I never turned off my cellphone or my landline when I went to bed. With my elderly parents on a six-month-long vacation visiting cities in several countries, and a grandmother who lived alone in an apartment six blocks away, I wanted to be available at all times in case they needed to get in touch with me.

  When my cellphone woke me up, I glanced at the illuminated clock on my nightstand and panicked. It was four a.m. “Oh, God,” I moaned, sitting bolt upright. “Please let it be a wrong number.” I swallowed hard and looked at the caller ID and saw a name and number I didn’t recognize. I answered right away.

  “Fel, were you asleep?” It was Mama’s voice.

  “I was,” I muttered, and held my breath. “Is everything okay? Where’s Daddy and whose phone are you using?”

  “Everything’s fine. We’re having a ball down here in South Africa. Your daddy is flopping around in the hotel pool, and I’m stretched out on a chaise longue laughing at him and munching on a few things I took from the breakfast buffet. I left my phone in the room so I’m using one that belongs to a lady we met at breakfast this morning.”

  My parents had retired ten months ago on the same day. Mama had worked as a pediatric nurse for thirty-five years, and Daddy had worked in law enforcement for forty. He’d started out as a beat cop and worked his way up to homicide detective. One of their goals was to visit as many countries as possible before they got too old. Even after providing a good life for my brother and me, and supporting Daddy’s parents until they passed years ago, they still managed to save enough money to fulfill their dream. A week before they were scheduled to begin their six-month-long vacation, Mama’s father passed away and they didn’t want to leave Grandma Lucy on her own. But she was in good health and didn’t want them to change their plans to accommodate her. I didn’t want them to change their plans either, so I assured them that I would take care of my grandmother and even suggested moving her in with me. Grandma Lucy liked living alone, but I picked her up at least once a week and brought her to my place to spend a couple of nights. Lorena enjoyed spending time with her while I was at work. And she wore a medic alert bracelet at all times when she was alone, so I wasn’t too worried about her.

  “How are you doing, baby? Is Mama driving you crazy yet?”

  “I’m fine and so is she. She’s going to spend today at a casino with one of her quilt-making club friends, but I’ll see her on Sunday. How’s the vacation going? It’ll be over soon, so I hope you and Daddy are still having a good time.” They’d started their journey back in June and had already visited England, France, Scotland, Portugal, Ireland, and Italy. They had been in Africa for three weeks.

  “Baby, we are having the time of our lives. Ghana was an amazing place, but we’re enjoying Johannesburg, South Africa, even more. The people here, black and white, are so nice and friendly.”

  “So I’ve heard. That’s one country I definitely plan to visit someday.”

  “Your daddy is a mess,” Mama laughed. “We’ve been eating some tasty food, but he’s disappointed because with all these black folks down here, we haven’t found any restaurants that sell turnip greens, hush puppies, and smothered chicken. You know how addicted he is to soul food.”

  “Tell him he’ll have to wait until he gets back to the States. Black folks in other countries have probably never even heard of what we call soul food.”

  “Tell me about it. But we’ve eaten some good food anyway. By the way, I spoke to your brother yesterday.”

  “I talked to him on Thanksgiving. He won’t be able to make it up here for Christmas.”

  “That’s another thing I need to tell you. We might not make it back in time for Christmas.”

  “Oh? Why not? We’ve always spent Christmas Day together.”

  “Our travel agent is working on getting us to the one place I never thought I’d get to visit.” Mama paused and I held my breath until she continued. “If he can get us into a decent hotel, we’ll spend Christmas Day and the rest of the week—if possible—in Bethlehem. A tour guide will take us to some of the same places where Jesus lived and preached. But our travel agent is having a few problems making the arrangements, so we’re not going to get our hopes up too high.”

  I gasped. “Oh my. I hope he can get it done. When I was a little girl, you talked about visiting that part of the world all the time.”

  “If we do make it, I will call you on the Lord’s birthday from His birthplace. Oooh wee. I get chills just thinking about being in the Holy Land. I just wanted to let you know now in case we don’t make it back in time to spend Christmas Day at home. I hope you understand.”

  “Mama, don’t worry about not making it back in time. If Grandma Lucy and I don’t feel like cooking, I’m sure she’ll want to eat Christmas dinner at Denny’s. If we don’t go there, we’ll probably eat with my friend Pam and her family. So don’t worry about us.”

  “I do worry about you being alone so much, though. . . .”

  “Mama, I have my job and a lot of friends. And when I am alone, it doesn’t bother me.”

  “Your grandma told your daddy that the only thing left on her bucket list is you getting married.”

  “It’s not the only thing left on my list, but it’s at the top,” I giggled.

  CHAPTER 4

  RICHARD

  Family was so important to me. I doted on my two precious daughters. My parents had passed four years ago in a fatal car crash and we’d always been very close. My older brother, Alex, lived in Jamaica with his wife and their three daughters. They were expecting their fourth child any day now. My sister-in-law had been on bed rest for four months, and her doctor had told her that she’d have to take it easy for at least six weeks after the baby came. That was the reason they wouldn’t be coming home for Christmas.

  I had several relatives in Ohio, and I spent as much time with them as possible. I still had a close relationship with my in-laws, too. When Margaret passed, her mother and mine both offered to move in with me and help raise my girls. I knew a lot of folks who had been raised by grandmothers, but there was no reason I couldn’t raise my own children. Besides, it was time for black grandmothers to stop being so overburdened. Most of the ones I knew had already done more than enough for their children, grandchildren, and in a lot of cases, great-grandchildren.

  I had decided that if any other woman was going to live with me and help raise my children, she and I would have to be married.

  No woman could replace my beloved Margaret. But I knew that there were other women just as phenomenal as she had been. However, finding one I liked and getting her to fall in love with me enough to make a long-term commitment was not easy. Even though I had been involved with several ladies since Margaret’s passing, Felicia was the only one who had grabbed my attention and kept it. At first it was just as a friend. She was caring, generous, sensitive, funny, smart, and very easy on the eyes. Each time I was in her presence, I felt my feelings for her grow.

  Raising two teenagers was no picnic. After Margaret died, almost everybody I knew started warning me with comments like, “Man, when they get in their teens, you’re going to have a mess on your hands.” One well-meaning cousin told me, “They’ll end up running the show and you won’t know what hit you.” Other than a few issues about cellphone use, the TV shows they watched, music choices, and their spending too much time on their computers, I hadn’t experienced anything to be too concerned about yet. I gave my kids everything they needed, including a fair amount of freedom. But my tolerance level for bad behavior was zero. When they started paying more attention to their phones than to me and their dinner, I stopped allowing them to bring their phones to the table. To make sure they were not doing anything dangerous or inappropriate online, I checked their computers and phones on a daily basis. They didn’t like that at all. “And don’t even think about deleting things you don’t want me to see,” I warned. “Deleted only means relocated.” Thanks to one of the courses I had taken advantage of in the army, I probably knew as much about electronics as the people who invented them.

  Saturday was the girls’ favorite day in the week because I let them sleep in as long as they wanted, and I didn’t check to see what they were up to in their rooms. But I wasn’t naïve. There was just no telling what kind of mischief they got into when they were on their own and when I let them sleep over at their friends’ houses. I wasn’t too worried about them associating with a bad crowd because I monitored that as much as I could. Even though I knew their friends and their parents, it was impossible to keep track of every move they made. I had done a lot of stupid things when I was a kid—some my parents never knew about—but I’d learned from my mistakes.

  I tumbled out of bed right after daybreak this morning. I planned to go out early and fill up my gas tank, run a few errands, and come home and relax. I had gone to bed last night with a lot of thoughts bouncing around in my head. I was having a transmission problem with my Ford Explorer and needed to get it taken care of soon. That would be a major expense, and it couldn’t have come at a worse time, because my Christmas gift list was two pages long. The cost of buying presents for so many people each year, including my girls, always set me back a pretty penny. But because of my careful spending habits and some good investments, I had a pretty sweet nest egg to fall back on.

  Marva and Carol had been badgering me for months to let them start wearing makeup and get their nails done. I’d finally proposed a compromise last night after we’d watched Spider-Man: Homecoming for the third time since its release last year. “A little lip gloss and manicures with clear polish,” I told them.

  “I want a French manicure,” Carol whined. “Clear polish is only for old women in their twenties and thirties.”

  “Clear polish,” I insisted.

  “What about boys?” Marva brought up in a meek tone.

  “What about boys?” I echoed, giving her a stern what’s-wrong-with-you-girl look.

  “James Noah asked me to go to the movies with him this coming weekend. Can I go?”

  “I’ll have to check and see if I’m available to go that day,” I said.

  “Daddy, you can’t go on a date with me and a boy,” she protested.

  “You can’t either. We’ve discussed this subject before, and more than once. No dating until you’re sixteen. You can have boys for friends, they can continue to come to the house to watch movies and play video games when I’m home or if some other adult is here. I don’t think it’s a good idea for girls your ages to be out on a bus with a boy going to the movies.”

  “James is sixteen and his daddy lets him borrow his car all the time,” Marva tossed in with a major pout.

  “Well, when you turn sixteen, you can ride with James,” I said, keeping my voice gentle.

  “Girl, I told you,” Carol said under her breath.

  My girls didn’t sulk often or for too long. Half an hour later, we popped more corn and I played a couple of video games with them before they went to bed.

  * * *

  After I took a quick shower, I checked on the girls. They were still asleep and still clutching their cellphones. I sighed and shook my head and crept quietly out of the house.

  My Explorer still had half a tank of gas, so I didn’t have to go to the gas station today after all. But there was one other thing I had to attend to. Other than my late wife’s parents, I was probably the only person who remembered that today was the day Margaret died. On the first anniversary, the girls went to the cemetery with me to put fresh flowers on her grave. But they’d cried off and on the rest of that day, so I never took them again. I had not missed a year yet.

  Ralph’s Market had poinsettias already, so I stopped there first and purchased one of the biggest pots they had. After a cup of coffee and a muffin at a nearby coffee shop, I drove to the Mandell Cemetery, which was located on the outskirts of town. I parked on the side of the road and dragged my feet to Margaret’s grave. I had forgotten to put on my gloves, so when I brushed the snow off her headstone, the cold chill felt like needles pricking my fingers. “Sure do miss you,” I whispered. I stared at her name and the dates of her sunrise and sunset. When I kissed the top of her headstone, I didn’t even feel the cold. As a matter of fact, I felt warm all over.

  When I got back home, the girls were in the kitchen making breakfast. “Where have you been, Daddy?” Marva demanded. She stood over the stove scrambling what looked like half a dozen eggs in the frying pan. Carol immediately poured me a cup of coffee from the pot she’d just made.

  “I went to visit Mommy.” I swallowed hard and closed my eyes for a few seconds. “I hope she’s warm.” I immediately wished I could take back my last comment.

  “She is warm, Daddy. Everybody knows that the weather and everything else in heaven is perfect,” Marva said, choking on a sob.

  “Did you take her some flowers?” Carol asked as she set my cup on the table. Her tone was shaky and just above a whisper. “Mama loved flowers.”

  “I took her some,” I replied in the most cheerful tone I could manage. I removed my coat and draped it on the back of the chair I usually occupied. And then I plopped down and took a sip of my coffee.

  Carol sat down across from me. “Daddy, you don’t have to keep going out there by yourself. We can start going with you again,” she said with a sniffle.

  “We miss Mama as much as you do. We’re older now and we don’t get sad like we did that first time we went with you,” Marva added.

  “Okay, queens,” I said, puffing out my chest. Marva plopped down on the seat next to her sister. The weary looks on their faces bothered me, and now I wished I had not told them I’d been to the cemetery. It was time for me to lighten the mood since I was the one who had darkened it. I looked toward the stove and sniffed. “Let’s dig into those eggs before they get cold.”

  CHAPTER 5

  FELICIA

  Shortly after I got out of bed Saturday morning, I decided to call up a few elderly members who belonged to my church to see if they wanted any assistance this weekend. These people had outlived most of their family and friends. Even though they needed help from time to time, they had no desire to check into nursing homes. Mama had been helping them out ever since I could remember. But because she was busy fulfilling her dream to travel, I volunteered my free services two or three times a month. This was a very important and honorable role to me. I planned to do it as long as I could. Since there was a strong possibility that I’d never have children to assist me in my old age, I hoped that somebody would help look out for me when the time came. I left messages for the first three. I told each one to call me if they needed my help in any way. My last call was to ninety-three-year-old Mervis Wheeler, one of Grandma Lucy’s posse. “Fel, you are so sweet to think of me. I thank God every time I hear from you. You’re as devoted as your mama. But I don’t need anything right now. My grandson is on his way up from Kentucky to bring me down there for Christmas.”

  “Okay, Sister Mervis. When you return, let me know if you need anything.”

  “I will, sugar. You’ve done so much for me these past few months, I wish I could do something for you.” There was a brief pause before Mervis continued. “God is going to bless you.”

  “He already has. I have everything I need.” Everything except Richard and children of my own. I was glad I had such a busy life. However, there were times when all I wanted to do was relax, read a good book, and watch TV. That was what I planned to do today. After two cups of coffee and a light breakfast, I made a beeline for my living-room couch.

  Before I could get comfortable, somebody knocked on my door. I assumed it was Lorena. I peered through the peephole and saw a huge eye looking back at me. I cracked the door open, but left the security chain in place. “Clyde? What are you doing here?” I glanced at my watch and added, “At eight fifteen a.m.”

  “Fel, I’m in a jam. Can I come in and use your phone? I just ran out of gas and I didn’t bring my cellphone with me,” he wailed.

  Clyde Williams was the forty-year-old, divorced, unemployed son of Pam Williams, one of my senior coworkers and a close friend. His divorce last year had been very bitter and now he suffered bouts of depression. We used to belong to the same bowling team until six months ago when they closed the alley for renovations. One evening three months ago I visited Pam while Clyde was there. He was moping around with a long face because a woman he’d been seeing for two months had abruptly ended their relationship. Pam suggested I go to the movies with him to help bring him out of the doldrums. I’d reluctantly gone, and had been going out with him several times a month ever since. He was not classically handsome, but he wasn’t a bad-looking man. His piercing black eyes and smooth caramel-colored skin were his best features, but he could stand to lose a few pounds off his five-foot-six-inch frame. He had never shown any romantic interest in me, and it was just as well. That was not something I wanted with him. But there were other benefits. We had several things in common. Pizza topped with bacon, hot sauce on collard greens, and Snapple were just a few. He was the only man I knew who didn’t laugh or tease me when he found out how many Godzilla DVDs I had in my video library.

  “Sure, you can come in,” I said as I motioned for him to enter my living room. Clyde had on a heavy coat but no earmuffs or gloves. His ears and hands were beet-red. “Have a seat and I’ll get you a cup of coffee to help warm you up.”

  “No, that’s okay.” He paused and blew on his hands. “I was on my way home from a date. I met this woman at the mall last Monday. She invited me to her house last night and I took her to dinner. It was so late when we got back, she told me I could stay the night if I didn’t mind sleeping on her couch.”

  I padded across the floor, grabbed my cellphone off the coffee table, and handed it to him. “Well, I hope you had a good time.”

  “I did, but I won’t be seeing her again too soon. At the restaurant, she ordered steak and lobster and then had the nerve to order the same thing to go—to take to the teenage son she had forgot to mention until last night. Right after he gobbled up that food, he asked to use my truck. I hesitated, but his mama made a big fuss about it just ‘sitting in the driveway,’ so I gave him the key. I don’t know where he went, and when I woke up this morning, I was so anxious to leave, I didn’t think to check my gas. I’m lucky I made it as far as your street.”

 

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