Made Of Honor Part 11

Like now.

For once, I didn't have an appet.i.te, not even for the wings Mama used to shove in her purse like a crazy woman. Right now, even the tastiest wing couldn't compel me to chew. There's a first for everything.

"Dana." Roch.e.l.le's voice was quiet as her friend guided his food-laden plate to the table. She spoke just above a whisper. "Would you come to the bathroom with me?" She paused when I didn't respond. "Please?"

I nodded, but moved cautiously, scrolling my chair along the carpet as I pulled it back. Maybe I should have eaten something.

"Come on," Roch.e.l.le whispered into my shoulder, tugging my hand.

My eyes rested on the sundae bar. Adrian stood patiently in line, flashing that aggravating smile. Jericho stood behind him, holding a small bowl like it was glued to his hand. Roch.e.l.le was right. I had to deal with her now-there were too many other folks waiting in line to mess with me.

The bathroom was a typical buffet restaurant sort, reeking of Pine-Sol, a trick I now employed in Tracey's absence to fool myself and any visitors. It was nice to smell something, I guess. I'd certainly never sniffed today coming. Tracey pregnant? Jordan back. And whatever this was with Roch.e.l.le.

Best to get it over with. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

Roch.e.l.le checked her lipstick in the mirror. It was actually smudged. A piece of skin hung off her bottom lip. Amazing. "You start."

Me start? I didn't call me in here. "I don't know where to start, Roch.e.l.le. It's all a mess to me."

"You've got that much right. Let's begin with you getting up and chasing my son out of the church for one thing. That wasn't your place. I know you're his aunt, but this is a family matter-"

"Oh, I see. And just who is Jericho's family? Jordan, who has just met the boy? Or you, who've spent your whole life with him, but still don't know him?"

"Don't know my son? I know him better than he knows himself." She clutched at the lime-and-purple scarf around her neck. I wanted to choke her with it.

Lord, help me.

"You've held that child for ransom, hoping that Jordan would come back and want him. Want you. Now it's all blown up in your face and you're mad because I wanted to comfort Jericho? I didn't see you doing anything-"

"I was ministering-" She rolled her eyes.

A snort rattled in my throat. "Ministering, huh? Well so was I. Sometimes the most powerful ministry is to your own. Now are you done? 'Cause I've got some discussion items, too."

Roch.e.l.le frowned. "Wh-what?"

Obviously, this hadn't gone down the way she planned. Usually, I sat quietly while she put me in check, allowing her to bleed. Well, today I had a gusher of my own. "Let's see...Jordan sending you money? You lying to me about it?"

She hung her head. "I never told you where I got it. I wanted to, but your mother asked me not to...and when she died, I didn't know what to say. I am so sorry-"

"You should be. You and Mama both made Jordan into a monster. Now I find out he paid for my home? For your shop?"

"And yours, too."

My muscles tensed. I tucked a braid behind my ear. My pantyhose slid over my calves and settled into two black silky pools just above my shoes.

She shook her head, going back into mother mode. "So that's why you were walking like that?" She kneeled down and tugged at one of my pumps, pausing to express concern over the bad fit. "Step out."

I lifted one foot from my shoe while she pulled off my hose, and then the other, careful to be sure my feet never hit the less-than-clean floor. Goose b.u.mps pimpled my legs, but I was glad to be free. That Shemika was right. I'd have to soak for sure.

Roch.e.l.le stared at the tag before tossing them into the trash. "Size B?" She paused, then nodded toward the door, and the man on the other side of it. "You can be so ridiculous."

My thoughts snapped to the human disposal back at our table. "I can be ridiculous? What about the Purple People Eater out there? Those pants should be banned from public wear."

She stifled a chuckle. "Don't, okay? I know he's a little different, but he's nice. Really. And right now I just need someone to be nice to me."

There it was, the bottom of the bucket, what this talk was really about. "I'm sorry Jordan pulled that stunt today. I know how you must feel."

"You can't know." Roch.e.l.le stared at the floor, drawing my eyes to black-and-white tiles.

My heart skipped a beat. Anger shrilled in Roch.e.l.le's voice, but jealousy echoed just underneath it, mixed with something else. Love? No wonder she'd stayed in the choir stand. My brother had humiliated her all over again. I swallowed. "I hate to ask this, but do you still have feelings for Jordan? Now, I mean?"

Her head snapped my way, but she didn't answer.

I didn't need her to. She loved him. While Mama had stirred a daily brew of resentment for us girls to drink, Roch.e.l.le had managed to hold on to her love? "How could you?"

It wasn't what I meant to say. I meant to speak of grace and forgiveness. To tell her I loved her, that I understood...But my inner madness reared its head. It was okay for me to love my brother, but Roch.e.l.le loving him seemed another slap in the face. Another betrayal.

"This is not about you, Dane. It's about us."

Us? Where was "us" when the diapers had to be changed and the bottles warmed? Where was us when I stayed up all night with Jericho and went to school all day? "It's about me, too." What "us" was she talking about anyway? The guy had shown up this morning with another woman and she didn't look like a friend.

"Just stay out of it, okay? The last of the money went to helping you with your shop. I invested some, used some for design school and to start the shoe shop."

"I'll bet. I can't even afford an ankle strap in that place. I love how that Italian leather smells though...."

"Oh, Dana. You know I'll make you a pair whenever. I just hate making them and then you never wear them. It's a waste."

"I don't wear them because you make them for you, not me." Sort of like my life. Save her favorite lime strappies, Roch.e.l.le's idea of a cute shoe was chunky-heeled mules. No toes showing. I paid good money for my pedicures and I meant to make my toesies earn out every dime.

We stood quietly, contemplating following this safer tangent of conversation or diving back into the unexplored depths of our relationship-both with each other and with my brother. Neither option looked promising.

"Be right back." I stumbled into one of the stalls behind us, trying to digest it all. Mama's place in the whole plot would require my singular attention later.

"Come out, will you? I know you're just standing in there."

"So," I whispered over the door, wishing for once that she and Tracey didn't know me so well. My lifelong fear of public bathrooms wasn't exactly a secret, but only those two knew to what extremes my phobia ran.

"I truly am sorry. I have nothing to say for myself," she said. Another stall clanged shut beside me, just the barrier between us, the walls around our hearts seemed to come down. "Forgive me?"

"Of course I do." I pulled back the stall door, wondering whether it was best to come out of this little truth booth. Can't hide forever. Can't hide forever. I stepped forward. "So that's it? Nothing else you aren't telling me?" I stepped forward. "So that's it? Nothing else you aren't telling me?"

Roch.e.l.le turned and walked to the sink. I followed, choosing the basin beside her. "There's more." Her words were close, almost brushing my face.

G.o.d, You're really pulling out the stops, huh?

Tracey's presence would have been wonderful right now. The baby thing brushed against my mind, but I pushed it back into the box where I'd locked it. This was no time to trade secrets.

I turned to my sink and rolled her words over in my head. It hit me, like the roar of the ocean in a seash.e.l.l. The truth had always been there, I just hadn't been listening. My fingers clutched Roch.e.l.le's shoulder. "It was you, wasn't it? You sent the money to Mexico. You...kept him alive. Why wouldn't you tell me?" I paused as this wave of new truth crested in me. "Why didn't you tell Mama?"

Two old ladies behind us leaned in closer, no longer concerned with their turn in the stall. A six-year-old joined us at the sink, pushing me aside to take advantage of the still-running water.

Roch.e.l.le stepped away from the counter. From me.

"I didn't tell you because I was ashamed." She touched the doork.n.o.b. With a paper towel of course. "I didn't tell your mother because she would have brought him home. While he was in that coma, I could dream...even hope."

I took two steps in her direction, then stopped. How could she? The question raced through my veins, my mind, demanding an answer, yet my heart remained silent knowing exactly how Roch.e.l.le had deceived my family...and herself.

She'd done it the same way I had two years ago when I hung up with Sandy. Though my mouth had said all the Christian things, my heart had spoken another language, asked another question-if she does die, what might that mean for me? Was Roch.e.l.le so wrong for asking the opposite, what would happen to her if Jordan lived?

She who has sinned not, throw the first stone.

My hands wilted to my sides. "What were you ashamed of? The money? Lying to me?"

Roch.e.l.le shook her head. "I was ashamed of still loving him. I shouldn't have then." She pulled back the k.n.o.b. "I shouldn't now."

Chapter Eight.

It was only a matter of time. My mother had it and her mother before her, but after years of keeping watch for the facial hair that had marred my forebears, I figured I was safe until menopause.

I awoke that morning to two hairs curling out of my chin like something from an off-Broadway production of Cats. Cats. On another woman's chin-a woman who wasn't working too much and spending her leisure time with senior citizens-it might have been cute. Humorous even. On another woman's chin-a woman who wasn't working too much and spending her leisure time with senior citizens-it might have been cute. Humorous even.

On this woman, it was not. In fact, when the screaming and plucking subsided, I called Tracey long distance.

"It's just a hair, Dana," she said in a groggy voice. Pregnancy didn't sound good on her. Roch.e.l.le had sounded like the tooth fairy all nine-in her case, ten-months. But that was Roch.e.l.le.

"Hairs-s-s-s-s. Plural. As in more than one. You don't understand. This is it-"

"What?"

"The hormone surge. I'm not ready for it. No wonder the UPS man looked so cute yesterday. What if I cave to the biology and do something stupid?"

"Like get married and get pregnant?"

I jumped on top of my bed as though rats covered the floor. "Yeah!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, only to realize what I'd just said and who I'd said it to-a married pregnant woman. I eased down on to the side of the bed. "I didn't mean it like that."

Tracey giggled. "You meant it just like that. That's what I love about you. I never have to guess what you're thinking." She sighed. "I just wish I could make one friend here half as honest. Or as funny."

Funny? I stroked my chin. There was nothing funny about this situation. Not one thing. "You've still got me. And Roch.e.l.le." I supposed the last part. Roch.e.l.le and I spoke at church, and made polite remarks behind each other's backs, but something between us was broken. And I didn't know how to fix it.

I heard a swishing sound through the phone. "You're on that pink stool, aren't you? Twirling the phone cord back and forth?"

Tracey choked up. "See, that's what I mean. No one here would know that. No one here knows me...."

Ryan knew her, didn't he? Better not go there. "They'll get to know you. Give them a chance. How's the baby?"

"Good."

"And the mommy?"

"Not so good."

A sigh from my end. Tracey had done an awesome job on the graphics and logo for my latest project-Figgy body pudding. Quick turnaround, no mistakes. Great for me, but it didn't bode well for her. Like me, work was Tracey's outlet when things were less than perfect in her personal life. The whole time she'd dated Ryan, she'd missed every deadline. "Want to talk about it?"

"Yes," she said in a purring tone. "But I won't."

Not with me anyway. She'd probably been giving Roch.e.l.le a daily earful. Manless me was only good for other secrets. Had Roch.e.l.le told Tracey about all the lies she'd told me? I didn't ask.

As if reading my mind, Tracey jumped to the one absent from our threesome. "You should call her, you know."

Roch.e.l.le's fingers weren't broken, either. "I know. I've tried a few times. I wave at church...."

"Uh-huh. I heard. She really needs you. She's hurting."

Aren't we all? "Does she still love him?"

A pause stilled the line. "No, not the man he is now. But she's still in love with the idea of him, a father who would come home looking for his son, looking for her..."

Prince Charming again. Somebody should shoot that guy. "And then he waltzes back into town not too interested in her or her son."

"Exactly."

After a gulp of air to still my nerves, I dove in for the real info. "Did she mention anything to you...?"

"Like what?"

Leave it alone. "Nothing."

"It's more than nothing. I know that."

Good. "Pray for us. I'll call her soon. I know you've got to get going. Any new clients?"

"Some site updates, a couple brochures and a new client interview today at three. Nothing much on that end. It's making it to the bathroom and keeping food down that keeps me busy." She laughed wistfully. "I'll e-mail you later."

Nodding as though she could see me, I stroked the throbbing splotches where my megahairs had been. "Okay then, see you." The phone was almost to the cradle when I s.n.a.t.c.hed it back, knowing she never hung up first. "Tracey? Did you tell Roch.e.l.le? About the baby, I mean?"

More silence. Finally, Tracey responded. "Didn't you tell her? She was acting funny, so I just thought-I guess with all this Jordan stuff. Oh, well. I figured telling you got me off the hook."

Suddenly I forgot about my chin. "Since when?"

Tracey made that swishing noise again. "Since ever. You never could hold a secret. You're all surprises these days."

"I guess so." I whispered into the receiver and slammed it down into the base. Getting fired. Starting a business. Jordan. Roch.e.l.le's lies. This crazy whatsit with Adrian-relationship was too strong, friendship no longer fit. And now finding out that Tracey didn't trust me.