Nobody’s Child (New Life Tabernacle Series Book 1) (11 page)

O
nce Makayla's
shift ended on Monday, she wasted no time getting to the computer lab.

She went to the last machine on the last row and connected her phone. She copied the audios from her day with Mr. Jones into a temporary file on the computer. Next, she copied over the pictures she’d taken of photographs at Mr. Jones house.

After everything was uploaded to the Dropbox file Bree had sent the link to, Makayla deleted the files from her phone, logged off the computer and grabbed her messenger bag off the floor. But instead of getting up and leaving, she found herself reluctant to move.

Not because she was feeling torn about what she'd done. Uploading the files for Wallace Davis to use during Robin’s interview made her feel better than she had in a while.

Ever since she’d met Robin, she'd been a walking jumble of conflicting emotions. Loving Robin, resenting Robin. Needing her, despising her. The inner conflict had been emotional torment. The act of digitally handing over the files and finally completing the mission that gave her purpose for the past five years, was a relief.

But it wasn't all she was feeling.

Makayla put her messenger bag down and logged back onto the computer with DeShawn's credentials.

She signed into Dropbox, went to Bree’s folder and located the snapshot she’d taken of the picture of the Jones family at the pancake breakfast. Makayla right-clicked on the photo and let her cursor hover over the options that became available as a result.

It was stupid. She didn't need a picture of Robin. She didn't even want one. Why would she? And Robin’s family? Mrs. Jones was dead and gone. Mr. Jones wouldn't want anything to do with her after next week.

Makayla chewed her bottom lip and stared at the computer screen for another good thirty seconds before clicking the mouse.

Immediately, one of the huge printers lined against the wall whirred to life.

Makayla shut everything down and snatched the strap of her bag up and onto her shoulder. By the time she got to the printer, the Jones family was waiting, smiling up at her from the safety of the past. Completely oblivious to what was to come.

Back home and after her shower, Makayla dried off, combed out her hair and stood in front of the bathroom mirror. It was warped and old, but bigger than her little compact.

She held up the picture she’d printed out and compared the faces in it to her own. She'd heard people say she looked like Robin, but she wanted to see it for herself.

She’d set out to study their hairlines, noses, mouths, bone structure—but no matter how hard she tried, she kept coming back to the eyes.

Not just Robin’s, but Mr. and Mrs. Jones’, too. And the longer she looked at them, the less relief and satisfaction she felt.

She knew printing the picture had been a mistake.

She crumbled the paper into a ball and tossed it into the trashcan where it belonged.

Back in the main room, Makayla unwrapped the chocolate snack cake she’d bought at the gas station and stuck a candle in it. She struck a match, only to blow out the flame before lighting the wick. Birthday or not, she was in no mood to celebrate. Especially after what she’d found in Robin’s old room.

Makayla removed the candle and bit in to the cake. She opened her messenger bag and took out the pamphlet.

She hadn't mentioned it to Bree when she'd texted her earlier that morning. If she were honest about it, she'd have to admit it was because she felt ashamed. Why, she didn't know. It wasn't her secret, was it? It was Robin’s. And like Bree had said, it was time Robin's secrets came out.

Makayla grabbed her phone and texted Bree.

Before sending the text, she clicked the option to add an attachment. Then she took a picture of the pamphlet, making sure the words,
Planned Parenthood
, were centered and in sharp focus.

“
T
his is stupid
! I'm done!"

Makayla turned off the car and pounded the button to unlock the doors.

She and Trey were out on one of her driving lessons and it was not going well. Parallel parking had put her in a murderous mood.

She jumped out the driver’s side and slammed the door while crossing behind the vehicle to avoid Trey, who went around the front.

She climbed in the passenger’s side, slammed that door, too, then yanked the seatbelt to buckle it. Once she was done, she found Trey staring at her.

"What?"

"Do you need a Snickers?"

Playfulness crinkled the corners of his eyes, making her want to scratch them out.

"Why would I need a candy bar right now?”

"You know, the commercials. About not really being yourself when you're hungry?"

He laughed. She didn't.

He raised his eyebrows and poked his lips out. "I'm gonna take that as a no."

"Whatever. Let's go."

She expected him to immediately comply, but he didn't make a move.

"Trey."

"What's going on with you?"

"I'm tired. I want to go home. So,” she moved her fingers in a swift sweeping motion, “go.”

"No, not just tonight. This whole week. You completely ignored me at church Sunday when I tried to offer you a ride and—“

"I didn't hear you."

“Uh yeah, you did. You know you did. And when we went out for a lesson on Monday, you drove the car like a maniac. Today, you have zero patience. Obviously, something is wrong. If you would just tell me—“

Makayla threw her hands up. "Oh my God! Why are you always trying to be in my business?"

Trey put his hands up, as if in self-defense.

"I'm not! Something's bothering you and I'm trying to help. Robin noticed, too. She said—“

In frustration, Makayla held her tightened fists up at chest level. ”Can we please,
please
not talk about her right now?"

"Why not? She just wants to help. We both do.”

"Yeah, right."

"See? That right there. That's what I'm talking about. What's going on with you? Don't get me wrong. You've never been a Care Bear. Even on a good day, being with you is like trying to hug a porcupine—“

"Okay. Thanks, Trey. You can take me home now."

"I'm not trying to get on your bad side. Trust me. It's the last place I want to be. But help a brotha out. I thought we were cool. I thought—“ He dropped his head back on the seat and groaned. “That day, at my house… Did I completely misread the situation?"

He rolled his head to the side to look at Makayla and waited for her response. She folded her arms and stared out the passenger’s side window.

He shook his head. "Apparently, I did." He straightened up, stepped on the brake and pressed the push-button start.

"You don't get where I'm coming from."

Trey looked at Makayla. He took his hand off the parking brake and turned the car off. He waited as she continued to stare out the window.

"I know I'm not easy to be around. You don't have to tell me that. I never have been. I'm not the kind of person people stick around for. I'm too… Hard."

She wiped at the dampness on her cheeks. He put his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it away.

"I don't get people like you. I don’t understand why it’s so easy to make people love you. To make them
stay
. I want to be like that. I want to love and be someone somebody wants to love, but I’m just not. Too much happened. I'm already too messed up."

"Past experiences don't predict future outcomes."

Makayla cut her eyes at him. "Yeah, okay. I'd expect you to say some bumper sticker stupidity like that. You don't even know. You have a mother who loves you and a godmother who thinks you walk on water.” She kicked at the underside of the dashboard. “This dumb car is proof of that. Don't talk about this like you know. You don’t have a clue.“

"I wasn't talking about myself. I was thinking about Robin."

That got Makayla's attention. She looked at him. He rubbed his hands over the steering wheel, as if to buy time as he contemplated whether to continue.

"I'm only telling you this so you can see you're wrong. So you can understand that hard times don't have to make you a hard person."

He turned in his seat to face her.

"Like I told you before, I was a kid when we first met Robin. She was as cool then as she is now, but for years… It happened like clockwork. I wanna say every fall. Yeah, ’cause it was always around Thanksgiving time.

“My mom and I would go over there and stay about a week. Mom would take care of everything. The cleaning, the cooking. Anything that needed to be done. Robin never came out of her room. One day, after I was old enough to figure out something just wasn’t right, I sneaked up there. My mom had made her some food. ‘You need to eat something,’ she said. ‘You're gonna drown in those tears, girl.’ But she wouldn't eat. She’d only face the wall, crying."

Makayla turned away from him and looked out the window. She was afraid he'd be able to read the tangle of emotions she was trying to hide.

Thanksgiving. November. The month she was born.

“Then, maybe three, four years ago, it stopped happening. I have no idea what it was about and I never asked, but I could see it was some deep and heavy stuff. I mean, you know her. We joked about it at the store. Nothing gets her angry, nothing gets her down. So I can't even imagine what could've happened to make her like that. Not once. Not twice. But every single year."

Trey put his hand next to Makayla's on the middle console. He hooked his pinky finger around hers.

"You're right. I don't get where you come from. By comparison, my life has been a lot easier. But you're wrong about one thing. You're not too hard and you're not too hard to love."

He moved his hand under hers so their fingers could intertwine. Instead of pulling away, she let him hold her hand and they stayed like that in the silence and the dark.

Though it was late and she had an early shift the next morning, Makayla didn't want to go home. She wanted to hold Trey's hand for as long as she could, because with everything about to go down, she knew it might be the last time she'd have the chance.

A
s promised
, Robin picked up Makayla on Thursday to take her to lunch. While they waited for their food to arrive, Makayla closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was the real deal. The restaurant itself wasn't much to look at, just a storefront with some booths, folding chairs and vinyl covers on the tables. Every inch of wall was covered with photographs of New Orleans and that was all that could be said for decor.

Makayla had never been to the Big Easy herself, but she could identify every landmark in every picture on the wall. Her grandmother had talked about the city and its wonders all the time. She’d been born and raised in New Orleans’ Tremé neighborhood and could cook "country" Cajun
and
"city" Creole. While she’d lived many places during her life, Nadine Baptiste’s heart remained in the city of her birth.

So even though the restaurant Makayla sat in that afternoon was no more than a hole in the wall, when she closed her eyes, she felt like she was a little girl again, with her grandmother and safe in her kitchen.

She needed to focus on that feeling. Let it calm her. Let it fortify her. During her conversation with Bree earlier that morning, she was given a very specific job to do. It seemed easy enough when they’d discussed it, but now nerves had set in and Makayla wasn't sure how she'd pull it off.

"You’re quiet."

Makayla opened her eyes to find Robin watching her. "I am?"

"Barely a word since I picked you up."

If talk was what Robin wanted, that's what she'd get. Makayla took her phone out of her messenger bag.

"Sorry."

She opened the voice recorder app, tapped the red button and turned off the screen.

"Don't be. I must have talked you out last week, all those hours on the phone, huh?”

Makayla smiled and set the phone on the table.

"I'm glad you're back."

Robin smiled and rested her chin in her hand. "Me, too.”

The phone was recording. All Makayla had to do was get Robin to talk.
Before
the food came. Bree said that was important. The sound of the plates and silverware would muddy the recording. And that could ruin everything. They needed Robin to do the Christian thing and say abortion was a sin, and they needed the recording to be crystal-clear when she said it. That way, when Wallace took out the Planned Parenthood pamphlet and confronted her with it live, on-air, she wouldn't be able to deny what the rest of the country had just heard in her own words.

"Um, did you mean what you said? About being able to talk to you about anything?"

"Absolutely. Anything at all."

"How do you feel about abortion?"

For a moment, Robin's face went slack. She straightened. "Are you…?"

"Oh, no! Nothing like that. I just have this friend. At school. She's thinking about it. You know, trying to decide whether to go through with it."

Makayla made sure to take in everything: Robin’s eye movement, her breathing, her posture—anything that would give a clue to what she was thinking, feeling. Was she going to put on her Christian game face? Or was she going to tell the truth?

Robin swirled her sweet tea with her straw, then reached for a couple of packets of sugar. She tore one open, but instead of emptying it in her tea, she folded it back up and set it next to the unopened one. She sat back in the booth and crossed her arms.

"It's not something I could ever go through with. At the same time… At the same time I can understand how someone might think it was the only option."

That wasn’t the answer Makayla expected. And it definitely wasn't what Bree said they needed.

"So… You're
not
pro-life?"

"I've always been pro-life. But when I was your age, I didn't have much compassion to go with my strong opinions."

"Are you saying you believe differently now?"

Robin pressed her lips together as she looked down at the table surface.

"I'm saying experience has made me less quick to condemn another. Like I said, I could never go through with it. I certainly don't think it should be used as a means of birth control or a fallback for reckless behavior. But the reason I find it hard to condemn anyone who considers it is because, well, sometimes circumstances…" Her voice trailed off and she swallowed hard. "Terrible things can happen. And under those circumstances, I certainly couldn't judge anyone for thinking about it. I'm not saying it's the right choice. I don't believe it is. But as I said, I can see how someone might feel it was their only one.”

The words Robin said and the repercussions of what they could mean took a moment to sink in. Once they did, Makayla felt like everything stopped. The cars passing outside on the street. The diners conversing at nearby tables. The women at the counter calling back orders to the kitchen. Everything went still and everything went silent.

Experience had made her less judgmental? What experience? Was the “terrible things” she referred to a part of that experience? What could those terrible things be?

Makayla’s logical mind had no problem answering any of those questions, especially the last one. Her feeling heart, however, didn’t want any part of it.

"… talk to her, if you’d like. Maybe all she needs is a listening ear. It can be hard for girls in this situation to open up. Especially if they believe they’ll be judged harshly once they do.”

Makayla had no idea what Robin was saying. So she just stared at her while her mind tried to catch up.

"You okay?"

Makayla feared if she spoke, Robin would hear the emotion she was desperately trying to swallow. She smiled and nodded, then grabbed her phone. Putting it in her lap, she turned off the app.

"Are you sure?"

Makayla sniffled and stuffed the phone in her bag. She motioned at the NOLA memorabilia on the walls.

“All of this—the smell of the food and—I’m just thinking about my grandma."

"Happy thoughts, I hope."

Makayla ran her fingers across a tear in the flower patterned table covering. "Kinda. I miss her. She was my only—“ She cut herself off. It was probably best not to talk too much about her grandmother. The last thing she wanted to do was slip up and say the wrong thing.

"You're only what?"

Makayla gave a half smile, shook her head and took a sip of sweet tea. Robin watched her for a moment, then sat back.

“I mentioned on the phone, I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something…" Her voice trailed off. She picked up the white paper that had covered her straw and began folding and unfolding it in an accordion fashion. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I just… Well, I've been thinking about this a lot. Since I've been gone and the day you were sick— No. It actually started before that."

She looked up at Makayla. "Do you remember the day we met?"

Makayla was surprised by the question. Of course, she remembered. How do you forget meeting your mother for the first time?

Robin shook her head. "Of course, you don't. Well, I do. I remember because the moment I saw you, there was something, I don’t know, familiar about you."

Makayla felt her breathing pick up and her cheeks grow hot.

"And then, when I hugged you…" Robin waved her hand in front of her face. "This sounds silly, but I felt… I don't know how to describe it, but I felt a connection or something."

A connection? Makayla hated to admit it, but that Sunday when she walked up to Robin, that's exactly what she was hoping for. Connection. Recognition. Hoping, but not expecting. It sounded too much like a fairytale. And she'd given up on those years ago.

But isn't that what Robin just said?

Makayla didn't think it was possible, but her heart began to beat even faster. She picked up her glass of sweet tea, but quickly set it down when she saw her hand was shaking. Thankfully, Robin didn’t noticed. She seemed too wrapped up in her own nerves.

"Then that day I found you so sick… First of all, I need you to know that I wasn't trying to offend you or make you angry when I bought the phone. It's just that since the Sunday I met you…" She exhaled. Makayla could see that she was struggling to find the right words.

"Here you go, ladies."

Neither of them had seen or heard the young man carrying their food approach the table.

"Can I get you anything else? Refills on the tea?"

"We're good. Thanks." Makayla hoped her tone made it clear he’d interrupted something. He got the point and made himself scarce.

Robin leaned over her chicken bonne-femme and took a deep breath. "This sure does smell good, doesn't it?" She picked up a fork and dug in.

Makayla did the same, all the while wondering when Robin was going to finish what she was saying. After they ate in silence for at least ten minutes, Makayla stole a glance at Robin. She hadn’t known her very long, but she knew her well enough to see she was nervous and waiting for something. But what?

"This crawfish etouffée reminds me of my grandma's."

There
, Makayla thought. Maybe that would get her talking again.

"She must've been a good cook."

"One of the best. Almost as good as Mr. Jones."

Robin covered her mouth with her napkin and laughed heartily. "Oh Lord, please don't ever tell him that. I’d never hear the end of it."

Then they were silent again. The closer they got to finishing their meal, the more frustrated Makayla became. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.

"You never finished what you were saying."

And there it was, clear as day, relief all over Robin's face. She nodded her head, smiling. "Yes, yes. The reason I wanted to see you."

She patted her mouth with her napkin and pushed her plate away.

"That day, the day you were sick, I got the impression that even if you had a phone, there was no one to call. I don't want it to be that way. I don't want you to feel like you don't have someone to turn to. I don't want you to feel alone."

Robin took a deep breath and leaned forward.

“And so… I’ve been thinking, if it's all right with you, I'd like to be your godmother. Now before you say no, hear me out."

Makayla was too stunned to say anything, much less “no,” so she just nodded her head.

"I know you don't want anyone's charity. That's not what I'm suggesting. You haven't really talked about your family, but I'm guessing you aren't close. And me, well, other than my dad, I don't have a family, either. It would mean a lot to me to be there for you. That being said, I don't want you to feel any pressure. If I'm coming on too strong or this is more than you want to deal with, I can understand that, too."

She stopped, looking at Makayla, waiting for her to say something. Makayla just sat there, no clue what to say. All she’d wanted growing up was to hear her mother say she wanted her. And now here she was, in a way, doing just that. It was the last thing Makayla had expected to hear that day.

"You want to be my godmother… What would that mean?"

"Whatever you want it to mean. Whatever you need." Robin pushed Makayla’s bowl aside and reached for her hand. “I’m more than financially stable, so I could be there for you in that way. You could come to me about anything. Advice. Answers. Even just to spend time together."

Makayla pulled her hand from Robin’s. Then she clenched her jaw and looked away. When that didn’t work, she bit down on the inside of her cheek. Next, she dug the nails of one hand into the skin of the other. She did anything she could think of to keep from falling apart.

Robin looked down, spreading her hands across the space of table in front of her. "It was just a thought. Like I said, I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable—“

Makayla tried to wipe the tears before Robin saw them, but they were coming so fast and in such abundance, she failed.

"Oh, no…"

Robin got up from her side of the booth and sat next to Makayla. She drew her in, so Makayla's head was on her shoulder. Once the tears had slowed, Robin tilted Makayla’s head so they were facing one another.

"I think God brought you here for a reason. I think we were meant to be in each other's lives."

Makayla remained silent.

Robin was right about one thing: Makayla
was
there for a reason. But she was just beginning to realize it was the wrong one.