The Pastor's Heart - By Desiree Future Page 0,11
behind those gorgeous legs.”
Sinclair put down her fork and stared Kingston right in his gray eyes. “There is not much to tell. I was raised in the foster system in Oregon and I don’t know who my parents are. When I aged out, I moved here to DC to get away from everything. I now own my own business where I help former foster kids transition to independent living.”
“So how did you start your business?” Becoming more interested, Kingston put down his fork to give Sinclair his full attention.
“I used the computers at a bookstore so I could find resources for myself. I was there so much that the owner, Miss Marjorie offered me a job helping other people like myself and she even let me sleep in the backroom too since I was homeless.” She was definitely nervous after telling him her story because she didn’t know how he would react to it.
“That was very nice of her.” The more Kingston found out about Sinclair the more he wanted to know.
“Yes it was. When she died she left the store to me to convert into a permanent place to help former foster kids. I didn’t know it, but she was a former addict who lost her baby to the system. She was paying it forward in hopes that her daughter would find someone like me along the way to help her.” Sinclair explained thinking back.
“You had a rough life but you’re still standing. And not only that but you’re giving back to the community.” Kingston smiled brightly at Sinclair. “You are a living and breathing testimony. It was no one but God that kept you. I mean no one. You are an amazing blessed woman Miss Sinclair Madison and don’t you ever let anyone tell you otherwise.” Kingston could not believe the things Sinclair went through yet she was helping others make it through.
Sinclair always got choked up whenever she would talk about Miss Marjorie. She mouthed the words thank you.
“Let’s get out of here,” Kingston said while retrieving his wallet to pay their bill. “I know a nice spot where we can have a great dessert.”
“Sounds good to me,” Sinclair needed some fresh air so leaving was a good idea.
The sun had just set when Kingston and Sinclair entered Cooper Bishop Park. They strolled on the rustic bridge over-looking the beautiful lake while large ducks swam around in the water. From a distance a man could be seen feeding the ducks at the other side of the lake.
“This ice cream is delicious. I think I am in love with this White Chocolate Raspberry,” Sinclair said while eating her ice cream.
“I saw the two other cartons of it in your freezer,” Kingston added. “But this here Rum Raisin is just fantastic.”
“I can see that, that’s why it’s on your upper lip,” Sinclair joked while pointing to the ice cream sitting on Kingston’s top lip.
Kingston immediately used his napkin to clean his lip as he laughed with Sinclair.
“Just like you are watching me eat mine I have been watching you eat yours. But why aren’t you eating the chocolate chips in it.” Kingston commented as he looked at Sinclair strangely.
“I love white chocolate but not milk chocolate.” Sinclair answered as she ate around the chocolate chips. “White chocolate has a nice balance of sweetness to me.”
“I never met a woman who did not like regular chocolate. So buying you milk chocolates just because I wanted to make you smile would be out of the question?” Kingston inquired.
“Pretty much.” Sinclair replied while still moving around the chocolate chips.
“I still find that so…., “Kingston searched his mind to find the exact word he needed. “Let me see, remarkable is the word that I am looking for. Most women love chocolate but not you. That’s cool.” Kingston went on.
“It’s not as sweet as milk chocolate but not as bitter as dark chocolate. It has a nice balance of its sweetness in my opinion. But that’s just me,” Sinclair with such enthusiasm. “Take for instance painting. You could paint a million pictures, but if you don’t have the right balance of substance those paintings are worthless because you would never see its true beauty.
“Very nice metaphor. So how did you get into painting? I mean, besides falling into it.” Kingston asked with a chuckle remembering her literally falling into her paint earlier in the evening.
“I was shuffled from home to home as a kid in Oregon and I lost a lot of my things