by Mata Elliott
“Congratulations,” Trevor cheered, and high-fived some of the youngsters. The kids, staff, and parent volunteers walked into the building, all talking about the spelling bee victory. One of the bigger children carried a silver-plated trophy.
“You must be proud,” Trevor said as Cassidy approached.
She smiled. “Of course, I am.” The thrill on the children’s faces when their second-place standing had been announced was a prize she would forever cherish. And the second-place trophy, though only half as tall as the first-place statue, would look beautiful in the trophy cabinet.
Cassidy looked down on the boy at Trevor’s side. Herbie, the smallest and the youngest boy in the sports camp, wore a baseball cap that came down over the tips of his ears. Cassidy raised the flap of the cap so she could get a peek at Herbie’s eyes. Big brown circles pinned Cassidy with worry.
“I’m waiting for Mommy Jean,” he said, and looked in the direction she ordinarily walked.
Cassidy attempted to comfort him. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”
The child had come a long way. When Herbie first began attending SAFE, he cried whenever his foster mother was late picking him up. And who could blame him? Last year, two days before Christmas, his biological mother put him on a city bus with instructions to get off at the last stop, and she would meet him there. Herbie stood at that stop all alone for three hours waiting for a mother who later admitted to authorities she never planned to come for him.
Trevor clamped Herbie’s head with one of his big hands. “I told Herbie not to worry. Mommy Jean is on her way.”
Cassidy squatted and pulled Herbie into her arms. “Everything’s going to be fine.” His chin wobbled against her shoulder as he nodded. Cassidy released him and moved along the walkway and into the building, the strong desire to go back and hold Herbie beating in her heart.
The ACES students were dismissed for the day, and Cassidy entered her office. “Looks like Dunbar’s been here,” Portia said. An enormous silver box sat on Cassidy’s desk. Hit with a surge of excitement, Cassidy smiled and crossed the room to see what Dunbar had left. Without delay, she raised the rectangular top, decked with one large blossom of curly white ribbon, and pulled out a children’s picture book. There were at least fifty others and a heavy plastic container full of . . .
“Chalk,” Portia said with awe, peeping into the box as if she were standing on the edge of a mountain and looking down into a faraway valley. “Check out all the cool colors. I don’t think I’ve ever seen red chalk before.”
“Neither have I.” Cassidy opened and read the card that had been attached to the chalk bucket.
“Dunbar really knows how to make a girl blush. Check out your face.”
Conscious of the warm lines stretching up her neck and into her cheeks, Cassidy slid the card into her pants pocket, then touched her heated jaw.
“God is just too good,” Portia praised. “First the spelling bee win and now this.” She picked up her tote bag and said good-bye with a giggle.
Cassidy groped a colorful paperback about trains, meditating on the man who’d blessed ACES today, while jubilation and fear, equal in portion, did battle within her. The room was still, and the tiny tick of the clock on the wall seemed to elevate to the sound of thunder as she reached inside her pocket, removed the card, and reread the penned message.
All the colors of the rainbow are here
But none color the world as pretty as your smile.
Love,
Trevor
chapter twenty-two
Trevor joined a long line of congregants entering the sanctuary. He chose a partially filled pew in the middle of the vast room, approximately where he sat most Sunday mornings. While a steady flow of people streamed through the rear and side entrances, and the musicians, already positioned up front, began playing soft music, Trevor opened a large black Bible to the chapter he’d started reading last night. This was the time Pastor Audrey had suggested his members use for meditative reflection, but some used these pre-service minutes for talking and laughing and strolling up and down the red carpet like it was Oscar night. Trevor looked up from the Bible in his lap. It was apparent Yaneesha was feeling like a celebrity this morning. She was standing at the end of the aisle, talking on a cell phone. Trevor returned to the scriptures, only to suspend reading as he gazed out of the corner of his eye at the woman in the tight orange sleeveless dress as she slid into the space next to him.
“Good morning,” she said, crossing her big sheer-covered legs, sending her hemline racing up her thighs.
“Good morning, Yaneesha.” Trevor eased an inch over, putting a thin line of space between their arms.
“You look nice,” she said.
The smile she blazed was as lascivious as the shimmer inside the gaze that climbed up the legs of his black pants and up each button of his black shirt. Trevor considered moving to another pew, but remembering that Yaneesha was bold enough and crazy enough to follow him—she’d done it once before—he decided to stay put, avoiding a scene sure to amuse any onlookers.
“What were you reading?” She slid over, and their elbows were touching again.
“The second chapter of Daniel.”
Yaneesha adjusted her glasses on her nose. “Daniel the one that killed that giant, right?”
“No,” he clarified, “you’re thinking of David. Daniel is better known for surviving the lion’s den.”
“Oh, well.” She giggled, digging in her purse. “I knew he was one of dem disciples.” She generated another wanton smile. “Do you want some?”
Trevor glanced at the roll of candy she was sticking at him. “No, thank you,” he said. A pain at the base of his head spread to his shoulders, and he closed the Bible, stared ahead, and prayed, Lord, let the service be a short one.
“Go, share the good news of Jesus Christ with someone today,” Clement said as parting words to the congregation. He and a ministerial staff of five walked down the center of the aisle, and the choir exited the choir stand through a side door that led to the room where they would shuck out of their robes. Once the pulpit was vacant, the ushers stepped away from the doors so the crowd could depart.
“That’s a good color on you,” Lena said of Cassidy’s full-length lilac dress and matching slides as they waded through the human ocean gathered outside.
“Thanks,” Cassidy replied, and they stopped at a people-free spot near a row of white flowers bordering the lawn. She brushed aside the lock of hair curving along the side of her face. The rest of her microbraids were pulled back into a high ponytail.
Lena smiled. “Hulk loved the fruit basket.”
Cassidy had sent the basket as an additional thank-you for the work Hulk did on her car.
“I think I’m falling for him,” Lena said, and passed Cassidy a picture she’d taken of Hulk. Cassidy studied the not-quite-average-in-height, bulky-structured, light-skinned man.
“What happened to your ‘what my man has to be’ requirements? I believe some of it went a little something like ‘tall, dark, and slim.’”
“What can I say?” Lena shrugged. “I’ve evolved. None of that stuff is important. Hulk has an honest and loving heart, he’s a hard worker, and he likes to have fun, too. We have quite a few of the same interests.” Her smile grew brighter with every word. “He’s coming to service here next Sunday, and I’ll be going to Bible study at his church the following Wednesday. Can you believe I’ve actually met a guy who sincerely loves the Lord? Hulk’s even inspired me to reevaluate my relationship with God.” Lena unbuttoned the jacket of a white pantsuit, and now you could see the black tank she was wearing underneath the jacket. “I’ve been playing church, girl. I was just coming because that’s how I was raised. Hulk and I . . . well, we prayed last night, and I recommitted my life to Christ.” Her face was radiant. “I want the kind of relationship with the Lord that Hulk has. I want to serve God with my whole heart, not a piece of it—and not just when it’s convenient.”
Lena and Cassidy nodded hello to a middle-aged couple as they passed. A moment later, Yaneesha shot by, a large black Bible clutched against her chest.
Lena arched an eyebrow. “Yaneesha with a Bible. I’ve never seen that before.”
“Maybe she’s getting serious with the Lord, too.”
Lena didn’t look convinced. “So do you want to go tonight or not?”
“Sure,” Cassidy said. There was a gospel stage play at the Merriam Theater. Hulk’s sister and brother in-law were supposed to attend, but one of their kids was sick, so Lena had offered their tickets to her.
“Who are you going to bring?” Lena asked.
Dunbar, Cassidy’s first choice, had a speaking engagement this afternoon. “Portia’s an avid listener of gospel music. Maybe I’ll see if she wants to join us.”
Lena heaved a sigh. “I was thinking more on the lines of Trevor.”
Cassidy could see Trevor clearly from where she stood. He was talking to a man she didn’t know. “No, that would be too much like a date.”
“Girl, I’m about two days away from my period. Please don’t get on my last good nerve.”
“And don’t get on mine.” She glanced at Trevor again. “Anyway, his children are flying home, and he has to pick them up from his sister’s later on.”
“What time?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, let’s ask.”
“No,” Cassidy said, but Lena was already in motion, jetting across the church lawn toward Trevor.
“Is everything okay?” Rave stopped beside Cassidy.
Cassidy peered into Rave’s perpetual stony, narrow eyes and wondered if Rave’s clients ever trusted a thing she said. “Everything is fine, Rave.” She complimented the choir member. “Your solo today was beautiful.”
Rave tossed her hair over her shoulder along with a nasty glance at the church pianist. “I would have sounded better if it weren’t for him. I told him verse, chorus, verse, chorus, chorus, chorus, but the simpleton got it all mixed up and threw us both off.”
“I’m sure no one noticed.”
“Or cared,” Lena interjected, joining them.
Rave perched her hands on the waistband of a short black skirt. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“But you were talking loud enough for everyone in the immediate area to hear you. That makes us all a part of your conversation.”
Rave moved in on Lena. “Do you know what you can do for me?”
“I know what I’d like to do.” Lena took a step forward, and now she was eye level with Rave’s plunging neckline.
Cassidy kept a smile prisoner. She knew that Lena would kick Rave’s butt if they were to get into it. She squeezed Lena’s elbow. “That’s more than enough, you two.”
Rave huffed and stomped off. The cord of Lena’s purse had slipped to the bend in her arm, and she returned it to her shoulder. “That girl has some major issues.”
Cassidy stared after Rave. “Don’t we all?”
Lena didn’t dwell on it. “I have good news,” she announced. “Trevor said his daughters won’t be in until late, well after the play.”
In the parking lot, Portia leaned against Rave’s Mercedes. “What should I do?”
Rave tugged her car keys out of her purse. She scrutinized Portia. Her bones were too big, eyes too small, hips too wide, and lips too thin to be considered pretty.
“Let him know how you feel.” Rave fingered the small crucifix dangling between her breasts. “Trevor is shy. You have to come on strong. Be obvious. And by all means, be persistent.” Such tactics had gotten Rave nowhere with Trevor, and she knew Portia was in for the same.
“Are you sure?” Portia wrinkled her face. “I’ve never thought of Trevor as shy. And he certainly doesn’t seem the type who appreciates aggression.”
“You asked me what I thought, and now I’m telling you.” Rave’s words speared the air as she deactivated the car alarm, and it blurted a distinct bleep-bleep. “If you want Trevor, go after him. Send him a gift or write a cute little letter. That will grab his attention, and you’ll soon be the next Mrs. Monroe.”
Rays of sun rubbed Trevor’s back as he bent over and tied the laces of his right shoe. But the heat from the sun failed to dilute the chill he felt when he removed his foot from the running board of his vehicle and straightened to his full height to discover Rave glaring at him from the other side of the parking lot.
Merging with the parade of cars exiting the lot, Trevor questioned what was going on in Rave’s mind. That was the third time today he’d found her eyes pinned on him, and each time the stare had burned hostile. Surely, she wasn’t upset with him for refusing to have that soda and soft pretzel with her the night he fixed her tire.
Trevor had discussed Rave’s behavior on that evening with Kregg. Kregg insisted Rave was just naturally flirty, and it was no big deal. Trevor had decided not to make a big deal out of it, since Kregg wasn’t. Still, he didn’t trust Rave. He had the strong and disconcerting feeling that Rave was the one who’d sent him the newspaper clipping about Cassidy. Rave had known Cassidy for a long time and would know things about Cassidy others might not.
Trevor inched the Expedition forward, passing Rave. She stood alone and had donned a pair of sunglasses. He pulled out of the lot with the impression that behind those black lenses her gaze was still linked to him, and it was no less vicious than earlier.
He left the parking lot and started home, all Rave-thoughts behind him as he realized he did not have his Bible. Believing he’d left it on the pew, he drove back to the church and returned to the area where he’d worshipped. The Bible wasn’t there, so he made a visit to the Lost and Found. No one had turned in his Bible.
chapter twenty-three
Stop talking and finish your breakfast,” Trevor scolded. “We need to leave soon.”
Brandi stared as Trevor peered over the newspaper at her before looking at the watch on his arm. She pushed a spoonful of cereal into her mouth, watching as he touched his thumb to the tip of his tongue before turning the page of the newspaper.
Cassidy, sitting at the center island, sipped warm tea and took small bites out of a wheat cracker. She glanced at Brittney, who had finished eating and was in the corner playing with Poopie.
Brandi decided to speak before her bowl was bare and buttered toast eaten. “I covered Grammy with another blanket so she wouldn’t be so cold,” she said.
Trevor folded the newspaper and frowned. “Mother Vale complained of being cold this morning?”
Brandi poked out her chin. “No. She felt cold. So I got a blanket from the hall closet and put it over her. I didn’t even wake her up,” she added, and made an “I’m a big girl” smile.
Apprehension suddenly fanned Cassidy’s heart, and she pushed from the stool, its four feet scratching the floor, and the floor screeching as if it were upset with the stool. “Aunt Odessa!” Cassidy yelled as she ran upstairs.
Casseroles came all afternoon. The latest was a zucchini in a disposable pan.
“Let me take care of that for you, honey babe.” Emma waddled over and emptied Cassidy’s hands. She made space for the tray in the refrigerator while Harold Purdue and a few of Odessa’s closest Knitting Circle girlfriends sat around the table sprinkling their stories about Odessa with laughter and tears. Cassidy watched from the sidelines, wishing the childlike wish that somehow she could bring Odessa back. A heart attack had taken her away. When Cassidy and Trevor found her, she had been dead for hours, the blanket Brandi had supplied pulled up to her chin and a smile on her face that gave her the presence of being in the arms of a very pleasant dream.
“Don’t ya want somethin’ to eat, Cassie baby?” Emma said. “I’ll be glad to dip ya up a bowl of my gumbo.”
Emma thought her shrimp gumbo was the balm for every sorrow. “No, Ms. Emma, I’m not hungry,” Cassidy answered. Cassidy had never been able to eat much when she was hurting. Tears hemmed the rims of her eyes, and she walked out of the kitc
hen before Emma noticed and locked her in a hug and started singing “It Is Well with My Soul” again. Grief seemed to be sucking the energy out of Cassidy, and she climbed the stairs, the lift and land of every footstep lethargic. “Jesus,” she whispered, powerless to say more, thankful for the comfort that this one word delivered. Earlier, she had locked herself in Odessa’s bathroom and wept. Lena came over, and the two of them had sat in the middle of the bathroom floor and talked and prayed until Cassidy felt like coming out and greeting the first wave of visitors.
Cassidy continued her climb up the steps, tiptoeing to the third floor, to check on the children. She recalled the devastation on their faces when given the bad news about Odessa. Both girls had cried to exhaustion, Brandi in Trevor’s arms, Brittney in Cassidy’s. Then Trevor put them down for a nap.
Cassidy cracked the door and peeked in on them. Sound asleep, they appeared to be fine. Cassidy eased down the steps. Trevor and Dunbar were in the living room, a man dotting each end of the sofa. As if choreographed, they stood in unison as she entered the room. “You look tired,” Dunbar said, stepping around the coffee table and rushing forward. “Maybe you should lie down.”
“Maybe later,” she said.
Dunbar held her hand in his. “I have a service to attend to tonight, so I have to get back to the parlor. But I should be done by ten. I can come back.” Trevor had planted his body in front of the fireplace, and Dunbar looked at him.
“No, that won’t be necessary”—Cassidy squeezed Dunbar’s hand—“but thank you.”
Dunbar and his sister, Irenia Smith, were handling the arrangements for Odessa, and he said, “I’ll be by tomorrow so we can finalize everything.”
She nodded, and Dunbar pecked her cheek. She walked him out onto the porch. When she returned, Trevor was in the same spot. He’d picked up a framed picture of Odessa, taken when she was twenty-five. Cassidy stood beside Trevor, and they admired the young face behind the glass.
