Page 34 of Truce Of The Matter

I don’t know how long he held me but he allowed me to cry my eyes dry. When we finally break, he kisses my forehead then leaves me alone in the kitchen. It feels like a million pounds of regret has been lifted from my heart, and even in the midst of my grieving, I feel lighter, somehow knowing that tomorrow everything will finally be out in the open once I tell her.

With the second smile I’ve had since my mom passed plastered on my face, I grab the sanitizing wipes and wipe the island counter, the sink, and the kitchen dining table down. The relief I feel is indescribable. Carrying regret, guilt, and a major secret is draining. Carrying those with a broken heart is brutal but I swallowed it. Every day, I pushed it down and drowned myself in the restaurant. I worked day and night and took over at Redmond’s so Daija wouldn’t have to. She hates the idea ofworking at the restaurant and I did all I could to make sure she didn’t have to.

The moment I wave my foot in front of the garbage can to dispose of the used wipes, my cell rings. I trash the wipes then grab my phone from in my tote on the top of the fridge. It’s Taj.

“What’s up, Taj?” I answer.

“Hey. You still with Unc?”

“Yes, but I’m about to leave.”

“You good?” she asks with some hesitation. There’s a pause between her two words.

“I’m okay,” I admit, because I am. “Why? What’s going on?”

“I hate to even say this but I need you at the restaurant.” She sighs. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“It’s fine. Is something wrong?”

“I mean… Not anything major but it’s still a problem,” she stammers out, triggering my anxiety.

“What is it?” I press.

“With what you have going on I really hate to bring th?—”

“Taj,” I interject. Her stalling is irritating the hell out of me. “Just tell me.”

“It’s the lemonade. We haven’t had any in eight days and the customers are starting to ask.”

“Shit!” I huff in a deep breath. The lemonade has been the last thing on my mind. “I’m coming in.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, obviously surprised at my response.

“Yes and I’m going to teach you the recipe. You’re family and somebody else needs to know how to make it. Do me a favor. Can you go to the walk-in?”

“Yeah. I’m in the office,” she says then I hear the door close a few seconds later. “I’m here.”

“I need lemons. A whole crate.”

“We got two crates,” she says.

“Good. I need two pineapples too.”

“Pineapples?” she questions.

“Yes, pineapples. The two don’t overpower the lemons and you can’t taste them. It’s one of the things people can’t figure out in our lemonade. I’ll bring the other one. We are going to make a double batch. Take one of the stock pots, the large ones we use for the greens, and five pounds of sugar. Fill it with warm, filtered water, then simmer it on low for fifteen minutes. Stir it every five. This is the simple syrup base. After fifteen, turn it off and cover so it can cool. I’ll be there in less than an hour.”

“Okay!” she exclaims. I can hear the excitement in her voice. She has been begging for the lemonade recipe for years. This evening, she will finally learn it.

I end my call with Taj then walk into the family room. My dad isn’t in here so I head upstairs. I find him in his study, sitting behind his desk, reading his Bible. Not wanting to disturb him, I don’t walk in. Instead, from the doorway, I tell him that I’m leaving.

“Good night, sweetie,” he says.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I assure him before leaving. I’ll definitely be back tomorrow to see him and finally talk to Daija.

As soon as I’m in my ride, I dial Rex, the cause of my first smile since my mom. He has been a welcome addition to my life; stepping in right when I needed him and he’s still here. He checks on me throughout each day and starts his mornings by calling me before he gets his daughter off to school. He’s so thoughtful and attentive but he’s also intentional. There’s no question or uncertainty surrounding him or his feelings for me. He wants me and makes his intentions known in every way, through his words, his touch, and even in the way he looks at me.

“Hey, beautiful,” he answers, sounding a little muffled.

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