Too Far to Say Far Enough: A Novel Read Free Page B

time,” Nick said.
    I took the paper from him and gave it only a glance before I felt the grin melt across my face.
    Congrats, Miss Allison, he’d written. BTW, the coast is still clear.
    “Thank you, officer,” I said. “I’ll be more careful from now on.”
    Out of the corner of my eye I saw Desmond’s hand come up, fist balled to thump into Nick’s.
    “You don’t gotta worry about that,” Desmond said. “Imma keep a eye on her for ya.”
    “Do it,” Nick said. “I’m counting on you.”
    My next sensation was Desmond’s chest puffing against my back. I sneaked a smile at Nick and crept out of the parking lot at a speed just short of falling over. Officer Nicholas Kent was one of the good guys. Staying out of the less-than-good guys’ headlights wasn’t easy for people who associated with me, and I wasn’t going to make it any harder for him. We headed to Palm Row at a respectable twenty-nine miles an hour, while Desmond rattled on about cheatin’ death again and I savored the God-joy.
    It was the upside of being a prophet.

    When we got to our house on Palm Row, the site of just four houses between Cordova and St. George Streets, Chief was, indeed, on the side porch, Italian soda in hand. He didn’t ask me any questions, although he did shoot me a puzzled look when Desmond barely spoke and hurled his adolescent self into the kitchen.
    “I told him not to tell you something until I had a chance to,” I said. “I don’t think he trusts himself.”
    “You ever going to tell me?”
    “No.”
    Chief’s eyes grinned. “You’re a cruel mother.”
    “Somebody should have thought of that before they let me adopt him,” I said.
    Chief reached out a hand, big but always surprisingly soft, and hooked it around my neck to pull me to him.
    “He’s all yours now, Classic,” he said into my hair. “Nobody can take him away.”
    I pushed my face into the chest I loved and felt his other arm come around me. One would think such a scene would cause anyone who happened upon us to do a sensitive about-face.
    Yeah, well, one would have to know the Sacrament Sisters before assuming such a thing.
    “Miss Angel? Everything all right? Didn’t nothin’ happen with Desmond, did it?”
    Chief chuckled into my scalp and let me go. I tried not to glare at Sherry and Zelda, who were rushing up the steps onto the porch. Sherry’s already almost-translucent face was turning another shade of pale, while Zelda’s very-black one pinched inward.
    “Everything is fine,” I said. “We were just celebrating.”
    “Oh,” Zelda said. And then her eyes quickened. “Oh! I’m sorry, Miss Angel. When I see somebody cryin’, I always think somebody died or got busted or somethin’.”
    “I’m not crying,” I said.
    Sherry nodded toward the kitchen door that was even then just closing behind Chief.
    “She was talking about him.”
    Zelda let out the laugh that was still rusty from underuse. “We didn’t mean to interrupt you and Mr. Chief hookin’ up.”
    Sherry smacked her on the shoulder.
    “I didn’t mean hookin’ up like hookin’ up ! I just meant—”
    “I get it, Zelda,” I said. “I’ll catch him later. I’m glad you two made it.”
    Zelda’s eyes clouded again. “We almost didn’t. Old Man Maharry was all up in my grill work the whole day.”
    Sherry glared at her.
    “I don’t care if he’s your daddy,” Zelda said. “I don’t need him fussin’ at me all the time.”
    “He gave you a job,” Sherry said. “I wouldn’t be griping about it if I were you.”
    I raised both hands. “We’re having a celebration here, ladies. We’ll talk about this later.”
    Then I waited and watched as Zelda rearranged her expression and jiggled her shoulders out of defensive mode and sucked in her lips. Four months ago that display of self-control would have been impossible.
    “There’s food inside,” I said.
    Zelda gave up a smile and disappeared into the kitchen. Sherry wandered to the railing,