“You don’t have to explain,” Indigo said.
Nizhoni shook her head and hinted at a smile. “I’ve told you before that my dad is African American and my mom is a Navajo Indian,” she said. “It is a belief in many Indian tribes that when you have problems, you braid them up to contain them. When I’m braiding my hair, I’m braiding up my worries. That allows me to release them and go on, because I know they are contained and the proper solution eventually will surface.”
Indigo was intrigued. “Is this sort of like prayer? You tell God what is bothering you and you’re supposed to leave your burdens there?”
Nizhoni shrugged. “I just know that it helps. When Yasmin is shampooing my hair, I am talking to myself throughout the process about everything that is troubling me, and when I leave here with a fresh braid, those problems are tucked away. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“But you keep coming back,” Indigo said.
“Yes,” Nizhoni said. “I will keep coming back until the problem has been resolved.”
It was killing Indigo not to pry for more details.
“It’s a physical act and a visual reminder that helps me actively let go of the issue,” Nizhoni said. “That way, I’m not carrying it around in my mind and my heart all week. I allow myself to think about it when Yasmin takes the braid down, but as she’s braiding my hair up again, I’m letting go again.”
“That’s powerful,” Indigo said. “It
is
the same concept as prayer, which I do. But because you can see an end result, the feeling of giving up the burden must be especially strong.”
Nizhoni nodded. “It’s not a perfect cure—I mean, it’s just a cultural tradition. But it definitely helps, given the alternative—fretting and worrying.”
Indigo thought about how she had been taught to cope with problems. She didn’t always do it, but her family had a tradition too.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own
understanding.
To someone like Nizhoni, reciting a Scripture might seem trite, but when Indigo rested in the truths of God’s Word, she found that life did go smoother. Talking with Nizhoni about other ways of facing life’s challenges was making her value her method all the more. She glanced at the clock on the computer and shook her head.
“You’ve been waiting almost twenty minutes,” Indigo said. “Let me call and see if I can get Yasmin on the phone.”
The call went straight to Yasmin’s voice mail and Indigo left her a message.
“Nizhoni Witherspoon is here. She’s waiting to get her hair braided. Can you please call and let me know how soon you’ll be here?”
Indigo hung up and apologized again.
“No worries,” Nizhoni said. “It’s not like I have a hot date tonight or something.”
Indigo laughed. “What type of work do you do?”
“I’m a bridal consultant at Brides Central, on Dixon Street downtown.”
Indigo had left her post to pour a cup of crangrape juice for
Nizhoni from a small refrigerator located a few feet from the reception desk. She stopped in her tracks.
“You’re kidding.”
“Why?” Nizhoni asked.
Indigo strode over to the desk, lifted her
Bride
magazine, and waved it at Nizhoni.
“My fiancé thinks we’re having an intimate church wedding with close friends and family in about eight weeks. This is the first magazine I’ve looked at.”
“
You’re
kidding,” Nizhoni said. “Have you chosen a dress?”
Indigo shook her head.
“They take at least four weeks to be custom fitted,” Nizhoni said. “I’ll help you if you’d like. Have you confirmed a place for the ceremony and reception?”
Indigo shook her head again.
Nizhoni frowned. “Are you sure you want to get married?”
They laughed in unison.
“That’s a long story,” Indigo said. “But I love my fiancé very much. That I can tell you with no hesitation. Timing is the issue.”
Indigo’s cell phone rang. She handed the juice to Nizhoni and dashed around the desk to grab it. She picked it up and saw her mother’s cell phone number.
“Hey there,” she said, then strained to maintain her professionalism. “Umm . . . How can I help you?”
“It’s Mama, Indigo. I’m at the hospital with Yasmin. I came home to pick her up and get her to the hair salon and found her passed out on the bathroom floor. She was vomiting again.”
Indigo’s heart sank. Her sister was sicker than she thought. “I’m on my way,” she said thickly and hung up.
She was shaking as she turned toward Nizhoni. “I’m sorry.
Yasmin is not feeling well. She’s not going to make it in today. Can we reschedule? Better yet, let me just give you a call. Write down your number?”
Nizhoni scribbled her phone number and email address on a notepad at the desk and hugged Indigo.
“This braid will do for a while. I’ll be thinking of Yasmin and pulling for her to get better. You stay strong, okay?”
Indigo nodded, afraid that if she tried to speak, she might lose it. She grabbed her purse and, by the time she reached the door, found the strength to yell to Eboni and Carlotta that she had an emergency.
“Can you listen for the phones? I’ll check in with you later.”
Nizhoni walked out with her. “Do you want me to drive you somewhere?” she asked Indigo.
Indigo took a deep breath. “Thanks, Nizhoni. That’s kind of you, but I’ll be okay. I’m just a little rattled, with Yasmin being my baby sister and all. She’s going to be fine.”
Nizhoni squeezed her hand. “Yes, she is.”
Indigo climbed into the car and sped off without looking back.
Thank God Brian’s parents had decided to fly up to Newport tomorrow to see him too. She wasn’t going to make it.
B
y 4:55 a.m., Brian was awake and terrified.
He had been looking forward to Indigo’s visit for weeks, but after the encounter with Craig, he had spent the days leading up to her arrival trying to come up with legitimate excuses to keep her away.
“What—you don’t want me to see the ladies you’ve been dating?” she teased him two days ago. “I thought you didn’t mind that I was half blind.”
Brian tried to laugh along. It had been good to hear her being lighthearted about her condition. If he had his way, though, his parents wouldn’t be coming, either. The president would have to shut down the airlines and the interstates for that to happen. Mary and Otis were not going to allow another week to pass without seeing their only child.
“Besides,” Indigo had told him, “I’m not going to give up a chance to spend some time with you
and
Shelby. It’s been pitiful not having either one of you to talk to.”
Indigo and his parents would be flying into Providence from different airports, but all three of them were scheduled to land around noon. Indigo was going to ride with his parents to Newport Naval Base in the car they rented.
Already, he knew it wasn’t going to be the experience he had planned.
A week ago, he had been confident and self-assured, ready to give them a tour, introduce them to his classmates, and boast about the uniform he’d soon be wearing.
Now he could barely function. He didn’t hear instructions for some of the physical training drills. He passed the endurance tests with little or no room to spare. He zoned out in classes and missed information that would more than likely show up on his academic quizzes. Even when he and his classmates were gouging, or memorizing, information from the manual that they were supposed to provide upon immediate request from an officer or gunnery sergeant, Brian responded seconds too late—at a snail’s pace in OCS time.
Gunnery Sgt. McArthur had pulled him aside yesterday.
“That liberty last weekend was a bit much for you, Harper?” he growled. “Get your head back in this game or you’re out of here.”
This wasn’t good. He was as distracted as if he had contracted some form of attention deficit disorder.
What if someone had seen him and Craig outside the restaurant? What if Craig decided to confront him while his parents and Indigo were here? What if he told someone else?
Brian rarely saw Craig during the week, but he hadn’t taken his threats lightly. Craig could very well pull rank and get him demoted.
In the rec room last night, he had jumped as if he were in a combat zone when Shelby approached him and touched his shoulder.
“Brian, are you okay?”
He had been staring at his Navy manual but not really reading it. Worry lines creased Shelby’s forehead. She sat next to him.
“What’s going on? You nervous about Indigo’s visit?”
Brian looked at her, but didn’t answer, knowing she couldn’t help, but wishing she could. He tried to smile.
“You could say that. I’m just having a rough week, that’s all.”
She laid her hand on top of his. “Brian, you’re the reason that I’m here,” she said intensely, peering into his eyes. “When you started talking to me about flight school and being a pilot and even Tuskegee, you gave wind to my dreams. You’ve been my guide as I follow in your footsteps. You can’t flake out now. We’re in this together. If I’m going to be an officer, you’re going to be an officer.
“I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t need to know,” Shelby said and stood up. “If you’re nervous about something you’ve done since you’ve been away from Indigo, deal with it. But don’t let it steal your dream. I know this is your dream. Fight for it.”
Brian watched her leave as the truth sank in. He was usually the one giving the pep talks, but today Shelby had taken the lead. She was an officer in the making. And she was right: he had too much at stake to crumble now.
He had gone to bed last night with a new resolve to focus on the future and let Craig take care of Craig.
Then sleep came, and he couldn’t control his thoughts. His dreams traveled back to Tuskegee, to the night of that fateful decision and to the realization that he had new demons to wrestle with.
He had kept them caged this long with a lot of effort, because that’s where he knew they belonged, and because he truly loved Indigo. She was his light.
Now this.
Now what?
Help me, Lord
.
Brian lay awake, tossing and turning and pleading with God, until about six a.m. When the hallway phone rang, he had an excuse to get up.
Since officer candidates couldn’t have cell phones and there were no phones in their individual rooms, there was no telling whom this call was for. Just about everyone had visitors coming for the weekend, so he’d have to figure out whom to wake up to take a call.
When he picked it up though, it was Indigo, asking for him. He thought he was still dreaming
“Indie? Where are you? Was your flight delayed?”
He half hoped for a yes.
“It left about an hour ago, babe, but I’m not on it,” Indigo said. He heard the weariness in her voice.
“What’s wrong?”
She hesitated. “Yasmin has an eating disorder, Brian, and she had a pretty bad episode yesterday.”
The words were tumbling from Indigo’s lips so fast that Brian struggled to keep up.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Indigo slowed down. “Yasmin is bulimic, Brian. She has been gorging on food, then making herself throw it up. Yesterday she bought some over-the-counter medicine that induces vomiting and apparently drank half the bottle.
“Mama found her on the bathroom floor and called an ambulance. When she got to the hospital, they were able to stop the vomiting and get her hydrated. She’s stable now, but very weak, and I just don’t think I can leave her. I’m sorry.”
Brian felt a pang of guilt. He had wanted her to stay home, but not under these circumstances. Not because her fourteen-year-old sister was seriously ill.
“You know I understand, babe,” he finally said. “You tell Yasmin I want her to get well, and I’m pulling for her. I love you.”
Indigo started to weep.
“I love you too, Brian, and I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I haven’t been planning our wedding,” Indigo said. “I was going to get started on the way to Newport so I would have something to show you, but I don’t have a thing—no dress for me, nothing for a bridesmaid or two, no flowers, not even a reception hall.”
Brian’s heart ran cold. What did all of this mean? Was God telling him to back off? Was Indigo pulling away on her own?
He needed her.
“Brian, you still there?” Indigo asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “The question is, are you? I thought you wanted this too.”
Indigo sighed. “I love you, Brian, and I want to be your wife. But I have been struggling with the timetable. I’ve already been accepted into grad school and it’s just two years. I’m not understanding the reasoning behind rushing.”
And he sure wasn’t about to tell her. At least this missed opportunity to see each other meant he didn’t have to worry about Craig staking them out to offer his opinion.
“Indigo, we can work through this,” he said. “I want you to be happy too, and I want you to be my wife. I don’t care if we go down to the Jubilant courthouse when I get back, or if we stand at the St. Peter’s Baptist Church altar with just your parents and mine.
“I want you with me, but if you need to go to grad school to feel complete, I’m not going to stand in your way. I love you too much to lose you.”
And he meant it, with every fiber of his being.
C
raig stayed out of view until evening.
Just as Brian and his parents settled at a corner table in an oceanside restaurant located off of the base, he strode over, in full uniform.
“Officer Candidate Harper, how goes it?”
Brian tried to remain cool. “Aye, sir,” he said to Craig and assumed the one-thousand-yard stare required when an officer candidate addressed someone superior in rank.
“At ease,” Craig said.
He turned to Brian’s parents and shook his father’s hand.
“Mr. and Mrs. Harper, you have a fine young man here,” Craig told them.
Brian’s dad chuckled. “You sound like you’re thirty years older than my son . . . son,” he said. “Looks like you are just as wet behind the ears as he is, if you don’t mind me saying so.”