Chapter Nine #2
Laughter rippled through the room as my mother and Mrs. Luke traded playful remarks about how all those Sunday school lessons and church youth programs had clearly paid off.
Their good-natured banter filled the room with warmth.
As they continued, Amariah focused on preparing her father’s plate.
She carefully chopped the turkey into small pieces so he could eat with ease.
Her patience and care with her father were a reminder of the Amariah I’d always known.
By the time she was done, the rest of the table had already piled their plates high with turkey, dressing, collards, macaroni and cheese, ham, candied yams, potato salad, and cornbread.
Each dish filled the air with the smell of home.
“Would you like me to make your plate?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Amariah’s lips softly curved. “That’s sweet, Jacob, but I’ve got it.”
I lifted my hands in surrender, nodding as she began placing small portions on her plate.
A muffled snicker caught my attention, and I glanced up to see the smirks my mother and Mrs. Luke tried and failed to hide.
Whatever code they were speaking in, I knew better than to ask.
I shot my mother a warning look, and she returned it with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.
Point taken. If I didn’t want to become the next topic of Thanksgiving gossip, I’d better rein it in.
Dinner was easy in a way I hadn’t expected.
The conversation flowed naturally, reminiscing about Thanksgivings past, catching up with Amariah’s life and work in D.C.
Mr. Luke even cracked jokes while Mrs. Luke fussed over everyone to take another helping while scolding her husband for eating too much, and Amariah kept brushing her hair back when it fell forward, the way she always used to.
For a while, I let it all soak in; this picture of family, of belonging. It felt natural.
Throughout dinner, I felt Mr. Luke was watching me. I could sense it in the pauses between his banter and in the way his eyes seemed laser-focused on me as we ate. When dessert was cleared away, he motioned for me with the tilt of his head.
“Jacob, how about helping an old man to the bathroom?”
Without hesitation, I stood, but Mrs. Luke held up a hand, halting me as she stood as well. “Don’t worry our guests, honey,” she said to Mr. Luke. “I can take him, Jacob. You sit down and relax.”
“Linda, you tend to me all day. Accept the help when you have it. Besides, I finally have someone with the same parts as I do to assist,” Mr. Luke intervened, his voice raspy from the excessive talking he’d been doing today.
Grins and giggles went around the table at his joke, and Mrs. Luke sucked her teeth, sitting back down. “Just uncouth, I tell you.”
“Just the truth,” he shot back playfully before waving me over.
I made my way to him, taking over the wheelchair and guiding him out of the dining room and down the hall toward the bathroom.
“The master bathroom, please,” Mr. Luke requested, and my pulse kicked up harder than it should’ve. Something told me this was a setup. His watchful eyes had hinted at it, but this specific request confirmed it. All I could do was brace myself for whatever was coming.
Once we entered the master bathroom, I positioned him near the toilet to help him, but Mr. Luke stopped me. “Close the door, Jacob.”
I hesitated for half a second, then obeyed. When I turned back to face him, the expression on his face was heavier. I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms. “What’s on your mind, Mr. Luke?”
“I’ve told you, call me Adam.”
“Okay, Mr. Adam,” I said with a faint smile. There was no way I would drop the Mister. He’d earned that respect as a man.
“Jacob,” he began, his voice low and tired but steady, “that’s why I’ve always liked you. Rodney and Rachel did an excellent job with you.”
His words caught me off guard, hitting a place that was still tender, as an image of my father flashed in my mind at his praise. Hearing that I reflected my parents well, especially my father, always meant the world to me, but coming from Mr. Luke, it meant everything.
He drew a careful breath, pausing when the effort made him winded. “I need you to listen to me, Jacob. Truly listen. My breaths are short and getting shorter by the day, so I want to say this while I still can.”
I pulled the bench from Mrs. Luke’s vanity and sat down so that we were eye level. “What’s wrong, Mr. Lu—Adam?” I placed my hand on the armrest of the wheelchair, leaning closer so he didn’t have to strain to project his voice.
He placed his hand over mine, his grip faint but firm. “You’ve been like a son to me. You’ve looked after this family more than you realize, and you’ve carried feelings for my daughter longer than you care to admit.”
My instinct was to protest, but he lifted a shaky hand, stopping me.
“Don’t waste time denying it,” he said softly.
“I may not have much time left, and I want peace in knowing she’ll be cared for when I’m gone.
My wish is to see Amariah with a man who’ll stand by her through everything before the good Lord calls me home.
That man is you. It’s always been you.” His unwavering gaze held mine.
“So, fix whatever it was that caused the rift between you two and be the man I know you’re supposed to be for my daughter. ”
I couldn’t speak at first. Of all the things I expected him to ask, this wasn’t one of them. His words felt like both a blessing and a burden—a prayer and a plea wrapped into one.
“Mr. Adam,” I began, my voice uncertain, “I’m not sure if I can make that promise to you.
Amariah and I just got to a place where we could coexist in the same space.
To go from that to more is a…stretch. Besides, there are other extenuating factors.
I’m not sure if she even feels that way about me, and her life is in D.C. ”
He tightened his hold on my hand, silencing me again.
“Then let me ask you these three questions,” he said, “and when I am done, answer all three honestly.” I nodded, permitting him to continue.
“Do you forgive my daughter for the past? If you had the opportunity to be in a relationship with my daughter, would you take it? Do you love my daughter?”
Something inside my chest twisted, squeezing hard. Those were questions I’d avoided for years out of pride, out of regret, and mostly, out of fear—fear of rejection. But when faced with them here, in front of a man I respected as much as my own father, there was no point in lying.
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “Yes to all three. I love Amariah. Always have.” My voice was low but certain, revealing a truth that I could no longer hide.
A slow smile spread across his face, lighting it with a peace I hadn’t seen in him in weeks. “I knew that. Just like I know my daughter feels the same about you.” He lightly patted his stomach. “I feel it in my gut. So, promise me, Jacob. Please.”
The weight of his words pressed into me, leaving me no room to escape what I’d been running from for years. “Mr. Adam…if she’ll have me, I won’t let her go again.”
He patted my shoulder. “Good. That’s all I needed to hear. Now, I really do need to drain the lizard.”
I laughed softly despite the lump in my throat and helped him with what he needed before wheeling him back down the hall.
When we returned to the dining room, Amariah was stacking plates, her back to us.
She looked so at home here, and I thought about all the years I’d wasted keeping my distance.
That night, as laughter filled the room again and more slices of sweet potato pie were passed around, I made myself a quiet promise: No more holding back.
Mr. Adam had called me to step up. If I had to fight to win her back, then fight I would.