Page 10 of A Taste of Grace

Fun Time

“I like this color, Ms. Grace!”

Hannah giggled and wiggled her hands near her face after I painted each of her little fingers cotton candy pink. She squirmed in the small chair near the desk in her bedroom.

“Remember what I said, sweetheart. Put your hands in this dryer and don’t touch anything until I tell you, okay?” I placed my fingers around her wrist as she spread her fingers on the desk and inserted them into the small nail dryer that matched the color of her fingernails.

“Sorry.” Hannah lowered her eyes and frowned.

I lifted her chin and smiled.

“It’s okay. You don’t do this all the time. Never feel bad when you’re learning something for the first time. That’s called growth.”

Hannah’s smile matched mine as she steadied her body and held it still as her nails dried.

Before I gave the girls manicures, I had styled Hannah’s wavy hair into several loose plaits that hung low over her head.

Each plait was held by small rubber bands that matched her dark brown hair. I turned to Esther, who sat on the bed.

“As for you, Little Miss Esther, I’m going to finish your hair so it will be exquisite for Sunday service too. How did you say you wanted it again?”

“Two long plaits here and here.” She pointed to the places on her head where she wanted me to put the plaits.

I picked up my comb and gestured for her to sit between my legs on her bed.

“Tilt your head back and be really still so I can get this part straight.”

Esther did as I asked. I parted her thick black hair down the middle and brushed it with care, giving her the style she requested. Fifteen minutes later, I guided her to the mirror where she examined the finished product, twirled in a circle, and clapped her hands.

“Daddy doesn’t fix hair that good. Ariel and Nene make fun of me.” Esther poked her lips out.

My heart dropped as I recalled my own childhood experiences.

I’d been loved hard by my parents and been given nice things, but that often brought unwanted attention.

People made fun of me because my mother sent me to school with the prettiest Shirley Temple curls every day.

Some said I thought I was better than they were when my mother dressed me like a doll.

I couldn’t blame her. I was her miracle child.

My grandparents said I carried light and favor on my life, but it made me feel uncomfortable.

Only as an adult did I realize how judgmental and petty people could be about situations they didn’t understand.

“A lot of daddies aren’t great at doing hair, but they do a lot of other things well. And you should never be ashamed of his good efforts. No matter how your hair is styled, it’s beautiful, and you have a heart of gold.” I squeezed Esther’s little shoulders.

Hannah joined us at the mirror.

“And Daddy’s a great cook. We have the best lunches. He’s funny. Lots of ladies at church like him.”

Really?

“How do you know the ladies like him?”

“They laugh and bring toys and stuff. Daddy looks like this…” Esther scrunched up her face like a bulldog, making me laugh.

“They want to do our hair, but Daddy said no. They won’t be good mamas.” Hannah turned to Esther, who nodded her head up and down in agreement.

“Why don’t you want them?’

Hannah and Esther looked at each other and remained silent.

“You can tell me.”

Hannah spoke up.

“They want Daddy, not us. Mamas like their kids, right?”

My heart fell again. Did Caleb know his children were being bullied by other kids and that those messy women were talking trash about them?

I stared at the girls, my heart full at how kind and thoughtful they were.

They loved their father so much that they probably confided in each other, thinking they were protecting him.

In that moment, I pictured how amazing they would be as adults, caring, generous women who could do anything they set their minds to.

I had an urge to protect them from anyone who treated them poorly.

If it were up to me, I’d send those ladies straight to hell with gasoline drawers.

I wanted to probe more about how much they confided in their father but felt it was wrong for me to gossip about him. If the girls wanted to tell me more information, however, I would listen willingly. Maybe I would chat with Caleb about my concerns later.

“Do you have a husband?” Esther asked with an innocent look on her face.

“Or little girls?” Hannah halfway turned around, a look of concern on hers.

“I don’t. It’s just me living by myself. I’ve never been married.”

Hannah beamed, revealing an adorable dimple before turning around to dry her fingernails.

“You’re a nice lady. Do you want to be our mommy?” Hannah’s gave me a serious look.

“Are you an angel?” Esther asked the question before I could respond to Hannah.

Their innocent voices made me smile. I brushed the right side of Hannah’s wavy hair, trying to figure out how to answer such an unusual question.

“I’m not an angel, but I don’t believe in accidents. I think I’m meant to be in your lives. Let’s start by calling me your friend.”

“But I want a mommy.” Esther’s narrow shoulders slumped as she poked her lips out.

I turned to her and lifted her chin.

“Whoever God sends as your mommy would be such a blessed woman,” I added quickly. “You girls are so sweet and smart, exactly what a mother would want in daughters.”

The girls smiled at each other, displaying all their little teeth.

“Your nails should be dry, Hannah. Come over and let me see.”

She rose and spread her fingers wide.

“Those are gorgeous,” I said.

She nodded.

“Daddy will love them!” Esther squealed and did her happy dance.

Hannah reached for Esther’s hand and smiled too, holding her hands out.

“They’re as pretty as mine.”

I loved that the girls were so happy. To capture the moment, I reached for my phone on the side table and remembered I hadn’t texted Caleb with an update.

“Hold your hands out so I can send a photo to your father. When I’m done, we’ll read a story, pray, and go to bed.”

The girls wiggled their fingers and posed in silly ways with each other and with me as I snapped several shots of their fresh manicures and hair. I texted the photos and wrote a message for Caleb.

Me:

We’re having a GREAT time. I hope you’re having a good time too.

I didn’t want to come across as flirtatious, but I sincerely wanted Caleb to be carefree about being away from Hannah and Esther.

Within seconds, he sent a selfie with a raised eyebrow as if he was puzzled.

Man, he was photogenic with his smooth mocha skin.

Behind him, I saw long strings of gold balloons and throngs of people.

Caleb Stallings:

Their hair is cute, but those nails are a little mature for girls so young, aren’t they?

I frowned. Surely, he was kidding me.

Me:

Not at all. Next time I’ll get approval before I style them. Any special requests? An old lady bun, perhaps?

Caleb Stallings:

Next time? *shocked face emoji* As long as you don’t put weave down to their waists, any style will do.

I paused, pulling together a response to match Caleb’s tone.

Me:

Oh no, you spoiled the surprise! I was going to redo it with a blonde Beyonce wig for Hannah and a Rihanna pixie cut for Esther. *wide eye emoji*

Caleb Stallings:

I don’t listen to secular music, so I don’t know who that is. *tongue emoji*

The good pastor’s sense of humor was adorable. If he showed this side of himself often, I see why those hot-in-the-pants church ladies liked him so much.

Me:

Remind me to educate you one day. *wink emoji*

Caleb Stallings:

I can’t wait, Ms. Grace. I’ll be home before 11.

Me:

You’re welcome. Drive safely, and enjoy the rest of your event.

Caleb Stallings:

I will. You look cute with the girls btw. *smiley face wink emoji*

Caleb was such a flirt, but I liked it so much. I was tempted to respond back, but I needed to stick to the girls’ strict routine.

I tucked the girls in their beds by 9:15 p.m. Around 10:45, I woke up as heavy rain pelted against the windows. Nothing put me to sleep faster than a thunderstorm. The last thing I remembered was plopping on the comfortable couch in the family room to watch a movie.

The headlights from Caleb’s car flashed across the blinds in the front room before turning dark.

I lowered the volume on the forty-two-inch television and turned it off, placing the intricate remote on the wooden coffee table in front of me.

I hopped up and quickly folded the comfortable, oversized throw that covered me, making sure to place it in the exact position it was in when I arrived.

When I stood, the two lamps in the room illuminated my outfit.

I looked down my body and focused on my thin leggings and socked feet, realizing how casual I appeared.

The snug Angela Davis black t-shirt with her neatly shaped black afro said “I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I’m changing the things I cannot accept” in bold black letters.

This shirt was one of the few I still wore from my undergraduate days at Tuskegee University almost twenty years ago.

Although it was priceless to me, the worn cotton had faded and shrunk.

It didn’t help that my body had grown several sizes since I graduated with my degree in educational psychology.

That combination hugged my pronounced DD-size bust and caused my curvy hips and butt to poke out of my leggings like they were besties.

I tugged the shirt over my protruding bust and tried to stretch the hem of my shirt as best as I could, but knew I still looked a mess.

I regretted dressing like this was my home.

I calculated if I could rush to the kids’ bedroom, grab the clothes I arrived in, and change in the bathroom before he entered. I didn’t want Caleb to think I was trying to tempt him at booty o’clock in his house.

You have to plan your life better, Grace.

I stood in the threshold of the open frame separating the modest-sized kitchen and the living room and then scurried toward the bedrooms as quickly as I could. The doorknob turned with Caleb entering quicker than I anticipated.

“Grace? Are you okay?” His deep voice registered concern.

I stopped in my tracks and then turned around quickly to face him. His heavenly scent filled my nose like a cartoon scent bubble, even several feet away. Although his voice sounded slightly weary, he looked delicious and more tempting than should be allowed this late at night.

Since I didn’t want to run away like a frightened rat, I stood straight and held my head high.

His eyes met mine. Much like our initial meeting, we stared each other down.

I held the bottom of my shirt and forced myself not to squirm.

Since this outfit was painted on like a second skin, I hoped my nipples weren’t poking out disrespectfully.

“It was great. Please forgive my appearance.”

“Why? You look good.” Caleb paused as he read my shirt.

His eyes lowered slowly to my hips, legs, and feet before walking toward me.

“Thank you. I was on my way to the girls’ room to grab my bag and change. I brought comfortable clothes since I didn’t know if I’d be doing something messy.” I rambled on.

“My girls can be pretty rough. I’d hate for you to mess up those good clothes fingerpainting or baking with them.” He tightened his lips and blinked several times as he stared at my leggings.

Good clothes? Where?

His slow and deliberate voice filled the room at a volume that was respectful and sensual—or maybe I wasn’t used to hearing the sound of a Southern man who was undoubtedly an eloquent orator. A bundle of nerves and excitement overtook me.

There was that dry sense of humor again. Maybe it was the leader and daddy in him. He wasn’t the stereotype I thought he was. To become a father, he had to be familiar with tits and ass, so I dropped my hands to my side and spoke to him like I had good sense. I wasn’t a darn baby.

“Did you have a good time, Pastor?”

“I can’t complain. How were you and the girls?”

In a nonsexual way, he loosened his black tie and slid it from his shirt collar before unbuttoning the top two buttons of his starched white shirt, revealing that pretty chest hair again. He inhaled and exhaled deeply as if he were exhausted.

I bit my lip. The way Caleb undressed was a sexy, natural move. The romance author in me could almost hear sultry strains of a nineties R&B song as the low recessed lights in the kitchen highlighted Caleb’s strong jaw and pretty brown skin that had me yearning to pet him like a mink coat.

“They are precious. You have done an amazing job raising them. If I ever become a mother, I want daughters just like them.”

“Hopefully, you’ll get that chance one day soon.”

That was enough. I couldn’t help but laugh at how Caleb and I spoke in code. I crossed my arms and took a deep breath.

“What are we doing here?” I motioned between the two of us.

He leaned toward me and held my waist, positioning his ear so close to mine it sent shivers down my spine.

“What do you want us to be doing here?”

“I… I…” I darted my head back and reached for Caleb’s shoulders, holding them firm.

Before I could overthink, I raised myself to my tiptoes and kissed Pastor Caleb Stallings right on his mouth.