Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
He’d know. Daddy would know how to carry Mama in the lowest times when the footprints disappear. I silently promise him and myself that I’ll do my best.
With the remote, I turn off the television and lie back, my mind and heart much wearier than my body despite the lateness of the hour. Between my fingers I rub the silk-pressed curls that have slipped free of Mama’s Velcro rollers. I hold myself still while her breathing evens out. The frown pinching her brows smooths and I hope that sleep resets her mind and she can wake in the morning firmly planted in the day we are living.
My heart squeezes around the reality of my father really being gone. Of the people I’ve loved and lost. I don’t blame Mama for slipping away sometimes, her mind taking refuge where it finds it. If I could escape to a place where they were still alive, I would. Sometimes I want to say Take me with you to this place where you can still hug Daddy, still sing hymns with Grammy, and freeze-frame the best times of our lives. I can’t do that, but I can be a harbor when she comes back to this dimming present. I allow myself one last tear because it’s not actually Maverick who is teaching me how it feels to miss someone before they’re gone.
It’s Mama.
CHAPTER 53
MAVERICK
There she is,” I whisper into Hendrix’s neck, my hands seeking her curves beneath the sheets. There’s something extravagant about the fullness of her body, soft and unbound and warm in the sheer morning light.
“It’s too early,” she grumbles, rolling away from my touch to bury her face deeper into the pillow. “Keep them hands to yourself. I was up at the crack of dawn taking She-she out.”
Over the last few months, Sheila E quickly evolved to She-she. That little dog has so much energy, Hendrix can barely keep up, but on some of the hard days when things with Hendrix’s mom are tough or the case is frustrating, one bounding leap from She-she can chase the tension from my girl’s face. Hendrix may complain about early-morning walks, but there is no doubt in my mind She-she is her favorite gift I’ve given her.
“Keep my hands to myself?” I laugh and pull her back flush to my chest. “Ain’t no way. You should’ve thought of that before you told me you loved me. No take-backs.”
“Can we at least wait until after eight in the morning before your hands start wandering?” she complains, but humor has entered her sleep-rasped voice and she sounds more alert.
“Eight?” I scoff. “It’s like ten o’clock, Gorgeous.”
“Shit.” She sits up straight and slaps a hand over her forehead, dislodging the silk scarf covering her braids. “Why’d you let me sleep so late?”
“Because Skipper told me you didn’t have appointments this morning, and you didn’t come to bed till after one.”
“Isn’t your body supposed to be on West Coast time?” She swings her legs over the side of the bed and considers me over one bare shoulder. The flimsy strap of her pajama top keeps drooping down and it makes me want to rip the whole thing off.
“I travel so much, my body is on whatever time zone I’m in,” I tell her, sliding across the bed to kiss the curve of her neck. “Besides, I’ve been here in Atlanta for two days. Doesn’t take long to adjust.”
“Thank you for coming.” She leans back and cups my neck, resting her head against mine. “I’m glad you’re here while I sort through all this stuff. I never thought we’d actually be selling Mama’s house, but here we are.”
“She doing okay?” I take advantage of her position and drag her back into bed.
“Mav,” she laughingly protests, but shuffles to sit beside me until both of our backs are pressed into the headboard. “She’s getting there. Having Aunt Geneva’s support helped. I mean, telling her it was time to leave that house was one of the toughest things I’ve ever had to do.”
Her expression sobers and she takes my hand, resting our linked fingers in her lap. “But it has to happen. Being there while Aunt Geneva recovered just showed me that the situation was no longer sustainable.”
“But now she’s selling the house. Moving, both her and Aunt G. I’m proud of you, baby. This is hard shit. I watched my mom negotiate it. You’re a good daughter.”
“God, I’m trying.” She whooshes out a long sigh. “I’m consulting with her doctor and getting advice from people in my support group who have relocated their loved ones. Some of them declined badly, and some of them did okay. It’s a risk, but I’m going to do everything I can to make this transition good for her. Or as good as it can be.”