Love Becomes Her (15 page)

W
hen Barbara and Elizabeth arrived at the brownstone, the crew was just breaking for lunch. The men were in various states of relaxation as they walked inside.

“Excuse me,” Barbara said to one of the men sitting on a huge can of plaster, eating a sandwich. “Is the foreman around?”

He lifted his hard hat back up on his head to better see them. He resembled a buffed Don Johnson, the actor, right down to the sparkling blue eyes and devilish grin. “He’s working on the top floor. Said something about it being a rush.”

“Thanks,” Barbara said, and took Elizabeth’s arm. “Girl, are they all this fine?”

“Honey, we don’t need to open the spa for men, we could just let these guys keep working here forever.”

They giggled and headed up the stairs. There were at least twenty men on the crew, ranging in age from early twenties to late forties, all fine, fit and delicious.
There should be some kind of law against having this many gorgeous men of every nationality in one location. They had to force themselves not to stare as the men bent, lifted, heaved and hoed.

“Lawdhavemercy,” Barbara murmured.

“Must be like firemen,” Elizabeth whispered as they reached the top floor. “You ever notice how every fireman is fine? Makes you almost want to set your house on fire just so they could run through there.”

Barbara burst out laughing. “Ellie, you need to stop. I never knew you had your eye on other men.”

“I may be married but I’m not dead or blind.”

“I hear that.” She lowered her voice. “There’s your Mr. Fixit.” She angled her chin in Ron’s direction. He was up on a ladder, refinishing the molding in the front room. “I’ll just make myself scarce. Go do your thing.”

Elizabeth tugged in a breath at Barbara’s encouraging smile. She walked toward Ron.

“Hey,” she said, stepping up alongside the ladder.

He looked down and a smile of pure delight lit up his face. “Hey, yourself. This is a surprise.” He came down, jumping off the last two steps. “How are you?” He wiped his hands on his dusty jeans.

“I’m good.” She looked around, amazed at how much had been accomplished. “The place looks great.”

He nodded. “We should be finished up here by the end of the week. We put in a new bathroom, rewired, stripped the floors and all the woodwork and replas
tered the walls. All that’s left to do now is stain all the wood, shellac the floors and paint. As soon as everything is dry you can move in.” He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Have any particular color you want in the rooms?”

“I haven’t really thought about it, but I guess I should at the rate you’re going.”

“Wanna take a walk-through, see what we’ve done? Then maybe the color scheme will come to you.”

“Sure.”

Barbara watched them walk off and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her friend look so lighthearted and happy. There was actually a sparkle in her eyes. How could they have been so close for so long and she not notice that Elizabeth was not really happy?

She supposed the same could be said of her. You simply get comfortable in a lifestyle and accept it. Like Ellie said, you convince yourself that you’re happy simply because the bills are paid and the lights are on. But there is so much more to happiness than material things. Happiness starts from inside and works its way out. It’s like a light that gets turned on in the dark, and like Ellie, the light shines in your eyes.

She’d known happiness with Marvin. She’d found happiness again with Mike, although a different kind. With Marvin, it was a satisfying kind of love. The kind of love you have for the man who makes you
feel secure and protected. He was her second and only lover until Michael.

Where Marvin was conservative and very conventional, Michael was just the opposite. It would have never occurred to Marvin to perform oral sex, or make love in the shower or on the living-room floor. And she’d accepted that. She’d certainly never discussed her sex life with her girlfriends, even though they didn’t seem to have a problem sharing theirs, especially Ann Marie.

Whether she and Michael worked things out or not, there was one thing she would always be grateful to him for: bringing her out of the dark and opening her up to her own sexuality and accepting it, embracing it without being ashamed of her desires or fantasies.

She smiled to herself. She liked sex—a lot. And she intended to have more of it. If she could catch the eye of someone as young as Michael Townsend, then the sky was the limit.

“What are you grinning about?”

Barbara blinked back into the present to see Elizabeth and Ron standing in front of her. Her face grew hot, as if they could read her thoughts.

“Oh, uh, just real pleased with how things are going.”

“Good. We’re working as fast as we can,” Ron said.

“When do you think you’ll be done?”

“Well, like I was saying to Ellie, we’ll be finished
up here by the end of the week. The rest of the house will take about a month and we should be done.”

“A month! Wow. That means we should be ready to open by July.”

“The biggest job will be shoring up the foundation to accommodate the steam room and Jacuzzi. But I don’t see it as being a problem.” He checked his watch. “I better get back to work. I don’t want the guys to think the boss is loafing.” He grinned then turned to Elizabeth. “So, Sunday afternoon?”

Elizabeth nodded. “About two.”

“I’ll meet you out front.” He stuck out his hand to Barbara. “Good to see you again.”

She shook his hand. “You, too.”

Ron walked away and started giving directions to the two men on his team.

“Sunday?” Barbara quizzed in a pseudo whisper.

Elizabeth giggled. “Yes, we’re going to have brunch.”

They headed back downstairs and out.

“Brunch is definitely a safe bet. Dinner lends itself to other things.”

“Yes, and I want to take it slow. I don’t want to rush into anything.”

“He seems really nice and the way he looks at you…”

Elizabeth blushed. “It sure feels good, girl.”

“I know what you mean.”

When Barbara returned home, the first thing she did was check her messages. Still not a word from Michael. Her head was hurting a bit so she took two of the prescribed pills that the doctor had given her and decided to take a little nap.

When she awoke she was surprised to see that it was dark. She glanced at the bedside clock. She’d been asleep for nearly five hours. Stretching, she pulled herself out of bed, still fully clothed. That was the one drawback from those pain pills—they packed a real punch.

She went into the living room and turned on the television. Yawning loudly, she flipped through the channels, finally settling on the news. Her blood ran cold as she turned up the volume.

The newscaster was talking about a young woman who looked to be no more than twenty-five who had just left court in California to file a paternity suit against NBA forward Michael Townsend, the father or her two-year-old son Michael Jr. She claimed that he’d fathered the child when he lived in California and hadn’t paid her child support in nearly a year.

Barbara felt ill. The camera zoomed in on the woman’s face. She was stunning, long chestnut-brown hair, wide, expressive eyes and a body that she must work on 24/7.

Barbara instinctively pulled her sweatshirt down over her stomach and sat up a bit straighter.

They’d been college sweethearts, the report went on to say, and had lived together for several years. Mr. Townsend could not be reached for comment.

Barbara’s stomach roiled. She flipped the channel and at the top of every broadcast was the story of NBA star Michael Townsend and the paternity suit.

Suddenly she jumped up from the couch, ran into the bathroom and threw up.

Finally pulling herself together, she returned to the living room and turned off the television. What a fool she’d been. She been so blinded by the fact that a young man would have an interest in her, she’d thrown caution to the wind and Michael had made a fool of her. She’d never asked him the questions she should have asked, like: Do you have any baby mama drama that I need to know about.

She pulled in a deep breath to calm the fluttering in her stomach. Well, good riddance, she thought. He can be someone else’s problem as far as she was concerned.

Aimlessly she puttered around her apartment in a futile attempt to keep her mind off of Michael, to no avail. She was hurt, plain and simple. She’d been deceived and she didn’t deserve that. She deserved an explanation and she was going to get one.

She went into the bedroom and dialed his cell phone. Her intention was to leave a nasty no-
nonsense message, but was almost at a loss for words when he actually answered.

“Before you say a word, Barbara, the baby is not mine.”

“He has your name,” she tossed out.

“And that’s proof? Do you think I’m the kind of man that would shirk my responsibilities? I thought you knew me better than that.”

“That’s funny. I was thinking that I didn’t know you at all.”

“Please don’t say that.” He tone was plaintive. “Lacy and I have been down this road before. And now that I’m back playing ball she wants to cash in. It’s as simple as that.”

“There’s nothing simple about it, Michael. She’s filed a suit against you…in court.”

“And the DNA tests will prove that I’m not his father.”

“But she claims you stopped paying child support for the last year. The child is two. What about the first year?”

He breathed heavily into the phone. “When she told me she was pregnant I was suspicious then, but I went along with it. When she had the baby, I’d relocated to Miami when I got traded. I sent money. But when I went to see them about a year ago, she was with another guy, some bum she’d been seeing all along…even while we were together.”

“So what?” She was becoming more pissed off. He wasn’t making sense.

“The baby looks just like him. The two of them are in it together. Understand? Why should he take a dime out of his pocket when they can get it from me?”

Barbara took in the information. “So you’re saying that the little boy is his and they’re trying to get money from you?”

“Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

“What if he isn’t, Michael? What then?”

He was silent a moment. “If he is, which he isn’t, I’ll do the right thing by him, even if that means taking him from Lacy and raising him myself.”

“How would you even manage something like that? You said yourself that you are on the road six to eight months out of the year. You’re going to drag a little baby all over the country?”

“Not if I had a wife.”

She actually heard her brain screech to a halt. “A wife?”

“Yes, a wife. You, Barbara. With or without the baby I want to marry you.”

Whose life had she mistakenly stepped into? What the hell was he talking about? Marriage? To her? What?

“Michael…”

“Don’t say anything now. Think about it. I’m leaving in the morning. My coach is going to arrange for the DNA test. We’ll talk. I love you, no matter
what you may think of me…and my childish ways,” he added without rancor. “Think about it. I’ll call you in a few days.”

Barbara held the phone in her hand so long the dial tone buzzed in her ear.

Dreamlike, she hung up the phone. She looked around the room to make sure it was hers. Yes, everything looked familiar, but at the moment nothing else about her life resembled anything she could put her finger on.

W
hen Stephanie returned from her meeting with Desiree, Dawne and Raquel, she was feeling really good, her brief encounter with Conrad all but forgotten. The twins had some innovative ideas about the menu and how it would serve as a major appeal to the spa. And Raquel came up with some design ideas that would definitely set the tone and ambience that they were looking for.

She’d taken pages of notes and planned to spend the evening outlining the press release and begin designing the promo kit that she wanted to have available for the media and potential clientele. One of her approaches would be to connect with major corporations, most of which were headed by men. She was eager to get started. This would be her first major project that was not under the umbrella of H. L. Ruben.

She flicked on the lights in her apartment, changed into jeans and a T-shirt then settled down to work while the ideas were fresh and vibrant in her head.
They would definitely need a Web site, she thought as she began transcribing her notes. She knew some great Web designers and would make some calls within the next few weeks. Another thing she would need for the kits and the Web site were professional photographs of the house. Unfortunately those would have to wait until the construction was completed, and she definitely wanted them to include the shots of the decor that Raquel envisioned.

She’d been at it for a couple of hours when the phone intruded on her concentration. She muttered a curse under her breath, wishing that she’d remembered to turn the ringer off.

Reluctantly she got up from the desk and answered.

“Hello?”

“May I speak with Stephanie Moore?”

Oh, damn, a telemarketer. “Who’s calling?”

“This is Marilyn Hendricks, Conrad’s wife.”

The room spun for a second. “Who?” she sputtered.

“Conrad’s wife. I take it you’re Stephanie, the woman who’s been screwing my husband.”

“Look, you have the wrong number.”

“I don’t think so. I got it from Conrad.”

“What?”

“He gave it to me. He claims that he’s been trying to end the relationship and you won’t leave him alone.”

“I won’t leave
him
alone! Are you crazy? Who is this?”

“I’m going to fight for my husband and my family no matter what it takes or how long. And you will get what you deserve for trying to destroy my family.”

Click.

What the hell… More angry than bewildered, she hung up the phone. Conrad was stark raving mad and now she had to deal with his nutty wife. No telling what he’d told her and why. That was the real question: Why?

She turned and looked back at the phone as if it might reveal the answer to her question. She shook her head then went back to work. There were much more important things to worry about besides Conrad and…Marilyn. Gee, what next?

“How did the meeting go?” Ann Marie asked when Raquel came in.

Raquel hung up her jacket and walked into the living room where her mother was sitting, reading a book.

“Everything went really well. Stephanie is such a dynamic woman. She has some great ideas.” She came and sat opposite her mother on the love seat.

Ann Marie marked her page and put the book down. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”

Raquel sat up a bit straighter. “Yes.”

“I know you don’t think much of me as a mother…and neither do I.” She smiled sadly. “Since
you came back, I’ve been beating me brain trying to understand why it’s been so ’ard to…”

“Love me?”

Ann Marie swallowed and looked away. “When I was a little girl growing up in Jamaica, we didn’t ’ave much, ya know. Me mom she work for three families cooking, cleaning and watching other people’s young ones. Not much time for me.”

“Mom, you don’t have to explain.”

Ann Marie looked at her daughter. “Yeah, I do. I need to say some t’ings out loud. Most of the time I was left alone. Had to take care of myself for as long as I remember. It was a way of life, ya know. Mama would come home late at night too tired to be bothered wit’ me. I learned to cook me own meals, wash clothes. Mama said only way me gon’ know how to make it in the world is to do it on me own, stand on me own two feet. When I got some size on me and started lookin’ more like a woman…” Her voice cracked. “Mama said since me be lookin’ like a woman, I need to start ac’in’ like one. She bring a man ’ome from the town said I be his woman from then on. She say can’t be two women in she house.” She sniffed hard. “I was only sixteen…a woman.” She laughed a sad, bitter laugh. “Lost three babies wit ’im ’fore you come.”

Raquel’s soulful brown eyes widened. Her mouth opened but no words would come.

“Your pop…he was older than me, a beautiful man. But he didn’t know how to love no one but ’imself. Beautiful womanizer, Terrance Bishop.” She looked at her daughter. “He spit ya out for sure.”

Raquel bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“Took everyt’ing from me—me youth, virginity, hope and whatever love left in my heart. You come, I had not’ing to give, not’ing but the hard lessons I learned.” She pressed her fist to her chest. “But he couldn’t take me freedom. So I ran and been running since, running from anyt’ing gon’ tie me down…including you.”

Slowly, Raquel rose. “Thank you for telling me.” Her eyes filled with water. She straightened her shoulders. “I’ll leave. I’ll find a hotel until I can get a place.” She turned, stumbled then bent over and sobbed.

Ann Marie was behind her. She hesitated, her arms seemed unable to move. She willed them. And then her arms wrapped around her daughter, held her tight of their own accord. She absorbed the sobs, the pain, the years of loneliness and detachment. The dam finally broke and tears of release flowed from Ann Marie’s eyes. Like the waters of baptism they cleansed her, renewed her spirit, healed her tattered heart.

Raquel turned into her embrace and held on. “We’ll be all right now, Mama.”

“I know. I know,” Ann Marie whispered, and she believed it.

After a long silence, Rachel finally spoke. “I never really understood why you were so distant,” Raquel said, sitting next to Ann Marie on the couch. She flexed her toes as she sat cross-legged.

Ann Marie poured a glass of wine and offered one to her daughter.

“Now I do, at least a little bit.” She took the wineglass and sipped. “Can you tell me something about my dad? You’ve never spoken about him.”

Ann Marie drew in a breath then exhaled slowly. “He was an officer on the island, well respected and a real charmer.” She smiled at the memory. “He could charm you right out of your brand-new shoes. And so handsome when he smiled it would take your breath away.”

“Why couldn’t he make you happy?”

Ann Marie was thoughtful for a moment. “Terrance was much too absorbed to think about anyone else’s happiness. It wasn’t that he was unkind, he was…not there, only in body.” Flashes of their unbridled lovemaking ran through her head. Terrance taught her everything she knew about sex. He taught her how to understand her body and give unimaginable pleasure to a man. But he never gave of himself, the one thing she desperately needed. So she took his lessons and mastered them. And when the time was
right and Raquel was old enough to travel, she sought her freedom.

At first she was a doting mother. All Raquel had to do was squeak and Ann Marie was at her side. But as time passed and Raquel grew up, turned from plump innocent baby to enchanting pubescent girl, to a stunning woman, the spitting image of her father, Ann Marie’s devotion waned with every passing year. By the time Raquel was ten, Ann Marie only did what was required: food, shelter, education. The more Raquel tried to cling, the more Ann Marie pushed her away until they were no more than two bodies sharing the same house and nothing more.

Raquel learned to iron her own clothes, cook, clean and check her own homework. She let herself in after school, prepared dinner and was sure to be out of the way by the time her mother got home from work. For the most part they rarely saw each other. On her eighteenth birthday she moved into her own apartment and married Earl right out of college. Ann Marie breathed a sigh of relief.

She wasn’t quite certain when things began to change: her friends telling her not to choose a man over her child, seeing Raquel the morning she was crying in the kitchen, when she told her how Earl had betrayed her, or when Raquel grabbed her hand while they sat in the clinic waiting for Raquel’s name to be called or when she discovered how talented Raquel
was or maybe it was all those things rolled into one, a giant boulder that was finally able to break through the years of barricades she’d erected around her heart.

But things had changed, as much as she’d tried to fight it, tried to pretend that Raquel’s plight was more of an annoyance than something she should deal with.

“Come.” Ann Marie took Raquel’s hand. “Let me show you a picture of your dad.”

“You…you have a picture of him?”

Ann Marie nodded. She took Raquel into her bedroom and took down a box from the top shelf of the closet. She pulled out a tattered wallet and handed it to Raquel.

With shaky hands Raquel took the wallet and opened it. Her expression froze as she gazed upon the face so much like hers it was as if she looked in a mirror.

She ran her finger across Terrance’s face. “Do you know where he is?”

“Hmm, Terrance was a wanderer. He could be anywhere.”

“When was the last time you talked to him?”

Ann Marie swallowed. “Six months after you were born.”

“He doesn’t know where you are, where I am?”

“No.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that.” She stroked the picture again. “I always believed that he just didn’t care. But…if he didn’t know where I was…”
She turned to her mother, her eyes filled with hope. “Maybe if I can find him—”

Ann Marie sprung up from the side of the bed. “No.”

“What do you mean, no? Why not?”

“It was a lot of years ago, Raquel. Let it go. You know who he is. You’ve seen his picture. That’s enough.”

“Can I keep this?”

“Sure.” Ann Marie pulled herself together. “I’m hungry. Let’s fix something to eat.” She left the room, feeling Raquel’s steady gaze burn into her back.