Someone to Love Me

by Nicole S. Rouse

Genres: African American; African American Christian; Christian Fiction

Synopsis

"What's done in the dark comes to light eventually," says the pastor of First Baptist Church in Chicago. Those words enter Jerome Thomas' spirit and release bittersweet memories of his past; memories he worked hard to suppress for the sake of his family. In the early years of his marriage to Renee, Jerome made several mistakes. He neglected his family, struggled with bouts of alcoholism, and wasted money. But the one mistake he regrets the most was cheating on his wife with Taylor. Every morning before she opens her eyes, Taylor Belle says a quick prayer for forgiveness. The guilt of the affair she had with Jerome and the lives of the people she hurt weigh heavy on her heart. Several years have passed since the affair, but there is still unfinished business between them. As life becomes more complicated, Taylor knows that she needs to settle things with Jerome before God will lift the burden on her heart. Although Jerome and Taylor now live in different states, they share a secret that could potentially destroy their families. What will happen when the actions of their last intimate encounter catch up with them? Once the truth is exposed, Jerome and Taylor are alienated by their loved ones and are forced to rely on faith and the power of God's love to repair the sins of the past. Will God mend old wounds and restore the love and peace they once knew? Or, are Jerome and Taylor destined to live in sorrow because of the shame of their past?

Release date: June 20, 2013

Publisher: Urban Christian

Print pages: 448

Sample

Joi studied the multi-colored sketches along the wall of Harry’s Tattoo Parlor. She’d been in the shop with her teammates for the last twenty minutes trying to agree on one design. There were so many to choose from. They had narrowed their choices down to ten different types of basketball images, but couldn’t decide which would look the best at the base of their backs.

In a nearby room, what sounded like the drill dentists use to fill cavities could be heard, causing a few of the girls to have second thoughts.

“Are you sure this isn’t gonna hurt?” one of the younger players asked.

Sensing the player’s fear, the captain of the team said, “It’s too late to turn back now. We made a pact.”

“And we’ll look good at the step show Friday night,” the showboat of the team added. She loved extra attention. It was her idea to get the tattoos in the first place, recommending Harry’s from personal experience.

Joi didn’t want to admit it, but she was nervous, too. The thought of a tiny needle puncturing her skin several times was unnerving, yet she wanted to show her commitment to the team.

Rayven, Joi’s best friend, pulled her away from the others. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” she hummed in Joi’s ear.

“We promised,” Joi reminded her. “If we don’t go through with it now, we could ruin our winning streak.”

“I don’t believe in jinxes, and you shouldn’t either.” Rayven glanced around the dimly lit parlor. It looked more like a poorly renovated basement than a professional establishment. Apart from the bright lights in the two rooms reserved for the artists to create their masterpieces, there were only two lamps, one with a green bulb, the other white, but with a low wattage. The waiting and receptionist area was no bigger than a cheap studio apartment. A lounge sofa bursting at the seams and a couple of beanbags were the only places for customers to sit. “Is this place even certified?” queried Rayven.

The receptionist came out of the corner room with several boxes of latex gloves in her hand. “There’s no need to be afraid,” she said as she put the boxes in a cabinet by her desk. Tattoos covered almost every inch of her body. “My brother’s been doing this for five years. Our tools are clean and sterile, and we keep them in a safe place.” She smacked hard on a stick of gum while she spoke. “We’ve only had one complaint, and that was from my mom.” She twisted her ponytail into a bun on top of her head then pointed to the long, winding, colorful snake that stretched the entire length of her arm. “I got this when I was sixteen. It’s exactly like the one on my mom’s arm. She wanted her snake to be one of a kind.” The twenty-something receptionist cracked a smile and walked into a vacant room. “So,” she said with a smirk, “who wants to go first? My brother will be down in a minute.”

The team captain stepped forward. “I think we should go with something simple. How about the flaming basketball?”

“Ahh, good choice,” the receptionist replied.

Most of the girls agreed. Rayven, however, stared at the chosen image tight-lipped. The drill in the other room shrieked louder than before, and someone yelped in pain.

Rayven shook her head and plunged on the worn sofa, crossing both her hands and feet. “Uh-uh. Nope, I can’t do this.”

“You know if we lose our winning streak, we’re gonna blame you,” another teammate said, but Rayven didn’t budge. She wasn’t moved by her teammate’s threat.

“Well, whoever is going first needs to come on. We have quite a few appointments today. You all need to be done before five,” the receptionist told them.

Everyone looked at Rayven. The agreement was for the entire team to get tattoos. Most of the team gave Rayven an evil glare; she pretended not to notice. As her best friend, it was Joi’s place to smooth the situation so Rayven wouldn’t later be the object of ridicule.

“Why are you changing your mind?” Joi asked, not the least bit as angry as the team.

“I’m not going to do it.” Rayven walked to the waiting area and sat on the long sofa.

“I’m with Ray,” the younger player stated and sat in one of the beanbags. “I’m not ready to get something so permanent. Maybe if we win the championship, I’ll reconsider.”

“See what you’ve done?” the showboat yelled, but Rayven was not fazed by the teammate’s irritation. Her mind was made up.

Gripes and moans filled the small shop, and the receptionist grew impatient.

The co-captain rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m not changing my mind. I guess I’ll go first,” she said and followed the receptionist into a back room to get prepped.

The remaining players stared at Joi, and Joi, in turn, stared at Rayven.

“I’m not changing my mind,” Rayven stressed. “My mother will kill me . . . if that needle doesn’t.” She picked up a battered copy of Essence magazine. “You go ahead without me. I won’t be mad.”

Although the two friends were different in many ways, their love for basketball had bonded them as freshmen. Joi sat behind her during tryouts, secretly admiring the natural crinkles and waves in her hair.

Taylor, Joi’s mother and self-proclaimed fashion diva, would never let her get away with hair so wild and carefree. Joi and her younger sister, Leah, had regular appointments at their cousin’s beauty parlor. Maintaining fresh perms was a must. But last summer, Joi convinced Taylor that the mixture of sweat and a chemical relaxer would eventually damage her hair. She’d been wearing various braiding styles ever since.

Joi looked at Rayven, fiddling with the twists she’d finished two nights ago. “But we agreed to do this together,” Joi reminded her.

With one hand in her hair and the other flipping the pages of the magazine, Rayven responded, “Not this time, boss. I’m sorry.”

Joi leaned on Rayven’s shoulder, pouting in an effort to sway her decision one last time.

Sometimes Joi’s persuasive tactics worked. For several months, Rayven covered for Joi when she was with Markus and fibbed about the parties they went to. But this time Joi had gone too far. A tattoo would be a permanent reminder of her disobedience.

Rayven closed the magazine. “This doesn’t feel right. You and I both know we’ll get grounded, and I don’t know about you, but I like my freedom.”

Remembering the punishment she recently received for an unacceptable progress report, Joi thought little about how her mother would react. It’s not the worst that could happen, she reasoned. “It’s just a tattoo, Ray. Please . . .”

“I don’t think any of our parents would agree. We’ll be the only team that can’t play because we’re all grounded. And I doubt this is what our parents pictured us doing on an early dismissal day.” Rayven shook her head and reopened the magazine. “No, I won’t do it, and please don’t keep pressuring me.”

Respecting Rayven’s position, Joi eased up. “Okay, I won’t push. But Mother can’t punish me forever. I’ll take my chances.”

After a long day of running around with the kids and managing Second Chance, her own consignment boutique, Taylor found comfort in the arms of Lance, her husband. At fifty years old, raising four children and managing a business was beginning to take its toll, especially now that her oldest daughter’s teenage hormones were in full blast.

Joi had been an eleventh grader for less than two months, and already she was having problems. Not to mention, she challenged Taylor’s every word and action. When Joi’s progress report came in the mail, what should’ve been a notice to confirm A’s and B’s in all subjects was instead a warning. Joi’s grades bordered C’s in most subjects, and she received one D in computer class.

Most days Taylor didn’t recognize her daughter. The sweet and innocent child she’d given birth to no longer existed. Joi had turned into a full-fledged teenager whose attitude on any given day could be intolerable.

Taylor’s own adolescence wasn’t perfect. She had been labeled “too sassy” on numerous occasions, but she grew up caring for a broken-hearted mother and defending her sporadic episodes. More often than not, her mother was in a depressive slump, leaving Taylor to be the adult of the house. Joi didn’t have the same issues. So what was her problem?

Despite Joi’s progress report, Taylor gave her permission to attend a college step show at the University of Pennsylvania. She was only allowed to go because Rayven, Joi’s best friend, had a sister who attended the school. Taylor knew the family and trusted that her daughter would be in good hands. Even still, she wouldn’t have normally made this kind of provision.

Lance had convinced her to come up with a long-term incentive plan that would reward Joi for her progress each week, in hopes that it would motivate her to do better. As Lance suggested, Taylor decided that Joi would work at her boutique after school on Friday and Saturday afternoons. If Joi’s teachers confirmed that she was doing better each week, she would be allowed to spend some Friday and Saturday evenings with friends. It was an amiable situation for both of them. Joi could use any free time to study, and Taylor could use the extra help in the store.

Taylor and Lance had been married fourteen years, and although their marriage wasn’t perfect, she could honestly say that they loved one another. Taylor couldn’t have said the same for her parents when she was Joi’s age.

Taylor eased into the small space left on the bed, careful not to interrupt her husband’s sleep too suddenly. She tried to get under the sheets without much movement.

Lance sensed her presence and pulled her close. “What took you so long?” he asked, half-asleep.

Lance and Taylor repositioned themselves, she resting in the crook of his left arm, he lying flat on his back.

“The girls weren’t waiting at the McDonald’s like I had asked them to,” she said.

Lance stretched and accidentally hit his knuckles on the headboard. “Where’d you find them?” he asked, returning his arm under Taylor’s head.

“There was no place to park, but I saw a bunch of kids headed to the dorms, so I double-parked and followed the crowd. The look on Ray’s face when she saw me was priceless.” Taylor giggled at the image. “She looked like a deer in headlights. Of course I had to follow her.”

“What were they doing?”

“Your daughter claimed she was watching some sorority girls.” Taylor lowered her head and nestled against Lance’s chest. “Rayven said the girls were stepping or singing or something. But I’m not buying it.” Taylor would’ve believed Rayven under different circumstances, but something inside of her didn’t feel right about that moment. Taylor didn’t mention it to Lance, but she saw the way the boys ogled Joi in her hip huggers and cropped denim jacket. She also noticed how much Joi appreciated the attention. At least she wasn’t showing any skin, like some of the other girls parading around campus.

“Don’t assume they were up to anything, Tay.” Lance yawned. “For a girl in high school, that kind of stuff is exciting. I’m sure that’s what they were doing.”

“You always take up for her.” Taylor turned away from him and lay on her own pillow, snickering to herself. “You should have seen them when I showed up.”

Lance grinned. “They were probably scared of what you might do. Your track record does precede you.”

Taylor lifted her head and uttered, “Raising kids isn’t exactly an easy job. I’m doing the best I can.”

“And you’re doing a wonderful job,” Lance responded, gently rubbing the tiny hairs on Taylor’s arm. “But I need you to relax just a little more. Our daughter is a good kid. She’s just being a typical teen.”

Lance’s touch soothed her. “You’re such a softie,” Taylor replied.

She closed her eyes and recited her bedtime prayers silently. Memories of her life as a sixteen-year-old weren’t so complicated. Taylor’s mother had been too busy chasing after her father to keep up with her child’s whereabouts. As a result, Taylor lost her virginity sooner than she was ready to, to a neighbor whose intimacy lasted longer than their romantic relationship. She prayed every day that God would shield her daughters from that kind of life. She hoped that Joi wouldn’t develop an itch for boys anytime soon.

“I’m gonna keep a close eye on that girl,” she blurted aloud. “And she’d better get up for work tomorrow.”

Lance kissed the back of Taylor’s head, and she placed her hand over his.

Lance was a good man and father. It was hard to believe that she had almost let him get away. When they were both drivers for SEPTA, Philadelphia’s public transportation system, Taylor had broken up with him because her heart belonged to another man. Months later, when that man walked out on her and the child she was carrying, Lance re-entered her life. They’d dated steadily for two years before Lance proposed. Although it was clear that Taylor loved Lance and that he would be a good husband and father to her infant daughter, she feared she wouldn’t be the kind of wife he deserved. It had taken her months to accept Lance’s marriage proposal.

“Before I forget,” Lance said, “Gram wants to have Thanksgiving at her house this year.”

Taylor’s eyes popped open. “But we’ve always had dinner here. What’s going on?”

Lance rubbed her arm again. “Nothing. She knows you’ve been busy with the store and—”

“Since when have I let my job interfere with the holidays?”

“You have work and the women’s conference to plan for church. When are you gonna have time to organize a large dinner?”

“I’ve been managing my time for over sixteen years. Have you forgotten that I have four children? If I don’t know anything else, I know how to manage my time,” Taylor argued.

Lance’s held his wife tighter, his tone still steady and smooth. “I really think she wants to treasure her last moments in the house.”

Taylor tried her best not to show her disapproval. Gram, Lance’s mother, was moving into a retirement community in Maryland after the New Year to be closer to her oldest daughter. Before the house could be put up for sale, Lance willingly volunteered to modernize her home by himself. There’s nothing a son won’t do for his mother.

Taylor didn’t mind Lance’s generosity. It was one of the many traits she loved about him. But she wondered how long she could let her mother-in-law borrow her husband before she started to complain. Lance spent every free moment at his mother’s house, cleaning, repairing, and remodeling, while she and Lance had been walking around misplaced furniture in their bedroom, and staring at paint swatches on the walls since June.

Taylor didn’t want to give in to her mother-in-law’s request. She’d been living by her rules since Leah was born twelve years ago. But over the years, she’d learned to choose her battles wisely. This was not a battle she wanted to try and defend.

“I’ll call her in the morning to see if there’s anything I can help with,” she simply said, avoiding a heated discussion.

Lance kissed the back of her head. “Thanks for understanding.”

Taylor stared at the Basket Beige swatch on the wall. She wasn’t sure she liked the reflection of the color at night. “Sherry saw Jerome at the SEPTA depot the other day.” Her words seemed to echo off the walls. She pinched Lance to make sure he was still awake. “Did you hear me?”

“I heard you,” he answered. “Is that why you’ve been so jumpy?”

“I’m just nervous,” she said, and her leg twitched.

Lance sat up and reached over his wife to turn off the lamp. “Jerome comes to Philly all the time. This is his hometown. He still has family here, remember?”

“I know. But what if—”

“If he chooses to contact you . . . us, then we’ll deal with it together. Now get some sleep.” Lance lay down and wrapped Taylor in his arms again. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Taylor knew he was right. “I make you crazy, don’t I?” she responded.

“I plead the fifth.”

Taylor pinched him hard. “I love you, too.”

A few minutes later, Lance’s snores filled the room. Taylor, on the other hand, was still awake. Bringing up Jerome made her restless. She stared at the professional 16 x 20 photograph hanging on the wall by the door. It was taken at a Sears studio many years ago. Tonight, the moonlight shining through the half-closed shades illuminated Joi’s face, and although Taylor had seen that picture every day, Joi looked different.

Taylor silently wept, filling her pillow with salty tears. She couldn’t explain it, but the anxious sensation that swirled around in her stomach had always been God’s way of telling her that something big was about happen.

By 5:30 P.M. Jerome still hadn’t heard from Renee. She had been on the West Coast attending a leadership conference for the last three days. The hotel she worked for had recently merged with another large chain, and as one of the executive managers and a valued employee for many years, she had been doing a lot of traveling. Jerome often joked that she was only a step away from becoming president.

Renee’s flight landed at 9:30 A.M., but she had little time to talk. From the airport, she rushed off to a meeting in Schaumburg and then to another in the Downtown hotel. If it had been Jerome, he would have cancelled the meetings and gone straight home from the airport. But not Renee. That woman would work twenty-four hours a day if she could.

Jerome didn’t know how Renee could sit in meetings every day. Meetings bored him. He preferred hands-on projects and interacting with several people throughout the day. As a supervisor of four employees in the community relations division of a professional basketball team, he did just that.

An athlete by nature, Jerome’s dreams of playing basketball were shattered when he damaged his knee in high school. Not interested in much else, after he and Renee married, Jerome toyed with many temporary jobs to help take care of his family. It wasn’t until he ended an extramarital affair and surrendered to God that he was offered a job compatible with his talents. Jerome believed the job was God’s gift for making amends with his wife.

Jerome responded to his last email for the day and logged off the computer. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a pair of long, slender legs in the doorway, legs that undeniably belonged to Melanie, his boss’s twenty-nine-year-old assistant. She’d been making frequent trips to his office in the past month, and quite frankly, it made him nervous.

“Hey, Thomas.” Melanie always addressed Jerome by his last name. “Renee back in town?” she asked and leaned against the door, the split in her mid-length skirt showing even more of her skin.

Jerome’s eyes shifted from her legs to her finely sculpted face. “What’s up, Mel?” he replied. “Yes, my baby is back. New hairdo?”

Melanie invited herself inside the office. “It is.” She rubbed the tiny curls on both sides of her head. “You’re very observant. My boyfriend thinks I’m crazy for cutting it so short, but I wanted a change. You like it?”

Melanie turned around slowly, so Jerome could get a better look. Cut low and tapered in the back, it reminded him of an old Toni Braxton style. This was a big change from the long, bouncy curls she’d previously had. The new trimmed hairdo gave her a more mature and sexier appeal. Jerome wanted to compliment her, but feared she’d place a deeper meaning to his polite gesture.

Last month she came into the office wearing a tailored, bright pink jacket. It was hard for anyone not to notice. Several people made comments, so he figured it was safe to add his own. “Pink looks good on you,” he had said. That simple statement encouraged Melanie to invite him to lunch the next day. Jerome felt bad, but he had to decline. A single lunch could send mixed messages her way, and he didn’t want to risk the drama that might occur as a result.

“It’s nice,” he said after a five-second observation. Jerome quickly opened his day planner and pretended to update his schedule. Maybe Melanie would see he was busy and leave.

“Thanks,” she said and moved closer to his desk. “Mr. Usiskin wants to see you before you go home.” Melanie leaned down and picked up a framed photograph by his computer, exposing the tattooed rose above her right breast.

Jerome turned his chair to avoid staring too hard. “Should I go now, or can I go up in a few minutes? I need to call my wife,” he said, making it clear once again that he was a married man. He didn’t like the vibe Melanie was giving off. At any other time, he’d think his 53-year-old mind was overreacting. But Melanie was an attractive woman, and the proximity in which she stood made him nervous. She could’ve easily called or sent an email to deliver Mr. Usiskin’s message.

Melanie sensed his uneasiness and smiled, backing away slightly. “I don’t think you need to hurry,” she remarked slyly. “He wants to touch bases about your Future Ballers idea. I think he really likes it.”

Jerome looked up from his planner. Future Ballers was a mentoring program he’d come up with that would target high school athletes interested in pursuing careers in sports. He had learned from experience that no matter how great a player a kid was, longevity in the field was not guaranteed. Nor was there room for every gifted player in the league. Jerome had many regrets in life, one being his lack of preparation for life beyond basketball. He had seen so many young kids in that position, their lives lost because of a broken dream. It was Jerome’s mission to help children avoid the slump he had experienced when his basketball career suddenly ended. Future Ballers would not only help aspiring athletes tighten their skills, but it would also educate them on various sports-related careers off the court. As a bonus, the participants would receive instructions from some of the local professional athletes.

Had it not been for Renee’s expertise with drafting an effective proposal, Jerome’s vision would have stayed in his head.

“Great news!” he exclaimed. “I’ll be up in about ten minutes.”

Melanie put down the picture she was holding. “Your wife’s pretty. How long have you two been married?”

“We got married right out of high school. So”—Jerome hesitated to mentally compute the years; then finished his sentence—“thirty-four years.”

“Awww,” she cooed. “That’s a long time. I don’t know if I can stand to be with one person that long.”

“You’re still young,” Jerome added and shuffled some papers on his desk. “When you meet the right person, there won’t be a question about being with him for the rest of your life.”

“We’ll see about that. My boyfriend and I have been together for two months, and I already want to kick him to the curb.” Melanie ran her index finger along the top of the picture frame. “You two look like you’re still newlyweds.”

“We are,” he answered and stood up.

Melanie walked to the east corner of the office where Jerome kept a collage of old family photos: a Father’s Day gift from his daughter-in-law. “All boys, huh?” she said. “Any grandbabies yet?”

“Actually, I have two grandsons, and one very precocious and beautiful granddaughter. She’s two,” he said, beaming with pride as he took out a picture from the wallet in his back pocket. “She’. . .