“It’s after midnight.”
“And you’re still here?”
“Yes. I wanted to make certain your temperature didn’t go any higher. It went down to ninety-nine.”
“I don’t remember you taking it.”
“That’s because you were sleeping.”
“How long are you staying?”
“I’ll leave around five. I have to get back to fix breakfast. I’ll come back sometime in the afternoon to check in on you. Meanwhile, I’ve taken care of Barley. I’ll let him out before I leave and give him clean water.”
“How can I thank you for everything?”
“Just get well.”
“Do you intend to sleep on that chaise for the rest of the night?”
“It’s comfortable enough. And I found a throw in the linen closet, so I’m good.”
Rising on an elbow, Graeme stared at the darkened corner where Kayana lay on the chaise. “There’s enough room in the bed for the two of us to sleep side by side.”
“No, Graeme. You’re still contagious, and I can’t afford to get sick at this time of the year.”
“Can’t your brother fill in for you if you do get sick?”
“He can, but it would be hard for him to put in sixteen hours a day for any extended length of time.”
“How many hours do you work?”
“On average eight to nine. I begin preparing breakfast around five and shut down at ten. Then I stay to make the sides for lunch and dinner. Usually, I’m finished around one or two in the afternoon. Derrick will come in around ten and work until nine or ten at night. This summer he hired a retired short-order cook to help him.”
“What about in the off-season?”
“We only serve one meal a day. A buffet lunch from ten a.m. to two p.m. Monday through Saturday. Sunday is our day off.”
Graeme quickly computed the months. “So, you work long hours for three months, then you’re able to relax for the next nine months of the year. That’s a nice adjustment.”
“I think so.”
“Do you get many snowbirds during the winter months?”
“No. Many of the local residents look forward to the off-season to get their island back. They appreciate the money they can make renting their properties, but in reality, they resent having to share the beach with vacationers. You’ll realize that once you decide to retire here permanently.”
“That’s something I’m looking forward to.”
“How old are you, Graeme?”
“Fifty-two.”
“You’ve got quite a few years ahead of you before you can think of retiring.”
“I began teaching at twenty-two.”
“Weren’t you intimidated having to teach high school students?”
“No. I gave them the talk from the onset, emphasizing that I held the power over their passing and failing, so it behooved them to try and not act up in my class. Every once in a while, I’d get a few clowns that thought Mr. Ogden was just blowing smoke until they saw their grade. That’s when we’d have a serious heart-to-heart about the importance of math if they wanted to get a decent score on the SAT or ACT so they could get into the college of their choice. On the other hand, I never had a problem with my students who planned to become economics majors in college.” Graeme paused. “I’ve been running off at the mouth when you should be sleeping because five o’clock will be here before we know it.”
“I’ll take a nap when I come back this afternoon. I’ve grown quite fond of this chaise. In fact, it’s spacious enough for two people.”
“I doubt if you and I would be able to rest on it comfortably.”
“We’ll have to test it out and see,” Kayana said.
“Good night. Or should I say good morning?”
“Go back to sleep, Graeme.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sliding down to the pillows under his head and shoulders, Graeme closed his eyes. He felt better than he had before but knew it would take a few more days before he could think of himself as fully recovered from whatever he had picked up. Not once during his writing marathon had he thought that he was running himself into the ground and therefore compromising his immune system. Subsisting on black coffee and not much else wasn’t conducive to remaining healthy. Yet he knew his drive to complete the manuscript weeks before the deadline was based on wanting to set aside a lot more time to spend with Kayana.
And although something nagged at him to tell her that he’d retired from teaching and he planned to stay on the island after the summer season ended, he’d wanted to wait until they could take their friendship to another level where they could become lovers. His breathing deepened, and he soon fell asleep. Images of his making love to Kayana filled his dreams until the sun rose to herald the beginning of a new day.
* * *
“Rough night, Kay?”
Kayana refused to look at her brother as she sprinkled creole seasonings on the cut-up chicken in a large plastic bin. It was all she could do not to yawn. She’d slept fitfully in the chaise because she feared oversleeping and not making it back to the restaurant in time to start breakfast.
“Maybe I should tell Graeme not to keep my sister up all night because her day starts at dawn.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Derrick. The only thing I did with Graeme was take care of him because he is sick.”
Derrick stopped rolling and placing meatballs on a baking sheet. “I was teasing you about being with him, because I thought you were hanging out with your book club friends. I’m sorry to hear he’s not feeling well.”
“He’s still running a low-grade fever, but says he’s feeling better this morning than he did yesterday.”
“You’ve always been good to your men.”
“Graeme’s not my man, Derrick.”
“If he’s not your man, then what is he?”
“A friend, my dear brother.”
“Graeme’s a lucky man to have you as his friend. Anyone you befriend is lucky, Kay. You chose the right profession when you decided to become a social worker. Mama always said you were her soft-hearted child who would give someone your last crumb even if you were starving.”
“That’s because Grandmama Cassie drummed it into my head that I was to always be kind, act like a lady, and never do anything to dishonor our ancestors.”
“You always took everything our grandmother said literally.”
“Being kind, Derrick, doesn’t mean I’m willing to be a doormat for someone. I’ll put up with a lot of things, but not a liar or a cheater.”
“What about love, Kay?”
“Love means nothing if there’s no trust.”
A waitress stuck her head through the swinging doors leading to the kitchen. “Derrick, we have a situation out here.”
His head popped up. “What’s up, Jessica?”
“A guy gave me a credit card that wouldn’t go through, and he claims he has no cash on him to pay his bill.”
“I’m coming out.” Stripping off his gloves, Derrick left the kitchen.
Kayana rarely had to deal with nonpaying customers. Most of the time, she was able to come to an agreement when a credit card was declined by keeping the card until the owner returned with the cash to pay the check. However, Derrick was more intimidating and a lot less diplomatic.
She finished making her salads, and once she seasoned the chicken and put it in the refrigerator to marinate overnight, her workday was over. Graeme had sent her a text message that he’d felt strong enough to get out of bed and sit on the veranda, where he’d fallen asleep. Kayana returned the text, saying she planned to come over around three to check on him. He responded with a smiley emoji.
“How did it go?” she asked Derrick when he returned.
“I asked to see his phone, and after he handed it over, I told him I’d give it back once he came back with the money. And I’d call the sheriff if he made a scene.”
“Did it work?”
“Like a char
m. He managed to find a couple of tens in his jeans, and all was forgiven.”
“I don’t understand why folks try to skip out without paying their bill. It’s so embarrassing once they’re caught.”
Derrick slipped on a new pair of gloves. “I’ve known dudes who dine and dash, but that’s impossible here because the law will be waiting for them before they can get off the island. And it’s not worth it to get arrested and jailed for a paltry restaurant check.”
“The jails and prisons are filled with dumb criminals.”
“Tell me about it,” Derrick said under his breath.
Kayana covered the tub of chicken with cellophane and left it on the prep table for her brother to put it in the refrigerator. She took off the apron and tossed it in a hamper with other soiled linens the laundry service would pick up.
“I’m done here, Derrick. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Don’t forget to get some sleep.”
“Okay.” What Kayana hadn’t told her brother was she planned to spend the night at Graeme’s house; the love seat in the family room converted to a bed, and it was more comfortable than sleeping in the chaise.
* * *
Kayana had to admit that Graeme looked a lot better than he had the day before. He’d shaved and brushed his hair, and the purplish shadows under his light-gray eyes were fading. She eased back when he attempted to kiss her cheek.
“Hold up, cowboy. You can’t afford to get me sick.”
He managed to look sheepish. “Sorry about that,” he said, reaching for her overnight bag.
Kayana felt his forehead. It was cool. “How are you feeling?”
“My head still hurts a little bit, but at least I can stay out of bed for longer periods of time.”
“After I take your temperature, I’m going to change your bed.”
Graeme held her hand. “You would’ve made an incredible nurse.”
She scrunched up her nose. “No, I wouldn’t. I don’t like the sight of blood, and I’m not changing bedpans.”
“But you have a wonderful bedside manner.”
“That’s because I shift into therapist mode.” They climbed the staircase together, and she waited for Graeme to sit out on the veranda before she took his temperature. It was down to ninety-nine point one. Close, but still not within the range for normal.
Kayana suspected Graeme was putting on a brave face for her benefit. She’d noticed him massaging his temples when he believed she wasn’t looking and wondered if he should see a doctor to diagnose why he had an elevated body temperature. She gave him another dose of the cold and flu medication, and then stripped and changed the bed.
Graeme was nodding when she returned to the veranda. She gently shook him. “Graeme, it’s time for you to get into bed.”
His eyes widened when he stared up at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Do you mind if I stay out here for a while?”
Kayana gave him a tender smile. He was asking her where he could stay in his own home. “Of course I don’t mind.” The sun had moved over to this side of the house, and with the shade and a light breeze coming off the ocean, the veranda was the perfect place to hang out and relax. “I’m going downstairs to prepare dinner. Do you still want shrimp and grits?” When she’d texted him, asking what he wanted for dinner, he’d requested the Low Country favorite.
Shifting into a more comfortable position on the cushioned lounger, Graeme closed his eyes again. “Yes.”
She hesitated before walking off the veranda. “If you’re not feeling any better tomorrow, I’m going to suggest you see a doctor.”
“I’m already better.”
Kayana wasn’t about to argue with a grown man about whether he should go to the doctor if he had an elevated body temperature, which was an indication of an infection. “If you say so.”
“I heard that, Kayana.”
“I wanted you to hear it,” she countered.
* * *
Graeme waited for Kayana to leave before he opened his eyes. She had become his angel of mercy because his ability to perform even the normal task of getting out of bed and taking a shower involved herculean effort. He’d sat on the side of the bed for at least three minutes before finding the momentum to stand because of dizziness. And it had taken an inordinate amount of time to shave, shower, and put on clothes.
Sitting on the veranda and doing absolutely nothing was something he’d missed. When he’d rented the bungalow the year before, it had been his favorite spot to begin and end the day, but since he’d purchased the property, his focus shifted from enjoying his vacation home to turning it into a work site.
Perhaps he needed something to remind him that, at fifty-two, he was no longer able to pull all-nighters as he had in college during finals week. Now that he was a month ahead of his deadline, Graeme decided to stick to a schedule of writing four hours a day, five days a week, and kicking back on the weekend. He’d retired from teaching to become a full-time writer, but not at the risk of compromising his health. And Kayana volunteering to take care of him had alleviated his apprehension about whether they would continue to go out together. He’d panicked after she said: “I stopped checking in the day I left this island to go to college” when he’d asked her to contact him to make certain she’d made it home safely, because he’d feared it would be the last time she would come to his home. In order to keep from calling her, he’d submerged himself in the manuscript. Writing had helped to purge the guilt of losing his wife, and it had also allowed him to escape and forget about the first woman with whom he’d been involved, and who did not need him—for anything.
Kayana had admitted that she wanted to take care of him because she liked him. Well, he liked her too. A lot. There was so much he wanted to share with her: books, movies, and vacationing in exotic and romantic places. He’d never visited Dubai, and the city in the desert was now on his bucket list. And there was taking a monthlong vacation to take in the sights in many of the world’s capital cities. He had the time and the resources to indulge in most of his longings, yet he wanted and needed someone to share it with him.
The sound of the door sliding open captured his attention, and when he turned, he found Kayana balancing flatware on plates. He stood up and took the plates from her and set them on the glass-topped rattan table with two matching pull-up, cushioned chairs.
“Why didn’t you ask me to come down and help you?”
She smiled at him. “I didn’t ask because I don’t want you moving around too much. I decided we’ll eat up here tonight. I’ll be back in a little while to set the table.”
“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” he asked.
“If you ask me the same thing next week this time, then maybe I’ll say yes.”
Graeme stared at Kayana’s firm hips in her fitted white jeans as she walked. Was she sending him coded messages that she planned to return the following week and share a meal with him on the veranda, or had she said it just to pacify him?
Kayana made two more trips: one to spread a cloth on the table, set up the place settings, and light a quartet of votives, and another time to bring up bowls of creamy cheese grits topped with grilled shrimp, chopped green onion, and tiny pieces of andouille.
“I’ll bring up the water after we eat,” she said when he pulled out a chair to seat her.
Graeme lingered over her head, while resisting the urge to press a kiss on the strands, from which wafted the scent of coconut. He rounded the table and sat opposite Kayana, and everything around him ceased to exist as he stared at her. Kayana Johnson was the total package—looks, brains, and talent.
If asked why he’d been initially attracted to Kayana, Graeme would have to admit it was her round face. Her complexion, a flawless nut-brown, was the canvas for a pair of wide-set, large, dark-brown eyes, a pert nose, and a full, lush mouth. He’d found himself hypnotized when listening to her sultry drawl that indicated she had grown up in the South. The timbre of her voice never changed, even whe
n she attempted to pacify an uncooperative customer. It had been impossible for him to imagine what her figure looked like under the chef’s tunic and loose-fitting pants, but after encountering her at the bookstore and staring at her slender, compact body, his fantasy about the woman with chin-length black hair concealed under her bandana was complete.
Kayana Johnson was the second African American woman he’d found himself attracted to, but nothing came of it when he’d asked his former college classmate to go on a date with him. She’d rejected him, stating she only dated black men. Although her rejection stung, he respected her decision. The incident was a wake-up call for Graeme because, as someone of privilege and entitlement, used to getting whatever he wanted, there were things and people who would always be beyond his reach.
Graeme did not have a type when it came to the opposite sex, and he usually dated women not based on their physical attributes but their intellect and empathy. Those two qualities were the reasons he’d married Jillian. Her sole focus on empowering underrepresented and marginalized persons was what drew him to her. Sexual compatibility was important in a relationship, but not what he thought of as a deal breaker, yet it had become a cause of contention between him and his late wife.
“Is something wrong, Graeme?”
Kayana’s voice shattered his musings. “No. Why?”
“You look as if you zoned out for a while.”
“I was just thinking about something.”
She raised a questioning eyebrow. “A penny for your thoughts.”
“Only a penny, Kay?”
“Why? Do you want to wager more?” she said, smiling.
“If I’m thinking about you, then you have to know you’re worth much more than a penny.”
Kayana set down her fork and touched the napkin to the corners of her mouth. “How much?”
Graeme slowly shook his head. “It’s impossible to put a price tag on someone who is the total package.”
“Mr. Ogden, are you attempting to seduce me?”
He stared at Kayana for several seconds before dissolving into laughter. “Is that what you believe I’m attempting?”
“Yes.”
Graeme could not discern from her expression whether she was teasing or serious. “Well, I’m not. You have to know that I like you in the way a man likes a woman. But when it comes to attempting to seduce you—no. Yes, I want you to sleep with me, but it’s not about me, but you.”
The Seaside Café Page 16
