Narice awakened that next morning and swore she smelled Saint’s cologne. Deciding that was nothing more than wishful thinking, she got up to get ready for church. The sight of the dark red rose on the chair made her stop. Unable to believe her eyes, she approached it slowly. Her hands shaking she picked it up. On the chair was a color photo of a cheetah. Narice brought the rose to her lips and let the tears run freely down her cheeks.
By the third week, Portia had had enough. At breakfast that morning, she asked Saint, “Are you going to call Narice or not? Your moping is upsetting the dogs.”
Saint looked down at Jesse lying on the floor. The dog looked back at him with such a sad face, he reached down and rubbed her neck.
Portia said, “Call her.”
“What if she doesn’t want to talk to me?”
“What if she does? For an international super spy you’re acting awfully indecisive. She must be really getting to you.”
Saint didn’t lie, Narice had turned his world upside down.
Portia passed him the bowl of scrambled eggs. “Your sister called this morning while you were out with the dogs. She’s worried about you, too. She says you haven’t called her in weeks and your brother is waiting on your report on the SUV to send to GM.”
He ran his hands over his hair. “I’ll call them later in the week.” He got up from the table.
Portia looked confused. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“Nope.” He headed towards the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To see the President and then to Baltimore.”
A smiling Portia spread her homemade strawberry jam on her toast and began humming the Wedding March.
Saint stood in the Oval Office. Even for someone as jaded as he, the room and the history always overwhelmed and humbled him.
The President, a former five-star army general and the first African American to hold the job, finished his phone call and looked up. “That was The Majesty. She and her cabinet are settling in. She sends her regards.” The President studied him for a moment. “You look grimmer than usual, St. Martin. What can I do for you?”
“I need to resign, sir.”
“Excuse me? Why? You’re one of the best in the business.”
Saint was silent for a moment, then said, “I think—no change that. I know, I’m in love, sir.”
The President’s brown eyes widened. “With whom?”
“Narice Jordan. The Keeper’s daughter.”
The President surveyed Saint for another few moments. “You know, the First Lady had her niece all picked out for you.”
Saint allowed a small smile to peek through. “I know, sir. Please send your wife my regrets.”
The President smiled. “Are you sure about resigning, son?”
“Yes, sir. I am. I can’t live without her, and to have her I have to step away from my covert life.”
“Can I still call on you for jobs like the one you handled in Belize?”
Saint nodded. “No more coups or assassinations, though.”
“I understand. Okay, soldier. I accept the resignation. I’m not happy about it, but I understand love. If I had to choose between love for my wife and love for the country, she’d win hands down.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Go with God, St. Martin.”
Saint nodded and headed for the door.
“Oh, St. Martin.”
Saint turned.
“I expect you to bring Ms. Jordan to see me sometime soon. I want to meet this Wonder Woman.”
Saint smiled. “Yes, sir.”
Narice was seated in her office going over some budget items when her secretary Juanita stuck her head in the door and said, “There’s a piece of eye candy out here asking to see you.”
Narice looked up from the figures. “Eye candy?”
“Yep. Says he’s here to take you to Tahiti.”
Narice’s heart began to race and she had to catch her breath before she could regroup and say calmly, “Send him in.”
Juanita gave her a sly smile then disappeared.
In the two seconds she had while waiting, Narice debated whether to meet him standing or sitting behind her desk. She opted to stand and was in front of the windows with her back to the room when Juanita came back.
Narice turned and said, “Thank you, Juanita.”
Juanita closed the door softly after her exit and Narice’s eyes met Saint’s. The sight of him made her jaw drop. He had on a suit! “Where are you on your way to? You look good.”
He checked himself out. “I do clean up pretty good, don’t I?”
“Yes, you do.” Narice couldn’t believe he was here. She also couldn’t believe how seeing him filled her heart, even if she hadn’t heard from him in almost a month, but she kept that to herself, for now.
“So,” she said, “have a seat. How are Portia and the dogs?”
He sat and they spent a few moments chit-chatting about the dogs, then Narice said, “The police in Detroit called me. Ridley’s been charged with first-degree murder. He’ll go to trial sometime this summer.”
“That’s good news. Heard anything from your aunt?”
“No, but I’m going back down there when school’s out and see if I can’t help her get her place fixed up. I know she’s not going to move.” Narice smiled looking at him in the suit. “I can’t get over you in that suit.”
He met her eyes. “I wore it so you’ll know I’m serious.”
“About what?”
“Loving you.”
Narice went stock-still, then her hands went to her mouth.
“Before I talk to you about the other reason I’m here, I want to say two things. First. I apologize for not calling. I had some issues to deal with, but once I figured I can’t live without you, the issues were resolved.”
Narice was so outdone she couldn’t speak.
He chuckled. “Whoa, you speechless. That’s different.”
She wanted to sock him. “Go on,” she told him with a smile in her eyes.
“Secondly. I quit my job. Well, the gun-carrying parts of it anyway.”
Narice couldn’t believe her ears. “Why?”
“Because I want to marry you, sidekick.”
Narice was really speechless now.
“She’s still speechless, folks.”
“Serve you right if I say yes.”
“Then say it.”
She looked into his shade-covered eyes and whispered, “Oh yes, Saint. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
His grin filled the room. He stood, “So, do I get a kiss now?” He held out his arms and she went to him.
The kiss left her breathless and him wanting so much more, he asked, “Do you get recess?”
She looked up at him and chuckled. “Recess? Why?”
He nibbled her ear. “Thought we’d get in a quick round of Make the Principal Hot before I kidnap you and take you to Tahiti.”
She laughed, then reached around him and hit the button on her intercom. “Juanita. If anybody asks, I’m unavailable until after recess.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Juanita responded, sounding amused.
Narice’s smile met Saint’s and he pulled her into his arms, saying, “I love you, angel.”
She could hear his heart beating against her cheek. She said the only thing that could be said, “And I love you too, Cyclops.”
Author’s Note
I hope you enjoyed Saint and Narice’s story. Underground Railroad quilts and the fascinating part they played in the path to freedom are finally being recognized for their unique history and value. One of the best books I’ve found on the topic is Hidden in Plain View: A Secret Story of Quilts and the Underground Railroad, by Jacqueline L. Tobin and Raymond G. Dobard, PhD. For readers who want to share the story of these quilts with the youngsters in their lives, please check out: Sweet Clara and the Freedom Quilt, by Deborah Hopkinson.
In closing, I’d like to give special thanks to Ava and Gloria f
or organizing another slam-dunk PJ Party, and to Black Issues Book Review for their support of this wonderful event. Keep reading everybody, and I’ll see you next time.
About the Author
BEVERLY JENKINS has received numerous awards, including three Waldenbooks Best Sellers Awards, two Career Achievement Awards from Romantic Times magazine, and a Golden Pen Award from the Black Writer¹s Guild. In 1999, Ms. Jenkins was voted one of the Top Fifty Favorite African-American writers of the 20th Century by AABLC, the nations largest on-line African-American book club. To read more about Beverly, visit her website at www.beverlyjenkins.net.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
By Beverly Jenkins
THE EDGE OF DAWN
THE EDGE OF MIDNIGHT
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE EDGE OF DAWN. Copyright © 2007 by Beverly Jenkins. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition January 2007 ISBN 9780061737008
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