Made Of Honor Part 10

Adrian chuckled quietly in the front seat. "We definitely can't have that, can we, Mother?"

"No, sir. Menfolk try hard, you understand, but some are easy to stumble."

Stumble? I stared down at my ankles, searching for the power to throw all mankind into the pit. Somehow, I just didn't see it. But I knew when to go along and when to fight. This was a time to go along.

Adrian laughed a little louder.

I jabbed the back of his seat.

"Go easy, baby. Don't be rough with the man yet. Save up something. Save up." She nodded slightly, the silk orchids on her hat vibrating like a tuning fork.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Save up something. Wasn't that what I'd told my nephew all those weeks back, the day that Adrian crashed back into my world? I shook my head, wondering if the shards of myself I'd gathered on the altar almost four years ago were enough to offer anybody. Even me.

With a shrug, I settled back into my seat. What a morning. First, my brother shows up and now the few inches on my body that weren't riddled with cottage cheese were going to be a stimulant for our aging, or should I say aged, congregation.

Adrian pulled into a convenience store. "Will this work?"

Mother Holly smiled. "It'll do fine. Hope it wasn't any trouble."

I rolled my eyes. Trouble? This old woman was the embodiment of trouble. She'd seemed so sweet inside the church...Mama was like that. No wonder they'd been friends.

"No trouble," Adrian said. "It's on the way."

A slap hit my thigh. "Give the man some money, hon."

My head began to throb. "I was just going to-get out and get them myself."

Already outside of the car, Adrian pressed himself against my door, sporting a smile sure to be my undoing. "Pantyhose, right? I got it." He bit his lip and stared inside the car. "Queen, off black?" He rubbed his chin. "I guess nude could go with that, too."

Queen? Did I have a sign on my forehead that read, "I am a Did I have a sign on my forehead that read, "I am a big big girl. I wear girl. I wear queen queen-size pantyhose. In case you hadn't guessed already?"

"Uh, no. Size B, coffee."

Adrian choked. Well, no, more like chortled. "O-kay. Coming right up."

I spent the next few minutes listening to Mother Holly's tips on getting a man. When I tried to a.s.sure her that Adrian and I were just friends-were we?-and that I was not looking in the market for a mate, her response...?

"Anybody who comes out for church with naked legs is looking for a man."

At that, I crossed my ankles and shut my mouth, trying to figure out how I was going to sing in a pair of off-color pantyhose a size too small. How did I get myself into these things?

With a poker face, Adrian emerged from the store and tossed me a bag, then backed out of the parking lot slowly, his arm behind the seat and his eyes more on me than the road.

I opened the bag only to find three pairs of pantyhose-coffee B, nude queen and off-black queen plus.

"I think that'll do it." I bristled. Sandy had trained him too well.

"One more thing, young man. Can you turn left here and pick up my grandbaby, around the corner from me, on MLK?"

I opened a channel to G.o.d with the quickness. But not quick enough.

Adrian wrenched the steering wheel in a sharp left. "Uh, sure."

"Stop here," she said pointing over Adrian's shoulder at an aging townhouse. She reached around his shoulder and mashed the horn. And I was the one being fast by forgetting my hose?

I froze, watching as the matriarch settled back into her seat, then dug in her purse for a mint. "Have one?" she asked in a sweet voice. I shook my head, steeling myself for further humiliation.

Adrian shrugged and I went back to staring, this time across the street at a house with snow-covered bushes trimmed into the shape of horses. Now that was just sad. Here I was working seventy hours a week to break even and somebody had time to make equestrian scenes in their front yard? Even in winter? Something was seriously- "I thought you weren't coming, Nana."

A buxom teen with blond highlights somehow matted to her head jumped into the car. Literally. I thought I'd imagined the car bouncing, but the way Mother Holly gripped the back of Adrian's seat, I knew it was for real. "Hi," the girl said, turning to Adrian. "What took you so long?"

He stared at me, then answered our latest pa.s.senger, so familiar with people she'd never met. "Pantyhose. From Russell's."

Sporting a pink purse Bible and matching lipstick, the girl turned and shoved her pudgy hand in my direction.

"The Ebony Mama line? Those things are horrible. They don't have anything for all this." She ran her French manicured nails down the full-figured body that matched her face.

Adrian gunned the gas pedal while Mother Holly sat beside me smiling the maddeningly innocent smile she'd displayed all those times in church. She was definitely back in Grandma mode. Was this a bad dream? I shook myself, but that only left me dizzy.

Mother Holly struggled to get her skirt up, revealing a lump of nylon around her more than ample thigh. "Knee-highs are good enough. When them other hose tear up, just cut them off and tie a knot-"

"Uh-huh," her granddaughter said. "We get the picture." And what a horrible picture it was. No wonder she was against showing skin. Whew! I checked the time. Ten twenty. In ten minutes I'd be singing...in size B hose.

The chunky young chatterbox kept going as we rolled into the church parking lot. I wondered if Adrian's ear would catch on fire. "Did you get queen plus? You have to go one up. You know those things are made to fit a midget."

A curious smile broke out across Adrian's face. "She got size B."

The girl's head jerked around as she scrutinized me. "B? Oh, my. Whatever floats your boat."

Her hair poked me in the eye, but I decided against mentioning it. Mother Holly tapped the back of her granddaughter's seat. "Watch that wig now, sweetie. You like to have blinded her."

Shemika, Jamaica or whatever she'd just said her crazy name was, went on to explain that she wasn't wearing a wig, but a stocking cap with human hair glued to it that she'd designed herself. I could fit B hose if I walked real slow, but she was stuck with that hair hat for the entire service. It looked like a dead animal.

The church loomed on our right like a safe haven. At this point, I'd do just about anything to get out of this car. Adrian must have felt the same way, because he set a world record for parking in our church lot, where no s.p.a.ces can ever be found. From the look on his face, Adrian might have just driven on top of someone's car if someone who'd stayed behind at the early service to chat hadn't pulled out and provided a spot.

The girl pried herself out of the pa.s.senger door. Mother Holly's purse had blocked my view when the girl got in the car, but now I saw it all. Some of her rolls had rolls.

I am so going back to Weight Watchers.

"Thanks for the ride. It was nice meeting y'all." She turned to me. "If you squeeze into those hose, make sure you soak when you get home, 'cause that's gonna hurt."

"Watch it now. My knees ain't that good, you know. I might fall right off this pew." Mother Holly fidgeted beside me as if I'd been the one grinding my knees into her for the past hour. I mustered a smile and received a note from the older woman's granddaughter.

Your boyfriend is cute. And you're not that fat. Do you think y'all will get married? He smells good and looks like he's got bling. No hair though. Can you work with that?

I sighed, thankful when Mother Holly s.n.a.t.c.hed the paper and tucked it into her purse. Money or hair wasn't the issue. There were other things to consider....

Like being scared to death? Confused? Unsure?

All of the above. As Mother Holly pinched her granddaughter into submission, I took a deep breath, avoiding Roch.e.l.le's gaze in the choir stand. This morning was so jacked up I was going to have to call and tell Roch.e.l.le about it even though we weren't speaking.

The pastor's voice cut in again. "Sometimes things just don't make no sense. No how. Can I get an amen?"

"Amen." I couldn't restrain from joining in. Nothing was making sense. Not my business. Not my family.

Adrian winked in my direction. I fought off a chill tickling up my back. Nothing made sense but Jesus, and the man sitting next to me. How I'd missed his friendship.

My eyes wandered back to Roch.e.l.le, above us, and my empty seat beside her. We'd arrived too late for me to sing and I wasn't sad about it. I could have made a fuss and gone on up, but I'd leave that to grandstanders. There are certainly enough of them, I thought, staring at the hats blooming across the front row like a wayward garden.

I read the sermon text again, this time really considering it's meaning.

"You have shown Your people hard things; You have made us drink the wine of confusion."

That was in the Bible? I checked the verse again. Psalm 60:3. How had I missed that in all these years? Even when I was doing my thing, I'd read the Psalms, and this one was a zinger. Not only had I been sipping the drink described in this Scripture, but everyone in my life was, too.

The pastor's collarless suit bulged around his neck in defiance of his attempt to keep up with style. "When things get rough, saints, when you're swirling around, drunk with the wine of confusion, you got to cry out to the Lord for direction."

"Yes, sir," Mother Holly half shouted, nearly scaring me to death.

Confusion? What did the old woman know about it? I looked over at Shemika-or was it Jemicka?-who was filing her nails and brushing the dust on to the floor. Well, perhaps Mother Holly had problems, too.

Didn't we all? Roch.e.l.le lifted her hands in the choir stand behind the pulpit, looking first toward heaven and then toward me, with that we've-really-got-to-talk look I've always dreaded.

"We cry out, Lord. Tell us where we have we made wrong turns. Did we go into battle without guidance as David did in this pa.s.sage? Or is something stumbling us? Stopping us up? Meet us where we're at, Jesus. Show us the way out of our mess."

I closed my eyes. Had I done that? Gone up without G.o.d's guidance? Sure I'd prayed about my business, given it a scriptural name, gone to a Christian accountant, talked to the pastor...but had I really put myself in G.o.d's hands? Asked Him what He wanted?

Adrian grabbed my hand and gripped it with the kind of force serious praying required. I squeezed back, just as hard.

Lord, if I've taken a wrong turn, lead me back to where I went wrong so I can fix it or better yet, You fix it for me. I'm fresh out of solutions.

The pastor was praying, too. Everybody was. In whispers and in shouts. The building was filled with prayers and praise. Then someone gasped from the choir stand. A hush fell over the congregation and I got that knot in my stomach I always felt when people stare at me. Someone shuffled into the aisle behind me. Two someones, from the sound of it. I dared not open my eyes, but knew I had to.

Jordan. He'd made it to church after all...and he'd brought a friend, a woman who looked like she'd been painted by number and greased into her dress, bright orange with matching heels.

This is so trifling.

Before I could say anything, Jericho fought his way out of his aisle, past the couple and out the back door. His charcoal suit whizzed past me like smoke.

After smoke came fire, that much I knew. I grabbed my purse and pushed through the aisle, while Roch.e.l.le sat frozen in the alto section.

Mother Holly, having already twisted herself into a pretzel to see the action, grabbed my wrist as I shoved past her. "No wonder you came out with naked legs. Y'all got trouble."

It'd taken considerable effort to tackle Jericho in the parking lot-well, more like grab his waist and let him drag me a few feet-but somehow I'd managed it, even with my circulation constricted by the waistband of my too small undergarments. Once I got him to stop running, things got complicated. I had no explanation for why his father decided to turn up at church with a scantily clad stranger or why his mother chose to ignore it. Well, I had some clues on that one, but still...

The scary thing was that it was probably my words that had encouraged Jordan to show up. How was I to know he had yet another surprise up his sleeve? Now here we all sat, minus Jordan, at our regular Sunday buffet restaurant, as though nothing-and yet everything-had happened.

Roch.e.l.le sat next to me in her usual seat, with one of the men from the singles party. I wondered how he'd come to be present, but any explanation she could provide would be more information than I could handle.

"They got some steak up there. Tender, too. Go get you some." Her guest misted a fine spray into the air as he spoke. If I'd considered a steak, the thought was gone.

"Maybe next time."

"Suit yourself." He took a little hop with his chair, leaving him to belly up to the table.

Had Roch.e.l.le hijacked this character after service in case Jordan showed up here, too? I shuddered at the thought.

Roch.e.l.le turned toward me, as if she'd read my mind. "Your brother isn't coming here. I talked to him." She paused. "It's you and I who need to talk, Dane." She gave me a harried look from behind her mascara-blurred eyes-a never-before-seen event, by the way.

The ring of mascara around her eyes held me captive. Why hadn't I bought that photo cell phone when I had the money? Tracey would never believe it. What was she saying again? Oh, yeah. That she and I needed to talk. Talk, shmalk. It seemed to me Jordan was the one who needed to do the talking. Although there was that business about the money...

"Leave Aunt Dane alone, Mom." Jericho reached over and grabbed my hand. I squeezed his mammoth fingers lightly enough for him to sense but not hard enough for Roch.e.l.le to notice. She was getting on my nerves, but her relationship with her son had been threatened enough lately. All I knew was that we hadn't given enough consideration to the effect this reunion might have on Jericho.

Or on me.

Adrian sat next to me eating quietly. He smiled every couple of bites, even gave me a keep-your-chin-up nod.

Stabbing my salad, I tried to do just that. My chin, sliding into my chest, had other plans. The last hour was a blur. It seemed that one minute I was comforting Jericho in the church parking lot and my next coherent thought came sandwiched between Adrian and Roch.e.l.le at Golden Corral. An aptly named restaurant, from the way Roch.e.l.le's guest attacked his plate. Maybe we should drop him off at a barn on the way home.

And I thought I was greedy.

"Ooh, the meat cutter is here. I'm getting some roast beef. Y'all want some?" Roch.e.l.le's guest asked half-heartedly, before leaping from his seat. He was gone before any of us had a chance to reply. Unreal.

"Seriously. We have to talk." With her friend absent, Roch.e.l.le spoke in her normal tone. Loud.

My head hurt. Which thing were we supposed to be talking about? My ridiculous brother and that skin-tight woman, her son's mental health, or the pants her date was wearing?

Before I could decide, Adrian wiped his mouth and stood, pausing to give me a weary smile. "Come on, Jericho, let's you and I get some dessert."

The boy looked wildly from me to his mother. "I'm not hungry."

"Sure you are." Adrian somehow swung around the table and "helped" my nephew out of his chair. He nodded to Roch.e.l.le. "You ladies have your little chat while we're gone. Dana and I are supposed to be discussing business today and in spite of everything, I mean to do it."

His tone was less than convincing and I knew he was just trying to lighten the mood. Still, I appreciated the gesture. Jericho skulked off beside him, looking like an overgrown boy in man's clothes. I sighed, remembering the sound of Jericho's teeth grinding as I hugged him on the church steps. "It was supposed to be about me. Not my daddy," he'd said.

Tell me about it.

Roch.e.l.le had ignored the whole thing, never leaving the choir stand. After service, I watched her and Jordan exchange a few clipped words, but for the past hour, she'd acted as if my brother's stunt hadn't happened. Until now. Now, she wanted to talk. Well, I didn't, and I kept silent to prove it.

Roch.e.l.le pushed celery and chicken around her low-carb plate-she never ate from the buffet, even though single entrees cost more. Until watching her pseudo love interest chase every server that came out of the kitchen, I hadn't understood Roch.e.l.le's buffet ban. Now I did. Sometimes, too much was just too much.