A Forever Kind of Love (Kimani Romance) (4 page)

“She should be home tomorrow. Monday at the latest,” Mya said.

“I knew something was wrong when she didn’t show up for her hair appointment this morning, especially since she knew her new wig was in. She’s been waiting for it for over a month. Deena is finishing it up right now.”

Mya spotted the young girl standing before the mannequin, a comb in one hand, a spray bottle in the other. She spritzed the salt-and-pepper wig and teased the tight curls out of their stubborn position.

“She’s laid up in a hospital bed. You would think she’d have other things on her mind,” Mya said.

“When the new wig she’s been waiting for is at my shop?” Claudette looked at her as if she were crazy. “That New York air has addled your mind, girl. I’m surprised Eloise didn’t order the paramedics to swing by on their way to the hospital.”

“If she were conscious, believe me, she would have.” Mya laughed.

Deena came over with her grandmother’s new wig, and Mya thanked her with a ten-dollar tip.

“You tell Eloise I’ll try to get over to the house once they let her out of that hospital,” Claudette said. “And tell her not to worry about the meeting Monday night. I’ll make sure Margery doesn’t go overboard.”

“You all have a deaconess board meeting?” Mya asked.

“No, that’s on Wednesday nights,” Claudette said. “This is for the civic association. A group of us started it a couple of years ago. Your grandmother is head of the committee for the town’s 175th-year celebration. She didn’t tell you?”

Mya shook her head. “We haven’t had much time to talk about anything outside of Granddad’s funeral.”

Claudette’s smile sobered.

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate you keeping Mrs. Margery in line,” Mya said. “It was good seeing you again, Claudette.”

“You too, honey.” Claudette winked as she returned to her customer.

Mya left the beauty shop and climbed back into the car, careful not to smash the curls as she placed the freshly styled wig on the passenger seat. She put the key in the ignition, but her hand halted when she looked up and saw the pharmacy in the rearview mirror. She got out of the car and, with a quick glance from left to right, crossed the two-way street and took a step back in time.

The same bell that had hung above the door when she’d last walked out of it chimed Mya’s entrance into the pharmacy. She’d worked the entire summer before her senior year, her plans for leaving Gauthier already firm in her mind. She’d saved up enough for first and last month’s rent and a plane ticket out of town.

The store hadn’t changed a bit. Next to the door was a hat and umbrella stand, and directly across from the front entrance was a display of the handmade soaps and lotions Mrs. Landry, the pharmacist’s wife, made in her kitchen. Mya picked up four bars of lemon verbena. God, that scent brought back memories.

She strolled down the aisle, picking up a few toiletries, extra moisturizer and a razor. Since she’d planned to be in Gauthier for only a couple of days she hadn’t bothered to bring most of this stuff.

Mya took her purchases to the counter, but stopped short as she noticed the woman standing behind the counter.

“Shelly?” Mya asked with a tentative step forward.

The woman blinked several times. “Mya? Oh, my goodness. How are you, girl?”

“I’m fine,” Mya said, trying to suppress the shock in her voice. “How are you doing?” Though what she really wanted to ask was “What are you doing?”

Shelly Hunt had graduated valedictorian of their high school class. Granted, it was a class of only seventy-eight students, but even so, Shelly had been destined for great things. She’d received full-ride scholarships to several universities. What was she doing working behind the counter at the pharmacy? Unless she’d bought it? Maybe she’d become a pharmacist?

Please, let that be the case
.

“So, did Dr. Landry finally retire?” Mya asked, placing her items on the counter.

“Yeah, right. That man doesn’t know what retirement means.” Shelly laughed. “He’s having lunch over at Emile’s.” She rang up the soap. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t make your grandfather’s funeral yesterday. I had to take my youngest to the doctor. Turned out to be just a stomach bug, but you never know with the little ones. You have any kids?” Shelly asked.

Mya shook her head. “Nope, it’s just me.”

“Sometimes I wish.” Shelly grinned as she handed Mya the bag. “I have three. My oldest is trying out for the varsity baseball team, so if you talk to Corey, tell him to take it easy on my baby.”

“I will,” Mya said. “How old is he?”

“Almost fifteen,” Shelly answered.

“Wow, so you were pregnant when we graduated? I had no clue.”

“No one did, until the truth got too hard to hide.” Shelly chuckled, making a rounding motion over her belly. “I had Devon that September.”

“All this time I thought you’d started at Dillard University the fall after we graduated,” Mya said.

“I tried after Devon was born, but then I got pregnant with Angelica.” Shelly shrugged. “It just never worked out, and eventually they pulled the scholarship they offered me.”

Mya’s heart lurched at the regret that flashed across Shelly’s face. “Well, you know what they say, ‘It’s never too late.’ ”

“Yeah, right.” Shelly waved off the idea. “Can you imagine me in someone’s classroom? I’ll just make sure my little ones go on to college. Besides, Dr. Landry couldn’t run this place without me.”

“You’re probably right. I remember how scatterbrained he could be.” They shared a laugh. “Well, it was great seeing you again, Shelly.”

“You, too.”

By the time she walked out of the door, Mya could hardly breathe, so haunted was she by the fate she’d managed to escape. It was a travesty that someone with so much promise could end up working as the checkout girl at a small-town pharmacy.

That could have been you,
a voice whispered in her head.

As she drove back to the hospital, Mya tried to imagine what her life would have been like if she had remained in Gauthier. The thought was so disturbing her mind refused to conjure a single image. Instead, a picture of her two-story Brooklyn apartment, with its exposed-brick walls, hardwood floors and view of lower Manhattan, traced across her mind’s eye. She visualized the diverse faces she passed as she went about her day in the city. The hodgepodge of ethnicities and cultures that had added such richness to her life was the antithesis of these same faces from her childhood.

Thank God this place hadn’t managed to get its hooks into her.

As the thought floated through her mind, Mya felt an uncomfortable mixture of shame and guilt stir in the pit of her stomach. It was unfair to lay all the blame at the town’s feet. Her actions fifteen years ago made her just as culpable in the trap that had nearly snared her.

Mya pulled into the parking lot and, grabbing her grandmother’s wig from the front seat, made her way to her grandmother’s hospital room. She learned that Grandma had been moved to another room on the hospital’s west side. Following the signs in the white, sterile hallways, Mya found her grandmother’s room.

She tapped lightly on the partially open door as she entered. “Knock, knock,” she called. The room was outfitted in much the same way as the previous one, but instead of two beds, the other half of the room contained two reclining chairs and a small table.

“Bring me my hair,” her grandmother said.

She walked over to the bed and handed her grandmother the wig. “Why did they have to move you?” Mya asked.

“They didn’t
have
to move her,” Aunt Mo drawled, coming out of the bathroom that Mya hadn’t noticed tucked behind the door. “But putting her in a private room was easier than arguing with her.”

“Are you making trouble already?” Mya gave her grandmother a stern look.

“My roommate snored,” she answered, fluffing the wig’s tight curls. “It looks even better in person. Here, help me get this on.”

Mya removed the hairpins and lifted the old wig from her grandmother’s head, replacing it with the one she’d just brought. “Claudette hasn’t changed a bit,” she laughed, tucking a curl behind her grandmother’s ear.

“Did you expect her to? She’s been the same way since we were in the sixth grade,” her grandmother answered.

Mya chuckled. “She said something about a meeting Monday night?”

“Oh, dammit,” Grandma cursed.

“Mama!” Aunt Mo screeched.

“Oh, calm down, Maureen. You’d think she’s never heard a dirty word before,” her grandmother griped. “They’ve got to let me out of this hospital. I need to be at that meeting Monday night.”

“That’s up to your doctor,” Mya said. “Claudette said you’re in charge of some celebration committee?”

Her grandmother straightened her shoulders. “I’m chairing the committee for the town’s 175th-year anniversary and the downtown revitalization project, which
some
people think is a waste of time.”

“She means Margery,” Aunt Mo said.

“I don’t care what Margery thinks. We need to do something,” her grandmother argued.

Mya folded her arms across her chest. “Grandma, what are you up to?”

“It’s not just me,” she said with an affronted pout. She pointed an accusing finger at Mya’s chest. “It’s that darn outlet mall in Maplesville that’s causing problems. That’s where everyone shops now, and what’s worse, the people who built the outlet mall have their sights set on Main Street. They’re trying to bring in one of those big-box stores. Can you imagine what would happen to the businesses on Main if they had to compete with a huge national chain?”

“So you came up with the idea for an anniversary celebration?”

“Yes.” Her grandmother nodded. “We figure the celebration will draw people back to Main Street and show those developers that we don’t need some megastore moving in. But how am I supposed to get any work done laid up in this hospital bed?”

“Should have thought about that when you ate all that cake yesterday,” Maureen said.

“Would you take her back to New York with you?” Grandma asked.

“I’m not sure New York can handle Aunt Mo for more than a week at a time.” Mya laughed. “Besides, I’m not going back just yet. I’m going to stay for a few days, just to make sure you’re okay.”

The grateful smile that came over her grandmother’s face sent a bolt of shame careening through Mya’s chest. Her decision to remain in town an extra couple of days should not have been a big deal, but her grandmother’s joy at the announcement spoke a truth that was hard for Mya to face.

If her grandmother had expected her to leave while she was lying in a hospital bed, Mya must be just a step above Elizabeth in Grandma’s eyes.

“I have a wonderful idea.” Her grandmother squeezed her hand. “You can go to the meeting in my place Monday night!”

A tight ball of
Please, don’t make me!
ricocheted against the walls of Mya’s chest. It’s not as if she had plans for the time she would spend in Gauthier—she wasn’t even supposed to
be
in Gauthier this long. But Mya could think of a thousand things she’d rather do than spend a Monday night with a group of her grandmother’s contemporaries.

“Grandma...” Mya groaned.

“Oh, Mya, please. We only have a month left, and there’s so much work to do. I need to know what they talk about.”

“But Claudette said she’ll let you know,” she tried.

Her grandmother waved her off. “Claudette hardly pays attention. She’s always too busy gossiping, as if she doesn’t do enough of that in her shop all day.”

Mya stared at the instruments above the bed so she wouldn’t have to see the entreaty on her grandmother’s face.

“If you don’t go, I’ll just have to go myself. I’ll drag all these machines with me if I have to. And if I happen to pass out again...” She shrugged her shoulders.

“You are
so
not playing fair right now,” Mya accused her. “Aunt Mo, tell her.” Mya looked to her aunt for support, but Maureen kept her eyes on the crossword puzzle in her hands. Mya noticed the faint smile tipping up the corner of her lips.

She shook her head, accepting defeat. “Fine,” Mya said. “I’ll go to the meeting.”

Her grandmother reached over and patted her hand. “I knew you’d do the right thing. Now, go to the house and look on the bureau in my room. I have a green binder with all my notes. You need to look over them before the meeting. And don’t you let Clementine Washington bring up that magic show again. I told that woman nobody is going to come downtown to see her grandson perform magic tricks. He’s not that good anyway.”

“No magic,” Mya said with a sharp nod.

“And take out that corn bread casserole I have in the freezer for dinner tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about dinner.” Mya brushed off her suggestion. “I’ll probably just open a can of soup and make a sandwich.”

“Corey will not be satisfied with soup and a sandwich.”

“Why do I have to worry about what he wants?”

“Because he always comes over for Sunday dinner,” her grandmother answered, as if having the boy she once ran off her porch with a broomstick over for dinner was no big deal. Apparently, it
wasn’t
a big deal to anyone but Mya.

This new dynamic between her family and Corey was hard to comprehend.

“Mama, Corey knows you’re in the hospital. I doubt he’s expecting Sunday dinner,” Maureen reasoned.

“Just to be on the safe side, you take out that casserole and cook some greens to go with it. You remember how to make greens, don’t you?” Her grandmother asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Mya answered. Though she wasn’t about to cook greens or anything else for Corey. She placed a kiss on her grandmother’s forehead. “Don’t worry about anything at the house, or at the meeting. You just concentrate on getting better. And don’t give the hospital staff a hard time.”

Aunt Mo huffed a laugh.

“Oh, shut up, Maureen,” her grandmother said. “Will I see you tomorrow?” she asked Mya. “After you go to church, of course,” she added.

Mya groaned but nodded before leaving the hospital room. She called her best friend from high school, Phylicia Phillips, who happened to be ten minutes away. Phylicia arrived in a blue pickup, a magnetic sign publicizing Phillips’ Home Restoration on the door.