Confessions of a Submissive Wife

CHAPTER 25

Beautiful Nightmare

Danielle

2017

"Daddy," I said, he did not respond. He was staring straight ahead as if he were looking through the cars in front of him. "Daddy, what's wrong? Daddy," still no response. I began to cry more and more, "I'm sorry daddy, I didn't mean to tell on mommy. He only came over when you were gone. She said he was our uncle daddy, he's our uncle," I cried.

"He's no uncle of yours, baby girl," he said

"Please don't leave Kenya, daddy. She needs you too daddy...help Kenya," I said as I cried.

"I don't want you to leave," he replied.

He looked at me with tears in his eyes and pulled the car over on the side of the road. "Awe, baby girl, it's not your fault, it's not your fault at all. I'm sorry you had to see that, sweetheart. Daddy never meant to scare you and your sister like that, but your mama and I are having a bit of trouble lately."

He hugged me and I wept in his arms, praying God would fix it. Daddy always said if it's too hard for us, it's never too hard for God to solve.

We spent the night at my grandpa's house because my daddy needed help and grandpa was just the one to give it to him. He was a very wise and meek spirited man, who was a devoted to ministry. He spent most of his time ministering to men in jail and helping people come to Christ. My grandparents were married for 45 years before God called my grandma home to glory, as my grandpa would say. They were the most loving couple, I said when I get married, I want to marry a man like my granddad so I can be married forever. After my grandmother's funeral, dad and I visited grandpa daily for months. Dad didn't want grandpa to be alone but grandpa somehow convinced him that he was okay. When asked how he's managing without grandma, he would always say that she's with his father and they will be together again someday.

One day, daddy brought me to grandpa while he went to meet with a new client and I remember it raining very hard that day. Grandpa sat at the window and stared out at the rain beating against the windowpane for hours. That day was very sad for me to see Grandpa cry as God opened up heaven and pour out his tears on the earth. I felt a heavy weight fall on me and I began to cry, still unsure about the overwhelming sadness I felt. I reached out and touched grandpa's shoulder and he gently placed his right hand on mine and dropped his head.

"Grandpa," I said with shakiness in my voice.

"Aw, Cookie." He lifted me up, sat me on his lap, and wiped my face of my tears. He said, "Do you know that God has these huge jars that He uses to collect the tears of his children that cry out to him? Once it's full, He pours it out and all the tears fall down from heaven on the earth. You see, when it rains, it's as if it's God's way of communicating with us. He places a huge rainbow in the sky to let us know he hasn't forgotten his promise to us."

"Are you okay grandpa?" I asked.

"I'm fine Cookie, just missing your grandma, but if I had any reason to let the love of my life go, it would only be to give her to the one who gave my love to me in the first place. I could never love her as He."

"Come on kid," he said, "let's make your grandma's favorite pound cake.

We baked and baked that day, it was awesome; I even had enough to take home to Kenya and my mom. Grandpa was an amazing cook. That's where daddy said he got his cooking skills from, my mother on the other hand, was the worst cook ever. She couldn't even get Wyatt, our dog, to eat her food.

Our family life had been falling apart at the seams since grandma passed away. She was the sweetest, most caring woman God could have ever created. She seemed to have loved everyone. She and grandpa fed all the community children who came over for a hot meal. That's how my mom and dad met.

My dad and grandpa were in his study for over an hour and I peeped in the crack of the door. My dad was kneeling down as grandpa placed his hand on his forehead and prayed from him. He said, "Dear heavenly father, please heal my son's broken heart. Lord, please help him find forgiveness in his heart for his wife and give him the strength to continue to be a father to that child now that is not his."

I dropped my plate and it shattered into a million pieces. I ran upstairs to my dad's room and hide in the closet. As I sat in that dark closet that smelled like moth balled and old spice, crying and rocking back and forth with my head on my knees, I prayed to God, "Please let my daddy be my daddy. Lord please, I don't want another daddy. I need him... please help me." Then I felt this amazing calm come over me. It felt like all the hairs on my body rose up and a burst of static electricity ran through me. I looked up and dad stuck his hand out and I jumped up. I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed him tight, crying, "Daddy, please be my daddy."

He tried to loosen my arms from around his neck because I was choking him but I held on tighter. He let me cry for a moment and he picked me up as I was still holding on for dear life. He began to sing to me to calm me. I loved hearing him sing; his voice was as smooth as butter. The more he sang, the calmer I felt. I started hearing the music play louder and louder through the smooth vibrations of his melody, then suddenly a piercing alarm buzzed, growing louder.

The dreadful sound of the alarm woke me from one of my greatest memories of my dad. How I miss him dearly, I felt as I layed in bed, anticipating today's never ending journey to Ezra's office. I began my daily routine: I put on my pot of coffee and turned on the shower till the steam surrounded the bathroom. I walked in my tightly spaced walk-in closet, nothing in comparison to my closet at my old estate. As I placed one foot in the shower, the phone rang. I wrapped the towel around and walked into my room.

"Hello, this is Danielle," I said, as I stood in my bath towel slightly cold.

"Yes, this is Dr. Martin," he said. "I am with the Department of Corrections and I am calling to inform you that your sister Kenya attempted to commit suicide last night in her cell. She is being held in the psychiatric ward of the prison for further evaluation."

I could not believe what I was hearing; I was shocked to learn that Kenya would attempt something so permanent. "What about the baby," I asked, "is the baby alright?"

He reassured me that the baby was healthy and fine. "I have to see her," I said.

"Well, as of now, no one is able to see her, but check back in a couple of days," he said.

"I can't believe she would attempt suicide," I said to the doctor. "She feared going to hell too much, she would never try to take her own life."

"Well, I'm sorry, Mrs. Blake, but I have witnessed several cases like this and suicide attempts are not that uncommon. Call back in a few days," he said, as he hung up the phone. I sat on the edge of my bed and began to weep for my sister. I have to get her out of there; I have to get her free. I have to find Buster.