His First Wife

He looked around the room and smiled.

“Our engagement . . .”

“Yes,” I replied. “You filled a pool with rose petals and floating candles and asked me to marry you.”

“Yes, I did.” He came and sat on the side of the bed.

“And on that day you handed me a scroll that said that you had decided that you didn’t want to live with the memory of me in your mind.... That you didn’t want to spend another minute having to be a magician and recall me in your mind,” I said. “Do you remember that?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you did.”

“I did and I want to let you know that I want you here by my side forever,” I said, repeating the last words he’d written. “I love you and I don’t want to go another day without being your wife. I don’t want this separation. I might be your first wife, but I’m also going to be your last.”

“Baby, you don’t need to say this. ” Jamison took my hands into his. “What I did was wrong. What I did to my family was wrong. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” I said.

“So, I can’t let you apologize to me or ask me to stop the separation. Neither of us were completely innocent in this,” he said, “but as a man, I have to take responsibility for the fact that my actions caused this. It was unacceptable

and if I have to spend every day of my life apologizing to you and my son to make it better, I’ll do that, because that’s just how much you mean to me. And if you take me back, I promise that I’ll always come to you first with my feelings.”

He stood up and pulled me to sit on the edge of the bed.

“So,” he started, kneeling beside the bed. “Will you, Kerry Ann Jackson, have me as your husband, to love, protect, and cherish you all the days of your life? Will you be my wife again?”

“Yes,” I cried, scooping him into my arms.

That night I made passionate, new love to my husband. It was as if we were together for the first time but already knew what the other needed. It was a first wife’s wedding dance that I somehow knew would result in a second child. And the baby in the other room slept through the night . . . finally.

Son

Tyrian must have known he was going to be the baby Jesus on Christmas Eve, because he would not go to sleep. Jamison and I had finally gotten him on a regular sleep schedule, but his regular bedtime of 7 PM had come and gone and that little baby was wide awake when we were getting ready to head over to church.

Just after my father woke up, my mother and Aunt Luchie had arrived to decorate the house for the holidays. Suddenly, my mother was in the holiday spirit again. She kept talking about wanting everything to be just right for her grandbaby’s first Christmas. And with the news that my father was going to be able to come home, with a nurse of course, she was beside herself. She came bearing boxes of trinkets and stockings that I hadn’t seen in years. By the time they finished unloading everything, my house was transformed into the Christmases I once knew growing up. Tyrian’s wide eyes bounced from one strange thing to the next as he waited in his carrier in the living room for his big day on stage.

“Jamison, we’re going to be late,” I called, picking up Tyrian. “Your mother said we needed to be there by eight or so.”

“I know, I know.” Jamison came running down the stairs way overdressed for the event, but I figured people would understand—his son was the baby Jesus. “I just didn’t want to forget the camera.”

He slid the camera into his pocket.

“We got everything?” he asked.

“Yeah, you, me, and the baby,” I said, laughing at his nervousness. “That’s all we need.”

“Woman, you’re playing and it’s my boy’s big day!” he joked. “Trying to make us all late.”

“I was not the one dragging behind.”

“I know, baby, but I’m excited,” Jamison said.

“Now, give me some sugar, Sugar.” He kissed me softly on the lips. “And you too, baby Jesus.”

He kissed Tyrian on the cheek and we stood there in the foyer of our home laughing.

Between mine and Jamison’s family, the evening may as well have been called a family reunion, rather than a Christmas pageant. We were packed into the rows. While my father couldn’t be there, both my mother and Aunt Luchie came out. Marcy and Damien brought Milicent. Even Ms. Edith and Isabella were there. Of course, Jamison’s mother occupied two rows with her clan.

While I was nervous when I handed Tyrian off to be placed in the manger, the show went on without a snag. The children knew their lines and the pastor even got a band that was visiting from France to play music in between their acts. The audience loved the show and the music. And Tyrian didn’t cry at all. In fact, at one point, he cooed so loud that we all started laughing.