Chapter 17
When Marcus awakened later, Monet was standing at the hotel window. She turned toward the bed when she heard him moving. He glanced at his watch. It was late, close to 9:00
P.M.
Monet walked to the chair and took her jacket off of it.
“We need to get out of here. I need to get back and check on Mitzi,” she said.
“Why don't you go on ahead, and I'll be back there later tonight or in the morning,” Marcus said elusively, not meeting her inquisitive eyes.
“Okay, that will be fine. I'll see you when I see you.” She picked up her purse from the kitchenette counter and walked to the door. She waved to Marcus and walked out the door, to the parking lot and drove home.
Marcus didn't return home for a week, and Monet just bided her time. There was no doubt in her mind that her husband would eventually come back. She was in her office painting, one of her pastimes to ease stress, when she heard the kitchen door open and close. She held her breath until she heard him call her name. She wiped her hands on a rag and willed herself not to run to the kitchen.
“I'm here, in the office. I'm coming,” she answered. She walked out the room to the kitchen.
Marcus had dropped an oversized gym bag on the floor, and was cradling Mitzi in his arms. The tiny dog kept licking Marcus's hairy face. The makings of a gray beard were woven into the bottom of his face. Monet stared at him for a minute, and the affection she felt for him shone on her face.
Marcus awkwardly put Mitzi down. “How are you doing?” he asked. His eyes looked tired.
“I'm good.” Her arms hung at her sides.
“Well, I'm going to go downstairs and set up my living quarters,” he said, picking up the gym bag. The dark sweat suit molded to his body. “I'll probably bring some of my clothes and things down there.”
“You don't have to do that,” she protested. “You know it doesn't have to be this way.”
“I know,” he conceded, “but it's just the best way for now.” He walked to the basement door, which was off the kitchen, and went downstairs.
Monet returned to her office, feeling joy and pain. Her husband was home, but in a sense he wasn't. She walked over to the easel and resumed painting.
Later she fixed dinner and asked Marcus if he wanted to join her. She knew the aromas from the kitchen were mouth-watering, just the way she planned. But he informed her he didn't plan on sharing dinner with her that night, or any other night. He would eat out or bring food home with him. Monet, of course, was disappointed. Later that evening she prayed for strength.
When Marcus was home from work, or needed to relieve stress, he'd play his saxophone, which he did that evening. And likewise, Wade played the guitar. The partners were music aficionados. Between the two men, they had amassed an impressive collection of music going back to the vinyl era.
The melodies Marcus played the evening he returned home were so poignant that they brought tears to Monet's eyes. She painted and he played the saxophone. And an uneasy truce had been reached between the couple. Separate living quarters became a way of life in the Caldwells' household.
She and Liz prayed nightly, asking God to change the situation, though they were well aware that God operated on His own time. After their prayer sessions, Monet would talk to Faith, or read her stories and play gospel music. She also began explaining to her daughter about their special gift from God.
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Three months had elapsed, and Monet was sporting a baby bump. She selected a doctor on staff at Northwestern Memorial Hospital, Dr. Armstrong, as her obstetrician. Morning sickness had nearly passed, and Monet was feeling good. She had just returned home from a doctor's appointment. Though she was considered a high risk patient because of her age, by and large she was doing well.
She hadn't informed her brothers about the pregnancy, so she decided to invite them to dinner to share her news with them. Because Chicago was in the throes of a harsh winter, Monet and her brothers hadn't seen each other since before Christmas. Marcus and Monet had stayed home for the holidays in their neutral corners.
Monet's attendance at church had become sporadic as her body swelled with child. She wasn't sure how her church would respond to her pregnancy in light of the attack. Monet was ashamed of her feelings. She longed to call Reverend Wilcox and explain what was happening. Every day she said that she would call her, but she didn't. She knew Marcus wanted to keep the pregnancy a secret as long as possible, and Monet acquiesced with his wishes since they were merely co-existing.
“Hey, twin,” Monet said into Duane's cell phone voice mail, “I'm fixing a pot of stew for dinner tonight. Why don't you two come by? Give me a call later.” She thoughtfully clicked off the phone.
Duane called back to say that he and Derek would come for dinner. A couple of hours later, Monet had just taken the cornbread out of the oven when the doorbell rang. She set the pan on top of the oven and went to open the front door. Her brothers walked in. They exchanged greetings, hung their coats in the hall closet, and then the siblings walked to the kitchen.
The brothers sat down at the kitchen table, and then Derek stood up and walked to the refrigerator and took out two bottles of cranberry juice. He tossed one bottle to Duane, who caught it easily. A dusty rose sweat suit clung to Monet's body as she brushed butter over the top of the warm, golden brown cornbread.
“Looks like you put on some weight there,” Derek observed as his eyes scanned Monet's body. Then he turned up the bottle and drank.
“Hmmm,” she murmured, “I have. That's why I invited you over for dinner, to share my news with you . . . that I'm pregnant.” She sat at the table.
Derek sputtered and quickly grabbed a napkin and pressed it to his mouth.
Duane's mouth dropped open, and he said, “Say what?”
Monet smiled smugly. “Come this summer, I'm having a little girl. You guys are going to be uncles.”
The brothers glanced at each other. There was a period of silence, then Duane asked her in a quiet tone of voice, “When did you find out you were pregnant?
“Back in December, I'm nearly five months along,” she answered evenly.
“Just whose baby are you having?” Derek asked.
“I'm hurt that you would ask me that question. But if you must know, it's Marcus's baby,” she answered.
“Isn't that around the same time you were attacked?” Derek asked. He leaned forward in his seat and stared into his sister's face.
“Yes, it's around the same time. But regardless of the timing, I know that Marcus is the baby's father,” Monet said with quiet dignity. She folded her hands on the table.
“What does Marcus think?” Duane and Derek exchanged concerned looks.
“Well, he isn't as convinced as I am that this is his child. He'll see the light when the baby is born.” She waved her hand airily.
“Nay-Nay, I love you, but are you sure you're doing the right thing? You and Marcus haven't ever been able to have a child, and now you're pregnant. I just find the timing a little iffy,” Duane commented.
“So does Marcus, and it's caused a strain in our marriage. We're both living in the house, but we're still kind of estranged. Marcus is staying in the basement. But hey, at least he's here with me.” She tried to sound upbeat.
“Let's see, a man brutally attacked you, you've never been pregnant before, and then you expect your husband to take your word that he's the father. That makes no sense to me. No wonder Marcus has distanced himself from you, and he's moved downstairs. I don't blame him,” Derek said judgmentally.
“I know the timing is off, but I know this baby is Marcus's child.” Monet's face was serene, and her tone of voice was steady.
“More like you wish,” Derek muttered. He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his hand over his head, a habit that surfaced whenever he was nervous. “I have to say I agree with Marcus. And it's not even a matter of timing. You've never even conceived with him.”
Duane, who was closer to his sister than Derek said, “Derek, I don't think that comment was called for. If Monet says the baby is Marcus's, then we have to believe her. She's our sister, and we should give her our support.”
“Well, I can't, and I won't. That baby is probably the attacker's, so we already know it has deviant genes just because of how it was conceived. Who knows what else is in the monster's background. I think you should get rid of it. You've been with your husband for twenty years and nothing has happened,” Derek said impas-sionedly.
“There will be no abortion; it's morally wrong in God's eyes. And I know that this is Marcus's baby because God told me so,” Monet announced calmly, though her insides were churning. She knew the discussion with her brothers was going to be difficult, but she never imagined Derek not supporting her.
“So now you're hearing voices like Momma did.” Derek shook his head pityingly. “And you're going to end up like her . . . without a husband.”
“Dude, there was no need for you to go there.” Duane objected to his brother's choice of words. “Monet is the only relative we have outside of each other, so we should support and respect her decision. It's what Momma would want us to do. And Derek, you know Momma had the gift, and you're well aware it's passed down from mother to daughter.”
“I never believed in that gibberish,” Derek confessed, turning up his nose like he smelled a bad odor. “People don't have those kinds of gifts. That's just nonsense. And that superstition cost us a father. Momma should've thought about our feelings, and how hard it was for us growing up without a father.”
“I think Momma did the best she could under the circumstances,” Duane said, trying to lighten the mood between his siblings. He could sense a storm brewing and didn't miss the look of consternation on his sister's face. “We may not have had much money growing up, but we made do, and our house was filled with love. You're the one in heavy denial, brother. Dig deep within yourself and draw on our childhood memories.”
Derek waved his hand. “Monet has enjoyed a happy marriage for years. Why should she jeopardize it because of the actions of a pervert?”
The brothers began arguing, and Monet sat in her chair with tears streaming down her face. “Stop,” she said, but Derek and Duane ignored her. She put her hands over her face.
The back door opened and Marcus walked in. He stomped his feet on the doormat, took off his coat and hung it on the coat hook. Then he asked nonchalantly, “What's going on?” He looked at his wife, and then at his brothers-in-law.
“How come one of y'all didn't tell us what was going on over here?” Derek stood up and pointed at Monet, and then at Marcus. “I thought we were closer than that,” he snarled at his brother-in-law.
“Well, truthfully, it's not my news to share. I've been leaving that up to Monet. I had no say-so in this pregnancy. So pardon me; the new arrival is your sister's news.” Marcus waited to see how his wife would deal with the situation. The twins were her family. If they didn't support her, maybe that would open her eyes and force her to do the right thing.
Monet stood up and said somberly, “I'm so disappointed in you, Derek. I'm your sister, why can't you support me?”
“What do you mean by support you? I'm trying to get you to see the light. You having a rapist's baby is just plain sick. This whole situation is a mess.” Derek sat down and drummed his fingers on the kitchen table.
Marcus felt a rush of elation. “Finally, someone sees things my way.” He nodded to Derek as Monet shot him a defiant look.
“When will you realize this situation is not about you, Marcus Caldwell,” she retorted. She stood up and planted her hands on her hips.
“Well, it was before you got yourself knocked up. I tell you, that kid hasn't even been born yet, and it's disrupting our lives. Before you got pregnant, we could sit down and discuss issues as a family without everyone arguing,” he added smugly. He looked to Derek for support, and his brother-in-law didn't disappoint him.
“He's right, Monet. There's only so much a man can take,” Derek said chauvinistically.
“You are wrong, my brother,” Duane said to his twin. “You know Momma always told us to look out for each other. Why are you acting like this and taking Marcus's side?”
“Because I want to save Monet from the heartbreak that was Momma's fate. She suffered her whole life. And Monet is wrong. She shouldn't force Marcus to be a father to a child that obviously isn't his, considering the way that child was conceived,” Derek replied brusquely. He pounded the top of the wooden table with his fist to emphasize his point.
The brothers began going at it again. Marcus monetarily felt ashamed for the division he'd caused the family. Then he shrugged off the feeling. He had manipulated Derek and his tactic worked. Monet needed to see what she was up against. He watched her trying to keep the peace between her brothers when the doorbell rang.