All For Love

All For Love

Gail McFarland

Copyright 2011 by Gail McFarland

Smashwords Edition

Other Titles by Gail McFarland:

Genesis Press/Indigo:

Dream Runner

Dream Keeper

Wayward Dreams

Lady Leo Press:

If Ever

Can A Sistah Get Some Love (Anthology)

BET/Arabesque:

Summer Wind

The Best For Last

When Love Calls

Bouquet (Mother’s Day Anthology)

LULU Books:

Lady Killer

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. For information, address: P.O. Box 56782, Atlanta, Georgia 30343.

Author websites:

www.http://fitwryter.tripod.com

www.http://fitwryter.com/books

… We are never so helplessly lost as when we... love.

Sigmund Freud, Psychiatrist

Damn… damn… damn…

Florida Evans, Wife and Mother

(Goodtimes, 1974)

Prologue

Enright Place was usually quiet on Sunday afternoons.  Politely pretty in summer and always quaintly picturesque when frosted with winter snow.  Today, beneath a scatter of fallen leaves and a warm autumn sun, the street was pretty much a parking lot.  Cars were parked bumper-to-bumper in front of the broad lawns of beautifully preserved Victorian-styled houses. 

Rachel Solomon was about ready to give up looking for space.  Fingering the gold hoop in her ear, she tugged in frustration and said a word her mother would never forgive when it landed in her palm. She was still staring down at the earring when a slick black Volvo sedan eased into the space beneath the Wilson’s old oak tree; the one she’d been heading for.

The muffled voice at her side made her jump. She closed her hand convulsively over the earring.  The face at her window made her grin up at her brother.  What did you drive?  I don’t see your truck.

We drove the Lexus.  Holding tightly to his wife’s hand and looking just like his father, Levi swung his long body low, jacket dangling wide, as he used his heavy knuckles to rap at the car window.   Hurry up and get parked, slowpoke!

Leave your sister alone, and let’s go see your mom. Roz shifted the shiny beribboned box she carried under her other arm.  She kept her voice low when she smiled around her husband’s shoulder.  Hi, Rach.

Hi, Roz.  Dutifully, Rachel returned the smile and pretended not to see the little shoves Roz gave Levi. She heard her brother laughing at his own joke as he and Roz strolled toward the family home and felt a tiny pang of loneliness. 

Chelly!  Chel-lee!

Rachel tried to ignore the woman screaming from the passenger side of the black Volvo.

It didn’t work.  Celia couldn’t have cared less as she leaned out, waving her whole arm. Rachel saw the driver reach over and touch her shoulder, which only seemed to spur her sister-in-law to more fervent greeting – she was using two arms now.  To his credit, John finished parking and climbed from the vehicle before beginning his own greeting.  Walking around the back of the car, he mouthed his sister’s name and helped his heavily pregnant wife from the car.

Celia’s belt caught in the car door and she reached back for it.  Murmuring, she smiled up at John.  His face took on a tenderness his sister had never seen before as his arm coiled about Celia’s shoulders.  She pulled her taupe trench coat closer and resumed waving, even as she leaned on John’s arm and waddled down the street.

Nice, Rachel murmured against the window.  Pressing her lips together, she kept her eyes on her younger brother.  Who would have thought, back in the days when he was so bent on terrorizing girls that her little brother could fall so deeply in love with any woman? 

This is only going to get better and better, Rachel warned herself.  Pulling the sun visor low, she held her foot on the brake.  She managed to find the back of her earring.  Taking her time, she ignored the sound of the car behind her and worked the post back into her ear lobe.  Satisfied that the darned thing would stay where she’d put it, Rachel raised her eyes just in time to catch a wave from Cousin Terri, husband Dave and their four boys.

Bending low, Terri peered into the interior of Rachel’s car.  Hi, sweetie.  She looked over her shoulder and motioned the boys forward.  Say hello to your cousin Rachel.

Hello, cousin Rachel, the boys chirped.  Grinning, they showed bright smiles filled with baby teeth and flashes of the handsome men they would one day become.  Backing away from the car, they circled their father’ and deluged him with shrill questions.

The boys want to know why you don’t have any kids, Terri giggled, translating.  They want to know why you’re by yourself. Why are you by yourself?

He was busy today, Rachel improvised.

Manicured nails tapped the car door.  Uh-huh, busy.  Okay.  See you inside, Terri said, then rushed her family down the street.

Rachel watched the group move away.  There was a damned good reason she was alone today.  When you weren’t seeing anyone, you simply had no one to bring to family events.  Or, at least it was simple until your family got into your business -- all in the name of love.

Lord, I love my family.  I really do, Rachel whispered, but there’s just so darned many of them.  I know they want the best for me, but I wish they would just stop bringing me men, fixing me up… Lord, you know as well as I do, they’ve done everything but hang a sign around my neck saying, If found – Keep her.  They’re wearin’ me down, Lord. 

Her mother’s uncle, Whitmore Davenport, strolled past her car and paused in his conversation with the younger man at his side.  Unlit cigar in his hand, he grinned widely, showing conspicuously white teeth.  Rachel warmed her smile and returned the wave, but not before Latrice paraded past towing twin five-year olds.   

Uncle Whit smiled approvingly at the pretty little girls and their mother.  Then he turned and pointed.  Rachel slid low in the seat and tried to fake invisibility.  It didn’t work.  He knew she was there, so she gave up and waved.  Why can’t he take a hint? A covered dish would be a lot more welcome than another spare man.   

Rachel gripped the steering wheel.  Cruising slowly, she counted the cars that belonged to her family – eighteen in all.  The ones that most immediately caught her eye were the bright ruby toned Cadillac Seville, the conspicuously vintage crimson Mercedes convertible, and a sporty, low-slung scarlet Porsche hugging the curb in front of the house she’d grown up in.  Sharp cars, driven by even sharper women, they belonged to her aunts.  Her sassy, family-loving, church going, much loved, Delta pledged, well-meaning aunts.

Wonder what they brought mom for her birthday?  I mean, besides men for me.  She looked at the cars and their Delta Sigma Theta license tags.  Amanda, Beverly, and Claire were all present and ready to help their baby sister Delia celebrate her birthday.

And make my life a living hell.

Chapter One

It was relatively easy, putting one foot in front of the other, walking through the front door of her family home.  It all felt right, the perfectly cleaned and arranged rooms, the mouth-watering smells riding the air, the rich blend of voices and music.  What made the effort difficult was the pressure of every eye in the room.

Well, that and their furtively poised, leaning bodies.  The whole scene, everyone frozen in place with fixed smiles and searching eyes, was so obviously staged that it made her stomach wrench.  Rachel wanted to believe that maybe it was the sharp click of her boot heels against the parquetry that had drawn their attention, but she knew better.  They were listening. 

They were all listening for the solid, heavier steps of an accompanying male –preferably a big, broad-shouldered one, tall enough to balance Rachel’s statuesque presence.  When no such animal materialized, they relaxed and cocked their heads like puppies. 

 How are you, all? she offered.

Just fine, thanks.

Just look at you, Rachel.  Come here, baby.  The voice, thickly southern and maternal, drifted over the others and across the room.  It was Aunt Darlene, her father’s oldest sister.  Resplendent in a leopard-print tunic and brown stretch pants, she sat with her foot raised on an elegantly embroidered hassock.  She’d brought the artistic little footstool with her for the express purpose of resting her now-healing ankle. She’d broken it rollerblading.

Darlene was perfectly comfortable holding court where she sat.  Pounding the tip of her cane against the mellow polished gold of the living room floor for attention, she motioned Rachel closer.  Her red-lipsticked smile, bracketed by powder rouged cheeks, creased with pleasure at the sight of the younger woman. 

Rachel tried to ignore the theme from The Twilight Zone playing across her mind as she crossed the room.  Bending from the waist, she offered her cheek for Aunt Darlene’s kiss.  Closer, the older lady’s fingers closed on her shoulder, squeezing tightly.  You know they done fished you up some more men, don’t you?  Even my Bert – his is the heavyset, dark-skinned fella in the striped sweater over in the corner. 

Rachel moaned and Darlene nodded.  I know, I know, the old lady whispered.  Way I see it, you’re a pretty girl and you can either throw that gift at your mother and run now, or stand your ground.  I vote for stand your ground.  You’ll find a man of your own, on your own – someday.  Just keep on looking.

And, what makes you think I’m looking?

Baby, you forget, I know your people, Darlene chuckled, patting the arm of her chair.  She waited for her niece to sit, then leaned closer.  "You got a genetic predisposition toward family.  Marriage and family?  They’re in your genes.  Oh, and your mother and her three sisters?  They can’t wait!"

I know. Rachel kissed the older woman’s dry cheek.  They just don’t ever seem to get enough of trying to put me together with some man.  You and I both know that they were looking for me to be hanging on some man’s arm like I couldn’t make it without his support.

It’s ‘cause they love you, darlin’.

I suppose…  Rachel’s shoulders rose and fell with her sigh, then her lips twitched. 

Indulgence graced the curves of Darlene’s face and her voice as she reached to adjust the creamy folds of Rachel’s cashmere scarf.  Maybe it’s because they really do know you for who you are. 

They act as if they can order my life like a child’s.  These people, my loving family members treat me like my life is interactive television.  I am not a democracy – who told them they got a vote?

Honey, please, Darlene sucked her teeth and raised her brows.  "You do know who you’re talking about, right? 

Yeah, I do.

You know how proud your mama and daddy are of their children.  Two sons, and you sandwiched in between, their only daughter.  I know they’re excited about Celia’s pregnancy, but you my dear… Darlene smiled widely.  See, it’s something special about girls.  They got you grown and educated, and you’re good at what you do, now all they want… all any of us want is to see you settled.  

With a house full of grandbabies, Rachel finished. 

And in love would be very nice, the older woman agreed.  Is that so much to ask?

They can’t just take me as I am?

Please.  None of us want you left all alone and lonely.  Darlene pushed out her lips and shook her head.  You know we love you.

I know that. 

A man’s a real nice thing for a woman to have around, honey.

Trying to keep her face straight, Rachel blurted, ’…a woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle…’ 

Bicycle!  Darlene pulled back in her chair and struggled not to laugh out loud.  And who said that?

Maybe it was Steinham or Friedan or somebody like that, but… whoever she was, she was right and I just wish my family would quit trotting all these poor men out for me. 

Feminist rhetoric doesn’t always mean what it ought to.  Long nights can get awfully lonely, you know.  Best go find your mama, now.  I know she’ll be glad to know you’re here, but don’t forget what I said.

Like I could.   Rachel playfully traced an artfully dyed blonde lock at Darlene’s forehead.  I like this new hair of yours.

Winking, Darlene primped and patted her styled blonde wig.  Thank you, baby, even if you are trying to change the subject.  

Grasping the woman’s wrinkled brown hand, Rachel smiled and heard The Twilight Zone play louder in her head.  Her stomach quivered.  Nobody needed theme music like that – especially not a woman facing the pitying glances of her family and the meat-market scrutiny of the men they’d scrounged up in the hope that she’d finally find, The One.

Backing across the room, Rachel swallowed lukewarm air and her smile twitched.  The Twilight Zone was still playing in the back of her head, thin and reedy, but still there.  The only thing missing was Rod Serling’s terse voice-over.  Trailing her fingers against the foyer wall in a way her mother would never approve of, she couldn’t stop talking to herself as she made her way deeper into the house. 

And The Twilight Zone played on.  If I have to have theme music, why didn’t I choose the theme from Sanford and Son or something?  It might be alright if the music in my mind was some kind of funky party music, something from Missy Elliott or Mary J. Blige.  Shoot, Faith Evans or even Stevie Wonder would be more acceptable.  But, me?  I have to step into, The Twilight Zone.  Realizing her mother wouldn’t hesitate to make her wash that wall, grown or not, Rachel crossed her arms.  Wonder why my psyche would choose such an eerie tune?  I probably need to see a professional about that.

About what, cousin Rachel?

What?  Looking down into the clear wonder of twin pairs of five-year-old eyes, Rachel realized she’d said the words aloud.

You said you’re gonna talk to somebody.  Is that good or bad?  Desta, twenty minutes older and far braver than her sister posed the question for the two of them.  When Rachel was slow to answer, the little girl bent her knees and bounced up and down, making her white tights bag at the knees.  Curious, she twisted her black leather strapped shoe against the parquet and stared openly.  Willing the woman to answer, she pushed her tongue into a corner of her angelic mouth, showing the gap where she’d just lost a tooth. 

Oh, it’s a grownup thing, Sweetie.  Nothing for you two to worry about, because you know that this is a birthday party.  

With cake, Desta said.

And ice cream.  Dalila looked at her sister, then her cousin, as she pushed her hands deeper into the embroidered pockets of her plum-colored velveteen jumper and waited.   She smiled and moved closer when Rachel bent lower.

You gonna talk ‘bout something special?  Both girls raised their eyebrows and looked wise, too wise for five-year-olds.

It’s something I forgot to do at work, Rachel said, confidentially.  You know how it is.  The girls nodded and linked hands.  They’re definitely a part of my family, Rachel decided, looking into their identical faces and seeing her mother’s eyes.  Why do kids always know when something is being left unsaid?  What makes them so intuitive?

Straightening, Rachel watched the girls’ head for their mother.

How come a sister as cute as you is hangin’ out all on her own?

The man’s whispered voice stroked her ear, and eyes narrowed, Rachel spun with enough force to knock the man off balance. 

Whoa!  Girl, if I’d known that you could move that fast I wouldn’t have gotten so close.  I’m sure there’s a place for that kind of speed in the WNBA, Levi laughed, pressing his back against the wall that kept him from hitting the floor.

Levi! 

Her brother, two years older and six inches taller, raised his hands in mock surrender.  His thick black brows lifted and his lips curved with lingering youthful joy.     

So silly, Rachel pouted, pulling the belt of her black jacket from her brother’s hand.  Lifting both arms and her right leg, balancing like The Karate Kid, she narrowed her eyes at him.  Don’t you make me go crane on you, boy!  You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.  It’s not… not right.

Put your leg down, Rachel.  I tried to tell him, Roz’s sultry voice insisted.  Eyes nearly hidden by a thick fringe of bangs, she finger-combed her hair and looked as innocent as was possible for a woman wearing a sheer black velvet lace shirt.  Her golden skin flashed beneath the gauzy changes of the fabric when she moved to place a possessive long-nailed hand on her man’s shoulder.

Levi’s grin grew sheepish.  Roz always had a calming effect on her husband.  C’mon Rachel, it’s not like you don’t know just about everyone in the house. 

Knowing her brother, that was as close to an apology as he was likely to get, so Rachel settled for it.  I don’t know all these strange men you’ve all trotted out here.

Roz’s eyes were sly when she rose on her toes to murmur into Levi’s ear.  Listening, he placed his hand over hers and made a face.  Shuffling his feet, he allowed Roz to lead him away.  He hated being caught, always had, and he hated being told he was wrong even more.

 Probably just not used to being approached by a man, he growled. 

Levi!  Stop teasing your sister.  I thought I would be through telling you that by this time of your life, Reverend Allen Solomon’s voice floated toward them.  You children never seem to grow up – no matter how old you get. 

And you love us this way, don’t you, Daddy? 

Have to admit I do, he chuckled.  Leave her alone, Levi.

Following the sound of her father’s voice, Rachel found him in a corner on a narrow stepladder.  What are you doing up there?

Exactly what I was told to do – you know your mama, Allen grinned peering over the tops of his glasses.  It wouldn’t be a party for my wife if the house wasn’t all decked out in streamers and balloons.  A tilt of his head indicated a colorful array of provisions on the lace covered dining room table.  All of that comes courtesy of your aunts.  You know they believe that no one in the world knows their baby sister as well as they do.  You can see that they’ve provided more than their fair share of candles and red sweetheart roses.  They chose a special little silver crown for Delia.  It’s even trimmed in red. 

He bent slightly to drop a kiss on his daughter’s forehead before he moved his feet higher on the plastic stepstool to hang a bouquet of red and white balloons against the glossy white dining room arch. 

It looks good, Daddy. 

Well, thanks honey, but your Uncle Frank’s coming up fast on your left flank.  If you’re as touchy as your mama thinks you are, I’d get a move on if I were you.

Why don’t they just understand? Rachel groaned.  I’m very happy with my life as I’m living it, and I can live it all on my own. 

Hands above his head, anchoring the balloons in place, Allen shook his head.  That’s exactly what we’re all afraid of.

Opening her mouth to answer seemed like a wasted effort, and from the corner of her eye, she could see that her father was right.  Uncle Frank, Aunt Bev’s husband, made little effort to hide his intent as he pushed the tall man along in front of him.

Well over six-feet with a reluctant mustache and sadly muddy puppy dog eyes, the man her uncle had chosen for her wasn’t much to look at.  His brown skin ran to a tone Rachel had once heard Aunt Bev describe as, paper sack brown; kind of a nondescript brown layered haphazardly between yellow and red. 

Looking at her, apparently a bit embarrassed, he passed a broad hand across his receding hairline and couldn’t quite bring his eyes to meet Rachel’s.  Uncle Frank whispered something into his ear and nudged his shoulder.  The man stopped and shoved a hand deep into the brown flannel of his trousers.  Swiping his other hand across the breast of his plaid shirt, his brow furrowed. 

Aw, Frank, I don’t know about this, he said just loud enough for Rachel to hear before she made a quick turn into the kitchen.  Stepping inside the door, Rachel drew a deep breath and almost counted herself safe – then she saw her mother and aunts.

Beautiful women, all sharing the flawless copper skin Rachel was happy to have inherited, the four of them crowded around the white counter fronting shelves she remembered her father and brothers building. They hadn’t noticed her yet, and Rachel wondered if she should back out of the kitchen and take her chances with the man Uncle Frank had corralled.  The man had looked almost queasy, she thought.  Better not to embarrass him further. 

Rachel stayed where she was, watching her mother and aunts.   With their backs to her, it was hard to tell them apart, unless you truly knew them, but Rachel had no problems.  Delia, the one in the apron was her mother, and the baby of the group.  Then, from across the room, she heard the oldest sister, Amanda’s sultry version of Eartha Kitt’s trademark growl rise in delight and appreciation. 

Girl, you know the kitchen is the place where Delia makes her magic, Beverly, the second of the sisters laughed as they all inspected a clear jar of homemade peach preserves. 

I’ll bet there’s not a lot she can’t do in the kitchen, Claire challenged.

Beverly’s head snapped in her sister’s direction.  I’ll take that bet, and her hand dropped to the hip pocket of her red slacks.

You two ought to quit, Delia sniffed.  You’ll bet on anything, and you’ll lose if you bet against me.

Beverly and Claire locked eyes, then looked at Delia, and Rachel knew what they were thinking.  Delia was probably right.  

Twenty-five years as a nutritionist and Delia knew every trick in the book – if, in fact, you believed her, she’d even invented a few of them.  She understood the mysteries of lump-free gravy and could effortlessly produce the stuff by the gallon.  Fluffy, golden, cat-faced biscuits were never a real challenge for her.  She could braid bread and prepare vegetarian meals that made even the most carnivorous of guests salivate.  Delia knew how to fold napkins to make little birds and set a table almost too beautiful for a meal.

She could even get finicky children to eat vegetables – apples in the potato salad almost never failed to gain approval.  It still made her daughter and the now grown-up former seven-year-old members of her Brownie troupe twinkle to think of the goodies she’d prepared.  Delia Solomon could even make a salad special, like the time she’d turned lettuce, canned Bartlett pears, a few raisins and cherries, along with celery into a pretty fair version of a girl.

I am so glad that if one of us had to inherit granny’s skills, it was Delia, Amanda sighed.  My hips couldn’t take it if I could cook.

It’s not the cooking that would do you in, Amanda.  It’s the eating.

Ooh, I bet five she’s not going to let you get away with that.  Claire plucked a single dollar bill from her pocket and held it aloft. 

Claire, put your money away, Amanda waved a finger at her sister.  And Beverly, you just need to stop player hating, ‘cause you know I still look like a foxy, young version of Eartha. 

’Player hating’ and Eartha Kitt, again? Rachel giggled from her place by the door.

"Yes, my darling.  Eartha. With her slinky body and feline good looks, I even thought about the divine La Kitt when I bought this outfit, Amanda said, running her fingers along the collar of her red crepe jacket and the hip of her matching capri pants.  It’s all about the lovely, late Eartha – and me.  Give us a hug, Love."

I just hope you don’t fall off those high-heels and kill yourself.  Folding her fingers into the softness of her angora sweater, Claire looked thoughtful.  I’ve always looked better in red than black, you know.  Hug me now, Rachel.

We all look good in red, ‘specially when we’re celebrating our sister/sister’s birthday, Beverly soothed, bringing her sisters and niece together in a hug.  

And Sister Delia, speaking of that birthday, how does it feel to be turning sixty? Claire teased. 

Across the room, Delia tucked another red and white napkin into a fourth basket before shaking back the clipped tousle of salt and pepper curls framing her smooth-skinned face.  Full lips curled and her eyes, the color of maple sugar, sparkled.  Feels good.  Matter of fact, it probably feels just like it will when I’m nine months older – like you.

Uhm, the sisters hummed.  Sixty sure made her sassy, didn’t it?

No, she was always that way and somebody needs to remind you of those nine months you always manage to forget.

Claire lifted her rounded nose in mock hauteur.  Be that as it may, she’s not just our baby sister, she’s a Delta.

That’s right, Amanda sang out with hip shaking certainty.  She’s a Delta born, she’s a Delta bred… 

And when she’s gone, she’ll be a Delta dead! her sister’s chorused.

Enough of this Black Greek stuff, Allen declared from the doorway.  You all are havin’ way too good a time in here.  I halfway expected to find a senior grade step show when I looked in.  Delia ain’t goin’ nowhere today, but in there to cut that cake.  And as for my daughter, the girl hasn’t even had a chance to get out of her coat and y’all are already getting started with that good old Delta rush.

Hmph, the sisters said as one. 

Allen please, Claire smirked, as far as we’re concerned, we could get her pledged faster than you could get her out of that coat.  She fingered her niece’s sleeve.  Nice coat Rachel, wanna pledge? 

No, but thanks for the offer.  I don’t think that walking around, quacking like a duck is appropriate at this stage of my life.

It’s not like that at all, Amanda said. A practicing family attorney for the past thirty-four years, she was ready to lay out her case.  Pledging as a graduate would get you involved in the community and help you to make connections.  You know Judge Wilkens is a soror.

I wondered how long it would take you to get bring her into this.  Dropping her eyes, Rachel let her tongue trace her teeth.  I don’t know if you know the statistics on kids and street crime, but I honestly think that a sitting judge ought to be more familiar with the circumstances that could take a child to the streets, and then keep him there?  Don’t you?

Amanda forgot all about Eartha Kitt.  In Alice’s defense…

Rachel’s eyes found their match in her aunt’s.  Intelligent fire flared between the two women, and Rachel knew that her aunt would understand her passion – especially if it was aligned with her own. 

Amanda had a thing about children and families.  She’d always understood the reasons for Rachel’s career focus.  She supported Rachel’s reasons for combining her social work practice with a child psychologist’s to provide innovative counseling and support to troubled adolescents.  Her support never wavered, until now.

Solomon & Sterling had recently completed a series of juvenile assessments for Clayton and Fulton counties.  While several of the assessments had proven key to rehabilitating youthful offenders, three sitting judges routinely disregarded them.  The only dissenting female, a soror and Amanda’s line-sister, was Alice Wilkens, a hard-core disbeliever.  Her recent decision was still rubbing Rachel the wrong way, and every time it came up, Amanda was there to defend her soror.

Rachel reluctantly gave in.  "We’re here for a party.  I can call your office tomorrow, and we can talk about the sociological implications of Judge Wilkens’ laissez faire attitude."

There are some things that you simply have to give a chance, and Alice …

Never gave us a chance, even when we brought in a clinical referral from Kevin Sturgis.  He did the study based on Max’s request.  Sliding her jacket from her shoulders, Rachel hands found her hips. 

Slow your roll, little sister.  Amanda’s eyes pinned her niece.  My understanding was that the child in question, at age fifteen was already a chronic offender with no family support…

So that gave her the right to totally disregard…

No, the state of Georgia gave her that right, Rachel.  As a soror, however…

Rachel couldn’t stop the little laugh.  "I can’t believe that you still think that if I’d been a Delta and a soror, especially one that you know, and in charge of the Morgan case, we might have succeeded in getting our findings heard." 

Don’t sass your aunt, her mother and aunts chorused. 

Chastened, Rachel drew a long breath and held it, choosing her battle.  No, Auntie.  I don’t think it works like that – especially not with The Honorable Judge Alice Wilkens on the bench – soror or not. 

You know she’s right, Amanda.  I’m sure that Rachel and her partner tried to draw the strongest possible lines between her young client’s actions and his environment.  That’s what a sociologist would do when paired with a psychologist, right?  Besides, if that good looking partner of hers couldn’t convince Alice, there was no point in trying anything else.  Beverly rolled her eyes heavenward and fanned her hand beneath her chin.  That boy could convince me of a lot of things.  He is, as they say, very hot! 

Delia hooted.  What you’re feeling has nothing to do with that boy and how hot he is.  That’s a hot flash you’re feeling, girl.

I got over those a few years ago, I’m glad to say, Beverly huffed. 

The kitchen’s swinging door whispered closed as Allen stepped fully into the room.  Silently, his wife and his sisters simply smiled and looked knowing.  In here telling my daughter stuff like that, all I can say is….  Allen’s final comment was a headshake.  He delivered a quick kiss to his daughter’s cheek, then steered her from the room. 

What’s going on?  Why are you dragging me in here, daddy?  Rachel nearly bumped the doorframe as her father hurried her along.

The least they could have done was let you out of your coat.  I have to wade in there to rescue you, then, I have to bring you all the way into the den to say what I have to say.  His big hands peeled the jacket from her arms.  Turning, he was quick to hang it in the closet, then stood thoughtfully facing the door.

What’s up, daddy? 

Uhm, I don’t know what you mean, Rae-Rae.  The corners of his mouth twitched and even from the back, he looked suspicious. 

Yes you do.  You said you had to bring me all the way into the den to say what you have to say and now you can’t face me.  What is it?  Is it some kind of surprise?

Surprise?  I don’t know what you mean, Rae-Rae.

Rachel’s face fell.  It’s a man, isn’t it? You went out and found me a man, didn’t you?  Who is it this time, Daddy?  Allen opened his mouth for denial and she stopped him.  Give it up, Daddy, even Peter stopped on the third denial. 

Allen faced her and muttered something about her having too much education, then his eyes found hers – big, soft, and brown, maple sugar brown, just like her mother’s.  You need to get out more.

Lying is a sin, daddy.  Especially when you lie by omission.

I’ve never seen that written in the scriptures, Rachel.  He shook his head and tightened his face.  Reading all those mysteries of yours, watching those movies, all you can see is conspiracy theories. 

Then, Allen Solomon made a mistake.  He looked at his daughter really looked at her.  Rachel Dianne Solomon looked like what Reverend Solomon had come to expect most successful career women to look like.  Beautiful skin, smooth and the color of newly minted pennies, flushed like a ripe peach attested to her good health.  Stylishly shoulder length streaked dark hair complimented her classy clothes and jewelry.  Like her mother, she curved well and abundantly in all the right places, courtesy of that gym membership she’d nursed along since her senior year at Howard.  If he had to say so himself, his daughter was a very pretty woman – in a stressed out kind of way

Maybe you wouldn’t be so stressed, if you had a man in your life, he suggested, then tensed at the look she gave him.  I played golf with Harry Rice the other day, and since he and Betty were coming by today, and their son is down from Michigan. Allen shrugged.  I thought I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb…. 

And, he just happens to be age appropriate and single. 

Widowed, her father mumbled, not looking at her.  His name is Michael.  He’s, uh, out there.  In the living room.  He’s a dentist.  Got his own practice.  Did I tell you his name is… 

Yeah, Dad, you said his name is Michael.  Which one is he?

Sitting on the couch, the one in the blue suit and striped tie, Allen finished, sheepishly.  I hope you’re not too mad at me, honey.  I love you.  He shook his head again and spread his broad hands.  Rae-Rae, in this life, a man’s job is to provide.  When I married your mother, I knew that was my job.  From the time I looked at her walkin’ down that aisle and she was so beautiful, all dressed in white, coming into my life, and all I could see was my responsibility.

He pressed his glasses higher on his nose.  She was the most wonderful thing, the most wonderful person I had ever seen, and all I could think of was responsibility.  Her and those little eggs inside her, the ones that would someday become you and your brothers – my responsibilities.  Taking care of her, keeping a roof over my family’s heads, food in your mouths, shoes on your feet, and God knows, a book in Levi’s hands, those were my responsibilities. 

Folding his hands over his slight paunch, he continued.  Your mother and I, we got you grown, we got you educated.  I only have one last responsibility left, and I knew it was mine from the day I asked your mother to marry me.  On the day you were born, I knew it would come.  I need to see you married and secure, Rachel -- it’s my job.

Daddy, you’ve fulfilled all of your responsibilities, I’m happy.  Trust me, I’m even secure.

He gave her shoulder a final pat as he opened the door.  I hear you.  I trust you, but do me a favor?  Talk to the dentist, okay?

Rachel tugged at the neckline of her pale blue angora sweater and nodded as she left her father.   

Oh, Rae-Rae, there you are!  I love that sweater, the color is so feminine.  Beverly passed a hand along her niece’s arm.  Soft as a kitten.  Is it very warm?

Waylaid, Rachel smiled at her aunt and tried not to flinch.  It’s very comfortable.  Actually, I’m going to pick up another one later this week, want me to get one for you, too?

What a Sweetie you are!  A heavily ringed hand stroked Rachel’s cheek, followed by a kiss.  Oh, and I want you to meet someone.  His name is Elvin Roberts and he’s a little on the short side, but he drives a Porsche just like mine.  His is red, too. 

I should have known it was just a matter of time until you trotted out a man for me.

But, he drives a Porsche, Bev insisted, attaching herself to her niece and patting her shoulder.

I guess that makes all the difference, Rachel said, too brightly.  Oh well, I knew where I was going when I left home.

A sullen human tugboat, Rachel endured her aunt’s introduction to a man who looked at her like he hoped his name was tattooed on her body.  He seemed determined to flatter her into submission.  The man began with her hair, his eyes caressing every strand.  He demanded she name its color – like he’d never seen a black woman with auburn highlights.  Reaching out, he pawed at her hair and she made a calculated move to avoid the unwarranted contact. 

What are you looking for in a man? Elvin asked, trying to hypnotize her with his slightly cross-eyed penetrating gaze.

That he be the same species as me. Rachel was glad the words didn’t cross her lips.  Oh, she said instead, excuse me, my mother needs my help.  Weaving across the crowded room took nearly thirty seconds, but she made it, managing to lose Elvin along the way. 

Mom, you truly do not need to work like this on your special day, Rachel declared lifting the tray from her surprised parent’s hands and delivering it to the table.

Oh, Delia deposited herself in the nearest chair.  If you feel like that, you can go help Celia and John set up that platter of chicken in the kitchen, too.  Oh, and the vegetables; get them and the canapés.

Got it, Rachel agreed, darting into the kitchen.

Hello.  You must be Rachel.  Behind her, the man’s voice was low and provocative enough to stop her breath in her throat.  Rachel had to remind herself to turn and breathe again. 

I am.  Who are you? 

Oh, hey, John dropped the chicken he was handling and skated across the wooden floor toward his sister.  Celia, fingers moving across salad garnishes, watched him.  He paused long enough to wipe his large hands on the apron he was wearing.  It was one of his mother’s and he made an obvious effort to look manly in it.  "Let me make some introductions, here.  Rachel, this is Dave.  He’s the regional rep from my cell