Forgivin' Ain't Forgettin' (17 page)
Trevor’s eyes bored into her as if he were trying to see through to her bones, and not meaning to, Cassidy squeezed the hand Brittney had linked with hers. After what felt to Cassidy like an eternity, Trevor’s gaze lowered to his older daughter but soon returned to Cassidy.
“You’re only going around the corner?” Trevor’s tone was unusual. Even when they argued as they had this morning outside the gymnasium, his voice had not been as hard.
“Yes,” Cassidy answered. “I’ll bring them directly home after the competition.”
Once again Trevor regarded Cassidy with prolonged contemplation. “All right,” he said. “Just be careful with my daughters.”
Cassidy blinked. Because the girls were listening and observing, she managed a gentle reply. “I’m always careful when it comes to children.”
Cassidy and the little Monroes walked to the intersection and crossed the street. The children raced to the next corner and waited for Cassidy to catch up with them. Cassidy walked slowly and wondered what was up with Trevor. Perhaps he was more annoyed with her than he had let on at the church. She had confronted him again this afternoon about the noise the SAFE boys had been making. And at that time, she also told him, in not the kindest of tones, how she caught two of the SAFE boys teasing some of the smaller ACES kids. But as Cassidy latched onto Brittney’s and Brandi’s hands and they moved across the street, she felt there was something else that had made Trevor study her with so much concern. The children darted ahead, and Cassidy’s hands and neck and back pumped out cold sweat as she immediately thought the worst.
Trevor knew.
Somehow Trevor had found out about the baby.
He knew what she had done to her baby.
I
’ve written several suggestions,” Cassidy said, attempting to redirect the conversation and keep the reason for the meeting in clear view.
Mother Almondetta continued with her own agenda. “In my day, women knew the importance of getting married and starting a family. Nowadays young ladies want to work and make money. They wait until forty to settle down, then rush and try to have some babies.” She grunted. “It’s a shame how mothers are sticking their kids in day care all day. Then when they come home from work, they’re too tired to play with them. They put the kids in front of the television for hours and expect them to have some sense. Modern women, what’s wrong with them?” Almondetta looked at Cassidy.
Cassidy decided it was best to reply so they could move on with the meeting. “There’s nothing wrong with modern women. We simply have a different perspective. Today’s woman understands she can have both a career and a family. There are many women at our church who have both.”
“What about you two?” she asked Cassidy and Yaneesha. Her tone had the prick of a thorn. “Why aren’t you married?”
“Marriage isn’t for everyone,” Cassidy stated.
“It’s for me. That’s why I don’t wear
no
ring on this finger. I don’t want nobody thinkin’ I’m unavailable.” Yaneesha raised both hands but only wiggled the finger where a wedding band traditionally went, the only one of her fingers without a ring on it. “When I do get married, I want to stay home. Let my man work and take care of me and his babies.”
Cassidy expected Almondetta to be smiling after that statement, but the church mother wore a look identical to the one Cassidy often gave students when they were wasting time during class. Cassidy lifted her pen and pointed toward her notes. “I created a list of gifts we could buy our seniors. As you’ll see, each item is practical as well as economical, so we shouldn’t have any problem staying within our budget.” She studied Almondetta and Yaneesha. “I’d like to have your input.”
“I have to use the bathroom,” Yaneesha said, and pushed away from the table.
Mother Almondetta didn’t have her wig on, and the few strands of hair on her apple-shaped head lay straight against her scalp. Cassidy’s gaze slipped away from Almondetta’s head and down to her eyes. Almondetta’s stare was blank. “Would you like to see the list?” Cassidy tried again.
Almondetta clasped her throat. “What I’d like is some water. Would you mind?”
“Of course not,” Cassidy said before laying down her pen and leaving the terrace.
“Bring the cake that’s on the table. The two of you got here early, and I didn’t have time to set out the refreshments.” Cassidy opened and closed two drawers before finding a knife large enough for the cake. “And look there in the fridge,” Almondetta continued. “Since you don’t eat cake, I bought you grapes. You eat grapes, don’t you?”
Cassidy smiled and called out, “Yes.” She placed a pitcher of ice water, three glasses, the cake, and a bowl of grapes on a tray and exited the kitchen. “The woman in the picture in the hall looks so much like you. Is she your daughter?”
Almondetta pressed a cloth napkin over her lap. “She’s my daughter. That picture was taken the day she graduated from medical school,” Almondetta said as Cassidy filled a glass and passed it to her. “She’s a surgeon now, too busy and big-time to stop by and say hello.”
In an attempt to lessen the gloom surrounding Almondetta, Cassidy smiled. “I appreciate the grapes, but you didn’t need to go to the trouble of buying them for me.”
“As grown as I am, I don’t think I need no young girl like you telling me how to spend my money.”
“That’s not what I was trying to do.” Cassidy sliced cake for Almondetta. “What I was trying to say was—”
“Where’s Yaneesha?” Almondetta interrupted.
Cassidy glanced at the terrace door. It
was
taking Yaneesha a long time. “I’ll make sure she’s all right.” Cassidy moved to stand, but Yaneesha rushed back in.
“Umm, cake,” she exclaimed, and reached for the knife.
By the end of the meeting, nothing of substance had been determined. A stress headache activated, Cassidy arrived home and went straight to the piano. One hour of playing effortlessly became two.
Cassidy slid her fingers from the keys, dropped her foot from the pedal, and the music left the room as Trevor entered, wearing a serious expression on his face and balancing a pizza box on a flattened palm. The children scampered in behind him.
“This is for you,” Brittney said to Cassidy, and she handed over a drawing. “I did it while we were waiting for the pizza.”
Cassidy held up the picture and smiled. “It’s gorgeous, Brittney.”
Brandi jumped in place. She used both hands to hold her own drawing by the top edge. “Look at mine. I made it for Grammy. Do you like it?”
“I love it, and I’m sure Grammy will, too.” Silently, Cassidy gave God praise. Her aunt hadn’t had any more tired spells and was back to a full routine of attending worship services, visiting the sick and shut-in, and nurturing her garden. Odessa had promised she would go to the doctor if she felt the slightest bit ill, and this put Cassidy’s nerves at ease.
“Go wash your hands,” Trevor instructed the children as Cassidy lowered the lid of the piano. The artwork in hand, Cassidy offered Trevor a half-there smile and hastened to leave the room and the tense air between them, which remained as thick as the unrelenting humidity they’d been dealt today.
“Truce,” he said, stopping her.
“What?”
“I want to call a truce. I’m tired of the tension.”
“You’re the one that’s been moody lately.”
“You’re right,” he acknowledged. “I received a piece of disturbing mail earlier this week . . . and it’s been on my mind.”
Conflict rolled across Trevor’s face, and Cassidy was tempted to ask questions. She opted against it and glanced at the pizza box, remembering a time when she could eat six slices of pepperoni pizza in one sitting.
“You’re welcome to eat with us.” His expression softened some. “Half of this pizza is topped with healthy mushrooms,” he added as incentive.
Cassidy replied politely, “No, thank you.” Refusing to break bread with the Monroes had much less to do with her practice of healthful eating and much more to do with the noxious fumes escaping the box. She resisted making an ugly face at Trevor’s dinner so she would not offend him, but the urge to throw up grew stronger with each intake of breath. Eager to leave the room before she puked all over Trevor’s shoes, she gasped, “Really, I’m not hungry. Maybe some other night, okay?” Trevor nodded, and Cassidy refused to breathe, an attempt to thwart nausea as she rushed away from the pizza smell.
The scent of the bath oil the girls gave him for Father’s Day lingered on his skin, and Trevor swatted at the bee that insisted on coming close as he waited on the front porch for his mechanic. Several years ago, Brenda had locked her keys in the car and was stranded in a deserted shopping mall parking lot. Horace “Hulk” Hudson happened along, and with the assistance of professional door-opening tools, he had Brenda safely behind the wheel of the car in less than sixty seconds. Brenda took one of Hulk’s cards, and later that evening Trevor called him to extend thanks and inquire about payment.
“Bring me your business”had been Hulk’s only demand.
Hulk pulled up to the curb. He jumped from his GMC pickup, Trevor darted from the steps, and the friends pounded fists. As Hulk checked things out under the hood, Trevor glanced in the direction Cassidy would probably be returning, then checked his watch. If Cassidy stayed married to her schedule, she wouldn’t be back for at least three more hours, plenty of time for Hulk to deliver an official diagnosis and perhaps do the necessary repairs. Lucky for Trevor, he’d learned through Odessa that Cassidy kept a spare set of car keys in the kitchen drawer. In addition, Odessa had shared that Cassidy was reluctant about Hulk working on her car. But Trevor knew Hulk would do a first-rate job without overcharging. Cassidy shouldn’t have any complaints.
Lena rolled up and parked across the street. She strolled over and exchanged hellos with Trevor. Hulk was on the ground, under the car, only visible from the waist down, so Trevor decided introductions weren’t necessary.
“How did you talk Cassidy into letting you help with the car?” Lena peered at Trevor.
“I didn’t.”
“She doesn’t know?”
“Not yet.”
“Oh, baby, you like livin’ dangerously, now, don’t you?” Lena chuckled. “Well, tell Cassidy I stopped by, okay?”
“Sure thing,” he said as she stepped off the curb and into the street at the same instant Hulk pushed from under the Accord. Hulk bumped his boots into Lena’s sneakers.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “Let me get your feet.”
Lena’s eyes became enchanted as Hulk raised himself up off the ground just enough to pull a handkerchief from the back pocket of his jumpsuit and dust all over the red Reeboks that went with the red stripe in her white running suit. She flashed a smile at him as he stood, put the handkerchief away, and removed the disposable gloves from his hands. He smiled in return, a marble-size dimple in his left cheek. Trevor introduced them.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Hulk said.
“Same here,” she said, keeping her head tilted so she could remain eye-to-eye with Hulk, who was much taller than she was while much shorter than Trevor. His round head was bald, and a hint of a mustache bordered his lips. Lena slid her hand inside the hand Hulk extended. As her hand slipped slowly from his, a gaze passed between them that suggested it hadn’t been nearly slow enough.
Y
ou gave Hulk Lena’s number?”
Trevor backed against the counter and crossed his arms over his midriff. “I did.”
“Why would you do that?” Cassidy snapped.
“Because he’s a nice guy, and he asked for it.”
Blowing a puff of air, Cassidy snatched her dangling keys from the tips of Trevor’s fingers. “I didn’t need you to get Hulk to fix my car. I already had three estimates, and I was going to make a choice next week.” She glared at him. “I’m not a weakling woman who can’t take care of business. Not anymore.”
Her gaze wavered away, and Trevor thought she seemed embarrassed that she’d exposed a small measure of herself to him.
Cassidy slammed the keys into the drawer, then slammed the drawer shut. “You might run things at your butter and sugar factory, but not here. In case you’ve forgotten, this is not
your
house.”
“How could I forget?” His voice was grouchy. “You certainly haven’t gone out of your way to make me feel at home. But I guess you wouldn’t have time to complain about
everything
if you took time and did that.”
Cassidy did what Trevor called the ghetto-girl pop: neck roll, eye roll, and the sucking of teeth, all in the same beat. “I haven’t complained all
that
much,” she protested.
He calmly refreshed her memory. “You don’t want me to sing in the shower. You don’t want me to wash your car. You don’t want me to help you bring the groceries into the house. I put too much salt and butter in the food.” He moved away from the counter. “I can’t even give my kids a
cookie
without you gawking at me as if I’m forcing an illegal substance down their throats.”
Cassidy rolled her eyes again.
“Why can’t you just say thank you and admit that I saved you a couple hundred dollars today?”
Cassidy nudged a chair with her hip and dropped to the seat. For the third time, she studied the invoice Hulk had left. “It is a good price,” she conceded, although she continued to scowl.
A leisurely stride brought Trevor to the table, and he clutched the top crosspiece of the chair. “It never crossed my mind that you were weak and couldn’t handle the situation on your own. I can see you’re an intelligent and self-sufficient woman. And those are qualities I admire and respect.” She glanced up at him. “Helping out around here is simply my way of thanking you and Mother Vale for opening your door to my family. It’s my pleasure to do what I can to demonstrate how appreciative I am.”
Trevor stared as Cassidy laid the invoice on the table near the fruit-bowl centerpiece. A bunch of bananas, too green to enjoy yesterday, appeared ripe enough to eat today. He lifted and turned the chair, straddled it, and stacked his arms across the top. He lowered his chin until it rested on his arm. From this angle, it was easy to see through the window above the sink. Birds dotted the sky in the distance and white clouds crossed the sky in slow motion, and Trevor wondered what was happening to him. Only weeks ago, if someone had told him a woman other than Brenda could make him feel this crazy, he would have labeled
that
person crazy. “You know what I think, Sky?” Cassidy was observing him as he spoke. “I think you like me a lot more than you’re willing to show,” he said.