For Your Love (14 page)

“Hey, Amari. Can I sit next to you?”

He looked up to see Kyra Jones standing above him. He was so surprised, he stuttered. “Uh, uh, yeah. Sure.” That she wanted to sit next to him sent the blues packing.

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

Once she made herself comfortable, he feverishly searched his mind for something to say that wouldn't sound lame. That she'd actually sought him out had his brain shooting all over the place. “But I thought—­”

“I know. My dad says I need more balance in my life. He sorta made me come.”

Yay, Megatron.
“Ah.” She smelled so good. “Do you know everybody?”

Brain and the kids in his row had all turned around to look on.

“I think so. Hey, everybody.”

They all responded with a greeting. Brain had a look on his face that said,
Whoa!

Leah smiled. “Glad you came to sit with us.”

Amari belatedly remembered that Kyra was in school with them. Of course she knew them all.
She's going to think you're an idiot!

Rather than open his mouth again and prove it, he simply sat and stared ahead—­but his heart was smiling.

 

T
he following morning, when Rita Lynn saw the number on her caller ID, she smiled and picked up. “Morning, Trent. How are you?”

“Doing well, Mom. How about yourself?”

“Same here. And the family?”

“They're good, too. We're at the mall, doing our Christmas shopping. The kids and I want to know what's on your list.”

She melted inside. “You guys don't have to get me anything.”

“You're getting something anyway, so it may as well be something you like, as opposed to something you'll have to pretend to like.”

“Okay.” Amusement filled her. She enjoyed his wit. “Let me think. Okay. I'd like a picture of the family. Another of each of my grandsons, separate and together. And one with just you and Lily.”

“Got it. What else?”

“That isn't enough?”

“No. Sorry.”

She glanced at Paul, seated beside her on the deck. He grinned.

“Is Paul there?”

“Yes.”

“May I speak to him, please?”

“Sure.” She handed the phone over. Apparently to keep from being overheard, he took the cordless into the house.

He returned shortly and handed it back. “Trent?” Rita asked.

“Hey, Mom. Paul gave me everything I needed.”

“Good,” she said, chuckling. “Can't wait to see you and the family.”

“Same here. Take care of yourself.”

“Will do. You do the same.”

She ended the call and sighed happily. “Am I supposed to be this giddy?”

“Yes.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Not a thing.”

She punched him playfully. “Terrible man.”

“Did Val get our tickets?”

“Yes. We fly in on the twenty-­seventh and out January second. I hope that won't be too long a stay. I'd hate to be an imposition.”

“It'll be okay.”

She looked into his face. “Are you sure you won't mind meeting Malachi?”

“Are you planning on having any more babies with him?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I'll be fine.”

She cuddled close to him on the bench. “I love you so.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Ditto.”

After the call ended, Trent related what he'd been told while he and the family ate lunch at one of the mall restaurants. “Paul said she's a big college basketball fan. Likes to read, has a Kindle and a Nook, and likes jigsaw puzzles. She also likes music.”

Lily said, “All doable. Good.”

“Did he say what kind of music” asked Amari. “I don't want to get her Jay Z and she likes Aretha Franklin.”

“I'm pretty sure you can pass on the Jay Z.”

“How about hard rock?” Devon asked while dunking a fry in the small mound of ketchup on the edge of his plate.

“That's probably a no, too.”

“If she has a Kindle and a Nook, how about we get her a gift card?” Devon suggested. Like Lily, their youngest loved shopping online.

“And there's a KU Store here in the mall,” Amari pointed out. “You think she'd like a Jayhawk hoodie? I looked up Monterey on Google. It can get kind of cold there—­at least for California.”

“Another great idea. You guys are the bomb-­dot-­com,” said Lily.

Amari gave her the side-­eye. “No one says that anymore, Mom.”

“Except for old ­people,” Devon drawled.

Trent and Lily shared an amused look. “I'm so sorry,” Lily said. “I'll send out an e-­blast when I get home and let my old friends know.”

Both boys rolled their eyes.

Trent enjoying watching the boys act in concert. It showed they were moving toward the sibling closeness he and Lily were hoping for but had never personally experienced.

Devon said sadly, “I wish Davis was coming for Christmas.”

“So do I,” Lily replied.

Her son was in South Africa helping the government install software for a big data project. He'd be back in the States after New Year's.

“He's promised to try and Skype with us Christmas day.”

“Not the same.”

“I know, baby, but it's the best we can do.”

Devon had a special bond with Davis, first formed when he became Lily's foster child. He got a real kick out of having a big brother, and the two loved each other very much. Trent liked him too, and looked forward to seeing him when he returned.

After lunch they finished the last of their shopping and returned home.

The first order of business was getting the boxed tree out of the garage and setting it up in the living room. It was seven feet tall and had hundreds of lights that glowed clear or in bright colors, depending on the settings on its small green remote. They'd bought the tree the year before via Lily's favorite television shopping channel, and Trent had to admit it was an awesome purchase. Ornaments came next, and the boys had a great time hanging their favorites. While at the mall, they'd been encouraged to pick out one or two new ones—­yet another of Lily's family traditions. Devon found a guitar and a baby Jesus in a manger. Amari's choices were, of course, cars—­a Ferrari, a classic T-­Bird, and a replica of racer Danica Patrick's green GoDaddy.com car, which he'd be wrapping and presenting to Zoey.

Last year, after decorating the tree, Trent, the designated cook that week, had taken the easy way out after the long day and made pancakes for dinner. At the time, Amari said he thought the meal should be a tradition, so this year Lily whipped up pancakes again. Amari volunteered to man the skillet of bacon, and Trent and Devon handled the eggs.

They ate, laughed, talked about skating on the ice rink scheduled to open during the school break, and how they were all looking forward to the arrival of their newfound grandmother, grandfather, and Aunt Val.

“I never had a grampa,” Devon said somberly. “I hope he's nice.”

Amari assured him, “He will be. He's married to Gramma Rita. He's going to be awesome, right, Mom and Dad?”

“Absolutely.”

Later, up in his room, Amari lay on the bed, thinking about Kyra. They'd been texting each other about stuff. He'd found out she liked old-­school jazz like John Coltrane and Miles Davis, and wanted to be an architect if she changed her mind about being a thoracic surgeon. When he texted back and told her he was thinking about being a NASCAR driver, she replied that maybe she should stick to the thoracic surgeon plan, because he'd probably need one. He looked up from his phone to see Devon standing in the doorway. “You busy?” Devon asked.

“Nope. Come on in. What's up?”

He took a seat on the bed. “How do I get girls?”

“What?”

“How do I get girls? I saw the way Kyra was looking at you. How do you do that?”

Amari studied him. “I wasn't doing anything, Devon. She just came and sat down.”

“Yeah, but she could've sat anywhere. Instead she sat with you.”

“Who knows? I'm no expert on girls. ”

“Do you think I'm cute?”

“What?”

“Do you think I'm cute? Like the ways girls think guys are cute.”

“Hell, I don't know. Ask Zoey or Crystal.”

Devon gave him a level look.

“Well, maybe not Crystal—­but Devon, I don't know. You need to go back to your room. You're starting to sound crazy. And lay off the liquor, okay?”

Devon grinned, and Amari grinned back, glad he'd gotten the joke. “Get out of my room,” he said.

When Devon was gone, Amari shook his head. He was sorta liking this new and improved Devon. His little brother was growing up. He just wasn't sure into what.

A short while later, dressed in their pajamas and robes, they gathered in the dimly lit living room for Devon's reading of the Christmas story. The logs in the fireplace blazed, and the crackling of the wood played gently against the silence. The tree was on and twinkling, and the drapes were open to let in the light of the falling snow. Bible in hand, Devon sat on the carpet in front of the fireplace. Upon receiving a nod from his mom, he began reading aloud: “
And it came to pass in those days that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed . . .”

After the boys went up to bed, Trent stood behind Lily, his arms around her, as they looked out at the snow. Soft jazz played through the speakers. “It's really coming down,” she said.

There was a winter storm warning up until tomorrow morning. The howling wind could be distinctly heard even through the glass as it whipped the snow so ferociously, they could see nothing but white. “Probably no church in the morning.”

“No. Lots of digging out, though.”

There was silence for a few moments, and then Lily said quietly, “Devon read well.”

“Yes, he did. We had a good day.”

She nodded. “Our sons are going to be okay.” She turned. “I have awesome sons because they have an awesome dad.”

“Their mama's not bad, either.”

They shared a kiss, and he held her tight against him. He was so thankful for her, for so many things and on so many levels, that he ached from the sweetness. “You ready for bed?”

“No, I want to stay up and watch the snow.”

“Then dance with me.”

She smiled, and they danced slowly in the darkness while the world filled up with snow.

The storm quit at about five in the morning, but not before dumping nine and a half inches on the area. Not a record by any means, but throw in the blustery winds and it was more than enough to shut everything down. Looking out their window, Bobby and Kiki were amazed at the sight. What amazed them more was Rocky. She had a plow attached to the front of her truck and was slowly clearing the drive that led out to the main road. “Do you think I should go out and help her?” Bobby asked.

“Girlfriend looks like she's handling her business pretty well, but you might want to give Tamar a call.”

So he did. They spoke for a moment and after the call ended, he said, “She said she's good. Rocky already did her drive.”

Still watching Rocky, Kiki said, “I can't believe ­people actually go out in that. In Dallas, the city would be shut down for weeks.”

A text came through on his phone. He read it, and his eyes widened.

“What's the matter?”

“It's from Trent. Said he'll be here in half an hour to pick me up, and to dress warmly.”

“For what?”

He shrugged. “Shoveling, maybe.”

“Then you need to get moving. You should probably put on those long-­john things.”

“I'm not wearing those.”

“Okay, Mr. Tough Guy. When Tamar brought them over, she said everyone here wears them.”

“I'll be fine.”

She said to the twins sitting in their high chairs, “Your hardheaded daddy's going to be a Popsicle when he gets back.”

Bobby laughed and went to get dressed.

When Trent arrived, he spent a few minutes with his plow-­equipped truck helping Rocky first. When he finally came in, he handed Bobby a shovel. “For your steps. Where's your hat?”

“I'm good.”

“It's seventeen degrees, and the windchill is five below. You can get frostbite quicker than you can blink. First to go are ears, fingers, and toes. So unless you want the twins growing up with a daddy who looks like Vincent van Gogh, get your hat.”

Kiki came out from the back with the knit hat, heavy gloves, a scarf, and the long johns Tamar had been kind enough to provide. “Here,” she said.

Bobby eyed her and then checked out the way Trent was dressed. He took everything and went into the bedroom.

When he returned, Trent looked him up and down. “Now we can go.”

“This is my first snowstorm,” Kiki said. “Anything I need to do?”

Trent shook his head. “Nope. Just enjoy being inside.”

“I can do that.”

Bobby glared.

“Don't hate, baby. Have fun.”

Trent chuckled, handed Bobby the shovel, and Bobby followed him out. As soon as he stepped outside, the frigid air took his breath away. “Oh god!” he yelled. “It's cold!”

“Yep. Let's get your steps cleared.” Trent waded to his truck and pulled a shovel from the bed.

Bobby stared like he'd grown three heads. “I'm not about to be out here. I'm going back inside.” He could see his breath, and it felt like his nose hair was freezing.

Trent said, “You sound like my kids their first winter. Stop whining. Shovel.”

So he did. He didn't like it, though. At all.

“Put your back into it. Not trying to be out here all day. Here, like this.”

Trent showed him how to maximize the amount of snow the shovel would handle. “Every time it snows, clear your steps and the path to your car.”

Once that was done, they moved to Bobby's car. “Get in and start it up.”

Trent used his arm to scrape down the thick coat of snow covering the door. “We need to get you a scraper. I'll get mine.”

Bobby couldn't believe this was happening. He got in, and it was like being in a cave. The snow made it impossible to see out. The engine turned over like clockwork, and he was thankful for that. He hit the button for the window to bring it down, but nothing happened. Trying again, he heard a knock on the partially cleared window. He opened the door, allowing a ton of snow to fall in, covering his thighs below his coat. “The windows won't go down.”

“Frozen. Wipers too, probably. Just let the engine run. Come on out.”

Kiki had been right about him turning into a Popsicle. The wind was blowing, and he was freezing and kicking himself for believing it was okay to be out in this with no socks in his Timbs. Trent gave him a quick lesson in unearthing his car, using an old broom he brought back from his truck and a long-­handled scraper. The snow was piled high, so it took a while, but they finally cleared enough away that the car was recognizable again. The defroster was barely making a dent in the thick crust on the front and rear windshields, though. Bobby swore the car looked as miserable as he himself felt.