Chapter Thirty-four
Lenora was officially sick of being sick and tired. It wasn’t so bad over the weekend with Jonathan and the boys around her, but today everyone was gone. Even though she didn’t work on Mondays, Lenora yearned to return to the bridal boutique after five days of being a prisoner in her bedroom. This morning for the first time in about a week, her eyes opened at her usual six o’clock wake-up time. She had promised Jonathan she would continue to rest. It was the least she could do. Everyone had rallied around her.
Jonathan had dressed and left to tend to church duties earlier. With no place to hurry to, she made a decision to not touch her phone. Like some addict, she found herself picking up the phone, staring at the dial button. There was so much to do and so much lost time.
Lenora knew that over the last few days, she had probably driven Sarah, the caterer, and other vendors crazy with her henpecking. She threw her phone and organizer across the bed. Then she nestled her head against her pillow and tried going back to sleep, but her thoughts seemed to heckle her more today. Lenora wrapped her arms around her head in frustration and yelled out, “God, I can’t deal with this.” She climbed out of the bed determined to tarry by the side of the bed on her knees. As she prayed, guilt pressed down on Lenora, almost suffocating her. Thoughts of failure tried to crush her desire to talk to God.
She wasn’t on her A-game. Candace’s rehearsal dinner was coming up on Friday. Was everything really in place for the wedding on Saturday? What really happened to Charmayne? Did Lenora miss the signs?
A voice whispered, “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.”
Lenora paused, hearing her own breath. The planning for Candace and Darnell’s wedding was done, and it was all in God’s hands. Why was she beating herself up with guilt? She had done the best she could despite obstacles over the last few weeks.
She started the prayer again, and this time, she thanked the Lord for healing her. She certainly felt close to death. Then she prayed in earnest for protection over her husband and her sons. Lenora lifted up Ms. Eliza’s name and thanked God for her mother-in-law’s kindness. She started to rise from her knees, but then she was overcome with a deep wave of warmth.
Cast all your anxieties on me, because I care for you.
She had cried tears for Charmayne, but the tears that she shed now were different. Like a faucet, the tears flowed. Her body heaved as she poured her heart out. The last time she cried like this was at her mom’s funeral.
Lenora had been feeling sorry for herself as memories of Charmayne drifted in and out of her mind the past few days. With those thoughts came great confusion and anxiety. Lenora wasn’t sure what to think of how Charmayne died, but she drew on a deep comfort in knowing her friend was safe in the arms of the Father.
“Oh, Father God, I do miss my friend. As complicated as our friendship could be, she was my sister. I loved and protected her always. I did, even when I didn’t think she deserved it.” Lenora rocked back and forth, humming. Eventually the tears dried, and she crawled back under the covers, her body emotionally spent.
She looked up at the ceiling. Keith had returned to UNC late Sunday afternoon. Michael was in school. Before going to the church, Jonathan had dropped Eliza off at the nursing home to do her monthly missionary work. The house was quiet and peaceful.
Almost too quiet.
Every day she’d been home, Lenora had managed to fall asleep during the daylight hours. Taking a nap was so rare for her, and the long periods of sleep were disconcerting. She felt lazy and unproductive, but she sensed her body needed to rest. Even now as her questions to the Lord and thoughts lingered, she could feel the soft persuasive fingers of sleep coaxing her body to relax.
The phone jolted Lenora from her overwhelming urge to fall back to sleep. She reached for her cell phone, but it wasn’t where she thought she had put it. Lenora lifted her head and grunted. She forgot. The phone was at the other end of the bed. She shoved the covers off and scrambled toward the phone. She frowned at the caller ID. It read CMPD. Lenora answered the phone. As she said, “Hello,” her mouth felt cottony.
At first she didn’t recognize the man’s voice. “Who’s this?”
“Lenora, this is Detective Jackson. I hope I’m not disturbing you. I know you weren’t feeling well earlier in the week.”
She breathed a sigh of relief, not sure why her heart was pounding in her chest. “Darnell, I’m doing much better. Stress, I guess, from everything. Do you have something for me?” Lenora thought she heard a beep from call waiting. She tuned into the detective’s news. Whoever was calling could leave a voice mail.
“Yes, if you don’t mind, I thought it would be best if I came to your home. This information may be best shared in person.”
“Oh. Do I need to ask the pastor to come home?”
She heard Darnell hesitate. “If you think you need the support, I encourage you to ask your husband to be there with you.”
“Okay. I will see you soon, Darnell.”
She ended the call. What did Darnell have to tell her? Lenora assumed it had to be about Charmayne. There was nothing she wanted more than to destroy the growing rumor mill surrounding Charmayne’s death.
That reporter Serena Manchester didn’t help matters. The WYNN reporter had managed to turn people’s attention to the Hudson Housing Development project, giving the impression Charmayne had done something illegal. There was a wrong that occurred years ago, but it certainly wasn’t what the public thought.
Lenora picked up the cell phone to call Jonathan, but stopped because she noticed the phone’s battery was dangerously low. She smiled. She was proud of herself for choosing not to work this morning. What was the point of keeping the boutique closed on Mondays if she wasn’t going to fully take advantage of the day off?
She crossed to the other side of the bedroom and plugged the phone in the charger. Then Lenora headed to the shower. Since she was home, she decided to dress in a comfortable pair of pajamas. Why did she have to get sick to appreciate the art of rest and lounging?
A crash from downstairs sent her clutching her pajama top. She stood very still, almost forgetting to breathe. Was that the door downstairs? No one else was home but her. She checked the clock. It wasn’t quite lunchtime yet, and Eliza said she wouldn’t be back until late afternoon.
She hurried over to the bed, shoved her feet into her slippers, and left the bedroom. Outside her bedroom, she leaned over the staircase railing. She listened for the noise, but after a few minutes she decided maybe she had just been hearing things. She shrugged and decided to head downstairs for lunch.
As Lenora descended the stairs, she hung on to the banister. She continued to try to convince herself that the quiet house and her sluggishness were encouraging her paranoia. Once she reached the bottom floor, she peeked into the living room. Somebody had left the television playing. The volume wasn’t turned up loud, so whatever she heard before couldn’t have been coming from the television. Lenora walked in and grabbed the remote off the coffee table. She switched off the television.
When she walked back into the foyer, she headed toward the front door. Lenora peered through the peephole. No one was there, but then again, it wasn’t like anyone had knocked or rung the doorbell. She was not a squeamish person and didn’t mind being alone, so why was she acting this way? Her stomach growled, reminding her she had more important matters, like getting some nourishment in her body.
Lenora turned from the front door and walked back toward the kitchen. As she entered the kitchen, she realized this was first time in a few days she was in her own kitchen, fixing food for herself. As she pulled items out of the fridge, she quickly assembled a ham and cheese sandwich, not sure when Detective Jackson would arrive. She chewed and gulped down a glass of orange juice. She sliced a bit more cheese and placed it in her mouth, enjoying the sharp, tangy taste.
A noise right outside the kitchen caused her to stop chewing. Someone was in the garage. That’s when she noticed the door leading to the garage. The doorknob appeared to be turning. Sometimes after it rained, the door would stick. Someone was ramming against the door.
Lenora grabbed the butter knife from the counter. Charmayne’s face flashed in her mind. She looked at the butter knife in her hand and thought, What is this going to do?
She glanced over at the cordless phone across the room. Should she grab the phone and make a run for it?
There was no time. The door burst open.
Lenora screamed and dropped the knife.