by Neta Jackson
For a nanosecond Kat was tempted to bounce out onto the porch with a cheerful, “Hey, can I join the party?” just to break up this little tête-à-tête—but she knew she couldn’t pull it off. She was too close to saying something she’d probably regret— or too close to tears, which would be even worse.
Turning on her heel, Kat grabbed her backpack and headed out the front door, slamming it shut behind her.
Chapter 36
Was this what it’d feel like to stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon, as if any moment the ground beneath his feet would crumble and he’d fall headlong into the abyss below? Now that he’d worked up the courage to ask Rochelle if they could talk, Nick was afraid to open his mouth. What he said in the next few minutes might blow up everything right in his face.
God, I really need Your wisdom. Help me say the right thing in the right way. I don’t want to hurt Rochelle and Conny—but I gotta do this thing!
Why didn’t Rochelle sit down? She’d been going on for two minutes apologizing for Dexter, she never thought Conny’s dad would go that far, she was so sorry he’d been hurt, and was he sure he was okay?
And then she suddenly laughed, a tinkling laugh full of merriment that crinkled her dark eyes at the corners. “I’m sorry, Nick,” she gasped. “It’s not funny—but you do look like a raccoon with those two black eyes.” Rochelle put a slender hand to her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles.
Oh brother. What he wouldn’t give to just join in the joke, reassure her he was going to be fine, it wasn’t her fault, and talk about something else. Anything else.
The slamming of a door inside the apartment made him jump. Had somebody just come in? Oh no, couldn’t be worse timing—especially if it’s Kat. “Hang on just a minute, Rochelle. I’ll be right back.”
Nick slipped inside the apartment and looked around. Nobody in the living room except Conny, glued to the TV. “Hey, buddy, did someone just come in? Conny! I’m talking to you!”
Conny glanced his way for half a second. “Miss Kat just went out.”
Kat had been here? How long? Had she seen him and Rochelle talking on the porch? Oh, God, this isn’t happening.
“Was she here very long?” He tried to keep his voice low, but he spoke sharply. “Conny! Look at me!”
Conny shrugged. “I dunno. Not very long.” He eyed Nick warily, as if weighing the tone of his voice.
Nick sighed. He shouldn’t take it out on the boy. “Okay. I won’t bother you anymore.” He walked slowly back out onto the porch, closing the kitchen door behind him. “Sorry. Just heard something and wanted to check on Conny, make sure everything was okay.”
Rochelle had claimed another plastic chair on the other side of the square table between them. She gave him a warm smile. “Thanks. I appreciate you looking out for Conny. Means a lot to me.”
There it was. He couldn’t avoid it now. Nick drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Rochelle. About Conny.”
Rochelle tipped her head slightly, her thick, wavy hair falling to the side as she looked at him, puzzled. “About Conny?”
“Well, actually, about what happened last night. I—”
“Nick! Please. Believe me when I say it wasn’t your fault! You didn’t do anything wrong. Even if Dexter had absconded with Conny—which he didn’t, thank God.”
Nick put up both his hands. “I know. I appreciate that. But I’ve been thinking seriously about what Dexter said, and—” He saw her about to open her mouth to protest. “Please, Rochelle, let me finish.” There was nothing to do but plunge ahead. “I . . . I think my living here in the apartment with you and Conny is causing confusion—not just for Dexter, but for Conny too.” And you, he should add. But he wasn’t quite ready to address that yet. He’d already decided not to say he knew she’d talked to Edesa about her feelings for him. Hopefully he could let her off the hook without embarrassing her. “So I wanted to let you know that I’m going to house-sit for your folks when they go to South Africa in a couple weeks—maybe even move out sooner, but I’m not sure about that just yet.”
“Move out!” Rochelle’s eyes flashed—but he couldn’t say whether it was from anger or disappointment. “But . . . what about Conny? Just like that, walk out of his life?”
“Rochelle. I’m only moving up one floor. I can still do things with him from time to time.”
“Oh sure. ‘From time to time,’” she mimicked. “But you’ve been putting him to bed, you’re the one he wants to go see first thing in the morning—because you’re there. Why would you do that to him? He . . . he needs you, Nick. You’re like family.”
For some reason, Nick felt a sense of calm fill his spirit and he grew bolder. “That’s just the problem, Rochelle. I didn’t see it before, but no wonder Dexter got bent out of shape. I’m not Conny’s daddy, and I’m not your live-in boyfriend. And I can’t— I shouldn’t—be here for him every minute. It’s confusing for Conny—and for you too.”
She snorted. “Well, that’s just great. Because after that circus last night, I’m getting a court order to keep Dexter away. So now Conny won’t have any man he can count on in his life.” She got up abruptly and walked over to the porch railing overlooking the tiny backyard, garage, and alley, her back to him. Her arms were folded across her chest and she seemed to be breathing heavily.
Nick was tempted to protest. Yes, he’d be there for Conny! She could count on him! But he held his tongue. There was time to work out what his relationship with Conny should be, but—like Josh Baxter had said—he first had to establish what it wasn’t.
After several long minutes, Rochelle turned slowly back to him. “You said it was confusing for me too. What did you mean?”
This was where the rubber met the road. He needed to choose his words carefully. “Just what you said. You and Conny see me like family. And there’s nothing wrong with that, if you see me as a big brother or ‘Uncle Nick’ or something like that. But Dexter obviously thinks it’s more than that—I think ‘shacking up’ was the term he used. And maybe he’s not the only one. What about the people at church, or the kids in the youth group . . . what do they think?”
“Oh, so suddenly you’re worried about what people think? You got all goody-goody because you’re a pastor now?”
Nick winced at that. But Rochelle threw out her arms in disgust. “And . . . and why do you keep quoting Dexter? Why are you paying any attention to what he says? The man’s crazy. If I never see him again, it’ll be too soon. And I don’t care if Conny ever does either.”
Nick pointed to his battered face with a wry grin. “Personally, I don’t want to see the man again either.” The grin faded and he searched for the right words. “But the reality is, there’s been a huge misunderstanding, and . . . he is Conny’s dad. And Conny may want—may need—to have his father in his life when all this settles down. But me living here in the same apartment, that’s one thing I can change to help keep things clear—for Dexter, for Conny, for you, for anyone else who might have questions. I’m not living with you. And I’m never going to be Conny’s daddy.”
Rochelle’s face suddenly looked pained and her voice softened. “Why not? Is that so out of the question, Nick? I mean, I know you care for Conny, and he adores you. And . . . I like you a lot too, Nick. And I think you like me. We get along great. Is it so inconceivable that it could grow into something else?”
Nick swallowed. No need to tell Rochelle he knew what she’d said to Edesa. She’d just told him herself. He shook his head. “It’s not going to happen, Rochelle. I’m sorry.”
She drew herself up again. “Why?” She shot the words at him. “Is it because I’m black? Funny how all you enlightened white folks get when it comes right down to it. Or . . . or, I know. It’s because I’m HIV positive. That’s it, isn’t it? You can’t be with me because I might infect you, right?”
He shook his head. How could he tell Rochelle he’d never thought about either of those thing
s in relation to her because, well, he wasn’t thinking about her as a potential partner at all. Hadn’t weighed “reasons” for or against. “Rochelle, believe me, that’s not it. It’s because”—there was no way around it—“there’s someone else.”
Her eyes widened and for a moment she seemed speechless. “Someone else? Who?”
Nick looked away. How could he tell Rochelle when he still hadn’t spoken to Kat herself? Maybe he’d done this all wrong. Maybe he should have talked to Kat first, then Rochelle. Oh, God, did I bungle this whole thing?
Rochelle suddenly pushed herself away from the railing. “You know what? Forget it. Maybe Conny and I are the ones who should move out. We moved in here last, upset the nice little nest you and your college buddies had carved out for yourselves. Don’t know where we’ll go, since my folks seem willing to have you move in with them, but not us. Figure that one out. But—”
“Rochelle, don’t. Please. Actually, even if you and Conny weren’t living here, I would need to move out. For the same reason. It’s . . . confusing things here.”
Rochelle just stared at him. And then her eyes widened and she sank down into the chair across from him again. “Well, spit in my eye . . . it’s Kat, isn’t it? You’re in love with Kat.” She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out again—and then started to laugh, a mirthless sound. “Criminy. I should’ve known.”
Chapter 37
Nick sat at the kitchen table, staring at the scrambled eggs he’d fixed for himself. Bree had come home from work early, said she was feeling rotten with a cold and didn’t feel like cooking supper even though it was her turn. Would he trade with her for tomorrow? He’d said sure, but awhile later Rochelle had come out of her bedroom where she’d holed up after their talk and said she and Conny were going “out,” and they’d get supper on their own.
No one to cook for but himself. Was this how it was going to be living upstairs at the Douglasses’ while they were gone? He wasn’t sure he was going to like it.
Now his eggs were getting cold. Had he done the right thing? In one way he felt immensely relieved. It felt good—right—to be honest. But he knew Rochelle was hurt. Or angry. Something. And that didn’t feel good. Because he did like Rochelle. She was really a great girl, and he wanted to stay friends. And Conny . . . couldn’t deny he had a special place in his heart for the little guy. Somehow he had to make sure Conny didn’t fall through the cracks while he sorted out his love life.
Huh. “Love life.” Not like he had one. But . . . a slow smile spread across his face. That was something else he was going to change. Tonight, if he could help it.
Yes. He’d talk to Kat tonight. Which meant he should let Avis Douglass know he’d like a ride to the pastoral meeting tonight.
Pastor Cobbs was a bit taken aback when Nick walked into the office at SouledOut with Avis Douglass. “Good heavens, man! What happened to you?”
Nick tried to keep it simple. He had no problem telling the pastor that Rochelle’s ex had gotten jealous about his relationship with Conny and had gotten physical. Or that he’d talked it over with Peter Douglass and they’d agreed it might be smart for Nick to move out of the apartment, just to keep things clear from any misunderstandings. House-sitting for the Douglasses while they took this mission trip to South Africa would provide a temporary reprieve until he figured out something more long-term.
But for Rochelle’s sake he said nothing about her talk with Edesa. No need to let the whole world know she had a crush on him. Especially since Avis hadn’t mentioned anything about it when she’d told him on the way over that Peter had called and asked about him staying in their apartment. “Of course I said yes. And it’s all right if you move in earlier, Nick—this week if you’d like,” she’d said as they pulled into the shopping center parking lot. “Will you still take your meals with the girls downstairs? How do you want to work it all out?”
He hadn’t thought that far—or what to do about paying his share of the rent either, though they only had a month to go before the Candys returned.
“Very wise, young man,” Pastor Cobbs said as they settled into their chairs in his office. “I’ve been willing to go to bat for you over your living situation because I’ve trusted that it’s all been on the up and up. But given the possibility for misunderstanding—as is apparent from what happened with Rochelle’s ex—moving out seems like the right thing to do. Why don’t we take some time to pray about a more long-term solution?”
Nick appreciated the prayer, suddenly realizing how grateful he was for the spiritual mentors God had brought into his life this summer—the Douglasses, for sure, and Pastor Cobbs . . . even a spiritual brother in Josh Baxter who’d cared enough to talk to him straight. Well, that’s after they got it straight who they were talking about. Nick stifled a chuckle as Pastor Cobbs said, “Amen.”
Most of the meeting was spent talking about how to cover pastoral duties and responsibilities while Sister Avis was out of the country. At least Nick didn’t have to preach again until mid-August, and hopefully by then his face would be back to normal. They also spent time praying for some special needs in the congregation, including the tense situation with Avis’s grandson and his daddy.
But as they left the building, Nick said, “Thanks for the ride here, Sister Avis. But I can walk home. Actually . . .” He grinned self-consciously. “I want to stop by The Common Cup when Kat gets off work and walk her home.”
A small smile flickered at the corners of Avis’s mouth. “All right, if you’re sure you’re okay. At least let me drive you that far and drop you off. I can tell you’re still sore from that punch to your stomach.”
Which was true. Nick didn’t protest but asked her to let him out half a block from the coffee shop . . . though it made him feel like a teenager asking “Mom” to let him out a block away from school. But he grinned and waved her off, slipping on his sunglasses to hide the bruises, even though twilight was falling.
He only had to wait outside The Common Cup five minutes before Kat pushed out the door, her curls damp against her face and long wavy strands escaping from the clip that held most of it off her neck. “Hey,” he said, falling into step. “Mind if I walk you home?”
Startled, Kat stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “What are you doing here?”
“Uh, like I said. Wanted to walk you home.” He kept his tone light. “Mind if we walk over to the lake? It’s only a few blocks out of our way.”
She hesitated but fell into step, hanging back slightly. “You should be home, getting an early night.” Her tone was distant, guarded. “What’d you do, go to your pastor meeting tonight? If you won’t go to a doctor, you could at least cancel a meeting until your body heals.”
Nick almost smiled. Classic Kat. Came out sparring. Except this time it worried him. Had she heard any of his conversation with Rochelle? Couldn’t have been much, but still . . . if she only heard snatches, she might have gotten the wrong idea. But maybe he should just be up front about it. In fact, it might provide a good segue.
“I had a talk with Rochelle this afternoon.” He paused for two seconds but got no response. “And I wanted to tell you the same thing I told her—that I think me living in the apartment with Conny is causing misunderstandings. With Dexter for sure. That’s one reason I went to work today, to talk to Mr. D about it—him being Conny’s grandfather and all that. And he had a good idea, I think. Suggested I house-sit for them when they go to South Africa. It’s only one floor up, but at least I wouldn’t be living in the same apartment with Conny and Rochelle. Actually, the Douglasses said I could move up there sooner, even this week. I wanted to ask what you think.”
They’d reached Sheridan Road, which they had to cross to get to the park along the lake, but had to stop for a red light and “Don’t Walk” signal. She looked up at him, an anxious frown on her face. “Move out?” Her tone had changed, no longer distant.
Green light. “Come on, we can go.” Nick took her arm and felt like shouting wh
en she didn’t pull away. He had to admit his sore gut had outlasted his last round of pain pills. Bed would feel good. But not yet. Not until—
“Why don’t Conny and Rochelle just move upstairs? That makes more sense to me. Why make you move out? The Douglasses are her parents, after all.”
He didn’t answer until they’d reached the end of the block, which dead-ended at the park along the lake. The sun had set an hour ago and the cloudy sky had hastened the twilight, but at least the air was cooler here by the lake.
“Gotta sit for a minute.” Which was true. He was hurting now. “That bench okay?”
They sat. Kat reached over, took off his sunglasses, and handed them to him. “You don’t have to hide behind these. It’s just me.” She was frowning. “Okay, I hear what you’re saying. But I don’t understand why it has to be you who moves out. Why not Conny and Rochelle?”
Nick cleared his throat. “Because that’s not the only reason I need to move out.” He turned his body, trying not to wince, so he could face her. “It’s you, Kat.”
“Me!” Her mouth dropped open. “What are you talking about?”
He allowed a lopsided grin. “I’m talking about the fact that sharing an apartment with you and Bree and Olivia—and now Rochelle and Conny—and trying to keep it all aboveboard and not make any waves with the church, avoiding any appearance of evil and all that, has kept me from saying something I’ve been wanting to say for a long time.”
Kat’s eyes were wide, questioning, their usual bright blue darkened in the shadows growing by the minute, even as a quarter moon peeked through a break in the clouds, tipping the small waves out on the lake with tiny pearls of light.
Nick reached out a hand, tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, and then stroked her cheek. “I love you, Kathryn Davies,” he said softly. “And I’m going nuts not being able to tell you because . . . it just wouldn’t be appropriate to court you while sharing that apartment as housemates. So the sooner I get out, the better.”