Chapter 3 - The Church Could Not Hold the Lie
Tunde took one step toward Sandra, then stopped when the guests reacted.
The room was no longer his. That was clear on his face. He had expected surprise, maybe panic, maybe Clara managing Sandra before recognition spread. He had not expected Sandra’s voice to carry through the church like testimony.
The pastor looked from Clara to Tunde. “What is happening?”
Clara’s mother stood from the front row, hand pressed to her chest. “Clara?”
Clara began shaking her head. “This isn’t the place.”
Sandra almost laughed.
The place.
As if location were the offense.
“You invited me here,” Sandra said. “You put me in your wedding party.”
Clara’s eyes filled, but the tears looked useless now. “I wanted to tell you.”
“You wanted me standing close enough to watch?”
Tunde lowered his voice. “Sandra, please. Think about Amara.”
The name hit like a second blow.
“Do not say my daughter’s name in this church.”
Several guests gasped. Someone near the back raised a phone, then lowered it when an older woman beside him whispered sharply.
Sandra backed away from the altar, one hand pressed against her chest. She needed air. The candles, flowers, perfume, and staring faces had become unbearable. She turned and moved down the aisle, nearly stepping on the roses she had dropped.
“Sandra,” Clara called.
Sandra did not stop.
Outside, the rain-washed steps shone under pale afternoon light. A black car near the curb pulled away too fast, tires hissing against wet pavement. Sandra saw the back of Tunde’s head through the rear window just before the car turned the corner.
He had run again.
Of course he had.
Sandra gripped the stone railing, trying to breathe, when an elderly woman approached from the side path. She wore a navy church hat and held a small handbag tight against her body. Her face looked frightened, but determined.
“You’re Sandra,” the woman said.
Sandra turned to her. “Who are you?”
“My name is Mrs. Evelyn Price.” The woman glanced toward the church doors. “I run a guesthouse outside Macon. Or I did.”
Sandra’s heartbeat changed.
Mrs. Price lowered her voice.
“Two years ago, the night your husband disappeared, he came to my guesthouse.”
Sandra stared at her.
“He wasn’t alone,” the woman said. “Clara was with him.”
Sandra’s stomach dropped.
May you like
Then Mrs. Price added the part that made the world tilt.
“And so was your mother.”
