Don't Tell A Soul Page 15

  While I’m waiting for Kingston to show up, I put on a pot of coffee and warm a bagel for breakfast. It’s not like I can actually eat anything. I’m too excited about our date.

  Right on time, at nine, I hear Kingston’s car pull into my driveway. I stop myself from running to the door. That would look desperate, I think, even though I am very eager to see him.

  I peek out of the front window as he walks up. He’s wearing a peach polo shirt and some khaki shorts. With his sunglasses and baseball cap, Kingston looks younger than his years, too.

  I force myself to wait until he rings the doorbell, and then I take slow and measured steps to the door. Finally, I swing it open, wearing a smile on my face. Kingston stands there with his hands in his pockets and a crooked grin.

  “Making me wait, huh?”

  “No, no! Not at all. I was having a cup of coffee. Do you want one before we get on the road?”

  “Sure, especially if you’ve got some coffee cake to go with it.”

  “Will homemade almond pound cake suffice? It goes well with coffee.”

  Kingston steps inside my town house. “I’m sure if you made it, it’s delicious. You know you’re a legend at New Faith with your baked items.”

  “I am? Well, I’ve had a lot of practice at that. When I was growing up down South, it seems like somebody baked something every day.”

  I lead Kingston into my kitchen and motion for him to sit on one of the bar stools. I pour a cup of coffee and sit it in front of him with cream and sugar.

  “I think my next wife is going to be a great cook. I’ve never been blessed to find that in a woman.”

  This makes me laugh as I place a big hunk of cake on a plate and slide it next to Kingston’s coffee cup. “Oh, really? So who cooked during your marriages?”

  “With my first wife, it was spaghetti three days a week and hot dogs the rest of the week.” Kingston takes a bite of his cake, closes his eyes, and smiles. “My second wife was too much of a diva to cook. Yvonne, this cake is incredible.”

  “Thank you. I’ve got to say, I like a man who knows his way around a kitchen, too. Do you like to barbecue?”

  “That is one thing I never mastered. I’m more of a shrimp scampi guy. I could whip you up a spinach soufflé before I could grill a slab of ribs.”

  I scrunch my nose. “I’ve never had a spinach soufflé. It sounds bourgie.”

  “It is. If you want, I can take some barbecue classes before I propose.”

  “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?” I ask.

  “Nope. I’m right on schedule. I’ve been trying to win your heart for two years. It’s not my fault you only just got on board. You’ve got some catching up to do. I already know what I want.”

  I feel my cheeks grow warm at his frank admission. “Um . . . let me use the restroom before we leave.”

  I rush out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. Clutching both sides of the sink, I breathe in deeply and exhale slowly, trying to slow my racing heartbeat. I look in the mirror and notice that my cheeks are slightly reddened, which is hard to see with my brown skin.

  Kingston is coming on strong, and it scares me. I want to get caught up in the whirlwind with him, but does the fact that I’m dreaming of Luke mean that I’m not yet ready to move on? It’s been eight years since I’ve shared my life with a man. If I’m not ready now, maybe I’ll never be.

  When I feel like I’ve regained my composure, I go back out into the kitchen. Kingston has finished his coffee and cake. He’s washed his dishes and mine and placed them in the rack to dry. This brings a smile to my face. Luke never once helped with chores. He’d rather have an enema than wash a dish, vacuum a floor, or even pick up his dirty underwear and socks. I hated picking up behind him, but over the years I got used to it. Now that I live alone, I’m used to cleaning only my own messes, so if I did decide to take the marriage plunge again, he’d have to be neat.

  Kingston is fine, romantic, and he cleans up after himself? He’s ahead by a lot more points than I want to admit. I don’t know if I deserve him! He seems too perfect.

  “Are you ready to go, pretty lady?” Kingston asks.

  I nod. “Yes, I am.”

  “It’s a nice day, so we can ride with the top down if you want.”

  “Sure!”

  Kingston claps his hands. “A woman who doesn’t mind messing her hair up in the wind. Yvonne, I think you are perfect.”

  All I can do is grin. He thinks I’m perfect, and I think he’s perfect. How perfect is that?

  CHAPTER 24

  PAM

  Since I have another free day before my family gets home, I decide to have a spa day. It’ll take my mind off Troy and Aria. Especially since I can’t do anything about it right now, save driving down to Cincinnati like a madwoman, which I almost did more than once. I had to force myself to follow Taylor’s advice and stay put.

  I get dressed in my comfortable light blue Baby Phat jogging suit and flip-flops, pull my hair up into a curly ponytail on the top of my head, and throw on my sunglasses. This is my “I absolutely do not care” look. And I don’t care today. I’m about to get my fluffy body rubbed from head to toe and to drink licorice tea and cucumber water.

  When I step out on my porch, Logan is parked in front of the house. He’s standing outside and leaning against his car, as if he’s waiting for me. I take my sunglasses off and stick them in my hair as I walk down the path to greet him. He’s wearing athletic clothes, so I wonder if he’s on his way to the gym.

  “Hi, Logan. What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “I was out and about, running my Saturday errands, and I thought about you. Just checking to make sure you’re okay. You were a bit of a mess when I saw you yesterday.”

  “I’m fine. Thanks for checking on me.”

  “You sure you’re fine? You haven’t booby-trapped the house to choke Troy out as soon as he walks in the door, have you?”

  “No, not yet. I’m still hoping that the only thing he has to explain is hiding the note from Aria or, better yet, not throwing it away.”

  “Okay, okay, I believe you. Where are you off to? No laptop, so you’re not going to Starbucks to write.”

  “Very observant. I’m not going to write. I’m going to get a full-body massage by my girl KeKe at Sassy Femmes.”

  “If you needed a massage, you should’ve let me know. I would’ve taken care of that for you. You wouldn’t even have to tip me.”

  “Logan, you are out of order.”

  He folds his arms across his chest and nods. “I am out of order. I apologize.”

  “Forgiven. Thanks for seeing about me. I’ll see you later.”

  “I was hoping so. I was thinking that we could talk about my book career over an early dinner.”

  Dinner with Logan doesn’t feel safe to me. Not with him standing here, looking like a chocolate-dipped Greek god. He might be an aspiring writer, but he’s also trying to get extra close to me.

  “How about a late lunch?”

  “I’d love that. P. F. Chang’s sound good?”

  Nope. That place is too dark, and there are too many intimate corners inside, even during the day.

  “Not in the mood for Chinese. Plus, that place is kind of romantic. It wouldn’t look right if any of my church friends saw me there with you.”

  “How about my place, then?”

  Now I crack up laughing. “You didn’t seriously ask me that, did you? Let’s just scrap all the meal plans, okay? I can help you with your book when my husband gets back home. We can all do lunch together.”

  “Why do you think I’m up to no good, Pam? I’ve not made any advances toward you. This isn’t fair.”

  Okay, how about telling me that he’s attracted to me, showing up at my house when he knows my husband isn’t home, asking me out to dinner? His advances might be subtle, but they are certainly real.

  “Maybe it’s not you. Maybe it’s me. I might not be able to resist you.”

  “
Now, that’s what I’m talking about. To thine own self be true.”

  “Oh, please.”

  “Wasn’t that a writer-like thing to say?”

  Now the cute banter is starting to annoy me. “I’ve got to go. I’m gonna be late for my appointment.”

  “Sure, Pam. Do you want me to come back later to tuck you in?”

  “Logan!”

  “I’m kidding!”

  He waves as he hops back in his black convertible Benz. Troy probably drooled when he first saw this car. It is exactly the kind of ride I’d expect Logan to have. It’s dark, fast, and dangerous. Just like he is.

  CHAPTER 25

  YVONNE

  “Why are you getting off at this exit? This is the Cedar Point exit. Port Clinton and Put-in-Bay are a few exits up.”

  Kingston smiles at me and says, “Change of plans. Let’s stop at the amusement park for a few hours, ride some rides, eat some cotton candy, and then go to Put-in-Bay for dinner.”

  “Caramel apples.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  I nod. “Only if we’re getting some freshly dipped caramel apples. With nuts. That’s my favorite thing to eat at Cedar Point.”

  “Oh, I’ve got so many favorite things to eat there, but my ultimate favorite is the Pierre’s butter pecan ice cream on top of a warm funnel cake.”

  My stomach growls as Kingston describes some of the yummy treats waiting for us inside Cedar Point. I haven’t been to the amusement park in years, not since I volunteered to chaperone the youth ministry a few years ago for their end-of-the-school-year outing.

  “It shouldn’t be too crowded this early, and the Memorial Day traffic is next weekend,” Kingston continues. “So we should be able to get some rides in before it gets too hot outside.”

  “It tickles me that you like to ride the rides. That’s for the young people.”

  “We are the young people, Yvonne! We’re far from old.”

  “I guess so. I haven’t ridden a roller coaster since I was in my twenties.”

  “You never forget how. Buckle up and scream.”

  I chuckle as I reminisce about roller coasters. “You mean, close my eyes and then scream.”

  Kingston pulls into the Cedar Point parking lot, which is about half full. I’m glad I decided to wear my walking shoes. If I had gotten too cute, this would not have been a positive adventure.

  As we walk to the front gate of the amusement park, Kingston’s hand brushes against mine from time to time. Kingston doesn’t seem to notice the contact, but I do. Each touch sends a little warm shiver up my arm. By the time we reach the front of the amusement park, I’m ready for Kingston to just go ahead and take my hand in his, but he acts totally oblivious to what I’m feeling. It has such an effect on me that I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose.

  “Oh no,” I say as we get up to the window to pay. Do Rhoda and Rochelle have some type of radar gun that tells them where Kingston and I are going to be?

  “It’s our friends,” Kingston says with a giggle.

  “Your friends.”

  I notice that Rhoda and Rochelle are wearing the same T-shirt, long jean skirt, white socks, and thick gym shoes. They even have matching sun visors with see-through blue, red, and green screens. I didn’t even know that they made those anymore.

  “Well, look who we keep running into,” Rhoda says.

  Rochelle says, “It must be God. You know, they say you can leave the church grounds, but you can’t get away from church folk.”

  “Who says that, Rochelle?” I ask. “What are y’all doing out here today?”

  “It’s a free country, Yvonne, but if you must know, we are here for my family reunion,” Rhoda says.

  “That’s great!” Kingston says. “Are y’all barbecuing?”

  Rhoda nods. “Yessir. We’ve got ribs, burgers, steaks, sausages, hot dogs. Anything you want. And the side dishes are delicious, too. I made them myself.”

  “Good. Maybe Yvonne and I will stop at your family’s pavilion when we get hungry,” Kingston says.

  I narrow my eyes slightly at this suggestion. I have no intention of spending my date with Rhoda’s country, pig feet– and hog maw–eating family.

  Rochelle says, “Good! Y’all can sit with me and my boyfriend.”

  Now, this is news! Rochelle hasn’t had a boyfriend that I know of since she’s been at New Faith. I am a little bit curious about his identity, and I wonder why she’d bring her new man around Rhoda and her family of crazies.

  “He ain’t your boyfriend,” Rhoda says. “He’s your future husband. That’s what God told me, so I’m going with that. Plus, he’s my cousin and I know him. He needs a good woman to take care of him.”

  What in the world? I’m about to put Rochelle’s silly self on my prayer list. This heifer has completely lost her mind, letting Rhoda hook her up.

  “Take care of him?” I ask. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He got a leg amputated in the war,” Rochelle says.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Did he go over to Afghanistan?” Kingston asks.

  “No, not that war. The war between him and his ex-wife,” Rhoda says. “She ran him over with his pickup truck.”

  I can’t take a second more of this. “All right, Rhoda and Rochelle. We’ll see y’all later.”

  Rhoda looks both me and Kingston up and down. “Yvonne, make sure you staying holy, now. Back when we were young, they used to make us have chaperones when we were courting.”

  “We’re both good and grown, Rhoda,” I reply.

  “Ain’t too grown to get a smite from on high!”

  Rhoda is obviously affected by her own “anointing.” So much so that she needs Rochelle to dab the sweat droplets on the top of her forehead. I can barely get Kingston away from them before he bursts into laughter.

  “You think it’s funny now,” I say as Kingston and I walk up the main amusement park fairway. “But when she puts your name on the prayer list, in bold, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Nobody takes Rhoda seriously, except maybe Rochelle.”

  “You’re right. Everybody knows that she’s cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, but she’s got something on just about every member of our church.”

  “I’m not worried about her,” Kingston says. “You want something to eat? Some French fries or ice cream?”

  “It’s too early for ice cream, but I will take some fries.”

  Kingston walks me over to the shaded tables and benches. “I’ll be right back. You can rest your feet while I stand in line.”

  “I look like I need a rest?”

  “No, but I plan on wearing you out today, so you better rest while you can.”

  I watch Kingston walk over to the food counter, and I find myself gazing at how his broad back tapers into his waist. He looks like he spends a good deal of time at the gym. I bet his muscles ripple just right.

  Oh my Lord.

  This is why I dreamed about Luke last night. I think Eva has loosed some type of lust spirit over me. That’s the only thing that could explain the way my mind keeps wandering to things that are quite the opposite of holy.

  I sit up straight and look away from Kingston and enjoy people watching. There are cute little families pushing babies in strollers and holding toddlers by the hand. Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like to have a child to call my own. I enjoy teaching, and of course Pam’s and Taylor’s children are like nieces and nephews, but it is not the same as having your own.

  My stubborn eyes travel back over to Kingston, and I notice he’s talking on his cell phone. His arm is waving in an animated fashion, almost like he’s having an argument. When he turns toward me with the tray in his hand, he is clearly not wearing his usual smile anymore.

  He places the cell phone in his pocket and walks back to the table, where he sits down across from me. His eyebrows are pulled together in a frown.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask.

  He nods. “Yes. It was my sist
er. She wants me to loan her five hundred dollars for my nephew who is in jail for the third time this year.”

  “It’s only May.”

  “Exactly! She thinks my initials are ATM. It’s hard being the only successful one in the family.”

  “I don’t really have much immediate family. I’ve got some second cousins down South, but my mama was an only child and so was I.”

  “You should be glad that you don’t have anyone hounding you with their problems.”

  I don’t say it, but I actually wouldn’t mind hearing about or helping with someone’s problems. If it wasn’t for my church family, I’d be incredibly lonely. Thank God for the Sister to Sister ministry.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Kingston nods while he stuffs some greasy fries into his mouth. “Shoot.”

  “What is your impression of Eva?”

  “The new sister at church?”

  “Yes. What do you think of her?”

  Kingston swallows and wipes the excess grease from his hands. “I don’t really know yet. She’s so quiet, but she seems friendly.”

  “She is. Do you sense anything else?”

  “No. Is this a test? Should I be discerning something about her? What are you trying to say?”

  “Do you find her attractive?”

  Kingston’s eyes widen. “So this is a test. I suppose she is an attractive woman, but I haven’t really thought about it one way or the other.”

  I wonder if Kingston or any other man could tell by the way Eva carries herself that she’s led a rather loose life. After she kissed me, I started to doubt my own discernment. But if there is some mark on her, some identifying evidence of her movies, then Kingston doesn’t see it, either.

  “She made a pass at me,” I say and wait for Kingston’s reaction.

  His jaw drops in shock. Then he quickly snaps his mouth closed, because it’s full of food. “Are you sure?”

  I nod. “She kissed me.”

  “Wow. What did you do? Throw some holy oil on her and recite some Bible verses?”