Into His Love

Twenty-one

    As I go down the stairs, a deep voice travels to my ears. My mom is laughing at something that couldn't possibly be as funny as she's making it seem. I stand in the entry way of the kitchen and take in the appearance of the large man in front of me. His skin is dark, with a few wrinkles making an appearance on his face. He has dark eyes, black even, and his hair is cut lowly with a few noticeable grey hairs.

   My moms stops laughing and smiles to me. "Kenneth, this is my daughter Kimberly."

   "Nice to meet you, Kenneth." The words burn as they roll from my tongue. Kenneth smiles and reaches his hand out.

   "You can call me Ken." I nod, shaking his hand as he adds, "It's my pleasure you meeting you, as well. Your mom has told me so much about you."

   "Really?" Funny because up until a week ago I don't know anything of your existence, I want to add but decide against it. I glance at my mom who's still grinning.

   "All good things, of course," He adds. I manage to fake chuckle and look as happy as I possibly can.

   "Well, should we eat?" My mom motions to the table.

   "Yeah. You know how much I love your cooking," He smiles pulling the chair out for her. She blushes and takes a seat as I think of when he would have time to eat her cooking, let alone 'love' it.

   I walk and sit across from my mom and watch Ken take a seat at the end of the table. My mom takes his hand into hers and reaches across the table for mine. Ken reaches for my hand and I lightly place my hand on his.

"Would you like to do the honors, Ken?" My mom offers the man. He nods giving a small smirk and we all bow our heads. A few seconds later, the prayer is over and we're all eating.

"I saw one of your paintings in the living room. Cheyenne had told me you were an artist but she didn't tell me how good you were. You have real talent, Kim."

Memories of my dad calling me Kim flood my mind and my skin crawls uncomfortably hearing it come from someone I've only known for five minutes.

"It's Kimberly." I avoid eye contact. I'm trying my best to hide the hint of anger present but I'm finding it very difficult. The possibility of this man stepping into my dad's place nearly drives me insane but the idea of him stealing his nickname for me drives me up the wall. My mom's smile fades and she looks between me and Ken.

"Oh-uh," He clears his throat. I look at the pleas of my mom's eyes and sigh. Try to keep an open mind. I hear Isaiah's voice loud and clear. "Sorry, Kimberly. I didn't know you-"

"It's fine and thanks. I could be better." I stuff my mouth with food.

   "Kimberly?" My mom sounds surprised.

   "No, you're right." He swallows. "There's always room for improvement. But that's why you practice, right?"

   I nod slowly. "I used to be into art myself. I don't have time for it as much though. Have you ever worked with oils?"

   "No." I simply answer.

   "You should try it out. It'll help you with your blending for realism because you've pretty much already mastered shape and form."

   "Thanks for the tip." We continue eating with no one saying a word, only the clacking of our forks against the glass plates.

"How was practice?" My mom asks me, her eagerness to change the subject is nothing but clear.

"It was good."

"Dance, right?"

"Mhm." I nod.

"I remember when your mom was a dancer." Ken says, guilt instantly washing over his face. My mom clears her throat loudly and shifts in her chair staring into Ken's eye. "This cabbage is really good, Cheyenne."

"Thank y-"

"Wait-what?" I nearly choke on my food. "How did you know-how'd you two meet again?" I question.

Kenneth looks to my mom. "We met in high school." My mom answers slowly.

"Oh, so, before you met dad?" My mouth moves before my brain can process. I know it probably isn't the best idea bringing my dad into this conversation but I do so anyway.

"Mhm. You know I met your dad in college." She continues eating.

"Right." I take a drink. "And you two have been in contact since ..high school?" I find it odd that they've known eachother since high school and I'm just now meeting him. My mom introduces me to all of her friends, so why not him? Especially if they've known eachother for so many years.

My mom and Ken laugh. "Oh, dear lord, no." My mom swats at me. "I was working on a case in Florida and Ken happened to be on duty where the team was stationed."

    "And she instantly remembered me." Ken adds.

   "Oh, please. You wouldn't stop staring at me for me not to." She grins at him.

    "Look at you. How could I not?" He gazed into her eyes.

   "You live all the way in Florida?" I can't stand watching them flirt right in front of me.

    "Yeah."

    "Don't you think that's a little far?" I didn't mean for that to come off as rude but by the way that my mom is sipping her drink I know that it had to.

   "Not really. Panama City is about a five hour drive from here and maybe a 3 hour flight at the most." He glances to my mom and she gives him a small smile.

    "Nice." I sigh. This had got to be the longest dinner of my life. I look down at my plate and notice that I've barely touched my food.

   The rest of dinner continued with Ken seeking to make small conversation and him and my mom making eyes at each other. It was hard to ignore the way my mom beamed and the smile lines that appeared around her eyes when he looked at her or the way she blushed when he kissed her on her cheek when he left thirty minutes ago. Familiarity washed over me remembering years ago when my dad made smile like that.

    She loves him. Anyone can see that. The gleam in her eyes when he smiles at her is anything but unnoticeable and the hope she feels radiates through her smile like the sun. She truly loves him and it didn't take long for me to realize how happy he makes her. That's what I want for her. Even if Ken may not be on my favorites list.

   I knock on my mom's room door and walk in. She's sitting on her bed with her laptop on her lap.

   "Can I talk to you?" I walk over to her.

   "Yeah." She pats for me to sit down. I do so, crossing my legs. She stares at me awaiting the next words to leave my mouth. "You're fidgety. Spit it out."

    "Marry Ken." The words tumble from my mouth before I have a chance to overthink.