The Littlest Boss

“Huh.”

After the waitress brought them each a glass of ice water, jotted their orders down with a few quick swipes of her pen and walked off toward the kitchen, Sadie turned serious.

“How’s the job?” She leveled her eyes at DeShawn. It was her business look. It was a kind professionalism, to be sure. Sadie was good people. But business was business.

“Good. I like it. It feels a little odd. I’m actually doing the things I studied in school. Who would have expected that? But I’m excited.”

“You’re part of the navy base transition?”

“Yep. Working on the new I-26 and Cosgrove interchange.”

“What does that entail?”

“Right now, a lot of walking around in the cold and measuring things.”

“Sounds divine. I’m glad you’re happy. I was worried about you.”

“You always worry about everyone.”

“True. But I was extra worried about you.”

He took her hands and looked her in the eyes. “I’m fine. You know, not gonna lie. I was disappointed that I couldn’t go into the army. That hit hard. But it’s okay. I love my job. I still get the opportunity to travel. And I’m in the Army National Guard. It’s still everything I wanted. Just...scaled down a bit.”

She nodded. “So, it’s going well?”

Her tone was casual but her gaze was locked on him. She could win her a staring contest. That was a fact. That was how she climbed to the top of her business. Made it with sheer determination, absolute focus. Resisting the urge to squirm when the silence stretched too long, DeShawn shrugged. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “So there’s a learning curve. But that’s normal right?”

“Yes.” She drew the word out into at least four syllables. “Spit it out, DeShawn. What’s wrong?”

That made him laugh. Momma Bear. That was what he and the other guys in the Cleaning Crew would call her. She could smell a problem from three miles away.

“It feels weird,” he said. “I feel weird. I look around at my coworkers and they know everything. They’re just going around doing their jobs and I feel like I’m acting in a play.”

Her expression softened and she bobbed her head. “I know that feeling well. When I have to go to those professional women’s meetings, I feel the same way. What in the hell am I doing here?”

He nodded, tapped his fingers on the table. “Well, okay, so that’s what it is. But how do I fix it?”

“Keep showing up,” she said. Her right eye got a little twitchy. She looked down and to the left for a heartbeat, then met his gaze directly. “That’s how. Eventually it wears off. Well, it gets better. Just a twinge now and then.”

He nodded along with her and smiled. It did make him feel a little better, being on the same page with Momma Bear. Sadie was his biggest role model. She’d gone from being essentially homeless—she hadn’t even had a high school degree—and from that place and time in her life, she’d went on to build an award-winning cleaning company. She’d even made herself rich along the way. It wasn’t the typical outcome one would expect. Sadie was definitely an outlier, definitely two or three standard deviations from the mean at least. But she was also right here in front of him—real, honest, relatable—and it gave him hope. He thought about that a lot these days. Hope, and what it meant to people. The difference it made in their lives, having it. Thought about the crazy idea he’d been bouncing around in his mind. About how he could maybe start spreading some of that hope around.

“I never really thanked you,” he said to her. “For all you did. For me. For a lot of people.”

She frowned, her brow wrinkling slightly. “What do you mean?” she said. She picked at a corner of her napkin.

“For hiring me,” he said. “That was crucial. That was more than just a cameo role in the story of my success.”

“I gave you a job, DeShawn. That doesn’t make me a hero.” She cleared her throat and took a sip of water, watching him over the top of the glass.

“No, you did more than that. The only job I’d had before that—before you took a chance on me—was washing dishes in a diner. You showed me how to take pride in a job well done, how to behave like a professional adult.”

Her cheeks flushed and she looked down at the table to fiddle with the silverware. “Ugh,” she muttered before taking a deep breath and looking up at him. “Thank you, DeShawn. You’re very kind.”

That surprised a laugh out of him. “What was that?”

“Lena is trying to teach me how to gracefully accept a compliment.”

“Keep practicing,” he said. “It’ll get better. Someday it’ll just be a twinge.”

“Smart-ass.”

DeShawn sat back, grinning, as the waitress returned with their plates, piled high with pulled pork and all sorts of deliciousness. He looked at the bottles of sauce on the table and reached for the mustard-based one.

“Try a dab of the white sauce,” Sadie said as she poured a generous dollop of it on her plate before handing him the bottle. “It’s lured me away from mustard sauce.”

DeShawn made a concerned face and leaned closer. “Is it legal to not use mustard-based sauce in Charleston now?”

Sadie snort laughed and that made him laugh. Add another point to why coming home was the best decision. He and the guys used to keep score of how many times they could make Sadie snort laugh. Highest score got Friday night drinks free.

“Charleston has become very progressive in its acceptance of diverse barbecue sauces.”

He tried the white sauce—“Meh.”—and went back to his favorite one.

While they ate, he gathered the courage to speak his idea out loud. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe he needed some time. Stop feeling like a fake. How could he help others when he didn’t fully believe in himself yet?

“Hey, Sadie?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know where Henry is teaching?”

Sadie wiped her mouth with her napkin and swallowed a mouthful of pork. “Henry? My Henry?”

“Yes, your Henry,” he said with a smile.

Once a Cleaning Crew member, you were family for life. Henry had oriented DeShawn when he first joined the Crew. He’d graduated and gone off to teach a few months later.

“I don’t remember the actual school, but it’s down near Hilton Head, Beaufort, that area, but inland.”

DeShawn nodded. That sounded like Henry. Inland. Rural. “Do you have his number?”

“Yes. Why?”

He shrugged and felt a bit of heat on his cheeks. Saying it out loud was scarier than he’d expected. But this was Sadie. She wasn’t going to let him wiggle out of an answer. Maybe that was why he’d come to her. He fiddled with his silverware and, keeping his eyes on the table, he blurted it out. “I was thinking that maybe I could talk to kids who come from backgrounds like mine and, I don’t know, help them somehow.” He looked up at her. She had sat back in her chair and was looking at him appraisingly. He looked back down. “Never mind. It’s a stupid idea.”

“No!” she said. She looked at him directly. “I think it’s an amazing idea. What would you talk to them about?”

“Well, I haven’t gotten that far with it yet. I think I need to talk to Henry first. Find out if there’s a need. What that need is.”

Sadie was nodding. “I’m sure there is. There’s always a need.”

Sighing with relief, he sat back in the chair. Wasn’t that the truth? Always someone who needed a hand up.

Sadie pulled her phone out of her purse. “Do you remember Lena? My accountant?”

DeShawn laughed. “Remember? How could anyone forget her? She’s remarkably unforgettable.”

Sadie narrowed her eyes in a mock show of suspicion. “What are you saying about my best friend?”

Lifting his hands, palms up, DeShawn smiled. “Not saying anything. She’s a delight. Sunshine on spring flowers.”

Sadie snorted out a laugh. “Let me give you Henry and Lena’s contact information. Lena did something very similar for the kids out at the Toribio Mission. I’m sure she’d be happy to help you develop this.”

He loaded the numbers into his phone with a growing sense of excitement. He hadn’t been able to pinpoint the flat feeling he’d had the last few months. Not until this idea had begun to form. All his life, he’d been striving for a goal. Get through high school. Get through college. Get into the army. Even when he’d broken his ankle and his plans changed, it was also a goal. Get the ankle healed, rehab done, qualify for Army National Guard, and get a job. Once all that was accomplished, he’d thought he was done. But instead, he felt like everything had gone too slow, too quiet.

He needed a new goal. And he thought he might have found it. The quiver of excitement of a new project brought a grin to his lips. “So, what’s this I hear about Lena? She found a man who isn’t afraid of her? Is that actually possible?”

Sadie laughed. “Matt. Yeah. She’s goofy in love.”

“Speaking of goofy in love—when’s the wedding? Soon, right?”

“April.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s gotten out of hand.”

“That’s just you. Only thing you’d be comfortable with would be going to a UPS store and having the notary marry you on your lunch break or something.”

“See!” Sadie exclaimed, spreading her arms. “That’s exactly what I wanted. And they all act like I’m the crazy one.”

DeShawn laughed. He’d missed this. Missed the Crew. Missed Sadie. For the first time since he’d slipped off that ladder and sent his careful plans flying in the wind, he felt everything was going to be okay.

* * *

AFTER WRESTLING OVER the check and winning, DeShawn gave Sadie another hug and headed to his car. As he slid behind the wheel, his phone vibrated in his shirt pocket. He fished it out while cranking the engine to get the heat going. Charleston winters were usually mild, but a cold snap was in progress and the temperatures were dipping down into the twenties at night. He swiped left to reject an unknown call and then dropped the phone back in his pocket.

As he pulled out of the parking lot onto Savannah Highway, the phone meep-meeped, signaling a new voice message. Ignoring it, he drove to the little apartment he called home for now. He didn’t need much. A bedroom. A kitchen. Charleston real estate was crazy expensive right now, so his plan was to live as cheaply as possible, pay off his student loans and start building his meager savings. He hoped to buy a condominium after the loans were paid off. If his car held up that long. Start to put down some roots. Build a life here.

Once home, he changed out of his work clothes into a pair of Deadpool sweat pants and an Iron Man T-shirt. Hey, he liked Marvel Comics. Time to kick back and relax. See what’s new on Hulu. But first he had to make sure that unknown call wasn’t work related. He was sure he had everyone properly identified in his phone, but didn’t want to take a chance.

He hit the voice mail number and put the phone on speaker. He had one new message. There was a brief pause. He was just about to delete it, thinking it was a robocall, when a hesitant female voice began to speak.

“DeShawn? This is your mother. Denise? I know we’ve had our troubles but I’ve been clean and sober for three months now. I’d like to talk to you. If you want. Okay? Just...uh...call me back? If you want.”

He stared at the phone as it went through its beeps and prompts. Save this message? Delete? He hit Delete with a shock-numbed finger and let the phone slip from his hand. His mother. Damn. The stunned feeling began to wear off and he slowly became aware of a simmering anger building in his chest. Not now. Not when he was finally settled. Not when he’d finally crawled out of that whole situation. He’d washed his hands of his family after his grandmother, Momma G, had passed away. She had raised him, had done as right as she could by him.

But the memories he still had of the times when he had been with his parents, the memories of his parents showing up at all hours of the night after she’d taken him under her wing, made him feel as if he were right back there, in those powerless childhood days and nights of knowing. Of knowing about the drinking, the drugs, the emotional blackmail they’d leverage against Momma G. And it was always money, needing money, when they’d show up and try to make her—Momma G, the only one who’d shown him love and compassion, the one who believed in him—feel like she was the problem, she was the one in the wrong.

He’d never forget the way his gut would twist when he heard that first hissing sound of a beer can being cracked open, knowing that it was just the start of a night or a weekend-long rollercoaster ride through hell. He remembered feeling his body tense as he heard one or both of them shouting at Momma G. Alone in his room, he’d be too far from the argument to pick out the details, the specific words being thrown out in the air, but the intent, the tone—that was unmistakable.

He remembered how strong Momma G had been. The weight she’d carried, all those years, on her shoulders. What must it have been like for her, looking at her child, trying to speak reason, and seeing only the empty eyes of a blackout drunk who wouldn’t even remember what she’d said or done when she woke up in the morning? Eyes are supposed to be the windows to the soul, right? So what does it say when you look into someone’s eyes and see nothing, not a hint of compassion, nothing that can be appealed to, only that addict’s need for more?

And that someone is your child?

Momma G must have been a lion inside, to be that strong. Because in those harrowing days, she’d had to make a choice: her daughter or her grandson. What do they call it on the battlefield, when the medics wander from screaming body to screaming body, figuring out who might survive? Triage. That was the word.

Momma G, his beloved grandmother, had to triage her own family. And when she looked at her grandson, she saw something in him that made her say: Him. I choose him. He has a chance and I’m going to make sure he keeps that chance.

He caught himself spinning on the edge of all those memories. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. Held it, way down deep in his gut. He slowly released his breath.

Okay. Let go of it. It’s not now. It’s not happening now. Let go.

Standing, he paced around the small living room area. Sober for three months? Come back when you got three years on you. Then maybe I’ll believe you. Trust? Huh. Don’t push it. A few months is a hiccup, not a change. He couldn’t deal with this right now. It did all the wrong things to him, getting these memories stirred up.

Pulling on his running shoes and finding his hoodie, he grabbed the keys, intending to go for a run. Stepping out into the cold, dark evening, he paused. Maybe he should go to the gym, use the treadmill. Save the running in a hoodie for daylight. He shook his head in exasperation. This world just doesn’t stop, does it?

At the gym, he set a grueling pace. Running. Running from the ghosts. Trying to sweat the poison out of his body. His anger twisted and turned. Finally, he hit the stop button and lifted his feet off the belt and onto the sides. Head down, heart pounding, his ragged breathing loud in his ears, he realized he was angry at himself. He’d thought he’d put it all behind him. That phone call should have had no more emotional impact than a mosquito buzzing around his head. Instead, it had enraged him. Kindled all the pain and fury he thought he’d exorcised from his life. Just like a damned addict. Knows exactly the right time to pop up and mess everything up. Not this time.

CHAPTER THREE

“IT’S THE BABY! It’s the baby!”

Lily was jumping up and down, waving her hands in the air. Tiana grabbed her to keep her from rushing into the parking lot as the SUV pulled into a parking spot. “Ian’s not a baby, honey. He’s two years old.”

“But he’s not a big boy,” Lily said. “I’m six and I’m a big girl and he’s littler than me.” Her eyes were wide and sparkling. Tiana felt her own mouth spread into a smile. She gave her daughter a quick hug and booped her nose.

“True,” she said. “But he’s really a toddler.”

“Baby.”

Tiana grinned and waved as Mickie climbed out of the car. “Mickie!”

“Tee!”

They met at the sidewalk and embraced. “It is so good to see you,” Tiana said as she stepped back to look Mickie up and down. “Pale skin. Bags under the eyes. Permanent worried look on the face. Yep. You are a full-fledged nursing student!”

Mickie made a sound. Half laughter, half frustrated growl. “You are one hundred percent correct. Let me get little man out.”

They laughed and chattered all the way back to the apartment. Lily took Ian off to her room so she could read to him. She was very proud of her reading skills. Tiana settled down on the couch next to Mickie. She hadn’t yet made many female friends here, so it was good to have a friendly face, even if only for a few hours.

“How’s it going?” They both asked at the same time. Then laughed.

“How’s school going?”

“Good. It’s stressful, like you said. But I’m running fast as I can to stay ahead of it. And I was able to land a patient care tech job on the mother-baby unit. Not where I want to be, but I’ve got a job reference now and I’m in the hospital system. How are you?”

“Feels like the first few months of nursing school all over again. But with patients and blood. I’m just now starting to feel like I’ve got a handle on it.”

“But do you love it? Is the emergency department still where you want to be?”

“Yeah. The chaos of it all can make me wonder if I’ve lost my mind, but it’s exciting. I’m never bored. It’s always a challenge.”

“Good. I’m trying to really make myself take a good look at each of the specialties as we rotate through. I don’t want to be so focused on being a labor nurse that I miss an interest somewhere else.”

Tiana nodded, remembering how it had been, being there, doing that, and not all that long ago. She looked up at Mickie and smiled. “That’s my girl,” she said.

They both started speaking at once—eager to share their stories, compare notes, when the front door opened and Vivian walked in carrying what seemed like her own weight in grocery bags.

“Mom!” Tiana scolded, getting up. “You should have called. I would have helped you carry those up.”

Viv laughed. “No, girl. I’m the gold medal winner of carrying all the groceries inside in one trip.” She set the bags down and motioned at Mickie. “Come here, sweet girl, how are you doing?”

“Perfect, thanks to your daughter. She got me completely ready for nursing school.”

“Where’s that little boy of yours?”

“In the bedroom with Lily,” Tiana said. She side-eyed Mickie. “Here’s where she completely forgets we’re in the house because she has babies to play with.”

“Well, that leads me to my rude question,” Mickie said. “Would it be okay if Ian hangs out here for a while?”

“Of course,” Vivian said automatically. “Long as you need.”

“Thank you. I know it’s short notice, but this thing with my boyfriend, Josh, this afternoon. I didn’t know he’d be like this. Now that the time is near, he’s devastated. He needs my full support for this.”

“What’s going on?” Tiana asked.

Mickie glanced down the hallway, listening to Lily’s lilting voice as she read aloud to Ian. “He’s moving his mother’s body to another cemetery,” she said in a lowered voice.

Vivian put a hand over her heart and turned a worried look at Mickie. “What’s up with this?”

Mickie sighed. “His father abused his mother. When she tried to leave, he killed her and himself. Josh found out they were buried side by side and he wanted his mother moved away.”

“Oh, honey,” Viv said, pulling Mickie into her arms. “I’ll be praying for you through this.”

Tiana wrapped her arms around Mickie also. “We’re here for you. All of you.”

“Thank you,” Mickie said, stepping back and wiping her face. “But there’s more.”

“More than that?” Tiana asked.

“A good more. Josh got a call from DeShawn. He’s working on putting together a project for a teacher he knows. He’s looking for people from disadvantaged backgrounds who’ve gone on to college and successful careers. He wants to put together a program for his students. I thought it sounded like something you’d be interested in doing.”

Tiana narrowed her eyes. “DeShawn?”

“Yeah, you remember him, right? From last summer?”

Tiana got up off the couch and went to the kitchen. Dumping fresh ice into her water bottle, she shook her head and let out a breath. “Did he tell Josh that he saw me at the grocery store the other day?”

Mickie stood. She walked over, closer to Tiana, and leaned against the kitchen countertop. “No,” she said. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Hmph,” Tiana snorted. The damn man would say anything. “Tell him I’m not interested.”

“Really?” Mickie said. Her eyebrows went up and she pursed her lips, just slightly. Then her face relaxed. “I thought you would have liked that. You’re such a natural teacher.”

“It’s not the project. It’s the man. Is he really doing this or is it a scam to get my phone number?”

“I doubt it. DeShawn’s a good guy.”

Tiana nodded and her eyes narrowed.

“I’m sure he is, but I don’t have time for games.”

Mickie frowned and pushed away from the counter. “What should I tell him then?”

Tiana sighed, sucking in one corner of her lips and dropping her chin. She shook her head side to side once, then again. She picked a piece of lint off of her sleeve, examined it and then walked over to drop it in the trash can. “Give me his number,” she said. “And tell him I’ll think about it.”

Mickie slipped her phone out, then swiped and scrolled a few times. Her brow knit and she bit her bottom lip. “Come on, come on, where are you?” She swept her finger across the screen. “Ah, okay. Here we go.” She grabbed the closest pencil and scribbled a number on the top of the calendar hanging on the wall. “Ugh,” she said, obviously noticing all Lily’s school projects, tests and meet-the-teacher nights listed. First graders had so much to do. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage this when Ian gets to school.” She tapped the calendar with the pencil eraser and turned to look at Tiana.

“It doesn’t stop,” Tiana said. She was smiling now. “I’m not going to kid you.”

“Yikes,” Mickie said, glancing at the time. “I need to get going. Let me say goodbye to Ian.” She pulled Tiana in for a hug. “Thank you again for helping me out.”

“You just be there for your man.”

* * *

FEBRUARY GAVE THEM the gift of one of those rare cold days with sunshine and blue skies. The occasional icy breeze was the only reminder it was deep winter. DeShawn sat on one of the black folding chairs set out around a bright green awning over an open grave. Josh sat unmoving like a stone. Mickie leaned against Josh, holding his hand tight in hers. Kim, Josh’s sister, was on his other side, holding his hand also. Beside her were her adoptive parents.

He’d been to funerals. Many. Too many. But this was...a reinternment. What an odd word. What an odd thing for a beautiful Saturday afternoon. A word for repeating what should only ever have to be done once for someone. He glanced to his left at Sadie. Wyatt, her fiancé, had her left hand clasped in both of his. Her lips were pressed tightly together, moving her gaze from Josh, she reached out and took his hand. He squeezed her fingers and leaned in close to her.

“Is he okay?” he whispered.

Sadie didn’t answer, but gave a shrug while shaking her head, just barely. DeShawn turned his attention back to the chaplain, who was giving the standard funeral oratory. At the end, Josh stood and approached the coffin. He set a bouquet of red roses on the gleaming wood.

“Be at peace, Momma,” he said, his voice wavering. He patted the coffin. “You’re safe now.” He stepped back.

Mickie and Sadie simultaneously began crying. DeShawn felt his own throat close up tight. He wanted to put his arm around Sadie, but Wyatt already had her. He clasped his hands together on his lap and looked down at the ground.