The Ex Files by Victoria Christopher Murray Read Free Book Online Page A

“Please, I preached two long services this morning. I’m not in the mood for twenty questions.”
    Asia looked up. “Do you want us to go? We can—”
    Pastor Ford held up her hand. “No, you can’t leave, so you might as well tell me—what’s going on with you and Bobby?”
    “I didn’t say it was Bobby.”
    “Didn’t have to.” Pastor Ford stopped, motioned for Asia to go on.
    Asia gave her aunt a sideways glance. “Aunt Beverly, you don’t want to hear this. You’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel about my relationship with Bobby.”
    “I’ve told you before, you’re not in a relationship with Bobby. He’s married. You’re in a situation with him. And until you understand that difference—”
    Asia held up her hands. “See? This is why—”
    Pastor Ford sighed. “I’m sorry, go ahead. Tell me what’s going on.”
    A moment, and then, “Nothing serious. Bobby and I had a little fight, but we’re fine and I don’t want to tell you any more because of your feelings—”
    “It’s not just my feelings.”
    “Oh, please, Aunt Beverly,” Asia said, folding her arms. “I’ve had a rough week. I don’t feel like hearing how God is against me.”
    “First of all, I never said anything about God being against you. Secondly, what kind of rough week have you had? Did you get a job and not tell me?”
    There was a chuckle in her aunt’s tone, but Asia didn’t feel like being at the end of any joke today.
    Pastor Ford said, “Wow, it must have been a serious fight.”
    Asia stood, moved through the dining room toward the kitchen. “Whatever you’re cooking smells good.”
    “It’s gumbo.” Pastor Ford followed her. At the stove, she stirred the deep pot.
    Asia sat at the dining room table and watched her aunt tend to the food with the same care that she gave to everything in her world. Beverly Ford wasn’t her aunt by blood, although few knew that. No one could ever tell—the pastor loved Asia as if she’d birthed her herself.
    Beverly Ford had been a client of her grandmother Hattie Mae for as long as Asia could remember. She hadn’t even started school when the woman, who moved like a queen, first knocked on their door one Wednesday morning. And every week, in the finest clothes, Beverly Ford would sit on the small plastic chair in her grandmother’s kitchen and have her hair washed, straightened, and curled.
    Soon after, Asia and her grandmother began attending church where the woman was the preacher. Asia loved hearing the woman speak—not because she understood, but because she sure put on a show as she strutted across the platform and threw her arms and Bible in the air to make a point. And when she talked about God, sometimes the adults would laugh. So Asia always laughed too.
    By the time Asia was eight, the woman who was the pastor became Aunt Beverly and she and her grandmother spent as much time with Aunt Beverly and her daughter, Gail, as they did in their own home.
    While Hattie Mae Ingrum never had much to give, Aunt Beverly made every birthday, Christmas, and the small holidays in between more than memorable. And when Hattie Mae lay on her deathbed, struggling through her final hours of stage four lung cancer, Beverly Ford vowed that she would care for nineteen-year-old Asia always.
    That was six months after she’d met Bobby.
    “So, are you ready to talk to me?”
    Her aunt drew her away from that long-ago memory. “I told you, everything’s fine with me and Bobby.”
    “Sorry to hear that.”
    “That’s why I didn’t want to talk about it.”
    Pastor Ford held up her hand. “Sorry. Talk to me.”
    Asia lowered her eyes, stayed quiet.
    “What did Bobby do—tell you he was going back to his wife?”
    Asia tried not to show her shock. “Of course not. Bobby loves me, Aunt Beverly, whether you believe it or not.” She paused. “In fact, the reason I’ve been so quiet is that I was trying to think of a way to tell you this.”
    Pastor Ford