A Good Excuse To Be Bad (4 page)

He looked so pitiful, while his hand fit strong and snug around my arm.

I huffed. “No need to apologize. I am what I am.”

“You shouldn't feel ashamed of being a single mother.”

“No, I'm ashamed of my pride. It clouds my judgment sometimes.”

“Well, I have a habit of sticking my nose in places it doesn't belong.” He raised his niece's letter. “So now you've discovered my vice.”

“It's fine, as long as you know my rates aren't cheap.”

“Even for your pastor?”

“No, but for Justus, yes.”

I sat back down. I reached for my bag and pulled out a composition book small enough to fit in my hand and my favorite wacky pen of the moment. Last month, I found a sweetie-pie fat pen designed with a wild-haired, green-eyed, tongue-wagging man's face on the front. It made Bella laugh.

I clicked on it and opened my book. “Tell me about Kelly.”

Justus wrinkled his brows and stared at something on me.

I tried to see what it was until I clicked my funky pen again.

He raised his eyebrow, chuckled, and sat back. “She's sneaking out of the house at late hours to meet a guy.”

“She lives with you?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Trish, my younger sister, Kelly, my niece, and the twins . . . boys.”

“Wow.” I muttered, “I'm a twin, too,” under my breath. Wasn't sure if I should reveal that.

“Right.” He looked away. “My brother-in-law is in Iraq. My sister just opened a bakery in Edgewood. She's overwhelmed, so I thought I would help her out until Mike returns. Mike's her husband.”

“How honorable, but I'm sensing that you're not too enthusiastic about your family arrangements.”

“I can't complain. It is what it is. I'm just grateful I can help her.”

At this point, I felt like a big doofus jerk. No one at church had spoken about his sister or his full house. I couldn't live with myself if I made him pay me full price. If I weren't so broke, I wouldn't charge him at all.

I smiled. “I guess I'll give you a discount, since I didn't see that one coming.”

“You're an angel, literally.” He leaned toward me as if he were going to hug me again, but he stopped and laid his hands over mine. His hand hug felt just as good.

I slid my hands from his hold. “You're very touchy-feely.”

“Usually I'm not, but with you . . .” He chuckled and scratched his head. “Not like this. Maybe I'm relieved that someone of your caliber is willing to help me with this delicate situation.”

“You might not think so after what I have to say.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your niece. She's at that age. You know? First love. She's missing her dad, probably angry that her mom moved in with you. Different school, right? She's probably milking you and your sister for sympathy points. If I were in her shoes, I would, too.”

“She is, but I'm more concerned about this boy. She's had boyfriends before, but the sneaking out, the intensity in this letter . . .”

“I know, but you need to consider that these boys are a smoke screen. Meaning you can follow every boy that runs behind her skirt tail, but the problem isn't just the boy. Kelly can't be sneaking out the house. Period.”

He nodded. “I know, but I don't know what to do, and Trish is tired. I told her I would handle it, so that's why I called you in here. I need to do something productive.”

“Then you need to let Kelly know that the life her parents designed for her hasn't changed.”

“And how do I do that?”

“You don't need me to find this boy. You need to scare the bejesus out of him the next time he calls. If you haven't already, take Kelly's cell phone from her. If she broke curfew, she shouldn't have the phone. When he calls, you intercept.”

He chuckled. “That's all good if we're talking about a teenager, but he doesn't sound like a boy.”

“So you've talked to him before?”

“Yes, Kelly has lost her cell phone privilege, all phone privileges, but the boy called the house phone.”

“Ooh, now it's getting interesting.” I laughed. “Boys these days are older than you and I. They know more and have done more, so, of course, they sound like they know more, but they don't.”

“I get that, but this guy doesn't sound like a boy to me.”

“What do you know about him?” I asked.

Justus placed his arm over the seat. The tip of his hand was a touch away from my shoulder. The energy in the room pulled me toward him. I stopped myself and scooted back. I needed to concentrate on his words.

“Like I mentioned before, Kelly's phone had been taken away from her as a form of punishment. So he called on the house phone two nights ago. Late. I picked it up and overheard a man—not a boy—talking to my niece about meeting him tonight. It wasn't just the deepness in his tone, but the way he talked. It's how I would talk to . . . a woman.”

“So what did you do?” I asked.

“I told Trish. We grounded Kelly, but then I found the note. He asked her to come to his place.” He paused. “A fifteen-year-old move in with a what-year-old? He has to be too old for her if he has a place of his own. I wanted to hurt him, Angel. I want to hurt this man/ boy/whatever. All I know is when a man wants something, he wants it. He becomes consumed with the wanting. You know what I mean?”

I nodded. My stomach churned. “Exactly.”

“I need you to find this guy for me tonight. I need to be sure he's not a pedophile. I need to quell this anger.” The glare in his eyes told me that he was serious.

I scratched my head. “Tonight?”

“Yes, is that a problem?”

“Not if you call the police. Do that. Save your money. They'll help you.”

“Why, because they're often here at the church?”

“Well, yeah. This place has more security than the Tyler Perry estate.”

Then he looked at me with a connection that ran through my veins. “What would you do if someone took Bella's innocence?”

“Vengeance is the Lord's, Rev,” I said, knowing full well I would throw a pot of piping-hot grits on anyone who hurt my baby.

“I'm not going to hurt the guy.” He took my hand. “I just want to find him. You can locate him faster than the police. Everyone knows that.”

“Everyone like whom?”

“Your sister Ava, for one. When I talked to her last night when you were hurt, she said that. She even said that she wished she had talked to you sooner about something you had warned her about.”

Ava
. I stood up again.

He jumped up. “Did I say something wrong again?”

“No,” I lied. “I promised Bella I would eat lunch with her today after VBS. Her lunch starts in a few minutes, so how about I call you?”

“Can you help me tonight?”

“I'm a single mom. I can't do tonight. Too short notice. Understand me?”

“Yes, very . . .” His voice hinted desperation and longing. “Well, can you at least tell me what I need to do for now?”

“Keep doing what you're doing. Take turns keeping watch over your niece. That's all I can say off the top of my head. Check with my assistant, Cathy, for an appointment. She knows my schedule better than I do.”

“I can do that. Okay. I can do that, but I do want to talk with you. What about this evening? Trish is off tonight. Plus, she and Kelly have some mother/daughter cotillion meeting at the church. The boys attend vacation bible school at night, so I'm free.”

“Why aren't you taking no for tonight as my final answer? I don't want to work tonight. Shoot. I don't even want to cook or leave my home to eat.”

“Good, then I'll cook dinner for you, Bella, and Whitney.”

“Why would you want to do a fool thing like that?”

He smiled. “Isn't it obvious?”

I giggled and scratched the back of my neck. I did that when my mother's wit told me I was about to make a life-changing decision. “Sure. What time?”

 

I
hadn't forgotten to call Ava back. I just didn't have the time. But I had some questions of my own, and if she was as desperate as she sounded on the phone earlier, she would find me. At six o'clock, she did.

She stood in my foyer with shades on and wrinkled her nose when I asked her to have a seat in the living room.

“No, thank you, sweetie. I don't have much time. I have a First Wives' Prayer Meeting at the governor's mansion within the hour.” She turned to my hanging mirror in the walkway and checked herself out.

I shook my head. Only she could pull that look off.

Ava wore a red hat and a matching red pencil skirt suit that looked too tight for kneeling down to pray. I checked my watch. The governor's mansion was more than an hour's drive from my home. Either she was lying about trying to get to the meeting on time or she was in some serious trouble she was too shame-faced to tell me. At any case, she had me waiting with bated breath.

“If that's the true, then why are you here? As a matter of fact, what happened to you last night?”

Her mouth dropped. “Aren't you glad to see me now?”

“Seeing you briefly between more important matters in your life? No, I'm so over that. Can't you tell?”

“Fabulous. I knew I shouldn't have come here.” She turned toward the door and sniffled. “I knew you hadn't changed.” She sauntered toward the foyer.

My sister missed her calling. She should've been an actress. I sighed and walked toward her. “Don't leave.”

She stopped. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure.” I rubbed her back. “I missed you and I wanted to ask you something.”

She turned around and took off her shades. “Ask me what?”

I gasped. Her left eye was swollen and bluish. “What happened to your face?”

She cowered. “It was an accident.”

I lifted her chin so I could get a better look. “Doesn't look like an accident.”

She brushed my hand away. “Is this what you wanted to ask?”

“No, I wanted to know whether you wanted your husband's body found tied to a tree stump or at the bottom of Lake Lanier.”

“Stop it. It's not what you think.” She pushed me aside and kept walking toward my family room. “Where are Whitney and the baby anyway?”

“Whitney's either on campus or in the streets. You know her, but the baby's . . .” I followed her through my house. “She's napping. Today was the last day of vacation bible school. She's pooped and I don't feel like waking her.”

“Good. Mom always says young ladies need beauty rest and good bible study, but that little sister of ours, now, she needs Jesus.”

“She needs you to come around more, too,” I whispered. “She needs better guidance.”

“Maybe . . .”

Ava strutted her pump-wearing, Bible-toting self toward my kitchen. The walk changed into a stagger; then she laid her head on my countertop and cried.

I stood there watching my sister—and former soft place to fall—bawl all over my marble countertop and did absolutely nothing to comfort her. I didn't know how. Ava never cried like this in front of anyone, let alone me. A huge knot squeezed my chest. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak. I wanted to scream.

“I'm going to kill Devon,” I growled.

“No.” She grabbed my hand. “Will you listen to me for a change? My husband didn't hurt me. I was in a car accident.”

“Uh-huh. Then why are you slobbering all over my countertop?”

“Why do you always believe the worst of him?”

“Because the only time I hear from you is when he does something wrong.” I reached inside my kitchen towel drawer next to the refrigerator and began to pat the countertop dry. “And you hadn't told me what happened to you last night.”

She whimpered nonsense. My brain wasn't ready for all this foolishness.

“It's not Devon's fault, so stop bashing him, please. He's going through enough.”

I stopped patting and put down the rag. “Okay, Ava. If you say so.”

She lifted her head. “Good.”

I stood behind her and stroked her hair, which was in better condition and smelled better than mine. Strawberries. She sniffed some more and said nothing. I waited for her to come to me like she did before things had changed between us, before getting on her nerves didn't turn into a fistfight.

She finally picked her head up, turned to me, and whined. “Stay out of my head. These extensions are Indian and cost more than your mortgage.”

“How illuminating.” I patted her head. “I was expecting to hear a humble appeal come through those pearly white teeth, but what was I thinking?”

I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing that I wanted that hair whether it was salon bought or not. To be honest, despite that horrible Jessica Rabbit outfit she wore and the eyeliner now raccooning her face, Ava looked pretty good. Avalyn Marie Crawford McArthur, my slim, but shapely, bronze twin held the grace of a Southern belle and the class of a bourgeois countess. All unlike me. I still had a fondness for mayonnaise sandwiches, shoebox dollhouses, and bad boys with big dragon tattoos stretched across their backs.

She looked at me. “I need your help.”

Even when her lips quivered and tears streamed down her face, she cried “like a lady,” to use Mom speak. By the way her shoulders shook, I could tell she had been crying long before she reached my house.

I kept a basket of lace handkerchiefs in a curio near the half bath. Handkerchief collecting was my new passion. I found them at different estate sales and antique shops all over the state. Mostly up here in North Atlanta. That's how Bella and I stumbled upon our little hitching post of a home.

I grabbed my most recent conquest, an Irish cotton shamrock corner, off the pile. Mom would get a kick out of it since she prided herself on the fact that our great-great-grandfather escaped his Scotch Irish plantation owner father and married a Seminole Geechee-swearing swamp princess. On a side note, I was surprised that she hadn't called to chew me out for disturbing her honeymoon. This was her third with her fourth husband.

She read in some magazine that the secret to marriage longevity was taking honeymoons instead of celebrating anniversaries. However, she skipped the anniversary idea and decided that taking honeymoons on a whim would be more fun.

Ava had stopped crying by the time I came back into the kitchen.

I sat on the stool next to her and placed my hands in hers. “Seriously, did you and Devon get into a fight? Is he cheating on you? I promise I won't kill him. I just need to know.”

“Of course we didn't, Angel. Let me remind you, he is a man of God.”

“Let me remind you that we all are children of God, and if he had hit you, then I'd hit him, too.”

She huffed. “Your constant dance with violence. What has it gotten you?”

“A broken heart.” I slid my hand away. “I don't need to remember what I feel every day.”

The doorbell rang. I stood.

She touched my hand. “Angel, please forgive me. I wasn't talking about Bella's father.”

“Whatever . . .” I stepped back. “Did your man hit you or not?”

“The bishop would never hit me.” She snatched the hankie back and wiped her eyes.

“The bishop . . .” I took a deep breath and cleared my mind of that last remark. Any woman who referred to her husband as a job title had issues. I handed her another hankie and walked toward the door. “I'll be right back.”

I walked back down the foyer, then looked through the peephole. Justus stood on the other side. My stomach flip-flopped. He carried a casserole dish in his potholder-covered hand. Did the man know how handsome he looked?

I opened my door. “Hi, Justus.”

He smiled, then extended the dish toward me. “Mac and cheese, as promised.”

From where I stood, I could smell the cheese and butter bubbling over crusted parmesan.

I shook my head. “Ava's here. Come inside. I'll introduce you, since you two haven't met in person yet.”

He nodded. When he walked beside me, I inhaled magnolias and cozy fires. Wow. If his cooking tasted as good as he smelled, I didn't know what I'd do with myself. I ushered him toward the kitchen, but Ava was not there.

Like a thief in the night, she had snuck out the back kitchen door. I looked out my opened door and stepped onto the patio. The hot muggy air held onto Ava's soft peach perfume and tickled my nose. Where had she run off to, and why the disappearing act?

Justus patted my shoulder.

“She ran out the back door, Justus.” I turned to him. “Is that not the craziest thing you've ever seen?”

“I'm sure she had good reason to leave like she did. Maybe she felt uncomfortable when she heard my voice.”

“No way. Ava's never uncomfortable around handsome men. Something's definitely up.”

“Handsome? You think I'm handsome?” He laughed softly.

I waved him off. “You know what I mean. She's a natural flirt, gravitates to men like a moth to a flame. Normally, she would have sniffed you at my door before you rang the bell. But she's off her axis, apparently.”

“She'll find her way back to you.”

“I just hope it's not too late.” I shuddered.

It wasn't cold outside nor was a cool breeze stirring. Yet, I had a chill I couldn't shake. Ava was hiding something important.

“Maybe I should go after her.”

“For her to leave the way she did, I don't think she wants to be found right now.”

“But her behavior isn't like her. I'm really worried now.” I leaned over my patio railing. I couldn't believe she ran out like that.

I turned my attention back to Justus. “Something's wrong. I feel it.”

“Come here.” He pulled me into his arms. “If you need me, I'm here for you. Remember that.”

The way he held me felt just right. Not in a kinky way, but a safe way, like I didn't have to worry about taking care of every little thing when he was around.

“If you don't want to have dinner now, I understand,” Justus said.

“Are you kidding me? I haven't had someone else cook for me in a long time. Just give me a minute to collect my thoughts.”

“Okay.” He walked back inside.

I kept a pair of binoculars in a hanging flower basket on the patio. I swept my patio and backyard with them. They gave me no insight as to how Ava managed to wiggle that pencil skirt of hers down my steps, snake through my child safety-protected backyard, open the locked fence, and back out of my driveway in the itty-bitty time it took to walk Justus through my backdoor. I bit down on my thumb. Did she get a personal trainer or something?

“Macaroni!” Bella's sweet voice caught me off guard.

When I walked back inside, I found her seated at the dinner table. She had snuck downstairs after her nap or I hadn't noticed her come downstairs, because I was too preoccupied with how great Justus looked. She licked her lips while Justus spooned macaroni and cheese in her special plastic dinner bowl. I cannot lie. The sight of them melted me.

I had decided to stop cutting Bella's thick curly brown hair last year. Now it fell well past her shoulders. Thank goodness Whitney had brushed her hair back and parted it into two cascading ponytails before she left, else she wouldn't be able to see the food in front of her. I wouldn't be able to marvel with pride over her baby doll brown eyes, deep dimples, and button nose. She was a cutie. I was honored to be her mom.

After Justus placed some strawberries and peaches in another plate for Bella, he walked over to me. My heart skipped a few beats as I watched his swagger. When he wasn't in his church garb or preachy frame of mind, he had great promise.

“Since Bella's here, I assume that we will talk about my niece at a later time,” he said.

“You don't mind?” I asked.

“Actually, I was hoping for another chance to cook for you.”

“I better taste your cooking first before I ask for second helpings.”

He laughed hard.

“Mommy, food's getting cold.”

“Honey, I think it might be too hot for me.”

Justus beamed and I enjoyed drinking him all in.

 

 

At midnight, my questions about Ava were answered. Ava showed up on my doorstep again. This time she wore a floor-length peach silk marabou robe, my niece and nephew strapped to her hips, and the most apologetic pout a twin could make.

Once inside, Ava peeked down the foyer and looked up toward the staircase, which compelled me to check my foyer and search my staircase.
Wait a minute
. I shook myself.
You know what's in your house, girl. What's wrong with you?
My older sister—by a mere four minutes—continued to have the knack of making me second-guess myself, even when the obvious hit me smack dab in our thirty-four-year-old faces.

I turned toward her, really looked at her, and observed the situation. She came to my house unannounced, with her children, but without her husband.

I asked her the only obvious questions anyone with good sense would ask. “What are you doing here, and where is your husband?”

No reply. Not a good sign for a preacher's wife, or at least the ones I knew.

Six years ago, a local paper had botched a tax scandal investigation of Atlanta Faith Church, which I called Big Faith. Since then, anywhere Ava went or anything she said, my cronies from television and radio were sure to note and file away. I was once a reporter. I knew the game. So when this infamous, provocatively dressed preacher's wife snuck out in the middle of the night with the celebrity preacher's kids to visit a sister whom her husband promised to never speak to again, it didn't look like Big Faith was involved at all. Looked more like big trouble.