I tried to tell you, I tried to resist you, but you seemed like everything I had ever wanted when the truth is what I wanted was for my marriage to work out. I wanted to be a part of a happy family, and I hid the truth from everyone just so I could have a fantasy rather than waiting on God to repair my reality.”
“Cynthia, it's not too late to have what you want. I meant what I said. I'm willing to forgive you and work it out,” Cheo said, clutching her hands.
“Cheo, I'm tired of working. I'm ready for restoration.”
“
Que?
”
Cynthia placed her folded palms in front of her mouth. “Cheo, I can't run from my problems any longer. Look at what all this running has done. I'm ready to face them head-on with my husband and the arm of Christ carrying me through. I am not the same woman I was; a new me has been born.”
Marvin smiled at the ceiling and whispered, “Thank you, Jesus. I'm going to do this right this time.”
“I am so terribly sorry.” Cynthia wiped a stray tear from her eye and clamped her hands together in front of her chest. “I pray that you can forgive me, let me go, and let God heal you.”
“What about everything we've built? What about the restaurant? What about our future?” With his shoulders hunched and his eyes cut into narrow slits filled with frustration Cheo rattled off questions that should have swayed Cynthia.
“This is my past, this is my present, and”âshe clutched Marvin's strong armâ“this is my future. Don't worry about Sabor. I'm going to take care of it with my husband by my side. This is the end of us and the beginning of my life as a servant of Christ, a mother to my son who was spared, and a wife to my husband who I pledged my allegiance to.”
Before walking away, she planted an endearing kiss on Cheo's cheek to seal that chapter of wandering in the wilderness in her life. Even though she was in pumps, she still had to tiptoe to reach Cheo's cheek.
“Let's go,” she said to Marvin over her shoulder midstride.
Marvin sidestepped to catch up with Cynthia. He spotted James standing in a corner near the door and signaled for him to join them. Hand in hand Marvin, Cynthia, and James walked through the doors of the funeral home behind the pallbearers with brave faces on prepared to bury the dead and nurture the new life that had been born at dawn.