Let Joy Arise

by Ashea S. Goldson

Genres: African American; African American Christian

Synopsis

Taylor Carter-Bryant is well on her way to entrepreneurial success with her fitness center—until an enemy from her scandalous past shows up to take her down. She's always been a tough woman with a fighting spirit, but lately she's feeling pressure from too many places at once. Taylor is not only struggling to recover from a life-altering leg injury, but she is at risk of losing the business she is passionate about at the hands of a woman scorned. As if that weren't bad enough, an old college friend comes back into her husband's life, and suddenly Taylor is at risk of losing him to an addiction she didn't even know he had. When the enemy threatens to take away all that she holds dear, Taylor is faced with a decision: submit to God's will and let Him fight her battles, or turn away from the Word. Will she survive the wrath of her enemies and be declared victorious, or will she succumb to the pressure of the flesh and go back to her former naughty ways?

Release date: July 1, 2012

Publisher: Urban Christian

Print pages: 288

Sample

I’d never been more satisfied living the life God gave me, working my fitness magic, secure in my own diva-ship, believing that after all I’d been through, things were finally looking up for me. Yet, just when things were about to really take off, misfortune ran up on me, snatched away my breath, and cut me to the core. It started chipping away at everything I’d been fighting and struggling to build in a moment’s notice, and left me wondering why. Then I remembered a scripture Mama used to say whenever there was trouble,“Then my head will be exalted above the enemies who surround me; at his tabernacle will I sacrifice with shouts of joy.” So even though the battle was on, I was prepared.

It was a peaceful spring morning at the Push It Fitness Center, the business I’d been grooming for over two years, since buying it from my former employer. The sun shone brightly through the glass windows, and I could see little white flowers blooming on the tree that stood in front of my eclectic Brooklyn building. Good old Fort Greene, I thought as a fire truck raced through the street with its blaring sirens. That was the neighborhood I’d handpicked for my fitness center. I wrapped my arms around myself at the thought that this was truly my own business. Owning this place was a dream come true for me, the only thing I’d ever wanted to do with my life, and I was just beginning to enjoy the fruits of my labor. I was feeling good about myself, feeling like a fitness queen, despite my physical limitations.

I gently cracked open the door, took a long breath of fresh air, or at least the early version of city smog, and felt content. “God is good,” I said to myself. I used my wheelchair to roll over to the rowing machine, maneuvered myself onto it, and began moving my arms and upper torso back and forth, like I did every morning, as soon as I opened. Stopping only to sip on a strawberry smoothie my husband, Keith, had made before I left home, I worked my body almost as if I’d never had the accident. That was typical too. In fact, there was nothing unusual about this morning until I saw a brand-new Range Rover park in front of the building, and then I saw her come through the front door. She entered, then turned to lock her vehicle’s doors with her remote control, as if she had forgotten to.

She had long, perfectly straight auburn-colored hair, long legs to match, and captivating bluish-green eyes. I immediately wondered if she was wearing contact lenses. Now, the fact that she was beautiful wasn’t strange, either, because beautiful people came through here all the time, except that she came in wearing an immaculate ivory pantsuit and what looked like four-inch stilettos. Now, who wore stilettos to a gym? I stared into her flawless face as she came right up to me. Something about her seemed familiar.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hello.” She smirked as she approached the rowing machine. Suddenly I remembered where I’d seen those eyes before. I swallowed my spit. It was Derek’s widow.

The memory of her visiting me in the hospital three years ago shook me, but I managed to catch hold of myself fast. Derek’s wife looked so stunning that I almost didn’t recognize her.

I didn’t know what she had done to herself, but something was different. Maybe she had received insurance money and had used it to get some kind of cosmetic surgery done or something. I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that she looked different—younger, and more self-assured. Now, I didn’t have anything against anybody coming up in the world, but a sista came in swinging an oversized genuine Louis Vuitton purse, with a brand-new Range Rover parked outside, and she had me tripping. When I first saw her, she was driving a used Toyota with a crack in the windshield, and she was carrying a dollar-store tote. What was going on here? What happened to the tacky widow who stormed into my hospital room, cursing and acting the fool almost three years ago? Had she hit the lottery and been to charm school or something?

The first thing I did was look over at my wheelchair, knowing I couldn’t even make a run for it. So even though my heart was probably beating a thousand beats per minute, I kept working out on the rowing machine, moving like I hardly noticed she was there. There was sweat running down my brow as she walked up on me. Never in a million years did I think I’d be here with this Amazon of a woman towering over me, dressed in Chanel, smelling of Ralph Lauren, and probably ready to beat me down. Believe it or not, I was ready to take my licks for what I’d done. I guess some people would call it justice, seeing as how I sho’ ’nough took everything to the streets back in the day. When I was growing up, the streets of New York City were my training ground, but now that I couldn’t fight anymore . . . well, that was another story altogether.

She leaned her shoulders forward, pursed her thick lips, and said, “Hello. I’m Elaina Dawson. D-a-w-s-o-n.”

“May I help you?” I tried to sound calm as I looked her up and down. After all, maybe she didn’t recognize me. Maybe she was on her way to work and just wanted to enroll in our gym membership.

“I’m the inspector from the New York City Department of Business Licensing,” she said.

I leaned back and glared at her. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” she said, grinning.

Neither of us blinked for a moment. It was as if we were both suspended in space and time.

Then she smiled a crooked smile. “I’m here to take a look around, to ensure that there are no violations that threaten public health or safety. The main items are ventilation, water, and layout.”

“Okay.” My heart beat faster.

“But there are other things I must check also.” Elaina looked around the room.

My heart was practically in my mouth.

Elaina sustained the eye contact. “May I see your phone?”

“It’s right over there,” I said and pointed. As nervous as I was, I was surprised that my finger did not shake.

She checked to see that it was working and asked for the business telephone number.

My thoughts returned to her visit at the hospital right after my accident. She had come to accuse me of messing around with her husband, and to blame me for his death. Like I’d forced him to guzzle down glass after glass of rum and Coke and then get his stubborn self behind the wheel. That night I feared for my life because I’d heard the horror stories about drinking and driving. Not that horror stories meant much to me at that time, because I was a bad girl—invincible—and I was proud of it.

Back then, when Elaina stepped to me, she was only a rival and not a very good one. I had used her husband like I used all men, and I didn’t care what she said or what she thought. I didn’t even care what she did. Maybe that was because I had barely regained consciousness and was half dead at the time. But I sure cared now. Reason number one for this was that since I belonged to God, I didn’t welcome drama like I used to. I had to watch the things I said and did, especially as they related to other people. Reason number two was that this lady most likely had a beef with me, and rightfully so. Worse yet, she stood on two good legs, and I had none to stand on. Reason number three was that she had a badge on, and the power to shut down my whole operation with the stroke of a pen. Now that was pressure.

“I noticed on your certificate of occupancy that you cannot have over five hundred people in this facility.”

“Is that a problem?”

Elaina never looked up from her clipboard. “No, but if you had more than five hundred members, you would be required to have an external defibrillator.”

I nodded. “Right. I remember that.”

She let out a long breath, rolled her eyes upward, and walked away from me, headed straight for the back. I hopped off my machine and into my wheelchair, then rolled off behind her. There was no way I was going to let her roam around without me. Besides, I was still holding on to the possibility that she didn’t recognize my face. I reminded myself that it was only a five-minute confrontation we had that day in the hospital, and that everyone didn’t have perfect memories. Three years ago, when I first saw her, I was bandaged and swollen, and she had eyes blurred with tears. Maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t paid so much attention to the details.

For all I knew, today I could be just a routine stop on her list of businesses to visit. To her, I could be just another client, and maybe she’d be out of my business, and my life, within minutes. But when she turned around and I was able to search her eyes, I saw that same venomous look I’d seen the last time. Maybe it was even worse, because at least the last time the look was mixed with grief, horror, and shame. But this time I knew there was no shame in this woman’s game.

I felt awkwardly light-headed as she bounced through the gym, with her hip-length weave, carefully examining everything. She took her well-manicured fingers and wiped them across every surface, exposing dust, and tested every machine. Her long legs hustled across the tiled floor with haste. I wondered if she knew my eyes were on her the whole time, trying to figure her out as she moved. She started in the exercise room, checking the cushioned surfaces, the mirrored walls, and the impact-resistant walls. She even looked up to see that there was a twelve-foot ceiling.

“Over here is the warm-up and cool-down area, free weights are over there, circuit training over here, and the cardiovascular area is over there,” I said, pointing to each section as I spoke.

She didn’t look impressed with my knowledge or organization. She winced, proceeding to go through each room, including the restrooms, the shower, the locker rooms, and the indoor pool room. By the time she had finished checking the pool room, she had written so much on her little pad that I left her in there. Then she came out, asking to see my office.

She swung the door open before sauntering over to my desk. “Is this all?”

“Yep,” I said.

Elaina scribbled on her pad. “May I see your certification in the study of the operation of AEDs and your certification in training of cardiopulmonary resuscitation?”

This woman was on a mission for sure. I pointed out both certificates to her, framed and hanging on the wall behind my desk. She examined them, and then she started writing again.

“Of course, you realize that there must be someone with this training on the premises at all times.” Elaina looked up from her pad.

“Yes, I’m aware of that. All of my employees have the same training. I require it,” I explained.

“Smart,” she said as she walked out.

Apparently, nothing was off-limits, but I was too afraid to say a word. I looked at my watch and realized that Sharon, my aerobics instructor, was late again. I wished it wasn’t so early that neither Jasmine, my personal assistant and number one employee, nor Jacque, my lifeguard, was scheduled to arrive yet. The timing was so unfair.

Finally, Elaina stopped in the middle of the weight room and put her hands on her shapely hips. “I’m done here,” she said.

I knew it didn’t look good, but still I felt hopeful. “Well, what do you think?”

Elaina smirked. “Personally, I think this place should be shut down.”

“What?”

“I mean, the place is filthy. Of your only five customer stalls in the ladies’ restroom, two toilets are out of order. Half of the machines aren’t working to proper specifications. And that pool is suspect.”

“Excuse me?” I put my finger up in the air, about to pull from the roots of my street background, but I stopped myself. “Proper specifications? Suspect?”

“One of your treadmills nearly killed me. It should be tagged if it’s not in working order, and it should be recorded in your log.” Elaina held up a pair of small running shoes.

I wondered when she had time to change into and out of those.

“I didn’t know it wasn’t working,” I said.

“Ignorance is never an excuse.” She shook her head. “Besides, there are so many hazards in the pool area, it’s a recipe for disaster. Oh, you can just read the list.” She handed me the paper.

“I . . . I mean, I’ll work on fixing everything as soon as I can,” I stammered.

“Still, it’s very dangerous in here,” Elaina said.

“How long do I have?”

“You have exactly two weeks to get it together. I’ll be back. Good luck.” She walked out the front door without even looking back.

Her Ralph Lauren perfume lingered long after she was gone.

For the first time in my entire thirty-two years, I felt small in comparison to this lady. It wasn’t just the fact that she was tall and stood up high, while I sat down in a wheelchair; it was deeper than that. It was a lowliness of spirit I felt, remembering the life I used to live and the demons I used to befriend. The thought sent a chill up my spine. And then being alone with this woman, this stranger, this potential enemy, I felt threatened, ashamed, and helpless. Lord, please give me strength.

Shortly after she left, I rolled over to the phone to check out this lady’s credentials, and as it turned out, her position as city business license inspector was legitimate. I still was not sure if she had it in for me, though. It wouldn’t matter to her that I’d changed, and why should it?

My change couldn’t bring back her dead husband or erase what I had done to her in the past.

I knew that my life had changed once again in the instant that Elaina Dawson walked through the front door of my establishment, declaring with her eyes that she was going to get me back for what I did to her if it was the last thing she did. Oh, she never actually said those words, but she huffed and puffed, and I heard them loud and clear, anyway, in her demeanor.

When Keith drove us home after picking me up, I told him what had happened with the inspection, but I didn’t tell him who the inspector was. Even though Keith knew all about my accident, and about Derek being killed, I didn’t want to remind him about the wild life I used to live. For once in my life, I was actually ashamed of it.

Keith and I had been married for only eight months, after a trying engagement period, when I made him wait to marry me because I couldn’t walk down the aisle by myself. I didn’t think it was a surprise to anyone that I was being stubborn, but it was a surprise to everyone that I was willing to risk losing him. He had come to my apartment one day and had given me an ultimatum: either I married him immediately or he was going to accept a job offer out of town. Apparently, he was tired of our illusive engagement, tired of waiting for me to get over my injury, and I didn’t blame him. I was a big mess at the time, and my pride almost let me lose Keith. Thankfully, my wise identical twin sister, Alex, convinced me to let go and let God handle my walking situation. And she was right. Truth be told, she usually was right. Now, as I looked over at my handsome husband and soul mate, I was glad I had listened to her.

Keith raised his eyebrows. “So we’ve got two weeks on the violations, huh?”

“Right,” I said, wiggling in my seat.

“That’s not much time.” Keith rubbed his chin as if he was deep in thought.

I sighed. “Not with our bank account, it isn’t.”

“We’ll have to crunch,” Keith said matter-of-factly.

“The business has never been in trouble like this before.” I shook my head. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

Keith kept one hand on the wheel and used the other to scratch his head. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure out something soon.”

We arrived at home, and Keith parked the car. Home was a twelve-story co-op, a dark brick building from the forties era nestled among other buildings with a similar structure and blocks of renovated brownstones. This was Clinton Hills, the racially diverse neighborhood that was right over the Brooklyn Bridge, was home to many young urban professionals, who preferred Brooklyn to extra-pricey Manhattan, and was the neighborhood I happily moved into when I married Keith.

The first thing I did when I got home was to strip out of my gym clothes. Every time I saw myself naked, glimpsed the scar on my right leg, noting my leg’s semi-uselessness, I was reminded of the accident. I rolled into the bathroom and used the bar to lift myself into the tub. I needed to feel the water against my skin. I needed to be purified. Thoughts came rushing back while I was under the shower. Thoughts of Derek and our last night together—drinks and dancing, skin-to-skin contact, moving bodies, flashing lights, then the sound of screeching tires and metal bending, and finally the smell of burning flesh. I remembered thinking my life was over as I was tossed upside down in the car. I blinked away the tears under the warm shower water, wishing it were as easy to wash away the memory. Humph.

When I came out, Keith was standing outside the shower stall, ready to hand me a warm towel. He always put it into the dryer for a few minutes before bringing it to me. He was that kind of man, and I loved him for it. I wrapped myself in the towel first, before I wrapped myself in his arms. The strength of his hands against the small of my back provided me with a false sense of balance, but when he let go, it was my walker that held me up, not my legs.

When I was fully dressed and ready for dinner, Keith escorted me into the kitchen and held my chair out for me. Sitting down was easier than getting up. I plopped my body down like dead weight, a less than graceful maneuver I’d learned right after I regained some feeling in my lower body.

The phone rang once, but when Keith answered it, no one said anything.

“That’s weird. Just breathing,” he said.

“Sounds like a crank call,” I said, wondering if it was for me.

Keith matter-of-factly waved his hand and sat down at the table. “Probably.”

I tried to keep my mind on my husband, but all during dinner Elaina’s words kept running through my mind. I’ll be back. Derek’s words kept running through my mind also. Come on, baby. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of riding with me just ’cause I’ve had a few drinks. I remembered my answer. No, I ain’t afraid.. . .