by Pat Simmons
Rachel frowned. “What kind of state will she be in when she comes to live with me to celebrate my birthday at the end of October? They’ve found cures for everything under the sun. When will dementia sufferers get a break?”
Tabitha shrugged. “I’d read so much on dementia’s symptoms and Alzheimer’s I thought my brain would burst to prep me to be an efficient caregiver.” Shaking her head, she pulled her legs to her chest, then rested her chin on her knees. “The textbook barely scratches the surface. The brain tissue of Alzheimer’s patients can’t be studied until”—she swallowed—“they pass away. There are some things we can do now, like participate in preventive studies.”
“I am so not feeling that one.” Kym shook her head. “You know I’m not the one for those research and clinical trials. I don’t care how much they pay me.” She folded her arms.
“It’s not about the money. You want a cure? It’s about prevention. While scientists may test drugs and therapies in clinical trials, prevention trials are geared toward keeping diseases from developing. If they determine we’re high risk, researchers will study whether a certain medicine, vitamin, or lifestyle change might prevent us from getting it.” Tabitha didn’t realize she had switched to her sales rep mode until her sisters started grinning at her. “What?”
“You sound so…clinical,” Kym said with pride.
Rachel hmphed. “I still think we need to have her doctor change her meds to something stronger.”
“The more potent the drug, the greater the chance for worsening side effects. She’s already on Razadyne for mild to moderate dementia symptoms like confusion. I’ve done my homework the best I can, even scrutinized other drugs. A couple have a one-to-three-week adjustment period, and during that time, Aunt Tweet could suffer with diarrhea, nausea, vomiting, urinary obstruction, ulcers, and the symptoms go on.”
Adjusting to medicine was never fun. “Do we want to subject her to those side effects? She’s healthy, except for high blood pressure and osteoporosis. She’s in the hands of God,” Tabitha said, trying to convince her siblings.
“You said Aunt Tweet has been wanting to go to church, and today God gave her something that she came for. The ministers called it her Nicodemus experience.” Kym twisted her lips. Her strong voice became soft and shaky. “She’s eighty-four. Maybe she’s dying and wants to make peace with God?”
Rachel sniffed. “I can’t imagine our lives without her in it.”
Tabitha rubbed her arms as if a cold blast hit her. “I don’t want to think or talk about death.” Tabitha blinked away the onset of tears.
“Right.” Kym concurred.
Tabitha changed the subject. “Since Marcus invited us to a Memorial Day barbecue at his company, want to go?” She looked to her sisters. If they wanted to opt out, they would do something else, but surprisingly, they agreed—Rachel more enthusiastically.
Chapter 19
Since Marcus couldn’t stay asleep the next morning, he opted to work out his frustration in his home gym. After the treadmill, Marcus began to lift weights when his doorbell rang. Returning his dumbbells to the holder, he reached for a towel to wipe his face, then glanced out the window. There wasn’t a car in front of his house.
The bell rang again as he hurried down the stairs. Marcus doubted it was Aunt Tweet. Number one, she had never rung his doorbell. Number two, the puppy and his own frequent visits to Tabitha’s had seemed to cease her urge for wandering.
He opened the door and came face-to-face with the woman who had invaded his life in a good way because of Aunt Tweet.
“Ah, hi.” Tabitha scanned his attire and smiled. “Sorry for the early visit. I was walking to clear my head and was hoping you were up and…decent.”
He panicked immediately. “Is everything all right?” She nodded, but that wasn’t good enough. “Is Aunt—” He slowed down. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“And Aunt Tweet?”
“Yes.”
He exhaled and grinned. “Give me a sec to shower. Do you want to come inside?”
“No. I’ll wait out here.” She glanced down at the puppy at her feet. “I have Sweet Pepper.”
Her sisters must be babysitting. That meant it was just the two of them. “Be right back.”
He showered quickly but opted to shave later. After slipping on a shirt and shorts, Marcus returned to the porch and sat next to her. “Now, where were we?”
She angled her head. He admired her as she studied his face. The moment would be perfect to share their first kiss. He was about to act on his desire when she frowned.
As if she had come to a decision, she smiled, but not wide enough to show her white teeth. “I bet you would look handsome with a beard.”
“Huh? So now I’m ugly?” he teased and lifted an eyebrow.
Giggling, she nudged his shoulder. “Not even on a bad day. I’m not giving you any more compliments today.” Tabitha’s eyes twinkled, then in another surprising move, she rested her head on his shoulder.
Her closeness was making him weak in his knees—and he was sitting.
She exhaled. “I needed to vent.”
He chuckled. “You haven’t said much.” He chuckled and enjoyed inhaling the scent of her hair.
Tabitha pulled away, to his disappointment, and faced him. “Being a caregiver is harder than I thought.”
“I see that now, and I’m on the outside looking in. Sorry I misjudged you.”
“It’s okay.” Tabitha shrugged, then anchored her elbows on her knees. Again, she became quiet.
“Do you realize this is the first time we’ve ever been alone…without Aunt Tweet?”
“Yeah.” The sadness in her eyes made his heart ache. “I know you care for me and Aunt Tweet, or you wouldn’t be in our lives”—she squeezed her lips as if to trap her words inside—“but somehow, you caught me off guard and captured my heart.” She patted her chest as if she were about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. “But it wouldn’t be fair to you or Aunt Tweet to try to juggle a relationship. I have nothing to give. I’m not in control of my own life. My evenings and weekends are booked.”
Now she was venting. Only, he wasn’t buying what she was trying to sell. Marcus had witnessed her frustrations, but hearing them tore at his heart. He sensed she needed to be cuddled and loved, so he took the liberty of guiding her head back to his shoulder, then put his arm around her.
“Tab, I’m not convinced you believe the words coming out of your mouth. I’m hearing you say you don’t have room for us in your life…” He rubbed his jaw against her head. “But the vibes I’m getting are you want to try. I vote to try.”
He waited for her to voice her thoughts. He yearned to hear Tabitha say she wanted to try, but she said nothing as she pulled away, stood, and dusted off the back of her pants.
No! Their one-on-one time was too short. “Then I guess we’ll be having ‘working-to-build-a-relationship’ lunches during the day,” he suggested.
“Despite my protest, I like the sound of that.” She laughed, and her killer smile reached her eyes. He got to his feet as she began to stroll away with Sweet Pepper.
“Miss Knicely,” he called after her. When she whirled around, he asked, “Are you and the ladies coming later for the barbecue?”
“Absolutely, Mr. Whittington,” she said, then continued on her way.
Folding his arms, he leaned against the porch and watched her and the pooch disappear through the park. Her presence, her smile, and her sass filled his heart with contentment, and he wanted more of it. If Aunt Tweet was part of the package, he would take the deal—plus the dog.
* * *
Tabitha felt refreshed after the leisurely walk to Marcus’s house. But their brief private moment only left her heart and mind playing tug-of-war. Tabitha wanted him to be in her life, and it had nothing to do with him helping h
er with Aunt Tweet, but it was because of Aunt Tweet that Tabitha couldn’t put her all into a relationship. Marcus had seen firsthand that her aunt was a handful.
She opened the door as Rachel glided down the stairs with the pure artistry of a Project Runway model, dressed in a romper with an airy organza see-through skirt attached at the waist. Her baby sister had a walk that turned heads—men with lusty eyes and ladies with envy.
“I’m hungry and ready to go,” Rachel said.
Kym walked out of the kitchen and exchanged smirks with Tabitha. “Are we talking about barbecue or Marcus’s brother?”
Hmph. “Both. Let Demetrius decide if he’s ready for me,” Rachel boasted.
“Aren’t you and Kym leaving tonight?”
Rachel grinned and lifted an eyebrow. “Even better to leave a lasting memory.”
Sometimes she wished she had Rachel’s confidence when it came to men. Her sister knew how to play the game. Tabitha didn’t want to put the energy into being a player or the center of attention.
Before they stepped into the car, Kym pulled Tabitha to the side. “This morning I watched Aunt Tweet read her Bible.”
“Okay.” She gave her sister a clueless stare, waiting to hear the problem. “And?”
“It was upside down,” Kym said in disbelief with a frown, “and she looked as if she was studying it. Do you think, maybe, she can’t remember how to read now?”
Tabitha understood her sister’s concern. “Don’t know. It’s possible. A couple of times while watching game shows, she’s asked me what they said. At first, I thought she was becoming hard of hearing, then I figured out she wasn’t understanding certain phrases anymore. It’s heart-wrenching!” She shook her head. “I guess as her brain cells die, she’ll become more confused.”
“Her deterioration is hard to watch.” Kym’s eyes teared. “Maybe I’ll look into the preventive trials—for all the other Aunt Tweets out there.”
“I know.” Wrapping their arms around each other’s shoulders, they walked in sync as they had as little girls. Aunt Tweet and Rachel were already in the car. After putting Marcus’s company’s address into her GPS, she drove off. “Wow, he does live close.”
Twelve minutes later, Tabitha turned into a crowded parking lot in front of Whittington Janitorial Services.
Tabitha felt a sense of pride for the Whittingtons’ accomplishments as single, successful black entrepreneurs, employing seventy workers. The big white stone building bore their name in bold maroon lettering. Getting out, the ladies followed the smell of barbecue and trail of voices. Not surprisingly, the door was locked. Tabitha rang a doorbell. Minutes later, a young woman appeared and cracked the door open while balancing a plate in one hand. “Hi. May I help you?”
“They’re my guests, Casey,” Marcus said, walking up behind the woman.
“Oh, sorry, Mr. Whittington.” She stepped back, then disappeared down the hall.
“Good afternoon, ladies.” He kissed Aunt Tweet’s cheek, then Tabitha’s. She felt the softness of his lips and closed her eyes to enjoy it. She could imagine them cuddling to watch a movie, or talking in front of a roaring fire, or doing absolutely nothing but together. The more she protested a relationship between them, the more she craved it.
“This place is huge—and clean,” Tabitha complimented as they trailed him inside.
He grunted. “We’re a cleaning company. It had better be. If my place of business isn’t sparkling, then I can’t sell my services to prospective clients.”
“Good point.” Tabitha nodded. The landscape changed when the group rounded a corner. The party was in the open space of a loading dock where tables were laden with desserts, drinks, and barbecue. Outside in the sun, children played in a bounce house, and the adults lounged in chairs and ate at the picnic tables. The smell of barbecue tickled her nose.
“Want a tour?” Marcus asked.
“Food first,” Rachel mumbled. Aunt Tweet seconded that.
“Give Tabitha the tour,” Kym said as she and the others headed to the tables to survey their food choices. “We skipped breakfast for this, so it’s about to go down.”
Tabitha laughed as Marcus linked his fingers through hers and tugged her outside. A group of small children ran up to him for hugs or vied for his attention. Employees waved, nodded, or saluted him with cans of soda or bottled water.
“You’re well loved.” She used her free hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she verified his handsomeness that she’d cataloged up close a few hours earlier on his porch. Tabitha didn’t know what possessed her to pay him a visit. Maybe it was nothing more than a desire to be near him. His presence was like a balm. She smiled to herself.
“You’re probably hungry too. Have a seat, and I’ll fix your plate. Are you a hot dog, hamburger, ribs, or chicken type of woman?” He wiggled his brow mischievously.
“I’ll let you figure me out, so choose very carefully, Mr. Whittington,” Tabitha flirted back. She was losing the battle to push him away. Her heart pounded wildly whenever she was near him.
* * *
With paper plates and utensils in hand, Marcus strolled in the direction of the grill. “What’s ready, Chess?”
“Chicken and burgers.” He wielded his barbecue tongs as if he were a master chef.
“I’ll take both on each plate.”
“Is that your lady friend?” his employee asked casually, peeping over his shoulder.
“Friends—definitely.” The “his lady” part was a work in progress. Marcus smiled at the thought of him and Tabitha officially being a couple, not her caregiver. He rejoined her minutes later with a full plate.
“You don’t expect me to eat all of this, do you?” She blinked, then chuckled before accepting his offering.
“Whatever’s left, take back to the house.” They bowed their heads and gave thanks for their meals. “How’s Aunt Tweet doing after her church experience?” He was the first to speak.
“She seems to be in perfect peace. What about you?” Her brows knitted together with concern.
“What do you mean?”
“Your expressions were all over the place yesterday—distracted and confused. This morning—”
So she could read him. “I saw you and everything was all right in my world.” Feeling slightly embarrassed, Marcus looked the other way before meeting her brown eyes again. “Was I that transparent?”
She chewed then swallowed her baked beans before nodding. “Honestly, I thought you were going to beat Aunt Tweet to the altar for prayer, but you acted as if you were scared to make a move.”
“I was trying my best not to—” Marcus stopped midsentence. Latrice was strolling carefree through the warehouse, headed outside to the patio. While she anchored Vance on one hip, she kept Little Victor close by her side. The boy’s eyes grew wide with excitement when he saw the other children, then Marcus. Breaking free, he made a beeline to Marcus’s table.
Lifting the child on his lap, Marcus asked how he was doing and listened as Little Victor spoke and pointed to the swings. Latrice appeared moments later. “Hi, Mr. Whittington.” Was there an unspoken tension between them, or was it just him feeling uncomfortable? Whatever the vibe, now was not the time to revisit any discussion of her ex. He hugged her son one last time and set him down, then made introductions.
“Nice to meet you,” Tabitha said, unaware his employee and the woman’s boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, father of her sons, or whatever was her current situation with Victor—were thorns in his side.
When Latrice and her sons strolled away, Tabitha tilted her head and studied him. “What’s bothering you?”
“You just met her.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened, then a blank expression flashed on her face.
“Before you even think it—no, those aren’t my children. I don’t have affairs with employees. My problem wi
th her is rescuing a damsel in distress.”
“O-okay…like me.”
“No, no.” He shook his head. “My interest in you is personal.”
“But it didn’t start out that way,” she quietly mumbled. “I know I was a hot mess in distress.”
Marcus wiped his mouth and set down his utensil before resting his hand on top of hers. “My attraction to you began day one.”
“So did your annoyance,” she teased with a chuckle.
“You got me.” He grinned. “We got started on the wrong foot. I may not be walking in your shoes, but I’m right there beside you, not because you asked for help, but because I want to be.”
The adoration on her face made Marcus take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Tabitha had a way of jumbling his thoughts, but he wanted to get her take on the situation with Latrice. He shifted in his seat to shake the deep trance her brown eyes held him in.
“Listen.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I’m not trying to brag, but I think my brother and I do a great job of giving back to the community. We hire ex-felons—except sex offenders—and pay them more than minimum wage. We provide transportation to job sites and offer on-site day care for our employees.” He paused and scrunched his nose. “Sounds like I’m boasting, huh?”
Shaking her head, Tabitha gave him a warm smile. “Sounds like you’re a great guy, but I have it on good authority that you can be a little rough around the edges.”
“Fake news.” They laughed together. She was a good stress reliever. “Anyway, Latrice’s boyfriend is one I took under my wing. I gave him one chance after another, but the brother was unappreciative. I had to let him go.”
Tabitha bobbed her head. “I get it. So the mother of his children is mad at you about it?”
“Actually, she’s not mad at all. Last week, the dude got arrested again and is in jail. Latrice wants me to pay his bond.” He grunted. “Look at me. Do I look like a fool?”
“No. You look like a smart businessman with a kind heart. I take it you turned her down.”
