Sweet Violet and a Time for Love Read online

  It was hard to believe that stepping into the cool living room of my sister’s home, the one leading a prayer of similar magnitude was her. Yvette’s voice roared and whispered, demanded and declared, moved like mist and fire through the room where about fifteen people were assembled.

  I recognized some of the faces from my old church, the one I attended for most of my life before Leon and I joined where we were now. Most of the faces were new to me, different ages, both males and females. Some were obvious couples, some singles. Young women. Old men.

  Children’s laughter and a pile of toys and books poured from the nearby family room. One gray-eyed girl of about five or six years old with two thick plaits peeked out from behind the French doors of the family room before a woman, her mother presumably, shooed her back to play with the other youngsters.

  “Glad you are here, Sienna.” Yvette had finished her prayer. She sat down in one of the plush white couches that made up her formal living room. The guests in her home all joined in sitting down with her. Chairs from her dining room, some stools from the breakfast bar, a couple of metal folding chairs from the basement, were arranged in a rough circle from the foyer to the stone fireplace in the living room. No television was on, no cell phones out; I realized that they wouldn’t know the headlines about my current situation.

  “Girl, where did you get that wooden vase from? That’s pretty.” A woman with a teeny gold afro pointed to a knickknack on the mantle, her small talk confirming my suspicions that they weren’t aware of my current situation which Roman said was being publicized on the news. If I put my bloodstained suit jacket back on, I’d get immediate attention, but I felt too frozen to think, too frozen to know what to do next. I needed to have a big talk with my little sister, but I didn’t want everybody in my business.

  “My mother brought that vase back from her cruise to the Bahamas, and I claimed it.” Yvette munched on a plate of Swedish meatballs Demari had brought to her. A plate piled high with fried chicken and collard greens sat on a tray by where he sat.

  “Thanks, baby.” Yvette smiled at him, a bashful smile.

  “Aww, that’s cute, the way he got her food for her.” Another woman, this one with long hair pinned back into a ponytail, giggled. She nudged the knee of the man next to her. He rolled his eyes.

  Everyone in the room had a plate of food on their laps or on trays; red cups full of iced tea, a slice of pound cake, or cherry pie.

  “Grab a plate, Sienna.” Yvette pointed to her dining room where the feast was spread out on a plastic blue tablecloth. “Or at least grab a seat.”

  My feet, my mouth stayed frozen, locked as I continued to stand by the front door. As all eyes stayed on me, I slithered into a velvet high-back chair by the foyer’s umbrella stand. I didn’t want the attention. I just wanted to talk to my sister.

  “Okay, so we finished with the formalities.” A man about forty years old with square black eyeglasses spoke up from the opposite corner. A Bible sat open on his lap. “Are we ready to move on to tonight’s topic? This week we’re talking about relationships. Why some work—”

  “And why most don’t,” the man sitting next to the long-haired woman interrupted.

  “Charlie!” she squealed and narrowed her eyes at him while everyone else broke into laughter.

  Yvette looked up at me between the laughs then held out her hand to silence the room. “Hold on, y’all. My sister looks confused. I need to explain to her what’s going on.”

  “Small group session,” Demari chimed in. “Pastor started this thing where we rotate houses to talk about real life, real issues. Can’t usually get this type of discussion going during Sunday services, so we meet up once a week to fellowship, debate, chitchat about life and the elements in it, in a safe place. We agree at the outset of each meeting that whatever is talked about stays in the room and that we hold each other accountable—”

  “And that we eat,” another young man interrupted, holding up his red cup for a toast.

  “Yeah, that too.” Demari chuckled. “And we focus on building real relationships that aren’t church phony or tradition driven. The Bible is our textbook as we come together to talk it out. We keep it real here.”

  “And you better believe it gets real real up in here, especially when Demari and Yvette are the hosts.” The woman with the gold afro shook her head slowly. “Your sister a trip, but she speaks the truth.”

  “I’ve been through some things,” Yvette murmured, her eyes on a distant place.

  “We pray together, eat together, laugh, and cry together. And we are all better Christians, better people, because of it.” Demari spoke again and rubbed Yvette’s back. She looked at him and they both smiled at each other.

  I nodded, gave a small smile. How do I pull Yvette aside to talk to her?

  “So tonight we are talking about relationships.” The man with the Bible in his lap spoke up again. “And I wanted to bring to everybody’s attention that the wisest man who ever walked the planet, Solomon, devoted an entire book on passion and intimacy. Solomon, the same man who wrote that there is a time for every purpose under the sun, took the time to write an entire book in the Bible about the excitement of love. That man and his bride spend time in graphic detail talking about how they can’t wait to get with each other and give very detailed descriptions about what they like about each other. That shows they spent time, energy, and effort to adore each other.”

  “The key word in what you just said is ‘bride,’” another man spoke up. “The kind of passion you talking about was only there because they were newlyweds. They’re still fresh and ignorant in their relationship. Show me the Song of Solomon part two, five years and two kids later, and I bet some of that mushiness will have cooled down. Now that’s real talk.”

  “Charlie,” the man’s wife hollered again as the room roared with laughter.

  “Let me ask you a question, Charlie.” Demari leaned forward in his seat. “When does your wife stop being your bride?” The room grew silent. Demari continued. “When do you stop being her groom? Maybe that’s the whole point of the book. I don’t know. I’m not a Bible scholar; but maybe that’s just it. I hope that’s it. Maybe a secret to keeping marriage alive is to keep seeing your woman as the bride you were lusting after on your wedding night.”

  “Ooh, you said ‘lust.’” A girl around Roman’s age spoke up from one of the breakfast stools in the foyer. She had two long braids, dyed dark red. “Are you trying to tell me that the Bible got a sex manual in it?”

  “It’s got a marriage manual in it. Sex, passion, intimacy, all those things are so important that an entire book in the Bible is dedicated to talking about it all. Like Deac said, the wisest man who ever lived wrote it and that book made it into the Good Book.”

  “I read that book, the Song of Solomon, girl.” Another woman, this one a bit older spoke up. “All those two did was talk about their time together, and when they weren’t together, they talked to others about how they wanted to spend their time together.”

  “More power to them.” Charlie shook his head. “Solomon was wise enough to know what kind of woman should take up his time. I’m just kidding, Teresa!” he added quickly as the woman next to him playfully balled up her fist and narrowed her eyes.

  “What do you like about your wife?” Demari asked Charlie who was still chuckling. “No, I’m serious. What do you like about your wife? I’m looking at the principles in the book. All Solomon did was talk about the features he liked about his bride. Maybe that’s another secret to a healthy, happy, passion-filled marriage. Telling her, telling others what it is that you love about her. Try it, man. What do you like about Teresa?

  “Keep it G-rated please,” a woman in her fifties spoke by the fireplace, her hands over her ears.

  “Speak for yourself, Sister Randy,” a woman who could have been around eighty years old directed. “I love to hear a man praise his woman and a woman praise her man. Go ahead, both of you. Share what you like about
each other.”

  Charlie and Teresa both groaned, both shook their heads, but I noticed that they turned to look each other in the eyes. No words were said, at least none that any of us understood, but at the end of their unspoken conversation, they hugged.

  “Is this how y’all church services are?” The girl with the red braids looked confused.

  “No, baby,” Sister Randy answered. “This is how we are. And we are the church.”

  “Alive and in person,” Yvette joined in. “Ain’t that right, Sienna? We’re talking the truth in here. Aren’t these the same principles you’ve shared in therapy sessions? The truth is the truth. Whether it’s coming from a preacher’s mouth or a counselor’s self-help book, the principles are still the same. Keeping passion alive. Focusing on your mate’s finer qualities. Open, honest, or otherwise naked communication.” She chuckled. “I bet Leon would agree. Where is he, anyway?”

  “You don’t know?” I couldn’t hold it in anymore, crowd or not. “Leon’s . . . in custody. He was set up to look like he did something crazy, and I think it’s because of my role in this trial. I need your help.”

  “Oh, we got this, honey. We got this.” A voice from behind me caught me off guard as the front door opened and closed. I hadn’t even seen them come in as I’d finally spilled the beans about my situation.

  Shavona and Mike Grant.

  “Your brother-in-law told us about this group meeting today when we met at the hospital. From what we just heard you say, I’m glad we came. We got your back with this one, girlfriend.” Shavona looked mad as she stormed to the dining room to put down a covered pot that smelled of garlic and basil.

  The room sprung into action as the television was flicked on, phones were brought out, new rounds of prayer began. Yvette fixed me a plate of food, threatened to spoon-feed me if I didn’t eat it, then pulled up a chair close to me and held my hand.

  “Though I have had the experience of seeing a significant other carted off to jail, I know that this situation is a little different, so I won’t say that I can fully relate.” Yvette sighed. “But this too shall pass, big sis.”

  The roller coaster in my stomach, the questions that flooded my brain hadn’t changed one bit; but knowing that I wasn’t alone in this trial did help me feel a little better. Most of the people in the room didn’t know me, but they all had stopped what they were doing to send up petitions to heaven on my and Leon’s behalf.

  Leon’s baby inside of me was kicking away; the sign of strength in those little feet gave me enough reason to keep going forward.

  Even if my other child was still refusing to enter the house.

  “Where’s Roman?” I tried to push myself up.

  “Oh, he got into a car when we were coming in,” Mike answered.

  “He was driving?”

  “No, he got in the passenger seat. I didn’t think much of it at the time, so I couldn’t tell you any other details.”

  I was so confused with my son, what he was up to, how he was getting around. I didn’t even know what questions to ask, what questions to avoid. Our relationship was too delicate to mess around asking something that would set him off or shut him up from talking to me again.

  I shut my eyes to send up a petition, but then realized that I felt too numb to pray. Good thing I was surrounded by so many others who could put my pleas into words.

  When I opened my eyes, I saw that Mike Grant was studying my face. He must have seen my despair.

  Is this all because I got involved with Sweet Violet?

  “Please don’t worry, Sienna.” Mike sat down across from me. “I will personally do all I can to make sure this gets resolved quickly. I’ll make some calls to my connections in the department. You know I got Leon’s back. I won’t let things get too out of control. Don’t worry. Everything will work out.”

  His words were meant to comfort me, and for a moment they did.

  Until he winked at me.

  The fourth time that day.

  Chapter 26

  Five Months Earlier

  “Happy birthday, wife of mine.”

  I opened my eyes and looked into the dark brown eyes of my soul’s love. Tangled in the sheets after a near sleepless night, I tried to straighten myself out and smooth my hair back down under my satin night scarf.

  Waking up forty years old for the first time brought a host of mixed emotions.

  “You should call out of work today.” Leon smiled at me from his pillow. He ran his toes over my legs under the sheets I’d just untangled.

  “Can’t call out when you are the work.” I yawned, then wished I could start over. Those were my first words uttered as a forty-year-old woman.

  “Yeah, I understand. I need to get to the bakery myself today.” He smiled as he sat up and pulled me up to him with one easy move of his arms. “But you can join me this morning for breakfast. It’s waiting on the table.” He kissed my lips, stroked my ear.

  “Wait, you’ve already been up?” I forced myself to awaken more fully and realized that the savory aroma of bacon, blueberry pancakes, and hot coffee filled my nostrils.

  “Of course I’ve been up. I had to plan your big day; that is, if you can listen to me and take off. Your clients can reschedule. They’ve done it before.”

  “Leon, thanks for breakfast.” I stood, stretched. “I don’t know if I can get all of my clients moved. Some of them have been waiting for over two months for their appointments. Ever since the news coverage last year, you know my waitlist has boomed.” I looked back at him. He still sat on the bed. “Besides, like you said, you have your business to get to.”

  “Turns out that I made arrangements. Mike is standing in for me today. He’s using his day off to make sure that I can cater to you.”

  “That’s sweet.” I bent back over the bed to kiss his lips one more time. “Thing is, even if I did cancel all my appointments, I still have to get some work done on that book. I’m surprised they’re still offering me a contract for as long as it’s taking me to figure out what to write.”

  “Take some time off today, even half the day, a couple of hours, and I will gladly sit down with you to help you develop your outline.” Leon’s eyes pleaded. “I just want to spend some time with you. I want to celebrate you today.”

  “Leon . . .”

  “Baby . . .”

  We stared at each other.

  My eyes followed the veins in his arm muscles, studied the outline of his lips. Everything about him was perfect, and this would be the first birthday I’d be celebrating as a perfect man’s wife.

  Mmmmm.

  A loud buzz vibrated through the room. My cell phone.

  “Don’t get it,” Leon whispered as I reached for it anyway. The caller ID indicated that it was Darci. She never called me this early; this could not be good.

  “Sienna,” she spoke before I even said hello. “I know it’s early, but Monifa who’s supposed to be providing morning coverage has a family emergency and there are three clients coming in starting at seven with urgent matters she was supposed to see. Can you come in a couple of hours earlier than your usual to see them? I’m not sure what else to do because Jackie and Soo Yee are booked solid too and these three clients have been waiting for appointments for over six weeks.”

  “It’s my birthday.” I kept my eyes on Leon who kept shaking his head no. “I—”

  “Oh, that’s right. I forgot it is your birthday. Happy b-day, Sienna. Let’s see, I will . . .” She paused. I heard papers flipping.

  I shut my eyes. Leon would just have to understand. I had a business to run, and, even more importantly, clients who had mental and emotional concerns that could not be ignored.

  “I’ll be in to see them,” I announced. What else could I do?

  Leon groaned and collapsed back into the tangled sheets as I hung up and proceeded to get ready for the work day.

  “I’m going to have to make my breakfast to go, honey. Thank you. Maybe we can meet for lunch. Definite
ly dinner.” I headed to the master bathroom to shower, but turned back to him just before opening the door. “Leon, I don’t know what else to do.”

  He didn’t say anything, just got up and left the room.

  “Oh my,” I whispered as I stepped into the kitchen a little while later, fully dressed and showered. Flowers, balloons, fruit, and homemade cookies filled the island, the breakfast bar, every corner, shelf, and countertop, in addition to the bacon and blueberry pancakes. A large banner was draped across the cabinets: HAPPY 40TH BIRTHDAY!

  “And this is just what I had planned for the morning.” Leon gave a weak smile.

  I can spare fifteen minutes, I thought as pangs of guilt rippled through me; but he was already piling a paper plate high with his good home cooking, grabbing foil. “Take this with you.” He licked some chocolate frosting from one of the cookies off his finger. “But promise me that you will meet up with me for lunch. The birthday girl deserves at least an hour or two off.”

  “Leon, thank you so much. I am truly touched. You are the best ever. You know I want to stay, but I don’t know what to do. I am ethically responsible for the clients at my clinic, and I’m in charge of its operation. I can’t just call out.”

  He shrugged and didn’t hide the disappointment from his eyes. “Just meet me for lunch.”

  “I promise to,” I replied, though I knew that there were no guarantees in the workday when it came to mental health and counseling.

  So of course the day was nothing but crisis interventions: suicidal patients; one client discovering that her husband had a mistress; an issue with our billing service.

  “I promised Leon that I would meet him,” I explained to Darci at a quarter to twelve. He wanted us to meet at a halfway point between our jobs at a diner in Charles Village.

  “Go ahead, Sienna. I can take care of the billing problem.” She waved me off.