Serendipitous Love 1: A Crazy Little Thing Called Love by Christina C Jones

Author:Christina C Jones [Jones, Christina C]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: United States, Romance, African American, Women's Fiction, Literature & Fiction
Amazon: B00NPOSKX2
Published: 2014-09-18T04:00:00+00:00

Sunday morning, I woke up to the smell of cinnamon.

Instead of bacon and eggs, Simone had risen early enough that there were fresh muffins in a basket on the counter when I went into the kitchen looking for her. From the number of freshly washed dishes drying on the rack, and the heat still radiating from the oven, I guessed that she’d gone to the store for ingredients and made them herself.

Through the window, I could see her sitting on the end of the dock, legs hanging off the edge as she watched the sailboats go by. Yesterday's storms were long gone, and had brought along a gorgeous day. I used the French press to brew myself a cup of coffee, then grabbed one of the muffins and headed outside to take a seat beside her. Neither of us spoke for a while as I finished my light breakfast, then offered her a sip of the coffee.

“No thank you,” she said, her voice strangely quiet as she kept her eyes focused on the water. It was then I noticed that her eyes were rimmed in red, as if she’d spent a good amount of time crying. I put down my cup and looped an arm around her waist, edging closer to her until our bodies were touching.

“What’s wrong, Simone?”

She glanced down, and I saw she had her cell phone clutched in her hands. She pressed a button to turn on the screen, then held it up as a video began to play of a pretty little golden-skinned girl, maybe two years old, running around in a big back yard. I grinned as she picked up a ball and threw it, confused when it landed behind her instead of going forward. It reminded me of Zahra as a baby. The little girl started crying about the ball, then ran up to whoever was holding the camera and started ranting. Mostly, it was gibberish, but every once in a while it was punctuated by a very clear “ball”. A man’s voice came through, telling the little girl to stop fussing and say hi to the camera.

“Say hi, Auntie Monie. Can you say that Asia? Say hi Auntie Monie!”

The little girl simply grinned, covering her mouth with her hands as she shook her head. After a few more failed attempts to get her to speak, the man was finally successful in getting her to wave at the camera, and then the video ended.

Simone tucked the phone back into her lap, and she was quiet for another moment before she turned to me with a sad smile. “That’s my goddaughter, Asia. Her dad sent that to me this morning, since I haven’t been down to see her in a while. You remember my friend I mentioned, India? That’s her little girl.”

“That’s sweet,” I said, confused about why that video would make her cry?

Simone shook her head, wiping away fresh tears as they sprang to her eyes. “Her eyes. And those high cheekbones, and that big mess of hair… all of that is from India.

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