Page 21 of The Brooklyn Way

We both giggled a little.

“Girl, what you can do with a pair of scissors, some thread, and a sewing machine, my husband and I couldn’t do at the most expensive boutiques in this country. We flew everywhere… New York City, Miami, L.A., Atlanta, Chicago. We even went to Vegas, thinking we could find a dress or seamstress. But nothing until you.”

Since Mrs. Holiday was one of the few debutante mothers that I had formed a rapport with, I knew I could joke a little with her. “Girl, it wasn’t all black girl magic. I mean, don’t get me wrong; there is definitely black girl magic in every piece I create, but a debutante dress is basically a simplified wedding gown. Wedding gowns are my jam.”

“They most definitely are.”

As she finished her sentence, Gabby came out of the little area I had cordoned off for try-ons and changing. As she made her way over to her mother and me, I took her in with the eye of an experienced seamstress. The white A-line dress that featured a lightly beaded bodice, empire waist, and cap sleeves (because Gabby didn’t want too much of her arms to show) fit the deb like a glove.

I turned her around, tightening the ribbon used to lace up the back of her gown. I tucked the strings, then fastened the hidden closure, before slowly circling her. “If I do say so myself, I did the ding-dang thing on this dress! I ate that and didn’t leave not one crumb.”

Mrs. Holiday didn’t bother fighting back tears as she cried. “You did. You definitely ate. My baby looks like an angel.”

Gabby’s expression was emotionless as I led her over to the full-length mirror so she could see for herself. When she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, Gabby, too, broke down into full-out sobs, which caused me to cry as well.

“It’s so beautiful and I don’t look like a fat cow in it.”

Gabby’s words broke my heart. “You could never look like a fat cow. You’re a beautiful, sweet, kind, and smart young lady who fought death and won. You’re a testimony and a living story of strength, perseverance, and triumph. I’m so glad you got a heart, because I’m so glad I got to meet you and make this dress for you.” I kissed her smooth honey-colored cheek.

“Thank you.” Her arms were around me before I knew it. “Thank you.”

Over her shoulder, I could see her mother’s face buried in a handful of tissues. I wasn’t a mother, but I had experienced tremendous loss in life. Still, I couldn’t imagine what it felt like to almost lose your daughter, watch her regain her health, then watch her fight a battle with self-esteem.

“Snatched!” I said firmly, as Gabby released me from the hug.

“No lies told.” Mrs. Holiday blotted her eyes with the used tissues. “You look good.”

Gabby placed her hands on her hips. “Periodt, pooh.”

She and her mother giggled then hugged as I thought about both my own journey and Gabby’s. After fighting and defeating something we thought would kill us, we deserved to live good. I was going to live good.

After I received payment for Gabby’s gown, I prepared it, wrapped it and handed it over to the happy mother and daughter duo. With the thought that I deserved to live good in mind, I gathered my things and left the community center. My first stop was the nail salon, where I had my nails glazed in the prettiest baby pink polish that they offered. Next, with my no-chip mani giving ‘black Barbie’ vibes, I headed to the grocery store, where I picked up a few things to make a relatively healthy dinner. I even grabbed a bouquet of yellow flowers to match my upbeat mood.

When I made it to the house, I fought the urge to throw on any old thing. Instead, I changed into a cute, matchy-matchy lounge set that I’d picked up on my visit to Freedom Journey. The set, made of brushed cotton, included a pair of camel-colored shorts, a T-shirt, and a hoodie. I left the hoodie hanging right in the closet, because what I had found living on Jackson Island was that it was never cool enough for a hoodie during mid-June.

Once I was changed, I made my way to the kitchen to handle the flowers I’d purchased. After adding cool water and the flower food packet to a pretty, clear vase, I arranged the flowers. Once they were taken care of, I prepped my food. There was nothing that I needed to cook; everything was pre-prepared. I simply laid it out on a charcuterie board in an appealing way, because the food channel taught me that humans eat first with their eyes. Since the evening was nice, the sky was clear, and the pollen count was low, I decided that I would eat outside.

I decorated the table—not the entire table. The table by the pool could seat six to eight people. I made it appropriate for one person by folding the tablecloth in half. I selected the prettiest set of matching dishes—a white charger, plate, saucer, and cup all rimmed in a gorgeous mint green and featuring a sprinkling of miniature daisies. I added them to the tabletop. Back inside the house, I grabbed a cocktail glass, a set of gold-plated silverware, and a pitcher of iced water. Next was the vase filled with the cheery yellow blooms. Finally, I brought out a pitcher of sweet tea that had been doused with lemon vodka in one hand and my charcuterie board in the other. Before taking my seat, I lit a few of the citronella candles that were on the table, because the mosquitos on Jackson Island were highly disrespectful.

“Pretty.” I complimented myself on the table. It looked good and so did my charcuterie board.

Everything was peaceful, from the waves of the ocean that I knew was only a few steps from the house, to the evening sun, to the blowing of the light warm breeze that sent my hair swaying and dancing. I closed my eyes and thanked God that I got to experience this. I thanked God that he delivered me from the hell that was my life with Vince. That he brought me out of a pit.

“I’m going to stay present for moments like this.” I whispered the words to myself like an affirmation. “I’m going to take time to experience my life… fully. I’m going to find joy in the simple pleasures, not at Target.”

That was when I heard a sound that reminded me of that cartoon dog, Scooby Doo asking, “What?”

My eyes flew open and collided with a bare, hard, strong chest. The image went perfectly with everything else around me that was beautiful. Still, it wasn’t polite to stare, so I moved my eyes upward.

“Hey,” I said to Cameron Field.

He gave me a crooked grin. “What’s up, Brooklyn? Is that your prayer before you eat? That you can find joy in things other than spending all of your money at Target?”

I wanted to be mad that he’d been eavesdropping or at least embarrassed that he heard my confession about Target, but he was so freaking fine. His grin was disarming.

I gestured toward my setup. “I hope you don’t mind me setting all this up poolside. I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking over.”

He waved me off. “Nah, you’re good. This pool was Carrington’s thing because the guest house doesn’t have views of the ocean. This way, she could still look out of her windows and see water.”

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