Just Can't Get Enough Read online

  Celina had agreed and, as she turned into her father’s driveway, she realized that she did need him. She needed him to answer questions that had haunted her for twenty years. Why hadn’t he fought for his family all those years ago? She parked the car behind Thomas’s beat-up Ford pickup truck. A smile spread across her face as she remembered the days she and her neighborhood friends played on the bed of the truck. It had been her favorite hiding place when she and Darius McRae, her best friend at the time, played hide and seek. He’d always find her, though. Celina hadn’t thought about Darius in years. The last time she’d talked to him was her sophomore year of high school. For no reason at all, the two had lost contact. The last she’d heard he was a hotshot lawyer in Washington, DC. It’s good he’s living his dream too, she thought, as she got out of the car. We were lucky to get away from here.

  The first thing Celina noticed when she stepped off the asphalt driveway was the lush green grass. The lawn looked as if it had been cut with scissors; not a blade was overgrown. The azalea bushes were in bloom and the blossoms were so purple that Celina thought they had been painted. She wanted to capture the yard on canvas and hang it in the living room above the fireplace. At that moment, she realized that Thomas didn’t have any of her work adorning his walls, while her mother and John had several of her prints, including a portrait she’d created for them on their tenth anniversary. Celina knocked on the front door, since she didn’t have a key to her father’s home. A few seconds passed before she knocked again. Worried and fearing the worst, she turned the knob, found the door unlocked, and walked into the house.

  The state of the home where she spent the first eight years of her life took her breath away. The carpet was stained beyond recognition. It was no longer nutmeg brown; it just looked like plush dirt. The yellow paint on the walls had faded and the mantle above the fireplace was sagging and threatening to fall to the floor. “Daddy,” Celina called out. “Daddy.”

  A frail Thomas Hart slowly ambled into the living room. He was wrapped in a flannel robe, despite the fact that it was over ninety degrees outside. Celina studied her father’s face. His caramel skin looked ashen, his face gaunt, and his eyes, black like hers, had lost their sparkle. His hair was completely white and thinning across the top of his head.

  Celina’s bottom lip trembled as she looked at her father. This wasn’t Thomas Hart, a man who had to fight women off with a stick. This man standing before her looked as if he’d given up on life and was waiting for death to take him away.

  “Daddy, sit down.” Celina cleared some of the clutter on the leather sofa. She ignored the rips along the arms of it. The years hadn’t been kind to Thomas or the furniture that she had grown up playing on.

  “I don’t need to sit down. I need to walk around a little bit. I was in the bathroom when you were knocking on the door,” Thomas said. “I guess you don’t have a key, huh?”

  Celina looked at him and shook her head. “What happened to the place? And who keeps up the yard for you?” The contrast between the inside and outside was remarkable.

  “The young man next door,” he said, as he finally sat down on the sofa. Thomas looked at Celina and smiled, though she thought his face was going to crack from the effort.

  “I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t want to tear you away from Paris, but . . .”

  “It’s okay. I need to be here,” Celina said. “This place needs a good makeover. Do you pay the kid who takes care of the yard?”

  Thomas shrugged his shoulders. “He never comes in, I just hear the lawn mower going.”

  Celina began picking up some of the old newspapers and magazines that cluttered the living room. “Well, I’m going to give him some token of thanks after I get this place looking livable again.”

  Thomas snorted and chuckled. “You are your mother’s daughter.”

  Celina knew what he was saying should have been taken as a compliment, but his words enraged her. “And just what’s that supposed to mean?” she spat out angrily.

  “Watch your tone, baby girl, I’m still your father. And all I meant was your mother hated clutter and wanted everything in its place.”

  Celina closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Have you eaten anything today?”

  Thomas shook his head “no.” Celina took the armful of papers she had scooped up off the floor and sofa, then headed to the kitchen. Just as she suspected, there was no food in the refrigerator. “I need to go to the market,” she called out as she stuffed the papers in the trash bag. “What do you want for dinner?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, then broke into a fit of coughing.

  Celina decided that she was going to make something healthful. The way her father was bundled up, she knew that homemade soup was in order. But what was wrong with him? She hadn’t asked him about his illness because she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what was sapping the life from her father just yet. Celina tied the top of the trash bag together and headed out the door to deposit the rubbish in the can. She had to get to the farmer’s market before it closed. The one thing she missed about living in the south was the fresh food that could be found right around the corner. The farmer’s market had always been her favorite place. She could sample the fresh fruits before buying them and the meats were homegrown and free of the chemicals that were found in the food at the local supermarket. Celina was going to enjoy her time in Elmore and her time with her father.

  Celina returned from the farmer’s market with bags full of fresh cabbage, carrots, oranges, cucumbers, lettuce, chicken breasts, and sweet corn on the cob. She balanced the bags in her arms as she pulled the door open. She wasn’t surprised that Thomas hadn’t locked the door. In their neighborhood, everyone knew each other. But Celina was going to make sure all of the doors were locked from now on. She had been in the city long enough to distrust most people, including those she’d known for years.

  She set the bags on the countertop, and then walked into the living room to check on Thomas. He was lying on the sofa with his eyes half-closed. He was so still that she began to panic. “Daddy,” she said frantically.

  His eyes fluttered open. “What, child?”

  She released a cleansing sigh of relief. “I thought . . .”

  “I’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?

  “I 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?

  “I’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.

  “Celina, 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 he
r. She wasn’t his wife; she was his daughter.

  “I’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 carried the food to her father and set it on the coffee table where he could easily reach it. Thomas slowly sat up and smiled at his daughter.

  “How’s Rena?” Thomas asked, in between sipping the soup.

  Celina nodded. “She’s fine. Is the food okay?”

  Thomas nodded approvingly. “You look and cook like her.”

  Celina stood up and walked over to the window. Hearing Thomas talk about Rena was somewhat bittersweet. If things had been different, Rena would have been there taking care of him. But his unfaithful ways had broken up the marriage. Watching the demise of her parents’ marriage had scarred her on the notion of love and happily ever after. That’s why it was so easy to walk away from Terrick in Chicago. Even though her exfiancé never gave her a reason to distrust him, she couldn’t let go and let him love her. She definitely wasn’t going to marry him, no matter how perfect everyone thought he was for her.

  Terrick Johnson had been an artist as well, but for an advertising agency. He and Celina had a chance encounter when he’d signed up to take a course that she was teaching. Celina hadn’t been the professor that he’d expected and she’d never expected to have a student like Terrick, who inspired her so much.

  One evening, when she’d given the class a test, she’d been sitting at her desk watching and sketching his strong jawline, piercing brown eyes, and long dreadlocks. She’d been so engrossed in her work that she hadn’t noticed him when he walked up to her desk.

  “Is that supposed to be me?” he whispered.

  Celina’s face had flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, it’s just that you have such a unique look and I couldn’t help myself.”

  “Do you think we could get together after class?”

  “That wouldn’t be appropriate. I’m still your teacher.”

  Terrick had smiled at her. “Not anymore. I’m actually dropping this class. It wasn’t what I thought it was going to be and my company informed me that they’re not going to pay my tuition anymore.”

  “Then do you think you could pose for me?” she asked with a huge smile on her face.

  Terrick had posed for her several times before he and Celina acted on their desire for each other. To Celina, Terrick had been safe. All he’d ever talked about was having a family, his job, and marriage. Rena and John had approved of him the moment they met him. He had the proper manners and pedigree and, most of all, he seemed to love their daughter.

  But something had been missing between the two of them and Celina never really put her heart into the relationship. She’d known that she didn’t plan to marry Terrick the moment he gave her a three-carat diamond engagement ring. How could she marry him when she’d seen what happens to marriages? The pain, the disappointment, and the bitterness. She’d wanted no part of that and then the letter had come. Someone had submitted some of her drawings to the Harlem Renaissance Society and they’d fallen in love with her.

  She’d been commissioned to design a mural for the revitalization project. It was to be a six-month undertaking. But Celina had turned this opportunity into an excuse to break things off with Terrick and get away from Chicago.

  Her mother had called it running away. Celina had called it starting over. Now she’d found herself back where everything started. Her joy and her pain were wrapped up in one man—her daddy.

  “Celina,” Thomas said softly, tapping into her thoughts.

  “Yes?”

  “You don’t have to sit here and babysit me,” he said as he set his empty bowl on the coffee table.

  “I’m going to go next door and tell the guy “thank you” for keeping the yard up for you. Maybe he’ll allow me to pay him for his service.”

  Thomas began to cough violently and Celina rushed to his side. “Daddy, are you okay?”

  “Just a little fluid in my lungs,” he said, his voice raspy from the fit of coughing.

  “What’s wrong? What did the doctors say?”

  “Cancer.”

  Celina nervously chewed her bottom lip. “Are you getting treatment?”

  Thomas shook his head “no.” “What for, baby girl?”

  Celina sighed and kneeled down beside her father. “Things are going to change. First thing in the morning, we’re going to the hospital in Columbia.”

  Thomas was about to object when he broke into another fit of coughing. Celina gently rubbed his back. “Daddy,” she murmured. “I’m not letting you go without a fight.”

  “I’ve lived my life,” he whispered through his coughing. “I just want to make up for all the things that I’ve done to hurt you. That’s why I asked you to come home.”

  “You can’t give up,” she said.

  Thomas slowly stood up, then told Celina he was going to lie down in his room. She watched her father slowly amble down the hall, sadly thinking about how easily Thomas had decided to give up on living. Did he think he was that terrible a father? A better question was, did she agree? Celina shook the doubts from her head as she rose from the sofa. The past wasn’t important because her main goal was making Thomas well.

  While Thomas rested, Celina decided to go next door and thank the kid who’d been keeping the yard presentable. Celina knew the McRaes used to live next door.

  She and Darius McRae had been born one month apart, he being older. They had been the best of childhood friends. When it came time to pick teams for neighborhood games of stickball, kick ball, and dodge-ball, Darius had always chosen Celina first, despite the fact that she was a girl. After she and her mother had moved to Chicago, Darius and Celina lost contact with each other.

  As she knocked on the door, Celina wondered what Darius was doing now.

  The soft tapping on the door almost went unheard, but since Darius had been trying to sleep, he heard it and was ready to tell whoever it was to go away. All he needed was forty-five minutes of solitude. The hardware store had been buzzing like the chain saws he’d been selling all morning. Spring had finally sprung and Elmore was gearing up for its annual azalea festival. It seemed as if everyone in the city had come into the store that day. Darius was the third generation of McRaes to run the Downtown Hardware Store. His grandfa
ther, Leon McRae, had moved to Elmore and opened the store in the late 1940s. When he died, Darius’s father, David, had moved from North Carolina with his young pregnant wife, Marla, to take over the store.

  When David and Marla had decided to retire and move to Palm Beach, Florida, Darius, who was facing a career crisis, moved back to South Carolina to continue the family legacy. He just didn’t know it was going to be such a pain in the—the knocking grew louder. Darius pulled himself off the plush leather sofa. He’d hoped Richard, the assistant manager at the store, could go a few minutes without needing him. Darius walked to the door and snatched back the flimsy white curtain. The face that stared back at him looked familiar, but he had no idea who the curly-haired beauty was standing before him.

  “Yes?” he said as he opened the door.

  “I’m looking for the person who has been caring for my father’s lawn,” she said. Her voice had a midwestern accent with a northern influence.

  “Your father?” he asked, trying to place the face. Their eyes met and it seemed as if they shared the same thought. “Celina Hart?”

  “Darius McRae.”

  He opened the door wider and let her in. “Look at you,” he said. “How long has it been?” The duo hugged each other tightly. Darius took note of Celina’s luscious curves and the way she filled out the jean shorts and knit halter top. Spring in Elmore meant temperatures in the upper nineties and revealing outfits on the opposite sex.

  Celina had the perfect body for those outfits, Darius surmised as he drank in her long, toned legs, small waist and ample behind. He sent his slow gaze upward and landed on her voluptuous cleavage. Part of him wanted to pull her shirt off and bury his face in between her breasts because there was no doubt in his mind that they were real and not silicone injected.

  She definitely wasn’t the skinny eight-year-old who used to play hide and seek with him twenty years ago.