Someone to Watch Over Me Page 12

  “You should know,” I pressed.

  “Here we go again,” Kevin whined. He stepped into the restroom and checked his reflection.

  Rather than sporting his workout gear, Kevin had changed into a pair of jeans and a dressier button-down shirt with an angel-wing appliqué on the back side.

  I flushed and faced him at the counter. “Where are you going?”

  “I was looking forward to a frisky evening with you, but little—what’s his name—DeMerrick?”

  “DeAndre.”

  “Yeah, well, he changed those plans.” He turned on the faucet and commenced to brushing his teeth. Kevin’s brown skin, always a rich reward in itself, brought out the flirt in me.

  Crossing my arms, I leaned against the counter. “You plan on kissing someone tonight?”

  “Not you.”

  No he didn’t! “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He finished brushing, spat out the paste, and rinsed. “Means as long as you’ve got that kid here, you won’t be getting any.”

  “Kevin—”

  “I’m serious, Tori. I don’t do kids. They make me nervous. Why’d he have to come with you, anyway? Where are his parents?”

  “His mom is in prison—”

  “Great!” Kevin laughed. “Is he a thief?”

  “No, his mom is incarcerated—not him. Why are you acting so ignorant and rude? What’s wrong with you?”

  “I should be asking you that question. Ever since you came back from the hospital, you’ve been on this crazy humanitarian kick. Then you go to Bayford and . . . I thought you were supposed to be helping your aunt, not saving the world—or giving me hints.”

  Okay, he lost me there. I trailed him back to his closet, where he slipped his feet into a pair of loafers.

  “What do you think I’m hinting about?”

  “That kid! Did you think you’d bring him here, we’d all go to Chuck E. Cheese, and I’d get a warm fuzzy feeling about getting married, having a family?”

  “Kevin, I didn’t even know you were going to be here.” I prompted his memory. “You’re supposed to be in St. Louis right now.”

  Never defeated, he ignored my observation. “You need to get your priorities back in order. We were good until you got sick.”

  He stuffed his wallet into his back pocket, grabbed an overnight bag and tossed a few staples inside. I darted in his path and pushed my index finger into his chest. As Aunt Dottie would say, it was time for us to have a come-to-Jesus. “I thought we were good, too, until I saw you couldn’t be there for me when I needed you most.”

  He took a deep breath, rolled his eyes. “Tori, get over your enlightenment. Take the kid back to Bayford, get a nurse for your aunt, come back to Houston, get back to work, and we can pick up where we left off. I don’t want all this extra family drama in our relationship. It’s not healthy.”

  He was role-playing either Dr. Phil or a jerk.

  “Hypothetically speaking, what if I decide I want a family?”

  “Then . . . I guess that’s the choice you make.”

  Kevin grabbed his keys from the dresser and walked past me. “I’m out.”

  Chapter 14

  Sunday morning found me back in Bayford, glad for the solitude of Aunt Dottie’s home. I took advantage of the DeAndre-free morning and jogged a whole hour on my treadmill, which I’d transported from Houston. No more run-ins with Tiny.

  DeAndre spent most of the day at Ray-Ray’s house with Joenetta because Ray-Ray’s wife, Fontella, was out of town. I still hadn’t figured out all their issues, but none of that mattered at the moment.

  I had my own issues to manage: Kevin, my job, Aunt Dottie, the store, which, by the way, still needed another employee to fill in gaps until Aunt Dottie recovered. How was I supposed to deal with all this and keep my sanity, too?

  Pride swelled in me as I remembered how proactive I’d been in commissioning Josiah to build a ramp over the porch steps for Aunt Dottie’s temporary wheelchair. But a brief visit with a nurse during Aunt Dottie’s last day in the hospital burst my bubble. The conversation surfaced a mountain of matters I didn’t even know I didn’t know. Weakened by the stroke, Aunt Dottie’s right side suddenly became my biggest concern. Could I feed her until the physical therapist got her up to speed? How would I lift her? How would I bathe her? That last question freaked me out.

  I hadn’t seen many people up-close naked. Counting Kevin and myself, the list was up to two. Kevin’s body was immaculate, always a pleasure to view. The only other male body I could compare him with belonged in an art gallery.

  The first time I had sex (which was the night I got pregnant, incidentally), I only saw parts of Bootsie’s body. Kind of impossible to get a good look when he wasn’t even fully undressed. Not that I would have looked anyway. I was too embarrassed by the whole situation to scope him out. Our ridiculously clumsy rendezvous was over before it started. He zipped up his pants and left, both of us fearing my parents might come home from work at any moment.

  I made him promise not to tell anybody. What a joke.

  I’d seen sections of my mother’s body when I lived at home. When she sprained her arm roller-skating at my tenth birthday party, I had to help with her front-clasp bra. Her breasts flopped out, to my surprise, when I finally unfastened the hook. I was traumatized by those free-hanging appendages.

  I remember turning my head away so I couldn’t see them anymore.

  My mother had tried to talk some sense into me. “Tori, they’re just boobs. You’ll have some pretty soon.”

  I taped my chest down for weeks after, trying to ward off the inevitable.

  How was I going to wash the tight spots on a seventy-something-year-old woman’s body when I couldn’t even look in the general direction of my mother’s bare chest?

  We’re talking about my beloved Aunt Dottie, here, but . . . the whole idea grossed me out. Maybe I could find some kind of trick. Maybe if I closed my eyes, I could get through it, like holding your nose to eat vegetables blocks the taste.

  After leaving the hospital, I stopped at the store to make sure everything was in place before the next day’s reopening.

  Cassandra’s house was next on my list, but I’d have to come back to her later. I forgot—everyone goes to church on Sundays in Bayford.

  Of course, the library was closed on Sundays. Actually, almost everything in Bayford was closed on Sunday—at least until twelve. Only the gas station broke ancient Sabbath regulations.

  Upon entrance to the gas station store, country gospel music played loudly, probably to shame those of us who were clearly playing church-hookie. Then again, maybe you had to actually be on a church roll sheet to skip.

  Virgie waited on me again, asking a ton of questions about Aunt Dottie and the store.

  “We’ll be open for business tomorrow, bright and early.”

  “That’s wonderful! I’ll be sure and tell everybody,” she offered. “Let me know if she needs any help. I could use some part-time work.”

  My ears perked up. “You don’t say.”

  “Yeah, need to pay off those Christmas bills,” she said with a laugh.

  “Virgie, you’ve got a deal! Here.” I grabbed an old business card from my purse. “Write down your number. I’ll call you tonight.”

  As I filled my gas tank, I thought about how nice Virgie was to inform the town of Dottie’s reopening and readily ask for employment. People in Bayford didn’t have to worry about competing with the Lexas of the world. Everything was simple. Easy. No conflicts of interest, just people doing what needed to be done.

  Aunt Dottie used to tell me, “You do what’s right, you won’t have to worry about what comes against you. God’s real good at fixin’ circumstances just right.” Then she would recite a verse about things working out for my good. I’d tried to find that verse once in the Bible, but couldn’t. The Bible seemed so big to me—how could anyone find quotes they needed with all those different books and verses?

&nbs
p; I’d have to wait until church was, presumably, dismissed before using sanctified grounds to check e-mail via cell phone. Hopefully, this wasn’t one of those Sundays where everyone ate at the church in anticipation of an afternoon service. Aunt Dottie used to keep me in church from sunup to sundown during Pastor Carter’s anniversary month.

  Shortly after two, I crept onto the church lot. Jacob’s car rested in its usual spot, along with two other vehicles peppering the landscape. The doors leading to the vestibule were still propped open. I could see the diamond-shaped windows in the swinging doors. Visitors would peep through the glass to locate a seat before taking the sanctuary’s runway, enduring the scrutiny of hundreds of saints’ eyes.

  I wondered what would happen if I walked through those doors now. Would the people remember me? Surely they would. I was Aunt Dottie’s niece. The pregnant niece. Who had the dead baby. Who went to college, despite the dead baby and all, bless her heart.

  My cell phone chimed, noting messages retrieved from cyberspace, now that I had arrived in the twenty-first century zone. Lexa sent me an obligatory state-of-the-Inner-G account address. Very generic. She obviously didn’t want me to know too much at this point. Maybe she feared I’d take over. Or that I wasn’t much of a team player. Or maybe she was just a natural-born hater who didn’t want to share the spotlight with me.

  Do I really care? No. Not about her so much as my job. Not about my job so much as my sense of achievement. Value. Recognition.

  Kevin was all but out of the picture. For the time being, our relationship was on hold by default. According to his ultimatum, I had to choose between him and my folks in Bayford. I didn’t think he was giving me a fair choice, but I wasn’t ready to formally end things because . . . well, I would be back in Houston after a while. Maybe we could work things out then. I had to give him some space—I probably would have freaked out, too, if he’d brought home a child without so much as consulting me.

  Kevin and I hadn’t talked much before I left for Bayford. He served only the silent treatment. Avoided DeAndre like the plague, turned over the remote to the child, actually, because he wouldn’t sit in DeAndre’s company watching television. Kevin avoided the house almost entirely while DeAndre was there.

  I got the feeling DeAndre was used to feeling like a nuisance around men. I recalled the disturbing tone he’d mustered when I told him Kevin would be inside the apartment. Same tone he’d used that morning when Joenetta told him they were going to Ray-Ray’s house.

  “Will my daddy be there?”

  “For a little while,” Joenetta had answered.

  “How long?”

  Joenetta answered his questions as they got into her car. I eavesdropped on the porch, pretending to have trouble latching the screen.

  “He’ll be there until Fontella comes home, then they’re going out to dinner and to visit Fontella’s family.”

  “Will my baby sister be home?”

  “No. You know better than that.”

  They drove away, DeAndre’s sad eyes glued to mine. No love lost on my end. Go on, Pee-Wee.

  These childless Sunday afternoon hours gave me a moment to remember what it was like to take care of numero uno. I replied to Lexa’s superficial e-mail with an equally shallow note. I’d deal with her later.

  Jacob’s torso entered my peripheral vision, transitioning my thoughts from worry to wonder. Why did he stay in Bayford? What did he see in this little town, other than his father’s church? And why wasn’t he married by now?

  He waved. I waved back. His head dipped into his car while he fumbled around—apparently looking for something. He gave up, then started in my direction.

  A million bats beat their wings in my stomach as he approached my car. This time, Jacob walked around to the passenger’s side. I unlocked the doors and he took the liberty of setting himself in the front seat, filling my vehicle with an unmistakably manly aroma. Six hours ago, when he’d first entered the sanctuary, he was probably fresh. Now, after he’d probably preached up a storm, as Aunt Dottie would say, he sported an after-service-but-my-deodorant-is-still-hanging-on musk.

  My nose reveled in it.

  “You doin’ all right?”

  “Fine.” Understatement of the day. My insides liquefied at the sight of Jacob head-on, with nothing but an armrest between us. Was he that hot or was I just a little on edge because Kevin cut me off? Had he really remained this good-looking over time, or was the memory of how cute he was in high school what made him so beautiful now?

  “Had a good time at church this morning.”

  “Good, good, that’s really, really good.” Where’s my vocabulary?

  “How’s Aunt Dottie?”

  Finally, something I could talk about. “She’s coming home tomorrow.”

  “Wonderful! I’ll share the good news with the prayer team. They’ve kept her name lifted before the Lord night and day.”

  Buzz dying. I fidgeted with my air vent. “Mmmm.”

  “You all right?”

  His question startled me into direct eye contact. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “If you say so,” he mumbled. “You seem a little upset. Stressed.”

  I laughed. “How would you know how I seem? We haven’t seen each other regularly in years.”

  Jacob angled himself in front of me. His eyes studied my face, sending a rush to my skin. Thank God for melanin.

  “I took a few psychology classes when I was in college. Let’s see here—tight brows, tense jawline,” he started.

  Laughter escaped me before he got any further. Already, I could sense the tension melting away. “You win.

  “Where’d you go to school anyway?” I asked.

  “U-T-Tyler. You?”

  “U of H, business major, marketing minor. You?”

  “Double major—counseling and math.”

  “Odd combination.”

  He chuckled slightly. “I thought I’d need mad math skills with all the money I’d be making as a big-city psychotherapist.”

  “Oh, I know. We were all supposed to be millionaires by, what, twenty-five or thirty at the latest, right?

  “So what happened to all your suburban money-making dreams?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “God had other plans. I use my people skills for pastoring, math skills for managing the church’s finances. All things work together for good, you know?”

  There it was again! “Okay, where is that verse in the Bible?”

  “Romans eight and twenty-eight.”

  “Romans eight and twenty-eight.” I committed the reference to memory. “I was just thinking about this particular verse the other day.”

  “Well, it’s true. All things do work together for the good of those who love the Lord.”

  “Mmmm.” Was I sitting next to warm, dearest Aunt Dottie or hot, beautiful Jacob Carter Jr.? Come to think of it, Jacob was starting to sound a lot like Cassandra—too young to be so . . . churchy and unmotivated to achieve anything outside Bayford. Where was the drive? The ambition? You’d think they’d never heard Dr. King’s I Have a Dream speech.

  “Looks like things are working out pretty well for you, too.” Jacob rubbed a hand across his seat. “Got this nice leather interior. Cold air blowin’ through the vents.”

  I smirked. “Stop. It’s not that serious.”

  “I’m just teasin’. But you’re right up there next to God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit on Aunt Dottie’s list. She’s really proud of you. You should be proud, too.”

  What? He’s not going to mention the baby? Call me stupid, but for some crazy reason, I felt like I needed to mention the baby for him. Like if I put it on the table, he could make his little commentary and get it over with. Kind of like one of those “now that you mentioned it” things. Save us both some embarrassment.

  Casually, I confessed, “Yeah, it’s not too often that a girl in my situation ends up doing well for herself.”

  “What situation?”

  “Spare me. I was pregna
nt, remember?”

  “Yeah, but that’s not the end of the world.” He shook his head. “You weren’t the first pregnant teenage girl in Bayford, and you most definitely weren’t the last.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “People are funny, you know? We remember the worst about each other, the bump on someone’s nose, the hair sticking out of place. It’s human nature to look for what’s wrong. We have to be conditioned, trained to look for and remember the best.”

  “Is that what you do?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. That’s how I read the stress in your face. I never forgot your smile.”

  Had to catch myself before all thirty-two showed, front and center. “Thank you.”

  Jacob grabbed the overhead handle on the passenger’s side. “Good talking to you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’d like to talk again sometime. Some place other than the church parking lot,” he suggested.

  “O . . . okay.” Vocabulary foiled again.

  “Would you like to go out later this week?”

  “Yes,” came out. Then reality hit. “No.”

  Jacob cast a puzzled glance.

  “I mean, yes, I’d like to go out, but I’m too busy. With the store, Aunt Dottie, DeAndre, my work—I can’t.”

  He sat up. “How can I help?”

  A puff of air escaped me. “Let me count the ways. You got a day care for bad little boys?”

  “You mean DeAndre.”

  “Who else?”

  “He’s no trouble. Aunt Dottie brings him to church with her all the time. I’ve had him in my Sunday school class. Smart as a whip, can’t put nothing past him.”

  “Please! He’s suspended from school for fighting, and peed in my trash can at my job, okay?”

  Jacob cracked up laughing.

  “I’m glad you think it’s so funny.”

  “No”—he calmed himself—“it’s not funny, except I did something similar when I was his age.”

  “Get out,” I ordered Jacob, fingering the unlock switch again. “Get out now.”

  “Wait, wait.” He locked the doors. “You remember when those JCPenney and Sears stores used to have those model restrooms set up in the store?”