Читать книгу Heart to Heart - Kayla Perrin - Страница 11

Chapter 2

Deanna saw Kwame waving enthusiastically as she approached the doors to his school. The same school she had attended as a child.

It was weird being here after all these years, like a definite step into the past. The building looked so much smaller than Deanna had remembered. Funny how when you became an adult your perspective changed.

It was two days after Kwame had asked if she would come talk to his class, and he had called her over the lunch hour to say that his teacher would like to meet her to discuss the idea. Deanna had promised that she would come at the end of the school day to speak with the teacher, which she guessed would be a meeting to determine how best to incorporate her visit with whatever studies the children were doing.

Kwame was beaming now as she approached, clearly thrilled at the fact that his idea of her talking to his class was one step closer to coming to fruition.

Deanna couldn’t help but smile in return. A child’s energy and happiness were infectious, and giving just a little bit of her time was clearly worth it. Just seeing how happy it made her nephew was already repaying her in leaps and bounds.

Kwame opened the door as she reached it, saying, “Auntie

Deanna! I already talked to the principal about it, and he thinks it’s a great idea. And he wants to meet you, too. Actually, he says he knows you already but that he wants to see you again.”

Kwame was speaking in a rush, and Deanna quietly shushed him. “Whoa, you’ll have to slow down. Your principal wants to meet me?”

“Uh-huh. He said he knows you.”

“He knows me?” Deanna gave Kwame a skeptical look. “Or he knows who I am?” She would bet that it was the latter. Given that she had grown up in Cleveland, most people here knew that she was the Deanna Hart who had made a name for herself in the music industry.

“He knows you,” Kwame stressed. He took her hand. “Come this way. He’s in the office.”

“I’m sure he means that he knows who I am,” Deanna said as Kwame led her toward the office doors.

Kwame stopped mid-stride and faced her. “Uh-uh. He said he was excited about seeing you again.”

“You mean he knows me knows me?”

“Yeah. He said he knew you before you got famous.”

Deanna frowned slightly, now curious. Had she known any principals?

Before she even thought to ask the man’s name, Kwame was opening the office doors and leading her inside. And that’s when Deanna stopped dead in her tracks.

Eric Bell. Good Lord in heaven, was it really him?

His lips curled in a smile—the same room-brightening smile she had seen many times years ago—and Deanna was absolutely certain. Just over six feet tall, with that flawless golden-brown complexion—yep, it was definitely Eric Bell.

Her former boyfriend’s brother.

“Eric?” Deanna said cautiously, though she knew it was him. He was more muscular than he had been before—most notably in his chest and his shoulders. And unlike years ago, he now had a neatly trimmed goatee framing his mouth. A decidedly sexier look, Deanna couldn’t help thinking.

“Deanna.” He stepped toward her, his dimples evident as he continued to grin. His smile always did exude warmth. It had brought her comfort in the aftermath of Marvin’s betrayal. “You’re back in town.”

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Though where she had expected him to be, she wasn’t sure. “I can’t believe you’re the principal at this school.”

“Is it really that surprising?” Eric asked. “I’d just started teaching when I knew you, and I used to say that I planned to become a principal one day.”

She nodded, remembering now. But the truth was, she had forgotten about Eric’s ambition. She had been so absorbed in her own drama at the time that his career goals hadn’t been at the forefront of her mind. He had been her friend—the brother of the boyfriend who had done her wrong—and a person who had given her many pep talks and tried to help her get over Marvin. He had been a great support for her during her problems with Marvin and her sister Natalie—the sort of guy who could uplift anyone’s spirits, and Deanna had known that he would be the kind of teacher kids would love.

“A teacher, yes,” Deanna said. “I guess I didn’t think you’d be a principal already. I mean, I thought a person would have to be a lot older to be a principal. I turned thirty this year, so that’s got to make you, what, thirty-three, thirty-four?”

“Thirty-four in a few weeks. Good memory.”

“But isn’t that young to be a principal?” Deanna asked.

“Let’s just say I dedicated myself to the pursuit of my career,” Eric explained. “I was promoted to principal a year ago.”

“Ah,” Deanna said, nodding. That was something she could understand. Putting yourself completely into pursuing your passion—she had done the same.

She found herself glancing at his ring finger and noting that it was bare. Had he, like herself, lost out on relationship opportunities because he was so determined to succeed in his chosen field?

Why was she even wondering if he was married?

It was just that she wanted to know more about him. He had been her friend, and when she’d left town, she had dropped him like a hot potato. In part because her breakup with Marvin was such a hard experience for her at the time, and she hadn’t wanted to relive those memories by staying in touch with Eric.

“I told you he knew you,” Kwame said.

Deanna glanced down at her nephew. “Yes, you did.”

“I think an old friend deserves a hug,” Eric said.

When Deanna returned her gaze to him, she saw that he had opened his arms and was closing the distance between them. She walked into his embrace, noting as he enveloped her in a warm hug that he felt and smelled incredible.

Easing back, Eric said, “Why don’t we go to my office?”

“Sure.”

Both she and Eric turned at the sound of someone clearing their throat. Behind the counter in the office sat a biracial woman with long, tightly curled hair held back with a red headband.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Eric said. “Deanna, this is Michelle, the school secretary. Michelle, this is Deanna Hart.”

“I know.” Michelle beamed. “I’m a fan.”

“Is that right?” Smiling, Deanna approached her and extended her hand. Michelle pumped it heartily. “Nice to meet you,” Deanna added.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Michelle told her.

Deanna glanced around the large office space. “This looks almost the same as it did twenty years ago,” she commented. “Obviously it’s had a paint job or two, and some of the furnishings are different, but other than that it hasn’t really changed.”

“The building’s been updated in terms of repairs and fresh paint, but the idea was to keep it looking as much the way it did when it opened in 1955.”

“And it does,” Deanna said. “This is like a blast from the past.”

Eric gestured to the open door about ten feet away. “My office is this way.”

“A trip to the principal’s office,” Deanna said. “Should I be as concerned as the day I got in trouble for fighting Jenny Lawrence on the playground?”

Eric chuckled. “Not at all.”

“You went to the principal’s office when you were a kid?” Kwame asked, his tone saying he was surprised.

“A time or two,” Deanna admitted sheepishly.

Kwame glanced at the wall clock. “Oh, I’ve got to head to my basketball practice.”

“Sure thing,” Deanna said. “I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

Kwame bounded out of the office—did the kid ever walk?—and Deanna followed Eric into the office, smiling softly as she saw his name on the gold plate on the door.

PRINCIPAL E. BELL.

“Congrats on becoming principal,” she told him, gazing around at the plaques on the wall. They highlighted his various educational accomplishments. “I’m very impressed.”

“Thanks,” Eric said. He closed the door. “Have a seat.”

Deanna took a seat in front of his desk. Eric rounded the desk and sank into his plush leather chair. Folding his hands in front of him, he merely stared at her for a few seconds. “It really is great to see you. I always wondered how you were doing.”

“It’s great to see you, too, Eric.”

“I read about your aunt’s death. I’m very sorry.”

A wave of sadness washed over Deanna. “Thanks. It’s been hard, but my aunt dying brought me and my sisters back to Cleveland. Which got us to work out our differences.”

Eric nodded. “The proverbial silver lining. I know your aunt is looking down on you all with approval.”

“Yes,” Deanna agreed, a smile touching her lips. “I believe that, too.”

“I sent you an email once,” Eric said, changing the subject. “But you didn’t respond.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. To your website. I guess you get too many messages from fans to notice that one was from me. Either that or you didn’t want to respond,” he added, his tone lighthearted.

Deanna grimaced. “I’m sorry. Of course I would have responded had I seen your email. I didn’t even check my messages—I had a couple of assistants do that for me. They shared some of the fan mail with me, but not all. They even sent out my responses. Sometimes they would flag certain messages and not respond if they thought they sounded suspicious. For example, if they thought someone was trying to use a feigned past association as a way to get to me, they especially wouldn’t let me see the message.”

Eric nodded. “Guess that’s what happens when you become rich and famous.”

“It all sounds so superficial, doesn’t it?” Deanna commented. She had never been totally comfortable with letting others read and respond to her fan mail, but she’d been advised that it was the best way. “It was just easier to have someone else deal with the fan mail while I concentrated on the music.”

“Of course. I wasn’t passing judgment. Just letting you know that I tried to reach out to you.”

“I’m the same girl you knew years ago,” Deanna said. It was important that he know that. Yes, she had left and gone to Hollywood, but she had been running as much as she had been chasing a dream. Now that the dream had crashed and burned, she didn’t even know if she wanted it anymore.

“I don’t doubt that,” Eric said. “It’s why you’re here right now. The fact that you’re willing to talk to the students about what you do shows you’re the type of person who wants to give back.”

“It’s no big deal,” Deanna said, waving a dismissive hand.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Eric said. “You talking to the students will be very inspiring. Your influence will be stronger than you know.”

Deanna shrugged. “I certainly hope so.”

“It will be, trust me. I’ve discussed your visit with Mrs. Mortensen, Kwame’s teacher. And she said that any time you want to come in will be great.”

“Oh,” Deanna said. “I thought I was going to have a meeting with her this afternoon.”

“Actually, I’m the one who wanted to speak to you.”

“You?” Deanna asked. “To say hi?” she added with a soft chuckle.

“No. I wanted to speak to you because I have another idea in mind, as well. Something else for you to consider.”

Deanna looked at Eric with a question in her eyes. “What’s that?”

“Our eighth-grade drama club is going to be doing something different this year—a musical production. Annie. Peter Guy, our music teacher, was supposed to be directing the production. But he was recently in a bad car wreck and will be off for months. Sanjay Singh, one of our history teachers, stepped up to the plate to say he could take over directing.”

“A history teacher?” Deanna questioned.

“He said he used to perform in community theater,” Eric said with a shrug. “And he’s helped Peter out with some plays in the past. Given the circumstances, I didn’t have much choice. Yes, there’s a new music teacher here in Peter’s place, and I’m sure she could do an adequate job directing the musical production. But when Mrs. Mortensen talked to me about Kwame’s suggestion, the idea came to me that I could ask you if you would mind helping out. Lend your musical expertise.”

“You want me to work on your school’s musical production?”

“In the capacity of a music coordinator, which really could be whatever you want it to be. The main thing would be to have you working with the children, which I hope might inspire some of them to come out of their shells.”

“But I don’t understand. If they’re in a drama club, aren’t they already outgoing?” All of the actor types Deanna knew in Hollywood were anything but shy.

“Not exactly,” Eric said. “Some, yes. The drama club obviously attracts kids who are extroverts. But I’ve personally challenged some kids to join the drama club as a way to help boost their self-esteem. They’re doing it because they respect me, and because I promised the group a trip to New York for an actual Broadway musical at the end of the year. They are capable of more than they believe they are, and they need a challenge—something they can conquer—that will help build up their self-image. I figured having someone like you here working with them might inspire them.”

“That’s a really great idea,” Deanna said, not in the least surprised that Eric had become a principal at such a young age. He had a knack for figuring out ways to inspire people.

“Thanks. What do you think? The drama club meets twice a week after school. Wednesdays and Thursdays. If you’re interested, you could come tomorrow.”

“’I’d be happy to help out,” Deanna said.

“Now, it would be a volunteer position—”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Deanna interjected. “I don’t need to be paid to help out with a school production.” She still had a healthy bank account, and giving back was one of the things that she wanted to do in a more meaningful way. It was one thing to donate cash to causes but another thing altogether to actually work at something where you made a difference. She had seen how much joy Natalie had gotten from working with the Compassion For Families charity, how gratifying that had been for her.

“Yeah?” Eric asked. “It’ll be a good couple months of work. Once a week in the beginning, but likely a few times a week as the production date gets near.”

“Which is perfectly fine with me.” She paused. “Though I have to be honest. There are a few things going on in my life that might demand my time unexpectedly. I anticipate being available for every rehearsal, but something might come up. As long as that won’t be a problem…”

“It’s a volunteer position,” Eric said, and he gave her a look as if to say he couldn’t expect her to give up her life for the cause. “That’s not a problem…unless you realize you can’t make it to most of the rehearsals.”

“I’m in town for the foreseeable future.” She was certainly in no rush to get back to Hollywood.

“Great. When you come tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to Mr. Singh.”

“I look forward to it.” A beat passed, then Deanna pushed her chair back and said, “All right. Tomorrow, then.”

“Actually,” Eric began. “What are you doing right now?”

“Now?” Deanna repeated. “I was just going to head back home. Though since I’m here, I figured I’d watch Kwame at his basketball practice, then drop him home.”

“So, no plans for the evening?” Eric pressed on.

“Nothing in particular, no.”

“Then perhaps I can persuade you to join me for dinner after you’ve dropped Kwame off?” Eric smiled, a warm and charming smile that brightened his whole demeanor. “I was going to head to a restaurant for dinner tonight—something I’d much prefer to do with company.”

“You’re inviting me out to dinner?” Deanna asked in a playful tone.

“Why not? We can catch up on old times.”

“Nearly nine years,” Deanna commented wistfully. “A lot has happened for both of us since then.”

“That’s for sure, superstar.”

“Oh, stop,” Deanna told him.

“Seriously, though. I want to hear about everything. How you made your career happen. Everything.”

And then there was something about the way Eric’s gaze held hers that made her think that “everything” included hearing about her love life.

Or was it just Deanna who was interested in his? Because when she’d looked around his office, she hadn’t seen pictures of him and a special female. Which surprised her, given that Eric was certainly an eligible bachelor. He was gorgeous, amiable, inspiring and easy to talk to. And he didn’t have a phone full of female contacts he could call to join him for dinner? How come a woman hadn’t already swept him off his feet?

“So, what do you say?” Eric asked. “Are you going to leave me to eat dinner by myself?”

It had been eight years since she had seen Eric, almost nine. And she had always enjoyed their conversations. His friendship was one she’d cherished, one she shouldn’t have let slide when she left town.

“Dinner with an old friend?” Deanna began. “How can I say no to that?”

* * *

Dinner with an old friend.

Eric felt an odd sensation in his stomach at her words. He had been an old friend…and yet he felt the term didn’t adequately sum up the nature of their past relationship.

All those times he had held Deanna as she had cried. Held her and treasured the feeling of her in his arms.

Held her and hoped…

Marvin, Marvin. Deanna had been so obsessed with his lying, cheating brother that she hadn’t been able to see a life beyond him. Eric had tried, as gently as he could, to tell her that she could do a heck of a lot better than Marvin, if only she would open her eyes.

Well, she’d opened them all right. Opened them and run clear to California.

He had hoped that she would—

Eric promptly cut the thought off. Why was he letting himself get distracted by thoughts of the past? The only thing that mattered right now was that he was truly happy to see Deanna. He had missed her all of these years. She’d left and cut her ties to Marvin, as well as to him. He’d been able to know she was alive and relatively how she had been doing by following her career in the media. There hadn’t been news of her dating this actor or that musician, which he’d always been happy about, though he suspected that she’d simply kept her love life out of the news.

His eyes took in her features now. Nine years had aged her face in only the most positive ways. She looked more mature, more womanly. And even more striking than she had when he had last seen her in person. Some stars were always touched up when they were in photos and on television to the point where they almost looked like different people without makeup. But Deanna’s caramel skin was blemish-free, and with only minimal makeup on, she was a knockout. Her beautiful smile exposed a set of perfect, white teeth, and her long lashes framed wide, expressive eyes. The kind of eyes that seemed to reach right through the screen and touch a person’s soul. It had been no surprise to Eric that she had done well in the music industry. She had the look of a star.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Deanna asked, glancing away uncomfortably.

“Your hair,” Eric quickly said, clearing his throat. “It’s shorter than it used to be.”

Deanna fingered the short hair at her nape. “You like it?”

“Yes, it’s very nice,” he replied.

She offered him a small smile. “So, as for dinner, did you have a particular place in mind?”

“Yeah, I did. Unless there’s a particular place you want to go.”

“I wouldn’t mind going to A Taste of Soul,” Deanna told him.

“Ah, Michael Jones’s restaurant,” Eric said.

“Yeah. The food is great. Have you been?”

“A few times.”

“And you like it?”

“It’s a great restaurant. Let’s go.”

“Good. Here’s some news. Michael Jones and my sister are dating.”

“Really?” Eric asked, surprised. “Natalie?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if you heard on the news about her divorce from Vance Cooper, the one who plays for the NBA?”

Eric nodded. “Definitely. I was sorry to hear about it. So many of these men out there get a good woman and don’t know what to do with her.”

Deanna nodded, looking at him with a curious expression in her eyes. Eric wondered what she was thinking, but she didn’t say.

“Anyway,” Deanna continued, “I’ve been there once, and the food is fantastic. Whether my sister was dating Michael or not, I’d go there again.”

“Of course. The food is great, the atmosphere is lively. What’s not to like?”

Finally, Deanna stood. Eric did as well. “I’ll drop Kwame home, then get ready. When should I meet you there? Is six o’clock good?”

“Sure. That’s great.”

Eric spoke casually, but he was all too aware of the familiar flush spreading over his body. The one he’d had every time he had held her close in the past, and when he’d watched her on TV.

He had waited nearly nine years for this moment, this opportunity to see Deanna without the shadow of his brother hanging over their heads.

And in just over two hours, he was going to make the most of it.