Fifteen Years (21 page)

She shook her head from side to side. “When Bo figured out that I was in Atlanta, he came to try and get me to go back to Philly with him. Daddy threatened to shoot him if he didn’t get off of his property, and Mama called the police. He was gone before the police got there.” Patrice’s shoulders slumped. “I filed a restraining order
the next day. I haven’t seen him since. Bo is crazy, but he’s not stupid. He wasn’t willing to risk losing his job and social status to get me back. Knowing him, he’s moved from Philly and is living somewhere else now. Probably manhandling wife number four by now.”

Josiah asked his next question with marked caution. “So is Arielle a product of that day-long rape session?”

“Yeah. She’s the result of the worst thing that ever happened to me during my marriage to her father, but at the same time, she’s the only reason I don’t totally regret my life with him.”

“Isn’t it funny how something so beautiful can result from something so ugly?” Josiah thought aloud.

Patrice nodded in agreement, and her voice quivered when she said, “Regardless of how my baby was conceived, Arielle’s my heart. I dropped his last name and went back to Anderson. I never gave his name to Arielle. I’d dare not curse her like that.”

“Does he know about Arielle?” Josiah asked. “You don’t fear that he’ll try to take her away just to spite you?”

“That’s the least of my worries,” Patrice revealed. “I don’t know if he knows about her or not, because I’ve not seen or spoken to him since Dad ran him off. But he made it very clear at the start of our marriage that he didn’t want any kids and especially not girls.”

“He told you that?” Josiah was appalled.

“To my face. I later learned that he was being put through the ringer for child support from his first wife, and that probably had something to do with it. I’m sure he didn’t want to risk having to shell out big dollars for any more children that he fathered.” Patrice’s face tensed. “He’d never have to worry about me asking him for one red cent for my baby. I’d work three jobs before I asked him for financial help.”

“Peaches, I am so sorry.” It was all Josiah could say.

She used both her hands to pull her freely flowing hair behind
her shoulders, then offered a frail smile that wasn’t nearly enough to erase the grief that had reddened her eyes. “Sorry for what?”

Josiah shook his head in regret as he stared down at her perfectly manicured toenails that rested on the blanket between them. “I’m sorry for everything. Sorry that Reeva came back and took me away. Sorry that I didn’t do more to try and stay in touch with you all after I left. Sorry I wasn’t around to beat the snot out of your stupid husband.”

Patrice used her fingertips to stroke Josiah’s cheek. He brought his eyes back to hers, and for a moment, she appeared to search his soul. “You can’t be around to protect me forever, JT.”

“Says who?” His soft reply matched the tenderness of the words she’d spoken.

Josiah’s lingering stare seemed to make her uncomfortable, but when she tried to pull her hand away, he placed his on top of hers and wouldn’t allow it. The lengthy lock of their eyes had been enough to convince him that the attraction he’d been feeling for the past two days wasn’t completely one-sided. After he caught her hand with his, he then drew it back to his mouth and kissed her fingers. One at a time. Then he kissed her open palm. Then the inside of her wrist.

When she showed no resistance, Josiah slowly leaned forward until their faces were only inches apart. Using no words, only his hazel eyes, Josiah dared her to meet him halfway. He saw her chest rise as she inhaled unsteadily, and he felt the coolness of the same breath as she released it through slightly parted lips. Then as Patrice slowly began closing the remaining gap that separated them, Josiah closed his eyes in anticipation.

TUESDAYS WERE always Patrice’s busiest days. For her, it was the first day of the work week. It was the day she worked with the most students facing speech challenges—and she could hardly wait for the day to end. Despite her impatience, the hands on the clock had been in no hurry to reach 2:15 p.m. And once they did, another forty-five minutes passed before Patrice could fully end her day. Today of all days, a parent decided that it was a good time to come and praise her for her effective teaching skills. The woman had noted a substantial decrease in little Jamie’s stuttering since she began sessions with Patrice at the start of the school year. It was one of the highest praises that a speech pathologist could receive, but today, Patrice couldn’t give a flying flip about Jamie’s progress. She had to free herself from the classroom’s four walls before they smothered her to death.

As soon as the grateful mother left her room, Patrice gathered
her belongings and headed to her awaiting Solara. Once she was secured inside, she started the engine, turned the air conditioner on full blast, and fished her cell phone out of her attaché case to check for messages. Patrice hoped for an awaiting voice or text from Josiah. She would have even settled for a missed call. Anything would have been better than nothing, but nothing was what she got.

“What were you thinking?” she scolded herself.

Her hand fluttered to her lips as she remembered it all… again. Patrice had been reliving the moment all day long, and it was about to drive her crazy. She clearly recalled Josiah making the first move, and his advance wasn’t what one might call subtle. He’d kissed her
fingers
for Pete’s sake! And even if she had been dense enough to misconstrue the kisses on her fingers, hand, and wrist, the one that had them lip-locked for what seemed like a blissful eternity, was definitely not to be defined as a casual encounter. Just the thought of it made Patrice’s heart race all over again. That kiss was incredible. It was indescribable. It was … so very inappropriate. After all, he was her brother.

But did that give her the right to slap him?

Tears that had wanted to spill from their ducts all day long were finally granted their wish. Patrice closed her eyes and allowed the water to flow. All she could do was pray that none of the other educators who had lingered after hours would walk past her car and see her weeping. They would have questions, and she would have no rational explanation to offer.

How could she have struck him? Josiah made the first move, yes, but he had clearly given her the final say so. It was up to her to decide whether anything would become of his prelude. She was the one who made the connection that started the electrical charge. She was the one who cupped his cheeks to hold his lips secure to hers. She was the one who deepened the kiss, probably making it more
intimate than Josiah had even intended. And then after all of that, she was the one to break away and have the audacity to punish him like it had all been his fault. Like she hadn’t enjoyed every moment of it. Like … like … like ever since yesterday, she hadn’t been hoping that it could be possible that he no longer saw her as his older sister.

“And you actually thought that he might call you?” She yelled the question to herself, and then readjusted her rearview mirror so that she could see if she looked as idiotic as she felt.

Patrice was angry with herself, and it was evident in the aggressive way that she wiped away her tears. She looked at her cell phone as it rested on the seat beside her purse. Maybe
she
should call
him.
After all, it was her fault that things had gone so badly. Because of her, she and Josiah had ridden back to the hotel with the volume on mute. Not one single word had been spoken between them. Maybe if she called him and said…

“And say what?” She challenged the thought as though making the call had been someone else’s idea. Patrice looked back at her reflection again. Running mascara made her tears look like crude oil. “What on earth are you gonna say that would make you look any less of a neurotic fool?”

Again Patrice aggressively wiped her tears, but she couldn’t erase the picture in her mind. The stunned look on Josiah’s face after her hand had come in fierce contact with his cheek was a freeze-frame in her memory. Her reaction had totally taken him by surprise. It had taken her by surprise too. Even now, nearly twenty-four hours later, she couldn’t make sense of it. No explanation. No justification. No rationalization. Just regrets.

Patrice released a labored sigh. In times like this she wished she had a close, saved girlfriend to talk to. Someone who would not only give her good advice, but advice that was biblically sound. She
knew women at the church where she fellowshiped every Sunday, but outside of church, they didn’t have much interaction. And then there was Theresa Loather, first lady of Kingdom Builders Christian Center. Theresa was about the same age as Patrice, and she’d always made it clear to the sisters of the congregation that she was there if they ever needed counsel. But as much as Patrice loved her pastor’s wife, she couldn’t see herself approaching her with this particular quandary.

Yesterday’s urgent meeting at the church was one that resulted in the demotion of one of the head deacons. His wife had discovered that he’d been having a highly inappropriate cyber relationship with a woman in Sweden. If the deacon could be removed from his position for a relationship he’d been carrying on with a woman he’d never even met, what would they do to Patrice if they found out she’d actually
kissed
her foster brother? They’d probably not only remove her from the choir; they might even remove her name from the church roll altogether.

Generally Patrice felt comfortable talking to Joanne about anything. But not this. She couldn’t tell her mother that she’d crossed the line with Josiah.
Mama, I think instead of being JT’s sister, I want to be his woman
just wouldn’t sound right no matter how she tried to word it. The situation seemed hopeless.

Patrice pulled a tissue out of the glove compartment of her car and dabbed at her face. Voices were nearing her car, and she knew that where there were voices, there were people. She couldn’t allow her coworkers to see the mess she was in. Just as she was about to place the crumpled tissue in the compartment below her car’s stereo system, a small card caught her eye. It was the business card that Josiah had given her Sunday afternoon as they dined at the Smiths’ home.

Danielle Brown, Guidance Counselor.
The same words that jumped
out at her the first time she looked at the card were staring Patrice in the face once more. Danielle wouldn’t know her from Eve. The woman would probably think she was somebody who needed professional help if she called her about this Josiah thing. But Patrice’s fingers took on a mind of their own. Before she knew it, she was punching the ten-digit number on her cell. Just when she was reminded of the fact that Danielle worked in the school system too, and was probably gone for the day, she heard a voice on the other end of the line.

“Hello. Danielle Brown speaking.”

She sounded nice enough, but Patrice still hesitated, wondering if she should respond or just hang up. If she hung up, no one would be the wiser. She’d called the guidance office at the school. There wouldn’t be a caller ID screen on the phone that would give away her identity.

“Hello?” Danielle repeated.

Patrice inhaled. “Hello.”

“Yes? May I help you?”

“Yes. Hi. I’m sorry.” With those simple four words, Patrice already felt like she was babbling. She licked her lips and continued. “You don’t know me, but my name is Patrice, and I wanted to talk to you for a minute, if you had the time.”

“Okay.” Danielle’s voice sounded guarded, and Patrice knew she had given her good reason to be cautious.

“Is this a good time?”

“Sure. I’m winding down since it’s the end of the day, but I have a few moments. Are you a parent? Is this regarding a student?”

Patrice quickly rethought her plan. Maybe she shouldn’t jump right into the real reason for her call. “I am a parent, but not of one of your students. I’m actually calling you from Atlanta, Georgia. JT … Josiah Tucker gave me your number.”

“Oh,” Danielle sang. “You’re
that
Patrice. Hi. How are you?”

That Patrice? What did she mean by
that Patrice?
“I’m fine; thank you. And you?”

“It’s been one of those days, but I won’t complain. JT has told Craig and me so much about you and the others there in Atlanta. He’s just ecstatic to have reunited with his family.”

So JT had told them about her. Patrice didn’t know if knowing this would make her phone call harder or easier, but for some reason she felt a bit more relaxed. “We’re glad too. He really surprised us all. I can’t recall the last time my parents were so happy.”

“And we can’t remember the last time JT sounded so happy.”

The brief silence that lapsed must have concerned Danielle.

“Is everything all right?” she asked. “JT is okay, right?”

“Oh yes; he’s great.” Patrice thought fast. She didn’t want to raise too many questions in Danielle’s mind. “Um … I was just calling because, well, I’m a speech pathologist, and JT told me who you had a niece who needs some therapy.”

“Well, yes; I do, but…” Her voice trailed; then she spoke again. “I’m not certain what services my sister already has in place for Monica. Both of them were in a car accident about a year ago, and Saundra, my sister, didn’t get hurt, but her daughter sustained serious head injuries. Monica has come a long way. She’s been out of danger for some time now, but she’s like a baby who has had to learn everything all over again. She’s been in physical therapy for a few months, and she’s making progress with her walking. Last time I spoke with Saundra, she was following leads on some speech pathologists that had been recommended by her insurance company.”