by Nola Cross
The posed composition was definitely not a candid outdoor shot. In it, Corrine wore a scarlet dress, off the shoulder, with a flowing skirt. She was perched on some kind of fur-covered stool, and one black stiletto peeked out from below the hem. Ben swallowed hard. His wife wouldn’t have been caught dead dressed like this. Was that even her body beneath the red fabric?
“We hired a photo specialist who changed things to make it look like she was seated indoors in more formal clothes. And they retouched her makeup of course, and her hair. We were going for a Christmasy feel. Didn’t they do a wonderful job?”
“Amazing.” If anyone would opt to change a vibrant, candid photo to something so gaudy and fake, it would be his in-laws. Still, the woman who looked back at him from the frame resembled Corrine closely enough to blow an aching crater in the pit of his stomach.
“Yes, well we knew you and Spencer would be missing her especially at this time of year. Just as we do.” Kathy sniffed loudly and pressed a tissue to her nose.
“Look, Daddy, test tubes!” Spencer’s eyes glittered at the array of tiny bottles and beakers in the box he held.
“I see them, buddy.”
The room seemed to spin ever so slightly as he stared into his dead wife’s eyes. Corinne had been the love of his life, his joy. His best friend. What had he been thinking this afternoon? She hadn’t even been dead a year, and he had been ready to dishonor her memory with the first attractive woman who came along!
Now Kathy was yammering on about something. He watched as she got up and removed a watercolor landscape from its spot near the hutch and hung up the portrait.
The three adults all stood back and stared at it.
“To our girl,” Stan finally said, saluting the photo with his drink.
“To Corrine,” Kathy choked out, raising her wine glass.
“Who’s that?” Spencer’s clear voice rang out next.
Kathy gasped. “That’s your mama, sweetie. Don’t you remember her?”
Spencer looked puzzled. Then he shook his head. It was no wonder, Ben thought. The woman in Spencer’s memory had been thin and weak and bald with horrible dark circles under her eyes, not the strangely provocative mannequin looking down from the portrait.
“It’s great, folks. Thank you. We will treasure it.” Ben moved toward the hutch. A strong drink was in order. A very strong drink.
Chapter 5
“So what does this man do for a living?” LaRonda sat across the wrought iron bistro table from Sunny, her gaze following their two daughters out on the ice. Above them, the domed roof was cranked halfway open, allowing a bright winter sun to wash the skaters with light.
“He’s some kind of architect. Something to do with special building designs for people in wheelchairs.” Sunny toyed with the wooden stir stick in her latte as she too watched LaRonda’s daughter, Tabby, and Jasmine making slow progress around the edge of the oval rink. The girls were both beginners and the place was crowded with more advanced skaters on this first day of Christmas break.
“Really?” LaRonda seemed impressed. “Sounds like good money.”
“I think he does fairly well.” She hadn’t thought much about it. His SUV was an expensive make but was probably four years old. And his wife had undergone cancer treatment last year. That could drain a family’s financial resources, even with insurance.
“And you say the kids get along okay?”
Sunny nodded. “Almost scary how okay.”
“That won’t last.”
“Probably not.” They both chuckled.
“Well, girl, the real question then is the sex. How are things between the sheets with you two?”
Sunny felt her cheeks warming. “I don’t know. We haven’t got there yet.”
“You haven’t been to bed yet? What are you waiting for? I’m dying to hear if Spencer’s daddy rings your chimes.”
“We only just had our first date, if you want to call it that, and that was with the kids.” Sunny hesitated. “But he did kiss me good night.”
“And how was that?” The other woman leaned forward, her dark eyes dancing with curiosity.
“Good.” As Sunny revisited last night’s kiss, she almost squirmed in her chair. The more she thought about it, the bigger the flutter in her belly became and the more she found herself wondering what chemistry might be there between her and Ben.
“Good? Are you sure that’s all? ’Cuz the look on your face right now says it was more like fantastic.”
Sunny laughed. “Let’s say promising then.” She was still remembering the way his hands had grasped her shoulders, holding her in place, as if he was very sure of what he wanted from her. And the heat of his body against hers, even through their coats. The firm press of his lips.
The flutter in her belly turned into a definite tremor.
“So what’s the problem?” LaRonda lit a cigarette and took a deep draw.
“You tell me. Weren’t you the one who warned me last year about dating out?”
Her friend blew a thin stream of blue smoke from the side of her mouth. “I may have. I had a bad experience. Doesn’t mean you will.”
“I guess not.”
“I’ll tell you one thing.” LaRonda grinned, a faraway look in her eyes. “You can forget anything you ever heard about the black man always being bigger. Whoo! Honey, that white man of mine was built for pure pleasure and he knew how to use every inch of it.”
Sunny felt tingles run down her arms and spine. She laughed nervously. What would Ben look like without his clothes? Would he be a good lover? Just the thought of him touching her bare skin made her belly tighten.
“So if the sex was so great, what went wrong between you two?”
Her friend shrugged and put out her cigarette in the dribble of coffee at the bottom of her cup. “Stupid stuff really. Things my parents said. Things his parents said. Things total strangers said. We let it get between us. At the time I thought it was a big deal. Now I wish we’d tried harder to make it work.”
Sunny sat quietly, watching the sad expression on the other woman’s face. “Relationships are hard,” she finally said, “even without the interracial issue.”
“Preach it, sister.” LaRonda sat up straighter and blew out a sigh. “And speaking of that, what’s new with Charles and his little stripper?”
“They’re engaged.” Sunny waited for the knick of pain that always came when she thought of her ex. Funny, this morning she didn’t feel a thing.
“Good. Those two deserve each other, you know? Keeps them from getting mixed up with the rest of us nice folks.”
* * * *
On the way home from the ice rink, Sunny thought more about what LaRonda had said. Would she and Ben have to worry about public opinion if they seriously started dating? No one at the tree farm yesterday had looked at them askance or said a word about the two of them being together. The experience at Mr. Toad’s two weeks before had been the same. No one seemed interested in them at all, and they had been treated with courtesy at both places. Of course it was always possible that people were privately outraged but keeping their opinions to themselves. There would always be pockets of bigotry even in this relatively liberal city.
She sighed and glanced in her rearview mirror at Jasmine, who was sitting quietly in the back seat, listening to Christmas carols on her MP3 player, her head bobbing in time to the music. Her daughter was lucky. Their neighborhood and school had been gently and naturally integrated over the past few decades as a variety of families moved into the area. She had Asian and Caucasian classmates as well as other African American friends, and had never experienced blatant discrimination as far as Sunny knew. But would that change if she and Ben were out together in public more? Would Jasmine and Spencer end up having to deal with hatred and bigotry at their tender age?
And what if she and Ben did get involved and then decided after all that the hassles of interracial dating just weren’t worth it? Jasmine was already very fond of Spencer an
d his dad. Could Sunny dare to let her little girl get even more attached, only to rip her away if things went sideways?
Last night her daughter had seemed calmer and happier than she’d been in months, and had slept well all night without waking. That had to be more than a coincidence. Sunny had to admit there was something about Ben that was so solid, so confident, it inspired a real sense of trust, and Jasmine obviously felt it too. It would be wonderful to have someone so dependable in their lives.
“Did you have fun today, babydoll?”
Jasmine took her earbuds out. “Yes, Mama. I liked skating with Tabby. Did you see us skating with no hands?” The girls had finally gotten brave enough to let go of the railing.
“Yes, I did see you. You both got better the more you practiced.”
A moment or two of silence went by.
“Could we go skating with Spencer and his dad?”
The question flustered her. It was almost as if Jasmine had been privy to her thoughts just now.
“We’ll see,” she said, falling back on the old standard parental response.
Maybe Ben’s kiss had stirred her sleeping libido. And maybe it held the promise of something wonderful happening between them. But there really was a lot to consider before she let her body dictate what happened next between herself and Ben.
Sunny was still mulling all this over as she turned onto her street ten minutes later. Ahead of her she saw Ben’s SUV in her driveway, and the man himself lifting her Christmas tree off the top of the car.
How could I have forgotten all about our tree?
Knowing full well that it was his kiss that had distracted her, Sunny felt an excited flutter in her chest. As she pulled up and parked, Spencer came barreling across the lawn. He peered into the car and banged on the window.
“Jasmine? Is that you? Come out. We brought your tree. Come out and play.”
Jasmine unbuckled and scrambled out. The two took off toward the back yard together. Sunny followed at a more sedate pace. As she approached, Ben leaned the tree against the house next to the kitchen door.
“Sorry I forgot to leave this for you last night.”
She sensed a change in him immediately. He was stiff and formal today, and his eyes didn’t quite meet hers. Her belly gave a squeeze of anxiety. What had happened since their warm goodbye last evening? He must have thought things over and decided that kissing her wasn’t such a great idea after all.
The realization stung. Was he having the same reservations she was about interracial dating? Or had he been disappointed in her response? Should she have been more enthusiastic?
Or was it her technique? Was she a bad kisser? Sunny’s face felt on fire.
But maybe it was better this way. If they just headed things off right now, no one would get hurt down the road when things didn’t work out.
But what about the promise of heat that had sizzled between them? Had she only imagined that?
“That’s okay,” she said. “I forgot all about the tree too.”
“Do you want me to help you get it in the stand? You’ll need to limb it out first. That can be tricky, especially if you don’t have a saw.”
“No thanks.” She’d figure it out on her own. Better that he just leave now, making a clean break for them both.
He seemed relieved. He took his gloves off and stuffed them in his coat pockets, then cupped his hands to his mouth. “Spencer, let’s go.”
They waited, but no kids appeared.
“Spencer!”
After a few seconds she said, “I bet they’re in the playhouse.”
He followed her through the back gate and around the corner of the garage. The plastic play structure had been Jasmine’s birthday gift three months before. It was the perfect hiding place. Sunny bent and peeked in the front window. The two children were hunkered down in a corner, and Jasmine had her finger to her lips.
“Come on out, you two.”
Both little faces crumpled.
“Come on, buddy,” Ben said, opening the door and extending his hand.
“But, Dad, I want to stay and play.”
“I know you do. Some other time.” It was the first time Sunny had detected a hint of impatience in Ben’s voice.
“Mama,” Jasmine said as she came out the door, “can’t Spencer stay and make cookies with us?”
“That’s up to his dad.” Let Ben be the bad guy.
Ben scowled, but his voice softened as he patted Jasmine on the shoulder. “Not today I’m afraid. We have some serious Christmas shopping to do.”
Sunny spoke before she thought. “Are you sure you want to drag him along? The stores are going to be crazy.”
“We’ll manage.” He gave a bleak smile.
“He really would be welcome to stay and bake cookies with us.” What am I doing?
Ben hesitated. Sensing his weak moment, the children both began to tug at his coat, chanting, “Cookies, cookies, cookies.”
Finally a reluctant smile broke over his face. “All right. All right. If it’s okay with Jasmine’s mom, you can stay and make cookies. But you have to be ready to go when I get back, okay? No whining. Promise?”
“Yes, Dad.”
Ben lifted his gaze to hers. For the first time today there was some warmth in his expression. “Thanks,” he said. “What time do I need to be back?”
“Whenever. If you’re not here by suppertime I’ll go ahead and feed him.”
“That’s good of you. I’ll try to be back before then.”
“No hurry.” Sunny watched as he circled his car and got in. As he backed down the driveway he gave a jaunty wave, and she waved back.
What had just happened here? She wasn’t sure.
* * * *
A drizzle of rain speckled the windshield as Ben pulled up to Sunny’s house five hours later. The mullioned windows of her living room gave off a glow that fell in elongated golden rectangles across the lawn. And there was the Christmas tree, posted front and center, colored lights strung halfway up the branches. He was surprised she’d had time to even begin to tackle that job with two rambunctious kids in the house, high on sugar cookies.
As he sat there, a sense of yearning filled his chest, a sharp loneliness. Once he’d had an idyllic life, a warm holiday home, a beautiful, healthy wife, a sweet toddler. He had passively appreciated it in the way people do, taking for granted that things would only get better over time. But he’d been wrong about that. So wrong.
And now Corrine was gone, reduced to fading memories and the awful studio portrait looking down from its spot next to the hutch. Stan and Kathy’s visit last night had made the situation very clear—the holidays would always be a cruel reminder of her absence. Never again would he be allowed to feel that special Christmas enchantment, or be able to create it for his boy, no matter how many packages might be hidden in the back of the SUV, waiting to be wrapped.
A black kind of nostalgia weighing heavy on his shoulders, Ben got out and went to the kitchen door, cracked it open, and called out, “Knock. Knock.”
“Come in.” Sunny’s voice floated down to him on the shoulders of some wonderful scent. Was it beef stew? Chili? He hadn’t smelled a pot of something homemade like that in forever, unless you counted the shepherd’s pie his mother sometimes concocted from canned stew and dairy case biscuits. His stomach rumbled as he climbed the steps leading up to the kitchen.
When he entered the room, the wonderful smell enveloped him in a fragrant cloud.
Sunny turned from the stove, a big wooden spoon in hand. “There you are. We were about to sit down and eat. Are you hungry?”
“It smells like beef stew.” He couldn’t keep the note of wistfulness from his voice.
She must have heard it. A smile spread over her lovely face. “It is beef stew.”
“Homemade?”
This time she giggled. “Yes, homemade. And there’s cornbread too, my grandmother’s secret recipe.”
“Be still my heart.” He put h
is hands on his chest and pretended to stagger toward her.
Suddenly, like magic, all his dark regrets evaporated, and he was sharply present to her, caught up in the unexpected perfection of the moment. Caught up in the wonderful smells, her laughter, the white apron that flared at her waist, the dozens of gaily decorated cookies laid out on the nearby counter.
Just moments ago he would have sworn that all of this was lost to him forever. Now he joined in her laughter, eager to know what would happen next.
Coming to stand beside her at the stove, he watched as she gave the stew a final stir and then reached for the ladle that hung from a hook nearby. Their hips bumped together gently, sending a signal of sexual awareness through him, and the soft floral scent of her perfume made his chest ache. Before she could guess his intention, he captured her arm. She gasped. The wooden spoon clattered to the stovetop. Holding her by the shoulders, he turned her to face him.
“Thank you, Sunny.”
A vee formed between her brows. “For what?”
“For this. All of it. And especially for including my boy.” His voice was close to breaking, like a dam holding back the unspoken emotions of the past year.
“You’re welcome.” She regarded him fearlessly.
A man could get lost in those amazing eyes.
Several seconds ticked by. “Would you like a glass of wine, Ben?”
He shook his head and brought her body up snug against his. “I’d like another kiss.”
“Oh.” She stiffened, her eyes going wide. “I thought… Are you sure…”
“I’m sure.”
Not allowing her to demur further, he lowered his lips to hers. She lifted her face, and almost immediately he felt her body go pliant against his. Her mouth was just as he remembered, incredibly lush and warm, and with no hesitation, she parted her lips when he nudged them open. An electric rush burst through his abdomen at the first touch of their tongues. If not for the fact that he still wore his bulky coat, she would have felt her immediate and profound effect on his cock.
Heart pounding, he slid his tongue in deeper, teasing and inviting her. She gave a soft moan and lifted her hands to his chest.
