by Pat Simmons
“This evening wasn’t about business, but personal.” He bent down and kissed her hand, and she yanked it back.
Clearly surprised, Tabitha seemed to struggle with what to say. Finally, she replied, “That wasn’t necessary.”
“It’s proper etiquette.” Aunt Tweet defended his actions and presented her hand. Marcus had no choice but to kiss it to show he was a gentleman. After tonight, he was looking forward to more personal encounters.
Chapter 11
T
abitha didn’t see that coming, she confessed every time she recalled her close encounter with Marcus Whittington. Now, days later, she still shivered as if his lips brushed her hand. She would have to take drastic measures so that it wouldn’t happen again.
“I bought Aunt Tweet a pet,” she informed her sisters during their weekly Skype chat. Her aunt would rock the puppy in her arms as if it was a human baby.
Her only rule was the dog had to sleep in the kennel at night. To date, her aunt had complied and seemed content to stay in one place with the dog.
“See, I told you. An animal will do it every time,” Rachel said in triumph, glee beaming from her face. A pet lover, the first thing her baby sister did after she moved into an apartment was to adopt a spaniel named Shelby from a rescue shelter.
“I needed a decoy for Marcus Whittington. A male puppy is the only constant companion I want her to pine after.” Desperation had set in after they returned from his house. He was all her aunt talked about. At times, she alternated his name between Mister and George, but never Marcus. Tabitha knew the object of her aunt’s affection.
“You mean the rude and uptight neighbor?” Kym frowned. “Okay, what aren’t you telling us. Rach, you up for a road trip?”
“On it.” Rachel leaned out of the frame and grabbed her phone.
No need to mention the man had kissed her, even if it was her hand. A kiss was a kiss in her book. Who did that anymore? He had watched too many The Godfather reruns. “Come on. Any reason for the Knicely sisters to get together is good enough for me. Besides, it’s the neighborhood’s official summer kick-off barbecue. Remember the games for the children and food.” She paused. “Kym, remember my first impression of the neighbor coming across as a Big Bad Wolf? Her sister nodded. “Well, that was premature. It was a misunderstanding on our parts that we’ve resolved, somewhat.”
“Umm-hmm. How much?” Rachel asked. “Anyway, we’ll be there in a couple of weeks. I’ve booked us early Saturday morning flights.”
“I happen to like to sleep late on the weekends.” Kym groaned.
“It’s non-stop,” Rachel advised, “but if you want to sleep, I can book you with a layover from Baltimore to Louisville before landing—”
Kym waved her hand. “Never mind. I can always crash when I get to the house.” She paused. “That still sounds funny to say your house, instead of ‘the house.’ Now, what’s this about Marcus?’”
Knowing she would see her sisters soon, Tabitha’s spirits lifted as she gave them the scoop. “I was getting dressed for work and happened to peep out the window. Not only had Aunt Tweet escaped again, but I saw her headed around the corner, talking to a guy in a car. I ran out of here barefooted, thinking she was about to be abducted. I was surprised and annoyed that it happened to be him, then I was concerned about his threat to call the police. His solution was an impromptu tour of his house. I hastily agreed, so I could get Aunt Tweet dressed and get to work. Girl, I had my reservations, but once inside his house....” Leaving nothing out, she described Marcus’ breathtaking design of his stairwell to the refreshments he served.
“I know mental confusion and wandering are some signs of dementia, but I wish she would do it within the confines of the house,” Kym said.
“Exactly. You feel my pain. I know she doesn’t mean to do these things...” Tabitha choked back tears. She had to keep reminding herself to tame down her frustration. “Unless I move her into my bedroom, or keep her in the bathroom while I shower, I’m getting desperate for any type of normalcy in my life again. This is hard, sisters.”
“Hopefully, Sweetie will do the trick,” Rachel said, referring to the name Aunt Tweet had given to her new pet.
“Aunt Tweet thinks he’s a perfect charming gentleman.”
“The dog?” Kym frowned, alerting Tabitha that she had verbalized her thoughts. Both sisters gave her suspecting looks.
“I think she’s talking about Marcus,” Rachel said in a singsong tone. “Now, I’m really intrigued with this neighbor. If he’s a ‘perfect charming gentleman’ as you say our aunt said, then Sweetie might not be enough to keep her homebound.” She snickered.
Tabitha had no comeback. He was charming. She would give him that, but any interaction with him only reminded her of what she couldn’t have in her life right now: romance.
MARCUS WAS NOT A KISS-and-tell kind of guy. He didn’t care if it wasn’t the heart-pounding game changer kiss to define a relationship. Tabitha was more than pretty and smart. He was sure being a sales rep for any company wasn’t easy. She was also respectful, especially when Aunt Tweet came across as condescending. Tabitha held her tongue, but he could see the hurt on her face.
The following day, when Demetrius queried him about how it went with his neighbors, Marcus had simply replied, “Uneventful.” He had lied. He wanted any excuse to see Tabitha.
Demetrius acted disappointed there wasn’t more to the story. But there was. Marcus’ mind couldn’t let the image, smile, and the fragrance of her lotion, fade from memory.
Now, days later, he felt like a sick puppy. Thanks to Aunt Tweet’s wandering, he knew the vicinity where she lived, but not her house. If he did, he would be neighborly and drop by to check on them.
He was confused. Instead of banishing her from his property, he wanted to see Tabitha for his own satisfaction. Most of the Pasadena Hills neighborhood homes were designed with hidden garages, either under the house attached to the basement, or in the back in a carriage house. The most he could hope for was a sighting while she and Aunt Tweet were on a stroll, probably going in the opposite direction of his house.
While waiting at a traffic light near his home, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I guess I’ve put out all the fires,” he mumbled to himself, referring to Tabitha, Aunt Tweet and Victor. Marcus should be proud of himself. He wasn’t.
Finally, when Friday came around, he and Demetrius ended the workweek by hanging out at a sports bar in the Ballpark Village complex across from Busch Stadium. It was just what Marcus needed to distract him from his Tabitha craving.
The place was teeming with Cardinals fans, watching the game on a big screen. During a commercial break, Demetrius nudged him. “All quiet on the home front, bro?”
“Yep.” He took a sip from his cup and swallowed. “No Aunt Tweet sightings all week.”
“Congrats. Your plan worked. You got rid of them.” They exchanged fist bumps.
While Demetrius was celebrating an end to the neighborhood crisis, Marcus was numb. “This may sound strange, but I miss—”
“Yeah, that does sound odd,” Demetrius said, cutting him off. Suddenly, they stood from their seats. A hush spread throughout the bar as all eyes stared at the flat screen. It was as if everyone was holding their breath, following the ball until an outfielder’s glove swallowed it up. The groans in the place were as thick as fog. It was the Cardinals’ third out.
In the spirit of unity, they joined other diehard fans disputing the call, then Marcus became sober. “I do miss seeing—”
“Tabitha?” Demetrius grinned.
“I was about to say Aunt Tweet,” Marcus defended. “You can tell she’s a classy lady. It’s a shame she has Alzheimer’s.”
“You’re pining over an old chick. I sure thought you were going to say her niece. From the photo you showed me, she’s hot.”
Marcus cracked a shell, then popped a peanut in his mouth. He shrugged, never taking his eyes off the television. “I had
a good time with them. Maybe I was too hard on Tabitha. Her aunt is a handful.”
“Doesn’t matter. When it comes to the welfare of another human being, you called it right the first time. She is irresponsible. She’s worse than bad.”
Taking offense at his own words, he cringed. He was on the verge of punching his brother for throwing what he had said back in his face.
“Hey, man. You’re the one who had 9-1-1 on speed dial.”
Boy, did that make him sound like a bad person. He shifted on the stool and rubbed his chin. “There’s something about those two that I admire—Tabitha’s deep respect for her great-aunt and the great-aunt’s independent spirit.”
“Except when she’s coming to visit—unannounced—in the wee hours of the morning. You know you’re grinning, right?”
“Maybe I should have a cup of coffee waiting for her next time.” He snickered. “And, I am hoping for a next time.”
Demetrius huffed. “Would you make up your mind? Either you want the elderly woman to be homebound at her niece’s house, or have her in harm’s way, wandering around.”
“Of course I want her safe. If she’s going to wander, I hope she takes the path to my house.” Marcus grinned, because he knew who would show up to rescue her.
Chapter 12
S
omehow, with God’s help, Tabitha had made it to work on time two days in a row. It wasn’t without challenges, because Aunt Tweet wanted to stay home and play with the puppy. Tabitha had just enough energy to prepare them something to eat.
“When I’m gone, I sure hope folks will miss me.” Aunt Tweet’s comment came out of the blue, giving Tabitha a whiplash as she turned away from the stove. Sorrow filled her heart as she hurried to her aunt’s side. Was she trying to tell her something?
As if she hadn’t said anything earth shattering, she cuddled Sweet Pepper in her arms. Her aunt alternated between calling the pooch Pepper and Sweetie, so Tabitha settled on Sweet Pepper.
Downplaying her annoyance about her aunt having the beast near her table, she wrapped her arms around her aunt’s shoulders. She hugged her tight while dodging Sweet Pepper’s licks of love.
Her eyes misted, and she sniffed. Blinking back the moisture, she took a seat and put her hands on both sides of Aunt Tweet’s face. Making sure they had eye contact, she softly said, “Miss Priscilla Brownlee, you’re unforgettable. Your presence makes a lasting impression.”
Her aunt held her head down. “So many of us are gone...” Her voice faded as she glanced up with a dazed expression. “Seems like every year, somebody else passes at our reunions. We try to keep the memory of the school for blacks alive, but when we die, who’s going to remember it?”
Now her mumblings made sense to Tabitha. Her aunt was proud to be an alumna of Storer College, which opened in 1865, the same year enslaved blacks were released from bondage. “A lot of us.” Tabitha tried to console her.
The West Virginia historically black college had educated freedman, freedwoman, and their descendants for almost ninety years. Her aunt had graduated with honors in 1950. Five years later, it closed.
According to Tabitha’s late grandmother, Pearl, and Aunt Tweet’s older sister, education was an honorable and a much-needed profession back then. She and her sisters were in their early teens when they had attended one of Storer College’s reunions during their summer stay with Aunt Tweet.
At the time, they didn’t understand the significance the institution had played in their aunt’s life beyond her getting a teaching degree. That explained why there were so many teachers on her father’s side, but neither she nor her sisters were drawn to be in front of a classroom. Ever since Tabitha could remember, her aunt took yearly pilgrimages to Harpers Ferry, West Virginia.
When Tabitha’s parents died years apart, Aunt Tweet was there for them. Now, she couldn’t think about losing her aunt. Plus, she wanted Aunt Tweet to meet her great-great-nieces from the Knicely sisters. That could be a couple of years away, considering none of them were married and had no prospects in sight—at least she and Kym didn’t. Rachel, on the other hand, had men tripping over their feet to get her attention. Tabitha’s bet was on Rachel to be the first one of them gracing the aisle like a runway to the altar.
She squeezed her hand. “You’re very much alive and well.”
“Just miss me when I’m gone,” she said with finality as the pup began to bark.
Tabitha got to her feet and reached for the dog
“No, I’ll take him. I’m getting stiff, waiting too long for supper.” Aunt Tweet stood and made her way to the patio.
“Here’s his harness.” Tabitha watched as her aunt descended the two steps to the brick-covered patio. Since Sweet Pepper, Aunt Tweet hadn’t ventured pass the property line, which was a relief.
But her aunt’s declaration twisted her heart as she turned back to the stove to stir the pasta for the spaghetti. The bout of sadness tried to consume her. She wasn’t ready for her oldest relative’s demise, and hopefully, not while Aunt Tweet stayed with her.
She had to compartmentalize her emotions. Tabitha, more than her sisters, knew what she was up against becoming a caregiver—well, not really.
Her mind fast-forwarded to her next task as the pasta cooked, which was reviewing notes for a PowerPoint presentation in the morning. She peeped out the window and watched Aunt Tweet tug on Sweet Pepper’s leash as he sniffed the base of her crepe myrtle tree. She headed for her laptop at the desk nook in the kitchen and leaned over to boot it up.
She immediately saw an error on one of her notes, fixed it, then realized her aunt hadn’t come back inside. Hoping she was relaxing on the lounger, she saved her work and took a peep out the door. A sinking feeling overpowered her when she didn’t see Aunt Tweet. “Please, no, not again.” Slipping on her sandals, she hurried outside. Clearly, her aunt was on a power walk.
Tabitha whipped her head in both directions a couple of times. Nothing. Her heart pounded in fear as tears trickled down her cheeks. She was about to sprint in the direction of Natural Bridge—a busy thoroughfare—then realized she should check the direction of Marcus’ house first. Spinning around, she took off as if she was going for the gold in the US Olympics. Tabitha made it to his house in record time as if she was racing against Usain Bolt. She ran out of breath when there was no sign of Aunt Tweet on his porch.
While racing back home, something told her to look over her shoulder. That’s when she spied her aunt and her hyperactive companion circling Roland pond. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted, “Aunt Tweet.” She repeated her cry, waving. Her aunt didn’t look her way. She was about to take off when a car rolled up beside her and honked.
“Lose somebody again?” he asked. His eyes sparkled with mirth. If he was joking, she wasn’t laughing. If he was being condescending, she didn’t have time to be chastened.
“Not now.” She pointed toward the pond and jumped in his front seat. “Can you give me a ride? She moves faster than a crawling baby chasing after a toy.”
Marcus raced in that direction. He parked, and they jumped out at the same time, yelling. Aunt Tweet glanced up and waved as Marcus beat her to the uneven slope first.
Tears of joy and fright formed in Tabitha’s eyes as she reached her aunt and engulfed her in a hug. That was close. She could have fallen and tumbled into the lake. “You scared me.” She couldn’t check her tears. This time they weren’t for joy, but defeat.
“I didn’t mean to, baby.”
“Come on. I’ll take you home,” he offered.
She didn’t refuse. In a daze, she climbed in the backseat with Aunt Tweet and the dog, holding her hand. Not even a minute later, they pulled in front of her house and heard her smoke alarm blaring inside. “Oh no!” She remembered her spaghetti.
Releasing Aunt Tweet’s hand, Tabitha’s adrenaline kicked in as she raced out of the car to her childhood home.
As soon as she opened the door, smoke gagged her lungs and watered he
r eyes. The piercing sound of the alarm accelerated any potential hereditary deafness.
She hurried to the stove and immediately turned off the dials. The pasta was black and brittle. How could the water have evaporated that fast? “This wouldn’t have happened if Aunt...” she stopped herself from playing the blame game. She was mentally exhausted from constantly being on guard for her aunt’s whereabouts and actions. “Help!” she screamed to release some of the stress. It didn’t help.
Her eyes were burning as she choked on the smoke. How could she let this happen? She grabbed the pot handle and released it just as fast. Even the heat-resistant handle was hot. Gagging, she covered her mouth and nose with one hand while reaching for a towel.
Marcus appeared, fanning the air and snatched the towel from her hand. He carried the pot to the sink, dumped it, and then turned on the faucet.
“I’ve got it...” She coughed again. “...under control. Where is—?”
He practically lifted her off the floor and ushered her toward the door. “Get some fresh air with your aunt outside. I’ve got this,” he said in a stern voice, which contradicted his gentle expression.
The helpless emotion was beginning to feel commonplace, especially around him. She wanted to cry—again—then realized she hadn’t stopped as tears fell anyway. His presence was confirmation that no matter how much she loved her aunt, she couldn’t do it. This was May. She had five more months to go before Rachel took over.
As the sirens grew louder, Tabitha couldn’t help but wonder if the neighbors had called the fire department to protect the investment of all the homes in the historic community, or if Marcus made good on his threat, despite the soft kiss on her hand, to summon the police.
Just as well, she was a loser when it came to being a caregiver. If he had her arrested for endangerment, who would take care of Aunt Tweet? Kym would storm in town for their aunt...the scenarios were endless. Her good workday was going downhill fast. Jail might be the safest place for her once her sisters bit her head off.
