Secrets and Lies

by Rhonda McKnight

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

Synopsis

In her debut novel, Secrets and Lies, Rhonda McKnight delivers unforgettable characters and page turning drama when a couple whose troubled marriage is pushed to its limits amidst secrets, lies and an enemy set on revenge. Faith Morgan is struggling with her faith. Years of unhappiness due to poor communication and neglect leave her doubting God will ever fix her marriage. The trust in her husband, Jonah, is shattered deeply when she discovers he's kept the childhood death of his twin brother a secret. When a coworker accuses him of sexual harassment, she begins to wonder if she really knows him at all, and if it's truly in God's will for them to stay married. Pediatric cardiologist Jonah Morgan is obsessed with one thing, his work. The death of his brother has intensified his desire to heal children at any cost, even his family. When a nurse on the job blindsides him with a sexual harassment charge, Jonah finds himself at a crossroads in his life. He must decide whether he will continue to allow the memories of his brother to haunt him, or find healing and peace in a God he shut out long ago.

Release date: June 20, 2013

Publisher: Urban Christian

Print pages: 327

Sample

He’s cheating. Faith Morgan pushed the END button on the phone. Three hang ups in two hours. She tried to shake off the sense of foreboding she felt every time it happened, but she couldn’t. Her heart pounded as she walked back to the island where she’d been chopping the ingredients for her husband’s favorite meal. She looked at the piles of sausage and shrimp, the onions, and other vegetables that were next in line to be sliced and diced. She wanted to swipe everything into the trash can. Jonah didn’t deserve this hard work. Not if some woman was calling their home.

Faith’s shoulders dropped. She leaned her weight back against the counter and let her sneakered feet slide forward along the slick tile until they met the grout and stopped. She had ten years invested in this marriage. It had to last. She couldn’t march down the aisle a third time. It was so Zsa Zsa Gabor-ish. And the truth was, she loved him. She loved the way he looked, she loved the way his scent filled her nostrils when he kissed her goodbye in the morning, she loved that husky quality his voice had just before he fell asleep at night, and she loved the way he touched her—when things were good between them.

A burst of giggles erupted from the family room, and she looked up to see Elise, her four-year-old, who remained positioned in front of the television. Elise adored her father. And at the age of ten, Eric was approaching that time in his life when he’d need a man to help him sort through the man stuff. This wasn’t just about her and whether or not she loved Jonah. She was fighting for the children too.

The ringing of the phone nearly sent her heart into spasms. Not again, she thought. Faith pushed herself off the counter and took the few steps necessary to reach the receiver. She looked at the caller ID, let out the breath she’d been holding, and picked up the phone.

“Hey, girl,” she said.

“I have a taste for Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey. I’ve been craving it for three days.”

Faith’s mouth fell into an easy smile. “So have it. Get some New York Chocolate Chunk for me.”

“No no no,” Yvette Taylor shrieked. “You’re supposed to talk me out of it. Some friend you are. I need to lose five pounds to fit into the dress for the women’s banquet.”

“What you need to do is buy a new dress and stop trying to fit into things you wore in college,” Faith teased.

“Very funny, Miss Forever A Perfect Six. This is a new dress. It’s just the same size as the dresses I wore in college.” Yvette was barely able to keep the laughter out of her voice. “You’re not the only one who can maintain her girlish figure. A sistah can fight to keep the pounds down.”

A small smile parted Faith’s lips as she moved back to the island and began scooping the food she’d chopped into a large bowl. “You’ve dialed the wrong number if you’re looking for someone to tell you to watch your calories. I’m making gumbo.”

“Gumbo in May? You only start chopping and cutting up stuff when you’re stressed. What’s up?”

Faith emptied the bowl into a large pot of soup that was simmering on the stove. Then she looked to make sure Elise was still distracted by the television.

“More phone calls,” she whispered.

Yvette was silent for a moment. “Are they still not saying anything?”

“Just silence and hang-ups.”

“Did you call the phone company?”

“No.” Faith bit her bottom lip.

“Why not?” Yvette asked. “You’re torturing yourself.”

Faith let her eyes fall on the four-carat diamond that weighed down her ring finger and swallowed. “I don’t know. I’m just . . .” She took a deep breath. “Losing, I think,” she whispered. “Losing everything I have.”

“Faith, you’re trippin’. It’s probably just kids or some telemarketing company. Women don’t call wives anymore. Those heifers out there just wanna have fun, not wash some man’s drawers. I’m telling you, it’s not what you’re thinking.”

Faith wanted to believe that, but she had a bad feeling—a hair-rising-on-the-back-of-her-neck kind of feeling—that it was no prank or computer glitch in a telemarketer’s system. Jonah worked late all the time, or so he said. He could easily have another woman with the hours he kept. A wave of nausea swept over her. Just the thought of her husband with another woman made her sick.

“Faith . . .” Yvette’s voice broke through. “Don’t sit around there acting like a victim. That’s not even your style. Call the phone company and have them put a trace on the calls.”

Yvette was right. “I’ll call. I promise. First thing in the morning.”

“You have the interview in the morning. Call now.”

Faith’s eyes rolled upward. She’d forgotten about that. “I should cancel.”

Yvette didn’t say anything.

“I haven’t worked in five years. I’m just going to embarrass myself.”

“Girl, please. You have the bomb resume. You shouldn’t be afraid to step out with it.”

But Faith was afraid. She was afraid of everything. Afraid to go on the interview, afraid of how her husband would react if she found a job, and afraid someone else was stealing her man. Jesus. She had to get it together.

“Look, I’m about to get on the interstate, and I don’t have my earpiece.”

Faith nodded at the phone as if Yvette could see her. “Thanks for listening.”

“What are friends for? You listen to me complain about my money problems.”

“And food cravings,” Faith added with a smile.

“That’s right.”

“Well, girlfriend, pass on the Chunky Monkey. Nothing tastes better than that dress will look on you.”

“I know that’s right.” Yvette let out a cackle. “Later.”

Faith put the phone on the counter, picked up a large spoon, and stirred her masterpiece. That’s what Jonah had called it the last time she prepared her mother’s gumbo recipe. He loved her cooking. He loved her. At least she thought he did. But they had been fighting about everything lately—and now the phone calls. Faith felt tears welling. She clenched her teeth. Yvette was right. She had to be a woman about this. Let the phone company trace the calls. If he was cheating, she’d have to deal with it.

“Mommy, is the gumba soup almost done?” Elise had crept up and was now pulling the tail of her blouse.

Faith kept her back to her until she got her face together. Forcing a smile, she turned. Elise reminded Faith of sunshine standing there with her long auburn curls falling in ringlets around her small heart-shaped face.

“Mommy, why are you sad?”

Faith tried to mask her feelings by forcing another smile. She lowered her body so that she was almost eye level to her daughter. “Mommy’s not sad, honey.”

“You are too. Your smile is not in your eyes,” Elise said. “Are you mad at Daddy?”

Faith crossed her fingers behind her back. “No, baby. I’m not mad at Daddy.”

“Good. ‘Cause I don’t like it when you and Daddy are mad.”

Elise’s words stung. So much for hiding their problems from the children. Obviously she hadn’t done that as well as she thought. The child knew a phony smile when she saw one, and there had been plenty of those in the past few months.

“Why don’t you let me finish cooking so we can eat and go to church.”

“But I wanna help you,” Elise whined.

Faith needed Elise out of the room. She felt guilty about it, but her emotions were too raw to deal with her children right now. Besides, it was still possible that she could call the phone company today, and she didn’t want Elise to overhear.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and find your smock? I bet they’ll let you paint tonight.”

Elise was silent for a moment, obviously considering her mother’s offer.

Faith leaned over and playfully swirled her index finger around in her daughter’s bellybutton. Girlish giggles filled the kitchen as she scooped Elise up in one arm and continued to tickle her with her free hand.

“Okay, okay, Mommy.” Elise was hysterical with laughter. “I’ll go, I’ll go.”

Once Elise’s feet were planted on the floor, she scampered away, clearly satisfied to have gotten some of her mother’s attention.

Faith watched her leave the kitchen. My smile’s not in my eyes. Jonah’s draining the life out of me. She clucked her teeth, let out a long breath, and walked back to the sink. She had just begun wiping the counters when the shrill ring of the telephone froze her in her tracks.

The caller ID read UNAVAILABLE.

Faith pressed the talk button and brought it to her ear. “Hello.”

Silence.

“Why don’t you say something?”

Silence again.

“You don’t have anything better—”

“You’re stupid.” The words cut her off just before she heard the dull drone of the dial tone.

A stun gun wouldn’t have shocked her more. Her harasser had spoken, but they’d done it so quickly that she couldn’t tell if it were a man or a woman. She did hear one thing though—they’d called her stupid. That didn’t sound like a kid. That sounded like someone who thought she was being a fool.

The call to the telephone company had been quick and painless. After telling them about the frequency and nature of the calls, they set her up with a call trace feature. Because of the volume of the calls, it would only take a few weeks to record a sufficient number to get a good trace, and then she could block all phone calls with unavailable identification. They also suggested she take the information to the police and really stop whoever was doing this. Yvette was right; it was time for her to stop behaving like a victim.

“Mommy, Eric is home,” Elise shouted from the top of the stairs. Her bedroom faced the front of the house, and as usual, she bolted out of the room to announce anyone who was approaching before they could ring the bell.

Faith went to the door and opened it. She waved to the baseball coach as he pulled his van away from the curb. Eric walked up the driveway, head down and shoulders slumped.

“What’s up?” Faith closed the door once he stepped in.

“Coach says he’s moving me to right field if I don’t get better by the next game.” Eric choked out the words. “He’s going to put T.J. on first base instead of me. T.J.’s dad practices with him everyday. That’s why he’s better than me.”

Faith felt like a knife had sliced her heart. Of course. T.J.’s dad, Rashad’s dad, Ryan’s dad, Ben Wilson’s dad . . . all the dads spent time with their boys. They attended practices and games, but Jonah didn’t. Jonah Morgan said he didn’t have time.

“I don’t know. Some people are gifted to play certain sports. You know basketball is your favorite.”

“That’s not it. Coach said I would be better if I practiced.” He pounded his small fist into his baseball glove. “Do you think Dad will be at my game tomorrow?”

His eyes were searching hers. He was so desperate for her to say yes, that Jonah would come. Faith felt the knife in her heart plunge a little deeper. “I hope so, honey. I’ll ask him tonight. In the meantime, go wash up and change. We’re going to church after dinner.”

Eric looked at her like she had delivered even worse news than the coach.

“I’ll take you for ice cream afterward,” she chimed to build anticipation.

He tried not to show it, but she was sure she’d just won him over. She noted a little more pep in his step as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Ice cream did it every time.

Faith’s frustration level was rising. How many times had her son looked her in the eye and asked about his father? How many games and school activities had he had to bear the disappointment of not seeing his father amongst the attendees? Faith knew when she was growing up, fathers didn’t always attend these types of events. Cheering mothers were in residence. It was their motherly duty. But times had changed; fathers played just as big a part in children’s lives and activities as the mothers did. Today’s woman just didn’t put up with absentee fathers anymore. So why am I tolerating it?

The familiar noise from the rising garage door pulled Faith from her thoughts. It figures, he comes home early the one night she wanted to go out. As she passed through the foyer to the kitchen she stopped and yelled up the stairs, “Kids! No church! Your dad is home!” Then she hurried into the kitchen to finish cooking.

Jonah entered the house just as she pulled the chicken out of the oven. Without a word, he walked into their home office next to the family room. Ten minutes later he appeared, distracted by the mail in his hand. Faith felt his closeness even before he kissed the back of her neck.

“How’s my girl?” he asked wrapping his arms around her waist and squeezing.

“Good.” Faith quivered from his touch. “How about you?”

“Not good, but I think I smell something that’s about to make it all better.”

She closed her eyes and melted in the melodic timbre of his voice. “I wanted to do something special for you,” she said. It was a half truth. They’d fought so bitterly last night that she just wanted peace in her house, and the phone calls she’d been receiving had her thinking she’d lost him to someone else. Her mother taught her that a man with a full belly was usually a content one. She had to balance the fighting. It was her peace offering.

Jonah moved his arms from her waist and turned her to face him. He looked into her eyes for a few seconds, kissed her on both cheeks, and then the lips. Faith dropped the kitchen towel she’d been holding, wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tight. He pulled her closer to him and squeezed back. The sound of the mail hitting the floor was muffled by the beating of her heart.

Jonah pulled away from her, but just enough to give him access to her face again. He found her lips and attempted to kiss her deeply. Faith tried to give him the passion he wanted, but her body tensed when she caught sight of a glass of bourbon on the island. He couldn’t even wait until after dinner to have a drink. She was disgusted.

Jonah released her and bent over to pick up the towel and mail and placed them on the counter. When his eyes met hers again, she could see disappointment etched in his face. He planted his hands on her hips and began massaging her lower back with his fingers.

“What’s it going to take, Faith?”

She knew what he meant. What’s it going to take to get the loving back into this marriage? Her answer, which was counseling, would cause a fight, and she hadn’t peeled shrimp and chopped vegetables all afternoon for that. So instead, she changed the subject. “What was so bad at work?” she asked, stepping out of his embrace.

She could tell Jonah was put off by her dismissal of the subject. He hesitated, and then picked up the ladle on the stove, and with a finger, swiped some of the gumbo before replying.

“Cooper in the staff meeting. Whining about how many more pro-bono patients he sees.”

Glad her back was to him, Faith rolled her eyes upward. She didn’t like to talk about the problems Jonah was having with the other doctors in the practice, because usually she didn’t agree with her husband.

“You know Cooper.”

“I know I’m getting sick and tired of going through all this drama every time we have a meeting. If they’re not careful, they’ll lose me. I could probably make more money on my own anyway.” He put the ladle down and picked up his drink. “Do you know they want me to see five pro-bono patients a month? I don’t have time for that.” He took a drink and made his way to the desk in the corner of the room.

“I thought you were seeing fifty people a day. You’re never here,” she mumbled under her breath.

“What was that?” Jonah asked, tossing the mail. “Did I hear disagreement from the person who spends most of the money?”

“Oh puleeze,” Faith said as she poured glasses of lemonade. “I don’t spend all the money around here.”

“Well, somebody’s spending it.” He removed the newspaper from his chair where Faith had left it for him. “Look, are we going to eat soon or are you just going to keep dressing the table?” Residual annoyance peppered a tone that was harsher than what she saw in his eyes, but it still annoyed her that he had the nerve to rush her when he rarely came home before nine o’clock.

“Like I had any idea you would be home at a decent hour,” she mumbled again.

He was standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the foyer holding his drink, but her tone brought his eyes to hers, where they locked for a moment. Faith knew Jonah hated sarcasm, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His stoic demeanor caused her to shrink.

“How about calling the kids,” she said, backpedaling out of the contest she wouldn’t win.

He pushed the button on the intercom system, and after a beep, summoned them with a deep-toned, “Kids, come on down for dinner!” Then he took a seat at the table.

Within seconds, Elise’s footsteps pounded in the upstairs corridor. She descended the stairs at a rapid pace and made her way directly to the kitchen.

“Daddy!” She leapt into his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Jonah pushed back tendrils of hair from her face and pulled her into a tight hug. “Hey, baby girl, now that’s a greeting fit for a king.”

Faith could feel his eyes burrowing into her back.

“I didn’t hear you come home,” Elise said.

“Well, maybe I wanted to surprise you. Where’s your brother?”

“His room. He’s mad.” Elise slid from his lap.

Out of the corner of her eye, Faith saw Jonah pick up the newspaper. “What’s he angry about?” There was little interest in his voice.

“I don’t know.” Elise took her place at the table.

“His coach told him he was going to have to move him to the outfield if he doesn’t get more practice,” Faith responded as she put silverware on the table.

“More practice? Doesn’t he practice twice a week?”

“Yes. But he needs to practice on his own time to get better.”

Jonah was silent. He had resumed reading his paper.

Faith stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Jonah, are you listening to me?”

“I’m not deaf. Just hungry.” He didn’t raise his eyes to even look at her.

“No, you’re not deaf, and I didn’t ask you if you heard me. I asked you if you were listening.” She could barely contain her anger at his nonchalance.

There was silence for a moment before Elise asked, “Mommy, what’s deaf?”

Faith looked into her daughter’s eyes. She could see apprehension and hear their child’s earlier words. I don’t like it when you and Daddy are mad.

Jonah looked up from his paper. “Can we discuss this later?”

A still hush swept over the tension-filled kitchen. Once again the four-year-old tried to break the silence. “Daddy, what’s a deaf?” Her eyes moved between her parents.

She shouldn’t have used that tone. Faith felt the knife plunge deeper. At the rate she was going, she’d die from internal bleeding by the end of the night.

“Ask Mommy tomorrow when you have playtime.” Jonah looked at Elise and smiled, but dismissed her all the same as he refolded his newspaper and resumed reading.

The sound of light steps on the tile in the foyer preceded Eric’s entrance into the kitchen. He slid into his chair like he had the weight of the world still on his shoulders and cast a sullen look his father’s way.

Faith added the last of the dinner dishes and took her seat. She reached under the table and grabbed Eric’s hand. His eyes met hers and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. She felt bad about promising him a treat and decided she’d still take them for ice cream after dinner.

Unaware that she had sat down, Jonah continued to read. After a moment, Faith cleared her throat. Jonah looked up, let his eyes rest on each of them for a second, like he was doing a head count, and put his paper on the empty chair beside him. They reached for each others’ hands, and her husband began to say a well rehearsed grace.

Faith was not happy, which meant another night with no sex. This was what all married life jokes were about. Here they were, barely married ten years, and he couldn’t pay her to let him touch her. When he stepped out of the shower, he caught a glimpse of her perched on the edge of the bed. Attitude with a capital “A”. Jonah searched his memory for what he thought might be the source of her sour mood, but he couldn’t think of anything. He snatched a towel from the rack and let out a disgusted sigh. It wasn’t as if he had to do anything to rouse a funk from her these days.

As he toweled off, Jonah remembered the first time he’d laid eyes on Faith. He’d been working a shift in the emergency room when she’d come in with Eric. The five-month-old was sick, as was his mother, with worry. But even in her distraught state, Jonah was instantly taken by her beauty. Against the perfect shade of brown, she had the most finely chiseled features he’d ever seen on a sister; a thin aristocratic nose, large doe-like eyes, and a body that would get any man’s attention. He knew instinctively that if this woman smiled, the entire room would light up.

“I’m Dr. Morgan.” He extended his hand, and she took it. “What’s going on with this little guy?”

“You’re a cardiologist?” Her worried eyes cut from his name badge.

She didn’t have a hint of a southern drawl. A northerner. He hoped she wasn’t visiting Atlanta, because although he’d only been in her presence for sixty seconds, he was in love.

“I’m not here for my specialty.” He gave her a broad smile and opened the thin medical chart. “I’m filling in for a friend who’s on his honeymoon.”

She relaxed noticeably. “He’s been crying and running a high fever since yesterday.”

“Let’s take a look.” He approached the table where her son lay. “Don’t worry; we’ll get this little guy well in no time, Mrs . . .” He drew it out in a questioning tone.

“Andrews.” She hesitated for a moment before saying, “I’m recently widowed.”

Jonah thought he heard a bell ringing—ding—ding—ding, over his head. He felt bad about her husband and expressed sincere condolences, because the brother had to be young, but he also couldn’t help but think he’d hit the jackpot. She was available, or would be when she stopped grieving. From that night on, he began a carefully crafted campaign to win the former Mrs. Andrews’s heart. When he did, he wasted no time making her his wife. But time was kicking the marriage in the proverbial rear end. Happy wives didn’t suggest counseling.

Jonah took a deep breath and looked at her. She cut her eyes away from him as she positioned herself higher against the headboard. Hoping to convey the message that he wasn’t in the mood for drama, he stared at her a couple of seconds, then took the few steps between the bathroom door and his side of the bed. Angry eyes shot back at him. He wasn’t intimidating her tonight. Whatever was on her mind was coming full speed ahead within the next few moments.

Just as he was about to pull back the comforter on his side of the bed, she spoke.

“Jonah, we need to talk.”

He sighed again, loud enough to convey his frustration and asked the question he knew she wanted to hear, which would no doubt begin another night of discord. “About what?”

Faith wasted no time answering.

“You promised you would adjust your schedule so you could be home with me and the children more. You’re not doing that.” She folded her arms in front of her chest.

Jonah slid into bed, pulled the comforter up around his waist, and leaned back on his pillows and closed his eyes.

“Well?” Faith asked.

He could hear the attitude. Jonah sighed, opened his eyes, and turned his head in her direction. “Did you not note the time I got home tonight?”

“Yes, actually, I did. Six P.M., and after dinner you went into your office and didn’t come out until way after nine. So tell me how that was spending time with your family?”

“I was home.”

“Geographically, you were in the house. The kids asked you to watch a television show, and you told them you were too busy.”

Jonah knew she was right, but the first step in the art of war is to know your enemy. If he admitted it now, Faith would have him home every night watching Disney movies.

“I thought you wanted me home,” he said resting back on his pillow.

“I thought I made myself clear the last time we talked about this. I said I wanted you available.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. He wasn’t responding to that.

“We need to talk about something else,” she continued.

Faith was making him extremely uncomfortable now. Jonah moved around on his side of the bed, which was starting to feel like a coffin. He opened his eyes and looked at her again. She had uncrossed her arms, but her expression still read mad.

“Go on,” Jonah said. “What’s next on your list?”

“Eric.”

This time, he turned his back to her. He remembered the shushed conversation before dinner. Eric is mad, Elise had said.

“Is this about the baseball thing?” He couldn’t believe she was going to start this again. Maybe he could tune her out. The last thing he felt like talking about was a silly baseball game.

“The baseball thing is important to Eric. He wants to maintain his position on the team, but he needs more practice. He needs you to throw the ball to him.”

“It’s the new millennium, Faith. Baseball is a coed sport. If you think it’s so important, why don’t you throw him the ball?”

He heard an exasperated sigh before she said, “All the other fathers on the team work with their kids and attend the games. Besides, you need to do something with him.”

He opened his eyes and careened his neck in her direction. “Is this about baseball or me needing to share an activity with Eric?”

“Why can’t it be about both?”

There she was, trying to tell him what to do again. This time he sat up. “I don’t like bas. . .