did you
learn to cook like that?"
"Well, my
grandmother took us in after our parents died, and I was always watching her
cook. Nothing was ever simple. She was always experimenting with recipes. After
I got to be about fourteen, I started helping and have been cooking ever
since."
“It smells
wonderful." He smiles, handing me a plate and sitting on the counter next
to me.
The first bite is
exquisite. "Oh my God," I mutter. "It’s so good."
He smiles and
lightly elbows me in the ribs. "What can I say? I'm multitalented.”
I
nod and shovel another forkful into my mouth. "Mmm."
"Those
sounds are familiar," he says, trying to hide the grin playing at his
lips.
"Oh
hush," I reply, covering my mouth.
"You
know it's bad manners to talk with your mouth full." I nod and flip him
the bird.
"Now,
that can surely be arranged." I can feel the blood beginning to flush my
cheeks. Swallowing my bite, I level my best resting bitch face at him.
“Save
it, Buster, or you won’t be getting anything of the sort for a while. ”
He
shoves a bite of French toast in his mouth and mimics zipping his lips tight. I
nearly choke, I’m laughing at him so hard.
Chapter
Kiptyn
"Sky?" I
ask as she's slipping on her shoes.
"I know this is
supposed to be a brunch and movie date, but I kind of had a different idea. You
game?"
"Well, that
depends on what you have in mind," she replies with a suspicious look on
her face.
"It’s a bit of a
surprise. Do you trust me?"
"I suppose. Am
I at least dressed appropriately?"
"You're perfect.
I mean, you're dressed perfectly." She nods and stands, smoothing the
skirt of her dress.
"Let’s go
then." I nod and take her hand. She smiles and shakes her head, following
my lead.
She sits in the
passenger seat, facing forward with a half-smile on her face. When I pull into
the parking lot at the local VA nursing home, I feel her staring at me.
"What?" I ask.
"This is the
surprise?" she asks.
"Yeah. I
thought this might be good for us, you know, with Camryn and all." She
bites her lip and nods slowly.
"Do you know
anyone here?"
"I know a few
of them, but Mr. Jackson is my favorite. He was always around when Cam and I
were growing up. I think he had a bit of a crush on my grandmother."
She reaches for the
door handle and pauses for a moment. "Do you come here a lot?"
"Not as much as
I'd like."
She draws in a deep
breath and opens the door. Instinctively, I jump out and rush to her side.
"What a gentleman," she says, bringing her hand to mine.
"I try."
"Well, keep it
up. The nice guy stuff looks good on you."
"Ahh, Mr. Price!
So good to see you again. Mr. Jackson will be pleased to see you," says
Phyllis, the front desk clerk.
"And who is
this lovely young thing?"
"Hi, Phyllis. This
is Skila."
"Nice to meet
you," Skila says, reaching her hand out to Phyllis.
"Oh no. We
don't handshake here. We hug," Phyllis replies, coming around the desk and
hugging her tightly.
"You
know, young man, I had a love once. She was a sight. Much like that young lady
over there," he says, pointing to Skila. "Petite and curvy, with eyes
of onyx. Every time I close my eyes, even after all these years, I can still
see her. Such a breathtaking beauty. But . . ." he pauses with a hitch in
his breath, "In my time, it was frowned upon."
"What
was frowned upon?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"My
folks called it mingling with . . . well, I'll be polite—African Americans. The
other term always offended me, and I'd cringe whenever my father would use it,”
he says, shaking his head in disgust. I understand that feeling perfectly well.
"You see, my
parents were very straight-laced and rather preachy. I didn't want to
disappoint them, so I ended what could have been the greatest love I've ever
known." The tears beginning to pool in his eyes make my heart ache for
him. He wipes away the tears with a worn old handkerchief embroidered with the
initials, TWS. I assume those to be hers, the
learn to cook like that?"
"Well, my
grandmother took us in after our parents died, and I was always watching her
cook. Nothing was ever simple. She was always experimenting with recipes. After
I got to be about fourteen, I started helping and have been cooking ever
since."
“It smells
wonderful." He smiles, handing me a plate and sitting on the counter next
to me.
The first bite is
exquisite. "Oh my God," I mutter. "It’s so good."
He smiles and
lightly elbows me in the ribs. "What can I say? I'm multitalented.”
I
nod and shovel another forkful into my mouth. "Mmm."
"Those
sounds are familiar," he says, trying to hide the grin playing at his
lips.
"Oh
hush," I reply, covering my mouth.
"You
know it's bad manners to talk with your mouth full." I nod and flip him
the bird.
"Now,
that can surely be arranged." I can feel the blood beginning to flush my
cheeks. Swallowing my bite, I level my best resting bitch face at him.
“Save
it, Buster, or you won’t be getting anything of the sort for a while. ”
He
shoves a bite of French toast in his mouth and mimics zipping his lips tight. I
nearly choke, I’m laughing at him so hard.
Chapter
Kiptyn
"Sky?" I
ask as she's slipping on her shoes.
"I know this is
supposed to be a brunch and movie date, but I kind of had a different idea. You
game?"
"Well, that
depends on what you have in mind," she replies with a suspicious look on
her face.
"It’s a bit of a
surprise. Do you trust me?"
"I suppose. Am
I at least dressed appropriately?"
"You're perfect.
I mean, you're dressed perfectly." She nods and stands, smoothing the
skirt of her dress.
"Let’s go
then." I nod and take her hand. She smiles and shakes her head, following
my lead.
She sits in the
passenger seat, facing forward with a half-smile on her face. When I pull into
the parking lot at the local VA nursing home, I feel her staring at me.
"What?" I ask.
"This is the
surprise?" she asks.
"Yeah. I
thought this might be good for us, you know, with Camryn and all." She
bites her lip and nods slowly.
"Do you know
anyone here?"
"I know a few
of them, but Mr. Jackson is my favorite. He was always around when Cam and I
were growing up. I think he had a bit of a crush on my grandmother."
She reaches for the
door handle and pauses for a moment. "Do you come here a lot?"
"Not as much as
I'd like."
She draws in a deep
breath and opens the door. Instinctively, I jump out and rush to her side.
"What a gentleman," she says, bringing her hand to mine.
"I try."
"Well, keep it
up. The nice guy stuff looks good on you."
"Ahh, Mr. Price!
So good to see you again. Mr. Jackson will be pleased to see you," says
Phyllis, the front desk clerk.
"And who is
this lovely young thing?"
"Hi, Phyllis. This
is Skila."
"Nice to meet
you," Skila says, reaching her hand out to Phyllis.
"Oh no. We
don't handshake here. We hug," Phyllis replies, coming around the desk and
hugging her tightly.
"You
know, young man, I had a love once. She was a sight. Much like that young lady
over there," he says, pointing to Skila. "Petite and curvy, with eyes
of onyx. Every time I close my eyes, even after all these years, I can still
see her. Such a breathtaking beauty. But . . ." he pauses with a hitch in
his breath, "In my time, it was frowned upon."
"What
was frowned upon?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"My
folks called it mingling with . . . well, I'll be polite—African Americans. The
other term always offended me, and I'd cringe whenever my father would use it,”
he says, shaking his head in disgust. I understand that feeling perfectly well.
"You see, my
parents were very straight-laced and rather preachy. I didn't want to
disappoint them, so I ended what could have been the greatest love I've ever
known." The tears beginning to pool in his eyes make my heart ache for
him. He wipes away the tears with a worn old handkerchief embroidered with the
initials, TWS. I assume those to be hers, the
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