Dance Into Destiny Read online

  “I thought you got hurt.”

  “I did, but after my surgery, I rehabbed my knee for a few months and was fine. I could’ve played again. After everything that happened though, I didn’t want to go back.” The dark look that moved into Quinton’s eyes told Shara not to ask what he meant.

  He shuffled his feet. “So, Pastor Kendrick has been telling me all about your plans for the youth projects. Sounds like we have a lot of ideas in common.”

  “Yeah, I was thinking that during your interview. It seemed like you were reading from my vision journal.”

  “Vision journal?”

  Shara bit her lip. “I have this book where I write down all my ideas for things I want to do or that I feel God wants me to do.”

  “That sounds like a great idea. I might have to try that. My ideas sort of all run around in my head. That might help me to get them organized.”

  “Would you—” Shara hesitated. “Ummm, you want to see mine? It might, uh, give you some ideas on how to organize yours.” She had never shown anyone her journal except for Mother Hobbs and Pastor Kendrick. Her dreams and ideas from God were very personal. Why had she offered to show them to a complete stranger?

  “That would be great. I’d like that.” He smiled and it seemed like the sun started shining a little bit brighter.

  Shara smoothed back her hair.

  After track practice, she sent the kids home and went into the church building. She hoped Quinton forgot or got preoccupied with something else, but he was sitting in the office talking to Mother Hobbs when she walked in.

  Mother Hobbs looked up and smiled. “There you are. Quinton was waiting for you. Let me get out of y’all’s way. Quinton, let me know when you’re ready to go.” She paused. “Or actually, Shara can drop you off. It’s not too far out of her way. Is that okay with you, Shara?”

  Quinton’s back was to Shara so he couldn’t see the evil glare she gave Mother Hobbs while saying, “Sure, no problem.” She thought for a minute. “Actually, Mother Hobbs, I’m starving and would love some leftovers from Sunday. Why don’t I grab my notebook and Quinton and I can talk at your house. Is that okay with you?”

  “Of course, Shara. I’ll meet you guys at the house.”

  “Ummmm, I need a few minutes to finish up some paperwork here. How ’bout I meet you guys at the house?” Shara bit her lip.

  “All right, sweetie.” Mother Hobbs gave Shara a concerned look. She had been in the office when Shara had proudly announced she was finished with all her stats for the youth program on Monday. “I’ll have your plate ready by the time you get there.”

  After they left, Shara shuffled some papers around on her desk. She looked through her roster and came across Tangee’s name. She thought about calling Ms. Madison to see how she was doing, but remembered her evil glares and words from that night at the hospital and decided against it. She took her notebook out of her drawer and headed for Mother Hobbs’ house.

  When she arrived, Quinton and Mother Hobbs were sitting at the kitchen table eating. As promised, Mother Hobbs had a huge plate of food coming out of the microwave for her.

  “Oh my goodness, I can’t eat that much!”

  Shara hoped Mother Hobbs wouldn’t mention that she’d seen her put away that much food and then ask for seconds on many occasions.

  “I’m sorry, Shara. I guess I got carried away.” She stared at Shara. “You know how I am.”

  The three of them chatted over dinner. After they finished eating, Mother Hobbs cleared the table. Shara saw her frown when she picked up her half-eaten plate of food. With her eyes, she begged Mother Hobbs not to say anything.

  “Shara, why don’t you and Quinton move on into the dining room and use that table? I’ll clean up.”

  They moved into the dining room and sat down. Shara slowly opened the pages of her notebook, still anxious that she was sharing it with Quinton. She explained each of the programs.

  Quinton carefully studied each page, nodding his head and reading. When she finished, he looked directly into her eyes. “This is absolutely amazing. It’s as if you jumped into my head, looked at all my ideas and then organized them perfectly so they made sense. I know it’s the same spirit talking to both of us, but this in unreal. It’s almost as if we were meant to work together.”

  Shara shifted in her seat and pulled her eyes away from his.

  “I can’t believe you have timelines and detailed projections. Are you always this organized?”

  “It’s a sickness of mine I guess.”

  “No, this is great. A lot of people have dreams and goals, but never take the time to put them on paper and make any concrete plans. That’s why most of the time they remain just that—dreams that never materialize. This is a dream with a plan to make it happen. That’s an awesome thing.”

  Shara nodded, not knowing what to say next. The intensity of his gaze made her nervous.

  Quinton reached over and turned the next page. “What’s this?”

  Shara pulled the notebook away from him. “Just another one of my ideas.”

  “Let me see. What is it?” Quinton gently pulled the notebook back from her. His hand brushed by hers. She pulled her hand back.

  “It’s just . . . it’s my school.”

  “Your school? Gee, you dream big. I like that. May I?” Quinton waited until Shara nodded before reading the next section. When he finished, he looked at her. “This is really something. Where do you get this stuff from?”

  Shara traced circles on the deep brown dining table. “Sometimes when I’m thinking about the kids, or praying for them, or spending time with them, ideas just come to me about how to . . . I don’t know, make their lives better, I guess.” Shara smiled thinking about them. “Wait till you get to know them, Quinton. They’re such great kids. They just need—”

  “A chance?”

  “Yeah. They can be anything they want to be. They just need to know that. I want to—”

  “Help them realize that?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “I wish I had a whole bunch of money to buy them books and send them all to college and send them on trips to broaden their horizons so they can—”

  “Realize there’s more to life than the ten block radius they live and go to school in?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded again. “Sounds like you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  “Yeah.” Quinton nodded and smiled.

  “You know what bothers me? Here we are in our little corner of the world, but right around the corner there’s another neighborhood with a whole ’nother group of kids that probably aren’t being reached by someone else, and in other neighborhoods in other cities all over the country. Like you said, what’s gonna happen to those kids you left behind?”

  “You’re only one person and you can only do what you can do. Feel good about that and trust God to take care of the rest. Otherwise, you get overwhelmed and burnt out. Then you’re no good to anyone.”

  “Mother Hobbs is always telling me that. I guess it’s like she says though—I want to save the world.”

  Quinton was looking at her with that intense gaze again.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Quinton looked away. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

  “Yeah, I guess I’m a little strange.”

  “No, not strange, just . . . different.”

  Shara smoothed her hair back. What was Mother Hobbs doing? There weren’t that many dishes in the kitchen.

  As if Shara’s thoughts pulled her into the room, Mother Hobbs appeared. “Quinton, sweetie, do you want some cake?”

  “No, ma’am. I can’t eat another bite.” He leaned back in his dining chair and rubbed his belly. “I’m gonna have to run an extra five miles everyday when I get back home to recover from this trip.”

  Mother Hobbs made a face. “You run, too? I don’t understand that obsession. Shara runs almost every day. If you want to, you can run with her tomorrow morning. I’m sure she wouldn’
t mind coming to pick you up. It’s at a God-awful hour, though. What is it, Shara, six in the morning?”

  If looks could kill, Mother Hobbs would be dead—or at least in the intensive care unit.

  Quinton said, “I didn’t bring any exercise clothes or shoes. I didn’t know I’d be here this long. I’ll definitely take you up on that when I come back though, Shara.”

  “That sounds good.” She forced a smile. Her mornings at the track were her special time with God and she didn’t want to share them with anyone. She stood up. “I better get out of here. I want to do some reading before class tomorrow.”

  Quinton walked her to the door. “I guess I’ll see you when I get back. I’ve found a place to live so I’m gonna tie up some loose ends in Chicago and then make my way down here for good.”

  “I’m surprised you found something that quick.” Shara was glad he had picked out a place. She was looking forward to having Mother Hobbs and the house back all to herself.

  “Well, they have to do some renovations. Pastor Kendrick was right. There was nothing in real good shape in the neighborhood. Mother Hobbs is letting me stay here until it’s ready. It may take a month or two.”

  “That’s some serious renovation.” Shara frowned.

  “Yeah. Hopefully it won’t be any longer than that.”

  Mother Hobbs joined them at the door. “Don’t even try to leave without giving me my hug.”

  Shara gave Mother Hobbs a hug and kiss. “Thanks for dinner. It was great as usual.”

  She awkwardly shook Quinton’s hand and said a quick, “See you when you get back,” and went out to her car. She pretended not to notice that Quinton stood on the porch watching as she drove away.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When she got home, Shara sat down at her dining table to study. She hadn’t gone over her class notes for the day or done any reading. After about an hour, she realized she’d read a paragraph three times and had no idea what she’d read.

  I must be tired. She never had problems concentrating. She got up to get ready to go to bed.

  When she looked in the bathroom mirror, she noticed how rumpled her hair was. Had it looked like that all day? She never could get it to lie down smoothly. She put some water on it and tried to brush it down, but it got wavy and still didn’t lay right. She looked in the cabinet under the sink for something to slick it down with. She didn’t buy too many hair products and the only thing she could find was a jar of blue Bergamot grease—something she’d used since childhood. Shara scooped out a big wad and tried to slick her hair back with it. It gathered in a clump at the top of her head.

  Great. It was definitely too late to wash her hair tonight. She tried to distribute the grease through her hair with the brush. By the time she finished, her hair was a wavy, greasy mess. She decided to tie it down with a scarf and see how it looked in the morning. Maybe she’d have some well-behaved waves like the guys did when they wore their “do-rags”.

  Shara took the scarf off the next morning, expecting magic. Instead, she found her hair was a matted down, wavy, greasy mess. She dug in the back of her cabinet and found her curling iron. She hadn’t used it for years, but decided to give it a try. She turned it on high, hoping she could straighten the waves out with the heat.

  She picked up a large lock of hair at the front of her head, wrapped it around the curling iron and waited for a few seconds. The smell reminded her of her press-and-curl days in her aunt’s kitchen growing up. Shara knew if she’d just get a perm, her hair would lie down with no problem. She didn’t like the idea of putting chemicals in her hair or being stuck going to a salon on a regular basis, though.

  Exactly how long did it take to curl her hair? She heard the grease pop like frying bacon. Must have been long enough. When she unrolled the hair, part of the curl stayed attached to the iron. Shara gasped and her eyes grew wide. She had burnt her hair! She studied the charred piece of hair left sticking up out of her head. It was short and frayed.

  Now she’d never get it to lie down.

  What was she going to do? She didn’t have any of those fancy scarves people were wearing these days. Even if she did, she wouldn’t know how to tie it right, so it would probably look like an Aunt Jemima rag. She opted for a baseball cap. That would get her through the day, but she couldn’t wear a cap for the months it would take for her hair to grow back to a decent length to reach her ponytail. She’d have to ask someone who knew what to do.

  She picked up the phone and dialed Keeva’s number.

  “Hello?” A groggy voice answered.

  “Keeva, it’s me Shara. Are you asleep?”

  “Am I what? What the . . . Shara? Do you have any idea what time it is? Is everything all right?”

  Shara heard a male voice in the background say, “Who is it, honey?”

  She realized Mark was there with Keeva. “Oops! Sorry, but this is an emergency. Can you meet me after class today in the lobby of the Ed building?”

  “Shara, what’s going on?”

  “Nothing, I need a little help. Just meet me then, okay?”

  “Okay. 4:00. Lobby. Ed building. Bye.”

  Shara put on her running clothes, pulled on the baseball cap and headed outside.

  Keeva’s mouth flew open when Shara pulled off her baseball cap. “What happened?” As she listened to Shara’s explanation, she covered her mouth to stifle her giggles.

  “Are you laughing? Keeva, it’s not funny!”

  “Bergamot? Are you serious? If you were gonna fry your hair, why didn’t you use some Crisco?” Keeva laughed harder.

  Shara’s eyes widened.

  “Oh Shar, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. We’ll fix it. I promise, okay?” She studied the piece of hair and began talking to herself. “It’s too short to be a bang and the edges are too frayed to slick back onto a ponytail. I guess you could . . . well no, because . . .”

  Keeva shook her head and took out her cell phone. She turned her back to Shara and walked away, as if she was making a secret call. She returned smiling. “Consider it fixed.” She gave Shara a pensive glance. “There’s one thing, though. You have to miss a couple of classes tomorrow morning.”

  Shara gave her a “that’s completely out of the question” look.

  “Please.” Keeva rolled her eyes. “Consider it a mental health day.”

  Shara shook her head slowly.

  “Come on. Dag, girl, do you always have to be Miss Perfect? Live on the wild side for just one day. We’ll play hooky together. You can go to your first class and then we’ll meet here at 10:30. You have an 11:00 appointment with my stylist. Don’t worry, girl. Everything will be fine.” She smiled knowingly. “Better than fine.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  As Keeva and Shara entered the upscale Buckhead salon, a slim light-skinned man smiled at Keeva and waved wildly, walking toward them. He had on black leather pants and a lime green shirt, no—blouse with ruffles on it. As he got closer, Shara could see how “pretty” he was. Was that eyeliner and foundation he was wearing? He and Keeva embraced and kissed each other on both cheeks.

  “Antone, this is my friend I was telling you about, Shara. Shara, Antone.”

  He shook Shara’s hand lightly, eying her up and down. “Oh my goodness, Keeva, what do you think Antone is? Umh, umh, umh.” He directed Shara towards his chair.

  As Shara walked toward the chair, she eyed the expensive looking products lined up on the shelves and surveyed the shop’s glamorous décor. She felt like she was in a celebrity salon and wondered just how much this was going to cost her.

  “Sit down, dear. Let me look at what we’re dealing with here.” Antone pulled off her rubber band. “Oh my— look at this! It looks like a rat has been chewing on the ends of your hair. When was the last time you had your hair trimmed?” He got to the front of her hair and gasped. “What in the world happened here?”

  He looked at Keeva, then at Shara’s hair, then back at Keeva again. He called out to the receptio
nist, “Jackie, clear my schedule for the rest of the afternoon. This is gon’ be a job. Thank God I’m good.”

  Shara seethed quietly in the chair, hoping Keeva was feeling the full effect of the evil looks she was giving her. Keeva laughed and made a silly face behind Antone’s back.

  Antone said, “Keeva, I am flattered at the compliment girl, but you know you gon’ owe me for this one. You are truly putting my skills to the test. Why, I haven’t seen hair like this since—”

  “Antone!” Keeva seemed to know Shara wasn’t going to take too much more. “Darling, you are the best. What do you think we should do? I thought about a bob or a short cut. The only problem is that Shara doesn’t want to give up her ponytail.”

  “Shara, girlfriend, rubber bands are not your friend. Let Antone show you what’s happening. They’re like little razors, especially when you put them on real tight. They scrape away at the hair cuticle . . .” He continued his discussion on the perils of chronic rubber band use.

  In spite of his rudeness, he seemed to know a lot about hair, so Shara decided to listen.

  “All this hair back here is badly damaged and is going to have to come off. The front is burnt so it has to be cut, too. Don’t worry, you’re in the hands of a cutting master.”

  “But if you cut off a lot, I won’t be able to pull it back anymore,” Shara objected.

  Antone rolled his eyes. “Hello, is anybody home? Did you hear anything Antone just said? No more ponytails, goodbye, no more.” He gestured dramatically, as if he was throwing the ponytail away.

  Shara wrinkled her nose. “What am I supposed to do with my hair then? If I can’t pull it back, I’ll have to curl it. You see what happens when I try to curl my hair.”

  Antone looked at Keeva. “You must think Antone is a miracle worker. What I’m ‘sposed to do wit’ her?”

  He frowned and stared at Shara’s hair. He turned her around in the chair a few times slowly, looked at her face, fluffed her hair, and then frowned again. He talked to himself under his breath. “Well if I . . . no because that’ll make the . . . maybe if I . . . no that won’t work either . . .” He squinted. “Your hair is just so . . . so dusty.” He scrunched his nose like he smelled something bad.