Made of Honor (17 page)

Her head swung around what looked like three hundred and sixty degrees. “Church?
Church?
” Her tone made me feel as though the word itself was absurd. When I’d lost everything with Trevor, she’d been the one who prayed me through. Was I this bad? Would I be able to stand up to her and tell her the truth like she did for me? My shoulders slumped.

She sucked her teeth. “Church. Girl, what are you talking about? I’ve given God everything I have. And what did it get me?”

Jericho shook his head, pinching his eyes shut. “Mama, please. Don’t say that. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. It’s just that—”

Rochelle threw her head back like she did on Sundays when the choir ended up on the floor with everybody else. When she threw her head back like that, there wasn’t any use in fanning yourself, ’cause in a few minutes you’d be sweating for sure. This time though, the sway of her head scared me more than the sight of Trevor’s smooth skin last night.

Almost.

“I have nothing,” she cried in a haunting voice. “Nothing!” She turned to Shemika. “And here you are, running up behind me trying to get a piece of nothing, too.”

It got still then, almost like the air had thinned. I tried to muster words, but it was all I could do to breathe. Shemika walked to the balcony and slid back the glass door, ushering in the roar of morning rain. Lightning danced on the downbeat, offering the
only flash in the drab darkness. All seemed lost, until a precious sound sliced through our silence.

“Be still, my soul…the Lord is on thy side. Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain…”

Without thinking, I picked up the note, adding body to Daddy’s low, sweet voice. “Leave to your God to order and provide…in every change, He faithful will remain.”

He took my hand first, then Rochelle’s. And we sang. To each other, to the rain, to God. My voice creaked on most notes, especially when I felt the current of my father’s baritone holding me up. Hadn’t he been singing this last night? He’d seen the storm coming long before it had broken forth.

After the last refrain, Daddy waved us to the dining room table. I followed, smiling through my tears. At each chair was an outfit for everyone, crisp and ironed. One of Jordan’s old suits for Jericho—never underestimate the retro potential of ugly clothes—one of Mama’s sweater sets for Shemika that must have been maternity. Was Mama ever that big? There was a royal blue wrap skirt and blouse for me, and for himself, a seersucker suit that I’d never remembered seeing before. My jaw swung open like a trap door.

Daddy tapped it shut. “That’s what attics are for, baby. Rainy days.”

We were all there. I hadn’t been to church with Daddy in over ten years, and besides the fiasco a few months back when Jordan first arrived, I hadn’t seen my brother there either. On any other day, I’d have rejoiced, but Rochelle looked as though she’d fling apart at the seams at any second. She was shaking her foot in the choir stands under her robe. Even when the music wasn’t playing.

Rochelle stared right at us. No one else seemed to notice but me. I hated to say it, but I wished Jordan and his little honey had chosen the end of the pew instead of sitting next to me. My friend
was looking like she had a poison peashooter under that choir robe. And we all know if somebody throws something, ain’t nobody getting hit but me.

Daddy sat on the other side of me, with Dahlia and Trevor next to him. I didn’t know what to think of Trevor’s presence. How could someone act such a fool and traipse up in church the next morning with a Bible and a smile?

You did it for a long time.

True, but it’s still scary. Adrian must have thought so, too. He’d walked toward us, but when he saw Trev, he dropped into the next seat he saw and buried his head in a hymnal. How I wished I could do the same, especially given the topic. Holiness. Talk about a doozy.

Pastor Galveston usually got the Word in, but he didn’t like to hit it too hard. The old folks would call him at home afterward and the young folks wouldn’t come back. Tracey, Rochelle and I had survived on Oswald Chambers, inductive Bible studies and a steady diet of tapes and Internet broadcasts from our favorite Bible teachers. But today, something was different. Even Daddy seemed to sense it, gripping the back of the pew.

“I’ve got to come clean with you church. Can I come clean with you?”

“Yes, sir,” someone shouted from the choir stand.

The older man planted both fists at his sides. “Good. I’ve served the Word at the church for thirty years. I’ve seen some come and go. Married y’all, buried y’all and everything in between. But I have let you down.”

The pianist hit the wrong key.

He mopped his mouth with a handkerchief and stepped down from the pulpit. “That’s right. Play the off note. I said it. I’ve let you down. Every one of you.”

Jericho leaned back so far I thought he was going to end up in the bosom of the lady in the pew behind us. Probably not, she was breaking her neck too. Where was Pastor going with this? I’d
had my share of surprises for the year. I looked down at the front row, where the pastor’s wife’s eyes bulged. She’d looked scared, like a train was ’bout to hit her.

Pastor took off his robe and walked past his wife. He kept coming in our direction and Daddy and Jordan both stared at the door at the same time.

“I’ve let you all think you could come in here once or twice a week and get your praise on, then go live like you wanted to and everything thing would be okay.” He shook his head, but kept stepping our way. “But that ain’t true.

“God is mighty, He’s loving, He’s gracious. He’s a way-maker, a pain-taker…” He stopped at the end of our row.

At Trevor.

“But He’s holy y’all. And we’ve got to be holy, too. I’ve got to be.” He nudged Trevor with his elbow. “Stand up, son.” He whispered it, but it whistled through the mike.

I tried to swallow, but my throat wouldn’t cooperate. Daddy looked at me as though he’d been trapped in a circus sideshow with no means of escape. I shook my head.

The one time my family comes to church, Pastor has to show out.

“What’s your name, son?”

Trev looked at the floor, for once drained of his ever-ready confidence. “Trevor. Trevor Ice.”

The pastor took a long breath. “Well, Trevor Ice, I have a confession to make. And the Lord told me that you’re the man to tell it to.” He turned and looked around the room. “And all y’all of course.” Everyone laughed, but with nervous, tight laughter. The kind of laughing saved for jokes at funerals or times when you’re not sure if funny is safe.

It wasn’t safe now, that much I knew for sure. Trevor must have known it, too, because he didn’t crack a smile as the pastor continued.

“Trevor, I’ve been having an affair.”

A collective gasp fell over the church.

“See that woman up there?” He pointed to his wife, trembling on the front row. “For thirty years, I’ve been telling her I’d get to it later. We’ve lost our children to drugs, jail and hell because I put this place first.”

He covered Trevor’s hand with his. “Well, no more. I lay this church today back in the hands of the God who made it. It’s His church, and nothing shall prevail against it.”

The room blurred before me. All I could make out was the first lady’s pink-suited form rocking several rows ahead. “Thank…You…Jesus,” she said over and over to a rhythm that must have been ground out over many Saturday nights. Many Sunday mornings.

Pastor himself sobbed into the microphone. The whole church lost it then. But he silenced them. “Hold on, church. You’ll get your turn. We’re gonna clean house today. Starting with this young man.”

“Me? Naw…” Trev tried to pull away.

“Yes, you. Ten years ago, the Lord told me to do this with someone but I didn’t want to mess up the program. Didn’t want to interrupt my pretty sermon and make a fool of myself. I’d pull him aside next Sunday, you know, real quietlike.” He stared down the pew at Daddy.

My heart beat in my throat.

“What happened?” somebody called out.

“I never saw that man again…until today.” He cleared his throat. “And I don’t have another ten years to wait. So tell me son, what do you need to ’fess up this morning?”

Trevor looked up from the floor and then pivoted slowly…his eyes first on Dahlia, then his little girl, and finally resting on me. Why was he looking at me?

Don’t say anything crazy.

Across the aisle, Adrian rose and started for the door. Trevor wiped his mouth and stared up at the ceiling. “My
problem, pastor? It’s real messed up. I’m in love with my baby’s mama…”

My nails dug into my skirt at his pause.

Don’t say it.

“And my baby’s aunt.”

“D
ahlia ran out of the church?” Tracey’s voice echoed through the line.

I leaned against the cash register. “She did.”

“And you ran after her?”

My head throbbed. “You know it.” Wasn’t that my job lately, to chase people out of the church? “I hadn’t factored in having to squeeze past Trevor at the end of the pew. He held my hand when I tried to get by. Said he was sorry.”

“He’s sorry all right. What did you say when you caught up to her?”

I shook my head, remembering chasing Dahlia down the back stairs. “We cried. Me because I know what it’s like to love somebody and have them unwilling or unable to return that love. Her because—”

“She sees now how wrong she was? That no man should ever have come between you two?”

“Not even all that. She was just ashamed, you know? You never think you’re going to get played. It’s always somebody else. But there was sorrow, too. The tears were cleansing for both of
us.” Repentant even. Whether it was Trevor, the pastor’s words or just God reaching down and touching her, my sister seemed to have realized that she’d made a grave mistake. Though I’d forgiven it, the tears were cleansing for me, too.

“And what was the other thing you started to tell me? About Jericho?”

Better let Rochelle handle that one. “I’m sure Rochelle will bring you up to speed on that one. The question is what’s up with you? You obviously called me for a reason other than hearing about my drama. Everything all right with the baby?”

“The baby’s fine.”

“So?”

“I’m not fine. In fact, I think I might need to come up for a while.”

O-kay. “Come on. Bring Ryan, too. Daddy and Adrian would love the company. How about next weekend—”

“I’ll be alone, and it might be for a little longer than a weekend.”

I stared out my glass storefront into Kick!’s front window at Adrian, who was talking to someone behind his register. A new employee? And from here, though her back was to me, I could tell she looked cute. A little too cute.

Mind your business.

“You know you’re welcome anytime, Tracey. I just don’t want any trouble with Ryan. That’s why I think a weekend—”

“I was thinking more like indefinitely.”

What? “Now come on, nothing is that bad. Did he hit you? Cheat?”

She paused. “No, not literally.”

“Well, we’ll pray about the figurative. I’m always down to be your refuge if you’re in danger, but I can’t be your excuse. Besides, if you were here for more than a weekend, you’d run home. It’s madness.”

Marriage counseling would be a tight fit between the other re
cent developments. Not to mention the fact that I was totally unqualified. “Have you talked to Rochelle about this?”

“Every time I call, that guy is around.”

“Every time?” That surprised me. Rochelle barely let us come to her place, and we were her only friends.

“Pretty much.”

Not good. Not good at all. “Hmm.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Adrian stepped out of his shop, pausing to sweep the walk and then…

Is he coming over here?

I breathed into my hand to check my breath. My leftover catfish breakfast had left its mark. Ick.

The bell over the door jingled as Adrian stepped inside. I kept my back turned, fumbling in my pockets for a mint. Nothing but lint. As I grasped for freshness, I suddenly remembered the trio of goat hairs that had resprouted from my chin this morning. Did I really get that last one?

His hand rested on my shoulder

“What are you doing, Dane?” Tracey half screamed through the phone.

“Dying,” I whispered. “Adrian’s here. Call me later.”

For once, she hung up before I did. My shoulders turned slowly as thoughts of the half inch of new growth fuzzing up from my scalp battled with my chin-hair nightmares. Since I’d started walking my two miles every morning again, I seemed to be sprouting. Chia Pet definitely seemed to be my destiny.

“Good morning,” Adrian said, his hands tucked under each arm. A satisfied grin adorned his soft-looking lips.

“Morning,” I mumbled, using as little fish breath as possible to form the word.

His eyes twinkled. What was that about? “The closed mouth treatment? Is that any way to greet a customer?”

I covered my mouth. “Catfish for breakfast.” The words slipped through my parted fingers.

He leaned closer. “Huh?”

This was so humiliating. “Catfish for breakfast!” There, was he satisfied? My mouth smelled like Lake Michigan. “I wasn’t thinking. I brushed my teeth this morning, but I grabbed some of Daddy’s leftovers on the way out.”

He grabbed his gut, unable to restrain his laughter. “Sure, you did. Tell me anything.”

I drew in a sharp breath. “I did! You know I don’t play that.”

He nodded with another playful grin. “There’s only one way to be sure.” Rounding the counter faster than I could escape, he took my head in his hand, tickled me with the other and took a big whiff when I opened my mouth—after trying everything short of passing out to hold my breath. When I gusted him with my saltwater saliva, he fell back against the wall. “Oh, yeah. That’s nasty.” He reached in to the back pocket of his jeans for a tin of breath mints.

My breath quickened. Tangerine Altoids. What his kisses had always tasted like. I reached in and took a few, but he held up his hands in protest when I tried to give the tin back to him.

“Oh, no. Keep them. Your daddy isn’t going to stop cooking fish anytime soon. And if you breathe on somebody with that, they’ll sue. I’ll write it off, business expense.”

I punched his shoulder. “What do you want anyway? And did you hire someone? It looked like someone was behind your counter a minute ago.”

He paused, giving me that look that always made me turn away. “About that—”

I didn’t like his tone. The bad news voice. Was she his girlfriend? If so, how could I be mad? Hadn’t I had the same chance? I wasn’t ready to be with anybody—though my body kept sending signals to the contrary. “You don’t need to explain. It’s your store.” And your life. I grabbed another handful of Altoids and stuffed them into my mouth.

That got a big laugh out of him. “Oh…so now it’s my store? If I recall, I stole it from you.” He tickled me again. The breath mints suddenly became an orange-flavored death knot in my throat.

“K-k-k.” I was trying to say help, but that’s how it came out. The letter
K
. Figures.

He tapped my back. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head as the purples and peaches on the shelves melted before me. My knees buckled. My last thought?

Please, God, don’t let me fall on him….

Pain exploded across my back as he slapped me across my shoulder blades. The choker gob of candy hit the floor. Right before I did.

“Dana! You all right?” Adrian went down with me and cradled my head on his knee. His gold cross dangled from his neck, grazing my nose. I took a deep breath of him, evaluating Adrian’s new scent, as I always did in crisis situations. Leather, lime and new money. He smelled just like he looked. Suddenly choking half to death on a ball of breath mints seemed a totally wonderful thing to do.

“I’m okay,” I whispered, thinking how strange it was that I actually did feel okay. Better than I had in weeks. Maybe I needed to freefall on my head more often.

He took a deep breath and kissed my forehead, then my cheek, then…he stopped himself. To say that I was disappointed would be an understatement. “That’s what I get for playing with you. Your breath smelled fine—”

My finger touched his lips. Another mistake. “Hush, you. I’m okay. Really.” I sat up and smiled, just to prove it.

“Scaring a guy to death. Is that any way to treat a customer?”

I dusted off my pants and stood. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask the guy across the street. He’s got them all.”

“All except the one I want.” Adrian held my hand so I could balance.

If my head wasn’t already throbbing, I’d have swooned. We both shared a goofy look, then Adrian turned his head sideways a little. “Did you fall on your chin, too?”

I bit my lip, remembering how I’d yanked at my chin one last time to be sure right when he’d walked in. “No. Why?”

“There’s something…I thought it was a scratch before, but it’s a…” He narrowed one eye.

I closed both of mine.

God, please. If he just doesn’t say it…

“It’s a hair!” He shouted it as though the
Candid Camera
team were going to shoot up from behind the displays and start taping. Before I could convey my embarrassment, he snatched it out and laid it on the counter. “Got to get ’em at the root.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. “Here, get that blood.”

I was still too stunned to speak.

He frowned. “What’s wrong? Embarrassed?” He smiled. “Don’t be.” He rubbed the top of his bald head. “I’m happy to see hair any way I can. Brings back memories. Mom used to get them all the time.”

His beautiful mother? That did me in, and I doubled over with laughter. “You are just crazy—”

His face went blank.

I covered my mouth.
Crazy
still wasn’t a word he was fond of. “I mean silly. Silly.”

“It’s okay.” His smile reemerged. “I’m kind of over that.”

“Right.”

Another awkward pause. The bell jingled at the door. Adrian tapped the Altoids on the counter. “Is it safe to leave these?” he asked, starting to leave.

“I’d say so. That’s the most fun I’ve had in weeks.”

The customer, an older Jewish woman who came in for my talcum-free powder every week—who could use a whole tube of powder every week?—entered the store.

Adrian chuckled, then paused. “The most fun you’ve had all week? Oh, Dane. Don’t tell anybody that.”

I snorted. He needn’t worry. I didn’t have time to tell anybody anything. Besides, wasn’t he the one with something to tell me? “I won’t. But hey, what were you going to tell me? About your, uh, employee?” I somehow felt ready to hear it now, whatever it was.

“There’s nothing to tell really. Just that she’s—”

The older woman turned and stared right with me.

Adrian moved a little closer to the door before finishing his sentence. “She’s a single mom who came to me for a job. There’s nothing between us. I just wanted you to know.”

A sigh whistled through the older lady’s lips and she wandered back to the lavender section. I stared at her for a second and did a little mental dance of my own. “No problem. That was nice of you.”

He swung the door open. “Glad you think so. It’s your sister.”

“It’s for my bedroom and master bath. The drawers, the sheets, the carpet. Lavender keeps everything fresh…and special, you know?” She tipped her head across the street and cleared her throat. “Have to keep things a little special, yes? That sister of yours, she knows that. But her eyes? Nothing good inside.” She pinched my cheek and wagged it back and forth.
Ouch.
“You? You are a good girl. You eat too much and work too hard, but you’re a good girl. And he’s a good man. Don’t be stupid, eh?”

And with that, she waddled down the avenue. I stared after her. How had things got like this? The week before Naomi fired me, I’d given away all my houseplants. The thought of a relationship with anything plant, mineral or animal, let alone human, was totally out of the question. Between making soap and stuff, church, work…there wasn’t time for anything. And I’d liked it that way.

Or so I thought.

Now there was Daddy, Jordan, Dahlia, Sierra, Jericho and Shemika, Rochelle and her…whatever he was. Sprouting like weeds everywhere. Just like my chin hairs. Without me asking, here they had all come, trampling my safe little world to bits.

God, oh God. Deliver me from myself.

I stared across the street at Dahlia’s slim form. She bent over to get something and then she laughed. I closed my eyes. It was a performance I’d seen so many times before. Why did she always have to take anything—everything—I had? And why did the men in my life always seem willing give it?

I could almost hear what Renee would say—“He believed in you. Why think the worst of him? He’s just helping her.”

Reentering the day’s numbers in my computer accounting program, I shook the thought from my mind. As usual, the accounts receivables and the accounts due didn’t match. For some reason, the bank was still holding Tangela’s last check. I’d been trying to call her…no matter. I had another of her ridiculous bridal functions this weekend. I’d talk to her then.

I closed my eyes for a second, remembering Adrian’s lime-leather-money scent so close to my face. The bell broke my reverie. I’d never been so thankful for a customer. I swallowed when I saw it was Adrian. Again.

“This trip, I’m a customer. Sorry about earlier. I know I didn’t handle that too well. I told your sister to come to you—”

I’ll bet. “You don’t need to explain. How can I help you?” I couldn’t afford to get tangled up with him anymore today. My sister, either. I had work to do. I’d hash it out with Tracey this weekend. All of it.

For the next twenty minutes, Adrian walked the floor, ordering a little of everything. My everything. All the stuff I really love and personally use. I stopped every few minutes to crack my knuckles. Who was he buying this stuff for? Surely not me or he would have said it. We’re open about gifts. Was he that into
Dahlia already? Or was this to get back at me? Could he think Trevor and I really had something going on?

The possibilities alone made me tired. So I just didn’t think about it, choosing instead to try to estimate the number of Weight Watchers points in a chocolate chip cannoli. Estimating got me in trouble, both with my waistline and my pocketbook, but guessing was always fun. Especially since it kept my mind off everything that was going on.

After emptying half my Fresh Facial cart, Adrian asked for gift wrapping. Okay, that sent me over the edge. I charged thirty-five bucks for gift wrapping a large purchase, because with only me here it’s a pain to do. The brides get it free in their packages, and no one else ever wanted it. Except Adrian.

“If I do all this and you just hand it to me, I’m going to hit you,” I said in a weak but hopeful tone.