My Time in the Sun Read online

  Kari hesitated a few moments, then scribbled the digits and her name before returning the pad to Stacy, who gave her a wink, promptly tore the page off, then slid it in her front jeans pocket.

  Tony didn’t call that day, the next day, the next week, or even the next month. Probably wasn’t interested in some strange woman who thought she should see what could develop after laying eyes on him just that one time.

  Three months later, she walked into the restaurant to celebrate making the difficult decision to trade her downtown paralegal job for a freelance paralegal career. Now Kari would be able to choose what cases she worked on and the lawyers she worked with, while pursuing a law degree.

  When Stacy came from the kitchen and saw Kari waiting at the register to place an order, her eyes widened to the size of the plate she held in her hand. “Kari. I’m soooooo glad ya came in,” she exclaimed, nearly tripping over herself in a hurry to come closer. “I lost ya numba when I wash my pants.”

  Kari’s thoughts of the chocolate Adonis had waned over time and so did her disappointment. “I understand, but can I get a six piece, plantains, some peas and rice, and—”

  “He wants to meet ya.” Stacy slid the plate of food she held in front of a burly gentlemen at the counter who grumbled his thanks. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Kari, and rushed off.

  Anxiety flowed through Kari. She was mentally unprepared for a meeting with the man she saw that day. And her stomach was protesting about it taking so long to send something on down.

  A few moments later, Tony followed a beaming Stacy out of the restaurant’s kitchen and toward the dining room, but made a quick stop at the sink to wash his hands first. He was even more handsome than she remembered. He eyed Kari with interest, drying a hand on a towel, which he placed on the counter. He searched her eyes for a moment, then extended a hand to Kari. “I don’t remember the day you came in, but I’ll never forget the day you came back.”

  What a way with words. And that smile. That smile was something that made twinkling stars look tarnished.

  “Are you even legal,” she asked, grimacing at the fact that she possibly had a few years on him. Only a few.

  To that he laughed, which was even better than the smile she had come to love. “I’m twenty-eight.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  “I don’t think a number can do that,” he countered with a megawatt smile. “And I’d love to call you when I get off work. I’m pulling shifts at two places. So it might be a little late.”

  “I quit my job today,” Kari offered, lowering her gaze to their clasped hands. “So right now I have nothing but time.”

  Tony’s brow furrowed, his face pulled into an expression of concern. “Quit?”

  She ignored the curious glances that onlookers sent their way, and focused completely on him. “Let’s put it this way: I’ve never been afraid of hard work. But I’ve grown tired of being expected to pick up the slack for others who won’t carry their weight. I swore to myself that any situation that stresses me out or makes me unhappy is not something I need to stick around for.”

  “Wow,” he said, nodding with admiration. “That’s something right there.”

  “But I’m not worried,” she explained, wondering why she was rambling like an idiot. “I like eating, driving, and living indoors. So I have a Plan B.”

  “I appreciate a woman with a plan. She’ll always land on her feet.” Tony motioned for Stacy to move from where she and a few other waitresses, cooks, and even the owner, were not so discretely listening in. “Put her dinner on my tab. Actually, make it three dinners.”

  “Are you trying to fatten me up?” Kari asked, frowning up at him.

  Tony’s gaze was intense. “When a woman’s working through a plan, the last thing she needs to worry about is where the next few meals are coming from.” He pressed a kiss to her upturned palm. “Not a lot of women would choose peace of mind and fairness over a steady paycheck from an outside source. Do your thing, woman. Do. Your. Thing.”

  Kari pushed those memories aside, and laid her head on Tony’s chest, drawing warmth from him. Her life had fast-forwarded to a time where she had so much peace. She had a man who had shown her the kind of love that her father, Daddy, and those clients of his, knew nothing about. Tony called her his comfort zone. His light. Told her that she was the most beautiful woman in the world—inside and out.

  One time, she had asked him why he always said that to her.

  “Because the more you hear it,” he replied, “maybe you’ll start believing it.”

  The first lady was a prostitute. Not the kind of woman we want our little girls and young women to emulate.

  She closed her eyes against the pain those words had caused her husband and the fact that her past overshadowed his future. Terrence’s voice and the memory of those life-altering moments at church came to steal whatever joy and peace her husband tried to bring to mind. Tony held her close as though trying to send his warmth to places within her that had grown cold all over again. Along with memories that never needed to see the light of day.

  Chapter Seven

  Aridell smiled at Leesa. Somehow, what happened to the woman’s bird-brained brother a few minutes before hadn’t given her a clue that trying to call Aridell out in public—or at all—was not the thing to do.

  “Let me tell you something,” Aridell began, placing her fists on her hips. “While you’re trying to put me on blast about not attending a funeral, I’d like to say thank you for telling me about the funeral after it happened.”

  Leesa’s jaw clenched, and heat flooded her mahogany skin, but she didn’t respond.

  “In fact, I wouldn’t have even known that baby Najee had died. I just happened to see Tee’s post in all caps on my Facebook newsfeed thanking everyone for coming to a funeral that I knew nothing about.” Aridell folded her arms across her ample bosom and chanced a look in Terrence’s direction. He quickly hotfooted off to the side, gathering the board and deacons in what looked more like a football huddle. Probably hiding in plain sight so she couldn’t take him to task for not telling her about the funeral either. She was certain he had known. Same with all the other family gatherings she wasn’t invited to until after the fact.

  “Nobody tried to hide it from you,” Leesa said, lips pursed in a sour line as if she’d tasted something rotten. “So quit lying, talking about you just happened to see it.”

  “Well, actually,” said a lanky teen pushing a pair of owl-rimmed glasses on his pert nose. “If she wasn’t tagged on the post, or if she and Tee didn’t interact a lot on Facebook, there’s a good chance she didn’t see it.”

  All heads turned to the teen lumbering toward Aridell.

  “See, what comes in a newsfeed is determined by algorithms.” The timid nerd glanced at Aridell as if asking for permission to continue.

  Aridell gave a small nod. “Yeah, Ricky, tell her about those Ally Rhythms.”

  “Algorithms,” he corrected.

  “You know what I meant.” She grimaced and waved him off.

  Ricky turned to Leesa. “The only reason Sister Aridell saw that particular post put up after the funeral is because it came through at a time when a great deal of people were liking it and commenting on it. That’s how Facebook works. The more people comment or like a post, the more they interact, the more visible it becomes to other people in their friends list.”

  “Yes. What he said.” Aridell shook her head as she spoke to the people again. “I had to post my condolences on Tee’s page. My own niece, and I didn’t have a number to call her. Still don’t. And you know why that is?”

  “Because you thought you were too good for Tee.” Leesa cast a wary glance at the younger woman who had suddenly become very interested in figuring out what her aunt’s angle was. A few other family members made their way into the aisle. Buoyed by their presence, Leesa placed her focus back on Aridell, a direct challenge in her dark-brown eyes.

 
; “That’s the lie her mother told you,” Aridell countered, leaving the spot where she’d stood for the last of the exchange with Terrence. “The real truth is that she cut off all contact with me ten years ago because I wouldn’t let her move in with me unless she and her mother signed a living arrangement contract that laid out the rules for Tee living in my house.”

  A few murmurs went up from the members along with nods and shared glances or expressions of admiration.

  “A contract?” Leesa snapped, lips curled in disgust. “What’s that all about? They’re family. They didn’t have to sign something like that.”

  “They sure didn’t,” Aridell shot back. “Just like I didn’t have to take responsibility for my out-of-control teenage niece who planned to lay up in my house and do whatever she thought she was grown enough to do.” Aridell put her gaze on Tee, then to Cathy, her fidgeting and suddenly uncomfortable mother. “I told her mama to take her little Nubian nugget right back home and deal with those problems herself.”

  “See, you didn’t have to put all that out there,” Cathy admonished, nearly tripping over Sister Sister Dana as she made it to the front of the aisle. “That’s private family business.”

  “You’re right, but Leesa made it everyone’s business when she put it out there.” Aridell took a good look at the family group near Leesa; ones she had squared off with—and lost—about the older man they’d allowed to be with Tee at too young of an age. “And I find it a little suspect that all of y’all showed up to church today, the very day your brother decided to lose his natural Black mind.” Her gaze narrowed at them. “Y’all haven’t stepped foot in church since Moses brought down those three tablets.”

  “It was only two,” Leesa said with a smug smile.

  “I know that.” Aridell returned that smile. “He probably tossed one away because he knew there was some things even y’all couldn’t manage.”

  The roar of laughter that followed her statement took a few moments to subside.

  “This side of the family isn’t close for a reason,” Aridell confessed. “And it wasn’t my doing. Yet, y’all expect me to magically appear at a funeral I wasn’t informed about and to support a niece who hasn’t said ‘come hither’ or ‘scat kitty’ to me since her mother drove off ten years ago. I still love all of you—but from a distance, because when it comes to family, I only keep those who want to be kept.”

  Leesa’s brow furrowed with anger. “I didn’t have anything to do with that conversation you had with my sister in the past. I just assumed that you, being the oldest aunt on that side of the family, would reach out to your niece during her time of bereavement. For God’s sake, the girl lost her four-month-old son.” She circled Aridell as though sizing her up for a boxing match. “It really saddens me to know you never met your great nephew due to your standoffish ways. You chose to be distant from your niece, and I know she tried to contact you.”

  The congregation’s heads were moving between Aridell and the volleys from her family as though watching a tennis match. Some had even lowered in their seats in the same manner most would if watching a live play.

  “My number hasn’t changed in fifteen years,” Aridell countered, hands sliding up over her fleshy hips. “And if I showed you my phone records for all that time, you wouldn’t see a single call from her.” Aridell peered at Leesa. “When I finally figured out how to use Facebook, one of the first things I did was send Tee one of those request thingys. But she ignored it. I cancelled that pending one, and repeated the process over the years, and she ignored those too.” Aridell’s gaze left Leesa and landed on Tee, who seemed to wither under that glare. “Then one day out of the blue I got a request from her, which I accepted. Not even two seconds later, I got a baby shower invite. No ‘how you doing?’ No ‘how’s life been treating you?’ Just a request for me to show up with an arm full of presents. Never heard from her again after that. Now you want to call me out about not attending her child’s funeral?”

  Leesa frowned, seemingly undeterred in her efforts to put Aridell in her place. “The arrangements for baby Najee’s home-going services were posted on Facebook for six whole days,” she said to the nodding agreement of the three Henderson women.

  “And I only found out about it last night,” Aridell shot back. “Social media is not the place to put important stuff that you want people to know about. Weddings, births, funerals. Those things require a more personal touch. Inbox, text, or phone call would have been more appropriate.”

  “We don’t have time for this family drama,” Sister Sharon said, getting to her feet.

  Her husband pulled the edge of her red blazer and yanked her back to her spot on the pew. He crossed one slack-covered leg over the other and a small smile played about his lips as he put his focus on the center stage of Church Drama 101.

  Aridell gestured to a woman a few pews away. “Pass me that iPad thing, Terry.”

  The woman rummaged through Aridell’s purse, procured the tablet, and brought it over. A few clicks on the messenger app and Aridell had pulled up the visual of the only message exchange with the niece in question. “You see that? An inbox to Tee from two years ago. I gave her my phone number and let her know, several times, that I’d like to keep in touch. She didn’t.”

  Leesa took the tablet and scrolled through the message.

  “I might not be all that technical, but I’m smarter than the average bear, Boo-Boo,” Aridell said as she extracted the tablet from Leesa’s hand and passed it back to Terry. “And I realize when someone doesn’t want a connection with me. Tee’s mad at her daddy for not being in her life, and I can understand that. And she’s mad at me because I wasn’t going to let her run over me like she was doing to her mama back then.”

  Leesa shifted her stance, angling so that Tee could see her clearly as she said to Aridell, “I have my own personal views about churchified folks like you who love outsiders more than their own flesh and blood.” She shrugged as though none of this conversation was of any consequence—or that she’d started this whole mess.

  Aridell waited for the murmurs echoing in the church to subside before she spoke again. “I understand that you’re all in your feelings right now, as the youngsters say. I get that. I mean, you’re her maternal aunt and the loss of the baby is so fresh. But you need to recognize that calling me out—here—because you feel some kind of way, is not the thing to do.”

  Leesa glanced at the congregation and squared her shoulders. “I pray that one day in the near future, the animosity or obstacles blocking this family from communicating will be resolved.”

  “I’m all for it whenever they are,” Aridell said with a sweeping gesture that covered Leesa, Tee, Cathy, and their other family members. She sighed, weary of the entire exchange and ready to get on with the real business at hand. “But what you did today wasn’t a step in that direction. And why didn’t you call me yourself? You have my number, even if Tee doesn’t. You know where I am every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday, even if she doesn’t.”

  Leesa waved her off with a striped manicured hand. “Puh-lease. I don’t even have your number. I know I speak for the whole family when I say it’s pitiful and beneath you to blame us for you alienating yourself.”

  Aridell stretched out a hand. “My cell, please.”

  Terry complied and Aridell flipped through the contacts. She selected one, touched the screen to connect the call.

  The phone rang and vibrated in Leesa’s purse on the pew.

  “Go on,” Aridell suggested. “Pick it up.”

  Leesa gave a wary glance at her purse as Tee maneuvered around Aridell, fished the phone out and turned the screen to face her family. It showed Aridell’s name and phone number clearly. Leesa snatched the phone and ground out, “It’s over now. My great nephew’s dead and buried. Your response to this conversation was just what I expected.”

  “Are we done yet?” Aridell asked, as quiet conversations from the congregation echoed around them as though they were also
tired of all this drama in one Sunday morning service. “Either y’all are gonna work toward bridging the gap between our families, or you’re gonna stand here for the next ten hours hurling accusations. Either way, I don’t have the time.”

  Aridell stood, and walked in the direction of the door. “Your brother stirred an ugly pot and I have every intention of turning off the fire and taking him and his minions off the stove.”

  Chapter Eight

  “You’ve always been so guarded,” Tony said in a low tone. “So I didn’t push. Not even after we got married. But … ” He looked deeply into her eyes, adjusting his position next to her on the sofa. “I love you, Kari. Nothing will ever change that. Not the past. Not the present. Not the future.”

  This wonderful man had loved her from day one. Had promised that no harm would come to her. And he’d kept his word on that, and so many other things.

  She scanned the living room, taking in the abstract artwork that was a perfect complement to the modern styled furniture. Every piece had become part of the memories she was afraid would taint when she shared her story.

  Tony pulled her close and stroked her back. “It’s something to know that my woman’s pain runs so deep that she won’t share it, even with me.”

  “You knew?” she asked, pulling away so she could look up at him.

  “I’ve counseled too many women and girls from the church to not know.”

  She let that walk through her mind for a moment before saying, “I never told you because that part of my life isn’t something I want to remember.”

  Tony was silent for a few ticks of time before saying, “I understand.”

  Kari left his hold, putting a few inches of space between them. “Telling you won’t make a difference. The end result will be the same. You don’t need any of this in your life. I’ll just gather up my things and—”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he said, closing the distance to reclaim her in an embrace. “If I let you walk out that door because of some self-righteous, ambitious—”