Chapter 1 : Part 4

Forgivin' Ain't Forgettin'
by Mata Elliott

(Page 4 of 4)

"I'll be making that potato salad you eat by the ton." At the least, Grace deserved a halfhearted grin, and he gave one. "The offer's tempting. I'll let you know." In all honesty, Trevor could have let her know right then. He would not attend the annual barbecue in honor of Grace and Houston's wedding anniversary. With his family one member short, such a gathering would be too painful. Trevor lifted his binder from the table remembering how difficult it had been to return to church without his wife. It was a full three months before he could sit through an entire service.

Trevor locked up his office for the day and exited through the rear of his Chelten Avenue bakery and caf?. Car keys hanging from his fingertips, he strolled across the parking lot blacktop to a hunter-green Expedition. The hot strikes the sun bombed the region with all week were held at bay by thickening, darkening clouds, but the air was still too clingy for Trevor's taste, and before boarding his truck, he pulled off his tie, undid his top shirt buttons, and rolled his sleeves to his elbows. After starting the ignition, he flipped on the air conditioner. A man pleased with the outcome of the workday, he drummed his fingers on the dashboard in time to the spry pulse of Bishop Colvin Culpepper and the Solid Ground Church Mass Choir. Trevor owned all four of Culpepper's urban praise CDs. The latest he'd purchased yesterday, and as he listened to a song he was hearing for the first time, he sorted through ideas of how to spend the evening. Like most things nowadays, his plans revolved around and often included the leading ladies in his life. Trevor removed his phone from the belt clip at his waist and punched the necessary buttons.

"Hello," a child's voice promptly said. "Hey, baby."

"Daddy," Brandi Monroe sang. "When are you coming to pick us up?"

"I'll be there soon. And guess what?" "What?" Brandi asked with breathless anticipation. "I have a surprise for you and Brittney." "A puppy," she squealed. "Are we getting a puppy?"

Trevor smiled, enjoying his baby daughter. "No, Poopie's enough." One ball of fur that tagged his toes before he could get his socks on in the mornings was all he could tolerate. "It's not a bunny, a lamb, or a raccoon," he said, satisfied he'd named all the critters on Brandi's most recent pet wish list.

"I have a surprise for you, too, Daddy," she said. "But you have to wait until Sunday."

Father's Day. Holidays drove the pain of loss in deeper, and whether it was Memorial Day, Thanksgiving, or Christmas, Trevor had become more of an onlooker than a participant. But God is good, he thought, determined to stay encouraged, and come Sunday, he'd wear a smile for the sake of his children. He requested gently, "Sweetheart, put Aunt Penny on, please."

After a brief silence, another familiar voice greeted him. "What's up, big brother?"

"Don't tell the girls, but I thought I'd treat you three to dinner and a movie." Penny Davies was worthy of more. She'd been a lifesaver, helping with the kids since the death of his wife. They were at Penny's place now because she'd taken on the weekly task of washing and braiding their hair. Trevor would never forget the way tender-headed Brandi screamed her misery the first and only time he attempted to comb through her coarse tresses. "So are we on for tonight?" "I'll have to pass."

"Don't tell me you have a date with Kirk." "And if I do?"

Trevor caught an earful of attitude. "Take it easy," he soothed, not intending to go one-on-one with Penny over this month's loser. Since her divorce, the quality of the men Penny chose to date balanced to zero. Yet Trevor had promised to keep out of her romantic affairs. He understood how vexing it could be when people angled their radar toward the love life of another. His wife had been gone only a little more than a year yet numbers had been slipped to him, names whispered, bouquets and baskets delivered. The bulk had been from fellow Charity Community Church parishioners ready to have their daughters or granddaughters, nieces or baby cousins, pursued, courted, and wed-and not necessarily in that order.

"I'd love to go out with you and the kids," Penny said, "but my throat's sore. I think I'm coming down with something. I plan to order Chinese food and call it a night."

"Just make sure you're all better by next Saturday, or else I'm dateless."

"I told you, I have several girlfriends who would love to escort my tall, so-fine brother."

"Not interested," he mumbled. Then in a lighter tone, he added, "I have an errand to run. Then I'll be over for the girls."

"Hey," she stopped him before he clicked off. "If it isn't too much trouble, bring a movie to go with my meal."

Asking what kind of film to rent was a waste of time. Penny appreciated a good love story as much as he did.

In fact, brother and sister, born eleven months apart, were very much like twins. They looked alike, had the same food favorites, and they could talk about anything together. But Trevor rarely talked to Penny, Grace, or anyone about losing his wife. And he had not spoken once about the cowardly decision he'd made the day she died.

Copyright © 2006 by Vermata Elliott

About the Author

Mata Elliott began writing, her first novel, Forgivin' Ain't Forgettin' during the difficult season of caregiving for two ailing parents. Prior to taking on the role as care giver, she graduated from Temple University with a degree in education and taught on the elementary level for nearly ten years. When Mata is not writing, she enjoys reading, taking long walks, eating ice cream, watching romantic movies with her husband, and playing with her two senior citizen cats. Mata has a soft spot in her heart for all animals and whenever possible she makes it her mission to rescue stray or abandoned cats and dogs and find them a loving home. Mata is the mother of one son and she lives in Philadelphia.