by Pat Simmons
Chapter 15
A few days later, Marcus had returned from a late lunch with a client when there was a knock on his door. “Come in.”
Victor’s ex-girlfriend, Latrice, stuck her head inside his office. He waved her inside and immediately noticed her demeanor as he nodded for her to have a seat. What was going on? If she quit this time, he wouldn’t rehire her.
“Mr. Whittington,” she said hesitantly, then swallowed, “I need a favor.”
He lifted a brow, linked his hands together, then leaned across the desk and waited.
Fumbling with her fingers, she wouldn’t look at him. Her lips trembled as she uttered, “Victor…is in jail.”
Again? he thought. When tears filled her eyes, he shifted in his seat. Oh boy. He wasn’t immune to tears.
Sniffing, she bowed her head. When she glanced up, her cheeks were wet. Oh man. He grabbed a fistful of tissues and handed them to her.
“Thank you.” She dabbed her eyes. She swallowed and took a deep breath. “Please, Mr. Whittington. We don’t have any money. Can you put up bail money for him to get out?”
“What?” Marcus roared as he shot up from his chair. Was she crazy? Seeing her flinch made him regain his composure and take his seat. This time, he took a deep breath. “Latrice, I like you as a person and enjoy seeing your boys.” He paused. “There are no polite words to describe my sentiments toward Victor.”
On numerous occasions, he had gone out of his way to help his ex-employee with groceries, copay for one of his boy’s doctor visits, and most recently last month, a loan to buy Latrice a gift for Mother’s Day. Marcus considered his gestures an investment in people. “When I’ve tried to help him, he threw it back in my face. Not only do I not choose to help him this time, I doubt he’d want my charity.” He grunted, disgusted with himself for trying to pay it forward. There were so many choice words he could repeat at the moment. “Did he put you up to this?”
“No,” she said softly. “I don’t know if you’re a praying man…”
“I am.” Who in their right mind didn’t pray? If not at bedtime or over a plate of food, most definitely in a jam. Victor better get busy.
“Do you listen?” She cast him a hopeful expression.
Latrice had him there, but no way was he going to fess up. When he didn’t answer, she proceeded. “I cried and prayed and asked God for mercy. I didn’t sleep all night, listening for Jesus to tell me what to do. I don’t know what to do, so I’m here, hoping you can help me.”
She had lost her mind. If God wasn’t helping her, who was Marcus to interfere? “I thought you and Victor split.”
“We did, but I still love him—from afar. I have two little boys who need their mother and father, whether we’re in the same household or not.”
“I can’t come to Victor’s rescue this time. He’s on his own. Sorry,” he said with finality in his voice.
She seemed slow to accept his answer. When it sunk in, she graciously thanked him, then quietly left his office. If she had put up a fight, he wouldn’t have felt nearly as bad. Rubbing his head, Marcus exhaled. He pushed Victor’s status to the back of his mind. The man was officially a repeat offender, but that had been his choice. On the other hand, Latrice’s plea nagged him throughout the day. The next day too.
Friday couldn’t come fast enough. That afternoon, while Marcus was making plans to hang out with Demetrius later downtown, his cell rang. Tabitha. “Hey.” He grinned and turned away from his brother.
“I need a favor,” she said in a frantic voice.
His senses went on alert. “You’ve got it. What is it?”
“I’m behind on making my physician visits. I have to see this doctor today before he leaves for vacation, which means I’m not going to be able to get Aunt Tweet before six.” She paused. “I wouldn’t ask, but I have no one else.”
His heart twisted, waiting for her to tell him what she needed. “Don’t worry about that.”
“I’m not trying to take advantage of your kindness.”
“Talk to me. I don’t have anything special planned.” He heard Demetrius clear his throat. Marcus ignored him. Tabitha gave him the name of the adult care facility and the latest time Aunt Tweet had to be picked up by. “I’m sorta a caregiver, remember? Thanks for calling me.”
“Thank you for saying yes.” He didn’t miss the relief in her voice. “I’ll call Bermuda Place and let them know you’re coming.”
When the call ended, he turned around. Demetrius had his arms folded and a scowl on his face. “Nothing planned, huh? What am I, invisible?” He huffed. “Don’t tell me, the neighbor again.” He swore, then spat, “You’re a sucker when it comes to women.”
“Watch it. Besides, one look at her and you would be a sucker too.” Yet his attraction went beyond looks. It was a magnetism that made him want to know more about her. “She also has a good heart too. Now,” he said, lifting his keys off his desk, “if you’ll excuse me, I can’t keep a lady waiting.”
When Marcus arrived at the place Tabitha sent him, he advised the receptionist who he was and who he was there to pick up. Once he showed his license, another woman escorted Aunt Tweet to the lobby.
“Look who’s here to get you,” the staff member said.
“That’s my son.” Aunt Tweet smiled and lifted her cheek for a kiss.
He delivered, thanked the staff, and walked her to his car. Once behind the wheel, he teased her. “So, I’m your son, huh?” He chuckled.
She nodded and matched his chuckle.
Was she playing games with him? During her game shows, Aunt Tweet was an intellectual powerhouse. Other times, her memory was fuzzy.
He drove away, thinking about his parents. Their mental health was good. What about himself and the woman who would be his soul mate? Marcus planned to wake up with her every morning and kiss her every night. He cringed at the thought of not being able to recognize the important people in his life, especially his wife.
* * *
Tabitha told herself she was desperate for help as she waited impatiently in the lobby of Dr. Aaron Bernard’s office. He was a highly sought-after expert on type 2 diabetes treatment. She was hyped about her company’s drug, because it truly would benefit patients who dreaded the daily insulin injections.
If Dr. Bernard had been her last appointment, she might have made it from South County to North County to get her aunt. There was no way now. She had two more stops to doctors who had requested samples of Ceclor for sinusitis.
When the door opened, Tabitha stood, ready to sing the praises of Dyabolin. She stopped in her tracks, recognizing her former coworker and sales rep Evan Carter as he stepped out. When he saw her, he grinned and headed toward Tabitha.
Keena Johnson, the head nurse (or gatekeeper), motioned with her finger to wait. She remembered Tabitha as a rep for Pfizer. In addition to the samples Tabitha brought to the office, she toted bagels for the staff. “Right after his next patient,” Keena said.
“Okay.” Tabitha exhaled.
“What are you doing here?” Evan asked and gave her a hug before she could blink. When it came to male acquaintances, she wasn’t a hugger, so that caught her off guard. It seemed, recently, Marcus had been the exception to the rule.
“Same as you. I’m with Ceyle-Norman now.”
“Ouch.” He gave her a look of pity. “I heard you quit, which was a shocker. I know that was a pay cut. Why?”
Not that he deserved an answer, but Tabitha didn’t want him to think she had gotten fired because she didn’t meet her sales quota. “My sisters and I are taking turns caring for our aunt. Traveling wasn’t an option anymore.”
“They have some great nursing homes.”
“I’m sure, but I’d rather not leave my aunt in the hands of strangers.” She swallowed. Marcus wasn’t a stranger—not anymore, right? Yes, she could trust him w
ith her most precious relative, right? She was second-guessing her decision to call Marcus.
Evan bobbed his head. “So, what are you peddling?”
She hated that term, as if pharmaceutical reps were drug dealers. “Dyabolin—”
The door opened, and the nurse waved her forward. “You’ve got seven minutes.”
“Great. Take care, Evan.” Tabitha picked up her case and disappeared behind the door.
Keena directed her to the first office. Dr. Bernard stood from behind his desk and extended his hand, then offered her a seat. She didn’t waste any time. “Thank you for seeing me.” She began her spiel. “Dyabolin may be revolutionary for your diabetic patients who fear needles.”
Folding his hands, he leaned back in his chair. She recognized the look. He was challenging her to convince him.
“Dyabolin isn’t insulin, but it helps the body release its natural insulin continuously to maintain blood sugar for seven days.” Tabitha was proud that the results from the clinical trial had proven successful.
“What are the active ingredients and the time frame for stabilization in the bloodstream?” he asked.
“Depending on a patient’s metabolism, it could take six to eight weeks before the medicine is effective, so they would have to be monitored closely.”
“So, to introduce this medication, my patients would have to be monitored every week for two months, instead of bimonthly visits,” he summarized.
“Yes.” She nodded. That was the truth.
“Will the benefits outweigh the side effects?”
“In the best candidates, yes. Possible concerns could be tumors, some cancerous. Besides serious allergic reactions, the drug could cause kidney failure or pancreatitis.” Doctors were well aware all drugs had side effects, some more severe than others. That’s how medicine worked.
Her mother once said doctors practice medicine, but God was the healer. Tabitha believed that; however, until God healed, the medicines were the best option. “Dr. Bernard, may I suggest you identify patients whose quality of life would benefit from this new drug. With your extensive research on the complications of this disease, especially in certain ethnic populations, I hope you’re willing to consider prescribing it.”
He pushed his circular glasses up on his nose. “You’ve done preliminary research for me. I appreciate that.”
“I don’t believe in wasting a physician’s time. I’ll leave samples and check back with you. Please call me with any questions.”
He accepted her packets, then stood. Thanking him, she left for her last two appointments in Midtown. On the way, she called Marcus. “Hey.” She greeted him hesitantly.
“Hey, yourself.” He sounded upbeat.
“Have you had a chance to get my aunt?” Her heart pounded, hoping nothing came up on his end too.
“Of course. As a matter of fact, we’re enjoying a light dinner at Ol’ Henry’s.”
Some of her tension subsided. “Thank you sooo much, but I’m jealous,” she teased. “But seriously, you didn’t have to feed her. I’ll reimburse you.”
“Our dinner—just us—is waiting to be cashed in. I’ll ignore your offer to pay me back. When we finish, my lady friend and I will do a little sightseeing, then head home. Without you, I don’t want to take her too far from familiar surroundings, so you’ll find us at the pond.”
Exhaling, she whispered, “Thank you.” The man was thoughtful. “Can you put her on the phone?” There was some scuffling, then Aunt Tweet said hello. “Are you are okay?”
“Of course. We’re eating supper. He’s handsome, you know.”
No comment. Once this crisis had passed, she could bask in Marcus’s handsomeness, kisses, cologne, hugs… That would come later. “See you soon, Auntie. Love you.”
* * *
Sunday morning, Tabitha couldn’t open her eyes. They were too heavy with sleep. Her body begged for another hour—three hours to be generous, but Aunt Tweet’s memory never faded on this day of the week. She didn’t know what time it was, nor did she care as she rolled over. She could try playing possum.
“Miss, it’s time to go,” a voice echoed in the distance, forcing Tabitha to open her eyes.
As her aunt came into focus, fully dressed, Tabitha sat up to get her bearings and scrutinize the person before her. Aunt Tweet’s appearance needed tweaking, including recombing her hair, replacing her pantyhose, which had a run, and removing the wool sweater. It was almost summer. Plus, Aunt Tweet should wear her red purse to match the red hat she insisted on wearing.
“Okay. Let me shower.” She sniffed. Even though Tabitha had assisted on bathing Aunt Tweet last night, she still needed freshening up.
Aunt Tweet said she would start breakfast while Tabitha showered. She had to believe her and trust that she wouldn’t go anywhere. When Tabitha walked into the kitchen ten minutes later, she determined it was time for Aunt Tweet to retire from the cooking. Her aunt was scrambling eggs with an uncut onion in the skillet.
“I’ll take it from here,” Tabitha said. She threw the onion away, finished the eggs, and made toast. While her aunt ate, Tabitha took Sweet Pepper outside for a potty break and to stretch his legs. Back in the kitchen, she made sure the puppy was fed, then gave her aunt a final inspection.
“Let’s go.”
They arrived at Bethesda Temple in time to hear the praise singers lead the congregation in worship. It wasn’t long before Aunt Tweet hummed a melody before singing the lyrics Tabitha followed on the screen. Her aunt’s eyes were closed, and she seemed to know every word.
There was something familiar about the song. Wracking her brain, Tabitha realized she had heard her aunt humming it in her sleep.
Pastor Nelson stepped to the podium to welcome visitors and give announcements, then he flipped through his Bible. Tabitha yawned as she opened her Bible app. One extra hour would have made a difference. Marcus is right. Who is going to take care of me?
“What is your reality today?” The pastor paused and folded his arms. “Are your circumstances putting you into situations that you’d never thought you would be in?”
My reality is being a caregiver, Tabitha thought. It was the source of her stress. As the pastor continued with his sermon, her mind drifted. In truth, her life had ben stressful before the caregiver’s pact with her sisters. As a sales rep, her income was based on performance, which was the driving force to excel for her quarterly bonuses.
The minister continued. “God knows. He cares, and He is waiting for you to come to Him. The Lord has your back. Give Him all your cares, worries, and frustration. Proverbs 12:25 says, ‘Anxiety makes the heart heavy, but a good word makes it glad.’” He lifted his Bible. “I got good news for you. Your inspiration is right here. Read it daily, meditate on it always and never stop praying. God is listening.”
It seemed like in a blink of an eye, Pastor Nelson had concluded his sermon, imparting more tidbits of wisdom from Proverbs. Then he beckoned those who needed prayer to come to the altar and many people heeded the call. What was heavy on their hearts? What were their realities? Tabitha watched as the ministers laid hands on heads and fervently prayed. Soon, the pastor asked for an offering, then gave the benediction.
Standing with the others, Aunt Tweet gave her a smile that warmed Tabitha’s heart and eased some of her stress. Her aunt’s happiness was her reality. Feeling inspired, she looped her arm through her aunt’s and strolled behind others to the parking lot. Maybe she could find time to start reading her Bible. But when? her mind challenged her.
“I haven’t eaten since yesterday.” Her aunt chuckled, and Tabitha shook her head, growing accustomed to her aunt’s constant declaration of hunger.
A half hour later, they were enjoying a scrumptious brunch. While sampling a serving of blueberry pie, Tabitha tried to pry childhood memories from Aunt Tweet but didn’t succeed as Marcus had.
When they returned home, Sweet Pepper greeted them at the door. Uh-oh. In her haste to leave, she hadn’t put him back in the kennel. There was a trail of an accident from the kitchen to the hallway. Tabitha nudged her aunt away before she stepped in it.
Although the sermon had inspired Tabitha, her feeling of lightness was snatched away. She settled Aunt Tweet in the family room, then cleaned up the puppy’s mishaps. She sighed, wishing for a twenty-four-hour respite where the Lord took all her cares away. Her reality was waiting for Rachel to take over.
Talk about stress—Tabitha lived it during the week with her sales calls. When she returned home, she was exhausted. She couldn’t wait for her sisters to arrive the next weekend.
Chapter 16
Saturday morning at Lambert Airport, Tabitha screamed her excitement at seeing her sisters exit the Southwest terminal. Even her aunt’s eyes lit up. After a group hug, they chatted on their way to the baggage carousel.
“You two look well.” Kym smiled.
“Thanks.” Tabitha accepted the compliment despite her casual attire. She wore suits throughout the week, but off the clock, she believed in slumming it in jeans. On the other hand, Aunt Tweet had to be dolled up before leaving the house. “Then I guess my makeup is working.” She half teased. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She hugged them again.
“It is, Sis.” Rachel squinted. “Add more contour and your features will pop,” she stated in her dramatic, sultry voice. Their personalities were as diverse as their looks. Rachel had a flair for fashion and was meticulous when it came to her personal appearance. She knew how to capture any man’s eye and keep his attention with little effort. Blame it on baby-sister syndrome—screaming for attention.
Tabitha was not an attention seeker unless it was a room of medical professionals. Surprisingly, men often took her as the youngest. She didn’t mind being mistaken for a teenager with her hair in a ponytail and wearing jeans. If someone didn’t appreciate her natural beauty, then he could move on.
As the oldest, Kym was on another level as a role model. She was a nurturer, protector, and counselor on matters of the heart when it came to first love as teenagers. She was their idol.
