by E. N. Joy
“Lynox, uh, wait.” Deborah couldn’t let things go down like this. Lynox was doing everything right; all the while she was doing everything wrong. If only he knew that her actions weren’t personal attacks against him. They were a result of how she was feeling inside. Whenever she got overwhelmed and began to feel anxious, she got snappy and sometimes outright nasty. At the present, she was feeling both overwhelmed and anxious, so there was like a hurricane going on inside of her. She had to calm the storm.
Lynox had heard Deborah call out his name, but he was too furious inside to turn around and acknowledge her.
“Lynox. Hold on, please.”
“No, it’s cool. I see you’re busy—looks like you’re about to babysit and all.”
“Babysit.” Mrs. Lewis chuckled. “Looks like I’m the one who is about to babysit.” She stepped outside. “So why don’t you two go ahead and share this lunch while me and the little guy here go to get some ice cream.” Mrs. Lewis stepped down off the porch. “I’ll bring him back in about an hour. Is that enough time?” Mrs. Lewis looked at Lynox and winked.
Mrs. Lewis’s kind gesture brought a smile back on his face. “Really, Miss . . .” Realizing he’d never been introduced to the grandmother of the child Deborah babysat for, his eyes asked her to fill in the blank of her last name.
“Mrs. Lewis,” Deborah’s mother obliged.
Now Deborah wished nothing more than that she had just let Lynox go ahead and leave.
“Lewis?” His eyes got bigger. “Your last name is Lewis too. Is that a coincidence, or are you two kin?”
“A coincidence?” Mrs. Lewis laughed. “I’m—”
“You’re just leaving to take the baby for ice cream—remember?” Deborah reminded her mother, making a mental note that this couldn’t go on much longer. The close calls were getting closer and closer. Just as soon as she and Lynox were alone, she wasn’t going to hesitate to tell him the truth.
“Mrs. Lewis, really, you don’t have to leave and come back. I’m sure you have things to do, otherwise, you wouldn’t have been dropping off the little guy here for Deborah to babysit in the first place.”
Deborah felt the life drain from her body. She could feel eyes of confusion burning on her face. She couldn’t return her mother’s glare.
“Deborah? Babysit her own—” Mrs. Lewis started.
“Nephew!” Deborah spat. It just came out. Where it came from, Deborah had no idea. But that lie shot out of her mouth like a curse word from a sailor’s tongue.
“Nephew?” both Lynox and Mrs. Lewis said in unison.
“You mean this little guy is blood?” Lynox asked. “I should have seen the resemblance.” He stared at Deborah’s son. “Shoot, he has your nose and your mouth.”
Mrs. Lewis stared at her daughter strangely, waiting for her to correct Lynox.
“I guess that explains why you two have the same last name,” Lynox said to both Deborah and Mrs. Lewis. Now he looked at Mrs. Lewis. “So you are Deborah’s . . .” Lynox was expecting for Mrs. Lewis to say aunt or first cousin or something.
“I’m Deborah’s . . . mo . . . ther?” She looked at Deborah to make sure it was okay to tell him that. Because something weird was going on here.
“Mother!” Lynox said in shock. He then threw his shocked expression at Deborah and then back at Mrs. Lewis.
“Yes, that’s right.” Deborah nodded, letting her mother know it was okay to tell the truth as far as their relationship was concerned. “I guess I never did get to formally introduce you two, huh?” Deborah tried to put an innocent smile on her face, but when she swallowed hard, she must have swallowed the smile as well. “Lynox, this is actually my mother, Mrs. Lewis.” She tried with all her might to keep the smile she’d just once again forced to cover her lips. The smile held long enough for her to speak those few words to Lynox, but when she turned to make the introductions to her mother, it quickly melted away. How could it not with the hot look Mrs. Lewis was shooting her daughter? “And, Ma, this is Lynox.”
Mrs. Lewis just stood frozen, waiting for some type of explanation from Deborah. She’d be waiting until a cold day in hell if she thought Deborah was going to give her one right then and there . . . in front of Lynox. Explaining to her mother would mean explaining to Lynox. And once again, this was not how the truth was supposed to go down. But something told Deborah that she just might be able to keep the lie going; but would her mother?
Chapter Twenty-seven
“Well, Mrs. Lewis, the pleasure truly is all mine,” Lynox said, extending his hand.
“Yes, Mr. Lynox, mine too.” Mrs. Lewis was still quite dumbfounded.
“Please, just Lynox is fine.” He looked to Deborah. “Honestly, I had no intentions of staying. Really; I just wanted to do something nice for you is all.” Lynox was putting his tail back between his legs at the recollection of how Deborah had jumped on him for coming over unannounced.
“And, I’m sorry,” Deborah apologized, taking Lynox’s hand and looking him in the eyes. “It’s just that . . . well, you know how it is when you’re flowing in a manuscript.”
“Yeah, and not to mention you’ve got to worry about taking care of little man here, too.” He nodded toward her son. “That’s awful nice of you to keep your sister’s kid for her, knowing you have to work, too.”
“Sister?” both Deborah and Mrs. Lewis said at the same time.
“Oh . . . then I guess he’s your brother’s kid?” Lynox thought for a minute. “But I thought you said you were an only child.”
Oh snaps! Deborah felt so cold busted. How in the world was she going to get out of this one? Think, Debbie. Think. Think. Think. And so she thought. And she came up with this: “Well, see, he’s not really a nephew . . . nephew . . . blood nephew. His mother is just a real, real close family friend.” Deborah needed a coconspirator. It would be taking a risk to use her mother as one, but she had no other choice. “Isn’t that right, Ma?” Deborah swallowed again and waited on razor’s edge for her mother to reply.
“Oh, yeah,” Mrs. Lewis stated, still giving Deborah the evil eye. “The boy’s mother is really close to the family.” She gave Deborah a sarcastic look. “Why I almost even consider her to be my daughter—almost.”
“That’s nice,” Lynox replied. “Guess next time I’ll have to think, and throw a Happy Meal or something in the mix for the little guy.” Lynox winked at the toddler. “Anyway, let me get going. Don’t want to be late for my appointment.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Deborah said, eager to get away from her mother. She did not look forward to being left alone to explain the situation to her. Once the couple arrived at Lynox’s car, Deborah took the liberty of apologizing once again for being so snappish toward Lynox. Truth be told, she absolutely loved the gesture. She thought it to be most romantic. She was just caught off guard and didn’t know how to respond. Under pressure, instead of being cool, calm, and collected, her emotions kicked into overdrive and she got all fired up. That’s how her mother had always reacted to things. Naturally, that’s how Deborah reacted to things.
“I’d like to meet your friend, the kid’s mother. You never talk about any of your friends. I’ve only heard you refer to the sisters at church. But you do have a life outside of just the church family, don’t you?” Lynox put his hands up in defense just in case Deborah took his comment the wrong way. “Not that there’s anything wrong with having a church family and all.”
Deborah chuckled. “I hear you. But I guess I’m just so into my writing thing, raising my . . . babysitting my nephew. I just don’t have time for the girlfriend thing, you know.”
“I hear you. But you have to have a life, too. You gotta get out and live. Otherwise, how do you meet a fine, handsome, successful man like myself?”
“Now that’s one thing I didn’t miss about you over the years, your cockiness.”
“Woman, you know I’m just messing with you.” Lynox brushed his hand down Deborah’s cheek.
T
here was something about Lynox’s touch that was magic. It calmed Deborah. It made her happy—peaceful. As bad as she felt about not being truthful with him when it came to her readymade family, moments like this almost made it worth it—almost.
“I apologize in advance if this makes you uneasy in front of your mother and all, but I can’t help it.” Lynox took Deborah’s face in his hands and planted the most delicate but, at the same time, sensual kiss on her lips she’d ever had in her life.
For a moment, Deborah forgot about her entire life. It was just her and Lynox. No one else. Nothing else. She didn’t know how long the kiss went on as her tongue tangled with his. But what she did know was that when it ended, she could have gone for seconds.
“Apology accepted,” Deborah whispered, her eyes still closed. “Now, do you accept mine?” She opened her eyes. She was still nose to nose with Lynox. She could feel his breath like a summer breeze whisking across her face. Thank God they were out in public, in front of her mother, and that he had a doctor’s appointment; otherwise, the two of them might have found themselves caught up in an act of sin.
“Apology accepted.” He gave her a little peck on the forehead. “But like I said, I’d love to meet your friend. Let’s all go out, have some fun. Take the edge off so you won’t be so on edge.” He playfully began snapping at Deborah’s nose like a crab.
“I hear you, and I’ll make it happen just as soon as I find the time.”
“Make the time. I’ve learned that you have to make the time or else you’ll spend an eternity trying to find it. I’ve already waited an eternity, it seems, to get with you. I’m not trying to wait an eternity to live life with you . . . really live life.”
“Mr. Lynox,” Deborah said, mimicking her mother, “you are one amazing man. You have no idea what a woman would do to have a man like you in her life.”
“Aww, how sweet.” Lynox pulled Deborah in for a hug.
Deborah leaned against Lynox’s strong, manly chest while thinking, No, really, you have no idea what a woman would do to have a man like you in her life. She pulled away from Lynox and looked over at her son in her mother’s arms. Even deny her own child.
Chapter Twenty-eight
“Denying your own son, Deborah? Now that’s an all-time low,” Mrs. Lewis spat as she followed Deborah back into the house after Lynox had pulled off.
“Mom, not now.” Deborah raised her hands in frustration. “Besides, didn’t you tell your grandson that you were taking him to get some ice cream?”
“Oh, this little fella right here?” She bounced her grandson in her arms. “You mean your nephew?”
Deborah turned with the quickness and they both stopped in their tracks. “Look, Mom, there is a good reason why I had to do that, but you wouldn’t understand.” Deborah started walking again, heading to her home office.
“The last time I checked, there was never a good reason to tell a lie, and on top of that, the lie that denies your own son—your own flesh and blood. Deborah, how could you?” Mrs. Lewis’s tone was laced with disappointment in her daughter. Looking at her grandson’s precious face, she couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to deny him. She began to tear up.
“How could I not?” Deborah flopped down in the chair at her desk, refusing to look at her mother or the child she was denying. “You spent years with a man who loved your dirty drawers. I end up with men who just want to get in mine. Well, Lynox isn’t like that. Lynox is the man of every woman’s dreams, and he likes me, Momma . . . a lot. Mr. Lynox Chase is chasing me. He can have almost any woman out there and he wants Deborah.”
“Okay, and I get that. So why does that mean you have to hide the fact that you have a child? This ain’t V.C. Andrews’s Flowers in the Attic.”
Deborah ignored her mother’s sarcasm and answered her straight up. “Because he’s not the type of man who is willing to settle down with a woman who already has kids who are not his. He told me so. He told me before I had a chance to tell him that I was one of those women who already had a kid—who wasn’t his.”
“Well that’s when you should have done either one of two things, tell him the truth, or hightail it on out of there because obviously, no matter how perfect you think he is, he’s going to see you as imperfect.”
Those words stung Deborah to the core. She stood from her chair. “Imperfect? So now I’m imperfect? You couldn’t come up with a word more diplomatic than that?” Deborah’s tone got loud. “That’s my momma—always there to remind me what a screw-up I am. Always there to remind me how imperfect I am.” When Deborah enunciated the word, spittle flew out of her mouth, hitting both her mother and her son.
Mrs. Lewis calmly wiped her face, unaware that some had gotten on her grandson. “I’m not saying you are imperfect, what I’m saying is that that’s how he is going to see you, so your thinking he is perfect is in vain.”
“You need me to go out to the garage and get you a shovel so you can keep piling salt onto the wound?” Deborah yelled at her mother. She was loud. But she was so used to getting loud whenever she got upset that she didn’t realize just how loud she was.
“Look, calm down,” her mother ordered. “There you go again getting the boy’s nerves all rattled.” She looked down at her grandson, who was now clinging to her neck, his back facing his mother.
“I don’t give a darn. It’s because of him I’m in this mess.”
Mrs. Lewis remained dead silent. She thanked God her grandson didn’t understand the words that were coming out of his mother’s mouth. But she understood them and they brought a flood of tears to her eyes. “I can’t believe you just said that.” Mrs. Lewis snorted.
“Oh, don’t go getting all dramatic. I didn’t mean it like that,” Deborah played it down. “It’s just that you are making a bigger deal out of this than it is.” Deborah walked back over to the chair and sat down. “I’m going to tell Lynox . . . when the time is right. It’s just that the time keeps being all wrong. You pop up, then he pops up, and I’m just never prepared for it to go down like that.”
Mrs. Lewis thought over her next words carefully. “Then until you can tell Lynox the truth, why don’t you just let the boy stay with me?” she offered. “You know I don’t mind.” Mrs. Lewis waited with bated breath for a reply from her daughter.
Now that was an idea Deborah could live with. “Really? That would be helpful.” She turned around in her chair and looked at her mother. “Just a week. Just give me until the end of the week to plan on telling him.” She turned back around in her chair, staring at her computer screen, realizing just how helpful her mother’s gesture would be.
“O . . . okay,” Mrs. Lewis said nervously, hoping her daughter wouldn’t see through to her true intentions. “I mean, even after that, after you guys break up when you tell him, he can still stay with me so that you can get yourself together. Because I know it’s going to be hard on you and all.” Mrs. Lewis should have stopped talking then, but she made the mistake and kept right on chattering away. “You’ll probably be upset and not in too good of a mood. And I just don’t want our little guy around to . . .” Mrs. Lewis’s words trailed off once she realized Deborah was slowly turning to face her with a knowing look on her face.
“So that’s what this is all about? You ain’t trying to help me. You’re worried I’m going to trip out and snap off or something, aren’t you?”
Of course Mrs. Lewis was. She wasn’t going to tell Deborah that though. Not with her mouth. But her eyes and the look on her face told it all.
Deborah stood up from the chair and went and snatched her son out of her mother’s arms. “Mom, just go.”
“No, Deb, wait. That’s not what I meant.”
“That’s exactly what you meant. You think if Lynox leaves me—by the way, thanks for the vote of confidence—that I’m going to take it out on my son.”
“Well, you did just say you felt it was all his fault.”
“But I told you I didn’t mean it like that.” Deborah rolled her
eyes at her mother. “I can’t do this with you right now. Why don’t you just go and we’ll talk tomorrow or something? This is too much.”
“Fine, but why don’t you let me take the baby so you can get some work done?” She reached for her grandson. Deborah pulled him away.
“Naw, he’s fine.”
“Deborah, please,” Mrs. Lewis practically begged.
“Mom, why are you doing that? Why are you acting like that—like I’m one of those crazy women who is gonna drown my kid or something?”
“Because I know how you are,” Mrs. Lewis said without hesitation.
“You know how I am?” Deborah looked her mother up and down. “Why, Mother, I’m just like you? I’m a hell raiser just like you used to be? I’m nothing like you. And even if that were true, heck, you didn’t kill me by drowning, did you?” Then Deborah said under her breath, “I should be so unlucky.”
“Yeah, but I had thoughts of doing it,” Mrs. Lewis admitted and the room turned stone cold and silent.
Deborah couldn’t believe the words that had just fallen from her mother’s lips. The look of disbelief was plastered all over her face.
“Yes, that’s right. Some days would just be so dark, thoughts of doing really bad things would enter my mind. Thoughts of doing bad things to myself, to other people.”
“Me being other people?” Deborah clarified.
“I was so miserable. I knew deep down inside I was making you miserable. So, for a blink of a second”—Mrs. Lewis snapped her fingers—“I imagined putting us both out of misery,” Mrs. Lewis admitted.
