A Younger Man (Mount Faith Series: Book 7) (5 page)

She hissed her teeth and then flushed. "Sorry. I really had a bad time last year."

Vanley stopped the car at her gate and whooped with laughter.

"It was that bad, huh?"

"Yes." Davia nodded vigorously. "One would think that if you attended a school like Mount Faith there would be all sorts of eligible single Christian men there but...," her voice trailed off.

"But?" Vanley asked.

"But I must admit I am a bit picky," Davia said. "Nobody has really sparked my interest except..."

Vanley waited for her to continue but Davia just jiggled her bag straps.

She glanced at Vanley sheepishly. "Except you."

"Ah," Vanley nodded and rested back in his seat. "What is it about me that sparks your interest?"

"You meet the height requirement, for one," Davia mused.

"And what's the height requirement?" Vanley asked curiously.

"Taller than me," Davia said. "Is it just me or are men getting shorter?"

"It's just you." Vanley laughed. "All the men in my family are tall."

"You are also handsome and witty and you smell good and..."

"Oh stop," Vanley said, "my head can't take in so many compliments at once."

Davia laughed, "And you are modest. What do you like in a woman?"

She has to be Anita
, popped up in his head but he squashed the thought.

What did he really like about women? He had been so caught up with Anita for so many years that he had not really looked at anybody else.

He really struggled with the answer.

"Well," he pictured Anita's face. "I always think that when the right person comes along I will know, like a hit in the solar plexus and a grip so tight that it leaves me with no energy for anybody else. Something will just click. I don't have a list. I am extremely flexible when it comes to requirements."

Davia smiled tremulously. "That's so sweet."

"It's pathetic really," Vanley said sadly, "because if she believes she is not the right person, you can waste years of your life trying to convince her that she is."

Davia sighed. "I hope that never happens to you."

Vanley almost said, "It already has," but he nodded instead.

"So, do you want children?" Davia asked perkily. She didn't want to go into the house just yet. It was fun just sitting and talking to Vanley. It was something that she had been waiting weeks to do, and tonight he seemed vulnerable, somehow, like he wanted to talk as well.

Vanley nodded. "Of course. I know that there are people in the world who don't want children, but I do."

"How many?" Davia laughed.

"At least three," Vanley said, "and they have to be close in age, like two years apart. I am five years older than my sister, and at times, I feel like I am much older. She calls me Pops when she's joking."

"I like that," Davia said. "I wish I had a big brother. I want to have a whole houseful of children too. It was lonely growing up with just my grandparents. I have no cousins or people my age to call family."

Vanley mused. "I have no idea how that feels. I have always had a bucket load of family meddling in my life."

"Yes, I know." Davia laughed. "You have quite a big clan of cousins."

She cleared her throat. "What became of those guys who raped your sister?"

Vanley shrugged. "Their trial is set for March. I heard that Cory, the one who was recording the video, was granted immunity for his testimony against the others."

Davia shook her head. "That's messed up."

"It's our version of justice," Vanley said. Then he looked at his watch. "You know it's nice talking to you."

He leaned back on the headrest. "I don't want your grandparents thinking I am trying to seduce their only grandchild in the dark so I am going to bid you goodnight."

Davia nodded. "They wouldn't think so. My grandma is probably already sleeping and my granddad is not hearing too well. Probably don't even know I am out here."

"Night Davia," Vanley said softly.

"Night Vanley." Davia exited the car and then stuck her head halfway through the open window. "Feel free to ask me out to somewhere exciting anytime you want to."

Vanley nodded. "I just might take you up on that offer." He watched as she walked to her front door and closed it behind her.

He drove off slowly. He would not be going to Anita's tonight. He drove to his house on the outskirts of Mount Faith Drive and sat in his driveway for the longest while. He looked at its dark unwelcoming bulk in the night. He needed a wife. He needed Anita for that wife. He sighed and hauled himself out of the car.

*****

"You have placed me in an impossible situation," Anita said, the minute she stepped into her house that evening.

Carol was watching television. She had Chudney in her lap—a black and white heap. He was enjoying the stroking she was giving him.

"Ah," Carol said, with no concern whatsoever that Anita was glaring at her. "How did I do that?"

"You listed my name as your next of kin and you are on the run from the police." Anita threw down her briefcase and sat down in a huff in the settee across from Carol. She looked around her living room; it looked less than her impeccable standards.

Near her foot was a white sock, one of her gym socks. It had teeth marks in it. It looked like it was thrown down on the floor. Chudney must have gotten to it. On the top of her mini bookcase, where she kept all of her favorite books, was a cereal bowl. She could see ants creating a trail to the to the bowls edge.

"Relax," Carol said, "I didn't do whatever it is that they are accusing me of doing."

"Argh." Anita ran her hand through her hair. "I should have known that when you showed up last night in the dark that this was bad news. You lied to me."

"I didn't lie to you." Carol snorted. "I told you I needed a place to crash until I could sort out some things."

"You came here with your headlights off and frightened me on the verandah. I should have known you were up to no good."

"You know me," Carol said emphatically. "You know I would never kill anyone."

Anita grunted. "Carol, I have hardly heard from you in the past twenty years. We are different people now."

"Literally," Carol said, admiring Anita, "but that doesn't mean that my moral fabric has stretched so thin that I am now a murderer."

"So what happened?" Anita asked. "Tell me everything; I may as well know. When the police find you here I am going to prison for harboring a fugitive."

"You did not tell them anything, did you?" Carol asked, a scared look in her eyes.

Anita shook her head. "No, I didn't."

Carol exhaled. "Thank you so much. I was framed for Selvin Perth's murder. I got married to him two years ago."

Anita nodded." I didn't know that you remarried."

"Well, I did. I took the plunge again. As you know, my first experience wasn't that great. My first husband left me after a year."

Anita winced. "Don't go off topic."

Carol laughed, jerking Chudney, who yawned and looked at Anita, giving her a half-hearted tail wag from Carol's lap. He was just registering that she was home.

"I can't believe how disloyal you are," Anita said shaking her head at her dog. Chudney stood up on Carol's lap, stretched, then hopped over to Anita, putting his paw on her knee in a gesture of supplication.

"Do you think that your cute face and sorrowful eyes changed the fact that I came into the house and you didn't even acknowledge me?" Anita asked the dog.

Chudney whined and jumped onto her lap.

Carol giggled. "Remember our cat, Fritz?"

"Off topic," Anita growled. "Get back to your story."

"Well, I got married to Sidney. I met him at a sales meeting my phone company had set up with his company. He saw me at the door, liked me and we started talking. We got married after six weeks.

I didn't bother to find out the finer details about his life like the fact that he was seventy-five. He didn't look it, I swear," Carol said when Anita raised her eyebrows, "or about the fact that his first wife died from cancer and that there was this whole hullabaloo about her will and money and that he had a step-son who hated him like poison and by extension hated me." Carol raised her fingers, "As you know really well, I generally take the plunge and then ask questions later."

Anita rolled her eyes." So, are you saying that Sidney's step-son killed him?"

"Yup." Carol got up and stretched. She was an athletic woman with a slim, wiry body. She stayed in tiptop shape with daily yoga. She had her hair in a short Afro, which had specks of cornflakes in it.

She had a classically beautiful face. Anita remembered, vividly, the first time she met Carol. It was at a photo shoot for a toothpaste brand. Even now, she still had that white toothy smile. She was flashing it at Anita.

She headed for the cereal bowl and yelped, "Yikes it's covered with ants."

"Are you ever going to grow up?" Anita asked, "and why do you have cornflakes in your hair?"

"Long story," Carol said breezily, "and no, I am not growing up until I hit forty or maybe forty-five. Forty-five, that's half of ninety, good time to grow up."

She stepped over the sock and then turned back and picked it up.

"You turned forty months ago; you really should think about loosening up for the next five years. Clock is ticking, Anita."

"I like the way I am," Anita said, watching Carol as she headed to the kitchen. She was wearing one of her old sweat pants and a black shirt.

"But the way you are is so rigid and straitlaced. Live a little, girlfriend. You know, I preferred you when..."

"Carol," Anita said solemnly, "I don't want to reminisce. I don't want to talk about the past. I have a new life okay."

"Okay." Carol looked around at her and then put the bowl on the island.

"The sink!" Anita said sternly. "Put it in the sink."

"But I don't wanna," Carol joked. "Then you are going to ask me to put water and soap in it."

"When are you going to turn yourself in to the police?" Anita asked exasperatedly.

Carol shrugged. "Technically, I didn't run. They had me in their detention center asking me questions. Next thing I know, Selvin's stepson, who was caught with the weapon and blood on his clothes, told them that we were lovers and that I asked him to do it. He was pointing at me screaming, 'It's all her fault. She asked me to do it.' The policemen were nodding like that was something they expected. I panicked. I know that the stepson wanted me to go to jail so that a clause in the will would prevent me from inheriting Selvin's estate, and the money he inherited from his late wife. Ironically, I am going to get the very money that he killed for, so he made up a story.

"You don't sound sorry that Selvin's dead," Anita murmured.

Carol mused. "Let's see. Am I grieving? Not particularly. Would I have an affair with his son, the twerp? No! I was already having an affair, and I can prove it. I was with that person when the murder happened. I just panicked when the police started talking about arresting me, and I kind of ran out of the station, jumped into my car, and drove away. I stayed in a hotel for a few days and then I remembered that you worked up here."

Carol smiled. "Oh, sorry about that next of kin thing; I put it on a loan document two years after we separated, you know. I didn't have anybody else to put at the time. The police must be really digging to find that information. That was eighteen years ago."

"Did you repay the loan?" Anita asked exasperatedly.

"Can't remember," Carol shrugged. "Those banks have lots of money, why can't they give us some when we want it? You know what they do with the money you deposit? They invest it and make more money."

Anita rolled her eyes. "So what about your work?"

"Quit last year." Carol washed out the bowl, looked at the kitchen towel but decided to wipe her hand on the sock instead. "So basically I am free as a bird. Don't look so upset. At least you and I can spend some time together, like old times. Don't you think I saw how lonely you were last night with only a dog for company?"

Anita frowned, "Carol, you are a fugitive! The head of the fugitive division of police came to see me today. This is not like old times. You are running from the law. You being here can mean me going to prison."

"The police are overreacting," Carol said, taking a glass from the cupboard. "Did you know that red wine vinegar and grape juice taste just like grape soda?"

She poured some red wine vinegar and grape juice into a glass, swished it around, and slowly drank some.

"So how've you been?" Carol asked, walking with that gliding gait of hers and leaving everything she had just used on the counter.

"I have been fine," Anita said. "Well, I was fine until you showed up, like a blast from the past."

Carol bounced in her chair, "I mean, how've you really been. We have not spoken in forever. Tell me stuff. Like do you have a boyfriend?"