Steady (28 page)

Breathe, Katrina
, she told herself, forcing her eyes to his. “Hi, Will. This is a surprise,” she said, her heart beating something crazy in her chest at the shock of his sudden appearance on her doorstep. “Were we supposed to meet?” she asked, frowning in confusion.

“No, I stopped by hoping you weren’t too busy to ride over with me to drop off the schedules, budget, and final design to the city committee. That is where I need to go to turn them in, right?” he asked pointing to an address on one of the sheets. “I just wanted to make sure. I thought with your guidance I wouldn’t get lost and have you or the committee angry with me,” he said, laying it on thick, watching all kinds of expressions pass over her face. “Don’t feel pressured to go,” he added. “It was a spur of the moment decision to ask you. You can tell me no.” He smiled winsomely. It was silent for a minute.

“I’ll go,” she said reluctantly. “Let me grab my bag and I’ll meet you outside.”

“Great,” he said.

She closed the door and stood for a second, processing this change in her plans. What plans? She didn’t really have any plans.
He’s not asking for your hand in marriage, Katrina, just go. You’ve done nothing but think of him, anyway, and you
are
the assistant. You promised to help him. Take a deep breath and find your purse
.

She did and walked out the door, locking it behind her. Thankfully she’d gotten up early, showered, and dressed for the day in shorts and a T-shirt, all-purpose sandals on her feet, her hair in its usual ponytail. She walked out her door and around to the passenger side of Will’s jeep, which was missing its top today.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, getting in and reaching for her seat belt. He backed out and they drove off at full speed, music blaring. She hung on as they drove across town in record time. He pulled into the parking lot, parked, and looked over to find Katrina’s eyes on him.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m not saying you were driving too fast or anything, but you do know that speed reduces the amount of time a person needs to avoid a crash, increases the likelihood that you’ll have an accident, and makes it more severe once it happens?” she said. He looked at her for a second, really fighting back his need to laugh out loud.

“Thank you,” he said, his reply choked.

“Don’t laugh,” she said, fighting against her need to join in his laughter.

She led the way to the front door of the center. Will would have whiplash if he kept it up, she thought as she watched him try to take in the gardens as they walked to the door.

He was surprised and impressed with the sight of those Volkswagen Beetles and the flowers that surrounded them. The wildflowers from the spring had given way to the native annual plants, but the display was still awe-inspiring.

“You haven’t seen these gardens before?” she asked.

“No. I mean, I’ve been here before,” he said, “I was here for that meeting, after New Year’s. Remember? I didn’t pay much attention, apparently.”

“It was January, so there probably wasn’t much to see; just the bare Beetles. Let’s drop those off first,” she said, looking down at the plans in his hand, “and then I’ll give you the fifty-cent tour—if you want one, that is.”

“Of course. I love your tours,” he answered. They walked into the building and located the flower/ ornamental gardens table. It was in the same position as it had been when Katrina had dropped off the first set of plans in May. He followed, handing them to the woman sitting behind the table, accepting a time stamped receipt as proof of delivery.

They walked out into the sunshine, she acting as tour guide, showing him the herb garden along with the Volkswagen Beetles.

“I’m really impressed by your knowledge of these gardens and their history,” he said to her as they were heading back to his jeep. “I was impressed the night at G’s party, and by your yard, and that was before I knew the full scope of your knowledge.”

“Thanks. I’m surprised you’ve lived here for as long as you have and have not seen them. I know now that you like gardens, too. I guess your traveling bug supersedes your gardening bug,” she said, smiling, looking around her. “Have you seen any of the other city’s gardens?”

“Nope, I have just now seen this one, and, of course, our neighborhood’s.”

“Would you like to see some of the others? There is one close by. I could show you around more, if you wanted to?” she said, forgetting her decision to keep it professional.

“Great idea,” he said, watching uncertainty again flicker across her face. “I have time if you do,” he said quickly, before she could backpedal.

“Okay,” she said, getting into the jeep again.

“Directions?” he asked as he started it up.

“Let’s head to the west side. We are fairly close to it. Go back to the highway and take the Ninth Street exit, and then go two blocks west. A large portion of the African-American community resides on this side of town, or they used to. The city is slowly losing its defined neighborhoods; people are moving everywhere nowadays. This is where I go when I’m on the lookout for old-school vegetables,” she said, joining him in his jeep. Will pulled onto the main highway, following Katrina’s directions.

“Have you seen every garden?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said sheepishly. “I’m weird and nosy, and I wanted to see all the competition and each neighborhood’s take on gardening. It could be a small anthropological study. The flower and vegetable gardens in the neighborhoods around the city are reflections of their inhabitants. The vegetables and fruits were planted to be used in the favorite dishes of each of the people of that area, so they’re a reflection of each ethnic group and the foods each neighborhood values.”

She sat silently for a few minutes, watching him. “You’re a really fast driver,” she said, noting the speed with which they were moving.

“Fast? I should take you for a ride on my bike to show you fast.”

“No thanks,” she said, looking over at him, admiring his shiny black hair. He had on his shades, hiding his eyes, but she saw confidence radiating from every pore of his body.

“What, no facts or statistics for me?” he asked, smiling.

“I’m fresh out,” she said.

“Seriously, I’m aware of most of the statistics associated with my hobbies, but if you listed all the reasons for not trying something, you’d never do it, and how boring would that be?” he countered.

Not knowing how to respond, she said nothing. He followed her directions and they soon pulled up to a vegetable garden enclosed by an iron fence surrounding the entire garden and taking up a city block of this neighborhood. Directly behind it, about half the size of the garden, was a neighborhood park and flower garden. It wasn’t as large as he’d expected. It was a Saturday, so it was more crowded than usual, but Will had been able to find a spot along the street and parked. They both got out, moving toward the entrance.

“The flower portion is smaller than I expected, at least compared to the other two gardens I’ve seen so far.”

“When this garden was founded it was larger, but the neighborhood changed. People here have fewer resources, so the flowers gave way to more food growth, especially during that tough recession a couple of years back,” she said.

They walked over to the entrance, where two older African-American women sat behind a long table filled with vegetables and fruits. Katrina groaned out loud, and Will turned to her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, but here sit two of the busiest busybodies you are ever likely to meet,” she said, cutting her words short as they reached the table.

“Well, if it isn’t Katrina,” one of the ladies purred when she and Will reached the table.

“Hello, Mrs. Jenkins and Mrs. Smith,” she said. They both smiled at her. Mrs. Jenkins was dressed in a bright orange shirt with matching scarf tied around her hair. Mrs. Smith was dressed in calm yellow. She’d worn her hair in braids that fell to her shoulders for as long as Katrina had known her.

“And who is this good-looking fellow you have with you?” Mrs. Smith asked.

“This is Will Nakane. He was selected to head the flower competition for our neighborhood this year,” Katrina said.

“Well, well, you must be really good to have beat out our Katrina,” Mrs. Smith said. “Nice to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand.

Will extended his hand to shake hers, but she said, “Baby, a lady’s hand is not for shaking; plant your lips on the back of it.”

Katrina rolled her eyes. Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Jenkins were known to be OC’s, original cougars, who ate young men for sport.

“Nice meeting you both,” Will said, planting a soft kiss on the back of Mrs. Smith’s hand. He reached for Mrs. Jenkins’s hand, which was also extended for a kiss, and he obliged. “The committee only gave me this opportunity because they knew Katrina would be around to make sure I stayed on course,” he said, his smile never wavering, his eyes intense, putting his sex appeal on full display.

“Well, well, he’s a cute one, Katrina,” Mrs. Jenkins said, her eyes assessing him, her eyebrows lifting, her smile sly. “Are we going to keep this one?”

“He’s a friend,” Katrina responded. “And one who I’d promised a tour, so if you ladies will excuse us . . .”

“Why, sure we will, sugar. You come back now, Will,” they said, their smiles suggesting they could eat Will up in one big bite.

“I’m a cute one, huh,” he said to Katrina, as soon as they were out of the ladies’ hearing range. She didn’t bother to respond.

“This section of the garden is famous for what I like to call old-school vegetables—any and all types of greens, mustards, collards, turnips, kale—usually available in the fall. This time of the year, it’s beautiful cucumbers, tomatoes, okra, and peas,” she said, starting to fall into her role as tour guide.

“Katrina.”

She turned her head at the sound of her name. It was Darius, who was carrying a huge bag stuffed to the brim with vegetables. He walked toward them. Will stopped and stood watching them. Who was this guy? He watched him walk up to Katrina and reach for her hands, which she gave over without much thought.

“Will, I’d like for you to meet a friend of mine. Darius Williams,” she said, smiling at Darius.

“Hello,” Will said to Darius, continuing to watch Katrina, taking in her welcome. He was more than a little disconcerted by her reaction and the interest displayed on her face. Who was this guy who still held Katrina’s hands in his?

“Darius is owner and sometimes chef for two small restaurants in town, The Vegetable Garden and The Vegetable Pot. Have you heard of them?” she asked, finally turning her head toward Will.

“Yes,” Will responded. He had eaten there and the food had been very good, but he didn’t feel like sharing that piece of information right now.

“I was giving a tour of this particular garden to Will,” she said. “He’s never been here.”

“Not everyone is into gardening as much as we are, Katrina,” Darius said. The proprietary way he spoke to Katrina had Will’s hair standing on end.

“Well, I better let you two get back to your tour. I’ll talk to you soon, Katrina,” Darius said, bending over and kissing Katrina lightly on the mouth.

Will watched their exchange in silence, annoyed with himself for the feelings of jealousy that had crept up. He didn’t have any claim on her.

***

Darius walked away, laughing hysterically inside. He’d known who Will was from his conversation with Katrina, and he’d decided to do a little acting, blowing up his relationship with her, wanting to gauge the man’s reaction, wanting to determine if Katrina meant anything to him. It had worked perfectly, too, along with being huge fun. He should have been sympathetic; after all, he’d been there before. Woman troubles were painful. He should be ashamed of himself, and he would be later; for now he was enjoying it. He hoped it worked out for Katrina, that Will would be the one for her. Love, when it worked, was something powerful.

***

Katrina and Will continued their tour, with Will now only half listening. He was a little disturbed, internally arguing with himself about his lack of claim on Katrina. Maybe he’d gotten it wrong. Maybe it wasn’t fear, or at least not fear of him. Could she be involved with someone else? The idea left him feeling strange. His mind kept reviewing the scene he had just witnessed. She walked him through the gardens, continuing the tour, but he heard not a word.

“Of course all of the gardens grew staples, like lettuce, broccoli, and beans, but some neighborhoods were better at growing some kinds of vegetables than others,” she rambled on, noticing Will’s blank expression. “Most all of them have a farmers market; nothing big, usually mom and pop in scale, all open on Saturday, all cheap. The amount of fresh fruits and vegetables available in the city at minimum cost is amazing.”

She stopped, betting he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. He looked a thousand miles away.

“So how long have you known Darius?” he asked.

“For a while. Remember my friend Amber from the party?” He nodded. “She introduced us.”

“Are you dating him? Not that it’s any of my business,” he said, looking away.