Should he mention the possibility of Maya being there? If he did, and Maya ended up being a no-show, he would’ve been stressing out over nothing. If he didn’t tell her, and then Maya ended up being there, Jamila would be angry.
“You excited about today?” he asked.
“Yes.” She kicked at the volleyball lying at her feet. “We’re gonna have a volley match today. I’m hoping to win it.”
“You could. I’ll be cheering you on regardless.”
Jamila didn’t say a word. Derek couldn’t tell whether she was moved by his statement or not.
“You know I love you forever, right?” Derek asked. “Nothing will change that.”
Jamila shifted in her seat and leaned on the armrest. “I know.”
She agreed. Breakthrough! Maybe he could ease into a conversation about the possibility of Maya being present today. “I heard that Carl Jackson used to be active in the youth ministry before his injury. You know of him?”
Her eyes lit up. “He’s a cool guy. Old but cool for an old guy.”
Making progress. Making progress. “You know of his daughter?” That next set of words came out slowly.
She was quiet. “It’s Maya. I know. He always brags about her.”
“I know you don’t want to be around her, and I respect that completely. However, Maya may be at the cookout today. I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”
“What?” she asked, incredulous. “Is that why you’re here today? So you can see her?”
“No. No. No,” he said, but Derek sensed that his “noes” meant nothing to Jamila.
“Then why’d you bring her up?”
Good question. Why did he bring her up? Was he fully, 100 percent committed to giving Jamila a heads-up, or was it something else? “I mentioned Maya since I know how you feel about her. I didn’t want you to be surprised or anything.”
Her silence sliced through him, harsh and deep.
“Dad, you haven’t stepped foot in the church since Mom died. Even when I kept going to services with Ginger, you never came along. I’d hoped you’d do that, for my sake, but you didn’t. You don’t care.”
“I do care about you, Jamila.”
“You don’t. You’re only going to this cookout today for that woman, not for me. Stop lying to yourself and just admit the truth.”
“Admit the truth”? “What truth, Jamila?”
“That you’re interested in her.” Her voice was filled with hurt.
He thought Maya was attractive, but that didn’t mean he was interested. Still, Jamila just called him out on his sudden interest in church-related activities. Those actions spoke. Those actions told a different story. “Jamila, I’m trying to move forward from your mother’s death. The mass shooting at the church tore me up inside. I’m not just here to see Maya. I’m here because I want to take a tiny step forward toward healing.”
Jamila was silent. “Really?”
“Really.”
Jamila crossed her arms. “Then promise me you won’t date Maya. Ever.”
“Ever”? Did Derek really want to close that door when Maya was one of the best things to step into his life since Grace died?
Whoa.
He hadn’t realized it before, but now he did. Maya brought hope into his life. Hope that the boutique could be saved. Hope that he could even start going to church functions again. Hope that he could move on.
The idea of shutting out the possibility of being something more with Maya hurt. Derek’s life had become one big sacrifice, and Maya had helped him see beyond that, even if she didn’t intend to do so.
He gave his all to his family all the time. The only reason he’d joined the military was because it provided the best benefits for Grace and Jamila. Doing so had been the right decision. Derek didn’t want to become a deadbeat dad like his father had been to him.
“Promise,” Jamila repeated.
The hurt in her voice hadn’t left, and he sensed it carried with it a ton of memories that he wouldn’t be able to erase or heal or mend. No matter his feelings toward Maya, he had a duty to Jamila first. That was what he’d learned in the military, right? Duty first. He shoved his feelings about Maya in a closet, never to return again.
Things were broken between Jamila and him. They could be permanently broken. The notion ripped him apart. No “interest” in Maya or any person was worth that. “I promise, Jamila. I won’t date her or anyone. I’m only here for you.”
Jamila sniffled, and he glanced over at her quickly. Her eyes shone with tears, and his heart carried all of them. He exited the highway and made a much slower drive to the park.
They drove in silence for a long while, and the weight of his words pressed down on him even more. No feelings toward Maya. No feelings toward Maya. No feelings toward Maya.
That was the best way.
“Dad, will you watch me play volleyball at the cookout?”
Volleyball? She’d never asked him to get involved with her activities. Perhaps he’d made the right decision after all. “I’d love that, Jamila.” He glanced her way.
“Thanks, Dad.” Jamila wiped a tear from her cheek, but another one soon followed.
How can I fix this wound between us? How can Jamila and I be a family again?
Derek didn’t know.
The cookout was surprisingly chill, even for Maya. She’d been so busy since she arrived in Charleston that she hadn’t had time to attend New Life’s services.
To be honest, Maya was low-key avoiding coming to the cookout. First, Maya wanted to avoid Derek outside of their work environment.
Having Derek see her with those pills the other day was extremely inopportune, and she still hadn’t figured out how to just “be” around him after that event. There was always going to be the possibility that he’d ask her more questions, that he’d probe into her personal life. Questions about her medications or her dizzy spell could arise at any moment, and she didn’t want to answer them.
To make things worse, New Life was like her extended family, and as with all families, it had its share of black sheep. Some folks thought she was “straying from the faith” because she suddenly moved to New York to pursue her dream. Some members of the congregation thought New York City was too wild.
No one asked her why becoming a successful bridal gown designer was so important to her. They didn’t care about that.
Taking a break from fielding not-so-polite questions about why she was back in South Carolina, Maya found an empty spot at the edge of a long table and scrolled through her inbox on her phone. Her heart skipped when she saw an email from Laura Whitcomb. She was responding to the dress designs that Maya had sent. Despite her hesitation, Maya opened the message.
Dear Maya,
Thanks for checking out those other bridal shops for me. A last-minute project came up, and so I’m going to hold on partnering with a boutique for now.
Also, I looked over the designs for both the Ashley Tate gig and the head designer gig. They both don’t work. The Ashley Tate design is too avant-garde for Ashley’s brand, and so you won’t be working on that assignment.
Your submission for the head designer position looks . . . amateurish. I don’t understand why you would have those zigzag patterns on the dresses. And those shells embroidered into the hem? What are they? Doesn’t make sense. Can you revise the dress design and send me a picture? I’ll look it over.
—Laura
Maya expected this, and yet she’d hoped that Laura would see that the designs were innovative. The cowrie shells represented wealth in West African culture, and the “zigzag” designs, as Laura put it, were indigenous Filipino patterns. Just because Laura was plain and traditional didn’t change the fact that Maya found inspiration in her own heritage or that she wanted the dresses to reflect something of her in their design. It was important to Maya to use these patterns because her mother taught her them. Maya wanted to hold on to that. She sighed. This sucked, but she’d try again. She’d have to tone thi
ngs down for Laura.
Maya replied to the email with a professional response, stating that she’d send Laura a revised dress. Then she tossed her phone in her purse, bummed about not getting the Ashley Tate gig, but Maya was still holding out for the head designer position.
How was she supposed to enjoy herself after all of that? She’d make herself enjoy the cookout. Maya was here for her dad. She would interact as little as possible with all the people here, especially Derek.
Maya still wasn’t able to get that moment when he’d walked in on her while she was taking her medication out of her mind. She’d been halfway looking forward to seeing him in person today—if he hadn’t seen her in the break room.
Maya headed over to the refreshment table, intent on stuffing her face with pretzels and cheese until the event was done.
“Maya? Is that you?”
Her skin pricked. She would recognize that voice anywhere. Louise, her former high school classmate and current frenemy. Ever since that time Louise stuck an unopened stick of deodorant in her locker during their sophomore year of high school, Maya couldn’t stand her. Louise had spread this awful rumor around school that Maya had body odor. It wasn’t true, but Louise was cruel like that.
Maya turned and fake smiled, trying hard to push aside that memory from her brain bank. Yet those memories died hard. “Hey, Louise.” She kept her voice even and civil.
Louise had changed since high school. She looked as if she’d aged two decades. Her skin held a dull gray tone. Her eyes were scattered and tired, hair graying at the temples. Life must’ve taken a toll on her.
“You’re back in town!” Louise said.
Maya nodded once.
“Weren’t you a . . .” Louise’s gaze shifted up and to the right as if she was trying her hardest to remember. “You did something with clothes. Were you a seamstress?”
Maya cringed inside. “Close but not quite.” Her voice clipped every word. “I’m a bridal gown designer, Louise.”
“I remember. You left for New York and everything. What happened with that? It didn’t work out?” Louise’s voice was casually cruel, friendly with a hint of snark.
“Nothing happened to it. I’m still a bridal gown designer. I’m down here temporarily for my father.”
“Ahh. I’m sure it’s competitive up there and all. Must be hard for you to gain a footing. Everything’s so fast-paced in the big city.” Her words held that same mocking tone.
Maya took two deep breaths. Did Louise not hear a word of what Maya had said? She wasn’t a struggling dress designer like Louise was implying. Perhaps Louise didn’t want to hear her. Whatever. “I’m only down here for my father. Temporarily.”
“Oh.”
“I haven’t quit my career,” Maya said.
“That’s too bad. Perhaps then you would’ve been able to make a nice home and family for yourself. Like me.” Louise held up her left hand and showed off her engagement ring.
What a louse. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said. If you would’ve laid off that career of yours, perhaps you and Rex would still be together.”
This woman was throwing shade! “Whatev—”
“Now Rex and I are engaged.”
Maya’s eyes widened. “Engaged?”
“Yes. Engaged.”
“For how long?”
“About two months now.”
Two months. Good for them. Looking back on that relationship, Maya was too young, too naive, and way too hopeful when she was with Rex. She’d never settle for someone like him today. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you! I’ll see you around. Good luck again with that designer thing.” Louise gave Maya a half-wave and then sauntered off.
“That designer thing”? Louise was so petty. Maya grabbed a handful of chips and tossed them on her plate. People like Louise were the very reason Maya refused to get comfortable down south. Why should she with hecklers around?
Just as Maya was going to look for her father, Derek’s pickup truck pulled up to the curb. A hush came over the rest of the church crowd. Hmm. What was that about?
Maya had the sudden urge to hide out from Derek. “No need to fret about it,” she whispered to herself. “Act normal.”
Acting normal meant being away from most of the people here. Period. Louise had given her enough conversation for the day. She scanned the crowd for her father but didn’t see him. So Maya spotted a shade tree and went into Operation Introvert Mode. All she needed to do was hang out there for a few hours, and then she’d be good to go.
She brought her belongings over to the magnolia and plopped down. “Looks like it’s just you and me, tree,” she said, munching on a chip.
Despite good intentions, Maya couldn’t keep her focus off Derek. What did he think when he saw her with the pill bottle?
“Hey, love.”
Her father’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “I was looking for you, Pops.”
“Why are you hanging out by yourself?” Pops swung his wheelchair closer to her.
Because I don’t want to be around people like Louise. “Just chilling over here.” She smiled. “Nothing to be concerned about.”
He gave her one of those you can’t fool me looks. “I saw you talking to Louise. Didn’t you two go to high school together?”
Oh Lordy. “Unfortunately, yes. She’s engaged. To Rex.” And that was all Maya was gonna say about that.
Pops’s brows lifted. “Oh really?”
“Really.” Maya rested her chin in her hands. “You know what? I’m glad Louise and Rex found each other. She didn’t have to be all snippy about it, though.”
Her father shook his head. “I know you’re not going to let one person ruin your fun. Come on with me. We’re playing spades near the grill.”
Maya didn’t budge.
“All righty then. I know Louise hasn’t been the kindest to you, but you can’t toss them all into the same basket, Maya. There are more good people here to cancel out one bad interaction.” Her father gestured in the general direction of where Derek stood and watched Jamila play volleyball. “Wait a second. Is that Jamila’s father? He’s the one who hired you, right?”
Maya hadn’t even told him about the fiasco that popped up at the store. “Correct.”
“It’s amazing that he’s here. I heard that Derek used to attend New Life when he wasn’t on deployments. That was way before I started attending. He stopped coming to services after his wife died in the shooting.”
Maya’s eyes widened. “She did?”
“Yes, she did.”
Maya’s heart crimped. “That’s so awful. Derek never mentioned it. I can understand why, though.”
“I would like to say hello. I never met him. He seems like a fine young man. Can you introduce me?”
Maya pursed her lips. This new piece of information about how Derek’s wife died would make talking to him even more uncomfortable. If she introduced her father to Derek, then she’d have to get over her insecurities about the other day too. That would be unnerving.
If she didn’t introduce them, then her father would probe, and she really didn’t want to explain it all to Pops. Plus, her father could be a buffer between the awkwardness. “Sure, Dad. I’ll introduce you.”
She stood and wiped the blades of grass from the heels of her palms. Her father appeared to be waiting patiently. She grasped the handles of Pops’s wheelchair, and they moved toward Derek. Maya was moving slower than slow. That was purposeful. It gave her time to work out what she’d say to Derek and how she’d say it. No matter what, she’d try not to be too strange.
Derek’s back was to them, and Maya glanced in the direction of Jamila’s volleyball game. She was on the team that wore white shirts, and her face was glistening with sweat. Jamila focused intently on volleying the ball.
Derek was watching his daughter closely, doing the dad thing.
And Maya was about to interrupt. It was bad enough that
Jamila didn’t like her. Maya shouldn’t interrupt this moment when Derek was focusing on his daughter.
Maya’s steps slowed until she stopped pushing her father’s wheelchair. “Maybe I should introduce you later on. He seems busy.”
“Bah!” Her father waved her off. “You’re overthinking things, Maya. He’s just watching the volleyball game. I wanted to watch it too. Come on. Push me or I’ll roll myself.”
“O-kay.” She pushed him in Derek’s direction. Then they stood before Derek, and Maya waved. His face was serious for about three seconds, and then he smiled. “Nice to see you, Maya.” He switched his red Solo cup from his right to his left hand. “And this must be . . . ?”
“My father, Carl Jackson.”
“Nice to meet you,” her father said, extending his hand.
“Likewise.” Derek shook her father’s hand. “It’s been so long since I’ve been around most of the congregation. I’m getting reacclimated.”
“We’re all glad that you’re here,” Pops said.
Derek glanced away, a shadow of sadness covering his eyes. Then Derek looked at Maya and her father. “I see the resemblance. Although I have to say, Mr. Jackson, that Maya is much prettier.”
Heat climbed up Maya’s cheeks. Good thing Blasian girls didn’t blush.
“Maya gets that from her mother,” Pops said. “She was a beauty.”
“I’m pretty sure she was.”
Self-conscious, Maya glanced at the brown sandals on her feet and the bright blue polish on her toenails.
A chorus of cheers filled Battery Park. Maya redirected all her attention on the game. Jamila’s team had scored a point.
“Your daughter is playing well,” Pops said. “Jamila is a wonderful girl. You must be proud.”
A wave of unease filtered through Maya, and Derek glanced in Maya’s direction, as if questioning whether she had told her father about Jamila.
“She’s the best.” Derek crossed his arms. “I’m lucky to be her father. On our way here, she was raving about you, Mr. Jackson.”
A Lowcountry Bride Page 9