Taking a bite of the French toast he said, “Mmm, if I’d known you were such a good cook, I would’ve asked you to cook for me years ago.”
“Well, I wasn’t as good years ago, but I definitely could’ve made this for you. My grandfather loved my French toast. It’s my grandma’s recipe.”
“Of course. How’s Gramps doing?” He licked syrup from his lips.
She swallowed hard. “Okay. He said he understands that we have to move back into the house because I can’t afford the home anymore.”
Warm and steady, his hand covered hers. “I’m sure he understands it’s not your fault.”
She didn’t want him to take his hand away, but he did. “I know, but I think they took good care of him, and I don’t know if I can.” She stuffed eggs in her mouth to shut herself up.
After finishing his plate, he leaned back into the cushions. His flat stomach gave no clue he’d eaten three pieces of French toast, and a plateful of eggs and bacon. Victoria stared at her own half eaten food. Her appetite was really horrible, lately. She snuggled into the cushions, and closed her eyes. The movements of the cushions as Chad pushed up to leave made her open her eyes.
“I’ll put the plates away.” He reached for her plate, too.
“Don’t.” She tapped his hand with hers, and pushed the plate back to the table. Tightening her grip on his arm, she pulled him back to the couch, wrapped her arms around his waist, and leaned into him. She needed him near. “Mikey just sit with me.”
“Victoria-”
She shut him up with a snuggle. Her legs curled underneath her, and she tightened her hold on his waist. He tensed, but slowly relaxed. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but she missed him. Briefly, she thought about letting go, but then his arm slid from the cushion behind her to her waist, and his hand rested on her hip.
“Mikey, let’s just rest for a while. Do you have to work?”
“No, not today. I thought about working overtime, but I don’t have to go.”
“Well, then, that’s that. I just haven’t been able to sleep much. I’m so tired.”
His free hand sifted through her curls as her head rested underneath his chin. “Then sleep. I’m here, and I’m not leaving.”
She placed a tiny kiss on his chest. His scent washed over her. A mixture of the breakfast they’d had, soap, and something she couldn’t place. Rubber or plastic. “Until I can get my stuff back, the only things I can do are get the house keys from the management company, maybe get a little furniture for Gramps and me, and figure out what’s next.”
“So, the keys for the house weren’t with the rest of your stuff?”
“No. I was going to stay in a hotel nearby. And pick up the keys today.”
“Oh, okay. I can help if you want me to.”
“You’ve done so much. I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”
“I want to help. It’s no problem.”
“Hmm, thank you, Mikey.”
Hours later, after Mikey had run Victoria around town to pick up keys, buy two bedroom suites of furniture, a few lamps, and some kitchen supplies, they stood in the house she’d grown up in. Each dip into her savings hurt, but more needed to be done. Some of the old wood siding on the exterior needed to be repaired, but inside, the small rooms were well tended. Recent paint still scented every room. A few of the kitchen appliances were older, but they worked. She’d need to test the oven, but she desperately wanted to keep it. It was her grandmother’s pride and joy. The wood floors needed to be buffed, but they were in great shape. Her grandmother had picked a beautiful mahogany because it reminded her of The Peabody Hotel, one of the oldest hotels in Memphis.
Frozen in time, the modest home brought back memories. “Remember when we’d stay up all night watching movies until Gramps would have to literally kick you out?”
He stopped checking windows to respond. “Yeah, but then I’d just sneak back through your bedroom window, and we’d finish watching.” He checked another lock. “You think he knew?”
“Knowing Gramps, probably.”
She headed toward the kitchen for a glass of water. “Do you want anything to drink?”
“No, I’m fine.” He checked his watch. “But, I should be going. I’m going to pick up some overtime tomorrow morning.”
His words twisted her stomach in knots. She didn’t want him to leave, but she was being ridiculous using his kindness to hold him hostage. He had his own life, and from the dolls and coloring books in the room where she’d slept, there was a lot of his life she didn’t know anything about.
“I’m sorry, Chad, I didn’t mean to take advantage.
He crossed the room toward her. His hand cupped the side of her face. “I told you that you could stay with me if you don’t feel safe. You don’t have anything to sleep on but an air mattress. Until your stuff arrives, you can stay with me.” His eyes searched hers. “But, I’ve got to be at work at 4:00 A.M., so I can’t stay.”
The house was old and drafty, but it was her home, and she needed to get comfortable in it, again. She wanted to bring her grandfather home as soon as possible, and the house was not going to get ready by itself. “You better go. You need to work, and I need to clean.”
“I can come by and help you when I get off.”
He didn’t need to worry about her. “You need your sleep. I’ll whip this place into shape.”
She hugged him as hard as she could because she wasn’t sure when she’d see him again. When she was alone, the emptiness of the house beat down on her. She’d left D.C. with nothing, but that car, her savings, and the stuff in that moving truck. It was meant to help her start over. She crumbled to the cold wood floor. What was she thinking? How was she going to do this alone? Tears welled in her eyes. She didn’t stop them from falling. On the floor in the middle of her grandparents’ house, she sat and cried. God, how was she going to make this work?
Chapter Three
An old blue bandana held down fuzzy auburn curls littered with soapy puffs. Dressed in dust covered jeans and a t-shirt, accented with yellow rubber gloves up to her elbows, Victoria stood in the doorway wide-eyed, and curious.
Chad had rushed through all the property release paperwork because he’d wanted to get to her. He knew his surprise would bring a smile to her face. “I hope you still like Tex Mex because I thought I’d bring you dinner.”
“Mikey.” Her beautiful bright smile beamed. “Of course, I still love Tex Mex.”
“Well, I got this from El Pollo Rico. We used to go when we were kids. Remember?”
“How could I forget?” She began to remove her gloves, and turned to head back inside.
“Wait.”
“Huh?”
“That’s not the only reason I’m here.” He stepped to the side, so she could see behind him.
The glow he hadn’t seen since she returned to Memphis lit up her face. “Oh my God. Mikey!” Tears streamed down her face as she ran into his arms, chips snapped between them.
“Why are you crying?”
“Mikey, I didn’t think you’d find it. I don’t know what to say…” Her arms tightened around his neck.
“Victory, I know you needed this stuff back, but what I don’t know is what is going on. I’m happy…really happy you’re back, but why did you leave D.C.?”
“I promise, I will explain everything, but not right now. Okay?”
He couldn’t force her to tell him what he wanted to know. There were some things he needed to tell her, too. “Okay. So, do you want to eat first or haul your stuff inside?”
She ran past him to the car. Like a kid she circled the car laughing. “It’s not damaged.” She stared at the moving truck. “What’s in there?”
He puffed out his chest, and dragged out his words. “Oh, just a few televisions, laptop, a ton of books, and a few paintings.”
“What about pots and a breadmaker?”
“Did I forget to mention those?”
She squealed, and jumped
up and down, and then ran into his arms, again. “I hate to waste money, especially right now, but forget about Tex Mex takeout. I’m cooking for you.”
“Well, how about you cook, and I’ll start moving things inside.”
Splayed hands waited for the brown-bagged dinner he held. “Perfect. Give me those.” Before disappearing into the house, she glanced back over her shoulder. “Hey do you like swordfish?” Then she waved the idea off. “No, no. I know exactly what to cook. Shrimp, corn, sausage, red potatoes. How about that?”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Ohh, and my grandmother’s tea cakes for dessert.”
He knew having her stuff returned would make her happy, but as he watched her bounce into the house, he knew the spring in her glide represented pure joy. He’d seen it at too many competitions and events before.
Hours later, hunger pangs gnawed at him. Victoria had directed him with each piece of her found treasure. As he placed everything, he realized she’d transformed the small home. White walls had been repainted to shades of gold, greens, or browns. The bedroom furniture had arrived, but until he had delivered her stuff no televisions had been in place, although entertainment centers awaited their return. Half-filled bookshelves sat both in her bedroom, and the living room. He nestled missing pieces among the others. The fixtures in the bathroom had been replaced with more modern units. Sweaty and tired, he followed the smell of shrimp and corn into the kitchen. The kitchen hadn’t been redone, but every item had been cleaned to perfection.
“Oh, man, that smells good.” He stepped up behind her, one arm slid in place around her hip. She gazed up at him, and kissed him on the cheek.
“Thank you. Everything will be finished in a moment.” She nodded at the bathroom. “Go and clean up, and I’ll set the table.”
Jazzy saxophone beats reverberated through the small home. The low ceilings enhanced the sound. Victoria slid an oblong tray loaded with golden corn on the cob, skewered shrimp, roasted red potatoes, and smoked turkey sausage in front of Mikey with the goal of making his mouth water.
She sat across the table watching him.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Nothing. Just watching you eat.”
Juice dribbled down his chin as he bit into an ear of corn.
Her plate sat untouched. “Do you like it?”
She waited patiently for his response.
“Yes.” He popped a shrimp into his mouth. “This is delicious.”
With a sigh, she nibbled on a piece of sausage. “I’m glad.”
After hours of laughter and food, they sat at the table over crumb-filled plates. Vanilla and sugar lingered in the air and her mouth from the tea cakes.
“I can’t remember when I’ve eaten that good. Thanks.” He checked his watch. “It’s getting late. I should be heading home.”
She rose and cleared away the dishes. “We could watch a movie,” she said from the kitchen. “Until Gramps is moved back in, I have a spare room.”
“You want me to stay the night?”
“I just mean if you’re sleepy after the movie, you could crash.”
She heard him as he twisted around in his chair to face the kitchen. “Victory, come here.”
Paralyzed where she was, she wiped down the appliances and countertops. No response to his words.
“Victory.”
Her eyes locked with his. “Huh?”
“Come here.”
She dragged herself into the dining room, and took her seat beside him. He grabbed the seat of the chair, and pulled her closer.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
Focused on her short nails instead of him, she spoke. “Nothing. I just thought you could sleep over like you used to.”
“Are you scared to be here alone?”
“No. I just...” She fumbled over her words. “...I just didn’t feel like being alone.”
“So, you thought what? Let me screw with Mikey?” He rose from his seat, and stalked toward the front door. “I know you said you’d explain things to me later, but where’s your fiancé? Why isn’t he here? Why isn’t he helping you? Why are you back?”
“Wait, Mikey. No. I wasn’t trying to screw around with you.” She couldn’t hide it anymore. The loneliness she felt took over, and she slumped in her chair. “I just wanted a friend around. And I don’t have a fiancé. Not anymore. Not since I left my job, and decided to come back here.”
“When did all of this happen?”
“Slowly, for months. My bosses made changes within the company. Eventually, they came to me with demands for my department, but I disagreed and attempted to negotiate with them.”
“So, what happened?”
“Nothing satisfied them. I decided to take a severance package to save the jobs of my employees, and well…my fiancé wasn’t too happy about that.”
“So, he left you…”
“No, we made the decision together. He’s supposed to sell the house, and send me a check, but until that happens…I need everything…”—she glanced around the house—“…I probably shouldn’t have spent what little I did, but…it’s hard to be back here.”
He walked back to where he left her and knelt in front of her. “I know it’s hard to be here. You should’ve said something before. I just assumed…you could’ve called me then, and now. You didn’t have to wait for me to show up.”
“I didn’t want to bother you. I know you have your own life.” Her finger ran across the tabletop. “I noticed all of the playthings at your house. For a child. A little girl?”
“Yes. My daughter—Paige.”
With a quizzical stare, she turned to him. “Paige. That’s a beautiful name. How old is she?”
“Six, but she’d swear she was older.” The picture he showed her curved, bent from the shape of his butt.
“She’s beautiful. Her hair is just as curly as yours.”
“Thank you.”
She slid a finger across the picture of the cherub faced little girl, but she no longer saw Paige, tears pooled in her eyes as she began to picture what their child would have looked like. Would their son or daughter resemble Paige? The mix of their hair textures, complexions, heights… What or who would their baby look like?
“Victory.”
“Sorry.” Who did Paige look like? She had his hair, but the rest must be her mother. “Her smile and those eyes. She reminds me of someone.” Mikey waited as she flipped the pages of her memory searching for clues to Paige’s mother. The tears that were waiting…fell. Not all of them, but some of them. They fell because of loss, pain, and regret. “Rebecca. Rebecca Conley.”
He confirmed. “Rebecca is her mother.”
Her brows furrowed, and her lips pursed. He took a step toward her, but her crossed arms and the way she leaned back told him to stay away.
“Rebecca’s her mother?”
“Yes.”
She looked at him without a word, and sat on the couch. She scratched at her temple with a finger. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“It didn’t come up. We hadn’t spoken ‘til the night I saw you on 240.”
“But…” she didn’t finish her sentence.
He sat beside her. “But, you left, and you never called. You wouldn’t accept my calls.”
“I understand. You don’t owe me any explanations.”
“You understand? I barely have it figured out…there’s a lot you don’t know.”
Before he saw the look in her eyes, he hadn’t realized how much he still wanted to resolve the issues in their past. For a long time, he was as angry as she was, but not anymore. The day he saw her on the highway, it all disappeared. And over the past few days, the hollowness inside of him had lost some of its power.
“Now that you’ve brought my stuff back, I can get Gramps this week. Tomorrow. So, maybe I should go to bed after all.”
Damn. That didn’t go well. “So, you want me to leave.”
“I don’t want to intrude. Y
ou’ve probably got to work. And me…I’ve got so much crap going on right now, I can barely think straight.”
“Victory…” He wanted to say something else, but tonight she wasn’t going to listen. He rose and walked to the front door.
“Chad…I’m sorry for everything.”
The sound of his proper name stopped him at the door. Chad. Hand on the knob, he waited for her to finish.
“Thank you for listening…for all of your help.”
She’d only been back in his life for how many days, and already more barriers had sprung up instead of disappearing. She’d left him. Did she expect his life to be on hold? Hers hadn’t been.
The end of the week came fast. Victoria plodded through the hallways of the retirement home, The Overlook. A retirement home for the wealthy fifty-five and over. Perched prominently in Memphis’ high-rent downtown community, the rooms boasted of some of the best views of the Mississippi. Thank God you couldn’t smell the stench of the river. Instead, an odd mixture of paint from the nearby arts center mingled with roast beef from the small bistro where several residents and their visitors laughed over iced teas and lemonades.
As she neared her destination, laughter floated through closed apartment doors. A young girl ran circles around an older gray haired woman as she clapped and sang out on the terrace.
Her stomach lurched, and she leaned a shoulder against a nearby wall. Twelve years of phone calls, and gifts sent via FedEx. But, no visits. Her grandmother’s death wasn’t his fault, but she missed her, every day. And for some reason, she couldn’t separate the two in her mind.
It had taken forever to get past the staff in The Great Room. They didn’t know her, and made her sign a million forms and produce ID before she entered.
A soft knock on the solid wood door produced no response. Again, she knocked and waited.
“Come in.”
HeartWorks Page 24