?Tell Chance I’ll call her later.”
“Rayne, you’re not going out, are you?” Ricky demanded to know. “Don’t be silly.”
I placed the handset down on the cradle and started searching for my keys.
When I finally pulled into the church parking lot, some two hours later when it should’ve taken less than thirty minutes, it was practically deserted. There were a few cars scattered here and there; at different angles since you couldn’t see the white lines dividing the spaces.
“No! No! No!” I screamed to myself, cutting the engine of my car. I was lucky I even still had a car. On the way over there, I’d slid no less than ten times and had almost done a three-sixty trying to stop for a red light. There was no way I was about to turn right around and go through the same hell again.
“Get a hold of yourself, Rayne,” I said, trying to seek comfort in my own words. “There are some cars here. Simply go inside, relax, and see what’s going on.”
Someone had to be there. As long as I could get in, I could warm up and maybe even scrounge up a pot of coffee. After all, when all else fails, you’re supposed to seek sanctuary in a church anyway.
I retrieved the Tupperware containers with my eggs and pie from the back seat. Yes, I was frontin’. I’d taken the pie out of the Giant box and had placed it in something else.
I opened my door and stepped out with my purse hung over one shoulder and the containers in my opposite arm. I took two baby steps and then fell flat on my ass, hitting my head against the car door. My deviled eggs and pie tumbled to the ground and slid about ten feet away on the ice. I was too through.
“Miss, do you need some help?”
I heard the baritone voice, but I couldn’t see anyone.
My stockings had ripped and I had a nasty cut on my left knee. There I was sprawled on the ground in my Sunday best, when Basil Richardson walked right up to me and extended his hand.
“Can I help you up?”
You can help yourself to any damn thing you want!
“That would be great! Thanks!”
His strong arms lifted me effortlessly off the ground. I was relieved for two reasons. My ass was no longer in danger of turning into an ice cube and I was able to stare him directly in the eyes.
“Oh, my!” I heard myself saying.
He blushed, exposing the cutest dimples.
“Do you want to get back into your car or go inside?” he asked.
“No way am I getting back in my car. I barely made it here.”
“Then grab onto me.”
I held onto his sleeve and fearfully took a couple of steps before I started slipping again. This time I was saved by the brotha in the gray suit. He caught me by my armpits from behind. How foolish we must’ve looked.
“I’ll tell you what,” Basil said. “Even though you don’t know me, would it be all right if I carried you into the church?”
“I do know you. You’re the drummer from the band. Basil Richardson.”
He blushed again. “And you are?”
“Rayne Waters,” I answered, looking up at him over my shoulder. “I’d shake your hand, but it would be kind of difficult from this angle.”
We both laughed. He swept me into his arms and carried me into the church apse. He sat me down gently and returned to the parking lot to recover my purse and food, the spikes on the bottom of his boots cracking through the ice like it was butter.
There were less than two dozen people at the Senior Citizens’ Dinner, including Basil and me. We had a great time, listening to the elders—who had dared to brave the elements to get there—reminisce about the early 1900’s. That was worth the trauma I’d gone through to get there. Their wisdom and Basil’s looks, that is.
The food selections were minimal, but everyone enjoyed my deviled eggs; even though they’d lost their visual appeal. As for my pie, I had two different women ask me for the recipe. One of them said it reminded her of her deceased aunt’s sweet-potato pie. I told them I’d make sure to get it to them before I left. Thankfully, they both left before I did and forgot they asked.
Basil and I sat beside each other. I kept grabbing his kneecap whenever he told a funny joke. I was really trying to feel his muscles up. He got up to get another cup of coffee and that finally afforded me the opportunity to scope out his behind. Sold to the lady in the torn stockings and blue dress!