Forgive Me by Stacy Campbell Page B

these pounds.”

Chapter 16

    J amilah unlocked the side entrance to her home office. The meeting with Roberta and Lasheera was set after Belinda spotted Tawatha crouched down in sunglasses and a gardening hat across the street. Although Tawatha wasn’t ordered to stay a certain distance from Lasheera or Aunjanue, Jamilah gave her specific instructions not to bother them. Societal reintroduction took time, and Tawatha should have known better than anyone she wouldn’t be welcomed with open arms—not this soon, and maybe never. Still, Jamilah felt a civic duty to help Tawatha after rumblings of inappropriate behavior by jurors surfaced.
    Jamilah checked the coffee machine and the food tray, careful to include Roberta’s favorite creamers, pastries, and coffee flavors. She’d only spoken to Roberta by phone since Tawatha’s release two months ago, and each tense conversation ended with Roberta vowing not to speak to her daughter. Stalking was a serious crime, and Jamilah wanted to address Tawatha’s actions before they got out of hand.
    Jamilah placed the elementary playground photo of herself, Lasheera, and Tawatha on her desk. She angled the photo so Roberta could see how much her friendship with Tawatha and Lasheera meant. The three of them wore matching green corduroy jumpers, paisley green-and-white turtlenecks, and green Keds.Tawatha had tied the jump rope around her waist in a bowtie as they hugged each other; she flashed a missing-front-tooth grin in the center of the girls. “It’s easy to love someone when they dot all their i’s and cross all their t’s,” Jamilah said, repeating a saying her late mother used when reprimanding her for being unsympathetic toward others.
    Jamilah missed her parents but was glad they’d both passed away before Tawatha committed the horrible act. Her solidarity with Tawatha would have strained their relationship. After they died—her mother from breast cancer, her father from a massive heart attack—she inherited her childhood home. The insurance money enabled her to finish her undergrad degree and attend law school at Indiana University. She modeled her mother and Roberta’s frugality by negotiating with a contractor to have the basement transformed to a home office. The space enabled her to see clients as well as keep people away from her living space. The separate entrance allowed no access to her dwelling.
    She looked up from the photo and spotted Roberta walking past the old-fashioned, ornamental light pole installed a month ago. Taken aback by Roberta’s appearance, she stood to open the door for her. A palsied gait replaced Roberta’s fast, hip-switching stroll. Roberta’s hairdo, usually a healthy mane of fire-engine red or honey-blonde, roller-set curls, sat limp on her shoulders—gray, dull, and frizzy. Not only was her hair uncharacteristic, but her throwback outfit shocked Jamilah. She wore a horrid floral, long-sleeved dress, riding boots, and no coat. The forty-degree weather at least warranted a decent jacket. She opened the door and attempted to hug Roberta, but she stood, arms glued to her sides, and gave Jamilah a let’s-get-this-over look.
    Jamilah moved aside to let Roberta into her office. She waited until Roberta sat to speak.
    â€œThank you so much for coming today, Ms. Roberta. Lasheera should be here soon. May I offer you some coffee?”
    â€œActually, that would be nice. I can’t stay too long because Johnny is taking us shopping. After that, we’re dropping some items off at Gleaners Food Bank for Thanksgiving. The holiday is around the corner and we make a contribution every year.”
    â€œI remember when you’d get us all together and take food to Gleaners when we were younger. It’s good to know the tradition is still going,” said Jamilah. She poured Roberta a cup of coffee and added her favorite creamer. She placed a blueberry cheesecake