The Someday List (8 page)

Aunt Irene and Rachelle laughed.

Rachelle didn't think her cousin Reuben had the same issues,
but when she had left Philadelphia for Jubilant, she remembered being grateful to have some freedom for the first time.
Mom had still called several times a week to make sure she was
studying and staying out of trouble at Everson, but at least she
hadn't been able to hover and tell her what to wear or whom
to hang out with.

"Yasmin, coming with me?"

The girl looked at Rachelle, and then over her shoulder, toward
a group of girls her age. They waved her over.

Rachelle laughed. "I see-I'm not going to win the popularity
contest today," she told Yasmin. "Go on-be with your friends.
I'll see you at the house"

Yasmin dashed off and Aunt Irene shook her head.

"That girl is something else;" she said. "Busy as a bee, but a
sweetheart. You can tell me later how your babies are doing."

Rachelle promised to give her an update on Tate and Taryn
just as one of Aunt Irene's friends approached and hugged her
from behind.

"We missed you the other night at the women's tea! Where
were you, Irene?"

Rachelle seized the opportunity to escape and waved goodbye
to Aunt Irene. She scanned the crowd on her way out of the sanctuary. Uncle Charles had disappeared. He must be in the church
office with the other deacons, counting the offering. She snaked
her way through the socializing parishioners and paused once
she reached the foyer. Before she stepped outside the church, she
looked back and caught a glimpse of Troy approaching Aunt Irene
with open arms so he could envelop her in a hug.

Rachelle rummaged through her purse for her car keys and
fought the surging anger. Aunt Irene and Uncle Charles were
church leaders; they had to have known for a while that Troy was
under consideration for the position at St. Peter's. Why hadn't one
of them said something?

She felt like she was in college again, when everyone was deciding what was best for her, without including her in the process.
This time around, she wasn't going to be so easy to manipulate.
She had an agenda of her own.

achelle had driven full speed into a personal storm
with no warning.

"Maybe I should leave;' she said to Alanna. She sat on Reuben's
bed, talking softly into her cell phone in case Aunt Irene or Uncle
Charles ventured past the closed door.

"You gonna let a man run you out of town? You're better than
that, Chelle," Alanna said. "Just calm down. I know it's unsettling
for Troy to be there, but it's been fifteen years. You can't still have
feelings for him, can you?"

Rachelle didn't respond. Alanna knew better.

"Well, you haven't talked about him in a long, long time, so I
thought you had moved on. I thought you were happy with Gabeuntil the stunt you pulled last week before he left town," Alanna
said. "You can't leave jubilant, though. You know how much Aunt
Irene and Uncle Charles love you. They would be hurt"

Maybe they would understand, since they were concerned enough
to keep the news of Troy's arrival from me, Rachelle thought. "If
this were you, what would you do?"

Alanna sighed. "Why are you always asking me how I would
handle something? I'm supposed to look to you for advice. You
know me-I would have split the second church was over, girl"

The sisters laughed, but Rachelle's spirits sagged. Why had she
never had that kind of courage?

"You could do it and get away with it too;' Rachelle said. "Me?
I'd be accused of causing family trauma, drama, and a whole range
of other issues if I had done that today."

"If you need to leave to be okay, Rachelle, I say do it;' Alanna
said. "You gotta take care of you, whether others understand or
not."

Rachelle bit her tongue. The rules aren't the same.

Alanna had always made her needs a priority and had spoken her mind without hesitation, and no one batted an eye. Her
breathtaking beauty and engaging personality bought her breaks
others couldn't pay cash for.

"Let me get off this phone and go outside," Rachelle said.
"Guests are arriving for the barbecue, and I better help"

"See, there you go," Alanna said.

"What do you mean?"

"Did anybody ask you to help? If not, why are you feeling obligated? You're a guest too. Go on out there and chill! I'll call you
back in a couple of hours to see if you're feeling better"

Rachelle smiled. Alanna kept her in line.

Her baby sister couldn't get her love life straight or figure out
what career she wanted to pursue long term, but the bachelor's
degree in French and master's in marketing allowed her to keep
landing great jobs throughout metro Dallas. If she'd only stay
somewhere longer than a year and a half and stop searching for
Mr. Right in all the wrong places, she just might be all right.

"Thanks, sis;' Rachelle said. She still hadn't told Alanna about
Jillian. This Troy thing had thrown her for a loop. "I'll catch you
up on some other things soon. Love ya."

Rachelle placed the cell phone on the maple dresser and left the bedroom. She sauntered down the hallway leading from the
bedroom to the kitchen, taking in the numerous framed photos
that lined the wall. There were images of her and Alanna when
they were young girls, visiting Aunt Irene and Uncle Charles one
summer.

Pictures of Aunt Irene and Uncle Charles that had been taken
before they became parents were interspersed with images of
extended family members and close friends. Rachelle giggled at
some of the photos, especially the ones of Uncle Charles leaning against a teal car that Rachelle thought resembled an iron
submarine.

He really thought he was fine.

She strolled into the kitchen, where Aunt Irene was making potato salad. Aunt Irene had come home from church and launched
right into preparing food for the cookout. She paused and smiled
at Rachelle.

"I'm so glad you surprised us today. It does my heart good to
see you. You look as pretty as always. Are you eating anything?"

Rachelle laughed. "Yes, Auntie, I'm eating. I also exercise just
about every day-jogging and Pilates. Keeps me looking my
best"

Aunt Irene shook her head. "I tell you, you young women come
up with some stuff. I never pretended that I was going to be a cover
girl when I was your age, so I ate what I wanted:' She patted her
hips. "Now I've got some regrets, but hey, I wasn't denying myself
something I wanted to enjoy. I'll be sixty this year, and you can
bet that I'm not worried about my figure:"

Rachelle smiled. Aunt Irene had full cheeks and wide hips, but
Uncle Charles didn't seem to be complaining. She was still a pretty
woman, and Rachelle was sure that men her age still considered
her someone to talk about.

"Fried food is my big no-no;' Rachelle said. "I'm married to
a cardiothoracic surgeon, after all. Other than that, I just try to
eat in moderation. The exercise gives me energy and just helps
me feel better."

Aunt Irene stuck a tablespoon in the potato salad and took a
bite. "Hmm, this is so good;' she said. "I'm glad you've got a system
for staying healthy, baby. Want some potato salad?"

Rachelle shook her head. "Not right now, but I'll take it out
and put it on the table if you want me to."

"It's too hot out there for it right now. I'll refrigerate it and bring
it out when it's time to bless all of the food;' Aunt Irene said. "Go
on out and get a cool drink. Say hi to your uncle."

Rachelle stepped outside, into the backyard, and remembered
why she spent most of her summer days at a spa or indoor pool.
Sweat trickled down her back before she had taken a good three
steps toward Uncle Charles.

It was about three p.m. and the day couldn't have been hotter.
Here she was at a Sunday afternoon barbecue in July. In southern Texas. The humidity left her longing for a bath filled with
ice cubes.

"Stop complaining;' Uncle Charles said and motioned for her
to sit in the lawn chair next to him. "Don't you rich folk cook out
in your hoity-toity section of Houston?"

Rachelle laughed and swatted him with the newspaper he had
placed in her lap, along with a few ears of corn to shuck.

"Yeah;' she teased back, "on our air-conditioned patios."

She grabbed her thick mane and pulled a hair claw from the
pocket of the khaki shorts she had found in her suitcase. Today
was a testament to why packing more than she thought she needed
could be beneficial. And thank goodness she kept a few extra
supplies in the glove compartment of her car for Taryn's hair emergencies. If she didn't get this stuff off her neck, she might be
tempted to cut it.

After shucking the corn, Rachelle and Uncle Charles moved
their chairs under one of several white tents where they could relax.
He sipped a soda while she chug-a-lugged a bottle of water.

A heavy silence settled between them, until finally, he spoke.

"We shoulda told you about Troy, but we just didn't know how,"
Uncle Charles said. "Knowing how much went on between you
two, it was hard when we learned he was moving back to jubilant
and wanted the director of music position. But he was the best
candidate of the bunch, and we believe God sent him to us:"

Rachelle peered through the haze of heat at the neighborhood
kids playing in the shallow pool Uncle Charles had inflated for
them. Yasmin was frolicking with them and orchestrating teams
for a water game.

"I'm not questioning your commitment to follow God, Uncle
Charles;' she said. "I just want to know why, once it was clear that
Troy was a contender for the job, you or Aunt Irene didn't pick
up the phone and call me. I had a right to know. I make sporadic
visits to jubilant; and I occasionally go to your church. Just the
fact that he moved back to Texas meant there was a chance of me
running into him. You should have prepared me for that."

Uncle Charles sipped his soda and shrugged. He looked away
before he spoke. "I don't know, Rachelle. We knew how hard
you took it when you two broke up. We just weren't sure what
to do."

"No;' Rachelle said in as even a tone as she could muster. "We
didn't `break up. My parents gave me an ultimatum-get a divorce
or find a way to pay for optometry school on my own. I think that
could be considered blackmail instead of a `breakup"'

Uncle Charles cleared his throat and rose from the seat. He patted her shoulder, and wandered away, toward Yasmin and
her friends.

Rachelle could tell she had crossed his line of tolerance.
Aunt Irene often accused him of fleeing from uncomfortable
situations.

Rachelle sat there awhile longer, stewing over the circumstances.
More guests began to arrive, and she realized she needed to give
the subject a rest. ButI always do that-give it a rest; keep the peace;
make sure no feathers are ruffled. What if I don't feel like it?

Before she could mull over answers, a startling thought crossed
her mind: Troy might have been invited to this barbecue before
her family knew she'd be there. If he showed up, she was pulling
an Alanna"-she would pack up and be home by nightfall.

ince Uncle Charles went in one direction, Rachelle chose
to go in the other.

She gathered the ears of corn she had shucked and cradled them
in her arms. Before Uncle Charles could grill them, they needed
to be washed, and she might as well do the honors.

When she reached the patio that led to the kitchen, Rachelle
noticed Aunt Irene standing under a nearby tree, gulping from
a red plastic cup. Aunt Irene smiled when Rachelle approached
her and tucked her hand with the cup behind her back.

"What's up?" she asked. She squirmed under Rachelle's curious
gaze. "This heat makes you thirsty, doesn't it?"

Rachelle nodded and peered over her aunt's shoulder. The cup
held a clear liquid and was half full, but why would Aunt Irene
try to hide it?

"Is that `happy juice' or something?"