Chapter 25 Sabrina
Georgetown, South Carolina
Present Day
I hadn’t heard from Quinton all week. Not even a text message. I was feeling some type of way about being ghosted. The last thing I needed in my life was a trash man, especially one I’d likely run into. Georgetown wasn’t Greenville. The city of Greenville was bigger than all of Georgetown County.
That’s what I thought, until Quinton arrived at Grandma’s door carrying a dozen pink peonies. Peonies were my favorite flower. It was just like him to pick the right kind. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, stirring conflicting emotions I didn’t want to feel.
“Showing up without calling,” I said. Sarcasm felt like my friend in this moment.
“It’s the South,” he replied.
No he didn’t. The grunt I made said everything I was feeling about his answer. “Thank you for the flowers.” I waited for him to speak. This was his moment.
“I hope they convey that I’m sorry.” His voice cracked uncomfortably, and I winced. “I apologize for going dark this week.”
“Going dark?” I snorted. “We’re not living in a spy movie.”
“I know that.”
I couldn’t keep my frustrated sigh in. “If that’s the case, what do you want?”
“A chance to explain.”
“My life is a little too complicated for me to have to work around inconsistency right now.”
“And I didn’t want to put my problem on you, but I need to tell you where I’ve been.”
“You don’t need to tell me. I get it. I’m a single mother. Some men don’t want that life.”
Quinton was shocked, so shocked that it was easy to see he wasn’t faking. “What? No.” He shook his head. “Your daughter has nothing to do with anything.”
Suddenly, I felt silly for thinking that’s why he’d disappeared on me. I sat, put the flowers on my lap, and waited for him to explain.
“I told you I had an ex... Alicia. We were engaged. Alicia has a drinking problem. Sometimes she has a drug problem. When she gets desperate, she blows up my world.”
Now it was me who couldn’t hide my surprise. The fluttering of my lashes was involuntary. “In what way?”
“She shows up places. My apartment. My mother’s house. When I was in Columbia, my job. My church. She keeps up a lot of drama.” He sighed. “She needed to get into a program. I found one and drove her there. It’s in High Point, North Carolina.”
I was speechless. I should say something, but my tongue felt like lead.
“Exes are supposed to be in our past, but she has no one else. She’s alone except for her mother, and she’s not well. She’s finishing cancer treatments.”
Empathic feelings washed over me. I had way too much experience with being alone. Needing someone didn’t make anyone a bad person, but being willing to help added to his good qualities. “Quinton, I’m so sorry.”
“I know I have to figure out a way to close that door, but I keep thinking, we started as friends. I don’t give up on friends.”
“You don’t have to explain that,” I said, thinking about how hard I’d always gone for Kendrick. How I would never abandon him if he was sick. I took Quinton’s hand and pulled him down on the two-seater chair with me.
“I do have to explain, but this is it. I’m done. I told her this is the last time.” He continued, “I like you, Sabrina. I always have, even before her. I’m not letting guilt or drama or even an old friend come between me and what I want right now.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay with that?” I asked.
“I’ve considered her to be an assignment, but that’s not what this is. Alicia is a burden. I don’t have to carry her. She’s not my wife, and she never will be.”
I released a weighty breath. “I appreciate you being honest with me, but I feel bad. I thought you were avoiding me because of my daughter when you were dealing with a whole rehab situation.”
Quinton frowned. “Why would you think I’d have a problem with your daughter?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “The timing.”
Quinton’s frown deepened. “I would’ve called, but I didn’t want to project that energy on you, and I needed time to think and pray on the ride back from High Point. My mother traveled with me.”
“Is she close to Alicia?” I wanted him to say no. I didn’t want Alicia to have very many pieces of his life.
“Not really, but taking her was more to get my mother out of the house and honestly to have another person in the middle, you know?”
I nodded. I understood. Things could get complicated between exes. I’d been there during my own on-and-off again situationship with Kendrick. It took us a long time to settle into being a real couple.
Quinton sighed. “All I want right now is to spend some time with you... today if you don’t have plans.”
“I think there’s room on my social calendar for a needy friend,” I said teasingly.
“This friend is in the mood for a milkshake. My favorite spot is in Charleston. You up for a ride?”
“To Charleston?” I scrunched up my nose. “For a milkshake?”
“Charleston for some real time with you.”
I smiled. I felt him. I looked down at my flowers. “I’m going to put these in water.”
I stood. Before I could move, I felt Quinton’s hand on my arm. I waited for him to speak. He seemed mesmerized by the connection of our skin. He sighed again, more loudly than he had the last time, and dropped his hand. He looked up at me. Quinton’s honest eyes always told the truth. Whatever he was about to say was coming straight up from his heart.
“Sabrina, your daughter is”—he paused, considering his words—“probably the best part of you. If I want you, I want all of you, especially the best part. I would never not want you because of her.”
Quinton’s words burrowed into my chest and spiraled right down into my belly. How sweet was that? I was speechless.
“I’d like to meet her... when you’re ready to introduce me to her.”
I nodded. “I’ll let you know.”
Quinton smiled, and aside from the stress crinkles around his eyes, he seemed okay. I, however, was not okay. I didn’t want to be a cliché, but as a single mom, a man who said the right things about my child was winning. Kenni was my heart.
I found a vase for my flowers, put on a little makeup, and joined Quinton in the car. One of the things I loved the most about Georgetown was its proximity to the coast. The ride down Highway 17 didn’t provide constant views of the water, but when the ocean appeared, it was everything I needed in my life. The water, the sun on my face, the smooth jazz on the radio, and Quinton’s warm hand on mine massaged my soul to satisfaction.
We arrived in Charleston and immediately merged into traffic. The city was alive with street vendors and shoppers. Musicians and dancers. Tourists and locals. The people-watching distracted us from the fact that we were crawling down the street.
“I haven’t been to Charleston in six years,” I said, recalling the last time was a weekend getaway with Kendrick.
“It’s a hike from Greenville.”
“My last trip was for a weekend birthday celebration,” I said, continuing to enjoy the view out the window.
Quinton didn’t ask for details. I suspected he didn’t want to hear if I was with a man. “I hope you can eat, because I’m hungry,” he said.
We parked his car in an area that looked more residential than commercial. He fed the meter, and we walked the short distance to Hannibal’s Kitchen, which was famous for its soul food.
It was crowded, but we only had to wait fifteen minutes to be seated. Having Dante cook for us spoiled me, but I was always down to try another Gullah-Geechee soul food spot. I ordered the crab and shrimp fried rice and shark steak. Quinton had the rice with oxtails but then begged until I gave him some of my fish.
Once we left, we went down East Bay to King Street, stopped in a bookstore, and walked through the City Market. Quinton picked up a pound cake from Fergie’s Favorites, and I picked out a beautiful bouquet of flowers fashioned from sweetgrass. Sweetgrass symbolized harmony, love, peace, strength, positivity, and purity. I needed any symbol of those things that I could get. I also thought they’d be a nice peace offering for Mariah. I’d give her a few.
We walked to Kaminsky’s for dessert. I had their berry cobbler with ice cream. It was served in the ceramic dish it was baked in. I liked the coziness of eating out of a baking dish. The ice cream tasted homemade. The strawberry syrup exploded on my tongue. I didn’t make pies, so whenever I had dessert out, I got pie. Quinton had his favorite milkshake and took key lime pie and bourbon pecan pie to go for his mother.
Quinton groaned as he fidgeted with his seat belt. “I don’t know about you, but I ate entirely too much.”
“You’re right, you did. You ate my fish and my dessert.”
“I swear I’m not like that all the time. You just know your way around a menu, girl.”
I smirked. “Don’t try to con me. I can tell you’re one of those people who has to have what everyone has.”
We laughed. “You spend more time in the gym than me.”
Quinton popped on his sunglasses. “I’m glad I could help you stay fine, but I’m kind of ashamed of myself.”
“Although I’m not a hundred percent convinced you have any shame. I’m in the restaurant business and I’m a baker. I like to see people eat.”
“Yeah, well, when this sugar high comes down, I’m going to need a nap.”
I laughed and opened my phone to take a quick look at the pictures we’d taken. I held my phone so he could see the usie of us having dessert. We both had whipped cream on our lips.
Quinton glanced at the picture and then me. His eyes weren’t readable through his dark sunglasses, but the combination of the way he nodded his head and pushed out his lips spoke before he did. “We’re making memories.” He pulled out in traffic and added, “Again.”
I pulled my phone back into my lap and looked at the rest of our pictures. We were... making memories. I was about to close my phone when I saw a video Mariah sent me of her and Kenni.
They were singing “I Smile” by Kirk Franklin. It was Kenni’s favorite song.
I laughed at the silly expressions they made, especially Mariah. She was so good with her.
“What’s up?” Quinton asked.
“Kenni and my sister were hamming it up in a video.” We were stopped at a light, so I held the phone up for him to see.
“She’s beautiful,” he said. “She looks like you.”
I admired the video for a moment. She did look like me, more and more as she got older. I closed my phone. “I’m glad she’s close to her aunt. I know she’s only four and might not remember, but the memories I made visiting Georgetown are the best from my childhood.”
“You’d be surprised what some people remember, but I don’t recall anything before like five,” he said.
“Same,” I said, buckling my seat belt. “Except I do I remember getting shots in pre-K and seeing the dentist who visited our school.”
“You remember the medical stuff. I remember holiday potlucks in the classroom.”
“You would remember the food,” I teased. I looked out the window and enjoyed the view as we moved through traffic. It struck me. I was on Market Street in Charleston. I’d seen it mentioned in my great-great-grandma Tabitha’s letters. We weren’t far from the location she had for Tabby’s Place. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on what she said about it. I recalled Market Street. Near the docks. I pulled up maps on my phone to see how close we were.
Quinton looked at my phone. “Did you want to go somewhere?”
“Yes. Would you make a right here and take this down to the port?”
We reached the port, and Quinton parked. We stepped out, and I stared, looking at the different modern buildings, hoping to catch a glimpse of something that would signal Tabitha Cooper had been here.
“What are you looking for?” Quinton asked. “Waterfront Park is in this direction.”
I explained to him about Great-Great-Grandma Tabitha’s first restaurant.
Quinton did a thing with his mouth when he was impressed. I recognized it from when he was a teenager.
I pulled my eyes away from his rather good-looking lips and made myself focus on why we were on this street. “Her restaurant business goes back to 1920.”
“That’s powerful.”
“It is. I’ve been reading letters she wrote from that time. She was doing the doggone thing.”
“Well, I can see she passed her resilience down.”
He couldn’t possibly see resilience. I hadn’t done anything to demonstrate it to him, but I didn’t want to tell him what he saw in me or hoped for me.
We drove over to the area I thought might be where she’d been, that is, if the streets weren’t changed. There were so many restaurants, it was impossible to figure it out. I tried to imagine what this area must have looked like a hundred years ago, but I couldn’t. What I did do was feel something, an energy that made me think I’d passed an ancestorial marker or something. I don’t know, I felt a presence. It quieted me.
“Tell me, Sabrina. What are you thinking?”
“Just about all my ancestors did for me... for us. Times aren’t great now with respect to race issues, but Jim Crow was a horrible time. They survived that, and we’re the ones who are benefiting.”
Quinton nodded. “I think about that all the time too. It’s cool that you have letters. I’ve been using the ancestry site, trying to build a family tree, but it’s time-consuming.”
“Probably worth it though, right?”
Quinton agreed with a smile. “Based on what you know about this spot and your gran’s history here, definitely worth it.”
We left Charleston and headed back up Highway 17. Once we entered Georgetown, Quinton pulled off to the right and headed in the direction of the water. We rode along the access road for a stretch, and then he parked. We sat there for a minute before getting out of the SUV, Quinton following me. We stared at Winyah Bay—together—watched the sun disappear over the water.
Quinton reached for my hand. I looked down at the two of them clasped and then back up at him.
“You’ve been quiet.”
“Reflective,” I replied. “I can’t help but think things would have been different if I grew up down here... with my grandparents.”
“Thinking you and Mariah would have been closer?”
“Something better than what it is,” I said. “But then I think like that and feel bad because all roads lead to Kenni, you know?”
“I can’t exactly relate because I’m not a father.”
“Yeah, you can,” I said. “I bet there are days—or let me say seasons—when you wish you’d never met Alicia.”
He frowned, and then his face relaxed.
“It’s the same thing. It’s wishing you didn’t have the burden of whatever a thing is. We want to clip out the parts of our lives that bring us pain, but if we didn’t have that pain, how would we grow? What would God use?”
“Don’t give up on Mariah,” Quinton said, putting his arm around my shoulder.
I closed my eyes and let the intimacy of his touch soothe me. I hadn’t been touched like a lover in years. This felt too good. I moved out from under his embrace, but Quinton reached for my hand again. He wasn’t going to let me go. “I better get back. I want to beat Kenni home. She might be full of sugar. No one deserves a cranky four-year-old.”
We held hands as we walked back to his SUV. Once he opened the door, I started to step in but then turned back around. I didn’t even realize I was leaning toward him until I kissed him. It was just a peck on the lips, but it was sweet. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“Thank you for coming with me,” he replied. A smile settled in his eyes, and it drew me back to him.
The second time I leaned closer, I was aware that I craved a real kiss. I raised my hand to his chest and felt it rise and fall beneath his T-shirt. Quinton met me the rest of the way. His lips brushed against mine, flooding my senses with warmth. He was gentle as his hand slid up my arm, over my shoulder and across my collarbone. His free hand slipped around to my lower back, where he applied just enough pressure to pull us together. It seemed like it took forever for his mouth to fully cover mine, to deepen the kiss, but once it did, it became hungry, irresistibly so. I moaned against his lips, and in return, he growled. I pulled back, but our faces were still inches apart. The racing of my heart matched his. Our ragged breathing matched each other’s. “This might be too much, Quinton.”
“Too much?” He released me, stepped back, and scratched the side of his face like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “I’ve been wanting that kiss all day.” He chuckled nervously. “And I was just getting warmed up.”
What?A whole shiver traveled up my spine. He already had my senses all fuzzy. Now he was messing with my head. I gathered myself, crossed my arms over my chest, and said, “I’m lonely.”
Quinton nodded. “Me too. But we don’t have to be. Not anymore.”
The vulnerability I’d just confessed unnerved me but freed me at the same time. I felt compelled to be honest with him. If he was really a man of God, he would help me keep us from finding out how warmed up we both could get.
I looked past him at the massive sky. The clouds painted their final picture before disappearing into the stars. My loneliness had been a small piece of who I was, but it was strong. Stronger than I knew. I dropped my arms and slid into the vehicle.
We arrived at my grandparents’ house. Quinton walked me to the steps and said his goodnight with just a peck on my cheek. I lingered until he drove away.
Before I turned to enter the house, I noted a woman getting out of a car across the street. She powerwalked up the driveway, approaching with purpose.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
She was still moving in my direction. I stuck my hand in my bag, my finger on my pepper spray.
“Are you Sabrina Holland?” she asked, stopping at the bottom of the steps.
Before I could say yes, she pushed a manila envelope at me. “This is for you.” Then she took a picture with her phone. “You’ve been served.”