Part 11 (1/2)

Like now.

For once, I didn't have an appet.i.te, not even for the wings Mama used to shove in her purse like a crazy woman. Right now, even the tastiest wing couldn't compel me to chew. There's a first for everything.

”Dana.” Roch.e.l.le's voice was quiet as her friend guided his food-laden plate to the table. She spoke just above a whisper. ”Would you come to the bathroom with me?” She paused when I didn't respond. ”Please?”

I nodded, but moved cautiously, scrolling my chair along the carpet as I pulled it back. Maybe I should have eaten something.

”Come on,” Roch.e.l.le whispered into my shoulder, tugging my hand.

My eyes rested on the sundae bar. Adrian stood patiently in line, flas.h.i.+ng that aggravating smile. Jericho stood behind him, holding a small bowl like it was glued to his hand. Roch.e.l.le was right. I had to deal with her now-there were too many other folks waiting in line to mess with me.

The bathroom was a typical buffet restaurant sort, reeking of Pine-Sol, a trick I now employed in Tracey's absence to fool myself and any visitors. It was nice to smell something, I guess. I'd certainly never sniffed today coming. Tracey pregnant? Jordan back. And whatever this was with Roch.e.l.le.

Best to get it over with. ”Aren't you going to say anything?”

Roch.e.l.le checked her lipstick in the mirror. It was actually smudged. A piece of skin hung off her bottom lip. Amazing. ”You start.”

Me start? I didn't call me in here. ”I don't know where to start, Roch.e.l.le. It's all a mess to me.”

”You've got that much right. Let's begin with you getting up and chasing my son out of the church for one thing. That wasn't your place. I know you're his aunt, but this is a family matter-”

”Oh, I see. And just who is Jericho's family? Jordan, who has just met the boy? Or you, who've spent your whole life with him, but still don't know him?”

”Don't know my son? I know him better than he knows himself.” She clutched at the lime-and-purple scarf around her neck. I wanted to choke her with it.

Lord, help me.

”You've held that child for ransom, hoping that Jordan would come back and want him. Want you. Now it's all blown up in your face and you're mad because I wanted to comfort Jericho? I didn't see you doing anything-”

”I was ministering-” She rolled her eyes.

A snort rattled in my throat. ”Ministering, huh? Well so was I. Sometimes the most powerful ministry is to your own. Now are you done? 'Cause I've got some discussion items, too.”

Roch.e.l.le frowned. ”Wh-what?”

Obviously, this hadn't gone down the way she planned. Usually, I sat quietly while she put me in check, allowing her to bleed. Well, today I had a gusher of my own. ”Let's see...Jordan sending you money? You lying to me about it?”

She hung her head. ”I never told you where I got it. I wanted to, but your mother asked me not to...and when she died, I didn't know what to say. I am so sorry-”

”You should be. You and Mama both made Jordan into a monster. Now I find out he paid for my home? For your shop?”

”And yours, too.”

My muscles tensed. I tucked a braid behind my ear. My pantyhose slid over my calves and settled into two black silky pools just above my shoes.

She shook her head, going back into mother mode. ”So that's why you were walking like that?” She kneeled down and tugged at one of my pumps, pausing to express concern over the bad fit. ”Step out.”

I lifted one foot from my shoe while she pulled off my hose, and then the other, careful to be sure my feet never hit the less-than-clean floor. Goose b.u.mps pimpled my legs, but I was glad to be free. That Shemika was right. I'd have to soak for sure.

Roch.e.l.le stared at the tag before tossing them into the trash. ”Size B?” She paused, then nodded toward the door, and the man on the other side of it. ”You can be so ridiculous.”

My thoughts snapped to the human disposal back at our table. ”I can be ridiculous? What about the Purple People Eater out there? Those pants should be banned from public wear.”

She stifled a chuckle. ”Don't, okay? I know he's a little different, but he's nice. Really. And right now I just need someone to be nice to me.”

There it was, the bottom of the bucket, what this talk was really about. ”I'm sorry Jordan pulled that stunt today. I know how you must feel.”

”You can't know.” Roch.e.l.le stared at the floor, drawing my eyes to black-and-white tiles.

My heart skipped a beat. Anger shrilled in Roch.e.l.le's voice, but jealousy echoed just underneath it, mixed with something else. Love? No wonder she'd stayed in the choir stand. My brother had humiliated her all over again. I swallowed. ”I hate to ask this, but do you still have feelings for Jordan? Now, I mean?”

Her head snapped my way, but she didn't answer.

I didn't need her to. She loved him. While Mama had stirred a daily brew of resentment for us girls to drink, Roch.e.l.le had managed to hold on to her love? ”How could you?”

It wasn't what I meant to say. I meant to speak of grace and forgiveness. To tell her I loved her, that I understood...But my inner madness reared its head. It was okay for me to love my brother, but Roch.e.l.le loving him seemed another slap in the face. Another betrayal.

”This is not about you, Dane. It's about us.”

Us? Where was ”us” when the diapers had to be changed and the bottles warmed? Where was us when I stayed up all night with Jericho and went to school all day? ”It's about me, too.” What ”us” was she talking about anyway? The guy had shown up this morning with another woman and she didn't look like a friend.

”Just stay out of it, okay? The last of the money went to helping you with your shop. I invested some, used some for design school and to start the shoe shop.”

”I'll bet. I can't even afford an ankle strap in that place. I love how that Italian leather smells though....”

”Oh, Dana. You know I'll make you a pair whenever. I just hate making them and then you never wear them. It's a waste.”

”I don't wear them because you make them for you, not me.” Sort of like my life. Save her favorite lime strappies, Roch.e.l.le's idea of a cute shoe was chunky-heeled mules. No toes showing. I paid good money for my pedicures and I meant to make my toesies earn out every dime.

We stood quietly, contemplating following this safer tangent of conversation or diving back into the unexplored depths of our relations.h.i.+p-both with each other and with my brother. Neither option looked promising.

”Be right back.” I stumbled into one of the stalls behind us, trying to digest it all. Mama's place in the whole plot would require my singular attention later.

”Come out, will you? I know you're just standing in there.”

”So,” I whispered over the door, wis.h.i.+ng for once that she and Tracey didn't know me so well. My lifelong fear of public bathrooms wasn't exactly a secret, but only those two knew to what extremes my phobia ran.

”I truly am sorry. I have nothing to say for myself,” she said. Another stall clanged shut beside me, just the barrier between us, the walls around our hearts seemed to come down. ”Forgive me?”

”Of course I do.” I pulled back the stall door, wondering whether it was best to come out of this little truth booth. Can't hide forever. Can't hide forever. I stepped forward. ”So that's it? Nothing else you aren't telling me?” I stepped forward. ”So that's it? Nothing else you aren't telling me?”

Roch.e.l.le turned and walked to the sink. I followed, choosing the basin beside her. ”There's more.” Her words were close, almost brus.h.i.+ng my face.

G.o.d, You're really pulling out the stops, huh?

Tracey's presence would have been wonderful right now. The baby thing brushed against my mind, but I pushed it back into the box where I'd locked it. This was no time to trade secrets.