That could have been you, a voice whispered in her head.
As she drove back to the hospital, Mya tried to imagine what her life would have been like if she had remained in Gauthier. The thought was so disturbing her mind refused to conjure a single image. Instead, a picture of her two-story Brooklyn apartment, with its exposed-brick walls, hardwood floors and view of lower Manhattan, traced across her mind’s eye. She visualized the diverse faces she passed as she went about her day in the city. The hodgepodge of ethnicities and cultures that had added such richness to her life was the antithesis of these same faces from her childhood.
Thank God this place hadn’t managed to get its hooks into her.
As the thought floated through her mind, Mya felt an uncomfortable mixture of shame and guilt stir in the pit of her stomach. It was unfair to lay all the blame at the town’s feet. Her actions fifteen years ago made her just as culpable in the trap that had nearly snared her.
Mya pulled into the parking lot and, grabbing her grandmother’s wig from the front seat, made her way to her grandmother’s hospital room. She learned that Grandma had been moved to another room on the hospital’s west side. Following the signs in the white, sterile hallways, Mya found her grandmother’s room.
She tapped lightly on the partially open door as she entered. “Knock, knock,” she called. The room was outfitted in much the same way as the previous one, but instead of two beds, the other half of the room contained two reclining chairs and a small table.
“Bring me my hair,” her grandmother said.
She walked over to the bed and handed her grandmother the wig. “Why did they have to move you?” Mya asked.
“They didn’t have to move her,” Aunt Mo drawled, coming out of the bathroom that Mya hadn’t noticed tucked behind the door. “But putting her in a private room was easier than arguing with her.”
“Are you making trouble already?” Mya gave her grandmother a stern look.
“My roommate snored,” she answered, fluffing the wig’s tight curls. “It looks even better in person. Here, help me get this on.”
Mya removed the hairpins and lifted the old wig from her grandmother’s head, replacing it with the one she’d just brought. “Claudette hasn’t changed a bit,” she laughed, tucking a curl behind her grandmother’s ear.
“Did you expect her to? She’s been the same way since we were in the sixth grade,” her grandmother answered.
Mya chuckled. “She said something about a meeting Monday night?”
“Oh, dammit,” Grandma cursed.
“Mama!” Aunt Mo screeched.
“Oh, calm down, Maureen. You’d think she’s never heard a dirty word before,” her grandmother griped. “They’ve got to let me out of this hospital. I need to be at that meeting Monday night.”
“That’s up to your doctor,” Mya said. “Claudette said you’re in charge of some celebration committee?”
Her grandmother straightened her shoulders. “I’m chairing the committee for the town’s 175th-year anniversary and the downtown revitalization project, which some people think is a waste of time.”
“She means Margery,” Aunt Mo said.
“I don’t care what Margery thinks. We need to do something,” her grandmother argued.
Mya folded her arms across her chest. “Grandma, what are you up to?”
“It’s not just me,” she said with an affronted pout. She pointed an accusing finger at Mya’s chest. “It’s that darn outlet mall in Maplesville that’s causing problems. That’s where everyone shops now, and what’s worse, the people who built the outlet mall have their sights set on Main Street. They’re trying to bring in one of those big-box stores. Can you imagine what would happen to the businesses on Main if they had to compete with a huge national chain?”
“So you came up with the idea for an anniversary celebration?”
“Yes.” Her grandmother nodded. “We figure the celebration will draw people back to Main Street and show those developers that we don’t need some megastore moving in. But how am I supposed to get any work done laid up in this hospital bed?”
“Should have thought about that when you ate all that cake yesterday,” Maureen said.
“Would you take her back to New York with you?” Grandma asked.
“I’m not sure New York can handle Aunt Mo for more than a week at a time.” Mya laughed. “Besides, I’m not going back just yet. I’m going to stay for a few days, just to make sure you’re okay.”
The grateful smile that came over her grandmother’s face sent a bolt of shame careening through Mya’s chest. Her decision to remain in town an extra couple of days should not have been a big deal, but her grandmother’s joy at the announcement spoke a truth that was hard for Mya to face.
If her grandmother had expected her to leave while she was lying in a hospital bed, Mya must be just a step above Elizabeth in Grandma’s eyes.
“I have a wonderful idea.” Her grandmother squeezed her hand. “You can go to the meeting in my place Monday night!”
A tight ball of Please, don’t make me! ricocheted against the walls of Mya’s chest. It’s not as if she had plans for the time she would spend in Gauthier—she wasn’t even supposed to be in Gauthier this long. But Mya could think of a thousand things she’d rather do than spend a Monday night with a group of her grandmother’s contemporaries.
“Grandma...” Mya groaned.
“Oh, Mya, please. We only have a month left, and there’s so much work to do. I need to know what they talk about.”
“But Claudette said she’ll let you know,” she tried.
Her grandmother waved her off. “Claudette hardly pays attention. She’s always too busy gossiping, as if she doesn’t do enough of that in her shop all day.”
Mya stared at the instruments above the bed so she wouldn’t have to see the entreaty on her grandmother’s face.
“If you don’t go, I’ll just have to go myself. I’ll drag all these machines with me if I have to. And if I happen to pass out again...” She shrugged her shoulders.
“You are so not playing fair right now,” Mya accused her. “Aunt Mo, tell her.” Mya looked to her aunt for support, but Maureen kept her eyes on the crossword puzzle in her hands. Mya noticed the faint smile tipping up the corner of her lips.
She shook her head, accepting defeat. “Fine,” Mya said. “I’ll go to the meeting.”
Her grandmother reached over and patted her hand. “I knew you’d do the right thing. Now, go to the house and look on the bureau in my room. I have a green binder with all my notes. You need to look over them before the meeting. And don’t you let Clementine Washington bring up that magic show again. I told that woman nobody is going to come downtown to see her grandson perform magic tricks. He’s not that good anyway.”
“No magic,” Mya said with a sharp nod.
“And take out that corn bread casserole I have in the freezer for dinner tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry about dinner.” Mya brushed off her suggestion. “I’ll probably just open a can of soup and make a sandwich.”
“Corey will not be satisfied with soup and a sandwich.”
“Why do I have to worry about what he wants?”
“Because he always comes over for Sunday dinner,” her grandmother answered, as if having the boy she once ran off her porch with a broomstick over for dinner was no big deal. Apparently, it wasn’t a big deal to anyone but Mya.
This new dynamic between her family and Corey was hard to comprehend.
“Mama, Corey knows you’re in the hospital. I doubt he’s expecting Sunday dinner,” Maureen reasoned.
“Just to be on the safe side, you take out that casserole and cook some greens to go with it. You remember how to make greens, don’t you?” Her grandmother asked.
“Ye
ah, sure,” Mya answered. Though she wasn’t about to cook greens or anything else for Corey. She placed a kiss on her grandmother’s forehead. “Don’t worry about anything at the house, or at the meeting. You just concentrate on getting better. And don’t give the hospital staff a hard time.”
Aunt Mo huffed a laugh.
“Oh, shut up, Maureen,” her grandmother said. “Will I see you tomorrow?” she asked Mya. “After you go to church, of course,” she added.
Mya groaned but nodded before leaving the hospital room. She called her best friend from high school, Phylicia Phillips, who happened to be ten minutes away. Phylicia arrived in a blue pickup, a magnetic sign publicizing Phillips’ Home Restoration on the door.
She honked the horn, leaning an elbow on the edge of the open window. “Get your butt in here, girl.”
Mya bounded up to the truck and climbed in. “Thanks for picking me up, Phil.”
“No problem,” Phylicia said, her radiant smile and envy-worthy face clashing with her well-worn overalls. The smudge of dirt on her high cheekbone didn’t detract from her appeal one bit.
“Sorry I didn’t make it to the house after the funeral,” Phil said. “I had to get back to work. I’m on a tight deadline with this project.”
“You never told me what it is you’re doing.”
“I’m working on the Rosedale Plantation,” Phil answered with the kind of lustful sigh one employed when talking about a lover.
Mya laughed at the pure ecstasy on her friend’s face. “You must be in heaven.”
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to get my hands on that house.”
Phylicia’s dad, Percy Phillips, was the original Phil, but the nickname and the restoration business had passed down to Phylicia when her father died. Phil had expanded the business, catering to special restoration projects across the South.
As they drove back to her grandparents’ place, Mya filled her in on her grandmother’s condition. She was about to ask Phil what she knew about Corey’s relationship with her family when they pulled up to the house and she spotted his Escalade parked next to the mailbox.
Mya’s eyes roamed around the yard, and then grew wide. Corey Anderson, shirtless and sweaty, was picking up the vegetables that had fallen to the ground in her grandfather’s garden.
“Good Lord,” Phylicia breathed. “Is it safe to leave you here?”
Mya wasn’t so sure, but she answered, “Of course. That thing between Corey and I happened a long time ago, Phil. I’m over him.”
Phylicia slid her that unconvinced look that hadn’t changed since high school.
“Oh, whatever,” Mya said, opening the door and sliding out of the truck. “Thanks for the ride. We’re going to get together before I leave, right?”
“Just tell me when and where,” Phil said. She motioned to the garden with her chin. Mya glanced over her shoulder and found Corey standing next to the stalks of corn, watching them. Phil’s brows rose and one corner of her mouth hitched up in a smile. “Good luck,” she said with a little wave before driving off.
Mya took a deep, fortifying breath before turning and heading toward the naked chest she’d dreamt about for a solid five years after leaving Gauthier.
Chapter 4
Corey carried the bushel overflowing with mustard greens and sat it on the back porch, then picked up another of the wooden baskets and headed back toward the garden. He could feel the blood rushing faster in his veins as he neared Mya, who had stopped just at the edge of the garden, next to the tomato patch.
“I see you finished cutting the grass.” She motioned to the lawn he’d finished trimming an hour ago, before pulling the weeds from the front flower bed. After he was done with the weeds, he’d started on the garden. He kept telling himself he was just being a good neighbor. He hadn’t been finding things to do just so he could stick around until Mya came home.
“How’s Mrs. Eloise doing?” Corey asked.
“Stubborn as ever and causing the hospital staff all kinds of grief.”
“That’s my girl.” Corey laughed.
After a beat, Mya tilted her head to the side and asked, “Since when?”
The curiosity in her voice was expected, but he was thrown by the unease coloring the simple question. Was the fact that he got along with her grandmother a sign of the apocalypse? He’d thought—rather, he’d hoped—that she would be pleased about the way things were between him and her family.
“Things change, Mya. People change.” He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Do you have a problem with me getting along with your family?”
“No. It’s just...I don’t know...different.” She rubbed her arms as if she were chilly, despite the fact that they were smack in the middle of a ninety-degree day. “But I guess you’re right. Things change.”
Corey moved past her and started picking ripened tomatoes from the vines. Mya bent over the stalk a couple of feet away and plucked several tomatoes.
“On the other hand, some things never change,” she said. “I was just on Main Street. Felt as if I’d stumbled into a time machine.”
“It’s been that way for as long as I can remember. Had you expected anything different?” Corey asked.
“I guess not. Though, according to Grandma, support for the businesses on Main has been dwindling because of the new outlet mall in Maplesville. She strong-armed me into attending a meeting Monday night with her civic association. They’re trying to revitalize downtown Gauthier and stop some big-box store from setting up shop.”
Corey’s back stiffened at the mention of Monday night’s meeting. Should he tell her it was marked on his calendar, too, since he was the association’s parliamentarian? He decided to keep his mouth shut. If she was going to the meeting, she’d find out soon enough.
“Actually, I think the new store is a good idea,” he said instead. “It’ll bring in jobs and additional tax revenue.”
Mya’s brow dipped in a slight frown. “It’ll also hurt the surrounding businesses,” she said. “Those mom-and-pop shops along Main Street add to Gauthier’s charm. If you allow some national chain to come in, then Main Street will start to resemble your average strip mall.”
“Mya, one of the reasons this town hasn’t grown is because people think it’s still stuck in the past. I’ve spoken with the developer—”
“You have?”
He nodded. “I’m considering becoming an investor. I’ve seen their plans, which are still in the very early stages, I should point out. I really think this could be a huge plus for Gauthier.”
“Corey, if you want to put your money into this town, then invest in the businesses that are already here.”
“Those family-run businesses have been here for ages. They’re not the key to growing this community.”
“And some generic chain store is?” Mya shook her head. “I’m with Grandma and her civic organization on this one. I think this new development would harm Gauthier more than help. It’ll be interesting to hear what they’ve come up with at the meeting Monday night.”
“I didn’t think you’d be in town long enough to attend their meeting,” Corey said.
She shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve decided to stay for another few days, at least until Grandma is out of the hospital. I’m between shows right now, so I can spare the time off.”
The thought of Mya remaining in Gauthier caused his pulse to race and his chest to tighten with a painfully sweet ache. He felt like a seventeen-year-old kid again, getting excited because the girl he liked had bothered to look his way.
“I was told I have to cook Sunday dinner for you.” Mya shot him a look that clearly said she’d rather strap on a pair of waders and go searching for frogs in the swamp.
“Don’t worry about it.” Corey laughed. “I figured Sunday
dinner was off since Mrs. Eloise is in the hospital. I made other plans.”
“You did?”
The subtle inquiry in her voice brought Corey’s head up. She quickly turned her attention back to the tomatoes, but not before he caught the brief uncertainty that flashed in her eyes. The thought that she was even the slightest bit interested in how—or rather with whom—he was spending his Sunday felt damn good.
“I promised my buddy Jamal that I’d help with some house renovations,” Corey said, overcome by a sudden urge to ease her mind. “He bought one of the old houses on Pecan Drive and has been doing all the work himself, though I told him to call Phil to help with one project.”
“I think she’s on her way over there now. She told me she was headed to that part of town.”
Mya moved to the tomato plant next to the one he was working on, and her arm brushed against his. Corey sucked in a quick breath. The brief contact felt like fire against his skin.
“Good,” Corey managed to get out. He swallowed hard and pulled in another deep lungful of air. “I was afraid he would try to do the work himself.” He shot Mya a quick grin. “Now, if you start feeling domestic tomorrow, we won’t turn down lunch. You can bring it over to Jamal’s.”
“I think you’d better pack a sandwich,” Mya said. A bit of that sass returning to her smile, she tossed a tomato into his bushel. “Here, I’ll even provide the tomato.”
Corey shook his head. “You’ve still got a smart mouth on you, Peaches.” She cut her eyes at him, and Corey realized his mistake. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s hard to think of you as Mya.”
“Try harder,” she said. She emptied the tomatoes she’d collected into his bushel, then reached over and picked it up. Propping the basket on her hip, she turned and started toward the house. Over her shoulder she said, “Thanks for helping with the garden, but you can leave now. I’ll take care of the rest of these tomorrow.”
Corey stood between the rows of vegetables, staring at Mya’s backside as she climbed the porch steps and entered the house. How one woman could possess so much audaciousness was beyond him, but he had to admit he was happy she would be around to flaunt it awhile longer. If there was one thing he could count on, it was that he would never be bored when Mya was around.
A Forever Kind of Love (Kimani Romance) Page 5
