The Aching

THE ACHING

REMONA G. TANNER

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Bloomington, IN 47403

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© 2015 Remona G. Tanner. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse   11/06/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-6082-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-6081-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015918608

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

About the Author

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Writing a book is a time-consuming process. The necessary research, meditation, and project commitment can take a toll on an author. It’s important to stay prayerful. It’s important to stay positive and surround yourself with pure optimistic support. Keep near to you those intelligent individuals with understanding, who can keep you focused and offer inspiration.

We encounter all sorts of individuals in life, even the kind who believe that love is not a requirement for an abundant life. People could spend all their days choosing to never reciprocate kindness and compassion. For the many people in my life who have chosen to grant me love, I thank you. You may not believe that your encouraging words make an impact, but your comfort has kept me uplifted.

As I continue to write, I continue to pray. Please never let my work be misunderstood or criticized maliciously. I pray to stay on my path and hold on to faith should I ever stumble or stray from everything I was taught. I pray for growth, but my most frequent prayer is to please keep these amazing people around me, warming me with their love. I thank you, all of you individuals who refuse to give up on me. This contribution to literature, I dedicate to you.

Lord, thank you for blessing me with this artistic expression. When I wanted to give up and quit, you reminded me that you chose this gift for me for a reason. I thank you. Amen.

To my beautiful mother, Susie, I once confessed that I hid in the bathroom to read during lunch as a child. I thank you for telling me that loving to read made me special and for telling me to laugh at the popular kids who exiled me for being different. You once used a paper fan made of newspaper to keep my sister and me cool against the Louisiana heat. At the time we couldn’t afford a fan but through the grace of God we were never hungry. You stayed there all night, fanning until we fell asleep. When your arm got tired, you switched to the other. I will never forget that night. We didn’t have much, but in that moment, it was clear to me that God had provided all I needed as long as I had someone in my life who loved me that much.

I’d like to thank my pastor, elect lady, and my sisters and brothers in Christ from Westlake, Louisiana. Thank you for making your hearts a safe place for me to dwell. Thank you for all the counseling and hugs. You are true angels.

To Sister Margaret Hardy. Aunt Cathy, and Trista who became prayer warriors for me during the most difficult time in my life, I thank you and I appreciate you.

To Marcia and the Green family, you believed in me way before I was courageous enough to believe in myself.

I’d like to thank my aunt Ruby. I’m thankful for the times you caught me crying. You said, When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be waiting. She was always there waiting, as promised.

To my uncle Sam, thank you for teaching me how to ride my bike, watching cartoons with me, listening to me, and making me believe that one day I’d change the world.

I’d like to thank Ann, Marlon, Manuella, and the Fradieu family. Thank you for teaching me about the importance of confidence. Thank you for singing my sorrows away and accepting my character as uniqueness.

To David, Leslie, Aunt Gertie, and the entire Tanner family, thank you for keeping me prayed up and constantly reminding me that I make you proud.

To my niece Shonti, and Crystal, thank you for all the laughter and memories.

To my wonderful aunt Faye, I thank you for teaching me to be happy about life, all parts, even when it hurts to smile.

To my cousin Junior, in the river you once said, Swim or die. It was tough love, but I learned to swim and have never been afraid to drown or dive in. I thank you.

To my cousins Ed and Willie, who promised to be there for me after my sister’s passing and stayed true to that promise, I thank you.

Aunt Dorothy, Uncle Wilford, and Aunt Dee Dee, I thank you for playing a vital role in my upbringing and helping to lay a sound foundation.

I’d like to thank my cousins Toya and Tiff for reminding that I matter. To Deanna, I’d like to thank you for being an emotional crutch and a much-needed voice of reason, a true supporter.

To my close friends, Desmond G., Hannah Bushnell, Tara, Jessica, Jamee, Brooke, Johnniegail, Shawn L., and Christina, thank you for never making me earn your love. You blessed me with it for no reason at all.

I’d also like to thank the Runte family; the Rideau family; the Bryant family; from DarkWaterz Entertainment Group, beautician LaTyra of Beauty Secrets; Jasper Faulk, founder of Peerless Productions; photographer J. D. Mosely; Levon MrSocialite Fontenot; photographer Lee Grogan; and professional makeup artist Alisha Bree.

You all have a special place in my heart. Because of you all and God, I’ve never suffered an aching alone. You have all been there and offered some sort of support during the creation of this book. You have all been there to see me through … and for that I love you unconditionally. Literature is not dead. Thank you for helping me keep it alive. I live forever in print. I thank you.

PROLOGUE

Could you at least pretend you’re happy to be here? Family time was your idea to begin with, Lennox Wyatt said to his wife, Lilly, who stood pouting near the rear of the boat.

Boating? I asked you to spend time with me and the kids and you take us boating? This is just a clever opportunity to show off your yacht. You know I hate the water. I hate the sunburn I’m getting. I hate the motion sickness. I hate that nauseating crustacean smell.

I didn’t hear you coming up with any suggestions!

Anything would’ve been better than this!

Well, the kids love it. We’re out here so please mask your discomfort for their sake.

Why are we doing this? You and I are beyond repair. We can’t even agree on ways to make it better. Lennox, I beg you, please consider counseling. It’s our only hope. A psychologist could help us see the error of our ways, show us the direction in which to head. A professional could help us forgive one another’s indiscretions … We don’t know the depth of one another’s aching. We dwell in two separate vessels, love with two separate hearts.

No! No therapy! We’ll be just fine. Two small children, a boy and a younger girl, appeared, running from the front of the boat. Let’s not do this again. It’ll ruin their day.

Daddy, I put my life jacket on all by myself, said the male child.

The father was pleased, Good job buddy! Are you ready to catch a big one?

I’m going to catch a shark! he replied, full of energy and eagerness.

A shark? questioned the father with a playfully surprised gasp. Well, you’re gonna need a huge hook to reel that in. Go get the tackle box. I’ll join you in a bit. He looked down at his daughter. Would you like to fish, pumpkin?

She stared up at her father, eyes wide and blameless. I don’t wanna catch fish. I wanna catch a mermaid.

Lilly interposed. Sweetie, what did Mommy say about mermaids? They aren’t real. Just like Santa and bigfoot.

Jeez, Lilly! Why do you always do that? Can’t you just let her be a kid? mumbled Lennox, angered by his wife’s indifference toward their daughter’s imagination.

Don’t raise your voice at me! You’re my husband, not my father!

Lennox turned his attention back to the little one. Go find Daddy’s old shrimping net. We’ll toss it out together and we’ll stay out here all night if we have to. We’re gonna catch you that mermaid.

Lilly and Lennox Wyatt were standing portside arguing about methods of parenting when their daughter came running, bursting with enthusiasm. Mommy, you were wrong! I did it, Daddy! I caught one! Come see—hurry up! she exclaimed, dragging her parents to the far edge of the deck, where her brother stood speechless. The parents stood in horror. Can I keep it? asked the child naively. I’ll keep the tank clean, and I’ll feed it all the time.

Lennox, cover her face! I’ll call for help! There in the water, wrapped in an ivory wedding dress, was the body of a bride.

News reporters arrived on the scene like scavengers. Medical examiners begged for discretion as they searched for an explanation.

Breaking news! We’re down at the shore, where a local family has discovered the body of an unidentified woman. Shocked and stunned onlookers describe the scene as poetically unfortunate as they admire the wedding veil binding the victim’s legs together. Officials are searching the Chronicle’s wedding announcements for a possible match as we speak. They’re calling her the Siren Bride, considering the nature in which her corpse was found. Siren, like the mythological beauty of the sea … We’ll keep you posted as details develop.

CHAPTER 1

The guests had grown agitated, waiting impatiently, perched uncomfortably on the hard cedar pews. Confused whispers thickened the air inside the sanctuary. The priest fixed his concerned stare on Owen, who had begun to pace, tugging his collar anxiously. Owen glanced at his wristwatch and pulled his phone from his pocket—no missed calls and only twenty minutes had passed since he’d last checked. The bridesmaids began to complain of sore feet. The groomsmen did little to conceal their irritation. Some stood with their arms crossed, relaxing their posture. Others had removed their tuxedo jackets and folded them over their forearms.

The wedding photographer dared to suggest the unthinkable. I hate to sound insensitive but perhaps she’s jilted you.

Owen’s glare was nearly lethal and soul-searing as he lunged ferociously without warning, grabbing the photographer’s shirt, causing his camera to fall and shatter. Then go! Leave! We’ll marry without pictures! Owen shoved him to the floor and proceeded to rant. All of you restless people can go! The crowd gasped, and some of them looked down as if they’d assumed the same