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.
Rochelle 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 Rochelle hijacked this character after service in case Jordan showed up here, too? I shuddered at the thought.
Rochelle 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 Rochelle 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 Rochelle at Golden Corral. An aptly named restaurant, from the way Rochelle’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?” Rochelle’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, Rochelle 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 Rochelle. “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.
Rochelle 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