by Pat Simmons
He patiently waited until she was finished. “You had stages three and four backward. Although both have full thickness tissue loss, don’t confuse visible subcutaneous fat with the exposure of tissue, bone, and tendons.”
Eva’s mouth dropped; she was stunned. He wasn’t reading from the textbook. His explanation signified that Kidd Jamieson knew what he was talking about.
“How do you know so much? I mean …”
“This isn’t about me. My friend is studying for an important test. We have a few more questions.” He glanced at his watch. “Come on, you’re wasting time.”
Sitting straighter, Eva’s heart continued a slow melt. “Thank you, Kevin.”
He winked and immediately his demeanor changed. Kidd proved to be an unmerciful taskmaster not to be crossed. He closed her textbook when he was satisfied she was as prepared as she could be in the short time.
“I guess you’re more than a handsome face,” she complimented, teasing.
“Yes, I am.” It wasn’t a boast or tease. She had learned within this setting that when Kidd was serious, he locked eyes with her and held her stare until she looked away.
“Come on.” He stood and swiped up her notebook and textbook so she could get to her feet. As they strolled back to the building with Kidd carrying her books, Eva felt like a schoolgirl.
“You mentioned you’re considering elderly care. Why? Isn’t seeing blood disgusting enough? Then mix in urine and vomit … Yuck.”
Eva didn’t have to think. She knew at this point in life what she wanted. “I think older people are time travelers. They’ve weathered the storms of the past and braced themselves for the future. They already have the wisdom that we go to school to grasp. Spending time with them can help a young person to avoid a lot of mistakes. In the Bible, chapter two of Titus advises older women to teach younger women. I know it references marriage and loving our husbands too, but—”
Kidd stopped midstride and frowned. “Have you ever had a husband?”
Tilting her head, she squinted at the odd question. In the three or so weeks since he’d been there, he had never seen a ring on her finger. “No.”
“Okay, finish,” he said, shifting the book behind his back as if he was impersonating a school principal.
Once they entered the building, Kidd didn’t leave her side when she headed to the employee locker area to get her purse. They met a few curious glances from coworkers, which Kidd ignored and to which she offered a faint smile. Eva was almost at her locker when she realized her purse was dangling from her shoulder. Kidd was definitely a distraction.
“You’ll do fine tonight. I have faith in you, and you have faith in God. Just stay focused.” He handed her the textbook and notebook and squeezed her hand. Kidd walked away like a man in control, definitely leaving her feeling out of control where he was concerned.
For the remainder of her shift, Eva never saw him again—not even a glimpse. She briefly wondered if he was rescuing another damsel in distress. Did it matter to her? For a reason unknown, it did.
At five, she clocked out and hurried to her car. Her mind was on her quiz and getting to St. Louis University’s campus early enough to go over the material one last time.
“Ready?” Kidd stood in the center of the parking lot.
Spooked, Eva jumped, then relaxed. Kidd was her hero of the day. If for no other reason, he cared about what mattered to her. Taking a deep breath, she nodded.
He escorted her to her car. Once she deactivated the alarm and was about to climb behind the wheel, Kidd stopped her.
“Let me.” Welcoming his act of chivalry, Eva handed over her keys. Kidd then opened the door, but not for her. Instead he got into her Ford Focus and adjusted the driver’s seat. “Your leg room is terrible.”
“What are you doing?” She jabbed her fist on her hip. She didn’t have time for this.
Turning the ignition, he shhed her. As he listened—for what? She was clueless. With the motor still running, he stepped out and towered over her while holding the door for her. “Make me proud, Savoy.”
What was that all about? She wondered, but didn’t have time to ask. She had to get going. Smiling at his military order, Eva gave a mock salute. When she tried to close the door behind her, Kidd wouldn’t let it go.
“Although I may answer to the name Kidd, I’m a serious man who knows how a lady expects to be treated. And I can deliver.” Kidd closed the door and stepped back.
Eva sucked in her breath and gritted her teeth. Why did he say that? How was she supposed to take a test when the only thing in her head was his words, instead of her medical terms?
Chapter Ten
“Never judge a book by its cover, and never let a woman think she’s got a Black man all figured out,” Kidd mumbled, as he slid his hands into his pants pockets.
I calculate a man’s worth, God whispered into the breeze.
Kidd held his breath. Another cryptic message. Why? Why was God singling him out and why now? He had nothing to offer God during this phase in his life. He considered himself an occasional Bible reader, casual prayer—not a prayer warrior—but certainly a merciless sinner.
He sighed and twisted his mouth. Parke had invited him to church a couple of times, but Kidd had declined. Why was God getting into the picture? Maybe he would be a one-time visitor to Parke and his family’s church on Sunday in hopes of figuring out why God was singling him out. Maybe.
Refocusing on the present, he closed his eyes as Eva’s taillights faded into traffic. He genuinely hoped she would ace her test. Ace. Kidd smiled. He hadn’t spoken with his younger brother, Aaron, in a while. Initially, they talked almost every day when Kidd first arrived in St. Louis. Then their routine slipped into every other day. Now it appeared they had downgraded to a biweekly schedule, if that. Kidd would definitely have to call him.
Again his mind switched back to Eva and her dumbfounded expression. This time he grinned in a boastful way. It was the first time he hadn’t had to spend money to impress a woman. Who would have thought that his fascination with anatomy and physiology books when he was a boy would have paid off? His mother’s former boss, Dr. Robert Franklin, had loaned him the books. The doctor would be proud.
Thoughts of his mother made him long for home. Kidd just wasn’t sure if the Midwest was a good match for him, especially in terms of seafood. So far, he was adjusting and Eva was unknowingly making his decision difficult. Still, he missed his family. He longed to hear a familiar voice, see recognizable surroundings and landmarks, and not feel like a fish out of water. Lifting his cell phone out of its case, Kidd punched in his mother’s number. While he waited for her to answer, he spun around and headed to his car.
Distracted, he bumped into a figure that blocked his path. Ready to defend himself, Kidd disconnected the call. Instantly, his body tensed as he observed his soon-to-be injured assailant. Recognizing the familiar face, he groaned.
“Parke? What are you doing here?”
Parke gave him a weak hug and pat on the back, acting as though he hadn’t seen Kidd in weeks instead of the day before. “It’s been almost three weeks since Grandma BB suffered her stroke. My children are clamoring to see her. Cheney and I noticed she’s back on Facebook. Instead of her long posts, her messages are short. Thank God for social media. But you would tell us if something was wrong, right? Cheney and I came by in hopes that Grandma BB’S temper has calmed since that first day.”
“Grandma BB doesn’t come across to me as a person who changes her mind. She seems very willful, in my opinion. But hey, you know her better. Visit at your risk.”
“What do you mean?” Parke rested his hands at his waist, as Cheney got out of their SUV and strolled up behind him.
“I’m not an expert, but I think the stroke affected her hormones. That woman had on some man’s shoes.”
Cheney started laughing and Parke joined her. Kidd frowned. “That isn’t normal. I don’t care what you say.”
“For her, it is,
” Parke and Cheney said in unison, nodding and grinning.
“First, a dog called Silent Night—”
“Silent Killer,” Parke corrected him.
“Whatever, man. Then there is this undercover assignment. Now she’s a cross-dresser.”
Shaking her head, Cheney stopped him. “Believe me, she’s all woman, just a little eccentric. Her Stacy Adams shoes are a keepsake from the years she spent with her husband. She doesn’t wear any other men’s apparel.”
“It’s a long story,” Parke added, “but let me just say it’s her unique fashion branding.”
The smile Cheney gave Kidd was warm and inviting, nothing like the stinging darts she fired at him the day they got the news about Mrs. Beacon. Aside from that incident, Cheney had been quite welcoming and treated him warmly as a close family member, not a prodigal Jamieson.
Giggling, Cheney explained, “If they’re Stacy Adams shoes, those are hers. She has at least three pairs: black, brown, and gray. At least, I think I packed her gray ones.”
“You know, she’s strange. In fact, you all are. She had on the black ones—polished, not a scuff in sight.”
“At least Grandma BB’S in good spirits,” Cheney replied.
“When I last saw her, I would say she was in a feisty spirit, with her sharp tongue. I’ve heard a slight slur at times, but her comeback is amazing. Oh, I do have a question. Is she known to spit on people? Because that’s where I draw the line. Overall, she seems a little irritated from not being in control of her body. When she goes to therapy, they say she puts up a fight.”
“Yep. That sounds like her.” Cheney reflected. “Same old stubborn self. Every time I call for an update on her condition, the nurses tell me the same thing: she’s going to need four to six more weeks of therapy to steady herself on a walker.”
Four to six weeks longer? Kidd had no clue about her prognosis, but Mrs. Beacon’s willpower could get her through anything. “So I guess there’s no need for you two vigilantes to storm the place.”
“Oh, we’ve come at night when she’s sleeping, so she won’t see us. But since we’re here, I thought we could chance a face-to-face visit today.”
Kidd shrugged. “Go for it. Now if you two will excuse me, I’m hungry. I think I’m going to run by the Whistle Stop and grab a sandwich. Maybe I’ll go to the movies afterward.”
Usually, he didn’t plan out his evening. He was becoming restless. He had to make a decision. Maybe it was time for him to consider getting an apartment, but that sounded too much like permanent relocation. Was that what he really wanted? Keep the job for the next four to six weeks, which didn’t seem appealing, except for being soothed by Eva’s passion? Or quit? Maybe it would take that much longer to make up his mind. He also had to consider this business of Mrs. Beacon’s antics. And he still didn’t know what to make of her roommate, Mrs. Valentine, and her tall black tales.
A few days after his arrival in St. Louis, Kidd came to the conclusion that, as much as he appreciated Parke and Cheney’s hospitality, he wasn’t comfortable in the idyllic setting the two had created. They had a neat little package going on and he didn’t seem to fit. It’s no wonder their children appeared to be happy and well disciplined, which had to do with their overpowering affection.
There was the three-story turn-of-the-century historic house, fully restored and updated. In addition, their SUV and Altima weren’t top of the line, but the features in both screamed luxury for the price. The bottom line was that their overall lifestyle was foreign to him, except for the love, which he would never admit out loud that he craved.
In the mornings, he tried to delay his jogging until after they left for work. Every once in a while, it didn’t turn out that way. In particular, he wasn’t able to avoid his cousin the day after he and Parke had the blowup about Mrs. Beacon. A few times, Parke joined him on the trail.
“There’s no need to eat out. I made smothered pork chops, mashed potatoes, snapped peas—” Cheney started.
Kidd’s stomach growled at the sound of her menu. “I’ll race you home.” He pulled out his keys from his pants pocket and took off sprinting across the parking lot.
“You’ll win,” Cheney yelled, “especially if she’ll be glad to see us.”
Kidd looked back with a smirk. “Enter at your own risk.”
“You too. By the way, Imani is babysitting. Be nice.”
He slowed down and turned back toward them. Cheney knew that Imani wasn’t his favorite person. Kidd made that determination the third time he saw her, which was on the day of the trio’s verbal assault. “How is that woman related again? Is she someone you dug up from the past too?”
“Nope. She’s adopted,” Parke answered.
The children. They had said they were adopted, and Kidd meant to ask Parke about that. “Is everybody around here adopted?” he muttered offhandedly.
“In the body of Christ,” Kidd heard Parke say.
Having said that, they parted ways. Kidd jumped inside his car and took off.
Maybe this would be a good time for me to file for divorce from the Jamieson family and their crazy entourage, Kidd thought, as he headed home. Then he mumbled to himself, “Don’t tempt me.”
Chapter Eleven
Anticipating the taste of home cooking caused Kidd to weave in and out of five o’clock traffic. As he drove past the majestic homes on the east side of Old Ferguson, it reminded him of Beacon Hill, Chinatown, Back Bay, West Roxbury, Roslindale, Dorchester, Jamaica Plains—the list was endless.
When he first arrived, Parke had given him a brief narrative about his historic neighborhood in North County. In 1905, the creator of the famous Maull’s Barbecue Sauce, Louis Maull, purchased a home in the area. Kidd crossed over South Florissant.
Suddenly, he thought about Eva and wondered how she was faring on her test. The brief interruption of his thoughts made him miss his turn and enter into a dead-end street—Adams Street. His detour had brought him to an unusual structure, and Kidd recalled what Parke had told him about it. The owner had the house built with an extra-wide front door so caskets could be brought in for families to conduct wakes. Interesting.
By the time he arrived at Darst Street, Eva continued to invade his thoughts. A few minutes later, Kidd parked his Maxima. With the thought of being this close to a delicious meal, he hurried down the short, winding pathway to the porch. Before he could turn his key in the lock, the front door opened.
“What are you doing here?” Imani questioned, as if she didn’t already know that he had a room there.
The woman had a high ponytail anchored on her head and a fist rested on one hip. Long ago, he withdrew his initial thought that she was pretty. She was too irksome for that. What was it that made him her enemy? He wondered for a brief moment and decided he didn’t care.
Kidd had already been warned, so he didn’t plan to answer her question. He knew his response could potentially make him ten seconds from spinning around and sleeping elsewhere for the night—or permanently.
“Imani,” Parke said. His steely voice startled them both, as he and Cheney came around the side of the house. “Stop fooling around. Let my cousin inside our house.”
Perplexed, Kidd tried to figure how he and Cheney arrived so quickly. Perhaps they had to cut their visit with Grandma BB short because the lady wasn’t in a hospitable mood. He had tried to warn them. Then again, he had to take a longer route home; his constant thoughts of Eva had delayed his arrival.
As if she was a puppet on a string, she twisted her mouth, then plastered on a smile and stepped back. “By all means, Kidd, please come in.”
Grunting, Kidd stepped into the house where he was greeted by three miniature Jamiesons.
“Cousin Kidd!” Pace shouted, while he remained rooted to his spot on the living room ottoman.
“He’s going to be our uncle,” Kami argued. The toddler, Paden, raced straight to Kidd and gripped his legs, giggling.
Kidd laughed and lifted him up. He had
handsome Jamieson features, but Cheney’s genes were dominant. When he planted the baby back on his feet, Paden raced for his parents while Pace waited for Kidd’s attention. Parke welcomed his small son with open arms, and Cheney hugged Kami tight.
The tender moment reminded him of when he was small. The few times his father did visit them, Kidd soaked up Samuel’s presence and clung to him until he once again disappeared. Ace did too.
The only difference was these three Jamiesons—adopted or not—had a stable home environment. He guessed the children wondered about his whereabouts when, at times, he purposely came home late. When he wasn’t in the mood to deal with the overpowering aspects of love that filled the atmosphere, he deliberately waited until most everyone in the home was asleep.
On those occasions, Kidd utilized his time after work to explore St. Louis’s bars, casinos, shops, or whatever caught his attention. That was also the reason he had considered catching a movie tonight. In a sense, he felt like the hide-and-seek great, great whatever number removed cousin in the Jamieson dynasty.
“I cooked, Uncle Cousin. I helped Momma before she left.” Kami grinned proudly, her arms still wrapped around her mother’s waist.
Kidd gave her a wide grin in return, before Cheney responded, “That’s my big girl. Okay, everybody, go on and wash your hands while I set the table.”
“I already did when you phoned and said he was eating here. Besides, I set an extra one for me,” Imani spoke up, putting extra emphasis on “he.” “Got to keep an eye on who you let come in your house.” She lifted a suspicious brow.
Cheney nudged Imani toward the kitchen, giving Kidd an apologetic expression. “I’m glad we made it back in time for all of us to eat together,” she said, as some kind of concession to Kidd.
Once behind the door, Cheney lit into her friend. “What is wrong with you? You are starting to antagonize every man you meet lately. You’re too young to be going through the change … but, girl, I wonder. First, it was Parke’s friend Duke. Now, you’re ready to put your claws into his cousin. What gives? You’ve been living next door to Grandma BB too long.”