Spark of Desire ; All for You

by Sheryl Lister

  Living with a parent who made everything hard had taken its toll on Aria. She knew what it was like to push back against tradition and expectations. It took her moving away to assert some independence on her life, and she had no doubt that Mel would soon realize she’d made the right decision stepping out of the box her father tried to keep her in.

  “So, basically, you have identified your strengths and weaknesses,” Aria mused. “That’s a good thing.”

  “Chile, I know. I’m not like my brothers. They are so calm under pressure.”

  Aria thought about the Jackson brothers. She’d met all of them and had spent a little more time with El because of Avery. They all had different personalities, but she could tell they took their jobs seriously and enjoyed what they did. “I can definitely see that.”

  “You haven’t spent much time with them because they’re always working, but I hope you get to know them better. They’re good men to have in your corner.”

  “I’m sure they are.”

  Mel gasped and waved wildly to someone behind Aria. “Ooh, Myles is here. Myles!” Aria swiveled in her seat just as Myles approached their table. Mel jumped up and gave him a quick hug. “Have a seat?”

  Aria met Myles’s gaze and smiled politely, giving him a small wave. “Yes, join us.”

  Myles slid into the booth, next to Mel. “I’m not staying. Just here to pick up breakfast. I have a meeting with the city planner in half an hour.”

  Mel rolled her eyes. “Oh, God. You’re really going through with the private practice, huh?”

  “You know the answer to that,” he said.

  Aria took a moment to study the “serious” twin, as the ladies had dubbed him. She’d only met him once, at the paint party weeks ago. During that short time, she’d immediately judged him based on his date. The woman at the party was a lot on the airhead side, and Aria had no use for men who dated based solely on looks. Because that had to be the only reason he’d brought that woman to the party.

  During the sip and paint, they hadn’t said much to each other, but watching him with Mel made her rethink her original opinion about him. It was obvious he loved his sister. He paid attention to her, listened intently to her babble on about a variety of topics in a short time span. Being an only child, she’d often wondered how it would have felt to have a wise, big brother to warn her against the pitfalls of life or bounce ideas off. With Brent, they’d pretty much wandered blindly into the wilderness of life together and had made plenty of mistakes.

  But...he is fine. She let her gaze roam over his features, his strong hands, his chiseled jaw, his dark brown eyes and his lean frame. He was hard lines and smooth brown skin, and her fingers itched to sketch him, to put his beauty on canvas. Dressed in a tailored, navy blue suit with a white shirt underneath and dark brown leather oxford shoes, she couldn’t keep her eyes to herself. His style was professional but chic. There was also a kind of sexy nerd aura to him. Ooo-wee. She resisted the urge to fan herself because she suddenly felt warm, hot actually.

  Aria had a thing for men who could outsmart or outmaneuver anyone. The smarter the better. And when she fell, she always fell hard. But inevitably it didn’t work because the men she’d dated always tried to change her to fit into their world. After Holloway, she’d made a vow to never get into a relationship with another man who wanted to put her into a box. But she could still enjoy the view and appreciate a man who looked like he was molded from a precious metal. Myles definitely fit the bill.

  She smiled to herself and glanced up to find Myles staring at her, a tiny smirk on his lips. He’d caught her checking him out. Oh. My. God. Her cheeks heated and she wanted to sink into her seat a little.

  Fortunately for her, Mel didn’t seem to notice and continued to tell Myles about the latest Bailee and Ian wedding updates. In the meantime, he hadn’t broken eye contact with her. He studied her like she was the latest surgical technique, like he wanted to master her. She swallowed, scratched the back of her head.

  “So, anyway, I love the fact that they decided to keep the wedding small,” Mel said. “I just wish they’d chosen a summer wedding.”

  He shrugged, still eyeing Aria. “I don’t know, Mel. At least, they’re doing the ceremony in New Orleans.”

  Aria couldn’t help but smile. She’d heard the love story of Ian and Bailee during one of their outings. The newly engaged couple had met in a dark bar, in a French Quarter hotel. Usually, those types of meetings led to hot sex or mace in the face. Well, in Aria’s experience anyway. But their story was the stuff romance-movie dreams were made of. Hot man, beautiful woman, one-night stand, then forever. She’d swooned while listening to it, so she could only imagine how Bailee felt to live it.

  “I know. At least, we’ll get a reprieve from the Michigan winter for a week.”

  He chuckled, the sound warming Aria like hot chocolate on a nasty, rainy day. With whipped cream. A waitress brought his carryout bag and an empty mug over to him. She filled the mug with coffee, winked at him and then disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Myles, do you know her?” Mel asked.

  He shrugged. “I eat here a lot.”

  “Whatever. She was flirting with you.”

  “She wasn’t.”

  “Oh, please.” Mel looked at Aria. “Wasn’t she flirting?”

  Aria tilted her head and bit down on her bottom lip before nodding reluctantly. Wait a minute... Am I flirting, too? She stiffened in her seat and finished off her coffee. Clearing her throat, she finally said, “Yep, she sure was.”

  Grinning, Mel added, “I bet your food is extra good today. She probably even gave you an extra piece of raisin toast.”

  Myles barked out a laugh. He had a beautiful laugh, one that made Aria feel some type of way, like she wanted to giggle or melt into the booth. It had been a long time since she’d felt it, too. But she wouldn’t name it because that would make it real. Attraction. She was attracted to Myles.

  “Are you busy on June 24?” Mel asked Myles.

  He shook his head slowly. “Not that I know of. Why?”

  Mel gestured toward Aria. “Because I want you to be my date to Aria’s exhibition opening.”

  He watched her over the rim of his mug. “What type of art?” he asked.

  Aria shifted in her seat. “I’ve dabbled in several different types of visual art, but my first love is oil painting.”

  “Isn’t that awesome?” Mel said.

  “It definitely is.” His eyes flicked down to her lips, then back up. He set his mug down and leaned forward. “What’s the subject?”

  “Me, mostly. Black women empowerment, life, love, struggle. The exhibit is sort of based on my life.”

  “Nice. I’ll definitely be there. I’d love to see your work.”

  “Great.” Aria wasn’t sure why her voice came out all breathy and soft, but it did. “I appreciate the support.”

  He stood and mussed Mel’s hair. “I better get going.” He met her gaze again. “Good seeing you, Aria.”

  Aria clasped her hands together. “You, too.”

  He leaned down and kissed Mel’s forehead and made his way out. Aria tried not to watch his retreat and failed miserably. When she looked at Mel, her friend was eyeing her curiously. “What?” Aria asked. “You’re staring.”

  “Just making sure.”

  She asked, “Making sure...?”

  “I didn’t imagine that you were checking my brother out.”

  So, Mel wasn’t as oblivious as Aria had hoped she was. “I should probably get going, too. I have work to do.”

  A slow grin spread across Mel’s face. “Okay. I know a brush-off when I hear it. I should probably head to work myself.”

  Aria pulled a few bills from her wallet and set them on the table. “I’ll call you? I might need your help narrowing down my outfit for the opening. Maybe we can c
heck out the new restaurant near the mall afterward.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Mel hugged her. “Talk soon.”

  * * *

  “Did you miss me?”

  Myles smiled as he entered the patient room. “Of course, I did.” He leaned down and placed a soft kiss to the forehead of one of the most important people in his life. “I hear you’ve been giving the staff hell.”

  The older woman grinned. “Always.”

  “I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you back here in the hospital, Ms. Pennie.”

  Penelope Kemp had been a constant presence in his life for years. He often credited her with saving his life, clearing away the clutter that accompanied so much of his childhood.

  “Oh, hush,” she said, with a dismissive wave. “You don’t tell me what to do.”

  He tilted his head. Drake had texted him during their meetings with the city planner to let him know that Ms. Pennie had arrived in the emergency room a few hours ago. She’d recently been diagnosed with breast cancer and was recovering from a fairly straightforward lumpectomy and a course of radiation treatment. According to her chart, she’d presented with shortness of breath, persistent cough, and pain in her chest and arm. He gave her a quick once-over and noted the swelling in her arm.

  “I’m the boss, today, Ms. Pennie.”

  “You’re never the boss of me, Myles Jackson.”

  He pointed at her. “That’s Dr. Jackson to you at this moment.” He laughed when she glared at him.

  “Whatever boy. And when are you going to bring a beautiful woman in here for me to meet? Your brothers have all settled down. It’s your turn.”

  Same talk, different day. Ms. Pennie didn’t have any children, and he was the closest thing to a son she had. Myles shook his head and sighed. “I’m not looking to settle down anytime soon. But trust me, you’ll be the first to know when I am.”

  “Any new prospects?”

  Myles thought about Aria. Technically, she wasn’t a prospect, but he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head since the first day he’d met her. Seeing her that morning at Afternoon Delight had made it worse. But there was no way in hell he would say any of that to Ms. Pennie. She’d have his wedding planned before tomorrow.

  He took a seat near the bed. “So, what’s going on?”

  Ms. Pennie explained the pain she felt, and Myles jotted down notes on his tablet. She wasn’t his patient, but he would make sure she was taken care of. “I probably should have opted for the mastectomy,” she admitted.

  Myles didn’t respond. They’d discussed her options many times before her surgery. He’d recommended the mastectomy, but even in her older age, she couldn’t fathom not having a breast and had chosen another route.

  “Do you think the cancer has spread?”

  He glanced up at her then. The sheen of tears in her eyes, the fear shining back at him made him feel helpless. Because he didn’t know what to tell her. The doctors had run a series of tests to rule out metastasis, but he hadn’t looked at the results, even though she’d granted him written permission to do so as her power of attorney and patient advocate.

  He picked up her hand and squeezed. “I don’t know. But I’m going to choose to think positive, like you always tell me to do.”

  “Finally.” She burrowed into the mattress. “I finally said something that got through to you.”

  She said a lot that got through to him. Once, Myles had cried for hours because he kept hearing notes in his head. He was probably around five years old. Every time he would listen to music, the sounds in his head grew louder and more persistent, almost like they became a part of his soul. One day, he’d sat down at the grand piano and started to play. His life changed forever that cold December morning. He’d tapped the ivory keys until he’d perfected the Christmas tune he’d been listening to.

  For years, he would sneak into the piano room and play, mostly by ear. It wasn’t until he met Ms. Pennie one summer that he started to make sense of the music in his head. Although they didn’t live in Michigan for much of his childhood, they’d stayed summers with his mother’s family there. Ms. Pennie lived in the house across the street. She’d worked as a music teacher and saw something in him without him even articulating anything to her.

  The first summer, she’d asked him to visit her at her house and he’d gone without hesitation. She’d watched him play that day, studied him. Then she offered to teach him how to do more. Of course, he’d accepted the invitation and went to see her every day at five o’clock. She’d taught him about notes. Every good boy digs football and FACE. The mnemonic that he’d repeated over and over again to memorize the different notes of the treble clef. He’d learned about rhythm and pitch, texture and tempo. Practicing scales, triads, seventh chords and key signatures replaced television and video games. While his brothers were running around, hiding in the woods and building forts, he was reading books on composition and technique and studying a wide range of musical genres from Beethoven to Debussy, Miles Davis to Duke Ellington, Ray Charles to Billy Joel.

  Myles had never really looked forward to anything. But he found himself excited about summer vacation every year. Eventually, his lessons with Ms. Pennie progressed to music theory and logic, chord progressions, combining elements to make melodies.

  At thirteen, Myles composed his first original song. He still remembered playing it for Ms. Pennie and the look of pride on her face. She encouraged him to keep going, keep perfecting the sound. And he had never stopped reading, writing, thinking music. Even when he made the decision to attend medical school, to become a surgeon, music was never not a part of his life. It was something he kept to himself, though. Only a handful of people knew how much it truly meant to him. He’d only played in public a half dozen times, most recently for his good friend’s wedding.

  He felt a strong hand squeeze his, bringing him back to the present. Glancing up, he met Ms. Pennie’s knowing eyes. “Where did you go?” she asked.

  “Just thinking about you and everything you taught me.”

  “Myles, my sweet, sweet boy. I’ve never been more proud of a student than I am of you. Not only are you a gifted musician and composer, you’re a skilled surgeon and a caring man. I’m going to be fine. Remember, think positive.”

  He blinked, willed away tears that had threatened to fall. Nodding, he said, “I know, but...” He swallowed. “Just so you know. I can never repay you for being exactly what I needed back then. I’m not sure where I would be if I hadn’t met you.”

  She shot him a watery smile. “You’d be just fine, boy. You didn’t need me.”

  “I’m serious, Ms. Pennie. I wouldn’t be who I am today if—”

  “Everything you are today is because of your courage, your willingness to take risks.”

  Myles was smart enough to know he wouldn’t win this argument. He never did. Ms. Pennie knew about his childhood. The piano in the house was just for show, because none of them were allowed to make music on it. He’d learned that the hard way one fateful day. But Ms. Pennie had never asked any questions or made judgments. Years of lessons, time spent at the piano, and she’d never charged him or made him feel like he owed her anything. She simply loved him and proved it every single day.

  Ms. Pennie caressed his face with a shaky hand. “I love you, son.”

  He smiled. “I love you, too.”

  Chapter 4

  The Charles H. Wright Museum, founded in 1965, held the largest permanent exhibit on African American culture. Among the collections were the Blanche Coggin Underground Railroad Collection, the Harriet Tubman Collection and an exhibit honoring the life of the Queen of Soul, Detroit native Aretha Franklin. And now, it held Metamorphosis: A retrospective of life and love. The artist? Aria Bell.

  Myles had spent several minutes studying the art and the artist. Both were beautiful, fascinating, colorful and emotion
al. The more he observed both, the more she and her work intrigued him. It made him want to get to know her, to find out more about her inspirations. All of his siblings were in attendance to support Aria. The museum had put on a program to honor Aria and her contributions to the art world. He was impressed by her commitment to visual arts, to her own work. At the end of the program, the curator introduced her. Instead of a long speech, she’d given a short, moving talk about the power of art to tell stories, transform and inspire change. Aria had given honor to those who had inspired and shaped her worldview, to those who had taken time to teach and push her to create. As she’d spoken, he thought about his own connection to music. In so many ways, they were the same. His music, her paintings.

  “She’s amazing,” Mel whispered. “I knew she was talented, but I had no idea how transformative her work was.”

  Above them, a painting called Aria’s Metamorphosis hung. The description was just the title and date created. Different shades of reds, blues, purples and greens made up the background, but in the middle was a face. Her face. One side was smooth, like a porcelain doll, with clear skin and straight hair. The other side was textured, colorful. The hair on the wild side was almost floating, snaking around the canvas like vines. It was stunning. And he couldn’t stop staring at it, speculating on its meaning. He knew what it meant to him, but he wondered what she was thinking when she’d created it.

  “It’s beautiful.” Myles didn’t have to turn to Mel to know she was watching him. He could feel the weight of her stare on him.

  “The colors...it’s almost three-dimensional.”

  Myles swallowed. “Like the artist,” he murmured. He turned to meet Mel’s pensive gaze. “Don’t read too much into that, little sister.”

  She smiled. “Hard not to, big brother. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”