Zora and Nicky: A Novel in Black and White Read online

  * * *

  ENDORSEMENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  A NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER:

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  … a little more …

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  A CONVERSATION WITH CLAUDIA MAIR BURNEY

  WHAT’S NEXT FOR MAIR

  What people are saying about …

  ZORA AND NICKY

  “I love this woman! She puts into print what many people are thinking but few confess. Unflinchingly honest and bold as brass, this story brings our modern struggles over race and religion down to a personal, relational level. While reading Claudia’s novel, I broached the subject of interracial dating with our college-age kids and found out just how relevant these issues remain. Clearly, Claudia Mair Burney knows her stuff. Zora and Nicky isn’t safe, but it’s good.”

  Liz Curtis Higgs, best-selling author of Bad Girls of the Bible

  “Zora and Nicky is a great book—Burney can really write, and I’m thrilled about this title. It really brings prodigals to life, and there are SO many out there whose faith hasn’t yet become their own—but rather mimics their parents’. If you like your tension high and your writing well done, order it up. I’m impressed!”

  Kristin Billerbeck, author of What a Girl Wants and She’s All That

  “Zora and Nicky is far more than a love story, far more than a study in racial contrasts, far more than just a good read. It is a manual for living a life of honesty and relentless pursuit of wholeness in Jesus, disguised as a novel that glides effortlessly between stirring, lyrical, and hilarious. Zora and Nicky challenges our understanding of what it means to live the Christian life; you can’t read it and not be changed.”

  Alison Strobel, author of Violette Between

  “This is the best read I have had in a very long time. Claudia Mair Burney is an accomplished novelist, and her Zora and Nicky will steal your heart away long before they have finished telling you their story.”

  Phyllis Tickle, author and lecturer, religion editor (Ret.), Publishers Weekly

  “No one writes like Claudia Mair Burney. Zora and Nicky will make you sit up straight and pay attention to a love story of such courage, humor, and unflinching honesty you will wish everyone in your life spoke to you with Burney’s razor-sharp language of the heart.”

  Kimberly Stuart, author of the Heidi Elliott series and Act Two

  “Claudia Mair Burney’s Zora and Nicky is sassy and witty, pushing boundaries and tugging at the heart. Anyone who has struggled in their relationship with God will feel inspired and rejuvenated. Burney has painted a vivid tale that will entertain and enlighten.”

  Debbie Macomber, #1 New York Times, Publishers Weekly, and USA Today best-selling author

  “Burney’s writing is unique, gutsy, and memorable. Her passion for storytelling shines boldly from page to page as she raises to the spotlight issues and questions that often remain buried within humanity’s fear of change and the unknown.”

  Mata Elliott, author of Forgivin’ Ain’t Forgettin’

  “In this important book, Burney gives an achingly tender depiction of what it looks like to love across boundaries and prejudices. This book will reveal as much about you as it does about Zora and Nicky—I promise!”

  Siri L. Mitchell, author of The Cubicle Next Door

  “Zora and Nicky is brave and beautiful. Burney deftly reveals the twisted roots framing our ideas about love, family, and community, while showing us the power of love at the same time. I don’t know how she keeps doing it, but once again she’s wounded me … sweetly.”

  Marilynn Griffith, author of Pink and Made of Honor

  “Claudia Mair Burney writes with a rare honesty that challenges who we really are and what we really believe about race and faith, love and family. Through Zora and Nicky, Burney is not afraid to take us beyond the surface to the deep, secret places of the heart.”

  Leslie J. Sherrod, author of Like Sheep Gone Astray

  ZORA AND NICKY

  Published by David C. Cook 4050 Lee Vance View Colorado Springs, CO 80918 U.S.A.

  David C. Cook Distribution Canada 55 Woodslee Avenue, Paris, Ontario, Canada N3L 3E5

  David C. Cook U.K., Kingsway Communications Eastbourne, East Sussex BN23 6NT, England

  David C. Cook and the graphic circle C logo are registered trademarks of Cook Communications Ministries.

  All rights reserved. Except for brief excerpts for review purposes, no part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form without written permission from the publisher.

  This story is a work of fiction. All characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Unless otherwise noted, Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible. (Public Domain.) Scripture quotations marked msg are taken from THE MESSAGE. Copyright © by Eugene H. Peterson 1993, 1994, 1195, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group.

  The song lyrics on page 17 are from “Get Away Jordan.” The lyrics on pages 48 and 389 are from “Let us Break Bread Together.” The lyrics on page 312 are from Fred Hammond’s song “Let the Praise Begin” from the album Hooked on the Hits, Verity Records, 2003

  LCCN 2007939850

  ISBN 978-0-7814-4550-4 eISBN 978-1-4347-6570-3

  © 2008 Claudia Mair Burney Published in association with the literary agency of MacGregor Literary

  The Team: Andrea Christian, Lisa Samson, Jaci Schneider, and Karen Athen Cover Design: The DesignWorks Group, Jason Gabbert Interior Design: The DesignWorks Group Cover Photo: © Masterfile Royalty-Free / Masterfile

  First Edition 2008

  A NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER:

  Zora and Nicky is a comedy/tragedy of errors about two subjects held sacred in America: race and religion.

  Like many of us, the characters often have more questions than answers. There are times when they are plagued by doubt, emptiness, and loneliness; times when they feel separated from love—from God. If we are honest with ourselves, we have known these feelings.

  Zora and Nicky is about our longing for love and the sometimes dark places it can take us. It addresses the reality of a broken world full of broken people who have distorted images of love. Ultimately, these pages paint a beautiful picture of a God who pursues us in our brokenness and forms us in His love.

  This novel doesn’t offer pat answers or simple solutions. It is simply a story, and like all good stories, we begin to see our own lives reflected in the pages. We trust that the underlying message will point you toward hope—toward God.

  Thank you for reading,

  Don Pape

  Publisher

  But we have this treasure in earthen vessels.

  2 Corinthians 4:7

  My beloved friends, let us continue to love each other since love comes from God. Everyone who loves is born of God and experien
ces a relationship with God. The person who refuses to love doesn’t know the first thing about God, because God is love—so you can’t know him if you don’t love. This is how God showed his love for us: God sent his only Son into the world so we might live through him. This is the kind of love we are talking about—not that we once upon a time loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as a sacrifice to clear away our sins and the damage they’ve done to our relationship with God.

  My dear, dear friends, if God loved us like this, we certainly ought to love each other. No one has seen God, ever. But if we love one another, God dwells deeply within us, and his love becomes complete in us—perfect love!

  1 John 4:7–12 (MSG)

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I am so blessed to have this opportunity, Holy Trinity, One in Essence, and Undivided, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Thank You, thank You, thank You. Without You I am nothing. I could do nothing. All this is for You.

  Thank you, my beloved and ginormous family. This was a tough one. I’ll make good on the bribes, except for the Porsche, Ken. I was just playin’.

  Hi again, patient Claudia Mair Burney readers who wondered where I disappeared to. I’m back! Thanks for waiting for me, and welcome newbies!

  I have a literary beloved community. They’re my first readers, cheerleaders, mentors, and advocates. You include: Mary, Lisa, Lori, Stacia, Heather, Diane, Paula, Donna, Mark, and Bethany. And God bless you, Ragamuffin Diva friends, who patiently endure my blog absences while I write novels.

  Steve, my Zora and Nicky evangelist, what a wonder you are. Thanks for believing in my Anne-Lamott, you-know-what first draft. And John Juan Blase, you were a wonderful Nicky. I owe you a cheeseburger.

  I am deeply indebted to Lisa for being more than a BFF and bringing her servant’s heart to me as my editor this time around. You taught me not just how to make a fine book but how to give hospitality Jesus-style. I learned more in this short run than a girl is entitled to from her literary crush. Thank you.

  I will never be able to repay the grace and kindness of Don and Terry, who not only rescued me from a dark night of the soul but made many dreams come true with this book. You showed me that my Father is very, very, fond of me. Now if I can only get a pair of patched pants!

  I am grateful to have been blessed to work with a remarkably gifted editor and sassy broad—and honey, God don’t make broads much anymore. I am very proud to know you, and work with you, Miss Andrea Christian.

  Chip MacGregor, the Holy Spirit got it right when He chose you as my agent. Your guidance has been impeccable. Thank you, lovely, quiet, and patient Patti, for sharing him with this neurotic writer.

  Fancy Pants, aka Brennan Manning, my hero, you changed my life with The Ragamuffin Gospel. You inspire me, delight me, and I adore you, and it’s pretty obvious from the pages of this book.

  Robert Benson, I discovered The Body Broken: Answering God’s Call to Love One Another as I put the finishing touches on this manuscript. Reading your book was a quiet “amen.” And sometimes it was a hearty one. Your vision is woven in these pages too.

  A few good friends will always grace the pages of my acknowledgments. They are my sustenance: Evette, Gail, Gina, and especially Carly, even though you’re my sister. And my David C. Cook “Girls” (insert our secret alternative name here), Good morning! Love you.

  Maybe I didn’t say your name. If you have contributed to this book in any way and I’ve failed you here, it doesn’t mean that I am not most grateful for your contribution. In the words of our hero Nicky, it simply means I suck. Forgive me.

  Finally, the team at David C. Cook is far too large to name, but I must give a wildly enthusiastic shout-out to El Presidente Cris, man-in-demand Dan, everybody’s right hand Denise, and all around wonderful, amazing people: Melanie, Kate, Theresa, Annette, Christina, and Amy, and so many more who work quietly behind the scenes with this dream team, making a sistah (and her book) look good. Real good.

  God bless you and keep you,

  God smile on you and gift you,

  God look you full on the face

  and make you prosper.

  Numbers 6:24–26 (MSG)

  Love is of God.

  Mair

  CHAPTER ONE

  ZORA

  I used to imagine myself as a tiny shoot on a tall brown tree, the gnarled roots of that tree tangled and twisted beneath the black earth. Our roots run so deep, my family can trace its origins back generations. To my great, great, great grandfather who followed the drinking gourd all the way to freedom. To slave ships with lyrical names that belied the horrors taking place in their wide bellies. To the shores of the west coast of Africa where one of our own returned, a single, dark, shining prince, unfettered by imposed forgetfulness, refusing to relinquish his name.

  We are a tree with roots and long-limbed branches reaching skyward—a tree with tiny green shoots like me, emerging from something solid and substantial. When we are in season, we scent the air with our bright, fragrant blossoms.

  But this Sunday morning I feel alienated from the dignity and hardiness of my ancestors. I don’t feel like a Psalm 1:3 sistah—a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth her fruit in her season. Her leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever she doeth shall prosper.

  And that was just the King James Version. Don’t make me pull out my Amplified Bible and quote that Scripture three times fast.

  Sometimes I long for that old-time religion that’s good enough for me. No, I take that back—I long for it all the time now.

  I scan the sanctuary. I need God to speak to me today. For real. That’s one reason I’m sitting in the third row. Besides being Daddy’s “amen” corner (the reason I sit here most Sundays), the first three rows make up what we call Prophet’s Row on the sly. In this esteemed section, you’re more likely to get “a Word” from God. I’ve received them on several occasions; I was told three different times that the Lord had a husband for me, and one prophet went so far as to say that he’d be a godly man with a pastoral call. I stopped sitting there for six months after that.

  Once, a prophetess visited us at Light of Life Christian Center and said God told her to give a woman in our congregation the silver fox coat right off her back. I know the recipient: Ms. Pamela Darden, a squat, obese woman with a widow’s mite, a bad wig, and three hefty daughters. Not one of the Darden women can keep a man, even if they shackle him to their bedposts, and it has nothing to do with their weight. They possess an air of quiet desperation, only it refuses to stay quiet and they end up making a big stink of their manlessness at every opportunity that arises.

  The Darden women don’t have much, and Ms. Pamela, the breadwinner, still takes care of her grown daughters while they “wait on the Lord.” But Ms. Pamela remains faithful. She tithes and gives offerings far above her means, grasping for the promised but ever-eluding hundred-fold return on her investment. She’s like a compulsive gambler tugging on the sleeve of a one-armed bandit like it was God’s own. Just one more silver fox coat. Or maybe a house. Or maybe help my girls get a job, God. Send me a Word, and money, money, money. Puh-leese, Lawd.

  I’m feeling you today, Ms. Pamela, every desperate Puh-leese, Lawd, puh-leese, Lawd, puh-leeeeeeese! I actually admire your crazy desperation. It takes courage to be that honest with God. That needy. My parents groomed me to not need anything.

  Trade ya.

  And Ms. Pamela, I’ve been watching you. I know you got behind in your car note, scrambling to pay all those online dating service bills your girls stuck you with when they believed more in Match.com and eHarmony than their mama’s hard work. I know if you thought somebody needed it, you’d give them the silver fox right off your back. I know you’ve lived a hard life, and you’ve had more than your share of boyfriends after your husband left you, and you’re still a little twisted from it. You still love rather freely, only now you love for Christ alone. It’s how you love for Him that’s so extravagant. You show up for whoever needs H
im, with whatever you can give. That widow’s mite of yours goes farther than the fattest wallets of some of our wealthiest members, including Daddy. You love Jesus like you don’t have a bit of sense.

  God bless you, Ms. Pamela Darden. God help you in this place.

  Service hasn’t started yet, so I step away from my chair over to the second row where Ms. Pamela and her daughters sit now. They don’t sit in the third row anymore, upgrading, probably, to sit closer to “the anointing.” I hope that works out for them. I tap Ms. Pamela on the shoulder. Fortunately, she’s at the end of the row so I don’t have to step over her daughters, Tessa, Vernice, and Noelle.

  I reach out to give her a hug. For all the hard edges of her life, her face, at least in church, is only softness and light. She takes me in with her warm brown eyes and draws me into cinnamon-colored big mama arms. Gives me an embrace scented with baby powder and rose water. There is a bit of hope for me to hold on to in that squeeze.

  There’s this facade I’m forced to endure, that everybody loves The Bishop’s daughter, whether they do or not. And then there is Ms. Pamela, who actually loves me.

  “How you doin’, Miss Zora?”

  “I’m good, Ms. Pamela.”

  God will forgive me for that lie if He forgives all the liars here who claim they have faith, healing, and prosperity when they’re riddled with doubt, sick, and broke day after day. At least I hope He will.

  “How are you this morning?” I ask her with sincerity, not trying to gauge whether or not she’s outconfessing, -believing, and -receiving me.