When Memories Fade:

Book 0: Victory Gospel

by Tyora Moody

Genres: African American; African American Christian; Christian Fiction

Synopsis

Angel Roberts has embraced her new faith, but past memories remain fresh. When her beloved grandmother suffers a stroke, Angel sets out to investigate a mystery that has created family tensions and lingered since she was five years old: What happened to her mother? She teams up with investigative reporter Wes Cade, a man obsessed with the remaining memories of grandfather, who is stricken with Alzheimer's. As Angel lets her guard down with Wes, his determination to get the story could push her to the edge. Is his interest in her or the story? Angel must conquer her fears to find the truth. Unbeknownst to her, someone close is working feverishly to stop Angel from unlocking the truth of what really happened to her mother. Who will win?

Release date: April 1, 2013

Publisher: Urban Christian

Print pages: 288

Sample

“We both know she’s dead.” Angel Roberts tightened her grip around the steering wheel, realizing too late she’d destroyed a beautiful evening. A harsh silence sucked the air from inside the car. After a minute, her grandmother responded softly, but firmly. “Angel, I can never give up hope.”

Angel took her eyes off the road to peer at her grandmother’s face. A warmth of shame washed over Angel as she witnessed the pain in Fredricka Roberts’s eyes. Why now? It’s my birthday.

Less than fifteen minutes ago, Angel had driven away from Victory Gospel Church, still grateful for the love shown to her. A year ago, Angel would have never imagined herself regularly attending church, and definitely not Bible study. Tonight the members of the Overcomers Women’s Ministry had presented Angel with a surprise twenty-fifth birthday celebration. Angel had loaded the remains of the almost eaten butter cream cake and birthday gifts into the backseat, not realizing her joy would be short-lived.

Angel slowed the car down as she approached the red light. All had been well until her grandmother had said, “You look so much like your mother when she was twenty-five.”

Despite confessing her faith in Christ nine months ago at Victory Gospel Church, Angel had continued to struggle with resentment. It seemed like every year, Angel’s birthday turned into more of a memorial for her mother. There was this gap between Angel and her grandmother where her mother should have been. Angel barely remembered the woman who had disappeared twenty years ago.

The question that haunted Angel the most was the same one that brought her grandmother hope. What if her mother were alive? To Angel that meant Elisa Roberts had abandoned her daughter. That night after Angel’s fifth birthday party, her mother had walked out and had never returned. Elisa had provided no clue about where she was going or whether she was going to meet someone. Just vanished. Due to foul play or on purpose. Surely, her grandmother didn’t want to hope to find a woman who had done the latter.

As she drove through the green light, Angel chided herself for getting angry with her grandmother. It was just her and Grams now. She cleared her throat. “Grams, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt out that we know my mother’s dead. We don’t really know.”

No response.

She glanced at her grandmother. Fredricka’s face was turned toward the passenger window. Not wanting to upset her grandmother any more tonight, Angel became engrossed in her own thoughts. What Angel didn’t want was for Grams to find out what she was doing. She was on a mission to find out what or who had led to her mother’s disappearance. Five years ago, she’d started working on a documentary of her mother’s life, but various circumstances led her off track and she abandoned the project. Now she was determined to complete it. Anything to bring attention to her mother’s short-lived legacy.

Her grandparents had raised her, doing their best to keep memories of her mother alive. Even though she was young, Angel remembered her mother being sad all the time. Angel was born a few months after a devastating breakup between Angel’s mother and father. It didn’t help that her mother, a protégée, had struggled to regain her footing in a once promising singing career while trying to raise Angel.

In many ways, Elisa had shown signs of either desperately wanting a new life or ending the dismal life she perceived she had. Reaching her own breaking point four years ago, Angel longed for a connection with her mother.

Angel maneuvered her grandfather’s old Buick into the driveway of the only place she called home. Her grandmother shuffled behind her as they made their way down the cobblestone walkway toward the front door. Once inside, Angel headed toward the kitchen to find a spot for the leftover cake inside the refrigerator. She had an urge to leave the cake out and eat the rest of it, but weariness invaded her body. She slammed the fridge door shut and turned around.

“Whoa, Grams.” Her grandmother had managed to sneak up behind her. Angel didn’t remember hearing her walk in the kitchen.

Her grandmother sputtered, “Angel, we should have stopped by the store on the way home.”

Angel frowned. Maybe she had agitated her grandmother too much with her outburst in the car. “I can go back out, Grams. It’s not a problem. What do you need?”

“Aspirin.” Fredricka held her hand to head. “I’m not feeling well.”

Angel placed her hand on her grandmother’s shoulder. “Why don’t you lie down? I will bring you some aspirin. I’m sure we already have a bottle.”

Angel walked across the kitchen to the cabinet where they kept a medicine supply. She searched among the orange and white labeled bottles. There were so many bottles. A lot of the labels bore her deceased grandfather’s name. She really needed to work with Grams to throw away his old medicine. Finally, Angel saw a bottle of aspirin.

“Here is the bottle.” Angel flipped the bottle in her hand to check the expiration date. A forceful thump startled her. Angel turned around. “Grams!” she cried out. She ran over and knelt beside her grandmother on the linoleum floor.

The right side of her grandmother’s face twitched. “Ang . . .”

Before Angel could stop them, tears sprang to life, blurring her vision. “Grams, hang in there. You are going to be okay.”

Angel sprinted to the phone on the wall, and with trembling fingers, she dialed 9-1-1.

Oh, God, please don’t take Grams yet.

Grateful for the interruption, Wes Cade removed Serena’s arms from around his neck and pulled himself up from the couch. What was he thinking? He crossed the room to where his suit jacket was lying across a chair. He wrestled the ringing BlackBerry out of his jacket pocket.

From behind him on the couch, Serena Manchester hissed at him. “Did you really need to answer that call?”

Wes ignored Serena, like he should have done earlier, when she requested he come inside her apartment. He glanced at his phone. Voice mail had already kicked in. The missed call was from his mother’s cell. He clicked the voice mail button and then held the phone to his ear to listen to his mother’s message.

Wanda Cade’s panic-stricken voice alarmed him. “Wes, I need you. Your grandfather . . . I can’t find him.”

He groaned. Not again. Wes Cade clicked the button on his phone to end the voice mail. His mother’s voice sounded tired and panicked at the same time. What would it take to convince his mother that Pops had grown to be too much for her? The old man’s memory had been affected for years. Some days he no longer recognized his daughter or his grandson. He turned around to his female companion for the evening. She glared at him.

“Is everything okay?” Serena sounded more like she wanted to slap him.

Wes was drawn to her steely but seductive brown eyes. “I’m sorry. You know my grandfather has Alzheimer’s. He’s missing again, so I need to go.”

Serena’s eyes softened as she rose from the couch. She slinked toward him, placing her hand on his arm. “Again? Shouldn’t you put him in a place where he’s safe?”

Wes stepped away from her and started putting his jacket on. “Believe me, I know.” He’d been fighting an uphill battle with his mother, a nurse for eighteen years, who was convinced she could handle everything. As a single mother, Wanda Cade was a strong woman, but at this rate he needed her to be around for a few more years. The woman was killing herself trying to keep up with Pops.

“I have to go.” He moved toward the door, but not before Serena placed her hand on his shoulder. Before he could protest, she squeezed in front of him, blocking his hand from reaching the doorknob on the front door.

“We need to finish this. Soon.” She reached for his neck and drew his head down toward her lips.

Knowing in his mind that he shouldn’t, he kissed her back. When she moved away, he refused to look at her. “I’ll see you in the newsroom tomorrow.”

Not until he was safe inside his Honda did he exhale. Wasn’t there a rule that said a person shouldn’t get involved with a coworker? Especially one as hot as Serena. More importantly, what had happened to him practicing celibacy? If the phone hadn’t rung, he doubted he would have stopped. This was what he got for being super busy and not honoring his commitments.

It had been a year and a half since his last relationship, and he really wanted to settle down and find the right woman. He was approaching thirty, and something in him longed for family life. At a men’s conference last year, he’d made a commitment to stop dating and remain celibate. He’d been doing great until Serena started messing with his head. There was no doubt in his mind, Serena was not a woman he wanted to get involved with, but he kept being drawn toward her.

He blew out his breath and dialed his mom’s cell number.

“Hello.”

“Mom, did you find Pops yet?”

His mother let out a deep, long sigh. “We found him. Praise the Lord! My next-door neighbor and I went looking for him. He was sitting at the park with some of his old buddies. Bless their hearts, they looked out for him. I just can’t figure out if he walked there or hitched a ride. It’s almost a mile from the house.”

“Mom, don’t you think it’s time?” Wes couldn’t picture Pops sitting in a nursing home. They both knew Pops preferred being around family. He used to be such a vibrant and fun-loving man. At least when he was sober. Despite Pops’s love for alcohol, the man was the father Wes never had.

He nudged her. “Mom, did you even look at the brochures I dropped off last week? Those nursing homes are well rated. One of the reporters at the station did a broadcast series on them not too long ago.”

“I’m still not ready.”

“What is it? Money? You know I would help you.”

“No. I’m just not—”

“Ready. I know,” Wes responded sharply. He couldn’t stand this arguing every week. “I know he’s your dad, but he’s my grandfather. You’re my mother. You got to think about you now. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how worn-out you’ve been. I can’t lose both of you.”

“Wesley Cade. I will be just fine. I just need to pray about it some more. Don’t worry about me. Okay. Look, if you get a chance, come by and see him on Sunday.”

Knowing he’d hit a nerve, Wes adjusted his tone before responding. “Sure, Mom.” He added, “I love you.”

“I love you too, son. Have a good night.”

Wes disconnected the call. He didn’t enjoy visiting with Pops these days. The man rarely remembered him. That hurt more than Wes wanted to admit.

He glanced over at the home he’d just left. What did Serena want from him, really?

Wes had heard that Serena’s vice was to get what she wanted using any tactic necessary. What bothered him more was Serena’s curiosity about Pops. If there was one thing he had in common with Serena, it was that they both loved investigating a good story. What reporter didn’t?

But there were some parts of his grandfather’s life that were a mystery even to Wes, and he wanted to protect Pops from Serena’s digging. For many years, Pops was a detective in the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Missing Persons Unit. Even as his memories were fading, Pops could remember some of the cases with a vividness at the oddest moments.

From what Wes remembered, when he was about nine years old, there was one particular case that seemed to change Pops. He drank more and grew further and further apart from both Wes and his mom. About six months ago, Wes found out from his mother that the case that had haunted Pops involved the missing daughter of an old friend, guitar legend Nick Roberts, with whom Pops had played for about ten years in a band. When Roberts died, Pops had been lucid enough to attend the funeral. Since the funeral Pops seemed more depressed, tumbling farther down the slippery slope of Alzheimer’s disease.

Why that particular case? Was it because the missing young woman hit so close to home? Wes, the grandson and investigative reporter, felt a strong need to help put his grandfather’s ailing mind at rest.

Melanie Stowe woke to darkness. As she shook the sleep away, a stale, musty odor grabbed her nostrils. The room’s temperature was uncomfortably warm, and her clothes were soaked with her sweat. What alarmed her more was the mattress against her back. This wasn’t her bed. Where was she? In a panic she sat up. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, processing strange shapes around her. This couldn’t be happening. How did she get here?

She swung her legs off the bed to the floor, where she felt wood flooring beneath her bare feet. Melanie stood and then quickly sat back down as nausea swept over her. As her dizziness subsided, she thought back to last night.

She had not wanted to leave the house. But her best friend, Lisa Sloan, had wanted to go to the Paradise Club. She could see Lisa’s pouty face. “Mel, come on. We haven’t been out in ages.” As she always did with her longtime friend, she caved.

For most of the time at the club Melanie had stood staring at her so-called friends on the dance floor. Lisa, who danced like there was no tomorrow, did come to check on her a few times. As Melanie stood there, people kept coming up to her, wanting her autograph. She had smiled and signed, but inside she’d wanted to climb back in her bed. Ever since she was a contestant on American Voices, her life had never been the same. She had auditioned for the national talent show with the hopes of becoming the singer she had always dreamed of being since she was a little girl. With each failed record company offer, her quest for stardom had faded.

Clutching her stomach, Melanie bent her body forward and whimpered. She stopped when she thought she heard a sound. Melanie shouted, “Is anyone there? Hello. Please why are you doing this?” Her voice sounded muffled in her ears. She waited, her body tense from fear, to hear the sound again. Nothing. A swift burst of pain around her right temple caused her to cry out. The tears rolled down her face and into her shirt collar as she willed the pain to stop. She had to get out of here. As she concentrated as much as she could, bits and pieces of last night flooded her mind.

She had been so tired. The only thing good about going out was the virgin strawberry daiquiri she drank. Melanie had finally gone to Lisa and told her she was ready to go. Lisa had offered to go with her, but knowing how hard it was for her friend to get a babysitter, Melanie had told her to stay and have fun. Plus, Melanie knew Lisa wouldn’t have a problem getting a ride home.

Maybe she should have stayed longer, instead of leaving the club by herself. She’d walked past the bouncer. He had smiled and nodded at her. His smile had felt like the only genuine smile all evening. At least he hadn’t stopped her to get her autograph.

Outside it was cool, a nice spring night, with a slight breeze. Normally, she would love the smell of the blossoming. Normally, she would love the smell of the blossoming cherry trees that lined the sidewalk outside the club, but she was in no mood to enjoy. It was dark in the parking lot. She liked to park near the lampposts, but they had arrived later than usual, missing all the good parking spaces. Her heels clicked on the asphalt.

Funny, before American Voices, she would never wear heels. She couldn’t walk in them. Being up on that stage, she’d sung her heart out every week in three-inch stilettos. Apparently, the experience hadn’t helped her learn how to walk very well, as she stumbled over a rock. She caught herself and looked around, waiting for the laughter. These days everyone was laughing at her or looking at her with pity.

There were conversations going on in the parking lot. She noticed a couple cuddled up near a car. Their faces were so close, she was pretty sure they were in their own world. Melanie also remembered a group of guys hanging out. Smoke wafted around them as they laughed and talked smack. At the time she had been grateful for being invisible to them.

The last thought she could remember from last night was having her car keys in her hand. There was the familiar chirp after she pressed the button on her keys to unlock the car door. But before her hand touched the door handle, she sensed a presence behind her. There was no time to turn around before her mouth was covered. She struggled and then fell into unconsciousness.

So here she sat on a strange bed, in a strange place. Melanie squinted and focused on the room. In the semidarkness now, she could make out a door, because there was a thin stream of light coming from underneath. On the other side of the room, there was a small window, but it was covered with plywood from the outside. She couldn’t tell if it was daytime or nighttime from where she sat. Her life hadn’t turned out the way she’d wanted, but she wasn’t going to die here, not like this.

She opened her mouth to yell again. “Hello. Is anyone here? Why are you doing this?” Who are you?

Angel shook herself awake, struggling to remember the day. Friday. She’d spent all Wednesday night and Thursday at the hospital, going home briefly yesterday afternoon to take a shower. As she sat up, the blanket she had had wrapped around her all night slid to the floor. She noticed the sunlight peeking from around the window blinds, casting a comforting glow across the stark hospital room. Angel turned her head and focused her drowsy eyes on Fredricka’s chest, to ensure it rose and fell. Grams was all she had.

Now, Angel was a granddaddy’s girl for sure. Despite losing his legs to diabetes, Nick Roberts never lost his spirit for life and God. He had been so proud of her the day she walked down the aisle at church to confess her faith in Christ. Grams had pushed his wheelchair toward the front of the church so he could be beside his Angel. He wouldn’t have been happy at the way she had lashed out at Grams Wednesday night.

She took a deep breath, exhaled, and lifted her head. She had gone to sleep in the chair with the television playing. She turned her attention to the television in the corner. Wes Cade was the anchorman for the morning news today. Now, there was a day brightener. Angel couldn’t remember the last time she had a crush, but Wes’s boyish good looks made her smile.

As she watched the news, footage of a young, pretty black woman appeared on the television screen. The woman appeared to be holding a microphone in her hand. She looked familiar. Curious, Angel leaned forward to hear the woman singing a rendition of “I Will Always Love You” by Whitney Houston. The young woman’s voice was hauntingly close to the popular singer’s.

Wes continued the story. “This morning’s lead story focuses on the disappearance of Melanie Stowe. Melanie, known simply as Mel to family and friends, went out with friends on Wednesday evening. Melanie left the Paradise Club before her friends but never arrived home. Some may recognize Melanie as a local celebrity here in Charlotte. She was recently a contestant on the national talent show American Voices. Even though Melanie didn’t make it as a finalist, her fan base increased each week she remained on the show. If you have any tips that could lead to Melanie’s whereabouts, please call the phone number on your screen.”

Angel sat back in her seat, thinking Melanie’s small celebrity status could help or hurt her. Oftentimes adult missing person cases weren’t given as much seriousness as child cases. Adults could come and go as they pleased. So many adult missing person cases were reported for a few days on the news and then disappeared from the media headlines. Angel prayed for Melanie’s safety. The young woman had been in the spotlight so much this year that maybe she wanted to disappear for a while.

For a brief moment, the news story strangely reminded Angel of her mother’s disappearance. Elisa could have been a superstar. Her mother’s voice would have easily blown away the competition on a show like American Voices.

Angel jumped in the chair when a chubby-cheeked nurse entered the room.

“Honey, you been here all night again? That chair can’t be comfortable. You should go home.” The nurse nodded toward Angel’s grandmother. “We can call you if anything changes.”

Angel s. . .