His First Wife

When it was over, I had to go get Tyrian from behind the altar where they held the children for the pageant. While Jamison insisted on coming with me, I told him to stay with his mother. I wanted to walk to the back of the church alone, the same way I had when I ran into Coreen. Really, a part of me wondered if she’d be there again. If she was in the audience watching. My competitive side wanted her to see me happy and have a huge slice of humble pie, but I knew she wouldn’t be there. And if she was, I had nothing to say to her. While I hadn’t forgiven her for what she’d done, I’d moved on from Jamison’s mother’s drama and forgiven my husband. Nothing Coreen could say could or would break my spirit. There would be no fighting. I would not lose control of myself again like I had before. I was exactly where I was supposed to be, and so was she. I was stronger. Thanks to her.

“OK, here he is,” Aunt Luchie said when I walked back into the sanctuary with Tyrian in my arms. “Now let’s all get together and take this family picture. We need Kerry and Jamison in the middle with the baby.” We began to find our places on the altar as others shuffled out.

Aunt Luchie stood guard, telling everyone where to stand.

“Let’s hurry up; we got good food to eat at home,” I heard someone holler and we all laughed.

“Oh, look at my godson,” Marcy said, smiling at Tyrian as she, Damien and Milicent squeezed into a space behind Jamison and me.

“They ain’t family,” Jamison’s mother murmured.

“Mama!” Jamison shot her a hard glare.

“Okay . . . Okay.” She quickly snapped back into her place next to Jamison as he and I grinned at each other.

When we were all assembled and in place, only Aunt Luchie was standing alone in front of us.

“We look lovely,” she said. “A family.”

“Where are you going to stand?” my mother asked.

We began moving in to make space.

“Well, someone has to take the picture,” Aunt Luchie reasoned, reaching for her camera.

“No, no, no,” I protested. I couldn’t have a picture without her in it.

“I can take the picture,” a handsome, older man I recognized from the visiting band said, walking up behind Aunt Luchie.

“Oh, thank you.” Aunt Luchie said, turning to hand him the camera.

She stopped almost immediately.

“Is that—?” my mother started as she squinted with her eyes set on the gray-haired man.

“Red,” Aunt Luchie said, her voice heavy.

“Oh, my God,” my mother said, leaning into me.

“I come all this way and you only got one word for me, Luchie May?” he asked.

“Oh, I got some more.” Aunt Luchie dropped the camera just in time for Jamison to catch it.

“Who’s that?” I heard people whispering behind me as tears filled my eyes.

Aunt Luchie jumped into Red’s arms like she was still 19 and sneaking around the AUC. He laughed and held her up as she ran her fingers through his now gray hair, making sure, it seemed, that it was him.

“What happened to your red hair?” she asked, crying.

“Time, Luchie May. A lot of time.”

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DATE: 1/1/08