Nobody’s Child (New Life Tabernacle Series Book 1) (6 page)

T
hat Sunday
, when Robin suggested Makayla join her again for dinner after the service, Makayla hesitated. However, once Robin told her where they’d be going, Makayla couldn’t get to the car fast enough.

During the drive, her head was swimming with a dozen questions and though she was sure Robin tried to hold a conversation with her at some point, she didn’t hear a word the woman said.

When they finally pulled up to the small, ranch-style house and Makayla saw the older man waiting and waving at the door, she crossed her fingers in the hopes she’d be able to string more than two intelligible words together when she stood before him.

"Daddy!"

Robin ran up the concrete path and into the arms of the man as Makayla watched.

“Olive Oyl!”

Robin squeezed him so tight, Makayla thought the man might snap in two. He looked somewhat fragile, but seemed to hold up as they held each other and rocked back and forth.

Over Robin’s shoulder, he caught sight of Makayla. "And who’s this beautiful little girl you got here?"

"This is my Makayla."

My
Makayla? Makayla felt her heart flutter at the words, but cautioned herself not to read too much into them.

"Makayla, this is my father, Emmett Jones."

My grandfather…

She’d never had one, blood related or otherwise. She'd heard other kids talk about their grandfathers when she was in school and even met one of them. But she’d never let herself imagine standing face to face with her own.

Even in a thinning, checked, button down shirt and worn brown slacks, something about him was old-school and elegant. Standing under his gaze, she suddenly felt incredibly shy.

Makayla gave a half smile and offered her hand. He took her hand and pulled her in for a hug. "Good to meet you,
my
Makayla," he said, patting her back.

Makayla had never believed in love at first sight, but if it existed, she imagined this is what it felt like.

"Well, come on in here, girl.” He stepped back and waved them in. “I got so much food back there, the three of us are gonna end up like beached whales over on that couch before the day is over."

Robin wrinkled her nose. "Classy, daddy. Real classy."

He nudged Makayla and winked. "See if it don't happen."

S
ure enough
, two hours later, all three of them were in the front room nodding off while watching TV One. At some point, they all fell asleep and by the time Makayla woke up, the sun was going down.

She sat perfectly still, watching Robin and Mr. Jones as they slept. He was in his recliner, head back, softly snoring. Robin was curled up at one end of the couch, while Makayla occupied the other.

Except for the muffled sound of the Sunday afternoon traffic on the street outside, the house was still. She couldn't help but think,
This would've been my childhood…

More often than not, Makayla felt angry. It was her normal. She carried that anger with her for years. The way some kids carried a blanket or a favorite stuffed animal. The way some adults carried a lucky coin or keepsake, she carried her discontent.

But lately, ever since finding Robin, she'd noticed the weight of it. It seemed heavier than it once was. Harder to hold onto. It had also lost its purity. It kept getting diluted with a whole assortment of other feelings.

Like at that moment.

At that moment, when she looked at Robin, it wasn't only the usual undercurrent of resentment she’d felt for years. There was also sadness. And surprisingly, longing, too. She imagined what it would be like to crawl across the couch and into Robin's arms.

What would happen if she did?

Robin might be surprised at first. But maybe she’d let her stay. Maybe she’d even hug her back.

But what if she knew who Makayla was? Would that change things?

Makayla rubbed at her eyes to stop the burning that was the start of tears. The not knowing, being in limbo, it was almost worse than the anger. Certainly more exhausting…

On the shelf above the television, there were three framed family photos. As quietly as possible, Makayla lifted herself off the couch and crept toward them. The first one was of a baby, about three months old. It had to be Robin. Makayla didn't have any pictures of herself when she was a baby. Her grandmother didn't own a camera. She wondered if that picture was what she had looked like.

The next two pictures were of Mr. Jones and a woman who Makayla guessed was his wife, her grandmother. One was more recent, judging by the clothing. The couple sat on a porch swing, looking at each other and laughing, unaware of their picture being taken. The other photo was a posed shot. Mr. Jones looking sharp in a suit and tie and Mrs. Jones decked out in her Sunday’s finest. They were a good-looking couple. Something about that made Makayla feel proud.

Just beyond the entertainment stand that held the television, was a hallway. From where she stood, Makayla could see there were more photos lining the wall. She stole a glance over her shoulder. Robin and Mr. Jones were still sleeping, so Makayla silently made her way to the hall.

She had to cover her mouth to stifle laughter when she got a good look at the first picture in the hallway. It was a scrawny Mr. Jones, at least fifty years younger and wearing a hat cocked to the side.

Well, all right then, playa
, she thought to herself, smiling.

Below it was another picture of him and Mrs. Jones. Their wedding. Seeing them both younger, Makayla could tell Robin took more after her father than her mother.

Further along the wall were pictures of Robin as she was growing up. Makayla only had one picture from her childhood. It was a faded and torn preschool photo her grandmother kept in her pocketbook. Looking at the photographs of Robin at about the same age, she could see the childhood resemblance. There was something about the eyes, maybe even the shape of their chins when they were kids…

But it was the last picture in the hallway that really grabbed her attention. It wasn't of Mr. Jones, Mrs. Jones or even Robin. She had no idea who the woman was, but she was no doubt one of the most beautiful Makayla had ever seen. The picture was old, from the forties or fifties maybe. The woman was outdoors, leaning against the hood of a car, her head tilted toward the camera.

Was she related to her? Makayla reached up to touch the face.

"Beautiful, wasn't she? My mother."

Makayla tried to play off the fact he’d nearly made her pee herself. She hadn't even heard Mr. Jones come down the hall. Fearing her voice would betray her, she only nodded.

He took the picture off the wall and dusted the glass with his sleeve. "This was the queen, right here. Ms. Caroline Ruby Jones."

“Caroline? Robin was named after her?"

He nodded. "All the girls in this family are."

Not me.

"She was stunning."

“Only got prettier, too. And I'm not just saying that because she was my mama, neither. They used to say Caroline Jones was the prettiest missionary to ever set foot in a church."

Makayla saw his eyes mist over and felt hers do the same, though she couldn't say why.

"It's cool, how you got all these pictures up and everything. My grandma had some around the house, but nothing like this."

"This?" Mr. Jones waved over the photo plastered hall wall. "This ain't nothing. Shoot. Honey got boxes and boxes of pictures stacked up in that closet. She intended on organizing ‘em all. You know, putting them in photo books. Just never had the chance. Been meaning to do it myself, but can never get that one in there to help me," he said, pointing his thumb back toward the living room.

Pictures? Of Robin and the rest of her family? Just waiting to be seen?

"Um, if you really wanted to do it, I'd be more than happy to help. If you wouldn't mind me being here, I mean…"

For a moment, Mr. Jones looked at her like she had two heads and she thought maybe she’d overstepped. But then he pointed a crooked finger at her.

"You know how long I've been trying to get her to help me with that?"

Relief washed over Makayla. "Too long?"

“You said it.”

He leaned his head back and looked at Makayla out of the side of his eye. "See, I knew I liked you the minute I laid eyes on you. In fact…” He put his hand on one of the few empty spaces on the wall and leaned back to look into the living room. Satisfied with what he saw, he turned back to Makayla and motioned for her to come in close.

"I'm gonna show you something, but you gotta promise you won’t tell Olive Oyl.”

His eyes danced with mischievous glee and Makayla felt like they were two five year olds about to get into some wonderful trouble.

“Not a word,” she promised.

He crept toward a closed door further down the hall and motioned for her to follow. Slowly turning the handle, he swung the door open quickly, to minimize the squeaking of the hinges. Still holding onto the knob, they both stood completely still, listening for any sound from Robin.

When they didn't hear any, they continued into the room and Mr. Jones turned on the light. When he did, Makayla couldn’t believe what she saw. It was like stepping back into the nineties.

There were two canopy twin beds with pink and white ruffled bedding. They, like all the other furniture in the room, were white. The skinny bookshelf by the window overflowed with books and vhs movies. On one wall was a mirror that ran the length of the dresser beneath it. Pictures of a younger Robin with her many friends were jammed into all four edges of the mirror’s frame. Makayla was about to ask what was up with the time capsule bedroom, when Mr. Jones snickered like a rascally schoolboy.

"Lookie here!" He opened the top drawer of the long white dresser. Makayla peeked inside to find a treasure trove of candy. She giggled.

"Mr. Jones, why you hiding candy in a teenage girl’s dresser?"

He straightened up, his eyes wide with indignation. "I ain’t got no other choice! Every time she come over here, she go through my kitchen drawers and cabinets like she's the DEA! My bedroom and bathroom, too! I ain’t got no privacy. Had to find a place she wouldn't look."

He stuck his hand in the pile of sweets and shuffled around before bringing up an orange-colored stick of candy.

"This here's my favorite. Called Chick-O-Sticks. But we always used to call ‘em chicken legs."

He tore the clear plastic wrapper, broke off a piece and gave it to Makayla. "Try it. It's going to be the best thing you ever had."

He watched her with great anticipation and was pleased to see her expression prove him right.

"How on the world have I never had these?" Makayla studied the wrapper and licked her lip to make sure she got every last crumb.

Mr. Jones was tickled to have finally found a partner in crime. After they finished the one they’d split, they immediately began on “chicken leg” number two. They were each down to their last bites when they heard it:

"Daddy?"

Mr. Jones’ eyes bulged. Makayla slammed the dresser drawer shut.

"Makayla?"

"Chew!" Makayla whispered to Mr. Jones, frantically looking for somewhere to dispose of the empty candy wrappers.

"I'm trying," Mr. Jones mumbled. "My dentures are messing me up!”

He reopened the dresser drawer and motioned for her to shove the wrappers inside.

Just as Robin came to the door, her father spun around so his back was all she could see.

"What in the world are y'all in here whispering about?"

With Mr. Jones facing Robin's old bookshelf, only Makayla could see how big his eyes still were. Afraid to continue chewing with Robin only feet away, his cheeks were full like a chipmunk. The sight of it and the effort it took not to laugh made Makayla's eyes water.

"We were…” Makayla cleared her throat and looked thoughtfully at the shelf. "These books."

Robin looked from Makayla to the bookshelf and back to Makayla again.

“I, uh, like them. Books, I mean. Mr. Jones told me you had books.”

Robin blinked a few times, then looked at the back of her father's head. Makayla immediately came around him and attempted to direct Robin's attention to the surface of the white dresser.

"And look at all these cassette tapes!" Makayla stole a glance at Mr. Jones, hoping her ridiculous distraction would give him some time to chew and swallow. "Wow. So many tapes… It’s like a…tape store.”

Robin narrowed her eyes at Makayla and looked to her father again.

"Daddy?" Her tone held a ring of warning that made them fear the jig was up.

Mr. Jones turned around, his hands in his pockets, his eyebrows raised. "Yes?"

Robin continued to stare at him, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Daddy, what's that on your face?"

When she started toward him for a closer look, he swiped his hand over his lips so forcefully, he look like he was trying to pop himself in the mouth. Robin stopped mid-stride and stared at him like he was crazy.

Makayla was near tears.

Robin folded her arms. "You two are up to something. Daddy, what did you do?"

Before he could answer, Makayla grabbed Robin's arm and looked at her watch.

"Oh my gosh, I need to get home. I didn’t realize how late it was. I got an early day tomorrow."

Robin raised an eyebrow and searched Makayla's face for evidence of a cover-up. She looked back at her dad and then Makayla again.

“Uh, huh. Fine, then. Let's get you home."

Makayla followed Robin, but looked back before walking through the door.

Mr. Jones wore a gleeful grin and held two thumbs up. He looked like the mouse that had fooled the cat and lived to tell about it.

Makayla made a mental note.

This
was her best Sunday yet.

“
W
hy don't
you and Mr. Jones go to the same church?"

The Jaguar navigated near empty streets and Robin and Makayla rode without music. The quiet calm of the moment gave her the courage to ask what she’d been wondering all afternoon.

"We did. A long time ago.”

Makayla waited for details, but Robin offered none. She'd only known Robin briefly, but she’d quickly learned her short, vague answers usually meant there was backstory. Makayla just had to maneuver her way into it.

"He should come back. I'd love to see him every Sunday."

Robin smiled. "Yeah, me too. But I don’t see that happening.”

"Why not? We should ask him."

Robin didn't say anything. Makayla decided she'd have to get the answer some other way. Maybe even from Mr. Jones himself.

"No,” Robin finally said, thoughtfully. “I’ve considered it before, but…” She sighed. “Well, he used to be the pastor at New Life. The founding pastor, actually. I think it would be uncomfortable for him."

Makayla's jaw dropped.

Pastor?

At New Life Tabernacle?

Robin wasn't just some church girl who got knocked up. She was a
pastor’s
kid.

Makayla did
not
see that coming.

Of course, she was eager to know more, but thought it best to tread lightly.

"Whoa. Why did he leave?"

Robin's face took on the hardness that usually came when questioned about the past. Makayla had seen it the previous week at the restaurant. First with the nosy sorority sister, then again when Trey asked about transferring schools.

"You know, just…life." Another moment passed and she added, “Some things went down that affected him deeply and—“

The shrill sound of Robin’s ringtone blared through the car speakers. She pushed the button on her steering wheel to answer.

"Hello?"

“Ms. Jones? Hi! It's Bree, from the Wallace Davis show."

The girl sounded straight-out-of-graduate-school peppy. A little too peppy.

"Yes. How are you?"

Robin's tone was polite, but Makayla got the sense this was a call she wished she'd ignored.

"I'm wonderful! Sorry to bother you so late on a Sunday, but I just can't seem to reach you during the week."

One look at Robin’s facial expression explained everything and Makayla quietly snickered.

She’s been screening your calls, lady…

“The thing is, I really need to nail down a date for your interview. I see your new book is slated for release just after the holidays and we'd like to have you on before then. You know, to generate some buzz.”

Robin took a deep breath. "As I mentioned before, Bree, I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea of doing the show—“

"Ms. Jones, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Wallace admires you. Truly. He’s said it numerous times. You're one of the few, quote unquote,
Christians
, in the public eye he doesn't think is completely full of—“

This time, Robin interrupted.

“Okay, Bree. I get the point. Thank you."

Bree giggled. "Oops! I’m so sorry!"

The way she said it gave the impression she really wasn’t.

"See? Now you
must
come. Maybe you can save my soul!" She giggled again and Makayla gave Robin a look that asked, “Who is this lady?"

"Bree, as I’ve said previously, this is something I need to think about. However, I do understand you have a schedule you need to fill, so how about I contact you by end of business Monday?"

Bree squealed with delight. "That would be fantastic! I look forward to setting up a solid date! Talk to you tomorrow!”

After she disconnected, Robin exhaled.

“She don’t give up easy, do she?“

Robin shook her head. "You have no idea. She's like a bulldog. Don’t get me wrong, I understand. She's a new producer on a nationally syndicated show and she wants to prove she has what it takes. But my goodness, she can be a bit much."

"Shouldn't she be calling one of your people for stuff like this?”

"One of my people?” Robin seemed amused. “What people are we talking about?"

"You know, like a publicist or manager or something like that?"

“I am my people,” Robin said, laughing.

"So you don't have, like, an assistant or anything?”

“Other than Trey’s mother? Nope. I did back when I first got a book deal, a whole team of folks. But I quickly learned how duplicitous some of them could be. Plus, what motivates me is not what motivates them."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if I feel like God is leading me to go speak at a small, no-name conference in the middle of the prairie, I want to be able to go without having to argue with a manager who would prefer a higher paying event or a publicist who wants me to do a high profile conference for the recognition."

“You’re saying you don’t care about any of that stuff? Money or recognition?”

“I love shopping at Neiman Marcus as much as the next girl, and being recognized has its perks, but none of that drives me. People do.” She glanced at Makayla. “Always remember that, Makayla. We use things. We love people. Never the other way around.”

Makayla looked out her window. Robin never ceased to amaze her. This wasn't the selfish, greedy hypocrite she’d expected to find when she came to Texas. So who was she?

Why would someone like her leave a newborn with a woman she hardly knew? There had to be a reason. Was it something awful? Did Makayla even want to know?

“Okay, but doesn’t more recognition mean being able to help more people?”

Robin nodded slowly. “I suppose it could.”

“And if it's up to you to do your own publicity, shouldn't you be on as many shows as possible? Seems like you’d jump at this Wallace Davis thing."

Robin slowed the Jag to stop at a red light. “If that were all there was to it, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“But…”

“Look, I can appreciate the platform he’s built, the career he’s made for himself. I just don’t like what he stands for.” The light turned green and Robin accelerated.

"What does he stand for?"

"Well, first of all, he seems to have a particular bone to pick with church folks. Pastors. Televangelists. Denominational leaders. While I'm not any of those things, I've never made a secret of what I believe. Plus, he's a shock jock. He likes to expose people. Get reactions out of them. He'll do just about anything for ratings."

"But isn't that his job?"

"I guess.”

They rode in silence for a while longer before Robin spoke again.

"I knew a man. I would even call him a friend. The interview he did with Wallace ruined his life. Well, he was on the road to doing that himself, but…”

"What happened?"

Robin shook her head. “Basically? He was doing dirt and he got found out."

"Sounds like it was his own fault then."

Robin pulled up to the curb in front of Makayla’s building, but didn’t unlock the doors.

"He was struggling with some things. I can't help but wonder if it could’ve turned out another way, had he been able to come clean on different terms."

"Well, like my grandma used to say, what's done in the dark…”

”Mmmm. Ain't that the truth…” Robin stared out the windshield, lost in her thoughts. Makayla put her hand on the door. She was about to ask Robin to unlock it when Robin spoke again.

“Sometimes people struggle and think they can't be free. Instead of seeking help, they hide, try to handle it on their own. Afraid of what others will think. And in some cases, I guess they have reason to be afraid. So many would rather humiliate than help. But that never works. Hiding, doesn’t either. The only answer is Jesus and the work He did on the cross. Yes, sometimes we make mistakes or get ourselves into trouble. Maybe we’re young and don't know any better. Or maybe we’re just stupid. But I don't think believers,
real
believers, want to make mistakes. They don’t look forward to messing up. But when they do, we need to reach out in love and pick them up, not step on them while they're down."

The distant look in Robin’s eyes made Makayla wonder whether she’d forgotten she was there. She seemed far away. Sad, even.

Was she talking from experience? Had she been young and stupid? Was leaving Makayla behind a mistake she now regretted? If so, it would change everything.

Makayla touched Robin’s wrist.

“I’m not a publicist or manager, but I think you should do the show.”

Robin leaned her head against the headrest and smiled. “You do?”

“I do. It would be good exposure. Especially with your new book coming out. Besides, what could he possibly dig up on you?"

But just as Makayla expected, Robin gave no reply.