Читать книгу Pieces of Dreams - Donna Hill, Donna Hill - Страница 8

As I stuck my key in the lock of my town house several hours later and stepped inside, my heart thumped, and that funny dipping feeling took hold of my stomach.

“Mommy!” Jamel squealed, and he came barreling toward me as if he’d been shot from a cannon, right up into my arms, just as he did every evening.

He wrapped his little legs around my waist and his arms around my neck. I smothered his face with kisses until he was giddy with laughter. My heart filled.

“Did you bring me sumfin?”

“Yes.” I kissed his cheek. “A lot of love.”

He giggled. “Where?”

“In my purse, of course.”

I dropped my purse on the hall table and carried him down the short foyer, heading in the direction of the scent of grilled salmon coming from the kitchen. Yeah, Ty was working his magic. The thought made me smile.

“Hi, Babe,” I said to his back while he continued to cut up fixings for a side salad.

I put Jamel down and eased up behind Taylor, sliding my arms around his waist, pressing my head against the expanse of his back. Mmm, he smelled good. If only I could wrap myself up in his essence.

“Hi, yourself.”

He turned from the sink, grabbed a dishtowel to dry his hands, and pulled me full against him. We fit, every dip, every curve. Perfect.

I raised my head, looking up at him while he lowered his, brushing soft lips teasingly across mine. A shudder spread through me, like water being skimmed with a stone, just as it had from the moment we met.

Taylor’s body was sculpted from dedicated hours at the gym. Muscles rippled beneath his shirt, and I never grew tired of running my hands over him. I remember when he first walked into the door of the travel agency—all I could think was, Oh, my God. He had this—this—walk that defied explanation, smooth like a long lazy panther with a touch or urban assuredness—casual but raw. His skin reminded me of warm brandy, and there was a faint shadow of a beard stroking his strong chin, with a dimple dead center that gave him a rugged but boyish look. And yet it wasn’t so much the good looks, the drop-dead body, arrogant swagger, or Isaac Hayes voice that caught and held me. It was the soft center, the quiet strength that hovered just beneath the surface that intoxicated me.

“We’re going to put Jamel to bed early so we can spend some time together,” he said against my mouth.

“I like the sound of that.”

“If I had my way, I’d like to spend that time right now,” he said from deep in his throat, and I felt the urgency of his need press against me. “You feel good to me, Max.”

His fingers played along the sensitive cord of my spine, sending shock waves down the length of my body. I felt weak with need, and then laced with guilt as images of Quinn bloomed before me like an erupting volcano.

Ty stepped back. “What is it, Maxine? Why is it when I touch you lately, you freeze up on me?”

I turned away to hide the truth. “That’s not true, and you know it.”

“Do I?” He tossed the dishtowel onto the countertop and turned away. “I’m going up to take a shower,” he said more to the room than to me, then stormed out.

I shut my eyes and leaned against the counter. Oh, God, I didn’t want to hurt him. Not Ty. I’d heard the pain in his voice. I did that. What was I doing? What was wrong with me? Maybe it was best that I didn’t go. Leave well enough alone. Just the thought of the trip was putting a strain on our relationship.

But then the conversation I’d had with the man at the agency filtered through my thoughts, and I understood that if I didn’t go and put these feelings to rest they would always haunt me and float like ghosts between me and Ty. What if?

The scent of Taylor suddenly wrapped around me—conjured from my memory, I thought—until I opened my eyes. For an instant it felt as if my heart suddenly stopped beating.

Taylor was standing in front of me holding my airline tickets in his hand.

A rush of heat ignited in the pit of my stomach and jettisoned to my head, which began to pound. Dear Lord, not like this.

“Seems Jamel was looking for a treat in your bag and found these.”

He held them toward me, like a prosecutor displaying to the jury the final piece of evidence to convict the defendant.

“Planning to go to New York without saying anything, Max?”

His voice, the low rumble of thunder before the stroke of lightning, vibrated in my chest. His dark eyes narrowed. What I saw in them wasn’t anger, but betrayal. I stood accused. Guilty as charged.

I reached out to him and he took an almost imperceptible step back. My insides quivered.

“Ty…I was going to tell you—”

“When, Maxine?”

“Tonight.”

He tossed his head back and barked out a one-note laugh. “Tonight. How convenient.” He took a step closer. “What’s in New York, Max? Huh?”

His eyes cinched making his expression hard.

“What could possibly be in New York that you wouldn’t tell me about until you were ready to walk out the door?”

“Ty, if you’ll just listen, I’ll explain,” I tossed back with a touch of bravado, trying to stall for a few seconds to clear my head.

“I’m listening, Maxine. So, tell me, what’s in New York?”

He leaned against the refrigerator and crossed his arms, the damning tickets dangling from his fingertips.

I began to pace. “Val—my friend from New York—”

“I know who Val is.”

I cleared my throat. “She called and told me that…Quinn’s wife, Nikita, was killed in a car accident. The…funeral is day after tomorrow.”

For an instant there was a flash of shock in his eyes mixed with compassion. His stiff expression momentarily relaxed. His gaze met mine.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Max, but what does that have to do with you?”

“We were…he’s Jamel’s…” I blew out a breath. I was making a real mess out of this. “I should be there, Ty. He was someone important to me…once. He’s had so many tragedies in his life, Ty,” I said as the pain welled inside me—with the memories of how he’d taken care of his sister Lacy when their mother walked out on them, and then losing Lacy in that horrid shoot-out—hoping I could find the words to make him understand. “I need to be there…as a friend.”

“You sure that’s all, Max—a friend?”

I planted my hands on my hips. “What are you trying to say?” I asked, guilt toughening my voice, while my insides shook.

“I’m not trying to say anything. I said it. If it’s just about you being a friend, then why all the cloak and dagger? Why the cold shoulder toward me?”

The catch in his voice was unmistakable, even as he stood in front of me challenging, demanding. Beneath the ironclad exterior, he cradled his hurt and feelings about breach of trust.

My throat tightened. “Ty, I—”

“It makes me think you’re hiding something, you know. Like maybe you still have feelings for him. That you couldn’t tell me because you feel guilty. Is that the real deal, Maxine? Because if it is, I want to know. Now.”

A jumble of emotions and perfect-for-the-circumstances answers volleyed for position. I know he claimed to want the truth, but I couldn’t believe that he really did. And how could I explain to him the maelstrom of confusion that was waging war inside me?

“Hey. You don’t even have to say anything. Your silence is answer enough.”

He handed me the tickets, walked out of the kitchen and through the front door, its dull thud a perfect epitaph to the end of my day.

Jamel walked into the kitchen, his thumb stuck in his mouth, eyes downcast. “Where Daddy go?”

I bent down and scooped him up, anchoring him on my hip. “Daddy just went for a walk,” I said, hoping it was true. I kissed his forehead.

“I’m hungry,” he mumbled over his thumb, resting his head on my shoulder.

I looked around, dinner all but forgotten, the remnants of the half-made salad still in the sink. The casserole dish filled with grilled salmon on its bed of yellow rice and zucchini sat on the kitchen counter. Signs of Taylor’s caring touch were everywhere—the sunshine-yellow walls he’d recently painted, the new cabinets he’d put in on his free weekends, the stereo system he’d replaced when mine hit its last note. Even Jamel, who was always bathed and cared for when I arrived home from work.

I held Jamel a bit tighter. Taylor was a good man, better than good. There was nothing too big or too small around the house for him to deal with, no problem too trivial for him to listen to. I never had to worry about where he was at night because he was always home, with me and Jamel.

“I want to make a life for us, Maxine,” he’d said several months after we’d met, even as my belly grew fuller with Quinn’s child.

“But, Ty, what about the baby? I know it’s going to be hard to—”

“I can make you happy, Maxine. You and the baby. I love you, and I’m going to love the child you’re carrying just like my own. It doesn’t matter as long as we’re together,” he’d said running his hand along my cheek. “Give me a chance, Max. Give us a chance.”

When I’d looked into his eyes, the depth of love and sincerity radiated from them and entered my soul. In that moment I decided to give in to my emotions, let Taylor enter my heart and allow his love to fill me. Stop fighting what seemed our destiny. And every day that he’d been in my life was a blessing. No woman could ask for more from a man. Taylor exceeded all of his promises to me and to Jamel.

Yet, here I stood—alone—unable to tell this very same man that there was nothing and no one more important to me than him. Not even Quinten Parker. And the why not is what chilled me.

“Mommy, you cryin’?”

I blinked, then looked at my son. “No, sweetie,” I said over a wobbly smile. “I just have something in my eye.”

“I’m still hungry.”

I sniffed. “Then let’s get you something to eat.”

After fixing Jamel’s dinner and then settling him down for bed, I spent the next few hours alternating between jumping up to look out the window at every sound, and checking the phone to make sure it was working.

Every noise made me think it was Taylor returning home.

He didn’t.

And I thought I would go out of my mind with worry. By the time two a.m. rolled around, I was ready to start calling hospitals. I envisioned the worst.

From the day we moved in together, we’d never spent a night apart. Until now. I wanted to kick myself. Why couldn’t I have simply told him what he needed to hear? Why did I let him walk out believing that there was any man more important to me than him?

I stretched out across the bed, right on top of the comforter, too exhausted to pull it back. Staring up at the ceiling, I knew the answer, and it terrified me.

At some point sleep snatched me, buffeting me around on clouds of confusion, indecision, and guilt.

In a fitful sleep, I kept coming back to a fork after a long walk down an empty road. One direction was filled with light, and sounds of laughter. In the other direction the path appeared to be filtered, as if I were seeing it through a thin mist, making it difficult for me to see anything except the figure of Quinn, who held his hand out to me. He promised me he’d love me always, for real this time. We could be a family. He needed his son.

I started to walk toward him. Then I heard Taylor’s voice. “Don’t go, Maxine. I need you, too. I love you. We are a family. Max!”

I looked toward Quinn, then Taylor.

“Max. Maxine.”

My eyes flew open. For a moment the room was out of focus. When it cleared, Taylor was standing above me. It was morning. I sat up.

“Ty. Baby. I was worried. I’m sorry.” I reached for him.

“I need to get ready for work.” His tone was flat, emotionless.

He turned away and walked toward the closet. I got out of bed and followed him.

“Ty.” I touched his back and felt him flinch beneath my fingertips as if my touch offended him. My stomach dipped and then settled, even as my heart raced with dread. “Where were you all night?”

“Around. Driving. Sitting. Thinking.”

The words, thrown at me like darts, pierced the first layer of my spirit.

He took out his navy blue suit, and a stark white shirt. He’s always looked good in that outfit, I thought abstractly, trying to grab hold of something, anything familiar, to settle the shifting beneath my feet and between Taylor and me.

“We need to talk, Ty.”

“Yeah. Just not now. I’m tired and I’m late.” He turned away, left the room, and slammed the bathroom door behind him.

For several moments I stared at the closed door, shut in my face, locking me out. Uncertainty and fear built steadily like a campfire within me, the flames fed by the winds of doubt.

Taylor never closed me out. Until now. Talking, sharing, had been the cornerstone of our relationship, of who we were, what kept it healthy, growing, alive. Without that cornerstone, it was only a matter of time before our foundation began to crumble, and everything with it.

Since the beginning, I instinctively knew I could count on Taylor, his ability to anchor me, weather the storm—the assurance that no matter what we were in this relationship together, kept me grounded, secure. Now I faced a Taylor I did not know. This new reality danced without rhythm in my head.

Disoriented from our confrontation and groggy from a lack of a decent night’s sleep, I made my way down the hall to wake Jamel for school.

“Where’s Daddy?” Jamel mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

My chest heaved. “He’s getting dressed for work, Sweetie. Come on. You need to get ready for school.”

“I’m hungry.”

“What else is new?” I teased, relishing the one thing that was familiar. It seemed as if my life was spinning out of sync, and the only thing holding me together was Jamel.

While I was preparing Jamel’s bowl of Frosted Flakes, Taylor walked into the kitchen.

“Daddy!”

Jamel sprinted from his seat at the table and jumped into Taylor’s arms.

“Hey, Buddy.” He squeezed Jamel to him.

“You was gone,” Jamel whined.

“I had some things to do, Buddy.”

“I’m eating Frosted Flakes.”

Taylor grinned, carried Jamel back to the table and deposited him in his seat.

“Make sure you eat it all so you can get big.”

“Like you.” He grinned and shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

Watching the two of them, so easy and comfortable with each other, my soul filled with so many emotions. How could I jeopardize this? Taylor, sensing my stare, looked up.

Sunlight streamed in through the kitchen window, resting, it seemed, on his wide shoulders. I saw his eyes then, looking dark and distant, the shadows of a sleepless night ringing them like poorly applied mascara.

My heart thumped in my chest.

“I’m late,” was all he said to me before turning away and walking toward the front door.

“Taylor, wait.”

I followed him, but it seemed he wasn’t going to stop, as if he’d already dismissed me.

He put his hand on the door, stopped, and then turned toward me. For a moment he looked down, as if the words he was ready to speak had fallen and he was searching for them, needing to gather them up to make sense.

When he looked up at me, I knew I’d never felt such terror, such bottomless fear, that whatever was to come next would change our relationship forever.

He blew out a breath. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking Max, all night. I never deluded myself into believing that I could ever replace Quinn, be Quinn in your life, in your heart, in your body. What I believe I brought to this relationship was something real, not that make-believe bull that you had happening with him.

“I love you, and Jamel—just like he’s my own son. But he’s not, and the first time that reality scared me was last night. It shook me, Max, that you’d take yourself up to New York, work out whatever you think you need to work out with this man, and then he’d come for his son. The boy I raised.”

I saw his throat working up and down, as if he were trying to keep that knot of hurt from planting itself permanently there.

My eyes were burning, and I swore that my heart was being squeezed out of my chest. I wanted to run to him, wrap him in my arms, and make the past forty-eight hours disappear, make everything go back to the way it was. But I couldn’t—just as Taylor told me when we’d first met.

“So.” He blew out a long breath, raised his chin for a moment, and gazed up at the ceiling as if he could no longer bear to look at me. “I decided that maybe it’s best if you do go to New York, Max. Settle this thing once and for all, so that you can move on with your life.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “If there’s one thing I’ve never done, it’s stand in the of what you wanted, and apparently going to New York to be with Quinn is it. No matter what that decision will do to us. You think about it, Maxine. Really think about it. I don’t want you to go. I can’t be any clearer than that. But the ball is in your court.”

By the time I finally shook off the impact of his declaration, I heard his car pull out of the driveway.

He was gone. Out the door. And maybe out of my life.

Too many thoughts circled around me, like hungry buzzards waiting to pick apart an unlucky victim. Me.

What had I done? Better yet, what was I going to do? I was hard pressed to believe that Taylor would actually walk out on what we had simply because I elected to go to New York to be supportive of a friend during a difficult time.

But what if he did? Suppose he wasn’t simply challenging me—what then?

No. He wouldn’t do that. Not Taylor. We’d talk tonight when he came home. Really talk. I’d go to New York, come back, and everything would be as it was.

You’re fooling yourself a voice whispered. Things will never be as they were.

“So, what are you going to do”? Marva asked me later that day after I’d told her about Taylor’s ultimatum.

“I’m going. Just like I planned,” I answered, trying to sound resolute. I propped my hip on the edge of her desk and crossed my arms.

“And risk what you have with Taylor? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Taylor will understand when he calms down. And if he doesn’t, maybe what we have isn’t all it’s cracked up to be if he can’t trust me.”

Marva let out a snide laugh. “If I remember correctly, it was you who said you didn’t trust yourself.”

I rolled my eyes. “That was yesterday. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“But you’re thinking clearly now?” She flashed me “that look” again.

“I can handle this, Marva. I need to handle this. And Ty’s just gonna have to give me the chance to do it.”

“Whatever you say, Maxine. And whatever it is you think you have to prove, I hope it’s worth it.”

I got up from her desk, crossed the room with plenty of attitude, and plopped down in my chair. “If I remember correctly, you were the one who said I needed to go.”

“Listen, Max—bottom line, no one can tell you anything one way or the other. Only you know what’s in your heart and mind, and what you’re up against. Yes, you do need to settle this thing between you and Quinn. Yes, he does need to be told about his son. The question becomes, are you willing to deal with the consequences?”

I bit down on my lip—a bad habit I have when I’m wrestling with a problem. I tossed around what Marva said, and replayed Taylor’s words of that morning. At some point I was going to have to come to terms with my feelings for Quinn, say all the things I never had the chance to say. And if not now, then when? But when I did, when I opened the door to the past, unlocked the secrets and spoke the words, nothing would be the same for any of us ever again.

I would be changed, and Quinn, Taylor, and Jamel. The fabric of our lives would become unraveled, and it would take everything that all of us had—what we shared—to put it together again. But what would the pattern of our lives really be? And could Taylor and I withstand the changes that my decision would evoke?

Taylor. I hadn’t heard from him all day. My calls to his office had gone unreturned. “He’s in conference,” was the first response. “He’s out of the office,” was next. “I left your messages,” was said with just a taste of, “You’re getting on my last nerve now,” underlying the receptionist’s voice. I had a good mind to call his partner CJ to find out where Taylor was, and what he was so involved in that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, return my calls. I thought better of it. No point in getting CJ involved in our drama—although he probably knew, anyway.

Ty and CJ were thicker than the mob. The tie between them unbreakable. I knew CJ wasn’t too crazy about me in the beginning. He felt I was bringing nothing but trouble and heartache into Taylor’s life and had no problem about telling me so.

“Don’t mess with my man’s head,” he’d warned me as he carried a carton of Ty’s CDs into the town house the day Ty moved in with me. “He really digs you, Maxine. Ty’s a good brother, and I don’t want to see him hurt. Not by you. Not by anybody.”

His jaw clenched and I saw the muscles in his arms flex. His nut-brown face darkened ominously.

“I wouldn’t hurt Taylor. I wouldn’t,” I swore, staring into his unflinching eyes. And at that moment, I knew CJ would have no problem making me a vague memory if I messed with his boy.

“Hey, listen, it’s not about what you wouldn’t do, Maxine. You got a lot of baggage comin’ into this thing. Ty’s not just takin’ you on—but—”

He looked down at my rounded belly with an accusing look in his eyes. And all of a sudden I felt ashamed, almost guilty, and I wasn’t sure why. There was nothing for me to be ashamed of. This baby, my baby, was conceived in love. Not some one-night stand.

“…you know what I mean,” he was saying.

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean, Calvin,” I snapped, ready for a throw-down. “But the bottom line is, this is between me and Taylor. You can have whatever opinion you want about me. That’s your business. But when it’s all said and done, it’s about us loving each other and making a life together. Now, you may not like me,” I said, getting on a serious roll. “I can’t worry about that. I’m not in this to win a popularity contest with you as the judge. The only person whose opinion matters, one way or the other, is Taylor. Period, End of story.”

We stared each other down for a minute, and then all of a sudden his expression softened and he tossed his head back and laughed.

“You know something, Maxine Sherman—you’re all right.”

He strolled into the house and the topic never came up again. Over the ensuing months, CJ and I actually became friends, close. We respected each other’s boundaries and accepted the fact that we both loved Taylor.

It was CJ who took me to the hospital when I went into labor, and held my hand until Taylor arrived on a red-eye flight from Chicago. He stood as Jamel’s godfather, and I bent his ear on many an occasion planning surprise parties for Ty’s birthdays, or crazy anniversary ideas I’d come up with. And it was me he came to all love-struck and tongue-tied when he wanted to ask his longtime girlfriend, Tracy, to marry him.

“What if she says no?” he lamented.

“CJ, what if she says yes, fool? You know she will. That’s what’s scaring you.”

He grinned and kissed me on the cheek. “That’s why I dig you, Max. You don’t pull any punches. So—you gonna come with me to pick out a ring, or what?”

Sure, I could call CJ, ask him what was going on with Taylor, but I didn’t think I could stand to hear what I knew would be accusation and disappointment in his voice.

Besides, if Taylor didn’t want to talk to me, if he didn’t want to listen and try to understand, then fine. And CJ certainly didn’t need to know about that—although he probably did, already.

But in the meantime, I still had to get the ball rolling. I was going to New York, to prove something to myself, to Taylor, and to Quinn, once and for all. And, however the pieces fell, I would deal with the consequences.

I made arrangements with Marva to take care of Jamel while I was gone, especially since I had no idea what Taylor’s plans were. I didn’t want to think about it. I left work early, picked up Jamel from day care and took him to Marva’s house. The possibility of Taylor walking out on us was a concept I didn’t want to imagine. Besides, if I gave into Taylor’s real wish for me not to go to New York, what would be next? What else would he not want me to do, and hold the threat of leaving me over my head if I went against him?

That idea took root, giving me the last ounce of determination I needed to do what must be done. Yeah, he had a lot of nerve.

But even as I put my key in the door of the house that Ty and I shared, all the bravado in the world couldn’t have prepared me for what I found.