A Heart to Heal (8 page)

“No, no, that soup is buy one get one free. I saw it in the paper,” the lady said pulling out the sales ad.

The teenager at the register sighed before answering. “It's not this soup, ma'am. It's the ones with the blue label. Everyone's making that mistake today.”

The lady looked at her paper then the dozen cans of soup in her buggy. “Oh. Well, can you wait a second for me to go get the right one?”

“Oh, good Lord!” Shayla hissed under her breath. She tried to peer over the candy display at the people in line next to her, but from what she could see it wasn't any better over there. She was tempted to leave the damn bread and walk out. Someone behind her chuckled. She whipped her head around, ready to lacerate whoever found the situation amusing. Her words were forgotten as Devin and his dad approached with a cart behind her.

“Are you laughing at me?”

Devin continued to smile as he walked around his cart to stand beside her. “Yes. You were never patient in check out lines.” He reached over to gently massage the back of her neck. “Calm down.”

The urge to melt into his hands was strong. He used to do the same thing whenever she was nervous or upset when they were in high school. She never understood where his endless amount of patience came from, but it always balanced her need to keep moving. She turned to gaze at him and his hand stopped its massage. Heat slid across her body and she shivered when his thumb gently rubbed her throat. His fingers flexed and brushed against the hair at the base of her neck, reminding her of the way he gripped her head and kissed her earlier in the week. She was right to skip the “
we'll pretend it never happened
” speech because she'd never forget what it was like to kiss Devin. Never stop wanting to kiss him, but she wouldn't repeat it. Her reputation was damaged enough.

She stepped back and he let his hand fall before turning to look at his dad. Mr. Jones was watching them like a hawk, his eyes unreadable. For the first time she worried if he was disappointed in her too. Mr. Jones was the only father figure she'd had growing up. She only had vague memories of her own dad, who moved to Tennessee when she was six without a goodbye. When Devin's father accepted her into his family fold she'd soaked up his love like a sponge. A rejection from him would hurt as much, if not more, than from Devin.

“Hi, Mr. Jones,” she said.

Roscoe Jones' face split with a huge grin. “Don't ‘Mr. Jones' me. You're just as bad as Devin when I come to his office.” He pulled Shayla into a warm welcoming hug. “It's good to see you, Shayla. I'm glad you came home.”

Relief and happiness rushed through her as she stepped back and grinned at Roscoe. “It's good to see you, too.”

He looked at Devin. “Isn't it good to see her, Devin?”

Devin shook his head and smiled. “I've seen her already, Dad.”

Roscoe waved a hand. “It's still good to see her. What are you getting?”

Shayla held up the loaf of bread and lunch meat. “I plan to make a sandwich for dinner tonight. If I eat any more of my mom's cooking I'll gain ten pounds.”

Roscoe laughed. “Girl, you don't have to worry about weight. You look as good as you did in high school.” He nudged Devin. “Doesn't she, Devin?”

Devin cleared his throat. He quickly eyed her from head to toe. “Yes, Dad.”

Even though it was a brief inspection, her stomach still clenched.

Roscoe turned back to Shayla. “You can't eat a sandwich for dinner.”

Shayla smiled. “It's the easiest thing for me to do. I haven't bought groceries. I thought picking this up would be a quick meal.” She turned as the woman in line before her rushed back with another half a dozen cans of the correct soup. “It's taking much longer than I thought.”

Roscoe shook his head. “Nonsense. You are not eating a sandwich, and you don't have to eat with your mom. Devin met me here to pick up a pack of chicken breasts to grill.” He leaned in and held a hand up to his mouth. “Devin's got me on some low salt, low fat diet. Tastes horrible, but maybe he'll let me put some real seasoning on it if you come to dinner.”

“I don't care who comes to dinner, I'm seasoning the food.” Devin said.

Roscoe scoffed. “See what I mean, he's trying to take everything away in my old age.”

Shayla smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “I'd like to take your side in this, Roscoe, but I've got to go with the doctor. He told me about your blood pressure. You need to keep it under control.”

Roscoe frowned but his eyes twinkled with laughter. “Damn kids. Always ganging up on me.” He turned to Devin. “So you agree she should join us for dinner?”

Devin's mouth opened and closed a few times. “Um, I'm sure she has something else to do.”

Roscoe scowled before turning to Shayla. “You don't have anything to do except go home and eat a sandwich, right?”

Shayla looked between the two. Common sense said stay the hell away from Devin and his dad, but she genuinely missed Roscoe and hadn't talked to him since his wife died. Dinner with them would be the only reminder of the good times she had in the town. It wouldn't hurt anything, or anyone, to indulge herself in this, would it? Plus, no one could accuse her of trying to get her claws in Devin if her arm was twisted by Roscoe to come to dinner. That was a lie, but she'd let herself believe it.

She smiled at Roscoe. “Nothing at all planned. I'd be happy to eat with you two.”

The lady in front of them finally completed her purchase and Shayla dropped her bread and lunch meat on the counter. Mr. Jones put the items from Devin's cart on the counter and told the cashier he was paying for it all.

Shayla shook her head. “Mr. Jones, don't. I can pay for my own bread.”

He gently pushed her past the debit card scanner. “I know you can, but I want to do this.”

The cashier raised an eyebrow and looked between Shayla and Mr. Jones. Feeling the start of another rumor Shayla opened her mouth to protest when Devin spoke up.

“Just let him get it. Otherwise he'll stand here arguing all day.” He said with a grin.

Overruled, Shayla stood out of the way and let Mr. Jones handle the rest of the transaction. Hopefully it wouldn't get back to her mother that Devin's father bought groceries for her. When he finished paying, Shayla followed them outside. “Thanks, Mr. Jones, although you really shouldn't have.”

“Nonsense, you're practically family. In fact, I used to hope you would be family one day.” He looked meaningfully between her and Devin.

Devin cleared his throat. “Shayla, you can follow us to my dad's house.”

“Don't waste the girl's gas. She can ride with us. You've got to come back to town anyway.” Roscoe said. He walked toward Devin's truck parked near the front. “Come on.” He hollered over his shoulder.

Shayla and Devin stood frozen staring at each other. Devin looked skyward then at her with a wayward smile. “You heard the man.” He held out his hand for her to precede him.

Roscoe kept up a constant flow of chatter on the drive to his home. He sat in the backseat, insisting Shayla sit in the front next to Devin. It took everything in her to pay attention to the man's conversation. Her eyes kept sliding to the side to look at Devin. Once he caught her gaze and smiled. Her heart jumped in her chest. She was as nervous as she'd been when she was the junior varsity cheerleader with a crush on the captain of the football team.

They pulled up at Roscoe's house, a white ranch style home with a wrap around front porch. Acres of crop land surrounded it except on one side where there was a pine forest. When she asked if he owned all the land, he just grinned and winked. There was a barn off to one side, with no animals according to Devin and a small chicken coop next to it.

“I've never seen a real chicken in my life.” Shayla said grinning. “Can I check them out?”

Roscoe laughed. “Might not be a good idea since we're eating chicken for dinner.”

Shayla cringed. “Good point. Why didn't you kill one of them?”

“They're mostly for the eggs. Plus, I didn't have time to butcher one today.”

She frowned over at the chicken coop. In hindsight, she probably never needed to see those chickens. She wouldn't want to wonder which one was on her plate if she ate at Roscoe's again.

Devin gently ran his hand along her back. “Are you coming in?”

She jumped and stepped out of his reach before she began to enjoy his touch too much.

Devin cooked the chicken on a small grill in the kitchen, while she chopped vegetables for a salad. Roscoe sat at the table watching them. He kept the conversation on the times she used to visit him and Devin regularly. She was grateful he didn't ask about Mark or her reason for coming home from Atlanta. Soon she was completely relaxed and laughing as Roscoe teased them about the old days when she and Devin were inseparable.

She glanced at Devin, and their eyes met. He lifted the corner of his mouth and her chest tightened with longing for something she couldn't have. She quickly looked away and concentrated on Roscoe's story about their attempt to teach him the words to a Biggie Smalls song. Roscoe had said the song was noise, and they'd insisted it was prophetic. They'd spent that afternoon replaying the lyrics over and over until Roscoe got it right.

Soon she forgot her longing, and tears streamed from her eyes as she laughed at the memory. “I'll never forget you rapping that song. With your pants sagging and your arms waving.” She moved her arms in an exaggerated swagger before breaking into a fit of laughter.

Roscoe laughed. “I hate that damn song. But sing it every time it comes on the radio. You two were something back then.” He looked at Devin. “I never understood what happened.”

Shayla's laughter faded and she looked at Devin. His eyes skirted to hers.

“Dinner's ready,” he bit out.

He dropped the plate of chicken breasts on the table with a loud thud. Roscoe looked between the two and shook his head, but thankfully changed the subject. She brought the salad to the table and tried to concentrate as Roscoe started talking about old times again, but the jovial feelings from before were gone.

Shalya shifted uncomfortably in her seat and tried to force the chicken down her throat. She's what happened. She was the reason her and Devin's friendship ended and she wondered if Roscoe would still welcome her to the table if he knew why. He probably already did. She absently rubbed her cheek as the memory of her mother's slap after the rumors about what happened after Homecoming reached her. Everyone in town knew why she and Devin fell out.

She and Devin eventually stopped talking. Roscoe tried to keep the conversation flowing, and she appreciated it, but by the time they finished the tension was thick. There was no way she and Devin could ever be friends. She didn't know who she was fooling.

“Why don't you two sit on the porch while I clean up the kitchen,” Roscoe said once they finished.

Shalya swallowed a groan. She wanted to go home and drown in a bottle of wine to forget all of her past mistakes.

“I should head home.”

Roscoe waved his hand. “Nonsense. Wait until I finish and then you can go.”

Devin shook his head. “Dad, if she's ready to leave.”

“Just sit on the damn porch. Y'all cooked, I can clean. It'll only take a minute. We ate bird food, so there's not a lot to clean up.”

Shayla couldn't help but laugh. Resigned to following the man's instructions, she and Devin left the kitchen. It was dark out, the chill in the air was the first sign of autumn and the sweet smell of the countryside wafted on the breeze. With a contented sigh, Shayla sat on the porch step. She looked at the stars right as one shot across the sky. She closed her eyes and wished things were different. That she and Devin could be together and no one would condemn her for being with him.

She felt his warmth as he sat beside her and opened her eyes, but continued to look to the heavens, not trusting herself to look into his eyes.

“My dad is determined to make things like they were before … ” his voice trailed off.

She sighed. “Before I fucked it all up.” He didn't answer and it broke her heart. “Look, I know you tried to extend the offer of friendship, and I appreciate that, but who are we kidding. I'm too fucked up and you're too good.”

He exhaled quickly before answering. “Shayla, I've wanted you since the day you braided my hair on Peaches's porch. It's never gone away.”

Her head whipped around. He didn't look at her; instead he too was looking to the heavens as if the answer to their problem was there. Longing pressed heavily on her chest. His braid job was the worse she'd done that summer she'd helped Peaches braid hair. She'd been so distracted having him sit between her legs, that all of his braids were crooked. It was the first time she'd felt desire. The first time she'd known what it was like to want a man.

But she couldn't have Devin. Not then and not now. Her reputation was in shambles and her cousin loved him. It wasn't as if she needed to break up another person's dream.

She smirked. “Don't waste your time wanting me. I'm no good.”

He ran his hands over his face. “Shit, Shayla, quit saying that. You've downed yourself since we were kids. I'm not smart enough. I'm not pretty enough,” he said in a falsetto tone. “When you know damn well you're smarter than anyone I know and fine as hell. What you lack is confidence.”

She stiffened. “I am confident.”

“Bullshit.” He finally looked at her with anger in his eyes. “If you were, you wouldn't say something so stupid.”

“It's not stupid, it's true. You even said it yourself. I'm no good.”

“I said that mess after you slept with Tony. What did I say before that? What did I say every day before that? That you were worth more than you gave yourself credit for. Worth more than what your mother gave you credit for.” He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You're worth so much and you don't realize it.”