Just Can't Get Enough Read Free Page B

child?”
    She released a cleansing sigh of relief. “I thought . . .”
    â€œI’m not dead, yet,” he said as he sat up and coughed several times in succession. Celina kneeled down beside him and stroked his back. “I’m okay.”
    Celina shook her head. “No, you’re not. You said you needed me and I’m here to take care of you. That’s what I’m going to do.”
    Thomas looked up at his daughter and their eyes locked. There were so many years missing between them. Celina didn’t know this man, who had been more like a favorite uncle who always gave the best presents. How were they going to make up for lost time when they didn’t have much time left?
    â€œI don’t have much time, according to the doctors. I don’t want to die alone, even though I may deserve to do just that.” The sadness in his voice almost made Celina cry. How could she want to punish her father, when it seemed he was doing a good job of it himself?
    â€œI’m going to fix you some homemade soup,” Celina said. Looking at her father’s thin frame, she wondered when he had last had a good meal.
    Thomas was a proud man and obviously no one in the community knew what was going on. Elmore was the kind of place where people took care of each other and Celina knew many of the local churchwomen would have brought him hot meals every day. Thomas reached up and grabbed Celina’s hand, holding it tightly. His bony fingers felt like sticks against hers.
    â€œCelina, I’ve always loved you and your mother,” he whispered. “I just didn’t show it all the time. When she moved you two to Chicago, I thought it was best that I leave you all alone. I’d hurt your mother deeply and she needed a new start.”
    Celina nodded as she slid her hand from Thomas’ grip. It sounded like a bad excuse to her. He still could’ve tried to have a more substantial relationship with her. She wasn’t his wife; she was his daughter.
    â€œI’d better cook,” she said. Celina walked into the kitchen and looked at its tattered state, knowing that she had a lot of cleaning to do before she’d fix a meal. Mounds of dirty dishes sat in the sink and on the counter, covered by a thin layer of mold, and the bottoms of the cast-iron pots were coated with the residue of an unrecognizable goop that was once food. Celina grabbed the bags of food and placed them in the refrigerator. The only thing inside of it was an aging box of baking soda.
    How has he been living like this? she thought sadly. Celina closed the door and began cleaning the mess. Everything about the kitchen was the same, but different. Celina remembered standing next to her mother, drying the dinner dishes. Thomas would always go outside and smoke a cigar after dinner. He’d tap on the window and blow round circles at Celina, who’d stand on her tiptoes to get a better look at her father. Rena would tap on the window and tell him to stop. She’d then turn to Celina and warn her about the dangers of smoking and tell her never to start.
    Celina smiled as the memory played in her mind. Those had been the good old days and she wished that they had had more of them.
    Once the kitchen was somewhat presentable, she began cooking. Celina chopped the fresh chicken breasts into bite-sized morsels and dropped them in a pot of simmering water. She dumped salt, pepper, and oregano into the pot. While the chicken simmered, making a thick broth, Celina prepared the vegetables, precisely chopping the fresh Vidalia onions, carrots, green peppers, and celery. She stirred the chicken, making sure it was done before she tossed the vegetables in. Celina lowered the heat on the soup, then fixed herself a plate of raw vegetables. She was definitely going to take some back to the city when she returned.
    Once the soup was done, Celina fixed Thomas a bowlful and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. She