Game of Hearts (8 page)

****

We'd been lucky enough to get an appointment to see the cardiologist's nurse on Tuesday. Sarah would still have plenty of time to finish her project. I waited while she spoke to Nurse Melanie about how disease can destroy the heart. They pointed at the plastic model Sarah had put together from a kit. Sarah took notes as Nurse Melanie walked from one chart to another.

"Is there anything else you'd like to know?" She pushed back loose strands of hair that had fallen from her bun.

"I think that's it. I've got a lot of notes."

"If you need anything else, give me a call."

"Thank you for allowing us to take up so much of your time." I rose from the plastic chair. "If there's anything we can do to help, let us know."

"You can tell me where your daughter got that cool shirt, so I can get one too." Melanie gestured to Sarah's cut-together top. A smile came over my daughter's face and her eyes shone.

"Sarah made it herself. Didn't you?" Pride came through in my voice. "She came up with the idea when I couldn't afford to get her new clothes for school."

Melanie grabbed the side of the shirt where the extra fabric had been sewn in. "I love it. Could you make me one? I'll give you the two shirts to use. I'll even pay you for your time."

"Sure I can." Sarah beamed. It had been a while since I'd seen her smile like that.

Melanie walked us to the front door. "You do the books for Mr. Howard's office, don't you?"

"Yeah," I said.

"We've been looking for someone on a part-time basis. If you're interested, I'll let the doctor know."

"I sure am." I pulled out a business card I'd made on my home computer and handed it to her.

The car started right up with no problem. If I didn't know any better, I'd say things were getting better. I might have a new client, and my daughter glowed. Maybe God was starting to give me a break.

 

My week was going well. The check from the doctor's office sat on my desk. I'd worked for them for two weeks and made more than before my hours at the car lot had been cut. November could turn out to be a pretty good month financially. Thank goodness, with the holidays around the corner.

Sarah and I had walked every morning for the last three weeks. We were up to two miles. I'd lost eleven pounds and my clothes hung off me.

"So how's it going with this boy you like?" I hated to get too personal, more so because I didn't want to hear what she might be doing behind my back. But as a parent, I considered it my duty to snoop into my kids' lives every once in a while.

"Okay, I guess." She shrugged. "He's been having lunch with Frankie and me."

"That's good."

"What's good is Victoria has a different lunch hour so he doesn't stare deeply into her eyes."

"Is this the boy whose acne cleared up over summer?"

"Yeah." Sarah's cheeks reddened.

"What makes you think it'd be Victoria's eyes and not yours?"

"Apparently you haven't seen Victoria, have you?"

"Victoria's a very beautiful girl, but you have prettier eyes." My telephone rang in my pocket, interrupting our conversation. I was tempted not to answer when I saw Michael's number on the caller ID, but I knew my curiosity wouldn't allow it. "Hello?"

"Deb, we need to talk."

"Can I call you back? I'm out doing my morning walk."

"Trying to get back that figure from years ago? Good luck." He laughed.

Why did I answer his call? I needed to listen to that little voice inside me when it told me not to do things. I knew I'd never get my figure back. Three pregnancies had seen to that. I just wanted some resemblance of an hourglass figure instead of the apple shape I'd become. "What do you want, Michael?" I tried to keep the anger from my voice since Sarah was beside me. It didn't work.

"I want to get the kids this weekend to buy them their clothes for the wedding."

"That's fine with me. They're off school this Friday, so come get them anytime."

"I'll be there before nine. Make sure they're up and fed. Patrice and I don't want to have to worry about stopping to get breakfast. We have enough to do." He hung up.

"What's going on?" Sarah hopped over a tree limb lying in the road.

I told her of the conversation, all the while hoping Michael didn't let his kids down again. If he wanted to buy them new clothes, good for him. It would mean I wouldn't have to
.

After Sarah's outburst to her father a couple Sundays ago, she'd told me she'd overheard me talking on the phone about Michael being behind on his support. She knew I was doing the best I could. I'd resigned myself to the fact Matthew would blame me for the divorce no matter what. Anthony seemed to be the only one not taking sides. However, I'd won points with him by allowing Brandon to show him his tattoo on the back of his shoulder. Of course, now he wanted one of his own.

"I don't know why I have to go." Sarah sulked.
"Nothing I get will look good." She'd only lost three pounds from our walks.

"Because he's your father," I said.

"Yeah. That's why he can't wait to see us." Sarah made no effort to hide her distain. As much as I hated it, I couldn't blame her.

We walked in silence for the remainder of the three blocks. Matthew and Anthony were up when we got home. Sometimes my children surprised me. I hadn't had to fight to get them out of bed since I'd started walking.

"Kids, your dad's coming to get you this weekend. I don't want you to make any plans."

"Like he's really going to show up." Sarah sucked down some water.

"Shut up." Matthew spit out the words. "He wants to see us, he's just too busy."

"Doing what? Hanging with his girlfriend?" Sarah fired back. "You don't honestly believe all those excuses, do you?"

"That's enough. The important thing is he's coming to get you." I pulled a ham-and-egg casserole from the oven. The aroma of melted cheese floated into the kitchen. Please God, let him show up. I don't know how much more of this the kids can take.

****

A few minutes after nine on Friday morning, a black Cadillac Escalade pulled into the driveway. When Michael got out of the driver's side, I thanked God. The kids had been snapping at each other all morning.

A thin blonde woman got out of the passenger door. She wore a yellow flowered dress with a low v-neck, which framed the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed. Michael strutted beside her like a peacock in full plume. "Kids, this is my wife-to-be, Patrice Windsome."

"Oh, let me guess." Patrice
's
smile showed perfectly white teeth. "You're Matthew, and you're Anthony. Your father has told me so much about you."

Sarah stood off to the side and rolled her eyes into the back of her head. I'm afraid one day they're going to get stuck there.

"And you must be Sarah. You're even prettier than your father said." Patrice brushed some of Sarah's hair away from her face. "Look at those beautiful eyes. Let me guess, you got those from your mother?"

I didn't know what to say. Is her politeness for show, or does she not realize what type of man she's about to marry?

"Deb, it's nice to meet you." Patrice raised her long, white-tipped nails toward me.

"Nice to meet you too." Those silky-soft hands had never known any type of hard labor, like tearing out weeds or cleaning a toilet.

"She's a pretty little thing, isn't she?" Michael walked up beside Patrice and looped his arm around her neck. "She takes good care of herself, unlike other people you might know." He gave me a sneer.

Patrice poked him in the ribs with her elbow. "I do exercise," she said. "However, I haven't had any children to ruin my figure. If men had to have babies, they'd be more sympathetic toward women's bodies. Isn't that right, Deb?"

Michael lowered his arm from around her shoulder and sulked. Patrice gave me a wink. I found myself liking this perfectly tailored woman.

****

 
Brandon had joined us for church for the past four Saturdays. People whispered and pointed. I loved that they thought I could get a man like this. Since I'd lost weight, my clothes drooped off my waist. It'd been years since I'd worn a belt. Good thing I'd
kept
all my old clothes. You never know when something's going to come back into fashion.

"Brandon." A man who'd been sitting a few rows up approached us and shook Brandon's hand. "I just wanted to tell you how pleased we are with the work you did. I'm letting my friends know, so expect more business soon."

I glanced up at Brandon when the man left. I must have had a questioning look in my eye. "I'm doing construction work part-time. Nothing real major, just small stuff." Funny, retirement sounded better to me than working.

"Scarlett, can you get the kids today?" Brandon asked. "There's something I need to discuss with Deb."

"I sure can. Take all the time you need." She glowed as she walked away. I frowned. Something's going on, and she's in on it.

Brandon led me out to the parking lot, away from other people. We stopped a few spaces past the mobile
blood donation center.
"I wanted to give you this."

I took the brochure he handed me. "What's this?" The name on the political advertisement read Wallace Windsome, III. I recalled the kids telling me Patrice's father was a senator. An older man stared up at me from the pamphlet. His smile said he would promise me anything for my vote.

"You might want to look it over. I thought you might find it interesting. He's running on some interesting premises."

I opened the brochure. Patrice's face sat smack dab in the center of the page. "I don't understand. I can't vote in Florida."

"I know. Just read it. Later." He tucked his finger under my chin. "Right now I want your full attention."

"Okay." I had no choice but to look at those delicious chocolate-brown eyes. Great. Now I want
ed
a candy bar. I could swim in those eyes. In fact, drinking them in sounded better than candy. I licked my lips and refocused my attention on what Brandon was saying.

"So you know me by now, right?"

"Yes."

When he took hold of my hand heat rushed through me. "You remember when your car broke down, and I helped push it out of the street?"

"Yes." One-word answers were probably best right now.

"You said you wouldn't have dinner with me because you didn't know me. Now you do. You no longer have an excuse. Are you free next Saturday?"

Could he be asking me out? "You mean a date?" My heart beat so fast I thought I'd drop dead right then and there.

"I think that's what it's called when a man and woman go out together."

"But I-I've got three kids." I stammered.

"They're old enough to get their own food this time. I want it to be just you and me. No Scarlett or children. Just us."

That sounded wonderful. I took a step back, sucked in a deep breath and said, "Okay."

"Great, I'll pick you up at six. We'll do something other than pizza."

"Sounds good."

"You have a good week." His grin reminded me of the Cheshire Cat's. "Goodbye."

"'Bye." I couldn't move.

The Bloodmobile bus pulled out, leaving me in a plume of exhaust. I stood in the middle of the parking lot with my mouth hanging open. What had I just done? I groaned inwardly. Had I really agreed to go out on a date with Brandon Nash?

Scarlett rushed up to me. "Well? Did you say yes?"

"Uh-huh." My voice squeaked. Oh Lord, please strike me dead before next Saturday. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to handle this.

****

When we got home, I glanced at the political brochure. Mr. Windsome's pamphlet mentioned his daughter's wedding several times. A list of bullet points ran down the inner right-hand side. One of his main issues was welfare reform. He proposed enforcing tougher laws for parents who didn't pay child support. I laughed out loud.

"What's so funny?" Anthony asked.

"Nothing." Mr. Windsome must not have checked into his future son-in-law too carefully. If his opponent found out, it would definitely put a damper on his chances of winning the election.

Anthony stared up at me with those big blue eyes. "What were you and Brandon talking about in the parking lot, Mommy?"

My heart stopped. I told Brandon I'd go out with him on Saturday night. What had I been thinking? I had nothing to wear. "We're going out to eat Saturday night," I croaked.

"Are we having pizza again?"

"You're not invited."

"Oooooh, Mom's got a date." Sarah had a large grin on her face. "It's about time."

Matthew rolled his eyes before taking off to his room. I'm beginning to think that eye-rolling stuff runs in my family.

I walked into my bedroom and slid my shoes off, placing them in the closet. I paused in front of the large mirror on the bathroom door and ran a finger around my face. Brandon's touch created a warmth within me, one I hadn't felt in a while. Some days I
'd
forgot
ten
I was a woman who used to enjoy the touch of a man. And his touch definitely ignited those feelings. Could I actually win a man like Brandon Nash?