Brian and Indigo smiled nervously at each other.
“This must be called Premarital Boot Camp,” Indigo joked. She looked at Rachelle. “You two get the Aunt Melba award for candidness. Thank you. From my heart.”
Indigo smiled at Rachelle and Gabe and at Brian, who planted a light kiss on her lips, but inside, she felt like jello. Everything was quivering, from her heart to her stomach to her beliefs about who she was as an individual and in relation to Brian.
Rachelle and Gabe had toppled her fantasy. She had been preparing for a wedding, when she needed to be deciding whether she was ready for a marriage.
I
ndigo’s graduation party had been special, but tonight was spectacular.
The Burns family had rented the ballroom in the city’s newly renovated performing arts center and it seemed like half of Jubilant was there to celebrate Aunt Melba’s return to her salon. Melba was a friend to many, from the mayor and police chief to the single mother who owned the cleaning business that kept Hair Pizzazz in tip-top shape.
Aunt Melba wasn’t moving as fast as before, but she wasn’t shy about getting on the dance floor with her brother, Herbert; with Indigo’s dad, Charles; with Gabe or with Brian.
After the fourth song in a row, Mama instructed Indigo to intervene. Indigo danced over to Melba and urged her to take a break.
“You won’t be able to move anything tomorrow if you keep this up,” Indigo teased and led her off the dance floor.
Aunt Melba laughed and relented. She joined Indigo at the table where Indigo sat with Brian, Shelby, Shelby’s friend Hunt, and Nizhoni. Each had plates filled with hors d’oeuvres, and the wait staff kept circulating and offering more.
“Thank you, guys, for coming and helping make this night special,” Aunt Melba said above the overamplified live band. She turned to Hunt and looked from him to Shelby. She gave Shelby a thumbs-up.
“Care to introduce me, or are you afraid I might take him?”
Shelby laughed and grabbed Hunt’s hand.
“Aunt Melba, this is someone special—Hunt Pappas,” Shelby said.
Aunt Melba shook the hand he extended and reached across the table for a hug.
“Everybody who knows me knows . . . I’m everybody’s aunt, including yours . . . young man,” she said. “I hope you’re . . . enjoying the party.”
Hunt smiled and looked at Shelby.
“I’m having a great time,” he said. “I’m honored to help you celebrate your recovery. You’ve had a long fight, Shelby tells me. You’re looking wonderful, and I’m praying that God will keep you going strong.”
Aunt Melba sat back in surprise. “Well, now . . . where did you find him?” she asked Shelby. “Smart . . . handsome and . . . Godfearing too? Order me one up!”
Everyone laughed.
“Seriously, though,” she said, “he’s right. God has kept me strong. I . . . wouldn’t be here . . . without his grace and mercy. Strokes don’t come . . . with warnings. At least . . . mine didn’t. But . . . while God had me off my feet . . . leaning on him . . . and on my family . . . for support . . . he drew me closer to him and deepened my love . . . for him. I have to say . . . that has made it all worth it.”
Everyone at the table fell silent, including Indigo. To be thankful for an illness that could have taken your life, cost you your business, and limited your chances of taking care of yourself ever again was deep.
Yasmin danced over and hugged Aunt Melba from behind. “The guest of honor is needed at the podium. Sorry to steal her away, guys.”
Yasmin escorted Aunt Melba to the microphone and raised a hand to quiet the music and the crowd.
“Good evening, everyone,” Yasmin said into the microphone. “Thank you all for joining us tonight. We’re going to start our formal program now with an introduction of my aunt Melba by her friend Dr. Cynthia Bridgeforth.”
Cynthia looked regal in a semiformal black chiffon top and flowing black slacks. She trotted across the stage and gave Melba a lingering hug, which the audience applauded.
“Some of us hadn’t expected to be here on a night like this, for this occasion,” Cynthia finally said into the microphone. “Melba was sick. Really sick. She couldn’t work, she couldn’t take care of herself, and at one point, she could barely talk. But what we see standing before us—and what you saw dragged off the dance floor a few minutes ago—is the goodness of God.
“Melba is proof that nothing is too hard for him, if we will just trust and believe.”
The crowd erupted into shouts of gratitude and applause.
Indigo looked at Hunt and winked. “Welcome to the black Baptist church,” she said and laughed.
Hunt furrowed his brow.
“I’ll explain later,” she said and smiled.
Cynthia continued when the guests settled down. “Melba owns a hair salon, but any of you here who frequent the place know that she’s more than just a stylist and she’s more than just an entrepreneur. She is a mentor and a counselor and a prayer warrior when you need it the most. Her salon is part of the heart and soul of the Jubilant community.
“I think I’d be accurate in saying that’s why most of us are here tonight—to honor a woman of God who has allowed herself to be his vessel, in whatever facet is needed. She is a gift to her family, a treasure to the community, and a friend to anyone in need of one.”
Cynthia turned to Melba. “Melba, I thank God for you. Welcome back to Hair Pizzazz.”
The crystal ball suspended from the ceiling began to swirl, and confetti showered everyone on the dance floor.
Aunt Melba took the microphone from Cynthia and waited for the commotion to die down. Tears were streaming from her eyes.
“Believe it . . . or not . . . I don’t have much to say,” she said. “I want to thank . . . Carmen, Eboni, and Carlotta . . . for carrying their load and mine . . . just days after Eboni and Carlotta agreed to work in my salon. I’m sure it was much more . . . than they . . . expected . . . to tackle. Carmen, thanks so much for staying on board and helping everything run so smoothly. You’ve been a great help to these two ladies as they took care of their own clients as well as mine.”
She turned toward Indigo’s parents and passed the microphone back to Cynthia, who pulled out a piece of paper.
“As you all see, Melba is doing fabulously well, but her speech still can be labored. She had so much to say that she realized it could take all night.”
The crowd erupted in laughter.
“So,” Cynthia continued, “she wrote the rest and asked me to read it to you, which I’ll do now, on her behalf.”
Melba stood beside Cynthia and read along as Cynthia shared her sentiments.
“‘I can’t say enough about my family, especially my sister, Irene, her husband, Charles, and their children, Indigo and Yasmin,’ ” Cynthia read. “ ‘They took me in and nurtured me and never made me feel like a burden.
“ ‘Indigo joined my staff and kept the business running like a pro, Rachelle and Yasmin chipped in often, and all I had to do was focus on getting well. Thank you, guys, I love you.’ ”
Aunt Melba clasped her hands and closed her eyes while Cynthia continued.
“ ‘And what can I say about my almighty Father? There aren’t enough words.’ ” Cynthia’s voice quivered as she read. “‘So I’ll simply say thank you, for the good and the bad, because all of it drew me closer to you.’ ”
When Cynthia was done, Ms. Harrow approached Melba onstage with a massive, multicolored bouquet of flowers. Melba’s eyes widened and a smile stretched across her face.
Suddenly, Indigo saw a flash. She had her camera tonight, but it was on the table. She scanned the crowd behind her to see who else had decided to capture memories. Her eyes landed on a suited-up Max. He was focusing his next shot and didn’t notice her. She wiggled through pockets of people to reach him.
He grinned when he saw her and gave her a light hug.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Nice to see you too, Ms. Burns,” Max teased.
Indigo blushed. “I’m sorry—that was rude. It’s nice to see you. How have you wound up at my aunt’s party?”
“Melba Mitchell is well regarded and tons of people are here tonight,” Max explained. “It’s the social event of the month, and the
Herald
editor wants something for the society page. They called me up this morning and asked if I’d do it. Plus, it gives me an excuse to see you.”
Before she could respond, Brian walked up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. Indigo jumped and turned toward him.
“Um, Max, this is my fiancé, Brian Harper. Brian, this is Max Shepherd, the
Herald
photographer who took my photo for the newspaper’s article on my
O Magazine
award.”
Brian shook Max’s hand, but didn’t smile or speak.
Indigo was surprised.
“Nice to meet you, man,” Max said. “You’ve got a gem here. Keep up with her.”
“You can bet on that,” Brian said. “Nice to meet you, Max.”
Brian led Indigo away, to the dance floor. The DJ was playing Leona Lewis’s version of “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,” and he pulled her close.
“Should I be jealous?” he said in Indigo’s ear.
Indigo smiled. “That would be cute, but unnecessary.”
When they were done, Indigo noticed Max talking to Nizhoni. She was tempted to approach them and join in, but thought better of it. Instead, she sat next to Brian and watched them from afar. Maybe the real question was why was
she
jealous.
I
ndigo and Shelby were long overdue for some girlfriend time, and if they had to steal away after Aunt Melba’s party to get it, so be it.
The celebration wound down around eleven p.m., and Hunt and Brian went to Gabe’s to shoot pool. They would stay there for the night, in Gabe and Rachelle’s guesthouse.
Aunt Melba had moved back home a few days earlier, so Shelby was staying with the Burnses, in the bedroom Melba had been using.
The room was Indigo’s teenage bedroom, and she and Shelby sat on the floor now, remembering the times they had spent there during weekend visits from college.
Suddenly, though, the conversation took a turn.
“So do you love him?” Indigo had been dying to ask her friend.
Shelby had been talking about Hunt for about a year now, and yet, she’d still been cagey. She had told Indigo from the beginning that he was white, but she’d never really shared whether that made her hesitant to get serious about him.
In recent weeks, though, since her graduation from OCS, Shelby mentioned him when she talked about long-term career decisions. They had visited each other’s parents more than once, and Hunt was considering a job transfer from New York to his engineering firm’s Fort Worth office, so he’d be somewhat closer to Shelby while she was in flight school in Corpus Christi.
Shelby sighed and hugged the fluffy purple pillow she had snagged from Indigo’s bed.
“I do love him, Indie,” she said. “But you know what? I’m scared.”
“Why? You don’t think he feels the same?”
“I know he does,” Shelby said.“He asked me to marry him last week.”
“What?” Indigo sat up straighter and stared at her friend. “Why am I just hearing about this? What did you say?”
Shelby looked away. “I didn’t say anything because I’m scared. I’m scared to say yes and try to live in a world that won’t accept us as an interracial couple. And I’m scared to say no because I love this man more deeply than I’ve ever loved anyone, and I don’t know if I can breathe without him. He makes me a better person.”
Indigo thought about the advice Rachelle and Gabe had given her and Brian last week and her heart sank.
Here she sat, wearing the beautiful engagement ring, with the gorgeous wedding dress on the way, and she felt nowhere close to what Shelby was describing about her feelings for Hunt.
She wanted to weep.
Shelby noticed. “What is it?”
Indigo shook her head and took a deep breath. “The way you feel about Hunt is love, Shelby. That’s not how I feel about Brian. Intellectually, I know he’s a good catch. In my head, I know that I would be foolish to let him slip through my fingers. I love him and care for him deeply, but I don’t know that he completes me or that I do that for him.
“We’re almost like two really good friends cruising in different directions. I want to focus on my photography career and he’s going to be in the Navy, traveling and focusing on what he needs to do to rise through the ranks. He needs a wife by his side to help him succeed. I don’t know that I can fill that role and do what my heart is calling me to do. I don’t know that I love him enough to even give it a try.”
Shelby sat there, wide-eyed.
Indigo continued. “But you, girlfriend, are smitten.” She laughed. “Any man who can come to a Burns family party and hang like Hunt did tonight, and propose to you, and take you to meet his family, he’s not playing.”
Shelby smiled. “I know, Indie. I love him for that. He’s so . . . he’s just so . . . wonderful. Why couldn’t he have been born with a permanent tan!”
They both roared with laughter.
“He probably wonders why you
were
born with a permanent one,” Indigo said. “In an ideal romantic world, both of you would be black or both of you would be white. Isn’t it funny, though, that love is color-blind? You can’t help that the person who feeds your soul is very different from you in some ways. You went to a historically black college and dated just about every fine man on campus until you uncovered his flaws so you could dump him.”
Shelby kicked Indigo’s leg in jest.
“Then you go off to Florida and fall in love with a beach boy.” Indigo laughed heartily at her own joke. “I’m not mad at you, Shelby. I’m not mad at all.”
“I’ll have you know that he’s not a beach boy,” Shelby said. “Hunt grew up in Cincinnati, thank you.”
“Whatever,” Indigo said. “How did he take it when you didn’t respond to his proposal?”
“He got quiet and he said he knew I needed to think about it, and to let him know when I was ready to talk,” Shelby said. “Then he gave me this amazing kiss that left my heart pounding and got in his car and drove back home.”
Indigo fanned herself with her hand. “Shut up, girl! You gone make me find him and marry him!”