I walk outside to greet her—so much for playing it cool. I haul Jordyn into my arms, causing her to lose a breath, and seal my mouth over hers. Kissing Jordyn is like eating fire. The heat is huge, and the flash point melts my self-control into nothingness. Need, restless and greedy, beats at the frantic pace of a woodpecker. I take and take, trying to get my fill with the alarming knowledge that no amount of Jordyn might ever be enough.
She’s the one to pull back first, and I hear myself groan in protest, chasing her mouth for more.
“Your grandfather,” she whispers, her face flushed from our kiss and embarrassment.
I look over to see him grinning on the porch. “Hey there, darling.”
“Hello, Colonel.” She leaves me to go to him, climbing the stairs beside the ramp to give him a big hug. “Thank you for having me. I hope it’s not too much of an imposition.”
“I’m as tickled as a dog with two tails to have you here. And Junior’s been climbing the walls, watching out for you.”
“Really?” She looks over at me for confirmation, her eyes smiling.
I could strangle the old man. But she looks so pleased that I just shrug. “I’ll get your things.”
“Thank you. Food’s on the backseat. I stopped off at Aunt Mae’s. Jasper said you’re a fan of soul food. I brought some of everything.”
“I knew I loved this girl.” He hands her the bunch of posies, and she gushes.
“These are beautiful, Colonel.”
“They’re from my garden. Would you like to see it?”
“I’d love to.”
I watch them go off together, while I load up my arms with her backpack and enough bags of food that we could feed the neighborhood.
Before we sit down for dinner, Pops separates himself from Jordyn long enough for me to give her a tour. I try to imagine the two-story house through her eyes. The kitchen has accessible touch faucets, lower countertops, and space for his wheelchair. The oak stair rail has been fitted with a lift for Pops to get to the second level, where the bedrooms are. The family room still has the original wooden fireplace and floral wallpaper my grandmother chose, but has been updated with a cozy sectional and a leather tilted recliner that Pops can easily get in and out of. Jordyn takes it all in, but what seems to draw her the most are the photographs on the mantel, side tables, and walls.
Her gaze stops at a black-and-white wedding picture. Pops looks like he’d just won the grandest prize. My grandmother’s hair is in glamorous waves above her shoulders. She resembles Dorothy Dandridge, a famous black Hollywood actress from back in the day.
“Your grandmother was stunning,” Jordyn says. “And your grandfather is so handsome. You look like him.” She points to one where their cheeks are glued together, their smiles wide, and Pops is holding up a trophy. “What’s this?”
“They used to get dressed up to go dancing all the time at this old-fashioned jazz joint. They won a couple of contests. That’s not why they went, though. They just loved it because it was something they shared.”
“How long has she been gone?”
“Since I was nine.”
“And your grandfather never remarried?”
“There have been women, but no one that could ever replace her.”
“Wow! Can you imagine loving someone that much?”
“No.” I shake my head, being guilty of not loving a woman enough.
“Oh, my gosh.” She picks up a photo of me at six with two missing teeth, standing proudly beside my new bike. “How cute.”
“Moving on,” I say.
“Aw. You’re blushing.” She laughs and puts down the picture to pick up another—the one of me in the army. “Mm. There’s just something about a man in uniform.”
“Turns you on, does it?”
“I like the uniform…a lot. But for me, it’s the man wearing it.”
“Good to know.”
