Into Each Life Read online

  Into Each Life

  Copyright 2016 Shelia E. Lipsey

  Published by Shelia E. Lipsey at Smashwords

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Into each life some rain must fall…into each heart some tears must fall.

  A. Roberts/D. Fisher

  Dedication

  Life is a journey that each of us must travel. Into each person’s life there will be ups and downs, sunshine and rain. Into each of our lives come pain and heartbreak, tragedy and sorrow, joy and happiness. But remember that there is always hope if we hold on and place our faith and trust in God Almighty. This book is dedicated to all those who have gone ‘through’ yet persevered because of the people God has placed along your path and the ways of escape he has predestined for you. It is dedicated to those who share the unbreakable cord of friendship, relationships and the power of unconditional love that holds you up.

  Acknowledgements

  To God Be the Glory because of course, I must give Him the highest praise for allowing me to publish this book. To every person who played a part in assisting me with publication of Into Each Life, maybe you read it in its draft stage, or you encouraged me to keep on writing, or you said a prayer and wished me well – I say thank you. To Alisha Yvonne, you hold a very special place in my life. You believed in me, and my work, and showed me true love from the beginning. The friendship that has formed between us is something I am especially thankful for and will cherish for the rest of my life. To Carl Weber, thank you for giving me this opportunity of a lifetime. You are the one who has breathed life into my dream of seeing my God inspired books in print. Carl, may the blessing you have brought upon my life, spill over into yours. To my editor, Joylynn Jossell, thank you for the time and effort you put into helping me perfect my manuscript. To Memphis Rawsistaz, thank you for your support, your words of encouragement, your love and your concern. To all of the people who will purchase a copy of Into Each Life, to book clubs, to friends, families, strangers, all of you who will purchase a copy and who will take your valuable time to read it, I want you to know that I appreciate you already. It’s because of the readers, that we, the authors, become who we are in this literary world. To my sons, thank you for your untiring support and your unconditional love for me. I pray that your dreams and aspirations will come to pass and that the favor of God will always be over your lives. To my grandchildren, the Golden Child (Kevin, Jr.), the Beloved Child (Leland), and the Divine Child (Kaleb), I love you so much. The three of you make my life complete and joyous. To all of my other grandchildren by love and by blood, I thank God for you (Sabrina, Tahj, Tehja, Kassidy). To my niece Shante', and my nephews, DeAndre and Jermon your belief in my abilities inspires me and motivates me to keep on. To my sisters, Sandra, Yvette and Yvonne, I thank God for the close relationship we share and the bond we share that can never be broken. To all who have helped me along the way, my cousin Tanglea, to my best friend Kaye Frye and to my deceased best friend Eileen James (I miss you Eileen). Through each of you, I have learned how to survive the storms of life because you have helped to keep me afloat. I love you and I thank God for each of you.

  And finally, I must always, always say a very special thank you to my mother, Cora Ann Bell, who is forever by my side, praying for me, praying with me, believing in me, telling me that I can do it and that I will make it – I love you with every fiber of my being, Mommy.

  Prologue

  September 1984

  It was Prodigal’s first high school dance and it was off the chain. With girls scattered like bees over the giant auditorium, Prodigal found it hard to concentrate on his date. He scanned the dimly lit auditorium and marveled at the ultra revealing clothes some of the girls wore, but he wasn’t complaining.

  He wasn’t the best dancer, but his sister had taught him a few moves and his best friend, Teary, had shown him some dance steps too. His eyes scanned the packed room in search of Teary.

  “What’s on your mind, Prodigal?” his girlfriend Faith asked, as if she didn’t already know.

  “I was looking for Teary, that’s all. I haven’t seen her for a while,” he replied.

  “You know Teary, she’s probably out on the floor somewhere shaking her rump, I betcha. Or maybe she’s outside with Debra and Chelsia. Anyway, stop worrying about Teary. We’re here to have fun. I’m sure that wherever she is she’s having fun,” Faith assured him.

  “You’re probably right,” Prodigal said, scanning the room one last time for his best friend. “Come on, let’s dance.” He grabbed Faith by the hand and the two made their way to the dance floor.

  Prodigal and Faith slow danced to Anita Baker’s, No One in the World. She rested her head comfortably against his chest and listened to the soothing lyrics of love as she continually tried not to allow Prodigal and Teary’s friendship to forge a rift between herself and Prodigal. Faith liked him far too much, and if she wanted to continue being his girlfriend, she had to understand and accept that Teary wasn’t going anywhere.

  As much as Prodigal liked Faith, he couldn’t concentrate on her at the moment. He was worried about Teary. It had always been that way. Every since the two of them were kids living across the street from each other, they had a bond and nobody could break it; not even the fine girl who held him tight around the neck.

  “Hold up, Faith. I want to find Teary and make sure she’s okay. I’ll be right back,” Prodigal said as he stopped dancing just as Anita sang, no one in the world can love me like you do.

  Faith didn’t respond to Prodigal, but inside she was seething. She stepped aside and allowed him to leave her in the middle of the dance floor.

  He searched around the crowded auditorium. No Teary.

  “Hey, have any of you seen Teary?” he asked a group of classmates but they each nodded no. He spotted Teary’s friend, Debra, in a corner of the gym sipping on punch. “You seen Teary?” he asked Debra.

  “She was over there talking to Chelsia a few minutes ago,” Debra replied, pointing to the other side of the room.

  He saw Teary’s other friend, Chelsia, dancing so he made a detour and went outside. When he saw Langston, a guy Teary used to be crazy about, his face flinched. Langston was nothing but bad news. Nevertheless, he walked up to him to see if he’d seen her.

  “Last I saw your girl, she was making out with dude, uh Derrel, what’s his name,” Langston said with a smirk on his face. “Man, when are you going to learn? That female ain’t all righteous and holy like she wants you to think. She just don’t want to give you none.” Langston and his friends broke out in hysterical laughter.

  Prodigal balled both hands into a fist. He stormed off before he lost his composure with Langston and refocused his efforts on finding Teary. It wasn’t like her to run off especially when they were having a blast like they were tonight.

  He went back inside and went through the double doors that led to the classrooms. His pounding steps were interrupted by the distressed voice coming from the senior lounge.

  “Stop it, stop it,” he heard a female voice yelling.

  “Who the he
ll do you think you are? You’re not getting away that easy. Come on here,” a boy’s voice demanded. “I’m getting some of this tonight,” he snickered.

  “Derrel, no. Let me go,” the girl begged.

  Prodigal yanked open the door and leaped at the shirtless, blonde haired boy. He punched him in the stomach and grabbed Teary underneath his arm.

  “If you ever put your hands on her again, I swear, I’ll break every bone in your body,” Prodigal yelled. He abruptly left Derrel bent over in pain, then turned and walked away with Teary safely underneath the curl of his arms. Her eyes were red and the new dress she brought for the dance was slightly tattered.

  “You okay, did that punk hurt you?” Prodigal asked, examining Teary.

  “No, I’m okay. How did you find me?” she asked, brushing herself off.

  “Girl, now you know not to even go there. Didn’t I tell you that I have a special ‘Teary detector ‘that can track your butt a mile a minute?” he joked. “Now come on, let’s go back to the dance, and this time I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  Prodigal was quite protective of Teary. No one better mess with Teary Fullalove, not as long as he was around. It had been that way since the beginning, and nothing, or no one, was going to change that.

  Part One

  The Days of Youth

  “Be happy, young man, while you are young, and let your heart give you joy in the days of your youth. Follow the ways of your heart and whatever your eyes see, but know that for all these things God will bring you to judgment.” Ecclesiastes 11:9 (NIV)

  CHAPTER 1

  From the First Moment

  “Nappy head, nappy head go back home and go to bed!” Seven year old Prodigal yelled while bouncing around, laughing and licking his tongue out at Teary.

  “Prodigal Runsome, if you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to tell yo momma,”seven year old Teary warned.

  Tucked safely away from the hustle and bustle of the world, the minuscule city of Broknfield, Oregon barely boasted a population of a 100,000, and Prodigal pledged himself among them in more than only a head count. He loved the breathtaking mountain views with snow capped mountaintops and winding back roads that indented valleys into the midst of clear, babbling brooks and streams. He didn’t have to venture far outside the neighborhood to find a steep pitch to climb or a private place of solitude to claim among the stars. Like many of the other kids, he used nature’s pathways to escape into his own world and find a shortcut to each others’ homes.

  Massive rocks cropped from between budding juniper trees and luscious ferns peeped out from among their hiding places. Miles of stone walls flowed graciously yet powerfully through the surrounding countryside.

  “I’m sick of you boy. Now you betta get outta my face!”

  Teary’s voice echoed through Prodigal’s mind as he reminisced about the first time he saw her…

  The day he spotted the orange and white U-haul in front of what used to be his friend, Amos Small’s house, curiosity coaxed him to peak through his bedroom window. He glared without blinking while movers unloaded tables, chairs and boxes. Maybe another boy will move in and I’ll have someone else to play with, he thought.

  He positioned himself comfortably on the inside ledge of his window and there he sat for hours, watching. Finally rewarded, he inched closer as a blue Chrysler drove up in the circular drive. A well dressed, portly woman opened the door from the driver’s side. Almost simultaneously, the passenger side of the door opened and a girl who looked to be about the same age as his eleven year old sister, Fantasia, stepped out.

  Shucks, this definitely is not a good sign. But quickly his heart livened up when he saw the back door of the car swing open. He zeroed in with intensity and watched as a jean clad leg swung out of the car. He moved closer to the ledge and gasped with anticipation filling his narrow chest cavity.

  His eyes widened, his heart raced. Then he saw them - two dangling pigtails bouncing in against the wind. Air deflated from his chest and in its place a heavy sigh claimed victory. Why couldn’t she be a boy? he repeated, this time aloud.

  She climbed out of the car and immediately looked around, surveying her new home and neighborhood. Unexpectedly, she turned directly toward Prodigal’s house. He gasped and moved with lightning speed away from the window. After a few seconds, he inched slowly back up and reclaimed his spot, just in time to capture a perfect eye view of the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

  Her golden brown skin and thick reddish hair made his young boy heart go pitter-patter. He wondered if she ever let her hair hang down the spine of her back, like maybe on Sunday.

  Worried she might see him before he was ready, he took refuge behind the printed gabardine curtains. He watched her pigtails bounce; and he felt his mouth hanging open while drools of his own spittle formed on the window sill.

  Without warning, she glanced up in his direction. He swiftly jumped from the window and raced down the stairs. Dang, did she see me?

  “Boy, where are you headed in such a hurry?” Prodigal’s daddy yelled, grabbing his only son by the scuff of his blue plaid shirt.

  “Uh, nowhere. I was just coming downstairs to fix me some bologna and crackers,” Prodigal quickly lied.

  “Well, slow down. You’re going to hurt somebody running through the house like that. You hear me?”

  “Yes, sir,” he answered, proceeding to the kitchen.

  Prodigal dealt the bologna and crackers out like a game of cards and poured a glass of grape Kool-Aid for himself, sloshing it over the counter top, worried the pigtails would be gone by the time he made it outside. He then exited the kitchen and made his way out the front door. He strategically positioned himself on the front porch, balancing the crackers on his lap and the Kool-Aid on the first step.

  There’s still a chance a boy my age is moving in, too, he continued to tell himself. After all, he hadn’t given himself a chance to see if anyone else may have been getting out of the car once his eyes fell on the pretty pigtailed little girl.

  He cautiously allowed his spectacle covered brown eyes to zero in across the street. Neither girl was in sight. He carefully studied the two grown ups talking to the movers and came to the conclusion that they were the parents. Suddenly, the front door of the two-story house swung wide open and the girls bounced out. The pigtailed one raced to the end of her driveway and stood at the edge of the sidewalk. She waved her hand back and forth in Prodigal’s direction. He turned and took a look around. There was no one around but him. Awkwardly, he waved back, not knowing what to do next.

  Tat, tat, tat. Prodigal swiftly turned his head around meeting the sound again. Tat, tat, tat. His daddy’s towering frame stood peeping out the living room window. His charcoal fingers tapped against the windowpane. Prodigal almost choked on his bologna. He acted like he’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His daddy pointed in the direction of the U-haul truck. Prodigal didn’t know why. Again, his daddy pointed. Prodigal shrugged. Obviously exasperated, his daddy opened the oak door and joined his son on the concrete steps.

  “Hey, why don’t you go over there and welcome our new neighbors?” his father suggested

  “I don’t want to, Daddy. It’s only two girls over there anyway, and I was hoping and praying that a boy my age would move in.”

  “Son, you can still be friends with girls. And look, I’m not telling you to be their friend anyway. But don’t you think it would be polite and courteous if you’d at least welcome them to the neighborhood?

  Reluctantly he agreed. “Aww, okay, Daddy.”

  “Come on, son. If it’ll make you feel better, we can walk over there together. I’ll introduce the both of us, okay?”

  Prodigal mumbled. He gobbled the rest of his bologna and crackers and forced it down his throat with the remaining Kool-Aid before they struck out across the street.

  “Hi, I’m Solumun Runsome, and this is my son, Prodigal,” Solumun said as he and his son approached their new neighbors. H
e then extended his hand out in a friendly greeting. “It’s nice to have you in the neighborhood,” he continued cheerily.

  “Thank you,” the man countered. “I’m Brian Fullalove. And this is my wife, Cynthia.” The man grabbed his wife around the waist while he spoke. “These are my daughters, Sara and Teary,” Brian said and smiled at his daughters.

  “Nice to meet you Cynthia, and you too Sara and Teary,” Solumun remarked.

  “It’s nice to meet you too,” Mrs. Fullalove stated. “I told Brian that I believe we’re going to enjoy living here in Broknfield. I can just feel it,” the woman announced.

  “I’m sure you will. This is a great neighborhood and Broknfield is a great town,” Solumun assured them.

  Prodigal, on the other hand, tried to stay in the shadow of his father and said a silent pray. Lord, don’t let these girls come near me. And please let my daddy and this man finish talking real quick.

  Prodigal allowed his thoughts to come back from when he first met Teary to now. He smiled just thinking about her again, fantasizing, like the other boys and men in town did over the women they saw every day and probably thought about every night. Though quite a few of the neighborhood residents attended Deliverance Temple of Praises Church whose shepherd was none other than Pastor Marcus Grace, Jr., they still committed their secret little sins.

  All in all, Broknfield wasn’t so bad. Nevertheless, the people were people, and the children were children, and life was life – the norm.

  “All right, Prodigal, that’s it. You’ve done it now. Teary lashed out as he narrowly escaped her raised fist. “I’m telling yo momma,” she yelled.

  ♦

  Prodigal glowed inside with the fires of friendship and first love for Teary. She must be the ideal girl, he thought as they rode their bikes to Willow Lake.