Part 15 (1/2)

He wasn't going to get it. I crossed my arms, s.h.i.+elding myself from the horrible memory of the last time I'd seen him in her arms. The hurt that sent me screaming into Broken Bread Christian Fellows.h.i.+p, where I'd played church for years, singing solos on Sunday while living a torrid duet during the week. I had one prayer that day-that Jesus would forgive me for the mess I'd let Trevor talk me into and that He'd make me strong enough not to do it again.

Watching Trev's muscles ripple under his usual skin tight black T-s.h.i.+rt and knowing without looking he had on black Timberland boots and Levi's b.u.t.ton fly jeans, I felt a deep, low ache in my gut. Not for Trev, but for what I'd once felt for him. Love. Would I ever have it again?

From the look on his face, he certainly thought so, but his brain lay far south of the usual location. As if reading my mind, he shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it on the counter. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn't sing to me. Hearing him on the radio was bad enough. How convenient that he'd finally made a hit after those years I'd supported him. He pulled up one sleeve, revealing a fist-size rose with four letters arched around it.

Dana.

”Remember this?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow.

I pinched my eyes shut at the sight of the tattoo. I remembered it, and a lot more. All things I was ashamed of now. My knuckles gripped the display case as I tried to wash away the recollections with my raggedy prayers. Though G.o.d had forgiven it all, I hadn't forgotten it. And that was a punishment in itself.

”Yeah, Trev. I remember it. Are you buying today? Because if not, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

I stared at the door, praying for Dad to stop by for a loan, for Tangela to call about that stupid wedding, anything...

”So it's like that, Dane?” Minty breath warmed my neck, he leaned over so far.

I swallowed hard, my mind skipping over the scriptures so often on my tongue, trying to get one of them to speak up against this madness. My mind and mouth remained silent. Only the wall of muscle hovering over me spoke in the language I knew best, where sentences were formed with scents and smells. This aroma, a precise mix of patchouli and sandalwood, almost toppled me off my trainers.

Man in a bag. My next best seller after Vanilla Smella. Surely he hadn't kept his bottle after all this time? His lips brushed against my cheek, ripping me from my reverie.

I recoiled as if I'd been bit by a snake. In a manner of sorts, I had.

You are all together lovely. And you're mine. Resist the devil and He will flee from you...

It was nice to know that G.o.d was still there cheering for me, as suddenly that spiritual undergirding I'd been skittering for flooded my being.

I pulled my mind together, past my shame and hurt, past Trevor's fine body and intoxicating scent, and stepped toward the front door to escort him out. Before I could, the bell chimed. In walked a woman wearing skintight white leather, trimmed in fur. And if I knew her like I thought I did, not much underneath.

Dahlia. And she wasn't alone. A little girl with pigtails sticking up like donkey's ears held to my sister's hand. The child had eyes like saucers.

Trevor's eyes.

Tears threatened as I estimated her age. Just when I thought n.o.body could hurt me any worse, Dahlia had to prove me wrong.

”Nice store, Dane,” she said, purring like a cat, with that usual fake diva tone.

My chest heaved as I tried to think, to see past that little girl's eyes.

My sister picked up a bottle of coconut verbena lotion, and took a long sniff. ”Not bad.” Her eyes focused on me instead of the bottle.

I turned away. I'd drowned in her gaze enough times to know there wasn't any water at the bottom of those sable pools. Those eyes were just gla.s.s windows...to a rock-hard heart. Those two were perfect for each other.

Trevor took the lotion. ”It's great, isn't it? Look how she's got the bar going for the masks, and the bath bombs stacked up like that-”

”It's just grand,” Dahlia said, tossing the lotion back on the pile. ”But you always were grand, weren't you, Aunt Aunt Dana?” She smiled down at the little girl, who eyed the strawberries with longing. Dana?” She smiled down at the little girl, who eyed the strawberries with longing.

I swallowed back years of pain, thankful when no bitterness washed up in my throat. What was done was done. I walked over and grabbed a few strawberries I'd cleaned this morning and handed them to the little girl. My niece. She gobbled it happily as I turned back to her mother, the sister I'd spent the last few years trying to forget.

”Thanks, Dahlia. But trying to be grand-” I righted the lotion in the display ”-is your job.”

”Why did you let her see you looking like this? Man, Dana, you just don't care, do you?”

It was my cousin Lynn talking. My no-job-having-always-borrowing-something-even-though-she-has-money cousin. I looked down at my soap-splashed shoes and my Wonderfully Made sweats.h.i.+rt, pitted from a fragrance oil spill this morning. My smock had taken the brunt of it.

Not that any of the women in my family would understand, especially Dahlia, the fair flower who'd just left with the man she stole from me-though he was never really mine-three hundred dollars worth of product and their love child. The word free free had never pa.s.sed her lips. When it came to Dahlia, your money was always safe. Your man? Well...My premature birth allowed Dahlia to be conceived and she took that as a cue to help herself to the rest of my goods. had never pa.s.sed her lips. When it came to Dahlia, your money was always safe. Your man? Well...My premature birth allowed Dahlia to be conceived and she took that as a cue to help herself to the rest of my goods.

I watched as my three cousins and my aunt, all on my father's side, rummaged through my shelves. After Jordan skipped town all those years ago, this crew had made themselves scarce, but since my grand opening, they were becoming a weekly effect. I pinched my eyes shut, hoping Dahlia didn't plan to adopt that trend.

No. She and Trevor would never stay in Leverhill. I had that at least on my side.

I might not look perfect, like Lynn and Page in their cute seventies outfits, or sophisticated, like Aunt Cheryl in her sharp pantsuits, but at least I paid my own way. And I cleaned up good when I had the time. ”Dahlia saw me like she saw me. I wasn't expecting her.” Or him. ”This is my uniform-”

”That tired outfit? Dana, please. You need to-”

”Let's not tell each other what we need to do, okay? We could all do to make some better choices.” So my little sweats.h.i.+rt with the store logo wasn't the hottest thing going. Good enough for me. Being good enough for them was out of the question.

”You could use a little makeover yourself,” I said. She was looking a little thicker around the middle than usual. Even thicker than me. Maybe middle age had finally caught up to her.

My aunt decided to step in here. Telling Lynn the truth about anything is specifically off-limits, her being the special child and all. As I kid playing with these two, I'd been convinced I was abandoned by some other species, but a trip to the courthouse for my birth certificate told the torturous truth-I was related to these people.

”Dana, don't talk to your cousin that way. And don't be so defensive about your appearance. You're both beautiful girls.”

I looked down at my hips and over at Lynn's widening form. Booty-full was more like it. Now with Dahlia back in town, looking like my twin minus forty pounds, I felt especially unhungry. Looking at Lynn quieted my growling stomach, too. Ole girl was looking straight plump. And a little ill maybe? Her eyes looked gla.s.sy, yellow. Best to leave it and pray for her later, I thought, mentally adding her to the list of my own problems. Like a store full of folks racking my brain without buying anything.

”Well, what do you lovely ladies need this morning? I have choir rehearsal and then I have to come back and open up at noon.”

Page, my next oldest cousin, who'd sat at the facial bar silently through all the conversation, cleared her throat. ”Can you hook me up with a mask? Strawberry-banana. And a Vanilla Smella pack for tonight. We're going out.”

She checked her face in the mirror, smiled and turned to me with those pretty lips of hers, covered as usual in 3-D s.h.i.+ne. Sometimes I wondered if that was gloss or Crisco. Rubber cement, maybe? I'd tried to get her on my natural lip balm, but she always went back to an inch of that goo.

”I'll take a gift pack, too,” Lynn said. ”But I still want to know about Dahlia. Did she tell you-”

”Look. I've got to go.” I grabbed up my keys and covered down the containers of fruit on the face bar and checked the level of the ice. It would keep fine until I returned to replenish it. ”Here, Aunt Cheryl.” I handed my aunt a gift pack of Vanilla Smella-lotion, shower gel and body mist. ”Share if you want to. The two of you, if you're not buying, you're not getting. I told you last time, freebies are over.”

Page tooted her lips out like when we were kids. Never could take no, that one. ”Uh-huh. Look at her. Running off to church and won't even see to her family. Some Christian you are. Just like Roch.e.l.le. You're all alike.”

At the mention of my friend, I spun around. The cousins had always blamed Roch.e.l.le for scaring Jordan off with all her talk of marriage. Why couldn't Roch.e.l.le just be a lifetime girlfriend like everyone else? Wasn't getting paid good enough for her? The problem was all of them were looking for their own cut of the pie. ”Look. I've been giving you guys stuff for years. I can't do it anymore. I've got to make this place work. Do I ask you to do my nails for free, Page? Or give me a free hairdo?”

”I wish you would. I'd be glad to-”

”Just answer the question.”

Lynn cut in. ”That's not the point, Dana. You can't compare that with, well-” she looked around ”-this.”

There it was again. No respect. Everybody wanted to use my stuff, but n.o.body wanted to admit that it took any effort or thought to do it. ”This is what I do. Not much to you, I'm sure, Miss Lawyer who works when she wants to, but I don't have any big cases to live off of, no rich husbands to pay my-”