Nobody’s Child (New Life Tabernacle Series Book 1) (16 page)

"
T
here's my girl
!"

Before Makayla could get in the door, Mr. Jones wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. It was exactly what she needed. For years she'd longed for a grandfather. That one man in her life she could love and trust. No sooner than she thought she had him, she’d lost him.

"You just couldn't stay away, could you?" He said, leading her inside. "My cornbread gets 'em every time!" His laughter filled the house. But once they made it into the kitchen, he noticed the look on her face.

Without saying a word, he pulled out a chair at the end of the dining table. She sat in it and he took one of the chairs next to her. They must've sat in silence for a good twenty minutes. Every time Makayla tried to speak, the words got caught behind the lump in her throat and she'd stop.

She'd felt a lot of things during her short and painful existence. But the one thing she'd never experienced was hopelessness. There was sadness, hatred, loneliness, longing—but never hopelessness. It was a sorrow for which she had no defense. It threatened to swallow her whole and she feared she wouldn’t be able to prevent it from doing so.

When the tears began streaming down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away, Mr. Jones got up and went to the living room. He returned, a box of Kleenex in one hand and a tissue in the other. Gently, he blotted away the tears, returned to his seat and waited.

Quietly, patiently, he waited. As if they had a thousand years and nothing to do, he waited.

The crying would seem under control but when Makayla would open her mouth to talk, it’d start again.

The sun moved across the sky and the house got darker. Mr. Jones only moved to turn on the kitchen lights, then sat right back down next to Makayla. Even when the phone rang, he ignored it. After several times, he finally unplugged it.

After what felt like hours, she spoke.

"I'm sorry."

"What for, baby?"

She motioned at the dusky sky outside the window with a handful of balled up tissues. "I've wasted your whole afternoon.”

He sat back in his chair and waved his arm at her. "Naw, nothing's been wasted."

Makayla wished he wouldn't be so understanding. For some reason, his kindness only made her want to cry more. She looked down at the table surface and the invisible pattern she traced with her finger.

"If you knew who I was…” She lowered her head. “If you knew what I've done, you wouldn't be so nice to me."

Mr. Jones didn’t ask her to elaborate. Makayla was grateful. As much as she might’ve felt the need to confess, she didn't want to. Mr. Jones was the only part of her fairytale not left in shreds. She knew she'd have to give him up, like Robin, she just wasn't ready to do it.

"I could say the same thing."

She looked up. His face was hard and without emotion.

"I nearly killed a man with my own hands. And I would have, if his wife hadn’t called the police on me."

Makayla wasn't sure how she'd expected him to react to her admission of guilt, but one thing was for sure—she
hadn’t
expected him to make one of his own. But she understood what he was trying to do, how he was trying to help.

"But then you got saved and God forgave you and made you new." She tried to remove the sarcasm from her tone, but a bit seeped in anyway. She loved him for the effort, but at the moment, she wasn’t interested in a testimony about the transformative power of God.

"No. This was after all that. After I was already a pastor of a church.”

Makayla was sure she’d misheard him.

“
After
you were pastor?”

Affairs? Yes. Babies outside of marriage? Yes. Misuse of church funds? Yes. Makayla knew the list of typical pastoral ‘shortcomings.’ But of all she’d heard, attempted murder was not one of them.

Mr. Jones tapped his finger on the tabletop and looked at the ceiling in contemplation. "I've never told anyone about this. Never talked to a soul. Not even Robin.” He shrugged. “I couldn't. But you…" He looked at her, his eyes once again soft with kindness. "Maybe it could do you some good."

He scrubbed his face with his callused hands and let out a deep sigh. "But first I have to go back to the beginning. Back to my Angie.”

F
or the first
half of his life, there wasn't anyone in the world Emmett Jones loved more than his baby sister, Angela. She was ten years younger than him and his twin brother, Emery. Although he and Emery did share a bond, it was nothing compared to the one he had with Angie.

From the moment his mother put her little newborn body in his arms, she was his world. He started doing odd jobs when he was thirteen just so he could buy her presents. She was nicknamed "Shadow” because of how she'd follow him wherever he went.

He did his best to watch over her and protect her. But the one thing he couldn’t protect her from was a good-for-nothing mechanic named Malcolm. He was smooth talking and charming. In no time at all, he had Angie hanging on his every word. As far as she was concerned, he was her soulmate and nobody—not her mother or her brothers—could convince her otherwise.

In a matter of months, he’d walked in her life and right back out, leaving her alone and pregnant.

The day her baby was born was one of the happiest days of Emmett's life. The little angel looked just like her. But instead of being happy, Angie sat in the hospital bed, crying over the fact her daughter would face life without a father.

But Emmett wasn't about to let that happen. He promised his sister until she found a man worthy of her, he would care for Carrie as if she were his own daughter.

That first night, he held her for hours. The nurses fussed at him the whole time, but whenever they tried to take her, she'd cry. Finally, they took her anyway and Emmett ended up falling asleep in the chair next to Angie's bed.

Early the next morning, before the sun had even risen, he was awakened by a loud beeping, doctors yelling and nurses running about. Someone pushed him out of the room before he even knew what was going on.

They did what they could, but it was already too late. After the birth, Angie had an internal rupture. Nobody caught it and she bled out most of the night, while he slept there next to her bed.

Just like that, she was gone.

Determined to keep his promise to his sister, Emmett wanted to take the baby home with him. But because he’d just married, his mother insisted she raise the little girl. Though he fought it, he knew she was right. He didn't know a thing about babies. That became clear when Robin was born the next year. But he learned quick.

Though she wasn't being raised in his home, Carrie was like a firstborn daughter to him. He loved both girls with all he had, but if he were to tell the truth, Carrie had a special place in his heart. Maybe it was because he gave her all the love he had for his sister. Maybe it was because she looked so much like her. He didn’t know and it didn’t matter. He only knew he’d give his life if it meant protecting hers.

A
s his girls grew
, so did Emmett’s church and ministry. He moved up the ranks in his denomination and was invited to speak all over the country. It was upon his return home one spring, that he first noticed the difference in Carrie. By that summer, she wasn’t herself.

Usually, she spent all her time at his house. That changed. She seldom shadowed the door and when she did, she and her cousin went straight to Robin's room. She avoided him and when he spoke to her, he noticed she wouldn’t look him in the eye.

His wife assured him it was just a phase. She reminded him of the extreme mood swings they’d survived during Robin and Carrie's mid-teens. Maybe his wife was right. Maybe he was too sensitive when it came to Carrie. He finally decided to let it go and give her some space.

Later, much later, he came to realize he wasn't being sensitive at all. She
had
been avoiding him. And when he understood why, it nearly finished him.

A
fter she disappeared
, Emmett spent all his free time searching for her. He turned down all out-of-town speaking invitations and let his assistant pastor carry most of the workload at New Life. But even when he worked at the church, he was never really there. All he could think about was Carrie. Was she hurt? Was she scared? Was she in danger? He actually hoped she was going through some sort of rebellion. If so, she’d return home once it had passed.

The one question he refused to ask was the hardest one.

Was she dead?

When Angie died, it was Carrie that got him out of bed every day. What would he do if she were taken away, as well? He couldn't even think about it.

T
hough he didn’t know
it at the time, the moment Marcus Thomas Sr. walked into Emmett’s office, letter in hand, his life would never be the same.

When Emmett saw the look on his friend’s face, he reluctantly asked if he was all right. Instead of responding, Marcus Sr. set the letter on his desk. Before he even read one word, Emmett recognized Carrie's handwriting.

She's okay. She's okay. She's okay.
The words repeated in his head. After months of fear and uncertainty, there was the proof they’d all been waiting for. She was
okay
.

Then he read the letter.

People point to moments of tragedy as moments in which they lose faith in God. That wasn't so for Emmett. He clung to God more than ever that day. He needed to know He caused planets to spin and hearts to beat. He needed to believe there was a God to change the seasons and hang the stars up in the sky. He
needed
to believe, because if he didn't, he would have lost his mind.

He never lost faith in God. But he lost every ounce of faith he had in himself.

T
he only thing
worse than learning his little girl had taken her life was having to tell his family. His mother let out a wail, the sound of which he’d never forget as long as he lived. His brother crumpled to the floor, weeping.

And Robin…

Robin only sat there, staring straight ahead. When her mother tried to comfort her, she gave no response. The doctors called it psychological trauma with dissociation and emotional detachment. They had big words, but no solutions. She didn't speak for months. Her parents had to care for her like a baby. On Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays, Emmett went to the church to preach, only to rush home right after. Out of desperation, it was decided her mother would take her back East where they could stay with relatives. Perhaps being away would help.

It took months before there was any change. But gradually, Robin’s condition improved. As time passed, they all began to heal. Even Marcus Jr., whom Emmett prayed for daily, began to turn around. Though it was fragile, a sense of normalcy returned to their lives.

Emmett never could’ve guessed the worst was yet to come.

T
he day she returned home
, Robin went straight to her father's office at the church. At first glance, he didn’t recognize her. She'd lost so much weight, she looked like a little girl.

"Daddy," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need to talk to you.”

She told him everything.

That she had known all along. That she’d kept Carrie's secret, even against her better judgment. He was disappointed, but he understood. Robin and Carrie had been even closer than he and Angie. Though they were a year apart, people often mistook them for twins because of their looks. As children they’d had a private language. As young women, they were never apart.

"Did she say who it was?"

"She told me she didn't see his face."

Emmett sank back in his chair. Of all the things he wanted to know, that was the one thing he
needed
to know.

"All she said was, he had a mole on his shoulder."

J
ust two days later
, Emmett prepared for Sunday morning service. As he stood before the mirror and lifted his bishop’s robes up over his back and shoulders, a memory flashed before him.

It was when he and his brother were teenagers. They’d been in the backyard playfully sparring when their neighbor, Miss Ola, came to the fence that marked the property line.

"Ms. Caroline," she called out. "I can smell your cornbread from all the way over here. What else you got good, girl?"

His mother leaned out the screen door and answered back. "Ham, collard greens and black-eyed peas. Come on over and get you some!"

"Girl, you know I'm trying to lose this here weight!" Less than fifteen seconds passed before she added, "Shoot! Just lemme grab my house shoes!" Before she turned away she said, "I don't know how you tell them two apart, Caroline. Them boys look just alike."

His mother laughed. "Emery's got a birthmark on his shoulder. God's way of giving 'em nametags!"

A birthmark. The mole Emmett had seen a thousand times. So often, he’d
stopped
seeing it. The way one stopped seeing another’s scar or deformity, eyeglasses or cane. His familiarity had blinded him to the obvious.

Emmett turned to his pastor's aid, careful to keep his voice even. "Is my brother out there?"

"Umm, I doubt it, but I'll look."

Emery hadn't been to church since they’d gotten the letter from Carrie. Emmett never thought much about it. Everything and everyone changed when they lost her. But now…

Emmett didn't remember preaching the sermon that morning. He didn’t know a word he’d said. Memories, images and thoughts rushed through his mind. And with each one, it became more and more obvious. The devil had been in his house all along. At his very dining table.

The second he finished the message, he was out of the pulpit and through the side door. He looked at the time. 12:50 PM. He knew exactly where Emery would be. They all went to his mother's house every Sunday for dinner and, after they'd stopped regularly attending church, Emery and Diane would arrive at the house early to get things started.

Without bothering to park the car, Emmett jumped out and raced up the concrete path that led to the front door. He yanked the screen door so hard, one of the upper hinges came undone.

Emery rushed from the kitchen to see what had caused the noise and before he could open his mouth to ask, Emmett had his hands around his neck. As he did his best to block any wisp of air from entering his brother’s lungs, everything became clear.

It was like looking in the mirror. They were exactly alike. Same skin color, same eyes, same haircut. Even as Emery attempted to plead for his life, Emmett realized they had the same voice.

All he could think was,
My little girl didn't know. She didn't know…

Sobs rose from the pit of Emmett’s stomach and he squeezed harder. Who could she have turned to? Who could she have trusted? Emmett didn’t know what had happened and Emery pretended not to. Both of them went on as if nothing had changed, while Carrie knew, good and well, it had. It would’ve made anyone crazy. Even as she was dying, she wouldn't have known which of her uncles had hurt her.

Somewhere in the distance, Emmett heard screaming. Diane tried to pull him off, but he barely felt it. All he could feel, all he wanted to feel, was Emery's life slipping away.

He squeezed harder.

"Emmett. Emmett."

It was like hearing someone call his name when he was half asleep. He wasn't sure if it was real or he was dreaming.

"Emmett. Baby? Look at me, baby."

He looked up to see his mother standing over him. Her eyes darted back and forth between his face and the floor. He looked down and saw Emery lying beneath him. He was still breathing, but barely.

"Diane called the police. You need to leave."

She helped him stand. Reaching up to his neck, she unzipped the clergy robe and pulled it off.

"Go. Cut across through the back. Go to your house and stay there."

By the end of the next day, Emery and Diane were gone. Emmett never asked where they went. He didn't trust himself to know. And since he knew if he ever saw his brother again, he wouldn't hesitate to kill him, he felt he had no right to be a pastor. He gave his resignation that night.

A
ll the pictures came down
.

Angela, Carrie, Emery. Emmett couldn’t stand to look at them. It was only because of his wife they didn’t all burn. She hid them away, just in case things changed one day. Emmett knew that wouldn’t happen.

Whether it was the accumulation of her sorrows or just knowing what Emery had done, Ms. Caroline’s health spiraled. Emmett took care of her the best he could, but she went down fast.

She never spoke of Emery again, but years later the family learned the week after he left, she went to the police station and told them everything, including where to find him.

Before she died, she begged Emmett to let it go. Said she didn't want it to eat him up like it had her. Out of love for his mother, he did what he could to forget and though it took a long while, he eventually did. And every now and then, when a memory pushed through, it would be of Carrie or Angie and it would be good.