Richmond-Banks Brothers 1: A Hopeless Place (BWWM Interracial Romance) (15 page)

BENNETT

By morning, I awoke feeling refreshed, energized, alive. Amara woke me that night to tell me I had a fever, but I was quite sure she was just being paranoid. She worried about me too much, and I sort of loved and hated it all at the same time.

“How you feeling?” Amara asked as I walked out to the kitchen. The smell of pancakes, eggs, and bacon filled every square inch of our tiny cabin. “I’m making you a traditional camping breakfast.”

“Good,” I said. “I feel like a million bucks.”

She smiled, clutching her free hand to her chest as her other hand flipped the eggs. “Thank God, Bennett.”

The bags under her eyes indicated she’d been up all night watching me.

“Are you up for a little hike today?” she asked. “There’s a small trail. It’s not too hilly. It’s really beautiful.”

“Absolutely,” I said, taking a seat at the kitchen table and staring out the picture window that faced the lake. The still waters hadn’t a single ripple, as if the day had not yet touched it.

We hiked Amara’s trail as she rambled on about family memories and funny stories. There was the time she caught a bull frog and slipped it into her sister’s bed. There was the time her mom caught a catfish and got stung. Then she reminisced about catching fireflies and listening to the crickets at night.

After a small hike, we headed back to the house where an early spring thunderstorm rolled in.

“I don’t want to go back,” Amara said as she curled up in my arms on the sofa. Rain trickled down the tin roof above us, providing a soundtrack of tinny pings.

“We can stay as long as you want,” I said, rubbing her arm and leaning down to kiss her soft cheek. “We’ll come back anytime you want, Amara.”

“I don’t want to go back to Halverford,” she sighed, tracing my collarbone with her finger.

“We just bought a house,” I said. “We can’t leave yet. Besides, we won’t be there much anyway with all our traveling this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, perking up. She jump up off the couch and ran into the bedroom, returning with a notebook and pen. “I brought this so we could make a list of everywhere we want to go.”

She flipped the notebook to a blank page and immediately started writing. “Paris. Tokyo. London. Hawaii…”

“New York,” I added. “Sydney. Rome…”

We rattled off anywhere and everywhere, filling two pages front and back with cities and countries and landmarks we wanted to see. Maybe it was unrealistic, but in that moment, it was real to us. We were doing it, and no one could stop us.

Two more days in the cabin and we decided to head back to reality. After loading the car and heading down the highway, Amara’s phone started to ding the second we hit the interstate and her cell service returned.

“Whoa,” she said, pulling her phone out. “I have a bunch of text messages and voicemails.”

She pressed a couple buttons and put her voicemail on speakerphone.

“Amara, it’s your mother,” the first message said. “Bennett’s family is looking for him. Do they know you guys got married? I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Amara,” the second message said. “It’s your mother again. I’m beginning to worry. You guys aren’t home. Dad and I just drove by your house. I don’t know where you are, but Bennett’s family thinks we’re lying when we say we don’t know. I hope you don’t mind, but we told them it was okay to call your cell.”

“Uh, yes,” the third message began to play. “This is Sterling Richmond-Banks, Bennett’s father. I’m looking for my son. I need to speak to him, and it is extremely urgent.”

Amara tossed the phone in my lap. “You need to call your dad.”

I scrunched my face, recalling how just a few nights about my mother had refused to talk to me. Now she was having my father do her dirty work.

“He said it’s urgent, Bennett,” Amara insisted.

“I’m not calling them,” I said, leaning over to switch the radio on and ending the conversation. She’d talked me into it once, but I refused to let her guilt me into it again. I knew my parents better than she did. I knew not to ever take them at face value.

Within a couple hours we were back at home. I carried in our bags and Amara crashed on the sofa with a book and a blanket.

“I’m still in vacation mode,” she claimed.

I plopped down next to her, placing her cold feet in my lap. “That’s too bad, because we have a lot to do.”

“Like what?”

“Like fixing up this house,” I said. “We need to sand the floors and the woodwork, then stain everything. We need to update some plumbing, The walls need fresh paint. Bushes need trimmed outside.”

“And you know how to do all of this?” Her eyes glinted with amusement and her lips curled into a smile.

“No,” I said. “I’ll hire people.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said with a laugh, settling back into her book.

Soon a week had passed. And then another. And another. We were settling into our own little routine, as if we’d been married for decades, as if our souls had met before and knew exactly how to get back on track.

The first of May brought warm weather, leaf raking, and hedge trimming, the kinds of things I never thought I’d ever be doing, but was extremely grateful to be doing them. For the first time in my life, I, Bennett Richmond-Banks, was just a normal guy living a normal life with his beautiful wife in a quaint little house.

“Ugh,” Amara said one Saturday morning, popping up out of bed. “I don’t feel good.”

She scampered down the hall, practically tripping over her own feet. The gushing of water from the loud faucet told me she was splashing cold water on her face.

“Amara?” I called out. “You okay?”

She slammed the bathroom door, but it wasn’t enough to mask the sound of her hurling into the toilet.

I rapped on the door. “You okay, Ev?”

“I don’t know,” she said, opening the door. She leaned over into the sink and began brushing her teeth, scooping handfuls of cool water into her mouth to finish. “I think I might have the flu.”

“Come back to bed,” I said, reaching out for her arm. “I’ll get you some toast. It’s my turn to take care of you, for once.”

She climbed back under a mountain of covers in our bed as I retrieved some 7-Up and buttered toast, just as Eleanor used to get for me when I was feeling nauseated.

“You’re not … pregnant, are you?” I asked, coming back in the room. We had been going at it like bunnies lately, but we were newlyweds, and she was on the pill now.

“No,” she said, staring off. “There’s no way.”

I opened my mouth as I quickly recalled our first time, unsheathed and caught up in the moment. But I’d pulled out. She was right. Plus she knew her body better than anyone. And she was a nurse.

“Can you bring me my phone?” she asked as she nibbled on her toast.

AMARA

Bennett retrieved my phone and set it gently on the nightstand. The second he left the room, I sent a frenzied text to Cherish.

BRING ME A PREGNANCY TEST ASAP. DON’T ASK ANY QUESTIONS. JUST DO IT.

The next hour was the longest hour of my life, and the sound of Cherish’ car pulling into the driveway was sweet, sweet music to my ears.

“What brings you by?” I heard Bennett ask as he answered the door.

“Amara told me she wasn’t feeling well,” Cherish said. “I just wanted to stop by and keep her company.”

“Ah, I see,” he said. “She’s back in the bedroom.”

Cherish popped into our room and shut the door, digging into her purse and pulling out a plastic pharmacy bag and throwing it in my lap. Her lips curled into a knowing smile, but she said nothing.

“Say it,” I said with an eye roll. “Get it out of your system.”

“You’re totally preggers,” she said with a stifled giggle, as if she couldn’t help but find my situation hilarious.

“Of course you think that,” I said. “I just want to know for sure. I don’t think I am though. There’s no way…”

Cherish shrugged. “You’re married to an amazing man who loves the shit out of you. You have a house. You’re pretty much set for life. A baby would be the icing on the cake.”

“Yeah, but it would sort of put a kink in our travel plans,” I said trying to stifle a smile to hide the fact that a baby with Bennett would’ve been a much welcomed kink.

“Whatever’s meant to be will be,” Cherish said. “That’s life, my dear. It happens to all of us.”

I tossed the covers off my legs and placed my bare feet on the cool wood floor. I grabbed the box and tucked it under my shirt, hightailing it to the bathroom. Grabbing a Dixie cup from next to the faucet, I did my thing and then quietly unwrapped the test. After a three second dip, it was time to wait.

Knock, knock.

“Yes?” I called out, startled.

“You’ve been in there a while. You okay?” Bennett called from the other side of the door. “You’re not getting sick again, are you?”

“No, no. I’m fine.”

I glanced up at the clock. It was time. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and looked down at the plastic wand lying on the edge of the sink. A bright blue plus sign stared back at me, dark as night and clear as day.

“
How
?” I whispered. I was on the pill. My hand flew to my lower belly as my nerves bathed in shock.

***

“I’m going to run some errands,” I said to Bennett as I slipped my shoes on the next morning. My appointment with the obstetrician was in half an hour.

“Going anywhere fun?” he called out as he flipped mindlessly through some T.V. stations.

“Post office, grocery store,” I said. “You’re better off here.”

I still hadn’t told him about the test. After seeing the results, I sucked it up and told him I felt better and that it must’ve been a food thing.

As I lay on the exam table that morning, a friendly, young nurse came in and dimmed the lights. “Lay back, sweetie.”

I lifted my shirt and she squirted warm jelly on my lower abdomen before pressing the wand into my flesh. I concentrated on the tiny screen of the ultrasound monitor until she honed in on a little flicker inside a tiny black sac.

“There it is,” she said with a smile, pointing to the screen. “There’s your baby.”

She clicked around, measuring the tiny thing from top to bottom and then printing a couple pictures.

“Looks like you’re nine weeks,” she said. That puts your due date at December fifteenth.”

I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry. The idea of a surprise pregnancy and the reality of it were too different things.

“Go ahead and get cleaned up,” the nurse said with her hand on the door. “The doctor will be in here soon to answer your questions.”

As she left, a warm feeling began to flood over me. There was a life growing inside me, a product of me and Bennett’s love. It could only be a good thing. I shuddered as I thought about Ingrid getting wind of it. She was already convinced I was nothing but a gold digger, and what better way to secure a family fortune than to produce an heir?

I left the clinic a little dizzy, a little dazed, and headed for the grocery store. I walked the aisles slowly and took my time. I had to figure out how to tell Bennett that our lives were about to change in a major way.

“Need help?” Bennett asked as I walked in the door with an armful of grocery bags an hour later.

“This is everything,” I said, setting down at least ten bags. I began unpacking them on the kitchen counter as Bennett slipped his arms around my waist.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You seem different.”

I flipped around to face him. “I have to tell you something.”

“You’re pregnant?” Bennett said with a laugh. “I know.”

“What?!” I playfully batted his chest. “How?”

“You left the test in the trash in the bathroom. I saw it when I emptied it yesterday,” he said. “I wondered when you were going to say something.”

I winced. “Are you mad?”

“Mad?” he said, pursing his lips and studying my face.

“This wasn’t planned. I want you to know this.”

After an excruciatingly long pause, he said, “I’m actually kind of excited.” A slow smile crept across his lips. “It’s not part of our plan, but it happened. I already kind of love the little thing.”

I threw my arms around him and breathed a sigh of relief, his comforting scent filling my lungs. All that worrying had been for nothing.

“Well in that case,” I said, leaning over and grabbing my purse off the counter. “This is what I did today.”

I handed him a sonogram.

“Wow,” he said, studying it closely. He pulled it closer to his face and then further away, studying the grainy, black and white picture. He then turned around and walked toward the refrigerator, grabbed a magnet, and hung the photo on the freezer door.

“December fifteenth,” I said.

“Do your parents know?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “Just Cherish.”

“Maybe we should tell them?”

My stomach twisted in knots at the thought of how they were going to react. My mom would have some tender, but choice words, and my dad would give me that look. My sister would probably say something completely offensive or inappropriate. I loved my family to death, but sometimes they just didn’t get me.

“We’ll do it together,” Bennett said, rubbing my back. “Obviously.”

I nodded, a million worries flooding my mind and prohibiting me from speaking.

“We’re married now,” he said. “You’re an adult. They’ll be fine.”

“Everything’s just happening so fast,” I whimpered, my voice ripe with anxiety.

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” he asked. “About us? Our future?”

“No, no, never,” I assured him, stroking his cheek and staring straight into his hazel eyes. “I just feel like at any moment the rug is going to be pulled out from under us. This wonderful life, this great thing we have going… It all feels too good to be true.”

Bennett stood in silence, likely agreeing with me and not having a damn thing to say to ease my anxiety.

I grabbed my phone and dialed my parents. With a quiver in my voice, I delivered our news. “Mom. I’m pregnant.”

I yanked the phone from my ear as my mom went on and on, shouting excitedly on the other end. They were joyful shouts, but they were loud.

“Mom,” I said loudly into the receiver. “Calm. Down.”

“Why don’t you two come over for supper tonight?” she suggested. “I’m making a pot roast. We can celebrate together.”

A smile took over my face as my mother happily accepted our news. “We’ll be there.”

***

“What the hell is that black Jag doing parked in front of your parents’ house?” Bennett asked when we pulled up later that night.

“Good question,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. We both knew the answer. “We don’t have to go in. Something’s up. I can feel it.”

“We’re all adults here,” Bennett said, clearing his throat and unbuckling his seatbelt. “We’re going in. And if anything goes south, we’ll just leave. You don’t need this stress. The baby doesn’t need the stress. That’s all that matters.”

He leaned over and squeezed my hand.

“Thank you,” I said, looking him in the eyes.

“We’re in this together,” he replied.

We climbed out of the car with much reluctance and walked hand in hand toward the front door, letting ourselves in. The heady, savory scent of my mother’s pot roast filled the air and gave me slight comfort until I rounded the corner only to see Ingrid seated at my family’s dinner table.

“Why, hello,” Ingrid said with the nicest, warmest smile I’d ever seen on her face. Her ice blue eyes crinkled into a glare as she smiled. It was as if she were really saying, “I’m onto you.” She stood up and walked over to me, wrapping me into a big hug. “How are you feeling, honey?”

“F-fine,” I stammered.

Ingrid slowly released me from her hug and walked over to Bennett, placing her hand across his cheek. “My sweet son. How I’ve missed you.”

“Interesting seeing you here, Mother,” Bennett said. “What brings you by?”

“Gloria told us the good news,” Sterling interjected. His words were kind but his tone was reserved.

I shot my mom the dirtiest look I could possibly muster before taking a seat at the far end of the table, away from Bennett’s parents. My mother knew the circumstances of our relationship and how Bennett escaped his family home to be with me. I couldn’t believe she could just sit there, all happy, pretending things weren’t awkward for us.

Sterling and Ingrid looked grossly out of place sitting at my parents’ scratched kitchen table in our outdated oak-and-wallpaper kitchen. It was a far cry from the stylish and modern Richmond-Banks kitchen that was fit for a celebrity chef. My mother, in her faded knit cardigan, sat next to Ingrid, who donned a stylish Armani blazer and fitted black slacks. My mother’s ebony hair was filled with streaks of gray while Ingrid’s icy blonde bob hadn’t a hair out of place. Our families were night and day, and it was truly a miracle that Bennett and I ended up together.

“I suppose we can all eat now,” my mother announced. “Guests, first.”

Ingrid and Sterling stood up from the table and fixed their plates in front of the crock pot on the kitchen counter. We sat back in awkward silence as our parents discussed all things Halverford: the nice spring we were having, renovations happening at the First Presbyterian Church, and the joys of being first-time grandparents.

“Amara. Bennett,” Ingrid said as soon as dinner was finished and plates were cleared. “I have an announcement of my own.”

Bennett rolled his eyes, and I braced myself for Ingrid’s strategic little antic. The entire table stared as Ingrid, the Ice Queen, was losing her composure. A glimmer of a tear formed in the corner of her eye, which quickly disappeared after she blinked it away. She parted her lips as she searched for the right words to say.

“I have breast cancer,” she said. “Stage four.”

I glanced over at Bennett, who was staring at the empty table top before him, stoic and emotionless. Sterling reached his hand over to comfort his wife, who was clearly yearning for some kind of response from her son.

“This is why I’ve been trying to contact you,” she said. After a long pause, she said, “Bennett?”

Bennett wouldn’t look at her.

“Bennett,” Sterling said with a boom in his voice. “Your mother is speaking to you.”

Bennett looked up, face blank. “That’s too bad for you.”

My mother clutched at the gold cross necklace that dangled from her neck and my father shifted uncomfortably in his chair, averting his eyes.

Ingrid appeared genuinely hurt, though I was convinced it was all part of her act.

“You know I’m getting really tired, Ev,” Bennett said, standing up and taking my hand. “I think it’s time we head back home. Gloria, thanks for dinner. It was delicious.”

Bennett tugged on my hand, urging me to follow, and we rushed outside to the car.

“What was that?” I asked the second we were in my car.

“Just drive,” he said, seething. “Start the fucking car and drive.”

I started the car and peeled out of the driveway, obeying his command. He’d never spoken like that before, not around me, anyway.

“It’s just like her to take our happy news and make it all about her,” he said through clenched teeth. “She can’t stand not being the center of attention. She can’t stand not having control over a situation.”

I stayed quiet as we blew through the quiet streets of Halverford, the sun setting over the horizon. He needed to vent.

“She doesn’t have fucking cancer,” he said incredulously. “She’s got a black heart. That’s her problem. Amara. She’s done things—unspeakable things. There’s so much you don’t know about her. Things I haven’t told you.”