by Pat Simmons
“I didn’t.”
With nothing more to say—at least, nothing that wouldn’t cause him to come off as an idiot—Garrett excused himself and strolled back to the head table.
After that, several of his cousins performed another musical selection before the band resumed playing. Once again, Shari kept him distracted. Soon, John called for an intermission so the band could eat. Minutes after they had piled their plates with food from the buffet table and taken their seats, Garrett’s nephew made a beeline to their table and nearly stumbled into Shari’s lap, clamoring for her attention. Although Shari didn’t appear to mind, Garrett decided to intervene.
As he approached the table, Garrett overheard Jamal saying, “You play better than my uncle.”
“Traitor. You think so, huh?” Garrett directed his comment at his nephew but watched Shari for her reaction.
“Yeah.” Jamal looked up at him and displayed an angelic toothy grin.
Winking at Shari, Garrett rubbed the boy’s curly hair. “C’mon, let the lady eat.”
“But she may need something to drink…or some napkins,” Jamal protested.
“Her glass is full, and there are plenty of napkins on the table. Let’s go, buddy—now,” he repeated.
Twisting his lips into a frown, Jamal stomped away and trailed Garrett back to his seat.
All through dinner, Garrett chatted with relatives, joked with old friends, and embraced former church members who were still talking to him. Yet his gaze never wandered far from Shari. Finally, when he couldn’t keep his distance any longer, Garrett strolled back over to the table where the band was seated.
Garrett tapped John on the shoulder, then leaned down and whispered into his ear, so that his wife wouldn’t overhear, “I want to know everything about Shari when I get back to Philly. And I mean everything, even her shoe size.”
The band director raised his eyebrows in a look of mild shock. “Uh…are you sure you want to pursue that already, man?” The two friends had reconnected when Garrett had relocated to Philly, and Garrett had confided in John the reasons for his sudden move.
“No,” Garrett admitted. Being around Shari made him feel like he was having an out-of-body experience.
“Well, you’d better be certain, because the Carmens might do a background check—especially Attorney Carmen.” John smirked, but Garrett didn’t crack a smile. “All right. We’ll talk when you come back.”
“Thanks.” Straightening, Garrett moved two seats down to Shari. “If you’re finished eating, I would like to introduce you to the honorees.”
Dropping her fork, Rita pushed back from the table. “I can’t wait to meet them.”
As she tried to stand, John stayed his wife’s arm. “Not you, babe.” He nodded to Shari.
Rita frowned at her husband, then squinted at Garrett. “On second thought, honey, I think I’d rather sample your dessert.” She scooped up a bite of John’s cheesecake. Her acting was terrible as she raved about the flavor.
Shari stood, and Garrett tried to guess her height. Probably five or six feet tall without her high heels. He didn’t try to conceal his assessment as he admired her flawless dark skin—not even a beauty mole. He wondered if her long hair was silky to the touch.
Everybody turned to watch as Shari strutted beside him to the head table. Garrett kept his hands to himself when he really wanted to brush against her arm—any point of contact that would confirm whether there were sparks that could ignite or whether he was losing his mind. “Grands, this is Sister Sharmaine Carmen, the young lady who played the sax so skillfully.”
She extended her hand, displaying long, slender, manicured fingers—feminine fingers that didn’t hint at their masterful skill on the sax. “Please, call me Shari.”
“Then Sister Shari it is,” his grandfather said. “You jammed, young lady. You really put a hurt on that instrument.”
Shari lowered her lashes, clearly embarrassed by the accolades. “Thank you, and congratulations on your fiftieth wedding anniversary. You both look so youthful to have been together that many years.”
Queen blushed. “Aren’t you a sweet thing, and pretty, too. I pray that God gives you fifty years of bliss, as well.”
“Oh, I’m not married.”
His grandmother’s eyes sparkled. She shifted in her seat as a smile spread across her wrinkle-free face. “Well, dear, my grandson, here, is available.” She leaned forward and whispered, “I heard he has a real good job in Philadelphia, too.”
Garrett lifted his brows but didn’t say a word. Evidently, the damage done by his ex-fiancée was fading fast if his grandmother felt so comfortable meddling. Queen had always been wary of women who were “sniffing” him out, as she said, especially now in the wake of what had happened with Brittani. On more than one occasion, Garrett had overheard her telling a woman, in her soft, sweet, grandmotherly tone, “Keep movin’, honey,” or “I’m watching you.” Maybe he and his granny were of one accord that there was something special about this woman.
“Uh, thanks.” Shari nodded, then excused herself. In her hasty departure, Garrett didn’t miss that her shapely legs trembled, and her stiletto heels had nothing to do with it.
“We scared her off,” his grandmother said, her tone pouty.
“Nonsense, Queen.” Moses turned to Garrett and looked him sternly in the eye. “God is stirring in your life. Pray fervently for wisdom, Grandson, and guard your heart.”
“She’s starting to show, you know,” Queen interrupted her husband’s counsel. Glancing over her shoulder, she scanned the room. “She seems remorseful, but to parade her condition around church…and sitting up front! I can’t believe some folks still thought you two should have gone ahead with the wedding. If you’d stayed, no doubt they would have hounded you and made your life miserable. I didn’t want that for you. Brittani was acting like a politician, drumming up votes, basically brainwashing people to pick sides.”
“Sweetheart,” Moses said gently, trying to hush his wife, “the boy didn’t come home for an update.”
Queen patted her husband’s hand. “You’re right, dear.” Then she looked at Garrett. “At first, I didn’t understand the reasoning behind God’s directive for you to leave, but I have a feeling that everything is going to be okay.” She batted her eyelashes.
Garrett took that as his cue to leave, since others had approached the table to vie for his grandparents’ attention. Taking his seat, he studied Shari as the band resumed entertaining the crowd. Her magnetism wasn’t limited to him. Other male guests were ogling her, including Landon.
He and his cousin were Moses and Queen’s only grandsons. They had been born just five minutes apart. Sometimes it seemed as if he and Landon had a biblical Jacob-and-Esau type of relationship because they were complete opposites, from their appearances to their spiritual lives.
Landon charmed the ladies with his light skin and well-defined facial features—long nose, hazel eyes, and hairless face, except for a shiny goatee. Garrett had worn a mustache ever since he’d first grown one, at sixteen years old. He was an inch taller than Landon at six three, and more buff overall, with deep sunbaked skin and dark brown eyes.
As far as Garrett was concerned, Sister Shari was hands-off to any male, including his little nephew, Jamal. Garrett was curious to find out what it was about her that made him forget his past. If any man was going to capture her affections, he wanted it to be him. Devil, you’ve been warned.
Chapter 3
Something had happened to Shari, and it was indescribable, unexplainable, and downright exciting! The Lord had given her incredible strength to play “Thank You” with such fervor that the invisible chains of missing her father had been broken.
That was huge. On days when her life seemed crazy and she longed for those special hugs or “daddy talks,” Shari would pick up her sax, wanting to hold on to all the special moments she had played with her father, but before she could exhale the air into the mouthpiece, she would break dow
n.
She deeply missed having her father in her life, even as a grown woman. Her uncle and two male cousins had always been there for her, but they couldn’t fill the void. Her daddy had been her idol, and she didn’t see any man filling his shoes—ever.
“See? That was a piece of cake. Aren’t you glad you came?” John grinned in triumph as Shari boarded the van with the band for the return trip to Philly. He gave her an odd look, as if he was about to say more, but he didn’t.
“Yes, I’m glad,” she conceded. “But do you always have to be right? You win for ambushing me.” Settling in the seat next to Faith, Shari was giddy with praise, which she’d had to restrain at the banquet for etiquette’s sake.
Now she felt silly for holding on to something that had become a burden. She had been set free, delivered, and healed of the melancholy whenever she thought about her father. Suddenly, it was as if she could hear her mother sing the lyrics of “Look at Me,” a popular old gospel favorite by Tramaine Hawkins. Closing her eyes, Shari began to hum the tune.
“That’s why you’re singing at my wedding,” Faith said, nudging her. She picked up the melody, and soon the others on board joined in to sing the chorus. Needless to say, they had church on the road back to Philly.
It was after midnight when John steered the van into the parking lot of Jesus Is the Way Church. Shari yawned and stretched, then gathered her belongings and got out.
Faith walked with Shari toward their vehicles. “Hey,” she said, coming alongside her, “I didn’t want to say anything around the others, but did you notice Brother Nash checking you out?”
Shari frowned and studied her friend’s face. She looked as tired as Shari felt. “You definitely need a good night’s sleep, Faith. The only thing he was checking out was the fact that I could outplay him.”
“Mmm-hmm. I spent half the night watching him watching you. He’s a fine chunk of double chocolate. Girl, if I wasn’t marrying Trask, I would definitely flirt with him, big time.” She winked. “Good night, Sister,” she added in a singsong voice.
Shari’s father had always told his girls, “If a man is attracted in you, let him prove it.” To date, no one had stepped up to the plate to prove his attraction to Shari. Dismissing Faith’s erroneous observation, Shari got in her vehicle, buckled her seatbelt and drove off.
She was almost home when a what-if scenario stemming from Faith’s comment came to mind. Maybe it was just her, but it seemed that most good-looking dark-skinned brothers like Brother Nash preferred a heavy dose of milk in their coffee when it came to a sister’s outward appearance. Shari’s long hair, smooth dark skin, long eyelashes, and even her “endowment,” as her mother called it, couldn’t hold a candle to fairer-skinned women like her beautiful sisters.
Since her skin was darker than a brown paper bag, she was encouraged not to affiliate with certain sororities and other organizations. It wasn’t a myth. From slavery to the post-civil rights era, it was an unspoken truth that lighter-skinned black women enjoyed more inclusion, better positions, and the best-looking black men.
It didn’t matter. Shari knew her worth, and she refused to use bleaching products on her skin in order to be accepted. She had other interests in life besides snagging the attention of a man, and she was open to any ethnicity, as long as he was a practicing Christian. Enough about letting Faith plant a tease seed in her brain. The real story tonight was what God had done for her. “Jesus, thank You for setting me free tonight,” she prayed, praising Him as she turned the corner to her home.
You’re welcome.
Her smile stretched wider. She loved it when God talked back.
***
The next day, Garrett didn’t bother attending Sunday service at his former home church, Blood Redemption Temple. If he ran into Brittani portraying herself as the victim, he would leave Boston on a sour note—again.
“What a joke,” he mumbled, gritting his teeth. The only thing on his mind while he packed was Shari. His attraction was so sudden and so strong, he had to take deep breaths to slow his heart rate. Another relationship this soon was out of the question. Garrett wasn’t looking, but his psyche begged to differ.
Garrett had more time to think once he got on I-95 toward Philly. What a difference a day made. Months ago, he’d sat behind the same wheel, mad at God for sending him to a “foreign” land where he knew no one. The more he’d tried to trust God, the more bitter he’d become at the unexpected turn of events. Now, it was déjà vu all over again, except that this time, he couldn’t wait to get back to the City of Brotherly Love.
Six hours later, Garrett pulled into his designated parking spot at his condo. He was barely inside his living room when he tapped John’s name on his contacts list to call him. He took about twenty seconds for a greeting, then got to the point. “Before you tell me what I should know about her, tell me what I don’t want to know.”
“Hmm. Well, Shari’s quiet, unassuming—”
“I figured that out, man,” Garrett cut in. “But you can’t hide beauty, and that woman is packed with it. She’s gorgeous!”
“But she doesn’t throw her looks or her business in folks’ faces. She was very close with her father, and the last time she played ‘Thank You’ was at his funeral, over a decade ago. The song was a painful reminder of her loss.”
Oh, no. The price of pain Shari had paid in order to bless his family was beyond measure. Garrett had both his parents and one set of grandparents still alive, and he couldn’t imagine the void that her father’s death must have caused. As a matter of fact, Garrett was closer to his grandfather than to his own father. His mother had always marveled at how closely he resembled his grandfather.
“Rita and I had to double-team her to get her to come, and we prayed she would get through it,” John said. “And she did—very competently, wouldn’t you say?” He chuckled. “Actually, I’ve never seen her so happy after a performance. If you think she can play, you should see her with her three sisters. An impromptu concert around every corner. The oldest, Stacy, is the church organist—”
“That’s Shari’s sister?” Now that Garrett thought about it, he realized there were similarities in their eyes and smiles. Come to think of it, he had also seen the two women talking together after church.
“Yes. Her other sisters are Shae and Brecee. Shari’s an attorney…and, basically, that’s it.”
That definitely wasn’t “it.” Garrett was sure of that as he tugged on his mustache.
“You have your work cut out for you,” John went on. “I haven’t heard any rumors about her dating anyone in the church; given her strong Christian convictions, I doubt any man outside the faith could lure her into letting him buy her anything from a vending machine.” John laughed at what Garrett assumed he had intended as a joke.
“Then I guess I’d better get plenty of change for the snack machines, because something tells me Sister Shari could be my sweet tooth.” Garrett rubbed the waves in his hair. “I have really lost my mind. I can’t believe I’m saying this.”
“Man, unless you’re a eunuch, one bad experience with a woman isn’t going to stop you from falling in love again. Maybe next time—”
“Hold on. My love bank is empty. After Brittani, it will take a while for me to build it back up. But the more I say I don’t want a next time, the more I feel God is telling me to be still.”
“Then let God take the lead and see what happens.” It wasn’t long before John’s wife summoned him away, and they ended the call.
Wife. Garrett grunted. He’d almost had one of those. What took him by surprise was that his instant attraction to Shari had become stronger than the love he had professed to Brittani before he’d proposed. In hindsight, he wondered whether he’d been so sure of himself that he’d assumed his choice of a wife was the same woman as God’s choice for him. Boy, had he been wrong.
Chapter 4
On Monday morning, Garrett checked his Facebook account and found a rambling message from Brittan
i.
Garrett, I know you were in town last weekend for your grandparents’ anniversary. I wasn’t invited. That was disappointing. I was hoping that we would see each other at church on Sunday. You can’t keep putting all the blame on me….
He deleted the message without reading the rest. He had heard it all before from her—the begging, the tears, the threats. His parents and grandparents hadn’t raised any fools. And neither had the Lord.
Yes, he had loved Brittani like crazy and had strived to give her the desires of her heart, but it clearly hadn’t been enough. Not when she’d slept with another man while wearing his engagement ring.
Note to self: Either block her or delete your Facebook account. He had moved on. Actually, it was God who had moved him—literally. His transfer from the U.S. Marshals office in Boston to the one in Philly had gone off without a hitch, considering that there had been two vacancies.
The hunt for housing had been just as flawless. Thanks to his savvy real-estate agent, he had put a bid on a pricey two-bathroom condo on City Avenue that was in pre-foreclosure. If that wasn’t the Lord ordering his steps after an engagement debacle, then what was? Could Jesus be opening his heart to trust a woman again? Somehow his heart and eyes agreed that there was no comparison between Shari and Brittani.
The next day at work, when his smartphone played the familiar ringtone he’d chosen for his grandfather, Garrett put an end to his musings. As a deputy with the U.S. Marshal Philadelphia Fugitive Task Force, he had plenty of job security with the endless list of fugitives requiring apprehension. And here he was, daydreaming.
“Hi, Grandpa.”
“I like her,” Moses stated.
His grandfather never wasted time but always said whatever was on his mind. Garrett didn’t have to guess who he was referring to.
“Funny, I do, too,” Garrett seconded, not ashamed to be transparent with his elderly confidant. “As a matter of fact, I’ll get to see her at Bible class this evening. But as a result, this day seems to be dragging. And I have plenty of work to do.”
