“But I want to go see Miss Celina and show her my picture.” DeShawn pouted and Ingrid was powerless to resist her son’s request. After all, she knew that she couldn’t keep her son hidden away in the house all day because she was embarrassed. “All right, I’ll take you after we eat breakfast, but only if you promise to let me see the drawing too,” she said as she squeezed his cheek.
“OK,” he said as he bounded back to his bed. Ingrid headed for the bathroom to wash away the tracks of her tears. As she crossed the hall to the bathroom, she glanced out the window and saw a limo parked in the driveway.
“What the. . .” she mumbled.
Jason woke up with a start as the sun beamed through the limo’s windshield. Glancing down at his watch, Jason saw that it was a little after eight. She should’ve been out here by now, he thought. Stretching his legs, Jason yawned and opened the door. The driver, who’d been asleep as well, woke up when he heard the door open.
“It’s all right, I got this,” Jason said as the driver scrambled to get out of the car.
Jason sprinted toward Ingrid’s front door and silently prayed that she was all right, then he knocked on the door.
A few seconds passed before a bleary eyed Christina opened the door. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Is Ingrid all right?” he asked. “I thought she would’ve left for work by now,”
“Why do you care? Looks like you had your hands full of Debony last night,” Christina snapped.
“Look, I know what you probably saw, but you can’t . . .”
Ingrid appeared behind Christina. “Debony kick you out of her bed already?”
Jason shook his head. “I was never in her bed. We need to talk and I’m not leaving until we do?”
Christina looked from Jason to Ingrid. “Christina,” Ingrid said, “I told DeShawn I was going to make pancakes.”
“You’d do better just to tell me you want me to leave because I’m not cooking,” she said as she walked away from the couple. Ingrid stepped out on the porch and folded her arms across her chest, wishing that the stubble on his face and the stray loc across his forehead didn’t heat her up like the fish grease at Soul To The Bone on Friday evenings. This was Jason. This was the man she loved. This was the man who broke her heart.
“Jason,” Ingrid said, finding her voice. “Why are you here?”
“I’ve been in your driveway all night because I want to explain what happened.”
“After you were on TV kissing Debony you rushed right over here? Oh, I feel so special,” she said sarcastically. “I don’t want to hear your tired explanation about why you were kissing her.”
“What you saw was a drunk singer hamming it up for the cameras. Last night, I was mad, I wanted to get you off my mind. . .”
Ingrid shook her head. “So you hopped in the sack with Debony -- again?”
“No, I didn’t,” he said. “I walked into that club and realized that I didn’t belong there. Those people wanted to see Jay Slade and that’s not who I am anymore. All I could think about was getting back here to you and DeShawn. I wanted both of you waiting for me back stage, not Debony and expensive liquor. I wanted you and my son to be there.”
Ingrid sucked her bottom lip and rolled her eyes. “You stormed out of here, pissed off because of my relationship with Louis. Can you get past that? Can you forget that I married him because you wouldn’t or couldn’t take responsibility for our son?”
“Wait a minute, you never told me that you were pregnant, Ingrid. You didn’t give me a choice in the matter. But I’m here now.”
“For how long? And what happens the next time a drunk singer kisses you for the cameras?”
Jason wanted to pull Ingrid into his arms and hold her against his chest. But he kept the distance between them and said, “I’m here for as long as you need me.”
“I don’t believe you. The road is going to call you again or some concert. Then what? You’re going to leave me and DeShawn alone, again.”
Unable to fight the urge to pull her into his arms, Jason closed the space between them and wrapped his arms around her waist. Ingrid placed her hands flat against his chest. “Ingrid, please, I want a chance to get to know my son and I want to be back in your good graces,” he said. And I want you to be back in my life.
Sighing, she fell into his embrace and leaned her head against his chest. “Jason, this is crazy,” she said as she pushed back from him.
“This entire situation is different, but we can make it work,” he said.
“I hope you’re right,” she said. “I’m about to cook breakfast, would you like to join us?”
“Thank you,” he said as he followed Ingrid inside. Though he was there to see his son, Jason was soon blinded by the gentle sway of Ingrid’s shapely hips underneath her knit pants. When she stopped in front of him, Jason wrapped his arms around her waist to stop the collision. Damn, she felt good in his arms.
“Will you get your hands off me,” she said quietly. But he felt her shiver and knew she’d experienced the same jolt of desire that he had. Still, he dropped his arms, forcing himself to remember that he wasn’t there to make love to her, right now.
“Sorry,” he mumbled as they entered the kitchen. DeShawn was sitting at the table with Christina sipping on orange juice.
“We have more company for breakfast,” Ingrid said with forced cheerfulness in her voice.
DeShawn looked up at Jason. “Who are you?”
Jason swallowed hard and smiled at him. “I’m Jason, your mom and I are old friends,” he said.
“Okay,” DeShawn said then turned to his mother. “May I have chocolate chips on my pancakes?”
“Sure,” she replied as she pulled the ingredients for the pancakes from the refrigerator. “You guys want chocolate chips too?”
“That’s too much for me,” Christina said. “But if you have some blueberries, I’d love that.”
“I’m not in the diner today,” Ingrid quipped. “No, special orders.”
“I’m fine with whatever you’re cooking,” Jason said as he tore his gaze from his son, who was drawing in his notebook. “What are you doing over there, little man?”
“Drawing,” the little boy replied without looking up.
Jason smiled, remembering how he used to love to draw. “Can I take a look?”
“No, not until Miss Celina sees it,” DeShawn replied in a serious tone. Jason threw his hands up.
“All right, little man,” he said. “I used to draw all the time when I was your age.”
DeShawn looked up at Jason. “For real? Are you an artist like Miss Celina?”
“I’m a singer,” he said. “Your mom doesn’t play my music?”
DeShawn shook his head. Jason wasn’t surprised that she didn’t play his music around DeShawn, he sang songs to make babies, not for babies. “What kind of music do you like?”
The little boy shrugged. “High School Musical,” he said.
Christina shook her head. “Please tell me we’re not going to have to listen to that again.”
Ingrid shook her head as she mixed the pancake batter. “Let’s save the music for after breakfast,” Ingrid said. “Chrissy, hand me my griddle.”
Before Christina could get up to retrieve the pan from the counter, Jason beat her to it. “Here you go. Do you want me to help?”
“As if you can cook. You’re so used to having everything handed to you,” she said.
“Come on, now,” Jason said. “I still know my way around the kitchen. I’m not that Hollywood.” He winked at Ingrid as he set the griddle on the stove and turned the heat on medium.
Ingrid handed him the pancake batter. “Knock yourself out,” she said as she reached for the chocolate chips and blueberries.
About a half an hour later, Jason and Ingrid were serving up turkey sausage links, blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes and scrambled eggs. Jason watched his son dig into the sweet cakes and smiled. He wished he’d had some
one to cook for him like this when he was DeShawn’s age.
“This is actually good,” Christina said as she bit into her food. “If you ever give up singing, maybe Ingrid can put you to work on the grill.”
“Funny,” Jason said as he handed Ingrid a plate of eggs and pancakes.
Ingrid smiled warmly at him when he took a seat next to DeShawn. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was warming to him having a role in his son’s life.
“Where is everybody?” a voice called from the front door.
Ingrid groaned as DeShawn ran into the living room, screaming, “Grandma!”
The last thing Ingrid needed this morning was for her mother to find Jason Campbell at her breakfast table. Part of her wanted to shove him out the back door, but how was she going to explain the limo in her driveway.
“Ingrid,” her mother called out. “Why is there a limo in your driveway?” Lois walked into her kitchen. “You win the lottery. . .Jason Campbell.”
“Mrs. Russell, how are you?” he asked timidly. There was no love lost between Lois and Jason. And the bad blood was evident when their eyes locked and Lois snarled under her breath.
“Thought you’d grown out of this place?” Lois looked over at her daughter. “And I’d hoped you’d gotten over your fixation on him. Didn’t you lose enough dealing with him?”
“Mother,” Ingrid said, flashing a look at her son. “This is not the time.”
Lois folded her arms across her chest. “Oh, this is the time. He left you in New York and you came back to town with that strange man and pregnant.”
Ingrid shook her head, then turned to Christina. “Take DeShawn upstairs.” Her friend nodded and ushered the little boy out of the kitchen. Ingrid turned to her mother. “I don’t need you coming in here with this. What’s done is done and there’s nothing that can change the past.”
“You dropped out of college to follow him around the country and when you two got to New York, he traded you in and you came back here with your tail between your legs, while he became a superstar.”
“Mrs. Russell, the things that happened. . .”
Lois threw her hand up in his face like a crossing guard telling traffic to stop. “I don’t think I was addressing you. Ingrid, I told you he was no good and you swore he’d prove me wrong. He didn’t.”
“I left Jason. He didn’t trade me in,” Ingrid exclaimed. “But that is all in the past and . . .”
“What about last night? He was all on television kissing that singer.” Lois looked at him pointedly. “And today, he’s sitting up here eating breakfast with you as if he didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong and Ingrid knows that was a misunderstanding last night,” Jason said, struggling to control his temper. He didn’t feel like a superstar as Lois Russell spoke to him, her eyes cutting though him like lasers. She still saw him as the same little boy from the wrong side of the tracks.
“Then my daughter is a fool because that kiss was no misunderstanding,” Lois snapped. “You let her walk away from you. You didn’t give a damn about her then or now.”
“I didn’t know Ingrid was leaving. Had I known that, she would’ve never left,” he exclaimed.
Ingrid looked at Jason with her mouth slightly agape. “What?” Lois said. “How were you going to stop her from leaving? From what I understand, you weren’t paying her any attention, anyway.”
“Mother, stop it,” Ingrid shouted. “Jason and I are not children. I don’t need your permission to have him in my house.”
“What would your dead husband say about you having him in the house he provided for you and his son?” Lois probed. “How would he feel about this?”
Ingrid closed her eyes tightly as her mother droned on about how she was being disrespectful to her dead husband’s memory by having Jason in her house.
“Mother, Jason is DeShawn’s father,” Ingrid exclaimed. Lois swooned and grabbed the edge of the table. “What? You can’t be serious. If that little boy is. . .Why would Louis marry you if you were carrying his child?”
Ingrid dropped her head. “Because he wanted to help me,” she said quietly. “We knew what would’ve happened had I shown up here pregnant and single.”
“I-I, this is unbelievable,” Lois stammered. “Why would that man take responsibility for his child and what kind of man allows that to happen?”
“I didn’t know until a few days ago,” Jason said. “And I’m here now to take care of my responsibilities.”
Lois sucked her teeth in a disgusted manner. “Is that supposed to mean something?”
Ingrid slammed her hands on the table, rattling the dishes. “Enough. I never wanted you to know about this, because I knew what your reaction would be.”
“Does DeShawn know?” Lois asked. “Have you been lying to that little boy all of his life? And for what? To protect him?” She pointed her thumb at him as if he were a bug on the wall.
“No, I did it because I had to protect myself and help Louis.”
Lois placed her hand over her mouth. “So it was true?”
“Does it matter? He was a good man who took care of me and your grandson.
Everything else is irrelevant,” Ingrid said heatedly.
Lois shook her head, “I just can’t believe this. You didn’t have to put on this elaborate ruse. You’re my daughter and I have always supported you.”
Ingrid stared at her mother in disbelief. “You and I both know that isn’t true.”
Jason rose to his feet, “I think you two need to talk without me being here,” he said.
“Go on and run, you’re good at that,” Lois hissed.
“Mother! Jason is going to be a part of our lives and you’re going to have to learn to deal with it. DeShawn is his son and he wants to get to know him. I can’t deny him that right any longer.”
“Fine,” Lois snapped. “I’ll leave you to this happy family dream you’ve cooked up. But mark my words, it won’t last.”
With that, she stormed out of the house and Jason crossed over to Ingrid, taking her in his arms. “She’s wrong,” he said. “This isn’t a farce and we’re going to last. This time it’s going to be forever.”
Ingrid looked up at him, wanting to believe that he was telling the truth, but she still had seeds of doubt planted in her mind. She let the moment pass without saying a word, she just clung to Jason in silence.
“Mommy,” DeShawn called out from the living room. “Where did Grandma go?”
Ingrid pushed back from Jason and walked into the living room. “She had something to do. Are you ready to go see Miss Celina?” she asked, forcing a smile.
“Yeah!” he exclaimed then dashed upstairs to get his notebook. Christina looked down at her friend from the top of the staircase.
“Any blood on the floor?”
“No, not this time,” Ingrid replied.
“So, what happens next?” Christina asked.
Ingrid shrugged her shoulders. “I wish I knew.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jason hung back in the kitchen as Ingrid talked to their son. He knew he had to make things right between them and be a father to his son. No matter what Lois thought of him, his priority was loving DeShawn and Ingrid. Quietly, he hoped that at some point, Ingrid and DeShawn would make a home with him. As he was about to walk into the living room to join the group, his cell phone rang.
“Yeah?” he answered in a clipped tone, hating to be disturbed at this moment.
“You got me in this damned backwoods town and we haven’t talked about this contest because you’ve been chasing that woman,” Ruby snapped.
“Now isn’t a good time,” Jason replied.
“When is a good time? After you pull away from that fat girl’s restaurant? Or have you made it back into her bed yet?”
“Go to hell, Ruby,” he declared.
“I’m already there,” she said. “If we’re going to do this contest, then we need to hammer out the details or I’m goi
ng to call this whole thing off. It’s a waste of time anyway because this is all about you coming here to . . .”
“Didn’t I say I’d get back to you? I have something important going on right now.” Jason snapped his phone shut before Ruby could respond. He bounded into the living room and smiled at DeShawn and Ingrid. “Are we heading to the art gallery?” he asked.
“Are you sure you have time?” Ingrid asked. “DeShawn and I heard your conversation.”
“Sorry about that.”
“You sounded mad,” DeShawn said.
Jason knelt down in front of his son. “I’m not mad at you or your mom. It’s just that sometimes, people want me to do things that I don’t want to do and I have to let them know that my time is my own.”
“OK,” the little boy replied with a shoulder shrug.
“Well, let’s get going,” Ingrid said as she headed for the door.
“We can take the limo,” Jason said as he followed Ingrid and DeShawn outside.
Christina waved to them from the door and said she’d lock up after she finished her pancakes.
Jason ushered a wide-eyed DeShawn and Ingrid into the limo. “Wow,” DeShawn exclaimed as he settled in the leather seats. “This is big.”
“It is,” Jason said. “It’s like riding in your living room. Do you like video games?”
“Yes, sir,” the boy said then looked at his mother. “But Mommy doesn’t let me play the really cool ones.”
“The violent ones,” Ingrid corrected.
“What about football? I have the new Madden game.” Jason pressed a button and a flat screen television rose up. He opened the center console and handed the little boy a controller for the video game. “What do you say we play?”
“May I, Mommy?” he asked sweetly.
Ingrid sighed. “Go ahead.” She leaned back in the seat and smiled as they played the video game. It was a short battle because they were at Celina’s gallery in less than ten minutes.
“Aw!” Jason said as DeShawn scored a touchdown on him. “We’re going to have to finish this game.”
If It Isn't Love Page 12
