Saving raine, p.14
Saving Raine, page 14
Girl, you’ve always been a sucker for a good smile.
“You look great yourself. That blue dress goes well with your eyes. You must be headed to work.”
No, I wore this dress for you.
“Funny thing about work. I received an email this morning that there was a water leak. So now the office won’t be ready for weeks. But I’m going to go by to check on things myself.”
That’s partially true. I’m going to drop by. Just not today.
“I can give you a lift if you like.”
“You look like you’re headed to teach a class this morning. I wouldn’t want to hold you up.”
“The students are out for the summer, but I was going to stop by the school.”
And you always wear a suit that looks like it was tailor-made, just to stop by the school?
I reach into my purse and pull out his wallet. “Before I forget. Here you go.”
“Thanks,” he says, and then pauses. “I want to apologize for last night.”
“Yes, what was that all about?”
He reaches over, placing his hand on top of mine, the warmth of his skin melting into mine.
“I like you, Raine, and I thought we were connecting, but when you called my sister over, I took that to mean you weren’t interested.”
“I am interested and like you as well, but…”
“But you want to take things slow,” he says, finishing my sentence. “I didn’t mean to scare you off by stating that I’d make a good boyfriend.”
“You have to understand, I haven’t had a boyfriend in twenty years. And I’m…”
I feel his thumb making a gentle circle on my hand.
“Leaving in a year. I know.”
“A year and some weeks now, it seems.”
“Look, I’ll take whatever time with you I can get. I’m willing to see if this can be something, and if in a year and a few weeks from now, you decide to go back to Paris, we’ll cross that bridge then. Let’s just see how things pan out.”
“That’s a mighty long bridge to cross.”
“And perilous!” He winks at me, melting my heart. “But if we’re on the other side of it, I’d say it was worth the journey.”
Our hands fit perfectly together. Natural, even. But everything fits perfectly in the beginning. It did with James. Still, I can feel the door opening. Although slowly.
“Let’s just spend some time together. We’ll leave the ‘boyfriend’ discussion off the table for now,” he says with yet another wink. “How does that sound to you?”
“I’ll answer that question, but only after you answer a question for me first.”
His eyebrows rise.
“Did you intentionally put on that suit so I could see how handsome you are in it?”
“Ms. Jamerson. Are you insinuating I made this effort for you? That’s preposterous.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“Well, okay, maybe… Did it work?”
“Of course not,” I say, winking back.
He pulls my hand up to his lips and places a soft kiss on it. “So, are we starting over?”
“Yes, we’re starting over.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I FEEL LIKE A girl going on her first date as I slide into a pair of open-toed gold heels. Only this isn’t our first date. It’s our fourth in two weeks.
Donovan wouldn’t tell me where we’re going, only to wear something nice. So, I decided to wear a handkerchief-style dress that hits just below the knees. Nice and flowy in a soft white summer fabric. A little drape in the back, but not too much, just enough to do what it needs to, as Jasmine used to say.
I feel my fingers shake as I slide on a pair of gold earrings.
Why are you so nervous?
We’re dressing up.
That takes things up a notch, doesn’t it?
I pull out a nude lipstick, and then put it back.
Girl, do the red. If he’s taking things up a notch, shouldn’t you?
Glancing at myself in the mirror, I’m glad that I decided to pin my hair to the side so that it drapes nicely down my right shoulder.
The ruby red lipstick stares back at me.
Is it too much?
There’s a sudden ping from my phone, so I grab it and see a text from Donovan.
I’ll be there in five minutes.
Okay. I’ll head down.
I grab my gold clutch and phone and then make my way toward the front door.
My phone rings again and I hit the answer button. “Okay, I’m ready, I promise. I’m walking out the door now.”
“Raine? Raine, it’s Vicky. Sounds like I caught you on your way somewhere.”
I freeze, my heartbeat speeding up.
“Vicky,” I say, hoping she can’t hear the shakiness in my voice. “Yes, I was heading out.”
We both pause, allowing a moment of not speaking to exist.
“How are you and Jack doing?” I finally say. It sounds forced, awkward, hanging limp in the air because neither of us seems to know how to move to the next part of the conversation.
“Jack and I are okay. We were in the Alpharetta area a couple of nights ago on our way to visit some friends, and Jack swore he saw you walking into a building with condos in it. Your hair was different, he says, but he was sure it was you. I said that surely it can’t have been you, but he was adamant. So, was he right? Are you living in the Alpharetta area now?”
“I’m here for work, but I actually live in Paris now.”
“How long have you been back in Georgia?”
I can’t tell her I’ve been in town for weeks and haven’t called or gone to see them. “It hasn’t been long,” I say with hesitation.
“I see,” she says. I can hear the disappointment in her voice. “Well, Jack and I would love to see you while you’re here. It’s been so long. I’ve been calling. I thought maybe you had a new number or something. But it’s so good to finally hear your voice again.”
My knees tremble.
“I’m sorry,” is all I can say.
“I’m not calling to scold you. You’re like a daughter to us. We want to see you.”
“I know.”
“Raine, she’s been gone five years. We miss her too, but surely—”
“I’m sorry, Vicky. I can’t talk about this right now.”
A tear falls down my face.
“Will you promise to call me back?”
“I’ll try.”
Try. That sounds glib and disingenuous.
“Please do. There’s something that Jack and I would like to talk to you about.”
“I’ll try to call you back, but I really have to go right now.”
“Okay.”
“Tell Jack I said hello.”
I hit the end call button quickly, and for a moment, I wanted to throw my phone across the dark hardwood floors that the kitchen floors were made to match perfectly.
But instead, I open up my text app.
Donovan, I’m sorry, I got a call that took a minute. Can you give me five minutes or so?
No problem. Want me to come up?
No. I’ll be down in a few. I promise.
Promise.
I hate that I couldn’t use that word with Vicky.
Chapter Forty
“YOU LOOK AMAZING,” DONOVAN says as I walk toward him.
“Thank you. You look nice as well. That black suit looks like it was custom-made for you. You must have an amazing tailor.”
“Tony is my tailor, and yes, he is amazing. He’s been tailoring my suits for years.” I can see him studying my face, and I try hard to hide what I’m feeling inside.
Shame.
“Everything okay?”
“I would tell you yes, but you’re a psychotherapist, so you’d know I’m lying.”
He chuckles. “I see I’ve finally graduated from shrink.” He places a finger on my cheek and our eyes say good evening to each other. “Seriously, how can I help?”
Can you call Vicky back for me? Can you explain to her and Jack why I’ve avoided their calls for the last five years? Can you look them in the eyes for me and tell them that I can’t do the same because all I would see is the eyes of my dead best friend staring back at me?
Can you do that for me?
“I wish you could help me, but I’ve been running away from something that I’m afraid is no longer going to let me hide from it.”
“Hey. We don’t have to go out tonight, okay? How about we just stay in and just talk? I’ve been told that I’m a pretty good listener. We can always arrange something for another night.”
I give him a soft tap on the shoulder. “You’re a shrink. You’re supposed to be a pretty good listener. Besides, I didn’t wear this ruby red lipstick for nothing.”
He leans over and kisses me lightly. “No, you sure didn’t.”
“Well, I feel much better now. You have that effect on me.”
He kisses me again. Our eyes close as we each linger in the moment.
“Are you going to tell me where it is we’re going?”
“Salsa dancing,” he says, stepping back and then opening the passenger door for me.
“I’ve never been salsa dancing,” I say excitedly as I slide in, allowing one leg to show for a moment before he closes my door.
I look up at him and see that he’s blushing.
Nice payback.
“There’s this great family-owned restaurant called Mary’s Place that has a dance floor,” he says as his skin returns to its natural color.
I try not to grin but can’t help it when he wipes his forehead.
“On the first Saturday of the month, they bring in a live salsa band.”
“You know, your sister gave me the impression that you were…”
“On the boring side? Staid?”
“Something like that,” I say as we pull out into traffic. “But so far, we’ve been to listen to a band in the park do a tribute to Stevie Wonder, then we went white water rafting. On our third date, you took me to this old-time ice cream parlor and a jazz concert, and now we’re going dancing.”
“So, what you’re really saying is that this shrink isn’t boring?”
I reach over and give him a playful pinch. “Psychotherapist.”
“Look at that, I’ve graduated again.”
“Well, that depends on how well this salsa night turns out.”
“Oh, I plan on it turning out great.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“I don’t mean it like that. Trust me, I’m an old-school kind of guy in that area, but you’re not making it easy.” He glances over at me, and I smile. “What I meant is that I plan on using the dance floor to keep you in my arms all night long.”
“Is that right?”
“It is, but now that I think about it, I’m not sure you’re going to be able to keep up with me on that dance floor,” he says with a grin as we hit the expressway. “I am an excellent dancer and salsa can take some time to learn.”
“Don’t you worry, I’m sure I’ll catch on pretty quick.”
Chapter Forty-One
I ROLL THE WINDOW down as Donovan moves through traffic. The wind will probably mess up my hair, but I don’t care, needing a little wind in my life right now. I close my eyes, and I remember that time Jasmine and I were heading to Orlando in my father’s bright red Cadillac.
The breeze was perfect for two girls who thought the world of Disney would bring them as much joy and fun as the wind did upon our skin that day.
Man, I miss her so much. I still can’t believe she’s gone.
I wish she were here so I could tell her about these last couple of weeks with Donovan. She would have been so happy for me.
“What’s on your mind over there?”
I open my eyes slowly. “Just thinking about a time when life seemed so much simpler.”
“You sure you want to go tonight?”
I look over at him. “I’m positive, besides, I can’t have you thinking I can’t keep up with you on the dance floor now, can I?”
He smiles and even in the moonlight, I can see his dimple emerge, comforting to me for some reason. “How do you know how to salsa anyway?” I ask as we move off the expressway.
“Ruthie taught me.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“She was a woman of many talents. Being an exceptional receptionist and gardener was just a few of them.”
“It seems we’re both thinking about the ones we’ve lost tonight.”
He reaches over and places my hand inside his, giving it a squeeze.
“I can’t wait for you to see this place.”
“I can’t wait to see it as well. How many times have you been there?”
He glances over at me. “If you’re asking if I’ve brought other women here—I’ve been here with other women.”
“A lot of them?”
“If Ruthie, my sister, and my mother count as a lot, then, yes.”
I laugh. “I didn’t see that one coming.”
“It’s Ruthie’s sister Mary who owns it now, but it was Mary’s husband John who first opened it as a family-owned restaurant in New York, around the late sixties. He was born in New York, but I believe his father was Cuban and his mother is from Puerto Rico. John’s parents blended their cooking and dancing styles, then taught everything to John.”
“I bet the food his parents taught him to make was amazing.”
“On the menu tonight, you’ll see that one side has a few custom dishes from John’s parents, and the other has some of Mary’s family favorites, including items such as collard greens and the best peach cobbler you could ever experience in the South.”
“Nice. So how did salsa dancing come into it?”
“Next to the restaurant in New York, there was an empty space, so ten years later, after marrying Mary, they opened up a dance studio that taught salsa, the mambo, and even tap.
“When John and Mary moved here to Georgia in the early eighties, they opened the place we’re headed to. It was big enough for both a restaurant and a dance studio. After John passed away, Mary renamed the restaurant, turning the studio space into the dance area there today.”
“So, they only have the dance area open on the first Saturday of the month?”
“For salsa, yes. But that’s because they fill the rest of the month with the mambo, swing, and tap.”
“Swing? Are you serious?”
“I am. It’s a ton of fun. Briana loves it.”
“This place sounds special.”
He glances over at me again. “This place is very special to me. I promised Ruthie that if I found someone I thought was special, I would bring her here.”
Our eyes lock for a second, the sounds of passing cars drowned out. I reach over and place my hand on his shoulder. “So, you think I’m special?”
“To be honest, when I met you at that Waffle House, I thought so.”
All this time?
My heart skips a beat.
Chapter Forty-Two
I’M IN LOVE WITH this place.
This place that’s full of history.
I’m in love with its vibes, its rhythm. Its uniqueness.
I love the way the sound of laughter spreads table to table as people engage in conversations, also in food that smells amazing.
I love the smiles so full of life and happiness.
In fact, a smile has completely taken over Donovan’s face as he watches me take it all in.
“Welcome to Mary’s Place,” he says.
“It’s packed,” I say as a waitress rushes by, holding a tray filled with desserts that would make any mouth water.
He looks around. “It is. It’s always packed. Follow me.”
He grabs my hand and I follow him to a table marked “reserved.”
“To me, this is the best table in the house. You can see everyone from here.”
I slide into the booth and look around again.
To our right, there’s a family enjoying a piece of chocolate cake. The little boy gets a little of the frosting on his nose and the mother reaches over to smear it all over his face. They each laugh and I find myself giggling and enjoying their moment.
On our left, a man and a woman sit engaged in a conversation. But what I notice even more is the look in his eyes as he listens to her talk.
Donovan reaches over the table and lays his hand on top of mine. “Look down at the table,” he says. “What do you see?”
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” I say as my fingers trace the outlines of a man and a wooden box carved into the top of the table.
He picks up a card from a metal holder. “Read this,” he says, handing it to me.
I take the card from him and as I read the story of Henry Brown, a man who mailed himself to freedom using a three-by-two-foot box, and I find myself wanting to cry.
“Are all of the tables done like this?”
Donovan reaches over and wipes a tear away from my cheek. “They are. John wasn’t just a great cook. He enjoyed carving the stories of history into the wood of each table. He carved a different story on the top of every table you see. It took him years to finish them all. Mary had cards made up and placed them on each one.
“People love the tables. They feel like when they come here to eat, they aren’t just getting good food but going back in time, a chance to live the journey of those who made history.”
“And experience something special,” I say.
“Exactly. Look over there.”
My eyes follow his pointed finger to a board on the wall.
“They use that board to help people remember where they last sat. That way, every time they come back, they get a different table and get to complete the journey. Once you’ve finished the board, you can purchase a T-shirt that says, ‘I’ve journeyed into history.’”
