“Since when did you start doing business in Chicago?”
He lifted a raven eyebrow a fraction, belying the surge of irritation he felt at her challenging tone. “You’re asking a lot of questions for someone who no longer wanted me in her life.”
Kendra recoiled as if she’d been struck. “You know why I couldn’t stay with you.”
“I know nothing of the sort,” Nathaniel countered, his normally soft voice rising slightly.
“Did you come here to harass me, Nathaniel? Is it because I didn’t want to—no, that I couldn’t continue to live with a man who blamed me for the death of our daughter?”
A rush of color suffused Nathaniel’s face and his eyes grew wild. “I never blamed you, Kendra.”
“Not outright,” she retorted, her temper escalating to match his. “But you did say that if I hadn’t left Natalia with a nanny she wouldn’t have drowned.”
“Yes, I did say that. But—”
Kendra waved a hand in dismissal. She obviously wasn’t going to debate ad nauseam about something they couldn’t change. “Go, Nathaniel. Please.”
“I need to talk to you tonight.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. I have a prior commitment.”
“What about tomorrow?” he asked.
Kendra wanted to refuse him, but she also wanted to know what had brought her ex back to her hometown. “Okay, Nathaniel. Tomorrow it is. We close at three, so come after that. I’ll wait for you.”
Nathaniel’s impassive expression did not change. “Do you mind if we meet someplace else?”
Kendra’s eyes narrowed. “Where do you want to go?”
“I’d like to go to Gibson’s. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I got here,” he added with a sheepish grin.
There was a beat before she nodded. They’d gone to Gibson’s Steakhouse on their first date and the restaurant had become their personal favorite.
“I’ll call Gibson’s for a seven o’clock reservation. Is that too late for you?”
Kendra shook her head. “Seven is fine.” She stalked away, leaving Nathaniel to stare at her retreating back.
But out of the corner of her eye she saw Moses walk over and rest a large hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder. “I hope you’re going to hang around long enough to have lunch. Today’s special is meat loaf.”
“I’m sorry, Grandpa, but I have to meet someone. But I’ll be here tomorrow for breakfast.”
Kendra watched the interchange between her grandfather and Nathaniel. It was as if nothing had changed. His affection for her ex-husband was still apparent. When she’d announced that she was leaving Nathaniel, neither her parents nor her grandparents had asked why. Respecting her privacy, they had waited for her to open up. But all she’d eventually disclosed was that she and Nathaniel had grown apart rather than together after losing Natalia and divorce was inevitable.
Glancing over his shoulder, Nathaniel winked at Kendra. “Until tomorrow.”
The door opened and closed and Kendra hadn’t moved. She could still see the man who haunted her dreams, the man to whom she’d given her love, pledged her future—and then walked away from during the darkest time in her life.
“Where’s Nathaniel?”
Kendra froze. She hadn’t heard her grandmother come up behind her. “He had to leave. He said something about having to meet someone.”
Pearl crossed her arms over her ample bosom. Her round face matched her rounded body. Peering over her half-glasses, she squinted at her granddaughter. “I thought he would’ve hung around long enough to have something to eat. He’s nothing but skin and bones.”
His face had looked thinner. And there was a slight puffiness under his large, deep-set eyes. But he’d also seemed more mature. And his charismatic smile was still irresistible to her.
“Nathaniel is six-three, Grandma. He would have to gain a lot of weight not to look thin.”
“He’s still skinnier than he was before you gave the poor boy his walking papers.”
“Grandma!”
“Don’t you dare grandma me, Kendra Reeves-should-be-Mitchell. That boy still loves you no matter what you said about the two of you growing apart. And I hope he came here to tell you that.”
“He’s here on business, Grandma.”
Pearl shook her silver head, still covered by the hairnet she wore whenever preparing food. “I hope that business has a name.”
Kendra felt a shiver of annoyance weave its way up her spine. “What are you talking about, Grandma?”
“You,” Pearl shot back. “You gave up too soon. I know you and Nathaniel had a hard time after your baby died, but that should’ve made you stronger. Instead you ran away. It hasn’t been all cookies and cream with me and your granddad these past sixty years, but I stuck with him because he’s a good man, Kendra, just like Nathaniel Mitchell is a good man. And while I’m on my soapbox, you need to decide what you want to do with your life. Teaching literacy is very noble, but what are you going to do when those people don’t need you anymore?” She lowered her arms. “I guess I’ve preached enough for one day. If you’re just standing there, I could use some help rolling out pie crusts.”
Kendra didn’t want to tell her grandmother that she also wondered about the direction of her life. Most of the literacy program’s participants were now able to read chapter books, and one had completed her first novel. And no one had signed up for the new classes scheduled to begin in the fall. September was still months away, but if at least six people didn’t enroll, then the program would be canceled. The church elders, seeking to save money and conserve energy, didn’t want to heat a building during the winter if the course wasn’t full.
She followed Pearl into the kitchen. Ten pie pans sat on a table, four of them lined with crusts. Every Friday people came in asking for pies and cakes for the weekend. Apple, cherry, peach cobbler and sweet potato were favorites, along with strawberry shortcake, jelly roll, sour cream and lemon pound cakes. Pearl would bake the occasional coconut cake, the perennial favorite of most Southerners.
Her grandparents had talked about retiring. Pearl was turning eighty next year. But they were reluctant to close down because that would mean local residents would have to travel two miles to the nearest restaurant featuring home cooking. Of course, there were the fast-food restaurants, but their menu varied vastly from what Pearl’s offered. And although the portions at Pearl’s were more than substantial, the prices hadn’t escalated exponentially over the years.
Kendra managed to roll out three super-thin pie crusts before she left the kitchen to take orders from those seated at the counter, wishing her path in life was as clear as her grandmother’s had been.
CHAPTER TWO
Kendra peered through the screen door to find Shirah holding the hand of a little boy. Unlocking the door, she held it open.
“I had to bring him with me because my mother had to go to the doctor,” Shirah said, the words tumbling off her tongue as she hurriedly explained. Kendra had asked her to come an hour early so they could review her test results.
But Kendra couldn’t take her eyes off the little boy dressed in a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, tiny sneakers and a Chicago Cubs windbreaker and cap. He was adorable with his chubby nut-brown face and large dark eyes.
She felt a momentary wave of panic when the child looked up at her. There was something about him that reminded her of Natalia. He had the same wide-eyed stare children gave strangers when meeting them for the first time.
“Say hello to Miss Reeves,” Shirah urged in a gentle tone.
The child dropped his gaze. “Hello, Miss Reeves.”
Kendra forced a smile she didn’t feel. Her palms were wet and her heart rate had kicked into a higher gear. Her legs were shaking so hard, she doubted whether they would support her weight. She closed her eyes and began counting in her head in an attempt to bring her fragile emotions under control.
She had avoided young children since losing Natalia because she feared an
emotional meltdown when she could least handle it. Not long after her daughter’s death, Nathaniel’s toddler cousin had climbed up on her lap, and she had been unable to move or speak until the child scrambled down. Then she’d locked herself in the bathroom and hadn’t been able to stop crying for an hour. It was then that she had realized that the trauma and guilt associated with losing a child had left deep wounds that would take years, if ever, to heal.
Kendra tore her gaze away from the little boy, breathing in quick, shallow gasps. She forced herself to relax. She couldn’t afford to fall apart—especially not in front of her student.
“Are you all right, Miss Reeves?”
Blinking as if coming out of a trance, she said, “I’m fine, Shirah.” She’d lied so smoothly to Shirah that Kendra almost believed herself. She shifted her focus to Shirah’s son. “What’s your name, cutie?”
“My name is Ricky,” he said proudly in a high-pitched voice.
“That’s a wonderful name.” The compliment was barely a whisper.
“My father’s name is Richard, so we call him Ricky for short,” Shirah explained.
“He’s adorable, Shirah.”
“Thank you.” A slight frown appeared between the girl’s eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right, Miss Reeves?” she asked again.
“Yes. I’m good,” she answered much too quickly. Kendra had to say something, anything, to direct the attention away from her. “What’s up with the Cubs jacket and hat?” she whispered. People from South Side were typically White Sox fans and those on the North Side favored the Cubs.
Shirah groaned. “I know. My dad is a Cubs fan. He took Ricky to a game for the first time one day last week.”
Kendra nodded. At least the boy had a male figure in his life. “I’ll get him some paper and crayons to keep him occupied while we talk.” Shirah directed Ricky to a low table and seated him. Kendra took several sheets of paper and a box of crayons off a shelf and gave them to the little boy after Shirah removed his hat and jacket.
“We’ll sit over here so you can watch him.” She indicated the round table where she taught reading. Once they were seated, Kendra reached for the folder with the test scores and opened it. “I’m going to give you the good news first. You got almost a perfect score on the math.”
Shirah closed her eyes for several seconds, then opened them. “What’s the bad news?”
She heard the apprehension in the young woman’s voice. “You fell sixty points shy of passing science and you needed another forty to pass social studies.”
“What score do I need to get the diploma?”
“You must have a combined score of 2,250.”
“How much for each subject?”
“At least 410 or greater, which demonstrates a level of knowledge equal to or greater than forty percent of graduating high school seniors.”
The other woman pushed out her lip. “Maybe I shouldn’t have dropped out.”
“Why did you come to me, Shirah?”
“I want to get my GED.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to go to college.”
“Why?” Kendra asked again.
“Because I want better for myself and my son.”
“Years ago you told me you were determined to be the first one in your family to get a degree. Has that changed?”
The seconds ticked off as Shirah stared at Kendra.
“Yes and no.”
Kendra angled her head. “What do you mean?”
“I still want to be the first one, but I also want to prove to myself that I’m smart enough to get into a good school and graduate. I want to be like you, a teacher who changes her students’ lives. For that, I need to go to college.”
“You can do it. You’re very smart, Shirah, and don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not.”
The girl scrunched her nose. “I don’t think I did so good on the language arts tests.”
Kendra turned over the score sheets. “You’re right. You didn’t do well on the essay portion, though the score was a little better on the writing and reading part. I’m going to concentrate our lessons on language arts first because that’s where you need the most remediation. Then we’ll move on to science and social studies.”
“How long do you think it’ll be before I’m ready?”
“That all depends on you, Shirah. There are five parts to the test and you’ve already aced what most people would consider the most difficult—math.” Kendra reached into her leather tote. “I’m going to give you a journal, and I want you to write down something every night. It could be about things you did, said or saw during the day. This exercise will get you into a habit of composing and writing.”
“I thought my lessons were going to be online.”
“They will be, but remember, you can’t use a computer on the essay portion of the test.”
Shirah blushed. “I forgot about that. Are you going to check what I put in the journal?”
“Yes. That’s the reason for the exercise.”
“What if there’s something about my baby’s father?”
Kendra gave her student a long, penetrating stare. “You’re a nineteen-year-old woman, Shirah, and what you do with or say to Ricky’s father is none of my business.” She took out three paperback novels from the tote. “I want you to read these books over the summer. Each one is different and considered a classic.” She placed the books on the table. “Have you read any of them?”
Shirah stared at the covers. Kendra had chosen Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, Seventeenth Summer, by Maureen Daly and Giants in the Earth: A Saga of the Prairie, written by O.E. Rolvaag. “I’ve heard of the one by Harper Lee.”
Kendra exhaled inaudibly. When she’d bought the books she’d hoped her student hadn’t read them. “Look over the back cover copy and decide which one you’d like to do first. Read for comprehension and entertainment.”
“Do you want me to write a book report after I finish each of them?”
“How did you know?” she teased.
“Lucky guess, Miss Reeves,” Shirah countered with a wide grin.
“The reports aren’t due until after Labor Day, so you have three and a half months to complete your required reading. You’ll also be responsible for two online lessons a week. Give me your cousin’s e-mail address and I’ll download the first two tonight.”
“When are they due?”
“Today is Tuesday, so they’ll be due next Tuesday. Instead of you coming here, I’ll meet you at Pearl’s on Wednesday around six. We stop serving lunch at three, so most customers are gone by four. We’ll go over your answers together. After I feel you’re proficient in the language arts, we’ll move on from there.”
Shirah ran her fingertips over the book covers. “Which one is your favorite?”
Kendra smiled, recalling the events in her life when she’d read each of the novels for the first time. “I like all three, but I’m somewhat partial to Seventeenth Summer. I read it at a time when I wasn’t allowed to have a boyfriend.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
Shirah chewed her lip, staring at her son scribbling on the paper with a crayon. “Maybe if I wasn’t allowed to have a boyfriend at fifteen I wouldn’t be a mother now.”
Kendra wanted to tell Shirah she would change places with her in a nanosecond if only to hold her daughter again. “Your son is a precious gift, Shirah. Cherish every day you have with him.” Sniffling and suddenly blinking back tears, she said abruptly, “That does it. I’ll see you next week.”
“You must be catching a cold, Miss Reeves.”
“Why would you say that?”
“You’re sniffling and your eyes are watery. That happens to me before I come down with a cold.”
“I guess I better take something to nip it in the bud,” she lied again. Pushing back her chair, she stood up. “Don’t forget to write down your cousin’s e-mail address.”
<
br /> Shirah jotted the address on a slip of paper, then walked over to her son and gently urged him away from the table. “We have to go home to see Grandpa.”
Ricky clapped his chubby hands. “Goodie!”
Kendra stood at the window watching Shirah cradle her books and journal in one hand and Ricky’s in the other. A sad smile touched her mouth when she saw Shirah laugh at something her son had said.
She realized that she’d been able to talk to Ricky without shaking uncontrollably or dissolving into tears.
It was progress, no matter how slow it had been in coming. For weeks following her daughter’s funeral she hadn’t even been able to leave the house. She’d taken an extended bereavement leave from the Dade County Elementary School, remaining behind closed doors. She’d accepted visitors—her parents, brother and his family and various members of Nathaniel’s large extended family—exhibiting politeness and graciousness, then retreated to a cocoon of self-pity, doubt and blame.
Nathaniel tried to engage her in conversation, offered to take her away, while pleading that they would have other children, but Kendra continued to shut him out, and she started to hate everything that reminded her of Natalia—the house, Florida and even her husband. So she had decided to leave it all behind. The break was complete when she filed for divorce and he did not contest it. He’d stared at her when she’d told him she wanted out of their marriage. But he’d quickly become impassive and said, “I’ll agree to whatever makes you happy.” It was his tacit approval that he, too, wanted to end the stalemate. Leaving the man she’d loved beyond description hadn’t made her happy; all she’d sought was an escape from the memories that haunted her.
But maybe Ricky had triggered a breakthrough. If she could interact with him without breaking down, perhaps in the future she could consider returning to the classroom.
She saw Malachi Simpson coming up the path and she turned away from the window to prepare for her literacy group.
More Than Words, Volume 6 Page 24