Be Careful What You Pray For

by Nicole S. Rouse

Genres: African American Christian; African American Women's Fiction; Christian Fiction; Christian Suspense

Synopsis

"Be careful what you pray for" is an old adage, but third grade teacher Maya Richards comes to discover that it's more than just a cliché. Maya has been with her soul mate, Kenneth Green, for more than ten years. She never doubted that he would one day ask for her hand in marriage, but on the eve of their anniversary, their relationship ends abruptly, and she finds herself alone for the first time in thirteen years. Maya turns to her family and best friend to help deal with her heartbreak, but is left to heal on her own. Her parents have discovered a love for traveling, her sister is preparing to move across the country, and her best friend is busy tending to her husband and children. Instead of seeing this time as an opportunity to get closer to God, Maya begs God to send her a new mate. Impatient and desperate, she begins a relationship with gym teacher Lloyd Bradford, despite many warning signs. As she struggles to escape a dangerous situation, Maya learns that the relationship that matters most in life is the one that she has with Christ. As Maya finds the strength to break away from Lloyd's tight reigns, will she trust God and allow Him to restore peace in her life?

Release date: November 1, 2010

Publisher: Urban Christian

Print pages: 320

Sample

Kenneth’s homemade chicken teriyaki greeted Maya as soon as she opened the door to the fifth floor apartment they shared near the art museum in Philadelphia. She closed the front door and placed her extra-large tote bag next to Kenneth’s brown Salvatore Ferragamo shoes. No matter how many times she asked Kenneth to put them on the small area rug behind the door, he never listened. A few years ago, Maya would’ve complained, but after living together for six years, she had learned to let some things go. She’d rather maintain a happy home than bicker over a misplaced pair of shoes.

Maya leaned over and moved Kenneth’s shoes onto the rug. Specks of dirt from the bottom of the shoes had settled into the light-beige carpet and she sighed. Before going to bed, she’d have to vacuum. Maya grabbed a stack of papers to grade from her bag and made her way to the living room. Although the windows were open, the tiny apartment felt stuffy. She set the papers on a small desk in the corner, and then walked to the window. Lifting the set of double windows as far as they could go, Maya pressed her forehead against the screen and peered down at the street. The Benjamin Franklin Parkway was bustling with activity. Across the street, the bright lights shimmering over the art museum made it difficult for her to see the new Cézanne billboard by the front entrance. Living near the museum had given her a deeper appreciation for the arts. On many weekends, she frequented the different exhibits and special events offered to the community and shared what she learned with her students.

Growing up in the heart of West Philadelphia, residing near the art museum was the last place Maya thought she’d live as an adult. She desired to live in the suburbs, away from the constant noise, but Kenneth wanted to be in the midst of all the city happenings. The rent for their one-bedroom apartment was steep, but over time, the location had proven to be ideal for both of them. The high rise was only blocks away from Center City—a hub for shopping, dining, entertainment, arts and culture.

Maya pressed her face against the screen, searching for a cool autumn breeze, but only hot air floated inside. The unreasonable weather mixed with the heat from the stove warmed the apartment more than she could stand. Pulling away from the window, Maya removed her lightweight sweater and draped it across the back of the chair next to her. If it were up to Maya, she’d keep the room temperature at a steady seventy degrees, but Kenneth didn’t believe the air conditioner should run in the fall. He insisted the two fifteen-dollar window fans he purchased from Wal-Mart would be sufficient until the weather changed.

When it came to money, Kenneth was a miser. The only thing he splurged on without complaining was clothes. His mentor was grooming him to become a future partner of the downtown firm where they worked, and as an up-and-coming attorney, Kenneth thought it important that he dress the part.

Kenneth wasn’t like many men his age who adored fancy cars and expensive gadgets. He’d been driving the same car for ten years—a classic black BMW 323i, with leather seats, a sunroof and a five-disc CD changer. The car was old by many standards, and despite a few scratches on the rear bumper, it looked almost brand new. Maya didn’t mind that Kenneth was so frugal. Since she’d moved in with him, he handled all of the bills and made sure they were paid on time.

Heading down the narrow hallway to the kitchen, Maya stopped briefly to look in the rectangular-shaped mirror along the wall. As she suspected, the humidity had caused her hair to swell. She’d have to wake up a half-hour earlier in the morning just to flat iron her short bob. Maya smoothed the few stray hairs sticking up on top of her head, and then wiped the perspiration from her forehead. Her stomach growled, and she rubbed it until the grumbling ceased. She couldn’t wait to eat. Tuesdays had always been her night to cook, but she was exhausted. Being a third grade teacher, she barely had ten seconds of alone time during the day. And thanks to the shortage of teachers, Maya spent her free time covering the computer lab and babysitting students on lunch duty. Adding to her daily frustration, Patrick Gregorio, the new student in her class, was trying her patience. She would’ve pushed herself to make dinner tonight, but was relieved when Kenneth offered to cook. Thoughtfulness was one of the qualities she loved most about him.

Once inside the kitchen, Maya walked past the food on the stove and straight to Kenneth. As usual, he was facing the 15-inch flat-screen television on the wall, engrossed in a baseball game and didn’t hear her come into the apartment. This was an important game. If the Phillies won, they’d be in a great position to win the World Series, and Kenneth’s law firm had promised him box seats for the next game.

With a light touch, Maya ran her fingers along his shoulder. “Oh, hey, babe,” Kenneth said and kissed her hand before setting his eyes back on the television screen. “Did you ever get a hold of Patrick’s mother?”

“No,” she said. Maya had been trying to contact Patrick’s parents, but believed he erased her messages from the answering machine before his parents could hear them. “I left a message at his father’s job this time. Hopefully, he’ll get back to me soon. I can’t take much more of that boy.” Maya could feel her pressure rising. Just the thought of Patrick angered her.

“I’m sure he will,” Kenneth said, still focused on the game. Everyone knew that Patrick Gregorio had been Maya’s source of stress for the last month. New to the school, Patrick quickly adjusted to the environment by becoming the class clown. Maya had a low tolerance for misbehavior. Teaching at Samuel B. Huey in West Philadelphia for seven years, all of the students knew how strict she could be, and Maya was applauded by many of her peers for the way in which her students behaved. At four feet eleven, five feet two in heels, Maya was often mistaken for a mature looking eighth grader. For this reason, a few students would test her, but normally that only lasted a few days. But there was something different about Patrick Gregorio. No matter how many times Maya reprimanded him, he was determined to defy her.

Maya backtracked to the stove and lifted the lid to the simmering pan of chicken. She picked up the spoon, tasted the semi-sweet mixture, and smacked her lips in approval. Maya took two plates from the cabinet and scooped a mound of rice onto each one. Along with the chicken and rice, Kenneth had steamed fresh asparagus and doctored a package of instant garlic and butter mashed potatoes. She didn’t understand why he cooked both rice and mashed potatoes, but didn’t complain. Kenneth could be sensitive when it came to a critique of his cooking.

After grabbing a couple of forks from the dish rack, Maya tucked them between her fingers. Kenneth sensed her approaching and pushed the chair across from him out with his right foot. Maya placed the plates and utensils on the table and sat in her chair, then waited for a commercial break so that Kenneth could stop watching the baseball game long enough to bless the food. As Kenneth cheered for the home team, Maya paged through the latest Nordstrom’s catalogue. Next week, she and Kenneth would be celebrating their thirteenth year as a couple. For their anniversary, Maya had decided to add a little variety to Kenneth’s wardrobe. His idea of casual was a pair of comfortable khakis and a button-down shirt. Although he wasn’t the kind of guy to change a tire or fix a leaky faucet, Maya felt he needed some jeans and sweats to lounge around in.

Before closing the catalogue, Maya looked at the watch collection. Jewelry always made a nice gift. Browsing the hisand-her matching sets, Maya wondered what Kenneth had in mind for her this year. Although she desperately wanted to make their relationship official, she’d given up on a marriage proposal and knew better than to force the issue. “I’ll propose when you least expect it,” Kenneth said the last time she asked. That was six years ago. The best Kenneth had done since then was propose they move in together. “If we can survive this,” he said the day they signed the lease, “then I know we’re meant to be together forever.”

Maya frowned. Living with Kenneth had been great, but over the past year, every time she stepped inside Monumental Baptist Church, she felt God was telling her it was time to make a change. Maya’s mother had tried to change her mind up until the hour before she moved in with Kenneth, exclaiming, “God doesn’t approve of shacking up!”

But Maya defended her decision. “We’re living in different times. Besides, Kenneth and I aren’t strangers. And we can save money to buy our dream home and have the big wedding every girl fantasizes about. Not to mention the horrendous school loans we need to pay off.” Maya was thirty years old at the time and tried to convince her mother that it was a wise thing to do. “Many couples my age are doing the same thing,” she reasoned.

Mrs. Richards had glared at Maya with a hint of a tear gathering in the corner of her eyes. In response to her daughter’s remarks, she replied, “Just promise me you won’t compromise too much for him.”

At the time, Maya didn’t understand her mother’s words. But now, as she faced another year of an unfulfilled commitment, Maya realized that she’d broken her promise. Maya would never admit it to anyone, but she wasn’t as confident as she was so many years ago that her journey with Kenneth was leading to marriage.

A commercial came on and Kenneth twirled around in his seat, his long, thin legs barely fitting underneath the table. “You blessing the food tonight?” he asked.

Maya placed the catalogue on an empty placemat. “Why don’t you do it, baby. I need to rest my voice. I’ve been talking all day.”

While Kenneth blessed the food, Maya stared at him, her stomach now grumbling nonstop. “Amen,” she said when he was finished. She couldn’t wait to dig in. “Patrick plucked rubber bands at three kids today when I wasn’t looking,” Maya said as she lifted a forkful of chicken to her mouth. “Shy, little Ciona almost cried. At lunch, the little bugger poked fun at Julian because he had a hole in his gym shoes. I told Patrick he had to stand on the wall while the other kids were playing at recess for the rest of the week.” Maya dropped her fork while she chewed. “And then—”

“Baby, baby, relax! I can see steam coming from your head,” Kenneth interrupted. “I thought we agreed not to bring work problems home. You’ll be all tense tonight if you don’t stop.”

“I know,” she said coyly. “You may need to give me a special massage.”

Kenneth pulled his eyes away from the screen and flashed a crooked smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Maya blew on an asparagus spear to cool it before putting it inside her mouth. Kenneth was right. Talking about Patrick did make her pressure rise. As she finished her meal, Maya substituted her thoughts of a troublesome student with thoughts of Kenneth’s smooth hands caressing her back.

After dinner, Maya and Kenneth moved into the living room and settled into their regular routines—Maya grading papers on one end of their leather sofa and Kenneth typing on his laptop on the other end. Maya’s favorite movie, Love Jones, was playing on BET. Films where true love ultimately wins touched a sensitive part of her heart. She watched attentively as Larenz Tate’s character ran alongside an Amtrak train, desperate to get his love interest’s attention before she left Chicago and his life for good. How romantic, Maya thought. She hoped Kenneth would go through such lengths for her if placed in the same position. Rarely did he express an intense emotion. Not even for a case he knew he was going to win. His passion and humble confidence made him an excellent child advocate, and it was his calm demeanor that caused the law firm to recognize his talent.

Kenneth hummed a Marvin Gaye tune softly as he typed. He was happy and content. And Maya should’ve been too, but tonight her heart ached. She didn’t know whether it was the movie, being overwhelmed at work, or the fact that she’d been with a man who hadn’t proposed to her after thirteen years, that caused her heart pain.

Kenneth sat his laptop on the round glass coffee table in front of him and stood up. “You want something to drink?”

Maya said no and watched him walk out of the living room. It was hard to say where all the years had gone. She just knew that too much time was already invested into Kenneth to let him go. And being single again at thirty-six was not an option she wanted to embrace.

While she waited for Kenneth to return, Maya recalled the day they met. That day was like a scene out of an old movie. They were both graduate students at Temple University, and during a break one afternoon, they were standing less than a foot away from one another in front of a lunch mobile on the corner of Broad Street and Montgomery Avenue. Kenneth had his head in a book, studying for an exam, and Maya hummed softly to an old Phyllis Hyman song that played through her earphones.

“Chicken cheese steak, mayo, no ketchup, no onions,” shouted the cook, holding up a long brown paper bag, and both Maya and Kenneth reached for it. They had ordered the exact same thing. “I think the gentleman was here first,” the cook replied and winked at Maya. “Your steak will be up in three minutes, pretty lady.”

Although Kenneth ordered first, he let Maya have the sandwich, and every school day for the next two weeks, they met at that lunch mobile at the same time, their conversations a few minutes longer each day.

Kenneth reentered the room with a glass of carrot juice in his hand. Tall and statuesque with full lips and ears that seemed detached from his head, many people joked that he could be one of President Barack Obama’s relatives. Much to her own surprise, Maya blurted, “Are you ever going to marry me?” before Kenneth could sit down.

Kenneth stood tall, wobbling a little and careful not to spill any juice on the carpet. “What just happened here?” he asked with a face full of confusion. “I’ve only been gone two minutes.”

In a slightly timid voice, Maya repeated her question. “Are you ever going to marry me?”

“Where is this coming from?” Kenneth demanded. “Did Claudia say something to you?”

Claudia Marshall was Maya’s best friend. Kenneth hadn’t been fond of Claudia since Maya’s birthday dinner blowup a few years ago. Tired of waiting for Kenneth to propose, Claudia drilled him in front of family and close friends about his intentions. Since then, every disagreement between Maya and Kenneth, whether big or small, was somehow Claudia’s fault in his eyes.

“This has nothing to do with her,” asserted Maya.

“Then what is it?” he probed.

Maya looked down at the floor. How could she explain what was going through her head when she barely understood it herself?

Kenneth put his glass next to his laptop on the coffee table. “Talk to me, Maya. What’s going on?” Maya’s lips started to tremble, and Kenneth rubbed her arm gently. “Is this about having a baby? I told you I was ready. I’m just waiting for you to stop taking the pill.”

Maya couldn’t believe her ears. She’d waited so long to hear those words, and yet the happiness she should’ve felt was replaced with sadness. In her mind, she’d rationalized living with Kenneth, but Maya knew she couldn’t justify having a child before the promise of a ring. “That’s not it,” she said quickly and wiped her eyes before tears could fall. The strength and control she exuded at work was absent in her relationship with Kenneth. With him, she became one of her third grade students, shy and vulnerable. But tonight, she forced herself to be strong. Maya got up from the sofa and grabbed a coaster from under the coffee table. “I-I’m not really sure what it is,” she said and put his glass on the coaster.

Kenneth was even more confused. “Then it must be your time of the month,” he said. “You know how emotional you can be when—”

“It’s not my period!” Maya snapped. “Do you realize that we’ve been together for thirteen years? Don’t you think it’s time for us to have this conversation?”

Kenneth’s jaw dropped. He was about to speak, but then changed his mind. Instead, he headed out of the living room, and Maya quickly followed him.

“Don’t walk away from me! We have to talk about this,” she said, trying to remain calm. The phone rang and Maya rolled her eyes. “Whoever it is can leave a message,” she said as Kenneth reached for the phone on the mantle.

“It’s your mother,” he said sarcastically, after looking at the caller ID. Kenneth took the phone off its base and handed it to Maya.

Maya rolled her eyes again. She wasn’t in the mood to talk, but knew her mother would call all night if she didn’t take the call. Quickly pulling herself together, she pressed the talk button. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, Pumpkin,” Mrs. Richards said joyfully. “Did you ask Ken if he could take Eddie to the airport tomorrow?”

Maya closed her eyes. She’d forgotten that her cousin was going to Texas for business in the morning. Although he had a number of “friends,” Eddie preferred to have family drop him off at the airport. “No,” she meekly replied. “I haven’t had a chance to ask him yet.”

“Ask him now?” Mrs. Richards commanded. “I need to know now. It’s going on ten o’clock.”

“Okay,” Maya answered with little expression.

“If he can’t, I’ll need to beg your father,” added Mrs. Richards. “You know how much he hates driving to that airport.”

Kenneth stood close to Maya, towering over her with the face of disapproval, and her heart beat faster. “I’m gonna have to call you back, Mom,” she said, her voice shaky and weak.

“Why? What’s wrong?” queried Mrs. Richards.

“Nothing. I just need to call you back.”

There was a brief pause on the line. “Are you sure? I know when something’s going on with my first born,” Mrs. Richards noted.

Maya let out a puff of air. “Mom, I’m fine. Really, I am. I was in the middle of something that I want to finish. Okay?” Mrs. Richards didn’t believe her daughter, but agreed to let her go without further interrogation.

“So that’s what this is about?” Kenneth spoke as soon as Maya hung up. “Your mother got into your head? Did she tell you to ask me about getting married?”

“It’s not what you think,” responded Maya. “She wanted to know–”

“Everybody can’t have the perfect marriage like your parents,” Kenneth remarked.

Maya slammed the cordless into its base. “Mom wanted to know if you could take Eddie to the airport tomorrow morning. And besides,” she continued, “this isn’t about my parents. I need to know if our relationship is going anywhere.”

Kenneth’s mood softened. “What kind of question is that? Of course it is, Maya. We’re getting closer every year.”

Maya stood firm, determined not to succumb to his soft eyes and sensitive touch. “Then why not marry me?” There was a long stretch of silence and tears surfaced. Maya didn’t think the question was that difficult to answer.

“I don’t want to end up like my parents and grandparents or brother and . . . need I go on?” Kenneth finally replied. “We’ve talked about this many times. You said you understood.”

“That’s a lame excuse, Ken.” Maya sobbed. “We’re not any of those people. Haven’t we proven that already?” Maya swung her arms in the air and hit her elbow on the edge of the mantle. “I’m tired of catering to your needs. What about what I want?” Maya spewed and rubbed her elbow until the pain went away. “I want a house. I want children. And I want a dog,” she cried. “I want to go on family vacations and—”

“We don’t need to be married to do those things,” Kenneth tried to argue.

“You don’t get my point. I want to do all those things with my husband,” she stressed.

“We’re practically functioning like man and wife now,” said Kenneth. “What more—”

“Then why not get me a ring to make it official?” Maya fired back.

“We don’t need rings to prove that we’re committed to one another,” he declared.

Feeling the need to present a closing argument, Maya grabbed her cheeks in frustration. “Marriage is not about a ring. It’s a public declaration of our love before people we care about,” she explained, “and especially before God. It’s a sign of our appreciation and gratitude to Him for bringing us together.”

Kenneth was stumped. Deep inside he knew Maya was right, but stubbornness ruled his heart. “God knows how I feel,” he said, and with his head held low, started to leave the room.

“I need you to make this clear to me,” she urged and grabbed his arm, “’cause I feel like we should’ve been married at least eight years ago.”

Kenneth’s nonchalant demeanor was something Maya both loved and despised. It worked in the courtroom when he was fighting for children’s rights; giving off power and confidence, but in a disagreement between them, it made her feel as if he didn’t care.

“Don’t push the issue, Maya. You’re not going to win this one.” Kenneth freed himself from her grip and stopped in front of the television on his way to the bedroom. “And you need to turn off that sappy movie. That’s what probably got you all worked up in the first place.”

“Fine,” she mumbled and plopped back on the sofa. Rather than continue the argument, she complied as usual. Maya had learned not to challenge him. With his litigating skills, he’d win every time.

On television, Love Jones was nearing the end. The main characters were kissing in the rain, thrilled that they’d found one another again. Maya turned the movie off. Continuing to grade papers, Maya tried to keep from crying.

Kenneth poked his head out of the bedroom. “What time does Eddie need to be at the airport?”

“Seven-thirty,” she sniffed.

Kenneth mumbled, “Okay,” and then shut the door.

Maya wiped her face and used her pants leg as a towel to dry her hands. God, what’s wrong with me? she whispered to herself. She hadn’t cried this much since she was a hormonal and bratty, pimpled-face teen in junior high. Maya sighed and focused on the last paper she had to grade. As luck would have it, that paper belonged to Patrick Gregorio. Grading his paper, Maya was surprised that he had answer-ed almost all of the problems correctly. Curious, she opened her grade book and looked at his test scores in other subject areas. Academically, Patrick was a good student. With the exception of a C in Language Arts and D in behavior, Patrick had a B average.

Maya needlessly dug into her tote bag to retrieve Patrick’s home number, although she practically had it memorized. It was late, but she needed to solve at least one of her problems tonight. Since it was clear that Kenneth wasn’t going to budge, Maya thought she might have more luck with Patrick’s parents. She walked to the mantle and without hesitation picked up the cordless phone. She dialed the number on the card and was glad when an adult answered.

“Hello,” a male voice said.

“Mr. Gregorio?” Maya replied, praying it was him.

“Yes, who’s this?”

“Good evening. This is Ms. Richards, Patrick’s teacher. I’m sorry for calling so late, but do you have a few minutes? I’d like to talk to you about your son.”

Maya sauntered down the hallway in her three-inch heels, confident that the students behind her were walking in a straight line. Occasionally, she’d hear a few snickers and have to turn around. Each time she did, she’d catch Patrick jumping back in the line with a feigned innocence on his face. If he we. . .