Forgivin' Ain't Forgettin' Read Online Free Page A

I’ve had men fighting over me.”
    “Shattered many hearts in your day, huh, Grace?”
    She chortled, not answering. Trevor could easily imagine she had broken hearts. Grace was attractive at fifty-nine. Her silver and black hair was cut in a modern style, and even with the makeup she often wore, her face appeared natural. Grace had a medium-size, well-defined figure, and her clothing, while befitting her maturity, stayed hip enough to gain oodles of compliments from younger workers. Grace was what Trevor imagined his wife might have resembled years down the line if—
    Grace’s voice interrupted Trevor’s thoughts as she passed him on the way to the door. “I mailed you an invitation. Did you receive it?”
    He frowned, not meaning to. “It came a few days ago.”
    “I’ll be making that potato salad you eat by the ton.”
    At the least, Grace deserved a halfhearted grin, and he gave one. “The offer’s tempting. I’ll let you know.” In all honesty, Trevor could have let her know right then. He would not attend the annual barbecue in honor of Grace and Houston’s wedding anniversary. With his family one member short, such a gathering would be too painful. Trevor lifted his binder from the table remembering how difficult it had been to return to church without his wife. It was a full three months before he could sit through an entire service.
    Trevor locked up his office for the day and exited through the rear of his Chelten Avenue bakery and café. Car keys hanging from his fingertips, he strolled across the parking lot blacktop to a hunter-green Expedition. The hot strikes the sun bombed the region with all week were held at bay by thickening, darkening clouds, but the air was still too clingy for Trevor’s taste, and before boarding his truck, he pulled off his tie, undid his top shirt buttons, and rolled his sleeves to his elbows. After starting the ignition, he flipped on the air conditioner. A man pleased with the outcome of the workday, he drummed his fingers on the dashboard in time to the spry pulse of Bishop Colvin Culpepper and the Solid Ground Church Mass Choir. Trevor owned all four of Culpepper’s urban praise CDs. The latest he’d purchased yesterday, and as he listened to a song he was hearing for the first time, he sorted through ideas of how to spend the evening. Like most things nowadays, his plans revolved around and often included the leading ladies in his life. Trevor removed his phone from the belt clip at his waist and punched the necessary buttons.
    “Hello,” a child’s voice promptly said.
    “Hey, baby.”
    “Daddy,” Brandi Monroe sang. “When are you coming to pick us up?”
    “I’ll be there soon. And guess what?”
    “What?” Brandi asked with breathless anticipation.
    “I have a surprise for you and Brittney.”
    “A puppy,” she squealed. “Are we getting a puppy?”
    Trevor smiled, enjoying his baby daughter. “No, Poopie’s enough.” One ball of fur that tagged his toes before he could get his socks on in the mornings was all he could tolerate. “It’s not a bunny, a lamb, or a raccoon,” he said, satisfied he’d named all the critters on Brandi’s most recent pet wish list.
    “I have a surprise for you, too, Daddy,” she said. “But you have to wait until Sunday.”
    Father’s Day. Holidays drove the pain of loss in deeper, and whether it was Memorial Day, Thanksgiving, or Christmas, Trevor had become more of an onlooker than a participant. But God is good, he thought, determined to stay encouraged, and come Sunday, he’d wear a smile for the sake of his children. He requested gently, “Sweetheart, put Aunt Penny on, please.”
    After a brief silence, another familiar voice greeted him. “What’s up, big brother?”
    “Don’t tell the girls, but I thought I’d treat you three to dinner and a movie.” Penny Davies was worthy of more. She’d been a lifesaver, helping with the kids since the death of his wife. They were at Penny’s place