Down to My Soul (Soul Series Book 2)(2)

His voice drops off and I hear him swallow.

“Even when we make mistakes and we try to hide, his love has a way of finding us.”

“Can people love like that?” I look up at him, past his strong chin and nose that was broken once in a fight before he met the Lord, and straight in the eyes. “I mean, can people love you no matter what? In the deep calls out to deep kinda way?”

Daddy tilts his head, his eyes squinching at the corners, a little bit of a smile on his face.

“Well, we’re made in His image, so I guess we can, baby girl.”

“That’s how you love me?” The thought makes me smile and my heart feels all big and warm behind the tight stretch of my leotard.

“Absolutely.” He tugs one of my braids.

“And Mama? That’s how you love Mama?”

It’s quiet behind me for a few seconds ‘til Daddy clears his throat.

“There’s all kinds of love. I have a real special kind for your mama.”

“But it’s not the deep calls out to deep kind?” My lip starts trembling for no reason, and I think I might cry if he doesn’t love my mama that way. “You don’t love her like that?”

“’Course I do,” he finally says, so low I almost don’t hear him.

I look up and over my shoulder, unsure for the first time in my life that he’s telling me the truth, but he looks like Daddy. I lean into his neck and sniff. Smells like Daddy, and Daddy always tells the truth.

“It’s like that song they taught us in Sunday school,” I tell him.

“What song? How’s it go?” His voice isn’t low anymore. It teases me the way I’m used to. “Why don’t you sing it for me?”

I know he knows. He just always wants me to sing.

“Your love goes past the heart,” I sing, barely remembering the melody, but knowing the words for sure. “Your love goes to the deepest part. Your love, Your love, Your love, Your love. Your love goes all the way down to my soul.”

“Yep. That’s it.” He brushes my bangs back. “You’ll be in the choir soon, baby girl, and—”

“Excuse me, Pastor,” a soft voice comes from the door. Daddy’s secretary, Carla, stands there, holding a stack of folders. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need, um . . . your signature.”

“Of course.” Daddy slides back from the desk and sets me on my feet, patting my shoulders. “We got some work to do. You go on now, baby girl. Come get me when dinner’s done.”

“But, Daddy, I—”

“You heard your father, Kai.” Carla walks over to the desk, plopping the folders into a pile. “You hurry on now. We got work to do.”

I look up and over the skirt, just short of her knees, past the blonde hair around her shoulders to meet her blue eyes. She helps Daddy. He says he doesn’t know what he’d do without her. Indispensable. That’s what he calls her, so I should like anyone who helps my daddy like that

But I don’t. I don’t like Carla at all.

“Kai, come on now,” Mama says from the hall. “Let your daddy work. Come help me snap these peas.”

I walk slowly past Carla, looking her up and down like I’ve seen Aunt Ruthie do a few times. I don’t think Aunt Ruthie likes Carla either.

“You staying for dinner, Carla?” Mama asks, the smile on her face she always has for everyone. Even Carla.

“Um, I’m not sure.” Carla’s eyes go to Daddy. He shakes his head, a small frown on his face. “Maybe next time.”

Mama frowns a little, too, asking Daddy questions with just her eyes the way I’ve seen her do when she doesn’t want me to know what they’re talking about.

“Well, there’s plenty and you’re always welcome.” Mama takes my hand once I make it into the hall outside the study. I don’t want to leave, so I look for something else that will give me a few more minutes before Daddy goes back to work.

“Mama, Daddy thinks I’m gonna be a preacher,” I say loud enough for him to hear, grinning up at her and then over at Daddy, but I’ve already lost his attention. He and Carla are working, their heads close together over the stack of papers she brought. Mama leans down to whisper in my ear.

“We know he’s wrong, though.” She pulls back, her dark, tilted eyes warm and smiling. Making me smile back. “We both know what you’re gonna be when you grow up, Kai Anne.”

“What am I gonna be, Mama?” I whisper, even though Daddy and Carla don’t seem to be paying us much mind.

She kisses my nose and pats my bottom, leading me toward the kitchen and the peas that need snapping.

“Baby, you’re gonna be a star.”





THAT WEARINESS DOING WHAT YOU LOVE kind of loses its novelty around the second week of eighteen-hour days. Dub, the choreographer, and I expend so much energy working on my opening act for the second leg of the tour, I barely have energy for the show each night. It’s just singing easy BGV parts for Luke’s set. When Luke performs his hit single, I join him onstage to simulate the lap dance from the video. It’s a show-stopper.

The whole plan is getting me lots of face time, lots of exposure. It’s a brilliant strategy, but it’s wearing me down. I can’t let on, though. I don’t want Mr. Malcolm to think I can’t pull this off. I can. I’ve waited too long for this. Nothing will get in my way. Certainly not my own body.