More Than I Can Bear (14 page)

Paige just looked into Miss Nettie's eyes and shook her head. It showed; she wasn't holding up too well at all.

“Looks like you might need to lie down and rest for a spell. It ain't about entertaining folks. They here to pay their respects and that's fine, but if you don't take care of yourself, keep your body and mind right, then what good are you going to be for that little girl?” Miss Nettie nodded toward Adele, who was being removed from her little car seat bucket-style carrier by Samantha.

Mrs. Robinson looked to her daughter. “Is that what you want to do, Paige? Do you want to go get some rest? You do need to eat though, but I'm sure we can bring a plate of food to you.”

“Yes, I'd like to lie down, but I'm not hungry though.” Paige's throat was scratchy and dry.

“Nettie, can you lead Paige to the yellow guest room, please?” Mrs. Vanderdale asked. “Samantha and the rest of us will tend to Adele. She's probably about ready to go down for a nap as well.”

“Sure, Mrs. Vanderdale.” Miss Nettie took Paige by the arm. “Come on, baby.” She led her up the stairwell.

Once Paige reached the top step, she was in awe of the long hallway. Straight ahead she could see a circular veranda through a set of double French doors. She'd never been given a tour of the home, but even from the outside she could tell it was a magnificent dwelling. Right now wasn't the time to take an official tour though. She just wanted to dive into the nearest bed.

Well, Miss Nettie didn't take her to the nearest bed. They passed at least four bedrooms before Nettie finally opened the door to a room that had yellow walls and a gold-painted ceiling. A white canopy bed sat to the left with the head rails against the wall, while about fifteen to twenty feet straight across was a private veranda that could only be entered by way of that room. There was a white dresser and a white chest that matched the two white nightstands that rested on each side of the bed.

“That right there is the bathroom.” Miss Nettie pointed to one of two other doors.

“What's that room?” Paige pointed to the other door.

“Oh, that's just the closet. If you want to put on something more comfy than that dress and heels you're wearing, I'm sure there is a guest robe and slippers or something in there that will suit you.” Miss Nettie walked over to the queen-sized bed and pulled back the yellow coverlet trimmed in lace.

“Thank you, Miss Nettie,” Paige said as she kicked off her heels and sat on the bed.

“There's the remote if you feel like watching a little television.” She pointed to the nightstand where a remote control for the television rested.

“No, I just want to lie here and rest my eyes for a minute. Please let everyone know I'll be down within an hour. I just need a moment.”

“Well, you take all the time you need. I'm sure everyone understands.” Miss Nettie headed over to the door.

“Thank you, Miss Nettie.”

Miss Nettie just smiled and nodded, and went to close the door behind her.

Paige closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Miss Nettie was standing next to her with a tray of food.

“Figure I'd bring you up a bite to eat since you never came down.”

Paige sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “What do you mean? I just got up here.”

Miss Nettie chuckled. “Child, you been sleep for three hours. The house is clear. Your parents said they'd call you in the morning.”

“Where's—”

“She's sleeping sound in her nursery.” Miss Nettie responded to Paige's inquiry about baby Adele's whereabouts before Paige could even finish it.

“Her nursery?” Paige had a confused look on her face. The only nursery she knew of Adele having was at their apartment. “She's home?” Paige sat up in worry. “Who's with her?”

“Now just calm yourself down.” Miss Nettie set the tray down on the bed. “She's right in the room across the hall.”

Paige still gave Nettie a concerned look.

“Come on and take a peek. Settle your nerves so you can get some food in you.”

Paige stood up and followed Miss Nettie straight across the hall. Miss Nettie opened the door to a room half the size of the one Paige had slept in, but elegant and beautifully decorated nonetheless.

“Wow,” Paige couldn't help but exclaim once she walked into the room with a white ceiling and soft pink walls. A beautiful canopy crib draped in pink and white sheers sat in the middle of the room. There was a wooden rocking horse, and an oversized rocking chair with padding and pillows. There was a pink chest and matching toy chest. The carpet was a thick, plushy white. Paige felt as if she were walking on marshmallows. On the rear wall was a painted portrait of Norman, Adele's newborn picture, and a portrait of Paige. “How? When?” She was at a true loss for words.

“Mrs. Vanderdale had it done,” Miss Nettie told her.

“That's my Facebook profile picture,” Paige said, fascinated as she pointed to her painted portrait. “I don't understand.” She continued to look around. “They did all this knowing that Adele really isn't even their . . .”

“Isn't really their what?” Miss Nettie pressed while walking over to Paige. “Go ahead; Adele isn't even their what?”

Paige swallowed and practically choked on her words.

“Umm hmmm, 'cause you better not think of fixing your mouth to say what I think you were going to say.”

Paige felt convicted enough, but that didn't stop Miss Nettie from making her feel even worse.

“You and Norman done came up with this bright idea involving that baby. The man signed the birth certificate and everything. Wasn't your goal for Adele to be his? For Adele to be theirs? Isn't that what you wanted the family to accept? Well, missy, that's exactly what happened. So now that Norman is gone, don't you dare . . .” Miss Nettie couldn't even get her last words out, her lip was trembling so much, as well as the finger she was pointing in Paige's face.

“Miss Nettie. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”

“Never you mind.” Miss Nettie shooed her hand. “I know you probably just talking out of emotion right now, but the next time you need to take a minute to think before you speak. As a matter of fact, do yourself one better; think before you think. Think about the bed you made and have to now lie in. Good thing about it though, you've managed to make quite a comfortable bed for yourself. You got a whole family behind you who took you in, and has accepted you and your daughter as their own. Yes, Mrs. Vanderdale has her ways, and I must admit, the day Norman brought you home I was ecstatic.”

Miss Nettie clapped her hands together and smiled. “Everyone else might not have seen or even turned a blind eye to Mrs. Vanderdale's ways when it came to other folks—Black folks namely, but I knew she was a good woman. I knew she was just a product of her family curse but that God would change her heart, change her mind. God would hold up a mirror to her face and finally show her who she was.”

Paige recalled a similar statement Samantha had said when they first met. Apparently Samantha and Miss Nettie had conversed about this matter before.

“Well, when you walked through the door, I knew my prayer had been answered. Whoooo weeeeee,” Miss Nettie recollected. “Norman knew his mother was special, which was why he didn't come around much,” Nettie continued to share. “But I could see all that was about to change. A lot changed. The change is good, and you are the cause of that change. And what I won't allow to happen is for this family to take ten steps back.” She looked at Norman's portrait on the wall. “You couldn't tell that boy that baby wasn't his daughter.” She pointed to Adele sleeping in the crib. “And now you can't tell the Vanderdales that she's not theirs. So if you plan on breaking their hearts, I suggest you do it now so I can get to praying for their healing.”

“No, Miss Nettie.” Paige shook her head. “It's not like that.” And it wasn't. The thought had never come to mind that just because Norman was no longer with them that she'd go on about her life forgetting she ever married him and the reason why she'd married him. “I would never do that. It's just that . . .” She looked around the room. “I had no idea they really accepted Adele like this. I'm just . . .”

“See, that's what I don't get about some Christian folk. You pray to God and ask Him to do something for you, then when He does it you're shocked that He did it?” Miss Nettie shook her head. “Had you not truly prayed in faith?”

“I don't even want to talk about God right now and what He does. All I know is what He didn't do.” Paige headed back over to her room. She took the tray off the bed and placed it on the floor.

“You're not going to eat?” Miss Nettie, who had followed her, asked.

“I just lost my appetite,” Paige said as she got back in bed and pulled the covers over her.

Miss Nettie stared at her for a minute. “Fine, then I'll just take it back downstairs and wrap it up. It'll be in the fridge when you get ready for it.” Miss Nettie picked up the tray. “It's late and looks like the baby is down for the night. No need dragging her out and I'm sure you don't want to be apart from her. I'll just let Mrs. Vanderdale know you and li'l Miss Adele will be staying the night.” She turned to exit the room.

“Miss Nettie?” Paige said.

Miss Nettie turned and looked at Paige.

“Tell Mrs. Vanderdale I said thank you . . . for everything.”

“I'll let you tell her yourself when you get ready,” Miss Nettie said, leaving the room.

Little did Paige know, her chance to talk with Mrs. Vanderdale would come sooner than she thought.

“Oh God!” Paige grabbed her heart that felt like it was beating out of her chest. “Mrs. Vanderdale. You scared me.”

“I'm sorry, dear. It's just that I really didn't get a chance to eat earlier I was so busy talking to everyone.” Mrs. Vanderdale was leaned over a foiled pan with a fork. “When my stomach started growling louder than Norm's snoring, I knew I needed to come down and get me a bite to eat.” She chuckled, but Paige saw right through it. It was fake, a mask; she was trying to be strong.

“I can't imagine how you as a mother must feel right now,” Paige said. “I hope to never know what it feels like to lose a child. The pain I'm feeling I'm sure is tenfold for you. He lived in your womb for nine months. He was connected to you in ways he could never be connected to any other human being on this earth. And even though, as his wife, the Bible says we became one, he was born one with you.” Paige walked over to Mrs. Vanderdale. “I know all about masks, Mrs. Vanderdale. And you don't have to wear one with me. You don't have to laugh when you really want to cry. You don't have to smile when you're really pissed off. And you don't have to stand up straight and keep a straight face when you really just want to hunch over in pain.”

Mrs. Vanderdale threw her hand over her mouth to stifle the growing sob trying to roar from her throat. She began to sniffle. Her sniffle turned into a deep gasp as she placed her other hand on her stomach and knelt over in pain, a pain she was suffering due to the loss of her child. “Oh, God!” she exhaled. “My baby!” She dropped the fork and Paige raced over to her side and embraced her.

“It's okay,” Paige told her as she held the weeping mother in her arms.

“A mother is not supposed to bury her child,” Mrs. Vanderdale cried. “It's unnatural. It's inhumane even. Why would God . . .”

“I know, I know,” Paige comforted her. After a few moments, Mrs. Vanderdale collected herself and Paige looked at her in her eyes. “Now you ready?”

Mrs. Vanderdale had inquiring eyes. She had no idea what Paige was talking about.

“Are you ready to go ahead and say what you need to say to me? Go ahead. Just get it over with.”

“I . . . I don't know what you are talking about.” She turned away as if she didn't want Paige to be able to seek out the truth in her eyes.

“Mrs. Vanderdale, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Just go ahead. I'm ready for it. There is nothing you can say to me that I haven't already said to myself. So just say it so we can move on. Our relationship started out rocky to say the least. We've come this far. No need to hinder it by holding back words that need to be said.”

Mrs. Vanderdale's chest began to rise up and down. She became warm, and it had nothing to do with the random hot flashes she sometimes suffered. Although it looked as if every ounce of her being wanted to blow a fuse, she just stood there contemplating; contemplating on whether to speak now or forever hold her peace. But like Paige said, if she didn't speak now, would it really be peace she'd be holding within?

Taking a deep breath, Mrs. Vanderdale decided that speaking her piece would be the wisest decision. She thought that taking that deep breath would have allowed her words to flow free and calmly, but it didn't as she exploded. “Why did you have to text him?” she cried out. “You knew he was driving. You knew he was on his way to work. Why did you have to send that text?” she screamed. “If you hadn't sent that text, he would have never . . . he wouldn't be . . .” Mrs. Vanderdale couldn't even finish her sentence before she just burst out in tears.

Once again, Paige embraced Mrs. Vanderdale. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,” Paige cried. “I'm beating myself up over the what-ifs. There is no other way to say it. If it hadn't been for me sending him that text, Norman would be alive. He'd be alive. There would have never been a text for him to reply to. He would have just driven to work safe and sound. But I was a coward. I should have just told him a long time ago face to face that I was in love with him. No, I had to send him that text . . . while I knew he was driving.”

Now both Paige and Mrs. Vanderdale were crying and comforting one another.

“I know everybody is thinking that,” Paige said. “I'm thinking it, so I knew you were thinking it and I owe it to you to allow you to say it. It's a valid question. And it's a question that deserves an answer.” Paige pulled herself together, went and grabbed a paper towel and wiped her face. “I sent the text because I meant it. I am in love with your son. I needed him to know, for some reason, at that very moment, at that very second. I didn't even think about the fact he was driving or that he would try to text me back. Like always, I was only thinking about myself. And now my husband is . . .” Paige couldn't even say the words. She just burst out crying again.

This time Mrs. Vanderdale rushed over to comfort her. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel this way. It's just that—”

“No need to explain yourself. Like I said, what you've been thinking the past week, I've been feeling. I've been asking myself those same questions and I've been blaming myself. I have to live with this, Mrs. Vanderdale. I have to live with the fact that I'm responsible for my husband's—”

“No, I won't let you live with that burden. That's too much for any person to bear. I don't feel that way and I won't allow you to feel that way.” When Mrs. Vanderdale saw that Paige wasn't really paying her any attention, that she was heaped over crying, she stood Paige straight up and looked into her eyes. “I don't blame you for Norman's death. Yes, the question of the whole texting was on my mind, and that if you hadn't texted him he might still be alive. But we have to face it; Norman made a decision to text and drive. Norman made a decision to read a text and drive. Honey, you can't be blamed for that. And, dear, I don't blame you. Do you hear me, Paige Vanderdale? I don't blame you for my son's death. I blame you for his happiness.”

Mrs. Vanderdale's last comment made Paige's tears dry up. She looked up at her mother-in-law.

“It's true. Norman had never been as happy and content in his life as he was these last few months, and that we owe to you. Norman had never thought a woman worthy enough to bring to the Vanderdale doorstep. Norman had never shared being in like with a woman, let alone being in love.” Mrs. Vanderdale turned her back in shame. “I hate to say it, but until he called me up and told me about you, I thought the poor boy was gay.” She chuckled.

“Yeah, he told me that,” Paige confirmed.

“What?” Mrs. Vanderdale turned around in horror. “He knew that I thought that?”

Paige nodded. “Uhh, yeah. He kind of got a kick out of letting you think that.”

Mrs. Vanderdale shook her head and let another chuckle escape. “That Norman. I swear.”

“He was something else indeed,” Paige said. “God, I'm going to miss him. He's been a part of my life for so many years. Norman and I, we're the epitome of being friends before lovers. We knew almost everything about one another. We shared some of the most intimate details of our lives with one another. We would have lasted forever. I just know we would have. The circumstances under which we became husband and wife were a little unorthodox, but we were real. It was real. Our marriage was real. Our love for one another was real.” Paige shook her head as she stared off. “But now it's gone. True love was right at my fingertips and now it's gone. What am I going to do?”

“For now, you're going to stay right here . . . with us,” Mrs. Vanderdale said. “We're all going to get through this together.”

Paige was stunned by Mrs. Vanderdale's offer.

“I won't take no for an answer. I won't be able to think straight with you and Adele over at that apartment all alone. You need family right now, and that's not to take away from your own family who I know is there to love and support you. But perhaps it's time for me to be selfish right now.” Mrs. Vanderdale put her nose up in the air. “I want you here.” She grabbed Paige's hands. “I want to know everything there was to know about my son, all the things he'd told me if he and I would have had a closer relationship. I want to hear his good deeds and his mistakes. I want to know how you got him into church. And maybe I just might want you to take me to that church of yours myself. I kind of liked that Pastor Margie, although I must admit I was surprised that your pastor was white. I thought you went to a Black church.”

Paige smiled. “Church has no color. And even Jesus doesn't if you ask me. Folks can argue about what color He is until they are blue in the face. I was never one to care about what Jesus looked like; I just cared about being like Jesus, even if He was green. I wanted to be able to relate to Jesus for His deeds, not His skin tone and wooly hair. I was always more concerned with what about Jesus and His teachings was going to make me a good person versus whether He was black, white, Chinese, et cetera.

“When I was in school I had some awesome teachers, some black and some white. I could relate to what they were teaching me and how they were teaching it. Whether my geometry instructor was black or white, I got the message. I received what I needed in order to pass geometry and was able to apply it to future mathematical courses and parts of my life. But back to your original statement; yes, the majority of the congregation is African American, but the church is the body.” She pointed to Mrs. Vanderdale's heart. “That's where the real church is. That is the real temple Jesus wants to dwell in . . . not just some building.” Paige was oblivious that even in her pain and anger toward God, she was giving Mrs. Vanderdale a word.

“I get it. And I guess I'm starting to get a lot of things. From what I've been able to see through you, Norman, and even Miss Nettie over the years, this Jesus fella really can change people for the better. He really can change situations.” She looked to Paige. “You think what He does for everybody else He can do for me? You think He can give me the strength to get through the loss of my son? Because it hurts.” Mrs. Vanderdale started to cry again. “Words can't even describe. I still feel as if the true realization that my son is gone hasn't hit and that one day I'm just going to lose my mind.”

“Well I know one thing for certain and two things for sure. Jesus is a mind keeper, and all is possible through the strength of Christ Jesus. You can lean on Him.”

“Then does that mean you'll stay? And you'll take me to your church? And we'll get through this together?” Mrs. Vanderdale grabbed hold of Paige's hands and was almost begging her. “I don't want to go through this alone. I know I have my husband, but men don't always understand a woman's emotions and how we deal with things. Even with him by my side tonight in that bed, I still felt alone. And I just don't want to go through this alone.”

“And you don't have to,” Paige told her. “You have me. And more importantly, you have Jesus.” Guess this meant Paige would have to get back into God's good graces just long enough to introduce Him to someone else.

“So does that mean you'll stay? Just for a while?”

Paige thought for a minute. “I kind of don't like being in that apartment without Norman. I haven't even been in his room since having to pick out something for him to wear at his . . .” Paige nodded. “Yes, I'll stay, at least until I can find another place. I just don't think I can go back to the apartment and live.”

“Well just know you and Adele can stay here as long as you like.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. And thank you for loving and taking in my daughter as if she were your blood. That nursery . . . I had no idea.”

“I'd do it for any of my grandchildren.” She smiled.

“Well, thank you for doing it for Adele. It meant a lot and really touched my heart. Thank you, Mrs. Vanderdale.” Paige took Mrs. Vanderdale's hand into hers to let her know with her touch that she genuinely was thankful.

“Oh for Pete's sake. Cut it out with all that Mrs. Vanderdale stuff. All my friends call me by my first name. We are friends now, right?”

Paige smiled. “Right . . . Naomi. We're friends.”

“This is the last of all the boxes,” the worker said to Paige as he removed a stack of three boxes from the dolly.

“Thank you so much,” Paige said as she unpacked her things into the yellow guestroom that was now officially her bedroom in the Vanderdale home. In what was now her home. After all, she was a Vanderdale. She bore the last name.

“All the furniture and items marked for storage are all at the storage unit per your request.”

“Oh, thank you. I'll probably be needing your services in a couple weeks. A girl from church is moving and I'm donating a lot of the things to her, so I'll be in touch.”