Chapter 11 Sabrina
I was tired and apparently my child was too, because we slept in. By the time we got up for breakfast, Grandma and Mariah were both gone. Kenni and I had pancakes, dressed, and hopped in Grandpa’s truck singing to Kenni’s favorite Kidz Bop track as it played from my phone.
I was headed to my happy place, a craft store. I’d googled and found there was one downtown. I was tempted to send my father his money back, but after reading my great-great-grandma Tabitha’s letter, I felt empowered to make the cake thing happen for myself. I needed supplies—four dozen mason jars, ribbon, tags, labels, and a new calligraphy set among other art supplies.
“Are you making cakes, Mama?” Kenni asked.
“I am.” I’d taken her to the bakery with me a few times to watch me work, and I’d made a cake or two in Ellen’s kitchen.
She smiled as she stroked her doll’s hair. “I like making cakes.”
What she liked was being with me. Although I saw her more days than not, it still wasn’t the same as us having our own house and spending all our evenings and nights and mornings together. Ellen did some things differently from me, and Kenni was quick to let me know with statements like, “Nana does this” or “Nana does that.” Ellen babied her more than she needed to. I believed in stretching children’s limits, giving them assignments and chores early. Ellen was in the let kids be kids camp.
Next, we went to bakery supply store and picked up all the items I needed for four of my favorite cakes—red velvet, birthday cake, caramel, and chocolate.
I took a picture of my purchase and sent the text to my father. He sent back a thumbs-up.
My mother made cakes in mason jars. She called them sweet cakes. Baking them created warm feelings of connectedness to my mother, which I had to imagine because I’d never met her. All I had was her recipes and this flour, butter, sugar, and my imagination. I’d share it with Kenni when she was older, but right now, my little helper was bored with my errands. I still needed to go to the bank and open a business account.
Thankfully, we were not far from my grandparents’ church, which ran a small daycare for the parishioners. Grandma had already called and set me up in their system. I was glad to give my daughter somewhere to burn off her energy, and Kenni was happy to finally get some kid time, barely saying bye before she was wrapped up in painting with a new best friend.
I traveled down Black River Road to South State Bank to get a cashier’s check for my business license application. I’d never gotten one in Greenville, but that was because I was just contracted to make cakes. Now that my goal was to make sweet cake jars and try to get them in markets around the city, I needed to be official.
I went through the line, and just as I was pushing the door to exit, I heard my name. I turned to see who was calling me.
The guy looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure where I knew him from. I fought the desire to stare until I figured it out, but then it didn’t take long for that. “Quinton?”
I had spent summers in Georgetown until I graduated high school, and Quinton Rainey had been my crush for all those years. His family attended my grandparents’ church, and he and I volunteered to help at vacation Bible school and attended the teen Bible study program and the camp the church had. I basically spent my summers with him.
His smile was as wide as the double doors that led out of the building. He walked toward me. “Sabrina Holland.” He pulled me into a hug that was all spicy cologne and masculine muscles. “How long has it been?”
“Almost ten years,” I said, stepping out of his embrace. “I’m surprised you recognize me.”
“You’re hardly forgettable.” He fully inspected me. “You look great. I mean, you really look amazing.”
“You’re embarrassing me,” I said, looking down at my cut-off jean shorts, flip-flops, and “Girls Run the World” T-shirt. There wasn’t much about me to rave about. “I didn’t know you still lived in Georgetown.”
“I’ve only just come back a few months ago,” Quinton said. “How are your grandparents?”
“My grandmother is good, but my grandfather had a pretty bad stroke about a month ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that about Mr. Holland. I’ll have to pray for him.”
“I’d appreciate that,” I said. “So where have you been living?”
“Columbia. Since I graduated from USC.” He paused. He still seemed to be processing that he was seeing me. “Look, I’m running to get back to work, but I’d love to grab a bite to eat and catch up sometime.” He reached into his pocket for his phone. “Can I call you?”
“Sure.” I gave him my number.
“This was the best surprise.” He smiled and began walking backward. I watched him get into an SUV. A nice, new-looking BMW that said, I’m successful, Sabrina. I don’t live in a van. If it was true, I was glad for him. Quinton was always such a nice guy—friendly, helpful, patient, yet funny and so serious about the Lord. He was just perfect. I let that spin around in my memory for a moment and smiled because he wanted to catch up. It was something to look forward to.
Ten minutes later, I was back on the road when a text came through from Quinton’s number.
Too soon? ??
I smiled. I was surprised at how wide. It wasn’t too soon. Before I could respond, a second text came through.
What about dinner tomorrow?
My first thought was who would babysit. Grandma had so much on her plate, and Mariah, well, Mariah would probably hold it against me somehow. She was already judging me. I hesitated...
I’m not sure about tomorrow. I need to let you know.
Bubbles showed he was texting, and then they stopped. A few minutes later, my phone pinged.
Don’t blow me off.
At least he was thoughtful. Blowing him off was something I’d never been able to do. The memory of Quinton had always been with me, even through all I’d had with Kendrick. Whenever Kendrick and I broke up, which was far too often, my thoughts drifted to the “what if” of Quinton Rainey, that praying dude from VBS. But even though I thought about him, I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.
Kendrick, while Christian, wasn’t always, not in the beginning of our relationship. He was just cool. He talked about spiritual things in a sexy kind of way that drew me in. It wasn’t until I’d been dating him for nearly a year that I realized he was struggling with what he believed about Jesus. He’d been reading books about other religions and combining them in some kind of self-created mess of a spiritual melting pot. Still, I didn’t break up with him. I didn’t know how.
We chose not to talk about our faith. That is, until the shift happened. His grandfather died, and the only thing that gave him comfort was his grandfather’s Bible. He recommitted to the faith and even got rebaptized. I told myself on the nights we fought, the nights when he was at his lowest in terms of his testy temper and sharp-witted, cutting words, that if he and I ever parted, I wouldn’t date a man who wasn’t a Christian again.
I thought about my great-great-grandmother. Her love story was slowly unfolding in her letters. There was no mention of her marriage to a man named Joseph in our family history. I’d always assumed all her children had the same father, the one we knew. The more I read about Joseph, the more I could see my own choices. Great-Great-Grandma Tabitha and I had done the same thing—followed a charming man to painful places because we did not follow the Word. Rebellious behavior ran in our blood.
And there was Quinton occasionally skittering through my mind over the years, pressing into me in subtle, regret-filled ways.
I looked at my phone, replied to his text:
Blow you off? Never. I’d love to catch up. I’ll let you know.
A thumbs-up emoji came through with a smiley face.
I would let him know, and I wouldn’t make him wait long. But I had not dated in years. And because I’d cut off the few friends I had after Kendrick died, I didn’t have anyone to remind me that date was something I was supposed to do. Until now. I could still feel the gentle press of Quinton’s body against mine. It was a friendly hug, but I was so starved for affection that I couldn’t help thinking about how it could be more.
Blow him off?
I guffawed and turned the steering wheel for a sharp right turn I’d almost missed in my musing. That wasn’t happening.
My phone rang in a call from Ellen, and I pushed a button to turn on Bluetooth to receive the call. She greeted me and asked the same questions she asked about Grandpa every day: “How is he? How is the rehab progressing?” Today she added something else. “It seems there was no medical emergency.”
“Not really.”
“Well, why were you summoned in the middle of the night?”
It had not been the middle of the night. It was actually in the middle of dinner that I picked Kenni up, but I didn’t argue with her. “My grandmother needs help.”
A discernible grunt came through the line. “What about your job?”
“It’s a temp job.”
“Not at the bakery.”
“I told them I needed family time, and since I’m kind of temp there, it’s okay.”
Ellen’s aggravation was obvious. “I have Kenni’s space at the preschool.”
I gripped the steering wheel tight. Daycare... that was the real rub, and she was right. I owed her my timeline. “I’ll be here for a month... at least.”
She gasped. “A month?”
“I’m helping with the restaurant. We’re renovating it, and I’m in charge of the creative vision.”
“Creative vision?” Ellen’s tone carried a sneer. She didn’t say anything else, and neither did I for a long time. I just continued to drive, hoping one of her patients would need her so she would get off the phone.
“I feel like you’re not telling me something.”
I thought about the business license I was headed to get. I had made a decision that affected her. I might be staying here. I owed her to tell her, but today wasn’t the right day. I’d seen Quinton, Mariah liked my ideas, and I was on my way to jump-start my business. Everything was good, and I wanted it to stay that way.
There was a voice in Ellen’s background, and then she said, “I have to so see about one of my people.”
Happy for the reprieve, I released my breath before adding, “I think you should let the preschool slot go.”
Ellen ended the call without saying goodbye, but she heard me, because I heard her swear before the line went dead.