Silver Lining by Wanda B. Campbell Read Free Book Online

could never have too many of those.
    Back at her counter, they made small talk about church until Marlissa checked her wristwatch. “We close in ten minutes. I’d better start counting my drawer so I don’t miss the BART train.”
    Kevin frowned. “Don’t you have a car?”
    â€œNo, but I have BART and bus.”
    â€œIt’s not safe to ride the BART and bus alone at night.” He sounded concerned, but she didn’t put much stock in it. That was just Kevin being his normal considerate self.
    Marlissa smiled. “I’m not alone, I also have Mace.” They both chuckled. “Plus those big wings.” 99
    Confusion was etched on Kevin’s face. “Please tell me that’s not some sort of drink.”
    â€œOf course not! You know them angels that camp all around us.” She was still smiling, but he wasn’t. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
    â€œIt’s strange hearing you reference scripture. It’s nice, but strange,” he finally answered.
    â€œI also dance in the Spirit, but you saw that on Sunday.”
    The store manager’s overhead announcement of the store closing broke the awkward silence that followed.
    â€œI don’t want to hold you up,” Kevin said, and picked up his shopping bag. “Thanks for your help. I’ll see you later.” Then he was gone.
    Marlissa briefly watched him walk away. Lord, I need another pillow, she thought.
    Twenty minutes later, Marlissa punched out and started the sprint to the BART station. Halfway across the parking lot, a white Jeep Cherokee with the window rolled down pulled alongside her. Marlissa tightened her grip on the Mace in her pocket.
    â€œGet in.”
    She didn’t recognize the vehicle, but she’d have known that voice anywhere. She leaned into the window. “Kevin, I thought you were gone.”
    He shrugged. “Decided to wait.”
    â€œThanks,” she said after climbing in and fastening her seat belt. “I appreciate it, but you didn’t have to.”
    â€œI know.” His terse response was Marlissa’s cue to be seen and not heard. She concentrated on the jazz and easy listening station coming through the satellite radio. The late, great Luther Vandross was singing about dancing with his father.
    â€œDo you take BART every night or does Leon pick you up sometimes?” Kevin’s question disrupted her imagined picture of Luther’s dance.
    â€œLeon works most nights and he doesn’t have a car either.”
    A long moment passed before Kevin inquired, “Do you have any other male acquaintances who can help you out?” He looked straight ahead, although his jaw flexed.
    Marlissa knew exactly what he was asking her, so she chose her answer carefully. She sensed the answer was important to him. “Kevin, I haven’t been with a man in any form since the last time you and I were together.” She wondered if Kevin meant to exhale as loudly as he had.
    Luther finished his dance with his father on the entrance ramp to Interstate 580. A soft ballad followed, featuring Chanté Moore and Kenny Lattimore performing a remake of The Commodores’ “Still . ” They listened in silence as if pondering the words. Marlissa thought the song was both sad and beautiful: sad because of the pain the lovers inflicted on each other; beautiful because in the end love remained. Chanté was passionately telling Kenny that she still loved him when Marlissa dared to gaze at Kevin. He was already looking at her, but instead of holding eye contact, Kevin suddenly looked away and refocused his eyes on the road. Neither said anything until Kevin pulled in front of her building.
    â€œThanks for the ride.” She reached for the latch while trying to hide the tears that trickled down her cheeks. Why couldn’t she and Kevin be like Kenny and Chanté? Why couldn’t they love again? Before she stepped inside