Fifteen Years (28 page)

“You didn’t expect to feel what?”

Patrice’s eyes were buried in the same carpet that had been holding her feet captive. “You know.”

He slipped one arm around her waist, and before she knew it, only an inch separated her face from the area of his chest where his heart would be. “Pretend I don’t. You didn’t expect to feel what?”

Patrice couldn’t bear to look up at him, but her eyes overrode her decision. Then her hands took on a mind of their own too. They found their way to his arms and caressed them with no objection from him. The fine hairs on his arms felt soft under her fingers, and Josiah groaned like her reaction was some kind of relaxing massage. He placed his free hand at the base of her neck and mingled his fingers in with the hair at the base of her neck. In her mind, Patrice promised God that if He let Josiah kiss her again, she wouldn’t slap him this time. He hesitated, but his face began a slow descent.

“Here they go, Uncle JT.”

They jolted apart as though Arielle’s voice came with a bolt of electricity. Her timing couldn’t have been worse, but Patrice found
a reason to be thankful. Arielle had made the announcement prior to her appearance in the entryway of the living room. She was carrying so much stuff that she could barely walk. Her load prevented her from seeing the exchange between her mother and her “uncle.” Had she spotted them, Patrice didn’t know how she would have explained it away.

“Oh, wow!” Josiah recovered like a pro. “That’s cool, baby girl. Bring them closer so I can see.”

“Uh … I’m gonna go and um … I’m gonna go and set the table for dinner.” Patrice didn’t look at either of them, and she didn’t breathe again until she was alone.

Instead of the dining room that was only separated from the living room by a thin wall, she chose to escape to the bathroom. It had a door that she could lock herself behind and water faucets that she could turn on full blast to mask the sounds of her shallow breathing. Patrice stood over the sink and watched the water splatter against the basin. She cupped her hands together and gathered several handfuls of the liquid, splashing her face over and over again. When she was satisfied that she’d drowned whatever it was that Josiah had brought to life inside of her, Patrice shut off the water and stared at her face in the mirror. She watched the streaming water that fell from her chin turn into individual droplets. First quick droplets, and then slow ones.

What in God’s green earth was going on? Was this really happening? And was it really okay? Patrice thought about what Danielle had said and what her father had said, and she hoped that they were right because she didn’t know if she could reverse what she was feeling if she wanted to.

“Peaches, are you okay?”

Patrice winced, slinging water from her face as she snapped it toward the bathroom door. In quick motion, she ripped off a sheet
of paper towel from the standing rack that sat beside the basin and pressed it into her face.

“Peaches?”

“I’m fine.” She completed the task of drying her face and stood still, wondering if she should open the door now or wait until after he left.

“Open the door, Peaches.”

Her choices had just been narrowed down to one. She gave her reflection one last review and then took the short walk to the door. When it opened, Patrice was relieved to see not only Josiah, but her daughter. The sight of them standing there with napkins tucked in their collars and a fork in their hands made her burst into laughter.

“We’re ready to eat, Mommy,” Arielle said.

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Josiah input. “We thought you were going to set the table.”

Patrice wanted to kiss him just for making their awkward situation a lot less stressful than it could have been. “I’m going to set it now.” She walked past them and overheard Josiah telling Arielle to wash her hands.

Patrice made quick work of her task, and by the time the two of them joined her, the table had been set. Patrice’s dining room was nowhere near the size of the Smiths’. Her dinette set consisted of a round, glass-top table and four chairs, including the high chair that was assigned to Arielle by default.

“I hope you like spaghetti.” Still not ready to look at Josiah, Patrice chose to look at the pasta. “I try to avoid red meat, so I made it with ground turkey.”

“I love spaghetti.” Josiah reached one hand toward Patrice and the other in Arielle’s direction. “Let’s pray.”

“Can I lead the prayer, Uncle JT?” Arielle’s question was the perfect stall tactic. Patrice used the moment to wipe her perspiring
hands on her dress one last time.

“Maybe next time, baby girl. Your granddaddy always taught me that if there was a man at the table, he should lead the grace.”

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Arielle placed her hand in Josiah’s and Patrice followed her lead. She felt Josiah’s thumb caress the back of her hand as he held it. She closed her eyes to savor the pleasure and kept them closed to reverence the prayer.

“Father, we thank You for this gathering on this evening. I pray special blessings upon Peaches and Arielle, and I thank You for whatever motivation You presented that resulted in this invitation into their home. Thank You for all of Your unmerited favor. Bless those that are less fortunate who don’t have the blessing of family and good food. Provide for them in their hour of need, and let us not take Your goodness for granted. Help us to realize that but for the grace of God, we could be in their shoes. Now bless this food that we are about to receive. Bless the hands that prepared it and the home in which it was prepared. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”

Patrice smiled as she opened her eyes. She’d once read it somewhere that when little girls had good fathers, they grew up to look for those same positive qualities in the men to whom they chose to give their hearts. Thomas Smith had been the closest thing to a father that she’d ever known. The first time around, she’d made the mistake of not demanding that the special man in her life have Thomas’s strong spiritual foundation. Since her divorce, she’d prayed and asked God to not ever let her allow another man to hold her heart unless she met the one that He would have her spend the rest of her life with.

While she watched Josiah giggle with Arielle as he twirled pasta around a serving fork and place it in her plate, all Patrice could wonder was:
How on earth did my heart land in JT’s hands?

THE HOUR WAS growing late, and Josiah knew that he needed to head back to his hotel in Stone Mountain, but he wasn’t ready to leave. He’d spent a total of five hours at Patrice’s apartment, but hardly any of that time had been spent with Patrice alone. He needed some private time with her. Quality private time. Only a couple of days separated today from the day he’d have to head back to North Carolina. The sand in the hourglass was now working against him. It was time to stop playing games. She was just as attracted to him as he was to her. Josiah could feel it in his heart. He could see it in her eyes. He knew that Patrice wouldn’t make the first move though … and she shouldn’t have to. All night he had been prepared to lay the cards on the table, but he couldn’t do it in front of Arielle, and until now, there had been no golden opportunities.

Immediately after they topped off dinner with ice cream and
peach cobbler, Josiah, Patrice, and Arielle spent some time playing Go Fish. It was Arielle’s favorite card game, and when she asked him to play with her, Josiah couldn’t say no. Somewhere along the way, little Miss Arielle had managed to wrap him around her little finger. Disappointing her wasn’t an option. The three of them played until Arielle could barely keep her eyes open.

Even then—heavy eyelids and all—she insisted that she wasn’t sleepy. Patrice told her that it was time for bed, but when the child looked at Josiah with those big, gorgeous, brown eyes of hers, he rescued her, asking Patrice to let her stay up just a little longer. As badly as he wanted some one-on-one time with the mother in the equation, Josiah couldn’t deny the daughter her wish. He was falling in love fast—with both of them.

Shrek 2
, the 2002 animated blockbuster film, had finally done the trick. The movie was a favorite of Arielle’s too, but fatigue won the battle, and with her giant turtle in her arms, she fell asleep in Josiah’s lap as they sat on the sofa watching it together. When Patrice scooped her up to carry her to her bed, Josiah had walked outside the apartment building for some fresh air… and to pray. He was nervous; sure of himself and unsure of himself at the same time. He needed some divine strength for the leap of faith that he was about to take. What if she didn’t feel the same way? What if…?

He stopped himself. He’d gone down that winding trail of doubt with Bishop Lumpkin when he was searching for excuses not to come to Atlanta in the first place. If his reconnection with his foster family had taught him only one thing, it was not to doubt God—or the power of prayer.

As Josiah sat on the bottom step of the stairway that adjoined Patrice’s second floor abode with the apartments beneath it, he closed his eyes. “Lord, please give me the right words to say.” His words were barely a whisper in the wind. He would have said more
had he not heard the front door of Patrice’s upstairs apartment open and close. Her descent of the steps was silent, and he understood why when he saw her bare feet come to a stop on the step that he sat on. Her new pedicure tempted him to touch her freshly polished toes, but he wouldn’t dare be so bold. Not tonight anyway. With unsettled nerves, he rubbed his jaw line, grazing his five o’clock shadow.

“Hi.” Patrice took one more step, and then smoothed down the back of her dress before sitting beside him.

A passing breeze fanned her famed floral scent up his nostrils, and Josiah savored it. “Hi.” He scooted over just enough to give her ample space. He could feel straying hairs tickle the side of his face. Josiah had the night breeze to thank for that too. “I like your dress.” He would have said that earlier if Arielle hadn’t been in the room. It just didn’t seem appropriate to say it in front of her. Especially since it was the fit of the dress that he liked most. It hugged her curves perfectly.

Patrice smiled her gratitude, and then backed it with a bashful “Thanks.”

“Arielle all tucked away?”

She turned her eyes to the stars, scanning them like she was looking for the Big Dipper. “Yeah. She’s out like a light. I don’t know why she pretended not to be sleepy.” A soft giggle escaped her lips. “She almost fell asleep in the middle of saying she wasn’t sleepy.”

“She’s a great kid.” Josiah searched the side of Patrice’s face while he searched for the words that he really wanted to say. He wanted her to look at him, but she continued to scope the heavens.

“Thanks. She thinks you’re great too.”

“And you?” Even the evening darkness couldn’t hide her coyness. Josiah was probably making her uncomfortable, but he needed
an answer. “What do you think about me?” he pressed.

Patrice used nervous fingers to comb through her hair. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, Peaches.” Josiah placed his index finger under her chin and forced her to face him. He noticed how she often made an effort to avoid his eyes, but tonight, he wasn’t going to let her get away with it. “Tell me. Please.”

Blinking in quick succession, Patrice moved her face away from his hand and stood. She took a few steps back, and then looked around like she was afraid that one of her neighbors might be eavesdropping. Josiah started to stand with her, but changed his mind. He didn’t want her to feel coerced, and he definitely didn’t want this to turn into a repeat of Stone Mountain Park. Looking up at her, Josiah struggled to give her the time she needed. Patience may have been a virtue, but it sure wasn’t easy.

“What
do you
feel?” When Patrice finally spoke, she answered his question with a question, placing the ball back in his corner.

Josiah knew that he needed to choose his words carefully, but quite frankly, he didn’t know how to do that. Not when it came to Patrice. “I don’t want to be your brother anymore,” he confessed. “I want to be more. What I’m feeling for you is … well, let’s just say it’s not sibling-like in the least bit. Fifteen years of absence didn’t change how I felt about Mama and Dad, and it didn’t change the way I felt about Sammy. But you.” He paused, but barely. “Everything has changed. Fifteen years ago, you felt like my bona fide big sister, but that’s not what you feel like now. It’s not even close.” The words skated out of Josiah’s mouth like a landslide.

With every sentence, Patrice was putting more space between them. It wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped for. He wanted to reach out to her and draw her closer to him, let her know everything was going to be all right. But that was something she had to know for
herself. He couldn’t
make
her see it.

Patrice kept backing up until she couldn’t retreat any farther. When she came to a stop, her back rested against the wooden railing that separated the lower level from the lawn. Josiah didn’t know what to make of her recoil. He carefully released a lung full of air, afraid that if he breathed too hard, she’d scatter like the seeds of a dandelion.