center of the table.
“Perhaps I can help Yaneesha get things started,” Cassidy volunteered, seeing a need. She decided another meeting wasn’t necessary. She was ready to join the Special Day team now, although an internal siren beeped that she’d taken a wrong turn and was facing a dead end.
chapter nine
M s. Emma and her husband, Harold, babysat Nile while Cassidy and Shevelle went to dinner. The two women talked and laughed nonstop through the meal and all the way home. Shevelle parked her car in front of her grandparents’ house, and Cassidy and Shevelle hugged good-bye. Shevelle was going back to Delaware in the morning.
Back at Odessa’s, Cassidy prepared for bed, turned up the radio, pulled the top sheet up to her chest, and propped her back against two pillows. On Fridays, the host of her favorite Christian talk program asked a series of trivia questions. The first listener to call in with all of the correct answers won a CD or an inspirational book. Cassidy had her Bible open and was searching for the answer to question number four when she heard Trevor ushering the kids up to the third floor. They were just getting in.
The bare stairs creaked as he came back down. Cassidy peered at the digital bedside clock. It was midnight, and Solid Ground Church Ministries was opening its daily radio program with its popular gospel theme song. The Chicago church was one of the largest black congregations in the nation, and its leader was the young, gifted, and energetic Bishop Colvin Culpepper. Cassidy and Colvin had been friends once. Good friends. And when she stood at the crossroads of a heart-wrenching decision, Colvin had offered wise advice. But she hadn’t followed it, and now his voice simply reminded her of the decision she longed to travel back in time and change.
Cassidy turned to her beloved classical station, lowered the volume, and snapped off the lamp. She could hear Trevor moving about in the guest bedroom, and soon the bathroom. Her lids hung heavy and her limbs began to loosen as she identified the splash of water hitting the sink and the scrub of toothbrush bristles grazing Trevor’s teeth. She listened as he juggled what was probably mouthwash at the top of his throat, and she eventually heard a steady trickle as he relieved himself. Three more sounds followed that one: the flush of the toilet, more water hissing from the spigot, and finally, the click of the light.
Cassidy heard these same sounds, in the same order, around the same time every night now. And she’d discovered them to be a melody as gentle as the one streaming from the radio.
Trevor changed into a pair of sweats and grabbed his Bible. Once downstairs, he opened the front door and stood for a couple of minutes, allowing his shirtless chest to drink from the refreshing breeze while he studied the slice of moon and sprinkle of stars hovering over the houses across the street. “Thank you, God,” he whispered. It had been a good day. It was always a good day when his family was safe in bed. Life was fragile. Here one moment, gone the next. That being the case, Trevor always remembered to thank the Lord for getting them all home in one piece.
He walked into the kitchen, flipped the light switch at the top of the basement stairs, and carefully navigated the narrow steps leading to the bottom level. The basement had become the late-night hangout Trevor retreated to—a quiet, kid-free zone he needed now and then. Brandi didn’t venture down herebecause she found it spooky. And he supposed a child would. The length and depth of the room gave it a cave effect, and the only dependable sounds boomed from the water heater. Peeling paint scarred the walls, and the cemented floor was a carpet of cracks. Brown boxes of all proportions cluttered the walking space, and cobwebs and spiderwebs mingled and dangled from the rafters above. Brittney, tomboy though she was, wouldn’t tread anywhere near a spider. That alone kept her from opening
“Perhaps I can help Yaneesha get things started,” Cassidy volunteered, seeing a need. She decided another meeting wasn’t necessary. She was ready to join the Special Day team now, although an internal siren beeped that she’d taken a wrong turn and was facing a dead end.
chapter nine
M s. Emma and her husband, Harold, babysat Nile while Cassidy and Shevelle went to dinner. The two women talked and laughed nonstop through the meal and all the way home. Shevelle parked her car in front of her grandparents’ house, and Cassidy and Shevelle hugged good-bye. Shevelle was going back to Delaware in the morning.
Back at Odessa’s, Cassidy prepared for bed, turned up the radio, pulled the top sheet up to her chest, and propped her back against two pillows. On Fridays, the host of her favorite Christian talk program asked a series of trivia questions. The first listener to call in with all of the correct answers won a CD or an inspirational book. Cassidy had her Bible open and was searching for the answer to question number four when she heard Trevor ushering the kids up to the third floor. They were just getting in.
The bare stairs creaked as he came back down. Cassidy peered at the digital bedside clock. It was midnight, and Solid Ground Church Ministries was opening its daily radio program with its popular gospel theme song. The Chicago church was one of the largest black congregations in the nation, and its leader was the young, gifted, and energetic Bishop Colvin Culpepper. Cassidy and Colvin had been friends once. Good friends. And when she stood at the crossroads of a heart-wrenching decision, Colvin had offered wise advice. But she hadn’t followed it, and now his voice simply reminded her of the decision she longed to travel back in time and change.
Cassidy turned to her beloved classical station, lowered the volume, and snapped off the lamp. She could hear Trevor moving about in the guest bedroom, and soon the bathroom. Her lids hung heavy and her limbs began to loosen as she identified the splash of water hitting the sink and the scrub of toothbrush bristles grazing Trevor’s teeth. She listened as he juggled what was probably mouthwash at the top of his throat, and she eventually heard a steady trickle as he relieved himself. Three more sounds followed that one: the flush of the toilet, more water hissing from the spigot, and finally, the click of the light.
Cassidy heard these same sounds, in the same order, around the same time every night now. And she’d discovered them to be a melody as gentle as the one streaming from the radio.
Trevor changed into a pair of sweats and grabbed his Bible. Once downstairs, he opened the front door and stood for a couple of minutes, allowing his shirtless chest to drink from the refreshing breeze while he studied the slice of moon and sprinkle of stars hovering over the houses across the street. “Thank you, God,” he whispered. It had been a good day. It was always a good day when his family was safe in bed. Life was fragile. Here one moment, gone the next. That being the case, Trevor always remembered to thank the Lord for getting them all home in one piece.
He walked into the kitchen, flipped the light switch at the top of the basement stairs, and carefully navigated the narrow steps leading to the bottom level. The basement had become the late-night hangout Trevor retreated to—a quiet, kid-free zone he needed now and then. Brandi didn’t venture down herebecause she found it spooky. And he supposed a child would. The length and depth of the room gave it a cave effect, and the only dependable sounds boomed from the water heater. Peeling paint scarred the walls, and the cemented floor was a carpet of cracks. Brown boxes of all proportions cluttered the walking space, and cobwebs and spiderwebs mingled and dangled from the rafters above. Brittney, tomboy though she was, wouldn’t tread anywhere near a spider. That alone kept her from opening
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