Rave’s eyes narrowed to slits as she loosened but didn’t unfasten the cinch on his waist. “I thought Cassidy was away.”
“She came home,” Trevor said, thinking about the other young woman who was this close to him today and how much he wanted to return to the house and offer the apology he had intended from the beginning.
“Another time, then,” Rave relented, pouting as she gradually released him.
He watched her drive away before hurrying back to his truck and returning the duffel bag. He snatched his Bible from beneath the passenger seat and jogged to the house. He tried to twist the doorknob, but the door was locked, the first floor dark. It seemed Cassidy had retired for the night, the opportunity to apologize postponed until morning. Disappointed, and pondering why he was, Trevor lingered beneath the brightness of the porch light. As moths tagged the overhead bulb, he pushed his key into the lock. It was much harder to push away the memory of Cassidy walking across the living room floor—poised, graceful, and with enough sass to incite a man to want to see her sway like that some more.
It was a pity Lena left when she had. She could have seen for herself whom Trevor was checking out. Cassidy had no idea those two had hooked up. The last time she talked with Rave, she was seeing some guy named Kregg.
Cassidy smeared a glob of toothpaste onto her toothbrush. She knew Rave had been attracted to Trevor long before Brenda died. A month after joining Charity Community, Cassidy had invited Lena and Rave to come with her to church. Rave gabbed during most of the Sunday worship service and slept through the entire sermon. Well rested by the benediction, Rave was ready to indulge in her favorite sport—flirting with men of all ages, shapes, and shoe sizes. But there was one man Rave was particularly enthralled with.
“Married,” Cassidy informed her.
And Rave asked in the curt soprano everyone was accustomed to, “What’s marriage have to do with anything?”
Well, it seemed that after years of wishing, dreaming, and drooling, Rave had snagged her man.
Cassidy spit and returned her toothbrush to the holder. For the first time, she noticed the other toothbrush hanging there. Trevor’s toothbrush.
Slowly, as if performing something forbidden, she curled her fingers around the knob of the medicine cabinet, pulled open the door, and fixed her gaze on the row Odessa had assigned their houseguest. Aligned from left to right were a can of shaving cream, a bottle of aftershave, and a brand of deodorant designed for the most rugged of men, according to the commercial. A small bottle of cologne ended the parade of items. Fascination teased Cassidy as she removed the blue container, unscrewed the tiny top, and lightly inhaled. The smell of the man she’d been body-on-body with in the bathroom this afternoon rushed up her nose and down her throat, and Cassidy sniffed a second dose.
I
t’s time to get up,” Brandi sang the wake-up call. She straddled her father’s lower back, clapped her hands against his skin, bounced her body, and sang the song again.
Trevor growled, and Brandi giggled as she plopped onto her back, landing beside him. Giving a longwinded yawn, Trevor rolled over, meeting morning and his daughter. He wasn’t sure which was brighter: the broad strips of sunlight reaching in from under the window shade or the smile on his kid’s face. He grabbed the miniature clump of happiness. She was dressed in pink shorts, a pink shirt, and one pink sock, the items he’d laid out the night before. Without effort, he lifted Brandi above him, as high as his arms would extend, then dunked her onto the mattress and tickled her tummy. All giggles, she scrambled beneath the sheet to escape, and Trevor granted her a recess, reaching toward the nightstand for the wristwatch Brenda had given him for his thirtieth birthday. He read the time, and Brandi finally stopped giggling. “Grammy told me”—she pressed her finger to her chest—“to tell you”—she pointed to him—“that Derek called
three
times this morning.” The child raised three fingers.
Entombed in sleep, Trevor had heard neither the house phones nor his cell phone. He backed his upper frame against the headboard and tossed the sheet aside, uncovering the lower portion of his body. He had on the lightweight sweatpants he’d done sit-ups and push-ups in before climbing into bed last night.
“Are you going to call Derek back?”
Traces of concern for Derek were vivid in his little girl’s eyes. As he well knew, Brandi had become very fond of Derek, adopting him as a big brother. Trevor leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Yes, I’m going to call him back.” He grabbed the foot without the sock and kissed the big toe. “Where’s your other sock?”
“I can’t find it.” She laughed, pulling her foot out of his hand.
“Well, go find it, and I’ll call Derek.”
Brandi began to crawl away, then stopped and saddled him with a look that indicated she had a life-and-death matter on her mind. “Who was that lady in the bathroom with us yesterday?”
“That lady,” Trevor said slowly, “was Cassidy. She lives here.” He sat up straighter. “And that was her bedroom you entered without permission. From now on, if you would like to speak with Cassidy or Mother Vale, you’re to stand outside the door and knock, then wait for them to invite you in, even if the door is already open.” Trevor’s eyebrows went up, a customary signal that he meant business.
“Okay,” Brandi said, and rolled over twice before reaching the brink of the mattress.
Trevor had not interrogated Brandi yesterday and asked now, “Why was your jacket in Cassidy’s room?”
“I left it under the bed when I was hiding from Sis.”
“Stay out of there,” he reinforced, taking his cell phone from the nightstand.
Brandi climbed off the bed. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, too.”
“I love you more than banilla ice cream,” she said, initiating the game she loved to play with him as she jumped-hopped-skipped to the door.
Trevor was about to press the button to speed-dial Derek but could not neglect the opportunity to provide his daughter the joy of playing in this simple way
.
“I love you more than vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup.”
“I love you more than banilla ice cream with chocolate syrup and sprinkles.”
Trevor added another topping, and it was Brandi’s turn.
“I love you more than banilla ice cream with chocolate syrup, sprinkles”—she rolled her eyes to the top of her head, making sure she remembered in sequence—“coconut, and cherries,” she yelled, finalizing the building of the sundae as she scurried out of sight.
Trevor listened as the phone rang for the fifth time, also concerned about Derek Hines. Derek was the only person other than his secretary and his sister whom Trevor had given Mother Vale’s phone number to. He’d told the boy to use it only in case of an emergency, so as the phone continued to go unanswered, Trevor’s worry over the fourteen-year-old doubled. Like Brandi, he had become quite fond of Derek, despite a shaky beginning.
Six months ago, Derek had been caught stealing from Seconds. Trevor had planned to come down hard on him, teach him a lesson while he was impressionable. But after learning the youngster wanted the food for two small brothers, Trevor decided against notifying the police. Instead, he set Derek up with part-time employment and homework help, and when he discovered Derek’s passion for basketball, he gave him a spot on the City Champions team. Derek excelled on the court, and his grades and attitude improved as well.
“Who dis?” Derek’s mother answered the phone.
Trevor grimaced at the ragged salutation. “Hello, Miss Hines. This is Coach Monroe. Is Derek there?”
“Oh, Coach, how you
doin’
?”
“I’m fine, Miss Hines, and you?”
“Oh, I’m doin’ real good, now.”
Trudy Hines’s routine flirtation dance had begun and would swing into full gear if Trevor didn’t end it pronto. “Have Derek call me when he gets in, please. And you have a good day.”
“Wait,” Trudy said before he could disconnect.
When Trudy didn’t say anything more, Trevor asked, his voice even, “Is there something I can do for you, Miss Hines?” He wrinkled his face as soon as the words were released. That had definitely been the wrong way to put it.
“Oh, there’s a lot you can do for me,” Trudy said like she was auditioning for a phone-sex job.
Trevor was sure he heard Derek’s voice in the background, amid the cries of a younger child and the brouhaha of the television. “Is Derek home?” he asked again.
“Yeah, he home!”
The phone had been slammed against something hard, and Trevor had to pull the receiver away from his ear. He brought the phone back to hear Trudy discharging a string of obscenities while informing Derek she wasn’t his secretary.
It amazed Trevor how well Derek dealt with Trudy, a reckless mother if ever there was one. If it had not been for Derek’s pleas, Trevor would have turned Trudy over to Social Services months ago. But Derek vowed he would help his mom raise his brothers to keep them from being separated. At times, Trevor questioned whether he was doing the right thing, keeping his mouth shut. At times, he was downright uncomfortable with the decision. So he kept in close contact with Derek and donated groceries or clothing for Derek and his brothers as needed. Of course, Derek’s mother thought her son purchased these items with the money he earned at the bakery, but Trevor had opened up a savings account for Derek, and that’s where most of the boy’s paycheck resided.
“Yo, yo, yo.” A voice not quite a man’s ripped through the wires.
“Hello, Derek. What’s going on?”
“Aw, Coach, you ain’t gonna believe it. All my stuff for the awards thingy next Saturday is missin’. The suit, shoes . . . even the socks.” He lowered his voice. “I think Trudy might have sold everything . . . for more forties.”
Trevor was accustomed to Derek using his mother’s first name. It was Trudy’s idea. Only thirteen years older than her son, she’d been heard to say, “I’m too young for you to be calling me Mama.” Derek’s voice shot up a few decibels. “What I’m gonna do? I ain’t got nuffin’ else nice to wear.”
“Are you sure the clothes aren’t in the house?”
“I done looked everywhere. Trudy must’ve got my stuff when I was at my cousin’s girlfriend’s sista’s house last night, gettin’ my hair braided. I gotta keep that Iverson look, ya know.”
If Derek was near a mirror, Trevor imagined the teenager was looking in it—patting his head and grinning at himself.
“So can you take me shoppin’ today, Coach?”
Trevor looked at the time again. Following breakfast, Brandi was to be dropped off at a play date in the park, and Brittney had to be taken to a 10:30 dental appointment. Trevor prayed the dentist was running on time because he was scheduled to teach a twelve o’clock baking class at Seconds. At the end of the class, he would go back and pick up Brandi and drive both girls to Grace’s. She’d agreed to babysit after Penny phoned late last night and said she was feeling worse and didn’t want the kids to catch anything.
Neither did Trevor. Two kids sick at the same time—he’d been down that harrowing road twice last winter. All the hot soup in the world couldn’t replace what his children really wanted. Their mommy.
Trevor swung his feet off the bed. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he pinched the bridge of his nose, rushing his thoughts through the rest of today’s schedule, trying to find a spot for Derek. There didn’t seem to be one. This afternoon Trevor had a meeting with a potential client that he couldn’t cancel on again. And then he had to do laundry, or they’d all be staying home from church tomorrow. “We’ve got all week, plenty of time to figure something out. So don’t worry, okay?”
Derek didn’t answer right away. “Yeah, okay.”
Trevor disconnected, sorry he’d disappointed Derek, but he had almost more than he could carry on his back for one day. This single-parenting thing—well, he’d developed a new respect for it.
Trevor exhaled a gust that seemed to come all the way from his toes, then reached for his Bible and slid from the bed to his knees. He quickly searched for the familiar scripture that reminded him where his help for today’s challenges resided.
Our help is in the name of the Lord, Who made heaven and earth.
Cassidy cringed and covered her mouth, smothering a scream as she walked into the kitchen and a ball of fur the size of a subway rat, wearing a red collar with a silver bell, skittered across her undressed feet.
“Don’t be alarmed, that’s just Poopie.” Odessa watered the small potted plants on the windowsill above the sink. “She’s with the Monroes. Poor thing was accidentally locked in the basement. Guess that’s why you didn’t meet her yesterday.”
Cassidy tightened her lips with a grimace. She was
not
a cat person. “That thing was in my room,” she complained. Cassidy had wanted to catch an extra hour of sleep, since Arlene, the senior center administrator, called last night and said a replacement volunteer had been scheduled, and Cassidy wouldn’t be needed at Caring Hands today. But the customary quiet of Cassidy’s morning had been shattered by a chain of meows coming from under the bed, as well as the brutal sound of Trevor singing in the shower. Right now the wannabe Fred Hammond was at the counter tapping an egg against a mixing bowl. He was dressed in slacks and a V-neck shirt that hung over his waist. Cassidy flipped him an antagonistic sideways glance before pinning a similar one on the short-haired feline washing its pink nose by the back door.
“You’re just in time, baby girl,” Odessa said to Cassidy, taking plates from an overhead cabinet. “Trevor’s making breakfast for everyone.”
Cassidy watched Trevor’s daughter follow Odessa to the table. The child was carrying a pink Barbie-doll car, most likely the one Cassidy had seen outside yesterday. Odessa put down the plates, smoothed her housedress as she lowered herself to a chair, and pulled the child onto her thighs.
“You’re the lady from the bathroom,” the child said to Cassidy.
The girl’s smile was contagious, and Cassidy smiled, too. “You must be Brandi.” She extended her hand. “I’m Cassidy, Mother Vale’s niece.”