Mr. Towers winked at CeCe. "Jealous, Gert?"
"Of what?" Miss Brinson said with a bit of sauce in her walk as she left the table with her plate in her hand.
CeCe giggled, and Mr. Towers shook his head. "That woman is going to be the death of me yet."
"I don't know about that. I think you enjoy teasing her as much as she enjoys being teased."
CeCe didn't miss the twinkle in the older man's eyes. "You're right about that, girlie, but I think I'll let her stew awhile before I give her any more. Tell me about you. How did it go at your new job?"
CeCe couldn't help it. She rolled her eyes. "New job? Don't you mean jail sentence?"
"Well, it was your decision to be a felon."
"I'm not a felon. I just had a few parking tickets."
Mr. Towers pushed back from the table, clearly enjoying CeCe's discomfort. "I know I'm an old man, but I think fifty is more than a few, even for you young people."
CeCe slapped his wrist with her open palm, though not hard enough for it to hurt. "All right, you're right. Anyway, it went OK. The director seems nice enough. The work doesn't seem that hard. In fact, it seems interesting. And I think I'll still have some time for my real estate business, though, as usual, not enough."
"I don't know why you and that stubborn woman back there—" he inclined his head toward the kitchen, where Miss Brinson had disappeared—"won't let me help you out. I could loan you the money to open your day-care center, CeCe. I've told you that."
CeCe shook her head. "I couldn't let you do that. This is something I want to do on my own."
He raised his hands to stop her. "Well, don't get started. Between you and my son, I'm about to start thinking there's something wrong with my money. You two need to stop playing that same old tune."
"It's not a tune," she said. She appreciated Mr. Towers's offer more than he would ever know, but making the money to pay off her debts and free herself to start the day-care center was something she needed to do on her own. No matter how hard it was.
"Don't get all upset. You know what I meant. Look, I don't like to get both your feathers ruffled in the same night, and tonight's her night. You'll have to wait until tomorrow to get your dander up."
CeCe smiled. "You're a mess. You know that, don't you?"
The old man grinned. "I try."
"Try what?" Miss Brinson asked when she came back for the rest of the dishes.
"To be a gentlemen, of course." Mr. Towers pushed back his chair and began to help Miss Brinson clear the table. "Let me help you with the dishes."
"You don't have to do that," Miss Brinson said.
"I know I don't have to, Gert. I want to." He gave CeCe another wink.
"Well, suit yourself."
CeCe watched the two of them as they left the room. Mr. Towers was courting Miss Brinson, and CeCe didn't think the older woman even realized it. Courting. Now where had that word come from? But that's what they were doing. They weren't dating. They weren't a couple, but Mr. Towers was letting Miss Brinson know, in the ways that counted, that she could rely on him. That he'd be her friend whenever she needed a friend. CeCe wouldn't be surprised if he relocated to Atlanta within the next year or so, just to be close to her.
A bit of envy bubbled in CeCe's stomach. She didn't need a man, and she didn't want one, she told herself. A picture of Nate Richardson's smile flashed in her mind, and it was as if his probing eyes forced the truth from her. Sometimes—just sometimes—she did wonder if the Lord was preparing someone special for her. She had even gone so far as to paint a mental portrait of him. She knew he'd love the Lord, and David, and Miss Brinson, and her. He'd be a good husband, father, and friend. Best of all, he'd know everything about her and love her still. Her heart would be safe with him because he'd never hurt her. She'd be free to love him without fear of that love being rejected or used against her in—
"I'm ready, Mama," came David's voice from behind her. She'd been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she hadn't heard him enter the room. She pushed Nate and her fanciful thoughts from her mind and directed her attention to the realities of the present and the male who mattered in her life: her son.
* * *
"Way to go, Marcus!" Nate yelled from his seat at the scorer's table. He raised his hand to give his little pal a high five. "You're on a roll tonight. What's that, strike number three?"
The eight-year-old smiled at Nate. "Number four."
Nate whistled. "Hey, I'm going to have to watch out for you."
"How many strikes do you have, Mr. Nate?" Stephan, another eight-year-old, asked.
"I'm not telling. I think I'm going to have to start practicing before I bowl with you guys again." He glanced over at his best friend, Stuart Rogers. "What do you say, Stuart? How about you and I get together every month before we bring these guys out? They're killing us."
Stuart peered at Nate over the top of his glasses as the two men stood up. "I didn't do so badly myself. Maybe you need the practice."
Nate staggered back at his friend's words, and all ten of the eight-year-old boys who comprised their combination Bible study and big brother-little brother group laughed. "I guess that's my cue to say, 'Let's eat.'"
Nate stood back and watched the ten youngsters rush past him and down to the snack bar.
Stuart shook his head and laughed. "Sometimes I think they're more interested in the food than the bowling."
As Nate gathered the belongings the boys had left behind, his thoughts turned to his friend Marvin, who had started the group and recruited him and Stuart to co-lead with him. His thoughts remained with Marvin as he fell into step with Stuart and they made their way to join their charges. They were in no rush. Their monthly bowling outings put them on a first-name basis with the staff in the snack bar, who automatically gave the boys their pizza order.
"Have you talked to him this week?"
He didn't have to ask who Stuart was talking about. "I went by their house the other Saturday. The day of Naomi's wedding. I think Shay invited me because she was worried about me. I saw him. No change. How about you?"
"I went by yesterday. He's still feeling sorry for himself. I pray for them all the time, but Marvin seems to be drifting further away."
"I know what you mean. We all have our crosses to bear, and losing a kid has to be right up there." Marvin and his wife, Shay, had lost their only child in a tragic car accident almost two years earlier, and neither was coping very well. "I think Shay is coming around. She was really worried about me last week. That's a good sign, don't you think?"
Stuart nodded. When they reached the snack bar, they placed their belongings on a table next to the one their charges had taken. They had settled into a routine that seated the adults at one table and the kids at another. Nate didn't know quite how that had happened, but he didn't have a problem with it. The time had become a very valuable sharing time for him, Stuart, and Marvin, and remained so for him and Stuart in Marvin's absence.
After he and Stuart made the rounds of the kids' table to make sure everybody was settled, they went to the counter and picked up their already prepared orders—one of the benefits of being creatures of habit as well as regular and well-paying customers.
"Thanks, Roy," both men said to the cook-cashier for the night. Then they headed back to their table.
"I do think Shay is coming around," Stuart said, continuing the conversation as if they had not been interrupted. "We can only pray that the change in her will have a positive impact on Marvin."
"Amen to that."
"So how are you?" Stuart asked, taking a bite of his Philly cheese steak.
Nate washed down a bite of club sandwich with a swallow of Sprite. "I'm good. Very good, in fact." Nate caught a movement out of the comer of his eye and turned his attention to the boys. He made eye contact with Warren Thomas, who'd gotten out of his chair and was poised to give Jerome Mims a solid thump on the head, and silently bade the boy to take his seat. With an embarrassed smile, the child di
d so. "The pain has eased," he said, completing his answer to Stuart's question. "It no longer hurts."
"What's the it?"
"What do you mean?"
"You said, 'It no longer hurts.' What doesn't hurt?"
Nate gave a rueful smile. "Remind me to find some friends who haven't passed the bar. What kind of question is that?"
Stuart wiped his lips with a paper napkin. "You know what I mean. Now answer the question."
"Well, your honor, the it is everything. My whole situation reminds me of David and the child he had with Bathsheba. When the child was alive, David fasted and prayed, but after the child died, he ate. The people didn't understand his actions until he explained to them that while the child was alive he prayed and fasted that God might spare him, but after he was dead there was no need to continue. That's the way I feel. For the four years of our estrangement, I could pray for and work toward reconciliation, but now that Naomi's remarried, I can no longer pray that prayer. Now I have to pray that she and her new husband find happiness together and that they make their peace with God." He paused for a moment to collect the rest of his thoughts. "I had to let my marriage go, and when I let it go, in a way, I set myself free. It's as though God prepared my heart for reconciliation or final separation, so that whichever came I would be able to deal with it. That's what I mean when I say the pain has eased."
Stuart nodded and Nate was sure his friend understood. "Enough of that," Nate said after a few quiet moments. "With friends like me and Marvin, you may never jump the broom."
Stuart finished off his sandwich and leaned back in his chair. "That's one thing you don't have to worry about. Believe me, if the woman for me came my way, I'd snap her up in a minute and say later for you fellows."
Nate laughed, just as he knew Stuart wanted him to. That's one reason he liked being around Stuart. Stuart was solid, but he never took himself too seriously. "Are you even looking for this paragon of marital bliss?"
"Never. If I looked, I'm sure I'd look up on the wrong person. I'm just taking things as they come. I'm in no rush, but neither am I running away. How about you?"
"What about me, your honor?"
"Are you running away?"
Nate knew what Stuart was talking about, and he really didn't want to get into it because the idea was too new to him. His finding love again was now possible, but he didn't know how probable it was. If he met somebody, it would have to be because the Lord brought them together. He surely didn't see himself changing his lifestyle to seek out a possible mate, the way he had done with Naomi. He'd burned up the airways, highways, and telephone lines with trips and calls between Chicago and Richmond, and look where that had gotten him. "I guess I'm like you," he finally answered. "I'm definitely not looking, but I don't think I'm running away either."
Stuart grinned. "I sorta hoped you would say that. I have two tickets here for the Annual Fourth of July Black Tie Gala, and you have to bring a date. The good news is that you have a month to find one." Stuart leaned forward, reached in the back pocket of his jeans, and pulled out two tickets. He slid them across the table to Nate. "Complimentary tickets, of course, in deference to your nonprofit status."
"Of course," Nate said, taking one of the tickets and pushing the other one back toward Stuart. "I'll be there. You know me; I'm always ready to make a pitch for the cause."
Stuart leaned forward. "Come on, Nate. I think you need to do this. The evening doesn't have to be a romantic one. Invite one of the sisters from church. It'll do you some good to have the company of a nice female for an evening. I don't want you to forget how to appreciate the opposite sex." He pushed the second ticket back toward Nate. "All women aren't like Naomi, and all marriages don't end in divorce. I think you need to reaffirm that in your mind—and in your heart."
Nate didn't know if he agreed with Stuart's conclusion that he needed to go out, but he knew his friend well enough to know that he'd nag him to death until Nate followed the suggestion.
"Look," Stuart said, building on the case he'd already laid. "If you're uncomfortable asking somebody, though I don't know why you would be, I could set something up for you and we could go together."
"A blind date?" Nate shook his head. "I don't think so. This is something I could handle on my own if I wanted to handle it."
"You need to handle it, Nate. Do it for me. I promise you if you bring somebody to this thing, I'll get off your back."
Nate picked up the ticket, and CeCe's face flashed through his mind. She was somebody he'd like to get to know. As a friend, of course. He wondered if she'd be interested in going with him. She'd really impressed him during their meeting, and he'd been thinking about her a lot since then. They'd clicked immediately, he thought, as evidenced by the easy and natural way they had teased each other. Not a flirtatious teasing, but two friends enjoying each other's company. Then when he'd asked her what she wanted to do at Genesis House and she'd said, "Just tell me how I can help"—well, that had sealed it for him. CeCe wasn't his first community service volunteer, not by a long shot, but with that statement she'd separated herself from the others. God bless her, she wanted to help. Most people just wanted to get their hours in, and he'd assumed she'd be no different. He was happy he'd been wrong about her.
He'd noticed other things about her that day as well. Of course, he'd noticed her packaging—he was a man, after all—but he'd also gotten a glimpse of the person inside, and what he saw, he liked very much. As he'd studied her closely, he realized that her expressive face held no secrets. With CeCe, what you saw was what you got. He still remembered how she'd shyly lowered her eyes when she'd caught him observing her. He'd found her embarrassment endearing, and it had taken all of his self-control not to tease her about it.
"Do you have any idea who you're going to bring with you?" Stuart asked, interrupting his thoughts.
"I have an idea," he said evasively, "but I don't know if it's a good one." Nate didn't want to give Stuart a name, because Stuart would become like a dog with a bone. His friend could be relentless when he needed or wanted to be. A good trait in a prayer partner, but trying in certain other situations.
"What do you mean? Is it somebody from church?"
Nate shook his head. "I wouldn't feel comfortable asking a sister from church. I think too much significance would be placed on it. Right now I'm not any closer to one woman than I am to another, and asking one to go out with me might signal more than I'm ready to signal. You know what I mean?"
Stuart nodded. "That's the same reason I don't go out with women from the church. It makes life a lot less complicated. Have you thought about asking my parking ticket volunteer?"
"Cecelia Williams?" Sometimes Nate wondered if Stuart was holding back when asked about his spiritual gifts. His friend had the uncanny ability to know what Nate was thinking most of the time.
"You remember her name," Stuart said, with a knowing grin. "I take that as a good sign. Of course, she's hard to forget with those big, brown eyes of hers. How are you two getting along?"
"We're getting along. I don't know her that well." But I'd like to.
"Then she's perfect. Invite her to go with you. It would be a chance for you two to get to know each other. Besides, she works for Genesis House, so she's a reasonable choice. You can call it a professional appearance. That is, if she's willing to go out with a guy with a mug like yours."
Nate ignored Stuart's jab. "What do you know about her?" he asked in what he hoped was an off-handed manner. He didn't want to show interest, because doing so would only pique Stuart's curiosity, but he wanted information about CeCe, if his friend had any. "Did you know her before the case?"
Stuart shook his head. "I didn't know her, but one of the clerks in the court knew of her. She's a Christian, so there's no chance of an unequal yoke thing happening. Anyway, a friend of this clerk goes to the same church she goes to. I got the impression that she's pretty selective." He chuckled. "Actually, the guy said that she had shot down so many men at th
eir church that they've stopped asking."
A crash sounded next to them, and they looked over at the table of boys and saw an overturned chair. "The natives are getting restless," Stuart said. "I think we'd better shove off."
Nate got up and rounded up their group, all the while thinking about CeCe. He was glad to know she was a believer, but he wasn't really surprised. Their shared faith would explain the connection he'd felt with her. As he followed the last boy out of the bowling alley, he wondered if CeCe would shoot him down as she'd done the others and how he'd feel if she did.
Chapter 3
"I'll be around to see you again, Mrs. Vines," CeCe said, as she and Anna Mae Wilson readied themselves to leave the elderly woman's small but immaculate two-bedroom frame home in the Robinwood section of Atlanta. After seeing David off for a day of fishing with Mr. Towers and Timmy, CeCe had met Nate at the Robinwood Recreation Center so that he could introduce her to the neighborhood and its people. Anna Mae, a resident of the neighborhood, had arrived just as CeCe and Nate were about to start their trek, and she had volunteered to take over the task. Nate had agreed, though CeCe thought he seemed reluctant—she wasn't sure what to make of that, if anything—and she'd enjoyed Anna Mae's lively companionship. In the short time the two women had been together, they had become fast friends. "Thanks so much for the peach pie," CeCe told Mrs. Vines. Then she leaned down and kissed the older woman's soft cheek.
"Next time you girls drop by," Mrs. Vines said, "I'll have you a potato custard ready. Anna Mae just loves my potato custard, don't you, Anna Mae?"
Anna Mae smiled at CeCe over Mrs. Vines's head. "I sure do, Miz Vines. I'll have to make sure CeCe gets back down here real soon if you're going to cook her my favorite."
"You do that, Anna Mae," the older woman said, taking her hand. "You just do that. I can tell that this girl has a good head on her shoulders, just like you. We need more of y'all down here to keep these young heads straight. They think they know everything, but they don't know nothing. I try to tell 'em something, but they ain't listening to me. Maybe they'll listen to y'all."
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