Stepping to a New Day (3 page)

She offered up a short, quietly spoken prayer, and once she was done, they began eating.

“So, you got the job?” Gary said, attempting to cut into the dried, burnt chop.

“I did,” TC replied. “I start tomorrow. Have to pick up a Ms. Gibbs at the airport.”

“Yes, Genevieve,” Gary said, smiling. “She's coming back from Washington, DC. Very nice lady.”

“She really is,” Leah added. “We kids like her a lot.”

TC saw Tiffany moving her food around on her plate as if doing so might make it disappear. TC wished the same thing. Not only was it badly cooked, it was so tasteless due to the lack of seasoning they may as well be eating cardboard, but he ate it all.

Later, while the girls were upstairs in their rooms doing their homework, he and Gary sat outside on the old-fashioned back porch watching the end of the day. “I think I'm going to like it here,” he said.

“Good. Town's real slow and real quiet but everybody gets along for the most part.”

“Are you enjoying running the store?”

“I am. Didn't think I would at first. I spent most of my life selling cars, not food, but I'm doing pretty good. Having a good staff helps, not to mention Bernadine's full support.”

“How long have you been the manager?”

“We opened just before Thanksgiving. Still trying to learn
how to juggle my time, though. Rushing home to make sure the girls have dinner, checking their homework, and doing all the other stuff tied to parenting leaves me just enough time to breathe, go to bed, and get up the next morning to start it all over again.”

“The girls seem happy.”

“I think they are. The divorce was hard on Tiff, though. She's just starting to make peace with the idea that Colleen isn't coming back. Our priest, Reverend Paula, is also a child psychologist and she's been helping Tiff sort stuff out.”

“And Leah?”

“My rock. Handled the divorce pretty well. Colleen always favored Tiff over her so . . . But as long as Leah has her telescope and her physics, she's good.”

“Physics?”

“Yes. Wants to be an astrophysicist. My daughter has a brain big as the Milky Way.”

TC chuckled. “Wow.”

“She and her boyfriend, Preston, are two of the best young physicists in the state—so good they're taking college courses online. You'll meet Preston. He's a good kid.”

TC couldn't get over that.
Physics
. He couldn't even spell the word. He'd have to make a point to talk to Leah about the subject and her goals. He was always interested in learning new things. “Are you old enough to remember the show
My Three Sons
?”

Gary looked confused. “Yeah, sort of. Why?”

“In addition to the dad, Steve, and his boys, there was a character named Uncle Bub—older guy, lived with them, cooked all the meals, did the housework, which freed Steve to go to work and not stress over the daily stuff that needed doing at home.”

Gary gazed out at the fields leading to the horizon. “Be nice to have an Uncle Bub.”

“Or an Uncle TC.”

Gary paused. “What do you mean?”

“After your aunt Carla died your cousins were all still living at home, so I did the cooking and cleaning and all the other Uncle Bub stuff. Have to say I was pretty good at it, too. So, how about I be Uncle TC for you? I'll do the meals, keep the house up, do the laundry, and teach the girls to do the same along the way.”

“I can't ask you to stick around and do all that, and I can't pay you.”

“Not asking for pay but you could use the help, Gary. True?”

“Lord knows I do.”

“Then I'm your guy. You get to do the homework, though. I don't know physics from a hole in the ground.”

Gary chuckled.

TC added, “Tell you what. Let me cook breakfast in the morning, and after I run down and get Ms. Gibbs, I'll come back and make dinner. If at the end of the day you don't think I've helped, I'll turn in my apron. Deal?” He extended his hand.

The emotion in his nephew's eyes let TC know that making the offer was a good thing.

“Deal,” Gary said softly.

They shook.

T
he following morning, the Clark family awakened to the smells of bacon and they weren't sure what else, but the house smelled like heaven. When they entered the dining room, on the table sat a bowl of steaming scrambled eggs, a plate piled high with strips of bacon and a pan of biscuits made from scratch. Leah, Tiffany, and Gary stared, amazed.

“Eat before it gets cold,” the smiling TC invited. “Who wants juice?”

They all did, and while he went to grab a bottle from the fridge they sat and began eating.

“Oh,” Leah cried around a mouthful of eggs. “This is so good.”

Tiff laughed. “No burned bacon!”

That earned her a critical look from her dad, but he finally smiled. “It's okay, Tiff. Cooking is not my strong suit, and I agree, this is really good.”

There was orange marmalade and honey to go with the biscuits and because the biscuits were so awesome they all treated themselves to some of both.

They were eating and smiling when TC took his own seat.

Leah said, “You know you can't leave town until I go away to college, right?”

Tiff replied, “Until
I
go to college, you mean. Thank you for breakfast, Uncle TC.”

“You're welcome, Little Bit.”

Shyness seemed to come over her. “I never had a nickname before.”

“Little Bit okay?” TC asked.

Her answer was a soft “Yes.”

He shared a look with Gary who gave him a nearly imperceptible nod of approval. TC sensed the Clarks needed him to not only run the household but to help them navigate back to being a family, and he felt up for the task.

An hour later, the girls and Gary left to go about their day and TC had the quiet house to himself. He poured himself a second cup of coffee, then stepped out onto the wide back porch. The weather was a bit chilly for a man born and raised in California but he knew it was something he'd get acclimated to. Having been a big-rig driver he knew how beautiful the sky could be on a spring day in the plains, but to be able to sit down and enjoy it without having to push on to the new stop was something new. If all the smiles at the table were any indication his first morning as Uncle TC had been a hit. Later he'd drive down and fetch Ms. Gibbs, and he hoped that part of the day would be a hit, too.

On her flight home from Washington, DC, Genevieve Gibbs was exhausted, but it was a happy exhaustion. She'd had such a good time. In addition to taking the White House tour and a nighttime tour of the monuments atop a double-decker bus,
she'd visited the Smithsonian, the African American Civil War museum and the Native American museum, and had some of the best salmon she'd ever eaten at a quirky little restaurant called Busboys and Poets. This was the first time she'd ever traveled alone and as a woman in her sixties, she was pretty proud of herself. Not that she'd wanted to go solo. She'd asked her friend and roommate Marie Jefferson to come along, but Marie was still acting like a teenager in middle school in response to last Christmas's surprise visit from long-lost classmate Rita Lynn Bailey. How Marie could hold onto a forty-year-old grudge about nothing was something Genevieve still didn't get. She and Marie had been best friends since they were eight years old. Now? Gen had hoped that having Marie with her on the trip to Washington would be a way for them to have some fun and rescue their friendship. Since she didn't want to come along Gen used the time to do some well needed soul-searching. For as long as she could remember someone else had held the reins to her life: first her parents, then her no-good ex-husband Riley, and after Gen walked out on him, Marie had been the one she'd looked to for guidance. After sharing Marie's home for the past few years and being influenced by how women like Bernadine Brown and Lily Fontaine July fearlessly approached life, Gen felt as if she'd finally come into her own. She now possessed the confidence she'd always lacked. The old Genevieve would've never given her embezzling ex-husband a right cross that knocked him into next week the way she'd done when he had the nerve to return to town a few years back with his so-called new wife, Eustacia Pennymaker. The punch broke a bone in her hand but the pain was secondary to the satisfaction that came from watching him slide to the floor out cold. Just thinking about him and his murderous hog
Cletus enraged her all over again, but she drew in a deep breath and willed herself calm. She was a new Genevieve—
large and in charge
in the words of her young friend Amari July, and she loved who she was becoming.

The plane finally landed at the Hays Airport and she made the short walk to baggage claim to get her suitcase. She didn't know the man holding the sign with her name written on it but Bernadine had texted her last night about having hired a new driver. She'd described him as Gary Clark's uncle and being near Gen's age, but she'd left out how nice he was to look at. Dressed in a well-tailored black suit and a crisp white shirt that showed off his large trim frame, he could've been a CEO. The small silver hoop in his ear added a bit of intrigue to his dashing appearance. The old Gen would never dare think such a thing, but the new and improved version of herself definitely appreciated his tall dark handsomeness. In spite of the changes she'd made to herself, she was still a lady and so she approached him and extended her hand. “Hello. I'm Genevieve Gibbs.”

“Nice to meet you. I'm Terence Barbour. Most people call me TC.”

“What's the C stand for?”

“Christopher.”

For a second she looked at him and he looked at her, until he finally said, “Um, let me take that bag.”

As she handed it off, she wondered why she felt so warm. Before she could analyze it his voice brought her back. “When we get outside, will you be okay waiting by the curb while I bring the car around? It's in the lot.”

“That will be fine.”

Once they cleared the doors and stepped out into the chilly early April sunshine, he said, “Be right back.”

Yes, Genevieve decided, he was very handsome. Maybe even more so than Mal, or Clay for that matter. Thinking about Clay made her realize she needed to make a decision about whether their slow-moving relationship was still viable. Clay was a sweet, lovely man but he seemed to prefer the meek doormat Genevieve that she used to be, and since she didn't, they were having issues.

The black town car slid smoothly to a stop beside her. TC got out, opened the door, and held it for her. “Thank you,” she offered quietly.

Once she was settled, he closed her in, took his seat behind the wheel, and off they went.

After clearing the airport property, he caught her eye in the mirror. “Some people like to talk while riding, others like silence. Which would you prefer?”

“A bit of both, I suppose.”

He nodded. “Sounds good. You want music? I found some jazz on one of the streaming channels.”

“That would be nice.”

As they turned onto the interstate, Gen listened to the music and mused upon being back in Henry Adams. She had to admit that little Dorothy from Kansas was right: there was no place like home. That also got her to thinking. When a woman her age decides to reinvent herself, living with someone like Marie who used every day to throw a pity party for herself was not her idea of fun—nor was it healthy. Marie needed to deal with her issues, make her apologies to everyone she'd offended and move on, but since she wouldn't, Gen would be the one moving on instead. The idea broke her heart, but rooming with the cold and silent Marie was like living in a freezer and Gen wanted warmth in her life.

The station played an instrumental that was so memorable
and familiar both she and TC said at the same time, “Haven't heard this in years.”

They both laughed. It was Wes Montgomery's “Bumping on Sunset”—a classic.

“Still sounds good,” TC said.

“Yes, it does.”

They listened with quiet appreciation to the groundbreaking guitar virtuoso who'd paved the way for greats like George Benson, Lee Ritenour, and others.

When the tune faded away, TC said, “Can you imagine how big he would've been in the music world had he lived?”

“If I remember correctly, he died rather young.”

“Yes. A heart attack at age forty-five,” he informed her solemnly. “Tomorrow isn't promised.”

“No, it isn't.” She sensed a sadness in his tone that made her wonder about its roots but she'd never be so rude as to ask.

A few more classic tunes played: “The Sidewinder” by Lee Morgan and “The Sermon” by organist Jimmy Smith. Her father Nelson had loved jazz. Growing up, she had her Motown and Stax, and he'd had his Blue Note and Verve labels.

TC's voice interrupted her musings. “Ms. Brown said you were visiting Washington, DC?”

“Yes. My first trip and I had a great time. Have you ever been there?”

“No. Haven't had the pleasure.”

“You should go. I toured the White House. Although going through the security checks was longer than the tour.”

He smiled at her in the mirror.

“I saw the African American Civil War museum and their beautiful monument across the street. It has the names of every man of color who served in the Civil War.”

“Wow. I'd really like to see that. I served in the Army during 'Nam. What else did you do—if you don't mind me being nosy?”

She didn't. “I took a fabulous nighttime tour of the monuments on a double-decker bus. And I saw the Native American museum.”

“I didn't know there was such a museum.”

“There is, and the National Museum of African American History and Culture will be opening in the fall and I'm definitely going back to see it.”

“I've heard a lot about it. Saw specials on
60 Minutes
and on C-SPAN.”

“C-SPAN? I don't know too many people who watch C-SPAN, TC.”

“Impressed you, have I?”

She laughed. “Definitely.”

“Good.” He caught her eye in the mirror again, and Gen's heart began a dance it hadn't done in years. Surprised because she didn't know Gary's uncle from a can of paint, she forced herself to turn to the window and gaze out at the passing landscape lining the highway.

When they arrived at the Jefferson place, he parked, came around, and opened her door. She stepped out, thanked him and waited for him to remove her suitcase from the trunk.

“I'll take this up to the porch for you.”

Once that was accomplished, she handed him his tip.

He declined it. “Not necessary. Ms. Brown pays me well.”

“But—”

He was already on his way back to the car. “Pleasure meeting you, Ms. Gibbs.”

Before she could respond, he drove away. Having enjoyed his company, she said wistfully, “Pleasure meeting you, too.”

Putting him out of her mind, she stuck her key in the lock and went inside.

Marie, wearing her signature cat-eye glasses, was seated in the front room watching
All My Children
.

“I'm back,” Gen said cheerily. “How are you? What have I missed?” Because there was always something going on in Henry Adams.

Marie shrugged. “Nothing. Same old same old.”

“I had a really good time. You should have come.”

No response. Gen sighed silently. Lately, trying to have a conversation with Marie was like pulling staples out of concrete. “I'm going up to my room and unpack. Do you want to do something later? Dinner at the Dog?” The Dog, formally named the Dog and Cow, was owned by their lifelong friend, Malachi July.

“No. I'm good. You can go if you like.”

Swallowing her disappointment, Gen and her suitcase climbed the stairs. It was official. She was definitely moving out, and the sooner she did the better.

That evening Genevieve checked herself out in her vanity mirror and nodded approvingly at her reflection. The new black velveteen jacket she'd purchased in Washington looked very classy with her red turtleneck, charcoal-gray wool pants, and black short-heeled boots. The simple gold chain around her neck matched the bangle on her wrist and the small hoops in her ears. She'd gone back to wearing her gray hair natural and she thought the elegant cut she'd also gotten in Washington set the tone for the image she wanted to convey: trim and fashionable yet classic. She and Clay had talked earlier on the phone and were going to have dinner at the Dog.
In spite of their issues, she'd missed him and looked forward to the evening. They agreed on a time and that he'd pick her up—since Gen didn't drive—something else she needed to remedy. She'd relied on other people to get her around all her life and it was time to step up. She wondered if Clay would be willing to teach her.

When she got downstairs, Marie was still in front of the TV watching
Wheel of Fortune
. “Clay and I are going to the Dog for dinner.”

Marie replied with a distant nod. Gen wished she could help her friend find peace but that seemed impossible at the moment, so she left her and stepped outside to await Clay's arrival.

He pulled up in his truck and she hurried down the walk to meet him.

“Hey, good-looking,” he said as he got out and came around to open the passenger-side door. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Good to have you home. Worried about you being in DC alone.”

She waved him off. “I was fine, just like I told you I would be.” She climbed in and he closed her door. Before her trip to Washington they'd had a small argument about her traveling alone. She'd appreciated his concern but her mind had been made up and that was that.

After getting into the truck on his side, he started the ignition, looked her way, and said, “I know you think you're all that and a bag of chips, too, but no more trips by yourself. Okay?”

“Not okay.” His lips tightened but she didn't care. Keeping her voice soft she asked, “Can we fuss after we eat?”