No Easy Catch (Carmen Sisters)
Page 22
Promptly at seven, the four-piece band serenaded the attendees as the servers began placing salads before the guests. After her mother had blessed the food, all conversation ceased, and they enjoyed the meal, which included chicken Marsala as the main course.
As the platter of assorted finger desserts tempted each table, especially Shae, the mistress of ceremonies stepped up to the microphone. “Welcome, everyone, to the thirtieth annual Salute to Excellence awards banquet.” After greeting the audience, she told a few jokes to warm up the crowd, then wasted no time in reading off the categories and nominees. As names were called and awards handed out, Shae wasn’t surprised by the winners from competing stations. St. Louis had some well-seasoned reporters.
Antsy, Shae shifted in her seat when the emcee reached the category of hard news. Brecee took one of her hands, her mother took the other, and they squeezed in solidarity. “This category is fierce. The nominees are KZTY Channel 3 reporter Todd Green and the St. Louis City Hall Midnight Basketball Scandal; KCCV Channel 10 reporter Jason Bender and the Flood Wall Sabotage in Alton, Illinois; and KMMD Channel 7 reporter Shae Carmen and Burying the Dead: Drive-by Shootings.”
The emcee fumbled with the sealed envelope. “And the winner is…Shae Carmen.”
Shae slapped her cheeks and nearly screamed. She had won. Shouts, cheers, and applause erupted throughout the room; coworkers at nearby tables whooped their excitement. As she edged out of her seat, a couple of whistles pierced the air.
When Shae stood, Ted pushed back his chair to escort her to the stage. Her eyes played tricks on her heart when she imagined Rahn stepping out of her memory and materializing into the flesh-and-blood man she loved.
Then her nose tickled at the scent of musk cologne that preceded Rahn as he intercepted Ted. With a grin, her brother-in-law stepped aside and muttered, “About time.”
Shae didn’t move or exhale as she welcomed Rahn’s invasion of her space. His custom-fit black Armani tux yielded to his muscular build, and his unbreakable stare made her shiver. For a moment, she forgot about her coveted award.
He cradled a bouquet of long-stemmed pink roses. “Congratulations,” said the baritone voice that had lulled her to sleep many nights.“For you.” He presented her with the flowers.
She wanted to cry at his thoughtful gesture. A hush swept throughout the room. Shae no longer felt she was the center of attention—she and Rahn were.
As Brecee took the flowers from her, Rahn acknowledged her family with a nod. Then he cupped Shae’s elbow, and she followed his lead to the front, as if they had rehearsed their steps.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered.
Relishing their private moment amid the public scrutiny, Shae wanted to escape to a place where no one could find them. As far as she was concerned, her award could be mailed to her address because she had her prize walking beside her.
36
The sparks between Rahn and Shae ignited with ferocious power with one touch. He wanted to whisk her away from the public eye. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, he met her gaze again. “Whether you still love me or not, I love you.”
“I do,” she mouthed.
“It’s good to see St. Louis Cardinals outfielder Rahn Maxwell escorting our award-winning reporter tonight,” the mistress of ceremonies said, invading their secret place. As she applauded, many people in the audience gave them a standing ovation. Rahn gave a slight wave, then handed Shae up the stairs. He waited at the bottom in a military stance.
Shae looked mesmerizing with her hair gracefully swept up on her head. It wasn’t often that she showcased her slender neck. And she had worn the dress—the one he had picked out and purchased because it teased his senses. Rahn groaned. Her sexiness was torture, causing him to succumb to a slow death. Whichever way she turned, her skin sparkled under the soft light, which accented the silver beads across her bodice and softened her features.
There had to be a Scripture about the consequences of being a fool. Only his pride could have kept him away this long. Lord, please help us to work out our differences, in Jesus’ name, amen.
A few nights moping at home in Richmond had compelled him to pull out his sketch pads. The images his mind had conjured up had proved to be too much for him to stay away. Although Rahn had conceded that he had unfinished business, he was still working on a plan. How would they mend their broken hearts?
That’s when he’d consulted Marcus and Yvette, and they’d told him it was a no-brainer: He needed to attend the awards banquet, as originally planned. They doubted Shae would make a scene or protest talking to him.
“You said it meant so much to Shae to be nominated,” Marcus had said, reminding Rahn what he’d told him weeks earlier. “Yvette and I will even go along to cheer on Shae and have your back.”
His friends had kept their word. In their usual fashion when it came to fund-raisers, they had purchased a table and invited others to help fill it—a feat that was never a problem, thanks to their celebrity status.
Shae accepted the crystal trophy and admired it for a few seconds. “I’m honored, I’m humbled…I’m speechless.” She choked.
Rahn smirked at the irony of a woman who talked for a living yet couldn’t find the words to speak. “And you’re beautiful, baby,” Rahn mumbled under his breath. It was a good thing that she hadn’t come with another escort. If she had, it definitely would have caused a scene, because he wasn’t backing down until they talked—tonight.
She glanced at him momentarily, as if trying to read his thoughts, then looked back at the audience. “Thank you, St. Louis, for welcoming me to your city and letting me come into your homes every weekend and on weeknights at five, six, and ten. Special thanks to my colleagues and photographer Jeff Craig, who edited my story. And much love to my family, who came all the way from Philly. Say hey, family.”
A chorus of “Heys” floated from the table, sparking another wave of chuckles around the room.
“And last, thanks to my escort, Rahn Maxwell.” Shae turned and glided across the stage to a few whistles and shouts of “Yeah!”
“Congratulations, baby,” Rahn said, reaching for her hand to assist her down the stairs. Linking his fingers through hers, Rahn gave her hand a gentle squeeze before the pair weaved their way through the maze of tables back to her seat. “I’ve missed this closeness between us,” he whispered as he forced himself to relinquish his prized possession. “I’m sitting not far away, and we need to talk, okay?”
She teasingly scrunched her perfectly shaped nose in response. He’d missed her little gestures, too. Rahn would not be rushed away from this moment; he took his time planting a kiss on her cheek, to the oohs and aahs around them. After reluctantly letting her go, he made it back to his table. Yvette and Marcus were grinning like silly cartoon characters when he resumed his seat.
“Job well done,” Marcus said, slapping him with a handshake.
“You’re going to love the kissing and making up part.” Yvette giggled.
“Yeah, I’m looking forward to that.” As far as Rahn was concerned, nothing that might come between them was worth keeping them apart. He hoped Shae felt the same way.
Rahn adjusted his chair at an angle to have a better view of Shae, albeit an obstructed one. She was seated seven tables down and one over—yes, he had counted them. Now that he had expressed his feelings to her, he was impatient to follow through. Huffing, he alternated between checking the time and glancing at the program. He needed closure—for both the ceremony and the issues that stood between him and Shae.
Ignoring what was happening around him, he willed Shae to glance back and find him. Just then, she did, and graced him with a warm smile. He winked.
More awards were called, and Shae’s name was mentioned among the nominees, but others had beaten her out. Foul, Rahn wanted to cry out in her defense. Although she had received one award, he wondered how she felt about not having been chosen for the other two for which she had been nominated.
Rahn made a beeline to her as if he was trying to steal a base.
“I’m getting an award for my hats?” The look of genuine surprise on her face was endearing and picture-perfect.
“You deserve it, honey.”
He took her by the hand and led the way to the stage once again. After Shae had thanked everyone, Rahn returned her to her table.
“That brings the awards portion of the ceremony to a close, and it’s time to kick off the after-party. Our Hat Lady has another talent. If you missed hearing her sing the national anthem before one of the Cardinals games this season, it’s your lucky night, because Miss Carmen will now sing a selection of her choice, accompanied by her sisters.”
The applause was deafening…or maybe it was Rahn’s whistle.
***
The sisters had been planning to sing a rendition of the classic Staple Singers’ “I’ll Take You There.” People generally loved the R&B sound of the classic gospel song. But Rahn had changed everything. When Shae’s sisters stepped onstage, Shae whispered a different song in Stacy’s ear as she slid onto the piano bench, then did the same thing to Brecee as she adjusted her guitar strap, then Shari, who caressed her alto sax, ready to play. Each of them smiled at the news and seemed not at all surprised.
Shae adjusted the microphone, then introduced her sisters. The lights dimmed in the room, so that she couldn’t see where Rahn was seated, but she felt his presence no matter the distance. Closing her eyes, she swayed to the Caribbean beat while her sisters harmonized the opening line to “I Wanna Be the Only One,” arranged by one of her favorite gospel artists, BeBe Winans, and Eternal. It seemed appropriate, since Rahn had sent that saxophonist to serenade her with the same song during their phone lunch last spring. She hoped the words of the song would convey that she wanted to be his only one—always.
As her eyelids fluttered open, she guessed where Rahn might be sitting, then belted out the lines in that direction. Immediately, folks were out of their seats, clapping. Others made a beeline to the dance floor just below the stage. As the sisters sang the last chorus, Shari capped it off with a brief sax solo.
Despite the sophistication of the event, chants of “One more song” mingled with the applause, and soon it seemed that more people were on the dance floor than sitting at the tables.
Shae looked to her sisters, who shrugged, leaving the choice up to her. She walked across the stage and asked the drummer’s permission to use his sticks. Nodding, he handed them over, then adjusted the seat for her. Once she was settled, Shae looked to Brecee and mouthed, “I’ll Take You There,” which began with a guitar introduction. Stacy picked it up on the piano. Shae kept the rhythm on the drums, and Shari wowed the crowd with her artistic ability on the sax.
They ended the selection to more thunderous applause and whistles. Forgoing another song, Shae thanked the musicians. As the sisters exited the stage, Ted and Garrett were waiting for them…and so was Rahn.
He immediately wrapped his arms around Shae. “Thank you for the song—”
A photographer Shae recognized, who worked for the St. Louis Black weekly newspaper, The American, interrupted them. “Shae, Rahn, can I get a picture of you two?”
Rahn answered for them by snuggling her closer for a pose. Shae sank into his arms. Her smile was one of bliss.
“Does this mean you two are back together?” the photographer asked.
Shae contemplated how to answer that question, considering nothing had been resolved, but Rahn didn’t hesitate. “No comment. We don’t hold press conferences on our personal life.” After twirling her around on the dance floor, Rahn guided her to a vacant table.
While waiting for Rahn to speak, Shae familiarized herself with everything she had missed about him—his beard, eyes, hair, build…everything.
His hands caressed hers, then brought them to his lips. He gazed steadily at her. “You do know I’m going to ask you to marry me.”
Shae blinked at his serious expression as his words sunk in. “You do know, Mr. Maxwell, you’re not supposed to tell a woman that you’re going to ask her to marry you. You’re supposed to just do it in a way she’ll never forget.”
Rahn displayed the killer smile that had wooed her the night they’d shared that piece of cake. “True, but in this case, considering how insensitive I’ve acted, I wanted to give you a heads-up to think long and hard about your feelings toward me—the good times only. I plan to ask you one time, and I don’t want a long engagement. It has to be before I leave for spring training. When I come home, I need a wife…”
Shae pressed her finger to his lips. “You have a lot of demands, for a man who hasn’t asked anything.” She giggled. There was nothing to think about. Her answer would be yes, but, like any woman would, she was going to make him work for it.
Then again, with all the love that shone from his eyes, maybe not.
37
It’s been two weeks—where’s my proposal? Shae wanted to ask Rahn that question every time his brown eyes distracted her, but he never brought it up again. Was he really trying to pull off a surprise? She was beginning to rethink her demand. She would love to be Mrs. Maxwell. Shae had started to scribble that name again as her mind wandered.
“Enjoy the making-up part,” her sisters and mother had encouraged her.
“Especially the sweet kisses,” Shari had added, then giggled when their mother cleared her throat.
Since the day they’d given her those words of encouragement, Shae had been praying for patience. She was grateful for each moment God gave her to spend with the man she truly loved.
Shae had even apologized one Saturday night when she’d had to decline attending a function with Rahn. “I know that my profession can be hard on a relationship, but working weekends is hard on dating.”
“Baby, I’m not complaining.” The way he’d looked at her had made her a believer. “Baseball season is over, so I’m available at your beck and call, any hour, day or night.” He’d capped it off with a wink.
So, she and Rahn maintained a kind of schedule. After attending morning worship on Sundays, they enjoyed brunch together before he dropped her off at work. “You know, you don’t have to do this every week,” she always fussed.
“I love you.” Rahn’s answer was just as predictable as the dinners that arrived like clockwork at the station on Sunday evenings. Shae could never guess what would be on the menu. The real treat was Rahn showing up early enough to sit in the studio and watch the ten o’clock newscasts. Shae wondered if he planned to surprise her with an on-air proposal. Public engagements done on live TV were becoming overrated and cliché. But then she chided herself. Any declaration from Rahn would be meaningful, no matter when, where, or how. When the assignment editor called her name and instructed her to head to the scene of a car crash, Shae tucked away the sweet memories.
A few days later, she and Rahn enjoyed a romantic dinner of fondue at the Melting Pot. “I noticed the annual balloon race is this coming weekend. I think it would be fun to go.”
The night before the Great Forest Park Balloon Race, the pilots fired up the burners of their balloons to create a rainbow glow. The balloons were mesmerizing as the hot air pumped them to life, to the delight of children and adults alike. Shae stood and watched in awe, her hand linked with Rahn’s.
“Excuse me, Mr. Maxwell and Miss Carmen.” A woman emerged from the crowd and approached them.
“We’re going to have to change that,
” Rahn murmured into her ear. “You won’t be ‘Miss Carmen’ for much longer.”
“I’m glad you two got back together,” the woman told them. “I love your hats, Miss Carmen. And Mr. Maxwell…can I get an autograph?” She pulled out a piece of paper. “It’s for my son Tommy.”
Shae’s eyes misted. The fallout from Rahn’s confession had not been as devastating as either of them had anticipated. Granted, some people had said they would never forgive him. Yet more seemed to respect him all the more, calling him courageous for setting the record straight. That was God’s grace.
The next day, Shae took off work so that she and Rahn could return to the park and experience the entire feel of the event dubbed the “hare and hound” race. It was considered the most prestigious one-day balloon race in the world, and Shae was thrilled to attend.
More than seventy balloonists from across the globe gave chase to the Energizer Bunny Hot Hare Balloon. Folks who dared not brave the swelling crowd had a bird’s-eye view from upper-floor windows, nearby balconies, and penthouse decks.
To Shae’s surprise, Rahn had paid for them to ride in the Purina balloon. Her heart pounded with the excitement of her first balloon ride—and with the man she truly loved.
Their pilot, a short man with numerous wrinkles and a thick gray mustache, gave them a bit of advice before taking off: “You do understand there’s no telling where the wind may take us and might land? Sometimes it’s in people’s backyards or in a parking lot, but we shoot for open spaces, like parks.” Rahn nodded as he assisted Shae onboard.
As the fire ignited, Shae rested her back against Rahn’s strong chest, glad to have his arms securely around her waist. With the wind under their feet and the gentle swaying of their carriage, Shae closed her eyes and sighed.
Rahn squeezed her. “Happy?”
“Yes.” She felt breathless. Turning in his arms, she smiled, drawn in by his serious expression. “I’m in tune with you, Mr. Maxwell. I praise God that you’re in my life.”