All This Love (Stoneworth Series Book 2)

by Michelle Stimpson

  “Maintenance staff. They’ll be here in another fifteen minutes or so, probably.”

  “So no one has cleaned it today?”

  “We sanitize it after every procedure. If it makes you feel better, though, I’ll wipe it down with disinfectant again.”

  She shivered just thinking about germs. “Would you, please?

  Jada stood against the sink with arms crossed as she waited, watching Knox clean the table for her. He reminded her of the bus boys at her first job, the International House of Pancakes. She’d been a waiter. A terrible waiter. She had no patience for 6-year-olds who couldn’t decide if they wanted a smiley face made of whipped cream or of bananas on their pancake. When the parent finally made the decision and the kid whined, it was all Jada could do not to yell, “You should be grateful your parents can afford to take you out to eat, you little princess-wanna-be!”

  Jada’s impatience always seeped through to her service. Tips were nill. Rude comments abounded. Waitressing was definitely not the thing for her.

  “Ready,” Knox announced. “Hop up.”

  She double-checked his work by running her fingers along the surface.

  “Oh, you’re going to check my cleaning skills now?” Knox huffed.

  Jada giggled. “You did aiiight.” She hoisted herself onto the table.

  He washed his hands in the sink. He donned a pair of plastic gloves and turned on the bright light overhead.

  This right here—a tall, strong man standing over her smelling of a sweet-musky cologne—she wasn’t prepared for. This was even worse than at the clinic because now she knew Knox. She knew that his pleasing exterior was only the gravy on top of the goodness within him.

  What if she grabbed him, right now, and pulled him into a kiss? What if he kissed her back? And what if he fell on top of her and accidentally stabbed her eye with the scissors and she went blind! But he has the video releasing him from all liability! What if— “Ouch!”

  “Pain?”

  She tried to relax her facial muscles again. “Tug.”

  “Then say tug, not ouch. You’re making me nervous. I don’t have this problem with dogs and cats.”

  “Sorry.”

  As Knox continued with the procedure, Jada realized she was holding her breath, her emotions, and the attraction inside. “Almost finished?” she barely mouthed.

  “Almost.”

  She licked her lips. Seeing Knox’s beautiful face in concentration suddenly made her jealous of the animals he tended to daily. He was serious about his work, totally focused on his subject.

  Jada closed her eyes. Else, she wasn’t going to make it out of there without embarrassing herself and, possibly, Knox.

  “Done.”

  “Great.” Jada stared up at his handsome face.

  He smiled down at her.

  A second of silence. Two. Three.

  “I’ve got a mirror.” Knox broke the trance.

  Jada sat upright and rubbed a finger across the freshly freed skin.

  Knox handed her a mirror. “Good as new.”

  Jada examined her reflection, noting the small holes above her eyebrow where the needle and thread had been pulled through on each side of the cut. “A little rough, eh?”

  “The puncture marks will fade with time.”

  “If you say so.” She returned the mirror. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Hello!” a male voice rang.

  Jada hopped off the table. “Who’s that?” she whispered to Knox. Her eyes scanned the room for a weapon to defend herself.

  “Maintenance guy. Paul.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m finishing up, Paul. Be out of your way in a minute,” Knox called.

  “No worries. I’m starting in the restrooms.”

  Knox threw the scissors and tweezers into a container marked ‘bio.’ He grabbed his white jacket. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where to?”

  “The shelter,” Jada said, wondering why he’d asked.

  Knox’s shoulders dropped. “Are you sure there’s no other place I can take you? What about my parents’ guest house? It’s still empty.”

  Jada looked around the sterile room. “This place isn’t so bad.”

  “I’m sure I could ask—”

  “Knox, I’m kidding. I’m not going to stay here. The shelter is not the worst place in the world, you know? Maybe in your world, but not mine.”

  “I don’t like the thought of you being there.”

  “It could be worse. Like at my sister’s house. Let’s go.”

  On the way back to the shelter, Knox stopped and picked up a burger and fries for them both. Grateful, Jada ate it like it might be her last good meal. “I’m healed and fed.” She laughed.

  Knox wasn’t in a joking mood, though. The crease in his forehead had appeared when she mentioned the shelter, and it was still holding strong in place.

  She directed him to the front entrance of the shelter, which was directly behind a Methodist church. “Stop here.”

  He put the car in park and sighed. “Jada. This is unnecessary. You know that, right?”

  “Look. If I have a choice between staying at a shelter or catching a case by staying with my sister, I’ll take the shelter for two hundred, Alex.”

  “You do have another choice. My parents—”

  “Your sister wasn’t too crazy about me being there, if I remember correctly. It’s her parents’ pool house, too.”

  “Is that what this is about? Rainey, who runs nothing?”

  “No,” Jada admitted. She’d been hoping the part about his sister would make Knox relent.

  “If you’re worried about her, why don’t you stay at my condo? I’ll stay somewhere else.”

  Jada huffed. “Knox. Stop it, okay? I know you’re a great person with great intentions and you can’t imagine the horror of staying at a homeless shelter. But you’re not me and I’m not you. I can handle this. Besides…” Jada bit her bottom lip momentarily. “I don’t have to stay here much longer. My mom bought me a ticket back to Memphis on the Superbus. I leave Monday.”

  Knox inhaled sharply. He felt as though he’d been knocked upside the head with a bag of rocks. “Wait, wait. What? Monday?”

  “Yes. Monday.” Jada pressed her lips together in a look that read, This is the end of the road.

  How could she leave him right now? Or ever?

  “Don’t look so devastated,” Jada said, tapping the end of his nose with her fingertip.

  Knox wanted to grab her hand, ask her to stay. But what would he do with her? She wouldn’t accept his offers for shelter. Jada wasn’t into being rescued, and he couldn’t force his hospitality on her.

  “This is…disappointing,” Knox admitted.

  “It’s not disappointing. It’s life,” she summarized. “I’ve been disappointed countless times. This is just another tally mark to add to all the others.” She drew a short line in the air with her fingertip.

  “And you’re okay with it?”

  “What else am I supposed to do—change the world?”

  “Not the whole world. Only your world.”

  Jada gave a condescending grin. “You’re so optimistic. I’m glad for you. I truly am. One day, if I ever have kids, I’ll try to give them the best of everything so they can think like you. But until then, I’ve got to live in the real world.”

  She reached for the door handle.

  “Wait.” Knox didn’t know what else he could say to stall her. He thought for a second, then he asked, “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”

  Jada’s eyes rolled up and to the left. “Well, you can hold a few things for me. A lady was eyeing them last night. I don’t want no trouble from her.” Jada unzipped her backpack and pulled out a smaller bag. “You can hold this for me until I leave.”

  Knox took the bag from her. It was quite heavy for its size. “What is it?”

  “Som
e pictures. My Bible. I guess the lady at the shelter must think my Bible has some money in it. You know that old saying—if you want to hide something, put it in the Bible?” Jada laughed.

  Knox didn’t. He still couldn’t believe he was dropping her off at a shelter of all places.

  “Can you come back before Monday?”

  “I’ll be here tomorrow,” Knox quickly replied.

  “For what? I mean, tomorrow is Saturday. There’s nothing—”

  “I don’t want you hear longer than you have to be. Breakfast. In the morning.” The words came out more forcefully than he’d planned, but he couldn’t help it. Jada was frustrating him. What kind of man would he be to drop off someone he cared for at a shelter? In his mind, only those without family or loved ones lived in shelters; people who had gotten on drugs, stolen from their family members and such. Those were the kinds of people who wound up in shelters because they’d burned all their bridges.

  Not people like Jada. Strong, independent, sweet, hard-working, smart.

  This woman was messing up his do-good-get-good philosophy.

  “Fine. Breakfast. But they don’t open the doors until eight.”

  “What? Are they locking you in?”

  Jada swung her head to face him. “It’s more a safety precaution. We have to be inside by eight p.m., can’t leave before eight a.m. That way, people won’t come running in and out all night long. ”

  Knox tried to imagine the logistics behind running a homeless shelter. He imagined the chaos that might ensue with people coming to the shelter in the middle of the night, waking up those in an adjacent section. He could understand the need for these rules. “I see.”

  “Goodnight, Knox.”

  “Night.”

  Jada opened her door, grabbed her bag, and left him. Again.

  As she walked toward the door, he saw the eyes of the men who were hanging around the entrance. They were checking her out. One of them even whistled. Knox rolled his window down. He might have to intervene.

  Jada replied to the whistler, “I ain’t no dog, so don’t be whistlin’ at me, fool.”

  Surprised, Knox felt his eyebrows shoot up. He had to give it to Jada, she knew how to handle herself in this environment. Oddly, Knox found himself enamored with her ability to function in his world and this…other world he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy, let alone Jada.

  As soon as Jada was inside the door, Knox shifted his gear to drive. He checked to his right, then to his left, where he saw a woman and two young girls approaching the building. The mother’s hair was pulled back into a tight bun. The children were dressed in khaki pants and red collared shirts, probably some kind of school uniform.

  Why are they here? Knox wondered.

  “Momma, how long do we have to stay here?” the oldest girl, whose long, beaded braids clanked with each step, asked.

  “Until the Lord makes a way,” the mother answered. She repositioned a large backpack on her shoulders.

  “How long will it take for God to make a way?” from the youngest one.

  “I have no idea. But we’re going to make it. Somehow.”

  The desperation in the woman’s voice struck a nerve in Knox. These people. This woman. The children. Jada.

  This shouldn’t be.

  Chapter 13

  With the lights dimmed to afford sleep to those who could actually lose consciousness in the building, Jada lay on her cot, thinking. She’d put up a good front for Knox, maybe even for herself, but the truth remained—this was ridiculous.

  She could understand why her mother had been in homeless shelters. Running in and out of relationships, not having a profitable education, working minimum-wage jobs, and trying to raise two children as a single mom; that was enough for any woman to land herself in these circumstances.

  But now that Jada had gone a step further with her education, refrained from having children, and even accepted Christ as her savior, stuff wasn’t supposed to be like this.

  Then again, this was the story of her life. Just as she’d told Knox, she was used to disappointment. Life wasn’t a fairytale.

  A soft buzzing sound emanated from a nearby section. Then it stopped.

  “Shhhh!”

  To which, a female voice replied softly, “The machine has a motor, you know.”

  “You’re going to get us both kicked out of here.”

  Their hushed tones caused Jada to rise off her cot and get nosy. She peeked over the ledge, to the adjacent section, and immediately saw the dilemma. A woman with purple, stringy hair was tattooing a twenty-something girl’s arm.

  She looked up at Jada. “It’s loud, right?”

  The girl’s eyes were already watering despite the fact there was only a small line inked onto her right forearm.

  “Kinda.”

  “I told you,” the girl told the artist.

  “Hey. Will you be our lookout?” the woman asked Jada. “I’ll give you five dollars.”

  “Up front,” Jada insisted. No way was she going to do the job and then get burned on the back end.

  The woman reached into her pocked and pulled out a crumpled five-dollar bill. She handed it to Jada. “Here.”

  “Gotcha.” Jada stuffed the money into her bra. She had enough cash to make it to Monday, when she’d get on the bus, but an extra five never hurt.

  Jada piled her pillow and blanket on the cot, positioning herself so that she could see over the tops of the dividers. For the next twenty minutes, she earned that five dollars and an opportunity to make a phone call on the customer’s cell phone by keeping watch to make sure the shelter workers didn’t sneak up on the tattooing-in-progress.

  The guise of talking on the phone served well as Jada surveyed the landscape as the tattoo ensued. She called Sam and asked how she and the baby were doing.

  “We’re fine. Momma said you were going back to Memphis, huh?”

  Her sister sounded different somehow, but Jada couldn’t put her finger on exactly what was happening.

  Jada answered, “Yeah. Starting fresh.”

  “What about Knox?”

  Jada sighed. “There are more fish in the sea, I guess.”

  “Some fish are better than others,” Sam said.

  And there it was again. The way she pronounced the “f” sound.

  “Joo-Joo is going to miss you. He’s been looking around for you. I can tell. He cries for you, too. But he’ll be fine after a while.”

  The difference was more pronounced that time. “Sam, there’s something wrong. You sound like…something’s wrong with your mouth.” She’d heard about people’s speech suddenly changing. “Go look in the mirror and smile. See if both sides of your face move.”

  “I’m not having a stroke. It’s my lip.”

  The heat bubbled in Jada’s stomach. “What’s wrong with your lip, Sam?”

  Silence.

  “I repeat. What is wrong with your lip?”

  “It’s just…a little swollen. That’s all.”

  “He hit you, didn’t he? He finally hit you.”

  “It was a little argument. I guess I—I took things too far. I insulted his manhood and he—”

  “There’s no excuse for what he did, Sam. It’s not your fault he has anger management issues.” Jada fought to keep her voice under control and stay on watch for the tattooing at the same time.

  “It won’t happen again. Trust me.”

  “It will happen again because he’s crazy,” Jada countered.

  “I gotta go. He’s home.”

  The very thought of having to end the conversation because Patrick was home sickened Jada all the more. Yet, she knew that if he found Sam on the phone instead of in the kitchen or someplace out of his way, that would only make the arguing start five minutes earlier. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “I love you, Jada. Bye.”

  Saddened by the end of their conversation, Jada ended the call and slowly gave the phone back to the girl getting the tattoo.

>   “Drama?” she asked.

  “Too much drama.”

  “I feel your pain, girl. Men.”

  “Men and needy females who have no clue what they’re worth.”

  Immediately, Jada felt ashamed of herself for having turned on her sister, even with a stranger. But how else could she reconcile the fact that her sister was allowing her husband to abuse her?

  Jada’s heart jumped when another fellow homeless woman popped her head above the divider on the opposite side of a makeshift tattoo parlor. “What y’all doin’?” she whispered.

  The buzz stopped as the artist answered, “Tattoos.”

  “Ooh. You’re that tattoo lady. Can you do a person’s face?”

  “You got a picture of ’em?”

  “Yeah. On my phone.”

  Jada kept guard as the artist negotiated another deal. The second customer negotiated a fee of fifteen dollars, a pack of cigarettes, and a bracelet bearing a silver cross in exchange for a picture of her deceased mother with the words “Forever Loved” underneath.

  Jada was all set to earn another five dollars. What if she did this professionally? She could be, like, a lookout girl for the mob. Or maybe she could be a private investigator. But then one day one of her clients would accidentally leak her cell number. And then instead of being the hunter, Jada would quickly become the hunted. She knew how to fight, but what if he caught up to her in an alley? And had a stunt gun? And she fell in a puddle of water and got electrocuted?

  No. I can’t be a private investigator. She’d have to earn this quick five dollars and be done with it.

  The tattooist finished up the first customer. She gave the girl directions on how to care for the tattoo until it healed. Then she submerged her utensils in alcohol, wiped them clean with paper towels, and moved to the next section for the second tattoo.

  Jada moved to the girl’s section so she could be close enough to warn, should the workers come by.

  Peeking over the ledge every now and then, Jada noted how the artist started by sketching the mother’s face on her customer’s arm. It was amazing at how well the artist had captured the picture of the mother. The wrinkles in her forehead, the dimple in her chin, even the twinkle in her eyes.

  Then the tattooing started. All was going well…until Jada spotted a wiry woman who’d gotten up a few minutes earlier pointing toward her.